Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter! I know, I know. I'm torturing you all drawing out the Tarrant/Alice tension. But it will make what's coming next chapter even sweeter. All good things come to those who wait. :)
Hope you enjoy this. Our heroes finally meet the beast on the battlefield. Thus commences the battle for Marmoreal.
~Jade
xXx
She trained herself to wake before he did each morn. She would lie still and breathe in his spicy scent, fighting the urge to turn to him and place kisses along his throat until he groaned her name. Alice laid still in his strong arms until he woke, feeling him squeeze her gently in the ghost of an hug. He would get up softly, sometimes lingering in the morning light, to prepare her tea, while she pretended not to notice.
The pattern continued for the weeks they were in the woods, but not once did he show her any special attention that would lead her to believe he's anything more than her dear friend, confidant, and tutor.
In the silence, both their hearts were breaking.
xXx
"My queen, I've found nothing. The Champion will have to face the beast in only three days." Chessur's usual grin was instead a grimace as he reported to Mirana, floating somberly before her.
"You've been through all of them, then? No more remain anywhere?" Mirana glided elegantly between bowls and jars, gathering ingredients and mixing them carefully. Her calm and regal exterior covered the dread which had settled in her heart.
Unable to stand by and do nothing for her kingdom while her Aboveland Champion risked her life, Mirana had been preparing every potion she could conceive, and enough pain and healing salves to cover Alice from head to toe, if need be.
While Tarrant and the Champion had trained, Mirana and Chessur had gathered every magical text, tome on myth, legend, or tale, and every potion-making book they could, scouring them for information. Chessur had scoured all the volumes, cataloging, indexing. Lists after lists, referenced, cross-referenced, by size, color, appearance, features; is it a dragon, a lion, does it have the head of a bull, the scales of a snake, is it large or small, can it speak, or does it growl?
They didn't know the monster's name or what it was. Apparently the thing was too horrible even for the Oraculum to show them, for the picture remained but an abyss, and nothing more. Not even days in the future or the Champion's victory, as had been the case with the Jabberwocky. They had to be prepared for anything that might stand before them.
Chessur had gone through generations of mystical knowledge, passed down through the matriarchal line of Marmoreal. Thanks to Chessur's work, once the beast was revealed, he and Mirana would hasten back to the castle and find the beast by attribute, prepare for the second day of the three.
But Mirana had also sent missives to the other kingdoms of Underland, even those with which Marmoreal no longer had routine contact, pleading for their help. Underland was an odd place, for all its kingdoms and realms were spread so far apart that there was virtually no contact between most of them. Mirana had hoped that the other sovereigns would understand the threat to their own kingdoms, however, should Iracebeth ever set her sights on any other than Marmoreal.
Her peers had not disappointed, either. Stacks of musty books, ancient scrolls, and lists of potions were soon delivered from those across the Crimson sea, on the Golden Coast, and even the reclusive souls atop the snow-capped Tarathian mountains. And each messenger brought with him or her a pledge to lend assistance with their armies should the three attempts fail. Armies were mustering forces across the whole of Underland, prepared to fight for the continued existence of the White Realm.
Mirana's wisdom had hit home with her fellow regents. If Marmoreal could fall, so could the others.
But despite the resources at their disposal, the future was still a mystery. Not the faintest hint of what they would be facing could be found anywhere.
xXx
"'Tis time to return to Marmoreal, Alice." Tarrant lisped over a lunch of roasted pheasant. The weather had turned cool and the warmth of the fire kept the chill off. Strange, it never used to get cold in Underland so early in the fall. The change from summer to fall had come quickly, too. In mere weeks the heat of summer had faded and iced.
Although they dared not speak of it, both Alice and Tarrant knew the cold was no mere weather anomaly. The change in Underland had been brought by the beast. And in just three days, Alice would have to stand against it.
Packing up their gear, dousing the last of the fire, and the ride back to Marmoreal was somber. Both ached from weeks of training and sleeping on the ground, and would be glad for a soft bed and the happy bustle of the castle. A few good nights' rest, a break from sparring, and meals shared with their closest friends would do much to ease the burden on their bodies and souls.
They had just two days to relax and to heal, to cherish time with those they loved. If the Champion did not prevail, all lives would be forfeit. They had three chances, no more. The gravity of what would be constricted Tarrant's chest.
