Across the wastes, on a wall, two shades try to decypher if there is a man on the barren paddock, or if it is some swirling winds that have whipped up again. "There is too much that is spartan, now, Surge. It makes it harder to see the enemies, now."
"One would think that it would be the other way around, to hear Braze talk, though." Surge responds to his companion. "Maybe one of us should check it out?"
"You go." The other says, quickly.
"Throw you for it." Surge replies, with just a little thought. "One, two, three." the other counts off, as they crach their fists against one anothers', then, with the next movement, Surge opens his hand wide, while the other closes his fist tighter. "Damn! You always win." he complains, a sullen whine beginning to creep into his voice.
"That is because you always choose rock." Surge says, then nudges the other forward. "Now go! And be quick."
**
The form smiles, seeing the shade moving toward him. "Don't worry, Casticus, it won't be long that you'll have to continue your suffering as a shade." He says, drawing an ebon blade from under his cloak. And once you're dispatched, we'll move on to the real work to set htings in motion, again... I can hardly wait to see this stagnation end." He adds, raising the sword to strike down teh shadow that races his way.
In a flash of light, Casticus's soul is ripped from the husk of the shade body, and the figure that dispatched him is standing on a steel deck. His boots, dusted with the soil of Entarre', begin to dampen and cake with blood that poors from the man at his feet. Seeing the agony in the face of this brave Hylondin, the figure bends down to him and speaks one word. "Collin." But in that one word is so much more... emotion, deeper than the love of a father or son; power, the stregth of magicks far more powerful than any mortal could understand; and authority, a command to rise to attention.
In mere moments, the wounds close in Collin's chest and he does indeed stand upright. "My thanks, great Jennier. Is it time to begin the healing, or am I to suffer more pain, first?" the elven god asks in a matter of fact tone.
Jennier responds with a sad smile, "If only it were so easy to end your pain with one swordstrike. But we both know it would be too good to be true. However, there will be something awaiting you at the end of this ordeal, Master of Pain, Collin Danforth... something that will give you ease as the new age comes forth for Entarre'."
With a nod of his head, and a grimace, Collin begins to walk after the trail Jenniri and Blade had taken, knowing that if he were to turn, he would have seen that the other god would be gone.
*****
Collin walks the trail of the sun, watching it begin to sink toward the horizon. //Once you're down, old friend, I'll be able to move faster... I do wish you would speed it along, though.// He sends his thoughts outward, knowing they fall on a dumb mind. With the beginning of sunset, though, he does loosen his shirt from his body, and let the flaps under his arms free to breath the air through the cloth.
//And what of this woman, Jenirri? Is she alright... did she actually escape the dark one, unharmed, with Harmony? And what's this of Blade, did he come back? If so, why didn't he come back for me?// His thoughts continue to meander as he follows the dipping sun. Looking skyward, at one time, he sees the double moons, shining full. "So, you both grace me this night? Do your sisters also do such a thing in the other realms?" He says, with a faint smile toward the luminous bodies above.
As he passes a copse of bushes, he does not hear the faint rustle of the leaves, or see the form that follows him, its form moving through the brush to gain a better vantage of this mythic form.
*****
Still lost in his own thoughts, the elven man in red seems to be oblivious to his surroundings. He passes a great keep, it's stone bricks crumbling and fallen; a skeletal horse and rider standing sentry to the long decimated structure. A shadow of rock hiding several pairs of eyes that watch him pass without incident.
//If I were to find that beautiful lady, Jeniri, now, what would I tell her? Oh, it was just a scratch!?! She saw a sword plunged through my chest, for Yeslin's sake.// With a sigh, he moves past a large trunk of a tree, and re-immerges on a distance stand of rock, the cave behind him dark and ominous. //I wonder where Blade has taken her. Will he offer her help, now, too? No, he was busy in the other arenas of this war... he wouldn't shirk his duties for a pretty face.//
Collin moves onward, his hands stretching forward, as if searching for some kind of tripwire, or invisible barrier. //Where are you?// He thinks, as he continues walking forward cautiously. Then he feels what he's been searching for, the hair on his arms standing on end, for a fraction of a second, while he steps forward quickly. In the blink of an eye, he is transported to a new place... a place that is dark and full of moisture. //I only hope they're ready for me.//
With a sudden blast of sensation, Collin is again in the light, and standing before Blade and Jenniri, swaying slightly. //Damn transportation unit is going to need re-powering soon.//
He steps forward, looking Jenniri over as if examining her for injuries. His pulse beating faster in his temples for just a moment, as he drinks her figure into him mind with his eyes. //What a beauty! I wonder if she's aware that she's treading on the toes in comparison with some of the goddesses.//
With a smile to her, he asks, "Are you alright? You weren't hurt at all while I was away, were you?"
