Severed Ties
Chapter 2
Still I Rise
South America
April 30th, 2002
3:17 am
The pale moon howled, its light blanketing the night, leading the distant stars in the gleeful chant as rulers of the night sky. They illuminated everything; the secluded villages, the passing strangers that braved the night and the canopy tops of the jungles. But rarely did they touch the sacred grounds of those very jungles, shut out by the selfish leaves of the trees that claimed it as their own. At times they were forgiving, opening up just enough to give the night lights a taste of the dirty basin of the wild but never enough to satiate. Never enough to survive.
Survive. That was the only thought that ran through the two yellow-skinned Miquots that tore through the foliage. The larger one held up his smaller kin whose right arm dangled by his side after a shotgun had barreled through the flesh.
"MaKri," the larger one whispered to its barely conscious clansman, "we must hurry. He is close by. I can feel him."
"I don't know if I…the pain…Ulklan…"
"We are warriors, spesinsido! Pain is nothing to us," Ulklan spat and hoisted his brethren up by the waist and continued dragging him through the dense underbrush.
They hadn't gone twenty yards before the air whistled as a projectile tore through it. Neither Miquot had a chance to react as the bolt pierced MaKri's skull, ripping him from Ulklan's grasp.
"MaKri," Ulklan bellowed as he turned to his fallen kin. Though he knew the other one was dead, Ulklan still surveyed MaKri's body in search of finding life. He was so intent on the body that he didn't hear the rustle of foliage as a black shape dropped from the trees.
The stranger watched the scene before him with emotionless eyes. It had been a little over a month since he had returned from--well, Master had never told him where they had gone. But when he had returned to this place, this realm, already forged with a new strength, one that had been granted by sharing his Master's blood, he had set forth to kill each and every demon that crossed his path and even those that ran from his presence. The first night, his silver blade had cut down six Fyarls with the help of the silver shots that sang from the barrel of his shotgun. The second night he had slaughtered a nest of vampires and leaving one alive, albeit disfigured, to spread the word. He made sure that the vampire knew that he was no slayer though to them he offered them the same fate. He had whispered into the vamp's ear, the mask that covered most of his face garbling his words though they rang true enough. And the vamp had spread the word.
The Executioner had come and no demon would escape his wrath.
"He's dead, you know." Ulklan spun around as the flat voice of his pursuer carried to his ears. He snarled when his eyes focused on figure before him.
At first glance, Ulklan didn't see what was so deadly about the demon before him. He was not a giant as many had whispered. He stood about six feet tall and was covered in black. The mask that he wore stopped just below his eyes, shielding the rest of his face from view. On his left hip hung the crossbow that had fired the bolt that had killed MaKri while his shotgun was holstered comfortably against his right hip. Several knives and stakes populated his ankles and waist while, in his right hand was the silver katana that had cut through most of Ulklan's clan so effortlessly.
Ulklan stood slowly, the blood of his kin calling out for vengeance. I will tear this demon's heart from his body and feast on it, the Miquot thought viciously right before he looked the stranger in the eyes.
Even in the shrouded darkness of the jungle, Ulklan could see the red cores of the Executioner as they surveyed the Miquot with unsettling casualness. Though they didn't scream 'evil', those eyes did shout deadly and the trickle of fear that snaked down Ulklan's back was enough for the Miquot to know that the only way he was getting out of here alive was by killing the shadow before him.
Cocking his arms in front of him, Ulklan grunted as boned blades popped out of his forearms. In one motion, Ulklan spun and hurled the projectile at the man in black.
He saw it coming a mile away. Though Miquots were decent fighters, having to wait for one's weapon to pop out kind of took the surprise out of everything. Of course, he thought as the blade sailed past him as he rolled to the left, nicking him in the shoulder, they do have superb aim.
He was on his feet in an instant and brought the blade of his sword up just in time to deflect the second attack that would have impaled him through the eye. He smirked behind his mask at the mounting rage of the other demon before throwing out a snarky laugh.
"Please tell me you're gonna make it more interesting than this." He shrugged his shoulders, relishing in the tightness of his back and neck muscles. This was what he lived for now: the thrill of the hunt, the satisfaction of the kill and-sometimes-even the pain of wounds. He welcomed anything that would erase the agony of watching her die, to destroy the powerlessness he had felt as her life seeped from her veins as he held her. He had come here in search of power, so he would never feel helpless again.
