Chapter 35: The death bell tolls.
Conrart sighed and pulled his white, fur lined cloak closer to his shoulders. He shivered and ignored the way the slight movement made the small, silver bells and crystal beads braided into his hair, chime and clatter together.
He was freezing.
Not surprising since he was currently standing in the knee deep snow outside of K'Shena Vale. The icy snow was a stark contrast to the almost tropical warmth inside the vale. He leaned against Vanyel and listened carefully to Holly and Winterhawk explain exactly what a Basilisk was and exactly how they were going to remove this obviously gravid serpent, from its chosen lair. Honestly, he probably would have been more comfortable with this if he'd been removing a mother dragon from her nest and trying to make off with one of the eggs – at least then he would have known what to expect from the creature temperament wise.
"Winterhawk and I will handle making the cave intolerably noisy if you will handle putting rocks in that thing's bed. Your fetching gift is strong enough to move large rocks isn't it?" Holly inquired mildly.
Conrart nodded in reply before adding, "would it be helpful, if I used my gift to make the icicles start to melt, and snap in certain places?"
Holly gazed at him for a moment, and then asked, "You can control water, am I right?"
Again he nodded.
She grinned, "Do you think you could make ice form in the cave?"
Conrart blinked, he actually hadn't thought of that, "I've never controlled ice or anything beyond water in its usual form, but I can try."
"Then do so," Winterhawk replied evenly.
Conrart ignored him and started trying to reform the ice in the cave into large rocks to disturb the beasts sleep. He could hear the oddly pitched shriek of Holly and Winterhawk's magic – actually if the Basilisk's range of hearing was anything like his, he was surprised the things ears were not bleeding.
He was also fairly certain that his were about to start.
Shinou it hurt and he didn't know how much more of it he could take. To make matters worse the Basilisk wasn't moving, and the magically created sound –which was just at the limit of human hearing but well within his – was getting higher and shriller, coming in intermittent blasts that were close enough together to give him absolutely no relief.
The fact that he was getting it from two directions only served to make it worse – Vanyel could hear it too and it echoed painfully down their link to each other.
Pain made him stupid.
He reached out with his demonic gift and began to pull up large chunks of ice from the thick sheet covering the surface of the nearby river. Shaping them into sharp jagged boulders and transporting them into the great serpent's lair with his fetching gift. It was hard work and the use of both his Demonic and Heraldic gifts spent his energy as if he had actually physically been doing the work by hand. He was soon drenched in sweat despite the icy wind and chill of winter.
At last after what seemed like hours, the basilisk began to move. She slithered out of the small cave and began her trek across the frozen land, led forward by the tantalizing spot of warmth dangled before her by Winterhawk's magic and forced forward by the high-pitched shrieking created by Holly's. Conrart breathed a sigh of relief and followed his mentor and Winterhawk, sweating and breathing hard.
Vanyel nudged him gently and he mounted without protest, oddly exhausted.
Vanyel trudged through the snow following Holly, Rohanan, and Winterhawk –who was currently perched behind her on her companion's back. They had only gone about a mile when the Basilisk decided she'd had enough. She rounded on them sharply. Rearing up so that a full two thirds of her massive length was off the ground and standing strait up. She opened her enormous, putrid maw and hissed at them; icy wind rushing past row upon row of large, wickedly curved serrated teeth. The smallest had to be about the size of his hand. She struck with an astounding swiftness for a nearly torpid, reptile, ripping up chunks of frozen earth and snow where Rohanan had been standing scant seconds before. Rearing back up she came at them again, battering hastily raised magical shields until they began to crackle and finally to fissure ominously.
Conrart didn't think he simply reacted to the plight they were currently in. Using his demonic gift he created a shield of ice and hard packed snow; it shot up around them forming a half dome that sang to his senses of raw demonic elemental power.
It was strong alluring and quite heady.
He felt however briefly, invincible as his blood sang with the power of his people. Without realizing it or even really trying, he drove the massive creature back with jagged spikes of snow and ice while sheltering himself and his companions. After a span of time that was both an eternity and a second the beast turned and slithered off, retreating into the forest away from any settlements.
The world spun as the nearly intoxicating power flowing through his veins receded back into the water it had originally came from. In that moment as the power, and adrenalin fell away; he realized he was about to pay the price for borrowing so much of it. In order to use the gift he first had to provide the energy to keep it flowing.
