Chapter Nine

Marik stood his ground, clutching the blunt, wooden pole with which he was using to spar. Across the grounds from him was Volker, also holding a pole and brushing his damp black hair away from his brown eyes. Marik could see the determination flashing in those eyes, and he could feel a similar burning in his own heart. They both had to train in order to become better. The next time the rebels attacked, it would not merely be a practice battle—it would be with the intention of killing all in their way. And Marik would not let that happen.

It was completely dark all around them, though even under more normal conditions that would be the case—as it was very, very early in the morning—around four A.M. Neither of them had been able to sleep, so they had decided to have a short bout instead. They had lighted the lamps around the grounds in order to see what they were doing and then had begun. The summer palace was soundproof, so those attempting to sleep inside would not be disturbed.

"So," Marik said as he took a deep breath and lunged again, "your friends still haven't found anything yet, have they?" He grunted as Volker clanked his staff against Marik's. Both of them strained, each trying to knock the other off his feet. "They've been searching those forests for months!" And Marik could not help but think that if Adelpha was still alive, she would have been able to find the rebels' hiding place. She had spent many hours in the forests of Juno, simply reveling in their quiet beauty and becoming acquainted with how they were laid out. Somehow Marik doubted that Volker's friends had done the same.

Volker threw all of his weight forward, hearing the rods scraping against each other as they had done many times over the course of the session. "They have not," he replied, his eyes showing his regret. "They have tried, and you know it yourself, as you and I both went with them several times. Wherever the rebels have found to hide, it's almost as if the forest itself is helping to conceal them." And he did not understand it one bit. It seemed to him that they should be able to learn something about where they had gone, especially when they had taken Valon with them. But there had been nothing at all.

Marik refused to give up. Volker had won the previous two battles between them, and Marik believed that he had to win as well. If he could not beat Volker, then it was not likely that he would be able to stay alive fighting against any of the rebels. He strained harder, pushing against Volker with all of his might. "They couldn't just disappear into thin air!" he cried in frustration. "And what could they even want with Valon?"

Volker looked deep into Marik's eyes, his own orbs flashing seriously. "I don't know," he said. "I was thinking that they probably wanted to barter, using him, but there are . . . other possibilities."

Marik suddenly received a burst of strength and shoved hard, stunning Volker and sending him falling back to the grass. Then the Egyptian boy approached and stood over him, pointing the pole down at his chest. "What other possibilities?" he demanded. He knew that it had seemed as though Volker had been keeping something from them ever since Valon had been taken. Volker had often seemed rather nervous and edgy when people would ask him what the purpose could have been in taking Valon or if it had simply been a random capture. He would assure them that it had not been random but then would not offer many explanations as to why it had happened. Marik knew that Raphael and Alister were getting vexed, and he was as well.

Volker gazed up at Marik, momentarily startled at having been beaten, and then he smirked calmly, pushing the rod away from him as he started to sit up. "Good round," he congratulated, reaching for his own staff from where it had fallen on the soft green grass that now only grew on the mountain where they were.

Marik nodded curtly in agreement. "Answer the question," he snapped. "I know you've been hiding something from all of us, and we have a right to know what Valon might have gotten himself into. Alister and Raphael are going insane with worry!"

"All the more reason not to tell them, then," Volker answered. "They will only worry more and not be able to do anything for him." He started to stand, using his pole to steady himself as he did so.

"Why can't they?" Marik wanted to know. Using the side of the staff, he shot out and knocked Volker back down again. Ishizu would likely disapprove if she saw this, but Marik made sure that he did not hurt the raven-haired man. He wanted answers that were their right to have, and Volker was refusing to let them know. This made him angry. He wanted Volker to see that he was serious on the subject.

Volker made a surprised grunt as he fell back onto the grass. He narrowed his eyes as he looked up at Marik. "They may have taken him into Geates' Tomb," he said at last, his tone dark.

Marik simply stared at him in disbelief, not certain whether to panic or laugh. "What would they do with him in there?" he exclaimed then. Then as an afterthought he also wanted to know where it was.

