It Could Be Worse (3rd Season)
Episode 14: Prophecies
By Sulia Serafine
[A Protector of the Small fanfic set in an alternate universe; all credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.
E-mail me at silverwlng@aol.com okay? And you know the drill: titles or subjects of emails are fanfiction.net, s.serafine, or icbw.
IMPORTANT NOTE: I'm still accepting people into the mailing list. That means you'll be told when the next episode is posted, as well as other tidbits of information about the series whenever I put them online. ALSO: Every now and then, as a pledge, I'll send everyone bonus material, such as drawings of ICBW characters and little random facts about ICBW.
Rating of this episode: R for violence, brief mentions of gore, and a reasonable dose of dark evil things that go bump in the night. Think of an action movie with creepy monsters… Succubae being slutty (how original) oh, and a series of bad jokes by Neal, Joren, and Fal. Don't let that discourage you! KEL AND JOREN REUNION!
~~
Keladry woke up early the next morning. She dressed very quickly in dark clothing provided by the castle attendants. She had not enjoyed the company of the dark-eyed women, who spoke very little to her and stared as if Keladry were food to eat. Hoping to avoid any morning assistance from them, she crept out of her room before dawn.
It wasn't too long before she found the hall that would lead to her brothers' room. The guard recognized her and saluted. He unlocked the door without speaking. Keladry moved past him quickly. There was something about all the occupants of the castle that she didn't like, but she couldn't put her finger on it. The fact that her brothers and their crew were still behind locked doors didn't help things either.
Most of the men were asleep. Her brothers, however, were both awake. Conal, holding a small candle, poured over a thick dusty book in the corner. He looked up, saw her, and went back to his reading. Rather than feel offended, Keladry rationalized that he was still angry about being held in the castle against his will.
Inness was eating a piece of bread that had some sort of purple jelly spread on it. A servant must have already come and tended to her brothers, since both appeared as if they had washed and had eaten.
"Hi," she whispered, taking a seat beside him on the floor. The high window cast broad stripes of light across their bodies.
He moved over so the light didn't shine in his eyes too brightly. "Hey, Kel. Hungry?"
She nodded. He turned around and picked up another piece of bread on the tray that was covered with the jelly. He handed it to her and continued eating his own piece. When she finished, he peered at her quietly. Keladry consciously tucked locks of hair behind her ears.
"When do you think we'll be able to leave?" he asked.
"I don't know. Cleon will probably order them to let us go, but I don't know if he'll be allowed to leave. He is king of this place."
Inness smiled. "There is a big chance that they have never heard of abdication."
"That could be a problem," Keladry agreed solemnly.
They sat together in silence for another hour. She tried to remember if they had ever sat quietly like this when they were younger. As far as her mind could recall, Keladry had always sought out isolated places in the house to do her studying in. Inness, however, had constantly studied in the kitchen or the living room where he could pause his studying and talk with Anders or any other family member.
Keladry pulled her knees up to her chest and watched her brother, who was still gazing into empty space. She hesitated before speaking. "Inness?"
He flinched. "Yes?"
"I'm sorry that I don't know you better. You… or Conal… or anyone else."
Her brother frowned slightly. "What's that supposed to mean? I'm your brother. Of course you know me."
She shook her head. "That's the problem. I don't. And you don't know me."
Inness brushed the crumbs off his fingers and folded his arms defiantly across his chest. He leaned back on the wall and gave her a challenging look. "Try me."
"What's my favorite color?"
He paused. "Baby blue."
"Wrong," she replied quietly.
"That's a trick question!" Inness objected in a loud whisper. "You don't have a favorite color. You hated having favorite anything."
Keladry considered his words. "True."
Inness rolled his eyes. He shifted around and leaned against his sister so they were shoulder to shoulder. He nudged her side with his elbow playfully. "We'll do the twenty questions thing when we go home. There's plenty of time to get reacquainted."
From across the room, the other Mindelan sibling listened. He didn't dare to look over his shoulder at the display of familial affection that he refused to participate in. It was Inness' fault that they were trapped in the Black City. And it was Keladry's fault that her own brother didn't know anything about her.
Conal blamed himself for other things just as much as he blamed his siblings. But that didn't matter at the moment. He wanted to leave the Yamanis. Yet, he also didn't wish to return to Irontown. Something else had to be out there, waiting for him to claim it. Then he wouldn't be the good-for-nothing son anymore. It was a goal worth fighting for.
He gripped his candle tighter and turned a page. The history of the Black City was more interesting than he had anticipated. Perhaps he had been a little hasty to demand a speedy departure from the place he was being held captive in. He let his earlier anger with his family fade into the background as he opened up a door in his mind.
Opportunity was knocking. Conal wouldn't make it wait.
Gradually, the other crewmembers began to wake up. Servants, both men and women this time, entered carrying trays of food and basins to wash with. After everyone had woken, fed, and dressed, a man in black trailing robes typical of the royal advisors entered the room. A cowl was pulled over his face.
Keladry stood and approached him. "Sir?"
"Morning business is about to commence. Your presence is requested by His Majesty."
"You mean Cleon, right?"
The man bowed. "I refer to His Majesty."
I'll take that as a yes, Keladry thought, sighing inwardly. She bowed quickly in return and followed him out the door. Her brother's crew was murmuring behind her. They were probably wondering if she could get them home again. There was only one way to find out.
Yesterday, she had almost memorized the path from the throne room to the place where they were keeping Inness and Conal. Now they traveled to a different location. Keladry, confused, couldn't remember the turns they were taking that very moment because she was trying to compare it to other paths in the castle that she had come close to figuring out.
They halted in front of a large set of doors. Two torches burned brightly on either side. Three guards were posted here, each wielding a different weapon. Faleron was seated on the dusty hallway floor, peeling an orange over a cloth spread on his lap. When the former thief saw her, he picked up the corners of his cloth and scooped up his breakfast into a neat bundle. He got to his feet and hailed her.
"Good morning! Have a nice sleep?"
