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Author's Chapter Notes:
I'm so very hugely sorry for the massive wait anyone whos reading this story has had.

My life's been crazy for a while and hasn't left much room for writing.

I'm also sorry in advance for the slowness of this chapter. But it's necessary. Sorry guys!

But things will pick up again in the next. So don't quit on me now! I'm just getting started on this story.

Hmmm, also to avoid any more big intervals between chapters, leave a review ;)

Finally, thank yous, loves, and hugs go to Cissi, Pyro63, dicecanntcry, cordykitten, Harry, Dusty273, gdo, spikeslovley, djonie and jamies_lady for all your reviews.

Mmmm, shlaterzzzz :)



xo
Chapter 3



Areesh grabbed his arm once more and steered them to the balcony.


He looked over it and as fast as his heart had soared when he first met Areesh, it plummeted just as quickly when he saw the dining hall below him.


Hundreds of pale faces looked up to him through black eyes.


~ ~ ~


“Shit.”


“Is there something wrong, Spike?” asked Areesh who felt him tense next to her and utter a word in his foreign tongue.


“Hm? Oh, er no. Nothing at all.” He was devastated.


She smiled and started walking down the grand staircase, oblivious to the million thoughts running through Spike’s mind as he did the same.


‘If they all match the description in the prophecy, does that mean they’re all Slayers? Or that there’s no Slayer? Or that there is only one and I have to find her amongst all these people?’


He sat dazedly in the left chair, which he could only describe as a throne, and looked at the crowded room with a grave concern for the task at hand. It was not until Areesh stood to address the people at the several long banquet tables that he was disturbed from his thoughts.


“My people,” she began in her melodic voice that had more volume than before. “We dine tonight in honor and reverence of our fierce warriors, and grief for the ones who were lost. May they rest eternally on the higher plane and be remembered in our land. We also dine in greeting of the strange traveller who has arrived in our land. May our thoughts be on new friends and departed friends during this feast.”


There was a couple of seconds silence as the people took in what she had said. After allowing them sufficient time to do so she clapped her hands and the huge wooden doors behind all the tables were heaved open. From them spilled at least fifty servants carrying platters, bottles, glasses, and plates. Once they had set them all on the tables they turned towards where Areesh and Spike were sitting, bowed lowly, and left the room.


The tables were now so laden with food Spike wondered how there was room for the people. A tap on his arm told him someone was speaking to him and he looked around to see Areesh smiling at him.


“Shall we take our seats at my table, Spike?” Since she was a queen though, this was not a request, and she stood and waited for him to follow before leading him to the most central and lavish table in the room.


Spike took the seat that was pulled out for him next to Areesh and, after being instructed to do so, began heaping food on his plate.


He made no effort to join the conversation around him. Nobody was speaking to him, he was ravenous, and he had little interest in what they were saying anyway.


The food was like nothing he had ever eaten before. While it all looked familiar, the flavours didn’t make sense to him. When he bit into something that strongly resembled a potato, he was surprised at the creamy lemon taste that exploded in his mouth. And when he put some bread into his mouth, finding it hard to imagine being like anything else, he smiled at the distinct taste of red meat. He carried on amusing himself this way until he had eaten so much he was beginning to feel glad of the loose robes he was wearing.


Areesh stood and like everyone else Spike focused all his attention on her, though it wasn’t just out of respect. She had a presence that couldn’t be ignored or half noticed. She demanded total awareness and drew out every last pinch of concentration until it was centred on her.


“Friends, we must all remember that without our fearless and dedicated fighters we would not be here tonight. It took them more determination than any of us can imagine to defeat our enemies, and we are forever grateful. Let us give them our thanks and appreciation.”


She clapped again and once more the doors where the servants had come from opened. But this time it was soldiers rather than servants who came from them.


Spike was captivated by them. Every one of them fitted the prophecy. They were tall wide men. Spike watched in awe as they mingled everyone else.


To Spike the whole thing seemed very rehearsed. And he wasn’t completely happy with the treatment of these men. They had defended their people, yet they weren’t to eat with them? Merely to pay them a short ceremonial visit before they were banished to the barracks again?


But Spike had to remember that he was foreign to their ways and not in a position to judge.


Areesh had settled next to him again. “I’m most eager for you to meet two of our soldiers. One is the man with whom you’ll be staying. The other is the strongest and most efficient in our entire army, the Golden Warrior, the person that found you in fact. Come.”


She lead Spike to a burly man, and after a few minutes he learnt that the man and his family lived in the center of the village and he was free to come and go from their home at his leisure, they were honoured to have him as their guest.


Spike said his thanks and allowed Areesh to lead him to a one of the smaller soldiers who measured about six feet two inches. “Do you know where the Golden Warrior is, Yeema?” she asked him.


“Over there, my lady. With Miral.” He indicated to the largest group in the room and Areesh approached them. Spike was slightly unnerved. He didn’t know how they would react to him and didn’t like it at all.


She cleared her throat behind them and they parted like the sea, bowing lowly.


“I was told the Golden Warrior is here, Miral,” she addressed the most approachable man of the group. While he grinned at Spike, the rest offered nothing but their cold stares.


“Of course, your highness.” His voice was not unlike Areesh’s. It was cordial yet where hers was feminine, his was masculine. But then, in a totally different voice that was hard and commanding, he barked “Come forward, Elizema.”


For the third time that day, Spike’s stomach did a somersault. From behind the men came a petite woman. Her skin was tanned and golden, just like her hair. Her green eyes sparkled with emotion. She was everything that the people around her were not.


She was the Stolen Slayer.





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