Demons had died from using less.
He had just enough time to appreciate the irony, before his body gave out beneath him, each muscle becoming as loose as the water he could normally control. He pitched forward and to the side, sliding out of his saddle to land in boneless heap upon the snow covered ground. His last thoughts before the darkness closed around him was that this truly was the most peaceful way for a demon to die – cradled in the gently flowing water's of their element's energy.
His death – like his dear friend Lady Julia's was a good one.
There was no pain.
The last thing he heard before darkness claimed him - was several frantic voices calling his name.
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Vanyel screamed in agony as his Chosen was ripped violently from him. He moaned; he could not lose his Chosen. Yet the boy had just rather effectively used what appeared to be His people's equivalent of a final strike, he had poured all of his energy into defending them all. He literally didn't even have the energy to keep his own heart functioning.
The boy was about to literally die of exhaustion.
Vanyel reared screaming in terror and reacted without thinking. Companions were not supposed to negate Final Strike, doing so could cost them their own life and in the process the life of their Chosen. However he wasn't like most Companions, in life he had been the most powerful Herald-mage in Valdemar's history. More powerful even then his many times great granddaughter Herald-mage Elspeth. He still maintained the bulk of his power and abilities, though he was rather hampered by a lack of hands. Terrified he reached for the nearest node, drew as much energy as he could into his own body, and using himself as a buffer against the raging torrent of power, he flung a line of power after his chosen.
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Yozak shifted and tried to get comfortable in his nest of blankets, he and Koran had gotten snowed into this waystation nearly a week ago, and he was bored. They'd been discussing Koran's family and what little Yozak remembered of his.
Abruptly Yozak stopped, feeling oddly empty.
Confused he examined the emptiness which was rapidly becoming an agonizing ache in his very soul. It only took him a moment to pinpoint it.
"Conrart!" he cried in alarm, "don't you dare let go!"
He wasn't even aware of the lines of pure energy he'd flung out in a desperate attempt to catch his friend, or of the very physical gesture of reaching out with his hand. All he knew was that Conrart was slipping beyond his reach and that he wouldn't be able to hold him.
Frantic and nearly incoherent in terror he threw out line after line of energy determined to catch the other man, he couldn't, wouldn't lose Conrart! That was the end of it – as far as he was concerned. He felt Jissa make a grab for him trying to pull him out of what he already knew was a suicidal attempt to save Conrart from the all consuming void.
:Chosen!: Jissa called.
"I won't lose him!" he snapped, "I can't Jissa, I can't, don't ask that of me. I love him."
:Then I will help you and Vanyel hold him, but I cannot take away the price it will exact from you, I can only hold it at bay for a time.: She replied.
"Then I will pay it and happily, even to the cost of my own life."
:It won't come that high, Vanyel has managed to catch him, we just have to help hold him.: Jissa told him mildly.
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Dan Hiri Weller stood before him a man in his prime, strong and fit. Exactly how he remembered his father being. For a moment he was terribly confused. Where was he? Why was everything glowing a soft blue? And where was Vanyel? The stallion had promised to stand by him always; to protect him from anything and everything. So where was he and why had he been left alone. Left alone to face the ghosts of his past – his father's ghost standing before him baring his way from the beautiful glowing place behind him.
Then he understood.
AH HELL!
What he didn't understand was why his father was there. Nor did he know the dark, wise-eyed woman standing beside his father. He was quite perplexed by the flickering double image of a white horse, which seemed to overlap her.
"Conrart," his father said gently, "you must go back."
Startled, Conrart took a step forward, longing to feel the comfort of the other man's embrace. He longed to be protected not protector, to let someone else be the strong shoulder. "Papa?" he whispered.
"You must go Conrart." His voice was steel. "It is not your time."
"But I'm so tired." He replied, "Please I just want to sleep."
"Fight Conrart, damn you fight." The man, who was his father, replied. "You do not belong here. I will not let you give up boy. 'Fandes will aide me in that. Now fight."
Completely confused, for he could not in all his memories of the apparition before him, remember his father ever taking that tone with him, he took a step back. Without thinking he cried out for the only source of solid ground he could think of.
