2003 - Los Angeles, America
Another problem has presented itself, thus barring me from embarking on my quest to seek out Marcus. It seems that Angel has been corrupted by the power presented to him by the source of all evil on Earth. The Wolf, the Ram and the Hart. My confidants speak of a secret inner circle named the Circle of the Black Thorn. It is this circle that has caught Angel's attention, and he appears to have applied for membership.
This places Illyria's escape in a different light entirely. I now believe that Angel has planned her escape because the Circle required a sacrifice of a loved one. The woman Illyria infected with her essence fits that description.
There is another reason I believe that Angel, whom I love dearly and have held an ally, is responsible for Illyria's escape. Upon my arrival in the New World, where I have travelled in search of Marcus, I was beset by assassins. They were perhaps unaware of my identity, for I was able to kill four of them and capture the fifth. Faced with my wrath the demon filth confessed to being sent by Angel to murder me. I can only assume this was an ill-conceived attempt to silence me before I could notify anyone about my suspicions.
It is devastating to me to learn once again that one I held so dear has swayed from his path. I fear that soon the balance in the world will be disturbed and there will be no turning back from that. I have to try my best to prevent that from happening, even if it entails striking down Liam. Angel.
As so many men suddenly gaining access to such power, Angel underestimated my ability to slay his assassins. Though I am badly beaten, I am here in this dank alley, seeking out Spike. I fear the insolent vampire may be the only one capable of assisting me in taking down Angel. I stand in the shadows and wait. It is not long until Spike and another figure appear.
"Mark me. He will murder one of you," a female voice assures Spike. Apparently, I am not the only one who suspects Angel has strayed from the just path. I step out of my hiding place.
"Actually, he already has," I tell Spike, who is clearly surprised to see me.
"Drogyn?" Spike asks incredulously. The figure walking with him approaches me to look closer.
"Who is this?" She speaks in clipped tones and her appearance is not entirely of this world.
"The Guardian of the Deeper Well. Greenskeeper of your graveyard, so to speak," Spike offers, confirming my suspicions about this woman's identity.
"My jailer," she speaks with contempt.
"Illyria..." I start. Before I can speak my mind, Spike distracts me.
"Boretz," he remarks, looking at a point just above my head. As he utters the word, another one of the assassin demons assaults me. Spike attempts to fight him off but does not succeed. The creature throws him away as though he weighs nothing. Illyria steps in and defeats the Boretz within seconds. Spike, unfazed, walks over to me.
"Drogyn. What the hell are you doing here? Oh, don't give me your 'ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies' bugaboo," he asks in his typically impudent way.
"I came to find you," I answer him.
"Oh, so you tacked up a sign on your tree, waved bye to the Keeblers, hopped the puddle, and somehow managed to sniff me out in a city of 10 million?" Spike inquires further.
"I can find anyone who's visited the well... be they in this world or any other. I... I came to... to warn you..." I manage to croak out. The demon's poison is taking its toll on my constitution. I will restore to full health soon, but at this moment I am weak and I collapse.
"Warn?" Spike still does not understand.
"He's bleeding." Illyria states emotionless. She looks upon me with disdain.
"You're all torn up, mate. What did this to you, the Boretz, was it?" It is time I inform Spike of my findings and enlist his help in bringing down the man I once believed to be a warrior for good.
"No. It was Angel."
Spike and Illyria take me to Spike's lodgings, a dark apartment somewhere in the heart of the city. They gather Angel's closest and dearest to hear my tale.
After I have unfolded all I know about the series of events that have lead me here, there is an uncomfortable silence. I can tell the men have been worrying about Angel, even before the evidence of his betrayal was presented to them. They show me a strange drawing and ask me if I recognize it. I do not.
The men decide to confront Angel with their newfound knowledge and I am left at Spike's apartment. I am guarded by Illyria, for by this time Angel may have found out about his failure to assassinate me. In that case, it is all too possible he might try again, with more deadly a force this time. I will need all the help I can acquire, even if it means I have to cooperate with a being that was interred millions of years ago and was never supposed to arise again.
Spike has gracefully allowed us to consider his house a home. Illyria and I amuse ourselves with an assignment on a television screen. I do not own a television in the Deeper Well, but I have heard of such a thing and it is a wondrous experience to see moving images across the screen.
"It is a test, a task of some sort. You must collect those crystals. And the fruit," I finally discover.
