Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this fan-fiction. All is property of Anne Bishop. I make no profit out of writing this - no infringement was intended.
Author's Notes: Firstly, thank-you to everybody who reviewed! You guys are great. I really appreciate the encouragement. ^^
Secondly, this chapter may seem a little confusing. All shall be explained soon, so please bear with me! If you're confused by anything, feel free ask. Any flames will be used to keep me toasty warm, as it's winter (and relatively cold) where I live. *huddles close to laptop, trying to keep warm*
Sorry about the slow update, but I'm completely snowed under with homework at the moment..
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Rise From The Ash
By Kaetien
Chapter I: Enter The Darkness
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Four hundred years later…
~1/Kaeleer~
Daemonar gingerly picked his way through the rubble, straining his eyes to make sense of black silhouettes. He strengthened his ebon-gray shield and glanced about the darkened streets warily. The road was strewn with debris, and the husk of what had once been a carriage lay on its side, wheels turning on their hinges in the icy breeze. Hoping perhaps to find his quarry in the bleakness, Daemonar searched his surroundings carefully, extending a delicate probe with Craft.
Nothing.
There was nothing living left amongst these buildings. The place reeked of death and corruption, and the foul stench of decay wormed its way into his lungs. It was hard to believe that this seemingly endless labyrinth of ruins had once been the capital of Little Terreille. The reality that such a flourishing place as Goth could be reduced to a graveyard in the space of barely a hundred years was an ill omen for those other cities in the Realm that stood upon the brink of civil war.
Crumbling multi-storey buildings stretched into the sky, broken windows empty. As Daemonar passed further into the depths of the fallen city, the air pressed in closer about him as a pallid mist flooded through the streets. He brushed an errant strand of damp hair away from his face, and hesitated. Ahead, there echoed a rumble as an unseen structure collapsed.
*KaeAskavi?* He sent the thought to the Arcerian on a gray spear thread and stopped, waiting for a reply. The only possible downside of working with the full-grown Arcerian was the fact that the feline had a constant sight shield raised, and while any potential enemies couldn't see him, neither could Daemonar. He had no way of knowing how far away KaeAskavi was, and called in a long hunting blade. There were others who also walked the dead city, and he did not care to meet them unarmed, nor unprepared.
The last clatter of showering rubble faded into silence and, after a moment, he felt a familiar brush against his mind.
*It is nothing.*
Daemonar exhaled slowly in relief. *Can you sense her?*
There was a long pause. *No,* KaeAskavi replied finally. *But we will find her.*
The Eyrien sighed. *I don't like this place. Why would she be here?*
A little ripple of thought from KaeAskavi that Daemonar interpreted as a mental shrug.
The buildings fell away as Daemonar emerged into a square strewn with decay and lined by collapsed pavilions. This town centre was all that was left recognizable by the brutal erosion of war and death. A circular fountain set in the middle of the square stood alone in the darkness, silhouetted faintly against the stars. The statue of a rearing unicorn stood upon the monument, and by upon its back a young girl. Little Terreille had never existed as part of Witch's territory, but the fountain had been installed in memory.
For remembrance. As a reminder.
But who now was left to remember? Little Terreille was a dead city - the few who remained had little time for memories and ideals in a world where strength was the only barrier between life and returning to the Darkness or becoming demon dead.
*A male approaches,* KaeAskavi warned, interrupting his thoughts. His light tenor was uneasy.
*Where?*
*The cluster of human dens to the north.*
A flicker of sapphire-jewelled strength, then nothing. Daemonar probed the area again. *I can't sense him. Something's not right.* A chill settled in his stomach.
*He draws his blade!*
The snarl of the enraged Arcerian echoed through the square, and a terrified squeal shattered the night. The stillness descended into pandemonium as the sapphire-jewelled warlord was batted into the square. KaeAskavi bounded after him, like a white ghost in the darkness. A sudden torrent of furious black strength nearly shattered Daemonar's shield, and he was forced to reach into his reserves to steady it.
A green-jewelled prince stepped from his watch in the shadows of an alleyway, spreading his wings to their full span in a challenge. He called in a wicked dagger and levelled it at Daemonar menacingly.
"Call off your friend, or we shall take an arm for an arm." His golden eyes glinted unpleasantly. "A wing for a wing."
"We?" Daemonar demanded. A soft footstep sounded behind him.
"We, whose territory you have entered," the black-jewelled warlord
purred, close to his ear. A sharp blade pressed against the side of his throat. "And for that, you must pay the penalty of death."
To Be Continued…
A/N: Well? What did you think? Short chapter, I know, I'm sorry. *hangs
head in shame* I just find it easier to write in short little bursts. But aside
from that, please let me know what you think!
*points* There's a little button there in the lower left hand corner... ^^