By: Silvanoshei
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone or anything from the Dragonlance series
Author's Note: Geez … another chapter… I know all of you are just SOOO happy. Yea, I really don't have much of a life…
(Author: I hope you're happy Silvan… *work, work*
Silvan: Good little Author…*pat*)
III.
The tears of Lorac,
Held in thrall by the orb and by Cyan Bloodbane,
Minion of Queen Takhisis,
Minion of evil,
Who alone had the powerSilvanoshei stared into nothing. Blackness surrounded him, holding him in her death grasp; icy, pale fingers encircled his throat. Squeezing. He gasped for air, for life. Hideous visions flooded his mind. His people were being pulled in. He could still see their hands grasping for him, struggling desperately in the deep.
"Help us, please."
Then flames consumed everything, hungrily devouring everything in sight. Midnight dragon shadows circled in the sky. Black-clad widows cried. Ghastly faces and bitten words floated around him, like specters. Blood fell like rain. The amber eye stared down at him, never blinking, cold and unreachable as the stars.
Praise the One.
Silvan stood alone. His shadow seemed to stretch for miles in the blinding light. A chorus of one-winged angels screamed.
Praise the One.
Silvan shielded his face from the penetrating, piercing beam, anger rising. Who was this to show him such disturbing images? What did they know about the future of the Silvanesti elves? He would not let them make a fool of him or his people.
"Who the hell are you and why should I? Where have you brought me?"
I am the One. You will kneel down and praise me.
The light shone fiercer. Squinting, Silvan made out a figure on a blood red stallion. It was approaching.
"No. I will not. Take me back."
The amber iris of the eye dilated in anger. The figure stepped down from its steed and began to walk towards him. Silvan, instinctively, tried to run, but his legs had turned to lead, useless to him. His pulse quickened as the figure stood above him. Its face still in shadow, its hand touched Silvan's temple. A raindrop splashed into a puddle. The pain hit him.
Amon was shaking him harshly. Silvan's eyes shot open, he lifted his head slightly; sweat was pouring down his face. He lay crumpled on the ground, his robes ruined. A jagged rock bit into his back. "Your Highness! Your Highness!" Amon was yelling at him. "Are you alright?! Please wake up!" Silvan moaned and let his head fall back to the dirt. He took great, steadying breaths. He vaguely heard Amon in the background yelling for help and ordering servants to lift him.
Kiryn crashed into the hedge, totally out of breath. "Where is Silvan?! What the hell happened?" Skidding to a halt in front of the entrance to the chaotic alcove, Kiryn leaned over, hands on his knees, panting. "Is the King alright?" he finally gasped to the nearest person. His vision was blurred; hazy as through he was looking through a heat mirage. All he could make out were several elven healers surrounded the young king, desperately trying to help him. Then Kiryn collapsed.
"Both of them at the same instant?" General Konnal's voice rang out sharply in the pearl halls of the palace, his boots clicked on the stone floor as he jogged to his nephew's room with Glaucous at his side, his white robes billowing. "And don't tell me that's some sort of coincidence," the general snapped at his advisor. Glaucous frowned and pursed his beautiful lips.
"I believe that Prince Kiryn passed out from the heat and dehydration. He will be fine. The Speaker is a different story."
"What do you mean? Quit speaking in riddles and tell me flat out," Konnal glared impatiently at him. "Not that I care about that damned Caladon spawn but the people will talk and, because of my position, I could be seen as the focal point of this accident," he thought bitterly, clenching his fingers into a fist. "No matter how I try, I can not see why our people place their hopes in a blood line as weak as his. Even though his grandfather almost destroyed us and his mother is a dark elf, they want him to sit upon that throne. There is no logic in their thinking, none at all."
Sighing, Glaucous replied to Konnal's earlier demand, "I believe someone contacted him telepathically. They might have blown out his mind. You see, if a person's magical output it strong enough and they are not careful as to the release of energy when contacting a weaker being, that can be the result. Sometimes, the person gets over in a matter of hours. Or they can take a lifetime to recover."
"What?" Konnal blinked in astonishment. "This could solve all my problems… if Silvanoshei was declared unfit to rule then…" "You mean never?"
