"Trust is a funny thing. It is often easy to find, and quick to form. Take war, for instance. A bridge burnt in battle might take a month to rebuild; a ship sunk, a year to replace. A pillaged town will bloom back to prominence in a decade, but trust, once lost, is often irreplaceable. Hardened hearts seldom reconcile, and the betrayed often bequeath their hatred to their children. That is why a burgeoning trust between enemies should always be treated as a precious thing; a pearl in a muddled river."
—Shula Valya, Admiral of the New Armes Western Marine Corps, in a letter to Her Majesty Lymsleia Falenas of the Queendom of Falena
-Chris-
"That's correct," Adeline said, elegantly placing her tea cup by her side where they sat on the overturned cabinet. "It would be necessary to declare Martial Law before that particular edict could be invoked. You have a good grasp of Zexen Law." She smiled, sitting prim and ladylike with her legs crossed at the ankle even in the midst of a room filled with debris. Her face was bruised, but with her tormentors removed, she bore the mark well.
Chris nodded, and raised her own cup to her lips. Steam from the tea warmed her cheeks as she drank the refreshingly bittersweet brew. She lowered the cup. "Excellent. Then everything will go according to plan," she said. If it is the Goddess' will. I have less than two days before Jena's messenger returns; no more. She glanced at the broken furniture strewn across the floor, and again felt a stab of embarrassment when she considered that Hugo had done most of the damage in his wild struggle. Is this how a cornered barbarian fights?
"So," Adeline said, edging a bit closer. "Tell me about your friend." There was an odd glint in her eyes.
"Pardon me?"
Adeline leaned in and pressed the palms of her hands together in excitement. "Why, the young man who so dashingly thrashed my home, of course!" She laughed.
Chris blinked, and pursed her lips. "His name is Hugo… But there is little to tell." Little to tell of friendship, at least. What happened to him after we were separated at the carriage? He seemed so tense, just now. Something must have changed.
Adeline cocked her head, and folded her arms stubbornly. "I doubt that. It's obvious that there's something between the two of you." Something distant came into her eyes as she carried on, "I never thought that Christina Lightfellow, Captain of the Knights, would surrender her solitude."
Chris began to protest, "That is—"
A mischievous grin curled Adeline's lips. "Tell me truthfully: how far have you gone?" She leaned in and whispered, "Have you let him take you?"
Chris' eyes widened, and she very nearly spilled her tea. "What? Of course not!" she exclaimed.
Adeline rolled her eyes demonstratively and smirked. "You protest too strongly, my dear. There must be something going on."
"There is not!" she blurted out. Her cheeks were burning, and she tried in vain to raise her defenses. Somehow, Adeline brings back childhood in me, she thought in resignation.
Her friend snickered, reaching down to stir her tea with the silver spoon. "Well, maybe that is true. I wager it's too soon for that kind of thing now, but you'll have to deal with it eventually." She paused, and searched for words, "He seemed the forthright type."
"You are reading far too much into this," Chris said. She tried to hide her burning cheeks in the cup. There could be nothing between Hugo and me. Feeling flustered, she frowned. There is nothing between Hugo and me.
Adeline carried on as though Chris had not spoken. "I didn't think younger men were your type. He is handsome, though; well-proportioned, and already quite tall," she said with a meaningful smile.
"He is Karayan," Chris said.
"Oh?" Adeline edged closer, and her face took on a conspiratorial look. "Not just a younger man, but a forbidden love? This is like something out of one of those books you used to read."
Chris cleared her throat and set her cup down at her side to stall for time. Yes, 'used to.' She wet her lips. "There is no love," she said. "In fact, he loathes me."
"It didn't seem like it, to me," Adeline said in a lilting voice.
Chris sighed. "No, it is true. I… I killed his friend." How could I blame him for hating me?
Her friend sighed. "Oh dear… Now I am bursting with curiosity. You have to tell me everything. A secret for a secret…?" She chuckled.
Chris could not help but to smile at the memory. "A secret for a secret," she repeated. She drew a deep breath. "I will go first."
Talking about did not make it better. However, it made it easier.
-Nash-
Chorus after chorus of boisterous shouts rang out from the assembled men as they fed Gandran's speech with support.
"Are we gonna lets the Council treat us like garbage?" Gandran asked hotly.
"No!" the crowd responded as one. Each man seemed lost in his righteous wrath as the blacksmith's words nourished their own thoughts and ideas and shaped them into a cohesive sentiment.
Each man but Nash. He hung back, showing equal fervor each time Gandran posed a rhetorical question to the group that had gathered in the abandoned warehouse. On the outside, his shouts joined the crowd, but on the inside, he was carefully weighing his actions to stimulate the mob mentality. What Gandran lacked in sophistication, he made up for with enthusiasm. He well knew how best to maintain a burning torch, while Nash would purposefully seek out those who seemed to waver and speak words of encouragement to bring them fully into the fold. At this stage, he no longer needed to speak openly; Gandran had become fully autonomous in his message of hate against the Council. Now, Nash had only to watch, and direct the growing mob from the shadows. They were the pyre, and Gandran was the kindle.
And, Nash thought, I am the spark.
-Chris-
The building, a single-story house in the seedy Stonepier District, had looked rundown on the outside; a ramshackle collection of dilapidated wood. Surprisingly, the inner walls were polished to perfection, and the hooded lamps hanging on hooks in the ceiling spread a pleasant light across a meticulously ordered room. It was cozy, in an unnerving way. Perhaps because this is Jena's home, Chris thought.
She concentrated on maintaining a casual stride as she followed the woman down a set of stairs, having long since given up on stilling the anxious feeling inside. Each breath felt forced, and she worried that her hate would reach her eyes, or her fury clench her fists. The sword at her hip seemed to burn for her touch, and her mind raced with thoughts and possibilities. Why has she brought me her? she wondered.
Even the basement was tidy. The unkempt men in frayed working clothes lounging around a table seemed out of place, as though they were intruders in the orderly house despite their casual behavior. The sound of coughing revealed the presence of a man standing in the corner. Jena turned as she entered the room, facing Chris. Behind the woman, Chris could see the bars of a cell built into the wall. The men rose from their seats to watch her as she stepped into the room.
"Goddess' tits," a gap-toothed man swore, "She lookers just like 'er." The man shrank back with a chuckle as she leveled a cool gaze at him. With great difficulty she resisted the urge to glance at the cell.
"I want you to see something," Jena said. Her lips were twisted into a smile that spoke of triumphant scorn, barely restrained. She turned, swept her arm towards the cell, and stepped back to give Chris a full view.
Chris took a step forward, and felt her eyes widen before she forced them to stop. A figure was huddled up against the cell's far wall, head hanging and barely moving. Chris very nearly ran to the bars. Prion!
Slowly, tortuously, Chris approached the cell to get a closer look at him. The first thing she noticed was the stubble on his chin; it seemed so out of place on the man. He looked bruised, battered, and weak, and his clothes were torn and soiled. His rasping breath reached her where she stood at the bars, and just as she watched him, he convulsed in a bout of coughs. It was all Chris could do to keep her heart from bursting. The effort of containing the lightning in her veins set her teeth on edge and raised hairs on the nape of her neck.
And Jena was watching her with the eyes of a hawk. She was gauging her reaction, trying to break her disguise by parading her butler and guardian before her like a simple tool.
