Colan I

"Go get um Da," Colan shouted as his father charged the Valaryian in the red coat. The whistle had been one of the things he and Da had practiced for years. When he had been younger, and first heard a whistle, he had cried from the pain it caused in his ears. But his father decided that he would only whistle when it was truly necessary. So, if he ever again whistled in his son's presence, he needed help.

He needed Steelbite.

Colan watched as the great steel rod twirled in his father's hand. The thing was taller than he was, and nearly half as heavy. When he held the spear, he was still not able to touch his thumb to the longest of his fingers. There were markings along the shaft, more from use than from decoration, though Da had always claimed that the markings themselves were the decorations of battle. His father had at times when they were resting in the house they were staying, described the decorations and stories they told.

"Ah," he could remember his Da saying, "this one is the story of Hugor Waters. I was at a mighty battle along the meeting place of three great rivers, the trident. While the-" that had been a story he had been told while they had been on a ship sailing from New Ghis, their home during his seventh year of life. Colan could probably name every single story on that weapon, and he understood what his father had meant when he had called it one of his great treasures.

Still, the thing was old, and Da had decided to only use it for emergencies, otherwise it might break. The cracks were long, and apparently no one could repair it the way he wanted. But as it stopped, with its great tip pointed at the Valyrian, Colan was sure that Steelbite would devour another of his father's enemies.

"What is happening," one of the Qarthi merchants who had organized the caravan came out, looking at the two fighters, blades at the ready, asked in bewilderment. He was covered in fine jewelry, in particular, a necklace from his home in Qarth, a bronze, silver and gold necklace depicting scenes from the Triple walls. He warily observed Colan's father fighting, and stated, "We must put this intruder down. I will call some of the guards, and we will shoot this strang-"

"Won't be needed," Colan spoke up, and the older man stopped and stared, "Da has this handled, and I think he'd be mad if you got in the way of this fight."

"Your father was hired to be a guard, not to act like a pit fighter," the merchant sneered, his eyes looking down on Colan in both body and mind. He had been one of the men to organize these traveling caravans.

"He is guarding," the man in red dodged one of a swipe of Steelbite, "There is an intruder, and Da is fightin him."

Colan's father had pushed the intruder onto his back foot. It was simple, with Steelbite's greater reach forcing the man in red to retreat, using the two blades in his hands to knock the point away, and give the intruder some room to maneuver. But each time he tried to move laterally, Cu would readjust his weapon to block the movement. Doing this, Da was able to keep the intruder directly in a triangle area in front of him. This kept his opponent not only from being able to flank and get closer for a strike, but also allowed him to control where his opponent was placing his feet.

Colan had seen it in dozens of fights from his father. No matter how much armor or how fast they'd move, Da would be able to control where his opponent was moving, and how they were moving. From Bravosi water dancers to Westrosi Knights to the mighty martial artists of Yi Ti, all great warriors relied on their footing to allow them to fight to their full potential. And Colan's father had become a master at controlling the steps of his opponents. It was why he preferred the spear to the sword.

Alongside the fat leader of the caravan, around a half dozen other men had come from inside the great tent. These were the merchants who had bought their way on the caravan. While the Red Wastes were too dry for bandits, the caravan's did provide protection for travelers on the long journey from Qarth to Bayasahbad, whether it was from one of the strange beasts that were able to claim these red sands as their home or another caravan. It was not unheard of for single travelers to be beaten and stripped of all their valuables by a passing host. Afterall, that was what had happened to the five men in chains they had held in the center of their caravan. They were originally from the trade city, and their families would have to pay a pretty ransom for their return. One that would not return any of the goods that had been stripped of them.

Da continued to push the intruder. The man was clearly skilled, not allowing himself to fall over and open his belly for a strike from Steelbite. Colan tried to get a better view of the action, moving forward to get a better look at the intruder's feet. And it was then he noticed that the sand from their steps had seemed to have stopped in one space for a moment.

That was unusual. His Da's strategy involved pushing his opponent backwards so that he could catch them, and force them to fall over or lose balance, allowing him to get a strong strike. If they were simply staying in the same area, simply dancing left or right, then that strategy was greatly reduced. He could hope that maybe the intruder's foot would catch on some dug up sand from the dancing of his movements, but otherwise, his opponent only needed to worry about what was in front of him, rather than what might be behind.

'Da's not happy,' Colan's father's face missed the usual wide smile he had in every fight Colan had seen. Instead, Colan could seen nothing but a thin line, and eyes darting back and forth focusing on the feet of his opponent. The frantic eyes would move up constantly, and causing him to pull back on Steelbite to knock away casual strikes from the two blades slicing through the air. Despite nothing landing on his father, Colan felt each strike as it slammed into the great spear.