"Yes. But, let us not take this as good news, for if the people thought that you might have had something to do with it, as you are a competitor for the crown, you could be – disposed of," Glaucous said, looking at his side ways, his eyes flashing.
"True," Konnal sighed, reminded forlornly of his own mirrored thoughts before.
"At least this way, we can keep the people happy but still have complete control," Glaucous said, motioning to the guards outside Kiryn's room.
As they entered the room, both lowered their voices, their footsteps now muffled by the thick carpet and tapestries. Reaching the bed of his nephew, tucked well into his blankets, Konnal's eyes softened. He reached down to brush back a wisp of golden hair that had fallen into his nephew's face. Kiryn's eyelids fluttered slightly, but he did not awaken.
"Are the healers still with his Eminence, then?" Konnal asked quietly, stroking Kiryn's hair.
"No. There is not much they can do. They do not know what caused his collapse in the first place. You have to remember," Glaucous said, eyes lowered, taking a seat on the corner of the bed, "my powers are still strong and therefore, they probably couldn't detect the telepathic link."
"That explains a lot," the General turned, his warm chestnut brown hair wrapped in a tight ribbon falling over his shoulder, to look at the other elf. The two stared at each other.
"Are you trying to tell me something Konnal?" came Glaucous's cold reply, his pale green eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth turned down.
"I —."
Kiryn stirred, twisting his neck on his plump pillows. Suddenly, he sat blot upright, as though shocked.
"Silvan —," he croaked, his eyes watering. Grabbing the polished silver pitcher on the slender table next to Kiryn's bed, Konnal poured him a glass of wine. Clutching the glass hard, Kiryn drank in huge gulps. Glaucous leaned forward and patted him on the back. Kiryn recoiled from his touch, spilling several drops of wine on the white sheets and Glaucous's hands returned to his lap. The splotches stayed though, looking more then anything like blood.
"Ahem," interrupted the General, as Kiryn looked accusingly at the adviser who had put his mask on again, his face was blank and expressionless. Turning, Kiryn looked searchingly up at his uncle, and then rasped out,
"Where is his Silvan? I must see him. Where is he? What happened to him?"
"He's in his room, still recovering. You must calm down Kiryn," Konnal said, alarmed at his nephew's behavior.
"I must see him." Kiryn threw his legs over the bedside and heaved himself up. His eyes widened and he wobbled, falling back on his bed. "Urg… What the hell happened to me?" He rubbed his head, ruffling his hair.
"Are you unwell, Prince Kiryn? Do you require a healer?" asked Glaucous quickly.
"No. Please take me to the royal bedroom," Kiryn shaking his head slightly and wincing at the pain. Looking at Glaucous swiftly, who shrugged, Konnal wrapped his arm around his nephew's waist and helped him up. Stumbling out of his bedroom, clutching his uncle for support, Kiryn gritted his teeth and made his way to Silvan's room.
The guards opened the doors fluidly at the General's order, staring interestedly at the odd procession of the Prince in his nightshirt, the General, looking worried, and Glaucous, his arms folded imperiously. Limping in, Kiryn crashed next to his cousin's bed.
Laying quietly, his glowing hair spilling across the pillow, Silvan's pale face was in the peace of sleep. Tugging on the coverlet, Kiryn pulled himself half on the bed, patting Silvan's cheek.
"Silvan, wake up! Silvan!" he cried tensely. Silvan did not wake but remained frozen, as distant as a glacier floating far out in deep polar water, lonely, icy, and remote.
"Is it as I thought? Has his mind been blown out? I didn't think that the blast had been that strong…" Glaucous wondered. "This could seriously jeopardize our plans…"
Flopping down on the floor, Kiryn leaned his head and back against the bed frame and let the tears flow. "Silvan…I know what you saw."
Darkness and Light battled infinitely, never winning, and never losing. A sword of frosty quartz and a sword of shadowy obsidian clashing, ringing resounded. Light finally struck a blow and moonlight trickled into the royal chambers. But Darkness waited in the corners, brooding and staring haughtily out as Light celebrated her victory for the night.