Chris turned to look at Jena, and forced a condescending smile. I swear by the Goddess; I will kill you slowly, Jena. "How does this concern me?" she asked, carefully choosing her words.
Jena's mouth opened, but before she could speak, Prion roused at the sound of Chris' voice. "M-Milady… Is that you…?" His voice broke, and he coughed fitfully.
The sound wrenched at her heart, but she steeled herself, and did not turn. The men fanned out around her, slowly but menacingly, and watched her with eyes filled with lust and violence. Their hands were inches from the clubs hanging from their sides. They won't attack unless Jena is convinced of her suspicion, Chris thought. If it comes to that, I have my sword. I can win, even outnumbered as I am. But it would ruin everything. Jena's searing eyes remained fixed on her, and the woman was smiling. Could I sacrifice Prion to achieve my goals? No, she decided.
Jena was a long time in replying, and as the seconds passed in uncomfortable silence, Chris was torn between confidence and despair. Certainly Jena's watchful eyes could not fail to see through her now. The woman showed sign of neither triumph nor frustration. "Not directly," she said carefully. "It doesn't concern you, but I wanted to have your opinion on how to deal with this spy."
Chris felt a wave of unease. If she hasn't thought of a better excuse, she doesn't care about a backup plan. She has put all her eggs in one basket: she intends to unmask me here and now. Just like a hawk, the woman watched her. A hawk with a demon's heart.
"I see," Chris said. Prion was mumbling her name in the cell, and she heard his fingers scratch against the iron bars. Her heart was thudding hard, and she felt a knot forming in her chest. "Since you brought me all this way, this must be of the utmost importance," she said with a twinge of sarcasm. She searched her mind for the next logical thing to ask. "Where was the spy caught?"
Jena hesitated before saying, "He was snooping about the manor. He might have overheard something important, so I think it would be best to have him killed."
Chris turned, and tried to remain casual as her eyes met with Prion's. Hazy and disoriented, he tried to focus his vision, but his gaze kept faltering as he hung on the bars. "Milady…" he murmured. "It's… me…"
I know, Prion. I know. Don't worry; I will get you out of here, one way or the other. Chris looked at Jena over her shoulder. Your plan is devious, but not without its flaws. Your weak excuses give me some leeway to work with. She shook her head, and said,"We need to know who sent him. There is always the chance that there is more than one spy, and I am curious to know who yet resists us in Vinay."
"Then we will torture him," Jena said. "Would you like to watch?" she asked in a casual tone as she started towards the cell.
Chris' heart leapt, and she very nearly stopped the woman through force. Instead, she looked calmly at her. "He looks fragile. I will not risk losing him to the hot iron. That is unacceptable." Ignoring the look of shock and sorrow on Prion's face, she turned to Jena. "I have a better solution." Jena simply nodded. In the end, the Chimera is in charge. She will not disobey a direct order unless it removes all doubt. Clearly, she has not yet seen through me. I intend to ensure that she doesn't.
Walking up to the cell, she reached through and leaned down to touch a finger to Prion's forehead. The man grunted, and looked at her with wide eyes. "M-Milady…W-Why…?" he stuttered.
"Can you hear me well?" she asked.
"Y-Yes, milady…" He tore through a fit of coughs, and his hands clenched and unclenched on the bars.
"I will need you to answer some questions. If you do what I say, everything will be well," she said. She offered a prayer to the Goddess that his mind remained as sharp as ever.
"Yes," he rasped.
"Who do you work for?" she asked.
"C-Captain Lightfellow," he said with a groan.
"I see." A logical answer, even if he were a spy. "Did she send you to spy on us?"
Breathing heavily, Prion shook his head. "I'm not… a spy."
Chris snorted. "I will find the truth, whether you want me to or not."
Jena came to her side. "Lady, I would be more than happy to interrogate him for you."
Chris looked up at her. So, you begin to have doubts. You're worried that the Chimera is real, and that she can pluck the truth from this man's head, revealing your bold-faced lie. That would be bad, wouldn't it? "No; it is a small matter for me." She turned her eyes back to Prion. "When did you last see Captain Lightfellow?"
"You're here…" he breathed. "Milady, why are you doing this…?"
"I mean before now. When was the last time?"
"Before… you left for Brass Castle…"
He had been grossly mistreated, and his listless behavior gave her cause to worry that he might not survive for much longer, even without torture. I have to get him out of here, and I can't afford to wait. She squatted down before him. "Were you in the Lightfellow Manor, then?"
"Yes."
"You are familiar with that place."
He nodded.
"There is a sword on display in the master bedroom," she said. "Who last took it down?"
"Captain Lightfellow," he replied.
That is right; when I was nine. "What did she do?"
He hesitated, eyes struggling to focus on her.
"You're trying to hide it from me. Do what I say. What did she do? Do you understand?" Goddess, please make him understand.
"I-I…" Prion stammered. A few seconds passed, and then his eyes seemed to focus for a fleeting moment before rolling up in their sockets. He collapsed onto the floor with a groan, seemingly unconscious.
Chris felt a flood of relief. That's right. I pretended to sleep, so you wouldn't realize I was playing with father's sword. You remembered. She stood and faced Jena, creasing her forehead. "He is too weak for any form of interrogation. You must take care that he regains his strength."
The woman looked at her curiously. "Those were some strange questions."
The men were all watching her with unsure eyes. Chris ignored them, and kept her face blank as she replied, "The rune works by tricking the mind with mundane questions. Unfortunately, the spy's weakness prevented me from extracting any meaningful information." That seems plausible enough. She will doubt me, but no more than she does already.
Jena nodded slowly.
Chris felt cold; she could not help but think about how close she had come to being discovered, and possible getting Prion killed. Thank the Goddess for his wits. "Make sure you keep him alive, and conscious. I will return when there is time."
"I could take care of this for you, mistress," Jena said.
Chris shook her head. "No. I prefer to deal with it myself. After I am done, we will dispose of him." The callousness of the lie made her shudder at her own words. Jena bowed her head, but there was a glint of frustration in her eyes. Chris almost smiled. "In the meantime," she said, "Keep emptying the estate's coffers. I trust you have been discreet about it?" She shot the woman a questioning look.
Jena nodded. "I have." Chris thought she could see a smirk half-formed on Jena's lips. Nodding, she walked past the woman, towards the stairs. "Bry; escort the mistress to the door," Jena said, and motioned for one of men to follow her. The man bounded up the stairs in her wake.
Chris did not bother to turn and face him. She walked up the stairs and made a beeline for the door. The man passed her and pushed it open, holding it ajar for her with a gap-toothed, lustful grin. As she passed through the threshold, she glanced at him. "Being able to masquerade as someone else is a useful talent, is it not?"
The man nodded vigorously. A look of excitement came over his face, as though her question had sparked the courage to speak. "Mistress, err, if I could jus' ask ye…"
"What is it?"
"That is, err, I'm not one o' them handsome blokes…" he mumbled, scratching his filthy hair sheepishly.
That's an understatement, she thought.
"Um, well, is 'ere any way… Could ye change the way I looks, too?"
A smile spread on Chris' face. She glanced back at the stairs, but saw no one. Their voices would not carry down to the basement. "Can you write?" she asked. He nodded dumbly. "Excellent. You know the Lightfellow Manor?"
"Yes, mistress. We been keeping an eyes on 'e place."
