Wanderings in the Waking: part 3
Mysteries, discoveries and the sound of wings.
"Regrets? Yes, I have many regrets. I live with them, that's all."
-Sydney
Notes: I'm not going to bother much with language tags in this chapter. Just assume with me that if Ashley's speaking to Sydney, it is in French, if it's to Müllencamp then he's speaking Kildean, to anyone else it's German, except Cassiel to whom I'll give the coolness value of speaking whatever the hell he pleases.
As usual "..." is reserved for Kildean, and //~...~// is reserved for Sydney when he's "talking."
Warning: I doubt anyone reading this will get uptight, but Sydney bad-mouths the Bible a few times... if it bothers you... well the guy /is/ a pagan...
The cavernous kitchen was warm and full of tasty smells as Tam awoke, encouraging his stomach to hasten his usual morning torpor. The hunter was confused at first; the strange ceiling above bore no resemblance to his cozy home, yet it smelled as though breakfast was already on the table, and soon Mary'd be scolding his laziness like every other morning. However her voice never came, just a deep familiar rumble of a voice followed by an even more familiar cheerful laughter.
//Heidi! //
Tam came fully awake with a snap, had untangled himself from the blanket and was staggering toward the child before he had finished unsticking his tongue from the roof of his dry mouth.
"Morning Papa!" The little girl was already well through her bowl of porridge and happily presented her father with a liberally jam-coated piece of toast. Tam stared at the object in wonder before deliberately biting. He was still delighting in the sweet flavor when a second bowl of porridge and a plate of sausage slid across the table to meet
him. He looked up in amazement at the hermit's departing back, and with a little shrug pulled the plates forward to begin liberally pouring cream over the hot mash. When the larger man finally returned to the table with a third bowl, looking like some demented giant's Chief-Cook-and-Bottle-Washer in his flour-specked jacket, Tam was ready for him.
"First you cut of all your bloody hair, then you /shave/, now you /cook/? I think I liked you better when you were just a phantom of a fellow who hid in the woods; this is getting just too frightening." The trapper made an exaggeratedly cowardly face, causing his daughter to erupt into another fit of giggles. Ashley accepted the teasing stoically and continued to work his way through his breakfast, ignoring the family's banter.
"Maybe next he'll make me a pretty dress!" Tam made a production of thoughtfully agreeing with the child.
"Or maybe his next trick will be some sort of miracle, turning this cream to lager or something of the sort..." His sharp ears detected something distinctly like a sarcastic snort from the quiet man across the table. "Seriously Ash, what is our 'next trick'? What do we do about all of this? We can't just walk away... these guys were /up/ to /something/..."
Tam twirled a finger to signify the now-empty and dead monastery.
"Yes. I know." The larger knight was not forthcoming with additional information as he silently gathered up the empty plates to dump them in an empty tub.
"So we should tell someone, right? The local sheriff, maybe? Not everything... just enough to let him know..."
"No." Ashley rubbed his face thoughtfully, frowning to feel the stubble getting long again. "No, I'll handle this; it's me they wanted after all, my problem, no one else's."
Tam's eyes widened in surprise. "You? This was all about you? Because you helped us?" Suddenly several suspicions he had developed over the year crystallized into a rough understanding. "In helping us back there, you slipped, didn't you. These guys found out that you were a mage, and now you're in trouble, right?"
"What made you think that?" The quiet man's face betrayed nothing of his thoughts.
"Don't give me that 'I don't know what you're talking about' crap, Ash. We're friends, remember? I mean it was /pretty obvious/ that you came into the ranges to hide from /something/. At first I pegged you as one of those tree-hugging religious nuts who want to 'commune' with the forest... but you didn't act the type. I also know that some mages can find other mages by ... I dunno, wiggling their fingers or some such nonsense, and that a mage who doesn't want to be found knows to lay low, act normal, and stay the hell away from other mages." He paused, only to have the hermit calmly nod in agreement with the theory. "You did good, really, aside from that thing with the tree when we first met..." Tam still felt a faint rush of embarrassment over that incident so long ago. "And then the other day when these jokers showed up, I would've never guessed... gave me quite a shock really... to see you patch me up like that..."
"I see..." The knight morosely settled back down at the table. "Yes, well it couldn't be helped, could it... your wife would've been miserable without you." He rested his head in his hands for a moment, rubbing his forehead. "This isn't how it was supposed to be, everything has gotten rather complicated lately... but never mind it... what's done is done."
"So what do we do now? These lowlands are too flat... no place to hide. The sooner we get back up in the high-country the happier we'll be, hmmm? Get you hidden again so they leave you alone." Tam's optimistic smile died as the hermit slowly shook his head.
"No, Tam. Not 'we'... just /you/. You're right; it's not safe for you down here. Take your daughter and go home. Sell the horses, move to a new town, rebuild your life, and forget you ever knew me. If you're /very/ lucky... no one will ever come asking."
"Forget you? ...just like that?"
"You know how to get to my camp... what's left there is yours if you want it. Do me a favor and burn the rest when you're done..."
"But what of /you/? Where are you going? What will..."
Ashley held up a hand to end the stream of questions. "Enough. Let it rest." He mustered a smile for the only real friend he had made in his new life. "All will be well, Tam, I've disappeared before... and I'll certainly do it many more times 'ere I'm done. But I'm glad to have met you, I think; we had some good times... and I'm sorry you got dragged into all this."
"Bull shit." The trapper growled bitterly and then threw a guilty look towards his daughter. Heidi met his gaze with a perfectly innocent look before continuing her silent observation of the woodsman. Tam struggled to find a way of battering down the implacable man's logic. "Hell, you've saved my life what, three, maybe even four times now? By right I /owe/ you /everything/... and here you sit /apologizing/ to /me/?" He bowed his head and forced some measure of calmness. "So this is it, huh? We shake hands and you disappear forever?"
"That's the idea, yes."
"And I never talk about you to anybody... just forget you ever happened..."
"Yes."
"... Hell..." The trapper felt his stomach knotting in frustration and self-loathing. The hermit was right, he was no 'adventurer.' He was too old and too attached. Still, part of him wanted to stand up and shout 'Take me with you!' and even as he quelled it to silence it called him coward. In a moment of insight he saw how it might have been had he been younger, braver, if Heidi and Mary weren't waiting for him. He saw how it would have been to stand up and follow this strange man into the unknown. But even as he visualized the sparkling treasures to be had and battles to be fought, he realized that it would never be. It was too late for such childish fancies, and his wife was worried about him.
"I'll take care of your place... and spread it around that you've gone missing... everyone knows how dangerous the passes are at this time of year... they'll just sort of assume..."
"Thank you."
Their eyes met and then they grimly went to work searching the intact portions of the keep for anything of use. Meeting in the main courtyard once more, Ashley gently lifted the quiet child up onto the second horse and gave her a small smile of farewell. Heidi surprised him by bending over and giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.
"Ash, what about the monastery?" Tam suddenly recalled his unanswered question from before.
"I really don't know... best to burn it, I think... less evidence... not like it hasn't already been profaned." The trapper grimaced in memory of their discovery in one of the cellars. The careful rows of corpses in monk's habits told the tale all too clearly.
"'Tis a good thing I grabbed up what I could then, huh, although I little relished 'borrowing' from a house of god."
"They understand. It's alright." Tam shot his friend an odd look, but the man's attention was fixed elsewhere. His eyes aimed towards the empty space in front of the broken chapel doors.
"What?" The word seemed to jar the taller man back to reality. Ashley tore his eyes from the doors and gave him a sheepish shrug.
"No matter... You have everything then?"
"Yes..."
"Then that's it."
