Staunt sat down in his room after his extra training session. He'd been
training more and more and already ascended to the rank of Green. That was
mostly because of Jen though. She had really seemed to think that he was
great. "The one person in my whole damned world who likes me," he said to
himself bitterly. "At least the Devils are keeping me busy. I… oh, never
mind." He lay down on the floor and tried to sleep, and he almost slept,
but fitfully.
His eyes snapped open what seemed almost instantly. There was no sleep to be had. Not tonight.
The moon was full, and it shone an eerie almost-blue color in the night sky… Staunt felt himself relax. The moon… the soft blue glow bathed his body, making it shine with a sort of strange luminescence. "This is what it's all about…" he felt his face twist into a grin. "No fear. No fear at all…"
Then he felt himself grow totally limp, then stiff, then limp again.
**********
Æseri's body jerked around and lay still.
**********
Æseri suddenly found himself in a sea of roiling black stuff. The black surged around him, thick as blood, warm and wet like blood, throbbing like a heartbeat. Above him in slate-grey skies a storm whirled about, the clouds forming words and images that tore at what was left of his heart. Waves of black lifted him up and pitched him about, slamming him back down into the black with crushing force. His arms strained, trying to somehow swim against the current, thrashing and cutting uselessly through the black.
He could not find his spear. The familiar shaft was not in his hands and he missed the familiar weight of the broad, slightly curved blade. His arms flailed, trying to find something, anything to hold, for he could not clutch the spear he had been born with. Tears brimmed in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks, but they were blood, not real tears.
And his hand closed around the shaft of his spear. Well, a spear. Not his. He was flung from the black into the forbidding grey skies. The spear felt simply wrong in his grasp—he did not feel whole. Looking at it, he saw that is *looked* wrong as well. The shaft was darker than that of his own Tiger- blue spear, ending in a tapered black head instead of his own spear's broad, slightly curved silver blade.
Lanciro hurtled from the clouds above him, eyes flaming with raw fury. The bright silver blade of Æseri's own spear cut down at him, the shaft resting comfortably in Lanciro's hands. Muscles flexed in his torso as he swung, but they were the flexion of comfortable almost-challenge, not the hard struggle it should have been to wield another's spear.
Æseri parried and dodged, frantically at first, but as the fight progressed he felt himself begin to distance from it. Everything seemed to be predetermined, as though the were emotionlessly following a script or something. Strike. Parry. Counter-strike. Dodge. Upward slash. Downward parry, thrust. Contact… disarm.
Æseri's spear flew from his brother's hands. Æseri caught it neatly, dropped his brother's spear and struck, eyes spitting fire, the sheer power of the attack making it impossible to parry or dodge. Lanciro fell from the air, catching the end of Æseri's spear.
"Brother… help me. Forgive me…"
Æseri leered at his brother. He drew himself to his full height, rose up on his hind legs and drove the hoof of his right foreleg into Lanciro's face. Lanciro fell, a dark blue blot against the grey skies, and crashed into the sea of black.
A pathway of bright gold cut through the sky, ending at Æseri's feet. Accepting the invitation, he strode along the path, no longer feeling andy pain or despair. Strength and energy filled him, starting at his heart and spreading to his body and limbs. He grew taller and broader, muscle growing all along his arms and torso. His spear grew with him, growing longer and heavier, far too heavy for anyone else to lift, but a comfortable weight in his hands.
He broke into a trot, his hooves making gentle clicking sounds on the path, golden light showering him. He felt light, as if someone had taken the weight out of his body and filled him with air—strong air. He shook himself out, loosening up, throwing drops of the gold light, the light condensing into a sort of fluid, flying about him, forming a sort of halo.
The pathway stretched out further and he kept moving, running faster and faster and faster. A pair of huge doors loomed ahead. Æseri kept running, faster and faster and faster. The doors came closer. Closer… They looked dark and forbidding, not like the rest of his current surroundings. This was no hero's welcome.