Volker sighed quietly. "The exact location is unknown," he said apologetically. "But it's supposed to be in a cave somewhere in the forest. Geates is buried there, and there have been rumors that a dragon guards the area. My friend, who has often ventured into the woods, has said that some people believe that they must sacrifice some poor soul every year to keep the dragon appeased." He looked up firmly at Marik. "Others have mentioned a treasure that the beast guards. I have entertained the thought—quite frequently—that the Talisman may be operating from within the cave."

Marik's expression only darkened. "You didn't tell any of this before!" he cried indignantly. "It could have been useful! We've been looking all over for the Talisman, as well as for Valon!" Honestly, he often had a terrible time determining whether Volker was friend or foe. It seemed that he withheld too much information to be a true ally, and yet the chances of him relaying the knowledge to their enemies was not great either. Marik knew that Volker had been fighting with him and the others against the rebel attack. But still, none of this was making him look good. And all of it was making Marik furious.

Volker held up a hand for silence. "Just listen to me," he said insistently, and Marik quieted, glaring in an expectant manner. The vigilante slowly pulled himself to his feet, speaking to Marik once again. "Queen Sapphire does know about these things," he informed the stunned boy. "I told her several weeks ago about the possibility of the Talisman having gone back to the tomb. When we have gone out looking for the rebels' hideout and Valon, we have also been looking for the tomb. But unfortunately, we have not had any luck with any of it." He leaned on his pole now. "The chances of us finding any of those locations are diminishing."

Marik cursed in frustration in his mind. Aloud he said, "Well, aside from any of that, what in Heaven's name do they even want with Valon, if they planned to take him in there?" He had a sinking feeling about the entire matter, and he intended to go right to Sapphire as soon as she was awake and demand answers from her. All of this seemed so wrong. Why would she have agreed to not let any of the supposed rescuers of Juno know about these things? Should they not be in on such secrets? How would they try to save Juno if they did not understand everything that was going on in the land?

Volker ran a hand through his dark locks. "If you want me to be honest, they might have wanted him as a sacrifice so that they could get to the treasures hidden within the dragon's lair." And he did not have to say that if that was true, it was not likely at all that Valon was still alive. If there truly was a dragon in that cave, Volker was sure that it would have made certain of Valon's death.

Marik slammed the end of his own rod into the ground. "I can't go to Raphael and Alister and tell them that their friend was probably killed by a dragon!" he yelled in anger. "Maybe that didn't even happen anyway!" A new thought had suddenly occurred to him and he looked Volker sharply in the eyes. "If they had taken treasure from that cave, wouldn't they have done something with it by now? If they took the Talisman from the cave, wouldn't Juno be in even worse shape than it is?" He gripped the stick tightly, his knuckles going white. "I don't think he's dead, Volker. At least, not like that."

Volker turned to go inside the marble fortress. "You may be right," he said quietly, "and for your friends' sakes, I hope you are." Marik's argument did make sense to him. He had to admit that. Perhaps the entire tale about the tomb was incorrect. And even if it held some portion of truth, perhaps the rebels were not interested in it and had not tried to use Valon to get into the crypt. Valon could very well be alive, somewhere. Volker understood that he was a fighter who would not go down easily.

Marik sighed and let him go, feeling even more confused than he had before they had begun sparring. Sapphire, he hoped, would tell him more than he had learned here and help him fit the pieces all together.


Valon ran blindly through the forests, the metal pole still tightly clutched in his hands as the low-hanging branches of trees slapped him repeatedly on the back and on his face. He did not know how long he had been running, but the many footsteps that he had heard behind him had faded away some time ago. It seemed that he had managed to outrun the guards—or else they merely did not want to bother chasing after him in the dark. Perhaps they believed that they could always catch him later. And that was fine with Valon. If and when they came after him again, he would show them that they would not be able to take him. He would remain free.

