Section Seven: The Vigil
Fara hugged herself, quickly walking, eyes on the ground. Leading her and escorting her were the four that had originally kidnapped her; they talked like they were used to what was going on around them.
She hadn't seen the battles. They had reached an old fortress in the mountains, and it had felt like a huge hand had picked them up… then they were standing outside a huge, gothic castle. Her escort seemed glad to be there, but she felt the evil pulsing off of it. This was Andross' stronghold.
Around her, all matters of evil beasts and soldiers made way for them, some shouting and calling out various things at the four. They replied in kind, laughing, but no one challenged them: it was clear just who had rank here. She stole a glance up from the ground, glancing to one of her sides. She almost stopped when she saw a huge black dragon rear up from a laying position, snorting, staring down at the group and shaking its horns.
"He won't hurt you." The leader of the four, O'Donnel, grabbed her arm and hauled her on. "He knows he would die if he did."
"How did your Emperor coax dragons to fight for him?" She inquired, eyes on the ground again.
"Very easily. My Emperor is a very good businessman, as you're about to find out. We're taking you to him right now."
They approached a huge set of gates. Various insignias and plaques ringed the door. She named them to herself as they waited for the gates to open. Hextor, god of tyranny, seemed to be the main deity here, and she wasn't surprised. All four that escorted her had insignias for the Fists of Hextor, a group of evil, destructive fighters that worked directly for their god. Apparently, Andross was in league with Hextor, as well as Erythnul, god of slaughter; Nerull, god of death; and Vecna, god of secrets.
"I hear he talks to all of them directly on a regular basis." O'Donnel remarked as they finally went through the doorway, apparently knowing exactly what she was looking at.
She couldn't help but raise her eyebrows a bit, then fixed her gaze on the floor again, keeping pace with the quartet.
Eventually they entered a large throne room. The quartet immediately fell to their knees before the figure in the throne; Fara merely curtsied, feeling fear clutch at her throat as she lifted her gaze to see this 'evil Emperor,' and got the shock of her life.
Andross was relaxed in an ornate throne, fingertips pressed together in front of him, arms resting on the arms of the throne. He was a little older then her father, she judged, which put him in his fifties or sixties. He stood as she looked at him. He was average height, fit, and carried himself with an immense regality. An aura of intense power surrounded him.
"You're dismissed. I thank you." He told the four Fists of Hextor kneeling before him.
O'Donnel's group stood, bowed as one, and left. Their dismissal left only Fara and Andross in the throne room.
"Salutations and welcome." Andross said grandly, stepping off the dais easily and approaching her, then bowing low. "I apologize for the terms of your visit here, but it was necessary in its own fashion. You see, if you are here, your father will not attack this fortress, which is what is needed."
"I see. You're not going to kill me then."
He blanched. "Oh, heaven's no! Think what you may of me, my dear lady, but I'm not like some of the, well, bloodthirsty savages that I command. God no! I am merely a leader, a… diplomat, if you will." He smiled easily. "I used to be quite like the four who escorted you—a Fist of Hextor—but I have since been, well, promoted. Now I'm acting as Commanding General and Emperor." He pulled a pendant out from under his shirt; it was Hextor's insignia.
She replied by pulling out her pendant, a sun amulet in the shape of Pelor. It started glowing the minute it was uncovered, as if trying to push away evil.
"Indeed." He looked amused, then looked past her. "Felocial? Would you be so kind as to show the Princess to a room?"
Fara turned, and startled when she saw a lupine elf standing there, arms crossed. Her fur was pure black, and her hair intense white, cascading around her face: a Drow. She was dressed like a fighter, but only wore light armor, a rapier hanging at her side.
"Afternoon." The Drow said by way of introduction. "If you would follow me please."
"And if I don't?"
The Drow smiled just a bit. "I don't think we need to discuss that."
"Felocial." Andross said in a slightly warning tone.
"As you will, my liege." She bowed to her emperor, then wove Fara on. "Come with me my lady."
Fara paced Felocial, sending side-glances toward her escort the entire time. "How did you come to work with Andross?"
"He has an alliance with my people." She tossed her hair back. "As he has an alliance with dragons. Simple, really." She opened a heavy wooden door, lifting the crossbar and gesturing for Fara to enter first.
It was a nicely appointed room, fitting for someone of her rank. She was in one of the towers. Fara stepped over to one of the glassed-in windows, and saw that she could see parts of the battles going on. It was very bloody indeed, and she couldn't tell exactly who was winning. Even as she watched, a black dragon dove at the battlefield, and a gold dragon appeared and met it in midair. The lines below them scattered back to safer positions as the two dragons fought, hot blood splattering, flying and fighting above the ground in a dance of death. Finally, another black came out of nowhere, and the gold was sent plunging to the ground, throat slashed open. Black knights leapt over the corpse, clearly not affected at all, and went to battle with true knights, which tried desperately to defend her father's lines as they reformed.
She turned away, feeling her eyes burn.
"Horribly beautiful, isn't it?" Felocial stood next to her, staring out. "There is a strange beauty in death…"
"How can you think that?"
"Because it's true and you know it." She narrowed her eyes at the princess. "Well, make yourself comfortable, your Highness." She left the room and closed the door, and it flashed slightly as magical locks activated.
Fara sighed, sitting on the bed and covering her face with her hands. Her symbol of Pelor was still glowing intensely, as if trying to comfort her. She wrapped a hand around it and stood, investigating her quarters.
It turned out the extensively carved wooden chests were full of clothes, mostly meant for men. She removed her ruined dress and donned a pair of breaches and a loose swordfighter's shirt, slid her feet into a pair of soft boots, and felt much more comfortable. She hadn't dressed like this since her father had stopped her sword lessons two years ago…
She drew an imaginary sword and began to go through moves slowly, then with increasing speed, eyes closed, parrying away the blades of imaginary foes as she exercised. As she went through the routine, her pendant glowed more and more intensely, then a flash of light filled the room.
She stopped, frozen in fear. She was being shown the battlefield close up. She watched in horror as one of her father's knights did battle with a black knight, and fell. Andross was winning. There was no way to deny it now.
She jolted back to her body and kneeled, shaking her head and looking towards the window. There was nothing she could do to help, either… but wait, and pray for a miracle.
"What do you think?"
"My liege?" O'Donnel startled, glancing at Andross. They stood at the top of the highest tower, looking down at the battle.
"I asked you what you think, O'Donnel."
"What about, my lord?"
"This war. And of course the Princess."
"Ah." O'Donnel was silent, then said. "I believe we have the war won… but…"
"But?"
"Messages have reached us now that someone or something is fighting back against your influence in the King's territory. The Perytons have been wiped out, though they did away with the villages first."
"Just as well, they weren't loyal. Anything else?"
"We've lost an entire tribe of wood elves, and the Crest of the Hippogriff."
"Interesting. Any idea who is doing this?"
"No reports yet. And our diplomat didn't return from his discussion with the Jack of Tears."
"That's what I believed would happen. No great loss. Now, on to the Princess."
"She is tough for her kind, milord. Very tough. I believe she has some power in her own right as well."
"She does, she just doesn't know it." Andross rubbed his chin. "Which is for the better."
"Indeed?"
"Indeed. I must consult Hextor. See to it that our lines continue to fight as well as they have been."
"Sir."