Chapter 5
Battalions of Fear
Author's Note: O.O... I really can't believe I finally finished this chapter. It had been sitting in my files for so long because of all of the computer crap I had experienced earlier this summer, then I lost interest because I hadn't looked at it for so long. I'm glad I did, because my earlier ideas for this chapter were quite horrible and I also took the time to edit one scene that ended up being the reason I had initially lost interest.
Anyway, the title for this chapter "Battalions of Fear" is the title of another Blind Guardian song. I haven't listened to this song in a while, so I don't really know how close it is to the actual lyrics (so far, I don't think most of them were). I'm mostly going off of title themes.
This will not be the last time you see the Knight Elves. In fact, this chapter is leading up to the final breaking point when all hell breaks loose. To that effect, we have about two more chapters after this one before that happens.
Like it? Hate it? Despise it? Review and tell me!
Four days. Four days and no sign of the little group of four that went out on patrol; four days since he saw his padawan; four days since he spoke with Lorn; four days since Artemis threw a particularly nasty comment to him, and four days since he saw that the princess was safe. Qui-Gon was going mad with the valiant attempt not to dissolve into a fit of worry.
The Jedi Master sighed and leaned back into the couch that rested in the confines of the common room. There was no peace within him. He couldn't reach it. Obi-Wan could manage it so well in the confines of Illearia, but him? He couldn't get the nagging urge that something happened out of his head. The Force had alerted him a while back to a suffering injury that his apprentice obtained on the second day of the outing. Brief tremors continued since then. Despite Obi-Wan's evident injury Qui-Gon felt something else; something sinister.
Something happened to Bellethiel. He didn't know why that thought plagued him, but it did. He was frustrated with the fact that the queen and the five lords (one of whom was mysteriously absent) didn't seem concerned. The White Council, on the other hand, were growing uneasy and Ailya had withdrawn into the Halls of Healing for a reason he couldn't fathom.
A soft, wet, nose nudged his knee and Qui-Gon glanced down at the amber eyes of the ebony wolf currently in his care. The princess had asked him to not cut back, but increase, the animal's training while she was absent. His blue eyes met those emotional orbs that shined like twin moons up at him and he smiled slightly. As if on instinct, Qui-Gon reached out to scratch Sila behind her ears in an effort to comfort the concerned canine next to him and quell his own fears.
"Where is your mistress? I don't suppose you would know, hmm?" he asked her.
She continued to stare at him with a heartbreaking forlorn expression on her face. He sighed through his nose and rose to his feet. From the look she was giving him, he had a feeling that she wanted to wander around the castle grounds for a while. Sila followed him out of the room and padded behind him as he trudged through the winding halls and out into the open air. He glanced up at the new sun and nodded to himself. The rays of the star peeked over the distant mountain horizon and signaled the dawning of the fifth day of his apprentice and the princess' absence. Knowing that there was little else he could do at that moment, Qui-Gon approached the training grounds and drew out his lightsaber. He needed the saber practice.
He was deep into the movements of Form III when he noticed a tall, silver haired figure, standing silently in the background watching him. He continued with his exorcises as if he hadn't noticed the intruder and chose to observe from the corner of his eye. The figure was female, tall and willowy, like most Rhune elleth. She had the trademark beauty of her race and was dressed in a rather simplistic green dress. A part of him wondered if this one was another Bainethiel wishing to seduce him away from the princess, but something told him, from the look on her face, that such wasn't her intention.
He felt the irony of that thought. It seemed that the more he didn't have to rely on the Force, the better his perception of elven mood seemed to improve. The Lady Ailya had not lied when she told him that the more he relied on his base instincts the sharper they would become.
Qui-Gon simply shrugged that thought away. It was probably going to result in another disagreement with the council.
He finished going through the Soresu forms and then met the emerald green eyes of the silver haired elleth standing on the sidelines.
"I normally do not meet anyone accept by appointment. Why should I make you the exception?" he asked.
The elleth raised an eyebrow at him and entered the training area. The correct term for that would have been "glided".
"Because I have information concerning our princess' whereabouts. I can assure you that I received this from a reliable source," she told him.
Qui-Gon studied her. She was tall enough to look him squarely in the eyes. He had to admit that he was intrigued by such a proclamation. It also tickled his nerves with anticipation and foreboding. From the way she was carrying herself, Qui-Gon figured that whatever news she had was not good.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"I am the lady Earmiriel from the house of Tyre. I know that my brothers wish to court the princess, but I can assure you that my intentions in this, and all other instances, are pure," she said.
Qui-Gon motioned to one of the wooden observation benches set up for those wishing to observe the work of others. They sat and she closed her eyes before beginning.
"I overheard a conversation between the Lord of the house of Undbegyr and Taurinos ven Egire concerning the welfare of the princess. Taurinos told Lord Vanyo that his father was currently in the Deep Woods in the stronghold of the Knight Elves," she caught his confused look and quickly added, "Knight Elves do not have the best interests of the royal house in mind. One is never born a Knight Elf. You become one through the pursuit of sorcery and swearing fealty to the Evil One. Lord Vanyo asked if Lord Lanyar was merely acting in his own interests to marry Taurinos to the princess. Taurinos assured him otherwise."
Qui-Gon closed his eyes in an attempt to calm his current raging emotions. It was difficult to do so. If this was true then that meant Bellethiel was captured in the hands of her enemies and had been so for at least two days.
"Did they mention her traveling companions?" he asked.
She nodded, "Taurinos informed Lord Vanyo that Lady Artemis and Apprentice Kenobi are missing. It is possible that, at least, Kenobi is dead. They are not certain about Artemis. Hunter Lorn has been captured most likely to help sway the princess. I doubt that would work. Her family members have been preparing her for this type of thing should it ever occur and I am certain they were thorough in their training. It is likely that Lord Lanyar will attempt to break her spirit."
Qui-Gon's jaw was set, but he at least was able to be certain of one thing, "My padawan isn't dead. I would have felt it."
She nodded and took that at face value. Qui-Gon felt relief at that.
"I must find them," he muttered.
"Then I and my younger brother will accompany you," she said pointedly.
Qui-Gon was on his feet and heading towards the exit to the training grounds. Sila came immediately to his side and shot Lady Earmiriel a suspicious look. The silver haired elf merely inclined her head in the presence of the large wolf.
"We won't have time to find any of your brothers. We have to go now," snapped Qui-Gon.
Earmiriel shrugged and reached out to stop his charge. He turned was about to snap at her when she held up a warning hand.
"We will need a map and I have a sneaking suspicion that the library is not the place to find one," she said.
Significantly deflated and feeling rather helpless in the current situation, a feeling he was certainly not used to, Qui-Gon sighed.
"What is your suggestion, then?" he asked.
She smiled and suddenly the Jedi Master was reminded of the princess. It was rather amazing that the Rhune Elves from one of the five major houses could produce such a strong willed female, yet level headed, female. Most of the Rhune elleth he met were either demure and quiet, or extremely silly in nature yet still submissive. Lady Earmiriel seemed to go against the stereotype.
"We find the wizard, Maf. If we locate him, we will find my younger brother. Let us make haste," she nudged him gently in the direction of the castle.
Qui-Gon, unsure of what else to do, followed her. It was best that he focused on the task at hand. It stopped the flow of concern, worry, and self-censure that threatened to explode from his subconscious.
