Chapter Twenty-Three –
Interim:
The Mind of a Dark Lord
Brendan shook his head, slowly and warily.
"I've no real idea if it will work," he said, in his grim, world-weary tone. "A foray into another's mind requires a vast amount of power, along with the right level of skill – if either of us wavered for even a moment, there is no telling what might happen when the spell recoils."
"I am willing to hazard that," said his companion.
The faery lord looked deep, searching, into the intense gray eyes of the one who stood beside him. His mind registered the sight of that tall, slender, perfectly-built body and recognized it, but the things that he saw spiraling inside of those eyes… The realm of the mind was far too infinite, far too shadow-cloaked and many-sided, to step into carelessly. The slightest wrong turn could result in a plunge into insanity, or death – even for an immortal.
He sighed.
"You seem willing to hazard much, Ríth-Anstarinaor," he said then. He raised one hand and put it to the back on his neck, rubbing it tiredly as he once again eyed his companion. "How may I be certain of what you really want?"
Jaedin's full lips flickered in the traces of a faint, bitter smile.
"I would not worry myself overly much about that, Lord Brendan," he replied. Brendan suddenly caught a wavering in the hard mask that the Dark Lord wore over his features, and glimpsed the raw edges of an old and painful wound. When he looked closely – but ever so guardedly – at the face of the one who stood before him, he took note of several things: the slight pinch in the creases of the eyes, at the smile of their owner; the tired shadows that came and went in the eyes themselves, in the features of the face. The Dark Lord had an overall strange and unfamiliar air about him, which greatly disturbed Brendan.
What exactly was he being asked to delve into…?
As if he had read the faery nobleman's mind – and read it all too well – Jaedin stepped forward, holding out a long, gloved hand with an elegant unfurling of the wrist and fingers. As he spoke, it seemed as if he was merely a guest at a banquet, addressing another guest. Even his smile: soft, engaging, and extremely cordial, reflected an air of affability.
"You really needn't worry," Jaedin assured him. Ever the charmer – and only now I recall that I ought to ever keep a watch on him when he is in Elowyn's company, Brendan thought, with belated chagrin. "I will not ask of you anything that will rebound on you, or any of those with you. All I seek is…"
And he trailed off.
Knowing quite well the Dark Lord's penchant for question-and-answer games, Brendan decided that he might as well play the game.
"Is what?" he asked.
Jaedin's smile widened, exposing his vampyre teeth.
"Answers, Lord Brendan," he said. "All I seek is answers."
* * *
It had been late afternoon when Jaedin had come to find Brendan and they had made their bargain within the hour of their meeting. Jaedin, it was revealed, wished to uncover the past that he could not remember, and Brendan was the only other member of their party who had the skills and experience sufficient to aid him.
And to aid him, they would have to bring into being a magical act of truly cowing power, the kind of power that was under no circumstances to be taken lightly…
Sunset fell over the forest, and the group of travelers all crowded themselves into the Ping- and Hobknob-sized sitting room of the village's manor – reserved for the 'government' members, as it were – and took their respective positions.
Jaedin and Brendan sat across from one another at the room's single, circle-cut table: hands laid flat on the tabletop, fingertips just touching. Robbie stood by the door, leaning against its frame, as he eyed the proceedings with immense distrust, dislike, and other more indefinable emotions in his ice-blue eyes, and written across his face. Sala and Elowyn sat together to the side of the pair at the table, curled up in the bowl-shaped chair that had been placed by the window for their specific use.
The lanterns in the room had been dimmed, and only a very few candles were lit, giving the air a hazy, ambient red-gold glow. Through the window showed a slash of the twilight sky, tainted a vague bluish-purple, with highlights of deep scarlet in the place where the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon.
All was very quiet.
Brendan rallied the strengths of his mind and set his shoulders in determination. Then, he looked at Jaedin. I cannot understand why I am doing this…I must be mad, he thought.
"Are you ready?"
Jaedin nodded, impassively. He showed no emotion.
"As ever," he replied.
Brendan nodded, and then closed his eyes. Jaedin did the same, slowly easing himself away from reality as he did so.
This was a path often-traveled by him: whenever he had wished to correspond with the Queen in previous days, in a way that no one else could know of, or whenever he had simply desired to escape from the world, he had dropped his mind into the void of darkness, where there was no sound or chaos or pain: only darkness. It was into this place, this realm of the mind, that he now went…only he chose to go deeper this time, past the outward façade of shadows, and into the places beyond them – and Brendan followed.
