Blood Moon
Sydney Alexis IX

"Freeze." My voice was as harsh and unforgiving as the sound of my master when he was training me, but Kathryn had grown used to this side of me by now. She had been practicing with both Tuvok and myself for months. Truth be told, she was a more competent fighter than a number of my generals, but I never told her that. Cockiness would only lead to injury.

I walked toward the pair of them, frozen in their spot like time itself had stopped. They knew better than to move.

"What do you see?" I questioned Kathryn. She raised an eyebrow at me. "Looks like the old man's in a bad spot," she said, leering at Tuvok. His back was pressed against a large tree and Kathryn was poised in front of him. The top of her sword's blade dug deeply into his flesh. I had asked him to do this; she needed to learn first hand.

"True," I said, circling them. "But look beyond the obvious. Think as if you were Tuvok. What would you do in his situation?"

Her eyes dropped, releasing her grip on the hilt of her sword. I wouldn't call her on it this time. She stepped back and noticed his hand resting on his belt and not at his side like she had expected. Eyes grew wide as she figured out what he was after-- a concealed dagger.

"The angle of your sword was such that you would have to drive the blade down to cut through his neck. He, on the other hand, had more than enough to draw and..."

"And take me with him," she finished.

I stepped closer to her, drawn by the voracious blood lust in her eyes.

"And what was the first thing that I taught you, Kathryn?"

Tilting her head to the side and regarding me with her most coy smile, she spoke evenly. "Never raise a sword unless I intend to kill?"

I smiled at her. Only she openly questioned me. Openly taunted me. "After that."

"Don't assume that I have won until the opponent has drawn his last breath."

"Good," I said, stepping back from her. "Of course, in the case of Mr. Tuvok, there will be no killing."

She laughed. "No. Something tells me he'll go down with a fight."

I made my signal, and they returned their swords to their sheaths. It was time to test her hand to hand training. Watching them circle each other like predator and prey, I made mental notes of points to correct and new techniques to teach. She really was magnificent when she was dancing like this-- the hunger for excitement that rolled off of her in waves, her eyes always locked on her prey, hair slightly disarrayed, clothes rumpled, and a thin sheen of perspiration covering her skin.

Endless moments of stalking ended as Kathryn lowered her left shoulder slightly, faking a punch with her right and sending her left out in a roundhouse. Tuvok caught it with his fist, tightening his grip on it briefly before releasing her hand. A flurry of activity followed with both landing and blocking punches, but it wasTuvok that drew the first blood. Kathryn stepped back, slightly dazed. Her hand flew to her nose. The red fluid covered her fingers and drove her over the edge. Ye gods how I loved to watch her fight like that. All the fury and anger in her system focused into her movements. She used her body size to her advantage, ducking out of his attacks and landing blows simultaneously. It was her emotions that led to undoing every time though. No matter how many times I told her that there had to be a balance between them and well-practiced maneuvers for any attempt to be successful, she would fail. Muscle memory worked for her most of the time, but, in the end, she would forget one of the basics.

In one swift motion, Tuvok caught her fist before it connected with his jaw. Using her momentum, he flipped her over his shoulder easily, dropped beside her, removed a hidden stiletto from his sleeve, and held it to her neck.

Sighing, I stepped forward from my position. "Kathryn, you are still dropping your right shoulder before you make punches, your balance was off on that last one which just made it that much easier for him to flip you, and you were apparently too busy fighting to take stock of the weapons Tuvok has. Nearly every blade on him is detectable by the bunching in his clothing."

I motioned for the Moor to stand with my hand. Kathryn pushed herself up onto her knees, preparing to stand. I shook my head, and a flash of anger and embarrassment crossed her features. The message clearly received; she had to gain my permission to stand. Not only did it support my claims to still be the brutal, unforgiving warlord Crycus was, but it reinforced her lessons. The look on her face though was enough to let me know I'd be hearing an earful that evening.

I stood silently in front of Tuvok, taking in his appearance for a long moment before circling him. After hours of sparring with Kathryn, he was still no where near as fatigued as she was. Barely sweating and definitely not panting for breath as she was. Every muscle in his body was waiting for an attack that would not come from me, but, to the casual observer, he looked at ease. Despite the heat of the day, he remained in a long sleeve shirt, jacket, and turban.

Without looking at her, I spoke. "Where are the standard placements for hidden weapons?"

"Sleeves, belt, boots, saddle bags."

I nodded, stepping forward, starting at the sleeves and removing his weapons: first the stiletto in his hand, then the one up his other sleeve, one tucked in his belt near his favored hand, another hidden beneath a pleat in the back, one in each boot, and, finally, one hidden within the wraps on his turban. The latter surprised both of them when I drew it and added it to the growing stack on the forest floor.