Princess Bellethiel ven Aldura was not in a good mood. In fact, it was safe to say that said mood ranged from grief at the possible loss of Artemis and Obi-Wan and anger at being double-crossed by one of the greatest bastards known to the inhabitants of Illearia. Lord Lanyar, she knew, was always a sore loser when it came to the rejection of elven royals concerning his family. If she correctly recalled, her great-grandmother had spurned his advances in want of a lowly Rhune Elven baker from the southern end of the capital. It was evident that her continuous dismissal of his son's advances had angered him before she was captured. She simply hadn't thought the ellon was foolish enough to ally himself with Knight Elves just to make her marry his son.
In all honesty, she should have seen it coming. They traveled further into the Deep Woods than they had thought following the directions of a map they acquired from the library during their planning period. The Eduna never drew maps of their forest and preferred to use star charts. Artemis and Lorn were probably two of a handful of Eduna elves that knew how to read one. The fact that they used false information from a place where truth was supposed to be held to the highest of standards meant that the trip, itself, was a set-up. Such a diabolical plot was most likely crafted over months of planning. It made her wonder if these false maps were the cause of her father's and former guardians' demises. She would not be surprised if that were the case.
She sighed and adjusted her seat against the wall of her moldy, stone prison. If all of this was allowed to happen in the palace library, than that meant her mother turned a blind eye to it. The queen was, after all, in charge of everything that went on in the castle. She would have known.
Belle frowned at this line of thinking as she shifted in her holding cell to better make herself comfortable. Ultimately, that was the crux of the matter. Her mother was too damned weak to do anything accept roll over like an obedient dog (lower than that even!) and pander to whatever the five lords want her to do. Vanyo and Lanyar seemed to be the two lords she feared the most. At least, if her mother knew about the Knight Elven allies, the queen had some reason to fear them.
She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. The shackles around her wrists slid down her arm slightly and elicited a pained wince from her. The bloody things were starting to chaff.
Queen Miriel was the ruler of the elven race. Not much stood in her way. Her power, from just simply being of the royal line alone, was greater than most others in the race. In all honesty, there wasn't much the Egyre and Undbegyr lords could do to her without forcing some sort of oath of apathy from her.
Ah. That had to be it.
And who better to force her than two elven lords who allied themselves with the very beings sworn to break the royal family and destroy Illearia as she knew it? The Knight Elves would be formidable allies in that regard. They would wish to break her spirit as the coming queen of the elves. Part of breaking her spirit would involve her marrying an ellon devoted to the dark arts.
"Well, now that we've established their diabolical plot, now what?" she wondered out loud to herself.
Two days of doing absolutely nothing other than evaluate her current predicament offered her many answers, but provided little to no solutions. She couldn't escape. The dragon-bone chains that bound her inhibited her ability to make use of her natural gifts. She was powerless. Her uncle was in a cell two blocks over being tortured (she could hear his screams and tried, hard, not to think about them) so he was out of the question. Both of them were separated. No one likely knew of what transpired if Artemis and Obi-Wan were dead or lost or wounded. It seemed that the only course of action would be to accept Lanyar ven Egire's son's hand in marriage.
Belle glared at the wall and allowed her resolve to grow. She would not give in.
She closed her eyes as a wave of sadness washed through her. Her aunt and Obi-Wan were likely dead. There was no way Obi-Wan, at least, could have survived the dark curses that hit him. Even if he had the strength to move after being bombarded with such dark spells Bellethiel doubted he would be able to for very long.
She should have stayed home. It was so obvious that Lanyar had been braced for an opportunity like this. If her aunt and Obi-Wan were dead, it was her fault. Her uncle, she knew, would probably not be too far behind.
The door to her cell opened and startled her out of her reverie. She looked up and found the elf lord in question gazing down at her with cool appraisal. She glared at him.
"You still refuse?" he asked.
She continued to glare at him in answer. A smirk made its way to his lips and a glint of dark humor became reflected in his blue eyes. Was it a trick of the light or were those eyes beginning to have a red tint to them?
"Your uncle suffers with your stubbornness. Do you truly wish for his slow and painful death?" he asked.
Bellethiel ven Aldura continued to glare at him. It was all she would do now. To give in would displease her uncle more than her saving his life. In any case, she doubted that Lord Lanyar intended for Lorn to live even if she did agree. In any case, she refused to subject herself to either the Egire or Undbegyr families. She would rather die.
"Traitor," she muttered darkly.
He chuckled darkly, "You would think so, but it is your mother I consider the traitor. You are merely a bi-product of a dirty marriage tainted with the blood of the Eduna. I am merely here to make the once Rhunic line pure again."
Bellethiel continued to glare at him as she replied, "I will never marry from a family who serves the Evil One."
He snorted, leaned down, and grabbed the ripped color of her tunic. Belle felt the tug of his strong arm as he hauled her level with his eyes. The stench of evil reeked from him. She could smell it. She wondered when she received that ability since she was certain she ever had it before. Maybe it was simply that potent in the spirit of this ellon? She wasn't sure.
"No, I wouldn't thing you would ever want to marry from the Rhune elves. In fact, I think you've developed the same disgusting taste in males as your professor has; a taste in the human dogs. Do not look so surprised, my lady, you are not as subtle as you would like to believe. What if I took your pet human and tortured him in front of you? Hmm? What horrors would you feel, my lady? I am certain your answer will change, yes?" he asked her.
Fear gripped her, as fear for her uncle churned within, except this one was colder. The thought of Qui-Gon hurting because of her for the simple fact that she harbored deep feelings for him nearly dissipated all of her anger. She resisted the urge to show that fear, though she was certain that her glare wavered for a brief moment. Belle forced her mind to think of the possibly deceased Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Jedi Master's padawan who died for her cause. If she gave in, she would dishonor his memory and, in return, dishonor the master. She refused to do so.
"Never. There is nothing that you can say that will make me change my mind. There is no physical torture, not one threat, that will ever make me marry a Knight Elf," she swore.
He slammed her against the wall as rage consumed his features.
"I am no Knight Elf you crossbreed bitch!" he hissed.
The breath was knocked from her and her vision blurred at the impact of her head against the solid granite stone of her cell.
"I am not my mother," she whispered, "I am not weak."
He dropped her unceremoniously to the ground. The chains around her wrist scratched against her blistered skin and her body erupted into an avalanche of pain as all of her previous wounds from the battle two days ago were jogged from the fall. Lord Lanyar stepped away from her with a cruel smile twisting he features.
"No, I suppose you're not. We will have to fix that," he remarked and backed out of her prison.
Bellethiel closed her eyes and continued to lay on the floor and wait for the pain her body was in to numb again.
While the princess and Lorn were suffering at the hands of their captors, Artemis was attempting to ease the suffering of the magically injured padawan. The trip was longer than she anticipated. It took them the rest of the second day to find a place to hide for that night. The huntress spent that time attempting to heal Kenobi's curse wounds but to little avail. She didn't specialize in lightcraft or specialized healing magic. She was a huntress. The magic she knew was all air element centered and had little to do with healing.
She regretted never learning the thing that her mother was renowned for.
Now, two days later, Obi-Wan was in a state of deliriousness. He could barely move his body. His mind was in its own little world of nightmares. When he did come back from said world, it was only for a few moments. This morning, he was coughing up blood. It was only a matter of time, she figured, before he slipped too far out of her reach and would never come back.
