< ... > or is in the Kildean language
"There are times in everyone's life when they have come to a definitive
ending to 'what was' and a beginning to 'what is,' and naturally everyone's reaction is
different. As for me? I prefer to walk away, beginnings and endings are difficult enough
without them occurring in the same place."
- Ashley
The city of Valendia was active and noisy even well after sunset. The taverns and inns were crowded with travelers and tradesmen all relaxing after the day's labors. In the wealthy districts on the edge of town the hulking estate of the Duke Barbadora sat in grim testament to the powerful Senator, black buntings hanging from the walls to signify the impending death of the ailing lord. Further towards the center of town, in the older and less reputable areas of the city, two cloaked men quietly made their way into an inn. The room was small and unassuming and the small windows allowed a limited view of the alleys and the capitol buildings beyond. Shedding his cloak for the first time since entering the city, Ashley set the pack by the wall and allowed himself to stretch. Sydney watched the knight work the kinks out of his back with a rueful smile, and settled on the bed with a small sigh of relief. The journey had not been long but the cultist had little energy despite his relative health.
You look exhausted, Sydney... get some rest.
The blonde blinked in surprise at the voice in his head and frowned at his companion. Despite the knight's constant protestations and stubbornness, he was becoming quietly proficient. The man was dressed entirely in black, and blended into the shadows, but his concern was readily apparent in his posture and thoughts. Sydney silently cursed himself for confessing everything to the knight, if anything it had made the soldier even more paranoid about his 'charge's' well-being.
There is no rest on earth that will delay the course of this illness, Riskbreaker. It will happen when my work is complete, and no other time... I have some time left still. There is no rush.
"They say that the Duke is receiving no guests, no one at all who is not the servants or the priest. How do you propose to get us in to the mansion, Sydney?" The Riskbreaker's low voice broke the silence as he inspected the view from the window.
"Not us Ashley, just me." The cultist ignored the sharp look aimed at him. "This is something I must do myself, it does not concern you." Determined not to be argued down, Sydney met the knight's hard gaze with one of his own.
"It is dangerous."
"He is my father." Sydney sighed and looked away, unwilling to acknowledge the hurt that he saw in the other man's eyes at being so callously dismissed.
"There is little more you can do for me Agent Riot, there is nothing more to teach, and no time left if there was. I have been a considerable burden to you, and now I think it best that you leave the city. I warrant that by tomorrow at this time it will not be safe if you are found still here. But to answer your question... How will I get in? Simple, I will use your face." He allowed a grim smile as Ashley turned in shock and stalked over to the bed.
"Think. Everyone will think that you are returning to report information of the city's destruction, he will allow an audience with you, if no one else. When we are alone I will explain things to him and we will do what must be done." Sydney's hand reflexively sought out the ruin-covered blade at his belt, his family's prized relic.
Please let him not push this... it will be hard enough to do this without him following... worse really, If I allow him to discover how little I want this...
Wrapping his tightest shields around his mind the cultist curled into himself a little as if seeking additional warmth under his cloak. It seemed as though he was always cold now, his life energies draining away. If nature would be allowed to run its course it would be difficult to determine whether father or son had more time remaining. But of course that was the whole point of coming to the city, to defeat nature and the blood pacts sworn years ago.
"Very well." The older man perched on the edge of the bed watching the blond expressionlessly. His proximity caused Sydney to fidget slightly and sit up straighter. "I understand." The low voice grudgingly allowed. "I don't like it, but I understand. And if it is all the same to you, I think I had better stay, just to see you safely in the door." The knight rose suddenly, needing to distract himself from the blonde's confused face, and began to pull the last of the provisions from the pack.
The two men ate quietly neither knowing how to break the silence without causing hurt or offence to the other. Ashley mentally formed a list of everything that could go wrong with the young cultist's plans and was ambivalent about giving the man a high chance of success. Sydney's thoughts continuously strayed to regrets. He could not help but dwell on mistakes made, and choices that had forced his hand.