CLANG!

The ringing metal would almost immediately be put back into offense, and again the stranger would begin to dance back and forth, but after each hit, it became clearer that there was no worry in the white-haired man's steps. No, despite the very power and skill that allowed Colan's father to be hired as one of the guards for the caravan, he was not able to control this opponent's movements.

'What is he?' Colan wondered.

"Should we not call other guards?" It was one of the merchants who had come out to see the spectacle. He was speaking in a Pentosi dialect, which was difficult for Colan to completely understand, but he was able to get the meaning of, "This appears to be a mighty foe."

"Fool," the first man declared, speaking in perfect Pentosi accent, "If we have an intruder like this, who sought to kill one of our men, then there must be others waiting around. Once our guards abandon their posts, they will ride in and catch us unawares and slaughter us."

It was a strategy that they had been warned about before beginning the trip. Particularly large caravans might try and swallow up not just single traders or small groups, but even a caravan this large. If there were no guards in place, they could be overwhelmed.

And Da was obviously feeling the need to get this over with. Having not been able to get the tanned assailant to fall back and thus allow him to control the pace of the fight, he would have to take a drastic step.

Da thrust his spear downward near the intruder's left foot, but further than before. For the first time in the fight, he had thrust into the sand itself. But instantly, Da swung upward, and a wave of red sand flew into the air. Da's opponent sung up his arm to protect his eyes, and then Da thrust forward again, directly into his opponent's broken guard. Colan heard a small squelch from the area, and stopped for a moment. A second later, the intruder had retreated back, his left hand holding his side right on the edge of the outer ribs.

"Shit," Colan's father said.

Colan knew that that wasn't a killing blow. The hope had been obviously to change the flow of the fight quickly, and end it then. A slight wound along the ribs, likely hitting nothing vital, was not going to end this fight. At least, not immediately. Except, at least it had caused his opponent to drop one of the two large knives he had been using to protect himself. He could see the long blade behind his father, a massive steel spear between the warrior had one of his weapons. With that gone, perhaps it would be easier for Colan's father to hi-

The blade that had been sitting in the sand suddenly disappeared. It took a few seconds, before he heard one of the merchants shriek, pointing again at the intruder.

The blade had seemingly returned to his once again free left hand.

The crowd alongside Colan began to buzz with conversation. Three or four different languages were being passed about by the dozen or so observers around Colan, and it just so happened that he could only make out a few words. Magic had been rather obvious. Demon was another. Some declared he was a Faceless Man, but even Colan knew that if it had been a Faceless man, his father would already be dead from some poisoned cup, not fighting in an open spot like this. No, these magics were something else.

"So I think I figured it out," Colan's father spoke, loud enough for both his opponent and the crowd to hear, "Those magic blades, your strange skin and hair," he raised Steelbite back into a defensive pose, "You are from Asshai, right?"

Asshai, the entrance to the Shadow Lands. Colan felt sweat begin to pour down the back of his neck. His father had never told him about that place, only that he had no intention of ever taking Colan there. But he had heard a few stories. About sailors unloading on those far docks, turning around, and when they turned back their mate having disappeared, never to be seen again. About witches and warlocks and necromancers running around with magics that would surpass any imagination. Transporting blades from the ground a short distance to the hands of their wielder would actually not be that great a spell for a warrior from that dark place.

"I suppose those whoremongers were willing to try something new," Colan's father continued, a slight smirk on his face, "Still want to capture me rather than kill me. Explains why I haven't been poisoned yet," Colan nodded, his father reaching the same conclusion about whether this was a Faceless man, "So you show up, try and take me hostage, and then get me and Colan to leave here, go back to Quarth, and then get on a ship back to Lys."

His opponent said nothing.

"Well let me warn you," Colan's father continued, "I have killed dozens of men they have sent after me and my boy," he barred his teeth, "So no mere shadow man will be able to defeat me in a duel like this."

"I'd think you'd be the one better described as a shadow man," the stranger spoke. It was a deep voice, deeper than his father's. It honestly matched the man almost perfectly. But it caught Colan of guard to hear this Eastern assassin speak in perfect common tongue, "Afterall, you did travel to the Shadow Lands to train under your master."

"..." Colan suddenly looked at his father expectantly, "What the fuck are you talking about."

"Does the name Scathach mean anything to you?"

Da's face had twisted. Gone was the smirk, now his mouth was simply hanging open like a fish at market, "No, what is that, some ancient hag that haunts your dark streets?"