"Why?" Illyria asks, not impressed by my discovery. I turn to her and speak my mind.
"Old one... you have no right to walk this Earth. Your time is past. You belong to the Well," I attempt to broach the subject as gently as I can, for Illyria is not the unbearable evil I thought her to be.
"Truly. I wish now I had never been brought out of it," she answers, her voice flat but her features filled with sadness.
"Do you?" Her quick acquiescence worries me.
"I don't know. I play this game... it's pointless and annoys me... and yet, I'm compelled to play on. Does that not-" Her words are interrupted by a thunderous sound. The entrance door to Spike's apartment is being completely annihilated. Both Illyria and I stand up in alarm.
I am utterly shocked. The man stepping over the remnants of Spike's door and casually dusting himself off is Marcus.
Marcus. Seeing him this unexpectedly has shaken me to the very core of my being. I can see the shock in his eyes before he composes himself and regains his posture.
"Well, looky, looky who's making friends," Marcus scoffs.
"Marcus," I acknowledge his presence.
"Dro, how have you been?" Marcus inquires mockingly. Pain sears through me, until I recognize the look in his eyes. It harbours the same hurt and grief I so often feel. Marcus is coming apart. This provides me with an opportunity to reclaim him from evil and have him fight at my side once again.
Illyria interrupts my thoughts. "You're acquainted with this creature?" For the first time, her voice speaks volumes.
"Yes. We go way back, don't we?" Marcus attempts to diminish our history together and I will not stand for that.
"Too far," I state defiantly. His mannerisms and cultured nonchalant voice are irksome. I find I can barely control my temper, but I have to. He must cope with his choices, and I cannot risk the chance of alienating him further and consequently losing him forever.
"Hmm, the good old days. So I hear you're living in a tree now," Marcus tries to anger me.
"The tree is the entrance to the Deeper Well. I live in a cave. It's really quite pleasant," I reply politely.
"I'm sure it's a peach. Afraid you won't be returning to it again." As I have begun to expect, Marcus has been sent here to capture me. Seeing as Marcus did not bring a blade, there will be no beheading in the near future. I consider my options. Since Marcus and I are equals in strength, I stand a fair chance. However, if I defeat Marcus I forfeit my only opportunity to penetrate into the Circle. I decide to let Marcus beat me down, so I will be brought into the Circle's quarters.
"You will not harm him," Illyria stands up to Marcus. She is an Old One, yet she has not the slightest notion of what strength Battlebrands possess. I fear for her.
"Oh, you mean like this?" Marcus gloats, while throwing me forcefully into the wall behind me. It has been a good long while since I have encountered someone with equal strength to mine, and so I am taken aback by the sheer force of his attack.
Illyria fights Marcus, but she cannot match his strength. Her blows do not faze him, nor do her kicks. He throws her across the room, but she stands again.
"Hang on Dro, this'll just take a second," Marcus addresses me. His voice is steady to the ears of strangers, but I hear his resolve wavering.
The Old One charges at Marcus again, drawing on every ounce of strength she possesses. Marcus easily avoids her attacks; his blows weakening her with every strike. Marcus is now in distress, as his excessive violence towards Illyria indicates. While he pummels her, he is venting his anger. Illyria is not the focus point of his anger; she is merely a punching bag to him. I suspect Marcus is angry with me for reminding him of what he was, or at himself for allowing this course of events. This is the hope I have to cling to.
Illyria has been beaten down. Marcus reaches for me and I pretend to be nearly unconscious. I cannot tell a single lie, yet it is in my power to deceive by looks. Slinging me over his shoulder, he walks out the door. After a while he deposits me on a cold concrete floor. He binds my wrists and ankles with regular rope. I am certain he must be aware of the fact this rope cannot hold me for even one second if I attempt to break free. What he is trying to accomplish with this I do not know. Marcus leaves and I open my eyes to take in my surroundings.
Something is not right. My intuition is gnawing at my mind and I reassess all the information known to me. It takes me some time to see where my reasoning is flawed. I have ignored the fact that I know Liam's soul, and that he would never seek access to evil powers unless he were attempting to strike them down. Based on this assumption, I continue my reasoning.