A well-placed tree root in his path suddenly sent him crashing to the forest floor with a yelp of surprise. As he went down, he instinctively held out the pole vertically to brace his fall. But the landing was still rather unpleasant, and he lay where he was for a moment, recovering and muttering angrily to himself. It was so hard to see where he was going when it was almost entirely dark. In the thick woods the only true lights came from congregations of fireflies—and from the occasional pixie that was still out playing despite the late—or early—hour. Valon was grateful for such guides, though he wished that they would stay around more constantly than they did. He supposed that his wild running scared them somewhat.

Slowly the brunette pulled himself into a sitting position and he leaned against the tree that had tripped him, sighing quietly to himself. He still wanted answers for what was going on. He wanted them more than ever now that he was finally on his way to being able to obtain them, and yet in another way he dreaded what he would discover. The voices were all so insistent, after all. What if . . . what if they were speaking the truth? Valon felt his heart clench as the induced memories flashed through his mind.

"No," he whispered, shutting his eyes tightly as he tried to block out the sight of Alister walking away from him. "No . . . it's not true. . . . It can't be true. . . ." And then he saw Raphael looking at him coldly before leaving as well. They had both seen him laying near-death and neither of them had cared enough to help him! Valon saw this play out every single day in his mind, all while hearing the voices as they told him how alone he was. He did not have anyone who cared. He had always been a loner. That was how he had lived and it was how he would die—all alone, with no one to care about him. His only friends had deserted him.

Enraged, Valon punched the green ground with a shaking fist. This simply could not happen. It could not be true. There had to be a mistake somehow. Alister and Raphael would never truly leave him, would they? Perhaps he had been delirious and had only believed that he had seen them walk away when he had been dying. He knew that he had been very ill for some time. Delirium would make sense—a lot more of it than simply thinking that his family had not wanted him any longer.

"But that happened to you once before, didn't it, Valon? Your family didn't want you and they gave you up. They sold you."

"Shut up," Valon hissed, shuddering as the painful memories from his childhood surfaced in his mind once more. He saw and felt his father beating him. His mother had sometimes joined in as well, throwing her high-heeled pumps at his innocent body when she had become incensed with him about one thing or another. He saw them both dragging him into what was supposed to be some sort of adoption agency and then leaving him on the floor, bleeding, while they collected their money. And he had soon discovered that instead of an adoption agency, he had been sold to a child slave camp. He had only barely been able to escape from there.

"It's not the same," the Australian said now. He did not realize it, but he was rocking back and forth slowly. Various nocturnal animals and creatures were watching him, fascinated and confused by this strange human who had dropped into their midst. If Valon had seen them gazing at him, it would not have made any difference.

"It's not the same!" he yelled again, looking up with flashing blue eyes. His voice was strained, reflecting the emotional torment he was suffering at this point. "My parents never did care about me! They always hated me!" He looked down again, staring blankly at the grass. "But . . . Alister and Raph cared. . . . They cared about me. . . . They really cared. . . ." And the thought that they ever would not care hurt more than the spear that Valon had been attacked with during that battle. The time before that had happened seemed so long ago now. So very long ago. . . .

Valon remained where he was for a while longer before slowly pulling himself to his feet again and taking his leave. It was a long walk through the forest, and he could not afford to loiter about believing that the rebels would not ever give chase. If he let his guard down, then they would find him. And he had to find his friends first and find out what was going on. He had to know the truth for a certainty. He was tired of slowly being driven insane.


Colchis walked slowly and meticulously around Dartz, letting the displeasure in his eyes be obvious. "So," he said quietly, "you are saying that this boy Valon became incensed and picked up the metal pole that has been laying around. Then he went on a rampage, fought with you and knocked you unconscious, and then ran down the hall as he attacked the guards?" He paused and looked into Dartz's golden eyes.

Dartz looked back calmly. "Yes." His cheek was red where Valon had struck him, and there were various cuts and bruises over his body. It seemed obvious that he had been attacked. "I tried to stop him, Colchis, but his anger had overpowered his reason. It seems to me that your Doctor Gunther has created a monster."

Colchis gave a noncommittal shrug. "And maybe he has," he agreed. "But I would like to know, Dartz, what were you doing in the laboratory in the first place?"