"No one has ever found that weapon before," he said, speaking for the first time that afternoon, a look of admiration on his face. I smirked at him. Over the past few weeks, I had learned quite a bit about Tuvok. He was loyal, quiet, and he was an incredible fighter. We were, in fact, fairly well matched. I would not, however, venture to tell him of my true identity. Though I knew his high beliefs in honor went, I had doubts of him.

I clasped my hand on his shoulder and offered him a smile. "Good fight. We'll meet you here tomorrow, old man. Tomorrow we'll start her on crossbows and throwing daggers." He nodded. "As for the troops, see that they start training with quarter staffs by the end of the week. I still intend to arrive there before the Winter Solstice."

"Yes, my Lord," Tuvok said, bending to gather his weapons before leaving. Once out of earshot, I offered a hand to Kathryn. "Sorry, about that, pet. Just don't fancy you getting yourself killed over a stupid mistake."

Ignoring my hand, she rose from the ground. "Sometimes you are like him so much that the very sound of your voice pains me," she said, quietly, limping toward the castle gate then stopping as she remembered her place. Crycus would never have simply dismissed her outside the castle walls, especially in the state she was in. Bloodied and bruised on my arm, she had received a beating. Without me present, she had run away or was cast off and fair game. No one save Tuvok knew of her extra studies and that was the way I intended on keeping it.

Pushing the dull ache in my stomach that was stirred at her words, I squared my shoulders and walked up to her. "Come on, pet," I said, offering her my arm. She took it, standing stiffly against my side as we walked in. Her head was down, eyes filled with irritation and laced with pain. Coming off of her adrenaline rush and feeling the effects of the well and throughout thrashing Tuvok had dealt her that afternoon would only serve to full her ire.

I led her through the gates, through the palace, and straight to Crycus' bedroom. I locked the door soundly behind us. She slipped from my side almost instantaneously, slumping down onto the bed. I sat beside her and, despite speaking in hushed tones. She jumped at the sound of my voice.

"I'm sorry," I said, softly. "If you don't want to continue your training..."

"No," she said, quickly. "It's just hard sometimes..."

I raised my eyebrow then verbally nudged her to continue. "How's that?"

"When we're out there," she said, pointing toward the doors, "You're Crycus. This cold, cruel man that revealed in torturing others and the base parts of life. And then, when we're out there fighting, you're Proteus. Always acting on instinct. Always ahead of your opponent. When we're in here...you're Thomas. You're your old self...or at least how I pictured you in the old days, sad haunted look in your eyes. You read over your wife's letters, mourning her, thinking about getting revenge against the last player in this whole conspiracy. It's just hard to keep all your personalities straight."

Understanding dawned on me. I had been living the life of so many other people that I tended to not notice when or how easily I melted into a new character. She raised an unsteady hand to my cheek.

"I could deal with Crycus because I knew what he expected, and I could probably deal with Proteus. But Thomas is foreign territory."

"How so, pet?"

Shrugging her shoulders, she pulled away. "It's not important." I touched her arm, and her eyes darted to mine. There, written just as clearly across her features was an expression I hoped not to ever see again, but, as quickly as it was there, it disappeared. Standing, she moved toward the door.

"I'm going to the wives' bath to clean up and then to my room for the evening," she said softly, chancing a look at me over her shoulder.

I nodded mutely in understanding. "I'll see you at dinner then, Kathryn?"

"Yeah," she said, slipping from my room without another word. I fell back onto the bed, running a hand through my hair. I spent the next few hours cursing the Fates and their sick sense of humor. Kathryn was in love with Thomas.

§*Ø*§

Nearly as soon as Kathryn left, a loud wrapping began on my chamber door. Sighing, I called out for whomever it was to enter. I heard, rather than saw the heavy door open. The intruder made two hesitant steps into the room.

"What news bring you?" I said, finally growing impatient and turned my sight upon the door.

"A woman...she dropped this scroll off for you, Milord. Told me to bring it to you straight away."

I turned my gaze from the boy, returning it to the juncture where the ceiling and the wall met once again. He stepped forward, edging toward my open hand to give me the proffered scroll. I took it from him, expecting it to be yet another bill or requisition letter. It was the seal, however, that gave me pause-- a series of interlocking knots. Only a handful of people carried the symbol of the Order.

"A woman you say...what did she look like?"

"Dinn't get a good look at her. Old-like. Brown cloak. Sway backed. But the funny thing is her walking stick..."

"Was it taller than she? Carved out of a wood that seemed as black as the night?"

