"It is said that over eighty thousand people died fighting in the Elmekian-Lumerian War. I personally think it was a little less. However, it does not negate the fact that it was the most bloody, most long-lasting war there had been between two countries since the great Elzu Empire collapsed in the Sundering War of 702-706. It certainly distraught many of the sensibilities in those of noble blood, despaired those of clergy and sorcery, and filled the common folk with fear.
Yet, how could we know that this terrible war which ended a nation and rattled so many social elements was a simple prelude to something much more dire?"
-Lionel Greysword's memoirs
"There is no Lumeria. There is only a region which believed could break away from the Empire. Today, fair gentles and ladies, we set things right! Today we make Elmekia whole once more!"
-Emperor Ferlin the Second, speech to Elmekian nobles
Chapter Eleven
Wine flowed in Castle Elmekun's immense feasthall.
No, Duke Salemir Elmekun decided, it wasn't just the wine, although the vintages were filling his senses. Reds, whites, roses, all the sorts were there. All of the bottles were of excellent stock, of excellent years. His brother would never have suffered anything less than perfection for any event he would attend himself, especially in their ancestral home.
"His Lordship Salemir Elin Sar Elmekun, Duke of the Westlands!" the guard at the door called, and all of the feasting table were immediately silent as he made his way through them. He saw envy in many eyes, and fear in many more others. He understood it. After all, wasn't he the emperor's beloved brother, and the Duke of some of the richest lands in the Empire? They were probably most right in fearing him.
The emperor himself, of course, came to greet him, all expensive clothes, swathed in the finest perfumes and a mountain of gold and jewels, as well as the ruby-encrusted crown, which had served as the Emperor's power for centuries on his head. His hand was heartily extended as he came up. "Salemir! By the Gods, its good to see you!"
"And I you, Highness." he said, and meant it.
"Fah! No titles between the two of us, never! Come! I am certain you are starved after the long road you had! Come, follow me and we can feast!" he turned to the staring nobles "You may all continue."
Weathering the strong clap Ferlin gave him, the duke let himself be steered towards a table, which was raised over all others, passing dogs, which fed over the scraps of food the people threw down. Looking at the way some of the exalted guests ate; Salemir briefly wondered which was the most piggish - man or dog.
Seven chairs occupied the imperial table, laid out in white linen and covered with enough food to feed forty strong men, the centremost being the tallest as a matter of course. He recognized the five who sat with him and his brother. To the right of the emperor's chair sat the empress, wearing more jewels than the emperor himself, and looking as beautiful as ever. She gave him a nod that gave the appearance of someone in full possession of herself. Of course all of that beauty was nothing but appearance. Nahani - was that her name? - was in fact so scatter-brained, so utterly empty-headed that he actually never cared for her at all.
The other four were the king's children - three boys - with the oldest actually a young man now - and one of them a girl. Of the four she was the only one who had a brain. He sat next to her with mixed feelings. He was glad that he wouldn't have to prattle with the superficial fools the emperor's sons were turning out to be, least of all the supremely arrogant heir to the throne. But yet he didn't like her presence all that much either. This woman was bloodthirsty, more than Salemir's own father had been at his worst moments, and lacking the mental focus the dead emperor had.
She was supremely different. And supremely dangerous. It was thus with some discomfort that he waited to be served by the servant. His glass was filled with a liquid he immediately recognized but that few others outside conaisseurs, wealthy people and royalty could. A relatively sombre liquid, more violet than red, and with the scent of wildflowers.
He looked at his brother. "Elven wine?"
"Indeed. Mipross may have disappeared from the face of our world, yet still some elven merchants come and sell wares at times. And at steep prices too, as I'm quite sure you know."
He did. A bottle of elven wine was worth ten bottles of excellent human ones - and was worth every gold piece. He drank a bit of it; let the subtle taste flow through him.
"Uncle, I have heard that Lumeris is close to falling to our forces."
Zerfei. He knew it. The young princess couldn't do anything else but talk of battles and warfare. She was tedious that way, but also unavoidable. "Yes, the Lumerians have lost the war. We control three quarters of their territory proper, with most of their mines and places of production. Yet the King of Lumeria has stubbornly refused my last attempt at surrendering."
His brother picked up a large piece of red deer meat with a knife. "Excellent my brother. I knew that I could count on you." he bit into the meat, tearing a large chunk of it, chewing and swallowing before returning to the conversation. "I intend to return with you, to see the end of this arrogant little Kingdom with my own eyes.
He set his lips at that. He could understand his emperor's wish. They were doing what their father had prepared, and what every other emperor had dreamed of since Lumeria traitorously chose to abandon the empire. But his brother was also forgetting that he was the leader of Elmekia, and that he couldn't allow such wishes to cloud his judgement to his other duties. Still he couldn't say it.
Ferlin, however, shrewdly guessed his thoughts. "I know, Salemir. I know how dangerous this might be for me. Yet I promised father that I would see Lumeris fall, and I intend to honor that vow."
"I understand that, Your Highness." he said. "I too promised certain things to father. One of which was that I would not let you plunge into foolhardy battle."
"Ahhh. That explains why you always work so hard to push me out of the way everytime there is even a little action!" The emperor chortled. Salemir shifted in discomfort, and the chortle faded, although the smile remained. "Calm yourself, my dear brother. You shall keep your vow to father as well. I will simply go to observe the city's fall."
"If that is the case, may I ask to come with you, father?"
This innocent-looking sentence had the honour of acquiring the Salemir's attention, not to mention that of the emperor and his wife. The princess sat there as if her remark was as normal as could be. It didn't surprise the duke, however, and from the way his brother sighed, it came as no surprise to the girl's father.
"No, Zerfei."
"Father-"
"I said no." he repeated, his voice now as commanding as Salemir had ever seen it "I have no intention of discussing it. You are not one who should be anywhere near a battlefield, and as long as I have breath you shall not! Am I making myself very clear, daughter?"
For a moment it seemed as if Ferlin would have to explain things further, for she looked about to speak, her eyebrows crossed in a terrible frown. Then she stopped, as if a new thought had struck her, smoothing her face and replacing the bitter anger with a certain show of deference that didn't lack a certain stiffness.
"I understand, father. I accept your decision."
Salemir exchanged a look with his brother. That had been too easy. Of all of the emperor's children, Zerfei was the most intelligent and the most stubborn. She had an idea inside her pretty head, and that alone didn't bode well. He missed Valmatia all the more. Even more intelligent than her cousin, she could have pierced her plans easily where they would have a hard time of it.
"Talking about moving, my brother." he said, shaking his discomfort "I will soon have to move myself - to my daughter's wedding. With your permission, I will do so as soon as Lumeris falls."
"You do not have to say more, Salemir. Your request is of course granted."
Salemir nodded his thanks, returning to the meal in front of him. He ate sparsely, his mind full of things to come. A city would fall, by his command. But he had been raised and bred to carry battle for his elder brother and make such decisions. It didn't concern him much, although he would have to make certain Zerfei wouldn't start hatching some bloodthirsty scheme.
"Thinking about me, Uncle?" he heard, and turned to see the girl smiling up at him. So innocently. So falsely. She was so dangerous, so very dangerous. "I drink to your health."
And that sentence, for some reason he couldn't fathom, truly put him on edge, sending signals to his old instincts.
He was suddenly certain that he would have to watch that young one very closely from now on.
* * * * * * * * * *
Philionel truly hope that that strange priest - Xellos, was it? He always seemed to forget the man's name, even his face - was right. They had little time left for mistakes if they ever hoped to not only save Berwen, but also manage to stop the sorcerers who captured her to use the Lost Lores.
Lost Lores...that very name made any cultured man or woman shiver. They were spells and artefacts used long ago in the War of Resurrection, many of said items having been handed down by the Dragon Kings, and some others crafted by the long-gone elven Spellsmiths. A few had even been crafted by humans, most from the hand of the three most powerful of that time - Lei Magnus, Oerlus the Silent and Falana of the Five Winds. They had been used mostly against the Mazoku, and then also against Lei Magnus and then both as he was found to be the receptacle for one of Shabranigdu's seven pieces.
The war itself had been relatively short - three years according to estimates. But the toll had been high, shattering the power of the ancient elves forever, weakening the dragons to a state they hadn't recovered until today, and leaving humans nearly extinct, surrounded by monsters created in the turmoil of the war. Yet, humans had survived, and managed to scrounge enough so that one thousand years later, its power could be said the approach the Elves', if not exactly.
