Faith looked at the sleeping Dawn and crept out of the room, arms hugging herself tightly. What she wouldn't give to be fourteen again, innocent and naïve.
But you stopped being innocent when you were twelve, Faithie-baby, a nagging voice said in her mind. That was when daddy first started raping you, remember?
The Slayer shook her head firmly, clearing it of all negativity. She needed to think straight and figure out the next move. Xander would know what to do, he always did, she thought again, mind wandering. She began walking down the corridor, heading for the living room, looking for Xander. Then it struck her.
Oh, Xander! Why'd you have to leave me hanging like this, you fuck? Cut me down, please, like you did the last time…
She leaned against the wall and slid to her haunches, burying her face in her hands. I don't think I can take this anymore, that same nagging voice surfaced again. Faith lifted her head as footsteps took her attention. Buffy was walking up the stairs, possibly on her way to check up on someone. Faith wasn't gonna let it be her.
" Hey,"
" B,"
Silence. Then, " How're you doing?"
" Don't ask me that, please. It just reminds me of how I really feel and I can get fucked up real quick that way," Faith groaned, shaking her head.
Another silence. " What do you think we should do now?" asked Buffy. Faith shrugged nonchalantly.
" Regroup, recuperate and retaliate," she said with a grin. " My three 'R's,"
++++++
Dannielle woke with a groan and pounding in her skull and chest. " Oh. Whoever it was that fucked me into the ground, do it again," she muttered. She was suddenly aware of a presence by her side, and a head laying near her leg. A bald, black head to be exact.
She prodded him, gently waking him up. " Gunn? Pistol? Hey, wake up already,"
He grunted and groggily rose, blinking at her. " Hey, you're up," he said, somewhat inanely cheery. " How're you feeling?"
Dannielle shook her head. " You get beaten nearly to death by a vampire and then you tell me what you feel. Have you been here all night?"
" Almost. I was just trying to get away from Spike," he answered, yawning and smiling at the same time. At least he tried to. " He got drunk and maudlin and violent and Faith had to threaten to throw him out before he shut up,"
" Drunk? Why, something bad happened?"
Gunn lowered his eyes and went quiet. " Gunn, tell me. Fuck you, now,"
" Doyle was killed. By a Ravager. Spike was there, couldn't help him at all. Guess he got depressed,"
Dannielle's eyes widened and she gasped. " Oh God, not Doyle. Why him?" Gunn shrugged helplessly. " How'd Xander and Faith take it?"
" Faith cried her eyes out. First time I ever saw her do that. Xander, well he…" Gunn trailed off into silence, until Dannielle prodded him and forced him to say it. " He disappeared, along with Kaine and that Tristan dude,"
" Disappeared? How?"
" In a brilliant flash of white light, according to Faith. We don't know what happened to them," Gunn reluctantly finished. Dannielle fell back onto her pillow, in shock. Abruptly, she flowed off the bed, throwing the blanket off her body. Gunn stared at her in surprise, eyes growing wide.
" What're you staring at? C'mon, we gotta get moving!" she nearly shouted. Gunn pointed and Dannielle looked down and blushed.
She was nude.
++++++
" Well, it's morning now. No chance of anything supernatural springing us now," Faith said, walking to the window and throwing the curtains wide.
" I didn't know you were a morning person," Buffy said, wincing as the bright light hit her eyes. Faith shrugged.
" I'm not. But this is a special case. Hey, G-man, have you found anything?"
The Watcher looked up- glanced up- and shook his head. " Not yet. I'll keep looking,"
" You do that," Faith returned enthusiastically. " Okay, Gunn, Doy—" She cut off abruptly, face darkening. Gunn stood up and went to her, putting his arm around her shoulders, but Faith pushed him away. Arms encircling her waist, she walked towards the window and stared out disconsolately.
" Who am I fucking kidding? Doyle's dead, Xander's… gone. I don't wanna fight anymore. I just wanna curl up and die," she whispered, barely heard.
" C'mon, Faith, is that anyway for a Slayer to talk?" Gunn tried, attempting a chuckle, but Faith whirled on him, eyes flaring.