Even knowing the sum and total of my future as I did, knowing the moment and nature of my own death, I am not ready. I was so stupid, naïve, really... what was it she said? "You will search for your heart's ease for your whole life but you will only find it in death." It made no sense at the time, or rather, I assumed it was referring to her, she was the only one who ever touched my heart then. Ironic really, that she probably knew all along that the assumption was false, because here he is... and it's staring me right in the face, a universe of possibilities that are denied to me. What a hideous joke, to go and fall in love at a time like this. John would laugh himself sick... then he'd say "Well, better late than never." As if that made everything better.
Sydney offered no further complaint as the knight methodically unlaced his boots preparing to tuck him into bed like a truant son. His body stiff and weak, he was oddly comforted by the gentle ministrations. The older man's face was inscrutable as ever as he watched over the blonde, perched again on the edge of the bed, and the cultist was reminded again of John Hardin.
I remember once I was sick, it must have been right after the Rood was branded into me since that was the last time felt ill. I was sick and John watched over me all night, very like this. I wonder if he loved me even then, misguided idiot, I never deserved it, certainly never asked for it. Still... for a while it was nice, he asked so little, and was so warm... but he knew I couldn't... that I didn't really... forgive me, John, you were always the better man.
Exhausted but determined, the dying prophet studied the knight in the dim light. There was a definite pride in knowing that he had chosen a powerful successor. It was almost enough to distract him from his guilt at the way he forced the role onto the man, and the assorted fears he had for tomorrow.
He isn't as strong as I was, of course, and he can't speak a lick of Kildean... He'll never be a true proficient at all I suppose... but still... he'll do. He will do very well. I only hope he will forgive me in time... and If only I weren't so cold!
"Ashley."
The man blinked, returning from his own reverie at the sound of his name, and raised an eyebrow inquiringly.
"Grant a last request for a dying man?" Sydney fought to keep his voice light and playful despite the slight tremors wracking his body.
"Humph." Ashley's grunt was decidedly non-committal but his friend's eyes softened slightly and he moved to brush a lock of hair from the blonde's face.
Sydney steeled himself wondering what the knight's reaction would be. "Hold me?," he hastened to elucidate, seeing the man's blank look. "Just for a little while, until I fall asleep, I'm just so... cold..." The cultist trailed off, expecting the other man to pull away.
The hand touching Sydney's hair did fall away but the young man tried not to look disappointed. He closed his eyes and refused to watch as the man rose from the bed. The prophet was therefore surprised then to hear the soft sounds of first boots, then swords and belts, being dropped to the floor. Deciding to take a peak, his eyes opened just in time to be gently prodded towards the edge of the bed in order to make more room for an additional occupant. Not knowing what to do, Sydney lay still allowing the other man to settle himself comfortably. One strong arm lifted him a little and with no effort he found himself resting his head on a well-muscled shoulder, wrapped in a warm embrace. Sydney felt his shivers slowly cease as the body-heat warmed him and instinctively sought to burrow his face into the base of Ashley's neck, feeling the arms around his torso squeeze slightly in response.
"Thank you."
The prophet's voice was barely a whisper against the knight's throat, his body limply draped against his under the warm blankets. Ashley carefully noted that the younger man had thoughtfully positioned his 'arms' so the claws would be of minimal risk to his new pillow. Certain the younger man would be asleep in a matter of minutes, the knight settled himself more comfortably and reminded himself to keep his hands chastely on his companion's back. Sydney's body, always slight was now almost gaunt, seeming a feather light collection of bones and sinew in his arms. Even by the poor light cast from the windows, Ashley could marvel at the differences in their coloring, the cultist's skin seeming almost milky in comparison to his own darkly tan and callused arms. Listening to the younger man's soft breathing, he could almost pretend that he was holding his wife, that it was her blonde hair tickling his nose; almost.
Tia... I miss you. But it seems that you were right, as much as I loved... love you still, I cannot remain a automaton forever. This boy who is barely a man, somehow he has reminded me of what it was like, life with you, life before loosing you. I didn't want to care, but I do, he needs someone so badly now... We are both of us alone in the world. Is caring for him so wrong? Am I adding to my sins by allowing him into my life? I cannot believe that you would be cross with me, although it seems I will be forever cursed to act too late to save those who rely upon me. May god grant him the strength to complete his appointed task and find the peace he deserves, and me the strength to carry his burden wisely.
