also trying to make up for the weeks and weeks I left everyone without
chapters.
Rogue1615 - Yeah, no kidding; a gun would have helped _so_ much.
*snickers* Wonder what Ol' Riddle would have done if a Panzer came
through his reign back in the 1940s when he killed his father...?
Whoa, now that is a rockin' idea. I'll see if I can mingle it in, but
it's probably one of those "when we get to the end of the story"
things. Although it would open a _whole_ new world for sequels and
spinoffs ^__^ Technomagic space travel....
mortal enemy of inanimate objects - Well, since you lvoe him so much,
insane!Harry makes more appearances in this chapter :P Ah well, the
amazing ability to to reviewers/critiquers into my personal
slave/minnions praising my every word. Ah... it is a good life. ^___^
Of course my cliffies come at the exicting points. It's have the
reason I throw them in. But never fear! The next part is here!
Scamber Dragon - My talent came back, the very next day~ They thought
she was a goner, but my talent came back, it just wouldn't stay away~!
A flail is an instrument used in farming to beat down wheat, but it
can also make a nasty weapon. Usually two long sticks or metal rods
(depending on the area and era made), connected by a short chain.
Kinda like oversized nunchaku, just with a smaller chain. Yeah, I am
writing a book. Unfortunately I lost one of the major scenes somewhere
on my harddrive. Dammit, I liked that scene. Lang meeting Katar...
Lang finding... well, I'm not going to spill _that_ part, because it's
a major plot point ^___^
hurdlingbaybe06 - Yeah, I suppose it could get pretty confusing, just
because the scenes were so short... hopefully this chapter helps you
make sense of things ^__^ Nate-baby is off finding Mister Weasley.
He'll be back, don't you worry... and probably with a
stunned/shocked/disbelieving Arthur in tow :P
Tasidia - Yeah! I hope I don't stop updating until I've made up for
all my lack of chatpers! *poses proudly*
KoChanneo - It gets _better_ with each reading? Oh, oh wow... that's a
huge compliment. Most things I read multiple times just get worse...
Bryt - I updated damn soon. Four chapters in four days. Wow. Well,
maybe we'll be seeing Draco soon, but not likely. Black Rose still has
majority control over him for the time being. That doesn't mean he
won't be coming back-- he has to so they can find out how to kill a
living weapon. (Remember Lily??) Ouuu, I like that threat upon my
writer's block. Hear that, WB? Leave me alone!!
Hayley - *thumbs up* Here be the next chappie :)
Arizosa - *bows* I thank thee for thine praise. *grins widely*
If Harry Potter was mine, he'd have so many piercings, he'd never be
able to take an airplane _anywhere_.
---
Blackened Sunrise
Chapter Fifty-Seven - Bloodshed
The Itch
---
He could feel it.
It burned through his veins, pulsed painfully hot in his heart,
rushing across all his senses. He'd never felt anything quite like
this-- how could his other half possibly stay calm and cool with the
Power blazing through mind and body, pulsing and thrumming and
_begging_ for action, for bloodshed, for war...?
Emerald eyes saw nothing but attackers, weapons, death and
destruction as he launched himself into the fools that dared to
oppose the reign of the queen he so thoughtfully brought to them.
Surely they would appreciate a warrior over a narcissist; and yet
they wished to do battle.
So he would oblige them.
His hair, in the thick, dirty tangled mess that it always was,
whipped around his head, shining glimpses of facial piercings caught
only moments before a soul encompassing aura of sage ensnared the
mind. Hands gripping knives from the gauntlets still bound around
each wrist, as they had been for many months, flashed and danced,
carving a trail of gore. Feet kicked out, bare of shoes torn from the
previous change into Weapon, still with much strength behind ever
blow. A litany of curses-- both of the magical and vocal type-- flew
from his lips, ripping into his enemies, and dropping them like flies.