Dartz grunted, brushing some of his frazzled mint bangs away from his face. "I heard a disturbance and went to see what had caused it," he replied. "I found Valon knocking everything over in the lab, fury in his eyes as he clutched the rod. I tried to reason with him, but he lunged at me. We fought for a time, and then he overpowered me. That's the last thing I remember." He reached to rub at a bump on the back of his head. The injury was real, but he had sustained it by crashing into the table and not by Valon hitting him with the pole.

"Hmm." Colchis nodded, his wary expression beginning to disperse. "That certainly sounds logical alright. And you are definitely . . . banged up, as Valon himself would say."

Dartz narrowed his eyes at him. "Are you suggesting that I might be lying?" he demanded. "It's not a secret that you have been suspicious of me for quite a while now, Colchis, but I still don't understand where you are getting such ideas. I haven't done anything that should cause you to be so overly concerned about my loyalty."

Colchis relented. "No, I suppose not." He turned, his cape whipping about as he did so. "But still it seems strange that Valon would suddenly go on a rampage now. He was perfectly fine not that long ago, according to Gunther. The boy was confused, but fine."

"People can snap without any prior warning," Dartz answered. He knew that Colchis did not believe him, and he was quite certain that Colchis knew that he knew. They were playing an unspoken game of deceit, attempting to see how well they each knew the other's mind. This was not exactly what Dartz had planned to happen, but it was not truly a surprise, either. "But as far as that goes," the Atlantean continued, "I would say that his immense confusion—and his frustration over his friends 'betraying' him—was enough of a warning."

Colchis smirked quietly. "Are you a psychology expert, Dartz?"

Dartz crossed his arms. "Are you?" he retorted. He actually felt that it would not take an expert to come to such a conclusion, but of course, aside from that he knew quite well what Valon was like from their previous time together.

"Touché." Colchis glanced back at him. "In any case, the rebels have been looking everywhere for him, and they haven't had any luck yet. I daresay, Dartz, if all of Gunther's work is unraveled, I will hold you personally responsible."

Dartz stood up painstakingly. "Maybe you think that you could have done better against him," he said in a dry tone. "But you have to realize, Colchis, I'm not afraid of you or your threats."

"Of course not." Colchis watched as Dartz limped toward the door. "I imagine you're going to lay down and rest now," he observed.

"I am, actually," Dartz retorted, holding onto the wall with one hand until he could reach for the doorknob. "Let me know if Valon is successfully captured again, but don't wake me up to tell me, if I happen to be asleep." Without waiting for a reply, he entered the hallway and shut the door behind him, leaving Colchis to ponder over things. He knew that he was treading on dangerous ground. It would not be long before Colchis acted against him. Dartz could only hope that Colchis would go after him personally and not harm Chris and Ironheart.

I wonder, he thought to himself, if he ever trusted me at all. He was starting to doubt it very much.


Marik's mood did not improve by the time he went to see Sapphire. He was stopped at the door by Ishizu, who informed him that the Queen was not feeling well and that she needed to rest. And though Marik tried to protest, his sister was firm. Sapphire was not to be disturbed at this point.

Marik rubbed his eyes. "Sister . . . Volker told me things," he admitted finally, looking at the older woman. "He told me things that he said Sapphire knew . . . that none of us knew. And I don't think it's right." He clenched a fist angrily, his lavender eyes flashing. He was tired of always being kept in the dark when things like this happened. He knew that sometimes it was a hard decision to make—whether it would be more painful to know or not to know—but for him, personally, he would rather know. And he was certain that Valon's friends would feel the same way.

Ishizu frowned, watching him. "What do you mean, Marik?" she asked. "What did Volker tell you?" She, like Marik, was not completely certain how she felt about Volker. He definitely had not made a good impression when he had first arrived. But she believed in giving people second chances and Volker had seemed to live up to his. She could not imagine why he and Sapphire both would keep something important from the rest of them.

And so Marik relayed the information to her in a low tone as they walked away from Sapphire's room and down the hall. Ishizu listened grimly, finding that she was not any more pleased than her brother was about the situation. She assumed that Sapphire had had a reason for not informing them, but she did not feel that it should have happened. They did, indeed, have a right to know.