" Screw being a Slayer! I don't fucking want to be the Slayer anymore!" she screamed, fist clenching by her sides. She looked ready to swing at any moment and sensing this, Buffy stood and slowly walked towards her.
" Faith," Buffy said softly, holding her hands out before her. " Faith, calm down. I know you're distraught, I know how you're feeling—"
" No you don't! How could you! You can't know how I feel!" she spat. " You've never lost a close friend, never had one die in your arms! You never lost the man you l—"
She bit off her words, sensing she had gone too far. Buffy looked like she had been slapped in the face. Faith turned away to hide the tears in her eyes. They'd already seen her cry once. That was one time too many. Buffy wanted to step forward and do something to Faith… slap her, choke her, but she couldn't. She wouldn't. She was better than that.
Unexpectedly, it was Dannielle who spoke first, getting up to stand by Faith's elbow. " You loved him didn't you?" she asked, in a whisper meant for Slayer ears only. Faith nodded, biting her lower lip gently. " I'm sorry,"
Faith shook her head, both in uncertainty and refusal. She brushed past Dannielle and walked to the door. Hand on the knob, she spoke without looking up at them. " Leave me alone. Please,"
++++++
" I'm so confused. I have no idea what's going on," came an annoyingly whiny noise, interrupting Spike's well-earned (if not deserved) rest time. He had to get over his hangover if he was going to be able to help Faith and the others tonight.
The thought shook him and his eyes snapped wide open. Lying on the bed in one of the sun-proofed rooms of Buffy's house, Spike could no figure out why he suddenly had the urgings to fight *alongside* the Slayer. Most times he just wanted to kill her. Buffy, that is. Faith and Dannielle weren't half bad, treated him okay most of the time. But that still didn't warrant him being consigned as extra muscle/cannon fodder.
" Spike? Are you awake?" Dawn asked, for what was like the hundredth time. Spike grunted in reply and pulled himself to an upright position. Lighting a cigarette and taking a deep drag, he glared sidelong at Dawn, who seemed painfully oblivious. Why, oh, why did Faith have to bring the brat back? Five minutes with her in the same room- alone- gave Spike yearnings to see the sun again.
" What is it you don't understand? Vampires exist. Slayers kill vampires. It's that simple," Spike said, grumbling mentally about the sick humor of the Powers That Be, whoever they may be.
" But…"
Spike breathed a mouthful of smoke into Dawn's face, making the young girl wince and wave it away. " But what?"
"… Nothing," Dawn replied, pouting disconsolately.
Spike smiled in triumph, lying back and breathing more smoke into his lungs. " Good," he said, closing his eyes and trying to relax.
Trying to. He could still feel her, sitting by the bed, pouting and making him uncomfortable. She sighed raggedly, theatrically. Spike cut off his groan at the source and tried to block her out, to no avail. Cracking open one eye, he saw her in the pose he had expected her to be in. Elbows on knees, chin in hands, frowning forlornly.
" What is it, girl?" he asked, wondering how he had managed to become such a faggot-assed pussy after all these years. He might as well just walk over to the window and throw open the curtains. It would take about two seconds, and be much less painful.
++++++
Faustus' brow furrowed in grim concentration as he searched through the pathways, looking for his wayward general. There were a million worlds to explore, and each world had millions of alternate realities. Even someone of his power would take days to find his target.
But Faustus had more than a few tricks left up his sleeve. In his right hand he clenched a diamond the size of a human heart. It was faceted, catching whatever little light there was in the cave and throwing it back out tenfold, in glimmering rays.
The diamond multiplied his power tenfold, as well as assist him in peering through the other worlds Tristan might have fallen into. That elven planeswalker had thrown a wrench in his carefully laid out plans, adding an unknown factor into the calculation. He was a complete mystery and Faustus hadn't been able to find out enough about him to be able to tweak his plans back into balance.
The elf's power was also an enigma. Without fully understanding the origins and workings of his planeswalking ability, Faustus couldn't work out a way to neutralize the advantage he gave the Slayers.
