The figure stepped from out of the fiery smoke, slow and graceful, mysterious and mystical. She was a creature of magic, imagination and lust for power. Created to serve a master who had no idea what kind of a power he and his priests had unleashed. She was a warrior, made with the skills to survive anything, war, the elements, and life itself. She was also gifted with the ability to make magic, as if she were a mage herself. She was intelligent and beautiful, yet savage and unique.

The world was not ready for Dyran. Bluntly honest, unclouded by uncontrolled emotions, she was close to being perfect. But she was just a slave, a creature made from magic, created to carry out the wishes of her masters. And her master, the one who had ordered her creation, was not, in the very least, ready for her either.

"Female!" The voice of Lord Wraithlan bounced viciously off the stone walls of the cave/keep. "I ask for an invincible warrior, made of magic and might, unique in its abilities, and you bring me a wretched female! I did not ask for a female!"

The black robed priests shied away from the throne upon which their master sat. They knew full well what kind of fury the man could unleash, if he had a mind to do it. And even in this instance, when the mistake belonged to the lord alone, the penalty for imperfection could be great, even deadly.

"My lord, you did not specify a gender," the head priest, Gallen, said meekly, respectfully and subtly afraid. "When we faced the female, when she emerged from the magic fire, we noted that the detail of her gender had been overlooked by you, my lord. We cannot change that which has already been made and we haven't the components to make another."

Lord Wraithlan was visibly angry. His thick neck and pouch-like cheeks were nearly crimson and his dark-brown eyes were practically bulging from their sockets. "So I am stuck with this useless female creature?" Wraithlan was still yelling. "What am I supposed to do now? Should I have my generals lay with the thing and birth an army for me? Useless, I tell you! I would kill you priests for such a blunder!"

Lord Wraithlan and his priests did not even seem to notice that the magic-made female, Dyran, was standing there, listening to them. Sure, they knew she was there, yet they didn't count here as a person, an intelligent being. In fact, they really had no idea the extent at which she could understand them. To them, she was nothing more than a weapon, to be used then cast away when the usefulness was gone.

Dyran wasn't angered by this. She wasn't really made for that kind of emotion. She had no knowledge of life before she had stepped from the magic fire into the world of men. She only really knew that she had been created for a purpose. She knew that the purpose was war. She wouldn't argue over why she was made or what they would have her do. But, she would argue over who she was and what she could do.

"I am not useless." Dyran knew that she shouldn't speak, but the need was there for her words to be heard. "Birthing an army would not work. You would need an army of females, like me, and at least fifteen years for the offspring to be made strong enough to fight. You seem to have a need for powerful warriors now. I am the invincible warrior, of magic and might, that you wanted created for you. If anything, my gender alone brings the quality of uniqueness that you desired."

Judging by the surprised expressions on the faces of the lord and his priests, Dyran knew that they were not expecting her to talk, much less to understand their words. She believed that they actually thought she was to be more like a mindless drone than the person they created.

"What have you priests done to me this time?" Wraithlan's mouth didn't move, but Dyran heard the words his mind made, never-the-less. Pleasantly surprised by the unique ability, she smiled slightly. The priests hadn't made their demands very clear, at all, when they had her made. It would prove to be a welcome talent, indeed.

"You and your priests were not very precise," she said, "You have all made many mistakes in the construction of my person. Magic has no boundaries unless you set them yourselves. You wanted me invincible, to know a person's thoughts as they came to them, so I could use the knowledge of foresight to my advantage. I can hear all thoughts, my lord, even yours. I know all fighting skills, survival skills, and I can read, write, and decipher spoken languages in an instant. And, although I am made to follow orders, I have free will. No specific person had been made my leader, or lord, if you will, so I have no specific loyalties. I also have magical abilities befitting a warrior-mage, and even one of your priests. Yes, my lord, many mistakes have been made."

"And I have the power to render men speechless," she thought and she looked upon Wraithlan, his jaw hanging open. She also saw that there were barely noticeable trickles of sweat running slowly down the sides of his time, war, and life hardened face. She realized, rather quickly, that Wraithlan was afraid of her, of what he and his priests had created, an intelligent being with the strength to defeat him.

Ch.2

Wraithlan's fear of Dyran's abilities and her strength put only one thing in his head. He had to be rid of the creature, by any means necessary. He would have gladly ended her life but was told that to do so would put his own life at forfeit. He was the one who gave the order for her "birth," so he would have to be the one responsible for her life.

But, he couldn't just sell her as a slave to just anyone, not with her being the way she was. He took some time in making a decision, and in preparing himself to deal with it. In the weeks that followed Dyran's creation, Wraithlan learned to shield his mind from her. He also looked closely at all his allies and decided that only his closest, most loyal ally would be given the offer to buy the creature.

When Dyran entered the great hall, she saw that Wraithlan sat on his throne, as he always did when he met with her. She knew that she could no longer read his thoughts, but that really didn't matter to her. She could read his body language just as well, and she could see that he was in an unusually good mood, with a smile on his lips, a pleasant voice, and almost carefree body movements. Something was not right to her, although she didn't know what it was.

