'thought', "Talking", "Ancient text or whisper", Ancient Text,
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"For everything under heaven, there is a purpose."
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A solitary figure stood head bowed in the midst of lightly swirling sand. No sound could be heard except for the wind as it lifted the tiny particles and threw them down again. Hours passed, and still the scene remained the same. Then of a sudden, the wind stilled to a whisper, the sand settling in its proper place. The figure raised its head; light blue eyes gazed forward sorrowfully. A sudden flash, a pillar of light, then all was still once again. The wind resumed its games, and the figure vanished from sight.
Quatre, a young noble of Ganwyng, stood silent among the tombs that lined the ancient city of Cou'di Abra. Born of Light and Earth, he stilled his troubled thoughts. "I am the Master." The golden head lifted, sorrow plain on his features as he whispered only one word. "Why?"
Tears coursed their paths down the face of the young man as he turned to his memories. 'Why father, did you have to die?' Laying down the scroll he held in his hands, he spread his arms wide, seeming to attempt to gather the whole world in their compass. Slowly the words of an ancient chant made their way from trembling lips.
"One from waters, one from sky, One from mountain, born to die.
Watching from the realms of light, Comes the shadow but tis slight.
Father, now on high to hear, Come to make the Master feel.
Make darkness flee, from out of me, that I may bear the Light."
It seemed for a moment that nothing happened, then he gave a heart wrenching cry and fell face down, into darkness.
While he lay so, a second figure appeared beside the prone figure. Another young man, like as the young noble who was unconscious to the world, except that his hair blew a dark brown, knelt down and placed a hand on his shoulder. Immediately his face contorted with the inner pain that was being communicated by his lord. Finally Quatre arose.
"Trevor, are you well?" Concern etched the face of the young man as he noticed his companion bent over as if in pain. His companion recovered from the shock of the incident and nodded. "You must be strong Master Quatre. Having a natural empathy, you will feel the pain the more." Quatre turned aside his face for a moment, then looking back nodded. "And you as well; for though you are not the Master, you have been chosen to help me bear the burden, Brother."
Trevor looked thoughtful for a moment. "Things shall never be as they once were."
"No they will not. But come, Trowa awaits our return." The two clasped hands and a glow surrounded them. Moments later, the deserted city was empty again; only an old scroll lay flapping in the breeze.
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Death by darkness, death by night,
Take away the old that there may
be the new to take the light.
Far away in the capital of Ganwyng, a sorceress clapped her hands together. "Indeed! the prophecy is beginning to fulfill itself. This will mean doom to the wars that are upon us, and those who lead. You would hear of this, would you not?" Gathering her robes around, she slipped out of the room, leaving a book upon the table. Her pale blond hair streamed out behind as she hurried down the hall.
Hesitating outside the door, she pondered her next move. It was not wise mayhap, to lay out every revelation to her liege, although he might possible discern if she left anything out. In his own way, he was a powerful wizard. Making up her mind, she played absently with the light and shadows that swirled about her form. Mistress of illusions, her gift often came in handy when gathering and sharing information. With a haughty air, she strode into the chamber, nodding to the man seated by the window.
"Greetings liege."
The man stood, his cape flowing around his muscular frame. A sword hung at his side; altogether he made an imposing figure. "Welcome cousin. And need I remind you that no titles are between us?" Dorothy raised an eyebrow at that, but let it pass. "I assume you have found something."
The eyebrow raised even farther, and the sorceress forgot her haughty mannerisms for a moment to stare. The shadows danced around her however, allowing her to resume her superior attitude. With a flick of her wrist the light and shadows danced from before her and came to rest in front of the warrior.
"Yes Treize, I have." Treize smirked, bemusedly and bent his head to study the scroll that had materialized in front of him. How little his cousin truly understood about him. She was so naive, and yet, so useful. However, the scroll in front of him produced no surprise. "Tis but one of the old prophecies." He stated simply, waving it away with his hand. It dissolved into nothing.
The sorceress spun on him and spoke pointedly. "The new Master of Light fits the prophecy, your excellency." When he waved her away, she continued. "And the prophecy speaks of the downfall of your line, the destruction of the kingdoms." He dismissed her with a nod. As she turned to leave, he spoke. "If you are so worried about it, fair cousin, you should find some way to stop it."
The sorceress stared for a moment before gathering her skirts about her and disappearing through the door.
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Forty dwarves in halls of stone, forty giants are alone,
Waiting to release their might when summoned by the Master's Light.
See the sands around them sweep, as though they dwell under the deep,
Silence falls, as does the gloom, in the darkness of their tomb.