The room was empty, save for the stirring figure on the bed. Silvanoshei turned his head on his pillows and opened his eyes slightly. Looking at the circular window in the ceiling, he could faintly smell lilacs. Someone had left the balcony doors open to let some fresh air in. A swallow called throatily to its mate, hitting crystalline notes, blending with the harp music outside in the corridor. Wincing slightly, Silvan propped himself up on his elbow. "What the happened to me damn it? How long have I been gone?" he wondered, raking his fingers through his hair. "Where is everyone?"
Slipping out of bed, he walked towards the window and touched it with his hand, feeling the smooth cold surface. He could smell rain coming. Fireflies hovered, waltzing to and fro in the night breeze, creating their own little stars, calming him slightly.
"I remember that vision… and Amon getting the healers… I think I passed out after that. But more importantly, who the hell is this 'One God'? Well, I cannot say it has not been an uneventful day..."
Closing the double doors, he walked purposely to the bathroom. "I won't call the servants … no one will disturb me unless I ask for them … I do not wish to be around others tonight, I need to think," he sighed. Stripping off his clothes, he reached for the shiny iron handle, carved like leaves, on the bathtub, turning on the hot water in a jet. Seating himself at the edge of the claw-footed basin, waiting for it to fill, Silvan glanced at the clear looking glass. No visions of his mother came to haunt him this time, just himself, naked on the tub. Closing his eyes, he evoked the images he had seen in the garden. That eye…
The Amber swelled over him in a great wave, sucking him into a bottomless whirlpool. Then, it was the sweltering sun and stinging sand of a desert. Silvan shook his head, blinking cold sweat out of his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he began searching though the wicker basket next to the tub, finding some candles, incense, a fleecy towel, and some bathing oils. Placing the candles in various spots around the room, he reached for the small torch in the bracket beside his bathroom door and lit them silently, as though sending a prayer up to the absent gods. The steamy water was up to the brim when he lowered himself into it. Sighing in contentment, he rolled his neck, and reached to pick up the vials of ointments and dumping them in the water, enjoying their sweet, spicy scents. Closing his eyes, he let each muscle in his body relax. After a few minutes, Silvan opened his eyes. The candlelight flickered and painted the walls a warm gold, soothing his mind.
Kiryn walked the cold halls alone. No one was about. The guards were either in their barracks or on duty. He had slipped out, even though he had promised his uncle he would rest. But he couldn't rest, not with the visions that kept returning to his mind. Hugging his velvety shirt close to him, he tiptoed down the hall. His reflection looked ghostly in the mirrors on the walls, frail and wispy looking. Upon arriving at the door of the royal chambers, the guards gave him a knowing look and a smile, before parting to let him through. "Gods, I bet I know the newest rumors that will fly from the courtiers' lips tomorrow…" thought Kiryn cynically, gritting his teeth "What perverts…over-assuming busybodies." Standing straight, he walked in, ignoring the guards who would most certainly have their ears pressed against the door once he had entered. Seeing the empty bed, Kiryn heard the sounds of slightly splashing from the criss-crossing bamboo bathroom door. Silently walking to it, he sat next to the doorframe, curling up into the fetal position, hugging his legs and resting his head on them. The candlelight shown through the wicker, cutting large triangular beams into the floor. "Silvan?" he asked in a hesitant voice.
Silvan froze. "Who?" "Kiryn?"
"Yes," came the response. Silvan breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing again. "Don't come in. I'm bathing."
"So I surmised," Kiryn said from around the corner.
"And was is the purpose of this late night visit, cousin? Besides to see me naked, of course," Silvan snorted. Kiryn did not smile or make any sign that he thought this was humorous.
"Tell me what you saw."
Silvan turned in the water, sending ripples across the surface. Closing his eyes, he replied shakily, "I saw and heard many things. How do you know?"
"Just, please tell me. I will explain it to you, but I need to hear what you experienced."
Silvan gave a great shuddering sigh and said slowly, "I saw our people drowning … blood … a figure on a horse … and a lidless amber eye." He curled into a tight ball. "Now tell me, why do you ask?"
Kiryn let out his breath slowly. "Because what you have seen is also in my mind."