Mally, Thackery, and Nivens met them at the gates, smiles broad, and announcing that tea was ready. "Yer LATE!" Thackery exclaimed, throwing a scone at Alice.
"Yes, Alice. Naughty," Tarrant teased. "We are both terribly late this time. We've missed tea for nearly two months! We must get cleaned up and rectify this at once." He kept his voice light, and there was a familiar glimmer in his eye as he helped her down off her horse.
He was almost the same man who had been courting her above, Alice realized. Their months together in the woods had brought them closer than ever, their constant training bonding them unlike any other that friends share. They had laughed together and he had shared stories of both his own youth and the times Alice had not yet remembered from her childhood trips to Underland. But the gave importance of their task had always left a tangible tension.
Alice was monumentally glad Tarrant was able to ignore that now and lose himself in the happiness of friends, and decided that was the best way to spend the next two days. There was no use in dwelling, only in enjoying the life they would soon fight to protect.
"Let us hurry, then. Mustn't miss tea any more." Alice smiled at her friends, glad she had returned to them from Aboveland.
With that, Alice and Tarrant hurried inside to bathe and dress in fresh clothes. Alice reveled in the feeling of the soft, warm gown waiting for her. Her breeches and tunic were momentarily forgotten, and she felt like a different person. Clean, refreshed, and happy.
When she made her way to the tea table, she found everyone awaiting her. Mirana sat at the head of the table, Chessur to her right, and the Tweedles to her left. Mally and Thackery were bickering over whether squimberry jam could should be used on poppleberry scones, and Nivens nibbled on a tiny, purple sandwich.
"Alice, my dear!" Mirana rose to greet her Champion. "We're so glad you've returned to us. We've missed you terribly. Have the rest of your memories returned to you yet?"
"No, your majesty. The recent ones, yes. I remember well the events of the last time I was here. It is just my first visit that still eludes me. I know I stayed here for quite some time and must have had such great adventures, but they are still a blur to me. I can see flashes of faces I used to know, snippets of that time come to me in dreams still. I fear it will be some time before everything will return to me."
"Be patient. I am sure they will come to you." Mirana changed the subject, hoping to hear some good news. "I trust your training went well?"
"Yes, your majesty." Alice smiled, the pride in her accomplishments obvious. "Tarrant was a most skilled teacher. Between swordsmanship, hand-to-hand combat with axes and knives, and wrestling, I feel ready to take on any beast the Bloody Big Head can call."
Alice's eyes snapped to Tarrant as she heard the crash. Pieces of a shattered tea cup lay before him, his fingers still in the handle, a small trickle of blood running down his hands where he had squeezed too hard.
"Downal wyth bluddy beg hid!" Tarrant yelled, voice low and gravelly, Outlandish accent thick, eyes red. "Slurking urpal slackush scrum! She dares to attack us again, kill more than before, destroy us all, but if she hurts one hair on my Alice's head, I'll gut her like the craven, dirty..."
"Hatter!" the table cried in unison.
"Tarrant!" Alice ran to him. "Tarrant, come back to us."
"...bluddy...sorry..." Tarrant was suddenly aware of the soft hand on his cheek and the worried eyes of Alice, filling with tears, before him. "...I'm fine...thank you..." he said softly. He turned his face into her palm and closed his eyes for just a second. "Thank you, Alice."
Instead of returning to her seat next to Thackery, Alice stayed next to Tarrant, taking advantage of one of the extra chairs at the large table. "How fetching you look back in your colors, Tarrant," she noted, changing the subject to something lighter.
Gone were his gauntlets and thick jerkin. Instead, navy slacks were paired with a plum jacket, a maroon shirt, and a polka-dot cravat. The bright, clashing colors would not work for any other man, she mused. "And I never will understand how that hat of yours stayed on your head for the entirety of training! Not once did it fall off."
"'Tis a bit of Underland magic, love. I shall teach you some time."
Tarrant might not have noticed the slip of his tongue in calling her 'love', but everyone else did. Alice's eyes grew wide and her breath caught. She quickly covered her surprise, but noted none of the rest did. Chessur and Mirana cut their eyes to each other, smirking. Thackery giggled uncontrollably, and the Tweedles kicked each other under the table.
"What? Did Alice and I miss a joke while we were talking? Why is everyone giggling? It must have been a great gaff!"
