Mythology Chapter 5: The Nightmare Begins, a roswell fanfic

Title: Mythology

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: This chapter is slightly violent, so be warned. Also, the first part of the chapter details the beginning of the war between the Resistance and Khivar. I wrote a few little excerpts for the battle scene, and in them, I gave each character a name. There is no reason to even bother trying to remember the names, these people are not important, I just needed to call them something other than soldier 1 and soldier 2, etc. They probably won't appear again, and if they do, they'll probably all die anyway.

The song is Mad World, from the Donny Darko soundtrack.

Please read and review.

this is the stuff of legends...

Chapter Five: The Nightmare Begins

Day 5

The first attack came with the rise of the sun, Khivar's army spilling out over the land like a flash flood. The royal army attacked with the ferocity and skill of trained soldiers, and the Resistance countered with the passion of rebels. The clash of swords and explosion of powers filled the air, ringing across the land. The ascending sun stained the sky red with light, and the dirt ran crimson with blood.

All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for the daily races
Going no where, going no where
Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow

Efande raised his sword with lightening quick reflexes and blocked the coming blow. He ducked to the right and jabbed out sharply, and was rewarded by the angry hiss of his opponent as his blade punctured the other soldier's armor. He stepped back, twisting away, and pausing to catch his breath.

All around him, the battle raged, soldiers dropping like flies onto the growing piles of bodies on the ground. His shoes were already strained with the blood of fallen comrades, fallen enemies, and his hair was matted with sweat and dirt.

He was a farmer. All he had ever been was a farmer. But two years ago, Khivar's army had approached his farm and demanded food and a place to stay. He was a poor man, hardly able to sustain himself and his family, and he had asked for compensation in return.

It had been the wrong answer.

That night, his farm had mysteriously caught fire, burning to the ground. His wife and oldest son had been trapped inside he flames, and both died long before help could reach them. Efande had taken his two remaining children, a son and a daughter, and fled the farm, seeking refuge in the Resistance base hear his house. Filled with the desire to do more, to fight harder, to end this horrible dictatorship, he had become a soldier.

And that choice had lead him here, to this battle, to this moment in time when the sky itself seemed to bleed the blood of heroes.

And I find I kind of funny, I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take
When people run in circles its a very very
Mad world
Mad world

Cara bent down next to a fallen soldier and pressed her hands over the wound, willing the power flowing through her veins to save the man's life. It was not easy, but then, nothing in war ever was. After a few heart wrenching moments, the gapping hole in the man's chest closed, and he opened his eyes, gasping for breath.

He stood shakily, his eyes filled with a thanks that he could never express in words, then he turned and swept back into the fray. And Cara slipped back into the ranks, seeking safety with the other healers.

They huddled together, darting in and out of the fighting soldiers every time they saw someone who could be healed. It had long been a custom in Antarian battle that healers could be killed when they were running to our from their patient, but not during the actual healing itself. The power was too great, too respected, and even Khivar would not break the unspoken law.

But Cara could not quite escape the irony of it all. As healers, it was their job to save the lives of other, but in the end, what was it they were saving their lives for? More death. More destruction, more pain, more heartbreak. She saved a soldier's life, and he went on to kill other until he himself died.

Where was the respect for life in that?

Children waiting for the day they feel good
Happy birthday, happy birthday
And I feel the way that every child should
Sit and listen, sit and listen
Went to school and I was very nervous
No one knew me, no one new me
Hello teacher tell me what's my lesson
Look right through me
Look right through me

"I never thought this day would come."

"I did not either."

The two men faced each other, each on opposite sides of the battle. Xar, tall and strong, filled with fire and passion, had been instantly popular among his friends. He was quick to smile, quick to scream, and quick to forgive. He was full of life, full of hope. Tor, small and skinny, was the exact opposite. He was a bookworm through and through, filling his days with books and lectures and classes. Quiet and soft-spoken, he was neither popular nor unpopular, but simply floated through life unnoticed.

But somehow, the two had been friends. Good friends.

And now they stood with their swords at each other's throat.

When Zan had been king, Tor's family had stood by his side, supporting him in everything he did. But Xar's family had thought he was trying to move too quickly, to do too many things. It had started as a simple debate and ended in a feud. Xar and Tor had remained friends through it all, until now.

Until today.

