Chapter Five

While Circe fell asleep that night, wrapped in the arms of the man she loved and who loved her in return, there was an Eyrien Warlord Prince very much awake in the realm of Kaeleer. Haunted by dreams of his childhood and brutal years as a slave, Lucivar found himself patrolling the halls of SaDiablo Hall very late at night. He suspected that the dreams had resurfaced because the only memories he ever had of Daemon had been when they were slaves. Oh yes, Daemon, the Sadist Warlord Prince with the strength to put them all, save Witch, in a very quiet grave, had returned to Ebon Askavi, to the realm of that which was Witch. Seeing Daemon for the first time in years had brought back happiness, at first, but as time drew on, Lucivar found himself struggling with memories not quiet dead. Memories calling for vengeance and high debts. Daemon had forgiven him, but it didn't erase their past. It couldn't.

"Lucivar…" Marian stood quietly in the doorframe, candles from within the room behind her casting a halo about her dark locks. She had a black robe cast about her shoulders, and a sleepy look in her eyes, but most importantly of all, she had that gentle smile on her lips.

Turning around sharply, Lucivar saw his wife and smiled gently, pushing down any and all thoughts of Daemon.

"This is the third night you've done this, Lucivar…." She bit her lip before going on. "You have to let this thing, this thought, this idea which holds you down go. Just let it go." She finished her sentence softly, in a pleading way.

Not wishing to upset her further, Lucivar managed to chuckle dryly. "And you say I fuss. It does no good to trouble your self with it, my love, and it is gone, in its own way."

"Please, Lucivar, just tell me what it is. Ever since Daemon came home, you've become a mystery to me." Her gaze was questioning, yet full of caring.

Looking at her, Lucivar considered all of his thoughts, fears, and feelings. The vengeance that hung thick in the air that night in those crumbling ruins. That look in Daemon's eyes, and the pain that flickered in them with every verbal dagger Lucivar had hurled at him. The lies they both had believed. And then, on that fateful day, Lucivar had found the truth and almost died for it. He found himself in a rapid search to find Daemon and save him from that which could have made him fade away. And the service fair. He wasn't on those damned lists. Year after year, service fair after service fair, he was never there. Oh, Lucivar was happy when he had finally found him, but the unsettled dispute between them could never be forgotten. The debt had been erased, and Daemon was something of his former self, even after those diabolical years, but in the end, it was Daemon who had become the mystery….

"It's nothing," he finally said with a small smile.

Terreille

Magnus paced his study, his eyes darting over the walls almost as quickly as his brain darted through his different thoughts. There was a sense of uneasiness cast over the slaves. He could feel it. Hell, he could almost taste it. But he didn't know what it was or who to trace it to. It wasn't only uneasiness, either. It was excitement and vengeance that drove them quietly. Yet it wasn't strong enough. Wasn't broad enough. And, most important of all, it wasn't great enough. Oh, he had considered bringing his fears to Veronica, but he had no proof or very much information at all. All he could say was that he had a feeling, but the bitch could never understand that. Wrapped up in her aristocratic court, she could never understand anything that didn't involve jewels and gowns.

Taking a deep breath, he stopped pacing, trying to get his emotions in check should Veronica get any grand ideas of stopping by. She hadn't called upon him since their last meeting and he was beginning to wonder if she had abandoned the breeding idea. Probably forgot, he thought quietly, that fickle little pawn. They were all pawns now. Magnus could see that now that they were tightly in Hayll's shadow.

Using craft, he poured himself a small glass of whisky and quickly drank it. It wasn't until his third glass, as he collapsed into his chair, that he made a noise. Laughing softly to himself, he looked at the glass in his hand.

"I can wait."

Terreille

Rain walked slowly through the palace, a great heap of quilted blankets in her old, tired arms. Peering around the heap, she tried to stay out of others' way, especially if they appeared to belong to the upper court. Turning the corner, he found herself in a short hallway. Good, she thought, I must be going in the right direction. The footman one floor down, was kind enough to stop and give her directions, hurried as they were. One….two….three. Yes, that's what he said. Third door on the left. Feeling around for the door handle, she finally clasped it and yanked the door open. Quickly walking in, she found herself in a rather large linen closet. Setting the quilts down on the nearest shelf, Rain ran her hand over her brow, taking a deep breath. What had he said? Quilts go….where?

Scanning her memory, she muttered quietly. "I'm getting too old for this." Finally remembering his instructions, she picked up the quilts once more to move them to the back of the room. Sure enough, there was a shelf full of quilts there. Moving to the end, she lowered them onto the only available spot. Clasping the shelf for balance, Rain sat down slowly, hoping for a moment's rest.

