A.N.: There is a major Fable II reference in this story. Some things you may need to know about this chapter:
*What is the Spire?
The Spire was built in Fable II. It was used to rebuild an Albion over the current one.
*Why is it important?
It is important because the entirety of the Fable II plot was centered around the Spire.
*What goes on in the Spire?
The Hero of Bowerstone learns what happens in the Spire after defeating the Crucible, when Lord Lucien (I'll explain who this is later) takes him/her captive. As a technique to teach obedience to his soldiers, Lucien tortured any renegades. My Sparrow was {very much so} a rebel. Lucien and his Commandant had a hell of a time trying to make her obey.
*Who is Sparrow?
Sparrow (or the Hero of Bowerstone) is your Hero in Fable II. You can change his/her name. {Blade was one of the titles available, which is where I got the name for my Hero of Brightwall.}
*Who is Lucien?
Lord Lucien Fairfax was the villain in Fable II. Some antagonist he was. I wanted to murder Reaver (& Theresa) more than I wanted to murder Lucien {which is surprising, considering he murdered your sister, he shot your dog -not to mention, imprisoned you in the Spire! Whereas Reaver is just a lazy bum. Hero of Skill, my ass.}
*If you've played Fable 3 (or any other Fable, for that matter), then you should know who Theresa is. If not, then I can explain.
Theresa is your mentor through Fable 2 and Fable 3. Honestly, those are the only Fable games I've played. I understand that she's the Hero of Oakvale's sister, though. Also known as "the Blind Seeress," Theresa can tell the future. I'm sure the geezer has other powers, as well.
Without further delay, I present to you my story.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Fable franchise. Credit goes to creators. The plot comes from Fable 2. The setting is between Fable 3 and Fable: The Journey, but much closer to the end of Fable 3. I own the characters Blade, Forge, and Alistair -whom is introduced later in the story. Everything else, with the exception of dialogue, belongs to the creators of the Fable games.
Once, while exploring some islands -known to locals as Driftwood for drifting nearby the mainland and for it's abundance in lumber- Blade discovered an ancient building, one of which her mother told her stories of. Upon the sight of this architecture, Blade fell to her knees and screamed, "no-!"
Forge studied her, "Wha-?" then followed her gaze toward the building in the distance. "The Spire?"
"Sparrow defeated Lucien, didn't she?" asked Blade. Forge nodded. "Then what is that doing over there?!" Blade gestured at the pointy building.
"Sparrow defeated Lucien," Forge shrugged, "that doesn't mean that the Spire was destroyed."
"But-!" Blade whimpered at the sight of the building.
"Blade, it's just a building," Forge tried to reassure her.
"No! It is evil!" declared Blade. "Lucien wanted to use it to build an army, therefore it is evil!"
"Blade," Forge sighed.
"You don't understand!" Blade argued. She recalled her mother's stories of her experience inside the Spire. How she was forced to perform evil deeds and the punishment if she refused. "It is evil!" Blade cried once more.
"Blade, it may have been, but that was half a century ago," Forge said.
"That doesn't mean it can't happen again!" Blade said, fury igniting in her eyes.
"What are the odds of that?" Forge wondered.
Blade stared at the building, and cringed. "It was a method of discipline and torture! Like - like a dungeon! Except everyone was held captive against their will, despite the fact that prisoners were innocent!"
Forge knelt down on the grass beside Blade. He ran his fingers through her hair to calm her. "I understand you're cautious. But Lucien is dead."
"That doesn't mean that there isn't evil in the world," Blade pointed out.
"There will always be evil," Forge agreed. "But there will always be good to counteract that evil. Blade, you have Hero blood. No doubt, your descendants will have it. As long as there are Heroes," said Forge, "there will be need to worry."
His words reassured her a little. Still, the proof that was staring back at her gave her a feeling in the pit of her stomach; a feeling of premonition. Blade just hoped that Forge was right.
A.N: BlackNeko20 gave me the idea to continue this story. I think I just might. This chapter was me forcing myself to write and gradually coming up with a plot as I continued. I hope this story is as good as I imagine it will be.
The next day, Blade stumbled out of her master bedroom, groggily thinking of a steamy bacon, eggs, and toast breakfast. Smiling warmly, she clumsily walked towards the kitchen, to try to help her cook whip something up.
As she passed Forge's bedroom, she called to him to fetch her agenda from Hobson, the royal treasurer. Normally, the blacksmith would reply with a curt, "yes, my dear," or "whatever you say, darling," or even a "quit nagging me, woman!," the last always earning him a glare as Blade clenched her fist and bit her teeth in order to try not to punch him in the face.
Today, however, the reply didn't come. Blade began to wonder if he had even heard her.
"Forge?" she asked, peering into his room.