"..." for the first time, Colan noticed his Da's opponent begin to smirk. It disappeared almost instantly, "I was hoping that I might be able to simply remind you who you are, but it appears that I shall have to beat it through your thick skull."

"I already know who I am," Da declared, raising Steelbite directly into the man's face, "I am Cu. I am one of the mightiest warriors in the world. I am a lover without equal," Colan almost heard a snort from the man in red, but his father was too busy declaring himself to care, "I am eternal friend of the Starks of Winterfell. And most importantly, I am father of Colan."

The Shadow Man simply stared at Colan's father as he made that declaration.

"That last one is the crime that Lys has ordered my capture for," his smirk was gone, "And it is that last one, that most important one, why I can not allow you to leave this place alive."

With that, Da launched himself forward once more. He again began to thrust forward in a wide arch, aiming for the magic man's legs while keeping his distance from the blades in his opponent's hands. This time, however, the intruder began to move backward.

'Maybe the wound,' Colan thought, as he looked at the quickly drying blood in the sand. If the wound was making the Shadow Man more cautious, then that actually helped his father. Da would be able to control the pace of the fight. And with the pace of control, he would be able to catch his opponent off guard, and end this.

His father continued his push, and the Shadow man continued to retreat. Then, with his teeth gritted, Da slammed Steelbite again into the sand. Expecting a similar move from earlier, the Shadow Man jumped to the outer side of Da, to avoid the sand he believed to be coming. Now, however, he didn't see where he was going, and found his foot catch on the tent that they had only exited a few moments earlier. Seeing his chance, Da, pulled his spear out of the sand, and then lunged down at the Shadow Man, who was trying to force himself back to his feet. The tip of the spear was aimed directly at the fallen man's gut-

And then the Shadow man caught the spear with his right hand. The tip of Steelbite was only seconds away from his belly, but it could go no further down. Da grunted in exertion as he tried to end his opponent, but the damn spear would not move. Colan could not see anything but the frustration on his father's face, but he could tell that this was not some move of mercy. And then a blade in the hand that was not holding the spear back rose from the fabric of the tent. It seemed to hesitate, but only for a moment, and then a second later, the blade was on the other end of Steelbite.

SHRRKKKK

And then Da fell forward. And then he was knocked backward. Colan could see his face bulge for a second as the air was forced out of him from a mighty kick. Da fell back onto the sand, and falling from his hand was the back of the shaft of Steelbite. The Shadow Man stood up from the fabric, the tip of the spear in his hand. Colan's father forced himself up again, fists tightening as he glared at the man in red. The tip of the spear was tossed behind a shoulder, and the Shadow Man just looked at Da.

Colan could barely contain his rage, 'He broke Da's treasure,' he looked at the ruined hunks of metal. It damage to the spear had cut apart the image of Da's fight with a Tiger Captain of Volantis. Gone was the emblazoned face of the big cat, the blood pouring from where there should have been eyes.

"We must call for the other guards," one of the merchants said, motioning at the leader to call on their horn. Just as the fat man reached at his side, however, a voice called out to them all.

"Go to blow that horn and I'll slice open all your throats," the Shadow Man returned his attention to Da, "This fight is clearly not over."

"I'm not sure what to say," Da waved what remained of Steelbite at the Shadow Man's head, "I appreciate your desire for battle, but I'm afraid that this was my only weapon," he tossed the shaft to the side. Colan's eyes laid on the metal for a moment, but returned more fully to the man who had wielded it, "Unless you are prepared to fight with only our fists, I'm not sure we could consider this honorable."

"No need," the blades in the Shadow Man's hands disappeared for a moment, "While that spear was impressive, I am not sure that is the spear that is destined for your hands," he slapped his palms together, and for the second time, the Shadow Man showed his magic, as red sparks burst from where his hands met.

"Have withstood pain to wield many weapons," his hands began to separate, and between his hands a long, red rod emerged. Along the shaft were strange thorn like lines, twisting and turning around the rod, "Yet those hands shall hold nothing," The sparks dissipated. And the long red rod now had a bladder tip on one side, and a counter weight on the other. A spear. The Shadow Man then twirled it for a second, before pointing it at Da.

Colan hated the thing. Steelbite had killed many people, but this thing…it seemed as though it was actually hungry for blood. As though the vines around it were some constricting plant growing fiercer and and more prickly on the rain of blood to come from the bladed tip.

"Do you recognize this?"

"Some strange demon weapon," Colan's father just shook his head. The Shadow Man snorted, before suddenly twirling the spear in his and, and then tossing it at Da. Colan's heart stopped, before somehow, his father caught the strange weapon. For a moment, he looked down at his hands, and then back at the strange weapon. Then finally, he returned his attention to the Shadow Man.

