Disclaimer: yeah. O-kay.
Also, I don't own Roid. You'll see.
AN: yeah. I know. Late! But, er, loophole! I totally forget that the week I planned to update this one on (this week or the week before) is AP testing week. I have five of them. Five! Math, Science, English, History, Latin. And I failed all of them. 'Cept maybe English. Or Latin. Anyway, point is, I think my brain is soup right now. And, God, I have SATs tomorrow. Four freaking hours of it. Shot me know, please? Bear with me here. Just SATs and finals to get through and then v-kay! Summers coming up soon so… yay!
Warnings: none
Act XIII: Beneath You
"Well, I have some news for you, my boy. Would you like to hear it?"
A head tilted to the side, blonde hair parting for the pointed ear. "Fine. I don't really give a damn," was the curt reply.
"I see the desert has only seen to it to make you rougher," he answered with a small laugh, running a hand through his raven colored hair. "Sometimes I wonder if you were born to simply be rude. You'd think you would be a little nicer seeing as how—"
"Get on with it," the blonde man interjected with blue eyes that sparked with rage. For a moment he had a distinct purple hue before it faded and his skin returned to a tanned color. "Or I'm leaving."
"Mortals," the man said with a shake of his head. "Sometimes, I see what my sisters tell me. 'Lokin,' they say, 'stop playing with your human pets and remain here with us'. And every time I tell them no."
Without saying anything, the blonde man moved to stand. His hands clenched into fists at his side. Lokin reached out with a small roll of his crimson eyes and placed a strong hand on the mans shoulder and urged the blonde to sit back down.
"Fine. Honestly, you think you'd be glad to see me after so many months in the desert with nothing but sand lizards for company, but hey, you're a tough man." Lokin turned his back on the blonde and pressed a finger to his chin in consideration. "Well… I suppose, there's no easy way to say this, so I'll just say it. Haven City was burned to the ground under the order of Sage-Harmona's leader Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi."
"You lie!" the blonde hissed but he knew it was true. A god didn't often lie. He just didn't always give all of the truth. He jumped back to his feet again and shook his fists angrily. "I should've been there, damnit. And it's all your fucking fault and… my family! What the hell happened to them, Lokin? I swear to whatever higher powers reside above if anything happened to them I'll—"
"Your daughter's fine, and with her companions in the desert. And she's going to run into some old friends of yours shortly, so for now she's safe." The crimson pupils darkened to a blood red as Lokin gazed deeply into the eyes of the Future. "But your wife…"
"Keira." The blonde grabbed Lokin by the flimsy collar of his white tunic and growled into his face. "Damnit! Tell me! If… if there's something wrong with her you're going to wish I died years ago."
"Aren't I doing that already?" Lokin muttered disappointedly before continuing, "Keira Hagai Mar has been kidnapped and taken to Sage-Harmona, under not Lord General Hirmoyarbeshi's orders, but the orders of that man. The Mage." For the first time a hint—only a hint—of anger showed in his eyes.
"Sage-Harmona?" The blonde snarled and dropped Lokin. He had been to Sage-Harmona once, only once, and had been suffocated by the eerie silence that surrounded the streets, the sense of desolation and fear. "Why the hell would she be taken to Sage-Harmona? And by the Mage?"
"Well… the Mage—as well as Hirmoyarbeshi—are very interested in making a perfect army of super soldiers," Lokin replied with a small smile that only added an old look to his middle-aged face. "And they need a symbol to lead their 'new world order'. What better than the descendant of a Goddess? Not only that, Keira's blood may prove to make her very tolerant to the poisons they use to enhance a body's capability."
"Damnit… damnit… damnit… damnit," the blonde hissed and reached down and pulled his rucksack onto his shoulders, not even glancing at the crimson-eyed god. "This is all your fault."
"You think that," was all Lokin allowed. His smile remained in place. "You can leave since you've done what I've asked. The next part won't come until later. Go collect your wife."
He stood, his entire frame shaking with rage. Without saying a word to Lokin, he moved passed him. For a moment, Lokin looked upon the alcove they had been standing on. Then he turned and looked at the man.
"You know something? You've changed," he admitted and watched as the man paused in his stride. He turned to look at Lokin over his shoulder.
"And whose fault is that?" he demanded before sliding down the stony hill and running into the sands.
Once upon a time that man had been a hero, Lokin considered. He had been a boy turned beast turned man turned husband turned man again. Lokin knew he had taken everything away from this man, had known he had taken the man's life and crushed it within his hand. Those deep blue eyes had just been beginning to gain hope within their depths and then Lokin had come along and darkened those hopes until they had all but faded away.
"I suppose you'll never forgive me, eh?" Lokin asked with a calm shrug. "Not that I care very much…"
And truthfully, he didn't. Gods didn't often regret their decisions. And when Lokin had seen the future, had glimpsed into it, he hadn't hesitated at coming down to the world and dragging a man who deserved peace and happiness more than anyone into the gritty world of war once more.
It had all been necessary. Of course, no one saw that yet, but they would. Within his frame, the man carried the keys to the future. The only way to save the world lay within a battered, weary body.
The god turned his head and began to head towards the path which the blonde man had taken. Even as he walked he began to fade. He felt the tug of the Otherworld call to him, the place where the gods once slept and now the remaining ones resided.
"There had been hope in you once…" Lokin muttered as he thought upon his chosen, remembering the look of hatred, pain, and rage in his eyes. It was as if he had once more returned to the angry, revenge-bent young man he had been. "And now I see that it's gone and the Fates won't let me see if you get it back."
He felt a small emotion tickling the back of his neck. Regret? Sadness? Lokin didn't know and he didn't delve into the emotion. He pushed them away and returned a smile to his face.
Mortals. Would he ever understand them? The man refused time and time again to understand why Lokin had dragged him away from his family. He had instead turned all his hatred and aggression onto Lokin and blamed him for everything that went wrong in his life.
"Boy," Lokin said thoughtfully as the grainy scenery of the desert faded and was replaced by bright greens and sparkling waters. "He's going to hate me when he meets his daughter. She hates you just as much as you hate everything, Jak."