What if Illyria's escape were but an unfortunate coincidence and not the sacrifice of a loved one? What if Angel had sent the assassins after me, knowing I would discover it was he who sent them? Angel is aware of my inability to tell lies. Had he come to me with this and were I to fall prey to the Circle, I would have been forced to betray Angel's plans. If I truly believed Angel had set out to murder me and was about to sell his soul to evil, I could not give him away.
The longer I think about this, the more it seems likely. Angel knows about my strength and my skill as a fighter. Why would he send a mere five ordinary demons to murder me? Then another thought strikes me. Angel must be aware of Marcus' identity. Although Liam was but a child when Marcus left, my brother has not aged at all. Liam's features are eternally twenty-six, but they have changed a great deal in sixteen years. It is entirely plausible that Marcus is not abreast of Angel being Liam, the boy from Galway. This settles it. I decide to act my part, and for the first time in centuries I call upon Eanfrith.
She is not pleased with my long absence from her folds, but she grants me an audience on behalf of the time I have served her well. As I unfold my story, she is joyful to learn that Marcus and I have been reunited, albeit not yet fighting on the side of good. She vows to do anything in her power to assist in my plan, and I am relieved to be able to rely on her cooperation.
After many wakeful hours spent mapping out a strategy, I am dragged to my feet by four armed men. They cover my head with a burlap sack and lead me through long corridors. Our footsteps make hollow sounds, and by this I know we are in a large building. This must be the Circle's quarters. I am nearly at full strength again and so I have to remind myself to remain docile and act as though I am severely weakened. My appearance is deceiving. From experience, I know that the outer shell of my body takes longer to heal than it takes for my strength to return to me. This is the first time I bless that discrepancy.
I have to trust that the Circle is not aware of my destiny as Battlebrand. Never in my eternal life have I been closer to death. If any of the Circle's members knows about my identity, nothing separates me from oblivion but the swift swing of a blade.
I am forced to kneel and wait while I am beaten upon with sticks.
I do not have to wait long. A man enters the room. It is not Marcus, but his presence feels familiar. Angel. He hauls me up and removes the sack that covers my eyes. I search his eyes for a sign that I was right in my assumptions and I find it in the infinite sadness that darkens them.
"Thank you. Thank you." I utter the words as though it strains me to even speak. These words are meant to convey my collaboration. At the same time, I thank him for guiding me to Marcus.
Angel's face contorts into his vampiric features and he sinks his fangs into my neck. This is far more painful than I had thought it to be and I cannot help but groan in pain. Angel takes my blood and then releases me. His hands reach for my neck and suddenly I know what is coming. I brace myself for the force that will snap my spine. Briefly I wonder how much time a broken neck will take to heal, but then I am distracted by the sound of my bones breaking. Unexpectedly, this is not painful at all.
Angel drops me to the floor and I feign being dead. My body is carried away by the same men that have brought me to this room. After a while they lay me down in what seems like an abandoned warehouse. It is straining me to keep my breathing shallow, but I can feel my spine already healing itself. The men light a torch; their intention is now clear to me. I can only hope that the men will leave before the fire consumes me.
They do. I break free from my bonds easily and I walk out of the building. I have to find Marcus before Angel kills him.
Closing my eyes I concentrate on feeling Marcus' soul through the din of the city. It takes mere moments to seek it out, and I can feel Marcus' agony rising with every beat of our hearts. My brother is at a breaking point. I have to be there when he breaks.
My senses guide me to the building where the Wolf, Ram and the Hart reside. Cautiously I enter the building, shielding myself from the eyes of onlookers. I hear the sounds of a struggle not too far away and I soundlessly move myself in that direction. Hiding behind a large wooden structure remotely reminding me of a desk, I watch Marcus and Angel fight.
It occurs to me that Angel truly believes Marcus to be evil. I do not hold it against him; he has no reason to believe otherwise. I do not yet notice a blade of some sort, but I will not hesitate to intervene if such is the case. I cannot and will not sacrifice my brother.
Angel and Marcus are so much alike. Were it not for the dire and grim situation, their banter would have brought a smile to my face. Neither one is about to back down from the fight they both know is going to ensue.
Marcus throws Angel across the room. He hits a pillar and crumbles to the ground. Still, he stands and charges at Marcus again. Marcus is spitting out words that tell me he is having difficulty focusing on his task. The evil that he has done has taken its toll on him and he is nearly ready to be a Battlebrand again. My focus turns back to the fight.