Chris nodded slowly. "Listen carefully. Send a message to Lightfellow Manor." She paused to think for a moment, "Written in chicken blood. Write down what you wish to look like. Fold the paper twice, and then write my real name on the cover. Do not mention this, or show the message to anyone before you send it, or the magic will not work. Do you understand?"
His eyes were as wide as saucers, and he bobbed his head vigorously as a stupid grin spread on his face. "I 'as thinking I wanted to looks like Sir Percival."
Chris nodded. "Then describe him on the paper. Be specific."
"A'right," he said.
"As payment, you will ensure that the spy survives until I am ready to interrogate him. Is that understood?"
The man nodded.
Without another word, Chris walked through the door and left. She had been tossed between emotions: the crippling anxiety of not knowing Prion's fate had been replaced for a moment with the sheer relief of seeing him alive, only to be returned to worry and despair as she contemplated how to save him before it was too late.
Chicken blood, she mused. Where did I get that from?
-Jena-
Mind wandering far from the present, Jena looked right past Bry as the simpleton returned to the basement. She hardly noticed him. She felt frustrated; torn between doubt and certainty with each word spoken as she replayed the scene in her head. She searched for a clue; some hint that would damn the Silver Maiden. Could she really be Sarah? The thought remained implausible. There were far too many coincidences, and they kept piling up one upon the other. She turned to look at the unconscious butler. The questions she asked… Is it possible that something passed between them that I did not realize? No; I'll find no answers there. She abandoned the thought irritably to return to the main thread.
Her face had betrayed no emotion, not even in the instant when she was confronted with her beaten companion. Could she be that cold-blooded? No; she couldn't master her emotions well enough. That means I must have misjudged the worth of this man in her heart. Strange; I had the impression that he was very important to the Silver Maiden.
The men began to resume their casual chatting, discussing the matter in crude and ignorant terms. She turned to growl, silencing the lot of them without a word. They mumbled apologies as they quietly sat back down.
Even so, my trap is laid: now that I've brought her here, she is the only person who knows the location of the butler. If he were to be freed in some manner, it could be none other than the Silver Maiden's work, and if she is alive, then there can be no doubt about her identity. Jena's lips twisted into a grim smile. She would never be outsmarted by a witless knight.
Never!
-Hugo-
The world seemed to slant, as though the scales had tipped too far in one direction. Mountains rose and fell on the listing horizon, but they seemed shaped from shadow, as though the Spirits had fled the stone.
"Think about it," Lulu said, sitting cross-legged on the barren soil. "This is a crossroads."
As though his words were a cue, the earth cracked and split as weathered signposts with markers in all directions shot up from the broken ground; a gallery of illegible guides spreading out around him like the trees of a glade.
"He is right," Chris said. Her voice reached him from behind, and he was startled. He dared not turn; without seeing, he knew that she was naked, and he felt a great shame.
"I do not want to look at you," he said.
"No," Lulu said. "You want to look, but you won't." His face twisted with rage. "Why do you want to look, Hugo?
He was right; he yearned to look, and more besides. His blood pumped, but he would not turn. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Suddenly, Lulu was raised onto his feet, only to have a noose form around his neck. His body was jerked like a rag doll, and suddenly he was hanging from a tree, its branches sere and wilted. With a twisted neck, the boy spoke, "You are betraying me."
"No…"
"You are betraying all of Karaya. The Spirits of our ancestors watch you with disgust."
Hugo's breath caught in his throat. He tried to speak, but felt something wet rush over his feet. He looked down.
A stream of blood rose to his knees. As the gruesome brook passed, he could see tormented faces reflected in the surface; dead eyes staring at him with anger and dismay. He was vaguely aware of the blood rising around his legs as he watched.
Lulu's face was pale as death as he hung from the tree, but his eyes were bright flames of rage. "Where do your loyalties lie? Who stood with you when you were chased by the bear? Who helped you when you found a wounded griffon in the woods? Who lied to cover for you? Who—"
"I know!" Hugo shouted. The blood reached up to his arms.
"I stood by you," Lulu said. "I was loyal."
"Yes," he whispered. Even now, Chris' presence behind him echoed in his mind. He felt her warmth against his back, and longed to turn. He felt shame.
"But you betray me. Is this how you repay a friend?"
The blood reached past his shoulders. The tortured faces rose from the surface and crowded him, screaming wordlessly. He struggled against an increasingly strong undertow, and felt a great panic as he was pulled down. As his ears came beneath the surface, they were filled with voices.
Voices, screaming for vengeance.
Hugo shot up in his bed. He touched his hands to his face and fought to fill his lungs with air. I'm drowning, he thought. I'm drowning. He looked around, took in the dark room, and squeezed his eyes shut. Slowing his breath, he fell back down onto the mattress, and stared at the ceiling as the shape of planks began to grow out of the blackness. No, I'm alive. I'm awake.
But I'm still drowning.
-Chris-
The moon's gentle face sent shafts of light washing over the room's dark floor boards. Candles and lamps left unlit, the antechamber was cast in shadows creeping from corner to obscured corner. Near the wall, Chris sat on a cushioned stool before the piano and touched cautious fingers against its cold ivory keys. She sat on the right side of the stool, leaving room for another. Habits had a way of trapping a distracted mind.
Much like nostalgia.
Timidly, Chris leaned towards the maple rim of the piano and pressed a key, producing a shrill sound. She jerked back, and began to pout. "It's no use," she said, "I have no talent."
Prion smiled. "Not so. Try again."
"But I have tried so many times, and nothing comes of it!" she said. "It's a waste of time."
"Young Lady," he said, running his fingers along the keys to produce a simple but delicate tune, "The piano is an acquired skill, much like breathing." He winked at her, and she was forced to surrender a small smile. "With enough practice—frustrating practice—you will master it; I assure you."
"Really?"
He nodded soberly. "Before long, you will begin to feel accustomed to the sensation of the keys beneath your fingers, and your hands will start to reach for the right notes of their own volition."
Chris glowered sullenly as she peered at the butler. She crossed her arms and puffed up in frustration. She met his eyes, and tried to wither the smile on his lips. She failed.
Giggling, the girl reached out her open palm to the man. "Promise?"
Their palms met, and Prion wound his much larger fingers between hers, shaking her arm playfully. "I promise," he said.
A feeling of piercing sorrow roused Chris from the memory. Her fingers were moving unwittingly across the piano's keys as her mind roamed, producing a tune to match her mood. You raised me never to give my word lightly; you know that I will honor my word. Her heart sank. If I can.
Her eyes rose to the top of the piano, where two Pentacles of Knighthood rested—her own, and her father's. Whose footsteps am I following? Where will this path lead me?
Stubbornly she fought the tears.
-Hugo-
Hugo stood pressed against the wall by the door as the music streamed from the room. It was a soft tune from an unfamiliar instrument, but even muted as it was by the closed door, it was distinctly mournful. It plucked at Hugo's heart, and provoked a reaction that was difficult to hold at bay. He was torn; part of him wanted to get as far away from the source as possible, but the other part wanted nothing more than to surrender to it. I'm drowning, he thought again.
Drawing a deep breath, he turned to the door. His heart raced as he pulled the knob and pushed it open, stepping inside.
Chris missed a note, but did not look at him.