Jak Mar, hated by the one person he wanted to love him the most. How very, very ironic and appropriate for Jak's life.
Then Lokin laughed because it was funny.
--&--
"What do you mean I can't go back? Back to Keira? She's having a baby, damn you! I need to be there."
"You can't go back and if you try to I'll make sure your child suffers for it. I'm a god and my powers are great. Do as I ask and you'll be reunited with your family… one day. If you're good."
"You just can't do this, Lokin! I don't care what I owe you. You won't keep me away from my family."
"Oh, but I can. And I will. I need you to drop this, Jak. Don't you understand? If I thought there was another way then I would…"
"I don't believe you. I see it in your eyes. You're getting pleasure from every moment of this. You are!"
"Well, I won't lie about that. I am, but that doesn't change the fact that if there was another way I would take it. I don't trust you mortals to get the job done, but you're my only hope."
"Your only hope? Yeah right."
"Honestly, Jak. I don't care if you believe me or not. Because, believing it or no, you still have to do as I say. For now, you work for me."
"Damnit…"
--&--
"Mommy… I wanna go outside," Sedet said solemnly, looking out the window of his mother's office, high in the Holy City palace. From his position he thought he saw a plume of smoke rising in the distance, but he chose to ignore it.
"Well then, Sedet, why don't you just go outside?" Sala suggested to her son, never looking up from the long, black lines of information she was reading. It felt as if she hadn't moved from that desk in days.
Sedet almost pouted but he reminded himself that big boys didn't pout. The whole point of going outside was to get his mother to come with him. Her skin had taken on a pale, sun-deprived look and she was growing thinner and thinner by the day.
Nine-year-olds shouldn't worry about such things when they were so young, but Sedet did. He always did. That was why he was so quiet, so solemn-eyed. He was busy watching everyone and everything that went on around him.
For the past two weeks, though, Sedet hadn't been quiet because he was observing, but because he was sad. His mother was throwing herself into her paperwork, his father was dealing with the army training, and Nyx was off doing Important Things got the Holy City—as Sedet called it because he didn't really understand what was going on. Even Merasaki hadn't left her father's side since her mother had gone off.
"Lady Sala?" called the tentative voice of a palace servant at the threshold of Sala's door, which was firmly shut.
"Sedet? Will you get that for me?" Sala asked, yet again keeping her eyes trained on her papers. She pushed aside her dark hair and placed it behind her ear.
"Yes, Mommy," Sedet replied and hopped off the stool he had been sitting on. A feeling of being needed had him skipping to the door. He opened it and greeted the tiny servant that stood at the door. "Hello?"
"Young Master," the servant greeted and handed Sedet a large bouquet of flowers, colored a bright yellow. She blushed as Sedet took them. "Lord Gareth sent this to Lady Sala. Will you give them to her?"
"Yes. Thank you." The servant grabbed her thick skirts and curtsied before scurrying down the hall. Sedet shut the door and walked back to his mother.
He held the posy of flowers at arm-length, careful not to inhale them. He was allergic to certain types of flowers and he didn't like such bright, girly colors. He placed them calmly on his mother's desk.
"From Daddy," Sedet answered and Sala glanced up. A humored smile came to her lips as she touched one of the tips of the petals.
"Your Daddy's a sweet man," Sala answered. "I'll give him a big kiss next time I see him." The monarch laughed as Sedet's face blanched in disgust. "You'll get it when you're older, I promise."
As if on cue, Gareth strode into the room, hand in his pocket. He smiled at his wife and son, ruffling Sedet's dark hair and scooping Sala up to kiss her. She laughed weakly and playfully batted away at him.
"Nice flowers," Gareth mumbled against her hair as he lowered his head to inhale the scent of her dark locks.
"Aren't they just?" Sala asked with a huge grin. She leaned in and kissed his cheek, thinking he was just playing with her. "I'll have to thank whoever sent them." With a small smile, she bent down and inhaled the aroma of the flowers.
"I just came to give you these," Gareth went on, pressing some papers onto her desk as Sala examined her flowers. "There's a new break in the south wall of the city and the locals want it fixed. Now, apparently. I just had my ear chewed off by their representative. Mean man, that."
"Well, then. You best get to it." Sala placed the flowers on her desk, smiling and stroking their petals.
"After I'm done how about we go down to the gardens, Sedet?" Gareth asked his son with a grin and the small boy nodded. "Good, sport. I'll be back soon."
Leaving his wife and child, Gareth made his way down to the center of the palace, his steps becoming more torpid with each stride. Oh, how he hated delegating. He was not a man meant for negotiations and yet lately he found himself doing it more and more. Gareth was a man meant for battle and wild rides, not sitting patiently and listening to complainants.
But if that was what it took to keep his beloved city in shape then so be it. Gareth would just have to suffer. He took a deep sigh of suffering.
Then a scream broke through the air. Blinking, Gareth took off in a run towards the sound. It led him to the center of the palace, where the black marble shone brightly beneath a glass ceiling.
A young maid lay on the floor, her thick skirts flapped out in front of her. Her face was starkly white and her chest barely moved in a deep breath. Another older maid rushed over to her and bent down. "Agnes?" she cried, touching the girl's shoulder.
Nik ran in, too. He looked at the girl, his eyes growing wide. "What happened here? Why is she on the floor?"
"I want to know that, too," Gareth agreed as he came near all three of them. The older maid stood, trembling slightly and unable to look away from the tiny maid on the floor.
"I don't know, Lord Gareth. Honest I don't. I was walking when I saw Agnes pass out. She's healthy as a yakcow, milord. She's young. This doesn't make any sense." The old woman looked near tears.
Gareth watched as Nik bent down and pressed two fingers to the girl's throat. "There's a pulse. It's weak, but there's a pulse. Get the healers," he ordered the maid. "Tell them she's passed out. Likely from heat stroke, look at the thick wool she's wearing!"
"Before you go," Gareth interjected as the old maid turned to leave. "What was this girl doing before you found her like this?" His head was working to figure out what had happened. If the girl was young then there was no reason for her to pass out. Even with thick wool, the palace wasn't hot enough to warrant heatstroke.