The room was like any other room in the castle: spacious and well-decorated. The floor was a velvet, dark green carpet with a complex, faint spiral design, each spiral intertwining into one another. The walls were a pasty white, paintings hanging from nails on them. A cluttered desk stood in one corner of the room, a bookshelf beside it. The closet wasn't spectacular, however it was larger than most of the closets found in average Albion homes. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, unlit for the room was bright enough from the sunlight shining into the window.
In the middle of the room, positioned beside the nearest wall, was Forge's king-sized bed, sheets and bedspread messy and unoccupied.
Curiosity taking over her, Blade decided to investigate. Forge was never awake this early!
"Jasper," Blade called to a figure standing in the hall. "Have you seen Forge, lately?"
The butler shook his head, "Reaver wants to discuss a matter with you," Jasper said. "He's waiting in the throne room."
"The blasted ninnyhammer can wait," said Blade.
"Excuse me?" demanded the rogue, eavesdropping on their conversation.
Blade ignored him. "Well, if you happen to-" she looked at Jasper, who gave her a gesture as if to say, "turn around." "He's behind me, isn't he?" the queen guessed. Sure enough, as she turned to investigate, there stood the blacksmith, holding something behind his back. "Forge, where have you-" Blade studied him. "What's that behind your back?"
"Nothing," said Forge, a little too quickly. He closed his eyes and sighed, pausing for a moment. "Nothing."
Blade didn't question. Knowing that whatever he was up to was probably for the best, she allowed him a chance to escape. Forge slipped past her, Jasper, and Reaver, perambulating to his bedchamber.
"What do you presume that was about?" asked Jasper.
Blade shook her head. "I don't know," she said after hesitating for a moment.
Forge entered the throne room that evening, as Blade contemplated her agenda for the next day. The blacksmith lingered for a moment, trying to think of something to say. However, Blade sensed his presence, speaking so that he wouldn't have to.
"Reaver can be impossible to negotiate with," she said.
Forge breathed a sigh of relief, nodding in agreement. "He can."
Blade paused, concentrating on her agenda.
"What did he want to see you about?" asked Forge after a long moment filled with silence.
"Hm? Oh, he just wanted to clarify the crime of murder and... well, every law really."
"Do you suspect that he's up to something?"
Blade shook her head. "No. Reaver's an ass, but I wouldn't expect him to do anything disastrous."
Forge nodded, clearing his throat. "I, uh-" he began to say.
"Blade?" Jasper entered the room, cutting Forge off. "I have a matter of urgency that I'd like to speak to you about. In the sanctuary, please."
Blade nodded at him. "Forge," she said turning to the blacksmith. "We can finish this conversation later, can't we?"
"Yes, of course," he said, encouraging her to go. "Duty calls."
Blade grinned at him. "I'm so glad you understand," she said, striding toward Jasper at the entrance. As soon as she reached him, they vanished in a display of light.
The presentation had always took Forge's breath away. Now he stood alone in the large throne room, absentmindedly examining the decor of the room. He recalled the events that occurred earlier that day.
Do not speak of this to anyone or circumstances may become more dire than what I had originally planned.
What had they meant by that?
...
"Jasper, this had better be important," said Blade, pacing around the large map table that was positioned at the center of the main room of the Sanctuary.
"I said it was urgent, didn't I?" Jasper asked her.
"You did," Blade remarked, "yet you continue to waste my time."
Jasper ignored her comment. "It's the Tattered Spire," he said.
Blade stared at him, attentively.
"I haven't seen this much activity occurring in the area since-"
He didn't have to finish his sentence. Blade studied her shoes, trying to think of something -anything- that might be able to help.
Her mind wandered to Sparrow and the stories she used to tell the queen when she was younger, when she and Logan would beg her to share her adventures with them. Blade realized that Sparrow's adventures were becoming her nightmares.
The days blurred together, making it hard for Blade to extinguish one compared to another.
Lately, Forge remained strangely quiet. He began to wake up earlier and retire for bed earlier. Blade didn't know what to think of it. She and Jasper were very busy as well, trying to discreetly solve the problem at hand concerning the Spire.
One solution seemed clear: Blade needed to find the other Heroes before it was too late.
According to Sparrow's stories, there were four Heroes in total:
The Hero of Bowerstone - Sparrow, herself (seeing as Sparrow was deceased and Blade was after all The Hero of Brightwall, she'd have to substitute);
The Hero of Skill - Reaver (Blade cringed as she pondered how to convince him to side with her);
The Hero of Strength - a warrior named Hannah (according to Sparrow's stories, Blade would be able to find Hannah among the northern monks);
and The Hero of Will - a mage named Garth (who'd returned to his homelands in Samarkand).
How she would convince each of them to help her was still a mystery to her.
First things first, Blade thought to herself. I'll need to speak with Reaver tomorrow.