He was silent for a moment, but then closed the door and walked past her. The tune was stronger now; more potent in its message of sorrow. "That's a really large instrument. Do you really need all of it?" His voice was harsh; loud enough to drown out the music for a moment.
"Yes," she replied. She did not miss a note, this time.
Desperate to speak, Hugo glanced around the dark room. His eyes fell on something glinting on the large instrument in the moonlight. "That's the Pentacle I returned to you. You have two?" He saw a joke there, but did not have the heart to utter it.
She was long in replying, but finally she said, "The Pentacle of Knighthood is given to each squire who becomes a knight. You returned the one which belonged to my father, and the other is mine."
Hugo felt a stab of guilt. Her father was killed by Clansmen… But he was a knight. Just like the previous Captain of the Knights. He paused for a moment, facing the window outlined with moonlight, and said, "You've also lost people who were important to you."
The music stopped. For some reason, he did not dare turn to face her now. The memory of the dream returned, and he colored, thankful that his face was unseen.
Hugo gathered his courage, and said, "I'm sorry." His eyes sank to the floor, and he squeezed them shut as he added, "For saying that you were abandoned."
"I accept your apology," she said in a weak voice.
I'm sorry, he thought, but it doesn't change anything. He opened his eyes and turned to look at her. She was sitting straight-backed on the edge of the stool with her hands in her lap, staring at the silent keys. There was something else he wanted to say, but he could not muster the strength.
"My butler," she said suddenly, "Jena is holding him hostage." Her eyes did not leave the instrument.
"What's a butler?" Hugo asked.
She shook her head. "He was more than that," she said distraughtly. She nodded, and then turned to face him. She was calm, but her eyes held nothing but sorrow as they fixed on him. "As a young child, after my parents passed away, he was my only friend and confidante."
"I never knew my father," Hugo blurted out. Why did I say that? Feeling somewhat embarrassed, he hesitated to speak.
"But you had the Clan," she said thoughtfully. She frowned, and turned her eyes on the window. "Jena showed him to me, in an attempt to unmask me."
Hugo scowled. "She's contemptible. What happened?"
Chris explained quickly and succinctly, each word setting Hugo's teeth further on edge.
"The trap remains," she said. "Since Jena has willingly leaked the information only to me, if he were to be released, she would logically presume that I was responsible, whether I am masquerading as the Chimera or not. If I am alive, then the story I have fed her is obviously a lie. She will have her proof, and she will warn the Council before we have time to act."
Hugo paced across the creaking floor. "How much more do you need from Jena? What if we capture her first, and then get Prion out right away?"
"No. I cannot risk it. I am sure she has contingencies planned for such an event. He might be dead before we reach him."
Hugo raked a hand through his hair as he thought. "Right. You're the only one who's both interested in freeing him and knows where he is. She's made sure of that. Like you said, it's a trap. What if—"
She nodded. "What if somehow, his location was leaked to another person willing to free him, and Jena knew about it? This way, it would be plausible for someone else to rescue him. Yes; I have thought of this, but I cannot find a way to make it work."
"Keep thinking," he said. Grim as the problem was, it presented his mind with a challenge that kept his nightmarish guilt from surfacing. In a twisted way, he was glad for the opportunity to be distracted, and his hatred of Jena and the Chimera was enough to distract him from almost everything. He glanced at Chris, who sat deep in thought.
"I'm going for a walk," he said. Before she could respond, he was out of the room and on his way to find Nash. Sometimes, it's best to take the most direct route.
-Jena-
The lurid glare of flames lit up the predawn sky as fire rose from the walls of the house. Jena stared in shocked bewilderment as people shouted and ran to and fro around her. Some people were making a halfhearted attempt at forming lines to hand carry buckets to the fire, but their efforts were denied as guardsmen pushed their way down the streets in small groups, parting throngs of people wherever they found them to pacify the mob before its violence spilled out into the rest of the city.
Her house was burning. Despite the heat of the fire, her blood felt frozen as she stared at the flames crowning the building, and her mouth hung open with disbelief.
"Mistress!" someone called out.
Numbly, she turned her face to see one of her men—Gurd—rush up to her. "We're all okays, buts the house…" His face was warped with shock.
"I can see that!" she snapped. Right now, their health was the farthest thing from her mind, but his words broke her stupor. She began to think. Did she do this? "What about the butler?" she asked.
Gurd shrugged. "We lefts him, he must be deader."
Jena scowled. No, it can't have been her. She wouldn't have risked killing him. There's no way it could have been her. Even so, the rage in her heart burned for one person only.
The Silver Maiden.
-Chris-
The flames had already simmered down to cinders when Chris reached Stonepier District, and the skeletal remains of the burnt out house stared her right in the face like a spiteful ghost. As she stood watching, a charred beam collapsed onto the ground, and she flinched.
Chris gasped for air. He must be dead, she thought. She felt lightheaded, and she was shivering even as she pulled the dark cloak closer about her body. Somehow, as the flame had left the building's singed frame, so too had the heat been drawn from her skin. Too shocked for anger, she stood frozen in place. Oh, Prion, she mourned.
Dawn began to break on the horizon while she stood staring at the rubble, and the world fell away around her as she retreated into her own mind.
"You missed the action," she heard a familiar voice say.
Startled, Chris turned to see Hugo looking at her with a silly grin on his face. He was covered with soot, and his soaked clothes were singed. Too bewildered to speak, she gaped at him.
"It's just like Nash says; anger's an amazing thing. All you need is a spark," he snapped his fingers, "And a house will go up in flames."
Chris fumbled for words. "You…"
His grin shrank into an earnest smile. "Don't worry; we got him out."
In that instant, she could not contain a sob. Squeezing her eyes shut, she stopped her tears before the relief overflowed her mind. Delirious with gratitude, she reached out blindly and clutched his hand, squeezing it firmly between her palms. "Thank you," she said emphatically.
His hand was warm. "I… I heard from Percival about the attack on Karaya," he mumbled. "I don't… blame you. There; I said it…" His fingers flexed cautiously around hers, and then went slack as his voice trailed off. She opened her eyes.
Eyes closing slowly, Hugo collapsed against her. Nearly stumbling backwards, she grasped his shoulders and halted his fall. You're exhausted, she thought. Reaching down to grip the boy's chest, she pulled him up and slung his arm over her shoulders.
She blinked unshed tears from her eyes. "Do not worry," she whispered, "I will protect you."
-Hugo-
Chris was lounged in a chair, eyes fixed on the book in her lap as Hugo entered the library. She saw him, and immediately sat up straight. "You are awake," she said.
Hugo nodded. He felt awkward meeting her eyes, and glanced at the window. The curtains were halfway drawn, and a bronzed light fell on the floor as the sun began its downward journey. His thoughts went to the Avenger's words. It ends tonight. Time is running out, he thought anxiously, and vainly sent a wish to the Spirits for more time. His father's sword felt heavy where it hung from his hip. "Did you see Prion?" he asked awkwardly, stalling for time.
Chris smiled slightly. "Yes. He seems to be doing much better now." She hesitated, eyes flickering about uncertainly before she looked at him again. "Thank you again. I really…"
He walked over to her chair and took the book from her lap. She made to protest, but silenced when he glanced at her. The look on her face was uncertain, and perhaps awkward. Flipping the book over, he read the title aloud. "The… Queen's Knight?" He stumbled over the words.
Chris stood up. "You can read?" She reached for the book.