It took two centuries for humans to rebuild a true semblance of civilization, struggling under monstrous attacks, ravages from tyrants and warlords, with only a few small city-states managing to live up to the old morals the elves had dictated and overseen for three thousand years prior to the War of Resurrection. It had taken even longer for mankind to grow back to what it was, and then to grow beyond. Yet, this might never have happened, if the heroes who survived the war hadn't wisely decided to seal most of the Lost Lores away. Humans had certainly been the better for it.
He had no intention of letting this prosperity fouled by the madness of a few power-maddened spellcasters, not while he lived, by Ceipheed! Justice commanded he acted, and acted quickly.
And now everything was in the hands of a possibility they were about to try. Here. In the chamber his distant ancestor had ordered built and endowed with his powers, far beneath the main halls of Sailune's royal castle.
"This had better work." he mused to himself. He hadn't meant for his softly-voiced comment to be heard, but the acoustics in the place carried his voice to all corners. The three with him looked at him. And, as usual, Lionel answered as if the question had been asked solely for his benefit.
"There is no reason to think that it will not, Prince Philionel." he said "Given the strong magic I sense here, I think there's a certain logic in using magic to, as they say, unlock the door." He walked to one of the pedestals, the one with the silver sculpture, as Narie strolled to the bronze one.
"Besides," Xellos cheerfully reminded them "There's no better plan on what to do here!" Irritating, but it was the truth, and they all knew it.
"Lets get started then." Lionel announced, his hand hovering over the cup-like formation before the statue. "Ready, Narie?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Let's do it then." his hand began to glow bright red. "FIRE BURST!" he said, and the small ball of fire impacted on the silver cup, At once a red glow formed there as well, growing brighter. "Now, Narie!"
"AQUA BURST!" The priestess shouted, and a watery mass conjured from the moisture in the air also lanced out and struck the intended place. The glow, a blue one, also intensified. Bother reached a crescendo, and sudden a burst of blue light shot from it a mere instant after a red one did from the other side.
"Leaving the immediate vicinity of the beams might be a good idea!" Xellos said even as the two backed away precipitously. The beams started to angle, raking on the ceiling, until both hit a point above, hitting something unseen. At once there was a terrific flash, and energy crackled in it, humming, powerful.
"GET AWAY FROM THAT SPOT!" Lionel shouted, and slammed into Naries, bringing her down as she screamed in fright. Philionel also ducked, but saw that Xellos hadn't moved. Instead the priest seemed fascinated by the rippling forces they had unleashed, his smile actually more bemused than amused. Cursing under his breath, his dedication to justice strongly on his mind, Phil rose once again, and gripped the priest by the shoulder, meaning to tear him away.
But at that time the flashing energy stopped, the light, which was so blinding dimmed, and all became normal. Except for one element. Right were the immense light had struck, stood a man. Dressed in archaic priest robes, of average height and slighter-than average build, a man looked out with brown eyes shining with command and wisdom, wisdom made all the stronger by the grey which ran in his average-length brown air. He wasn't exactly what one would have called handsome, yet there was something about this man that told that, wherever he walked, eyes followed, be they male or female.
The strange man gave a slight smile, ripe with hidden secrets and yet very winning, and spoke in the voice of one used to being listened to. "Welcome, friends, to my Vault. Long has such a moment been prepared for."
Lionel and Narie came to their feet - actually Narie nearly threw the man on top of her off in her haste. They, like Phil and Xellos, stared. And then Xellos laughed merrily. Like it was all a good joke he had just understood. The man frowned slightly as a look of recognition flared in the intelligent eyes.
"Ahhh, rich! Incredible! I AM impressed!" Xellos chuckled "I never thought you'd actually manage this, but you were always unnaturally powerful when it came to life and death."
The man nodded. "I needed assurance, as you well know I did." was the simple reply. "It has been a long time, Xellos."
That made Phil, who had stood flaggerbasted by the whole exchange, jump. "Wait! Wait! You know Xellos. You're accent is archaic, and your clothes..." he took a deep breath as a possibility came to him "Who...who are you?"
The man seemed to reflect on that. "My name was once Saiel Kedgara...but I was known most of my life as Sai Lune."
"Sai Lune!" He gasped, and he heard similar noises from his friends. He wanted to shout, call this man an impostor, and tell the deluded man that Sai Lune had died nine and a half centuries before. But he found that he couldn't. Not because of the man's strange appearance, or the charisma he felt coming in waves. No. That he could handle, he could explain it. He could have even declared it an hoax, but it wasn't. There was something he felt, deep within his soul, that family was before him. A family removed by dozens of generations, but family nonetheless.
Thus, for the first time in his life, Philionel Di Sailune, Heir to the Throne of the continent's most powerful Kingdom, bent his knee to someone and felt that it was proper, deserved and necessary all in one. "Sai Lune, father of Sailune. I welcome you to your home."
This show of deference, accentuated by Lionel and Narie also kneeling, seemed to put the man ill at ease. "Please friends," the legendary man said in a voice which spoke of discomfort. "Do not...do not kneel to me. My time as a ruler was never one I liked. I was never a king, though I held the title for some years, but a priest. Now rise, I beg you. Our time is short."
Philionel rose uncertainly, not knowing and not caring what the other did at that time. "I...Sir...Your Holiness...I...I am Philionel Di Sailune, Crown Prince of Sailune. It is the highest honour to meet you face to face." then he stopped as the priest's words hit him. "Our time is short? Then you have not returned?"
A slow, firm shake of the head was the answer. "The magic I used only allows me a very short time upon this plane. I do not begrudge it. I have lived my time, and now have moved beyond this life."
Narie spoke up at once. "Then, Holiness, please hear us! The artefacts you sealed are in the wrong hands, and we need guidance to stop the evil.
Sai Lune's look was grim. "That is ill tidings. But so be it. You came with good intentions, and so I will help you. Come! Tell me of this evil, so that I might render what assistance I can!"
* * * * * * * * * *
Maybe it was the form shifting in pain as the spells of old were heaped upon it. Maybe it was the fact that although they couldn't hear the screams or, for that matter, truly see the person inside the filled energy tube, that they could easily interpret every twitch, everything about the body language. Maybe it was the simple fact of being there, helping the process along and not helping one bit. Maybe it was something else altogether. He didn't know. He didn't want to know.
But despite it all, Mellinius truly felt sick as he helped the transformation of a human into a full chimera.
"This is what we have been looking for, my friends. This is what we need to achieve our goals!" Dallomir crowed, eyes bright as he looked upon the writhing female he was using as an experiment with what could only be termed madness.
Our goals? Mellinius reflected bitterly. The goal was supposed to have been to find ways to find a spell or an artefact that would assure Lumeria's victory, or at least even the odds. But now, after all that time, Dallomir had done nothing. Hadn't cared one bit about the realm he had sworn to serve to the best of his abilities. And the end results were clear. The empire had crushed everything in its path, smashing forts and strongholds, looting and pillaging at will. The kingdom had never stood a chance faced with the well-oiled juggernaught it had faced, cut off by imperial scheming from the other countries which had power enough to make Elmekia stop its invasion.
Even now, he had learned to his dismay, the capital was under siege. In mere days, it would fall, the royal family would be killed or exiled, and Lumeria would be no more. He could have wept. But times weren't come for weeping like a child. Dallomir had been rendered utterly insane by the power he had found, and had chosen to create an abomination from the War of Resurrection. Someone had to stop him.
One way or another, Mellinus would be there if an opportunity came.
"I have a question, if I may." he asked, tearing his eyes away from the victim in the magical solution, not wishing to read what he was supposed to read. Dallomir shifted his bright gaze to him and nodded quickly. "I have heard...I read some years ago that Lei Magnus was able to create chimeras from humans much more simply than this. Why are we using this method?"
Dallomir's insane face lighted. "A good question. You are quite right. Lei Magnus created two kinds of chimeras. The first, and simplest, were an amalgam, a fusing of a stone golem's skin and natural endurance with the powers of a bluestorm Mazoku. They were simple enough to create given the right spell - which I have found amongst other things." he pointed to the magical prison and torture chamber "This, however, is more than that. This was his masterpiece. Fusing a spellcaster with the power of a red drake, a more powerful Mazoku, and the strength and endurance and skin of a steel golem. Even more so, this spell involves the control of the chimera's mind. She will be completely under my control."
If only the man could know how little Mellinius cared to see a being of such potential power come under control of anyone. Jomekin, who sniffed and nearly tossed his own incantation down, interrupted his brooding.
"I'm all for doing some experimentation, Dallomir. But that doesn't serve my purpose. Where is MY payment! Where is the spell which can help me look like a man, and not like a child with an adult voice?"