"Yeah. Had this red bobble at the top that kinda reminded me of the bishop's ring."

My heart sped up as I broke the seal on the scroll. I unrolled it slowly to find three symbols neatly scribbled in the center along with two words in my people's ancient tongue. Two of the symbols were runic-- war and love. The last was two intersecting, curved lines that had come to represent the one god's temples. The message read: "Alone. Midnight."

I had to stop myself from laughing aloud. Only Du would arrange such a risky meet. Her note was in classic form as well-- short, sweet, and delivered with an air of mystery. I would, without a doubt, have to be careful.

"Was this all that she gave you?"

"Nothing more, Milord."

I nodded and motioned that he was free to leave. Not for the first time, I wished night would come faster.

§*Ø*§

That evening, I found it nearly impossible to slip out of the palace unseen. Twice as many guards had been assigned to protecting it at night, and the efforts of Tuvok's training had become quite obvious. Laughing at my own self-imposed headache, I elected to simply walk out the front gate dressed as a merchant rather than a pauper. I very nearly made it to the temple without a snag. Nearly. Not entirely. One of the wives was there in the last pew, head bowed in prayer. Beads clicking loudly against each other. To worsen matters, the 'church' as it was now called, was actually a decommissioned temple for Athena. Architecturally, it was made wide and open for worship. This left me with a bit of a dilemma-- there were no shadows to blend into or places to hide in that tiny, entry way the bishop's carpenters had made for foyer. Of course, the best way to hide something is often in plain sight...provided the gods are in your favor.

My eyes darted from 'my wife' to the small fount of holy water and then behind me to the table of memorial candles. A handful remained lit hours after service had concluded. My gaze was drawn to the changing color of the ruby glass as the flame flickered in the breeze. I recalled my youth as a page and the teachings of the one god I was forced to endure. I had believed them as easily as I had believed in the many gods. No question of their existence because a man I perceived to be greater than me told me it was such. I'd lit one of those candles every time I was about to ride out. A single candle to remember and pay tribute to the men that would fall at the end of my sword. It was a guilt that I had learned to bury with time.

My trance was cut short by the sound of rustling fabrics. With the woman's exit, I was finally able to slip into the temple without detection. My eyes darted from the pews, to the choir loft, and finally, up to the handful of shadows given by the massive columns near the pulpit.

"You're late," A disembodied voice admonished from behind the reliquary. A female figure came from the shadows she was melted into. The soft glow of the torches revealing her features. How I had spent hours mapping them.

"It's a bit more difficult to slip out these days now that the guards aren't complete idiots. What brings you to my fair city, love?"

"I was in the neighborhood-- the land of the pharaohs--visiting a few friends of mine, learning all about their gods..."

"You heard about their burial chambers and you and your little band were emptying them out."

"Ta. Good guess. Suppose you did spend a bit too much time in my care not to know me that well." She paused, her head tilting slightly. "As I was saying, I was in the neighborhood, and started hearing rumors that Crycus had killed Proteus. Thought that I would come here and see for myself."

"Sending little notes lacks style, pet. Not to mention not very stealthy. You're up to something. I want to know what it is."

"Pick up the power of mind reading while you were traveling across Chin, did you?"

"No. I just know you well, Du."

"Always hated that nickname. And after I put you on the right path you think that you could show me a little respect. My name is Duessa. Not Du or pet or love or any of the other little nicknames you use on woman to make them fall for you."

"Thought that was the looks, love. Now quit stalling. Why did you come?"

"We made a pact, you and I. I agreed to help you if you helped me. I keep my promises."

"Big difference between me teaching you how to read and you training me how to kill."

"I think the exact words were 'I'll help you. Show you how to kill them all.'"

"And you think that was a promise to take out Crycus if I really was dead? And your impeccable honor is what's making you do it? Don't think so. You knew that I wouldn't give a damn what happened to this little palace once I'd left to take care of Solomon so you and your little band have your eyes set on taking it over."

She pouted lightly. "Caught me." A smile crept across her lips. "Fair catch though." Her hand came out to cup my face under my chin. "We'd cut you in, of course."

Duessa reminded me of Kes. Or, visa versa. She liked to do whatever or whomever she wanted when she wanted. Right spoiled woman. That was why I loved her. She made the greatest mentor a killer could ask for. Course, it helped that I could read her well.

"What else aren't you telling me, love?"

Her face fell as if I'd revealed some secret of hers. "Not sure what you're..." She started. I grabbed her neck roughly with my hand. A few more pounds of pressure and I would crush her voice box. We both knew it. Just made her smile brightly at me. Du always was into playing dangerous games. Probably why she was so damned good at what she did.

