Ian waited quietly at the window with his back towards Kenneth Irons. This was his place when his Master did not need him. He was out of the way; yet close enough to be called at a second's notice. He fought the urge to turn and get another glimpse of Sara as she strode angrily out of the room, slamming the door loudly.
"Well, I say that meeting went rather well? Wouldn't you Ian?" Irons blue eyes sparkled.
"Perhaps." Ian spoke softly as he turned and lowered his head as he had been taught to do. For a split second the dark warrior saw anger flash in the other man's eyes.
"Yes, perhaps. You can never tell with Sara, can you?" He didn't expect or want an answer and was pleased when Ian remained silent. "I think that is quite enough business today, what say we retire to the Room." He pretended not to see the look in the dark eyes as they closed. "Go, prepare the Room while I change into something more appropriate. Quickly Ian left without seeing the lustful twinkle in Irons eyes.
Ian was breathing hard as he looked around the room. All was in order, just the way Irons liked it. He had changed into a floor length black dressing gown and let his hair fall loosely around his face. As he waited, he felt that something was not quite right but couldn't figure it out. He knew it wouldn't matter. The room could have been perfect and Irons would always find something wrong. That was always part of the game they played. A game that Ian sometimes did not like.
"Well now." Irons strode into the room wearing a similar robe to Ian's, in dark royal purple with golden trim. His smile was large and Ian knew it meant his Master wanted to be entertained tonight. "Is all in order?"
"Just as you like it." Ian lowered his head. "What would you like to begin with Master." The words were beginning to taste like bile.
"I want a journey tonight Ian. A journey of release." Irons sat in a large overstuffed chair and motioned for Ian to sit in front of him. Ian obeyed. "Where will you take me tonight my pet?" Irons absently began to run his fingers softly through Ian's long hair. "Will it be the jungles of Viet Nam? Or maybe a distant land long gone to dust?"
"Whatever your wish is Master." Ian closed his eyes as Irons pulled him back and into the softness of the robe he wore.
"Surprise me tonight." Irons leaned back and waited for Ian to turn toward him. "You make the decision tonight on our destination." For a moment blue eyes stared into dark eyes unblinking.
Mechanically Ian maneuvered to his knees and slowly laid his head in Iron's lap. As he willed his mind to still of all the torment in his soul, he felt Irons once again stroking his head gently.
"I am ready Master." He felt the stroking stop and both of Irons' hands rest on the top of his scalp. The familiar tingling began and he guided Irons into his world.
"Where are we Ian?" Irons thought as he looked around the bloodied landscape. He looked down and saw that the Armour he wore was battered and slick with both rain and blood. "Where have we gone?"
(Someplace that will interest you, my Master.) Ian's voice echoed in his head. (Just as you wished.) Irons turned in place and could see a few struggling men coming toward him and smiled. (It pleases you Master?)
"Yes, it pleases me very much." Irons lifted the sword above his head and shouted as he charged the approaching ones. There were half a dozen at least, all with blood lust in their metal covered faces.
(Remember to let go and allow your body to remember Master. Otherwise you will not experience the complete journey.) Ian warned as he retreated to the shadows of Irons' mind.
"You came for the women!" One of the men stopped and pointed his own sword at Irons. "You will not take her, she is to be executed on the full moon as is tradition for her kind."
(The woman?) Irons thought softly. (Ian, where have you taken me!)
"Go now and live. Continue to try and rescue her and die." The words were hard and full of fear.
"It is not I who will die." Irons raised his hand and looked closely at the sword. It was connected to the Gauntlet. (The Witchblade) he thought and smiled. (So men did wear the blade at one time.) "Where is she?" Irons took a step forward.
"You were warned son." Two of the men ran toward Irons and attacked. With ease Irons was able to deflect each of their blows. Moving effortlessly and with the grace of a dancer, he thrust the blade through both men. They were dead before their bodies hit the ground. "You are bewitched by her."
