"Trust can be a powerful ally, or a deadly enemy. When one trusts you, never use that trust against them."
-Allan "Viper" VonBurace
PART THREE
CHAPTER XXII
Archer entered the dragon's den in the Callystrin home. It was becoming a second home for him, and every minute he was gone, the more he would miss the welcoming corridors, halls and rooms, and the more he would appreciate returning. It was his third visit and he had grown to accept the fact that the dust never claimed a hold in any of the rooms.
Now that Cyrius was gone, he decided to devote his time to decoding the Elven Journals. He stayed in the main hall for a while, admiring bits of artwork he had never noticed during his previous visits, before he entered the room where he had left the journals on the table. They were gone. Everything was as if Archer had never disturbed the room. The journals had been taken and put somewhere. Where, he did not know. He only knew they were gone. Out of pure desperation, he pulled the painting down. One corner of the frame disturbed a small piece of pottery and sent it falling to the floor. It broke with a loud crash. Archer only jumped back and looked behind him nervously, as if he expected someone to be there.
He slowly regained control of his breathing and thoughts. Once he was calm enough, he set the painting on the table and pulled a chair out to sit. He was just about to do so when he heard steel sliding from a leather sheath behind him.
"Who are you?"
The woman's voice made him jump. He spun and would have drawn one of his blades had he not felt the cold metal of a thin blade pressed against his throat.
"I ask you again, who are you?"
Archer wanted to turn; she was just outside of his vision. He chanced to turn slightly more towards her. The blade stopped him.
"One last time. Who are you, and why are you here?"
"Archer Centrelli, but that is all I will give you until I find out who you are."
"Answer me this, are you fool enough to raid this home?"
"Once, but that is done and over. I mean the home no further harm." There was silence. "Now then, who are you?"
"Eleanor Callystrin."
Archer risked a glance in her direction. She was a good two feet shorter than he was. Her amber eyes were set on his, full of determination. Her amber colored hair fell just short of her shoulders and was tied up with a blue ribbon. Currently gripped tightly in a white knuckled hand was a foot long blade, as thin as the shaft of an arrow, but sharp enough to cut through armor if driven hard enough. The blade was currently poised to kill should the need arise.
"Now that you have my name, what are you doing here?"
"Searching."
"Really, for what?"
"Family." Archer watched as the blade dropped to the ground. "You can help if you like." He turned and began to walk to the far end of the room where a bookcase stood.
Eleanor watched him, puzzled at first. She quickly recovered, however, and drew a dagger. "I still do not trust you." She slowly reached down for the stiletto. Once it was in her grasp, she held it at ready.
"Your choice, not mine." He probed the books with a clawed finger. "I am looking for a group of journals that I chanced upon during my last visit here."
"So that was you, I was wondering who found those."
"Trust me yet?"
Eleanor shook her head. "No."
CHAPTER XXIII
Cyrius collapsed into a scaly heap as soon as he was at a safe height to free-fall. The flight lasted longer than he hoped it would, but at least he had made it. While taking in large gulps of air, he took in his new surroundings. To his right was a lake, lit to the point of glowing by a now full moon. He was resting in a clearing that seemed to be about a mile in diameter, and was surrounded by a seemingly endless forest. He stood and looked for a good place to start. He took a quick drink from the lake before starting straight into the forest that was ahead of him.
The trees around him held a beauty that had been lost in the Mirkilains after the wars. About forty paces into the forest, he came upon a stream, which he decided to follow inland. He had not gotten far when something stung him in his chest. He put a hand up and felt something hard under his cloak, just over his heart. He reached in and pulled out the crystal Flare had given him to track down Pyre, it was dark. He held it thoughtfully a moment before he threw it aside, he would not need it now. A soft light caught his eye through the trees to his right. He jumped the small stream and started towards the light. As he came closer, he could see it was a tavern.
Cyrius walked in without worry. The only people at the bar were two freelance fighters in the far corner, a man at the bar, and the barkeep, who was a woman. He studied the barkeep. She stood about five foot two, gold hair, and blue eyes. She also had a charm about her that showed through her face and eyes, and in all that she did. The man at the bar was roughly the same height, brown hair, wearing a dirty, brown overcoat, but that was all Cyrius could see from where he stood.
"I'll tell ya, if he causes any more trouble I'll-" The man cut off in mid sentence as the barkeep nodded towards the door. He turned. Now Archer could see that he had deep green eyes that seemed to shift to a soft gold whenever the light shone on them from a different angle. "Another one?" He snorted. "Cause any trouble and I'll see ya to your grave."
Cyrius gave him a puzzled look. "Trouble sir? I seek it not."
"Good." The man stood. "M'name's Hunter. This is the Quiet Tavern, owned by the lady Saren back there. I try to make sure it lives up to its name."
"How very kind of you." He replied rather dryly. My name is Cyrius Centrelli. I just flew in from the Mirkilains to escape the war."
"Whose side did you leave?"
"Both." Cyrius made his way to the bar. "Water, if you do not mind."
"No problem." Saren pulled out a glass and filled it. "Here you go."
Cyrius thanked her and took a sip. "Hunter, where exactly am I?"
Hunter laughed. "You flew here and don't even know where you are?"
Cyrius nodded.
"Welcome to Fetare."
"Fetare? Sounds pleasant."
"So long as everyone is nice to everyone else, it is. Wait until you have seen the rest of the island. Then, of course, to the northeast is Fallaci, a smaller island that shares similar qualities. I like it there almost as much as I do here!"
"I shall remember to see it for myself." Cyrius took another sip of water and rubbed his tired eyes.
"Come on, I'll show ya around to some of the finer spots of Fetare." He stood and dropped a few coins on the bar. "Saren, I'll be back when I am done."
"Hey, I can handle any thug as good as you can."
"I know, I just like to do it for you."
Saren threw a wadded up towel at him.
CHAPTER XXIV
Eleanor frowned at Archer. "Well, I can already assume you were a part of the raiding force responsible for their deaths, or that you are just a thief that came looting afterwards; you do have the brooches." She turned enough to give the effect of turning her back on him, but not enough to place him outside of her field of vision.
"These were given to me. All I ask is where Alyse might be, so that I can find her."
"And then what, kill the rest of the family? I assure you that you will get no further in that."
"I do not plan to, that is why I changed sides."
She just glared at him.
"What do I have to do to gain your aide?"
"You can't." Eleanor turned her back completely to him, no longer looking at him. "My parents are dead, from what you tell me one by your hands, one at your command. My mind is made, you can leave if you do not like it."
Archer thought better of speaking another word and turned to leave.
"Thank you, though, for telling me what happened."
Archer nodded and left.
The entire way back from the Callystrin den was full of thought. A new element had come into his search and Archer now found himself facing a new roadblock. A soft boom echoed over his head and he looked up. Clouds were gathering, threatening to bring heavy rains. Archer decided to take a faster route home. He cut through the woods, using one of his swords to hack through thick bush. He was following instinct more than factual direction and soon found himself in a clearing with a river cutting through the center of it. He sheathed the blade and looked around. Over his shoulder, he could see his destination. Now he had to decide how to get there. He could risk flight, but if it rained too hard, the added weight of the water would make him crash. He could walk, but if the rains came, it would bring toil and labor, adding to what would already be a lengthy journey. As it stood, the woods were looking more welcoming than the air. He turned to set his bearings straight and see if he could find a path to follow. Something hit him hard from behind and knocked him to the ground.
Archer hissed as he turned to face whatever it was that had knocked him down and his heart froze. Standing before him was an eight-foot tall wraith, a creature composed of everything necessary for killing prey. It stood hunched over, and tipping each of the ten fingers on rather long arms were razor sharp claws, each extending more than four inches a piece. The wraith stood on the balls of its feet, rather than flat on them. This was rumored to allow them to have faster acceleration when running, and to make them appear taller. As Archer summed up the wraith, he could hear the sound of thick saliva rolling down the dark green face and falling to the ground.
