Tal Rasha stormed into the smithy and grabbed Baal by the arm, turning him around violently. "You lied to me, Baal! You said you saw death! There is no death, Baal! None! Immortality! They've cursed us! Why didn't you tell me this, Baal?! Do you find this amusing?!" he asked, shaking Baal fiercely. "Answer me, damn it!" He raised his hand and struck Baal hard enough to send the young Ancient to the floor.
Vorador stood at his anvil, shocked. Tal Rasha had always been so gentle and compassionate. What could have made this change in him? He watched as the Elder reached down and hauled Baal back up only to hit him just as hard again.
"I trusted you! But now I should have seen that you were only working with those… those …" He seemed to have trouble finding the right insult to use on the Hylden. "Those Hylden!"
When Baal did not answer, Tal Rasha shrieked and started to make his way out of the black smith's shop. He paused; he turned. Slowly he made his way over to Vorador.
"Do you have a god, child?" he asked in a way that made the fledgling's hair on his neck stand on end. He shook his head. "So you do not know what it is like when He turns his sight from you? To know that you will never again hear his voice?" Again, Vorador shook his head; no he did not know. Tal Rasha leaned close to him and said in a horse whisper, "I envy you." He took another step closer and Vorador was forced to step back. "I wish I never heard of my god. But I have." He smiled sadly. "So what can I do? Hmph?" He sighed. "Nothing." He looked to where Vorador had been working and reached out to run his fingers along the unfinished blade. "Nothing at all… Except…" He trailed off, his claws still tracing the blade's length. Slowly, he reached for the tang. He held the blade up before him and sighed. "Except." Tal Rasha took a few passes with the blade and smiled. Turning to Vorador he said, "Janos was right; you are more than capable of delivering us from the evil that lies in our very bones." He handed the sword back to the smith and said sadly, "I want to be part of the blade." He then turned and left the shop.
Vorador put the still unfinished blade down and ran over to Baal.
"Baal? Are you hurt?" Baal had his hands over his face. Vorador leaned down and pulled the other smith's hands away, and immediately regretted it. White flames spilled from Baal's left eye. A fire that burned so deeply that it was impossible for Vorador to turn away.
A scream suddenly echoed through out the halls and sang around the ceiling of the shop before it died. Without sparing a glance to Baal, Vorador sprinted down the corridors until he found what had caused the disturbance.
Body crushed, bones broken, wings ruined, Tal Rasha lay on the ground, quite dead. By the time Vorador had found the body, a large circle had assembled. As he looked around, he saw that Izual and Kashya were standing together; eyes vacant. Wildly he searched for someone who had not yet lost their wits. He found no one.
Someone shoved past him and moved to the fallen angel's body. Baal's feathers held Vorador's attention for the longest time; they were perfect. Not a single one was out of place on all four of the magnificent wings. Then Baal stood and brushed past him again, this time placing something in his hands. Suddenly fearful, Vorador looked down. Tal Rasha's severed head looked back. He closed his eyes, unable to look upon the defiled body of the Ancient.
'I want to be part of the blade.' They had been his last words. Suddenly it became far too clear for his tastes what Baal had meant when he gave the head to him.
As he turned to head back up to the shop, no one made a move to stop him. Glancing back to the crowd of Ancients, he thought miserably, 'I bet his death hasn't even pasted through whatever illness holds them.' He finished climbing the stairs without a thought.
Once he had reached his forge, Vorador set about cleaning the skull. It was the most revolting thing he had to. Pulling the meat from the bone was sickening; he had to turn his head away whenever he felt the sinew start to tear in his grasp. Only once did he actually vomit; digging Tal Rasha's eyes was too much for him to bear. But finally, it was done; the skull was clean. Hands shaking he started to make a hole in the top for the tang to slip through. Once it was fitted, he looked up.
Ball was not there. Where had he gone?
THE OTHER SMITH stood a top a hill, gazing out into the night. As Baal watched the stars twinkle, he thought of what Tal Rasha had told him.
Their god had left.
They would spend a deathless eternity on this world. But was that truly a bad thing?