The knight was already well down the trail from the smoldering ruins by the time Sydney made his belated appearance. The trade road was a narrow and winding ribbon of dirt, stretching through valley after valley of hilly country. One moment Ashley was alone with the sound of the birdsong and the wind, the next he was accompanied by a mellow whistling to an unknown melody. The mage was content at first to simply follow, a cool presence at his back, and the wanderer shot him a curious glance. Sydney was walking backwards watching the faint smoke rising in the distance with a professional eye.
// He looks better... not as drained as before... the extra rest did him some good. //
Ashley focused again on the long road ahead of them and resettled his pack, trying to balance the load better. His stretching drew the cultist's notice and provoked a dry snort of amusement.
//~ You know... You /could/ just make yourself a mount... 'Tis not /that/ hard... ~//
The older man turned his head enough to give the blond a doubtful look. "What, summon some sort of horse fashioned of the Dark? Sounds tiring... and troublesome... 'twould likely be some sort of skeletal creature... no thank you... I prefer to walk."
Sydney aimed a grimace at the striding man's back. //~ You'll have to get used to summoning things /some day/, Riskbreaker... you can't avoid it forever...~//
"Hmmm." The mage returned Ashley's hard stare with one of his own as they challenged each other's resolve. For a moment the blonde was certain the knight would snap at him in characteristic fashion. The small, evil grin that the man produced instead caused him a moment of dread.
"Perhaps I /should/ get a mount... but Sydney... I doubt I could comfortably support such a creature /and/ still be able to have /you/ here at the same time... and the animal /would/ be more useful..."
The cultist's eyes narrowed as he followed the older man's logic.
// I have you now, whelp. I didn't think you'd be volunteering to be ousted in favor of a horse... //
The Riskbreaker dropped the smile and blandly pushed on, aware that he was likely starting something he'd regret later, but willing to take the risk. "However, it could be said that you have proved useful from time to time as well... I can see only one solution to this quandary..."
By now Sydney was more then aware that he was being baited, but he raised an eyebrow in curiosity nevertheless.
"Sydney... turn into a horse."
The blonde stumbled in shock at the mild demand. Legs tangled, he sputtered in surprise and ire as he flailed a moment and collapsed in an undignified heap on the track. He was only confounded for a second, however, and was immediately on his feet again with an outraged //~ What?! ~//
Ashley had not halted his long strides to wait for his companion, however, and Sydney found himself luridly cursing the knight's retreating back. The mage knew with deep and grim certainty that he was being laughed at, despite the man's lack of outward response. He stamped his foot in frustration at the knight's deliberate, deadpanned teasing.
Ashley's moments of actual humor were rare enough that they still completely flustered the prophet. Sydney was uncertain if it was due misjudgment of the man's usual taciturn nature, or that the knight's sense of humor was so rusty that he could never anticipate when his partner was attempting to provoke him.
//~ That /wasn't/ funny. ~//
He kept his grumbling to a minimum as he caught up with his companion. The knight had paused on the crest of a hill, inscrutable as ever. The man was inspecting a signpost at a meeting of several narrow roads, carefully reading each in an attempt to get his bearings.
"There you are, whelp. Come here and make yourself useful." The deep drawl set the blonde's already ragged nerves on edge and he stamped closer.
//~ I'm /not/ a whelp... And you can bloody well read them yourself. You speak the language well enough. ~// Sydney shot the soldier a grumpy glare.
// I wonder if I can get away with another 'horse' comment... no... best to let it go...as fun as it would be, there's work to be done...//
"Didn't your tutors ever tell you not to make faces? Your face might get stuck like that, you know... and /then/ where would you be..."
//~ Do you mind? ~//
"So read the sign."
//~ Why don't you? ~//
"I can't." The man's bland statement of surrender threw the mage yet again. In his surprise, he completely forgot he had been angry.
//~/What/?~// Sydney stared in disbelief.
"I can't read Prussian... well, not very well... some of the characters aren't the same as French." Ashley shrugged in his usual mild way.
//~ But you /speak/ it... I /heard/ you use it yesterday! ~//
"Since when were the two facts truly related? I didn't learn it in a schoolroom, I picked it up from Tam and the few tradesmen we met. I know just enough to get by in a conversation... or an inquiry... these weren't precisely highly literate circles."
The mage blinked, feeling suddenly foolish at his previous assumptions. //~ Oh. ~//
"So..."
//~ Huh? ~//
"The sign?"
Sydney resisted the urge to belt the older man in the head, glaring up at the offending piece of timber as he dredged up vocabulary that had gone unused since childhood.
//~I think we go left... if you want the closest town...~//
"Thank you." Ashley calmly ignored his riled friend's grumbles of irritation and started down the slightly wider road into the woods.
Hundreds of candles provided a flickering surreal light to the large and gloomy great hall as Cardinal Lucas fought the urge to cringe. He was still in his singed and torn robes from the previous evening as he knelt on the cold marble floor in front of the altar-like dais. He could feel his master's eyes on him, cool and dispassionate, as he carefully weighed the worth of the priest's tale.
"So you say that you left your fellow priest to the 'tender mercies' of this 'dark monster' in order to buy yourself the time to flee. Such cowardice is an unbecoming trait for one of my elite crusaders, don't you think?" The voice, arch and elegant, was everything that Lucas had expected from the Divine Messenger, but its cool malice sent shivers down his spine.
"Someone needed to stay alive in order to report this /threat/ to your plans, my Lord."
The cardinal kept his head pressed to the marble, partly as a gesture of total humility, and partly to steady his traitorously shaky limbs. There was no excuse he could truly give to justify the magnitude of the mission's failure, but if the angel could be distracted by this new interloper, perhaps Lucas would keep his head. "We underestimated him twice, my Lord. He had /strange/ powers... he is allied with the dead... things /unholy/... and his aura..." The cardinal paused a moment, realizing that he was rambling like a madman.
"Yes?"
Lucas concealed his smile at the note of interest that he detected in the smooth voice. Taking the risk, he played his trump.
"It was absolutely black, my Lord. Black as pitch, blacker than anything I've ever seen, even among the demons... a black so dark it /burned/."
// I'm going to do it... he's going to let me live and I'll watch as that vicious creature and his pet ghost are /burned/... the Metatron is unstoppable! //
"A 'burning black,' you say? Well... that /is/ something." The cardinal suppressed a new twitch of fear as the creature rose from its ornate couch with a gentle rustle of silk and feathers. The angle picked his way down the five steps to stand directly in front of his groveling servant. Lucas' elated feelings were rapidly dispelled as slim powerful fingers caught his chin and forced his head up to gaze on forbidden beauty. And the angel /was/ beautiful, its face akin to the frescos and sculptures of Rome. Lucas' eyes unwillingly flickered over the flawless skin and elegant features and settled on the generally safe region of the creature's carefully tended pale blonde hair. Despite the angel's serene countenance, his eyes betrayed his true intent. Their green depths were filled with an unspeakable cold and calculating intent. Cassiel /smiled/.
"Show me."
The priest's body became rigid as the angel's will coursed through it. Caught in his grip, the man's eyes went wide and blank, his mind laid open for callous inspection. A regal blonde eyebrow slowly arched as the events of the night replayed to their conclusion before the angel's eyes. As brief as the encounter had been, the sight of it left a sour taste in Cassiel's mouth. It was pure chance that /that/ particular man would have happened to become involved in his plans. The face was unfamiliar, but the aura...that was one the angel remembered very well. That cult, and its goddess, were supposed to have been exterminated over a century ago.
// Like an infestation of fleas... Even one survivor can start the cycle of rebellion anew... These small gods are /irritating/. //
Feeling the need to breathe fresh, un-incensed air, Cassiel released the now-comatose priest without a care and stepped out onto a concealed balcony. Stretching his ivory wings, he propelled himself forward into the air with a powerful beat. The sound of wings gradually faded from the chamber as the angel rose higher into the sky.
