Hi, everyone! ("Hi, Amberlin!") OK, just thought I'd go over some things really quick-like with you all: firstly, none of these characters belong to me. I didn't bother with this, earlier, but I just know that at least one of you (yes, Celeste, I'm talking to you) will want to take my little brat Aneiron for your own fanfics. I don't have a problem with that, as long as you credit Jillian Byar with him, since he's hers. Secondly: The Shondarin language - I'm not fluent in it, so I just can't do anything further than copy down Jillian Byar's glossary and list of proper addresses, OK? If someone says "rellas," they mean "citizen." And finally, it should be obvious by now that I do use mostly the original names of everyone - but I'm using the NA names "Maxfield Stanton" and "Chad" because I'll be damned if I can remember how to spell the original versions.

That's basically it. Go ahead and e-mail me if you'd like - unlike Celeste Goodchild, dear friend that she is, I don't ever bite! (Celeste, please don't flame! OW!)

Amberlin Over and out.

Sailor Uranus advanced along the corrider, weapon held at the ready. She was worried; fifteen minutes in the Negaverse, and still no enemy. This wasn't right; in her experience as a warrior, enemies generally leaped out the minute she showed up. Being worried made her irritable.

An irritable Sailor Uranus is NOT one of the most pleasant comrades in the multiverse. No, indeed. Sailor Mercury and Sailor Neptune were both well aware of this, so both lesser warriors prudently stayed well behind the short-haired Senshi and let Uranus scout.

At last she stopped, at the forking of four dimly-lit hallways; Uranus held up a peremptory hand to halt Neptune and Mercury behind her.

"Quiet," she barely whispered, green eyes narrowing in concrentration. "Something not right...."

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than the shadows around them became black-clad soldiers, faces covered by black veils up to their eyes. A silver flame decorated the left breast of the black uniform coats; on one tall form, the silver flame was superimposed over a field of twilight gray.

That man pulled down his veil to reveal a square, brown face; he looked at the three Senshi with mingled annoyance and curiosity. "Names and business here," he said curtly.

"I am Sailor Uranus, that is Sailor Neptune, and she is Sailor Mercury," said Uranus tightly, trying to keep her all-too-short temper under control. "We are here to find and rescue our comrade, Sailor Mars."

The brown man's eyes hardened. "How thoughtful," he said flatly. "You're human, aren't you." It wasn't a question; his tone suggested that he had pronounced the word "human" in the same manner of voice that he would have used to say "cockroach."

"All of us are human," said Sailor Neptune calmly. She walked forward to stand beside her lover, a placating and shielding hand on Uranus' arm. "And now that you know who we are and what we are doing, we would like to ask the same of you." Sailor Mercury admired the regal tones that Neptune employed; the green-haired Senshi managed to give off the impression that the tall, square young man before her was merely a groom awaiting his lady's orders.

Apparently the black-clad man felt it too; he scowled, and snapped, "I am Feriom sor'Baldur Tarynn, servant of the Iron Throne of Shondar. We are the Silver Flames, allies of King Jadeite, and you are trespassers, uninvited and unwanted. You will come with us to await the judgements of the Dai Shan and of King Jadeite."

"What if we don't want to?" said Uranus, not moving. Mercury quietly groaned to herself as she recognized the signs of the short-haired and short-tempered Senshi getting very very angry. When Uranus was angry, it was usually better to be far far away from her inevitable explosion; Mercury found herself hoping that when this explosion came, that Uranus would at least let out most of it on the Silver Flame officer.

Feriom grinned mirthlessly. "Well, we expected that you won't want to. After all, Himself is in a bad mood today, and I don't think that even humans are stupid enough to want to face Himself when his leg's hurt. So put up a fight if you want to, but be quick about it. We've got other things to do today." At his words, each one of the black-clad soldiers stood readier, looser; Mercury noted that at least three of them allowed hands to creep to the hilts of their weapons.

Uranus smiled thinly. "That'll do nicely, you jerk." With that, the Star Sword was unsheathed and Uranus leaped forward, pressing her blade at the brown man.