She had learned through sad experience what could happen when the truth was withheld from people. Still she would often remember how she and Rishid had decided not to tell Marik what had actually happened to their father, and wonder what would have happened if they had been honest with him. It was true, everything might have been worse, as she had feared—and yet on the other hand, the many tragedies that had followed might not have. But there was not much point in brooding over the past. The current situation needed attention.

"I want to know what's going on, Sister," Marik declared as he concluded his story. "If we had known these things before, we might have been able to do research and find where this tomb is! Someone would have to know, after all. It couldn't be a mystery to everyone here in Juno!"

Ishizu laid a hand gently on his shoulder. "You are right, Marik," she reassured him, then paused. "Maybe," she said at last, "someone else here would know the location of the tomb. We could inquire around while Sapphire is resting. Once she rises for the day, I certainly do intend to ask her about this." Her cerulean eyes narrowed firmly.

Marik nodded, relieved that his sister agreed with him on the matter. "We could start with the doctor," he suggested, noticing that they were near the physician's room.

Ishizu gazed thoughtfully at the door, then smiled. "Alright. Let's."


Raphael was awake early that morning, as he usually was. With a sigh he gazed around the darkened room before switching on a light. Maybe, he thought, he should check on Alister. He had been awakened by a sound from the next room, so it seemed likely that his redhaired friend was awake. Either Alister had knocked something over by accident, he had crashed into the wall in the dark, or he had become so frustrated that he had kicked the wall or something else in the room.

Raphael had been able to tell that yesterday had been an especially bad one for the younger man. Alister had returned to the abode with thin streams of blood running down his arms. And then Raphael had gone to him and had insisted on taking care of the small wounds in his hands. To his surprise, Alister had let him.

He knew that Alister was suffering more than he ever wanted to say. As always, he did not want to burden Raphael with his feelings—but Raphael would not consider it a burden at all. They both missed Valon, and if they could talk things over together, it might somewhat alleviate their pain.

Slowly he eased himself out of the bed, shivering slightly at the feel of the cold marble underneath his feet. With a sigh he pulled himself up, gripping the nightstand at first, and took several steps forward. A dull ache went through his leg this time, instead of the burning sensation that it had been before, and he considered it an improvement. He continued to head toward the door, only reaching for the wall when he was absolutely certain that he needed it. A week ago when he had tried to do that he had ended up sprawled on the floor. The experience had left him annoyed and all the more determined to do it right. Now he was managing it.

As he reached the door and opened it, heading into the hallway, he suddenly wondered if it could have been Alexander making the noise. The doppelganger sometimes had problems with accidentally knocking things to the floor, usually due to his wings. The other day he had sent a vase crashing down, and he had simply stood there for a moment, blinking and looking unsure as to what had happened. It had been somewhat of a comical sight and Raphael had actually had a bit of a hard time suppressing a chuckle at the creature's bewildered expression. Alexander was so much like a child that it was often hard to remember that he was supposed to be Alister's age.

Just as Raphael was going to knock on the door, it opened and a weary Alister stepped out. Raphael gazed at him sadly, seeing his bloodshot eyes and ruffled hair. "You couldn't sleep?" he asked, even though the answer seemed obvious.

Alister shook his head but did not elaborate. "Alexander knocked over the nightstand in his sleep," he said instead. Due to the doppelganger's phobia about being alone, he had been staying with Alister in his room. Alister did not really mind. Alexander's childlike personality reminded him in some ways of Miruko.

"Oh." Raphael leaned against the wall. "I guess that's what woke me up."

Alister nodded. "Probably." He looked as though he was about to walk around Raphael. "I'm going to take a short walk for a while," he announced, and it was not a surprise.

But still Raphael sighed. "Alister . . . you know that I'm here if you want to talk." He laid a hand on the other's shoulder.