"How I've missed you, Thomas. You were always so much more...daring than my other boys."

"What do you know?"

Her large, brown, expressive eyes took on an empty, glazed sheen as she read me. "War and love. Love and war. Exact opposites that always shined so brightly inside you. The Lovers has crossed Death. Now they must pay. Eleven struggles you think you have seen but only ten cups have been filled. Tread carefully, Thomas, or all your work will be for naught," she said, laughing. Her voice had taken on a wispy, waiflike sound. Her facial features relaxed more and an innocence crept into her eyes.

"You saw all that in there?" I asked, laying my palm on her left temple. She turned into my touch before leaving my side to turn in wild circles to a tune she heard in her mind.

In her childhood, Duessa had been driven half mad by her stepfather, learning a great deal about methods of revenge and cruelty from him before she killed him and set out on this life. Her stepfather was an early follower of the one god that said her 'seeing' was an affront to his god-- only He was meant to foresee events.

Her mind was left fractured. So damaged by him that, at times, she would slip into that innocent child she had been before her mother married the ogre. It happened every time she 'saw'. Spinning in the center of a temple made church, she'd mumble about the stars, finally finding a moment's peace.

Had Duessa been born a ten winters before, she'd have been revered as a prophet for her visions. Now, thought. Now she was marked as evil. Seeing her like that always made me mourn for her. Endure her more to me. She was vulnerable then. Not the hard woman that stole and killed without remorse, but the little girl that had been destroyed.

Her mad spinning and humming stopped as she turned toward me. Her slender arm extended towards me. "Give us a dance, Thomas? One last time. It's been so long since you've held me." I could never deny her anything when she was like this. I took her hand and let her guide me to the area between the pulpit and the pews.

"The Goddess... she worries for you, my Thomas. You're covered in Eros' poison. It's seeping into your veins, making you blind."

"Du...I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh Thomas. Already lying for her. And to me? I can see through you. Be leery of her. She doesn't love you like the others." She pulled back from me beginning to spin and hum her tune once again. "The mirror is shattered. It can never be fixed. She can never be fixed." Du murmured against my chest.

She paused, her voice wavering at the end. "I've been seeing again, Thomas. I mustn't tell Papa. It's so hard not to though. The voices are so loud. Getting so I can't hear anythin' else."

I threaded my hands through her hair, moving slowly with her. " 'S'alight, pet. We're in Athena's temple. Remember? Just ask her to help you block it out while you're in here. She'll listen. She always loved you."

"No. I was sent to put you on your path. Guide you from Hermes to her. Arms wide open to greet you again. She missed her champion even after his Fall. You learned from it and moved on."

Her speech gained coherency. I lifted her chin so that our eyes met and saw that the cloudiness they took on when a vision had lifted.

Duessa pulled herself from my arms then, offering a weak smile. Three steps saw her, hand reaching out to touch the cold, marble column. "You're like this temple, Thomas. The exterior can be changed to give it another appearance, but it will always be Athena's. She will rule over it and the land and not be forgotten. No matter how much the scenery changes. No matter how many times the one god's carpenter covers her murals or re-carves her statues. She will always be there."

She paused, turning to look at me again. Eyes belying no emotion as she raised a candle's glass holder and let it fall from her hands, shattering on the ground. "The core must be stable. Impenetrable. Unbroken. Splintered wood, fractured glass can never be rebuilt. I wonder which will sting more? The sculptor's tools or the shards of glass."

Duessa spoke the last bit, staring down at the mess she had made. The candle light danced across the glass bits like thousands of tiny prisms. Unnatural rainbows were cast across her ivory skin.

"She was with you that night...when you built the pyre and ever after. You have Her favor, Thomas. You always will." She started, then finally turned her gaze to meet his. "Remember where you came from, or you will become like the mirror."

She turned quickly, her aged cloak billowing behind her as she made a hasty exit, slowed only by the loot she had taken from the church. I smiled at that. Even half-gone her hands managed to grab hold of sacred objects of gods she didn't honor or recognize. The jeweler in her group would melt the gold down, recut the gems, and they would sell them to the highest bidder. For her level of craft, they put up with her outbursts. Only I knew how to tame them though.

I folded my arms around myself before heading out into the bitterly cold night air. It wasn't until I arrived back in my chambers that I noticed Du had slipped a charmed rune into my pocket. It was made of rose quartz-- a substance known for its healing abilities. It was in finding that one, small object that all of her ramblings came into focus. The game had changed immeasurably in just a few short hours.

A/N: No, your eyes aren't playing tricks on you. Duessa is meant to remind you of Drusilla. I have plans to tie this story into one about her and Spike.