"Patience, my friend."
"NO. Enough of patience. My patience is nonexistent and will remain so until I have a satisfactory answer!"
Dallomir looked as if he might frown, then sighed as if the demand was only a small - albeit annoying - problem. "As you wish. I have found useful leads into possible cures in the scrolls. The faster we achieve this, the faster we can tackle this problem, wouldn't you say?"
What truly surprised Mellinius was that Jomekin swallowed this whole? No hesitation, no suspicion from a man who had built his life upon distrust, deceit and suspicion. But then again the man-child has always been so fixated on his cure that he sometimes appeared to forget everything else in the hopes he had. Presently, he briefly considered Dallomir's words, and then nodded.
"Then we shouldn't waste anymore time." he stated.
Dallomir actually sighed, but the strange light remained in his eyes. "Haste makes waste as they say. But you're right. Let us stop dawdling. Each of you take place in your circle of power. Let the ceremony begin!"
It was all Mellinus could do not to drag his feet as he walked to one of the runic circles, which made a great triangle around the captive. His mind was whirling. Surely there was something he could do. There must be! But what? Sullenly, lost, sick, he nonetheless took his place as instructed.
Almost at once, almost shaking in glee, Dallomir began, reciting his part.
Upon you the three terms, bestowed will be;
On your human form of old, the last time ever see;
First comes the Golem, steel for your bone;
Upon your old flesh, strength it will hone;
Take thee the first term, on your fallen throne;
Bid farewell to the flesh, as I so condone!
The effect was immediate the trapped female spellcaster began to trash, as if burned from every side. The essence was called upon, the power of the steel golem. There had to be a way to stop this, but he couldn't see it, he just couldn't see it! Curse him for allowing things to progress this far! He HAD to do something, but what?
Jomekin was now spreading his words, looking at his enchantment, concentrating. The golem had been called, now it was time to invoke the power of the Mazoku. The child man raised his hand, his eyes closed, as he summoned his willpower.
Second comes the Mazoku, power beyond your own;
Upon your old soul, magic shall it be known;
Take thee the second term, on your form prone;
Bid farewell to human soul, as I so condone!
This was impossible. How could such a thing be happening?!? What had he done? Had he been so blind that he hadn't known of this madness? Hadn't he even considered that this would happen?
And a voice answered for him, a small voice deep inside his own soul, one he had never wanted to hear, but now could only surrender to: Yes, you knew. You knew that Dallomir had lost his mind; you knew he had ever since his demanding wife died. You knew that Jomekin was so desperate for a cure that he'd follow Dallomir no matter what, no matter his own dangerous cunning and abilities. Don't delude yourself - you knew! You knew something terrible might happen, and yet you did nothing!
No! No...
Yes. You are a coward, Mellinius. And because of this you are as responsible of this as your master!
He nodded in his mind, closing his eyes in the real world. All of it was right. Now his blindness exploded into light, and he grope about for a solution that didn't exist. Didn't exist? Maybe...maybe...
"Mellinius!" Dallomir thundered, "Invoke your own spell. Invoke the last part of the terms! NOW!"
Seizing upon a faint hope, not knowing what effect it would have, Mellinius attempted to atone by utilizing a cowardly tactic: he changed the wording.
Third comes the Mind, forget memories flown;
Upon your old ways, shatter mind be lone;
Take thee the third term, on the spirit's groan;
Bid farewell to whole mind, as I so condone!
Ceipheed, forgive me, he thought as he finished and sealed the pact.
* * * * * * * * * *
Hallia couldn't keep the amusement from showing in her face as she saw Marcus struggle to keep his balance against Loerik's onslaught. The sorcerer had been the one to suggest that, if magic failed, they should know how to handle a blade adequately, and had quickly drafted the two swordsmen in the group as instructors. Both had grumbled intensively, Zasthla promising nothing to those who lagged behind her training schedule. Loerik had only harrumphed extensively before giving his assent.
And so they had bought a sword for Hallia, and the training had started. Or, rather, the bruising had started, for the trio had found itself in the hands of two hard taskmasters. Of the three, Fezra appeared to be the most able in swordsmanship, but she was overshadowed by Zashtla's skills, which in turn were eclipsed by Loerik's. The two had, after an hour of practice, decided that Fezra and Marcus were very basic while Hallia knew nothing at all, and had set to work based on that.
Hallia had never used a sword. Her training had been magical, and the temple she had been in didn't approve of priestesses using hand-held weapons. Besides, she remembered being taught, she wasn't supposed to go into combat - more experienced priests and soldiers would always surround her. Her given task was to heal, not to fight the battles themselves.
How far these days seemed, before they had been shattered by a savage attack, which had killed all of her friends save one.
Marcus was an extremely talented and powerful wizard, but only a fair swordsman. He was fighting with all of his might, straining to add speed to thrusts and parries, but his adversary's blade always met his with a grace he couldn't duplicate. Loerik, for his part, looked bored. Not surprising really. Descended from the mythical Gabriev himself, and direct descendant of the legendary Swordsman of Light, he had told her he had been trained for fighting ever since he could walk.
"Is that what makes you so strong? I always imagined the Sword of Light was what gave you your power." she had asked once, long ago it seemed. He had taken the question seriously, taking his time before answering.
"That's a part of it, I guess." he'd answered, "But, see, its also because we learn how to fight as little kids. When I was ten, I probably already knew more tricks than an ordinary soldier did. By fifteen, I could outfight any elf warrior save the royal guards themselves. Sure, the power comes from the sword, but it also comes from...err...tradition I guess."
That had been the end of that. The man wasn't the brightest star in the sky, and mostly kept to himself, but she had found his answer intriguing. It had taken the frightening duel with crazed Kalarus to make her realize how real what he had said had been. Gabrievs were powerful warriors. And dangerous ones.
"Yieegk!"
The rather inarticulate cry announced the end of the spar as Marcus' sword flew out of his hand, the momentum carrying the sorcerer backward. The blade hit the ground at the same time as the man's behind did. Before another move might be made, a very casual Loerik held Marcus at sword point.
"Better than before, Marcus." he said "But you got to remember that slashing isn't always the best way to fight an opponent. You have good attacks, but they're predictable to a trained warrior." he held out his hand, and the other man grudgingly let the other help him to his feet. Beside Hallia, Fezra yawned and stretched while Zasthla looked on. Of them all, she was the least interested in these sessions.
"Okay. Nice match, even if we all knew whom the winner would be!" she announced.
"You lost your own sparring against me today." Zasthla reminded her magic-wielding friend. A negligent wave was the answer she received.
"Picky, picky. But I guess we do need it here, being what, three days from that crazy bastard's lair? As far as I'm concerned, every mean that'll allow us to rescue Berwen is top in my list, but I'm getting a little winded. How 'bout just calling it a day?"
Surprisingly, the swordswoman nodded, a miracle given the last days in which she had been adamant for more and more training. "I think we can go along with that. How about it, Loerik?"
"No problem here. I'm getting hungry. Lets fix up lunch, why don't we? Whose turn is it?"
Marcus groaned. "That would be me. Oh well, at least I can make the stew without adding far too much spices like SOME sorceresses I could name."
"I most certainly do NOT put too much spice in my stew. It perfect!" the danger in Fezra's tone, which usually made people back off and whimper, always seemed lost on the one on the receiving end of it.
"Perfect to lose all sense of taste, you mean." he deadpanned.
"What? Ohh, you're asking for it, you arrogant piece of-"
The sharp but good-natured bickering continued, and Zashtla winked at her before following after the two. They were a queer duo - always bickering about something, but it seemed to be one of the things that attracted them to one another as well.
"Think we'll have edible food after that?" Loerik said when he came near her. Dressed as he was in only his breeches and boots, he cut an impressive sight, with a lean but impressive musculature, which only added to the handsome face he sported. Most women, she knew, wouldn't be able to resist the sight, and she found herself in the same situation. Damn the man!
"What? Err, yeah, heh, yeah we should if they, you know..." she trailed off, fully knowing how foolish she sounded. She felt her face grow hot. Hot! Was she blushing? She hoped not. She didn't want to. Fumbling against her own sudden nervousness, she risked a look at the swordsman's face, only to find him looking in the direction the others had trailed off to, a distinctive look of hesitation.
Suddenly she laughed, the ridicule of the entire situation getting to her. The man shot her a befuddled, confused look, probably wondering whether she'd lost her head a bit, and she couldn't really blame him. It was simply too funny! She had thought they'd been past that point since the battle against Kalarus' mercenaries, but obviously she still felt like an apprentice at her first lesson every time she was alone with Loerik.