The wraith roared and jumped, bringing both clawed hands to bear on Archer. Archer rolled from under their path and drew one of his blades. He swung and cried triumphantly as the blade started an unobstructed flight towards the wraith's neck. The cry became obsolete as the blade struck nothing but armored scales. The wraith knocked Archer's blade from him and took a step towards its prey, the only thing distracting it now was a distant cry from a Firedragon. The wraith lunged and threw its weight into a one armed swing that caught Archer in the side and threw him into a ditch by a river. Archer cried out in pain as he grasped the wounded area and felt the warmth of his own blood. The wraith stood tall, prepared to deal the deathblow to its prey.
The Firedragon's shriek was the only thing that saved Archer from the wraith. He watched stunned as the red dragon dropped on the wraith, picked it up in its jaws and bit down. A soft thunderclap sounded above him as he watched the Firedragon finish its meal and then turn to him. Archer could tell the dragon was into the kill for the sport of the kill now, no longer hunger. He braced himself as the dragon pressed him into the ground with a giant clawed foot that was well the size of half his own height. The dragon lowered its head and gave his prey one last look.
The clouds overhead gave way and sent torrents of rain falling down on the two. If there is anything a Firedragon is fearful of, it is water, for water is a natural defense against fire, it kills fire. The dragon looked up long enough to feel the stinging sensation of rain on his face and eyes before flying away, leaving Archer alone near the now swelling river.
Pain burned him from all over his body as he pulled himself to his feet. He knew he had to keep clear of the swelling river, or he would drown to death in its waters. He gasped as his feet failed him and he fell back to the ground. The water was now surrounding him and though it was not more than an inch deep where he was, it was threatening to pull him to his death. He reached out and sank a clawed hand into dry dirt and pulled. The pain in his side grew to the point he could not breathe as he slowly crawled away from the river's banks. He stopped only once he was a safe distance from the water. Once there, he lost consciousness.
CHAPTER XXV
"So, how long have you been in Fetare?" Though he asked the question, Cyrius was too busy taking in his surroundings to hear the answer.
Hunter had shown him around the Pearl lake, which was also commonly referred to as the Moonlit Lake, and had given him a tour of the neighboring Moonlit Forest. Now they were nearing an area on the island inhabited by several small volcanoes and thermal vents. The area was sunken in below sea level and rested in a large valley, this acted as protection to the rest of the island, should the volcanoes decide to erupt.
"This island is one of the few areas rich in the various world wide cultures. Many of the inhabitants have come to terms and get along well, but there are a few that come to do damage. That is where my group comes in. I am a member of the Ranger Peacekeeper corp." Hunter stopped and waited for the Draconian to catch up. "There are about a hundred full time officers, fifty part time officers, and two hundred support officers from other groups. Our job is fairly simple, stop trouble. If it has taught me anything at all, it is that one should always wear armor, you never know what to expect."
Cyrius nodded and let his eyes roam the rock walls of a cliff. The cliff itself was resting near to a thermal vent and sulfur crystal formations could be seen on several of the cliff's ledges and rocky surfaces. "Those walls are ideal spots for a Firedragon den."
"Lucky for us there are only two. Both reside in that wall you are looking at. They are a fairly nice couple."
Cyrius nodded. "So, tell me a bit about yourself."
"Well, I have lived in Fetare for my entire life, though I frequently visit Fallaci. My family died when I was young, my brother and I are the only two VonBuraces left. We have both dedicated our lives to the Ranger Corps and are very happy with our jobs. Life here can be rough, though. Every now and then we get some bug and the forces from the west, flood the island. I have seen many friends come and go during the black ages. It is also during that time that the Rangers lose most of their forces."
"I am sorry to hear that."
Hunter just nodded. "You will find that most everyone here has a hard past, but most of us have come to terms with it and have forgiven ourselves. It is better that than to allow it to haunt us."
"My past is too unforgivable." Cyrius shook his head. "I do not think I will ever be able to forgive myself to what I have done."
"Well, just don't punish yourself too hard. You made the right choice in searching out the right side, now realize you do not have to live with your past."
"Some day perhaps, when everything settles down for me." Cyrius stopped. Something was not right, he felt watched. "Do you feel like something is here, watching us?"
Hunter glanced about. "It is probably the Firedragons from the cliff."
"No, it is closer." Cyrius turned suddenly and studied all of his surroundings intently. The only thing near them was a large rock formation, and the only things dwelling in it were shadows.
"Find it?"
"No, I must be imagining things. Lead on, show me around town, if you do not mind."
"Not at all, Cyrius, it would be a pleasure."
It watched the two leave. Silent wisps of breath escaped it as it tried to find the one it was sent to hunt. Something finally told it that the larger one was the target it sought. A silent laugh emanated from within it. You are mine, but it is not yet time. Then, without a sound the shadow followed the two.
CHAPTER XXVI
Archer woke suddenly and found himself in a large room and resting on a wooden frame bed. He was about to get up and explore his surroundings, but as he rose a quick jolt of pain ran through him, forcing him to lie down again.
"You really ought to stay on the trails when you travel."
"The wraiths came with the armies in search of easy prey."
Archer recognized the first voice but could not place it, the second one he knew was Flare.
"You are just lucky you were attacked in an open field, I would not have seen you had you collapsed in the forest." Flare walked into his view and sat down in a chair next to the bed. "You really ought to be more careful."
"Flare was just telling me all about you, Archer, and what happened during your stay. She heard what caused you to go there and was shocked."
Must be Eleanor, but she would not...or maybe, with Flare's word with mine. "Thank you for caring for me." Archer attempted to bring himself to a sitting position and succeeded. A wave of cold air caused him to fold his wings about his self for warmth. "How long have I been here?"
"No more than a day. You really are lucky, wraiths usually finish what they start." Flare stood. She was acting strange.
"How did you know it was a wraith?"
"I found what was left of him. That dragon saved your life." Flare chuckled nervously as she spoke.
Archer nodded and glanced over at Eleanor. She just turned and busied herself with something. "What's wrong?" He shot a questioning glance over at Flare. "You both seem to be acting strangely towards me. Why?"
"Archer, you were speaking in your sleep." Eleanor turned towards him, wringing her hands as she spoke. This was not like her from what Archer knew of her.
"And what did I say?"
"Well, it is not so much what you said, but how it was spoken." Flare sat back down near the bed again. "Actually, it is a little of both."
"You were reciting songs my mother used to sing to me when I was young. She also sang them whenever she felt lonely while my father was away at the warfronts."
"Perhaps I read them in the journals and was just mumbling what I read."
Eleanor shook her head. "The songs were Elven, sung in the Elven tongue."
Archer gave her a puzzled look. "Maybe I have heard them before."
"They were my mother's creations. To have heard them before means you were here fifteen years ago."
"That is impossible, I served at the fortifications at that time. I never left there."
"Then you heard them before then, fifteen years ago she stopped singing them."
Eleanor began humming a soft tune. Archer listened to it for a moment, it seemed vaguely familiar. He tried to play it in his mind as she hummed it and found he knew it. He hummed along. Soon a single word came to mind; then a phrase.
"Triluen nacet et nutum paec en et feurl." He pondered the words. "Did I just invent that, or have I heard it before?"
"That was a piece of my mother's song you spoke. Even though you deny it, you know the songs mother sang. That means something, I just need to think about it." Eleanor left the room.