He sighed and did not turn to greet Janos as he made his way up the hill.
"You heard about Tal Rasha, Baal?" Janos looked at Baal, trying in vain to read him. He gave up when Baal did not even acknowledge the other Ancient's presence. "I can not read you, Baal. I believe you choose not to let others read you. While I do not know why, I do respect your choice. I also do not believe that we can survive this. I know that you were never close to our god and so His departure does not take the same toll on you as it does on everyone else." He looked down to stare at his hands. "I fear that we will lose this war. Victory is so close and yet… Too far away to just take." He turned back to Baal. The black smith had not moved at all. "Baal, look at me. I need you to understand." Janos reached out and forced the younger Ancient to look at him. "I fear that the Circle will fall. I have already seen the pain of the lose in their eyes. The madness. I will stay here if you stay here. Please… Help me."
For a long time Baal seemed to ignore Janos' pleas, until he gave a slow nod. He would live to help Janos live.
"Thank you, Baal. I can not do this alone."
FOR NEARLY A week, Vorador did not see Baal; he was not in the shop working on his latest project or just sitting around. The fledgling took this opportunity to complete the blade. To complete the sword. He held it up and tested the balance, there was no fault; it was perfect. He smiled and set the sword down. Then he frowned. Something was wrong. He just could not tell what. All he knew was that Baal was not there. Unfortunately, he would not have the time to find the Ancient; he needed to bring the sword to Janos and the others.
Quickly, he wrapped the blade cloth and set off for the rooms that once were Tal Rasha's. He opened the door and took in the new arrangement of the place; nine large high backed chairs were the centerpiece of an other wise empty room. All the tapestries and small tables were gone. It felt dead. Vorador really did not want to be there, but Janos had said to meet him there when the sword was done.
"Vorador." He turned around to see Janos standing just inside the door way. "I see you have finished." He nodded. "Good. Some Hylden have be able to escape. We need to lock them away. They can not be let back into this world." Janos took the sword from him and smiled sadly. "Your part is finished. Mine has just begun."
Vorador watched as his sire left, his stomach twisting inside him. 'They can not be let back into this world.' He paused before starting his own way down. 'No they can not; we have paid a price too high to let that happen.' Slowly, almost reluctantly, he made his way back to the black smith's shop. Then something struck him.
No one was here. It was not just Baal's absence that made him uneasy, it was the absence of everyone. Instead of going to the smithy, he left for the court yard not excepting any one to be there. He was, it turned out, wrong; everyone had not left.
Izual sat in a corner of the yard. As Vorador approached the boy, he realized he was a good as alone; Izual was only there physically.
Vorador did not want to see anyone who had been affected that much by the god's departure then, so he made his way again to the black smith's shop; and to his surprise, Baal was there.
"And where have you been?" he asked, not really excepting an answer.
Baal turned and looked at him. This shocked him as the Ancient had never really acknowledged his presence. Baal set down whatever he had in his hands and walked over to Vorador. He took the fledgling's head in his hands and kissed his forehead as if to say, 'Good bye.' He let him go and left the shop for, Vorador thought, the last time.
He turned to the thing Baal had set down before his departure. It was an emblem; gold in color with five separate pieces all with their own symbol. Had this been what had kept him away from his shop for a whole week? As he picked it up, a note fell free. It read: 'I leave you with one last task before you too leave, Vorador. These fragments need to be placed each at the locations that I have marked out for you. While Baal was kind enough to make them, I need you to place them in the right spots for the Scion of Balance to find.' Below, there was a list of the locations with the corresponding fragments. The end of the note said, 'Thank you -- Janos'.
He did not know why, but it made him sad.
Vorador picked up the full emblem and note then he placed them in his pocket. As he made his way out of the black smith's shop for what he thought would be his last time, he noticed that the forge still had flames leaping out of it. For a moment he considered putting it out. 'No… Let it burn. Perhaps we will only have hope as long as it burns. Hope that maybe one day, someone will come back to feed it, to use it.'
With that final thought, he left.