From the shadows, two silent retainers stepped forward, each grabbing an arm of the mindless prelate. Moving with unhurried steps, they made their way past a room filled with whimpering captives into the quiet courtyard beyond with its spectral furnace. Lucas' body would be dealt with like all the others who had failed their lord; he would give up one last offering to the Voice of God.
The province of Eidgenossenschaft turned out to be quite a large one. Ashley had slowly worked his way across the neighboring kingdom, and had paused for a time in the capitol in order to see what information was to be had from over the border. The knight had at length secured himself a quiet corner in the modest 'royal library' to examine a variety of maps of the region. The librarian had been quick to grasp his needs despite his occasionally rough grasp of the language, and he had quickly gone about the tedious task of memorizing the charts. At first Ashley had wandered the capitol without any real goal in mind, simply asking polite questions and listening to the opinions in the taverns and streets. He had not expected to hear much of interest but was surprised to feel the level of tension inside the city; the townspeople were all very aware of their proximity to the border. His gentle inquiries succeeded in attracting the attention of the city guard and Ashley soon found that his slightly edited tale of the events at the monastery was a popular one. In a short time he found himself in a private audience with the Royal Military Advisor, a gruff and scarred man with whom the Riskbreaker had felt an instant kinship.
The situation at the border was far worse than Ashley had expected. The crusaders apparently had the entire kingdom in their grip and were now looking greedily towards the surroundings. While there had been no open acts of war yet, their demands were inflexible, and the king and council were sitting for long hours debating what course to take.
"The council is torn, you see." The general scratched his thick beard, his face speaking volumes on his opinion of the group's competence. "The king is nobody's fool, but he's young, and the threat of war on this scale is nothing to jest about... half of the nobles are practically ready to play dead already." Ashley snorted at their stupidity and the older man grinned.
"Is their offer so appealing to the upper classes then? This church's tithes seem a bit high for your landowners to not be protesting..."
" 'Tis true... but we're a simple and religious people here, Sir Ashley." The general made a self-depreciating grimace. "Many here fear that to defy these holy-men, is to defy God himself. It is said..." He hunkered lower and glowered at his tankard. "It is said that they've no mere man leading them to victory... but one of Heaven's own angels... the 'Voice of God'... the /Metatron/ itself." An eloquent shrug was the only response to Ashley's disbelieving stare.
"Surely not. Has anyone /seen/ this 'divine visitor'?" The Riskbreaker's skepticism cut through the sudden hushed silence in the room and caused the old warrior to slouch back and rub his face in frustration.
"No, none that I've sent have returned... Not that I could make the commoners believe it if this man were false..."
"Perhaps I will go and look for myself." Ashley studied the fire thoughtfully, attempting to marshal the new information with the facts he already had. There was still frighteningly little to work with.
"Good luck, wanderer. If you survive, come by and tell me what you've found... I'll buy you a drink."
"Sydney, you around?" There was no one nearby to wonder at the knight's soft questioning of the nearby shadows.
The ghost had departed during his morning's inquiries about town, returning to the Shadow Lands for some other activity. Sometimes Ashley could get the man's attention simply by calling his name, but this time he felt no reply and was obliged to be more formal about it. The Riskbreaker sent a small tendril of thought into the corner of his mind that he had begun to regard as the bridge between "here" and "there," and projected the question again. The response was an immediate if rather abstract affirmative. The knight waited a moment for the fragile link to solidify.
// What is it old man, I'm a little busy for 'rescues' right now... //
// Müllencamp? //
// No, research. //
// Ah... a question for you then... what do you know of religion? // Ashley immediately winced as the poorly phrased question drew a bark of laughter from the cultist.
// Which one? I've studied several. // Sydney's voice clearly broadcast the younger man's amusement. // You're referring to Christian 'lore,' of course... Well, I was given a /traditional education/ to go with my more eclectic studies... ask your question and we'll see what I can recollect. //
// Something about all of this bothers me... 'The Voice of God'... and a name 'Metatron'... which is some sort of angel? I was never an avid student of religion, even in my youth... but these are definitely Biblical references, yes? //
The mage's mind distanced itself slightly as Sydney focused his thoughts inward. The man's eidetic memory did not fail, and produced a small confirmation for the knight.
// 'The Metatron,' highest of all the Arch-Angels, the 'Voice of God.' It is the Lord's proverbial 'right-hand,' acting as primary issuer of orders for the lesser angels and us mere mortals. This is the one supposedly responsible for informing the Three Great Kings of the whereabouts of the infant Christ, not to mention bearing the message to Lot that the city of Sodom was about to be crushed. It is said that this angel can either take the form of a choral-voiced column of light, or the more classical shape of a winged man. Why the sudden interest in little-known figures of popular mythology? 'The Voice of God' might be referring to /any/ street prophet. //
// I'm not certain... but it was a name that came up both in Father Michael's thoughts, and then again today... Those crusaders seem to be tossing that title around a great deal... if their prophet has delusions of grandeur, I thought I'd better know who he thinks I'll be dealing with. //
// You've learned something new? //
// The council here is practically convinced that these priests are serving the Lord... that they can perform miracles... //
// Ha. Ha. Ha. So could /Guildenstern/... so can /you/... magic's no miracle. It's a nuisance. //
// You've been spending too much time with me; my prejudices are rubbing off on you. //
// I can form my own opinions, thank you. Anyway... pray continue... //
// They also say that the crusaders boast continuously of their own personal angel... that it is what leads them to victory. //
// The Metatron was not a 'battle angel'... someone's gotten their theology confused... But still... an angel... I wonder. // Sydney's 'voice' became distant as he became distracted by something he was reading. When it returned, his presence was decidedly grim. // Ashley, I have a bad feeling about this. What would you say if I told you to drop this investigation and walk away? //
// You're joking, right? //
// I'm afraid not. //
// What aren't you telling me? You've never lost your nerve before. Humor the 'stupid peasant' and explain in small words, Mage-of-Mine. // Ashley's attempt to shake the suddenly worried mood fell rather flat.
// Too complicated to explain right now... The Metatron is pure fantasy, Ashley, fabricated from the same foolishness as most of the rest of the Bible... but /angels/... they're real... and dangerous. //
// This is no time for games, whelp. 'Angels' indeed. //
// I just knew you'd say that. Yes. /Angels/. Not demented morons like Guildenstern was... but 'winged men,' seven of them or perhaps eight, the stories contradict. They have virtually limitless power, and are notoriously fickle... and /way/ out of your league, Riskbreaker. We don't have to get involved in this. If it is an angel, then one of the others will come along in time and take care of it... we can walk away. //
// And leave these people to die. // Ashley frowned as his partner refused to argue the point; the younger man's anxiety was bleeding across the link despite his silence. Something had definitely struck a nerve, but the knight remained stubborn. // I don't believe in angels. //
// Fine... by all means... Tell /them/ that... maybe they'll go away. As I recall you didn't believe in immortals, or ghosts, or dragons once... Must you always confront your 'fantasies' with a sword-point before you can cease to doubt? //
// Call it a flaw in my character. //
// Indeed. //
// Besides. I'm apparently up to my hips in this particular bog... especially if that one missing priest 'ran home,' so to speak. And my shoulders have been itching since morning... //
// What has that to do with this? //
// Call it paranoia, but they only do that when somebody's trying to find me... usually with a crossbow. //
// Fifteen years of combat experience can't be wrong, hmmm? What will you do? //
// We will continue as planned... infiltration and espionage. //
// ... Ashley... //
// I know. I'll be careful. // The soldier rubbed his face thoughtfully. // Sydney... //
//...?? ... //
// I want all the information you have on these 'angels' of yours, books, legends, wood-cuts, whatever... Let's see what these creatures can do. //
// Understood. //
The link faded quickly as both men returned to their tasks, but Ashley found his concentration was waning. The cultist's reaction to the word 'angel' had been disturbing.