Robbie, Sala, and Elowyn were completely silent as they watched their friend and their widely distrusted guide enter into a state not terribly unlike unconsciousness. Although both Brendan and the Dark Lord were still sitting straight up, at the table, all three of the younger faeries knew that they were far from sleep, or anything like it. There was no correct word to describe it – all they knew was what was going on, at the moment.
Jaedin wished to know about his past, the past that he could not remember; he had asked Brendan to help him recover it, as the memory was surely hidden somewhere in his consciousness. A linking spell, they all knew full well, enabled two minds to touch upon one another, and a careful wielding of the second mind – the mind that had entered the other – would allow its owner to see into the soul of the first.
Or – more importantly – its memory.
Robbie shook his head, his distrustful gaze fixed upon Jaedin.
"This isn't right," he muttered, and both of his companions could easily recognize the depths of anger within him: fairly vibrating from him.
In a different place and time, Robbie's father, Arin, had nearly been destroyed by one of the Dark Lord's own contemporaries, a sorcerer long since conquered by the forces of good. Now, being faced by one of evil's foremost captains, Robbie could scarcely react any other way – he and Jaedin quite obviously despised each other, although Elowyn did not know how this had progressed, and they would not willingly be comrades.
"This isn't right," Robbie said again: this time, almost in a whisper. He glared at Jaedin, his ice-blue eyes strangely bright. "I don't like it at all."
"Robbie."
Elowyn murmured his name softly, wanting to get up and walk over to the young prince, and take him in her arms to comfort him with her embrace. But, as it was, she could not – moving would break the fragile connection between the minds of her uncle and their guide, which could result in much danger for the two. Linking spells were not things to be toyed with.
And so she remained where she was.
Sala observed the still figures sitting at the table before her for a moment longer, with observant hazel eyes; then, she remarked, "What do you think he is looking for?"
Elowyn knew, without even thinking about it, that she was asking about what Jaedin was searching for – not Brendan. Somehow, it wasn't even a question. She shook her head.
"I don't know," she murmured. "He's such a mystery, Sala – no matter how many times his mind has touched upon mine, and no matter what secrets I seem to stumble upon, I don't feel as if I will ever know anything of him. He only lets me see what he wants me to."
"But he lets you see," was her cousin's incisive reply.
Elowyn never took her eyes off of the black-velvet-garbed figure in front of her: her gaze roving freely over the proud, prominent features, the hooded eyes and scarred lip, the chiseled chin and clouded eyebrows, and shaven scalp.
Perhaps he will let Brendan reach into his mind, and perhaps Brendan will be able to uncover this part of his mind for him… she thought.
And then what? the voice of her mind asked her. Will he, the lord of all the shadows, be pleased enough with that to give you all his total and unadulterated aid? Will you at long last be able to trust him, or will this cause only an even greater need for fear and doubt? This is a Dark Lord that you are facing, here.
"He is without anyone. He is alone."
She felt Sala's perturbed gaze on the side of her head, but did not look back. She could not bring herself to lift her eyes from the floor beneath her feet – she felt her cheeks burning, stained with a fiery blush at the words that her own lips, her own voice, had just brought into being.
Meanwhile…
When Jaedin had asked Brendan to enter his mind through a linking spell, and then seek out the distant, well-hidden memory of his past, Brendan had been uncertain of the whole ordeal.
How, by the Fates, was he to know that this wasn't some sort of trick? The Dark Lord could easily trap a faery's mind within his, dooming his victim to eternal wandering in the void, the death of his soul. And if this was not the case – what did he want to know? What was he looking for? The memory of one's past was something that all creatures had, to some extent…but what was it that Jaedin sought within that memory? From what Brendan had seen thus far, the Dark Lord did almost nothing without…ulterior motives…
The first glimpse that he had of the Dark Lord's mind was the typical blank space – although this place was a silent and black, unlike the usual white, ringing void. The Dark Lord guarded his mind very well; however, Brendan could sense the faint traces of someone's past presence, here and there, like fading burn marks on a wall. Someone had almost literally engraved her presence upon the Dark Lord's mind: she had penetrated the shadows, if only for a moment. A flash of white, of memory…
Brendan pressed on, concealing the ripple of unease that went through him at that last. He had a task to carry out – if it was memory that the Dark Lord was in search of, it was memory that he would uncover.
It would take a monumentally long time, however – the Dark Lord had been in existence for many, many thousands of years, and only after Brendan had managed to slip past the outer guards of his mind would he be able to see through the shadows…
After much careful coaxing and prodding, though, Brendan at last found a weak spot. Quite obviously, Jaedin had already descended into the deeper realms of his mind, leaving a sort of path for Brendan to follow, as he searched. My utmost thanks, Dark Lord, he thought.