"Look at us!" she finally exclaimed when she could speak. "You'd think we're some little kids wondering if we can steal some candy!"
He couldn't help but grin at the vivid image she gave. "I guess we do look like that right now. Lucky Fezra isn't here to see it, we'd never hear the end of it!"
Hallia sighed. At the same time, it would be a boon to have Fezra ribbing them - the sorceress was less and less like herself, no matter how she tried to continue as if nothing was wrong. They all knew that she was terribly worried about Berwen. To be truthful, she was the only one who probably was. Berwen had mostly kept to herself, so that she stood outside the strengthening bonds of friendship. Fezra, Loerik, Marcus, Zashtla and herself made the core, a core she could have been a part of. Instead of that others, like Philionel and even poor Narie had become more part of the group than she ever did. They wanted to rescue her, right. But unlike Fezra, they didn't feel attachment to that task.
Her thoughts put her into such a brooding mood that her next actions came without warning. She put her arms around Loerik and hugged him. An instant of hesitation followed as the swordsman reeled a bit, but soon she found his arms hugging her back, fiercely protective. She pressed herself more strongly against him.
"Loerik..." she swallowed, this was less easy than she'd thought it would be. But she had to ask. "Do you have any...any experience?" It should have sent him into a perplexing round of questions, which she feared, but instead he seemed to understand the context immediately.
"No." he told her solemnly "I wasn't...interested...in...that sort of...no, I'm not."
She felt relieved. At least they'd start on the same footing, without one having to teach the other to catch up. The image was funny too, and she almost giggled, but nervousness and burning want prevented it. "Then...then kiss me. And this time, I don't want you to let me go. I want it and so do you."
Her fear suddenly evaporated as he kissed her, and as their exchange became more and more passionate, a thought came to her, unbidden: Yes. This is the one. This is the one I want to remain with for the rest of my life.
* * * * * * * * * *
Sai Lune took his time in considering what had been said, and Xellos couldn't help but remember the days when they had met so long ago. More than once, actually. He could remember these instances well, even now after such a long time...
The first time had been during a battle the Mazoku had had against a force of humans and Elves. He had fought off and killed many of both races, only to find himself repulsed by the high-level White Magic spells of one human. It had been a distressing and irritating event - the first time he had been thwarted by any race. He had the power to annihilate a legion of dragon warriors - and had done so more than once, but his powers were dampened, cut off by spells no human should have been able to call upon. It seemed like the priest was able to call on Ceipheed's very essence at times.
Other clashes had followed, but as they wore on, he became more interested in the meeting itself than in the combat value. He stopped trying very hard, and instead focused himself on understanding humans as well as he could. Sai Lune had been a prime subject.
So he had fought what he was ordered to fight, but for the rest remained in the sidelines, watching the formation of the Triad, of its narrowly-successful victories, until Shabranigdu's rebirth and the final battle that his race had lost because of the suicidal powers the Water Dragon King had used against them.
He had followed the priest as he led a large cluster of human survivors, and had visited him. Ah, how the time flew. He had seen this interesting race, the humans, rise faster than he would have imagined, however. Primitive a thousand years ago, they were now nearly on par with elven civilization, a feat which should have taken at least a millennia more.
"You concerns are genuine." the legendary priest stated at last "The spells we sealed below the elven ruins contained information on transmutation and the making of chimeras, as well as artefacts which could enhance magical powers."
Philionel grimaced, something, which made his displeasing face actually look fearsome. "I've noticed that very personally. But since you're the guardian of this cache so to speak, could you have something which might help us fight them on more...equal grounds?"
Sai Lune pondered this, and Xellos retained a smirk as he cheerfully answered. "By the way, the history books say that you chose this place to found your village because of a divine vision. What's the real reason?" he knew it, he didn't need to ask it, but he so loved the irritation and utter confusion which came his way! So invigorating. The only thing, which came from the priest, however, was puzzlement.
"Well, that's easy enough to explain: my wife was heavy with our first child, and there were many tired people in the caravan. I looked for the first place that seemed rather clear of monsters, with abundance of game and water and building materials, found this place and settled! It was as simple as that. Need drives people to new heights, and there was great need."
If only the man could realize how he'd just shattered what had been seen as a rock-solid fact in the history of the kingdom. He knew for a fact that the historians had exaggerated many of Sai Lune's actions. There were, of course, some actions - his acts during the War of Resurrection, the way he had maintained morale and hope the first hard years after his settlement had been founded - which came very close to the truth. Xellos knew he had been truly remarquable as far as humans saw things. But it was fun to see the man confronted to legends of his time.
Philionel appeared quite nonplussed by the whole event, but recovered with a cough. "Err, yes, fascinating Your Holiness. But about the magic we might use?"
"Yes. Quite. You did well in coming here. As you know, protection spells are those in which priests are the strongest, aside from those of healing and purification. During my days in the Mazoku War...um...your War of Resurrection...Several devices were bestowed to us by what remained of Ceipheed. They could protect us from most magics, including any forbidden spells."
"That's exactly what we'd need!" Lionel exclaimed suddenly "Could you give them to us, Holiness?"
Sai Lune flinched at the last word. Xellos smiled. Late in his life, Sai Lune had led the remnants of the priestly orders and had been given this surname as a sign of reverence. The Mazoku knew he had always hated the term. "Patience, friend, patience!" he said jovially "No need to get excited! I don't think you know how peculiar artefacts like those are."
The legendary priest nodded. "Yes. These devices can't be used by anybody. It needs a person of great magical power to link with it. Not only that, but aside from power the will must be decent, or Ceipheed's holiness will reject it. I had the power and the will necessary, and so did a few others. Do you know any who might have both and so wield these holy items?"
They stopped, considering. From Lionel's expression, one couldn't tell the frustration the man felt, but Phil's face only showed his worry. The answer, however, came from the broken-spirited Narie, who stepped forward with the air of someone who wasn't broken at all.
"We have two friends who, I'm certain, will be able to use your items, Your Holiness. They are good people, and powerful sorcerers both." she said.
"Then so be it."
At once Sai Lune stretched out both hands, palms upward, and frowned as he gathered power one last time on the material plane. Xellos could easily feel the energies gather, powerful energies that a normal human could never have gathered so quickly, yet which barely strained the man. Power crackled from his hands, coalescing until a dual flash emanated. The priest presented what he had called from a vault Xellos presumed only he could access and nodded in remembrance.
It looked like two silver armlet, with the image of the flare dragon carved exquisitely upon it. No dragon, elf or man could ever match that perfection, that being formed from the power of the only one save the Mother of All Things who could defeat the Darklord of the Mazoku, Shabranigdu. He had to strengthen himself not to hiss in dismay at the sheer amount of white magic he felt concentrated in these objects.
"Have your friends put one each." the priest explained "And recite these words while concentrating their will: Guardian of The Light, Flare Dragon of the Infinite, lend my thy Strength and protect my humble form from harm. If they are good enough, and powerful enough, they should activate then." Sai Lune's form flashed for a moment, and he smiled sadly. "My leased time upon this plane is almost at an end. Take these, and go."
After a moment, his face solemn, Philionel stepped forward and took them. Although he towered upon the other man, he looked upon the priest as if he was a massive statue. Xellos grinned as he felt discomfort seeping from the ancient hero.
"Sir, it was an honor to meet you."
"No, my friend. It was an honor to meet YOU. I am glad to see there are still good folk in my bloodline. Power has not corrupted you yet. Keep being like, this, and you will rule very well." His face then changed, becoming grimmer. "Could you come farther off for a moment? I have something I fear are for your hears only."
The crown prince seemed surprised, but accepted. Excusing themselves, they went farther off and spoke quickly. Philionel's face changed, becoming worried and grim before he smoothed it away. Narie and Lionel only looked on in thinly veiled interest. Xellos, as for him, had other senses with which to peek.
They returned, and Sai Lune's form flashed again -a stronger flash, longer this time. His time was up, it seemed. Gently, he bid them all good-bye. "I wish you luck on your journey. May you stop new horrors from coming forth."
They left, respectfully, still dazed by the incredible encounter, with only Phil looking extremely preoccupied. Xellos didn't leave at once. Once the others had left, he turned to his enemy of old. "I know what you told the prince."
"Yes. I felt you eavesdropping. It is in the hands of faith now." the priest sighed. "Farewell, Trickster Priest."
"Farewell, Holy Priest."