"Yozak?" he cried, though it came out as a whisper. "Vanyel, where are you? I- I am afraid."
And then he burned.
He was buffeted like a leaf in a gale, but under it all he could feel Vanyel, and oddly Yozak. Vanyel was a blue-glowy, swirling beacon in the torrent. He set his sights on that beacon, and made his struggling way towards it, one agonizingly exhausted step after another.
"I love you, my son." His father whispered before he and the woman disappeared taking the light with them -
Leaving him in total darkness, at the mercy of that turbulent sea, with only the small flame of Vanyel and smaller flame of Yozak's strengths to guide him
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Conrart moaned and climbed slowly up out of the arms of sleep. Great one he was tired. The first thing he noticed was that his pillow was moving – rising and falling steadily under his cheek.
"Van?" he whispered.
:I'm here my Chosen, I'm here.: The stallion replied with an odd gentleness.
"Why am I? I – I saw papa." He managed after a few minutes of trying to make his tongue work, he was hardly coherent and he knew it.
:Don't talk, use your Mindspeech Chosen, and you are alive because several people refused to let you embrace the Shadow-Lover, just yet.: Vanyel told him gently, before adding in a slightly sharper tone. :All I have to say about the stunt you just pulled is – if you ever do anything like that again I will kick you from here to the Weller lands and back again. Now that I've informed you of the consequences of further foolishness I will warn you that Herald Holly is standing a few feet away, and I believe she has several things to say to you.:
Conrart moaned and buried his face in Van's mane; this was not something he really wanted to deal with this right now. All he wanted was to go back to sleep – he was fairly certain he could sleep for a week if they would just leave him alone.
"How are you feeling?" Holly inquired in an oddly gentle tone of voice.
"I-" he croaked, unable to say any more vocally, when his throat felt like he'd been chewing on gravel. Mentally sputtering curses, he switched to mindspeech. :I'm fine thanks.: he replied, unable to keep the exhaustion out of his mental voice.
Holly gave him an incredulous look, "You don't sound 'fine'." She replied mildly.
Conrart felt himself flush, it was impossible to lie mind to mind, however it was possible to generalize, evade a question and even to temporize – he was usually rather good at it. He sighed, :I really am fine, just exhausted. I don't think I am going to be doing anything like that again anytime soon.: He yawned briefly curling up tighter against his Companion and absently rubbing his cheek against soft white fur – unaware of just how young the action made him look; particularly since he lacked facial hair. :Can I have some water please?: He asked after a moment.
"Of Course," Holly said gently, before turning and walking away. She returned a few minutes later with a dipper full of cool, fresh, clear water.
To his utter humiliation, he needed her help to hold the thing so that he could drink. He was so tired he just couldn't stop shaking. He was so never doing that again. He flushed even deeper when Holly physically rearranged him against Vanyel's side, pulling a fluffy blanket up around him before tucking him in like a small child. "Get some rest Conrart. I'll lecture you on Heraldic stupidity when you can actually stand up on your own again."
Conrart moaned, and closed his eyes.
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Kero sighed as she leaned against the balcony of her rooms in Covenant Castle. It had been an interesting day. Herald Conrart had always spoken highly of his boy King, now she new why. The boy was young, and naïve, but he was sincere with a good heart. His first questions had been after the health and welfare of the two Mazoku who had been chosen.
The young king's fiancé was an interesting young man. Actually Kero found him to be rather juvenile. At first glance they seemed to be complete opposites; while Heika Yuri was sweet, kind, gentle and compassionate, Wolfram von Belifeild was a spoilt brat. However on closer inspection it was easy to see that he had a good heart.
She straitened and left the room, it was late but she felt like exploring.
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Yozak moaned as he crawled up out of the arms of sleep. The first thing he noticed upon opening his eyes was the steaming mug of something foul smelling just in front of his nose. He recognized the stench of the herbs used in headache and backlash potions. Groaning he took the mug and downed it in a single gulp, trying vainly not to taste it.
He gagged, gasped and tried not to vomit as the taste coated his tongue and the back of his throat. Koran let him gag for a moment before handing him a waterskin. It took a few minutes but he eventually got the taste off his tongue.
"We need to have a talk, Yozak." the man said quietly. "You need to understand something. This connection you have to Herald Conrart is not entirely the norm even for Heralds. I think it's time you came to terms with that. We will talk as soon as your headache recedes."