// He knows more than he was willing to talk about... and I have a feeling he's not going to be much more forthcoming later. What was that all about...? Something happened to him, I could almost see the memory when I said I didn't believe... but he hides himself too well. Tonight is going to be difficult. //
Some amount of the cultist's paranoia had definitely worked its way into Ashley's subconscious as he assembled his pack and purchased various gear and armor. The knight found himself staying more to the shadows, and caught himself instinctively scanning the crowded markets for non-existent threats. He eventually gave in to the urge to check on his partner once more, but the link was curiously quiet; Sydney had closed himself off to the Riskbreaker.
// Great... first he makes me paranoid, then ignores me... Damn but that whelp's got me wound tighter than one of his lute strings... and my shoulders still tingle... Blood Sin or not... That has never been a good omen. //
It was a simple matter during the evening to find an empty corner in the craftsmen's quarters of the castle yard. The smith was more than willing to accept a handful of coins and take a prolonged dinner. Ashley felt a little guilty for manipulating the man's mind, but he wasn't planning on causing any damage to the forge, and an evening at the tavern would hardly hurt the young armorer. The Riskbreaker needed the solitude. There were aspects to his forging that were certain to raise questions among his peers.
// Yes... like just /where/ that gem came from, and how I make the metal bend that way... and where do those spells originate... and gods know what else. //
The work required patience, skill and thought, and Ashley found himself enjoying the task despite his earlier nervousness. There was something distinctly pleasant about working in the smithy; it was not a particular aspect--not the smell of the coals, or the glow of the steel or the sound of the hammer--it was the entire experience. There was a certain logical progression for what had to be done to create a piece of armor, and yet there were still small places for the craftsman to express himself. His mood was much improved by the time he emerged from the warm shed and slipped though the darkened streets to his inn.
He knew that there was something amiss as soon as he crossed the border into the woods. It was no great deduction; the evidence struck him both physically and mentally as he stared upward in awe at the pelting rain quickly soaking him to the bone. The usually calm and peaceful forest now looked seriously foreboding, and even at this furthest point from the tower he could sense a dark tangle of emotions permeating every aspect of the world.
// What in Heaven is going on? I leave him alone for half a day... and next thing I know... I'm getting wet. //
The Riskbreaker paused for a moment and concentrated. However, the rain was beyond his control, as was the muddy path. The best he could manage was to remain dry, stopping the rain several inches above his head. Feeling decidedly worried he began the tedious trek along the nearly washed-out trail toward the sea.
At the base of the tower the aura of pain only got worse. It echoed in his mind like distant wailing, and he winced as the feelings of anguish and loss triggered memories of his own not-so-well-buried past. Ashley staggered through the door and into the deserted kitchen. Wishing the last of the mud away, he slowly began to climb the stairs for the second time in two weeks.
// I know he's here... but surely he realizes that he's 'leaking'... I'm almost surprised that I couldn't hear him from the oak... but no; he closed it off at the border. //
The Riskbreaker paid little attention to the library as he picked his way over to the second stairway. The various books laid out on the table did catch his eye, the word 'Angel' prominent in the text of several, but he moved past and up to the next level. He did not break his stride again until he reached the fourth level, where he was obliged to pause and lean on the wall for support as a wave of guilt struck him and tried to drive him to his knees.
// These emotions... aren't /mine/... concentrate, they can't affect you unless you allow them too. //
In the end even shielding was only partially successful so close to the source, and Ashley fell back on older methods from his training. Closing his eyes, he summoned forth what anger he could gather and, with it, cut through the confusion threatening his mind. After a moment he felt grounded once more, and allowed it to dissipate slightly, letting it remain banked in the back of his mind. This was a skill he had used many times during his years as VKP and Riskbreaker, wielding the empty yet pure emotion like a weapon to eliminate all internal obstacles: injury, fatigue, sorrow and doubt. Ashley carefully took his bearings in the dark room. The moon was obscured by the storm, but he could easily tell that the nearest set of French doors were open, allowing the rain to soak the carpet.
// Found you. I think. //
Sydney was on the balcony. The cultist's pale form was curled into a heap under the pelting rain. Water streamed from his face and hair and the heavy drops chimed depressingly off the wetly gleaming arms. The young man did not look up, nor make any sign that he was aware of the knight; he simply sat and stared stupidly at the sea, his depression seeping into everything around him.
"Sydney, what in Heaven happened?" Ashley suppressed a shiver of worry as the mage remained virtually inanimate. The sound of the rain striking the roof tiles was almost deafening.
"Sydney?" He crouched down next to the unresponsive man, uncertain how to get his attention.
"Syd? Whelp? Come... don't do this..." His instincts were positive that it was a mistake but he gently shook the man anyway. The arm in his grip shifted slightly, but still the prophet said nothing, saw nothing. In the back of his mind, the knight was able to make out the faintest of whispers coming across their weak bond, and following his only clue he attempted to touch the mage's mind. There was the briefest shiver of connection and then nothing. For a moment he stood confused, trying to determine what had changed, but then froze as a man long dead determinedly paced past him to take his place at Sydney's side.
"Sydney, for God's sake, say /something/! You haven't /moved/ for three days! You don't /eat/, don't /sleep/, don't /talk/..." John Hardin was at his wits end over his friend's behavior, growling up at the sky as the rain continued to soak his clothes.
"It's /raining/, do you know that? Do you /want/ to sit here and get rained on?" The prophet gave no sign of caring, continuing to stare blankly at the roaring breakers. Heavy drops continued to fall but none of the three paid them any mind. "Fine then, /stay/ out here for all I care! I for one have little interest in catching my death /waiting/ for you to
make up your mind whether to live or die... I'm going in!" However, as quickly as the large man rose to go, he sank down once again, apologetic, and tried once more in a softer voice.
"Sydney, sitting out here won't bring them back. They're gone... Please come in out of the rain... you frighten me acting like this... please talk to me..." The cult-leader slowly blinked as the water continued to drip off his eyelashes. "Sydney... I swear if you don't say something /right now/ I'm going to toss you over my shoulder and haul you in front of the fire!"
"... Go away John... just leave me be..." Sydney's eyes remained fixed on some unknown point in the distance, but his whisper was unmistakable. His second in command gave him a worried glare.
"The Hell I will, you need to stop this! Look at what you're doing to yourself!"
"A little rain will hardly harm me, John. And I have appetite for neither food nor rest... do not fuss so, it doesn't become a man of your stature." For the briefest moments the blonde peeled his eyes away from the surging waves and gave his friend a tired look. "... Go inside... you already are going to be ill from being out here...best not to make it worse or I'll be obliged to bury you as well."
The mage curled once more upon himself, tucking his long legs closer to his chest. His eyes fixed again on the line of waves as they moved along the coast. John wavered for a moment, sweeping the water out of his short hair in a nervous gesture, but soon he began to sneeze and that more than anything drove him to his feet. His footsteps were melancholy as they slowly receded down the stairs.
Ashley had observed the one-sided conversation in silence after retreating to the far side of the balcony. His presence, phantom-like, went undetected by Hardin, as the man had moved right past him twice without sign of recognition. The knight had quickly grasped that the sight before him, while familiar, wasn't real. Somehow in seeking a connection with the comatose mage he had fallen into the man's rhythm and was seeing into what could only be a memory. Alone with Sydney, he took an opportunity to carefully look around. The exterior of the tower and coast were similar enough that he could detect no differences, but if he craned his head around the edge of the building he could make out an area in the distance where the ground was obviously charred; it looked like the remnants of some massive mage battle. That thought quickly brought his attention back to the prophet who was still huddled silently nearby. His theories were instantly confirmed as he could now see the familiar tracery of dark lines spilling over the small man's curved back.