Sailor Neptune sighed deeply, shaking her head at her lover's impulsiveness. Then, without further ado, she gripped her trident and began wading through the black-clad soldiers to help Uranus clear a path.

Sailor Mercury was left with not knowing what quite to do with herself. "I'm weaker than any other Senshi," she said to herself, watching in desperation as Uranus and Neptune were overcome by the sheer numbers and fighting efficiency of the Silver Flames. "But at least I can try..."

"MERCURY... BUBBLE .... BLAST!"

The Silver Flame officer, Feriom, let out a yell of surprise as the gray mists of Mercury coated the corridor with invisibility. "Ledo's Blade!" he roared. "What in the Name of God is going ON here?"

Mercury located her fellow Senshi by sense of touch, and quietly whispered that she believed that now would be a very good time to pursue the furthest passageway, to Sailor Mars and to the rest of the Senshi. Uranus grumbled a bit about how she could have fought on, but Neptune quickly hushed her and thanked Mercury.

The three Senshi hurried through the Silver Flames, running down the corridor to where Mercury could sense Mars' fiery spirit.

The training salle was the single largest room in all of the palace, almost half a mile long by half a mile wide, with a vaulted ceiling suitable for high jumps and null-gravity training if Jadeite so desired.

He was proud of his salle; he had designed it himself, back in the days under Beryl when fits of boredom had led him to try, in rapid succession, architecture, structural engineering, bridge-building, hydrodynamics, and a host of other professions too numerous to list. Jadeite had always had a keen eye for proportions and a mind well-suited to such things as design and engineering; it had been one of his most valuable traits, both as a Lord General of Earth and a King under Beryl.

He wove faster and faster through the warm-up exercises, letting his mind drift as his lean body whipped through the motions.

Ruling the Negaverse was surprisingly easy for him. He'd always thought, watching Beryl, that it would be a lark sitting in the throne room and making mystical passes over that damned crystal staff; now he'd discovered that there was a lot more to effectively governing such a vast kingdom than just holding court.

Jadeite grimaced as he took a wrong step and almost crashed into the mirrored west wall. Stupid; he couldn't afford to get so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't pay attention to where he was going. He redoubled his efforts, leaping and twisting through the dance of the exercises. He spun in lunges and kicks made timelessly elegant by the economic grace of the man who performed them.

They'd had a saying, back in Imperial Terra: "Kunzite thinks standing, Nephrite thinks sitting, Jadeite thinks fighting, and Zoisite thinks afterwards." It had been clever, and an undeniable cliche; but true. Jadeite thought better when he was moving, and always had. He stilled finally, wiping away the sweat that poured down his face.

Jadeite padded over to the plain wooden bench by the door to replace the sweat-soaked tunic he'd been wearing with a fresh one. Kunzite had drilled him in that, again and again, until it had become habit: "Always fight in fresh clothing, if you possibly can. Your enemy's nose is keener than your own; you'd always better assume that! Go into battle clean and fresh - if your enemy can't smell you, chances are you can sneak up on him."

He smiled slightly; Kunzite had been the terror of the Earth forces, but he'd been undeniably gifted, both as an instructor and as a commander. Jadeite owed most of his military expertise to him, owed him in fact his life. Kunzite's teachings had saved his skin more than once, both back when he had been a trooper under Nephrite's command and when he had been promoted to a command of his own.

Jadeite let his thoughts drift back to ruling the Negaverse as he surveyed the rack of weapons, and finally chose the katana that Amberlin Jalia had gifted him with.

As he stood before the mirrors in ready position, poised on the balls of his feet with the katana unsheathed, held perpendicular to his body at shoulder-level, Jadeite set his mind to solving one of his more pressing kingly problems: what the hell to do about the Silver Flames. They were helpful in subduing the more recalcitrant youma, but sooner or later the Shondarins would have to leave.

So: train of thought, set. Body and weapon, set. Jadeite smoothly launched himself into the dance of the blade, mind whirring as quickly as the golden sword whipped through the forms.