Sai Lune flashed a third time, and when the light vanished, so had he. Xellos smiled at this, but his smile was tinged with something he rarely allowed himself to feel: regret.
_________________________________________________
Mazoku War: Terms by which the War of Resurrection was designated by those who had fought it or lived during its time.
Yet, how could we know that this terrible war which ended a nation and rattled so many social elements was a simple prelude to something much more dire?"
-Lionel Greysword's memoirs
"There is no Lumeria. There is only a region which believed could break away from the Empire. Today, fair gentles and ladies, we set things right! Today we make Elmekia whole once more!"
-Emperor Ferlin the Second, speech to Elmekian nobles
Chapter Eleven
Wine flowed in Castle Elmekun's immense feasthall.
No, Duke Salemir Elmekun decided, it wasn't just the wine, although the vintages were filling his senses. Reds, whites, roses, all the sorts were there. All of the bottles were of excellent stock, of excellent years. His brother would never have suffered anything less than perfection for any event he would attend himself, especially in their ancestral home.
"His Lordship Salemir Elin Sar Elmekun, Duke of the Westlands!" the guard at the door called, and all of the feasting table were immediately silent as he made his way through them. He saw envy in many eyes, and fear in many more others. He understood it. After all, wasn't he the emperor's beloved brother, and the Duke of some of the richest lands in the Empire? They were probably most right in fearing him.
The emperor himself, of course, came to greet him, all expensive clothes, swathed in the finest perfumes and a mountain of gold and jewels, as well as the ruby-encrusted crown, which had served as the Emperor's power for centuries on his head. His hand was heartily extended as he came up. "Salemir! By the Gods, its good to see you!"
"And I you, Highness." he said, and meant it.
"Fah! No titles between the two of us, never! Come! I am certain you are starved after the long road you had! Come, follow me and we can feast!" he turned to the staring nobles "You may all continue."
Weathering the strong clap Ferlin gave him, the duke let himself be steered towards a table, which was raised over all others, passing dogs, which fed over the scraps of food the people threw down. Looking at the way some of the exalted guests ate; Salemir briefly wondered which was the most piggish - man or dog.
Seven chairs occupied the imperial table, laid out in white linen and covered with enough food to feed forty strong men, the centremost being the tallest as a matter of course. He recognized the five who sat with him and his brother. To the right of the emperor's chair sat the empress, wearing more jewels than the emperor himself, and looking as beautiful as ever. She gave him a nod that gave the appearance of someone in full possession of herself. Of course all of that beauty was nothing but appearance. Nahani - was that her name? - was in fact so scatter-brained, so utterly empty-headed that he actually never cared for her at all.
The other four were the king's children - three boys - with the oldest actually a young man now - and one of them a girl. Of the four she was the only one who had a brain. He sat next to her with mixed feelings. He was glad that he wouldn't have to prattle with the superficial fools the emperor's sons were turning out to be, least of all the supremely arrogant heir to the throne. But yet he didn't like her presence all that much either. This woman was bloodthirsty, more than Salemir's own father had been at his worst moments, and lacking the mental focus the dead emperor had.
She was supremely different. And supremely dangerous. It was thus with some discomfort that he waited to be served by the servant. His glass was filled with a liquid he immediately recognized but that few others outside conaisseurs, wealthy people and royalty could. A relatively sombre liquid, more violet than red, and with the scent of wildflowers.
He looked at his brother. "Elven wine?"
"Indeed. Mipross may have disappeared from the face of our world, yet still some elven merchants come and sell wares at times. And at steep prices too, as I'm quite sure you know."
He did. A bottle of elven wine was worth ten bottles of excellent human ones - and was worth every gold piece. He drank a bit of it; let the subtle taste flow through him.
"Uncle, I have heard that Lumeris is close to falling to our forces."
Zerfei. He knew it. The young princess couldn't do anything else but talk of battles and warfare. She was tedious that way, but also unavoidable. "Yes, the Lumerians have lost the war. We control three quarters of their territory proper, with most of their mines and places of production. Yet the King of Lumeria has stubbornly refused my last attempt at surrendering."
His brother picked up a large piece of red deer meat with a knife. "Excellent my brother. I knew that I could count on you." he bit into the meat, tearing a large chunk of it, chewing and swallowing before returning to the conversation. "I intend to return with you, to see the end of this arrogant little Kingdom with my own eyes.
He set his lips at that. He could understand his emperor's wish. They were doing what their father had prepared, and what every other emperor had dreamed of since Lumeria traitorously chose to abandon the empire. But his brother was also forgetting that he was the leader of Elmekia, and that he couldn't allow such wishes to cloud his judgement to his other duties. Still he couldn't say it.
Ferlin, however, shrewdly guessed his thoughts. "I know, Salemir. I know how dangerous this might be for me. Yet I promised father that I would see Lumeris fall, and I intend to honor that vow."
"I understand that, Your Highness." he said. "I too promised certain things to father. One of which was that I would not let you plunge into foolhardy battle."
"Ahhh. That explains why you always work so hard to push me out of the way everytime there is even a little action!" The emperor chortled. Salemir shifted in discomfort, and the chortle faded, although the smile remained. "Calm yourself, my dear brother. You shall keep your vow to father as well. I will simply go to observe the city's fall."
"If that is the case, may I ask to come with you, father?"
This innocent-looking sentence had the honour of acquiring the Salemir's attention, not to mention that of the emperor and his wife. The princess sat there as if her remark was as normal as could be. It didn't surprise the duke, however, and from the way his brother sighed, it came as no surprise to the girl's father.
"No, Zerfei."
"Father-"
"I said no." he repeated, his voice now as commanding as Salemir had ever seen it "I have no intention of discussing it. You are not one who should be anywhere near a battlefield, and as long as I have breath you shall not! Am I making myself very clear, daughter?"
For a moment it seemed as if Ferlin would have to explain things further, for she looked about to speak, her eyebrows crossed in a terrible frown. Then she stopped, as if a new thought had struck her, smoothing her face and replacing the bitter anger with a certain show of deference that didn't lack a certain stiffness.
"I understand, father. I accept your decision."
Salemir exchanged a look with his brother. That had been too easy. Of all of the emperor's children, Zerfei was the most intelligent and the most stubborn. She had an idea inside her pretty head, and that alone didn't bode well. He missed Valmatia all the more. Even more intelligent than her cousin, she could have pierced her plans easily where they would have a hard time of it.
"Talking about moving, my brother." he said, shaking his discomfort "I will soon have to move myself - to my daughter's wedding. With your permission, I will do so as soon as Lumeris falls."
"You do not have to say more, Salemir. Your request is of course granted."
Salemir nodded his thanks, returning to the meal in front of him. He ate sparsely, his mind full of things to come. A city would fall, by his command. But he had been raised and bred to carry battle for his elder brother and make such decisions. It didn't concern him much, although he would have to make certain Zerfei wouldn't start hatching some bloodthirsty scheme.
"Thinking about me, Uncle?" he heard, and turned to see the girl smiling up at him. So innocently. So falsely. She was so dangerous, so very dangerous. "I drink to your health."
And that sentence, for some reason he couldn't fathom, truly put him on edge, sending signals to his old instincts.
He was suddenly certain that he would have to watch that young one very closely from now on.
* * * * * * * * * *
Philionel truly hope that that strange priest - Xellos, was it? He always seemed to forget the man's name, even his face - was right. They had little time left for mistakes if they ever hoped to not only save Berwen, but also manage to stop the sorcerers who captured her to use the Lost Lores.
Lost Lores...that very name made any cultured man or woman shiver. They were spells and artefacts used long ago in the War of Resurrection, many of said items having been handed down by the Dragon Kings, and some others crafted by the long-gone elven Spellsmiths. A few had even been crafted by humans, most from the hand of the three most powerful of that time - Lei Magnus, Oerlus the Silent and Falana of the Five Winds. They had been used mostly against the Mazoku, and then also against Lei Magnus and then both as he was found to be the receptacle for one of Shabranigdu's seven pieces.
The war itself had been relatively short - three years according to estimates. But the toll had been high, shattering the power of the ancient elves forever, weakening the dragons to a state they hadn't recovered until today, and leaving humans nearly extinct, surrounded by monsters created in the turmoil of the war. Yet, humans had survived, and managed to scrounge enough so that one thousand years later, its power could be said the approach the Elves', if not exactly.
It took two centuries for humans to rebuild a true semblance of civilization, struggling under monstrous attacks, ravages from tyrants and warlords, with only a few small city-states managing to live up to the old morals the elves had dictated and overseen for three thousand years prior to the War of Resurrection. It had taken even longer for mankind to grow back to what it was, and then to grow beyond. Yet, this might never have happened, if the heroes who survived the war hadn't wisely decided to seal most of the Lost Lores away. Humans had certainly been the better for it.