She shrugged. "I suppose so." She looked at the doors. "Are we going in or what?"
"Cleon is having a talk with one of his advisors." He glanced at the robed man beside Keladry. "Do you know what this is about?"
The man gestured toward the doors. "You will see soon enough."
Before they could talk again, the doors opened. Two of the guards stepped aside and genuflected on one knee each. Cleon stood before them. He was dressed in the same black and gold garments from the day before—large soft sleeves and a brocaded collar that matched the adornments on his shoes. He was twirling the golden circlet crown on his finger as if it were a Frisbee. When he saw his two friends, he grinned and ushered them in.
"What have you been doing?" Keladry asked.
Another man was already in the room. Like the others they'd seen, he wore his signature black robes. But unlike anyone else, this man wore many golden and bejeweled rings on his thin tapering fingers. He inclined his head toward Cleon again as the redhead reentered the room.
"I was just asking Maggur here about letting you all return home. He's the head chamberlain, whatever that is," Cleon said. He sat on the edge of a large bed covered with red and gold satin cushions.
She now noticed that they must have been in the king's chambers. Everything was laden with treasures and the most expensive luxuries she had ever seen. They were fond of using velvet in rich colors, thrown over all the furniture as if they were afraid it would go out of style. Even golden statues of animals were scattered as carelessly as one would scatter toys. Perfume permeated the air. It tickled her nostrils. Three simple wooden chairs were set up in a semicircle at the foot of the bed. Apparently, only Cleon was allowed to have a nice seat.
"Please, guys, take a load off. I don't think this should take too long, but everything's about formalities here," Cleon said. He leaned casually on his bedpost, now having put his crown back on without another thought.
The chamberlain sat down with an air of elegance and grace. He smiled cordially at his new sovereign. "Your Highness, may I say that you have settled so naturally into your destined role as king. Such a sight to behold! An honor!"
Faleron directed an unimpressed look toward Keladry, sharing his thoughts very openly to communicate his annoyance. He returned to peeling his orange. Cleon paid no attention to them. He was grinning from ear to ear, quite absorbed in his own image. It was certainly a change from round-the-clock reprimands given by his boss and coworkers.
"Cleon? Back to business?" Faleron prompted with none of the respect that Maggur had shown. He had never treated Cleon like anything more than an equal and he wasn't about to start.
The redhead blinked. He sat up. "Right! Maggur, I would like my friends transported back to the eastern coast so that they might return home."
"What about Joren or Neal? We have to find them first. They could be anywhere," Keladry reminded. Despite her calm outward appearance, she was very nervous on the inside. She couldn't imagine where their other friends might be in the vast wilderness of the eastern mountains.
Maggur held out his hands in supplementation. "Your Greatness, we would be pleased to assist your guests in any way. But first, ritual must be performed! Prophecy fulfilled!"
At the last two words, the three Mithrans were mystified. Faleron reacted first, as always. He stood up and glared at the chamberlain.
"What does the prophecy say? All that we were told was that Cleon comes along and you crown him your king. What else is there? What are you hiding from us?"
Cleon and Keladry stood as well. None of them had suspected that there was anything more to the prophecy than that which had already happened. Now the revelation renewed their distrust in the Black City.
The chamberlain got to his feet slowly, as if his brittle bones would snap at any moment. He reached into his voluminous sleeve and extracted a scroll with ivory handles. Unfazed by their hostility, he unfurled the long rolled parchment and began to read.
"As according to the Unnamed Prophet, one shall come… one who is bound by fate to lead his people to victory over all their enemies. He shall come with hair the color of flames and ever-changing eyes—"
Faleron elbowed Cleon. "I thought you had green eyes."
"They change colors in the light," Cleon defended sheepishly.
Maggur continued as if he had never been interrupted at all. "He shall be known from first sight! Where his comrades have fallen, he shall stand triumphant, throwing forth punishment as quick as lightning but subtle as the gentle breeze…"
Oh, please, Keladry thought. The only reason he stood triumphant was because he ran away faster. I could have taken any of those guys without Cleon coming to the rescue. Slightly irritated, she waited for the man to continue with his supposedly awe-inspiring prophecy.
"He shall begin again where his predecessor failed, centuries before. He alone shall tame the dragon that will take vengeance on the Kingdom of Enishijirou from across the mountains! And he alone shall be the cause for his people's rejoicing!"
With those dramatically spoken words, Maggur raised the scroll over his head as if to give tribute to the gods. He began singing in another language, loudly and clearly. It was an assortment of notes that sailed to high pitches, then back down to low ones within a second. Outside the door, the guards could hear. They also took up the song and let it echo throughout the halls of the castle.
Cleon collapsed back onto his bed with a pale face and wide eyes. Faleron sat down beside his friend and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"It could be worse. The prophecy could have asked you to grind our bones to make your bread," he said, smirking slightly.
"Yeah! And then they would have had me fall off a beanstalk and kill myself!" Cleon burst, very distressed. He groaned and put his hands over his ears to shut out Maggur's singing. "I can't tame a dragon! Dragons don't exist!"
The chamberlain ceased his song. He stared at his new king with a mixture of disappointment and disbelief. "Surely His Highness believes in the Dragon of the Lake!"
Faleron raised one eyebrow quizzically. "Dragon of the Lake?"
"Oh, sure I do!" Cleon snapped sarcastically. "Right up there with the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus!"
"Now, I was sure that you did believe in those," his friend mumbled. He tapped his chin and sighed. "I owe Roald twenty Nobles then. That's a first."
Maggur put the scroll away. He lowered his head in farewell. "I shall leave you to prepare yourself, my king, and escort you to the city gates at sunset. It is best to approach the dragon by night. And it is your destiny to tame the dragon and raise up high your city over all others!"
Without so much as another word, Maggur knocked on the door to be led out. The guards were still singing out in the hallway, grinning brightly as they saw a glimpse of their dear king with his flame colored hair. The doors shut again on the three Mithrans, who might have well been in a state of stupefied silence.