The forms flowed smoothly into each other, as he moved from north to south to east to west, spinning to the center then launching out into the strict disciplines of the north, passing east to a more flowing, rhythmical dance; south to a slash-and-stab school, intent only upon skewering and slicing the opponent. From there, Jadeite went to the western schools of fencing, moving gratefully into his favorite: the Dance of the Blade, as graceful as any waltz or ballet. The sword felt light and easy in his grip, almost a part of him. Almost? Hell! It was far more a part of him than his nose or his ears.

As he moved with the inner beat of the blade, Jadeite's mind riffled through problems, solutions, countersolutions, measures, actions, reactions. Who had ever known that being a ruler could be so HARD? Beryl had been a domineering, forceful personality, useful as a living flag and ensign for the Negaverse; but she sure as hell hadn't been much of a ruler. Under her neglect, the Negaverse had been poor in all things: energy, morale, food, economy, and most of all in people. The few bureaucracies had been a joke. The non-military government had been even more of a joke.

After reviewing all of Beryl's policies, Jadeite had come to a conclusion, by no means for the first time: the military were the only people really suited to doing anything. Instead of arguing that something couldn't be done, they ran off and did it.

Jadeite had made some steady progress, in the months after Aneiron had freed him from the crystal and Dhearec's work with the ArchDemon had begun. He had employed military strictness and discipline to the bureaucracy, applying as a rule of thumb that if it wasn't necessary, it had to go. The various hierarchies of Court and Cabinet (not that Beryl had ever convened the latter) were greatly slimmed; Jadeite was a military man, and he hated the red tape and mind-numbing idiocies that the secretariat seemed to thrive on. Indeed, the bureaucrats of the Dark Kingdom were still reeling over the yards of revolutionary legislation that Jadeite's latent-but-newly-woken forensic mind had thrown at them.

The Dark Kingdom, in short, was prospering much more under Jadeite's rule than ever it had under Beryl or Metallia.

The blade came to a standstill as Jadeite finished his exercises with a motion both abrupt and graceful. He wasn't physically gifted - not like Zoisite or the master swordsman Kunzite - which meant that he had to drill all of the moves into his slow stupid giftless muscles in order to hold his own against a "natural" bladesman. That was partly why he had built this salle in the first place: being a general under Beryl meant being quick and sharp with physical weapons as well as magickal ones.

But damn! With a sword he was slightly better than normal; certainly, no youma in the Dark Kingdom could stand against him for more than thirty seconds. Kunzite and Zoisite both had been able to disarm him well within five minutes.

That was with swords, of course. With lancery - halberds, spears, pikes, lances - Jadeite had no equal. Put a stick in his hands and he held the field, undisputed.

That in mind, Jadeite replaced the Blade of Fire on its special rack with an affectionate pat, and chose his other gift from the Princess-mage of Shondar: a diilyao, a thick-shafted stave with a foot-long curved swordblade at its tip.

Jadeite had no idea how to use the damn thing, but he was going to have fun playing with it, and -

He froze as a kindly ancient voice put words straight into his mind.

#Hold it this way, child.#

He felt ghostly hands take his own and reposition them on the haft of the diilyao.

#Now,# instructed that oh-so-irritatingly-familiar voice, #your center of balance is different than with a pike, so move a bit LOWER and time your reactions accordingly. Swing left so I can get your measure.#

In pure disbelief, Jadeite obeyed, swinging left. That voice - it meant well, Jadeite felt that instinctively - but when it spoke to him ... Well, it wasn't precisely loud, but when it boomed, there was simply no room for anything else in Jadeite's head. And when it spoke.... Jadeite had the creepy feeling that someone else was looking through his eyes, that someone else was momentarily sharing his mind.

This was unfamiliar; it wasn't like the feeling he had gotten back when his Imperial Terran self and Negaverse persona had been battling for control of him. No, this wasn't a battle. The voice didn't want control of him, it just wanted to... help him.

#Good,# it commented, apparently satisfied with his effort. #Right. The diilyao is a more versatile weapon than a mere sword, boy; you can jab, cut, thrust, parry, lance, stab, twist, and grapple; and then you can still throw it at someone if you've a mind and if you get the trick of flicking your wrist in just the right way. You are a good pupil, boy; your mind is surprisingly open, considering that you aren't one of my children by birth.#

"Who are you?" Jadeite said faintly, still reeling from the feel of something so massive in his mind. Not even the Negaforce could command all of his attention like that.