"Where is she old man? I will find her." He strode forward with the blade pointed at the remaining group. "Tell me!" His voice was breathy as the rush from the kill began to take hold of his being. Without warning he used the sword to kill one of the younger men who had been cowering. "Tell me or I will kill you all."
"You will kill us anyway. That is the way of your kind." The old man dropped his weapon and indicated that the others do the same. "You'll not get your answer from any of us. We will not tell you where the witch is. She will die in two nights time."
"You fool." Irons felt anger and rage grow inside him.
(Master, don't.) Ian urged from the corner of Irons' mind.
"All of you!" Irons ignored the warning and began killing every man that stood. One by one the blade found a soft body and one by one, soft bodies yielded to the bloodthirsty blade. "You dare to go against a blade welder?" As the last man fell onto an ever-growing pool of blood, Irons' arm began to burn. "What's happening Ian?" The blade retracted into the gauntlet and the gauntlet began to change form, continuing to get hotter and burn Irons; flesh. Irons tried to remove the metal, as it seemed to begin cutting at his wrist. "IAN! MAKE IT STOP!" The pain brought Irons to his knees. He held the bleeding limb to his armored chest. "PLEASE! THE PAIN!"
(Let go Master." Ian sounded sad and tired. (Release the pain to me and come back to where you belong.) Irons screamed horribly. (Let me take care of you Master.)
Irons woke in the vise like grip of Ian. Somehow they had both ended up on the floor with Ian holding him from the side. He felt the younger man's leg thrown over his, apparently to hold him down.
"What happened Ian." Irons stopped struggling.
"You didn't let your body remember Master." Ian released Irons and both men got to their feet. As Irons turned toward the chair he noticed a bruise beginning to form around Ian's cheek. He reached out to touch, but stopped as Ian pulled away.
"Did I do that to you?" Ian only nodded and helped Irons sit softly. "I am so sorry."
"I know Master." Ian noticed that Irons eyes were still hazy and unfocused. "You need to rest now."
"Ian." Irons' hand stretched out. Ian carefully sat on the floor next to the older man and lowered his head so that Irons could touch him. "Was that a fantasy or did it really happen?"
"It was a history." Ian breathed softly as he closed his eyes and let his cheek rest on Irons' legs. "A distant soul history."
"Was that the way it really ended? Did you..?"
"Yes and no." Ian raised his head and looked into Irons' blue eyes. "It happened but later." He waited to see if Irons would stop his speaking. When he did not, Ian continued. "He was Antony. She was Isadora." He closed his eyes as he spoke. "He allowed himself to be taken prisoner so that he could be with her. In his mind he felt if they were together they would be able to free themselves. It did not happen. Once he was shackled in the same cell with her, he found that the Witchblade was already beginning to reject her. She was becoming insane. Two days he tried to talk to her and turn her thoughts back to the right path. It was of no use." Ian fought tears as he remembered. "The night they were both to be burned she fought and fought hard but the Blade had already left her. Antony never made it to the stake alive. The blade on his own wrist had during the day, cut through to the bone and he bled to death. It was a slow and very painful death. They say his screams could be heard through the entire countryside." There was a long silence between the two. "I was not going to let you go that far into the history. I was only going to let you taste the battle and see the woman. Then.."
"But I let my lust and greed for power get the better of me." Irons stole a glace at Ian's profile. "If only I had your never-ending patience." He mused and smiled.
"My patience is not never-ending Master." He took a chance and looked into Irons' face and saw tears streaming down his cheeks. "Why are you crying? Have I displeased you?"
"No, not at all Ian." Irons sat silently for a long while. "I think we should retire for the evening. Would you..." He paused and bit his lip, something Ian hadn't seen in a very long time. "Would you stay with me tonight?" Irons saw the distaste in Ian's eyes. "Not that way my pet. I just don't want to be alone tonight. I am afraid the nightmares might come again." Nodding, Ian stood and instead of walking behind Irons, wrapped an arm around his waist and helped the man to bed hoping his own nightmares would not return.