Hugo turned and brought the book out of her reach. "I'm Chief Lucia's son. What kind of book is this?"
"It is nothing special." She made to reach around him, but he paced away from her. Her sense of dignity seemed to prevent her from making a move.
Hugo turned the book to read from the page she had left off on. "The warrior's… passion flared… as he saw her… lithe form… vanish in the night. He knew he could never have her, and was… content to watch her from… afar, but in his heart…" He stared at the words with a frown, and turned to Chris. "What does it say here?"
Her cheeks had colored a rich crimson. She snatched the book from his hands and closed it. "It says… 'But in his heart, an unbridled passion burned.'" Her voice nearly faltered with embarrassment as she spoke.
Hugo struggled not to grin. "Oh? So that woman; she doesn't like him?"
"She does, but she cannot show it."
"Why not?"
Chris cleared her throat and looked at him evasively. "Because their love is forbidden," she said.
"So what? It says he's got an unbridled passion. Doesn't that mean he can't control it?"
"Poetically speaking, yes," she said. "It would mean that he cannot master it."
Hugo scratched his head. "So if he feels that way about her, he should just show it. If he wants her, he should take her."
"That is… Not very romantic," Chris said.
Hugo shrugged. "It's effective, right? Besides, didn't you say she likes him too?"
She nodded.
"Then why's she hiding? She should show him that she's interested."
Chris shook her head. "As I said; theirs is a forbidden love."
"Sure; it's forbidden because they're being cowards about it. If they love each other, who cares what other people say? Wouldn't it be more entertaining to read, that way?"
"No," Chris said excitedly, "The characters' struggle to bond in spite of their differences and the social mores that prevent them from joining is what makes the narrative engaging."
Hugo laughed. "You've thought about this a lot."
Chris' eyes widened, and the color that had slowly faded from her cheeks returned with new fervor. "I have not," she said. "It is… evident at first sight. I merely read these novels when I am stressed. It helps me relax."
"Whatever you say," Hugo said with a grin. "It's cute." Surprised at what he had said, Hugo felt embarrassed, but suppressed it before she noticed. He kept his eyes on her.
Chris squirmed under his stare, and though her mouth worked, no words came. Several seconds passed before she regained her usual composure. At that time, she set the book down on the table with a thud and placed her fists on her hips. "If it might shut you up, I will teach you how to use that sword you are carrying around as a decoration." She nodded at the weapon.
Surprised, Hugo glanced at the sheathed blade, then back at Chris. He nodded dumbly.
All of his anxiety, the feelings he had for a brief moment forgotten as they spoke, now returned at once. Wistfully, he studied her.
I hope you do not live to regret that offer.
-Chris-
Hugo rushed at her, swinging the wooden sword ferociously. Chris sidestepped the attack and slammed her sword down on his back. He grunted, and fell onto his hands and knees, sword rattling against the floor.
"You are using a sword now; not a knife. If you do not match your opponent's range, you will give her an insurmountable advantage."
Rolling over and scrambling to his feet, Hugo grimaced and nodded. He kept his eyes on her as he snatched the sword from the ground and assumed the neutral stance. She looked it over, and nodded absently. His posture still leaves much to be desired, but it will do for today. "Again," she said.
A determined look came over his face. As before, he struck quickly without looking for an opening. Lunging carelessly, he thrust his sword at her stomach. Chris stepped to the side and slammed her blade against his shoulder.
Hugo grunted, but did not stop. Pushing forward, he slammed into her. She grunted, and stumbled back in surprise. He bowled over and pushed her back with his sheer weight. Chris' back slammed against something, and books toppled from their shelves around her. She heard the bookshelf creak and groan, and yelped in fear.
Hugo flung her away, and she hit the floor painfully just as the bookshelf collapsed with a mighty crash. Disoriented, Chris looked up to see Hugo straddling her, pressing his wooden sword against her throat. His eyes were tense as they fixed on her.
"There is no point to teaching you if you will not take it seriously," she groaned. "The strike I made was crippling; you would not have been able to push the attack after such a wound." Is he going to kill me now? After all this? No, she decided, I cannot believe it. Not like this. Somehow, even though she knew in her heart that it was natural for him to hate her, the thought that he might still wish to harm her was terribly hurtful.
Hugo drew deep and slow breaths, and his grip on the practice blade did not relent. She was unable to move more than a muscle. "Maybe," he said. After a few seconds, he exhaled, and withdrew the weapon from her throat. He remained still.
Chris was beginning to feel awkward beneath him, and her heart had quickened. "Stand," she said. "We will continue the lesson." Sweat had begun to bead on her forehead.
Hugo gave a start, and stared at her as though he had not seen her on the floor before now. His cheeks flushed with color, and he began to stand.
"I hope I'm interrupting something interesting," Nash said from the doorway.
Hugo leapt to his feet, and Chris was up in a second, feeling mortified as she brushed dust from her clothes. "How long have you been standing there?" she asked.
Nash smirked. "Long enough to be entertained."
Chris rolled her eyes, and turned to look at Hugo. The tension she had seen in his eyes had waned, but it was in his limbs, and the look on his face was impossible to read. She felt an ocean of frustration. The truth is; everything he does confuses me. I don't know what to think. How should I act? She sighed inwardly.
Hugo's eyes were fixed on Nash, and he snorted. "Mind your own business, Nash."
The spy's expression changed to one of concern. "Let's mind our business, shall we? I came to tell you that the Council is requesting the presence of the Silver Maiden, or should I say, the Chimera."
Embarrassment vanished in a wave of anxiety. Chris nodded. "I cannot deny them. Are your preparations complete?"
Nash nodded. "Also, someone dropped off a message, or at least I think it's a message," he said, producing a messy piece of folded paper.
Chris walked over and took it from his hand. Her heart raced as she turned the soggy paper over to read the name on the cover.
Sarah. A grim smile formed on her lips. At last, a name for our Chimera. She dropped the practice blade, and went to retrieve her sword.
The sun had almost set. The time for preparations was over.
-Jena-
Jena's heart thudded ferociously as she stood to the side in the banquet hall on the top floor of the Council Hall. A large skylight covered with glass was built into the ceiling, but the moon was hidden behind clouds, and a series of bright lamps hanging on the walls provided the room with light. The long table made for feasts was unadorned, but the Councilors were lined up along its length, like a gallery of enthroned statues on display. Once important matters had been discussed, the small talk had quickly petered out, and the chamber was laid in silence.
The doors swung open, and the Silver Maiden stepped inside. Their eyes met, and Jena smiled. You thought you could outwit me? I'm sure you have some backup plan, but I've seen through you. You were never a match for me.
Jena felt a surge of elation, and she found it difficult to suppress the triumphant smile that was forming on her lips. She walked up to the woman, and held out a sealed envelope. "This message came for you," she said excitedly.
Chris took the message, and looked it over. She raised her eyes.
"This is not my name," she said.
Jena's eyes widened as she felt the exultant smile on her face turn to shock. "What?"
-Chris-
Chris raised an eyebrow at the woman as she placed the letter marked 'Devina' on the table's surface. "Do you not think I recognize your petty little schemes? You have been nagging at me like a dog on a too-short leash. You have snapped at my heels for the last time, Jena; we will resolve this in private, once we are done here."
"But Sarah, you used the name Devina once before—"
"Enough."