He had no intention of letting this prosperity fouled by the madness of a few power-maddened spellcasters, not while he lived, by Ceipheed! Justice commanded he acted, and acted quickly.
And now everything was in the hands of a possibility they were about to try. Here. In the chamber his distant ancestor had ordered built and endowed with his powers, far beneath the main halls of Sailune's royal castle.
"This had better work." he mused to himself. He hadn't meant for his softly-voiced comment to be heard, but the acoustics in the place carried his voice to all corners. The three with him looked at him. And, as usual, Lionel answered as if the question had been asked solely for his benefit.
"There is no reason to think that it will not, Prince Philionel." he said "Given the strong magic I sense here, I think there's a certain logic in using magic to, as they say, unlock the door." He walked to one of the pedestals, the one with the silver sculpture, as Narie strolled to the bronze one.
"Besides," Xellos cheerfully reminded them "There's no better plan on what to do here!" Irritating, but it was the truth, and they all knew it.
"Lets get started then." Lionel announced, his hand hovering over the cup-like formation before the statue. "Ready, Narie?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Let's do it then." his hand began to glow bright red. "FIRE BURST!" he said, and the small ball of fire impacted on the silver cup, At once a red glow formed there as well, growing brighter. "Now, Narie!"
"AQUA BURST!" The priestess shouted, and a watery mass conjured from the moisture in the air also lanced out and struck the intended place. The glow, a blue one, also intensified. Bother reached a crescendo, and sudden a burst of blue light shot from it a mere instant after a red one did from the other side.
"Leaving the immediate vicinity of the beams might be a good idea!" Xellos said even as the two backed away precipitously. The beams started to angle, raking on the ceiling, until both hit a point above, hitting something unseen. At once there was a terrific flash, and energy crackled in it, humming, powerful.
"GET AWAY FROM THAT SPOT!" Lionel shouted, and slammed into Naries, bringing her down as she screamed in fright. Philionel also ducked, but saw that Xellos hadn't moved. Instead the priest seemed fascinated by the rippling forces they had unleashed, his smile actually more bemused than amused. Cursing under his breath, his dedication to justice strongly on his mind, Phil rose once again, and gripped the priest by the shoulder, meaning to tear him away.
But at that time the flashing energy stopped, the light, which was so blinding dimmed, and all became normal. Except for one element. Right were the immense light had struck, stood a man. Dressed in archaic priest robes, of average height and slighter-than average build, a man looked out with brown eyes shining with command and wisdom, wisdom made all the stronger by the grey which ran in his average-length brown air. He wasn't exactly what one would have called handsome, yet there was something about this man that told that, wherever he walked, eyes followed, be they male or female.
The strange man gave a slight smile, ripe with hidden secrets and yet very winning, and spoke in the voice of one used to being listened to. "Welcome, friends, to my Vault. Long has such a moment been prepared for."
Lionel and Narie came to their feet - actually Narie nearly threw the man on top of her off in her haste. They, like Phil and Xellos, stared. And then Xellos laughed merrily. Like it was all a good joke he had just understood. The man frowned slightly as a look of recognition flared in the intelligent eyes.
"Ahhh, rich! Incredible! I AM impressed!" Xellos chuckled "I never thought you'd actually manage this, but you were always unnaturally powerful when it came to life and death."
The man nodded. "I needed assurance, as you well know I did." was the simple reply. "It has been a long time, Xellos."
That made Phil, who had stood flaggerbasted by the whole exchange, jump. "Wait! Wait! You know Xellos. You're accent is archaic, and your clothes..." he took a deep breath as a possibility came to him "Who...who are you?"
The man seemed to reflect on that. "My name was once Saiel Kedgara...but I was known most of my life as Sai Lune."
"Sai Lune!" He gasped, and he heard similar noises from his friends. He wanted to shout, call this man an impostor, and tell the deluded man that Sai Lune had died nine and a half centuries before. But he found that he couldn't. Not because of the man's strange appearance, or the charisma he felt coming in waves. No. That he could handle, he could explain it. He could have even declared it an hoax, but it wasn't. There was something he felt, deep within his soul, that family was before him. A family removed by dozens of generations, but family nonetheless.
Thus, for the first time in his life, Philionel Di Sailune, Heir to the Throne of the continent's most powerful Kingdom, bent his knee to someone and felt that it was proper, deserved and necessary all in one. "Sai Lune, father of Sailune. I welcome you to your home."
This show of deference, accentuated by Lionel and Narie also kneeling, seemed to put the man ill at ease. "Please friends," the legendary man said in a voice which spoke of discomfort. "Do not...do not kneel to me. My time as a ruler was never one I liked. I was never a king, though I held the title for some years, but a priest. Now rise, I beg you. Our time is short."
Philionel rose uncertainly, not knowing and not caring what the other did at that time. "I...Sir...Your Holiness...I...I am Philionel Di Sailune, Crown Prince of Sailune. It is the highest honour to meet you face to face." then he stopped as the priest's words hit him. "Our time is short? Then you have not returned?"
A slow, firm shake of the head was the answer. "The magic I used only allows me a very short time upon this plane. I do not begrudge it. I have lived my time, and now have moved beyond this life."
Narie spoke up at once. "Then, Holiness, please hear us! The artefacts you sealed are in the wrong hands, and we need guidance to stop the evil.
Sai Lune's look was grim. "That is ill tidings. But so be it. You came with good intentions, and so I will help you. Come! Tell me of this evil, so that I might render what assistance I can!"
* * * * * * * * * *
Maybe it was the form shifting in pain as the spells of old were heaped upon it. Maybe it was the fact that although they couldn't hear the screams or, for that matter, truly see the person inside the filled energy tube, that they could easily interpret every twitch, everything about the body language. Maybe it was the simple fact of being there, helping the process along and not helping one bit. Maybe it was something else altogether. He didn't know. He didn't want to know.
But despite it all, Mellinius truly felt sick as he helped the transformation of a human into a full chimera.
"This is what we have been looking for, my friends. This is what we need to achieve our goals!" Dallomir crowed, eyes bright as he looked upon the writhing female he was using as an experiment with what could only be termed madness.
Our goals? Mellinius reflected bitterly. The goal was supposed to have been to find ways to find a spell or an artefact that would assure Lumeria's victory, or at least even the odds. But now, after all that time, Dallomir had done nothing. Hadn't cared one bit about the realm he had sworn to serve to the best of his abilities. And the end results were clear. The empire had crushed everything in its path, smashing forts and strongholds, looting and pillaging at will. The kingdom had never stood a chance faced with the well-oiled juggernaught it had faced, cut off by imperial scheming from the other countries which had power enough to make Elmekia stop its invasion.
Even now, he had learned to his dismay, the capital was under siege. In mere days, it would fall, the royal family would be killed or exiled, and Lumeria would be no more. He could have wept. But times weren't come for weeping like a child. Dallomir had been rendered utterly insane by the power he had found, and had chosen to create an abomination from the War of Resurrection. Someone had to stop him.
One way or another, Mellinus would be there if an opportunity came.
"I have a question, if I may." he asked, tearing his eyes away from the victim in the magical solution, not wishing to read what he was supposed to read. Dallomir shifted his bright gaze to him and nodded quickly. "I have heard...I read some years ago that Lei Magnus was able to create chimeras from humans much more simply than this. Why are we using this method?"
Dallomir's insane face lighted. "A good question. You are quite right. Lei Magnus created two kinds of chimeras. The first, and simplest, were an amalgam, a fusing of a stone golem's skin and natural endurance with the powers of a bluestorm Mazoku. They were simple enough to create given the right spell - which I have found amongst other things." he pointed to the magical prison and torture chamber "This, however, is more than that. This was his masterpiece. Fusing a spellcaster with the power of a red drake, a more powerful Mazoku, and the strength and endurance and skin of a steel golem. Even more so, this spell involves the control of the chimera's mind. She will be completely under my control."
If only the man could know how little Mellinius cared to see a being of such potential power come under control of anyone. Jomekin, who sniffed and nearly tossed his own incantation down, interrupted his brooding.
"I'm all for doing some experimentation, Dallomir. But that doesn't serve my purpose. Where is MY payment! Where is the spell which can help me look like a man, and not like a child with an adult voice?"
"Patience, my friend."
"NO. Enough of patience. My patience is nonexistent and will remain so until I have a satisfactory answer!"