His eyes narrowed as he caught glimpse of a small figure, tumbling downwards. The figure was so tiny, he could have missed it altogether. But a twinge in his mind alerted him to the familiar power signature and upon closer examination, he could sense the aura as Tristan's. But there something else with him, something powerful and very evil. Snarling in impatience, Faustus muttered a quick incantation, weaving a pattern with his fingers. Clenching his fist, he jerked it backwards, as if grabbing hold of a rope and pulling.
Soon enough, a flash of light filled the cavern chamber, disappearing as abruptly as it came. There was a huddled, twisting lump on the floor before Faustus and he held the diamond up to properly examine his catch.
It was Tristan. And he was grappling a baatezu.
++++++
Tristan thought the fall would never end, feeling with all too painful clarity the gashes on his back and the crushing grip the demon had on his waist. He clamped his hand on the demon's chin and forced its head back. Drawing his free fist back, he snapped a quick punch into its exposed throat.
It hardly flinched, instead drawing its arms closer together, inexorably tightening its grip. Tristan fought to breathe and he drove his fist into the demon's throat again, hoping for a reaction. Obviously, this demon was more powerful than the previous, despite the lack of differences in size or general description.
The demon seemed unwilling to use its wings to lift them clear of the canyon and out of their trajectory towards the lava river. Tristan was already sweating from the heat, fifty feet up. It was like a blast furnace, with a raging inferno inside. He could see as the lava grew ever closer, and he could make out the faces and features of the people already drowning inside.
He shut his eyes, second before impact, keeping the demon below him so he might survive a few moments more. That few moments might be crucial in saving his life. But even as he waited, the dreaded splash and scalding of boiling lava didn't come. Instead, there was a sudden wrench from above, as if some mighty hand was pulling him back.
His arms wrapped around the demon's waist on reflex, squeezing for dear life. Then he abruptly landed, with a thump.
On hard, stony ground.
++++++
Now this put an interesting twist on things. A baatezu, alive and breathing, right in front of his very eyes. And his general, the wayward knight Tristan, seeming somewhat worse for wear, standing right next to it. Faustus couldn't help but smile.
" Why, an unexpected visitor. We've been having a lot of that these days," he said, stepping forward to meet the raging baatezu. The demon paused when it saw Faustus, and recognized the extent of his power. Not strong enough to banish it single-handedly, but certainly strong enough to cause grievous injuries.
" A lich? Here?" the demon growled. Tristan blinked in surprise. He wasn't expecting the demon to be able to speak. " Unusual,"
" Not as unusual as a balor talking to me right now," Faustus countered smoothly, clasping his hands behind his back, the focussing diamond clenched tightly in one fist, just in case it was needed.
" Perhaps," the demon replied. It paused again and gained a pensive look on its huge face, as if studying something. " But in this place, a lot of unusual things happen, no?"
Faustus nearly danced in glee. The balor could sense the power of the Hellmouth, and maybe, just maybe, it might be able to re-open the portal. " Ah yes, the Hellmouth. Where else would you find the likes of me?"
" A million other places, lich, none of which you know of. Even one of your power cannot fully comprehend the vastness of the worlds," the balor growled, sweeping one hand through the air in a dismissive manner. Faustus' grin got ever wider and he inclined his head slightly, his pride not allowing him to bow at the waist.
" But of course, you do. I bow to your superior knowledge,"
The balor bristled, but kept silent. " Why do you remain underground, lich? Why not inhabit the world above?" Its eyes narrowed in suspicion. " You are not averse to sunlight, are you?"
" I'm afraid that is one of my weaknesses. But that is not the only reason, though,"
" Speak, lich. I am impatient,"
" The Slayers live in the world above. Together, they are a match even for me, maybe even you," Faustus said.
" How many?"
" Three,"
The demon growled again, grimacing in anger. " You speak the truth, lich. They can indeed prove a handful. But tell me this; why have you brought me here?"
Faustus shook his head. " It was not my intention to do so. I merely wanted to retrieve my… aide," he said, waving a careless hand at Tristan. The demon turned to the long-haired man and snorted.