Then, as an echo from the black void back to him, faintly—
You are most welcome, spy of the faeries.
Brendan felt inclined to let his lips twitch in a bit of a wry smile – so Ríth-Anstarinaor knew what his daytime occupation was now. Best to let that pass, at the moment.
He slid through the gap in the defense, and suddenly found himself in a veritable forest of shadows. It was through this that he must find this way – through thoughts, memories, dreams, desires, and other emotions and functions of the mind. Brendan caught a glimpse of what he abruptly recognized to be a desire: a brief glittering vision of Jaedin, caressing Elowyn, jumped out in front of him, and then dissipated in a shower of sparkling shards.
The Dark Lord's voice echoed back to him again—
Don't meddle with that which you have not been asked to see, Brendan of the White Realm. I did not request for you to give me your counsel on my…love life.
Brendan almost laughed, dryly.
Over five hundred thousand years old, and you still have such thoughts.
A snarl at him, truly ireful: I never had such thoughts before!
Brendan merely pressed on again, and he would have shaken his head, still smiling grimly, if he had been in reality.
Millennia passed him by, and soon he felt as if this place – the realm of the Dark Lord's mind – would go on forever. He saw many, many things there: things that disturbed him greatly, things that were horrible and dark and bloody, and some that were utterly drenched in acid bitterness. He began to understand – slightly, to some degree – some of his enemy's motivations, some of his reactions, to things in his life.
Then, finally, he glimpsed it: there, amidst the shadows, half hidden in what seemed to be the very boundary of this incredible, twisted labyrinth, was what he sought. Surely, it had to be what he had come for – could it be otherwise…
He felt as if he was pulling open a door, or the lid of a treasure chest – a beam of light dazzled into the darkness, causing him to fall back—
* * *
It all happened at once.
The silence in the room was suddenly ripped into shreds, shattered like a mirror upon rock – with a shriek that contained a string of unintelligible words, Jaedin exploded back to life again, shooting to his feet and falling backwards at the same time, stumbling like a sailor upon the deck of a ship, during a storm at sea. Sala, Elowyn, and Robbie were all snapped out of their reveries; none of them knew what to do, how to react.
What was wrong?
Brendan came out of his trance as well then, immediately looking to Jaedin. The Dark Lord's memories had been uncovered, but so quickly had he broken the link between them, only he had seen what lay within those memories. They all stared at him, as he stood unsteady and seemingly maddened before them.
Elowyn uttered his name, reaching out to him with one hand: "Jaedin…" she said. She stepped forward, but then Jaedin made a violent gesture with both arms, erupting into movement. Alarmed, Brendan and Sala had the presence of mind to pull her back, away from him, as Robbie put himself between the Dark Lord and the princess.
"No!" Elowyn cried, struggling against them. "Something's wrong – ask him! You must ask him! Something is wrong, blast it!"
"It – it's impossible!"
They all turned to look at Jaedin, who had spoken coherently for the first time in the last horrible, confused moments. He looked absolutely crazed, rendered wild and deadly by whatever was now within his head, brought back into existence at his own request. It was fortunate indeed, they now all saw, that Brendan had been able to come back to reality at all – if only—
"Jaedin, please!" came Elowyn's pleading voice, from behind her friends.
The strange light in his eyes seemed to recede for a moment, and he looked straight at her, murmuring throatily, "Merron nenein…"
And he stepped towards her.
But then Robbie and Brendan barred the way, and he – very strangely – shrank back from them, the panic returning into his face and body within an instant.
"No! Not her!" snapped Robbie.
Brendan looked at the Dark Lord, silent.
Jaedin jerked his head up, his gaze momentarily meeting that of the faery nobleman's, and then – without warning – he drew back, like a cornered animal: a feral snarl twisting his lips. And before any of them could do anything, he turned and bolted from the room.
The silence returned.
* * *
Four days passed by, and there was no trace to be found of the Dark Lord anywhere in the Pings and Hobknobs' village, or even in the forest. Guildar sent out his best trackers, and the faeries themselves made several forays out into the tree-riddled landscape, only to return each time with nothing. Worry set in, growing steadily worse and worse…
Without Jaedin, they could not continue their quest.
But Elowyn refused to think about this.
He promised me. He gave me his vow. A vow of blood, to the one whom he desires – I am that one, the princess whom he would give his soul to have; he promised me…
And on the morning of the fifth day, Elowyn silently and pensively pulled her long cloak of evergreen wool on over her simple, sleeveless gown of gossamer white, her fingers absentmindedly going to gently brush against the wide golden bracelets that she wore on her upper arms. There were none of her friends about at that moment; but she knew that she had a place to be at, and someone to meet there.