As she mentally added this to her to-do list, Blade passed by Forge's bedroom door. Upon the sight of the door, Blade realized that she had not seen Forge all day. Usually, he'd be back by now.
Blade considered asking around about him, when a faint tune was emitted from the room. Leaning closer to hear, Blade tried to search her memories for where she'd heard the melody before. Slowly opening the bedroom door, Blade scanned the room to find the source of the music.
She found an archaic object on his desk. It was large and antique in appearance, brown in color, rough in texture, and cold to the touch. Blade instantly recognized it. It was her mother's music box.
But what on earth was it doing here? The last time Blade had seen it, she had given it to Sabine, the representative of the Dwellers whom lived in the snowy forests of the Mispeak Mountains. How did it come into Forge's possession?
Blade stared at the music box, looking for an answer. For what purpose did Forge pursue the artifact? Why would he need it?
She felt as though the music box being in Forge's possession had something to do with the mysterious activity of the Spire. But what?
The next day, Blade visited Reaver's estate in Millfields.
Being a highly respected industry figure, Reaver owned a large and beautifully furnished mansion full of portraits of himself, a statue of himself located on the front lawn. Inside the walls of the estate was antique furniture. Posh sofas and expensive tables filled each room along with bookshelves and other miscellaneous decorations.
As soon as Blade entered the mansion, she discovered that Reaver was not at home. A maidservant informed her that it may be awhile before the pirate returned.
"Perhaps you have other errands to attend to?" the maidservant suggested. Blade shook her head. "In that case, miss," said the maidservant with a sigh, "I recommend that you make yourself comfortable. I could escort you to a bedchamber if you'd like?"
"No, thank you," Blade replied, smiling at the young girl, who looked not much older than sixteen.
"Very well, miss," the maidservant scurried away to finish her household chores.
Blade waited for hours, and was asked repeatedly if she needed anything, to which she answered that she was perfectly fine. Just as Blade considered leaving and coming back another day, she heard his voice and some loud footsteps as he stormed onto the property.
"Charlotte!" the deviant called. "Draw me a bath, will you? Then get to work in the kitchen. Tell cookie that I desire some cakes this evening." Blade sat smugly behind him on a fine chair. She cleared her throat loud enough to cause the pirate to turn. "And while you're at it," he said with a sheepish smile, "do explain why you didn't inform me that the queen is here?"
"It's good to see you too, Reaver," said Blade.
"What duty brings you here today?" Reaver asked her, "surely it's too much to hope that you lust for an exciting evening featuring our bodies pressed against each other?"
Blade closed her eyes and waited for the nauseous feeling to pass before she grimaced at Reaver. "No," she said with a shake of her head. "I daresay, that is too much to hope for."
"Well, what brings you to my humble abode, then?" Reaver asked.
"I need a favor," said Blade.
"How big a favor are we talking about?" Reaver wondered.
"An enormous favor."
Reaver smirked. "Well," he said after a pause. "in that case, I am going to need something in return."
"What about the feeling of relief and accomplishment from saving Albion?" Reaver shook his head. "I'll throw in a one-time-only, limited-edition, genuine 'thank you' from yours truly?"
An amused laugh escaped Reaver's lips. "Terribly sorry, chère," he said with a smirk and the shake of his head.
Blade smiled as she reflected on the events that occurred at Reaver's estate. The maidservant, Charlotte, had fortunately overheard the conversation. She insisted that Reaver would indeed help save Albion and would ask for nothing in return. Reaver, speechless, glared at her. He could not utter a protest, but instead remained silent. Blade thanked Charlotte, and as the queen exited the mansion, Reaver proposed that she should "at least" join him as he bathed. The suggestion earned him a glower from the queen, followed by two simple words: "bite me." Reaver replied that that was his intention. Blade cringed as she recalled that part. Instead of storming up the grand stairs, stepping into his residence, and firmly backhanding the simpleton -like she should have done-, the queen left without another word.
Her next objective was to find and convince the Hero of Strength to help her. Blade frowned at the tremendous task ahead of her.
The journey north took a grand total of seven days. As Blade, and -to the queen's dismay- Reaver, traveled more north, the air grew more frigid and the ground became more elevated. Before they knew it, the pair found themselves climbing over a mountain range, whose peaks were lost in the clouds.
"Let's set up camp at the base of the mountain," Blade suggested as the sky grew dark. "I might have something to eat." Blade began to search her pack for food.
"La chère," said Reaver, the words rolling off his tongue from experience, "if it gets too cold tonight, you can always-"
"Don't even think about finishing that sentence," said Blade with a glare.
"I'm just saying-"
"Well, don't," Blade tossed the deviant an apple. "Here."
"This is it?" he asked with a frown.
"I'm sure there's plenty of wild game that you can hunt living here. Look! A jackrabbit! Go ~ give chase."