Alister turned to look at him. "I know," he said quietly. His eyes showed that he was truly grateful that Raphael was still there, but that did not remove the emptiness from his heart. Perhaps some part of him felt that if he went walking and always returned to the crumbled palace, he would one day find Valon there as well. After all, Valon would not even know to go into the mountains to find them. What if some day Alister had even missed his friend's approach because he had not been there at the time? Alister could not imagine what Valon might think if he returned to the palace and found that no one was there. Valon would not know what to do or where to go. Maybe he would even believe that everyone else was dead.

Raphael moved out of the way to let him pass. Perhaps he understood some of those feelings, though he did not say anything to indicate that. "Be careful," he said finally. He did know that it was important for Alister to go on those walks. It would drive him mad if he was forced to remain inside all the time. Raphael knew; he felt that way himself. And so he did not want to stand in Alister's way.

Alister nodded. "I will." He walked past his friend and down the hall. And maybe, he said silently, I'll come back with Valon. He said the same thing to himself every time, even though another part of him did not actually believe it would happen. But the part of his heart that kept hoping did not want to give up.


This day Alister would get his wish, even though things would not go exactly the way he wanted. Valon had come through the woods at last and had found himself at the wreckage of the palace. He had stared at it in disbelief before slowly walking forward to investigate the extent of the damage. He had not realized that it was so very severe. But of course, he had been too badly injured before to pay much attention to the state of the building.

Now he wandered amongst the fallen pillars and crumbled walls, his eyes blank and saddened. Where was everyone? It was obvious that this place was deserted. Maybe the rebels had taken them too. Or maybe they had all been killed and they were buried in some mass grave somewhere. Valon clenched a fist subconsciously. That could not be true! He did not know if he could bear it if it was. He wanted his friends back . . . if they were still genuine, of course. Valon also wanted the truth. In spite of being afraid to hear it, he knew he needed to.

Suddenly he heard a piece of marble crack and he came to attention. He was not alone after all. The dark sky had lightened slightly, as it was near sunrise, and Valon squinted ahead until he saw the other person. A jolt went through his heart as he realized it was Alister. So . . . he was still alive.

Mixed feelings of relief and indignation surged through the Australian as he stepped forward, glaring furiously at the lanky young man standing in front of him. His blue eyes flashed with pain and emotional injury as the unwelcome memories of being abandoned returned to haunt him once again. "I wondered if I'd ever find you again!" he cried hotly, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "I've got a score to settle with you."

Alister could only stop and stare in disbelief at his friend, at first not even sure that he had actually heard Valon's voice. But he quickly realized that he had. And it was obvious that something was not right. He could tell that just by looking at Valon for that first agonizing moment. His own heart twisted painfully. Here was Valon, just as he had been longing for, but he was different. He was tortured and haunted, his eyes displaying many emotions. Alister did not even know what to say to him.

At last he struggled to speak. "Valon . . . we've been looking for you for so long," he said softly. "We were afraid that you were dead."

Valon only glared at him. "Yeah?" He shuddered, willing the painful memory of Alister abandoning him to go away. It was always unwelcome in his mind, and when he wanted it the least, it would bother him again. He wanted to be able to feel happy that he had found one of his friends, but the voices seemed determined to not let it happen.

Here he is, they said. He left you alone. Don't let him get away with it!

Alister nodded, feeling dizzy. They were both standing in what had once been the palace grounds, with weeds and dead flowers scattered around them. It seemed to him that the wilted roses and hyacinth were not the only barriers between them now. "What do you mean, Valon, when you say you have a score to settle?" he asked quietly. His gray eyes took in the shorter, younger man in front of him. Valon was fuming, breathing heavily, and looked very close to wanting to give Alister a resounding punch. "What did I do?"

"What did you do! What did you do!" Valon laughed bitterly. The voices were growing more insistent and the implanted recollections flashed more repeatedly through his mind. Seeing Alister had brought this on, and now Valon felt himself becoming furious. "Oh, that's a good one. That's real good, Alister." He clenched his fist so tightly that Alister was certain he would see trails of blood momentarily. "Do you wanna know what you did?" He blinked fiercely as if trying to hold back the angry tears that were gathering as he screamed, "YOU LEFT ME!" Then he took a deep breath and then went on. "I was all torn up after that battle and you just left me to die!"