Just then, however, the door to the linen closet creaked open and two young maids slipped in, whispering excitingly to one another. They carried a large woven basket between them full of neatly folded white towels. Setting down, they began to place the towels on a nearby shelf.

Now, Rain wasn't one to eavesdrop, but few, if any, could have resisted listening to that discussion.

"I honestly don't understand why that woman bought all those female slaves. She hasn't even kept an eye on the breeding plan. Waste of money if you ask me." The first had a rather loud, know-it-all voice; one that kept an ear out for gossip.

"She's crazy I tell you." The second didn't sound much better.

"No, just ignorant and frivolous. Stupid bitch, if you ask me. I swear, she'll get us all killed."

"Killed? We're out of the Hellish path now and in Hayll's protection."

"Not Hayll. I hear there's trouble stirring in the slave quarters. There's whispers of rebellion." Her voice was giddy, like this was no big matter. Leaning in, Rain peered in through the selves, watching them.

"Slaves a threat? Ha! They're animals. Where did you hear such nonsense?"

"It's not nonsense; the Master of the Guard thinks so himself."

Widening her eyes in understanding, the second one laughed. "You whore!"

The first smiled wickedly. "That's the price you pay for information."

"What else did ye hear?"

"Not much else. He was going on about how he just has a 'feeling'. I swear the whole court is losing it."

"Well you would, wouldn't you?"

Picking up the basket once more, now empty, the two girls slipped out again, arguing in hushed voices.

Leaving the room much later, Rain was very much afraid. What if they decimated random slaves to acquire obedience? Oh, the tortures they could impose….

Terreille

Circe sat quietly tucked away in the corner of their dirty cell, the last of the sunlight streaming in through the bars and over her face. Using craft, she sent her clay cup over to rejoin the water jug in the center of the room. Sighing, Circe leaned her head back, tired from work and the constant stress of being found out.

"Circe!" Rain hurried into the room, loudly slamming the door behind her. Walking quickly over to Circe, for she seemed unable to run anymore, she knelt down next to her.

"There's talk of rebellion…." She whispered, her eyes growing wide as she looked into Circe's.

Fear seizing her heart, Circe clasped Rain by the shoulders. "Where did you hear that?!"

Slightly shocked by her behavior, muttered a reply. "Maids…in the palace." Did Circe know something about this?

"What did they say?" Circe hissed.

"The Master of the Guard feels that there may be a revolt," Rain said quickly, her shoulders beginning to hurt under Circe's tight grip.

Releasing her slowly, Circe slowly stood up. It was so bizarre how she left the room. So mechanical and slow. Rain's mouth was gaped open wide, and was so when Dragona and Toki came in minutes laters.

Terreille

Circe walked slowly to the working fields, trying to escape the gaze of others. Looking around, she saw groups of slaves whispering quickly. All around, slaves spoke in hushed voices, and stole wary glances at the guards. The news must have leaked out through various sources. This was indeed the undoing of all their planning.

Seeing Altecus come back from the dining hall, she knew he was not oblivious to the news. She saw the bitter contempt in his eyes. He knew that there could be nothing now. The news had leaked out somehow and it would be a matter of moments before action was taken.

"You, there, woman!" A male voice had called her name, and as Circe slowly turned around, bitter contempt began to fill her as well. It was a guard, and she knew what he wanted. Over my dead body, she thought vehemently. Turning around swiftly, Circe quickly began to walk away, no longer caring.

She heard the gravel crunch under his boots before she saw him.

Clasping her by the shoulder tightly, he yanked her around. It didn't really matter if she died now did she? At least she would die by her own choice. Not like a slave. Punching him hard across the face, she managed to struggle out of his arms before a bit of Opal Craft froze her in her path. Suspended there, she looked frantically about for Altecus with her eyes. She had to apologize while she had a chance. He had to know. But he wasn't there. None of the males slaves were anymore.

The guard, emitting blood from his nose, had managed to stand back up, but was instructed to remain still. Rather, another guard, the one wearing the Opal jewel, came forward, eyeing her coldly. In one single movement, he hit her hard across the face with his gloved hands, releasing her from her frozen state, yet throwing her to the gravel. Looking up, she saw him draw a dagger, a very sharp one. Breathing heavily, Circe let her eyes go blank; she wouldn't give him the pleasure of seeing her squirm. Yet as he bent down, his hardened eyes intent on the kill, he seemed to freeze in his place. And the light in his eyes died as he fell on top of her. Looking at him as he lay across her and fighting the urge to scream, Circe finally saw the axe in his back. Lightly touching the handle, she looked up.

For all those weeks of planning, it had come to this. A revolt that began the same way its planning began—with heated passion.