Artemis closed her eyes as dread filled her. She disliked Jedi, that was certain, but this boy was something else entirely. There was a guilelessness about him that was endearing and she found that the more she was around him the more he awakened her motherly instincts. It was annoying, but it was the truth. The kid grew on her.
Now he was dying because she was stupid enough take Belle on this foolhardy patrol in the first place. She had grievously underestimated her opponents. She just wished she knew how they figured out where they were. Dark creatures weren't supposed to be able to travel to the fringe of the Deep Woods. There were too many wards around the area for such a thing to occur. The only explanation for this would be if…
Those bastards, she thought as apprehension dawned, they did something to the maps!
Obi-Wan groaned and brought her attention and anger away from those responsible for their current position. He was beginning to look pale.
She glanced up at the sky and let out a careful breath. It was beginning to become later afternoon. Even if she carried the boy, they wouldn't make it to the capital in time. Obi-Wan was too far gone.
She closed her eyes and leaned against the tree she was sitting in front of. If the boy was to die, then she intended to be with him until the very end. Then she would give him a proper burial. It was the least he deserved.
A howl pierced the silence and startled her. Alarm sounded in her head and she jumped to her feet, knife drawn from its sheath. If the enemy found them, then let them come! She narrowed her forest green eyes and waited patiently for-.
A shadow moved from among the thickets and a black, young, wolf materialized out of the gloom. Her mouth dropped. Wasn't that Sila? The wolf's yellow eyes locked with hers ad Artemis knew.
"Artemis!" cried an elderly voice from behind Sila.
The huntress looked up and saw the grey cloak of the old wizard, Maf, and relief flooded through every fiber of her being. She sagged against the tree as a wave of exhaustion hit her. The old man started for her but she shook her head.
"See to the boy, he needs help now!" she managed to gasp out.
She almost toppled to the ground, but a pair of peach colored arms caught her and she met the emerald green eyes of Lady Earmiriel of the House of Tyre. The silver haired elleth smiled gently at the huntress and lifted her good arm around her shoulder.
"Lean on me, if you will, you are in no condition to stand on your own," she ordered kindly.
Artemis was about to give a witty retort when she caught the looming figure of Qui-Gon Jinn hurrying out of the shadows and kneeling beside his apprentice. She held her breath.
"Will he…?" the man trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
Maf inspected the boy for a few moments longer before saying in what Artemis knew was a relieved voice, "He will live."
That was all she could have asked for as she finally allowed herself the luxury of passing out.
Professor Laurel Moruni didn't like the noise contraptions that the Republic called Galactic Cruisers. Granted, this Nubian cruiser owned by the Naboo Senator, Palpatine, was a nicer quality than the others she had the pleasure of riding in the past, but she missed the sleek and quiet hum of the elven space craft. She vaguely wondered if Yoda felt the same way from the few times he boarded the elven cruisers.
Laurel was at her usual spot in one of the areas of the cafeteria when she was approached by Senator Palpatine. She glanced up at him with a raised eyebrow and waited for him to tell her what he wanted.
"Professor, I am to inform you that you have a transmission waiting for you from Illearia," he told her.
Laurel blinked, "Can it not wait? We're nearly there."
Palpatine shook his head, "I am afraid not, Professor. It seemed urgent from what the Lady Artemis was saying."
She straightened up at that. Artemis didn't normally correspond with her directly. The only fathomable reason she could think of for why her charge's aunt was speaking with her was the possibility that something happened to Bellethiel. She sprung to her feet and hurried towards the bridge.
When she reached the area of her destination she glared at the pilot and crossed her arms.
"Open communications to Illearia! Now!" she snapped.
The pilot, suddenly afraid that the powerful elf before her might turn him into something unnatural moved to open the comm.. Lady Artemis stood in holographic form with both arms crossed and a hard expression on her face. One arm, her left, looked as if it had been bandaged.
"We have a situation, Professor," she began.
"Don't beat around the bush Artemis! Just tell me what my fool of an apprentice did this time!" snapped the fiery red head.
Artemis looked stricken suddenly and Laurel had a feeling that whatever happened to Bellethiel wasn't actually her fault. She leaned forward and placed both arms on either side of the holo-transmitter.
"What happened?" she asked.
"Please understand that the Jedi are not at fault in this. Belle has been kidnapped by Knight Elves under the control of Lord Lanyar," explained the huntress uneasily.
Laurel was at a loss for words. Even with their handicap concerning elves, she knew for a fact that Force sensitive people could tell where a Knight Elf was. She tapped the metal side of the transmitter while her green eyes narrowed.
"Where was she?" she asked.
"Out on patrol with myself, Lorn and Padawan Kenobi. Master Jinn stayed behind by election. We hadn't intended to, but we ended up wandering passed the fringe of the Deep Woods and into the thick of the forest. Maf says that the maps were tampered with and most likely have been showing false information for months. Lorn and I… we were foolish and didn't notice," explained the raven haired elf.
Laurel took a shaky breath and slowly let it out, "Where's Lorn?"
Artemis' face suddenly became a mask as she answered, "Captured or dead. We don't know. Maf and Qui-Gon were too busy trying to revive Kenobi to look for them. Professor, please say you're close? We need you here now."
Laurel lowered her head and closed her eyes. She needed to remain calm. She needed to quell that fear inside of her before she began making irrational decisions. She needed to keep it together.
"We have a good twelve hours left before we reach Illearia," she told Artemis.
The raven haired elleth shook her head, "The rescue party will be gone by then. Master Jinn worked his magic on Taurinos and practically pulled the information out of him. I don't believe I've ever seen a Jedi that… close to losing his composure before."
Laurel had and the bit of information the huntress just relayed to her gave her some pause. What exactly had she missed during her stay on Coruscant?
"That's fine, I shall tie-up loose ends when I get there."
Artemis nodded, "I will help you. Ailya will not let me leave for this mission."
Laurel almost snapped "good" but kept her tongue to herself. It would be best to not fan the flames of shame and embarrassment already burning.
"May Eru give you peace, I will see you soon," said Laurel gently.
Artemis bowed, "And may his grace guide you safely home."
The hologram flickered off and Laurel remained standing where she was staring blankly at the place where Artemis stood. Senator Palpatine decided to breech the gap.
"What do you intend to do, Professor?" he asked.
She clenched the sides of the transmitter and raised her head to glare at the wall.
"I'm going to protect the crown."
Qui-Gon had watched in silence while Ailya tended to the curse wounds Obi-Wan suffered from. It was all he really had the energy to do after speaking with Artemis. On one hand, he was worried to the point of hysteria for his padawan and the possible fate he could meet if the blind elf failed to cure him. On the other, his mind constantly conjured up images of Bellethiel in a similar state, or worse, every other minute. He attempted to push every scenario concerning her out of his mind and focus his thoughts solely on Obi-Wan. With his padawan, it was only the brink of insanity. With Bellethiel, with every stab of ice to his heart at the mere thought of her possible fate, he would go mad. He failed. Miserably. He should have gone with them. He would have protected her. Obi-Wan was still too young, too inexperienced, to fight in a situation like he had. Qui-Gon had no doubt about the fact that Belle had done everything she could to watch his back as Obi-Wan did hers.