Unmarked by anyone, she stepped out of the bedchamber that she shared with Sala, and went down the long, slender staircases that wound round and round the gigantic trees that the Pings and Hobknobs made their homes within, until she had reached the forest floor. She looked about herself, pausing for a moment, and then she moved on.
The forest was peaceful and quiet that day, and thoughtful as well, just as she was. It was a perfect picture, one much like a mortal faery-tale book might include: the vision of a beautiful princess, with waves of long, flowing golden hair and piercing, vivid green eyes – now rendered dreamy and distant – draped in a flowing gown and cloak, with a chain of stars at her throat, and hung on her forehead. The addition of a unicorn that she led by a silken halter might have been made, in a storybook, but that would have offended Orpheus in real life, had she done that.
Elowyn continued to walk, moving further and further away from the village.
And, at length, she came upon the one whom she sought.
He was standing still, draped entirely in his cloak of ominous, foreboding black velvet: looking as if he might just be some sort of gigantic bat, lurking in the woods, unable to take flight and soar to the skies in the daylight – therefore confined to the earth. He leaned slightly against a tree, looking out into the forest with his silvery eyes, which focused completely on her as she approached him. She felt recognition, and interest, stirring with him – and desire. She blushed.
Without a word to one another, they stood still for a moment: seeing and knowing all simply through each other's eyes.
Then, she stepped forward, turned around, and sank to the pine-needle-strewn ground with the effortless grace of one faery-born. There they remained, for long: her, sitting with her back against the tree trunk, gazing out into the sunlit branches, with him standing behind her – a dark guard keeping a jealous watch over his beloved princess, whom he was solely devoted to, as the daylight shimmered around them.
Let the world go by now—
I have you at my side.
Dark you may be,
And either blessed or cursed
With the light am I—
But let remain in your heart this:
You, my soul, you are with me.
And I know nothing else
But the velvet shadow
Of your wings.
A promise for Eternity.
* * *
A/N: Greetings, one and all! The Villain Forces have returned—
Shinzon: Can't you find a better name for us than that?
Jaedin: Whim of the moment, my friend, whim of the moment. Now, as I was saying… Notes. What exactly did Brendan manage to uncover in my memory? What made me react as I did – and will it cause a rift between myself and Elowyn? (Ha; I highly doubt it – as should you.) These questions to be answered: some sooner, some later, as the story goes on… R&r, please…
Raal the Sword Master: Me – quit acting bratty? You know, I just don't know if that's possible…I really rather enjoy it, far too much. And I am glad to know that a second, less-bloody version of vampyres is appreciated – I mean, the other versions are certainly 'interesting', but the fact remains that not all vampyres must be gory, hateful creatures that are out to destroy everything. It takes a Dark Lord to do that, not just a vampyre, in this tale… Oh. Crumbs. Self-incriminating evidence. O_o As for Elowyn and my relationship to her…well, the inclination was there all along; she just didn't know it. Much like she doesn't know…well, I am getting ahead of myself there. I can't reveal everything yet.
RaspberryGirl: Questions about me and Rákkhed – ooh. *lifts an eyebrow* I'm not sure if I'm ready for this…but fire away, if you want. I'll try to answer as well as I can. Sytherria is supposed to be a lot like ancient Egypt, you are right; everywhere else…well, Middle Earth might be a good source of similarity. Just think New Zealand in general.
Grayfalcon: I completely understand why you haven't reviewed…one of Kates' good friends here is getting ready to go off to college as well. Good luck with all your endeavors there! Glad you like the wolf metaphors as well. Of course, the wolf isn't the only creature mentioned…there's dragon in there too…let's just say that I am your basic mix of all the dangerous but widely misunderstood creatures. You know. *winks*
(Shinzon steps back inside the computer room and makes a gesture for Jaedin to close the program, save changes, and get up – now. Jaedin does so, with unnerving alacrity.)
J: Can't say when I'll be back again, ladies and gentlemen, but I do hope you enjoy the further updates… *to Shinzon* Run, run – no, not out that door! This one over here!
S: She's coming, she's coming! OW! Get off of my foot – *string of phrases in Reman* Where's that Phantom when we need him? Get the bloody door open!
J: He probably tipped her off – *trips over one of Kates' little sisters' Barbie dolls, resulting in a loud thud; gets up, little bluebirds flying around his head* Stupid…birds…
S: *grits his teeth and hauls him off* We really don't have time for this!
J: *hand on forehead, trying very hard to walk straight* No, you're right – we don't. How does sequestering ourselves in the walkthrough closet with the cable TV hookup for about the next three weeks sound to you…
S: As long as you leave it on the sci-fi channel…