Cleon began pacing back and forth across his chambers. He bit gently into one of his knuckles as he put into perspective the bombshell that was figuratively dropped on him. His two companions likewise drifted into their own contemplative moods.
Finally, Faleron got up and went to the large wardrobe in the corner. He threw open the doors and let out a deep breath. "Well, they were definitely preparing for you to go off dragon taming. Here's a pair of pants and a pair of boots…" He blinked and reached forward. He showed them a long whip. "They even provided a riding crop. Hey, let's see if you can't make the thing jump some poles and race it against other studs its size. All horsey-like."
"You're not funny," Cleon grumbled.
The former thief snorted. "Well, I can officially end my life now that I've heard you say that."
Keladry sighed. "Neither of you is being much help. Look, Cleon, we'll go with you." She paused to think back to what Maggur had said. "We could help you, then not tell the public. You alone bring them rejoicing? Okay, fine. They'll never have to know that you had help."
The reluctant King of the Black City stopped his pacing and threw himself facedown onto the bed, burying his head under the pillows. He squirmed childishly and groaned once more. "What the hell do we know about dragons? They're not real! How can we tame one to fight for us and what the hell is the Kingdom of Enishijirou?!"
Faleron, who had been ignoring most of his best friend's tantrum since the beginning, suddenly let out a murmur of appreciation as he found a very useful weapon. He fitted a metal helmet over his head. It also had a shaded visor that covered the eyes. Then he picked up a large metal cylinder with a crudely crafted mechanism on top. He pointed it at Maggur's vacated chair and pulled the trigger. A blaze of fire shot out at the chair and lit the entire thing aflame.
He released the trigger and, cradling the large cylindrical tank in one arm, flipped his visor back. Keladry and Cleon stared at him speechlessly.
"Maybe dragon taming has something to do with showing who can make the bigger bonfire. Seems everywhere you go, people are always bragging about size," he muttered, sighing regretfully. They weren't sure if he was talking about fire or something else that they had no desire to know about.
There was a pitcher of water in Cleon's private washroom that they used to extinguish the chair. Keladry picked up a bottle of perfume and sprayed about randomly to cover up the smell of smoke.
"We have no choice but to prepare for this ordeal, then," Keladry spoke. "Come on, Cleon. Get dressed in those things that are in the wardrobe. Are there any extras, Faleron?"
Faleron tossed out random leather pads, chain mail, and other bits of armor. He dove into the humongous wardrobe after a short cry of surprise and struggled to haul himself out. He showed them his findings. "Look! Isn't this a rather spiffy looking crossbow?"
"Maybe you should have been the dragon tamer," Cleon groused. He slowly began to put on the armors and pads that were tossed in his direction. "Being king was fine. Making decisions? Totally cool! Slaying or taming big huge fictional lizards? No. Nuh-uh. I've had my fill of Immortals and I'd rather just go home to my girlfriend and let her beat up all the bad guys while I crash on the freaking couch."
Faleron pouted. "I've never seen you so sad before." He lifted both eyebrows and brandished the weapon again. "Is it because I have a spiffy crossbow and you don't? Goodness! It could be!"
"Fal!" Keladry scolded.
"Fine, fine. You can have the crossbow. I feel much safer with the medieval blowtorch, anyway."
She rolled her eyes and sat down beside Cleon, comfortingly stroking his back. "We'll help you, Cleon. And then, perhaps when you've come into your full power as king… you can renounce your throne in favor of the chamberlain and come home with us."
"We have to search for Stone and Neal, too," Cleon sniffled from under a mound of pillows. "Not that I like blondie much, but maybe he could deal with the dragon better than I can. They'd probably have lots in common!"
I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, she thought and patted Cleon on the back. "Put on the rest of your armor so we can see what's left over. We're here now, and we'll help you, no matter what."
Cleon took off his fancier golden threaded clothing and traded it for tougher pads of leather and cowhide. He put up with the chain mail and the smaller pieces of armor very well, but he balked when they tried to lower the breastplate and shoulder pads onto him.
He swung about his limbs to get a feel for his limited range of motion. "Argh! I can't face a stupid dragon like this! You might as well hang me on a pole and make barbecue out of me."
"I don't think you'd taste too good," Faleron commented.
He and Keladry took off the breastplate but left the shoulder pads on. It turned out that there was not enough for all three of them to wear effectively. Cleon took the crossbow, a few extra bolts, the blowtorch, and his gun. He gave the sword to Keladry and the dagger to Faleron. He wasn't that good with blades. With all his luck, he probably would have skewered himself.
They spent the day in the king's chambers, trying to think of strategies that they would use to defeat the dragon without killing it, only taking a break when lunch arrived. They considered setting up large traps and cages until Keladry reminded them that this dragon would have to obey them and destroy only their enemies.
"Who I still don't see… Where the hell is Enishijirou? How come we've never heard of it or seen it?" Cleon wondered.
Less than an hour before sunset, they were fast asleep on the floor, leaning their backs against each other. If the dragon taming were to take place at night, they would need their rest. There was a knock at the door. Keladry woke instantly. She got up, causing the other two men to totter over and fall onto the floor on their sides. With Cleon's armor on, it was much harder to get back up.
She opened the door, not at all surprised to see Maggur. The chamberlain greeted her with a thin-lipped smile. He brushed past her and bowed graciously toward Cleon. He stepped aside to allow two servants enter, bearing trays of food for dinner.
"My Liege! I'm glad to see you have finished for preparations and meditations. Please, eat! Then you shall go forth and retrieve our great living weapon!" He raised his hands over his head, his eyes closing briefly.
Faleron came up behind Keladry and whispered, "This guy gets crazier every time we see him."
They sat and ate under Maggur's watchful eye. It was quite uncomfortable with those dark beady eyes staring at them. None of them could work up a sufficient appetite, so the servants were forced to carry away more filled plates than they would have liked. Maggur grinned maniacally.
"O Great King, the time has come, then?"