A lifetime's worth of memories were forgotten, cast aside in this all out struggle for the throne of Antar.

"For what its worth," Xar said quietly, "I forgive you if you kill me."

"And I forgive you," Tor replied.

The two looked at each other for a moment, saying their mental goodbyes, and then their battle began in earnest.

"He looked in your filing cabinet?" Michael asked, pulling Isabel into hug and trying his best to come up with something that would reassure the distraught hybrid. He had been more than a little surprised when Isabel had shown up at his door in the middle of the night, demanding to speak to him and Max. But he had seen the fear and anger in her eyes, and had agreed willing.

"Why?" Max questioned from where he sat on the sofa.

Isabel pulled away from Michael and walked over to her brother, sitting down next to him. She ran a hand through her short hair, thinking absently that it would have been better if she had just left it blonde. Granted, she looked good no matter what color her hair was, but blonde was more suited for her skin tone and eye color.

"Izzy?"

Pulled out of her trivial thoughts, she glanced sideways at her brother and said, "He said it was because he was just worried about me." Her tone reflected her skepticism for the idea. She knew something else was going on, she just wasn't sure what it was. "He said I had been withdrawn lately, and he wanted to make sure nothing was wrong, but he felt like he couldn't talk to me." She shook her head in frustration.

"What was in that cabinet?" Michael asked, pacing across the floor.

"Mementos of Alex," Isabel explained. Michael and Max looked at her, and she rolled her pretty eyes. "Relax, nothing alien related. Do you really think I would be stupid enough to keep that stuff in my house?"

"Did Jesse see what it was?" Michael questioned slowly.

Isabel nodded. "Yeah, he did. And he asked about it, so I told him the truth. Or, at least, as much of the truth as I could tell him without serious problems."

"Alex Whitman was my first boyfriend," Isabel explained, walking over to the drawer and slamming it shut. She didn't bother relocking it, what was the point?

"And you keep his belongings?" Jesse questioned. Somewhere deep inside, something he assumed was jealously flared at the thought.

Isabel stared at him coolly. "Alex was the first boy I ever really loved, and he was killed in a car accident last year. I just held on to a few things to remember him by. A memorial, if you will."

Jesse paled slightly and said in a guilt-laden voice, "Oh, Isabel, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize…" He drew a shaky breath and stared at his wife with concerned eyes.

"Of course not!" Isabel snapped back. "Heaven forbid you just ask me something instead of going through my stuff!" Her voice was rising in volume with each word and it dripped with sarcasm. "Where would the fun in that be?"

"Isabel…"

"Forget it, Jesse," Isabel snarled, spinning on her heal and stalking out of the room. She stormed down the hall, trying in vain to get her rapidly beating heart under some form of control.

Max stood up and gestured for Isabel to rise as well. He hugged her briefly, then said, "Isabel, listen to me. We are going to take care of this, I promise. And then, somehow, we are going to work things out for you and Jesse."

Isabel managed a weak smile and nodded slowly. Max turned and walked into the kitchen, searching out a glass of water for his sister, while Michael stepped over to Isabel and took her hand.

"Max is right," Michael agreed. Isabel raised an eyebrow at him, questioning, mocking. How often did those words ever come out of Michael's mouth? He glared at her without any real heat, and continued, "We'll work things out with your parents as well."

Isabel sighed. "I just wish things weren't like this between Jesse and I, you know?"

Michael nodded, but found that he was unable to actually muster any sympathy for the young lawyer. Somehow, he didn't feel all that upset that Isabel's marriage was hitting a few bumps in the road.

"How are things with you and Maria?" Isabel asked, turning away from Michael and accepting the glass of water Max handed to her as he entered the room.

Michael grimaced. "She's still mad at me for blaming the end of the world on Liz."

"Well, if she had just told us…"

"We all sent Tess away," Max pointed out, earning two scowls from Michael and Isabel. He shook his head and continued, "Look, all I am saying is that laying blame is not going to get us anywhere. We are all at fault." He turned to Michael. "Have you tried apologizing to Maria?"

"I even bought her flowers," Michael growled. "She's still mad." He glanced from Max to Isabel and back to Max again. "What am I supposed to do? By her an entire flower shop?"

"Probably wouldn't hurt," Isabel commented, although she suddenly found she wasn't all that upset that Michael and Maria were having problems.