Alister was stung, though he did not outwardly show it. This was not Valon . . . not the cheerful, carefree Valon who had been lost and presumed dead several weeks previous. This Valon was more haunted and horrendously mistaken and misled, but why and how? That was what Alister had to determine. "Valon, that's not true," he retorted, stepping over the weeds to stand closer to the Australian. Had he been so gravely injured that his thoughts had been distorted in delirium? Or had someone, perhaps their enemy in this land, found his nearly-dead body and nursed the brunette back to health, all the while taking advantage of his insecurities and preying upon them until Valon had believed the carefully crafted lies? Alister and Raphael had actually considered such a possibility when they had been trying to come up with alternate ideas as to what had happened to their friend.

"If we find Valon again, and he's alive, he may not be who we remember," Raphael had remarked grimly a few weeks back. "He might be working for the other side." Neither of them had actually wanted to believe that was so. It seemed to Alister that it would be a much worse fate than death. But it appeared as though Valon was, indeed, suffering it.

"That's what I wanna know!" the tortured Australian screamed now, reaching up and shaking Alister harshly by gripping his shoulders. "I wanna know if it's true! If you and Raph don't want me around any more, just admit it already! Admit it! Then we can stop lying to ourselves and get on with our lives!" He was angry, yes, but Alister could see that the dominant emotions right now were anguish and pain. Valon was not himself, and he was obviously highly tormented and confused as he continued. "I'm tired of being nothing more than something to throw away when its time of being helpful is over! I'm tired of everyone hating me and rejecting me!"

Alister attempted to get free from Valon's grasp and to lay his hands on the brunette's shoulders. "Valon, listen to me," he said firmly while struggling with the younger, but stronger, man. "I don't know all of what you were told, or by whom, but it's all lies. Raphael and I never knew what had happened to you after the battle. We looked everywhere for you, but you were gone. As I said, we didn't even know if you were alive." He tried in vain to get Valon to hold still. "I never saw you when it was over, and certainly I didn't reject you. I would never leave you to die and neither would Raphael. You know better than that, Valon."

That was what Valon had longed so desperately to hear. He swallowed hard, releasing Alister more roughly than he had intended to, and half-turned away. "I . . . I was all alone there, bleeding to death," he said softly. "I . . . I thought you knew I was there, but then you walked away . . . and I knew that didn't sound like something you'd do. That's why I was so confused." He trembled, overwhelmed by the immense feelings of perplexity and agony he was experiencing. Alister had to be telling the truth. It had to be the voices that were lying! It had to be! "I mean . . . I thought that I'd finally found somewhere I belonged with you and Raph. . . ." He trailed off, clenching his fists again, and then stared at Alister, who had crashed against a lone pillar of the palace after he had been shoved backward. Now the magenta-haired man was sitting on the grass, rubbing his head and looking pained.

Alister raised his gray-eyed gaze to meet Valon's blue orbs. "I'm sorry, Valon," he stated quietly, feeling his heart clench. "I'm so sorry. . . ." He moved his hand away, checking to make sure the injury was not bleeding, and then winced, feeling slightly dizzy from the blow. He slumped back against the pillar, gazing up into the skies. His close friend, someone who was almost like a brother, had been emotionally damaged in ways that Alister had feared about many a time since he had vanished. Alister had wondered whatever he would do if he found Valon in such a condition, but nothing could have prepared him for this.

At the moment another change seemed to be coming over the tormented Australian. He stared at Alister again, realizing that he had hurt him, and then gasped in horror, kneeling down. "Alister . . . I . . . I'm the one who's sorry!" he exclaimed, leaning over into Alister's line of vision. "I didn't mean it!" Tortured by the thought that he had brought harm to his friend, Valon leaned against the pillar and berated himself. He was angry and hurt and felt used, but he wanted so urgently to believe in Alister's words. He knew that his friend would not lie to him. And in any case, he had not wanted Alister to be hurt.