// But I have never had the gift of seeing into the past like he did... so which of us is controlling this, I wonder... has his power turned inwards? Or have I unlocked some new ability within myself... Either way, what happens now? Certainly /Hardin/ is merely a memory... but are you yourself? Or just some shadow... but if you /are/ here, how do I reach you? //
"Sydney." He knelt next to the cultist, hoping to better understand what was happening. The mage's immediate response was unexpected.
"Who...?" Grey eyes met his and grew wide with surprise. Ashley found it simple to read the layers of strain, regret, and sorrow in the blonde's tight expression. But there was also a chilling measure of blank incomprehension; Sydney saw him, but nothing more.
"Don't you know me? Sydney, you must have cursed my name at least twice a day, every day, since we first met..." They sat in silence as the blonde studied him carefully, torpor forgotten. The rain continued to fall on the cultist and around the knight.
"You.... You seem familiar...but I don't think we've met... Are you real? Or are you dream...?"
"I am real... but no, you haven't met me yet... or rather /this/ you hasn't..." Ashley shrugged, realizing that he was making no sense. The mage remained curious, however, and continued to stare.
"Are you from Müllencamp? Did she send you here to chide me? How is it that we have met and yet don't know one another?"
Ashley chuckled softly at the bombardment of questions. /His/ Sydney might play the part of all-knowing teacher, but this one was far more akin to his own generally baffled state of being. The cultist raised an eyebrow at his amusement but made no remark. "I am neither from Her, nor here to chide... I was worried about you; we are something of friends, you and I. As for the rest... I'm not certain how to explain it, in truth..."
"Try."
The knight shrugged in the face of his companion's burning curiosity. "I think I met you long after /this/," he gestured vaguely at the surroundings. "You /found/ me... when I could not find myself... you /chose/ me... we talk often, but you've never mentioned anything of this... tell me, what happened here?"
Sydney's expression flickered from puzzlement to anguish and he turned away, obviously trying to center himself. After a moment he gave the man a world-weary glance and mustered the ghost of an achingly familiar smirk. "An answer for an answer... my story for your name. That way, should I meet you again... I'll know who I'm meeting."
"You won't remember this conversation methinks, but what does it matter. Very well then... you know me as Ashley... Ashley Riot."
The knight felt a sick sense of dread as the cultist stared blankly back at him. Then the man blinked. Recognition swept the aristocratic features in a visible wave as Sydney recalled himself, shaking free of the memory. Eyes went wide and then winced as he clutched his head as if in pain, the metallic claws drawing thin scratches on his scalp.
"...Ashley...?" His voice was barely a croak as he blindly reached out for the older man. "... Ashley, what just... stop." Around them the world was suddenly paused mid-event, the ocean a static seascape, the raindrops hanging in midair. Sydney shook his head again in an attempt to break free of the conflicting memories of where he thought he had been. "I was... oh how foolish. To be trapped in one's own memory..." He stared at the traces of blood on his claws in morbid interest. "It felt so real..."
"You forgot yourself... you thought you /were/ ... it was as if I was speaking to you as you were then... you didn't know me."
"I didn't...? I spoke? But this is..." The cultist took a deep breath and focused himself, only to blink in surprise. "Ashley, what are you doing in my /mind/?"
"Trying to get your attention, you weren't moving... Are you all right?" Ashley carefully looked over the blonde and gingerly touched one of the still-oozing cuts on his forehead. The mage copied the gesture with a grimace and shrugged, his form shifting into its more customary shape. The scratches vanished. "I'm fine..."
"Then who is /that/?" The knight nodded curiously at a second Sydney still curled up on the balcony. The 'younger' version of the cultist seemed more shadowy now, more like a ghost than the mage standing beside him.
His Sydney moved to crouch near his frozen twin. "He is me... well, /was/ me..." The mage examined the image critically. "Hasn't been taking good care of himself lately, has he..." The comment, meant to be a joke, merited a grim response from the knight.
"We were talking... before you recalled yourself."
"Really? What did he say?" The mage, guardedly curious, kept his tone cool and detached.
"He was just about to tell me what the Hell happened here... the battlefield, for example." Sydney followed the older man's eyes to the blackened area beyond the trees and gave an indifferent shrug. "Sydney, what happened? And /when/ was this... Hardin looked younger, but his type are hard to judge."
The mage's eyes widened again at the mention of his old friend, but the expression was soon smoothed back into its unperturbed lines. His gaze was calculating as he chose his words. "It was some 5 years prior to Lea Monde... We were here, there was a battle, a mistake; people died... end of story. Nothing to get excited about." Ashley raised andincredulous eyebrow at the drastic oversimplification.
"What sort of battle?" He had the feeling that the tale was far more important to the blonde than his friend was willing to admit. Some soldiers liked to say that blood called to blood in times of trouble, but now the knight wondered if it was possible to say the same for grief. The mage's pain, despite the smaller man's attempt to conceal it upon waking, reached out to him, too similar to his own to ignore.
The cultist refused to be drawn out. "I'm tired, Ashley, I'm not in the mood to play games with you." The words were spoken in detached irritation but as soon as they were voiced the blonde recognized the error. The fighter's eyes had gone flat and cold.
"Games... odd for /you/ to say that... The game is yours, Sydney... it always was... I never wanted any of it. All I know is that I talked to you today for ten minutes, /ten/, and everything seemed fine! Then you block me out all day, and when I come to look for you, I find you doing a convincing impersonation of a corpse! I try to help and end up with /you/ bringing me /here/... and so /you/ tell me, Sydney. Why am I here if you didn't want me to see this? What the Hell happened this afternoon that made you want to do this to yourself?! This is somehow connected to the Angels?"
"Get out." The mage's voice was hard as he drove the Riskbreaker out of his mind. Caught by surprise, the man was driven back several feet as the world returned to its usual shape. The rain had dissipated and the woods were unblemished once more. The sheer /lack/ of emotion in the air after the earlier oppressiveness made the knight's head hurt.
"What are you hiding, whelp?" Ashley was determined to get his answers.
"Why do you care?"
"Because it might be important." He was determined to keep his arguments reasonable, certain that another outburst might silence the mage for good.
"Trust me. It isn't." They stared in silence, neither willing to back down. But the knight knew he had the edge.
"You're lying. Don't want to talk about it? /Fine/. I'll just go ask one of the others... /they/ were around then... they'll know something... Chang certainly would...Shall I ask /him/?" Under the tight lines of anger of the blonde's face the fighter spied definite signs of panic and pressed his advantage. "Or maybe Müllencamp? I'm sure she'd /love/ to gossip."
"/Don't/... I swear it has /nothing/ to do with Angels..."
"Logic says otherwise. You were obviously looking up information downstairs, you found something, it triggered the memory... what was it?"
"Why can't you leave this /be/?!" Sydney's shout was raw and wild as he attempted to push the knight /out/ of his realm by will alone. This time the Riskbreaker was prepared and the sigil on his back flared in silent refusal, overruling the mage's desire. The blonde shrank back a little at the display of power and then turned away, attempting to ignore his unwelcome visitor.
"I can't just ignore this, Syd." Sensing the younger man's anxiety, Ashley let go of his anger, his voice weary.
"...why...?"
"Because you're in /pain/, you idiot. Do you think I'd not care? That I can't feel..." The mage slowly turned back to him as he trailed off, his eyes revealing nothing once more.
"I don't want your pity, Ashley, I have no great /tragedy/ in my past that I beat my breast about every day. Unlike you, I have already faced my demons and have come to terms with them. This... what just happened... was an accident, it won't happen again."
"Twasn't pity I was offering." The knight rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling his frustration rise once more. The blonde was ever one to go on the offensive when his back was to the wall, in battle or otherwise. The fight suddenly seemed rather pointless.