Earmiriel had explained the sinister plot to Artemis who, in turn, relayed it to the queen. Miriel, as predicted, could do nothing. This resulted in probably one of the loudest outbursts of anger Qui-Gon had ever witnessed. The huntress harbored a formidable temper, it was evident, and she unleashed the brunt of it against the queen. The ruler silently bore every abuse Artemis had thrown at her before finally leaving the healing ward with as much dignity intact as she could spare. It was after that, the huntress left to inform Professor Moruni of what transpired. Qui-Gon was left alone in the healing ward that Obi-Wan rested in feeling extremely ill. Ailya, who continued to steadily work on the young man, was silent.
"You are troubled, Master Jinn," stated the seer while she checked Obi-Wan's fever with the back of her hand.
He didn't answer. He knew that he didn't need to. She already knew. He waited for her to continue with whatever she had to say. It was probably going to center around the missing princess.
"I told you that your padawan's friendship with the princess would not be enough to protect her. I warned you that you had to allow yourself to become attached in order to protect. You followed my advice. The princess remained safe. Then you pulled away and she is now in the hands of her enemies. There are many things that I do not agree with the Jedi about, but I do believe that we hold the same views when it comes to fear. You allowed your fear to consume you, Master Jinn, and now your apprentice is hurt," she said softly.
What made it worse was the fact that she wasn't even accusing him of anything. She was merely stating everything that happened to verbally sum up his predicament. The sting of his failure was felt all the more.
"That attachment was love, then?" he asked in a voice dripping with irony.
Ailya's blind eyes rose and met his blue ones. They pierced through to the core of his soul and he wondered, not for the first time, if she could see into the hearts of mortals and not just their fates.
"Is that what it is, Master Jinn? Are you in love with Princess Bellethiel?" she asked in a whisper.
It wasn't the first time Qui-Gon vaguely wondered if he was developing the elven sense of fate. After all, this was not the will of the Force. The Force barely recognized the existence of Illearia and completely denied the presence of the elves. Months of having to rely of something else could have made his senses attuned to a different frequency. He considered this now as he sat before the white eyes of the elven seer who was possibly as old as time itself. Those eyes held no accusation. They filled his world and created a mirror. He saw himself reflected in those eyes; everything about his life, his thoughts and his emotions laid bare for only his eyes to see. There was no lying to those eyes. They would have seen the ultimate truth in any case.
"Yes," the admission nearly drained him of his strength and he sagged into his chair the moment she dropped the gaze.
Qui-Gon closed his eyes as he processed what he told her. He had buried the feeling for so long that he felt like a part of a burden was lifted off of his back. The rest that weighed on him only partly attributed to the situation at hand and that was what he decided to focus on. He couldn't afford to think about his own mental situation. Belle's life was more important and he wished that he felt that way earlier.
"They are at the edge of the green wood to the south west of here on the border of the marshlands. Gather a fellowship of three other elves and go. Sila will guide you. She has been most anxious to find her mistress. Do not worry about your padawan. He is out of danger now and will be recovered enough tomorrow to meet your Jedi friends and explain the situation to them. Leave now," this last bit was an order and Qui-Gon found that he hadn't needed telling twice.
The moment the verdict about his apprentice's health left the seer's lips he was already on his feet hastening to find Maf. Sila, Belle's wolf, followed closely behind him.
Bellethiel was jerked from her uneasy slumber on the cold stone floor of her cell and bodily hauled to her feet. She winced at the rough movements she was forced to make as her captors jogged the minor wounds she had on her leg and shoulder. Blearily she stumbled limply in their arms as they dragged her out of the small hold and into the dimply lit hallway. Lord Lanyar gazed down at her with the Knight Elf, Duon, standing slightly behind him looming over them like a shadow. She decided to grace them with a blink of acknowledgment.
Lanyar smirked and grabbed her chin to force her head to keep steady as he leaned in. Her heartbeat sped at the nearness and a cold shiver ran up the length of her spine. His eyes were no longer the blue prominent in most of her race. They were red. Not the blood red of a vampires' eyes, but a sick, flushed, red that burned with a dark glint. It made her blood run cold. To think that they had a Knight Elf hiding in their midst!
"I have something special planned for you, my lady," he purred softly, "I am going to break you in such a personal way that you won't even begin to understand the horror of what you will witness until it completely consumes you. Have you ever heard of the Battalions of Fear?"
Her heart stopped beating. There was no way that the sudden terror she felt wasn't written on her face. He could see it. The satisfied look on his face said so.
"Yes, we have already set up a nice place for you at the very top of the tower. I think you will find it suits your needs perfectly," he was suddenly too close for comfort as he rasped, "You will break. You will scream. Every fear that you have imagined or faced, every nightmare you dreamed, every single thing that made you tremble, will come to life and there is nothing you can do about it. When we are done with you, there will be nothing left but a mindless puppet ready to do our bidding. Your life will be gone and all that remains will be an obedient wench."
Bellethiel closed her eyes and forced her body to remain calm. She forced her emotions into the back of her mind. She forced her being into serenity. She knew what she had to do, what she had to face, and she would do it gladly.
"Take her to her new chambers," Lord Lanyar ordered with his voice dripping in satisfaction.
She felt her body jerk away as they dragged her to the highest point in the tower they occupied where they would throw her into a waking nightmare. She kept her eyes closed during the journey. It was better that they remain shut. When she entered the room it would lessen the effect of the dark spell for a certain amount of time. By then, she hoped that she could build enough mental defenses to stop the invasion of her mind.
Her body jerked to a halt and she listened while an iron key scraped into the door to open it. Silently, her guards threw her into the room and she staggered and almost planted her face against a stone pillar that kept the roof steady. As curious as she was about what the room looked like, she kept her eyes shut. It was imperative that she do so.
The door slammed shut behind her and left the elf princess in alone to face her worst fears. Bellethiel leaned against the stone base for a second to catch her breath and gain her bearings. Then she limped around with her eyes squeezed shut and felt around her new prison. Everything was stone; rotten, crumbling, stone with mold and mildew caked into its surface. She touched every nook and cranny of everything standing level with her before she dropped to her knees and searched the ground for anything that could be of use.
Whispers of every lie and every bad memory met her ears and she forced herself to not listen to a word. Her hand suddenly knocked against a rock and she quickly picked it up and inspected it. It was jagged and sharp; two characteristics that brought a satisfied smile to her face. She found her fail-safe.
She started when a high-pitched, blood curdling, scream resounded around the room. Belle willed her eyes to remain shut.
I will not give in!
Qui-Gon observed the small group that he and Maf managed to gather. Earmiriel stood with a grim look of determination on her face while her brother, Tholim, watched the proceedings with a calm air about him that put the Jedi Knight in mind of a composed general. The Tyre family headed the sciences of Illearia. It seemed, however, that two of the house were better at fighting than science. That was his first impression when the four left to find Artemis and Obi-Wan. Now that impression solidified into an observation. Vaguely he wondered how Earmiriel managed to even learn how to fight. He doubted the Tyre elders approved of such a thing. Rhune elves seldom did.
Sila, the black furred wolf, sat beside him with her golden eyes gazing blankly at the two Tyre heirs and looking slightly on edge with anticipation. She was ready to leave.
"Do we know where they are?" asked Tholim referring to both the princess and her uncle.
Qui-Gon nodded, "Ailya informed me that she was near the border of the southern marshes, greenwood territory."
Tholim nodded and looked thoughtful for a moment, "Ailya would know, though why she told you is beyond me."
Qui-Gon gave him a confused look while Earmiriel nudged her older brother sharply.
"Forgive my brother his assumptions, Master Jedi. He has been under the impression that you and the princess were courting secretly," she said.