Reaver continued to scowl at the queen. He took a bite of his apple, eating it until the core was left. Then, he unfolded a blanket that he'd packed, laid on it, and sighed. Blade poked at fire, hoping to warm herself, before putting it out and crawling into her own bundle of blankets. Reaver sighed again, this time louder.
"Shut up," the queen demanded, "and go to sleep."
"It's dreadfully cold," complained Reaver. "Are you sure you don't want to-?"
"No," Blade answered without hesitation.
"I take offense to how quickly you answered that," Reaver said.
"You should. Now go to sleep."
There was a moment of silence. Then, a muffled voice came from Blade's pack.
"What was that?" asked Reaver.
"The Guild Seal," said Blade, searching her pack for the gilded object. "I brought it in case the Hero of Strength needed evidence that I am Sparrow's daughter."
"Can't you just summon some will?" Reaver asked.
"I didn't want to take the chance of being alone with you, either."
"Clever girl."
Blade grinned at Reaver's response. "Hello?" she said, as she gripped the round object and brought it close to her face. "Jasper?"
"Ah, Blade, there you are. I was getting worried. Where are you, anyway? Who were you talking to?"
Blade spoke to the artifact, "I'm with Reaver, and we're just north of Mispeak."
There was a pause. Jasper finally asked, "when you say 'with Reaver...'"
"I mean he is here with me," said Blade. "What did you think I meant - oh." The color drained from Blade's face as she realized the other implied meaning behind the statement. Reaver laughed at her.
"You're so innocent," he said. "Completely naïve."
"Shut up," replied Blade.
"I guess I need not worry about that," said Jasper. "As long as you have him under control."
"Done and done," said Blade. "Goodnight, Jasper."
"Hold on," said Jasper. "I had something else that I needed to bring to your attention."
"Yes?"
"Forge is still missing."
Blade frowned, the anxiety that she'd forgotten about in the pit of her stomach had returned, wrathing in her gut.
"What do you mean, 'Forge is missing?'" asked Reaver. "Blade, you failed to mention this to me."
Blade ignored the rogue. "I'm sure he's okay," she said, trying to remain positive. "Jasper, you wouldn't mind taking over while I'm gone, would you? Just for a little while longer?"
"As you command, Your Majesty. Sleep tight, Blade."
That night, Blade had trouble falling asleep. When she finally did fall asleep, staying asleep was another problem.
As a new day dawned, Blade rubbed her eyes and yawned. She rummaged her pack for a quick breakfast. But a rustling in the bushes stopped her. Blade listened, carefully reaching into her scabbard for a weapon. That's when she heard the hushed voices. Blade watched a shrub in front of her. Her eyes darted as she looked around, but she kept staring at the shrub. She was certain that that was where the voices were coming from.
"Show yourselves!" she called.
The rustling stopped. The voices became silent. Blade continued to watch the shrub.
"Don't attack!" a voice said, a pair of hands rising in surrender.
"Show yourselves!" Blade called once more.
A boy, not much older than thirteen and covered in monk robes, stood up. He stared at Blade in fascination.
"Who are you?" Blade demanded. "Where do you come from?"
"I could ask you the same thing," the boy said.
"Who's with you?" asked Blade. "I know you weren't alone."
"I am," the boy said.
"Who were you talking to?" Blade wondered.
"Myself. No one really talks to me."
Blade lowered her weapon. "What's your name?"
"Alistair."
"Alistair," Blade echoed. "Do you know where I can find the Hero of Strength?"
"You're looking at him."
...
Blade stared at the boy as he warmed himself around the campfire, meanwhile munching on an apple.
"My mother used to tell me stories about the old kingdom Heroes," said Blade. "She said the Hero of Strength was a woman named Hannah. A warrior monk."
"That's my mother," said Alistair. "Hannah. How do you know about her?"
"Because my mother recruited Hannah to save Albion fifty years ago."
Alistair stopped eating his apple and stared at Blade. "Your mother was the Hero of Bowerstone?"
Blade nodded. Alistair grinned.
"I need your help," said Blade. "I'm afraid that evil has conquered the Tattered Spire once again."
Alistair frowned. "So you need to gather the Heroes to defeat this evil." It wasn't a question. It was an acknowledgment.
Blade nodded.
The boy gestured toward the sleeping deviant. "Who's he?"
"The Hero of Skill," replied Blade.
"As in-"
"The very one."
"Damn," said Alistair. "He's ancient."
Blade grinned, "You have no idea." Taking a quick breath, she proceeded to shout, "Hey, Reaver!"
The pirate jumped. He turned on his side, and glowered at the queen. "Blade, don't do that." Noticing the boy, Reaver asked, "who's that?"
"Reaver, this is Hannah's son. Alistair, that's Reaver."