"What did you want then? To /console/ me? To offer me /absolution/? Do not trouble yourself... it is far too late for the former, years too late... As for the latter... it is meaningless."
"I wanted the truth. But I guess you don't think that's important. You've always preferred your /games/... your secrets. But I can't be like you... I can only be myself, I'm sorry 'tis not good enough for your confidences."
Both men had given up attempting to stare each other down. Ashley kept his eyes focused out to sea, determined to state his peace without losing his resolve. He did not see how Sydney's expression faltered and fell with his words. The blonde's face open and vulnerable at the knight's self-reproaching comment. For a long silent interval he warred within himself over a battle he knew he had just lost.
// What a fool I am... what he cannot take from me by force, I end up wanting to give him as peace offering. If he were a less honest man I'd swear he was deliberately manipulating me... but he isn't. He is Ashley, the man whom I can refuse nothing, even his own destruction. How stupid of me to think I could lie to myself. And how hateful of him to make me realize it... Someday he's going to /kill/ me with his kindness... good thing I'm already dead. //
"Very well." The mage had to admit that there was a certain dark humor to the situation as his calm reply caused the taller man to snap his head around in shock. For all that the Riskbreaker had explicit confidence in his every thought and action in combat, he remained totally oblivious to his worth and merits as a human being. Sydney found the blatant contradictions to be stunning as he spent more and more time with the man. Even now the knight stared doubtfully at him, confused by the sudden capitulation. The mage cracked a small smile.
"What? You're right, I'm wrong... do you want to hear the story or not?"
Ashley frowned, confusion growing. "But you just..." He closed his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. "Syd, what the Hell's going on?" The sheer plaintiveness in the deep voice almost made the mage laugh.
"You know..." The mage blatantly ignored the question, doing some quick arithmetic in his head. "That is officially the seventeenth time you've called me that in the past few weeks, I know, I counted... 'Syd'... I wonder what it means..."
"Huh?"
"At first I thought it was just a fluke, then I was too busy to notice... but lately it seems hardly a day goes by without me hearing it... a /pet-name/, how... novel..."
"You're complaining because I call you 'Syd'?" The knight had finally wrenched his mind onto this new and completely different topic. As usual in his conversations with the mage he found himself unable to follow the random switches in mood. "If it bothers you, then tell me and I won't do it anymore."
"Bothers me? No... 'tis strange is all... no one's ever called me that before... just 'Sydney,' or 'Losstarot' or 'young lord' or the like... it sounds strange...." The blonde continued to consider the idea.
"What's so strange about an abbreviation? 'Tis usually considered a friendly thing... People call me 'Ash' all the time." The Riskbreaker shrugged mildly.
"/I/ don't. Besides, half the time that's the only name you give... hardly a challenging alias."
"I know, but it's easy to remember." The large man hesitated for a moment, but finally curiosity won and he pulled the conversation back to the beginning. "Why didn't you want to tell me? About that time?"
"Not for the reasons you think, no doubt. I meant what I said earlier. It happened. I was upset, but I recovered. There is no unspeakable burden or any of that foolishness; a little regret perhaps, but it can't be helped." Sydney was all seriousness once more. "You see, I knew if I told you, I'd have to tell all of it... you've never been one to be satisfied with only half-answers... and it would be dangerous... will be dangerous..."
"You think this information will hurt me?"
"I think you will use it and hurt yourself, yes. Like all fighters I could hardly give you a weapon and say 'now don't use this or it will hurt' and have you sit idly by and not try it... even if it does pull you to pieces."
Ashley raised a curious eyebrow. "I think you'd better start from the beginning."
"I think I want some tea first."
The small band of cultists made a cheerful party as they hiked along the sunny coast. Joric was regaling anyone who'd listen with his wild tales of conquest at the inn the night before, but the older men simply laughed at his tall tales. Sydney was content to walk a bit apart from the group, and they let him, granting him the distance that his exalted position deserved. He was their leader, their prophet, and their savior all rolled into one. Only one man dared to casually cross the short distance to give him a lazy smile. John Hardin was a physically intimidating man in his own right but he was a popular leader nonetheless.
"We make good time today, Sydney. 'Tis a fine day for a stroll."
"'Tis well, I have a desire to put some distance between us and that town... Something was not right there..."
John stared at his serious friend curiously for a moment before shaking his head in defeat. "Your paranoia knows no bounds lately, I sensed nothing amiss." He winced as the shorter blonde shot him a challenging look. "Of course, a little caution never hurt anyone..."
"They were /too friendly/... and they invited us to /stay/..."
"These Spaniards are a /friendly/ people... far too religious... but they seem nice enough... not like good old /French/ hospitality... I've had enough of being tossed in the stocks for a while..."
"I wonder..."
Laughing in defeat at the prophet, John rambled back over to the caroling group and joined in the bawdy ballad. Sydney shook his head in disbelief; the group would be intolerably childish for the next few days, or until the wine ran out.
"I would love to say that the attack came as a complete surprise... but I was sort of expecting it." The knight snorted in agreement with the statement and leaned back in his chair. The mage contemplated the cheery fire morosely while pondering where to continue.
"The 'friendly village' sold you out."
"Yes indeed, it must have put a kink in their plan to have me unwilling to remain... they had to give chase, two days, they were well prepared. Mages."
"Your reputation preceded you."
It was the cultist's turn to snort. "My bounty more likely. Whatever the reason... there they were. It was... bad." The blonde's eyes were distant as he watched the battle in his mind once again.
The cultists had attempted to bolt for the woods as soon as the first horseman appeared on the hill, but they were too close to shore and were quickly hemmed in. With only fifteen men against what looked to be the better part of a troop, even Hardin was swearing bitterly at the odds. Sydney wasted no breath for the futile effort, though he grimly appreciated some of the more particularly violent oaths.
"They're not issuing any ultimatums, Sydney, that doesn't bode well for a strategy of 'capture'..."
The cult-leader gave his second a dark smile. "They don't plan on capture, John. All they need are our heads to collect the bounty."
"Bloody barbarians." The soldier growled in anger, but still gave his companion a hopeful look. "Not a chance that you could sort of..." He wiggled his fingers next to his forehead in a humorous manner.
"They're shielded, all of them... I can neither read their intent nor their nature... still, more than half look to be mages."
"Not kidding around, are they."
"No."
"What would you do if I told you to get out of here? Teleport."
"Laugh in your face. You /need/ me."
"The cult needs you /alive/ more..."
"Don't argue, John."
"We're going to die, you know." The dark man's conversational tone could not dispel the grim analysis of the situation.
"Are we ready to fight?" John gave his leader a baffled look.
"Yes, but..."
"Then let us make an attempt to reach the trees...perhaps /this/ will distract them." Sydney closed his eyes and began to mutter as John stood safely back. From the water behind them a plume of mist erupted, followed by one of the larger dragons he had ever seen. It moved passed the cheering Müllencamp men and fell happily upon the mages'screaming horses.
"/Run/!" John's roar drove the cultists into action as they flocked through the now chaotic ranks of the army and across the wide meadow. Many of the soldiers were hopelessly caught up in dealing with the mammoth beast Sydney had called, but there were still enough able to give chase that the cultists were obliged to fight for their lives. The prophet moved like a wrath among the chaotic mass, assisting where he could and attempting to even the odds with his considerable magic. However, he'd never been in a battle like this before. There were simply too many mages. The cultists quickly realized that to stray too far from their leader was to guarantee death, and soon even John was obliged to fall back behind the powerful shields that the blonde was sustaining. With a worried look he realized that the smaller man was beginning to feel the strain. Sydney's eyes were glassy as he channeled continuously through the Blood Sin on his back; with every battery on his shields he felt himself becoming further and further detached from reality. In the back of his mind the Dark was more than angry and it surged erratically.