Tarrant's confusion was adorable, Mirana decided. "Nothing, Hatter. We're just so very glad you've returned to us for the next few days."
xXx
The two days passed quickly, filled with joy and laughter. But as the darkness of night fell and the freezing wind howled outside the windows on the eve of the battle, neither Tarrant nor Alice could deny what was coming.
"You know you don't have to do this, Alice," his voice was barely a whisper. His eyes met hers, searching, pleading. For what, she didn't know. "This isn't your world, this doesn't have to be your burden to bear. We don't know what this thing is or how to defeat it. You could die. There's still time to go back," Tarrant paused, "home, if you want to."
"I know that I can. I know this is not my world, but no, Tarrant. I must do this, it was me in the Oraculum."
Tarrant's heart clenched, his chest tight, fear overriding every other emotion. He loved her so much, and she could die. She could die for Underland. She had trained and fought hard. She had shown muchness, valor, commitment. "You are a true Champion, Alice. Your muchness is so much more...muchier...than ever." He forced a smile past his fear. She's ready, he realized. "If anyone can beat this thing, its you."
As he turned to part with her, he paused, turned back. Placing a soft kiss on her forehead, he asked, "With all your muchness, there is one thing I must ask." Hope restored, and ready to fight upon the coming day, he laughed, just a little.
"Yes, Tarrant?"
"Why is a raven like a writing desk?" His face was solemn, but his eyes were smiling. How many times had he asked her that same question?
"I haven't the slightest idea, Hatter. Perhaps when this is all over, we can find out. That will be our next great quest."
xXx
The morning dawned to a luminous sky. Pinks and reds and purples filled the sky as the sun began its ascent. Heavy black clouds loom in the distance, toward the battleground. The time has come to fight.
Today, Alice did not wear the dull practice armour she had donned for the past weeks, nor did she carry the unadorned broadsword she had spent so much time striking and clanging against Tarrant's claymore. Today was the day. The armour of the Champion fit well against her frame, now firm with lean muscles and the Vorpal sword was at home in her hand.
Tarrant once again appeared in his Outland best for the coming battle. Blue jacket and red waistcoat, his favorite cravat and the Hightopp clan's plaid around his hips. His great claymore hung at his waist.
Mirana and Chess were waiting at the gates with a couple great warhorses and the Bandersnatch as the Champion and the man who never left her side descended the steps.
"Tis a fine morning for a battle, majesty." Tarrant bowed low to Mirana. "Cat," a head nod acknowledged the feline floating beside the Queen.
The light mood of the previous days was replaced with an unmatched intensity. He struggled to keep his mind. The madness threatened to overtake him at any moment. The thought of losing Marmoreal, its people, his Queen, and his Alice to this beast was almost enough to send him over the edge. It had been months since he had worked his trade, and for once, he was thankful. Fresh mercury in his system would have weakened his resistance and his sanity would have been lost for certain, just when it was needed the most.
"Bandersnatch!" Alice cried, seeing her friend. He growled happily and wagged about. A giant tongue lolled from his mouth and licked Alice's face from chin to forehead. "Stop, now! I can't fight if my eyes are covered in Bandersnatch slobber!" She laughed and scratched behind his ears.
"Neither Chess nor I will be able to come to your aid, Alice," Mirana addressed her. "We are there only to learn what we can about the beast. Nor can you lend your sword, Tarrant. In this battle, Underland can have only one champion."
Tarrant grumbled under his breath. He'd be damned if he wouldn't fight for Alice if he came down to that. He could only pray that it didn't.
The trio of humans mounted up and rode out together, side by side. Chessur floated beside them, completing their quartet. This time, they did not even bother to bring an army. With three chances, they knew they must save that for the last day, should it come to that. The rules were clearly given by the Oraculum; Underland can have only one Champion to face the beast. However, they would try to bend the rules and have a single army, united with her leadership. While not the letter nor the spirit of the law, it was their all-else-fails backup plan.
As they approached the battlefield, Mirana and Chessur hung back. Tarrant rode out to the center beside Alice, where Iracebeth and a handful of card-soldiers awaited.
"Are you ready for three days of pain before Marmoreal and all its inhabitants are destroyed, Champion?" Iracebeth raised her chin and looked down her nose at Alice. "Or would you prefer to admit defeat now and let the Agingroth feed upon you without the suffering you will endure fighting against him?"