"Why would you give me this spear?"

"Its name is Gae Bolg," The Shadow Man stated.

"I didn't ask about its name."

"And I don't care for your question," the Shadow Man offered back. Suddenly, the two blades returned to his hands. Colan looked at his father, and saw a vein bulge at his forehead. The man gritted his teeth, and then pointed the new weapon at his opponent.

"Well then let's see how well you care for this thing in your stomach," Colan nearly fell back from the roar, as his father lunged forward. The spear was being thrust and pulled back at an impressive rate, and somehow, it almost appeared to Colan that his father was moving faster than before. The red spear was long, and the larger tip should have made it harder to wield, but for some reason his father was able to move it around more freely. Perhaps it was made of something lighter than Steelbite.

But it was not only that. Where before, his father had mastered as fighting style that allowed him to control the pace of a battle by attacking his opponents movements and then striking when in an advantageous position. Now, he was thrusting with a wild abandon. And yet it was somehow far more dangerous, as the spear was shooting forward in a flurry, and yet it was so light that his father never left himself exposed in the way that the heavier Steelbite might have left him.

Yet the Shadow Man dodged every strike, dancing and deflecting his way through the storm of thrusts. Colan couldn't even tell if any were getting close to clipping the Shadow Man. The man in red seemed to be able to almost guess where the spear was about to hit, and make the smallest possible movement to dodge the strike. With each failed strike, Colan's father picked up speed, so fast that the spear almost seemed to turn into a blur. Colan strained his eyes as he kept looking over the fight.

"I can't even see what's happening anymore," there was more fear in the fat man's voice now. Colan, for all that he thought the man a hog on two legs, did not disagree. This fight had become something he had never seen before, something that seemed out of the legends he father had spoken about from the ancient days. Certainly he could never have imagined his father to be fighting like this.

"Does this spear seem familiar to you now?" the Shadow man said. Colan tensed. His father's opponent's tone hadn't changed at all. The effort to dodge these strikes seemed to be not affecting him whatsoever, "...no," he dodged another strike, "No, you still aren't using it correctly yet…"

"What are you talking about?" unlike the Shadow Man, Colan's father was clearly winded. He stopped as he talked, the red spear still pointed directly at the Shadow Man's face, "All you do is speak as though you know some great mystery about me."

"Not a mystery," the man returned in answer, "Just a recognition of what is necessary."

The Shadow Man then bent to his side, and looked directly at Colan from around Da. Colan took a step backward, as the man's black eyes looked over him. It took only a moment, but it was obvious that this man was looking him over. Yet it wasn't the hunger he'd seen in some men who had been from Lys, no, it was something else. It was the same look as whatever the merchant or the countless other people who hired his father would give them when Da laid out the rules for them to work. The insistence on a fifty percent increase of Colan's services and a refusal to work with Slavery had always been annoying for these men.

"How did you ev-," the Shadow Man said out loud, before closing his eyes, then opening them again. He then, for the first time in the fight, struck forward. Right before the blade in his right hand could hit Da's neck, the blue haired man twisted the shaft of the spear to intercept the blade. The Shadow Man attempted to get in closer for the blade in his left hand, but Da twisted the spear again to catch that blade.

The Shadow Man struck again, and Da blocked again. With each strike, Colan's father had to fall back, the closeness of the Shadow Man not allowing Da hit back. With Steelbite, Da would have been able to use the thick steel shaft to hit his opponent in the face and daze him. But the lighter red spear did not seem to provide the same heft, and so he was forced to focus on blocking more than with his old weapon. Colan's father fell back further and further, clearly adjusting to that weapon.

"Pathetic," the Shadow Man said, continuing his strikes as he pushed forward. Suddenly, Da fell backward. It took Colan a moment to see that his father had been tripped by the very tent that he had used to trip his opponent earlier. His father looked up at the white-haired man, shock in his eyes. No…not just shock.

"Da's afraid," Colan said. More to himself than anyone else. The crowd around him was too stunned to say anything, to even make an attempt to call the other guards.

"That weapon in your hands," the Shadow Man pointed down at Da as he laid in the fabric of the tent, "It's angry."

As Da stared up in confusion, the white-haired man continued, "Don't you feel it. It can't believe how you are fighting right now," Colan looked at the spear in his father's hands. The strange thing was still scarier than any weapon he had ever laid eyes on, "Where is Cu Chulainn? That is what it is asking right now. Surely this isn't my master? This sniveling little pup."

"Fuck off!" But Colan wondered what the Shadow Man added another word after Da's name. Culane?

"Maybe I should just kill you now," The Shadow Man continued, "In your state, you would be no use to our Master."