" Why bother with a mere mortal?" it asked. But it fell silent and stared hard at Tristan, giving the man the unfamiliar feeling of crawling skin. " I see. You have given him some of your power, have you not?"
" You perceive correctly,"
" Thus he is precious to you, though to what extent I cannot tell. Why are you here lich? You have some sort of mission here, I can tell. Speak!"
Faustus nodded and stepped backwards. " It would be easier if I showed you. Behold…"
His hands rose and his fingers began to write in the air. Then the words appeared and remained suspended, the ink a bright orange flame. Faustus chanted under his breath, his eyelids fluttering.
Then an image formed in front of Tristan's eyes; inside him, but somehow not quite in him… he ignored the technicalities and watched.
++++++
Dannielle watched the door slammed shut and shrugged. She had expected that to happen, what with Doyle dying in her arms and all. Looking at the guarded expression on Buffy's face, Dannielle could tell that the blonde Slayer had gone through this type of loss before.
Not so with Faith. Even Gunn had experienced this… wrenching agony and pain and anger and hate all at once. It was hard to handle, at first, but it got easier with time.
Dannielle couldn't hide her smirk. Who was she to start talking like some war veteran? So she lost her parents and her Watcher. So what?
She felt like going up to Faith and giving her a nice hard smack in the face. Scream at her: So you lost your boyfriend, so what? Move on, dammit!
" I don't get it,"
The voice was Gunn's. He was slouching beside her, shoulders drooped. " What don't you get? Faith's going through a hard time,"
" Yeah but we all went through hard times before. Faith more than anyone else here, I'd like to think. I was sorta thinking she would be, y'know, calmer?" Gunn finished, rather lamely, in Dannielle's point of view.
" Look Pistol," she'd started to get a liking for that nickname. " Faith may have gone through all sorts of rough shit in her life, but she just lost Xander. The man she claims to love. That's gotta be hard on her,"
Gunn looked bemused, but unconvinced. " I still think there's more to it than that,"
" More to what? She lost her boytoy, she freaked, broke down. End of story," Dannielle punctuated with a sweep of her arm. " Get on with life already,"
Gunn looked at her, a strange gleam in his eye. He shook his head. " You're cold, girl. Real cold,"
Dannielle nodded, slowly, sadly. " I know,"
++++++
Gunn had been right. There was more to it.
Azhael sat cross-legged in the middle of a pentagram, the thick, leather bound book in his lap. He murmured under his breath, fingers twitching rapidly. Before him lay a flat, circular disk of metal, polished and smoothed, till it was reflective.
Abruptly, it flared blue, a column of light erupting from it. The light subsided and slowly coalesced into a shape, a figure, reaching higher points of definition and detail all the while. Upon closer examination, one could tell that it was Faith.
Azhael's eyes opened and he looked hard at the image before him. Faith was walking down the street, arms hugging herself, shivering. He smiled thinly, satisfied. " My weak link. How beautiful you look," he whispered.
He settled the book into a more comfortable position on his lap and turned the page. Scanning through it once more, he began murmuring again.
Somewhere far away, Faith was beginning to have doubts…
++++++
Faith was walking down the street, arms hugging herself, shivering. I don't know why I keep doing this. I don't know why I don't just pack up and run away. Xander sure ain't here to lecture me about it, so what's holding me back? She shook her head, knowing what the answer was even before she asked the question.
Because that's what he would've wanted you to do. And you always do what you want him to do. You're getting soft, Faithie-baby. You should quit while the going's good.
It was that niggling little voice in her head again. It had been quiet for a while now, but it seemed that it had decided now was a good time to come back. Yay.
Faith's gaze was locked on the ground beneath her feet, just in front of her toes. Funny how the pavement looks the same when you've been walking long enough. Is there a technical word for that? You've seen something so often that it just blurs into one, single, not too cohesive thing. Definitely got to be a term.
That's it Faith, keep thinking random thoughts, keep it meaningless. Keep away from that door marked Xand—
Shit. Too late.