"Archer, you are seeking something that not everyone is ready to find. Be ready for disappointment should things not go as you wish. The truths you could bring might be disastrous for more than you know. Be careful." Flare stood. "Do not let what I have just said turn you from your goal. Personally, I think you have come to the right place to begin."
"Flare," Archer stood, painfully of course, and began to walk about the room just to stretch his legs. "Be truthful, did you watch me be attacked?"
Flare nodded. "I just was not sure it was you until the wraith had wounded you."
"But still you did not help?"
"I am sorry, Archer, I was being hunted. Slayers were about, and I saw the Firedragon coming and knew he would go for the wraith."
"How did you know he would leave me." He stopped walking and stood with a hand on the back of a chair.
Flare shook her head. "I just hoped he would." She let the silence hang for a moment. "Archer, I am leaving again, fare well." She left.
CHAPTER XXVII
Cyrius stretched out under a tree in the small rain forest area of the island. Things could not have gone better. It was nearing nightfall and nothing had come to give him problems. Thinking the events of the past few days over he allowed himself to drift off to sleep.
He found himself dreaming of a large lake in the middle of a forest. The light had suddenly gone out all around him, and rain poured down from the dark clouds above. Though the lake was large, the water was shallow, not rising above his ankles. All around him, creatures and people were seeking shelter from the rain, he did the opposite and made his way to a large clearing in the forest. The lake stretched here, aided by the rain, and he soon found himself having trouble walking through the water. Now the water was over two feet deep, and rising. Rain fell in sheets, blinding him from everything more than two feet in front of him. Then it was gone. The rains stopped. All that remained were the shadows of the forests. He gazed at them shortly before one particular shadow caught his eye.
It had no shape, at least none he could tell, and it belonged to nothing. A chill wind swept through the trees, stirring all but that shadow. Cyrius shivered. The shadow moved into the clearing and a low rumble, almost like thunder, began to shake the area. The thunder was followed by a loud crack that jolted Cyrius from his dream.
Like in his dream, rain had fallen and water had gathered to an inch deep, but nothing more. The sound that had awoken him had come from a bolt of lightning that had struck a tree near to where he was sleeping, the charred remains left behind as telltale evidence. He stood slowly and felt something fall near him, splashing in the water. Curious, he kneeled to find what it was. Resting in the water was a red, octahedral crystal. Cyrius picked the crystal up and examined it. He immediately recognized it. But...how?
How indeed, Nightstalker.
Cyrius jumped, dropping the crystal back to the ground. "Who said that?"
No one you would not know, Nightstalker.
He drew his blade and searched his surroundings. "Pyre!" Then more hopefully. "Archer?"
Perhaps, Nightstalker, but do remember, the latter of those two knew not your past name, and what are the chances of the former being here? Think about it, you know me.
Cyrius hissed loudly. "Show yourself, maybe I will be kind."
Do not tempt me.
Cyrius began to look for the fastest route to a nearby tavern.
Leaving, so soon? Yes, lead me to a place that is more than likely well populated. See how things go from there.
"Try to keep up with me." Cyrius ran.
Over fallen logs, through bush, around tree, he ran until the lights of the tavern were visible. Once they were, he sprinted until he reached the door.
Already here, Nightstalker.
Cyrius turned, his back up against the wooden door. "Who are you?" Silence. "Well, answer me! Who are you?" A thought came upon him. He opened his wings and flew onto the tavern's flat roof. No one was there. "Why do you hide? Nothing more than a coward hides while torturing its prey!"
Coward? I will show you a coward. Soon you will know true fear.
A low rumble, much like a laugh filled the air and faded.
"Well? I am waiting." Cyrius looked around but saw nothing. Whoever it was had gone. He snorted and jumped back to the ground. "Fear. I do not fear you."
You will.
Cyrius hissed and walked into the tavern, closing the door securely behind him. He found a seat, fell into it, and threw the hood of his cloak back. "Barkeep, something cold." He rested his head on the table and closed his eyes, waiting for the drink to come.
"Rough day?"
Cyrius looked up. Standing near the table and holding a glass of ice water was Saren. He looked around and recognized his surroundings. He was back in the Quiet Tavern. He looked back up at Saren and gave a small nod.
"Here, drink up, it beats some of the other drinks."
"Thanks."
"No problem." She grinned and went back to the bar.
Cyrius took a quick drink and thought back on what had happened. Fear? Fear what? Who was it that I know? He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Who...someone from the past? Who should I fear in my past? Pyre is out of my life, Archer is a friend. Whoever it was called me Nightstalker. All who know me by that would be in the war right now, not here. He let out a sigh. Think Cyrius, think! Who?
Nightstalker, you are closer than you think. Think hard. You know me.
Cyrius hissed. "You do not scare me." He spoke in a whisper. He glanced back at Saren. She was cleaning some glasses at the counter, seemingly not paying any attention to him.
That is not my intent right now. Think hard. I come from your past. The past. I am not a 'who,' but a 'what.'
"My past?" Cyrius sat forward. It was obviously not Saren speaking.
The past, in the past, of the past. Perhaps a haunting past. Think about it. What do you fear the most? That is the answer.
Cyrius jumped up, startling Saren.
"Cyrius, are you alright?"
"Yeah, I am just fine. Thank you. Was someone else in here?"
"When?" She came out from behind the bar.
"Now."
Saren shook her head. "Are you positive you are alright?"
"Did you hear me talking?"
"No, you were sleeping. I was not paying any attention to you."
Cyrius gave her a puzzled look. "How do you know I was sleeping?"
She chuckled. "You snore."
Cyrius relaxed slightly and laughed a bit. "That's good."
CHAPTER XXVIII
Archer was having troubles not jumping to conclusions concerning Flare's behavior, paranoia being the only logical one he could think of. To keep his mind off the subject, he took small, unguided tours around the Callystrin dwelling. He had not seen much of Eleanor, and when he did, she always hurried off to busy herself elsewhere. His latest adventure through the unknown halls found him in an art room, similar to the one Flare had shown to him. How long ago was that? Archer had trouble believing it was over a week ago. Time seemed to be moving fast for him and he could hardly keep up. With Cyrius gone, and no one to keep him company he had begun to lose track of things.
In the midst of this confusion, a curious thing had happened. While exploring the art room, he had come upon a painting. It portrayed a lake, silver from a large moon overhead and surrounded on all sides by a large grass clearing, also glowing a faint silver. Around the clearing on three sides was a large forest, the fourth side being occupied by a large cliff with a waterfall that fed directly into the lake. The scene was all so familiar to him and it puzzled him for the rest of the day until he recalled why. Just before the siege of Flare's home, and Flame's death, he had seen a painting portraying the very same scene, but during the day. It was titled "Pearl Lake fed by Blue Falls." Upon remembering this he made his way back to the art room and looked for a name on the painting. He grinned when he read "Pearl Lake fed by Blue Falls at night." He chuckled as he read it but then became puzzled. Under that was the word "Fetare." He was certain Flare's painting did not have that on it, and he went back to his room tired, confused, and deep in thought.
"Archer?" Eleanor called from somewhere in the hall.
Archer turned from the paintings. "My room."
She came in with a folded cloak in her arms. "I mended to cloak where it was torn, and I got the blood out of it. Not an easy task."
"Thank you." He pointed towards the 'Pearl Lake' picture. "I have a question about that particular painting."
"Oh, my sister did that one for me and sent it to me."
"Where is Fetare?"
She hesitated. "That is where my sister lives."
"Ah, I see. Would you mind telling me where I might find it?"
She answered with a nod.
"Please, why won't you?" She did not answer. "Do you not trust me?" No answer. "Why not."
"You are a Draconian. I am not sure if you noticed or not, no one trusts a Draconian."