'Master,' Colan just blinked, looking over at his father, 'Was…was Da a slave?"

"I HAVE NO MASTER!" Da roared, swiping the spear at his opponent, who simply hopped backward. Colan's father shot to his feet, "No man rules me. I am a dog no longer!"

"Bullshit. I see a man in front of me who is a slave of many things. A slave of ego. A slave of battle rage," he looked over at Colan, "A slave of your own base desires."

"Don't you look at him!" Colan could see veins begin to pop all over his father's face. Spit began to form at the sides of his mouth, and it seemed like there was a little blood there too. Da was howling far more than speaking now, "If you go near him I swear I'll-"

"What do you care," the Shadow Man cut Da off, "You are a terrible father. Why have you taken this boy from his mother, where he can grow up safe?"

"That's no-"

"You drag a child no older than ten into mercenary work," the sneering continued, Da's opponent no longer even looking at him, "Where he sits under the hot sun or gets close to getting hurt by any number of things. I bet when you are done, you drag him to the nearest whorehouse with you so you can sate what lust you have that wasn't dealt with by battle."

"Fuck off!"

"...I suppose you must be training him."

"What?" Da just stood there in confusion. A smirk emerged on the tanned man's lips, and he threw his arms back in a huge shrug.

"I mean, you love battle so much, you must want to create the ultimate opponent," he then pointed at the spear in Colan's father's hands, "After all, you probably can't wait to gut him with Gae Bolg. To see his belly pop."

"The fuck is wrong with you!" Colan nearly felt like vomiting as his father screamed at the Shadow Man. That…that couldn't be right.

Right?

"Why not," the Shadow Man laughed, "You already used it to kill your first son," before Colan could could even understand that, the Shadow Man continued, "Did you not enjoy it, in front of the castle of Ulster. Did you not find joy in piercing the heart of your son?"

"Aren't you happy you killed Connla?"

The world stopped. Colan caught his father's eyes. They were pure crimson. Not the strange dull red that had always defined his father before. No, it was as if a great bonfire had erupted in the middle of his father's eyes, and was burning hotter than any blacksmith's forge. Da's teeth began to grind, and his hands around the red spear tightened so much that he saw blood begin to trickle between his fingers. He pointed the spear at the stranger, and then pounded into the air above him.

"Don't your dare talk about my son!" Red lighting began to spill all over the spear. His teeth became daggers and his hair, long unusually spiky, was standing completely on end. His muscles bulged, barely contained by his leather armor. With both his hands aimed the spear directly at the man in red.

"GAE-"

"Finally," the man with white hair smiled before snapping a finger.

"BOL-UAH!"

The red spear disappeared from Da's hands. He fell forward into the Shadow Man, and both fell over in a heap. Da pushed himself up, and then and threw himself on top of the white haired man, and reared his fists back and began to punch his opponent in the face.

"Don't"

PUNCH

"YOU"

PUNCH

"EVER"

PUNCH

"SAY"

PUNCH

"HIS"

PUNCH

"Name"

PUNCH

"AGAIN"

PUNCH

PUNCH

PUNCH

Colan's father continued to slam his fists into the face of his fallen opponent. Colan and the other observers, at first happy that Da had managed to gain the upper hand, began look at one another. As the sounds of fists slamming into flesh continued, a few began to fidget. One coughed when Da let out a vicious scream. The leader of the caravan looked up at the sun in the sky, before turning his attention back to Colan.

"We will need to get ready to move out again in around four hours. It would be best to get your father to his tent so he can rest before we pack up and start moving again," he turned back to the main tent, and entered, shouting as he disappeared beneath the great fabric, "I have been offered far too much money to even be a day late to Bayasahbad."

Colan nodded, and as the other merchants followed their leader inside the tent, he marched out to see his father and the body of his conquered foe. As Colan walked up, his father suddenly stopped, and looked up at him. A second later, he was off the man in red, and his bloody arms were wrapped around Colan's head. They stood there for a moment, the world seeming to pass them by, before Colan finally spoke up.

"You," he said, "You aren't planning to kill me, are you?"

"No son," Colan felt some liquid land on his head like rain. But it was lighter than the blood that was seeping from his father's arms onto the back of his head. He looked up, and saw that his father was weeping, "I promise, I will never hurt you."

"But…the man said you killed someone called Connl-"

"That," Da cut him off, "Was a long time ago. It doesn't matter anymore."

"Sure didn't act like it didn't matter."