Reaver laughed. "The whor-"
"Reaver, behave," Blade glared at him.
"That's my mother you're talking about," fumed Alistair with a look that could kill. The boy drew the sword from a sheath on his back.
"Please, Alistair," Blade halted him with a hand gesture. "Reaver, apologize."
"Why should I?" the rogue asked.
"Because I'll pummel you, if you don't," answered Blade.
"Do it," said Reaver with a smirk.
In a single stride, Blade was at his side, as she picked him up from off the ground, and held him up by the collar of his shirt.
"Apologize," said Blade.
"You wouldn't," doubted Reaver.
"Wanna bet?" challenged Blade.
They held each other in a staring contest, neither daring to move. Blade brought a fist to Reaver's face, not yet making contact.
"Not my beautiful face!" cried Reaver, shielding himself with his hands.
"Apologize to Alistair and don't make any more remarks about his mother for the rest of the trip."
"Fine," grumbled Reaver. "I'm sorry, okay?"
Alistair frowned, but put his weapon away. "Whatever."
Blade dropped Reaver on the ground.
"Ah-!" he said, landing on his butt.
"All men are babies," murmured Blade, rolling her eyes and walking away from the thief.
Reaver frowned at the queen, standing up and dusting himself off.
As the sun lowered in the sky and evening turned to dusk, Blade and Reaver began preparing to leave, once again. That's when Alistair asked a question, one which caught Blade by surprise.
"Why did you come here?" the boy wondered, searching the queen's face for an answer.
"You know why I'm here..." replied Blade, clearing her throat. "I'm here to ask for your alliance."
"What would happen if I declined?" Alistair asked.
"Albion would be doomed."
"Would you try to eliminate the evil without me, though? Knowing that you had no chance whatsoever?"
Blade nodded. "Of course I would."
"Why?" asked Alistair.
Blade pondered his question with great consideration. "I guess, I care deeply for the future of Albion."
Alistair smiled. "You seem trustworthy enough. Next question: how can I be sure you're Sparrow's child?"
Blade reached into her pack and pulled out the Guild Seal. "Does this answer your question?" Alistair nodded. "I suppose you have no proof of being Hannah's son, though?" wondered Blade.
Alistair shrugged, "unfortunately. Mother left me the clothes on my back."
Blade frowned. "But you inherited her Hero blood, correct?"
Alistair said, "I did."
"Good," said Blade. "Now that we've found you, Reaver and I need to ally with the Hero of Will. You can come, if you want, or you could rest and prepare for the battle to come."
"I think I'll pass," Alistair smiled. "Thank you for the offer."
"Come on, Reaver," said Blade, motioning for him to follow as she slipped her arms into the straps on her pack to keep it on her back, and began to trek back toward the boundaries of Albion.
"Hey, hold on!" called Reaver, running to catch up with the queen, who was already ahead of him.
...
The pair traveled all day, passing through Albion, as they journeyed to Samarkand, the arid land known for the sand that covered the territory and also for its blistering heat.
Following Reaver, who was more familiar with the land than she was, Blade silently prayed that he knew where he was leading her and tried to muster enough trust that he wouldn't abandon or betray her. The latter was difficult because every step she took seemed like she was that much closer to her doom.
The trip from Albion to Samarkand took another seven days. Blade became worried that they may be too late to save Albion. Shaking this doubtful thought away, Blade continued forward with a new determination. By the time they reached the border of Samarkand, dusk fell over the land.
Blade's heartbeat quickened with excitement. Somewhere in this city was the last Hero. She could feel it.
"There," said Reaver, pointing toward a tent that was set up not too far away. "That's where he studies."
Blade ventured toward the tent, her eyes watching it with curiosity. As she reached it, Blade curtly knocked on a wooden post keeping the tent upright.
"Who is it?" came a voice. It was a man's voice, deep with a slight hint of age and magic to it. It had an exotic accent to it.
"My name is Blade," said the queen, almost certain that she had that right man. "I'm here to discuss something with you. It's for the sake of Albion."
"Go away," came the reply.
"Please," begged Blade. "It's a matter of life or death!"
"That's not my problem."
"Please," pleaded Blade.
"Garth," Reaver's voice interrupted. Remembering his presence, Blade turned to look at him. "This is Sparrow's daughter. Surely, you wouldn't say 'no' to Sparrow?"
There was pause. Then the curtain pulled apart. In the entryway stood a tall, dark-skinned man, blue will lines etched into his body. He stared at the deviant through his one good eye.
"You," he said, baring his teeth. "You!"
"It's good to see you, too," Reaver smirked.
The dark-skinned man summoned will, aiming it towards the pirate. Blade, aware of his intentions by the murderous expression on his face and from her own experience with will, blocked his target.
"Move," demanded the man.
"No."
