Just an RP Accessory |
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Joined: Thu 17 Feb , 2005 1:28 am
Location: Elenos, Tirnor
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Staring hard at Giliath’s face, Randir read her emotions. The Mind-Toucher had
successfully pulled her friend out of her dream state, she was fully in the here and
now, and frantic to reach the top of the hill. Satch, Lily and Bree stood close, arms
held out to stop her. Bree was saying something about returning to the clearing…..
"NO!" Randir spoke decisively, stepping back to let Giliath pass. "Going back is no
good, we must continue forward."
"But she needs rest," Bree began, as Giliath took advantage of the opening Randir
provided, and resumed her rush up the slope, pulling Celebsul along behind her.
Randir reached out and laid a light hand on Celebsul’s neck, and he stopped
instantly, thereby forcing Giliath to stop as well.
"If we return to the clearing, we may never leave it again---not alive." Randir spoke
loudly; she had everyone’s attention, including Giliath’s. "WaterMaster, you came
seeking something you thought lost. The rest of you came to help your friend. What
you seek lies at the top of the hill. You must go……WE must go," now she faced
Giliath directly. "Whatever awaits you, know that you do not stand alone."
Mathurin had quietly moved closer, leading the horses. Giliath, looking relieved,
started forward once more, and the other Blade Runners fell in behind her. Lily, bow
in hand, looked grimly at the mist-enshrouded hilltop.
"So our quest ends there," she said, her voice determined.
"Oh, no, Hunter." Lily and the others turned, surprised at the tone of Randir’s voice.
Was it sadness? Randir’s face looked troubled as she shook her head. "It is not the
end. Would that it were."
Lily had thought to argue when the big, gray wolf, who was obviously her brother, had urged her to her horse, but she thought better of it. She could sense his urgency, and when Aeysha broke her tether and cantered to her, she knew that this was not the time for questions.
Mathurin had hesitated when he had heard Giliath’s name. She wondered what he could have possibly remembered that would have changed his mind so quickly. He had been adamant that she stay away from the action, but now, he had turned from that completely.
It didn’t matter why, in a way. She was there, now and no one had questioned her. Everyone must have assumed that Lily would have found a way, no matter what the cost to herself. She only hoped that she wouldn’t cause everything in her path to burst into flames.
Her brother had fallen behind and had transformed to the more familiar tall, dark haired figure. She could sense that he was fearful of something. The horses whickered plaintively, and he spoke to them in a strange language.
Giliath was determined and she climbed the steep slope resolutely, as the four women followed her closely. Mat was gripping Lily’s shoulder…She could feel something at the top of the hill…She gripped her bow more tightly, although she doubted that weapons would be of any use once they reached the top of the hill.
Lily gently tossed a handful of sparks to cut a path of light through the thickening mist.
They were more than half way up the hill, now. A larger shower of sparks illuminated the hilltop. There were two- not just one figure at the top of the hill. One of them was obviously Giliath’s father….the grip on her shoulder tightened… Did Mathurin know him? And the other was a woman…
Lily could feel a sense of foreboding. And then she almost laughed out loud as she realized how little that she really knew of this quest. They needed to find Giliath’s father, but beyond that, she knew nothing…she glanced at Bree, Satch, and Randir in turn. Whether or not they shared any of her fears, she did not know. She gripped her brother’s hand and with renewed determination, moved onward and upward. Whatever Giliath needed from her, she was ready....
Estel followed the man, though not too closely, for she didn't want him to think that she was pursuing him. She held up her blades so that she could see to follow him, but the blades wouldn't give off the light. Looking at them closely, she saw that the star was very dim, and the blades were corroded and black where the mans blood at touched them.
Hope was dying before her eyes......
It felt like hours since that had happened, since that thought had crossed her mind. Now she was feeling her way down through dark corridors that she didn't recognize, following only a madman's distant laughter and focusing on the faded light of a dying star. Her fingers felt as though they were burned by acid every time she touched the walls, but it was better than running into them with the full length of her body. She had been unable to move for long minutes the first time that had happened, and had not allowed the same horror to occur again.
Deep black surrounded her, and for the first time since she had become Guild Mistress, she didn't know where she was. Even the deepest of the catacomb tunnels had been known to her, but now, some dark force had opened new ones. Entrances that had been closed up thousands of years before, with what was behind them locked with them. There were stories behind it she was sure, but they could only be told by those that had built this place. They were long gone, and she was here now, lost in the dark, and letting her mind wander farther down the dark paths than even her body was willing to travel.