"She was bringin' flowers to Lady Sala, milord," the old maid answered before going down the hallway to fetch the healers.
"Flowers?" Gareth mumbled, his heart hitching in speed.
"Yeah. I heard about them," Nik answered as he picked the tiny maid up into his arms. "Didn't you send them to her? That's what the servants all said."
"No," Gareth answered in a frightened whisper. The maid had passed out in a near-death faint after giving flowers to Sala… which he didn't send… but every one thought he had.
Something was wrong… terribly wrong.
"What…?" Nik's eyes went wide as realization dawned on him. "You didn't send them?"
With a jolt, Gareth remembered Sala bending her lovely, arched neck to inhale the scented petals of the flowers. He remembered her nose being buried in the bright, vivid yellow. Her fingers stroking the petals tenderly.
"Sala!" Gareth abandoned Nik, racing down the hallways back to his wife. Nik called after him to wait, but Gareth hardly listened. When the healers came, Nik handed over the maid and took off after Gareth.
When Gareth reached Sala's office he knew immediately something was wrong. There was a deep, frightened knowledge in his stomach that said he was already too late.
Gasping and choking on rage and fear, Gareth rushed into the room. Instantly, Sedet stood from his spot on the floor and jumped into his father's arms. He pressed his nose into the crock of his father's neck and cried brokenly.
"Mommy—!" Sedet started and then broke off, sobbing.
He placed his son back on the floor, searching Sedet's face for any sign of sickness or faint. "Sedet, did you smell those flowers? Did you, son?" There was a raw, strange fear inside him he had never felt before.
"N—no. I don't like flowers," Sedet answered and hiccupped, choking on his tears. "I held them away."
"Good." Wildly, he pressed kisses to his son's face and held the boy as close to him as he could.
Then he walked over the side of the desk, slowly, his breath hissing out. He was deathly afraid of what he would find.
Sala lay behind her desk, the vase containing her flowers broken. Black dirt covered the floor and tucked into it was a thin, white slip of paper. Gareth ignored it and gathered Sala into his arms, her head lolling against his shoulder.
"Sal?" he whispered, stroking her hair. Sala's eyes fluttered open before they shut again and she lay completely limp in his arms.
Nik rushed into the room, healers dogging his heels. One of the healers gathered a trembling Sedet into their arms and held his palm over the boys' forehead. With a relieved look, the healer said, "The boy is unharmed."
"Sala… Goddess… who the hell did this?" Nik demanded in a whisper. He didn't receive an answer. Gareth's eyes were distant and dark.
Nik noticed the white slip of paper, buried among the dark soil that had housed the plant. With two fingers he picked it up and opened the white, folded letter. "Mother loving… bastards…" he whispered in an anger he could barely conceal. Gareth jerked to life and reached out for the letter.
For the glory of Sage-Harmona. Was all it said. But it gave Gareth all the answers he needed. They did this. Those assholes. Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi and whoever worked for him. Sala was lying on the floor unconscious because of what they had done.
"Why… why for their fucking city?" he whispered as his fingers tightened over Sala. He stood, his queen in his arm, and handed her to a healer. "Get her to the medical ward as fast you can. Heal her, please."
"Yes, sir," the burly healer answered and tenderly took the queen into his arms. "Call ahead to the healers there. Tell them," he ordered his fellow mages.
"Goddess…" Nik whispered suddenly, a sound of realization in his voice. "Gareth… Gareth! We sent Nyx and the others… we sent them to Sage-Harmona. Do you realize—realize what we've done?"
"Yes," Gareth answered and his eyes were just as horrified as they met with Nik's. "Yes. We might have just sent them into a war zone."
--&--
Sage-Harmona… after so long I'm going home… but I'm not happy about it.
Nyx kept her eyes trained on the towering walls of the deadly city. Before the walls had offered her protection and comfort. Now, they symbolized her worries, her fears and the possibility of war.
She turned her head to look over her shoulder, at the spies behind her. They were looking at the high walls with apprehension, the same as her. Even from the outside, something was off with the city. It reeked with evil, spewed malicious content onto their skin. It had to be stopped.
"Let's go. The faster we do our job, the sooner we can go home." I hope Nik can forgive me. I hope Merasaki can forgive me. I'm doing this for them.
"Yes, ma'am," the spies whispered. The sun had just set and each of them wore dark, black cloaks that made them almost invisible in the darkness. Nik motioned them to follow her. One of the reasons she had been chosen for the operation was because of her firsthand knowledge of Sage-Harmona.
And if she remembered correctly…
They hurried around Sage-Harmona about ninety degrees before Nyx ordered a halt. She reached out and touched a large rock that leaned heavily against the thick walls. With a calm push the rock rolled away and revealed a darkened pathway.
"This should lead into the very back of the city. We can comb the rafters from there and sneak into the palace from behind," she told them. No one questioned her. She motioned for them to slip into the hidden pathway.
Once, this had been created as an escape route for the residents if the city managed to be breeched. No one had ever thought such a thing would happen and in time almost everyone forgot about. Nyx, being the planner she was, had always reminded herself of it and its uses. But she had never thought she would be using it against Sage-Harmona.
With a shake of her head, she followed her spies into the dark tunnel. She slid the rock back into place and then called softly ahead of her, "Go straight until you see the light."
The group began to move, silently. Only Nyx's honed hearing enabled to her to know that she wouldn't hit someone if she started walking. The walk took only about ten minutes, but the ten minutes were slow and painful and Nyx's back ached at being hunched over for so long.
Guess I'm not as young as I used to be, she thought ruefully as she rubbed the spot on her neck that ached.
Finally, they reached the inside of the city. Nyx resisted the urge to gasp. Her home was nothing like her home anymore. It was destroyed, blackened, in ruins.
The once proud city of Sage-Harmona was in turmoil. The houses of the citizens were in decay and the streets were falling apart, the cobbles peeling away from the ground. There were no lights in the city and the houses were dark. And what was worse was the perverse, frightening silence that was everywhere.