"...Hardin..." The mage gritted the name out between salvos. "Get out of here... if you go straight back I can hold them until you make the woods..."
"Are you /mad/? They'll slaughter you!"
It was becoming harder to concentrate, but the cultist didn't care. For what he had in mind, the angrier the Dark was, the better. He could feel his own rage burning, carefully under control. "I can handle this... /I'll/ be fine... but I can't guarantee /your/ safety if you stay here." On the shoreline a triumphant shout went up, as some knight scored the lucky hit that dissolved the beast. "Please, trust me... /go/!"
"Son of a B... /right/... Don't do anything stupid, Sydney! Or I'll have to come right back here and save your ass." The last portion was shouted over his shoulder as he pushed the other cultists in front of him in a race for the trees.
Sydney withstood another series of blasts from the now-increasing force arrayed against him. From the corner of his eye he could see his tall friend's retreating form.
"Surrender, Losstarot, not even you can take on this many... even your men have abandoned you! If you come quietly now, we'll let them go. You, however, must be tried for heresy."
The prophet stared at the helmeted man making his pompous declaration and gave him a manic grin. He then closed his eyes and unleashed his rage, opening the seals inside himself to their fullest extent. The world went red before his eyes as the Dark poured through his body unfettered, feeding off his own anger and responding to it. He had been warned that, once unleashed, it would be near impossible to control; it was a spell of last resort after all. But the sheer maddened power that obliterated his ability to reason was terrifying. Sydney's last conscious thought was a prayer that the others had gotten safely away.
"I don't remember much of anything after that." The blonde shrugged eloquently and nervously ran a hand through his hair. Ashley's face was distant as he digested the implications of the story. There was neither the enthusiasm that Sydney had feared, nor the fear he was cautiously hoping for. If anything, the expression was thoughtful, almost one of respect. It puzzled the mage.
"A 'spell of last resort'? Wouldn't that imply that it would kill the caster? And yet it obviously didn't..." The knight mused softly for a moment before shifting in his chair and returning to the present. "So what happened?"
"Hmmm, all I can tell you is what John told me... Things got... a little weird." Sydney propped his head on his hands. "When I... gave in... apparently it was very flashy; he said there was a pillar of black fire some hundred feet high and a flash of blinding light. Everybody stopped what they were doing and stared... a bad idea as it turned out... He said... he said that when the fire faded I wasn't me anymore... I was something else."
"Like Guildenstern" Ashley murmured thoughtfully to himself.
"What?" The mage looked up in confusion.
"Nothing, go on."
"Right. So apparently I was this /thing/ and I... Well, I just started to pick off the soldiers one by one, using some attack that John couldn't recognize... The others... my men, they saw that the tide of battle was turning... and they wanted to help... They thought..." Sydney was staring fixedly at the wood grain as he forced the words out, and the Riskbreaker could easily anticipate what he would say next, waiting silently for the words to confirm his sense of foreboding.
"One of the mages, or maybe several of them, finally got the idea that they should attack... John said I didn't even flinch, just shrugged it off... like their spells were nothing... He had circled around, you see, they were planning to surprise the brigands with an attack from the side. It was luck... pure luck that had him the closest to the beach... I... I retaliated, you see... he said there was one instant where he had this crazy desire to run, and then I built this ball of light in my hands... and when I released it... things sort of exploded."
"That charred area I saw? But that was over half a mile in diameter..." The mage nodded grimly.
"Hardin must have been faster than I'd have given him credit for... the water saved him?"
"He said it reflected most of it... but what was left was more than enough to make it nearly boil... he was able to swim far enough out of the shallows to not be cooked and then used the strongest healing spell he had. The others... they weren't so lucky."
"Too close to the blast."
"Those that weren't incinerated... well, John buried what was left... but that came later. He swam back to shore as the water cooled... and then had to wait until the rocks stopped burning..."
"Rocks?"
"Yes. Even rock can burn if you heat it enough... anyway it was almost midnight before he could look for me... he said I was right there, in the center... I had melted the ground around me for 50 feet until it resembled broken glass... but I was fine. Completely normal and unhurt, except that I wouldn't wake up. John carried me... for hours... he found an abandoned watchtower further down the coast and hid me there. That's where I woke up... here."
"And then you went catatonic in a different way..."
"... Yes." Sydney stared up at the knight's half lit features. The man's voice was disconcertingly distant. "A copper for your thoughts...?"
"Hmmm? Sorry... I just have a hard time picturing you as a berserker... you never struck me as the type."
"I resemble that remark." Sydney's usual humor was slowly returning as he shook himself loose from the painful memories. He took a deep breath. "Anyway... after three days of wandering the Shadow-Lands, almost forgetting who I was, and four more sitting there feeling sorry for myself, and a month before I felt like myself again, I swore I'd never use /that/ power again... To be that far out of control... to surrender my very sanity... No. The Dark is far too dangerous to ever do that lightly..."
"And that's why you didn't want me to find out about this? You think that I would use this trick and create a similar disaster?"
"No, I'm afraid you'll attempt this 'trick' and never recover... It took /everything/... everything I had... every scrap of training to keep from completely letting go... from going insane... but I stopped myself. I forced it to obey, and contained it once more... You don't know what it was like, Ashley... /using/ the Dark... it's very different from letting it /take over/. It... fights you... and it fights dirty. If you did this... the stress might very well shatter you... and you would become a monster in truth, something that would have to be hunted down and contained for the safety of everyone. Even if you were able to subdue it once more... there might not be enough of you left for me to put back together."
"And you think that if this /is/ an angel... my hand will be forced. I'll /have/ to use it."
"I can't make you promise me that you'll never do this, can I...?" The mage shot him a hopeless look.
"No, but nor do I ever plan to... As you say... it's an attack of last resort. It is sloppy to go into a fight knowing you'll have to use it. Besides, 'twould just be /more/ final in my case than most." The man's smile was grim. "Just remind me to name a successor first..."
"Not funny."
The knight waffled a moment, wanting to ask one last question before the matter was closed, but uncertain of how the blonde would respond. He took the risk.
"Sydney... what did John say you looked like... when your shape altered...?"
"What?" The cultist blinked in surprise and then frowned. "He said I went all ... golden... and that I had wings... more like a dragon than a bird... John said it was rather impressive really... how I hovered there... but he always did have odd taste."
"But you still looked... human..."
"Yes, I suppose, if you can call someone who glows like a torch with huge batwings and a bad attitude 'human'... Why are you curious?"
"Guildenstern... looked bizarre... /really/ bizarre... like some kind of bug... a man-bug..."
"Really? /Funny/... a strangely appropriate form for his personality..."
"So it's different for everyone?"
"I guess so... I've never seen anyone else do it." Sydney gave a wide yawn and took several minutes to stretch, working the last of the tension out of his muscles. Ashley watched his cat-like antics while taking the opportunity to discreetly stretch his long legs under the table, stiff from being still for such a long period. There was no way to tell how much time had passed.
"So... Whelp... what do you know about Angels...?" His bland question caused the blonde to make a comically exasperated face.
"You can't be serious..."
"Well, it was the original reason I came over..."
"Ashley... I'm /tired/...I've been talking for /hours/..." The mage's voice was an adorable whine as he gave the man his most pathetic look.
"So am I... but the information will be useful..." Ashley reached across the table to ruffle the younger man's hair and prevent him from pounding his forehead on the table.
"If you had any grasp of what a monumentally /bad/ day I've had today, you wouldn't be so hard."
"I think I can make a fairly accurate guess."
"Can we at least take a bit of a break? I think I'll fall over if I have to climb those stairs. I spent all morning finding your books, and then spent the afternoon and evening 'happily' re-living the second worst memory of my life... then getting into a fight with you... none of which were very /restful/ activities..." Sydney tilted his head to watch the Riskbreaker while still pillowing it on the wood; the older man retracted his hand quickly.