The Power was amplifying his natural stores of magic, and he reveled
in the feeling. Reveled in knowing that his wand, strapped to his
wrist beneath his right gauntlet, would fire off whatever spell his
mouth would state. Reveled in the battle that surrounded him, as the
armies of Drow crowded in upon themselves, trampling their company-
mates beneath armored boots as they tried to be the one who was to
take down the cyclone of death known as Harry James Potter.
A harsh, cackling laugh echoed through the Noble City of Agarwaen,
and Sulnore's single crimson eye glowed with a fierce determination.
She would not allow her birthright, her throne, her kingdom, her
people, be taken away by Cath. For years had she allowed her younger
sister to control what rightfully belonged to her, but no longer! The
one-eyed Dark Elf flew into the thick of battle not unlike Potter
before her. The Heir's bo-staff whirled about her body, skillful
hands guiding it to knock the wind out of her once subjects, to knock
them from unconsciousness, and from their footing.
Then the end of her staff, the end that Helkaer had almost shattered
earlier in the day, cracked. It cracked, and cracked further, with
every hammer blow she delivered with it, until the very end flew off
and into the crowd, spinning wildly and taking out a number of
fighters. Then she was jabbing with the splintered end, blood flowing
as it scraped and damaged skin. And again she cackled, her war-cries
echoing high above even those of the Drow warriors dueling against
The Heir.
Blood flew from golden claws, Helkaer's quiet chuckle eerie to all
those who fought against him. The Drow had drawn the saber he kept on
hand for when dealing with the wild beasts of the caverns the dark
elves lived with in. It rested comfortably in his flesh and bone
hand, blood staining the blade as it bit into the flesh of women who
would be his siblings, his aunts, his cousins... it mattered not.
They fought The Heir. They fought the Living Weapon. And in his mind,
that meant that their lives were forfeit.
His artificial hand was all but drenched as it plunged into sides and
chests of opponents, delicate fingers have curved into lethal claws
upon the onset of the battle. His orange-crimson eyes burned brightly
in the darkness as he felt Harry's Power wash over him; and he
continued to fight.
Viciously, the trio fought, and viciously their opponents reacted.
Sulnore's skill only allowed her a small margin of difference.
Helkaer's clawed hand was not something the women of the army had
seen before, and that gave him a slight advantage. Without
transforming, Harry did not have full access to the Power.
Sulnore was the first to fall to the ground, and yet even as her
opponents closed over her, she fought back, refusing to give up. The
throne would be hers! It _belonged_ to _her_! CATH WOULD NOT KEEP HER
KINGDOM!!
The Drow were not known for being mana-users. They existed on mana.
Their all but eternal lifetimes were powered by mana. But no Drow had
ever used that power like the wizards of the human world.
Wild magic, powered by mana, fueled by fury, poured from Sulnore,
much as it did for any untrained human wizard. The dark elves that
had been crowding her, trying to kill her, went flying. The ground
trembled and rose, lifting Sulnore up upon a pedestal. Bloody and
grinning, The Heir chuckled softly. It was no wonder that the Wizards
and Witches they captured as slaves almost always committed suicide
when the mana-inhibitors were wrapped around their necks and wrists.
This power that flooded her... this mana... this ability to control
something she had never before considered... it was truly awesome.
Her hand wrapped around her splintered bo-staff, and for a moment,
she caught Potter's green gaze, and he mouth a word to her.
Hesitantly, but without fear, she repeated the word he'd
spoken, "...Reparo."
Gleefully, she, and those below her, those that began to fear that
they had attacked the Goddess in mortal flesh, watched as the staff
rebuilt itself. Cracks vanished and missing pieces were replaced; and
a feral grin split the scarred features of The Heir. Howling with
exhilaration, adrenaline pumping, she launched herself off the stone
pedestal her wild magic had raised. She didn't even notice when the
feeling of all-powerful magic faded away, leaving her as a mortal-
being, although the connection, unfelt, would remain for the rest of
her life.
And those that had seen the single-eyed Drow all but become the
Goddess, turned on their sisters, and began to fight for the woman
who's throne was stolen by her own flesh and blood.