There was a faint pause, and invisible hands moved to catch him when he staggered. Jadeite felt a pat on the shoulder, and a wash of welcoming love and affection. For HIM. For Jadeite, King of the Negaverse. Knowing him better than he did himself, seeing through his eyes, scanning through his mind, busily watching him with one tiny track of its infinite attention and compassion. Loving him unconditionally, for he was one of Its children.

#I am the Soul of Shondar. I am Roidan. I am Caesarea. I am Shondar; I am the Soul of Shondar, and you are one of my children. #

"What?" said Jadeite. Oh, gods, what had Amberlin Jalia done to him? He gripped the staff with a fury beginning to burn behind his eyes.

A massive frown. #You are my son, in whom I am well pleased; my daughter Amberylinnissa Artanis Jaliana sor'Chaldra connected you to me. Take pride, take pride, child; you are the only non-Shondarin to ever be a part of the Soul of Shondar, to have a voice in the Song of the Empire. The Saints will cherish you, the Emperor and all the Sleeping Ones will be your friends. You are a part of the Soul of Shondar, and you are blessed among the Children of the Creator.#

Jadeite said something extremely rude; then followed it up with some of the most blistering profanity ever dreamed up.

#Fascinating....#

Jadeite was saved from going totally mad by the sensation that he was being watched. He spun around, holding the diilyao - crazily noticing that he held it just as the Soul had shown him - and saw with a feeling of rage and relief that Dhearec Madros stood in the doorway.

"Dhearec, you son of a BITCH," Jadeite half-croaked, half-screamed. He stopped, cleared his throat, tried again. "Don't EVER snea

k up on me again." The Madros lord tilted his head slightly to one side, as he always did when puzzled. "My lord?"

"Damn you, Dhearec," Jadeite muttered. He decided sullenly that he didn't want to practice anymore today, and put the diilyao back in its rack on the wall. "Just ... don't be so quiet, all right? Let me know when you're here."

Dhearec didn't bat an eye. "Certainly, my lord. May I have permission to apprise you of my findings?"

"Your findings in regard to what?" Jadeite asked, slightly muffled. He stripped off his tunic - <> - and slid into a fresh black undershirt and his gray uniform coat.

Dhearec replied, "In regards to ArchDemon Metallia, my lord." The slender giant's azure gaze ticked over the emblem on Jadeite's coat. "My lord, why do you wear the insignia of the Princess Amberylinnissa Artanis?"

Jadeite worked this out for a moment, then figured out that Dhearec meant Amberlin Jalia. "It was her gift to me that she Healed me of insanity, Dhearec," he said off-handedly, his temper cooling. "If it makes her happy that I wear her emblem, then I'll do it. It's a pretty badge, anyway." It was; Amberlin Jalia's chosen symbol was a golden sun-in-glory crowned by a full scarlet, thorny rose. It suited her; she was as lovely as a rose - and she was as thorny as one of those blossoms when she felt ornery.

"Yes, Dhearec," he continued. "Go ahead. What didja find about the ArchDemon? Will the Silver Flames be ready to oust It at last?"

"I hardly think so," Dhearec said judiciously. "The ArchDemon would like to speak with you, Lord Jadeite."

This calm, matter-of-fact pronouncement caught Jadeite completely off guard. "WHAT?"

The azure eyes of the Madros lord met Jadeite's own dark blue ones. "The ArchDemon Metallia attempted to speak with me," said Dhearec. "It was unable to make contact; I then asked if there was another to whom It could speak. It replied with your image. I assumed that you will be able to speak with It because of your connections with It."

Jadeite ran his hand distractedly through his hair, without thinking reached out and grabbed the diilyao. "I don't WANT to talk with the ArchDemon," he growled finally. "I'm busy, Dhearec! I've got a bloody kingdom to run, not to mention a bloody bunch of Shondarins I've got to avoid angering!"

Dhearec said unsympathetically, "Such is the life of a ruler. You have, I assume, heard of the Sword of Damocles?"