Faith felt like crying. Again. Once was enough, so she swallowed her tears and sat down at a nearby bench. She patted herself down for smokes, then realized she had quit. Now was a good time as any to start back up. No cash. Looks like I'll have a five-finger discount then.
She got off her ass and strolled down the sidewalk and purposefully turned into a convenience store. The cashier was- thankfully- male and still farmed pimples. Made this caper that much easier.
" Hey there," she rasped, in the voice that took others three packs of Marlboros and a bottle of tequila to achieve. The cashier- Jake, by the name tag- snapped to attention, his body straightening with admirable reflexes. Bet that ain't the only thing up, eh Jake?
" Good morning," he said, looking flustered and excited and apprehensive, all at once. Faith glanced discreetly at her clothes. Black leather pants, sleeveless red T-shirt with a picture of Gene Simmons on it. It was tight enough to give a horny kid shortness of breath, yet not tight enough to distract a full-grown adult. Perfect.
" Two packs of Marlboros, if you don't mind," Faith ordered, gesturing to neatly stacked rows of cigarette cartons on the shelf behind the cashier. He smiled dreamily, turned and reached for the cigarettes. He took a long time doing it; Faith guessed that he was mentally berating himself.
She smiled to herself and leaned her elbows on the counter, purposely bending down just the right amount. If she did it right, the kid's eyes would start popping when he saw her- and she'd been doing this far too long to not get it right.
The kid's eyes- predictably- goggled when he turned and saw her- and the hint of bare flesh beneath her collar. He nearly dropped the cigarette packs. But collecting himself t the last moment, he placed them on the counter and slid them forwards towards her. Faith smiled and reached for them, allowing her fingertips to brush his, ever so slightly.
He nearly jumped at the sensation. Faith straightened. " I think I need something to go along with this. Be back in a sec,"
She grabbed the cigs and headed over to the back, where the liquor was stored. Looking about, at the size of the store, the way the stuff was arranged, Faith could tell that it was a mom-and-pop set-up. The kid was probably theirs.
Faith wandered about for a while more, opening the freezer, glancing inside, then closing it again. The two cigarette packs were in her right hand all the time, nearly unnoticeable to the human eye.
She went back to the counter, frowning disapprovingly. " You don't stock Glenfiddich," she accused, just letting her lips pout a bit. The kid shrugged and grinned lamely, sliding the blame off his shoulders.
" Sorry,"
Faith shook her head. " Nothing to it. Here, take these back. I'm trying to cut down anyways," she said, placing the two packs on the counter and walking off. Once outside and around the corner, Faith shook the cigarette pack out of her jacket sleeve and tapped it against her palm.
She'd switched the cigs for a box of mints, exactly the same size and color as the cigarette pack. It couldn't even stand up to a cursory check, but someone whose attention was divided wouldn't be able to notice it until too late.
She'd been doing this far too long.
++++++
Tristan watched, as a robed man walked down the brick hallways of what seemed to be a castle. Not an English castle, or Scottish. Tristan could tell one with his eyes closed. This was more French, or something more European. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. What mattered was the man walking down the castle hallway.
He bore the gait and bearing of someone serious and somewhat impatient. He walked with the pace of someone in a hurry, yet not late. Just… impatient. His face was severe and somber, a neatly trimmed goatee framing thin, bloodless lips. His eyes were shrouded beneath his thick brow, and the torchlit hallway was too dim for Tristan to make out the color of his eyes.
The man reached a door and he threw it open with a gesture. The force of the spell- whatever it was- slammed the doors against the walls that anchored it. The castle itself seemed to shake from its foundations. Unsettled dust floated down from the ceiling.
" What have you done?" he thundered, his voice powerful and deep, belying his gaunt frame. The man he addressed had his back to him. Similarly dressed in robes, similarly thin and tall, the man turned to face the livid expression of his companion. Tristan recoiled at the sight of the man's face.
It was Faustus. Younger and more alive, but it was Faustus nonetheless, right down to the callous gleam in his eyes and the disdainful sneer that twisted his face.