"I do. Cyrius, right now he is traveling. Flare trusts two. Lady Gilldomere did, until the Tryst'n forts were laid under siege; I am sure she still would to this day had they not been."
"But I do not trust you."
"Give me one logical reason why."
"You killed my parents!"
"Then kill me!" Archer knew he was losing control of himself. He did not even cringe as she picked up a dagger and pointed it at him. "I regret what I did. You seem to forget why I was coming here. One of them, your mother, knew me and I have never seen her before. She even gave me a gift before she died." He paused. "Those two could very well be my parents also. You are preventing me from finding them."
Eleanor held the dagger tight in her hand, still keeping the blade pointed at Archer's chest. Everything Archer could see in her told him she was thinking, and that she would take one of two courses, one leading to his death. Then, with a cry of frustration, she walked out, driving the dagger into the wooden frame of a picture as she walked by it.
CHAPTER XXVIV
"Good morning, Cyrius."
The sound of a voice so near to him jolted Cyrius out of a light sleep. Standing over the couch in the tavern was Hunter. In the background, he could make out two other forms moving about. One he knew was Saren, but the other was unidentifiable until his eyes focused correctly.
"Slept well?"
Cyrius snorted and rolled into a sitting position. "Who's here?"
Hunter looked behind him. "Saren, and my brother, Allan."
"You never told me you had a brother." Cyrius stood.
"Maybe I did and you fail to remember."
Cyrius walked across the room and introduced himself to Allan, who in turn introduced himself as the Viper.
"Well, it started with a search for one of the Rangers' most wanted with my brother and two others." He explained. "It is a rather long story, I shall have to tell you it later." He turned to face the bar and picked something up. "But for now, you need to wake up!" With that he emptied an entire pitcher of ice water on Cyrius' head and went off laughing.
"Forgive Vipe, he is a bit on the wild side, always trying to pull jokes on the unsuspecting, or just trying to be obnoxious."
"I see." Cyrius, now fully awake, faked an annoyed laugh. "So, Hunter, any ideas on what it may have been?"
"What's that? Oh, well I personally believe you were dreaming. Perhaps you ate something that disagreed with you."
"Well, that still does not answer my question."
Hunter shrugged. "It was only a dream, Cyrius, get over it."
Cyrius nodded. "So, Viper, how long are you here?"
"Well, the annual Ranger Officer Corp meeting is in a few days, and it is usually held in this area. We are choosing new members. Once the meeting is over I plan to stay a week more, and than I will probably go back to the South. A large island of ice is threatening to hit the coast there and could cause trouble."
Cyrius nodded and went to find something to drink. "Just out of curiosity, is there an admissions price?"
"Yes, one year as an apprentice with one of the higher officers, during that time you are only sent out on calls when your teacher sees fit."
"Well, I was just wondering. Now if you do not mind I am going to step out for a while."
"Well, I guess I will see you later."
"Yes, have a nice day Viper, a pleasure meeting you."
The air was warm, there was no wind, but the sky was overcast. Storm clouds hung dormant over Fetare, threatening to break loose. Still, the day seemed pleasant enough, and with whatever it had been tormenting him gone, things were looking on the upside. He began to hum to himself.
Nightstalker.
It was not even a whisper, and Cyrius almost wanted to believe it was the wind. He ignored it.
Nightstalker.
Cyrius jumped a small creek.
Now you know fear.
He heard a soft whistle from over his head and looked up in time to see a thick tree branch fall to the ground, cut free by something sharp.
Fear, Nightstalker. That is the feeling you thought you did not have. Remember?
"How could I forget." He drew a blade. Something laughed at him.
See fear in its true form.
Then Cyrius saw it. A large shadow seemed to appear from nowhere in front of him. It held no more than the rough shape of a figure and wielded on one hand a scimitar that was tinted red.
Fear, Nightstalker. Fear the past, for it is the only thing that haunts you now.
Cyrius raised his blade. "Fear skill, beast."
CHAPTER XXX
The Callystrin den had been silent all day. Archer had been awake and doing his usual exploring, but had seen no sign of Eleanor. Once he was done, and confident he had seen the entire den, he became bored and wandered about aimlessly, searching for something to do. It was by doing this that he found the note. It had been pinned to the table in the main hall by a dagger. Archer pulled the dagger out and read it.
"Archer, the island you seek can be found in two ways. I am led to believe that you are capable of flight, but this is not only the most trying way it is also risky and could cost you your life. However, if you prefer this way then here is what you must do. Go to the seaside town of Frugelia, to the west. Once there, fly west until you see land. This island is known as Fallaci, and is not Fetare, however Fetare is the island on the horizon. I recommend resting a while before you go to Fetare. If this route does not suit you, walk west, southwest until you arrive at the sea. Then seek the Inland Harbor. There you can find trade ships and other vessels going to the location you seek. Though this is an easier method, it can be costly. Do take care, and I hope you find what you seek. Signed, Eleanor Callystrin."
Archer read it over twice and laughed to himself. "Fetare, here I come."
He went about and gathered what all was his in the Callystrin den before going back to the one he had come to call home to fetch a few more personal belongings. Then, armed with his blades, cloak, bow and arrows, and a sturdy staff he set out to find Inland Harbor.
CHAPTER XXXI
Cyrius ducked and ran as the blade whistled over his head again. He would have knocked himself upside the head for underestimating whatever it was if he was not being chased by it. CRACK. He rolled out of the way as a small tree fell in his path. When he got up, he was facing the beast. He held his blade ready as the shadow approached him, the red blade now glowing bright.
Nightstalker, if only you knew how. I have something to show you.
Cyrius watched as a red crystal, octahedron, appeared in the beasts free hand.
You remember this, right? It was a gift. You used it to fulfil a personal vendetta, against one who wants you dead. He killed a friend of yours. You did nothing.
"There was nothing I could do." Cyrius gritted his teeth and prepared himself for an attack. "You may not lie, but you use only truths that harm."
Do I?
Cyrius charged, rolled and swung his blade. A soft clink and a slight vibration in his blade told him he hit something and he grinned as he saw the red crystal land some distance away from the two of them. The beast roared and swung the fiery blade down. Cyrius rolled out of the way and the beast's blade met the ground and stuck. Cyrius took advantage of the distraction and went for the crystal.
You cannot defeat me, Cyrius. I am stronger than you are. I am Coldstone!
Cyrius stood and held the crystal. "You may be Coldstone," he put the crystal in the left breast pocket of his cloak. "but you are not stronger."
Give that back.
Cyrius started to say something, but a few realizations came to mind. Coldstone had referred to him as Cyrius, not Nightstalker, and the frightful shadow-like appearance was fading, a solid form was beginning to take shape.
Give me the crystal, Cyrius.
Cyrius raised his blade. "No. I do not have to give you anything. You no longer scare me."
GIVE IT BACK!
"My past is done and gone. There is nothing I can do about it now other than forgive myself."
Cyrius, think about what you are saying. Flare is gone, run away from you; and Flame is dead.
"Flame would have died even if I had been at his side. Flare did not run from me, she ran from you. Face it, Coldstone, the past has no hold on me anymore."
No.
Cyrius grinned and charged, swinging his blade at mid-level. Coldstone blocked it with a now colorless steel blade. Cyrius swung overhead and Coldstone blocked yet again, but the blade broke. Now he was left open to attack. Cyrius ran his blade through where the heart should have been. He felt the crystal in his cloak pocket heat up and shatter. Coldstone let out a roar and vanished.
"Fear truth."
Cyrius sheathed his blade and reached into the cloak pocket. The crystal had shattered into about two dozen pieces. Cyrius just let them filter through his fingers and fall onto the ground. Then he kneeled to examine them, chose the largest piece, no more than an inch long, and placed it back in his pocket, for the memories not of Coldstone, but of his times in the company of Flame and Flare.