He nodded at felt that heavy feeling churn in his stomach at the mention of Belle. It was easy, now that he thought back on it, how anyone could come to that conclusion. Maf brushed the jab completely aside and banged his staff against the ground impatiently.
"We do not have time for idle chit-chat. The princess is in danger and we do not have a plan of action," he reminded them.
The three younger being nodded and looked to him for any suggestions. Maf, satisfied by their attentiveness, leaned against his white staff casually.
"Now, I believe I know of where Qui-Gon spoke of. That is Knight Elf territory. I believe they have an outpost in the vicinity. If Bellethiel is anywhere, it is there," he informed them.
Earmiriel glanced at her brother before asking, "Are they torturing her?"
Maf looked thoughtful and Qui-Gon's jaw hardened. The thought of Belle going through even a semblance of pain caused a certain amount of rage to well inside of him. This rage, he knew, had to be forced down. He couldn't allow it to distract him. Mistakes were not an option.
"I doubt they will in the physical sense. I would bet on mental torture, which makes it all the more imperative that we find her quickly," Maf said.
Qui-Gon closed his eyes for a moment to better quell the horror fighting to take over his mind. He was glad, though, that he couldn't feel her through the force. If such was the case he was loath to think of the mental state he would find her in.
"Then we should leave now," Throlim said stiffly.
Earmiriel nodded, "I concur. Rescuing our princess is top priority. Whatever state she is in now, it is best that we do not allow it to become worse by tarrying."
"Then it is best that we allow Sila to lead the way. She's becoming restless," Qui-Gon pointed out grimly.
Maf nodded, "Battle plan?"
Qui-Gon gave his before anyone else could intercede, "I will find her."
The authority reverberating from the deep bass of his voice actually startled his three companions. Throlim sent him an incredulous look. They locked gazes for a few minutes. Qui-Gon's calm, stubborn, stare outmatched the ellon's and Throlim pulled back abruptly with an amused look on his face.
"I believe you," Throlim replied.
Brother and sister shared at look that Qui-Gon couldn't quite decipher. It wasn't devious and neither was it filled with malice. There seemed to be an acceptance in that look. The Jedi purged the incident from his mind; however. He had more pressing issues to consider. Belle was more important.
A banshee's scream reverberated around the walls of her tower prison and startled her from her sleep. She momentarily opened her eyes to the patterned darkness that was a strip of cloth that covered them. Bellethiel felt relieved that she thought of the blindfold the previous night. It saved her from accidentally looking into the spelled darkness that her captors felt the need to place her in. The metal bracelets that bound her magic scraped against the floor as she moved to sit up and feel around. The jagged rock she found earlier was a few inches from her fingers.
As she moved, Belle winced as her left leg unfurled from its position. She already had to stab herself once. There was only so much of the whispered lies she could take before they drove her mad. The pain reminded her of what was real; told her where she was. It also added further injury to her body and damaged any chance she had of escape.
There wasn't a chance for such a thing anyway. Sorcery meant that the spell caster used their powers from another entity. In this case, she was certain that this entity was a whisper demon, one that fed off of the fears and ill-thoughts of their prey. The spell cast would have bound one to whatever dark runes used. She wondered where the spell was. After all, she had something that could mar it. Maybe if she found it, she could disable it?
But that was foolish thinking! Lanyar wasn't an idiot. He would not have chanced leaving the spell on her side of the door. No, someone probably maintained it on the other side.
She fingered the rock's sharp edge as a single thought occurred to her. There was one way to escape. She could end it all; snuff out the problem that was her. Besides, help wouldn't come. There was no one to rescue her. The chances that her aunt, at least, survived were slim to none. She was alone, defenseless, and forsaken. There was nothing else but to-.
She thrust the rock's edge into the top of her right thigh and almost squealed in pain. Her mind suddenly cleared and her thoughts settled into something more rational. Physical pain, it seemed, was the only protection against the visions.
Vaguely, she wondered if they were going to feed her as she positioned herself against the pillar she sat against the day before. Belle shivered as a draft of cold air blew across her sweat soaked skin. Could escape be possible? She had a weapon. But no, even if she could over power her guards there was no conceivable way for her to get out in her condition. In any case, she would immediately try to rescue her uncle the moment she was free and the likelihood of him being in a condition to flee was slim to none. In all honesty, she doubted that he was still alive. The Knight Elves had tried to use him to get to her and the plan failed.
This was their plan B; driving her to madness. They were mistaken if they thought that it would work.
The door opened and Bellethiel heard footsteps enter the room. She did not stir one muscle or even acknowledge the entrance of one of her captors. Something clattered against the ground and she wondered if that was food and water. She still didn't move to find out.
"Your powers of self-restraint are impressive," complimented a feminine voice from above her.
She remained stoned-face. The elleth above her laughed.
"Resourceful, even. It will only prolong the effect of the spell. Of course," and here Belle felt a hand grab her chin and force her head upward, "you could simply give in and it will all be over. You are a tainted bitch, a daughter of forest wanderers and traders. Your father was a wild one with no respect for your mother's kind. The Ylearan are no better! Lord Lanyar and Lord Vanyo have been forced to take action and the Knight Elves are at his service. We will purify the royal line."
Belle spat in what she hoped was the elleth's face and pressed her back against the pillar she was leaning against the moment her captor let go.
"Since when do Knight Elves care about purifying the royal line?" she snapped.
The elleth she couldn't see let out a sound of disgust and then chuckled darkly.
"What better way to ruin the royal line than have the princess and her descendents marry from families that wish to pledge themselves to the Evil One?" she asked in a sticky-sweet voice.
Bellethiel smirked, "You will not break me and I will marry no Knight Elf."
There was a high-pitched laugh of sarcasm and the elleth replied, "Yes, we know. You seem to have a taste for Sons of Adam."
Belle's heart pounded in her chest as another reminder of her obvious infatuation with Qui-Gon was mentioned by her enemies again. Surely, they understood the fact that she could never marry a Jedi even if the regard was mutual?
"At least this Son of Adam is honorable," Bellethiel muttered under her breath.
Her cheek stung in the wake of her captor's slap.
Sila was in the lead followed closely by Qui-Gon while the others took up the rear. The wolf proved to be a competent tracker and for that the group was grateful. Qui-Gon, though, felt restless. The going was too slow.
The problem, he decided, was the fact that they had to tread carefully. Only Maf knew anything about the Deep Woods and the other three were only there for their battle prowess than anything else. Qui-Gon played a larger role mostly because he was Bellethiel's protector, but Maf and Sila were the means that would get them there.
A day had already passed with them only acquiring a few measly hours of sleep during the wee hours of the morning. They made progress, he had to admit; they were well within the thick groves of the Deep Woods. He wished for a speeder or a ship or something that was fast. There were reasons why they avoided the use of technology. With magic available to the races of Illearia, the possibility of their transportation vehicles being easily subdued were increased. Since they were dealing with a race whose hearing was amplified to naturally pick out sounds from miles around, going on foot was the second best policy.
It didn't mean he had to like it.
"We must stop for the night," announced Maf to Qui-Gon's silent irritation.
The Jedi Master ceased his trek through the undergrowth after releasing a soft whistle allowing him to communicate the direct demand to Sila. It had been his idea to teach her command signals. Bellethiel had gone along with the idea enthusiastically after he suggested it.