They stood up and faced him. Cleon stepped forward, balling his hands nervously into fists. "I want them to come with me on this ordeal."
The chamberlain's smile disappeared. He studied Keladry at the redhead's side and Faleron over Cleon's shoulder. Then he leaned toward his king and said to him quietly, "Surely, you're jesting…"
"No. I want them with me or I won't do it at all," Cleon replied firmly. With each second passing, he felt more confident that everything would turn out all right. As long as he stuck beside his friends, nothing could go wrong.
Maggur glared at the other two Mithrans now. He stepped back toward the door, beckoning a guard forward. He whispered something into the man's ear and turned back to them. The look in his old eyes put the three on edge. At once, Keladry thought that perhaps they wouldn't have their request granted.
Cleon stood his ground. He folded his arms across his chest and attempted to appear very superior and noble. "Well? Will you let us pass so that we can get this over with or not?"
The black robed man seemed to be stifling any fury that he felt. "Your Highness! We have always interpreted the scrolls to say that you shall venture forth alone! And it must be so!"
"Well, you interpreted wrong! Now step aside!"
The old chamberlain let out a deep breath. He retreated into the hallway, letting one of the guards come forward to block the doorway.
"You give me no choice then," Maggur said gravely.
Before any of them could react, the grim faced guard raised his arm from where it had been held behind his back. He held up a crossbow and shot it without a moment's hesitation.
Keladry gasped. For a few seconds afterward, she was too afraid to take her eyes off the men in front of her in case they might fire again. Closing her eyes, she tried to push past her shock and discover whether or not she had been the one to be hit. If she had, wouldn't she have felt it? Or was she numb from sheer terror?
No. She was whole and intact. Keladry turned her head to look at Cleon beside her. He was standing as still as she was, as if he were afraid to move and determine whether he had been hit as well. She slowly let her gaze move downward to look at the redhead's body for any injury.
Cleon turned to look at her, his eyes watering with fear. His eyes rolled over her quickly. He let out another deep breath when he saw that she had not been shot. But as soon as that realization of their safety both struck them, they knew the only other outcome.
"Fal?" Cleon whispered.
They turned to look behind them. Faleron was sprawled out on the floor, blood already soaking the whole front of his shirt. A bolt stuck out from his ribs where it had lodged itself. His eyes were wide open, staring straight up. His chest was rising and falling slowly, as if he couldn't get past the pain to concentrate properly on breathing.
At once, they dropped to their knees beside him.
"No!" Cleon cried. He gently touched the edge of the wound, hoping that it was all just a ruse. Faleron moaned slightly and flinched under his touch. Cleon stood and scowled at Maggur. "How could you do that? You shot him!"
Maggur pouted. "It was necessary, Your Majesty." He stepped out from behind the guard. "Now, you will behave your damned royal self and do as we say. We have surgeons, milord. And we'll only summon them if you perform your job."
Meanwhile, Keladry, on the floor, was trying to keep their bleeding friend from losing consciousness. She had been trained to deal with fallen fellow officers injured by more common means. She had no idea how to deal with a medieval weaponry! How could she remove it without adding any more injury to him?
She turned her attention briefly to Cleon, who was so distraught that he had no idea how to answer Maggur's threats.
"Cleon! Just do as he says," Keladry urged. She wet her lips anxiously and tried to form plans in her mind. "If you're destined to do it, then do it."
He shook his head. Tears were streaming down his face. "What about Fal?"
"They said they have surgeons. We have no choice but to trust that, Cleon. I don't know how to help him!" she cried desperately. "I don't know, Cleon. I don't know…"
The despondency in her voice only added to the ache that he felt inside his chest. He stared at his best friend, his front covered in blood. There was a chance that he could live. The bolt looked like it was not as deep as needed to be fatal. He took that hope and held it as tight as he could.
He wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. Glaring at Maggur, he picked up his own crossbow and clipped it onto the leather sling over his back. He also attached the blowtorch and his gun on his belt. He almost threw his helmet at the men before him, but controlled himself and tucked it underneath his arm.
"Good," Maggur breathed. "This way, my king. We shall bestow upon you the map to the Lake and the Shield of the Last King. You shall be triumphant!"
"You mean, you will be," Cleon snarled. He spared one last look at his friends before following his chamberlain out the door. His hands shook. His whole body shook. He didn't know how he could bring himself to do all that was being asked of him. Cleon let out a deep, shuddering breath.
"Healthy and well, milord?"
"I won't be if you break your end of the bargain. If anything happens to my friends or the others, I'll kill your dragon and myself! Then you'll have no chance to fulfill your stupid prophecy!"
Maggur clucked his tongue. "But, Majesty! That wasn't our bargain. You're in no position to dictate the terms of the agreement. You cannot threaten to defy the prophecy if we don't tend to your companions. We, however, reserve the right to employ our surgeons depending on your obedience. Do you understand?"
Cleon remained silent.
"Besides," he added. "There's also the poison to put into consideration."
"What poison?" Cleon asked, his body tense with more fear than he cared to show.
The chamberlain shrugged. "Oh, just a bit of poison on the tip of the bolt. Whether or not we administer the antidote is also up to your good behavior."
"I hate you," Cleon hissed.
"Oh, you'll have much more to hate in a few hours, milord. Take your time." Maggur sneered.
~~
Joren and Neal leaned back to back in the darkness, wary to leave their rears unguarded. Time was approaching nightfall, they knew. They would be able to leave their fifth hiding spot of the day and penetrate further into the guarded city.
During the day, they and the other members of their new rescue party had infiltrated the Black City. They gathered information from eavesdropping on soldiers and stealing documents from the homes of army officers. The whole city had entered a flurry of activity since the new coronation of a monarch that very few had heard about before. Liam, Borealize, and Selirithel had never heard of such things while living at Enishijirou. The news only gave them more cause to carry out their mission as quickly as possible.
They had lowered themselves into the sewers. Neal noticed that it didn't smell half as bad as he thought it would. Images of people simply dumping their trash out the window rather than down the sewer drains entered his head. There was more pollution on the streets than in the sewer simply because the citizens were too stupid to use it.