-Allan "Viper" VonBurace
PART THREE
CHAPTER XXII
Archer entered the dragon's den in the Callystrin home. It was becoming a second home for him, and every minute he was gone, the more he would miss the welcoming corridors, halls and rooms, and the more he would appreciate returning. It was his third visit and he had grown to accept the fact that the dust never claimed a hold in any of the rooms.
Now that Cyrius was gone, he decided to devote his time to decoding the Elven Journals. He stayed in the main hall for a while, admiring bits of artwork he had never noticed during his previous visits, before he entered the room where he had left the journals on the table. They were gone. Everything was as if Archer had never disturbed the room. The journals had been taken and put somewhere. Where, he did not know. He only knew they were gone. Out of pure desperation, he pulled the painting down. One corner of the frame disturbed a small piece of pottery and sent it falling to the floor. It broke with a loud crash. Archer only jumped back and looked behind him nervously, as if he expected someone to be there.
He slowly regained control of his breathing and thoughts. Once he was calm enough, he set the painting on the table and pulled a chair out to sit. He was just about to do so when he heard steel sliding from a leather sheath behind him.
"Who are you?"
The woman's voice made him jump. He spun and would have drawn one of his blades had he not felt the cold metal of a thin blade pressed against his throat.
"I ask you again, who are you?"
Archer wanted to turn; she was just outside of his vision. He chanced to turn slightly more towards her. The blade stopped him.
"One last time. Who are you, and why are you here?"
"Archer Centrelli, but that is all I will give you until I find out who you are."
"Answer me this, are you fool enough to raid this home?"
"Once, but that is done and over. I mean the home no further harm." There was silence. "Now then, who are you?"
"Eleanor Callystrin."
Archer risked a glance in her direction. She was a good two feet shorter than he was. Her amber eyes were set on his, full of determination. Her amber colored hair fell just short of her shoulders and was tied up with a blue ribbon. Currently gripped tightly in a white knuckled hand was a foot long blade, as thin as the shaft of an arrow, but sharp enough to cut through armor if driven hard enough. The blade was currently poised to kill should the need arise.
"Now that you have my name, what are you doing here?"
"Searching."
"Really, for what?"
"Family." Archer watched as the blade dropped to the ground. "You can help if you like." He turned and began to walk to the far end of the room where a bookcase stood.
Eleanor watched him, puzzled at first. She quickly recovered, however, and drew a dagger. "I still do not trust you." She slowly reached down for the stiletto. Once it was in her grasp, she held it at ready.
"Your choice, not mine." He probed the books with a clawed finger. "I am looking for a group of journals that I chanced upon during my last visit here."
"So that was you, I was wondering who found those."
"Trust me yet?"
Eleanor shook her head. "No."
CHAPTER XXIII
Cyrius collapsed into a scaly heap as soon as he was at a safe height to free-fall. The flight lasted longer than he hoped it would, but at least he had made it. While taking in large gulps of air, he took in his new surroundings. To his right was a lake, lit to the point of glowing by a now full moon. He was resting in a clearing that seemed to be about a mile in diameter, and was surrounded by a seemingly endless forest. He stood and looked for a good place to start. He took a quick drink from the lake before starting straight into the forest that was ahead of him.
The trees around him held a beauty that had been lost in the Mirkilains after the wars. About forty paces into the forest, he came upon a stream, which he decided to follow inland. He had not gotten far when something stung him in his chest. He put a hand up and felt something hard under his cloak, just over his heart. He reached in and pulled out the crystal Flare had given him to track down Pyre, it was dark. He held it thoughtfully a moment before he threw it aside, he would not need it now. A soft light caught his eye through the trees to his right. He jumped the small stream and started towards the light. As he came closer, he could see it was a tavern.
Cyrius walked in without worry. The only people at the bar were two freelance fighters in the far corner, a man at the bar, and the barkeep, who was a woman. He studied the barkeep. She stood about five foot two, gold hair, and blue eyes. She also had a charm about her that showed through her face and eyes, and in all that she did. The man at the bar was roughly the same height, brown hair, wearing a dirty, brown overcoat, but that was all Cyrius could see from where he stood.
"I'll tell ya, if he causes any more trouble I'll-" The man cut off in mid sentence as the barkeep nodded towards the door. He turned. Now Archer could see that he had deep green eyes that seemed to shift to a soft gold whenever the light shone on them from a different angle. "Another one?" He snorted. "Cause any trouble and I'll see ya to your grave."
Cyrius gave him a puzzled look. "Trouble sir? I seek it not."
"Good." The man stood. "M'name's Hunter. This is the Quiet Tavern, owned by the lady Saren back there. I try to make sure it lives up to its name."
"How very kind of you." He replied rather dryly. My name is Cyrius Centrelli. I just flew in from the Mirkilains to escape the war."
"Whose side did you leave?"
"Both." Cyrius made his way to the bar. "Water, if you do not mind."
"No problem." Saren pulled out a glass and filled it. "Here you go."
Cyrius thanked her and took a sip. "Hunter, where exactly am I?"
Hunter laughed. "You flew here and don't even know where you are?"
Cyrius nodded.
"Welcome to Fetare."
"Fetare? Sounds pleasant."
"So long as everyone is nice to everyone else, it is. Wait until you have seen the rest of the island. Then, of course, to the northeast is Fallaci, a smaller island that shares similar qualities. I like it there almost as much as I do here!"
"I shall remember to see it for myself." Cyrius took another sip of water and rubbed his tired eyes.
"Come on, I'll show ya around to some of the finer spots of Fetare." He stood and dropped a few coins on the bar. "Saren, I'll be back when I am done."
"Hey, I can handle any thug as good as you can."
"I know, I just like to do it for you."
Saren threw a wadded up towel at him.
CHAPTER XXIV
Eleanor frowned at Archer. "Well, I can already assume you were a part of the raiding force responsible for their deaths, or that you are just a thief that came looting afterwards; you do have the brooches." She turned enough to give the effect of turning her back on him, but not enough to place him outside of her field of vision.
"These were given to me. All I ask is where Alyse might be, so that I can find her."
"And then what, kill the rest of the family? I assure you that you will get no further in that."
"I do not plan to, that is why I changed sides."
She just glared at him.
"What do I have to do to gain your aide?"
"You can't." Eleanor turned her back completely to him, no longer looking at him. "My parents are dead, from what you tell me one by your hands, one at your command. My mind is made, you can leave if you do not like it."
Archer thought better of speaking another word and turned to leave.
"Thank you, though, for telling me what happened."
Archer nodded and left.
The entire way back from the Callystrin den was full of thought. A new element had come into his search and Archer now found himself facing a new roadblock. A soft boom echoed over his head and he looked up. Clouds were gathering, threatening to bring heavy rains. Archer decided to take a faster route home. He cut through the woods, using one of his swords to hack through thick bush. He was following instinct more than factual direction and soon found himself in a clearing with a river cutting through the center of it. He sheathed the blade and looked around. Over his shoulder, he could see his destination. Now he had to decide how to get there. He could risk flight, but if it rained too hard, the added weight of the water would make him crash. He could walk, but if the rains came, it would bring toil and labor, adding to what would already be a lengthy journey. As it stood, the woods were looking more welcoming than the air. He turned to set his bearings straight and see if he could find a path to follow. Something hit him hard from behind and knocked him to the ground.
Archer hissed as he turned to face whatever it was that had knocked him down and his heart froze. Standing before him was an eight-foot tall wraith, a creature composed of everything necessary for killing prey. It stood hunched over, and tipping each of the ten fingers on rather long arms were razor sharp claws, each extending more than four inches a piece. The wraith stood on the balls of its feet, rather than flat on them. This was rumored to allow them to have faster acceleration when running, and to make them appear taller. As Archer summed up the wraith, he could hear the sound of thick saliva rolling down the dark green face and falling to the ground.