The pang of fear that accompanied every thought of Belle seared through him like a raging fire. He closed his eyes, embraced it, and let it go. The mental act did little to help his disposition and he wished that it would. He needed to be calmer and more collected. In all honesty, he needed to continue traveling.
He lay against a sycamore tree with Sila curled up beside him while Maf proceeded to erect wards around their campsite. Light craft, apparently, was poison to servants of the dark, as Earmiriel called them, and was a most affective defense against their legions.
"You, Master Jedi, look about ready to collapse, though I am certain that you, yourself, do not believe so," came the cracked, elderly, voice of Maf from above.
Qui-Gon glanced up at him and nodded in his direction to show acknowledgement before turning away to gaze back out into the gloom. The wizard sat beside him and offered him elven traveling bread and a few sticks of jerky. The Jedi barely spared a look at the old man's hand.
"Eat my boy, save your strength for when we find her. You will have need of it," insisted Maf.
Qui-Gon took the food after a moment's hesitation and began nibbling on the elven bread. He heard a loud exasperated exhale of breath from beside him and knew that there was most likely going to be another lecture about something. The elders of the elven race seemed to enjoy telling him what he was doing wrong.
"It serves no one well to worry about them. If you are weak from hunger in the hour we find them, rescuing them will be impossible," lectured the wizard sternly.
Qui-Gon saw the wisdom of Maf's words, he really did. His appetite simply was not there.
"You are conflicted," observed Maf after a few moments of silence.
Qui-Gon nodded but continued with his silence. Nibbling the bread was a good excuse to keep it. He had no desire to attempt to explain his position.
"Am I right in surmising that this conflict has everything to do with our abducted princess?" asked Maf innocently.
He nodded again. This time Maf waited for him to say something. Qui-Gon knew the trick well; he used it on Obi-Wan when he knew his apprentice was troubled about something.
"I feel that every moment we waist is a moment where her enemies are closer to either braking or killing her," muttered Qui-Gon.
He heard the wizard grunt to affirm that he had heard the Jedi's thoughts and was thinking of the best way to reply.
"And, what is it that you wish to happen of the two?" he asked.
"Neither."
"And if neither is not an option?"
Qui-Gon remained silent as he allowed the question to hang in the air. Even he wasn't certain. His feelings, finally forced to come to the light, were still raw and all he seemed the be able to feel was anguish, anger, and self-hatred. All of the things that he knew, as a Jedi, he shouldn't have felt. Maf wasn't helping by forcing him to face possibilities. He hated possibilities. As someone who preferred to live in the moment, possibilities were practically taboo to his very personality.
"I can't say. I fear that I will become something that I do not recognize if something were to happen to her. I fear that I may lose myself to the darkside," Qui-Gon finally replied.
Maf let out a snort and caused the younger man to look sharply at him. Qui-Gon felt slightly miffed at the old wizard's reaction. Him falling to the dark side of the force was no matter for amusement.
"Well, if that is your main concern than I have the secret to your ultimate salvation!" and the perturbed Jedi found one of Maf's hands clasped onto his shoulder.
"Which is?" asked Qui-Gon with no amount of sarcasm.
"I find it is a simple remedy. Do not fall to the dark side."
Silence descended between them as Qui-Gon openly gaped at the man before him. Obviously, Maf didn't know what he was talking about! The wizard saw everything in black and white! His solutions were simplistic and childish at best! There was no possible way for such a seemingly simplistic answer to really be his so-called "ultimate salvation". What made it worse for him was the fact that, at that moment, the old coot was grinning at him.
"Spare me from the ignorance of Jedi!" muttered Maf under his breath and leaving Qui-Gon slightly more offended than he originally was, "Your greatest downfall is that you constantly try to find the most complicated solutions to the most simplistic of problems. All shades of grey for you, is it not? And I obviously cannot know what I am talking about since I'm not connected to the Force. You were thinking that, weren't you?"
Qui-Gon, suddenly very much humbled, nodded his head while feeling completely dumbfounded. Maf's humor faded and his tone turned to a more compassionate, but still slightly chiding, air.
"I have been alive for many years, my boy. I have seen the stars. I have been the architect behind civilizations' rise and fall. I am the son of an elleth who was there when darkness descended in the universe and wars, greater than any you have ever known, wasted the entire Cosmos to ruin. I forged a great sword to be wielded by kings. I watched the King of All go to the grave and return from it. I have known the mortal condition, the elven condition and the basic nature of all who live in this galaxy. There is one conclusion that I, and others, could come to. People are basically evil and full of grey areas in response to how far they are willing to descend to that evil. Concepts like right and wrong; good and evil, on the other hand are not relative. There are absolutes as sure as our sun rises in the east and sets in the west. You, my boy, are not one to easily fall, but when you do, it is because you have allowed your pent-up emotions and your lack of foresight to cloud your judgment and turn you into what my mother would call a selfish bastard. I am pleased that you wish to avoid this, truly, so I have given the solution to you as plain as day. Your choices define your course in life. You can either choose to turn into a psychopath or you can choose to stand firm in the light," and at the end of this monologue, Qui-Gon was awed.
Sometimes, it was easy to forget that the elves and witches and wizards lived several eons longer than he ever would.
"What should I do, then, if she is broken? How can I help her?" he asked.
Maf chuckled, "Now, while that is something I am certain her highness would rather die than to allow happen to her, I do believe that this answer is simple as well. Do you love her? Truly?"
Taken aback by the question, the answer escaped his lips before he could stop to ponder it, "Yes."
"Well then, there is your answer. You never abandon those you love no matter the degree. And with that, I believe giving you this bit to think about will be the perfect solution to your problem," Maf stood but not before giving Qui-Gon a companionable pat on the back, "now, get some rest. You have a long day ahead of you. Be at peace, my friend."
Qui-Gon did not feel better, naturally, but he felt more at ease with one aspect of the situation. He also made an epiphany. He was in love with Belle and that love was a deep one. This meant that situations like these were bound to arise all of the time. With that in mind, he fell into a slightly enlightened slumber.
Bellethiel was in trouble. One of the Knight elves attending to her minimal daily needs had startled her eyes open thus enabling the spell to fully take effect. She felt some consolation in this turn of events. She had delayed the inevitable for at least three days. Sadly, such a factor probably contributed to them needing to force her eyes open.
Her body was in pain. Throughout the course of the week visions of her family and friends plagued her sight and each time she felt her mind begin to give in to the lies the jagged rock's point pierced her skin. Sometimes, all it took was for her to move and pain would bring her back to the reality of the dark, musty cell. She never cried. She refused to allow herself to, but her resolve was slowly becoming harder to keep with each passing day.
Huddled against the wall furthest away from the door, Bellethiel considered her options. How much could she withstand and how much of her mind was already lost? Despite the onslaught of deceitful visions her mind was clear. She was also in constant pain thanks to her efforts to keep her sanity. The problem was that things were beginning to get muddled mostly from lack of sleep. Ever since she opened her eyes sleep became an impossibility. She was tired, she was weak, she was in pain. She wanted to go home.
"My lady," came a familiar bass voice.
Her head shot upright from where it had rested in her arms above her knees. That was Qui-Gon! Or was it? She hesitated as her heart pounded in her chest. Her eyes narrowed in on a figure laying prone on the dark stone floor. A frown marred her lips and the hand holding the stone clenched. How much did she want to bet that this was another vision? Everything.
With this particular vision, it began with his voice echoing in her ears about every fear, guilt, and hurt she experienced while locked in the watchtower of the Knight Elves.