For a moment, Nyx didn't dare move. Her eyes took in every inch of the city, the decay and ruin, before they landed on the palace. The regal, tall palace was a looming sight now. Foreboding and menacing. What had once stood for protection and strength now meant only tyranny and evil.
"Blend in with the shadows," Nyx murmured. "Don't let yourselves be seen. Climb the rafters," she pointed to the wooden beams that lead to the roofs of the houses. "And find somewhere to rest. Our mission starts tomorrow."
As the spies obeyed Nyx's orders she took one more glance at the palace. She remembered being awe-inspired by it. But now it only looked like the enemy.
She prayed that some immortal was watching and protecting the Holy City because it looked as if they would need it.
--&--
"It's a disease I've never seen before, Lord Gareth," the chief healer, a wizen old man, said as they both looked down upon Sala. "From what I can tell it's a poison that puts its victim into a deep coma. Whether it's deadly or not I cannot tell."
"So you're saying she might die or she might not die?" Gareth asked and felt tears prickle his eyes. Sala looked so vulnerable lying on the small hospital bed. His hand fisted above her cheek. "What am I supposed to do? Stand here and wait?"
Sedet was staring at his mother as well. He pressed his head into his father's leg and fought tears. The healers had recently looked at him and pronounced him completely healthy. The poison hadn't touched the boy because he had held it so far away from him when he had accepted it from the servant girl.
"I know what poison she has," Nik said as he came into the room. He face was taut with determination. "When I was in school back in the Sage-Harmona army we heard about it. Before I was even born, Sage-Harmona had a long series of skirmishes with the desert people. In order to fight them, the scientists created a poison that could be hidden away, in blankets, food, and even flowers. For a long time, the desert people just kept on dying. But then they created a cure and the fighting stopped."
"A cure…" Gareth reached out and gripped Nik's arm tightly. "Would they still have it? Would there still be a way to save Sala?"
"They should," Nik answered. "But Gareth… they probably won't tell you. They don't like city dwellers, Sage-Harmona residents or no."
"I'll have to make them tell me," Gareth said, his voice strained with emotion. "What choice do I have? I won't stand back and let Sala die when there's a chance I can save her."
With a small sigh, Nik replied, "Find a man named Venneron, son of Alta. He's probably about twenty-nine right now. Looks a little like me, but with black hair. He's my half-brother. Mention my name and he'll help you."
"I—I… didn't know you had a brother," Gareth muttered and stared at Nik. He realized there were a lot of things about Nik he didn't know. But right now that didn't matter. Only one thing did.
"I don't like to talk about it," Nik answered. "Find him. Go to Donna-Rune, the nomad city, he's probably there."
Gareth nodded and turned towards the door. Sedet followed him, gripping his hand but unable to find his voice. Nik kept pace with him.
"Nik, you're in charge until I get back, alright? If anyone asks, tell them we're having… I don't know… a meeting with Haven City or something. Don't let anyone know about what happened to Sala." Gareth looked over at Nik.
"Alright. I know I can't change your mind. And I wouldn't try. Just be careful." Nik gave Gareth a brotherly pat on the back. "Everything will be just as you left it."
"I hope so," Gareth muttered and bent down to his son. The young boy was near tears. "No crying, alright? I need you to make sure Nik doesn't screw up too bad. I need you to be a big, strong boy."
Sedet wiped his tears away with the back of his hand, sniffling. "Yes, Daddy. I'll be… be… a good boy…" Then he wrapped his arms around his father's neck and sobbed into his shoulder.
Gareth rubbed his son's small back. "I need you to watch over your mother, alright? Talk to her and tell her that I'm going to come back and heal her."
"Y—yes."
"That's my boy." Gareth pulled away from his son and, with his thumb, brushed away a tear that fell from his cheek. "I'm coming back, Sedet. I promise. I'll come back and make your mother better."
"I know you will, Daddy." Sedet bit his lip when Gareth pressed a shaky kiss to his forehead.
"I'll miss you, son. I will. I'll miss you every day that I'm gone and I love you. I love you lots." Gareth stood and ruffled Sedet's dark head. "Be good until I get back."
"I love you, Daddy," was what Sedet answered.
--&--
Once the smoke had died and the Metal Heads were gone, Ashlin Praxis went searching for survivors. She and Torn split up and decided to meet in the center of the ruined city.
Now Ashlin, with about two hundred survivors, stood staring at the rubble that had once been her beloved city. But the destruction didn't even faze her. Her eyes sparkled with tears, but not because the city she had sacrificed so much for was destroyed.
They couldn't find Ryu.
Her son, her blood, flesh of her flesh, was nowhere to be found. She had searched for hours, among the rubble, the dead bodies, and the survivors. She had found no sign of her son and with every moment he was not with her it felt as if her heart broke more and more.
Torn came up to her, his group of a hundred behind him. He touched her shoulders and Ashlin turned into his arms, not crying but broken enough so that it didn't matter. "I couldn't find Ryu…" he said dejectedly and there was a dead, hollow look in his eyes that said everything that needed to be said about Torn at that moment.
All he could remember were the last words Torn had said to his son. The disappointment, the rage, the anger. He hadn't meant any of it, but he had been angry in that moment and that was the last moment he had seen his son and it was a bitter truth that soured Torn's throat.
"Maybe one day… maybe one day you'll forgive me, respect me even. I hope."
The sad, sad truth was that Torn always respected Ryu. Always had and always would. Because Ryu knew what he had wanted and he had stood firm on that. He hadn't let anyone change his mind. When Torn was younger he hadn't let himself even consider what hobbies or passions he had. They had been in a war, he hadn't had time for such things. Torn molded himself to love fighting and guns and had pushed any inkling of any other passion away from his mind.
"Ryu's a resourceful boy, Ash," Torn told her even as his throat tightened. All he could think about was Ryu, buried under rubble, suffocating to death. Or Ryu consumed in flames, crying out for his father. "I'm sure he's okay. He probably… he probably got out and ran… ran to safety…" But that didn't sound like Ryu. Ryu would have stayed, would have gone into the city, and helped other people escape.
"Maelia's missing too," Tess said as she came up from the crowd. Daxter stood next to her, but his head was bowed and his skin weak in pallor.