The wraith roared and jumped, bringing both clawed hands to bear on Archer. Archer rolled from under their path and drew one of his blades. He swung and cried triumphantly as the blade started an unobstructed flight towards the wraith's neck. The cry became obsolete as the blade struck nothing but armored scales. The wraith knocked Archer's blade from him and took a step towards its prey, the only thing distracting it now was a distant cry from a Firedragon. The wraith lunged and threw its weight into a one armed swing that caught Archer in the side and threw him into a ditch by a river. Archer cried out in pain as he grasped the wounded area and felt the warmth of his own blood. The wraith stood tall, prepared to deal the deathblow to its prey.
The Firedragon's shriek was the only thing that saved Archer from the wraith. He watched stunned as the red dragon dropped on the wraith, picked it up in its jaws and bit down. A soft thunderclap sounded above him as he watched the Firedragon finish its meal and then turn to him. Archer could tell the dragon was into the kill for the sport of the kill now, no longer hunger. He braced himself as the dragon pressed him into the ground with a giant clawed foot that was well the size of half his own height. The dragon lowered its head and gave his prey one last look.
The clouds overhead gave way and sent torrents of rain falling down on the two. If there is anything a Firedragon is fearful of, it is water, for water is a natural defense against fire, it kills fire. The dragon looked up long enough to feel the stinging sensation of rain on his face and eyes before flying away, leaving Archer alone near the now swelling river.
Pain burned him from all over his body as he pulled himself to his feet. He knew he had to keep clear of the swelling river, or he would drown to death in its waters. He gasped as his feet failed him and he fell back to the ground. The water was now surrounding him and though it was not more than an inch deep where he was, it was threatening to pull him to his death. He reached out and sank a clawed hand into dry dirt and pulled. The pain in his side grew to the point he could not breathe as he slowly crawled away from the river's banks. He stopped only once he was a safe distance from the water. Once there, he lost consciousness.
CHAPTER XXV
"So, how long have you been in Fetare?" Though he asked the question, Cyrius was too busy taking in his surroundings to hear the answer.
Hunter had shown him around the Pearl lake, which was also commonly referred to as the Moonlit Lake, and had given him a tour of the neighboring Moonlit Forest. Now they were nearing an area on the island inhabited by several small volcanoes and thermal vents. The area was sunken in below sea level and rested in a large valley, this acted as protection to the rest of the island, should the volcanoes decide to erupt.
"This island is one of the few areas rich in the various world wide cultures. Many of the inhabitants have come to terms and get along well, but there are a few that come to do damage. That is where my group comes in. I am a member of the Ranger Peacekeeper corp." Hunter stopped and waited for the Draconian to catch up. "There are about a hundred full time officers, fifty part time officers, and two hundred support officers from other groups. Our job is fairly simple, stop trouble. If it has taught me anything at all, it is that one should always wear armor, you never know what to expect."
Cyrius nodded and let his eyes roam the rock walls of a cliff. The cliff itself was resting near to a thermal vent and sulfur crystal formations could be seen on several of the cliff's ledges and rocky surfaces. "Those walls are ideal spots for a Firedragon den."
"Lucky for us there are only two. Both reside in that wall you are looking at. They are a fairly nice couple."
Cyrius nodded. "So, tell me a bit about yourself."
"Well, I have lived in Fetare for my entire life, though I frequently visit Fallaci. My family died when I was young, my brother and I are the only two VonBuraces left. We have both dedicated our lives to the Ranger Corps and are very happy with our jobs. Life here can be rough, though. Every now and then we get some bug and the forces from the west, flood the island. I have seen many friends come and go during the black ages. It is also during that time that the Rangers lose most of their forces."
"I am sorry to hear that."
Hunter just nodded. "You will find that most everyone here has a hard past, but most of us have come to terms with it and have forgiven ourselves. It is better that than to allow it to haunt us."
"My past is too unforgivable." Cyrius shook his head. "I do not think I will ever be able to forgive myself to what I have done."
"Well, just don't punish yourself too hard. You made the right choice in searching out the right side, now realize you do not have to live with your past."
"Some day perhaps, when everything settles down for me." Cyrius stopped. Something was not right, he felt watched. "Do you feel like something is here, watching us?"
Hunter glanced about. "It is probably the Firedragons from the cliff."
"No, it is closer." Cyrius turned suddenly and studied all of his surroundings intently. The only thing near them was a large rock formation, and the only things dwelling in it were shadows.
"Find it?"
"No, I must be imagining things. Lead on, show me around town, if you do not mind."
"Not at all, Cyrius, it would be a pleasure."
It watched the two leave. Silent wisps of breath escaped it as it tried to find the one it was sent to hunt. Something finally told it that the larger one was the target it sought. A silent laugh emanated from within it. You are mine, but it is not yet time. Then, without a sound the shadow followed the two.
CHAPTER XXVI
Archer woke suddenly and found himself in a large room and resting on a wooden frame bed. He was about to get up and explore his surroundings, but as he rose a quick jolt of pain ran through him, forcing him to lie down again.
"You really ought to stay on the trails when you travel."
"The wraiths came with the armies in search of easy prey."
Archer recognized the first voice but could not place it, the second one he knew was Flare.
"You are just lucky you were attacked in an open field, I would not have seen you had you collapsed in the forest." Flare walked into his view and sat down in a chair next to the bed. "You really ought to be more careful."
"Flare was just telling me all about you, Archer, and what happened during your stay. She heard what caused you to go there and was shocked."
Must be Eleanor, but she would not...or maybe, with Flare's word with mine. "Thank you for caring for me." Archer attempted to bring himself to a sitting position and succeeded. A wave of cold air caused him to fold his wings about his self for warmth. "How long have I been here?"
"No more than a day. You really are lucky, wraiths usually finish what they start." Flare stood. She was acting strange.
"How did you know it was a wraith?"
"I found what was left of him. That dragon saved your life." Flare chuckled nervously as she spoke.
Archer nodded and glanced over at Eleanor. She just turned and busied herself with something. "What's wrong?" He shot a questioning glance over at Flare. "You both seem to be acting strangely towards me. Why?"
"Archer, you were speaking in your sleep." Eleanor turned towards him, wringing her hands as she spoke. This was not like her from what Archer knew of her.
"And what did I say?"
"Well, it is not so much what you said, but how it was spoken." Flare sat back down near the bed again. "Actually, it is a little of both."
"You were reciting songs my mother used to sing to me when I was young. She also sang them whenever she felt lonely while my father was away at the warfronts."
"Perhaps I read them in the journals and was just mumbling what I read."
Eleanor shook her head. "The songs were Elven, sung in the Elven tongue."
Archer gave her a puzzled look. "Maybe I have heard them before."
"They were my mother's creations. To have heard them before means you were here fifteen years ago."
"That is impossible, I served at the fortifications at that time. I never left there."
"Then you heard them before then, fifteen years ago she stopped singing them."
Eleanor began humming a soft tune. Archer listened to it for a moment, it seemed vaguely familiar. He tried to play it in his mind as she hummed it and found he knew it. He hummed along. Soon a single word came to mind; then a phrase.
"Triluen nacet et nutum paec en et feurl." He pondered the words. "Did I just invent that, or have I heard it before?"
"That was a piece of my mother's song you spoke. Even though you deny it, you know the songs mother sang. That means something, I just need to think about it." Eleanor left the room.
"Archer, you are seeking something that not everyone is ready to find. Be ready for disappointment should things not go as you wish. The truths you could bring might be disastrous for more than you know. Be careful." Flare stood. "Do not let what I have just said turn you from your goal. Personally, I think you have come to the right place to begin."