He reached the doors and they swung open. A virtually endless pit of blackness sank down from the threshold of the doorway. Æseri edged back, scared all of a sudden. A deep roar filled his ears. The wind blew harder and faster, and the path on which he stood began to tremble. Black rain battered against his halo of gold light and it flickered briefly and disappeared.
The black rain struck his skin. It sizzled slightly against it, burning madly. His arms grew shorter and thinner, the rest of his body doing the same. His spear shrank with him, no longer a weapon of great power. The wind battered against his body, driving him to the doorway and the blackness beyond it.
Æseri leapt out into the dark, knowing that there was no way out of it. The abyss seemed to swallow him up, body and soul and whatever was left of him.
**********
Falon stood by Æseri's body, sweating madly. Yes, the pulse was gone. Yes, the boy was in a coma. No, nothing that he'd tried suggested that there was anything physically wrong with the boy. This wasn't a usual happening. It wasn't even okay. It wasn't *right*. It wasn't supposed to happen to people like Falon.
He sighed and dipped into his Amber power. He didn't want to enter Æseri's mind, as it was a dangerous, frowned-upon practice, but he couldn't really see any other choice. He sent the energy into the young Celios' mind and body, diving into the thoughts, searching desparately for something, anything, that might help him find out what was wring with him. Anything.
The body and mind both at first seemed to be empty. There was no soul, no life, no… well… there was nothing. The emptiness just scared Falon even more. A body was more than just an empty shell, but that was all that this one was.
There was a flare of power and energy, bitter hate and a huge, powerful knot of every horrible emotion and feeling a normal person would feel in a lifetime. Like striking a killing blow. Only… even worse. Falon tried to keep his grip on the mind, but his own mind recoiled in revulsion, nearly losing it. He tried to catch the mind, tried as hard as he could to communicate with it, but there was something that stayed between them… something that Falon couldn't pass on his own.
Suddenly he felt a deep plunge in the knot of emotion, and it thinned out again, disappearing. Jen walked into the room.
"What are you doing?"
Falon jumped. "Huh? What?"
"What. Are. You. DOING? You look like you've just run a marathon! What happened? You'd better have a good excuse this time, Falon!"
"Well…" Falon paused a moment. "I think Æseri's trapped in the netherworld. Is that enough of an excuse for you?"
Jen said nothing.
His eyes snapped open what seemed almost instantly. There was no sleep to be had. Not tonight.
The moon was full, and it shone an eerie almost-blue color in the night sky… Staunt felt himself relax. The moon… the soft blue glow bathed his body, making it shine with a sort of strange luminescence. "This is what it's all about…" he felt his face twist into a grin. "No fear. No fear at all…"
Then he felt himself grow totally limp, then stiff, then limp again.
**********
Æseri's body jerked around and lay still.
**********
Æseri suddenly found himself in a sea of roiling black stuff. The black surged around him, thick as blood, warm and wet like blood, throbbing like a heartbeat. Above him in slate-grey skies a storm whirled about, the clouds forming words and images that tore at what was left of his heart. Waves of black lifted him up and pitched him about, slamming him back down into the black with crushing force. His arms strained, trying to somehow swim against the current, thrashing and cutting uselessly through the black.
He could not find his spear. The familiar shaft was not in his hands and he missed the familiar weight of the broad, slightly curved blade. His arms flailed, trying to find something, anything to hold, for he could not clutch the spear he had been born with. Tears brimmed in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks, but they were blood, not real tears.
And his hand closed around the shaft of his spear. Well, a spear. Not his. He was flung from the black into the forbidding grey skies. The spear felt simply wrong in his grasp—he did not feel whole. Looking at it, he saw that is *looked* wrong as well. The shaft was darker than that of his own Tiger- blue spear, ending in a tapered black head instead of his own spear's broad, slightly curved silver blade.
Lanciro hurtled from the clouds above him, eyes flaming with raw fury. The bright silver blade of Æseri's own spear cut down at him, the shaft resting comfortably in Lanciro's hands. Muscles flexed in his torso as he swung, but they were the flexion of comfortable almost-challenge, not the hard struggle it should have been to wield another's spear.