"They're probably together then," Ashlin guessed on a wild spur of hope. "What about Keira? And Aithne? And Samos and Sig?"
Torn shook his head and answered, "We couldn't get in. Rubble had closed off the entrances and we had injured people so we couldn't risk it."
"Don't worry. Everyone got out," said a voice. Sig, with his head bleeding, moved towards the group. "I just came back to let ya know what happened. Your son's fine. I was only half-conscious at the time, but I heard 'em talking. Took my Peacemaker, your son did. Lucky, I had a spare." He hefted his blaster gun then jerked his chin toward Daxter. "Daughter's with him, too. Same as Aithne. Someone's helping them go after Keira."
Ashlin noticed that strapped to Sig's back were the weapons Keira and Jak had once fought with. The glaive and the sword. But she was too tired and too worried to ask him about it.
"Of course Mae-Mae's fine," Daxter murmured, keeping his head bowed. He was frowning, frowning deeply. "There's nothing wrong with her. Why shouldn't she be fine? There's absolutely nothing wrong with her."
"What happened to Keira?" Ashlin demanded, Daxter's half-insane mumblings falling on deaf ears. They had gotten used to his aloofness over the years.
"Some girl… just came and—and took her. She was working with the Metal Heads. God… she had to be younger than Aithne." Sig's face darkened. "We were attacked by this nasty Metal Head. One of the biggest I'd ever seen. They killed—damnit—they killed Samos. He's dead. And they took Keira. I don't know, but Aithne and the others went after her."
"This was planned then," Torn muttered as his fist clenched at his side. "It was planned. Some bastard got the Metal Heads to attack the city and that girl kidnapped Keira. Something's wrong, something is going on."
"What are we going to do?" Tess asked in fear as she reached out and clutched Daxter's arm. The man brought her into his arms, but he seemed distant, far away.
"Go to the Holy City," Ashlin suggested and nodded to herself. "Keira's from there. I'm… sure they'll help us. We're allies."
"I hope so, too, Ashlin," Torn admitted and touched her hand. Ashlin grasped it. He knew the doubts were there. What happened if the Holy City had planned the attack? No one wanted to believe that, but it was a possibility.
"Alright everyone. You heard 'em! Get ready for some walkin'!" Sig barked and one by one, the people assembled for the journey to the Holy City.
--&--
The first mission Nyx had was a simple one. Reconnaissance. She and two of her spies snuck into the palace to take notes on the duties of servants and the routines of the palace officials. It was tedious work but necessary. A plan would be formed on the information.
It wasn't hard to get into the palace. The large, wide doors were opened every night and every day as people went in and out of the palace. Nyx and her spies slipped in among them and followed them down the hallways, taking careful note of every twist and turn. Then they veered off, seeping down into the unauthorized areas.
After hours of searching and avoiding soldiers, Nyx and her spies found themselves walking down long, steep stairs that lead to a darkened room. Even Nyx's trained eyes couldn't make anything out.
"Find a light," she ordered and listened as a fellow spy groped along the walls. The switch was found and a dim, yellow light sparked to life.
A gasp went through their group. They stood side by side and stared up at the glass window before them, staring at the scene before them. A million thoughts raced in their heads at the same time. Was it possible? How was it possible? Why? Who could do such a thing?
"Goddess…" Nyx gasped as she stared at the image before her, her stomach tilting and her retinas memorizing each horrifying detail that would haunt her until the end of her days.
Bodies… hundreds of them. Spread out on narrow, silver tables behind the thick, glass window. Hanging on walls by nails. They were young and vigor, male and female. They were naked and some were cut open. Machines pumped their blood and monitors tracked their heart rates and a large computer in the very back placed poison into their veins. It was a gruesome, bloody sight.
Nyx pushed open the door at the end of the glass window and entered the room. The smell of death and rotting flesh burned her nose. She didn't gag but she felt the twist of it in her stomach. She didn't dare touch the bodies, though her fingers itched to do so. Itched to yank them down and bury them.
But if they were dead—if the hundreds of them were dead inside the room—that meant that there was something terrible going on. Something bad. What could all these bodies be used for?
"Commander Nyx," one of the spies called, a young woman with a fearful tone. "Over here." She stood at a large, silver computer.
"Sage-Harmona doesn't have computers…" Nyx mumbled and strode over to it. She tapped at the red keys on the board and information scrolled down the screen, after a few moments she said. "Stop. There."
It was plain words on a black screen. But for some reason it got Nyx's attention. It read, simply, Operation: Glory Mode.
She clicked on it and the information came on the screen. A gasp choked in her throat as she read what they were doing, doing, to these people. They weren't dead. They weren't dead, but perhaps it would have been better if they were.
"Goddess help us…" Nyx finally managed to say moments before a sound reached them.
"I saw them!" a voice snapped as feet pounded above them. "Intruders! This time I'm sure of it!"
"You're always sure of it. You had better be right or you're in solitary confinement for a week," a voice answered in a tight, military tone.
Nyx and her spies glanced at each other. She made a motion for them to move. They had to get out of here. Now. Something terrible was going on and she had no doubt that if they were caught they would be killed instantly or worse, added to the collection bodies.
They slipped out of the room and up into the palace. The spies molded into the shadows with Nyx bringing up the rear. She kept her eyes opened and her ears honed. They needed to be ready to run if they were found out.
The open doors were in front of them, but a platoon of soldiers were streaming in. Nyx ordered her spies softly and they changed directions, slipping forward into a corridor to the left of the main entrance.
As swiftly and quietly as they could they moved down the hall. Nyx's head was reeling. They had to get out, but they also had to stay hidden. She didn't know of any other way out except the main door. What were they going to do?
Then something worse happened. They went into a room. And not just any room. They went into the throne room.
Oh Goddess no… Nyx thought in defeat. This was it. They were trapped. They were going to die. All sorts of horrible torture danced in Nyx's head, mocking her.
Should've stayed home like Nik wanted you to… now you're gonna die and Merasaki's not going to have a mother…
There was a pounding at the door and the spies began to tremble in terror. Their eyes were wide. They would die, yes, but they knew the secrets of the Holy City would be kept. They were trained to endure pain.