Ashley smoothed the blonde's hair, stroking the fine strands as he used to stroke Marco's when the boy was small. The sleeping man relaxed into the calming touch and let out a small sigh. There was an almost forgotten comfort to be found in sharing a bed with another person, the feel of Sydney's heart beating was pleasant against his skin. Surrendering to the flow of events Ashley allowed himself to fall into a restful doze ready for whatever the next day offered.
The Duke's estate was a grim as ever when the two men studied it from a convenient alley sheltered from the rain. The building was mostly dark and uninhabited, the guards at the gate already wore bands of black on their armor and shields for their ailing master. Rumor among the common folk in the area was that the old man was not expected to last beyond the dawn two days hence.
"It is time." Sydney was content with the calmness in his voice. It gave no hint as to his anxiety. Ashley wordlessly put a large, gloved hand on his arm, and squeezing it briefly, met his eyes. The prophet saw for once the myriad of emotions swirling in his companion's face and not knowing what else to do he nodded solemnly and stepped towards the gate. Between one footfall and the next his cloaked form wavered, and in his place stood the Riskbreaker, dressed as he was upon entering Léa Monde. The new Ashley looked back a moment at the real one, and gave a jaunty wink before smartly saluting the guards at the gate.
"I have an urgent report for the Duke, he's expecting me."
As Ashley watched in the shadows he smiled at the surreal experience of hearing himself arguing with the guards. Despite the quality of Sydney's shaping, if he concentrated, he could detect the ghostly double image, Sydney speaking and gesturing violently as the fake-Ashley did the same. At length the man was allowed in, and whistling merrily, moved quickly from site.
I do not whistle. Ashley snapped the thought at the departing man's back.
You do now. Get moving Riskbreaker... you should go.
Sydney's voice was warm and teasing in his mind. The knight was suddenly anxious that he would never hear it again and was determined to remember it.
Ever the joker, whelp? Take care...
No man can be fully altered from his fundamental nature. And stop worrying I already told you, no Rood-Bearer ever truly dies, we simply join with the Dark. I will be with you, always.
The strong feeling of laughter tinged the otherwise serious words and Ashley felt the cultist draw away from the contact, needing to concentrate on his surroundings. The knight pulled himself deeper in the shadows and crossing his arms against the chill air, and settled himself to wait.
'Tis amazing how little this place has changed, really. How long was it since I played in these halls, 15, 16 years? After all that's happened you'd think that I'd have forgotten it, or that his new wife would've redecorated. Poor woman, son gone, husband dying, you have no idea of what is going on, do you? Ah well, it's probably better that way.
'Agent Riot' made his way unerringly to the Duke's apartments and waited to be announced. The seneschal returned quickly, his face full of amazement and silent ushered him into the brightly lit bedroom. Sydney felt his father's curious gaze upon him but waited until the door closed once more, leaving them alone, before dropping the illusion. The young man offered his father a tentative smile and when it was returned, he moved to stand near the head of the bed.
"...Well met, Sydney."
Indeed father, all is well, the city is destroyed and Joshua is safe.
The prophet projected his reply with a silent smile, guaranteeing that their secrets remained so.
"So, it is done... You have suffered much. I, too, have played my part. Let us leave the rest to this Ashley. He is the one you have chosen... I know what must be done." The old man was too tired to project as his son had, hoping that any servants or spies listening at the door would not comprehend his cryptic comments.
It is true, death by this blade will rend a soul from its contract with the Dark, father, so if it is still what you wish...
The old man nodded in assent and took the blade from the blonde. "...I was not much of a father to you. Forgive me, my son." Sydney moved to embrace the old man who had once been the center of his world, and then pulled away, the rune-blade embedded in his chest.
Father...? Why?
The cultist felt the dagger pulling at Müllencamp's wards, his body dissolving into the air.
I could not allow my son to suffer the cursed-fate in my stead, I decided... that we should be free... together.