I didn't think I would be this thankful for their pigsties, he thought as he scrunched up his nose and caught a whiff of something rotten that had made its way down to the sewers after all. He looked across the filthy waterway where the other three men were sitting. Borealize and Selirithel were eating bread they had stolen from the marketplace while Liam sat isolated from the rest, lost in his own thoughts.
"We should get moving again," Liam announced finally. He reached for a rolled up parchment tucked into his belt. They had managed to break into the office of the man in charge of the city's water system and sewers to retrieve blueprints. "The sewers connect to the castle dungeons. We can enter from there."
They traveled through the dark and dank sewers for what seemed like hours but was truly a short time. As they came to the entrance of the dungeons, they silently looked to each other in reassurance. From then on, no one knew what could happen.
The dungeons were empty. The cells were covered with dust. Skeletons of former prisoners laid scattered amongst these cells and also on the entrance from the sewer. They moved past these sights silently and headed toward the door. With all of their joined efforts, they could not force the door open.
Liam whispered something to Selirithel. The dark cloaked man seemed hesitant to do what was asked of him. Eventually, he laid his hand on the lock. In the very dim light, they could just barely make out his lips moving, rapidly whispering words they couldn't hear.
The next thing they heard was a loud click. They pushed the door open easily and crept out into the dark halls of the castle. They split up without speaking anything to each other. It had been understood from the start that they would spread out to search the castle. Each man had been given a charm, an opal hanging on a golden chain, which would signal the others to its location.
Joren and Neal walked together for a short time, completely silent. They didn't mention it, but they preferred to have a person they could trust to be nearby in case something happened.
Eventually, they walked up set of steps in a servants' hall and came to a stop at a four way crossing. They could hear footsteps approaching. Both men exchanged serious looks before they split up and darted in opposite directions. They couldn't look back. Not anymore.
~~
Keladry sat on the floor outside the castle infirmary, leaning against the wall with her head cradled in her hands. She had stayed by Faleron's side for the duration of his surgery. They had been able to remove the cross bolt without too much consequence. Just the same, he had lost a great amount of blood and broken two ribs. And now the surgeons were muttering to each other about something else. When she listened, she could have sworn that they had mentioned poison.
The mere thought made her sick in the stomach. She had kissed Faleron gently on the forehead, leaving him to rest in his bed while she sat outside and tried to gather her senses. His blood was still on her clothing from her assistance carrying him. She was partially thankful that they had given her black shirts and pants. She could hardly tell where the stains were.
The last thing she wanted to see was blood—anyone's blood at that point.
Her head jerked upwards when her ears suddenly picked up the sound of running footsteps. She scrambled to her feet and drew the sword that Cleon had given her, hoping that she could handle it as easily as she did her glaive.
That made her wonder. Where was her glaive?
~~
Joren stopped running. He was almost positively sure that he had just heard the sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath. He could almost picture the metal of the blade sliding against the edge of the scabbard. Having heard the sound so many times within the last week or so, he could identify it easily now.
He drew his own sword, silently, and continued to approach. He kept to the edge of the halls, trying to recall the trick that Selirithel had taught him. He halted again and leaned against the wall, eyeing the assortment of torches and sconces that lined the walls in distanced intervals.
His fingers found a smooth black stone in his belt pouch. He held it up to his lips and blew gently on its surface. Down the entire passageway, the torches began to flicker out one by one. Finally, darkness overwhelmed the place.
With the cover of shadows, he continued on his way, sword in one hand. He reached in his belt pouch and drew a more marble sized stone that Selirithel had also given him. He would need it soon enough.
Sensitive hearing helped him find the other person in the hall. Whoever they were, he or she was breathing loudly enough for him to pinpoint the exact location. He tightened his grip on his sword and moved forward.
Without warning, he heard a whirring sound and jumped back. His opponent's sword clashed against the wall loudly. Joren had been heard as well. Gathering his wits, he prepared for his attack and threw the marble into the air.
He charged his opponent with an attack of his own as the marble exploded midair into a thousand bright sparks, lighting the hallway temporarily for Joren to see his target. As the yellow and orange light gave him a brief look, he pulled back his arm quickly and gasped.
Keladry stared back at him, sword held ready for upswing.
The sparks faded and it was pitch black again. Joren dropped his sword, as did she. The two blades clattered to the ground. At once, Joren and Keladry moved toward each other, hands reaching out blindly to feel the other.
"Is that really you?" Keladry whispered. Her fingers brushed over his neck and shoulders, eventually finding their way to cup his face. She was shocked to discover that she wasn't finding any of what she felt familiar, just maddening. She touched the stubble on his chin and the tips of his hair. Was it some trick they were playing on her? She wouldn't put it past Maggur or the other men to do this, too.
He likewise mimicked her movements, letting his hands roam over her waist and her back. He drew her closer and buried his face in her hair. At least he recognized her without having to see her with his eyes. The smell of her hair, the uncertainty in her touch. There was no doubt in his mind. Joren knew what salvation felt like. It was Keladry.
Both of them were gasping for breath as if they couldn't get enough air. The surprise of the moment had nearly made their hearts stop beating. After a few moments, Joren loosened his grip so he could retrieve a match from his belt pouch. He struck it and raised the flame toward an extinguished torch. With a main source of light again to see her face, Joren simply gazed at her face with a blank expression. Keladry frowned slightly. She had been certain that he would be glad to see her when she finally found him.
Joren let his hands drop to his sides. He peered at her intently. "Why… why are you here?"
"You never answered my messages," she replied quietly. "I thought I had lost you, too."
The blond man smirked slightly. "I've been shot, stabbed with razor sharp feathers, thrown off a roof, and burned. Do you really think that a bunch of snow and rocks is going to stop me?"
She smiled. "Maybe someone should attempt to drown you just to round everything out."
He came closer, raising his hand to cup her cheek again. "You made me choke on my breakfast once. Does that count?"