Suddenly there was a hand gripping Nyx's arm and, with her world spinning and her vision blinded, she felt herself being dragged towards the throne. She thought about struggling against it, but she was too tired to do so.
"Go, take this passage and leave," a voice said into her ear. Nyx titled her head to the right and narrowed her vision until her eyes focused.
It was a man, over a decade younger than herself. He towered over her and his face—handsome with sharp planes and angles, high cheek bones, a slightly bent nose and eyes that were almost black—was grim.
Nyx realized she and the man were the only two people still in the throne room. He had pushed aside the throne and revealed a dark chamber that was deep and long.
"Wh—who are you?" she heard herself question as the man helped her lower herself into the secret passage way. "What is your name?"
"I'm General Yao," the man answered as he handed her sword to her. It must have fallen off, she thought dizzily. "General Tage Yao. Report to the Holy City. Tell them what's going on."
She opened her mouth to say thank you but the throne slid over her head. She leaned against the cold, damp wall of the tunnel the throne had been concealing. The walls were jagged and rock-formed and it was pleasant and relaxing to lean against them.
"No one's here. You were wrong again, soldier," she heard General Tage Yao say above her. "Report to solitary confinement immediately."
That's where I heard him from, Nyx thought weakly. From that room. He was the man talking to the soldiers… General Tage Yao…
When the sounds above the small tunnel quieted, Nyx turned and made her way down the rocky path. Her spies were waiting for her and they were on edge. Their eyes looked to her, their leader. They had questions.
"I think we might have an ally in Sage-Harmona," she murmured.
--&--
The Holy City shone like a beacon for the survivors of Haven City. They were ragged, weary, and mourning. Their city, their beautiful city, was destroyed. There was nothing left for them but to continue living and avenge their fallen homes and comrades.
Torn and Ashlin led the pack, Daxter, Tess, and Sig not far behind. Ashlin had a defeated, worried look on her face and Torn was stiff enough to have wood broken against his back. Daxter was, as always, aloof and distant from everything around him. Tess's eyes were dried, but her cheeks were caked with her tears.
From the high towers of the Holy City the word was spread that a large group of people were heading their way. The news reached their temporary commander-in-chief quickly and he gathered his elite group of fighters and went out to meet them.
The two groups met about a mile away from the Holy City. Nikolas Mandrake raised a hand and signaled the archers perched on the Holy City walls and towers to wait until he gave the signal to fire.
"Who are you?" he demanded, sharply. He had a hand on his short Spartan. His face was friendly, but his eyes were hot and dark.
"I'm Torn, commander-in-chief of the Krimzon Guard of Haven City," Torn answered in his customary, curt military tone.
"Haven City?" Nik asked as his eyes widened for a split second. "I—I heard from one of the Holy City merchants that it was under attack. They returned only a day ago. Are you the survivors?"
"Yes. Most of the Krimzon Guard were killed in the attack. The few soldiers that remain are behind us," Ashlin answered, her voice having gained back its strength and zeal. "I'm Ashlin Praxis. The governor of Haven City."
"Isn't Lady Keira Kinover in Haven City?" Nik asked. "I've heard a few stories about her and I heard she, and her family, were in your city."
Torn's face darkened at the memory. Sig came up, feeling that it should be his duty as he was the one to witness it. "She was taken by Metal Heads, cherry. We don't know where and we don't know why. But I saw her get kidnapped."
"Sage-Harmona…" Nik growled, his fingers clenching into fists. "I'm sorry for your loss. Sage-Harmona is the cause of all this, I'm afraid. They've been on a mad quest for power for a long time, but only recently has it erupted into violence."
"That means," Ashlin concluded, her hot green eyes widening, "Sage-Harmona has just declared war on all of us." Nik nodded to her and Ashlin's jaw tightened. "We need to speak to your leaders, Gareth and Sala. Whatever forces we have, they're all at your service. We must band together."
"I agree with you," Nik answered but his eyes took on a dark, sad look. "But there… there is a problem. Come with me and I'll explain everything to you."
--&--
Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi galloped on his desert-trained horse ahead of his troops. These were not composed of the Experiments, but were average soldiers from Sage-Harmona. He didn't wish to show his trump card to the Holy City just yet. If the Holy City didn't surrender—and Hirmoyarbeshi was almost wishing they wouldn't—he would have the Girl bring the Experiments to him.
A grin, a deeply malicious grin, crossed his handsome features. Yes, this was the only thing that stood in his way. Soon, the world would bow down to Lord General Hirmoyarbeshi and the glory of Sage-Harmona! It would be as it had been before. Sage-Harmona the center of everything, life, commerce, power.
The high towers of the Holy City came into Hirmoyarbeshi's view. He ordered in a tight voice for his soldiers to quicken their pace. He wanted this done as soon as possible.
This was his dream, finally after years and years of waiting, he would be able to put Sage-Harmona in its rightful place. He would rule it as it should be. There would be no longer be three cities vying for power, there would be only Sage-Harmona, the villages around it, and the odd desert caravans.
As a little boy, he had grown up in the wealthy upper class of Sage-Harmona. He had been disgusted with them, with their ways, and had joined the army as quickly as possible. His solution to the desert tribes and the war with the Phoenix had earned him ranks and titles and his campaigns against Eris had made him the city's hero.
He had loved the prestige and glamour. He loved people smiling at him in awe. When he had awakened to find Sage-Harmona's power in the world slipping, and the royal family doing nothing about it, he had lost his purpose. His entire life had been about the power of Sage-Harmona, and keeping it.
The royal family of Sage-Harmona had truly disgusted him. Before, he had respected and loved the Yoshimoro family. But when he had found out that they were willing to simply stand there and let Sage-Harmona's power and glory die, his respect and love had turned to hate. He killed each one of them without mercy, the king to the queen to the sister to the little boy heir. It had been necessary so Sage-Harmona could continue to rule over everything else.
"We've come," said the general at his side and Hirmoyarbeshi saw that his musings had taken up the ride to the Holy City.