Æseri parried and dodged, frantically at first, but as the fight progressed he felt himself begin to distance from it. Everything seemed to be predetermined, as though the were emotionlessly following a script or something. Strike. Parry. Counter-strike. Dodge. Upward slash. Downward parry, thrust. Contact… disarm.
Æseri's spear flew from his brother's hands. Æseri caught it neatly, dropped his brother's spear and struck, eyes spitting fire, the sheer power of the attack making it impossible to parry or dodge. Lanciro fell from the air, catching the end of Æseri's spear.
"Brother… help me. Forgive me…"
Æseri leered at his brother. He drew himself to his full height, rose up on his hind legs and drove the hoof of his right foreleg into Lanciro's face. Lanciro fell, a dark blue blot against the grey skies, and crashed into the sea of black.
A pathway of bright gold cut through the sky, ending at Æseri's feet. Accepting the invitation, he strode along the path, no longer feeling andy pain or despair. Strength and energy filled him, starting at his heart and spreading to his body and limbs. He grew taller and broader, muscle growing all along his arms and torso. His spear grew with him, growing longer and heavier, far too heavy for anyone else to lift, but a comfortable weight in his hands.
He broke into a trot, his hooves making gentle clicking sounds on the path, golden light showering him. He felt light, as if someone had taken the weight out of his body and filled him with air—strong air. He shook himself out, loosening up, throwing drops of the gold light, the light condensing into a sort of fluid, flying about him, forming a sort of halo.
The pathway stretched out further and he kept moving, running faster and faster and faster. A pair of huge doors loomed ahead. Æseri kept running, faster and faster and faster. The doors came closer. Closer… They looked dark and forbidding, not like the rest of his current surroundings. This was no hero's welcome.
He reached the doors and they swung open. A virtually endless pit of blackness sank down from the threshold of the doorway. Æseri edged back, scared all of a sudden. A deep roar filled his ears. The wind blew harder and faster, and the path on which he stood began to tremble. Black rain battered against his halo of gold light and it flickered briefly and disappeared.
The black rain struck his skin. It sizzled slightly against it, burning madly. His arms grew shorter and thinner, the rest of his body doing the same. His spear shrank with him, no longer a weapon of great power. The wind battered against his body, driving him to the doorway and the blackness beyond it.
Æseri leapt out into the dark, knowing that there was no way out of it. The abyss seemed to swallow him up, body and soul and whatever was left of him.
**********
Falon stood by Æseri's body, sweating madly. Yes, the pulse was gone. Yes, the boy was in a coma. No, nothing that he'd tried suggested that there was anything physically wrong with the boy. This wasn't a usual happening. It wasn't even okay. It wasn't *right*. It wasn't supposed to happen to people like Falon.
He sighed and dipped into his Amber power. He didn't want to enter Æseri's mind, as it was a dangerous, frowned-upon practice, but he couldn't really see any other choice. He sent the energy into the young Celios' mind and body, diving into the thoughts, searching desparately for something, anything, that might help him find out what was wring with him. Anything.
The body and mind both at first seemed to be empty. There was no soul, no life, no… well… there was nothing. The emptiness just scared Falon even more. A body was more than just an empty shell, but that was all that this one was.
There was a flare of power and energy, bitter hate and a huge, powerful knot of every horrible emotion and feeling a normal person would feel in a lifetime. Like striking a killing blow. Only… even worse. Falon tried to keep his grip on the mind, but his own mind recoiled in revulsion, nearly losing it. He tried to catch the mind, tried as hard as he could to communicate with it, but there was something that stayed between them… something that Falon couldn't pass on his own.
Suddenly he felt a deep plunge in the knot of emotion, and it thinned out again, disappearing. Jen walked into the room.
"What are you doing?"
Falon jumped. "Huh? What?"
"What. Are. You. DOING? You look like you've just run a marathon! What happened? You'd better have a good excuse this time, Falon!"
"Well…" Falon paused a moment. "I think Æseri's trapped in the netherworld. Is that enough of an excuse for you?"
Jen said nothing.