Colan felt himself jump, though he was suddenly up in the arms of his father. Da sighed, before returning his attention to the Shadow Man. Colan's eyes widened. For all that the fallen warrior's face was bruised and bloody, it was still almost completely intact. The eyes had not burst, the cheeks had not collapsed, all the teeth were still in the mouth. The amount of punches that Da had deliver should have been more than enough to cave in the Shadow Man's face, yet he seemed unbothered by the beating he had received.

"Shove it up your ass Emiya," Da growled. He then set Colan down, and looked at his defeated opponent. Colan looked back at his father, and then down the defeated man. This…just didn't seem possible. Was it perhaps some strange magic, like the blades, that had allowed him to survive? As he remembered the ferocity of the fight, Colan turned back to look at his father.

"Shouldn't we kill him?"

"What the hell are you teaching him?" "Emiya" said, trying to force himself up. Da held his hand out in a flat palm.

"Hold it," he said, his voice lowering so only the three of them could hear, "There might still be a few looking at us. If we are going to have enough time for you and me to discuss what is going on, we're going to have to make this look good. Now, firstly, you're going to lie down like you are still dead, and then I'm going to drag you into this tent, so we can speak privately," he pointed at Colan, "Colan go inside the main tent. There should be some wine there in some casks. Bring one here, I have a feeling I'm going to need it, and make sure to tell them that I'm disposing of the body. Will mean they ask less questions."

"Da," Colan stopped, looking up at his father in the eyes. There was a new sadness there, one he had never seen before, "What's going on. Who is Connla? What is that spear," he pointed at "Emiya", "Who is this weird shadow man?"

"I'll answer when you get back," Da nodded, "Please just do this, I just need to settle a few things to get ready for what we are going to do."

Colan looked at him, and then nodded. His father showed him a big wolfy grin, and he patted Colan's shoulder.. He ran back towards the main tent, only pausing a moment to look back and observe his father-

Kick the fallen man once more before picking him up by the legs, and dragging them into the previous tent he had been standing guard in.

It had taken about five minutes for Colan to find the cask, and then another five to get permission to take it to his father. That, and a barely hidden threat that Da might do to the merchant he was speaking to the same thing he had done to the intruder. Like most of these travelers, it caused him to back away, and let him take the cask without any more debate. All the merchants here now seemed to look over the boy with greater fear than before. The demonstration of Da's fighting ability had been enough to convince them not to pick a fight with Colan.

As he re-emerged from the main tent, he spotted the guard tent his father had dragged the Shadow man into, and hurried over to it. As the wine in the skin hung around his neck sloshed inside it, swinging back and forth against his run, he thought about the strange man.

'He is so strange,' he considered the disappearing and reappearing weapons, 'But if he's really from the Shadow Lands, how does he know Da? Da came from the West. He says we go East because that's where our enemies chase us from there,' he then thought of how his father had reacted at the name of his other supposed son, 'Maybe that was a lie…maybe he's just been lying this whole time.'

He reached the tent, and was about to push his way in, when he heard the muffled sounds of his father speaking. He stopped. If his father had been lying to him earlier, then he could still just be lying if he spoke to Colan's face. 'Better…better hear what they are saying.'

"So that's the long and short of it," he heard "Emiya's" deep voice say, "I was transported about a hundred fifty or so miles West of here, and then used this thing to track you and the caravan here. Ran into you, we fought, and here we are."

"She sure knows her stuff, that Da Vinci," Da's voice was more measured than before, though it was clearly annoyed, like when Colan had accidentally pushed over that large fruit stand back in Quarth about a week ago, "making a tracker that points…hey, it's not directly pointing at me."

"What, really," Colan heard shuffling, and then a pause, "You are right, it's pointing South now."

"Maybe it detects that I'm with you?" Da offered, and Colan had to strain to keep himself from pushing his head into the tent, to catch and see what was happening. But doing so would almost immediately get his father and "Emiya" to focus on him, and he wouldn't be able to learn anymore. This "Da Vinci'' sounded like some kind of Shadow Witch, and Da was familiar with her. Perhaps that was the old lady that Emiya had mentioned before, "Wouldn't be the first time she thought of a function like that. Not that she ever feels the need to explain helpful stuff like that."

"She probably did tell me about it," the Shadow Man admitted, "My memories are still so hazy that I still have gaps about what happened."

"I know that," Da responded, "Right now my head's so messed up, I can barely tell up from down," a silence seemed to emerge between them, "I remember a few things. I remember the fires at Fuyuki, fighting the Praetorian Guard," his voice changed tone immediately, "I won by the way."

"Killing the emperor is worth more."

"Boudica killed the emperor," Conla had to wonder what Emperor they were talking about. He had known his father was a famous warrior, but he'd never heard anything about killing some massive monarch, "I also remember America."