"Flare," Archer stood, painfully of course, and began to walk about the room just to stretch his legs. "Be truthful, did you watch me be attacked?"
Flare nodded. "I just was not sure it was you until the wraith had wounded you."
"But still you did not help?"
"I am sorry, Archer, I was being hunted. Slayers were about, and I saw the Firedragon coming and knew he would go for the wraith."
"How did you know he would leave me." He stopped walking and stood with a hand on the back of a chair.
Flare shook her head. "I just hoped he would." She let the silence hang for a moment. "Archer, I am leaving again, fare well." She left.
CHAPTER XXVII
Cyrius stretched out under a tree in the small rain forest area of the island. Things could not have gone better. It was nearing nightfall and nothing had come to give him problems. Thinking the events of the past few days over he allowed himself to drift off to sleep.
He found himself dreaming of a large lake in the middle of a forest. The light had suddenly gone out all around him, and rain poured down from the dark clouds above. Though the lake was large, the water was shallow, not rising above his ankles. All around him, creatures and people were seeking shelter from the rain, he did the opposite and made his way to a large clearing in the forest. The lake stretched here, aided by the rain, and he soon found himself having trouble walking through the water. Now the water was over two feet deep, and rising. Rain fell in sheets, blinding him from everything more than two feet in front of him. Then it was gone. The rains stopped. All that remained were the shadows of the forests. He gazed at them shortly before one particular shadow caught his eye.
It had no shape, at least none he could tell, and it belonged to nothing. A chill wind swept through the trees, stirring all but that shadow. Cyrius shivered. The shadow moved into the clearing and a low rumble, almost like thunder, began to shake the area. The thunder was followed by a loud crack that jolted Cyrius from his dream.
Like in his dream, rain had fallen and water had gathered to an inch deep, but nothing more. The sound that had awoken him had come from a bolt of lightning that had struck a tree near to where he was sleeping, the charred remains left behind as telltale evidence. He stood slowly and felt something fall near him, splashing in the water. Curious, he kneeled to find what it was. Resting in the water was a red, octahedral crystal. Cyrius picked the crystal up and examined it. He immediately recognized it. But...how?
How indeed, Nightstalker.
Cyrius jumped, dropping the crystal back to the ground. "Who said that?"
No one you would not know, Nightstalker.
He drew his blade and searched his surroundings. "Pyre!" Then more hopefully. "Archer?"
Perhaps, Nightstalker, but do remember, the latter of those two knew not your past name, and what are the chances of the former being here? Think about it, you know me.
Cyrius hissed loudly. "Show yourself, maybe I will be kind."
Do not tempt me.
Cyrius began to look for the fastest route to a nearby tavern.
Leaving, so soon? Yes, lead me to a place that is more than likely well populated. See how things go from there.
"Try to keep up with me." Cyrius ran.
Over fallen logs, through bush, around tree, he ran until the lights of the tavern were visible. Once they were, he sprinted until he reached the door.
Already here, Nightstalker.
Cyrius turned, his back up against the wooden door. "Who are you?" Silence. "Well, answer me! Who are you?" A thought came upon him. He opened his wings and flew onto the tavern's flat roof. No one was there. "Why do you hide? Nothing more than a coward hides while torturing its prey!"
Coward? I will show you a coward. Soon you will know true fear.
A low rumble, much like a laugh filled the air and faded.
"Well? I am waiting." Cyrius looked around but saw nothing. Whoever it was had gone. He snorted and jumped back to the ground. "Fear. I do not fear you."
You will.
Cyrius hissed and walked into the tavern, closing the door securely behind him. He found a seat, fell into it, and threw the hood of his cloak back. "Barkeep, something cold." He rested his head on the table and closed his eyes, waiting for the drink to come.
"Rough day?"
Cyrius looked up. Standing near the table and holding a glass of ice water was Saren. He looked around and recognized his surroundings. He was back in the Quiet Tavern. He looked back up at Saren and gave a small nod.
"Here, drink up, it beats some of the other drinks."
"Thanks."
"No problem." She grinned and went back to the bar.
Cyrius took a quick drink and thought back on what had happened. Fear? Fear what? Who was it that I know? He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Who...someone from the past? Who should I fear in my past? Pyre is out of my life, Archer is a friend. Whoever it was called me Nightstalker. All who know me by that would be in the war right now, not here. He let out a sigh. Think Cyrius, think! Who?
Nightstalker, you are closer than you think. Think hard. You know me.
Cyrius hissed. "You do not scare me." He spoke in a whisper. He glanced back at Saren. She was cleaning some glasses at the counter, seemingly not paying any attention to him.
That is not my intent right now. Think hard. I come from your past. The past. I am not a 'who,' but a 'what.'
"My past?" Cyrius sat forward. It was obviously not Saren speaking.
The past, in the past, of the past. Perhaps a haunting past. Think about it. What do you fear the most? That is the answer.
Cyrius jumped up, startling Saren.
"Cyrius, are you alright?"
"Yeah, I am just fine. Thank you. Was someone else in here?"
"When?" She came out from behind the bar.
"Now."
Saren shook her head. "Are you positive you are alright?"
"Did you hear me talking?"
"No, you were sleeping. I was not paying any attention to you."
Cyrius gave her a puzzled look. "How do you know I was sleeping?"
She chuckled. "You snore."
Cyrius relaxed slightly and laughed a bit. "That's good."
CHAPTER XXVIII
Archer was having troubles not jumping to conclusions concerning Flare's behavior, paranoia being the only logical one he could think of. To keep his mind off the subject, he took small, unguided tours around the Callystrin dwelling. He had not seen much of Eleanor, and when he did, she always hurried off to busy herself elsewhere. His latest adventure through the unknown halls found him in an art room, similar to the one Flare had shown to him. How long ago was that? Archer had trouble believing it was over a week ago. Time seemed to be moving fast for him and he could hardly keep up. With Cyrius gone, and no one to keep him company he had begun to lose track of things.
In the midst of this confusion, a curious thing had happened. While exploring the art room, he had come upon a painting. It portrayed a lake, silver from a large moon overhead and surrounded on all sides by a large grass clearing, also glowing a faint silver. Around the clearing on three sides was a large forest, the fourth side being occupied by a large cliff with a waterfall that fed directly into the lake. The scene was all so familiar to him and it puzzled him for the rest of the day until he recalled why. Just before the siege of Flare's home, and Flame's death, he had seen a painting portraying the very same scene, but during the day. It was titled "Pearl Lake fed by Blue Falls." Upon remembering this he made his way back to the art room and looked for a name on the painting. He grinned when he read "Pearl Lake fed by Blue Falls at night." He chuckled as he read it but then became puzzled. Under that was the word "Fetare." He was certain Flare's painting did not have that on it, and he went back to his room tired, confused, and deep in thought.
"Archer?" Eleanor called from somewhere in the hall.
Archer turned from the paintings. "My room."
She came in with a folded cloak in her arms. "I mended to cloak where it was torn, and I got the blood out of it. Not an easy task."
"Thank you." He pointed towards the 'Pearl Lake' picture. "I have a question about that particular painting."
"Oh, my sister did that one for me and sent it to me."
"Where is Fetare?"
She hesitated. "That is where my sister lives."
"Ah, I see. Would you mind telling me where I might find it?"
She answered with a nod.
"Please, why won't you?" She did not answer. "Do you not trust me?" No answer. "Why not."
"You are a Draconian. I am not sure if you noticed or not, no one trusts a Draconian."
"I do. Cyrius, right now he is traveling. Flare trusts two. Lady Gilldomere did, until the Tryst'n forts were laid under siege; I am sure she still would to this day had they not been."