"Dismount," he ordered to the general and both of them hit the sand. Hirmoyarbeshi wished it was General Yao who stood beside him—the young boy had so much potential and vigor, it reminded him of himself—but the Mage had ordered the young, famous general to remain in the city.
I don't like that old man, there's something wrong about him, Hirmoyarbeshi thought. He didn't know where the Mage came from, or why he was so willing to help Hirmoyarbeshi, but he had needed someone to support him, and the Mage's power and knowledge had proved to be more than helpful in his conquest of the world.
A man and a woman awaited him, standing in front of the Holy City. One of Hirmoyarbeshi's eyebrows went up, way up. He recognized Nikholas Mandrake. The man had once been a famous warrior for Sage-Harmona. He had even been reported alive and well before disappearing three years after Sage-Harmona had reappeared in the world and most thought he had died.
Well, he certainly wasn't dead. "Commander Mandrake? I was under the impression you were dead," Hirmoyarbeshi said as he approached the two.
"My family is in the Holy City," Nik said tightly, his hand resting on his sword. It was light, his grip, but Hirmoyarbeshi had the ability to sense the underlying emotions. And Nik's body spoke of being more than ready to fight him.
Hirmoyarbeshi smiled at Nik as if to say there would be more than enough time for that later. Then his attention turned to the redhead at his side. "And you are, my dear?"
"Ashlin Praxis," she all but growled at him, a muscle in her clenching in anger. "Governor of Haven City."
There was surprise, deep down inside, but it did not show on Hirmoyarbeshi's face. He hadn't given explicit orders on the death of the ruling family of Haven City, but he had assumed they would fall with the city. It either meant this woman was a hero or a coward. Hirmoyarbeshi respected the former and hated the later.
Time would show which Ashlin Praxis was.
"You had something to do with the attack on my city. I know you did," Ashlin hissed out. She had told herself to be diplomatic and casual but she couldn't do that when the man who had been the reason why so many of her people had died stood right before her. It wasn't her nature.
"You have me there," Hirmoyarbeshi said with a casual shrug. "Of course, I had no orders that your people had to die. Only that the city had to fall."
"You bastard," Ashlin snarl, her fingers shaking with rage. She resisted the urge to raise her hand and tell Torn to open fire. He and the Krimzon Guard waited behind the Holy City's protective walls, ready to fight, in case something went wrong and Ashlin needed back up.
"And how is the ruler of the Holy City?" Hirmoyarbeshi asked, smiling over at Nik. "I hope she is not too unwell."
Nik's fingers tightening visibly over his sword, but other than that there was no change in his features. "State your purpose, General Hirmoyarbeshi."
"Well, since you are aware of what I've been doing for over a decade you can guess." Hirmoyarbeshi's eyes drifted to the towering walls and spiraling towers of the Holy City. "I suggest you surrender. Everyone inside will be spared. You, of course, will be imprisoned for a time… but only for a time…"
"The Holy City will do no such thing," Nik growled. I hope this is what you would do, Gareth. I won't surrender this city to him.
Hirmoyarbeshi sighed, as if the news pained him greatly. Then, with no real malice but also no real sadness, he said, "Then no one in the Holy City will be spared. All of you will fall upon the swords of my army. You'll be made examples of what happens when you disobey the orders of Sage-Harmona, I will have this city one way or another."
"You can try," Ashlin replied sharply, her chin coming up. "But we'll fight you to the death. The Holy City, and the Haven people, will be remembered as heroes, rebels dying for their cause."
"Either way I win," Hirmoyarbeshi replied with a shrug. "You have a week to change your mind. After that, I storm the city. You're a soldier, Commander Mandrake. But now you're a leader. Think about your people."
"I am," Nik shot back.
Hirmoyarbeshi mounted his horse with his general and commander. They galloped away, kicking up sand, as Ashlin and Nik stared after.
"We can't beat him," Ashlin muttered, her voice laden with defeat.
"I know."
--&--
Torn watched Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi walk away from Ashlin and Nik. Then he watched the two make their way back to the Holy City. He breathed a sigh of relief.
He lowered his gun and Daxter, who lay flat on his stomach beside him, did as well. They had a small post on the thin walls of the Holy City. It gave them a bird's eye view of the meeting between Hirmoyarbeshi and his wife.
If anything had been attempted, Torn would have blown Hirmoyarbeshi's brains out. He wished he had anyway. The grim look Torn spotted marring Ashlin's face through his sniper scope made his blood boil.
"C'mon," he muttered to Daxter, not bothering to glance at the man. "Let's get down."
Daxter nodded and followed Torn down the ladder. He had grown even quieter during their short stay at the Holy City. His face had become more withdrawn and the lines that had begun to show around his mouth and eyes seemed deeper, etched from years of depression and grief.
"Daxter!" Tess said, coming up and gripping Daxter's arm. Her bright blue eyes were sad, but it was nothing new. Tess always looked sad. "Are you alright?"
"Fine," Daxter answered and managed a smile for Tess. For some reason it almost made him look worse. It was easy to tell he was faking it. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Tess chewed her lip and Torn knew she was thinking about stepping back, giving Daxter space. Torn wanted to tell her that was the problem. She had been so afraid of hurting Daxter that she had never considered forcing Daxter to overcome his grief and so Daxter had wallowed in it.
"What about Maelia? Aren't you worried about her?"
"Why should I be? She's fine."
Her eyes widened and it was almost as if she was snapping out of a trance. As if she was finally realizing what had been going on with her husband for seventeen years. Daxter had been in denial for so long, he wasn't even aware of Maelia's impending danger. He didn't want to so he just pretended nothing was wrong with her.
"Daxter—"
Torn didn't want to listen to it anymore. He found Nik, talking with one of his soldiers and approached the younger boy. Nik broke off his conversation as Torn neared and nodded sharply to him.
"I don't know if coming here was a good idea," Nik muttered. "Looks like Hirmoyarbeshi has it in for this city as well. Damnit! I respected him once. He was a general in Sage-Harmona. I didn't think the army there could do anything wrong."
He respected the man even if he didn't know him. Nik proved to be a confident and wise military leader, even if he didn't know the first thing about ruling a city. Luckily, Ashlin had a few pointers to give to the younger man.