The man narrowed his eyes. Becoming cognizant of the queen's determination, the man lowered his hands and extinguished the magic.
"I'm asking for your help," said Blade.
"And I'm refusing your offer," the man said, shooing Blade away with his hand.
"Please."
"Reaver claims your Sparrow's descendant. Do you have proof of this claim?"
"Yes," said Blade, taking her pack off. The will-user stared at Blade, as she rummaged through her pack. She pulled out the Guild Seal and lifted it up to show him. "How is this for evidence?" asked Blade.
"Nevertheless," the mage continued, "why should I care about the fate of Albion?"
"Because this has happened before."
The man studied Blade. He glanced at Reaver, who nodded at him.
"Hannah's dead," he said, finally. "How are you supposed to gather all of the Heroes, if one of them is dead?"
"She had a son, who claims to be the next Hero of Strength," said Blade.
"Garth," said Reaver. "Come on."
The mage looked as though he were considering it. "For Sparrow," he said, finally. "And for Hammer."
Blade grinned at him.
"Reaver, you take Garth to Albion. I'll fetch Alistair. Meet me at your estate," said Blade, then she vanished to the Sanctuary.
A.N.: There; Now I have no choice but to endure Reaver AND Garth. Happy?
A.N.: This chapter was poorly written. Just a fair warning.
The four remaining hopes for Albion ventured to Driftwood, where the Hero of Brightwall last spotted the Tattered Spire. Blade led the group to a small boat on the farthest side of the cluster of islands. They continued further toward the black building, each preparing themselves for the battle to come.
The team anchored beside a dark-tiled harbor, then unloaded one-by-one.
The Hero of Will craned his neck upward, studying the never-ending series of stories with a low whistle. "Hasn't changed much," he said, finally.
"Still a dreadful place," the Hero of Skill agreed. Turning towards a bright light at the center of the architecture, he asked, "reckon we should go in there?" Blade nodded.
Taking one step forward, she led the team further, into the heart of the Tattered Spire.
…
For a moment, the team was temporarily blinded by the light. However, the blindness faded away, revealing a slim figure standing at the very center of the Spire.
"I've been expecting you," a feminine and crystalline voice sounded.
"Who are you?" Blade asked, hesitant to proceed.
"I'm surprised you managed to persuade Reaver and even Garth. Well done," the voice continued, making no attempt to answer the queen's question.
Garth had been listening to the figure, trying to recall where he'd heard the voice before. "Theresa?" he finally asked.
"Ah, so you do remember," came the reply.
Blade stared at her. "Theresa?" she asked. "As in, the Blind Seeress?"
"I should have expected you were behind all this," said Reaver with a smirk.
"What happened?" demanded the son of the Hero of Strength. "I thought you were one of us? One of the good guys?"
"I only pretended to be for the time being," said Theresa, "however as time passed, I realized that there's no excitement in being seen as a hero. The pride only lingers for so long. And that's when I formulated a plan, one similar to Lucien Fairfax's. But instead of constructing a new Albion, I merely seek to destroy this one."
"You can't do that!" cried Blade.
"Watch me," said Theresa. Suddenly, Blade and her teammates were frozen. The Heroes of Strength, Skill, and Will were forced forward. "You might be wondering what has come over you? It's a temporary hex that should last until Albion is completely destroyed. But as backup preparation-" Theresa trailed off, motioning for someone unseen to step into view.
Blade's heart sank.
Before them, stood a man, weapons sheathed and attached to belts fastened to his upper body and waist; his dark brown hair sticking up at odd angles, his blue-grey eyes boring on the Heroes as though he were a predator hungrily eyeing his prey. He looked distant, like he was possessed by some creature, and his face's bloodthirsty appearance made him seem determined to tear them apart.
Forge, Blade's inner voice called.
She stared at him, wide-eyed, piecing together the events that lead up to this moment, the signs and clues that the blacksmith had left. He didn't return her gaze, though. Silently, Blade was relieved. She didn't want his menacing gaze on her.
"Forge," whispered Reaver. "Snap out of it."
"He cannot hear you," explained Theresa. "In fact, he's completely unaware that you are here. He will become active if one of you escapes."
As the foreseeing woman continued her objective, Blade felt the hex on her lift. Suddenly, time paused. As Blade took one step, Forge's eyes locked on to her. He drew his sword and stalked toward her.
"Blade," called Reaver, immediately. "Run."
As time returned to normal, the blade on Forge's sword nearly struck Blade's neck. She stared at him, bewildered. Blade began to realize that Forge would stop at nothing to annihilate her. She began internally panicking.
"Forge," she called aloud. There was another blow of Forge's sword, again missing the side of Blade's head as she dodged it. "Forge!" cried Blade, desperately. "Forge, it's me, Blade." Urgently, Blade quickly drew her sword, blocking another strike.