Dallomir looked as if he might frown, then sighed as if the demand was only a small - albeit annoying - problem. "As you wish. I have found useful leads into possible cures in the scrolls. The faster we achieve this, the faster we can tackle this problem, wouldn't you say?"
What truly surprised Mellinius was that Jomekin swallowed this whole? No hesitation, no suspicion from a man who had built his life upon distrust, deceit and suspicion. But then again the man-child has always been so fixated on his cure that he sometimes appeared to forget everything else in the hopes he had. Presently, he briefly considered Dallomir's words, and then nodded.
"Then we shouldn't waste anymore time." he stated.
Dallomir actually sighed, but the strange light remained in his eyes. "Haste makes waste as they say. But you're right. Let us stop dawdling. Each of you take place in your circle of power. Let the ceremony begin!"
It was all Mellinus could do not to drag his feet as he walked to one of the runic circles, which made a great triangle around the captive. His mind was whirling. Surely there was something he could do. There must be! But what? Sullenly, lost, sick, he nonetheless took his place as instructed.
Almost at once, almost shaking in glee, Dallomir began, reciting his part.
Upon you the three terms, bestowed will be;
On your human form of old, the last time ever see;
First comes the Golem, steel for your bone;
Upon your old flesh, strength it will hone;
Take thee the first term, on your fallen throne;
Bid farewell to the flesh, as I so condone!
The effect was immediate the trapped female spellcaster began to trash, as if burned from every side. The essence was called upon, the power of the steel golem. There had to be a way to stop this, but he couldn't see it, he just couldn't see it! Curse him for allowing things to progress this far! He HAD to do something, but what?
Jomekin was now spreading his words, looking at his enchantment, concentrating. The golem had been called, now it was time to invoke the power of the Mazoku. The child man raised his hand, his eyes closed, as he summoned his willpower.
Second comes the Mazoku, power beyond your own;
Upon your old soul, magic shall it be known;
Take thee the second term, on your form prone;
Bid farewell to human soul, as I so condone!
This was impossible. How could such a thing be happening?!? What had he done? Had he been so blind that he hadn't known of this madness? Hadn't he even considered that this would happen?
And a voice answered for him, a small voice deep inside his own soul, one he had never wanted to hear, but now could only surrender to: Yes, you knew. You knew that Dallomir had lost his mind; you knew he had ever since his demanding wife died. You knew that Jomekin was so desperate for a cure that he'd follow Dallomir no matter what, no matter his own dangerous cunning and abilities. Don't delude yourself - you knew! You knew something terrible might happen, and yet you did nothing!
No! No...
Yes. You are a coward, Mellinius. And because of this you are as responsible of this as your master!
He nodded in his mind, closing his eyes in the real world. All of it was right. Now his blindness exploded into light, and he grope about for a solution that didn't exist. Didn't exist? Maybe...maybe...
"Mellinius!" Dallomir thundered, "Invoke your own spell. Invoke the last part of the terms! NOW!"
Seizing upon a faint hope, not knowing what effect it would have, Mellinius attempted to atone by utilizing a cowardly tactic: he changed the wording.
Third comes the Mind, forget memories flown;
Upon your old ways, shatter mind be lone;
Take thee the third term, on the spirit's groan;
Bid farewell to whole mind, as I so condone!
Ceipheed, forgive me, he thought as he finished and sealed the pact.
* * * * * * * * * *
Hallia couldn't keep the amusement from showing in her face as she saw Marcus struggle to keep his balance against Loerik's onslaught. The sorcerer had been the one to suggest that, if magic failed, they should know how to handle a blade adequately, and had quickly drafted the two swordsmen in the group as instructors. Both had grumbled intensively, Zasthla promising nothing to those who lagged behind her training schedule. Loerik had only harrumphed extensively before giving his assent.
And so they had bought a sword for Hallia, and the training had started. Or, rather, the bruising had started, for the trio had found itself in the hands of two hard taskmasters. Of the three, Fezra appeared to be the most able in swordsmanship, but she was overshadowed by Zashtla's skills, which in turn were eclipsed by Loerik's. The two had, after an hour of practice, decided that Fezra and Marcus were very basic while Hallia knew nothing at all, and had set to work based on that.
Hallia had never used a sword. Her training had been magical, and the temple she had been in didn't approve of priestesses using hand-held weapons. Besides, she remembered being taught, she wasn't supposed to go into combat - more experienced priests and soldiers would always surround her. Her given task was to heal, not to fight the battles themselves.
How far these days seemed, before they had been shattered by a savage attack, which had killed all of her friends save one.
Marcus was an extremely talented and powerful wizard, but only a fair swordsman. He was fighting with all of his might, straining to add speed to thrusts and parries, but his adversary's blade always met his with a grace he couldn't duplicate. Loerik, for his part, looked bored. Not surprising really. Descended from the mythical Gabriev himself, and direct descendant of the legendary Swordsman of Light, he had told her he had been trained for fighting ever since he could walk.
"Is that what makes you so strong? I always imagined the Sword of Light was what gave you your power." she had asked once, long ago it seemed. He had taken the question seriously, taking his time before answering.
"That's a part of it, I guess." he'd answered, "But, see, its also because we learn how to fight as little kids. When I was ten, I probably already knew more tricks than an ordinary soldier did. By fifteen, I could outfight any elf warrior save the royal guards themselves. Sure, the power comes from the sword, but it also comes from...err...tradition I guess."
That had been the end of that. The man wasn't the brightest star in the sky, and mostly kept to himself, but she had found his answer intriguing. It had taken the frightening duel with crazed Kalarus to make her realize how real what he had said had been. Gabrievs were powerful warriors. And dangerous ones.
"Yieegk!"
The rather inarticulate cry announced the end of the spar as Marcus' sword flew out of his hand, the momentum carrying the sorcerer backward. The blade hit the ground at the same time as the man's behind did. Before another move might be made, a very casual Loerik held Marcus at sword point.
"Better than before, Marcus." he said "But you got to remember that slashing isn't always the best way to fight an opponent. You have good attacks, but they're predictable to a trained warrior." he held out his hand, and the other man grudgingly let the other help him to his feet. Beside Hallia, Fezra yawned and stretched while Zasthla looked on. Of them all, she was the least interested in these sessions.
"Okay. Nice match, even if we all knew whom the winner would be!" she announced.
"You lost your own sparring against me today." Zasthla reminded her magic-wielding friend. A negligent wave was the answer she received.
"Picky, picky. But I guess we do need it here, being what, three days from that crazy bastard's lair? As far as I'm concerned, every mean that'll allow us to rescue Berwen is top in my list, but I'm getting a little winded. How 'bout just calling it a day?"
Surprisingly, the swordswoman nodded, a miracle given the last days in which she had been adamant for more and more training. "I think we can go along with that. How about it, Loerik?"
"No problem here. I'm getting hungry. Lets fix up lunch, why don't we? Whose turn is it?"
Marcus groaned. "That would be me. Oh well, at least I can make the stew without adding far too much spices like SOME sorceresses I could name."
"I most certainly do NOT put too much spice in my stew. It perfect!" the danger in Fezra's tone, which usually made people back off and whimper, always seemed lost on the one on the receiving end of it.
"Perfect to lose all sense of taste, you mean." he deadpanned.
"What? Ohh, you're asking for it, you arrogant piece of-"
The sharp but good-natured bickering continued, and Zashtla winked at her before following after the two. They were a queer duo - always bickering about something, but it seemed to be one of the things that attracted them to one another as well.
"Think we'll have edible food after that?" Loerik said when he came near her. Dressed as he was in only his breeches and boots, he cut an impressive sight, with a lean but impressive musculature, which only added to the handsome face he sported. Most women, she knew, wouldn't be able to resist the sight, and she found herself in the same situation. Damn the man!
"What? Err, yeah, heh, yeah we should if they, you know..." she trailed off, fully knowing how foolish she sounded. She felt her face grow hot. Hot! Was she blushing? She hoped not. She didn't want to. Fumbling against her own sudden nervousness, she risked a look at the swordsman's face, only to find him looking in the direction the others had trailed off to, a distinctive look of hesitation.
Suddenly she laughed, the ridicule of the entire situation getting to her. The man shot her a befuddled, confused look, probably wondering whether she'd lost her head a bit, and she couldn't really blame him. It was simply too funny! She had thought they'd been past that point since the battle against Kalarus' mercenaries, but obviously she still felt like an apprentice at her first lesson every time she was alone with Loerik.
"Look at us!" she finally exclaimed when she could speak. "You'd think we're some little kids wondering if we can steal some candy!"