"What's really wrong?" Torn asked. He didn't know Nik but he could see the worry underlying the rage and army cool. "I can tell."
"My wife," Nik answered on a shallow gasp. He ran his fingers roughly through his crimson hair. "She was sent to Sage-Harmona as a spy before we knew… knew what they were planning. And we haven't had word from them since."
When the man lowered his head, Torn frowned. He could relate, he supposed. He didn't know where his son was, or if he was even alive. He could have very well died in the wreckage of Haven—
No. I would have felt it. I would have known if something had happened to Ryu. At least, he hoped so. All he could do was hope. It made him feel so helpless. He had never felt so helpless before. Before he had always found some tangible thing to fight, some Metal Heads to destroy, Harpies to kill… no he was grappling at empty air, fighting an enemy that, for the first time, had an upper hand on him.
"I'm sorry," Torn told Nik, hesitating and then rested a hand on the man's shoulder. "I hope she finds her way home."
"Yeah, me too. I have to tell her how sorry I am."
"Do you know where Ashlin is?"
"I think she said something about going to lie down. Hirmoyarbeshi insulted her something fierce," Nik replied and rubbed his temples. "I respect her, though. She didn't even bother to pretend to like Hirmoyarbeshi like I did."
"Well, Ashlin's never been one to cover up her real emotions," Torn answered and turned from the man.
"Daddy!" a little girl cried and rushed toward Nik as Torn walked away. He paused to watch as Nik scooped the little girl up in his arms. All fatigue on Nik's face was gone and he smiled into his daughter's eyes.
Did he ever pick Ryu up like that? Torn didn't think he did. Once, when Ryu had only been four or five, he had reached up for his father with chubby arms, begging for a sign of affection. Torn had backed away and let Ashlin take over, letting the woman cuddle the boy. Torn hadn't known how to show his love for his son. With Ashlin it could be shown in kisses and embraces. But how could he tell his son he loved him without saying the words?
When he entered the palace of the Holy City he noticed a gawky little boy resting against the wall, cast in the shadows. He was curled up and stared at the light that bounced off the bright, marble floors.
Since he had been there, Sedet of Luxhine and Rye hadn't moved far from his mothers' side. He didn't leave the palace. His thin face was now—too thin. The boy hadn't been pretty to begin with but his face now bordered on ugly. Torn supposed that was because Sedet had the lines and the bones of a man, while his face was still shaped like a child. In time, he guessed, Sedet would come into his body and become a handsome man indeed.
Now he just looked sad, lonely, and withdrawn.
He wanted to offer some words of comfort to the boy but Torn was yet again hindered by his lack of social skills. He didn't know how to offer the boy soothing warmth. He had never received it and he had never been taught how to give it.
There was a giant wall between the soldier and man in Torn, and no matter how much the two sides clawed at the bricks, the wall never crumbled.
So he left the boy there and went after Ashlin. They had been put in the West Wing, where Gareth and Sala would have slept. Nik and his daughter still slept in the soldiers' barracks, as would his wife if she had been there.
He found her curled up on the thick bed in the room they had been given to rest in. Her red dreadlocks were the only thing visible as she had wrapped herself up in a white, lacy bedspread and had her head buried in a pillow.
For a moment he stood at the threshold, looking down at his wife. Her tears and sobs were muffled against the pillow. Torn had seen Ashlin cry before, but the tears were rare and, after all that happened in the last two days, he didn't have the energy to deal with all the pain and grief his wife had kept bottled up inside.
But Ashlin was his wife and every tear she shed was like a stake being driven into his heart. He walked over to her and sat down, placing a hand on the small of her back. Ashlin shifted and sat up to face him.
Her pretty, Amazon face was pale and tracked with tears, her red lips paling. "I—I've never felt this way before. I think… I think we're going to lose this war."
Without thinking, Torn brought her into his arms. She went into them, burying her face in his shoulder, grasping his neck. Torn stroked her back lovingly, kissing her cheeks and her neck, trying to soothe her without words.
"What are we going to do? We've lost so much already, Torn." Ashlin withdrew from him and looked into his eyes, searching for answers that weren't there. "Have—Haven City. Our people. Ry—Ryu."
"Everything will turn out fine. Ryu's… Ryu's fine," Torn grounded out, forcing himself to lie. He didn't know if Ryu was alright or not. But he couldn't tell Ashlin that. "We'll win this, Ashlin. And we will rebuild. That's what we do, Ashlin. We rebuild."
"What would I do without you?" Ashlin asked and kissed him passionately. Torn returned it until he felt Ashlin's body give way to her exhaustion. He parted from her. "I wish… I wish Jak was here… he'd probably just shoot them all…" She smiled dreamily before completely passing out.
Torn touched her hair as he settled down beside her. His arms came up and wrapped around her waist, dragging her lithe body closer.
"I wish he was here, too."
notes: did you see Jak? If you blink you might miss him so be careful! Don't kill me! I know I said Jak and he's there… just not a whole lot. Er… but I promise this entire act is about him… and Keira… and war… and stuff…
Act XIV: Crea returns, Venn does too, someone turns out to be not-so-evil and more Jak… because… well… Jak.
ReviewsSpecter Von Baron: aw, but I like you when you review! You're awesome. And I mean that!
GundamWingFanatic90: Jak is back! But we're kinda… easing into the whole Jak-back-ness. After all, can't get to excited. Don't want to explode, right? hehe. Also, I early await fanart (I'm giddy with excitement)
Xazz: I hope this sates your Jak-lust. More next chapter, promise!
Carree: hehe, Roid's not mine. He belongs to Specter Von Baron. XD
jaklover123: I usually, at times like this, fall back onto an interview JKR gave right before the publication of the fifth book. She didn't want to kill Sirius off. She had to. Enter: my reason.
Teh Kitsune: I love how you pick up undertones. I won't reveal anything (anything) but you do seem to pick some clues up. Good for you! And for the pronunciation of Cyren. I'm sure the experts will tell you this is wrong but I've always pronounced it like this. Kī-r-in.