Forge lifted his sword above his head, closing in to Blade's head. Blade lifted her own sword to block his attack, inches before it hit her. As both weapons collided, they flew out of the warriors' grips. Forge, still ravenous, lunged at his opponent. Blade held her hands up to block his attack.
"Forge, stop this madness," begged to reason with the possessed blacksmith was hopeless. Blade had another idea. In hopes of catching him off guard or returning him to normal, Blade gently placed her hands on his jawline, forcing him to look into her green eyes. "Come back to me," she whispered, gradually closing the gap between their lips.
Forge shoved her to the ground a few feet away and unsheathed another sword. Blade jumped to her feet and dodged a strike as Forge attacked her. He struck at her once more and she jumped back, avoiding the hit. She realized she wouldn't be able to progress until he was unarmed again, so she lunged for her own sword that had fallen to the ground. Forge noticed and kicked her hard enough to cause her to hit the ground, banging her head on the stairs in front of the blind woman destroying Albion.
"Forge…" Blade stared up at him in fear. He slowly stalked toward her.
"I don't want any survivors," Theresa commanded Forge, fiercely. "Do I make myself clear?"
As a sign that Theresa did, in fact, make herself crystal clear, the blacksmith lifted his sword for the final blow, and Blade realized she really needed to do something. With astonishing speed, she leaped away from him and toward Alistair.
The gap from Forge to Alistair was larger than Blade had estimated. Desperately, Blade reached for something to grab onto, preferably the opposite ledge. Miraculously, she felt her fingers hook onto it. Blade pulled herself onto the land, carefully.
Forge immediately followed, sword in hand, ready to strike again.
"Uh, Blade!" Alistair started panicking as Blade hid behind him, scanning his body for a weapon. "Any time now!" Alistair said, frantically.
"Found it!" Blade unsheathed Alistair's sword from his scabbard and jumped in front him, causing her and Forge's swords to collide, just missing Alistair.
As they strike and dodge each other's blows, Blade gradually led Forge away from the three frozen heroes until they were in front of Theresa. As Forge tried to strike her again, Blade ducked, and the blow hit Theresa instead.
Theresa screamed, stumbling away from them and closer to Reaver. Forge, however, was locked onto Blade. The queen swiftfully dodged Forge's attacks as he continued toward her. As their blades collided once more, before either of them had a chance to pull back their arms, Blade grabbed Forge's wrist that held his weapon, twisted it, then tripped him to the ground. The impact caused him to drop his sword, making it fall into the deep abyss of the heart of the Spire.
Then, before he can get up, she took her blade and pointed it at his throat.
"Please don't make me do this Forge…"
He remained still, staring up at her with a distant look.
"You really think you can get him to snap out of it? Are you a fool?" Theresa laughed, despite the sword wound she had.
Blade looked up at her sadly. "Yes." She dropped the sword onto Forge's chest and took a step back. Automatically Forge grasped the longsword, stood up, and headed toward Blade.
"Fine! You want me? You can have me! I don't care!" she opened her arms in surrender and vulnerability. Forge lifted his sword, pointed the sharp blade toward her, then without hesitation, he impaled the right side of her torso, aiming for her heart. Blade fell to the ground with a thump.
"Audible gasp," Reaver said in amusement.
Forge blinked several times, and looked at the lifeless body. "Blade?" he asked, weakly.
Forge turned to Theresa and glared. "You did this," he accused her.
"No, my dear," she responded, "you did."
He stared at her with pure hatred. Before he could do anything else, he face planted onto the dark-tile floor. Blade stood behind him, uninjured except for an occasional bruise. Stepping over the unconscious body, Blade revealed an old kingdom object, one whose sole purpose was to grant a single wish.
Blade pointed the music box -that she'd obtained on a quick errand to the castle after she fetched Alistair- at Theresa, who was draining the power of her fellow Heroes. Blade began winding the music box up, gently humming the melody. A beam of light shot out of the music box and toward the foreseeing woman. Capturing Theresa within a ray of light, Blade grinned. "Reaver," she called, tossing the music box in his direction.
Moments before the curse had lifted off of the other Heroes. So when the queen thrusted the object toward him, Reaver was prepared and caught it.
"Garth, Alistair, grab hold of it," he demanded.
"Why?" asked Alistair.
"Because he needs strength, skill, and will powers in order for this to work," explained Garth, as he took hold of a corner of the music box. Alistair, without another word, placed his hand on the artifact. The three Heroes started yelling as energy surged through each of them.
"Blade!" cried Reaver between clenched teeth.
Blade smirked, drew her pistol, and locked it onto the blind woman. "I got it," she said, pulling the hammer back and focusing the gun onto Theresa once more.
Reaver called, "anytime, now!"
Just then, a bang echoed off the walls. Blood spurted from Theresa's gut, with such a force that she was sent backward, and fell into the endless abyss that surrounded the heart of Spire.