"Maybe," she whispered and leaned forward to kiss him.
It didn't happen. Joren's smile disappeared and he withdrew again. Confused, she moved toward him. He shook his head and seemed to be looking at something else: his hand. He glanced back and forth from his palm to the side of her face that he had been touching. It was red with blood.
He grabbed her arms and began turning them over in his hands. He felt her shoulders and her neck, and even glanced down at her legs to determine the cause. "What happened? Are you injured?"
As he found the source of the blood on the front of her shirt, Keladry struggled out of his grip. "No! No, not me! It's Faleron, Joren. It's his blood."
That caused the former operative to stop. He would have breathed a sigh of relief if his attention hadn't been drawn to what she had just said. "King? What happened? Is he dead?"
"He might be soon," she replied sorrowfully. She sighed. "I know. It's our own fault. We shouldn't have come. If I'd only trusted you to come back, then we wouldn't be here and Faleron wouldn't be dying—"
"Don't get into hysterics now," he warned harshly. He gripped her by the shoulders again and gently shook her. "You need to tell me what has happened. Everything."
Keladry managed to relate all that had happened, from being employed by Daine as a cover, to being captured by the hunters, and all the way to Faleron being shot by the crossbow. It was like going to a confessional. She felt like a weight was being lifted off her shoulders. Joren would know what to do. He always did. And though Keladry was quite capable of handling problems on her own, she simply felt better knowing that she wasn't going to handle them alone.
When she finished her tale, he picked up his sword again and sheathed it. He didn't speak to her at first. Instead, he rummaged through his other pockets looking for something else.
"Joren?"
His hand closed around the object he had been looking for. He squeezed it tightly in his hand, but did not show it to her yet. "I'll help Cleon and take care of getting your brothers and the other hostages out. I need you to stay with Faleron."
"I can help you!" she protested.
"I know you can," he answered calmly.
She glanced over her shoulder toward the infirmary. "But you need me to look after Fal."
"Yes. He's as defenseless as a newborn babe and I wouldn't trust any doctor here. You'll need to protect him. You know that."
Her heart burned. Keladry hadn't expected the disappointment of being denied his company to bother her so much. After fearing the worst, he was finally back with her. Nevertheless, he had to leave her again to join Cleon. She knew Cleon would need all the help he could get. The redhead would be so distracted by worrying thoughts for his friends that he wouldn't be able to tame any dragon.
Joren took her hand and squeezed it comfortingly. He noticed that she was trying to restrain emotions from being displayed. She used to be such a good actress when it came to those things. The skill of impassivity had faded.
He pressed something into her hand. She could feel it as something oval shaped. Smooth but hard—a stone? It was connected to a kind of chain. She could only feel it with her fingers since he was still pressing it very firmly against her skin.
"I just called Neal with this. He's coming to meet me halfway from here," he explained. "He's safe, too. No injuries, I promise. We're going to meet up with the other men—don't ask. I'll explain later." He hesitated before putting his arms around her and hugging her tightly. His lips pressed against her earlobe. He whispered, "Keep this with you. We'll be able to find you with it. And if you meet anyone else with a stone like this, trust them."
"Okay," she said. She held up the small opal so she could see it. "I'll trust them."
"Kel?"
"Yes?" She partially hoped that he would say something that would encourage her. With Joren, however, encouragement was stifled and muted.
He looked at her, his face serious and businesslike once again. "I need you to tell me exactly where your brothers and their crew is."
After she had given him detailed directions on how to reach the room, he let go and began checking his other weapons and equipment. Keladry stepped back, unsure of what else to do. She wrapped her arms around herself and sighed. For men like Joren, being a hero came first… love second.
But of course, he would never consider himself a hero. Joren looked at her again. Without another thought, he moved forward and caught her lips with his. He lingered there longer than he should have, trying to memorize the softness of her lips and her shallow breathing. She tasted faintly of a fruit juice she had drunk during lunch. It was nice to think that something so simple existed in that dark place.
He kissed her again and again, allowing her to leak out all the anxieties that had plagued her since their separation. His strong arms encircled her waist as her arms wrapped around his neck. His lips trailed down her jaw and neck. He held her tighter and breathed in deeply. She had done more than save him from his own demons.
She loved him, too. And he'd be damned if he ever figured out why he loved her back.
"Neal's waiting," he told her quietly. She reluctantly let him go.
"When you see Cleon," Keladry mentioned. "Don't… don't tell him that Fal is… Tell him that he's fine. Just say that he's going to be okay."
Joren nodded. He ran back into the shadows as quickly as he had come. No goodbyes. Joren didn't believe in proper goodbyes. She knew that much. Keladry picked up her sword again and put it back in its scabbard. She lifted the torch from its sconce in one hand and began to light the others around the infirmary door. The fingertips of her free hand touched her lips. She was almost afraid that none of it was real.
Then her eyes landed on the opal that hung from her wrist. She held it up to the light and wondered what kind of place Joren had been to obtain such treasures.
~~
Neal leaned his quarterstaff against the wall and readied his slingshot. He had sensed from his own opal that Joren meant to meet him. Yet, checking his opal again, it indicated that Joren hadn't moved from his initial spot. And it didn't even feel like Joren. He didn't know how he could tell the difference. The magic Selirithel had shown them was just as confusing as all the other things from Enishijirou.
He prayed to the gods that the blond hadn't been eaten by any sort of creature that would come after Neal as dessert.
After a while, he thought he heard an almost inaudible sound. Footsteps? No, not just that. Someone who knew how to hide any noise of walking. It wasn't quite perfect. It was sloppy, distracted. Neal frowned. He put back the lead pellet into his black pouch and drew a different projectile from his other pouch. He put it in the slingshot, pointed it in the darkness, and let it fly.
"ARGH! I am so tired of being shot in the ass with berries!" a familiar voice bellowed angrily.
Neal cringed. Perhaps the creature looking for dessert would have been better.
Joren struck another match and lit a torch in its sconce on the wall. He glared at his partner, snatching the slingshot and using it to smack Neal hard in the shoulder.