At the sound of his name, a hulking shadow a hundred feet high and a hundred feet wide, moved forward from the tree-line. The edges of the abyss were not clean and defined, but flickering, moving, growing as more light fell victim to it.
Alice gasped at the sight of it. Tarrant reached for her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers, a show of solidarity, an offering of comfort in the face of evil.
Something familiar niggled in the back of Alice's mind at the name of the beast. Why did it sound so familiar? Surely she would have remembered if she had ever seen this thing before.
The Oraculum had not been obscured, after all. They had all thought it showed an undefined area of darkness because the beast was too big, too horible to show. Or that the future was not clear, even for the Oraculum. It had shown them what they would face.
Panic threatened to overtake her as surely as Tarrant fought the madness beside her. The Agingroth left nothing in its wake. The path it had travelled was simply gone. Where grass-covered ground had once A deep chasm, a void. It was as if for a mile below there was simply nothing there.
How can I fight nothingness? How can I fight what isn't there? Alice racked her brain, praying, pleading, hoping she could remember that thing which she knew was in her mind. Damn those memories. If only she had everything back that had been lost to her.
"You cannot yet be destroying this land, Iracebeth!" Alice cried at the top of her lungs. "You have not won yet! I am Alice Kingsley, Slayer of the mighty Jabberwocky, Champion of Underland. And you have underestimated me to think that I cannot best your beast given three tries."
A laugh echoed within the abyss, a haunting sound that sent shivers up Alice's spine. Then suddenly, the darkness started to shift, to swirl, wind and dust kicking up everywhere, faster and faster. Tarrant grabbed Alice and pulled her back, further away from the thing, unwilling to let her get sucked into its vortex.
They watched it begin to change. Shrink, condense, into...the shape...what?...the form of a person. Out of the darkness emerged a man. Black hair was slicked back from a chiseled face. Piercing eyes of blue ice met Alice's brown, flickered to Tarrant's, red with rage and barely controlled madness. Alice shivered at the cold, unfeeling gaze.
Agingroth in his corporeal form stood tall, his body adorned with fine boots, breeches, and a shirt of the finest silk. And when he spoke again, his voice was like velvet smooth, but laced with hatred and disdain engendered from the self-assured knowledge he was superior to these things that stood against him. These specks in time the he would soon devour.
He looked her up and down. This is their champion? This woman? No attempts to cheat by sending a vast army? No line of knights or hulking warlords? The corner of his mouth drew into a smirk. Oh, how he had hoped to fight a real challenger again. He had grown so bored of facing weaklings and told her so.
"You are such a tiny, inconsequential thing. Yet you think to defeat me?" He almost laughed again. "I have destroyed a thousand lands with champions superior to you. And when this is over and I have devoured your lands, I will move on to a thousand more."
Tarrant reluctantly stepped back, allowing Underland's Champion to face her foe. Yet he remained close, ready, keeping a close eye on the Bluddy Beg Hid and watchful gaze on his Alice. He would not leave her.
"Face me, Agingroth. You will not be disappointed." Alice drew the Vorpal sword from its sheath and moved toward him.
Agingroth materialized a wicked looking black blade in his hands and swung it around his body, rolling his wrists in preparation. Finally he charged and the steel of the Vorpal blade flashed as it met the darkness. It had begun.
He played with her for hours, testing her abilities to block, parry, and strike. They danced across the battlefield as he pushed the limits of her agility. They circled each other warily, Alice moving in to strike, once, twice, three times, then jumping back out of the way before he could overwhelm her with his superior strength.
Agingroth smiled. He was impressed by her skill. For such a wee thing, she fought well, and with courage. He even found himself enjoying the fight. Usually he used the three days to affirm his superiority, to laugh at the feeble attempts waged against him. It had been generations since he had found a worthy opponent, and the prospect of killing her on their third encounter disappointed him. Such is the way of the world, however.
As courageously and skillfully as Alice fought, she could gain no ground with him. In the hours they had fought, just one blow had caught his flesh, and then only a minor slice of his arm which had instantly healed. Alice grew more and more weary, gasping breaths gulping air, while he was tireless. She was battered an bruised, delirious from exhaustion.
As the sun drew low in the sky, Tarrant watched in horror as Alice stumbled, and the tip of the Vorpal lodged in the ground as she caught herself. Agingroth seized the opportunity to strike the sword, shattering it.