" I have gained power beyond anything any of us have ever dreamed of, Jacis. Shouldn't you be proud of me?" Faustus said, cocking his head slightly to the side. Jacis stormed up to Faustus and planted his face mere millimeters away from the other man's.
" You have sold your soul to demons, Kathor! You have damned yourself to eternal torment!" Jacis nearly screamed.
" Mayhap, but isn't the power I've achieved worth it?" Faustus- Kathor- replied calmly, hands clasped behind his back. He turned away from Jacis and began pacing. " Why spend your life as a mere weakling, then die and leave nothing but a name as your legacy? Why not leave behind a legend, a name that will strike awe and terror into the hearts of men?"
Jacis stared at the man before him in incredulity. They had once been friends, closer than brothers. What had happened? " What happened to you, my friend?" Jacis whispered, shocked.
" I have grown, realized the folly of my previous life. I have become more than a man, more than mortal. I am a god!" Kathor exulted, his expression resembling one of pure rapture. For what else could please a man like Kathor but power?
" Tomorrow the transformation will be complete and I will be a lich. I will live forever, and there will be nothing to stop me!" Kathor whirled on Jacis and his eyes blazed with inner hellfire. " Not you, not anyone else! I will be invincible!"
Jacis turned and fled the room, terrified. Kathor's mocking laughter followed him, all the way back to his room. Something must be done, before it was too late. Regaining his composure and settling a look of resolve on his face, Jacis reached under his bed and pulled out a book. He noticed how his hands shook, nearly making him drop the book. Belatedly, he realized his entire body was trembling. In fear. Jacis had never felt fear before.
Opening the book, he began to read.
++++++
Xander awoke with a feeling akin to that of a sledgehammer kissing his head. His vision was blurry, filled with tears. The pain was almost unbearable. When his eyesight came back, he saw the big, 'Sunnydale: 5 miles' sign posted across the road. The 'dale' portion had been crossed out and replaced by 'hell'.
Apparently, he was just outside the town. If he squinted, he would be able to make out the factories on the outskirts of town. It was bright daylight, the sun was shining warmly. But for some inexplicable reason, Xander felt cold, cold enough to shiver.
He hugged himself, trembling hands wrapping around a trembling torso. He remembered then that he had taken off his shirt in Carcerus and hadn't gotten it back. He had no cash either; his wallet had disappeared somewhen. He took a shaky step forward, tested his weight on the foot, then judged himself to be able to walk.
He looked behind him, hoping to spot a car. No such luck. The only things other than him were the lizards taking a leak. The desert was undisturbed and untouched. It was going to be along walk ahead of him. Xander realized that his throat was parched and that his lips were dry and cracked, much of it due to the period he spent in Carcerus. He had no idea how long it was- it seemed like days to him, but a delirious mind doesn't analyze properly.
He hoped he'd be able to survive this one.
++++++
Dannielle watched the sunset, wistfully remembering the time when dusk didn't mean bad news. Dusk meant sitting at home with Mom and Dad, eating dinner, curling up on the sofa watching television, being tucked into bed, having a story read to you. Falling asleep with a smile on her face, a child without a worry in the world.
Not so now…
" Thinking of something?"
" I'd be a liar if I say no," Dannielle replied, not turning to Buffy. The shorter blonde copied Dannielle's pose, crossing her arms under her breasts.
What breasts? Dannielle thought, irreverently. Buffy had fallen silent, staring pensively out the window. She obviously had something on her mind and wanted to say it, but she didn't know how. That was the problem with most people, Dannielle told herself. So afraid of offending someone, so search for a nice way to couch whatever it is you wanted to say. As if there really was a nice way.
" Look, Dannielle," Buffy said. The name sounded clumsy on her tongue, and only then did Dannielle realize it was the first time Buffy had called her by name. Strange. " I've never really had the chance to thank you, you know, for helping us out—"
" Don't mention it," she sounded serious. Really, don't mention it.