Jadeite glared at him. When Dhearec felt like being obstinate, he could be even more irritating than Aneiron in the most bouncy mood. "I am busy," he said, biting off each word as if he hated the taste. "I have no time to speak to an ArchDemon that your Dai Shan swore to me would be gone by the new year. The ArchDemon is asleep, Dhearec, and It does not bother my kingdom. I'm perfectly content to have it so. If you Shondarins are going to fuck around in my kingdom, you'd damn better get results before you totally screw over my land and my people. Understand? If you're going to muck with ArchDemons, Dhearec, it's your responsibility, not mine."

"If you're finished, my lord," Dhearec said, totally unmoved, "you will speak with the ArchDemon now."

"I won't. I'm bloody busy. Get the Dai Shan to speak with It."

"You will speak with the ArchDemon," Dhearec repeated. "The Dai Shan is .... unable to come near demons."

There was a clash of wills, the massive Madros lord staring down at the shorter leaner Jadeite; much to his annoyance and dismay, Jadeite found Dhearec immovable.

"Oh, fine," he said, ungraciously. "I'll give you five minutes, but then I need to get to DeeSMin."

"As you wish, my lord," said Dhearec. He bowed and allowed Jadeite to precede him out of the salle.

As he went, it occured to Jadeite that, even though he had originally categorized Aneiron as the more dangerous of the pair, perhaps he had misjudged Dhearec.

The Madros lord might very well prove to be more of a threat than Aneiron ever dreamed of being.

"I... see," said the Dai Shan. "So she has betrayed me. After I had given her specific orders to proceed directly to the Emperor."

Aneiron fidgeted. "Well, yeah."

The Dai Shan stood, very painfully. His leg was hurting like fire; white-hot prickles of agony shot up his thigh every time he moved. Damn that bitch Amberlin Jalia. Damn her, damn her, damn her. Pity that she had to be so lovely; it annoyed him, destroying something so aesthetically pleasing.

But there was no doubt in that strange sharp mind that she did have to be destroyed; he could put up with her childish tricks and her infuriating love of teasing - but he would never forgive her for disobeying a direct order from the Iron Crown.

Aneiron knew quite well what was passing through dai'Merolan's mind; he knew his lord very well, and he also knew that the Dai Shan was not a one for sentiment. He would mourn the necessity of killing the sister of his dear friend, the darling of the Empire, the Rose of the Sun - but he'd do it anyway. Probably with a smile on the thin lips. Because dai'Merolan was both unimaginative and brilliant - brilliant in the same way that a diamond was brilliant, all sharp edges and icy reflections, with never a hint of what went on in the heart.

"Dai Shan," Aneiron began, descending from his midair perch to kneel on the floor before the Warlord. "Dai Shan, please. I wouldn't call her a traitor; she was... helping a friend."

"Was she really," said the Dai Shan, in remote tones. The hand wrapped around the diilyao's haft was white-knuckled; in every other way, the Dai Shan appeared entirely serene.

"Dai Shan, please," Aneiron pleaded. "She's a good girl, she's just a li'l impulsive sometimes."

"Impulsive."

"Yeah, like me," Aneiron said desperately. Then, because he was Aneiron, he grinned, and added, "And you like ME, don't you, Dai Shan?"

"Unaccountably, I do, my brat of a son. But Amberlin Jalia will die the next time I see her." When Aneiron seemed about to say something, poison-green eyes wide in shock, the Dai Shan made a negating gesture, cutting off all protests. "There is nothing more to say, my son. She disobeyed me, she is a traitor, she will die. Perhaps in her next incarnation she will have learned some discretion. And some sense."

Aneiron bowed his head miserably. Lord, this day just got worse and worse.

Sailor Uranus, relying almost entirely on her olfactory and auditory senses rather than her visual in this dim light, caught a whiff and a slight scrape just three seconds before she was able to dodge out of the way, and thus just barely miss being knocked down by Sailors Jupiter and Venus.

Mercury and Neptune weren't so lucky; both went down under the combined forces of the brunette and blonde Senshi.

"Oof," commented Jupiter succinctly. The tall young woman manuevered her way out of the Senshi heap, and held out a hand to assist Venus, who was trying vainly to get out of the tangle without stepping on Neptune's fanned-out hair.