Silvan's astounded voice rang from the bathroom. "What?!"
"Yes, but I was only an observer. I saw you and that figure. I saw you looking at the amber eye."
Silvan stared at the water lapping at his chest, chilled suddenly, and asked vaguely, "What does this all abide?"
Kiryn hugged his legs tighter, and said, "I have no idea."
Silvan watched the candles melt lower and lower, the wax forming smooth waves and the flames glowing. Tapping his fingers on the side of the tub, he voiced, "Do you think it's some sort of attack or warning? A psychic attack, maybe?"
"Your guess is as good as mine. I think all we can really do is be on our guard, whatever that means," answered Kiryn, shrugging.
"Kiryn?" Silvan inquired, pulling at a length of his wet hair. "I wanted to ask you something else."
"What?"
"Glaucous. I trust you and I think you warned me about him for a good reason, I just cannot find one. He seems to do his job well, he's a likable person, and he's respectful and helpful. What fault do you find within him?"
Kiryn bit his lip and stood up. Letting his head fall on his chest, his answer muffled, "I do not know. He is all of those but I believe that he is indeed a talented deceiver, but I do not know any more about the nature of what I believe he's hiding or if indeed I am right at all. I can only tell you to be wary of him. I doubt he told you, but he tried to put me on the throne. I refused. I deeply respected your parents. And you."
Silvan, mulling this over, said softly, "Thank you."
"I did no more then your father would have," with that Kiryn left, glaring at the disappointed guards outside.
Silvan rose out of the waters as soon as he heard his cousin leave, rather like Aphrodite from the sea foam, and dried himself with a towel. Smoky, gray plumes of incense smoke swirled and wrapped around him. Pulling his robes over his shoulders, he went out to the balcony. Leaning over, his arms crossed on the railing, he looked upon a small group of birds-of-paradise, their purple buds shining with silver dew. Everything was still now; even the late night harper had finally gone to bed. Silvan sighed and closed his eyes, then returned to his room.
A shadow quivered in the darkness. A piece of night had fallen from the sky. A hooded stranger fingered a golden knife and ran a thumb up the blade. Blood dripped down and splatter to the earth. A one-winged angel cried in the night.
The tears of Lorac,
Held in thrall by the orb and by Cyan Bloodbane,
Minion of Queen Takhisis,
Minion of evil,
Who alone had the power
Author's note:
Wwooo!!! A BATH scene… *author sniggering in her corner*
Silvan: *eye roll* I won't dignify that with a response…
Well, I just finished watching the X-1999 movie… and that has to be the most depressing movie I've ever seen…
Silvan: *permanently scarred for life now* *blink*
Author: Ehe…
Well, the only thing that makes it better is that I can picture Kamui drop kicking Fuma's head of the Tokyo Tower! Hee!
Silvan: *backs away slowly* You have the weirdest sense of humor…
I was at Borders yesterday and, of course, was looting through the Dragonlance section. There are so many awesome books! I think I should probably read some more authors' works since I've originally just stuck with Weis & Hickman. Any suggestions? But, anyways, I got a new book that's totally about Raistlin (he's SO cool too, but it makes me kinda sad when people write slash with him…and that's about all the Raistlin fics you can find…depressing), called Soulforge. If anyone's read it, tell me if it was good (but NO spoilers, please!). Still, it'll take me a while to get through the other two War of Souls books…
I'm at such a depressing part in Dragons of a Fallen Sun for Silvanoshei lovers, neeeeee. Gods, I hate Mina. Just wondering, is there anyone who actually likes Mina? (Mina: *cheesy heroine music in background* I'M A CHILD OF BATTLE, A CHILD OF WAR—
Author: *raised eyebrow* A child on steroids?) 'Cause she has annoyed me from the beginning, even before she started screwing with Silvan's mind … and hormones…*eye twitches*
Author: Get a clue Silvan!
Silvan: HUH? *goo-goo eyed for Mina*
Author: *waps him with keyboard* … and after all this… *sigh*
Well, hope you are all still enjoy the fic! Thank you again for the reviews! More Silvanoshei goodness to come! I promise more action next chapter!