"Again, I'm sorry for having to bring that up," the Shadow Man's voice was actually more subdued, "I know I was touching an old wound. After Gae Bolg didn't wake you up, it was the last thing I could come up with."

"I…understand," Colan supposed that was the last they would talk about Da's dead other son, "I remember…oh shit, Master."

'Who is Master?' Colan's father had hated slavers for as long as Colan had been alive. He had killed dozens of them throughout their travels. There was no way he would call any man his "Master". He told Colan he'd never let someone rule over him again.

"Yeah," "Emiya" seemed sad. Colan was rather put out. They were still clearly speaking common, but there were certain cadences and words that seemed to be different to how he had ever heard it. "Yeah" was clearly another word for yes, but it seemed just a bit strange, and both "Emiya" and Da seemed to use this strange dialect, "That could be a lot of things."

"Well right now, it's the black key that nearly ripped out his heart," Da groaned, "And that's about it for the moment. Other stuff is coming in, but right now it's like I have two separate people swimming around in my head."

'Two people,' Colan considered. If there were two people…maybe that was why his Da hadn't remembered Emiya. Maybe some kind of spell had given him fake memories. He probably hadn't been lying to him. That seemed to cause some weight to float off his heart, and he began to stand up more straight. He looked down at the cask, 'Might as well get i-'

"Let's get your transportation ring," Emiya continued, and then Colan stopped, just as he was about to enter, "It will take you back to the Storm Glider. Back to Master."

"Shouldn't I stay and support you?" Da stated, "I know this plane of existance better than you do, and you might need someone who can lead you around. I know the languages and the cultures and the geography of most of it. I'd be the best guide you could ask for."

"No," Emiya stated, "Your body is strange, clearly operating worse than a servant should," he stopped, "Mine is operating bad as well, but until you finally snapped you were simply nothing compared to me. Better to get you home and checked out."

"Aw, didn't know you cared."

"Shove it dog breath," Emiya seemed to rustle, and then said, "Here, take it."

Colan felt his heart begin to race again. 'A magic ring,' he considered, 'That would take Da away.' Now, instead of worrying his father had been lying to him, he worried about some magic spell taking his father away from him. He'd never been more than a few hours away from him, and the thought of his father abandoning him for some unknown master caused all his previous fears about the entire situation to reemerge stronger than before.

"Fine," Da sighed, "Guess this is necessary," he then stopped, "Get me a second one of those, I need to go get Colan set up first so he can be sent, need to make sure he get's there safe and understands what is going on."

'Oh,' Colan stopped panicking, 'Da's taking me with him,' he then froze up again, 'What if the magic ring does something strange, wha-'

"No."

"What!?" Colan heard his father shout, "What do you mean No?"

"We only have 13 rings for evacuation," Emiya said, not giving Colan's father a second to respond, "We need everyone back, and I have no way to get anymore."

"So you are just expecting me to leave my son?"

"I'm expecting you to fulfill your oath to our Master," Emiya growled, "When he summoned us from the throne, he swore to serve him until we had saved the world. We thought we had accomplished that with the battle with Goetia," he stopped, and for a second, no sound came out from the tent, "...but we were wrong. We are facing some eldritch creature trying to destroy our universe, and our negligence is why our Master is half dead. So I don't care about what little fantasy you have lived here. You are Cu Chulainn, Ireland's child of light. Whatever that other person that's swimming around in your head isn't real."

"...It is real," Da answered. His voice was low.

"No it isn't."

"Yes it is," the sound of something crashing came from inside the tent, "How old was I when I died on Clochafarmore?"

"You were ninetee-"

"I was nineteen," Da cut off Emiya, "I never made it to twenty. But here, on this plane. I am thirty. And I remember those years. I remember them just as well as anything in Ulster. Hell, I remember it better than most any memory I have as a servant. So in my mind, I have two lives, and one of those lives just happens to have a son," the pitch in his voice changed, as though he was growling through bared teeth, "And when that thirty year old looks at what that nineteen year old did to his family, he makes a decision that he will do whatever is necessary to make sure he doesn't make the same mistakes."

A silence hung over the tent. Colan felt his chest tighten, preparing for another conflict to burst out and for him to have to dodge from the tent to avoid being pulled up in the scuffle. But then, he heard a loud sigh that didn't seem to come from his father.

"You stubborn, rabid dog," Emiya groaned, and Colan could almost imagine the tanned man resting his face in his hands, "why now of all times do you discover your parental instinct?"

"Thirty years can change a man," it was almost a chuckle, and the chance of a fight breaking out seemed to disappear.