Uranus shook her head in pure disgust. Jupiter would be an excellent warrior if she would just PAY ATTENTION to her surroundings. And as for Venus.... well, Uranus purely didn't like Venus, and that's all there was to it.

"Get up," Uranus commanded in a low voice. "We're almost to the center of the Negaverse, and we should be near Sailor Mars by now."

"How would YOU know where Sailor Mars is?" demanded Venus, her hands on her hips. The dislike was, as they say, mutual. "Who died and made you dog?"

Uranus' tongue temporarily stalled. "What?"

"She means god," said Jupiter heavily. "And Venus, think about it, yes? They've got Mercury with them. Her computer probably knows where Mars is, to within a millimeter."

"Ten centimeters," said Mercury, looking apologetic.

"See?" Jupiter threw up her hands in mock despair. They hurried on down the corridor, following Uranus and Mercury, while Jupiter continued to explain softly to Venus what exactly was going on.

"We must be heading towards Metallia's chamber," Jupiter said rapidly, quite outpacing the shorter-legged Venus. Jupiter did tend to walk faster when she was excited. In deference to Uranus' nasty looks and her own sense of military deportment, the ponytailed Senshi did at least keep her voice down. "Mars must be with Metallia, and that means that we'd damned well better rescue her quick, before whatever Negascum that Jadeite controls can turn her into a total brainwashed zombie!"

"Actually," said Neptune, who had been listening to this less-than-entirely-accurate description with some amusement, "I'm not certain that Jadeite is the threat at all. I don't have much experience with the Negaverse at all, but it did seem to me that Pluto hinted that it was someone entirely out of her experience. Since she has certainly encountered Jadeite before, albeit indirectly by watching the flow of time, then it must be someone else who is the threat to Mars, and therefore to the rest of you."

"Yeah, those two guys WITH Jadeite," said Venus happily. "Cool."

Neptune bit her lip, and said, with a credible show of patience, "Not cool at all, Venus - this is a new enemy, even if it is concentrated in a familiar battleground. Since they took Sailor Mars, for whatever reason, we must assume that they're both unfriendly and clever until proven otherwise."

Uranus, jogging back to see what was keeping the tardy trio, nodded, somewhat impatiently. "Correct. We've gotta run, Sailors - Mercury's computer is picking up on a LOT of those black-coated jerks up ahead. We've got to get around them to get to Metallia - oh, and Venus, Jupiter." Uranus seemed to grin, although the expression on her fine-boned face was anything but gleeful. "Mercury wanted me to tell you that she's picking up on a pair named Zoisite and Kunzite."

As the jaws of Venus and Jupiter reached their collective knees, Uranus turned and marched back up the corridor to rejoin the blue-haired Mercury.

They entered the vasty hall of Metallia. Jadeite almost reeled from the almost tangible wash of pure evil that cascaded over him, touching him, curling around him in a foul caress.

He was suddenly stricken with an almost uncontrollable urge to scrub himself with iodine, just to get rid of the filthy taint he felt crawling all over his mind in a vain effort to find a way in.

"So, Dhearec," said a tall, dark Shondarin who was sitting on a plinth. "I see that you've FINALLY managed to locate King Jadeite. Very good. That makes - what? NINE HOURS THAT YOU'VE BEEN GONE FROM YOUR POST?"

"Nine point three," Dhearec said unenthusiastically. The Madros lord put out a hand to steady Lord Jadeite, and continued. "And why are YOU here, Xer'Dun?" Dhearec's gaze swept over the scarlet-mazed chamber, and added unhurriedly, "And Kwedja. And Sailor Mars."

Jadeite hadn't even noticed the presence of others; he had been too busy trying not to be sick at the stench of evil that was choking him.

#Peace, my child. The Enemy cannot force Its way into you without me standing aside. And I will not. I WILL NOT lose another child to the Enemy, to the Shadow.#

"Well," muttered Jadeite in between gasps. "That's quite comforting."

"Did you say something, my lord?" Dhearec inquired.

"Nothing," Jadeite snapped, wrenching his arm free of the slender giant's grasp and leaning heavily on the diilyao. His infuriated blue glare touched Sailor Mars. "Why are you here?"