The old man's thoughts were the weakest of whispers as he exerted himself to gather up the dagger that had fallen through his son's now immaterial body. He watched for a moment as the prophet faded from view, returning to the spirit realm, and then took action once more. Bracing himself carefully, the old man held the dagger to his chest and let himself fall face first into the floor, the weapon embedding itself in his chest. Unlike his son, the Dark had been purged from his body long ago by baptism and blessing. His old and withered corpse remained behind as his spirit stood up, and satisfied that all was right, moved on to discover what lay beyond. The body, collapsed in a heap, was left on the floor, only to be discovered by a terrified servant minutes later. The Duke missed the excitement entirely.
Sydney was rather surprised to discover, when the disorienting shifting was done, that he was in a place entirely new. The Dead-Lands and the Shadow-Lands were familiar to him as were hundreds of other planes, having walked them all in his dreams as a Rood-Bearer. However, in those walks he had always been accompanied by Müllencamp, it was she who affected the portals, he was merely a tourist. Now he found himself alone, standing on a small white floor surrounded by what could only be the Seas of Chaos, the non-stuff that existed between realities, swirling and almost painful to his eyes. He hoped that his father had found better luck in his own after-life.
This was not part of the plan. It was a tender sentiment, father, but freedom wasn't really what I wanted right now... especially if it means I'm lost in Limbo forever.
Suddenly he found his little island shifting. Growing in a liquid fashion from the floor were two doors, both of a rather simple style. Sensing someone behind him, Sydney turned and released a sigh of relief to see the Goddess Müllencamp smiling gently at him beneath her gauzy veils.
"<Not part of the plan indeed... You were supposed to stab him... his freedom I was willing to allow, but both? He tests my generosity. Still, what is done is done, and he, at least is beyond my power to praise or punish... so all that remains is you, troublesome child.>"
The dusky woman caressed his face in an almost maternal fashion and he smiled whimsically. The ancient language sounding delightfully natural coming from her mouth, a living breathing dialect once more.
"<Pondering how to coax a stolen sheep back into the fold, my Lady? I fear I must admit that I had never intended to be liberated in such a scandalous fashion, but then maybe I should hold off asking to return in order to see what inducements you can offer me.>"
"<Insolent boy,>" Sydney ducked the playful swat she aimed at his head. "<You will get no additional inducements from me, you are spoilt enough, besides I have your word that you would be obedient once you were here... it is because of that promise that I was able to catch you at all, and yet you are free... Thus you see, the Doors. The first Door leads to the Dead-Lands, step through it, and you can join your father in seeking out Heaven or Hell or even rebirth as it please you. The second Door, that Door is mine. You must choose.>" Sydney returned her steady gaze for a moment, wondering if it was possible to made a Goddess nervous. Finally he shrugged and moved towards the second door.
"<No sense teasing you, my Lady. You know perfectly well where my preferences lay, and besides, you can get catty when you feel you've been slighted.>" He smiled broadly at her sour look and decided a final jab was in order. "<Besides, if I didn't come, you'd be stuck with having to teach the new Rood-Bearer Kildean all on your own, something I don't think either of you has the patience for. Face it, my Lady, you need me.>" The Goddess' only reply was to stick out her tongue, and laughing, Sydney executed a florid bow while holding the door open, following the woman into the mists beyond.
The dark alley provided little distraction for the Riskbreaker as he waited for a sign from the house. The guards patrolled the street in a lazy pattern, their occasional soft curses at the rain reached him with eerie clarity. Ashley could feel Sydney's presence easily, by now he was likely reunited with his father. There was no warning in Sydney's aura to prepare him when it suddenly disappeared, snuffed out like a candle at the window. Moving out of the shadows, Ashley stared in disbelief at the large manor, reaching out with his thoughts for any clue as to what had just happened. He could sense a brief flicker as the Duke died but nothing from his friend at all. Murmuring a curse he Reached again, and finding a nurse waiting with the Seneschal outside the bedroom, attempted to 'ride' her rhythm. For a moment, nothing happened, and it occurred to Ashley that this was the first time he'd ever used the gift deliberately. The connection was quickly made however, and after a moment of disorientation he was able to see through her eyes.
"It's time for his medicine." The nurse, Maddie, put a hand to her forehead feeling suddenly a little faint. The feeling passed however and she dismissed it as a symptom of working so hard the past few days. The deathwatch had begun and everyone was tense.