"I figured you were the one I needed to be alone with." This confirms my fear; Angel is truly convinced killing Marcus is necessary.
"Why?" Marcus asks, genuinely surprised. "So I could kill you?"
"Well, I thought the fight would be going a little better," Angel admits.
Marcus once again hurls Angel across the building. As Angel stands up, Marcus is already there to pummel him. Even so, Angel does not go down.
Desperation creeps into Marcus' voice. "Why do you keep fighting? You signed away your Shanshu. There's nothing in it for you anymore."
Angel lashes out at Marcus. "People who don't care about anything will never understand the people who do."
This angers Marcus thoroughly and the reason for this suddenly dawns on me. Marcus does still care. Marcus has never ceased caring; he has only stopped being able to cope. I do not need to force him to care, I only need to offer my time and love to heal his soul. My brother uses his full strength to send Angel flying across the room. "Yeah, but we won't care." Even from this distance I see that this is not true. Had he not given up his Battlebrand destiny, he would not have been able to let this lie escape his mouth.
Marcus is blinded with rage and comes straight towards me. I breathe a sigh of relief when he takes a stake from the wooden desk behind which I am hiding. My relief is short-lived however as I realize Marcus is about to kill Angel in a fit of fury. My brother will be lost to me entirely if he learns he is responsible for the death of Liam. I cannot allow this.
Before I can come out of my hiding place, Marcus is flung off of Angel by a child. I do not recognize this child, nor do I care at this point. The child seems to be some sort of acquaintance of Angel's and they both charge at Marcus. Because of Marcus' wavering resolve, this worries me.
Marcus fights on effortlessly. Suddenly I feel a change in the atmosphere and it takes me moments to realize it is Marcus' soul that screams at me. Observing him carefully and prepared to intervene at any time, I watch him walk up to Angel and straighten his clothes.
"Let me say this as clearly as I can. You cannot beat me. I am a part of them. The Wolf, Ram, and Hart. Their strength flows through my veins. My blood is filled with their ancient power." The mere mention of blood in the presence of a vampire is not a wise decision and I wonder what Marcus attempts to achieve by this. Unsure of the right course of action, I decide to wait until I can decipher his intentions.
Angel stands up and smiles evilly. "Can you pick out the one word there you probably shouldn't have said?" His features contort into his vampire face and he attacks Marcus. Instead of hurling Angel across the room again, Marcus allows the vampire to drink from him. I realize Marcus is attempting to have Angel kill him, so that he can escape this existence. I stand, preparing to separate them. Neither of the men notice me.
Angel charges at Marcus again. My brother does fight back, but he uses but a tenth of the strength he possesses. I notice the change in his posture as Marcus makes peace with his fate. He is beaten down, and yet Angel continues to pummel him. Clenching my fists, I wait for Angel to reach for a sword in order to behead Marcus. I cannot allow that.
A loud crack tells me Angel has broken Marcus' neck. As Angel looks down at him lying unconscious, I see sorrow flash over his face. He does not take out a sword to sever Marcus' head. Angel turns to the child and assures the boy that Marcus has died.
I am not certain if Angel is aware that only beheading can kill us. Nor do I presume to know whether Angel is reluctant to kill Marcus because of the history they share. My thoughts return to more urgent matters when the building starts coming apart and crumbling to the ground.
"Wolfram & Hart. Looks like they're taking the gloves off," Angel suspects. I watch Angel and the child exchange words indicating that Angel thinks the end is nigh. Angel voices his concern for the child and prompts the boy to go home. Then the boy leaves, and Angel stands in the room for a second until he too straightens and leaves.
I make my way over to Marcus and kneel at his side. He is hurt very badly; my own beating pales in comparison to the brute force Angel has used on him. I put my hand on his head, but he is unconscious and does not respond. I am not worried. Marcus has always healed very fast, and I am here to tend to him.
I carry him to Spike's apartment, assuming the blonde vampire will not need it at a time like this. The heat is rising in the streets of Los Angeles, and a murmur is steadily growing louder. This will be an epic battle.
Marcus is coming to. His eyes open and he looks around uncomprehending. I move myself into his line of sight and watch him as he notices me. I will grant him a moment to mend, but I am determined to regain him to our purpose. I do not fear; there is no doubt in my heart that Marcus is no longer lost to me. Together we shall crush the demon rebellion that threatens this city.
For we are Battlebrands.
Fin