Yozak groaned; he really wasn't in the mood to be lectured on the 'unhealthy nature of his relationship with one of the princes of Shin Makoku' – again. Couldn't people just understand the fact that they had grown up together, that they were close?
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Koran smiled at his gapping young intern. He'd managed part of what he'd set out to do this afternoon. However it appeared that Yozak still wasn't ready to admit to a good part of what he'd been trying to get the boy to see. With a little bit of luck they could solve the boy's rather bad case of denial before returning to Haven. He had to admit, Yozak's reaction to finally accepting part of his bond to 'his best friend' was rather amusing. The boy looked as perplexed as if he'd just been attacked by a trout.
"I'm in love with my best friend, and it's perfectly alright?"
Yozak kept repeating that over and over to himself, though his tone was alternating between a statement of fact and a nearly desperate question. Apparently it was going to take Yozak some time for the man to fully come to terms with that little discovery.
Koran settled himself a bit more comfortably against Mandy – who he was using as a backrest – and waited.
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Kerowyn gazed around the small room she was standing in with mild surprise; it was a gallery of some kind. Portraits lined the walls, a few had cases full of interesting things next to them the most noticeable was an entire wall that had been dedicated to only 2 people. Two portraits hung side by side, one of a blonde haired man, with blue eyes, wearing armor with a sword at his belt. The other was a double black – one of only three in known history (according to Conrart). That meant these two had to be Shinou and Daikenja, Shin Makoku's First King turned god and their Great Wiseman. It explained why they had their own wall. Closer inspection revealed them to be exactly who she suspected.
She walked around the room looking at the various portraits, noting that some of them were labeled with more than just the subject's name.
Labels like King Slaughter, and King Yuri the kindhearted, Caught her attention briefly. She smiled and continued into another one of the attached rooms. She looked at the men and women dressed in their many different uniforms and wondered just who they all were; the door had been labeled "The Hall of Honors" in gold letters. Next to every portrait was a glass case containing medals, most of them had more than one row.
The portrait of a very familiar young man wearing a tan uniform caught her eye and she took a closer look at the label.
The Lion of Luttenburg - Lord Conrart (Conrad) Laurence Weller, beside the portrait was a glass case with row upon row of medals.
The date of birth told her that this was exactly who she thought it was. Herald Conrart's face gazed out of the portrait at her. His brown eyes oddly dull, despite the flecks of silver and the artist's attention to detail. After a moment it dawned on her why this portrait was so familiar yet so very different from the man she knew.
This was Conrart Weller, not Herald Conrart – the barely suppressed pain that had clung to the man for the first year he'd spent at Haven was clearly visible in those painted eyes. She was glad the look was no longer in his eyes.
She moved on looking over the many different portraits, only to pause at the last one. Unlike all of the others this one had no medals, and the dates of birth and death put the man at only 80 years of age, but unlike Wolfram (who she knew to be in his 90's) the man in the portrait was fully grown and looked to be in his early 40's.
He had to be human – there was no other explanation.
The name plate read Lord Dan Hiri Weller.
"My late husband," a woman's voice said from behind her.
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Yozak sighed and pulled his cloak a bit closer to his body, it was cold but at least they were no longer snowed in. So far their ride had been silent, both Koran and Jissa were leaving him to think about what they'd been talking about yesterday. He knew he was in love with Conrart. He'd always loved his best friend in some way or another, but Koran and Jissa both seemed to think there was something more in his relationship then just unrequited love.
They thought it was a Lifebond.
The very idea was ridiculous.
Sure he always knew what Conrart was feeling, but he was the empathy, he knew what everyone was feeling.
They weren't Lifebound!
Were they?
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Jissa snorted and shook her head in a manner that made her look very like a horse. After a brief consultation between herself and Amanda, Herald Koran had tried to convince her chosen of the true nature of his bond to her brother's Chosen. So far it hadn't gone very well. Yozak had accepted the fact that he was and always had been madly (bordering on obsessive) in love with his best friend. However he flat out refused to acknowledge their attempts to get him to accept the fact that he and Herald Conrart were actually Lifebonded.
Actually he'd set about systematically rejecting their every argument. At least now the seeds of acceptance had been firmly planted.
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