"I was DRAGGED here by your new allies, KING Jadeite," the raven-haired Senshi lashed right back. She folded her arms over her chest, eyes a violet bonfire. "And I was freed by Aneiron Jander."

"Fascinating," noted Dhearec, who didn't look fascinated at all. "Aneiron seems to have a Gift for finding and opening such crystals...."

"Shut up, Dhearec," Xer'Dun said, watching the blonde king and the jet-haired girl with interest. The al'Linas lord seemed to have stored away his initial bad temper and put it somewhere for future use. Xer'Dun was like that; all of his rages were cold ones. "And," he continued, shifting into High Shondarin so that the king and the girl couldn't follow his words, "I'll offer you a wager that Sailor Mars will win."

Kwedja snapped, "Don't be childish, you brat you. We are here to report to de'Dhearec sor'Wyarven, not to dicker over pointless wagers." The purple-eyed, sweet-faced woman paused, stared at the ceiling. "Besides, King Jadeite would win, I make it."

Jadeite, caught up in a glaring match with the fiery Senshi and still leaning on his staff, heard all of this at a distance; his mind caught it, processed it, and sent the gist of the unfamiliar, musical High Shondarin into his consciousness.

"Thank you, Kwedja," he said to the purple-eyed Aquara in the same tongue, not even noticing the slip from Japanese to High Shondarin. It was as if he'd spoken the language all his life. "Xer'Dun, under one of Beryl's own laws, wagering against me is High Treason. Care to be brought before one of my Tribunals?"

Sailor Mars let down her glare, looked at him in confusion. "What did you just say?"

Jadeite started to snap that he knew she'd heard what he said, when he stopped, traced his mind over the words that had just escaped him. He snapped his gaze over to the chalk-white Xer'Dun and to the astonished-looking Kwedja, who both stared at him as if he'd suddenly grown a second head. Dhearec, naturally, appeared completely unmoved.

"You just spoke in High Shondarin," said Xer'Dun at last.

Jadeite wanted to say that he knew that; but something held him back. Unconsciously he raised a hand to finger the sun-in-glory on his left breast.

He screamed in sudden, acute agony as Metallia's prison roared in protest and as the sunburst shone forth radiantly golden.

Jadeite collapsed to the floor, still holding on to the staff as if to a lifeline. On the left breast of his coat, the sigil of Amberlin Jalia, the Demonsbane of Shondar, shone ever more brilliantly in direct contrast to the shadows that began to gather around Metallia's prison.

Dhearec knelt and held the slender King's body in his strong arms, lifted Jadeite effortlessly. The Madros lord began to carry Jadeite in the direction of the blood-crimson, vaguely throbbing plinth of the ArchDemon Metallia, despite Jadeite's steadily-increasing screams of pain.

unlike the horror-stricking Mars and Kwedja, smiled and lifted his face to the steadily-beating rays of dark energy flowing forth from Metallia. The agony of Jadeite pleased him immensely. It more than made up for being forced to miss the death-throes of the youma he'd tortured.

As Dhearec prepared to lay Jadeite on the platform before Metallia's prison, like a High Priest with his similarly-struggling sacrificial victim, a strident voice rang out in protest.

"Stop right there, Shondarin! Put down our comrade!"

Dhearec, without turning to see who had spoken, answered mildly, "Of course."

And, imbuing the action with gentleness, Dhearec carefully deposited Jadeite's semi-conscious body before the prison of Metallia.

Just as Kunzite and Zoisite rushed forward to save their friend, the ArchDemon spoke; and the Negaverse trembled from top to bottom.

END PART VII.

So, honestly, what did you think? Come on, people, it's not much I ask for, just a little feedback... Here, I'll up the stakes, darnit. READERS' CHOICE: this will be due to you lucky readers out there. E-mail me with your votes: does Amberlin Jalia die or not? Will Uranus knock the Dai Shan for a loop, or not? Is Dhearec just a bit evilly influenced by all of that sitting in front of Metallia for bloody months, or not? Come on, people, THIS IS YOUR CHANCE! *g* Amberlin Over and out.

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