Whom the sword of truth command, upward through the swirling sand,
When violence breaks across the land, then forward shall the chosen stand.
Against the Two, who in their might, gather armies in the night,
Both endued with loyal hate, Death, destruction are their fate.
Six will come, one will fall, one to bear the pain of all,
Five will help that one to mend, and to the light their might will bend.
Forty thrones sat in the silence of the giant hall. In the darkness therein, the forty manlike shapes could never be distinguished, as they rested from the labors of the day. Although visible to no human eyes for the present, if any man had seen them, he would have sworn that they were just as much stone as the seats upon which they sat. And truly, they looked it. For these were the forty dwarves of the Sandroc. Magnificent they were, and strong.
Each possessed broad shoulders from which the wide arms descended; arms that wielded the hammer and sword. The great chest descended to the lower torso, bound as it were, by bands of iron. Long legs completed each, the sinewy members resting now, but capable of great speed when necessary.
Long stayed they thus, immobile, immovable, immortal in their rest. The day would come when their awakening would stir them into the battle once again, but for now they rested from labors past, awaiting with endless patience the events of the future.
---
Shadows fell on the mountains, as dark eyes scanned the expanse below. The wind swirled about the peaks, singing its news of the world at hand. Ignoring for the present the nuisance of the flapping of their capes, three figures stood upon an outcropping of rock, studying the land from the heights. At last the elder of the trio moved his head, gray hair blowing in the breeze.
"Darkness comes, my sons. A foul presence begins to cover the lands to the south."
"Yes Elder, verily it seems to be so." The younger man shifted his cape more comfortably around himself, nervously fumbling with the golden braid that lined it. "But more than this I cannot tell, either from wind or with the eye."
Their remaining companion nodded his agreement, seemingly content to remain silent. For many long moments they stood together before the old one turned away to the scant trail that led to the aerie. "Long have we dwelt in the shadows, my friends. Now perhaps, it is but time that we send out into the world to see what cannot be seen from the mountains."
His weathered face turned thoughtful, he stayed his step to turn again to his companions. "Send out the Shadow Lords."
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The day was growing old. The silent noted this as he observed the waning of the light under the forest canopy. All around the outside of his shelter, the creatures of the daylight finished their routines, heading for water and the safety of nest and burrow. The solitary whine of the cicada was joined by a chorus of chirrups from the crickets that hid inside of the long grass. Beside him, the large dog form stirred restlessly.
(I know, my friend.) And he did know. The brothers were long in returning to this place, a thing most unlike them. However, the extenuating circumstances surrounding the first ritual could explain the delay. A firm touch on the shoulder kept the animal from moving around too much, as the one continued to watch the day turn into night.
Rastis turned his head to his companion. His long tongue lolled out of his mouth while he gazed questioningly at the human. (Why are they waiting so long to return?) The wolf did not approve of any change in the comforts of the daily schedule, because to him they denoted danger. Unknown is danger.
Firmly Trowa shook his head. (Unknown is unknown. Perhaps danger, yes. Perhaps no. One cannot say of the things he cannot see. And maybe not even then...) His attention was arrested by the glow emerging from near at hand. As it faded, it left behind two man-shapes. Rastis immediately bounded to his feet, earnestly scenting the air to determine their identity. With a happy yelp he leapt forward to greet them.
"Hello Rastis." The voice was gentle, carrying an undertone that bespoke of great exertions and greater weariness. The wolf basked under the gentle pat on the head. The blond elf turned to the silent human standing in the clearing. "Trowa, I trust all is well?"
The silent one nodded, indicating the animal standing to one side. "Rastis thought otherwise, but it is none of his fault. He is not used to you making such a long absence."
The dark haired youth spoke in his turn. "The ritual, although simple in its execution of phrase, was highly taxing to the physical body." He shook his head, almost as if he disbelieved the words that he spoke. "How could anyone have anticipated it?"
Trowa bowed slightly, acknowledging his own bewilderment at the trials that must be endured to become the head of the Brotherhood. In turn, he lifted a hand in gesture to the hut behind him, a wordless question. Quatre nodded, preceding the silent one in entering the interior. The dark haired lad lingered a few moments longer, the wolf Rastis by his side. Blue eyes flashed green as the half-elf, the joiner, stared into the evening's quiet.
"What have we all, dear friend, to do?" Silence fell in the wake of his question, and he looked down at the wolf. Rastis lowered his head as though in understanding, then proceeded to lope off into the deepening dusk. With a sigh, Trevor turned on his heel and entered the dwelling, wondering again what the animal had sensed beyond.
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AN: Edited slightly. Hopefully this is a little bit easier to read. nods to readers N-E-ways, read and review.