Panting, the other Heroes exchanged glances. Reaver forced a relieved laugh. Garth fell to the black ground in exhaustion. Alistair placed his hands on his knees, as though he were going to vomit. Blade picked the music box up from the ground, then returned to the unconscious Forge's side.
She examined the music box with curiosity. Absentmindedly, she began to trace the uneven outline of the object. Suddenly, Blade felt as though someone knocked the wind out of her. Although her vision was growing fuzzy, she recognized Reaver's silhouette standing over her, a smirk engraved onto his face. Then Blade blacked out.
A.N.: The statement, "Fine! You want me? You can have me! I don't care!" is from purpleeyeswtf's "Pokemans: The Adventure." "Audible gasp," is also a purpleeyes quote from his series "CodeMent." I know Theresa's a bit OC in this chapter, just read the next chapter and it'll start to make sense. Also, I have to thank puppylover27 for helping me with the battle scene with Forge. Had she not helped, it would've been much shorter and not as exciting.
"Blade?" called a voice. The queen vaguely heard it. She turned onto her side. "Blade, come on. Wake up," said the voice. A face stared at her. Blade scanned it for any sign of recognition. "Blade," the voice called. As Blade's mind cleared, she found herself staring at Reaver's smug face. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty," he said. "You hit your head there pretty hard, didn't you?"
Blade glared at the deviant. She sat up, trying not to wince. She didn't want the rogue to gain any more satisfaction. In her imagination, the queen leapt from the bed and lunged at Reaver, kicking and thrashing as they tumbled to the ground. Blade smiled, replaying the scene over and over again in her head.
After a moment, Blade finally asked, "where's Forge?"
"He's not feeling to well," explained Reaver.
"I need to see him," said Blade.
"Your head," said Reaver, "it needs to heal."
Blade ignored the pounding of her cranium that confirmed Reaver's statement. "I need to see Forge," she said, kicking her bedspread aside.
"Blade..." Reaver blocked her exit in an attempt to stop her.
The queen strode past him toward the blacksmith's bedroom. She knocked on the door.
"Master Forge isn't seeing anyone at the moment," called Jasper from the other side of the door. "Please come back later, at a more convenient time."
"It's Blade," she replied.
"Blade? Shouldn't you be in bed?" came Jasper's answer.
Ignoring him, Blade said, "I'm coming in." Despite Jasper's protests, Blade entered the room.
The room didn't look any different than it did weeks ago before any of this happened. The only difference was that the bed was occupied.
Forge was fast asleep in his bed, scratches on his face and scars on his chest. Blade looked at him, fondly.
"Blade," said Jasper. "You need to rest."
Blade shook her head. "I need a cool, damp cloth," she insisted.
"As you wish, Your Majesty," said Jasper with a bow.
"While you're at it, tell Cook to make some chicken soup and have it ready."
As Jasper exited the room, Forge stirred. "Oh, Blade," he said, half-awake. "What're we going to do with you?" Blade smiled. She sat at the edge of Forge's bed, gazing at his face. Suddenly, Forge opened his eyes. He stared at Blade. "Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asked.
"Shouldn't you mind your own business?" replied the queen with a snicker.
"But you hit your head," said Forge.
"Did Reaver tell you?" asked Blade.
"No," said Forge. "I was there."
Blade stared at him. "But you were unconscious!"
"No, I wasn't."
"Yes, you were! And Theresa was trying to take over the Spire!"
"You hit your head pretty hard," Forge assumed.
Blade took a deep breath. Explaining all this would take some time and Forge already thought she was crazy. Temporarily shrugging off the events that she'd recently lived through, instead Blade asked, "How long have I been asleep?"
"A week and a half," answered Forge. "Are you hungry?" Upon the mention of food, Blade realized that she was famished. Sheepishly, she nodded. "Come on," said Forge, pulling off his bedspread.
"Forge," Blade asked. "What happened?"
Forge considered her. "Blade," he said. "The day you found the Spire, you went delusional. Reaver found you trying to fight a group of mercenaries, outside of Millfields. He sent a messenger right away, and as soon as I got to the scene, a real tough-looking merc, knocked you unconscious." Forge shrugged, "I guess you dreamt the rest of it."
Blade thought for a moment, then laughed at herself. "I guess I did," she agreed with Forge.
"Come on," said Forge, bounding from his bed, and unfolding a clean shirt, pulling it onto his torso. "Let's get something to eat," he said, motioning for Blade to follow.
As the duo passed through the entryway, a boy, not much older than thirteen, dressed in monk robes, and carrying a large sword, waited beside the front entrance. Blade stared at him, wide-eyed.
Forge noticed. "What?" he asked.
"Nothing," said Blade. "He looks like someone from my dream, that's all."