Helkaer noticed nothing of Sulnore's task, his back to her as he
fought with determination. Teeth bared in a snarl, he could feel
blood dripping down his neck, down his cheeks, and face, blurring his
sight. Saber flashed out, separating another spinal column, claw-
tipped hand tearing through someone's torso, then being removed. An
almost feral state had descended upon him.
Then a hand was on his shoulder, and he whirled, almost decapitating
whomever it was who had grabbed him-- but a sword blocked his saber.
Cool lavender eyes-- unusual for Drow-- peered back into his own, and
a dangerous smirk crossed the female's face, "Batter's up, Hellion."
And she whirled, swinging her outlandish double-bladed sword around
to crash into another Drow, husky voice rippling through the
air, "Never thought I'd see the day," she laughed, back-to-back with
Helkaer as they dueled with their opponents, "When a Dark Elf would
ever become a Witch! Vilya, to your left!"
Another elf, this one with blind crimson eyes, rammed a sleek black
sword through the chest of an elf on her right, using it for leverage
to kick out against an incoming opponent on her left. The lavender
eyed Drow licked her lips, grinning widely as she launched into
battle, "Silly Cath thought she could control Vilya and I."
"Lady Scimitar bows to no one, eh?" Helkaer murmured, still in a
lethal dance with his own opponents, although a number had turned to
fight each other upon realizing that the Living Weapon, Scimitar, and
her unseeing daughter, Vilya, were upon the side of the 'invaders'.
"How true," mused the long-lived first generation Weapon.
Across the courtyard of the palace, and almost upon the entrance of
the palace proper, was Harry. Deep gashes and furrows lined his arms
and chest, his face free of all but places that would bruise
horrifically in the days to come. His bare feet were torn and bloody,
but his eyes flashed with exuberant madness, basking in the Power
that flowed through his body, healing cuts almost as soon as his
enemies could inflict them.
Let me fight... Weapon murmured in the back of his mind, again and
again, Let me show them the reality of what a Living Weapon is.
Not yet, not yet, the sixteen year old would repeat in response,
getting high off the Power. In time, my other, in time. He wanted to
get in on the fun. He wanted to enjoy the battle while he could.
Weapon would have his time when it came to Cath and Sulnore's mother.
And Weapon's presence withdrew, and Harry gave a burst of maniacally
laughter as he attacked once more.
Battle and bloodshed continued, waging back and forth as Dark Elf
fought Dark Elf. In the space of one battle, all those who had been
discontent with Cath's rule over Agarwaen, turned to fight alongside
the Living Weapons and Sulnore. And those who agreed with Cath's
reign fought against siblings and relatives, blood being split on
each side.
All this because of the interference of a single mortal.
A single mortal who had just slammed one of his knives between the
gigantic doors of the entrance of the palace. The screeching ring of
the powers woven into the palace over the centuries brought all
battle to a halt. Harry's cool emerald eyes flowed over them all. His
grin was all teeth, twitching what he could grasp hold of with the
Power, without the transformation, he lifted Sulnore and Helkaer into
the air, high above the heads of both friend and foe, brining them to
his sides. In the crowds, Scimitar lay her hand upon Vilya's shoulder
and smiled darkly. Within the blink of an eye, both Living Weapon and
her daughter had vanished into thin air.
Harry didn't notice.
His voice rang out, "Lay down your arms. We have won."
Sulnore laughed joyously as reality dawned upon her. A bright smile,
one that had not been seen upon the scarred visage for years, spread
across her features. Helkaer rubbed his chin thoughtfully, crimson
eyes wandering over the crowds. Then he, too, smiled, and proclaimed
to all, "Before you stands her Majesty, Sulnore of the House of
Mor'kuunemegil, Kaiserin of Agarwaen, and his lordship, Weapon of the
Living Weapons!"
---
End Chapter
Yeah, I was kinda watching Buffy just before I wrote this chapter.
Now that's one fucked up way to end a series.
I know it has been said that Living Weapons don't reproduce. So how
did Scimitar end up with a daughter? That's quite easy. Vilya was
born prior to Scimitar's Naming.