The stones on the floor began to level off, though the stones still buckled up as if to trip her. Light showed not to far ahead, and the mans insane giggles sounded close. Estel let go of the wall and slowly moved forward towards the flickering red light of the room, but almost instantly tripped over a rock she knew had not been there before. Her blade hand tore open, letting blood wash across her palm. Loath to allow her blood to come in contact with the black blood that stained her blades and stole their light, she switched it to her other hand and moved into the room.
"I told you she was not that way!" the madman raved as he capered around the room. "She was where I said all along."
Estel watched in horror as he pointed to a skeleton that seemed to stare at her from a throne like chair in the room. The man danced towards it, and began kissing its fingers and cheekbones, laughing and crying at the same time.
"Lily, I wouldn't let him kill you. Can't play games with death, but he was only pretending. Pretending! He couldn't have you so I destroyed you! Blood and bones and flesh and water all dancing in sacred circle. That's what makes you mine. Can't take life as a prize. I destroyed you. "
The man chittered his words, jumping from stone to throne and splashing in a murky puddle. He stopped then, sane thoughts fleeting through his mind before he lost all again. Ripping off his shirt, he took a knife and slashed at his arms and chest, letting the blood drip into the water. Taking his shirt, he dipped it in the black and bloody pool at his feet and began washing the skeleton with it.
"Pretty Lily must be clean. Denying death deserves a party. Innocent anger washes black and blessed becomes hidden. I must find a proper gown for you my love. Stars and gossamer like the sea flowing through her body. That would be most beautiful for my love."
Not able to turn her gaze aside, she witnessed something that terrified her more than anything had ever done before. Flesh began crawling onto the bones, a face began to form, and eyes blazed where only empty sockets had been before. Each time he wiped the blood water across the bones, flesh writhed and grew in its path. Features became evident, and it was not Lily sitting before her. Black hair fell in waves, hiding the naked body of the woman reclining in front of her. The man fawned at her feet, still dabbing at her with night soaked shirt and muttering about finding a gown.
It was the woman from her dreams, now sitting before her in blood and growing flesh. The throne, Estel realized, was a kneeling dragon, wings arched over and eyes gazing at her with the same lust as the one in her nightmare.
Panicking, she held her blades in front of her with both hands. The woman merely laughed. The madman wheezed mirth with her, and continued dancing around Estel, circling faster and closer, and singing words about his Lily.
"Dresses and a party. Deaths defeat came in Lily's life. Flesh to flowers, bones to ash. Colors for my lovers ball."
The sound of woman’s laughter and mans insane song overwhelmed her. Desperately, she turned, searching for an escape. The room around her seemed to have no walls, no door. There were dragons glaring down on her everywhere she looked, and an unknowing, uncaring man skipping and spinning between her and them, his words floating, sinking, intertwining with horrible laughter. After an eternity of hopeless, thoughtless scrambling, she lowered her scissors in defeat. There would be no escape from this. In numb sorrow, she lowered her head as well, and watched the blades begin to fall towards the floor with the blood from her wounded hand. The laughter of the woman grew, and with it, there was a sudden blinding flash of light. It erased all sound, all sight - even erased the very sense of her own body.
She knew no more.
Giliath trudged up the slope her back bent low into the rise. She climbed pulling Celebsul behind her never looking back, never turning to see if her companions still followed. She kept her eyes fixed on the ground in front of her watching as it went by foot by foot, slowly rising.
The morning had grown colder since they had found her. A thick blanket of cloud, refusing to let any sun through its bulk to warm the damp air, dominated the sky. The others would have their hoods over their heads and their arms pulled tightly into their chests to chases away the cold, but Giliath ignored it. There was probably no use anyway. She only cared how high she could climb before her strength gave out.
She bent further towards the ground trying to lessen the work when Celebsul‘s leads suddenly went taught in her hand forcing her to stop. She looked up. They had reached the top of the hill... and the mist. It loomed up in front of her in an unyielding wall of shifting white. Celebsul stepped back, pulling on his leads and trembling under a fresh coat of sweat. Giliath pulled, trying to will him forward, but he would not move and she finally dropped the two strips of leather in frustration.