The woman flinched as if beaten. "Yes, mistress," she whimpered, hanging her head.
Mastering her anxiety, Chris turned to address the Councilors. "Why have you called me here?"
Jena seemed subdued, by the Council remained on edge. Head Councilor Rean rose from his seat and leaned against the table on his palms. "Rather belatedly, it has come to our attention that the Captain received help to escape the dungeons, and that Sir Alron was subsequently imprisoned. What do you have to say on this matter?"
Confidently, Chris strode along the table, passing several of the Councilors before she took a seat in the empty chair at the head. "He failed in his duties, allowing the Captain to escape. He had to be punished."
The Councilors remained silent for several seconds. Despite all of their apprehensions, they were still wary of confronting her. Sarah must've had an iron grip on the Council, she realized.
Finally, Rean spoke. "Why were we not informed of this?"
"I did not believe it relevant to—"
"Of course!" Jena exclaimed as she woke from her stupor, "Sarah never sat down in the presence of those who knew her secret. Not once. She would always stand!"
Surprised, Chris glanced at Jena. Is this a trick? The woman's teeth were on edge, and there was fire in her eyes. "Nonsense," Chris said.
"No!" Jena shouted. She hurried five steps towards her before stopping to stab a finger through the air at her. "Seize her! It's not Sarah; it's the Captain!"
Chris frowned, and tried to focus. She stood, but before she could speak, several of the Councilors had shouted for the guards. The doors sprang open, and a group of soldiers ran into the banquet hall.
Chris tried to stall. "You are making a fatal mistake," she said.
Councilor Lekshan sputtered with anger. "What's this trickery? Preposterous!" His raspy voice grated in her ears.
The guardsmen fanned out around the table and approached her cautiously. She felt the weight of the sword at her side, but did not touch the hilt. Not yet.
Rean stood leaning against the table, watching her intently. "Drop the illusion, Sarah. Drop it, and prove your identity… Otherwise, we will have to protect our interests despite the risk."
Chris' mind raced through a dozen excuses and as many strategies, but she could see in the Head Councilor's eyes that the time for deception was past. Chris smirked, placing a hand on her hilt.
"Yes; you have always placed your interests before all else."
-Hugo-
Hugo was sneaking across the Council Hall's roof when he felt the Avenger's presence in the darkness. He stopped near a glass skylight and waited. Clay tiles clattered underfoot as the assassin crept towards his position. Finally, Hugo turned to see the saraak materialize from the shadows.
"Why are you here, son of Chief Lucia?" the Avenger said in its sibilant voice. "You say you will not help mete out justice, yet here you are. What in the name of the Spirits are you doing, hatchling?"
A fierce wind had begun to blow. Hugo's heart was pounding. "I want to speak with you."
The Avenger hissed, and thrashed its tail sideways through the air. "Speak? You're wearing Zexen clothes, like before!"
"It's a disguise," Hugo said.
"Would you hide from your ancestors as well?" the Avenger asked hotly. He took a few quick steps forward, causing Hugo's heart to leap.
He stood his ground. The Avenger stopped before him. "No, I wouldn't," Hugo said. He put steel into his eyes as he met the Avenger's unflagging gaze, inches away from his face. He felt the lizard's hot breath on his cheeks. "I know the Spirits don't want our people to suffer. This war is built on a lie. We can still stop it—"
The Avenger very nearly roared, "A lie? Is that what Chief Zepon's death is to you?"
Hugo flinched. "Chief Zepon wasn't killed by the Silver Maiden; she was with my mother when he was killed! It was an illusion; not even an Ironhead. Someone's trying to start a war between us!"
The Avenger barked a laugh, and Hugo grunted with pain as the saraak stabbed a clawed finger against his chest. "A fanciful story, but the Ironheads need no help starting a war!"
"You must believe me," Hugo said, gritting his teeth at the lizard. "If we look at the facts, it's obvious! We can still stop this war, but if you kill the Council tonight, it'll take a generation of bloodshed before the war ends."
The Avenger growled at him. "The Ironheads have invited this upon themselves. A generation of their blood would nigh repay their debt!" The saraak's tail thrashed wildly, and he drew his broad-bladed knife and raised it to the sky. "The west wind is howling," he said. "We must balance the scales. Can you not hear it?"
The wind swept through Hugo's hair and tugged at his locks, bearing the vibrant voice of the Spirits to his ears. "I am not deaf," he said.
The Avenger hissed. "It comes down to this, hatchling: you must choose between the Clans and the Ironheads. I have foresworn name and honor; turning back without fulfilling my oath of vengeance would make me less than a warrior—less than a male."
The words stabbed at Hugo's conscience. Lulu… My oath…
"If you have pride," the Avenger said darkly, "You will stand at my side and win your honor. You will be a champion among the Clansmen. If not, stand with the Ironheads, and die, cursed by the Spirits!"
Hugo's attention was drawn below as he heard distant screams. Shouts rang out as he saw fires appear out of the darkness; dozens of torches weaving through the city's streets. He met the Avenger's eyes, and did not flinch. Chris' face flashed in his mind.
I am sorry.
-Chris-
The guardsmen surrounded her, but seemed hesitant to apprehend or otherwise approach her. Chris breathed heavy as the frustration that had built up over the past few days threatened to overwhelm her. The dam had burst, and a flood was coming. Her face twisted with scorn.
"You think nothing of the people of Zexen; your only motivation is to line your pockets with gold," she said.
Jena looked elated; excited beyond reason as a broad grin spread on her face.
Rean shook his head. "You're wrong." He slumped back into his chair with a grunt, and steepled his fingers on the table. "You wish to have war with Harmonia? You're insane. You would throw the people into chains?"
"We will not share the fate of Sanadia!" Lekshan said in his rasping voice.
Chris scoffed at their words. "You do not care whether the people go in chains or not. You are only interested in keeping your own hands out of the chains."
Jena burst into laughter. "I win," she cackled, "I win!"
Chris ignored her, but several of the Councilors looked at the woman as though she had gone mad.
Councilor Haman cleared his throat, and pointed at Chris. "Take her away," he said, "We don't need anything more from her."
The guards hesitated, glancing at each other for confirmation.
"No," Rean said, "Wait." He frowned. "Two nights ago, a guardsman patrolling the east wall was killed. We thought you had escaped the city, but here you are. Why?"
Chris did not move a muscle.
The Captain of the Guards burst through the open doors, bowing his head to the Councilors in all haste. "Sir; an angry mob has gathered outside the Council Hall. The guard commands the doors, but they're getting increasingly violent."
Chris stared at the wall, and hid a small smile. Her heart was beating like a drum.
-Adeline-
The crowd's ferocity was frightening to behold. Gathered around the Council Hall with torches and bludgeons held aloft, hundreds of men had cordoned off the center square and now let their shouts fill the night air. Even now, more and more men were streaming to the square from the surrounding streets, causing the crowd to swell into a heaving press. The city was awake, and it simmered with the rage of the common people, given outlet against the Council. Torches flickered in the budding gale, but like the people's cries for justice, the flames seemed inextinguishable. Only the drawn swords of the soldiers on the steps before the Council Hall held them at bay—for now.
"Here," Nash called out. He grinned as he pushed his way past the incensed people. Armed with a cudgel and wearing the same orange armband as the rioting men, she would never have been able to pick him out of the crowd.