Tess stretched and looked around the desert. They were low on water, lower than she would have liked, and low on food as well. And the distant mountains were looming near, but not near enough. How far would she have to walk? How far would she have to drag herself and her son before they finally reached safety?

If you could even call it that.

War.

Arya had not contacted her since the abrupt disconnection of their link. And Tess knew exactly what that meant.

Khivar had attacked.

She was still five or six days from the mountains, and once she reached them, she would still have so much further to go. She wished she could talk to Arya, wished she could know exactly what was going on, but she didn't have the particular power. Sometimes she had prophetic dreams, but they always revolved around Max, Michael, Isabel, or her son. And as Sria had explained, blood bonds allowed all sorts of strange and unexpected gifts to appear.

She leaned back on the cold sand. The sunk had sunk hours ago, and she desperately wanted to sleep, to close her weary eyes and rest. In the open desert, there was little safety for her and her son, and she had long since learned to sleep lightly, jolting awake at the sound of wind through the sand or a scorpion creeping close.

It never ceased to amaze her, the animals that lived here. It was a barren land, without even the tiniest bit of green, yet a few insects and snakes managed somehow to live without water or food, seeming to subsist on the air and sand alone.

And, of course, all of the creatures just had to be poisonous.

She closed her eyes, one arm wrapped tightly around her son, and listened to the slight breeze. Slowly, she drifted into a blissful slumber, her mind conjuring up dreams for her to seek refuge in.

The luscious trees swayed back and forth in the wind as Tess walked slowly through the garden. To her right, Sria was talking animatedly with Larek, arguing over politics. Up ahead, little Alex, now about five or six, was splashing around in a pond, chasing brightly colored Chinese gold fish through the water. Walking next to her, his hand linked in hers, was Max, but a different Max. He was older, and seemed more sure of himself, more kingly. On her other side was Kyle, and he was talking on his cell phone with his father.

Everything was peaceful, perfect. Absurd, but perfect.

"This is what you dream?"

Tess started, and spun around, finding herself staring into the eyes of the last person she had expected to see. "Khai…?"

"My Lady," Khai bowed his head. He looked around as the garden scene faded away. "So this is what you dream? A garden?" His voice was filled with derision, but it did not phase Tess anymore. She knew where his loyalties lay.

"What would you dream?" Tess retorted.

"Emptiness," Khai replied. Off Tess' confused look, he elaborated, "My life is filled with the chaos of war, when I want peace, I seek out emptiness." He paused, noting that the scene was now completely gone, and he and Tess were standing in a great expanse of black, a void.

"I didn't realize you had the ability to dream-walk," Tess commented. It took all her resolve not to fling herself into Khai's arms and tell him how happy she was to see him. Being caught in the desert, completely alone expect for her son, had made her miss adult contact. Even talking to Arya wasn't enough, because she couldn't see the other alien. She had started to think she might forget what other people looked like.

Khai nodded. "I do," he replied easily. "But I don't use it that often. Dream-walking can be dangerous."

"Oh?" Tess frowned at that. "Isabel did it all the time without problems."

"That is because she primarily focused on humans. They use a tiny part of their brains, and it is easy to get in and out of their subconscious. Aliens use a much larger portion of their brains, so it is easy to get trapped in the mental pathways of your…host."

Tess thought of Laurie Dupree and nodded. A silence fell, until she said at last, "I'm guessing you didn't contact me just to give me a lecture on dream-walking?"

Khai shook his head. "There is a war happening, an all out battle. I could not reach Arya, she was not sleeping. I needed an update, I needed to know what was happening. Where am I needed?"

"Where are you now?" Tess asked. "I doubt there is little you can do from another planet."

"I'm not on another planet," Khai replied. "I'm on Antar."

Tess raised an eyebrow at that. "Hiding where no one would ever think to look? I take it I am not the only one who came up with that idea."

"I beg your pardon?" Khai asked politely, confused.

Tess blinked, and then remembered that he had no idea where she was. "I'm on Antar as well," she replied. "I'm in the desert."

"What?" Khai was stunned by the revelation, stunned and impressed. "How?"

"I was just about to ask you the same thing," Tess replied with a cat-like smile. "You tell me your story and I'll tell you mine."

Next Chapter: The Terror Swells

Due: Wed 2/15