"Even the Vorpal sword is no defense against me, girl," he laughed again, that deep echoing boom that chilled even Iracebeth to the core.
Alice stumbled back, clutching the shattered hilt and blade of the Vorpal sword, stunned. She was frozen. No, she denied it, shook her head. It could not be. Not the Vorpal sword! She could do nothing but stare at the broken sword in her hand in disbelief.
Tarrant ran forward, his claymore slashing at the beast. It was futile, he knew, but it bought enough time for Alice to regain her senses.
"Now, now. No cheating. Underland can have only one Champion at a time," Agingroth sneered has he shoved Tarrant off of him. "No need to come to her rescue, Outlander. We have two more days, I'll not kill her yet."
He turned his back to Tarrant, who was now crouched at Alice's side, as she laid on the ground, too weary even to stand. "Let us meet again on the morrow, Champion. I look forward to it."
xXx
Tarrant helped Alice back to the Bandersnatch, who whined and licked her many cuts and bruises. The healing power of his saliva worked quickly to stop the bleeding, but did nothing for the fatigue that kept her from standing under her own power. Leaving Alice leaned up against the Bandernatch's side, Tarrant climbed up on to this back and pulled Alice into his lap. "Here, lass. Lean back against me and sleep for a bit. You made us all proud today," he spoke softly into her ear.
Alice didn't hint at resistance, and murmured sleepily to him. "The Vorpal sword...it was destroyed."
"Aye, but now Chess and Mirana know what the beast is. They're already back at Marmoreal searching the tomes and gathering potions for tomorrow. They'll find the answer. Don't worry, love." He called to the Bandersnatch to return home, and he lumbered softly to allow Alice a peaceful journey.
Before Tarrant felt her slump against him, finally giving in to her exhaustion, he heard her whisper, "I like it when you call me that." Tarrant's heart soared. Finally you return to me, love. He kissed her lips softly and felt her snuggle closer in his arms, breathing deep and even in sleep.
You may not yet love me, but you have feelings for me. And you accept that I love you. All is not lost, it cannot be. I need more time. We should be starting a life together, not fighting to save the kingdom.
xXx
Back at Marmoreal, Mirana and Chessur searched the indexes Chessur had created for the texts. Entities with attributes like 'abyss', 'huge', 'dark', 'takes shape of a man.' Finding nothing definitive for Agingroth, they prayed he had simply overlooked a few creatures in the stacks of tomes, and went searching again by hand. They found hints about an immortal creature that traveled between worlds, but such little concrete information existed it, they couldn't be sure. Not that there was anything useful other than the stories of death and destruction he wrought, anyway. No firm description, no strengths and weaknesses, and certainly not a method of destroying or banishing the beast.
The lack of records could not be a coincidence, Mirana decided. He must have systematically worked to remove himself from the recorded history. And without solid information, they could not discover how to defeat it.
After putting Alice to bed, Tarrant came into the library. "Tell me you've found how to destroy the beast, Majesty."
Mirana sighed, a crack in her serene and etherial bearing forming as a tear slid down her cheek. "Hatter, I'm afraid not. There's nothing of use. A few tales, but nothing we can glean a method from." She closed her eyes, trying to pull a far-off memory from her mind.
"Chessur, you're sure there are all the texts?" She queried suddenly.
"Yes. I've told you, liege. Again and again. There were all that were sent, all that could be found by your guards," Chessur snapped at Mirana, his frustration evident, appearing and disappearing with each clipped word, "all that were in the castle itself or in any known shop, library, or personal collection in your lands."
"And no one else would have had this kind of information...Wait!" Mirana cried. "Chessur!"
"Yeeees," he drawled, slowly turning through the air.
"Do you remember Chriton? The old wizard?"
He had died years ago, just after Alice had returned home from her first visit and about a year before Mirana's parents had passed away, leaving Marmoreal to her. He had always kept a number of particularly important volumes on magic which he refused to turn them over, for fear they would be captured by those who would use them for evil purposes should Marmoreal ever fall.
More than that, he had hidden even the location of his home. He had only emerged when he was needed by the kingdom. If only they could get access to his library.
"Quick, Chessur. Send a team of my royal guard to search for Chriton's home. Ask all the villages and towns in the realm. All the elders, someone must know something. It is our last hope."
Something felt wrong in Marmoreal, foreboding and dark. Mirana could feel it. They had just two more tries before Agingroth would destroy them all.