Adeline made a sweeping gesture to take in the mob. "How could I reach the Council Hall, now?"
Nash smirked, and jerked his head towards the building. "These fellows won't give you any trouble; they're kittens, really. As for the guards, they should let you in once you tell them who you are," he said with a smile.
Throat parched, Adeline nodded warily. "Would you make me a path?"
Nash laughed. "Gladly, my lady."
-Chris-
Chris' breath felt labored. Concentrating on the simple act was all that kept her from exploding, and her aching hand felt a part of the sword's hilt as she squeezed it tightly.
Rean's eyes turned to the Captain of the Guard. He frowned, and said, "What are you waiting for? Calm them down! Disperse them!"
The Captain looked grim. "It's too late for that. We'll—"
"Too late?" Lekshan spat. "What are you saying, man?"
The Captain's lips thinned as he turned his eyes on the Councilor. "The crowd has grown too large; too threatening. We'll have to use force."
Haman waved his hand dismissively at the Captain. "Do it," he said.
"We cannot," the Captain said, and immediately met with voices of protest. "The edicts do not allow it unless Martial Law is declared."
Chris pursed her lips, glancing past the Captain of the Guard and into the corridor beyond. Rean slammed his fist against the table. "What's gotten into those pig-headed oafs? Fine! All in favor of declaring Martial Law?" His gaze passed over the assembled Councilors. Haman, lazily resting his head against his hand, was the first to give the assent. The others followed within seconds.
"Passed!" Rean declared, slapping his palm against the wooden table.
A surge of elation ran through Chris' body. Turning to meet Jena's eyes, she smiled. Surprised, the woman's own gladness melted away, and she frowned in confusion.
The Head Councilor looked to the Captain of the Guards. "Now disperse the crowd, whatever it takes. And arrest her," he said, pointing at Chris. "I'm weary of explanations."
The Captain hesitated. "Sir," he said, "That's the Silver Maiden."
"I said arrest her!" he shouted.
"That won't be necessary," Adeline said. The woman strode imperiously into the banquet hall, passing a puzzled Captain of the Guard.
"Who are you?" Rean asked.
Adeline paused to smile at Chris before facing the Head Councilor with a stern expression. "I am Guild Delegate Adeline Tarnay, and in accordance with Zexen Law, representing the Merchants' Guild, I hereby declare the dissolution of the Council."
First there was silence, and then Rean began to laugh. "Have you lost your mind? Is this a joke?"
"Oh, it certainly isn't," Adeline said. She approached the table, and unrolled a document upon its surface. "During Martial Law, a Guild Delegate who possesses enough financial clout in the Merchants' Guild is entitled to dissolve the current Council and form a new one."
The Councilors began to protest, talking amongst each other in upset voices. "Is this true?" Haman asked, suddenly awake and alert.
Rean frowned at the document, and timidly picked it up. "This… How did you gain financial majority?"
Jena gasped. "Tarnay…? No… It can't be…"
Chris' gaze bore into the woman. "Oh, but it is."
"You… tricked me," Jena said. "But how? You told me to spend the Lightfellow estate's gold, but you didn't give any directions!"
"Did I not?" Chris asked. "I told you to be swift about it; to invest it rather than spend it, and to do it as quickly as possible. Beyond that, I did not give you any directions, but I certainly gave them to others."
Shock spread on Jena's face as the realization dawned on her. "I've been running your errands these past few days! I… I'm the one who's bought you this financial majority…"
Councilor Lekshan stood in a fit of rage. "You idiot!" he screamed, ramming his fist into the table.
Adeline cleared her throat and interrupted. "Until a new Council has been chosen, I am in command. Captain," she said, turning to the man, "Arrest the former Councilors, as well as Jena Farlan."
This time, the Captain needed no encouragement. "Yes, madam," he said, saluting.
Jena screamed.
-Hugo-
The Avenger swept its tail to the side and hissed, but the voice of the howling wind nearly drowned the sound out. "The Spirits will rejoice tonight, then!" he shouted. In a heartbeat, the saraak turned to face the illuminated skylight and ran towards it. In three strides he had reached the window and swung himself down by the edge.
Yielding to the pressure of the lizard's scales, the glass broke and burst into shards as the Avenger disappeared below. The sound of clattering glass and screams rushed up from the room. Heart pounding, Hugo followed.
Glass shards bit into his hand where he planted his palm on the edge of the window, and he grimaced as he vaulted down to feel the ground rush up to meet him. He heard snarls and shouts of surprise as he landed with a thud, and he knelt among the shards of broken glass. Pressing his fist to the ground, he pushed to his feet and drew his knife.
She was staring at him.
-Chris-
She stood frozen in place, watching him. "Hugo…?"
The Lizard Clan warrior, scales sheathed in mud, snarled and flicked its snake-like tongue at her. "She-Devil; you cannot run from justice any longer. We've come for you." The Councilors screamed and shrank away, reforming behind the guardsmen as the Captain formed a wall of swords at the sides of the great table, advancing on the intruders. The lizard scoffed at them. "I will gut you each in turn, little ones." Its eyes fixed on Chris. "But you… You deserve a special fate." It turned to face Hugo. "Son of Chief Lucia, kill her!" it said, stabbing the broad-bladed knife towards her.
Chris barely heard his words. A chilling feeling had seized her blood, and she felt tears build in her eyes as she searched the boy's features. He stood rigid, silent as his chest rose and fell with each labored breath. Nothing on his face could contradict the simple truth of the knife in his hand.
He took a step forward and let out a sigh. "I'm sorry." He would not meet her eyes.
"You made me… How could you…" she began, but bit her lip as unbidden tears ran down her cheeks. She squeezed her eyes shut as she tore the sword from its sheath. Damn you! I can't cry! I don't want you to see me cry!
Her heart would not obey.
-Hugo-
Why is she crying? Somehow, seeing the miserable look on her face made his heart ache. He cracked his neck, and turned to look at the Avenger. "Look at me." I'm so sorry.
The saraak turned sideways, sweeping its tail across the floor as it cocked its head to the side to focus its eerily intense eyes on Hugo. "Why do you hesitate?"
He shook his head, stretching out his legs as he stepped gingerly towards the Avenger. "No, I've made up my mind… I just don't want to stab you in the back." The saraak's eyes widened, and he snarled. Without a word, he charged.
The Avenger's knife clashed against Hugo's blade, and sparks flew. Voices cried out in shock. Hugo backed off, slipped on glass shards, and nearly fell. He caught his balance and ducked beneath a wild swing.
The Avenger snarled with rage as he pressed the attack. Glass crunched beneath his scaly feet, and each step kept him on the offensive, pushing Hugo back. Desperately, Hugo tried to circle around, away from the wall. A sudden lunge almost speared his stomach. He fell, hitting his head on the floor, and rolled onto his feet. The saraak was upon him.
Hugo parried the weapon, but saw the sweeping tail too late. The scaly trunk slammed into his feet and knocked him over, towards the corner. He activated his rune. The wind swept in from above and pushed him to the side. He scrambled back up, and ran sideways.
The Avenger roared. Hugo could nearly feel his breath on his neck. Stumbling against a chair, he vaulted over it and ducked. A blade passed over his head. He stabbed his knife upwards. The saraak's blade came around and knocked his knife aside. A counterthrust nearly punched a hole in his throat. Hugo's blood froze.