"You will die, demon," the Miquot spat and charged the man in black.
The red-eyed man spun away from the slash of the Miquot's blades and countered by cutting across Ulklan's exposed belly. He finished with another spin that brought him behind the yellow-skinned demon and his blade sliced through the air, severing the Miquot's head from his body.
"That was too easy," the man in black chuckled and sheathed his sword in the scabbard strapped to his back as the now lifeless body of the demon fell to the ground in two separate pieces.
Running gloved fingers through his hair, the man in black headed back to the one place he saw as home.
*&*
Diohbin-Zi had never really understood the fascination humans had in games. Well, that wasn't entirely true. There were the gladiatorial spectacles of American football and boxing that always intrigued him. Games of the mind, such as chess also drew his interests though that was about it.
Now, as he stared over the seven stacks of cards, the Elwvenian knew that solitaire was not a game that he enjoyed.
"Bah," he spat and raked the cards from the table just as the door to the hut opened.
"Are the mean, nasty cards trying to give you a hard time, Master?" the man in black asked as he shut the door behind him.
Diohbin-Zi smiled at his protégé as the man removed the cowl that hid most of his face. He stroked his now free beard and walked over to the Elvvenian, taking a seat beside the old demon.
"How was your night?" Diohbin-Zi asked, patting his pupil's gloved hand.
"Not bad," he replied and set about removing the weapons strapped to him. "Wiped out a clan of Miquot demons and killed three vamps."
"Injuries?"
"Few nicks here and there. Nothing serious."
"Good, good," Diohbin-Zi said and clasped his hands together before standing. He stared at the man who had become like a son to him and smiled sadly. "Your abilities have matured and just in time. They will need you soon."
"Well, I guess after three years of daily training, my skills would be matured by now," he said mirthfully but the humor died as he responded to his Master's second statement. "And as far as them needing me, don't think so. They've had enough time to forget about me. And her," the last part was whispered and only Diohbin-Zi's enhanced hearing allowed the Elwvenian to pick up the words.
He placed both hands on the young man's shoulders and he stared into the brown pupils whose core were no longer black but a mahogany red; a red that shone like the brightest star during battle.
"My son," Diohbin-Zi comforted, "they have not forgotten about you nor her. The one that you blame lives with the disgust she saw in your eyes before you left."
"Good," he replied though his tone was not as convincing as it had been when he had first arrived.
"Is it?" The Master asked him. "Is it good for one so true, one who has already been through more than you could ever imagine to feel such pain? Is it good for one who will sacrifice all for those that she loves to see hatred in the eyes of one she had only met in her second chance with her family?"
"But it's her fault," he replied though there was no strength in her voice. Diohbin-Zi smiled sadly, sensing his protégé's desperate attempts to hold onto the hate. It was all he had left and, if he lost that, lost the hate, then he would never be able to live with the decision he had made to become the thing he had fought so valiantly against the last six years.
Knowing that he would not be able to help the brunette to answer such questions, Diohbin-Zi maneuvered the conversation to back to something his student had said.
"My dear boy," he quipped, his purplish red eyes staring into the brownish red of his protégé, "I have something to tell you and I do not think that you will be terribly impressed by it."
"What?" His thick eyebrows scrunched in concern, recognizing the mirth in his teacher's eyes that meant only one thing; he was not going to like what would float from the old man's mouth in the least.
"Well, it seems to me that your assumption as to the time frame we have been together is not quite accurate."
The laugh that escaped the younger man's lips was reactionary. "So, what are you saying? That I took a bump on the head, have really been here for ten years instead of three? Well, that would explain how quickly I have learned to fight."
"Never could get anything past you, could I Alexander?"
"I thought I asked you not to call me that, Master. And you mean I have been here longer than three years?"
"Yes, you did ask me not to call you that, Alexander. As far as you being here longer than three years…well, that's not entirely accurate."
"What do you mean 'not entirely accurate'?" Xander stood and glared down at the man who had taught him everything over the past three…well, it wasn't three years now, was it? How long had it been?
"Decidedly less than three years," Diohbin-Zi replied amiably and Xander wasn't sure whether he had spoken the question aloud or not.
"Come now, Alexander. You know that I read minds, though I rarely take advantage of that useful ability. Kind of takes the surprise out of things, wouldn't you say."
"How long?" Xander repeated the question aloud this time.