Buffy nodded, half-turned away, turned back to look at Dannielle's still form, then walked away. Dannielle sighed, imperceptibly, turning her attention back to the view outside. They were all safely ensconced within Buffy's house, though all Dannielle wanted was to go out and kick some ass. Nearly dying wasn't one experience she relished, and she resented that.
" You have something against people?"
Dannielle frowned, wondering whether these people understood the need for personal space. Lots of personal space. " What is it, Gunn?" she replied, without turning around.
" She was trying to say thank you, y'know. And you brush her off. Man, I thought I was brusque, but you just a set a whole new standard on it," Gunn accused, trying his best not to gesticulate wildly.
" Thank you Gunn, for that informative insight. Anything else?" Dannielle was being deliberately- needlessly- rude, but she was in a mood today, and that mood didn't include being on people's good sides. The extreme opposite was true, if you wanted to know.
" Jeez, don't you ever lighten up?"
" Don't you? Get off my back, Gunn. How I act is up to me, and I don't appreciate being preached to. You don't hear me talking about your bad habits, do I?"
Gunn fumed, searching for the right retort to that. Dannielle wasn't going to give him the chance. " Its night out. I'm off,"
She turned away from him and walked out the door, not letting anyone get in her way.
++++++
Jacis threw open the heavy doors of the court and stormed inwards, determination etched on his face. Inside, he was trembling with fear, but he strained to not let it show on the outside, where it was more important. Kathor turned calmly, robes swirling about him in the windless expanse of the court. A mark of his unnatural power, Jacis thought. It has manifested faster than I thought.
" My brother," Kathor said, smiling mirthlessly, voice devoid of warmth. Jacis sneered/grimaced and closed the distance between them. " What brings you here this dreary day?"
It was shining brightly outside.
" You do, Kathor. You and your foolish ambition for power have brought me here. You have been reckless Kathor and if I was a man of vengeance, I would let you suffer," Jacis retorted, spittle flying from his lips. He fervently hoped his false bravado didn't show too obviously.
" But you are not,"
" But I am not," Jacis repeated. " As such, I will help you and fix this mess you have gotten yourself into,"
Kathor fell silent, eyes boring into Jacis', and- it so seemed to him- out the back of his skull. Suddenly he laughed aloud, the deep booming laughter of those who knew victory was theirs. The laugh of those who were about to lose.
Jacis steeled himself and began to chant, calling out in a loud, powerful voice that belied his thin frame. Kathor's laughter died down abruptly and a frown formed on his face as he realized what it was Jacis was attempting.
" Never!" he boomed and raised his hands, as if to strike his once-friend down. But instead he too began to chant, and their two voices mingled and entwined within each others, each trying to drown out the other. Sparks began to form within Kathor's upraised, cupped hands and they danced and leapt from fingertip to fingertip. Slowly, the sparks grew to a large crackling bolt of lightning and it leapt forth from Kathor's hand, zooming unerringly towards Jacis' form.
The wizard was unfazed. Weaving an intricate pattern with his nimble fingers, never once losing track of his chanting, he threw up a shield of force that the bolt of lightning slammed into and fizzled away, sending sparks dancing along in the air. Kathor nearly screamed in frustration, but he wasn't about to let his emotions take control.
As he raised his voice once more, he felt a sudden, wrenching pain and his tongue stumbled, tripping on the suddenly unfamiliar words. " NO!" he shrieked in anguish, veins bulging in his neck and forehead. There was one last thing he could do but he had to do it fast.
In desperation, the words came pouring out of his mouth in a rushed babbling. He was half-afraid that it might make the spell fail, but he had no time. Jacis was taking away his power. But it worked. He could feel the energy and the heat rising up from within him. He allowed it to build up, to the point where he thought he would burst.
And then he let it go.
The castle rumbled, right down to its foundations. And Jacis erupted in a cloud of flame, the smoke forming a slight mushroom-shaped cloud in the vast hall.
And Kathor fell to his knees, feeling his ill-gotten power drain out of him, victor, but yet the loser. " Damn you, Jacis! I damn you to hell, brother!" he threw his head back and yelled, the force of his fury shaking loose several stones from the ceiling high above.