"But I do not trust you."
"Give me one logical reason why."
"You killed my parents!"
"Then kill me!" Archer knew he was losing control of himself. He did not even cringe as she picked up a dagger and pointed it at him. "I regret what I did. You seem to forget why I was coming here. One of them, your mother, knew me and I have never seen her before. She even gave me a gift before she died." He paused. "Those two could very well be my parents also. You are preventing me from finding them."
Eleanor held the dagger tight in her hand, still keeping the blade pointed at Archer's chest. Everything Archer could see in her told him she was thinking, and that she would take one of two courses, one leading to his death. Then, with a cry of frustration, she walked out, driving the dagger into the wooden frame of a picture as she walked by it.
CHAPTER XXVIV
"Good morning, Cyrius."
The sound of a voice so near to him jolted Cyrius out of a light sleep. Standing over the couch in the tavern was Hunter. In the background, he could make out two other forms moving about. One he knew was Saren, but the other was unidentifiable until his eyes focused correctly.
"Slept well?"
Cyrius snorted and rolled into a sitting position. "Who's here?"
Hunter looked behind him. "Saren, and my brother, Allan."
"You never told me you had a brother." Cyrius stood.
"Maybe I did and you fail to remember."
Cyrius walked across the room and introduced himself to Allan, who in turn introduced himself as the Viper.
"Well, it started with a search for one of the Rangers' most wanted with my brother and two others." He explained. "It is a rather long story, I shall have to tell you it later." He turned to face the bar and picked something up. "But for now, you need to wake up!" With that he emptied an entire pitcher of ice water on Cyrius' head and went off laughing.
"Forgive Vipe, he is a bit on the wild side, always trying to pull jokes on the unsuspecting, or just trying to be obnoxious."
"I see." Cyrius, now fully awake, faked an annoyed laugh. "So, Hunter, any ideas on what it may have been?"
"What's that? Oh, well I personally believe you were dreaming. Perhaps you ate something that disagreed with you."
"Well, that still does not answer my question."
Hunter shrugged. "It was only a dream, Cyrius, get over it."
Cyrius nodded. "So, Viper, how long are you here?"
"Well, the annual Ranger Officer Corp meeting is in a few days, and it is usually held in this area. We are choosing new members. Once the meeting is over I plan to stay a week more, and than I will probably go back to the South. A large island of ice is threatening to hit the coast there and could cause trouble."
Cyrius nodded and went to find something to drink. "Just out of curiosity, is there an admissions price?"
"Yes, one year as an apprentice with one of the higher officers, during that time you are only sent out on calls when your teacher sees fit."
"Well, I was just wondering. Now if you do not mind I am going to step out for a while."
"Well, I guess I will see you later."
"Yes, have a nice day Viper, a pleasure meeting you."
The air was warm, there was no wind, but the sky was overcast. Storm clouds hung dormant over Fetare, threatening to break loose. Still, the day seemed pleasant enough, and with whatever it had been tormenting him gone, things were looking on the upside. He began to hum to himself.
Nightstalker.
It was not even a whisper, and Cyrius almost wanted to believe it was the wind. He ignored it.
Nightstalker.
Cyrius jumped a small creek.
Now you know fear.
He heard a soft whistle from over his head and looked up in time to see a thick tree branch fall to the ground, cut free by something sharp.
Fear, Nightstalker. That is the feeling you thought you did not have. Remember?
"How could I forget." He drew a blade. Something laughed at him.
See fear in its true form.
Then Cyrius saw it. A large shadow seemed to appear from nowhere in front of him. It held no more than the rough shape of a figure and wielded on one hand a scimitar that was tinted red.
Fear, Nightstalker. Fear the past, for it is the only thing that haunts you now.
Cyrius raised his blade. "Fear skill, beast."
CHAPTER XXX
The Callystrin den had been silent all day. Archer had been awake and doing his usual exploring, but had seen no sign of Eleanor. Once he was done, and confident he had seen the entire den, he became bored and wandered about aimlessly, searching for something to do. It was by doing this that he found the note. It had been pinned to the table in the main hall by a dagger. Archer pulled the dagger out and read it.
"Archer, the island you seek can be found in two ways. I am led to believe that you are capable of flight, but this is not only the most trying way it is also risky and could cost you your life. However, if you prefer this way then here is what you must do. Go to the seaside town of Frugelia, to the west. Once there, fly west until you see land. This island is known as Fallaci, and is not Fetare, however Fetare is the island on the horizon. I recommend resting a while before you go to Fetare. If this route does not suit you, walk west, southwest until you arrive at the sea. Then seek the Inland Harbor. There you can find trade ships and other vessels going to the location you seek. Though this is an easier method, it can be costly. Do take care, and I hope you find what you seek. Signed, Eleanor Callystrin."
Archer read it over twice and laughed to himself. "Fetare, here I come."
He went about and gathered what all was his in the Callystrin den before going back to the one he had come to call home to fetch a few more personal belongings. Then, armed with his blades, cloak, bow and arrows, and a sturdy staff he set out to find Inland Harbor.
CHAPTER XXXI
Cyrius ducked and ran as the blade whistled over his head again. He would have knocked himself upside the head for underestimating whatever it was if he was not being chased by it. CRACK. He rolled out of the way as a small tree fell in his path. When he got up, he was facing the beast. He held his blade ready as the shadow approached him, the red blade now glowing bright.
Nightstalker, if only you knew how. I have something to show you.
Cyrius watched as a red crystal, octahedron, appeared in the beasts free hand.
You remember this, right? It was a gift. You used it to fulfil a personal vendetta, against one who wants you dead. He killed a friend of yours. You did nothing.
"There was nothing I could do." Cyrius gritted his teeth and prepared himself for an attack. "You may not lie, but you use only truths that harm."
Do I?
Cyrius charged, rolled and swung his blade. A soft clink and a slight vibration in his blade told him he hit something and he grinned as he saw the red crystal land some distance away from the two of them. The beast roared and swung the fiery blade down. Cyrius rolled out of the way and the beast's blade met the ground and stuck. Cyrius took advantage of the distraction and went for the crystal.
You cannot defeat me, Cyrius. I am stronger than you are. I am Coldstone!
Cyrius stood and held the crystal. "You may be Coldstone," he put the crystal in the left breast pocket of his cloak. "but you are not stronger."
Give that back.
Cyrius started to say something, but a few realizations came to mind. Coldstone had referred to him as Cyrius, not Nightstalker, and the frightful shadow-like appearance was fading, a solid form was beginning to take shape.
Give me the crystal, Cyrius.
Cyrius raised his blade. "No. I do not have to give you anything. You no longer scare me."
GIVE IT BACK!
"My past is done and gone. There is nothing I can do about it now other than forgive myself."
Cyrius, think about what you are saying. Flare is gone, run away from you; and Flame is dead.
"Flame would have died even if I had been at his side. Flare did not run from me, she ran from you. Face it, Coldstone, the past has no hold on me anymore."
No.
Cyrius grinned and charged, swinging his blade at mid-level. Coldstone blocked it with a now colorless steel blade. Cyrius swung overhead and Coldstone blocked yet again, but the blade broke. Now he was left open to attack. Cyrius ran his blade through where the heart should have been. He felt the crystal in his cloak pocket heat up and shatter. Coldstone let out a roar and vanished.
"Fear truth."
Cyrius sheathed his blade and reached into the cloak pocket. The crystal had shattered into about two dozen pieces. Cyrius just let them filter through his fingers and fall onto the ground. Then he kneeled to examine them, chose the largest piece, no more than an inch long, and placed it back in his pocket, for the memories not of Coldstone, but of his times in the company of Flame and Flare.