"Don't you think you should sit down?"
"How long?" He spat and kneeled, grabbing the smaller being by the shoulders.
Diohbin-Zi looked to where Xander held him before staring the man in the eyes, waiting patiently for the younger man to get the hint. Xander immediately dropped his hands though the urgency still hung between them. "Please," the brunette croaked and the Elwvenian sighed.
"Fine. Fifty days."
"Huh?"
"Try to pay attention, young man," Diohbin-Zi chastised and wriggled a gnarled finger at Xander. "I tell you, you people just can't seem to maintain focus on things. I mean…"
"Did you say…fifty days?"
"Yes. Fifty days. Twelve hundred and nine hours. Seventy-two thousand five hundred and forty minutes. Want me to put it in seconds?" The Elwvenian snarked.
Xander tipped over and plopped down on his butt in shock. Fifty days. He had only been gone fifty days? Then why…"Why did it feel like three years then?"
"Think hyperbolic time chamber." On Xander's perplexed look, Diohbin-Zi threw his hands up in exasperation. "My God, man, do you think everything in your world is a product of a writer's imagination?!"
"Wha…?"
" You know exactly what I'm talking about, Alexander. Dragon Ball Z? The training chamber? Day goes by in reality but a year passes to those in the chamber. I saw it in your mind but hell, when the reception's good in this God-awful place, I watch it too."
"But how…?" Xander's red tinged brown eyes bugged out in disbelief.
"Look, Alexander," Diohbin-Zi's voice was calm and comforting and he patted the man's cheek. "I don't mean to be so flip with you but you have to get over it and fast. The skinny is that when you came to me, I saw the pain and anger within you yet also how lost you were and how much you wanted to help. Your loyalty to the slayer was, and still is, the thing that holds you together. But that wasn't the only reason I granted you your wish. I also foresaw the coming of the Angel of Death and knew that you would be needed to avert the End that he has planned for this world."
"But…" Xander stuttered and was silenced by Diohbin-Zi's raised hand.
"No talk, you must listen. As you know, I am the last of my kind and, in that, I am more powerful that most beings that will ever walk this plane. But even I will be powerless to stop him. Only she can do that."
"She?"
"The one that you blame for you mate's death. The same one whose namesake will leave your lips in love, the one that will bring forth that which you have locked so tightly in here," he touched Xander's chest, "that part of you that even I cannot free."
"What do you mean, Master? What are you saying?" It was too much and Xander felt himself lost to the confusion he had thought he would never experience again.
"There are certain dimensions that I am able to traverse to. The one that we went to, my native dimension actually, Elwvenin. Time there moves faster than it does here. I took you there because I knew you would be needed sooner than was physically possible to prepare you."
"I…I can't go back," Xander whispered and Diohbin-Zi's eyes softened at the turmoil he saw in his protégé's eyes.
"You must go back. They need you. The Key, the slayer, the witches, the vampire and the child. And others. Others that you know but will not expect to be there. You are the final piece of the puzzle, the furthest away. "
"Master," Xander started but Diohbin-Zi waved his hand and the questions left the brunette's mind. The world drifted away and Xander felt his body lift off the ground for several seconds before the familiar softness of his bed was beneath him.
"Sleep my son," Diohbin-Zi whispered, "you will need it. Because once you are back, there will be no rest for you. Not until it is over."
A purple tear trailed down the immortal Elwvenian's cheek as he closed the door to Xander's room. He knew he would never see Xander again as his duty had been done. The weakest link to the chain had been strengthened though there were still chinks in the armor of the band of warriors. It was out of his hands now. All Diohbin-Zi could hope for was that the one, the one who had once succumbed to the darkness could bring light to Xander's heart.
"Fare well, Alexander," Diohbin-Zi murmured into the empty room as he looked back towards the closed door. A pale blue light echoed through the room and Diohbin-Zi closed his eyes. "Maybe the Fates have it in the cards for us to meet again."
The light brightened considerable for several seconds before dying down, leaving the room dark.
And empty.
***Next chapter, Slayer Dreams All Around will give a clip of the remaining players in the coming Apocalypse. A certain ex-slayer has some interesting visions
***Chapter 3 probably won't be up for at least 10 days. Not only do I have to work the details of it but I also want to have at least one, maybe 2 chapters of my other fic, Do What You Have to Do up.
TBC…