Jenn stares at him in wonder. "I thought you were dead!" she cries out.
"I cannot die." He responds, a forlorn look in his already sorrowful baby blue eyes. Without another word, he turns, taking her hand. He does not know how to tell this woman that there are times he begs for death, only to have it denied him. Or that the pain of his broken wings becomes so excruciating, when he doesn't even have a wing that is broken, that he whispers to the powers that be to end his torment. So instead, he hurries her through the corridors they are now within, seeking out the one being that he knows will aid them in their quest to the heart of darkness... to the one known as Shadow.
Startled by his claim, and uncertain whether it is a boast or a lament, Lark follows the silent figure through the maze, her thoughts to herself.
"You don't seem as if you believe me." He says, after a moment of turning through mirrored corridors. "Shall I prove myself, yet again?"
"No!" the girl cries, turning to look at him. "No, of course not! I..."
The forces that await them ahead begin to grow impatient. Unsure if he can hold them much longer, their leftennant silently signals for them to attack.
She falls silent again, anxiety in her chest clutching like a wild animal. She has never felt so uncertain around any man or creature as she does this one. It leaves her unsettled.
Without a shout, or warning at all, Jenniri sees six shades move into position behind the man she finds so compelling. Their dark swords nearly dripping with ichor. As one hisses, she feels the chill of hatred within its voice. "Movvve, magesssss! And nnno trixesss, or you wh-ill end y-h-our sssself."
The elven girl's ebony eyes widen, then narrow. Very briefly, she glances into the eyes of her companion, her slender fingers twitching. Her mind racing, her strength in her will, she counts the enemy.
//Don't do anything drastic yet, young beauty.// Collin thinks, as his mind races with ideas of how to handle these annoyances. ~Jenniri?~ His mind invades hers, ~Can you work a spell to attack, while I throw up a shield?~
Wordlessly and subtly, she nods.
She will not be captured.
Her personal thoughts are all he needs to ensure she's ready to fight.
"Jove! Ria ria! Resh!" she cries out, raising her hands. Calling upon the ancient names of fire, she calls the flame forth from her own form and flings it, as intensely bright orbs, into the shapes of the shadows. Four such missiles fly, striking into the solid hearts of an equal number of shades, detonating therein.
As the woman next to him tosses her spells, Collin acts, as well; silently moving his fingers in a way that causes an invisible barrier to come between the shades and them. The transparent shield wavers slightly as gouts of hidious vitroil run down it's energetic surface.
"Flames to your rotten hearts!" she screams at them defiantly, drawing her blade from under her robes.
Collin takes Jenniri's hand and moves her away from the beast as quickly as possible, not looking back, himself. "No use waiting for them to break past that shield, milady, Let's just go... we're late enough as it is." He says, quickly steering her through corridors darker than she's ever seen before.
Accepting his guidance, the girl nonetheless keeps her weapon at hand.
But one of their foes flits hot on their heels. He is singed, and angry, but otherwise unharmed. //You will not escape me, foolish mortals.// He thinks to his prey, drawing out a sword that glows in a red-hot light of its own.
Glancing at the blade for only a moment, he sees a shadowed rune glow white on it's surface, then he knows. //So, Collin, you seek your father? He is in my realm, now... where your soul will forever join his, as soon as I catch you. He winds his ways through the corridors, bouncing for only a fraction of a second against a magickal boundary before absorbing it as his own power to store.
***
The figure moves after Collin, waiting for it's chance... watching him move into the deserted wastes of Entarre's landscape. //Soon, Master Brood... soon.// The shadow thinks, moving close behind the mage.
And when Collin disappears the beast looks around, frantically sniffing. "NO!" it's obviously male voice cries out, "No, this can't happen to me, now. I promised!" the form sits beginning to rock back and forth as it cries.
Lost and alone, he continues to cry, until the tears no longer come. "I'm so sorry, Master." He whispers, finally, with a heavy sigh that ends in a sob.
Getting up, the form spreads great star-covered wings and rises to the air, "Maybe there is hope for us yet, Master." He speaks aloud, rounding to the North and shooting through the sky toward a high cleft at the distant mountain range. //Maybe she can help...// his thoughts continue, as he flies into the distance.