"Sorry, sorry! I wasn't sure! Where's your opal?"
"I gave it to Kel."
Neal's jaw dropped, leaving his mouth open in a very unflattering way. "What's she doing here?"
"She, Kennan, and King followed us because our communications were down. They meant to rescue us. The Black City captured them just like they captured her brothers." He went on to explain the unfortunate details of Cleon and the prophecy, Maggur's threat, and Faleron's possibly fatal wounding. Then he related his own plan. "Use your opal to locate Borealize. Have him summon a couple of wolves for us so we can catch up to Cleon. Then he and Selirithel will rescue Kel's brothers and the crew."
"What about Liam?"
Joren paused. "I suppose he'll want to go back to Enishijirou to warn them about the dragon and the Black City's mobilization."
Neal groaned while picking up his quarterstaff. "Mobilization? You're talking as if there's going to be a war—and I'm not sure if you remember, but my marks in Advanced Strategy and Tactics were not exactly admirable."
"Yeah, I do remember. I'm surprised you didn't flunk," Joren muttered. He took the torch in one hand and drew his sword with the other. "Come on. Let's find Borealize before we run out of time."
They ran down the hall in the direction that Neal's opal directed them. Luckily, Borealize was close by. The hall curved and branched out in many directions. They passed many doors, but not the ones that they were looking for. At last, they came to a dead end at a small black door. The passage there was well swept, indicating that this was a frequently used servants' entrance. Neal put his ear against the door to listen for any noise on the other side.
He picked up just the slightest noise. It sounded like some sort of cloth sliding against the floor. He pressed his head closer to the door and closed his eyes. Perhaps the person would leave soon. Neal certainly hoped so. Borealize hadn't sensed that they were nearby; he was moving further away.
Joren turned to the darkness of the hallway again. He narrowed his eyes. "Queenscove."
"I'm somewhat busy right now, Stone."
The blond nudged him with his elbow hard in the ribs. "I don't think she cares."
At that, Neal frowned and whirled around to face whoever Joren was speaking about. His mouth dropped open once again. He swallowed convulsively, throat parched with apprehension and fear.
A woman stood a few feet away from them, at the edge of the light cast from the torch. She wore a revealing white dress—more like a bed sheet that was cut and sewn together with the utmost haste. She ran the tip of her tongue over her full lips, revealing to them her very pointed teeth. Her dark, shadowy eyes watched them with great anticipation.
"You're not one of our guests," she hissed, lingering on the 'S' sounds like they imagined a snake would talk. She caressed her own collarbone with knife-sharp nails, tapping her fingers across her own shoulders. "Hmm… makes me ticklish here just thinking about what I should do to you."
"Summon Borealize," Joren whispered to Neal. He put the torch on the floor so that his other hand was free to grip his sword as well.
Neal squeezed the opal in his hand, thinking of their other comrade. He reached for his quarterstaff reflexively. He didn't know if they could battle whatever this feminine, vampire-looking thing of darkness was. The fact that they were two against one didn't even comfort him. She simply looked so creepy.
Joren swung his sword at the succubus. She leapt back with the greatest of ease, giggling as she did so. He pursued her, thrusting his sword forward. He launched a series of attacks, but she managed to outmaneuver him every single time.
Neal began to approach warily. He thought for a second that it might be more useful to have his slingshot. He reached for the pouch of lead pellets again, only to discover it missing.
"Looking for something?" a feminine voice whispered into his ear right before sharp teeth sank into his neck.
He screamed. Grabbing fistful of hair, he yanked hard. He tore out chunks of blond. The succubus shrieked. She let go and touched her scalp where her precious locks had been. His blood dribbled down her chin. She sneered and leapt at him again.
He grabbed his staff and thrust it out, just in time. He shoved her through the opened door and into the next room.
Joren was not having better luck. He glanced over his shoulder at Neal. "Get the torch!"
His partner grabbed the torch and held it out in front of him, warding off his own attacker with the fire. She hissed at him and stayed where she was. Neal moved out of the servants' hall and into the room. Joren followed, still refusing to turn his back on the other.
"Must you be so hurtful?" the one in front of Joren asked, fluttering her eyelashes. She fingered the straps on her dress, pushing her chest forward. "It'll be fun… Just give in and it will feel so good…"
The two men stood back to back again. Idly, Neal noticed that they had been doing that more and more often. Keladry would have been pleased to see them cooperating so well. However, she wouldn't have been happy to see that they were being circled by a pair of she-demons and being eyed like pieces of meat.
Not that he hadn't gotten that look before. Neal was quite used to getting that look.
His neck was throbbing from the bite. He grimaced. "I don't think I'll ever be able to let myself get a hickey again. Too traumatized."
"I'm sure all female kind will be devastated," Joren replied sarcastically. He tried to look for an opening, any opening at all. He adjusted his footing and wondered if he could actually surprise the succubus that had dodged him before.
Neal lowered his torch slightly. He gingerly touched his neck, wincing again. The one who had bitten him cooed.
"I won't bite this time. I promise… just let me show you pleasure. You'll never want any mortal woman ever again…"
He glared at her. "Sorry, babe. I draw the line at creatures of darkness. Especially ugly ones."
Enraged, she flew at him. Neal waved the torch in front of him frantically, trying to light some part of her dress on fire. Long sharp nails raked across his arms. She tore at his still bandaged arm that Neal had injured during the wolf attack. He stifled a cry of pain and tried to shove the fire into her face.
Suddenly, the succubae both shrieked like banshees, falling to their knees. Joren and Neal gasped at first. Then they realized what had happened. Throwing knives were imbedded in their legs, causing the she-demons to fall.
Liam and Borealize rushed to their comrades, both armed with more throwing knives and another torch.
"Quick! Burn them! Behead them!" Liam shouted.
"Die!" one of the succubae screamed as she yanked the knives from her legs and prepared to strike with the blades in her hands.