"Well..." Ashley gave the cultist a long considering look, the mage was almost positive there was a playful glint in the man's eye. "You /do/ look tired... I guess there is only one thing to do." The man rose slowly and shifted out of Sydney's lazy line of sight to move around behind him. At first the mage thought the man was going to leave, but he had no energy to get up to follow.
"Ashley, where are..." The blonde's mumble transformed into a cry of surprise as he felt strong arms lift him bodily from his seat and into the air. After a moment of careful juggling Sydney found himself gently carried across the room and up the stairs. "Put me down, you great oaf! I can walk! I can walk!"
"You said you were tired. Mind your head." The mage got a dizzying look down from his elevated vantage point and realized that being dropped would be a /bad/ idea. He gave up any pretense of a struggle and clung to the larger man, ducking his head to keep from bumping the ceiling. Ashley was moving with deliberate care as he picked his way through the library and up the next set of stairs. Sydney began to relax despite himself, and found that the Riskbreaker's muscled shoulder was at the perfect height for a pillow. He closed his eyes against the disturbing image of being suspended /over/ the edge of the stairs and managed to resist the urge to snuggle closer to the large man's warmth.
The mage was nearly asleep in the short time it took Ashley to carry his slight frame to his bed and gently settle him in. However, he was not so far gone as to let the knight escape easily. "That was terrifying."
"You rather seemed to enjoy it." The knight gave a small smile in the dim light and move to go down stairs. "Get some sleep."
"Humph." Sydney pegged the man in the head with a precision pillow throw. "What are you going to do?"
"Read."
"You're exhausted, you won't get more than 10 pages. Especially the Latin..." The knight visibly winced at the thought and turned to give him a defeated look.
"You have a better idea? And don't say you're coming too..."
"No. You were nice enough to get me here... here I stay. I'm just thinking that you don't need to do the reading."
"I don't?"
"No, because I've already done it."
"How does this help /me/?"
Sydney sighed in frustration and gave the man a long look. "You're willing to share my thoughts in order to witness my deepest darkest secrets... but not to glean a bit of innocent academic information... I do believe you're a voyeur, Riskbreaker."
The knight refused to rise to the bait, giving him a troubled look instead. "That wasn't supposed to happen... I don't think it would be a good idea."
"Don't trust me... I understand." Ashley blinked in surprise at the mage's candid comment. Sighing softly, he sat on the edge of the bed next to the blonde.
"I didn't say that. I just... Prowling around in people's heads feels wrong..."
"You won't be /prowling/." Sydney snorted primly and pulled off his shoes. "Here, it'll be just like the first time we 'spoke'... get comfortable." The mage tugged him further onto the mattress and onto his back. Sitting near the knight's head, he gently cupped his face. "This will be much easier if you relax."
"I..." Ashley changed his mind mid-argument and reached out with a tentative thought. // Very well... what now? //
The mage bent over him with a small smile. // Now... you /learn/... // The knight's eyes went wide in surprise as the information came flowing over the link: images, and stories, first person reports and conjecture, each piece was slightly flavored with his partners distinct opinions. Some pieces were highlighted, others dismissed as irrelevant. It was almost as if he was with the mage as he collated the data, the blonde's voice running quiet analysis in the background as he absorbed everything there was. Surprised at the ease of the thing, Ashley gingerly tested the new memories but found nothing wanting.
// That was it? It was... easy... //
// /Yes. / Yes it was, wasn't it. // Sydney gave a tired laugh at the older man's bemused reaction. // Imagine how much faster you'd have learned Kildean if you'd been a little more flexible... //
// Well, I'll know now for next time... // The knight accepted the teasing mildly, but the cultist felt the unvoiced additional overtones and had to agree.
// You're probably right, it was better to do it the hard way... It gave us time to get used to each other again, didn't it... //
// Stop that. //
// Stop what? //
// ... prowling... //
// Think more quietly then. // Sydney's gentle touch belied his scolding as he smoothed the knight's hair, admiring his resting face. The touch caused the man to crack a curious eye, his thoughts almost regretful.
// I should let you sleep. //
// Don't go. // Caught in the midst of trying to rise, Ashley looked in surprise at the hand pushing him back down and then up at the mage.
// ... I don't understand... you want me to stay? //
// Well, maybe I want some company... If you don't mind. Sometimes... sometimes I hate being alone... //
// Nightmares? Here? //
// Memories. // Giving in to temptation, Sydney shifted until he could pillow his head again against the knight's shoulder. // The bed's more than big enough for two... // The taller man stubbornly refused to blush at the mage's sleepy comment. The blonde's body was a warm pressure against his arm.
// You said that what happened in Spain was the second worst memory in your life... what could be worse than that, I wonder...// The knight mused softly to himself as he watched the cultist laying next to him. Grey eyes fluttered open to his surprise and gazed intensely at him.
// Being abandoned. //
The words were barely a whisper but Ashley could sense how much the silent admission cost him. Afraid to ask any more questions of the melancholy blonde, he kicked off his boots and pulled the man closer, carefully tucking him against his side. Sydney silently adjusted to the new arrangement and after a moment hesitantly draped a thin arm across the knight's broad chest. A large hand rose to tangle itself in his hair and he couldn't resist a small, happy sigh. The mage closed his eyes once more, and allowed the warm presence to lull him to sleep.
Ashley slipped from the restful doze into full wakefulness, unaware of any transition. He blinked his eyes and blankly patted the bed, wondering for a dazed moment where the mage had gotten to. It wasn't until the late morning sunlight registered on his tired brain that he realized what had happened.
// You woke up, stupid. Happens all the time... // He grimly pulled himself from bed, surprised at how late he had managed to sleep, and splashed some water on his face. Eventually awake and feeling moderately more alive, Ashley gently touched his partner's dozing mind, giving it a slight nudge.
// Wake up a bit, whelp. //
//...Ashley? Where'd you... Oh... right... /morning/... I feel like I was hit in the head with a brick... tell me you don't need anything for the next several hours? //
// Go back to sleep. I just wanted to check on you, that's all... //
// Thank you... I think... call me if you need me... or when you decide to make a go at the border... //
// After sunset. //
// Fine... see you then. //
The small bed looked suddenly more appealing as the presence in his mind settled back into contented sleep, but he shook off the echoes of laziness and went out to continue his hunt for provisions and information.
Behold ch.3 , which despite my best intentions /does not/ wrap up the book.../sigh/ so one more chapter ought to do it...and then never fear, there's a whole 'nother tome on the way! (dear god). Whee we get to see /another/ goodbye (Ashley just can't keep a friend for more than a chapter or 2 jeez) lots of gratuitous silliness, an intro to our villain of the month... (Jeez took me long enough), a Sydney flashback (Go Sydney!), and more mush... tossed in because, damn I felt like it! Gotta keep you guys coming back /somehow/! So stay tuned for more sword+sorcery fun! More plot, more evil, Ashley gets hell'a'angry, and things go boom! Do high magic and mental trauma mix? (not bloody likely) Will Sydney play with fire only to get burned? Is Cassiel partial to blondes? (hell if I know!) We'll find out together in the final thrilling installment of "Wanderings in the Waking" cue corny drama music
or as my Editor in Chief says: "Oh, no, more good stuff, whatever will we do? ;)"
I love it when people pander to my ego...
Massive massive thanks to my EiC and Twig, to whom all of you owe gratitude for them having convinced me not to ball up this chapter and use it for kindling, it's here... be afraid.
Oh yes Word has been giving me some…. issues… when I've been doing my html conversion…(spacing foo) if it bugs you/ you notice glaring errors let me know and I'll ponder how to correct this… sorry sorry
right, off I go.
Lunar.
lunarlight@usa.com
http://www.roodinverse.homestead.com