As he nears the mountain, the cold bites into his flesh, sending goose-bumps. But it is ignored, he has felt the icy wonder of near-space before, and knows that this can be handled easily enough. "Come on, you've got that Celestian blood, not just Elroheire... get with it... warm up." His teeth chatter, and he sets down on the mountainside, ready for anything that might try to stand in his way, as he approaches the White Teir, the home of the Goddess of Prophecy. "Please, don't turn me away, Great Lady, it is of utmost importance I speak with you." He speaks, unaware his thoughts are made aloud.
"Honorable Mistress?" His voice echoes from outside the Teir, but as he enters, he finds it's normal light and glory are faded. "No! Where can she be?" He drops to the floor, unable to move for a time, his dispair is so great.
What seems like an eternity later, he begins to look about, feeling as if this chaimber might be a ruse, to confuse those who would seek her harm. "Great Lady Seere, are you here?" His voice echoes through the chaimbers. "I've come to ask aid of my master, The Celestian Brood." He continues, hoping that she will come from some hidden spot and offer him what he seeks.
With his talons stretched outward, he feels the scales of a long cold form. //Then I am too late... she is passed, already.// He believes, not knowing what to do now. With a sigh-like sob, he begins to walk from the room, towards the direction he'd come, only to find that the door he used is no longer there.
"Wha...!?!" he begins, but the sound of rich, sinister laughter booms from a bassoon throat, cutting off the sound of whatever question he was going to ask. A chill runs up his spine, and he knows what has happened now. With one word, a hiss from his mouth, he spits, "Auron!" His claws flash in the dark, striving to hit a target he cannot see.
Eluding the blinded being easily, the hunter laughs again. "You know me. Good. Seeking your elusive master still? Give it up. He will perish before you set eyes upon another of his cursed lights."
"If you dare to attempt to finish him, you'ld best ensure you're wearing my hide, first... lest you find an end to your own existence." The blind one cries, whirling faster than the felinoid would have guessed possible at first.
With deadly accuracy the felinoid lands a stinging blow to the side of the other's face. "Surrender, fool. You know not where you are."
"But I can smell your reek well enough, beast!" he hisses, striking Auron across the chest with his claws. The blow does not tear through armor, but his foe now knows that he will not pull his punches, either. The blind one circles, easily dancing away from Auron's strikes, their dance continuing for the moment. //I will buy you time to hide yourself, if nothing more, My Lord Brood.// he thinks, knowing his strategy against Auron's attacks can only last for so much longer.
Gaining caution rather than arrogance from his opponents' attacks, Auron finds himself tiring of the game. "I will toy with you no longer. Surrender now. You will be rewarded for serving the Unending Majesty of the Night Mistress! Strike again and I end this!"
The blinded one laughes mirthlessly. "I will end myself, before surrendering to such a weak warrior as you are." He tries goading him a bit longer, circling as if he knows exactly where Auron is. "I'm sure if you were to let that sword fall, you wouldn't stand a chance against me, let alone one of my brethren."
The taunt is not enough to fool the cat-man. "So be it." With a lightning-fast lunge he buries his black-bladed sword into the man's heart.
The Celestial humanoid moves with a feint to one side, then attacks from the other. His claws shred Auron's peicemail at the right flank, and the blood that stains his claws is freshly dripping as he pulls away. "What is this, you actually bleed, rather than drip ichor like your bitch-mistress?"
"Meet Starslayer," he says in a deep growl.
"I'd rather see your spirit in Demonshire's pits." The blind one retaliates, as the sword plunches into his chest. He feels its cold bite and spits in Auron's face with his last bit of life. The burn of heat from the plasma inside his stomach that he vomits toward the felinoid taking it's toll on the patchwork cloak and it's wearer. And as the sword takes his last bit of star-shine heat, he turns to dust, blowing away like a thousand particles of snowflakes in a winter breeze.
Brushing the debris from his face and chest, Auron takes a moment to recover. He sighs, grateful that the robe and sword together protect him from the immense heat of his chosen foes, knowing full well he should have been cooked bye the death fires of the celestial-blooded.
A figure sweeps into the area of the cavern, behind him. Unseen, unfelt, as it's own dark pawns are often said to be able to do.
His composure resumes, and he studies the area. //They could well be coming here...// He cautiously samples the scents.
"Wh-ell done, lih-ttle K-hat!" It's voice hisses behind the warrior, a whisper as harsh as claws raking a chalkboard. "B-hut the Missstressssss has o-THer planssss for you. I H-ave come to fffetch you."
Without another word, the beast opens a portal of shadow, it's swirling darkness absorbing all light from the surroundings into it's maw of shifting energies.
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