"I know, I know, but his lordship insisted that he not be disturbed with this visitor, that it was very important. It's odd really, I've never seen this Riskbreaker before, how did the Duke know to expect him..." the old man toyed with his goatee thoughtfully.
Ashley gritted his teeth in annoyance, desperate to see what had happened in the room. Very gently, trying to play off of the woman's natural suspicion and worry, he goaded her to action.
"They've been in there alone for almost half a hour, Sir, and it's been so quiet... don't you think perhaps someone should check on him? The doctor was very explicit in his instructions, the Duke is not to be excited!" The woman allowed a little righteous indignation into her professional voice, knowing she was on firm ground once the doctor's orders were mentioned. Ashley sighed in relief as the Seneschal nodded in agreement and moved to knock on the door.
There was no answer to either the taps, or the nervous verbal hails that followed. Mistress Maddie stood by, medicinal bag at the ready as the door was reluctantly opened and the servants took in the curious scene. The Duke's bed was in disorder, the man seemingly having slid out of it and taking the majority of the blankets with him to the floor. As Maddie moved closer she gasped in shock as she, and thus, Ashley, saw the crumpled Duke's body on top of a pile of blood-soaked sheets. There was a long and lethal looking dagger piercing the old man's chest, the hilt lost from view under his body. The nurse began to scream frantically as the Seneschal ceased all gentlemanly pretense and swore a sharp oath. Ashley exerted his will again, rooting the terrified woman to the spot and watched carefully as several footmen worked to untangle the old body from the sheets and place him back upon the bed. Their confused mobbing around the corpse effectively destroyed any footprints Sydney might have left in the carpet, making the disappearance of the assailant even more of a mystery. The Seneschal quickly put two and two together and called out the guard, ordering them to hunt down and capture a Riskbreaker by the name of 'Ashley Riot' for the crime of murder.
Wait... that's me! Damn you and your games Sydney! So this is why you wanted me to leave at once, you were never planning on leaving his side, the two of you went together, leaving me the last man reported to see the Duke alive!
"Bloody Hell!," Ashley swore aloud and accidentally caught the attention of the guards.
"Who walks there at this hour? What is your business? Show your papers!" One of the guards moved towards him threateningly. Still swearing Ashley reached for the Dark within and spun the first illusion he could think of, his form shrinking in to the more delicate lines of Agent Merlose.
"Callo Merlose, VKP Inquisitor." Ashley pantomimed the woman holding out her badge.
The guard paused, surprised at the woman's cold precision. "M-my lady! I beg your forgiveness!"
Agent Merlose shrugged and stowed her badge in her coat, "It is no matter. You are merely doing your duty." Ignoring the man's stuttered thanks Ashley turned and quickly strode into the night. He had no intention of getting caught in the witch-hunt that was sure to begin at any moment. Dropping the illusion once in the safety of the shadows he sprinted silently down the empty streets, seeming nothing but a cold breeze to the few souls still about.
In the momentary stillness of what had been their room at the inn, Ashley sat to catch his breath. Even with his shields firmly in place he could feel the city rousing, the spark of uproar, started at the Duke's estate, had been fanned into a fire, and as more and more people woke to the cries of alarm, the disturbance continued to grow. The noise was becoming deafening to Ashley's new and delicate senses. It was time to go. Shouldering the pack, he stared once more at the still rumpled bed, almost seeing the ghostly after-image of himself and the mage as they had been mere hours ago. Two people lying quietly content in each other's arms, shrouded in a warm pile of blankets. The knight could still hear Sydney's voice as the smaller man detailed his plan of attack.
"We will do it after dark, illusions are always easier to believe then. I will go in alone as you... don't interrupt!" Sydney prodded the Riskbreaker with a sharp claw to stop him from voicing an objection. The cultist raised himself enough to look Ashley in the eye. "I go in alone. We decided this already." Receiving the older man's reluctant nod,
Sydney happily settled himself again in the curl of the loose embrace. "You, my pugnacious ally, will wait outside, unless you decide to show a sudden burst of sense and realize you should leave the vicinity...? No...? I thought as much." Sydney smiled at how deep his companion's growl sounded when he had an ear to the man's chest. "When my business is completed, I will rejoin you outside and we will depart, quietly and quickly... I have no intention of spending my final hours in a city that smells so strongly of holy-incense."