He backed off, watching the Avenger for an opening. The saraak threw the chair aside. It crashed and splintered against the wall. Hugo and the Avenger circled each other around the pile of broken glass. Guardsmen were fanning out around them, waiting.
"Hold! Do not interfere!" Chris called out from somewhere.
The Avenger's reptilian jaws opened to show rows of sharp teeth. He suddenly burst into motion. He rushed towards Hugo, flicking his blade from side to side with each step. Hugo held his ground until the last moment.
The lizard's knife flashed, and the tail moved. Hugo took one step back, and leapt over the thrashing tail. He parried a wild slash, and circled around. Reaching behind, he stabbed his knife. The weapon was parried, but Hugo pressed the attack, pushing the Avenger forward. Snarling, the saraak lost his balance, and Hugo pushed him against the wall.
The Avenger slammed into the wall with a grunt and a snarl. His tail flicked out, and wrapped around Hugo's leg. Yelping, he was pulled down, and glass shards raked his back as he slammed into the floor and slid several feet. His arm flailed and his knife was knocked aside.
"Hugo!" Chris called out. He heard footsteps.
Pain lanced through Hugo's body as he pushed to his knees. Roaring, the Avenger charged him. Panicked, he fumbled over glass pieces for his blade as the saraak leapt at him. He found the hilt, and a greenish glow enveloped his hand as his rune flared to life.
A blast of wind bore down on the Avenger's back, pushing it forward. The knife slashed wildly. Rolling across the glass, Hugo sprang to his feet just as the blade tore a shallow wound across his chest. The wind slammed the Avenger to the ground, and Hugo's own knife flashed as he stabbed down.
The blade bit through the scales with a sickening sound. He pushed down, piercing flesh, and the Avenger's desperate snarls began to cease. It grew still. Disoriented, he knelt down and felt his hands shake on the hilt. His body ached, and he struggled to keep his eyes from closing.
The room had gone silent. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked up at a woman standing over him. Chris. That's Chris, he thought idly. She looked frantic. At least she's not crying anymore. Good.
She glanced back at something, and threw out her arms to her sides. "Halt! Get away from him. Touch him, and die!" She sounded angry.
Hugo shook the sleep from his eyes and stared at the Avenger. Motionless and still, the lizard lay dead on the floor with a nasty gash in its chest, where his knife was buried to the hilt. Shaking, he walked over on hands and knees and reached for the hilt, heart pounding. He half expected the corpse to leap from its resting place and take its vengeance on him. He blinked away tears building in his eyes as he gripped the hilt and yanked it free. Blood spurted from the gaping wound, and he averted his eyes, shivering. Will the Spirits curse my name? I am a murderer. His eyes passed across the Avenger's broad-bladed knife where it rested on among the glass shards near a lifeless arm. He felt sick to the stomach, and even as he gripped the bloody knife tightly, he felt guilt rise.
He turned to look at Chris. Somewhere along the line, she had sheathed her sword, and she stared back at him with a collected look. If not for the marks on her cheeks, he might have doubted if she had truly cried a minute ago. He raked a hand through his hair as he fumbled for words. "Are you… okay?" I didn't mean to hurt you. No, I can't say that.
Chris' eyes widened for a moment, and her mouth worked in silence before she nodded. "Yes. I am fine. Truly."
Hugo shrugged the feelings of guilt from his mind. "Good. Because I feel like an Earth Rune just burst in my head." He staggered.
Her arms reached out to catch him as he collapsed. The warmth of her hands was the last thing he felt before his vision went dark. "Everything is fine," she whispered.
He fell into a dreamless sleep.
-Chris-
Under different circumstances, Chris would not have revisited the cell where she had been tortured by Alron. The dim light and the dripping wet stone, the chains and cruel implements on the walls were all part of the oppressive atmosphere that brought back memories—thoughts and images that she would just as soon erase from her mind.
Jena squirmed on the floor. Ten hours since the confrontation in the Council Hall. Nine hours since Chris' appearance had turned a bloodthirsty mob into an exultant crowd, celebrating the news of the Council's dissolution. Jena's chains had been removed, but she still seemed restrained on the damp stone. Sobbing, she bowed and scraped before Chris. "Please; I was just following orders! I-I didn't want to do it, but they threatened me, and—"
"Silence," Chris said coldly. No more deceit; no more schemes. The time for duplicity is at an end. "I do not wish to hear your lies."
"B-But, please…! Have mercy!" The woman threw herself at her feet, and looked up at her with pleading eyes.
Chris leaned down to grab a fistful of the woman's hair, yanking her head up to meet her eyes. "Swordsmanship," she said, "In the process of teaching you to kill swiftly, also teaches you many ways to do harm without killing."
Chris paused, and Jena whimpered in her grip, mumbling something incoherent as she shook her head. Somewhere in her heart, Chris felt chilled at what she was about to do. "I remember those techniques well, but I seem to have forgotten how to kill." Chris turned her face. "Hugo, do you perchance remember?"
He stood leaning against the wall behind her, but now straightened. He cocked his head pensively.
"Give me a few hours," he said, "To refresh my memory."
-Hugo-
The horizon seemed to churn and roil as a sea of shadow enveloped mountains and forests and swallowed them whole. When he looked at the ground, he found that the earth was cracking and fracturing, causing fissures to appear and grow into chasms as the rock fell away like earth from an uprooted tree. Within moments, only an island of dirt covered with parched grass and wilted flowers remained, and he stood at its center.
He felt a presence behind him, and immediately knew that it was Chris; knew that she was naked. Turning his eyes on the ground again, he saw a rivulet of blood flow through a small fissure in the earth. For a time, it seemed that the flow was growing stronger, but as he blinked, the blood receded into the dry soil.
Warmth was building in his body, flowing from his core, and even as he stared at the desolate horizon, he felt his heat outgrow the sorrow.
This time, he turned to look at her.
And more besides.
-?-
Standing on the dais, surveying the altar bathed in the intense glow of the burning emblem, the Perpetuator smiled. The familiar pulsating sensation on his forehead confirmed the resonance between the two powers, but the nature of his presence made a true connection impossible. So close, yet so far, he mused.
He stepped across patterns of crude etchings as he walked closer towards the altar. The proximity, however, artificial, sent a frisson of excitement through his body. He bent his head to look at the floating emblem from each direction, and traced each line of the symbol in his mind. He nodded. The residue still remains, even though the rune has reasserted its once lost independence. Fascinating. He ran a hand through his short hair and sighed with nostalgic pleasure.
"My firstborn son; how long has it been? Fifty years? It is time to awaken, and reclaim your birthright." Raising his open palm towards the altar, the Perpetuator activated the rune on his forehead and sent a ripple of animation, resuscitation, towards the burning emblem.
Echoing against the True Fire Rune upon the altar, the call to life recoiled, and raced towards its destination.
Beneath the earth, a buried soul stirred.
Author's Notes:
Thus concludes the three-chapter story arc that was originally intended as a single chapter. Writing these chapters was an experiment in plot construction and climax building, and I hope that the end result was entertaining.
Next Chapter:
Having secured the power base necessary to resist the Harmonian forces, Chris and Hugo travel through the Grasslands to reach the front. Unable to act openly, they are forced to hide their identities among the least likely people. Already weary of pretense, Chris now has to masquerade as… a wife? Next time, in Blazing Waves, Burning Rain!