"You killed Obi-Wan" was the most heart wrenching one. Others phrases about herself were meaningless, but the ones where he accused her of being personally responsible for the fates of others cut deeper than she wanted to admit.
Then there were the memory visions tweeked to accommodate her personal fears. Qui-Gon's corpse was a frequent visitor. She resisted, she held firm. She continued to remind herself that these visions were lies.
Twenty more wounds were added to her collection that night.
The tower was located at the edge of the southern marshes. The company stood a mile away at the peak of the downward slope into below sea level marshlands. Qui-Gon frowned at the area around the watchtower. There seemed to be only one way to enter and that was the large main gates facing the fringe of the deep woods. Everything east, west and south were all swamps and mist. If he could feel through the Force it wouldn't be as much of a problem for him, but with his handicap, the idea of navigating the misty marshes had little appeal. The others noted this problem as well and Maf was sounding off options the group could take.
"Their dungeons would be located nearer the top of the building. We will have to slowly break off and allow our Jedi the time he needs to find the princess and bring her out of whatever cell they have her in," brainstormed the wizard to the grim audience.
"I think our biggest concern lies with whether or not we can actually get in," mused Tholim.
Earmiriel seemed to have formed her own plan and finally entered it to the growing pool of possibilities, "We could split into two groups. One that slips in through the front gates and another that takes the path of the marshes. There should be a secret entrance to the west of here if what the map says is true."
Qui-Gon nodded. The plan was a sound one, but there was still one issue that he had with it.
"I cannot navigate through the marshlands and I am assuming that, since rescuing the princess is my main concern storming through the main entrance is out of the question," reminded the Jedi to his co-conspirators.
Maf smiled at that, "You have Sila who can navigate and I believe that I can get you through the short trek in the marshlands to this hidden entrance."
Throlim looked pleased with that plan and added, "My sister and myself can breech the front gates with our brand of lightcraft. This should distract the enemy and allow you to slip in unnoticed."
Qui-Gon couldn't help but be impressed. He chose his comrades well, it seemed.
"Sila will give the signal once Maf and I locate the entrance. That should give the two of you enough time to prepare," suggested the Jedi master.
Brother and sister exchanged identical amused glances before grinning at the two men with mischievous glints in their eyes. Qui-Gon was completely in the dark about what the two were planning, but it seemed Maf had a bit more knowledge of the sibling's abilities. In fact, if Qui-Gon didn't know better, he'd say that the old wizard looked rather exasperated.
"Do not tell me, for you know I will not approve," growled the Grey Wizard.
"No fear," chirped Earmiriel.
With that, the Trysh heirs slipped into the forest like wraiths fading into shadow. Qui-Gon glanced at his friend with a raised eyebrow.
"Do you know what they're planning" he inquired.
Mafortion nodded and let out a long, drawn out, sigh, "There is a version of lightcraft stemmed from those elves who specialize in the earth element that can form semi-solid corporeal copies of various life forms. Their mother lived among the Ylearan elves for a time and learned this ability from them. Those two are known for their mastery of this craft."
"Is that what they plan to do?"
Maf snorted, "Probably, knowing them. Now, give Sila the scent to follow and we'll be on our way."
Qui-Gon nodded and knelt down beside the black wolf to give the wolf instructions.
During the training process for Sila, Qui-Gon had taken the time to attempt to learn elvish from Bellethiel when it became apparent that the only other person the wolf was comfortable around was him. Elvish was a universal language for the entire planet. The animals of Illearia seemed to be able to understand it in the most basic of senses. Bellethiel had been urging him to try to learn at least a few basic phrases before her name-day celebration. When Sila came along, Qui-Gon finally gave in and made the attempt.
The language was a difficult one to learn. It was nothing like common tongue or the few other Republic languages he at least understood. Elvish could be understood in a loose sense by everyone. To speak it was another matter entirely.
Elvish was poetic and it sometimes took a long time to finish a sentence. It took at least a minute for Qui-Gon to convey to the shadow wolf what he wanted her to understand. Sila responded by slinking off into the remaining forest fringe.
Maf tapped his staff and created a small lantern at the tip before following the wolf in her tracks. Qui-Gon trailed after them not far behind.
The going was slow since Sila had to stop to rediscover the scent she had originally picked before going on. Maf had his map out muttering to himself and somehow avoiding the dangers of the path. The Jedi Master followed closely behind him sure to not miss a single step the wizard made.
The snaking tendrils of concern slithered slowly into his consciousness as thoughts of Bellethiel's current state began to nag at him. How badly was she hurt? What were they doing to her? Was Lorn with her and was he being tortured in front of her? Had the Knight Elves broken her yet?
He was frustrated with the fact that he couldn't feel her through the Force. For all he knew, she was dead. The thought wasn't less than frightening. Was there a way he could reach out and discover her well-being?
He had a knack for knowing when she was near as she did him. He wondered if he could feed off of that feeling and have it manifest into some sort of connection. Would it be possible?
While he was considering this, Qui-Gon nearly ran into Maf when the wizard stopped in his trek. The Jedi glanced up at the tall old man and then lowered his eyes to the form of Sila who seemed to be looking for the scent again. No, she wasn't searching for the scent. She was looking for something. The way she carefully placed her front paws in certain places made that certain.
Maf glanced at his map again and then nodded before declaring, "This is the place."
He stepped forward and bent to inspect a large rock on the side of a muddy pond. After lowering the light created from his staff to the stone the wizard laughed and tapped the top of the rock. The waters of the pond receded and a stair case was revealed. The pungent odor of stinking vegetation decay met their nostrils and both males covered their noses with their hands. Sila merely sneezed.
"Makes me wonder what the watchtower will smell like," remarked Qui-Gon dryly.
Maf chuckled, "Nothing pleasant I can assure you."
Qui-Gon instructed Sila to let out three long howls into the growing darkness of night. Her animalistic song pierced the silence of the marsh lands and caused a few birds to launch themselves into the air. When the howls died down the three waited for any sort of sound to indicate to them that their comrades heard.
After a few moments, shouts of alarm coming from the distance met their ears and Maf nodded to Qui-Gon who, in turn, instructed Sila to enter the passage first. The wolf complied and the two followed silently after.
Bellethiel was not in a good mood. She was tired. She was in pain. She was constantly visited with several visions of Qui-Gon. The damned creature, wherever it was, seemed to have found her greatest weakness. When her mind wasn't close to becoming swayed by the visions, she sat with a fresh wound somewhere on her body glaring at the ceiling. Anger, it seemed, kept the thing at bay for a while. She figured that it couldn't do much with anger, only fear. This was a good thing she supposed, but sooner or later the thing always seemed to break through. Some people simply weren't capable of total and complete anger at all hours of the day and Belle happened to be one of them.
She sighed and attempted to wipe the new blood on her left arm off on the edge of her dirty, ragged, tunic. She frowned when it didn't seem to come off as easily as it had been earlier. It only told her that time was slowly ebbing. Sooner or later drastic measures would have to be taken.
Her eyes settled on the jagged rock in her hand turned red with consistent use. She winced. This wasn't looking good.
A sound, not faint but loud, so loud that it had to be real, met her ears. Startled, she straightened slightly and attempted to listen. Was that an attack? She couldn't be certain. Not up in this tower where the spell raged.
When the sound came again and the room shook, Bellethiel knew that she wasn't dreaming this. Her enemies were under attack. She smiled and laughed, even while the creature renewed its attacks with aggression.