Alister looked over at him, seeing with relief that the Valon he knew still existed. "I'm alright," he reassured, pulling himself into a kneeling position as well and gripping Valon's shoulders. "Just hear me out, Valon, and then judge me how you will." He frowned, seeing Valon's gaze drift back to the ground. "No, look at me," the redhead said firmly. At last Valon did and Alister calmly explained the way things truly had been—how Raphael had been badly injured, how Alister had looked everywhere for his and Raphael's missing comrade and had only found his bloodied goggles, how they had initially decided that he might be dead, and then how they had considered other possibilities and had tried to figure out where Valon might be being held captive if he were still alive.

"We didn't give up on you, Valon," Alister told him calmly. "We never did. We were worried about you and did everything we could to find you. Have you ever known me to lie?" His gray eyes pierced into Valon's cerulean orbs.

Valon stared back, feeling a sharp prick in his soul. "Naw," he said finally, his voice cracking. "Never. . . ." His shoulders slumped and he gazed at the ground again, suddenly awash with shame. Of course Alister was telling the truth. It was the voices that were lying! Valon had only considered the possibility of them telling the truth because he had been so sick at the time that he had not been thinking clearly, and then by the time he was well again, the memory of the words was so firmly engraven in his mind that he was afraid they were true and that he even remembered seeing Alister and Raphael cruelly leaving him to die.

Brokenly he tried to explain, but he was disgusted with himself and full of rage toward the ones who had done this to him.If he ever found those responsible, and he had the pole with him, they would be in for a world of hurt.

Alister listened patiently. It was as he and Raphael had expected. He was not angry with Valon for what had taken place, but outraged at the sheer cruelty of what had been done to his friend. Valon was very sensitive and had been rejected by people all through his young life. Alister did not understand how anyone could be so heartless as to make this already-tortured soul believe that he had been abandoned again. It made the part of him that cried for justice wish to rise up and avenge such a wrongdoing. Certainly the one responsible deserved some sort of punishment or fair consequence for their actions.

"Well . . . I guess that's all there is to it," Valon said glumly when he had finished, telling of how he had escaped from where he had been kept during his recovery and had come looking for the ones he was afraid had left him for dead. "I can see how you probably wouldn't wanna have anything to do with me now." He shrugged helplessly, a weak and melancholy half-smile gracing his features. "I shouldn't have fallen for that garbage, even just a little bit. I should've had more faith in my chums. . . ." Slowly he got up, prepared to leave and bracing himself for rejection.

Alister stood up with him. "It looks like you still haven't learned your lesson," he replied, looking down at Valon from his full height.

Valon blinked at him. "Whaddya mean!" he cried, narrowing his eyes.

"You're still not having much faith," Alister retorted. "I don't place any blame on you, Valon, and Raphael won't, either. Not under the circumstances. You were ill and you didn't even really know what was happening. The ones who abducted you knew exactly what would get you upset the most and how to prey on your insecurities. They made you believe that you actually saw things you didn't. You were an innocent victim of their treachery, and I can see that you've been struggling with what to believe. You didn't completely regard their lies as truth." He crossed his arms, watching the brunette's expression change from stunned shock to disbelief and finally to awe.

"You mean . . . you still want me around?" Valon said slowly.

"If I didn't, I would have abandoned you in disgust a long time ago," Alister replied, half-turning. "Now let's go. We've been staying at the Queen's secret home in the mountains since the palace was destroyed." He waited for Valon to follow him, then started walking.

Valon brightened, walking alongside his friend. So he had not been rejected and he still would not be, despite his misguided thoughts? It was all so strange and wonderful that he had true friends. It was new to him, since he been rejected countless times in the past when he had thought and done wrong things. Everyone had despised him and he had been kicked around until he had forced himself to toughen up and strive to be better than any of them. But still he had longed for a sense of purpose and belonging. He was realizing all the more that he had that with Alister and Raphael. They were his friends—his brothers—and always would be.

"You know," he spoke now, cuffing Alister lightly on the arm and genuinely starting to grin, "I've actually missed you."

Alister turned briefly to look at him, expressionless as usual. Then he smiled slightly, letting some of his true emotions be revealed. "Likewise; I missed you." So much more than you could ever know, he added to himself. Now maybe things could finally start going back to normal.