Altecus, quickly bending down, kissed his wife with that passion before pulling her to her feet. "I thought the revolt was suppose to start weeks from now," she said with amusement, bending down to grab the axe out of the guard's back.

"It just changed," he said quickly, grabbing her wrist as he flung her behind a stone wall. She could see slaves and guards alike running every which way. The male slaves mostly had weapons, but she could see that so did a few of the females. Grabbing her shoulders, Altecus looked straight into her eyes.

"Listen to me, Circe. I need you to grab as many women and children as you can and I want you to run. Run to the forest, Circe, and don't look back. Take cover in the trees, and wait for us to join you. Don't leave the trees, Circe, for they need you now." Quickly running away, Altecus managed to destroy numerous guards in his past with his Sapphire Craft. She didn't see the jewel on him, but then again, she didn't get a chance to really look.

Running from the stone wall, Circe, quickly ran to her own quarters, shoving people out of her way, and dodging guards (who were more interested in attacking the males, anyway.)

"Rain! Toki! Dragona!" She called out their names but she heard no answer. Shoving open the door to their room, Circe saw no one there. Cursing to herself, she quickly left the room, and went into the courtyard, scanning it for any of the three. Finally spotting Dragona, having taken cover in the trees, Circe shoved her way through the crowd over to her. Pulling herself up the branches, Circe grabbed Dragona's shirt and yanked her towards her so that their faces were barely inches away.

"You're coming with me. But first, where's Toki and Rain?" Not one to waste time, Dragona nodded and quickly pointed to the dining hall.

"Rain's in the dining hall, and I have no idea in hell where Toki is." But Circe did. Looking down, she saw Toki being strangled to death by a guard. It was too late to save her. Jumping out of the tree, Circe sprinted to the dining hall, hoping that Dragona had managed to follow. Throwing open the doors, Circe saw Rain in the corner of the room, taunted by two guards and surrounded by terrified women and children. Makes my job easier, Circe thought to herself as she picked up a nearby wooden chair and knocked it over the head of the nearest guard. Dragona quickly followed suite and took care of the other guard.

Dropping the chair, Circe eyed Rain and said rather firmly, considering the situation, "We need to get out of here. All of you, come with me if you want to live." Some of them moved, while others sat frozen with fear. Picking up the nearest woman by her upper arm, Circe hissed, "This is not a game. Get up now." Moved by a fear that was closer to them than the one outside, all of them managed to stand up. As their senses came back to them, they picked up their children, and eyed Circe warily. Running to the back exit, her foot steps echoing loudly off of the walls, Circe quietly opened the door and peered out. It looked clear. They had a shot yet. Smiling through her rapid breaths, Circe turned around to look at them, running a hand through her hair, unbound and damp with sweat.

"The Darkness smiles upon us." Opening the door slowly, Circe made one last check. Grabbing Rain by her upper arm Circe whispered, "I need you to run as fast as you can Rain. Try, please try." Not letting her go, Circe finally shot out of the room and motioned for them to come out. Motioning for Dragona to go first, Circe waited until they had all filed out, and, still holding Rain, formed the rear. Sprinting, Circe felt Rain stumble, but they couldn't stop. They couldn't look back. She could hear screams, and smell fear, but thankfully, she knew that she was running away from it. Trying not to think about Altecus fighting, Circe plowed onward, instantly regretting making Rain suffer more. Slightly slowing down as they came to the woods, Circe had waited until they were well in before yelling for them to stop. Holding onto Rain tightly to keep her from collapsing, Circe slowly began to walk on.

"Can't we have a moment's rest?" One of them called out in between deep breaths.

"No—we have to keep going." Circe had wanted to stop, but the urge to go on and be safe highly out weighed her desire to take a break.

"Where are we going?" Dragona asked quietly, coming up on Circe's right hand side.

"To the heart of the forest; we have to take cover in the tree tops, in the shelter of leaves."

"And what do we do once we're there?" Rain said gently, though there was a worried gleam in her eyes.

"We wait."

Kaeleer

Karla walked at a leisurely pace with Jaenelle in the garden, the fading sunlight casting a gleam over the blooming flowers. They had talked but a little, but then again, Karla reasoned, there wasn't much to talk about. Karla had considered bringing up the subject of Daemon, but it didn't seem her place to stir up childhood memories—or wounds.

"Did you feel that?" Jaenelle asked it so suddenly and softly that Karla had wondered if she had heard it at all.

"Feel what?" She asked gently, her eyebrow raising in question.

"Fighting. Anger. Hurt."

Karla had felt nothing, and it must have been written on her face for Jaenelle finally looked away and said rather quietly, "Nevermind."