"Both too much and not enough," this time Emiya got a real bark of a laugh from Colan's father, "But I'm not giving one of these to you. I was sent to bring everyone back, and I'm keeping that promise."

"Fine," Da said, "Colan, come on in, I know you're there."

"Ah," Colan tried to catch his gasp in his hand, but stopped, groaned, and walked in. The two warriors were standing across from one another. Da had a smile that he usually had when he caught Colan knicking food from merchants stalls. Emiya, on the other hand, had a well cut frown on and was looking at him with the eyes of a guardsman who was rather sure you were about to steal something. Colan walked over to his father, and handed him the wineskin. Da picked it up happily, and popped off the top, and began to down the whole container of red liquid. As his father drank, Colan looked over the other man, and felt his jaw drop further.

"You…" he tried to push down the feeling in his stomach, "Your bruises are almost all gone."

"Hmm," Emiya's eyes widened a bit, before looking down. Emiya's face, while still a bit roughed up, had almost completely healed. He placed his hand on his cheek, and pulled it back, "yeah, I guess I am better. Body is operating at below optimal capacity, but this is clearly better than a regular human body."

"Opti-"

"Best," Da spoke up, pulling back the wineskin for a second, before pushing it forward, and flowing the drink into his mouth. Colan stared for a few moments, and realized that he hadn't yet stopped to take a breath of air. He raised up his hand, until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry," Emiya offered, Colan tensing as he realized the tanned man was touching him, "Your father is more than capable of taking that whole thing down."

"But doesn't he need to-"

"Breathe?" Emiya just shook his head, "Sometimes people like your father just refuse to play by the rules."

Colan stopped and watched as his father stuck out his left hand with his middle finger extended upward right in Emiya's face. He heard a sigh from behind him, before his father returned his hand to the winesack and continued drinking. Colan-

-woke up with a start. For a second, he didn't realize he had been asleep, before he suddenly winced, and placed a hand on the side of his neck. He pulled it back slightly from the sting when his hand landed on the skin, before pulling it back.

"Thank the gods, you are awake," Colan looked over and saw his father slouching forward. Despite it being light out, he could see shadows down below Da's eyes. Colan forced himself upward from his position lying down, and saw that he and his father were sitting on what appeared to be a nice set of living furniture, like where they had been staying in Qarth. The couch he was laying on, the chairs in the room…

"We're back in Qarth?" He said dumbly.

"Yeah," Da sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, "This is the place for Emiya and me to do our next job. Don't know exactly where here, but it's in this city. So we ran back here as soon as we could."

"I was asleep for three days," Colan remembered the travel it had taken for them to get where they had met Emiya.

"About a half a day actually," Colan turned, and looked back. Emiya was standing behind him, and in his hands was a plate with a large steaming fish upon it. The green headed creature had had the scales from its gills to its tail stripped away, with the meat cut up into even cuts of reddish pink meat, along the middle of which was what appeared to be a strange creamy white sauce that flowed along the fish from the front to the back. On the side of the plate was a large round mound of whitish grains that was also releasing a woft of steam, with a darker brown sauce covering the top of it. On the other side of the fish was a slice of a fresh melon, with a green outer side and an orange inner flesh, "I thought we might want some food after the journey."

"Journey," Colan asked as Emiya placed the plate on the small table between his father and him, "I don't remember any-"

"Yeah. That's my fault," Emiya sighed. Colan looked over Emiya again, and this time, despite having been a much longer time, he could still see a very prominent black eye on the side of his face, "I may have had to knock you out so we could move quickly enough to get here."

"Fuckin' jackass," Da growled, grabbing one of the slices of fish and sliding it down his gullet. He chewed for only a few seconds, before swallowing.

"You know you are supposed to cut that up right."

"Shove it up your ass Emiya," Da groaned, before picking up another slice. Still, despite his anger, he did down the fish easily, and reached then for a third slice. Colan had never seen his father down so much food before so quickly, and he was a bit shocked that while eating, he was able to say "Still are the worst cook on staff."

"Yeah, well better get used to it," Emiya said, before grabbing some of the grain ball, placing it on a smaller plate, and lifting it up to eat with two chop sticks, "And if you wanted better food, maybe you should have given me more money to get more supplies."

"I'm not made of money," Da shot back, pointing a finger at the tanned man's face, "I already had to use most of the money I had from that trip with the caravan to get this room back for a week. I'm not made of money."

"Well you said you'd be fine to do it!"

"Well you-"

Colan sighed as they bickered, and he slumped down. He grabbed the melon, and bit into it. While he enjoyed the sweet taste of the fruit, he couldn't help but begin to question exactly what had changed in the past few hours, and what that meant for his Da and him.