He couldn't help but grin at the vivid image she gave. "I guess we do look like that right now. Lucky Fezra isn't here to see it, we'd never hear the end of it!"
Hallia sighed. At the same time, it would be a boon to have Fezra ribbing them - the sorceress was less and less like herself, no matter how she tried to continue as if nothing was wrong. They all knew that she was terribly worried about Berwen. To be truthful, she was the only one who probably was. Berwen had mostly kept to herself, so that she stood outside the strengthening bonds of friendship. Fezra, Loerik, Marcus, Zashtla and herself made the core, a core she could have been a part of. Instead of that others, like Philionel and even poor Narie had become more part of the group than she ever did. They wanted to rescue her, right. But unlike Fezra, they didn't feel attachment to that task.
Her thoughts put her into such a brooding mood that her next actions came without warning. She put her arms around Loerik and hugged him. An instant of hesitation followed as the swordsman reeled a bit, but soon she found his arms hugging her back, fiercely protective. She pressed herself more strongly against him.
"Loerik..." she swallowed, this was less easy than she'd thought it would be. But she had to ask. "Do you have any...any experience?" It should have sent him into a perplexing round of questions, which she feared, but instead he seemed to understand the context immediately.
"No." he told her solemnly "I wasn't...interested...in...that sort of...no, I'm not."
She felt relieved. At least they'd start on the same footing, without one having to teach the other to catch up. The image was funny too, and she almost giggled, but nervousness and burning want prevented it. "Then...then kiss me. And this time, I don't want you to let me go. I want it and so do you."
Her fear suddenly evaporated as he kissed her, and as their exchange became more and more passionate, a thought came to her, unbidden: Yes. This is the one. This is the one I want to remain with for the rest of my life.
* * * * * * * * * *
Sai Lune took his time in considering what had been said, and Xellos couldn't help but remember the days when they had met so long ago. More than once, actually. He could remember these instances well, even now after such a long time...
The first time had been during a battle the Mazoku had had against a force of humans and Elves. He had fought off and killed many of both races, only to find himself repulsed by the high-level White Magic spells of one human. It had been a distressing and irritating event - the first time he had been thwarted by any race. He had the power to annihilate a legion of dragon warriors - and had done so more than once, but his powers were dampened, cut off by spells no human should have been able to call upon. It seemed like the priest was able to call on Ceipheed's very essence at times.
Other clashes had followed, but as they wore on, he became more interested in the meeting itself than in the combat value. He stopped trying very hard, and instead focused himself on understanding humans as well as he could. Sai Lune had been a prime subject.
So he had fought what he was ordered to fight, but for the rest remained in the sidelines, watching the formation of the Triad, of its narrowly-successful victories, until Shabranigdu's rebirth and the final battle that his race had lost because of the suicidal powers the Water Dragon King had used against them.
He had followed the priest as he led a large cluster of human survivors, and had visited him. Ah, how the time flew. He had seen this interesting race, the humans, rise faster than he would have imagined, however. Primitive a thousand years ago, they were now nearly on par with elven civilization, a feat which should have taken at least a millennia more.
"You concerns are genuine." the legendary priest stated at last "The spells we sealed below the elven ruins contained information on transmutation and the making of chimeras, as well as artefacts which could enhance magical powers."
Philionel grimaced, something, which made his displeasing face actually look fearsome. "I've noticed that very personally. But since you're the guardian of this cache so to speak, could you have something which might help us fight them on more...equal grounds?"
Sai Lune pondered this, and Xellos retained a smirk as he cheerfully answered. "By the way, the history books say that you chose this place to found your village because of a divine vision. What's the real reason?" he knew it, he didn't need to ask it, but he so loved the irritation and utter confusion which came his way! So invigorating. The only thing, which came from the priest, however, was puzzlement.
"Well, that's easy enough to explain: my wife was heavy with our first child, and there were many tired people in the caravan. I looked for the first place that seemed rather clear of monsters, with abundance of game and water and building materials, found this place and settled! It was as simple as that. Need drives people to new heights, and there was great need."
If only the man could realize how he'd just shattered what had been seen as a rock-solid fact in the history of the kingdom. He knew for a fact that the historians had exaggerated many of Sai Lune's actions. There were, of course, some actions - his acts during the War of Resurrection, the way he had maintained morale and hope the first hard years after his settlement had been founded - which came very close to the truth. Xellos knew he had been truly remarquable as far as humans saw things. But it was fun to see the man confronted to legends of his time.
Philionel appeared quite nonplussed by the whole event, but recovered with a cough. "Err, yes, fascinating Your Holiness. But about the magic we might use?"
"Yes. Quite. You did well in coming here. As you know, protection spells are those in which priests are the strongest, aside from those of healing and purification. During my days in the Mazoku War...um...your War of Resurrection...Several devices were bestowed to us by what remained of Ceipheed. They could protect us from most magics, including any forbidden spells."
"That's exactly what we'd need!" Lionel exclaimed suddenly "Could you give them to us, Holiness?"
Sai Lune flinched at the last word. Xellos smiled. Late in his life, Sai Lune had led the remnants of the priestly orders and had been given this surname as a sign of reverence. The Mazoku knew he had always hated the term. "Patience, friend, patience!" he said jovially "No need to get excited! I don't think you know how peculiar artefacts like those are."
The legendary priest nodded. "Yes. These devices can't be used by anybody. It needs a person of great magical power to link with it. Not only that, but aside from power the will must be decent, or Ceipheed's holiness will reject it. I had the power and the will necessary, and so did a few others. Do you know any who might have both and so wield these holy items?"
They stopped, considering. From Lionel's expression, one couldn't tell the frustration the man felt, but Phil's face only showed his worry. The answer, however, came from the broken-spirited Narie, who stepped forward with the air of someone who wasn't broken at all.
"We have two friends who, I'm certain, will be able to use your items, Your Holiness. They are good people, and powerful sorcerers both." she said.
"Then so be it."
At once Sai Lune stretched out both hands, palms upward, and frowned as he gathered power one last time on the material plane. Xellos could easily feel the energies gather, powerful energies that a normal human could never have gathered so quickly, yet which barely strained the man. Power crackled from his hands, coalescing until a dual flash emanated. The priest presented what he had called from a vault Xellos presumed only he could access and nodded in remembrance.
It looked like two silver armlet, with the image of the flare dragon carved exquisitely upon it. No dragon, elf or man could ever match that perfection, that being formed from the power of the only one save the Mother of All Things who could defeat the Darklord of the Mazoku, Shabranigdu. He had to strengthen himself not to hiss in dismay at the sheer amount of white magic he felt concentrated in these objects.
"Have your friends put one each." the priest explained "And recite these words while concentrating their will: Guardian of The Light, Flare Dragon of the Infinite, lend my thy Strength and protect my humble form from harm. If they are good enough, and powerful enough, they should activate then." Sai Lune's form flashed for a moment, and he smiled sadly. "My leased time upon this plane is almost at an end. Take these, and go."
After a moment, his face solemn, Philionel stepped forward and took them. Although he towered upon the other man, he looked upon the priest as if he was a massive statue. Xellos grinned as he felt discomfort seeping from the ancient hero.
"Sir, it was an honor to meet you."
"No, my friend. It was an honor to meet YOU. I am glad to see there are still good folk in my bloodline. Power has not corrupted you yet. Keep being like, this, and you will rule very well." His face then changed, becoming grimmer. "Could you come farther off for a moment? I have something I fear are for your hears only."
The crown prince seemed surprised, but accepted. Excusing themselves, they went farther off and spoke quickly. Philionel's face changed, becoming worried and grim before he smoothed it away. Narie and Lionel only looked on in thinly veiled interest. Xellos, as for him, had other senses with which to peek.
They returned, and Sai Lune's form flashed again -a stronger flash, longer this time. His time was up, it seemed. Gently, he bid them all good-bye. "I wish you luck on your journey. May you stop new horrors from coming forth."
They left, respectfully, still dazed by the incredible encounter, with only Phil looking extremely preoccupied. Xellos didn't leave at once. Once the others had left, he turned to his enemy of old. "I know what you told the prince."
"Yes. I felt you eavesdropping. It is in the hands of faith now." the priest sighed. "Farewell, Trickster Priest."
"Farewell, Holy Priest."
Sai Lune flashed a third time, and when the light vanished, so had he. Xellos smiled at this, but his smile was tinged with something he rarely allowed himself to feel: regret.
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Mazoku War: Terms by which the War of Resurrection was designated by those who had fought it or lived during its time.