She also noticed that the cave-like room, which was normally empty, now held more than a half a dozen soldiers. And, she knew that they had been waiting for her. It didn't take her a moment to feel the mind shields that were up, keeping nearly all thoughts from her. But, as she made her entrance, everyone stopped what they were doing to turn and face her. Of course, it didn't bother her, but it did make her curious.

As was protocol for her, she took her usual position some fifteen feet directly in front of the throne. Facing Wraithlan, she stood with her feet spread shoulder width apart and her hands clasped behind her back. In this stance she made a rather formidable looking creature and she was glad of it. Fear was not one of her stronger emotions and she just couldn't bring herself to show it in front of someone with whom she didn't fear.

Wraithlan didn't much care for her seemingly open defiance and made it known, loudly. "On your knees, Dyran! You are no better than a slave and slaves do not stand as if to confront their owners with demands."

Dyran complied with Wraithlan's orders, but not because she wanted to. It was in her making to obey the orders of her master, and as of this moment, Wraithlan was still in that position.

"I have no demands of you, my lord," she said, "I stood because I have always done so when you have requested my presence in the hall. I was not informed that you wished me to play the slave for you."

The soldiers, which had now gathered near, gave a few muffled laughs at her words, obviously finding her honesty amusing.

With great difficulty, Wraithlan shrugged off their laughs as he forced himself to keep his cheerful pretense. "You're not playing the slave, Dyran," he said, "You are a slave. As of two hours ago, you were sold to an ally of mine. Lord Maxus Kayne, who rules the lands of Denharth, paid a nice price for you. What have you to say about that?"

The news didn't greatly shock Dyran. In fact, she was half expecting the news. She decided that, since she was no longer in Wraithlan's control, she would be straight forward about the situation.

"What would you have me say, my lord?" she replied, "I believe you are making another mistake. Without me, your rule will crumble. Strong lords, men who have the ability to hold what they own and rule, do not make as many mistakes as you clearly have."

It was very clear that Wraithlan didn't appreciate Dyran's words, yet he did his best to shield his hatred of the female. He took a deep breath and looked away from her, putting his eyes on a man that had just walked up to stand behind and to the right of Dyran.

Dyran felt the man's presence as he walked up. Who ever he was, he held a power in himself that was impossible to shield. She found herself slowly turning her head in the man's direction. Her heart caught in her throat at the sight of the man, who was more a giant than a noble lord. He was tall, nearly seven feet, and even through his clothing, she could she that he was muscular and fit, unlike the over-weight lord that had made her. And, in her inexperienced opinion, the man was handsome, with long, dark brown hair that hung about his shoulders, kept out of his face by carefully placed braids. His eyes were equally dark and in their depths, she could see that he was a man made for war. It was easy to see that Lord Wraithlan had finally done something right. Lord Maxus Kayne was the man to rule her and to give her a real purpose.

"Kayne," Wraithlan said, "this is the female I told you about. She is yours to do with as you please. My priests have already given you the details concerning her creation and her abilities. I wish you well with your new possession. Take care with her, however, she is, how should I say it...willful..."

Lord Kayne didn't so much as glance at Dyran. His eyes were on Wraithlan, who was known to be a sneaky bastard, unworthy of any kind of trust. But, Kayne had no choice but to ally with him, as war was always a possibility and allies were hard to come by.

"Your gift is welcomed, Lord Wraithlan," Kayne said with a deep, almost hauntingly masculine voice. "However, I cannot stay long enough to give you proper thanks. I may very well be using this female's services on the battle field before long, against a minor threat on my northernmost boarder. Again, I say thanks and wish you well."

That was when Kayne turned his attentions to Dyran. She was filled with a sense of respect for the man, and she hadn't even met him. She was even surprised at his next words.

"You may stand, woman," he said, "You'll not kneel before me again, unless you are begging for your life. Come, I've no time to waste here."

Then Kayne turned from her and headed out of Wraithlan's hall. Dyran stood up, gave Wraithlan a hateful glance, and then followed Kayne from the hall.

Once outside of Wraithlan's keep, Dyran was met by Kayne and a group of twenty warriors. A young boy came up and gave her a large war horse, which she mounted easily and with a sigh of satisfaction. Since her creation, she hadn't sat a horse, much less had a breath of fresh air. She knew that the journey to wherever she was going would be a far cry better that the life she had been leading so far.

Kayne noticed her sigh and commented on it. "Must be a happy day for you, woman," he said, "I wouldn't relish living under that man's roof for so much as a night. Be you warned, however, that if you prove to be a person such as Wraithlan, I will not hesitate to have you killed. Do you understand?"

"I would expect no less, Lord Kayne," Dyran replied, "But, I'll have you know that I have found Lord Wraithlan as distasteful as you do. This is my first breath of real air since I was created. This is my first time on the back of a horse. This is the first time in many weeks that I have been allowed out of the cell in which Wraithlan had me imprisoned. Be you warned, that if you prove to be a person such as he, I will not hesitate to kill you either. Loyalty is to be earned, my lord, not bought. But, I promise you that I will follow your orders to the best of my ability, unless I find the orders morally unsound or just plain stupid. I will also give my opinion freely. The priest's of Wraithlan don't know everything about me."