Joren turned quickly and swung his sword forward. Thanks to the previous wounds in her legs, she could not move fast enough. The blade cut into her flesh easier than he had expected. He put his weight behind the blow and took the head clean off.
A spray of blood hit him in the face. He closed his eyes and turned away as the body fell to the ground, the severed head rolling across the floor away from him. He wiped his face on the back of his sleeve and averted his eyes from the fresh crimson pool.
Borealize and Neal made short work of the other one. They thrust their torches at her both at the same time. While she tried to defend herself, Liam used his own sword to quickly behead her. The charred body and head hit the stone floor with a sickening thud.
The four men looked at each other morosely. Neal felt like he was going to vomit out all his innards. He walked away from the gory sight and sat down on the floor. Borealize approached him with a torn cloth already prepared to help clean off Neal's wound.
Joren wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. He approached Liam.
"I felt you call Borealize. What's happened now?" Liam asked. His tone was very subdued, no trace of malice to be found. His hatred for Joren was temporarily forgotten due to the current circumstances.
The former operative once again repeated all that he had been told by Keladry. He included his own suggestions, which brought a crooked smile to the other man's lips. They were both breathing hard from the encounter and now grinned at each other like insane, bloodthirsty heathens.
"I'll go and warn him. It will take me a few days to reach the City, but I can do it." He walked over to one of the bodies and began pulling his knives out and wiping them on the soiled white dresses. He found Neal's bag of lead pellets and threw them in the officer's general direction. "Just make sure you kill as many of these blasted demons as possible."
"And rescue the hostages," Neal added absently. He flinched again as Borealize continued cleaning his wound. "You guys were right. This is some sort of living hell."
Liam nodded. "You will see far worse sooner than you think." He faced Joren. "All right then. Go help your redheaded friend. Try to slay the dragon if you can. No sense in taming the beast so he can attack our City."
"It's not my City," Joren snapped.
"It is now."
Borealize finished wrapping the bandage and stood up. He bowed to Neal, then Joren. "The wolves will be waiting for you outside the city walls. They should be able to sniff out your friend, especially if he's traveling by himself. I shall join Selirithel and rescue the others."
Joren gave him the directions that Keladry had told him. Borealize bowed again to them. He gathered his own knives from the other dead succubus and cleaned them off as Liam did. Neal turned away, swallowing convulsively. Despite being a First Class officer of the DJPF (and therefore having more experience than he cared to have), there were some things that still made Neal's gut twist in horrible ways.
"We'll part ways from here, then," Liam said to all of them. He spared another glance at Joren. He wanted to ask about Keladry, Joren could tell. The words never came. Lips pursed, he turned his back on Joren and clenched his fists. The subject wouldn't be brought up between. It couldn't.
Liam whistled to Borealize. They took their torch and retreated the way that they came. Neal picked up his pellets and stood up, touching the bandage on his neck. He walked toward Joren and exhaled deeply.
"I am seriously considering taking a vow of chastity after those last two demonic chicks. I won't be able to look at cleavage the same way ever again," he muttered, smirking. Just as Neal expected, Joren didn't miss a beat.
"You'd be doing the gene pool a great favor, Queenscove. Trust me."
~~
Keladry awoke with a jerk. She had fallen asleep in a chair that she had pulled up beside Faleron's bed. For a moment there, she could have sworn she had heard a long animalistic screech from outside. Considering what she now knew about the mysterious Black City, she wouldn't be surprised if it was real.
She turned her gaze toward her resting friend. He was working up a strong fever. Beads of sweat dotted his brow. Keladry dipped a cloth into a bowl of water on the beside table. She laid it across his forehead and touched his cheek with her palm.
Faleron stirred in his sleep. He groaned a little, tossing his head from side to side on the pillows. Keladry shushed him and moved the cloth so she could dab at his cheeks and neck.
He was very pale. He had always been a bit pale, but now his skin was almost translucent. Keladry was afraid of being able to trace veins along the inside of his arm soon. White cloth bandages were wrapped around his bare abdomen. No, the wound wouldn't kill him. But the poison and the fever might.
The last person to deserve any of this was Faleron, she decided. He had already suffered so much during his lifetime. He had not endured as much as Joren, but much more than the rest of them. Sent away to boarding school. Never saw his loveless parents until they were arrested. Becoming desperate enough to be a thief. She recalled the night that she, Joren, and Cleon had arrested him. They had been forced to shoot him, a clean wound. The bullet had done very little more than clip him in the side. He had been so ashamed when he recalled his younger cousin viewing Faleron as a role model. Remorse was his cornerstone.
Then… Scanra. Faleron had only tried to help the poor family that had been attacked in their home. And he was almost executed for it. She couldn't imagine what psychological horrors had been created in his mind that long sleepless night in jail. He had probably blamed himself for their deaths. He must have called himself a million rotten things, fighting off the fear that would make him break down sobbing. Those were the hours when Faleron King had sorrowfully prepared to breathe his last. He was never the same again.
A choked cry caught her attention. Keladry leaned over him again, dipping the cloth into the cool water and pressing it against to his burning forehead. She whispered random words of comfort into his ear, trying to get him to fall into a peaceful slumber. His fitful sleep was painful to watch.
Almost as painful as the life he had lived.
~~
Author's note:
Poor, poor Fal. He doesn't deserve this pain, does he? I know. It hurts to see him likes this. But for all purposes, this is the way the story goes! And it least he got some onscreen comedic lines before it happened! I apologize for the succubae deciding to rain on Joren and Neal's parade (my word choice… it's horrible…). And it's too bad that the highly awaited Kel and Joren reunion was shadowed by such darkness on all sides. It's the Black City. Evil, evil, evil…
Next episode! ICBW3, episode 15: The Quest
Cleon begins his quest to tame the dragon! Will Joren and Neal catch up to him in time? What about Kel's brothers and the crew! (gasp) To the characters' shock, there will be a hurtful betrayal…
So! Tell me what you think. Emails and reviews appreciated!
Hopefully the next episode won't be as depressing…