Sydney's voice was full of humor but his muscles were tense. Not knowing how to respond to the man's strange mood, Ashley focused on keeping him relaxed, gently rubbing his shoulders until the man calmed again and released a chuckle.
"I think I now know why Müllencamp doesn't speak to you yet, by the way, although I admit it did puzzle me at first... I think it is that she's never learned to speak French. My father certainly never used it with her when he was Rood-Bearer, and I was taught the ancient languages almost before I could read, so I never needed to use French either. But you, you barely know any Latin, much less an antiquated dialect of it, she knows not how to make you understand her, I wager. Ah me, the irony of it all, even goddesses are not what they're advertised to be, maybe if she draws you pictures of what she wants done..."
Ashley couldn't help but allow a mellow laugh as his imagination supplied him with the possibilities for that idea. Sydney propped himself once more to watch him, delighted.
"So at last the man laughs, very timely Ashley, very timely... Had you waited much longer, I would've missed it! Anyway as much fun as sleeping late was... I'm starving. Feed me!"
"Feed yourself, whelp."
"Show some respect old man, just because I'm not the Bearer anymore doesn't mean that I can't make you suffer."
Ashley blinked, snarling at his own inattention, and dismissed the haunting sounds of laughter from his mind. Two weeks ago he had been a man on a mission to discover the identity and agenda of the mysterious cult prophet, Sydney Losstarot. Two weeks ago he had had a life, an identity, a purpose, and twelve days ago those had all changed. Oddly enough, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that the past handful of days were likely among the happiest in his life, certainly since Tia died. For the first time in years he had simply been himself, and it had frightened him that he hadn't remembered how, not until Sydney had coaxed it out of him. Now that the mage was gone, Ashley found himself once more at loose ends. He was no longer a knight, or a Riskbreaker, but neither did he wish to join with the cult.
The man walked calmly out of the city and picked a road at random letting his enhanced instincts show the way. He didn't care where he ended up, just so long as there were very few people. The Rood-Bearer's strides carried him north with surety, the dusty road's regular traffic paid the man little attention. He was just one more nameless wanderer, another sell-sword, another vagrant in search of peace.
Oh my goodness oh my goodness! We've made it to the end of volume 1 girly scream Only 12 more volumes to go... full body, toes-in-the-air face fault, THUD
My chibi-Ashley and chibi-Sydney have popped the cork on a bottle of 'Sparkling-$8.99' which I'll hazard is a terrible year, and worse, non-alcoholic but what the hell, we're celebrating, and we can always give the rest to my rose bush which oddly decided to bloom this week, odd being that this is almost December... (it's an indoor, that explains it I think).
Special thanks! To the GIA's superb web-site for it's raw fodder for my new web border, also a huge thank you to the techno-mancer web-site for their lovely lovely script from which I needed to borrow in order to get the ending dialog correct, I've beaten the game 4 times now and still can't memorize it word for word J Go to their web page and read the whole thing for spoiler laden madness.
Explanations? Hmmm for those of you still chanting "they're just friends" out there... well, you lose, sorry. Just adjust it a little to, "Ashley thinks that they're just friends..." and you should be fine for another chapter or 2. For those who think Müllencamp is a little silly, you're right, she is. She's also a little crazy, but I'll get into that later. I like her a lot actually, I was never a big fan of stuffy know-it-all gods anyway, I prefer the smaller homegrown variety. For some reason I see her and Sydney as a very melodramatic and frivolous pair... whether they bring out the best, or the worst in each other I will leave as an exercise to the viewer. Ah yes and the "Why is Sydney being so aggressive in this chapter?" question... well damnit I wasn't going to detail every moment of their 2 weeks together... lets just say they became friends. And hell Sydney's got the proverbial 24 hrs to live, of course he's gonna try to wheedle some snuggles. It's like getting that last margarita when the bartender announces closing time.
Hey did anyone catch the semi-blatant Star Wars refrence?
Lunar.