When they exited the cellars of the tower and made it, finally, into the main building, Qui-Gon could tell that the Tyrsh siblings had done their work. The entrance was completely gone and various bodies were strewn among piles of dirt and mud slowly reshaping itself into whatever forms Throlim and Earmiriel had conjured.
Maf chuckled as he looked off into the distance.
"Well, seems as though they have succeeded. Come along, my boy. Lorn and Bellethiel await!" and the old man dashed up the staircase closely followed by Sila and Qui-Gon.
The sad thing about this particular tower, was the fact that it was much larger than most and, therefore, harbored the greatest amount of enemies they could face. While Earmiriel and Throlim distracted the brunt of the force, Maf and Qui-Gon were still faced with the back guard. One of the things the Jedi Master learned about fighting Knight Elves was this: Ataru form was pointless when actually trying to hit them. He was still a Jedi master, though, so his knowledge of the other forms were enough to compensate and he switched to a more precise and accurate form.
It was their armor, mostly, Maf had warned him about the combination of dragon scales, bone, and elven metal, but Qui-Gon had never quite believed him until that moment. If this was what Obi-Wan had faced in the forest, he could certainly understand why his injuries were so severe.
Sila became a valuable asset to their attack. The black wolf blended in with the darkly lit walls and loomed in the shadows of their opponents. The Knight Elves found that swords and armor did little to counterattack a raging, large, wolf they couldn't see until it was too late. Bellethiel had certainly trained her well.
"Where will the princess be held?" asked Qui-Gon.
Maf grunted as he brought his fiery lit staff around into the face of a dark skinned (as black as night), red haired, Knight Elf. Qui-Gon whirled and blocked the attack of another attacker, this one with white skin and the same red hair.
"Can't say! There is vile sorcery at work in the uppermost region of this place, but I cannot tell if she is there or not!" came Maf's answer.
Qui-Gon lopped off his current assailant's head and turned to face the one coming up next to him only to find this one, female, meeting her end by Sila's jaws.
They were alone for the moment.
"I will look for Lorn in the dungeons. That is where I know he will be kept if he is still alive. Look to the top of the tower. Whether she is there or not, I do not know, but it will not hurt to check," ordered Maf.
Qui-Gon simply nodded and the two of them raced up one flight before the wizard branched off through a door into one of the holding cell units. With Sila running beside him, the Jedi continued his ascent.
Knight Elves soon became scarce and he vaguely wondered why that was. Surely if the princess was at the top of the tower they would be sure to place guards there? A growing fear welled inside of him that he fought to still. He couldn't give in to his fear now, not at this moment. There would be time enough for dark emotions later when the whole business ended.
The further he ascended, the more the tower stank of rot and decay, signaling to him that the residents rarely ventured up here. His lightsaber glowed eerily in the rising gloom with each step. Sila was in front of him, now, sniffing the air and ground and letting out short noises he interpreted as whines. What did the wolf smell?
Sila suddenly stopped her ascent and let out a low growl, hackles raised. Qui-Gon, confused, ventured upward a bit more before coming to an abrupt stop. He had to. The presence they were nearing was hair raising. His lungs constricted painfully, muscles clenched and his bod shook. Everything tightened and weakened simultaneously. He finally let out a gasp of air and breathed in almost forcibly. Whatever was up there, his body was not too keen on meeting.
"Sila, lets go," he muttered.
The wolf growled again before continuing with him. Qui-Gon decided, after observing her for a minute, that she was stalking. If the princess was here, if Belle was here, then was this thing guarding or attacking her? Or both? He wasn't sure. Sila certainly didn't like it.
When they reached the top of the tower Qui-Gon was met with a solid oak door, newer than most of the walls around it, with several intricate patterns drawn on it. He narrowed his eyes. Alchemists, he knew, used patterns and circles to contain what they called their transmutations. He lived among the elves long enough to become familiar with the alchemic symbols. This was not one, he knew. The design, the pattern, it was all wrong. Even the language used to define whatever its purpose was felt sinister.
Sila growled. It was a growl different than the warning growl of danger. This growl was far deeper and much more menacing. Qui-Gon recognized that growl. He heard it once before and knew what it meant.
With mounting certainty, Qui-Gon inspected the door, design and all, from a few feet away. The force would be useless here with the state the door was in. It wouldn't recognize its existence.
There was something he could try, however. Maf had explained to him once that all who could use the force who were human had a semblance of elven blood flowing through their veins. If that was true then there was one thing he could try. He had touched it once or twice during the past five months but always during his meditation sessions. If it could be used now then…
He closed his eyes and let go of the force. Almost completely disconnected from it he felt the dormant power resting within him. He imagined a door. Behind that door was the power and his hand was one the latch. With a flick of his mental wrist, the door opened and the power came out.
It didn't wash through him, flow continuously connecting him to all life like the force. Instead, it filled him. The power was steady, strong, confident, and looming. At that moment Qui-Gon felt something incredibly odd, at least to him. With the Force, he had always felt life, or at least he seemed to. With this power, he felt the ages. It occurred to him only a minute after letting this power momentarily take over that what he felt was the stone beneath his feet and above his head and around him. He felt the swamp, the land, ever changing and full of elvish will. It didn't flow through him, it was him.
Was this what Belle felt all the time whenever she used the earth element?
When he finally came to terms with the new sensations he opened his eyes from his meditation and focused all thought on the door. He concentrated and willed. The door shuddered, splintered, and slowly began to crumble into dust until a gaping hole remained. The power that anchored the creature to this world faded and the presence, the demon as Maf called them once, left.
The power receded back behind the door, but said door remained ajar. Qui-Gon wasn't surprised. This particular door stopped something that was a part of him from coming out. Now that he had let it, the power would be easier to access once again should his ability to use the force ever be impaired. With this in mind, he entered the room with his lightsaber raised. Sila slipped past him and towards a figure huddled on the ground against the wall farthest from the door. He followed behind her and the green light of his lightsaber fell on the huddled person three feet away.
It was Bellethiel.
A strangled sound escaped his mouth, something between a sob and an attempt to utter her name. She was covered in wounds, blood, and filth. A jagged rock was clutched in her hand covered in her blood. Qui-Gon let out an unsteady breath.
"Who are you?" asked Belle.
Her eyes, he could see, were closed and her jaw was clenched.
"Me," he said barely able to manage that.
And her teal eyes shot open and gazed up at him in wonder. Sila nudged one of Belle's shoulders gently. The rock dropped to the floor with a clatter.
"You're really here? I'm not imagining this?" she asked.
He powered down his saber and knelt beside her. He cupped her cheek with a free hand and smiled.
"I'm here."
And her arms latched around his neck.
She was sleeping in his arms by the time they met up with Maf. From the look on the old wizard's face and the wrapped bundle in his arms, Qui-Gon surmised that Lorn had not made it through his captivity.
"He died a few minutes ago," informed the wizard gruffly.
Qui-Gon nodded and said, "Bellethiel is alive, but she needs medical attention immediately."
Maf nodded and the two descended to the ground floor with Sila in tow.
The way was quiet. No signs of life filtered in till they entered the ground floor and left through the gaping hole where the doors once stood. Earmiriel and Throlim stood on the high ground away from the carnage. Qui-Gon nodded to them when he, Maf, and Sila reached them. There were no words. They simply returned the nod. With that, the group left into the shadows to return to the capital.
To Be Continued...