The others strung themselves out beside her staring up at the mist as if it were as impassable as a stone wall without a gate. Mathurin gently stroked Celebsul’s nose and pulled him away from the summit to join the other horses. He seemed comforted by every step he took away from the hilltop.
Bree gently stretched out a hand towards the mist, but pulled it back before her fingertips reached the wall. "How are we going to get past that?" she asked quietly, but no one answered.
Giliath closed her eyes and rubbed at the side of her face. She ran her hand through her hair then suddenly slammed it into her thigh. "Damn it!" she screamed. She felt the tension in the others around her as if they wanted to reach out to her to help, but knew there was nothing they could do.
She closed her eyes trying to find some solution, some bit of information that would show her what to do, but her thought strayed and she found it dark in the shadow of her eyes. She could see images, glimpsed in flashes of memory as if flipping through the pages of a book. On and on they past through her mind’s eye. Flashes of memory. But there was nothing to aid her. It was all her father, his face, his hands, his eyes - always brief and incomplete. And when her eyes snapped open she felt unbearably empty knowing that this was all that she had left of him beyond the scissors in her belt.
Her mind went terribly blank.
A hand fell on her shoulder and she found herself throwing it off.
Some part of her had thought this was all going to be easy, that she would ride from the gates of Elenos and find her father standing somewhere waiting for her on the road. But it had been nothing but one disaster after another, dangers followed by dangers and she had taken the others into every one of them with no thought for anything other than finding a man she could barely now remember.
Why can't I see him?
Minutes slipped by and Giliath just stood in front of the mist, the thing that separated her from the relief to the emptiness and confusion.
Why can't I see him?
She should have never given up looking for him after her mother died. She should have kept trying to find him instead of staying in Elenos. If only her mother had told her where he was! She would have been able to find him! She should have been able to find him anyway! She stared down at his scissors tucked in her belt, then up at the wall in front of her, her dark eyes blazing with anger and self-reproach.
Why can't I see him?
She closed her eyes trying to come up with any glimpse of him that she could, but nothing came to interrupt the lack. She felt a surge of rage.
The young Blade Runner took her father’s scissors from her belt and clenched them tightly in her hand and the moon blazed under the heat of her hand. Barely aware of her own actions, caught in the energy of her anger, she stepped boldly up to the mist and slammed her fist into the wall. She could feel it shudder and weaken. She threw her hand into the wall again and again. She could feel it breaking under the strain of each blow.
Sudden a rush of energy filled her as the anger rose in her mind. Some part of her warned against giving into such emotion, that it was dangerous, but she didn’t care. She only wanted to see him again; maybe then she would be able to stop waiting to feel the way she did before she knew he wasn’t coming back.
She brought her hand up and threw it into the mist again and as if she had kicked open a door it fell back in front of her. The others stared at what she had done. An opening had formed in the wall, but the mist on either side still held firm and bent up and around the break that stretched up towards the summit in a great arched tunnel.
Giliath strode forward holding her hand up before her face as if she could keep the tunnel from collapsing with a wave of her palm. The others fell in behind her, huddled close together in single file, but the horses would not enter the mist despite every effort that Mathurin could think of and finally he tied their leads to a stunted tree before following after the others.
Giliath lead them up the slope through the path that she had forced. There was even less light in the tunnel then there had been under the pale of cloud and she could see the little sparks of light behind her that Lily had ignited on her fingers to guide them, but there was no need. The tunnel was straight and even and made it’s way directly up with no care to lessen the slope by zigzagging up the rise.
They made their way silently up behind Giliath, watching the grey form of the backs of the person in front of them. Despite the power that Giliath had shown they felt as if the tunnel would fall in on them at any moment, that it would use any break in her will to crush them where they stood. A little light suddenly came through above Giliath, crowning her head in a grey glow, but it did little to hearten them. It only meant they were closer to the end.
Giliath’s pace quickened as the light came in around her. It was almost over. He would be there waiting for her. The walls on either side began to thin and fade. Almost there. The roof above her head fell away revealing the grey sky and suddenly she found herself in the open again.
Her hand dropped to her side and her body seemed to shrink as she slumped forward a bit. There were two figures standing there on the summit, a woman she had never seen before and a man. She gasped and could feel the tears starting in her eyes as the memory flooded back. The sound of his voice, the warmth of his hand on her face, the shape of his smile....
"Father?" she said weakly, but he was different now. He seemed older beyond the years that had come between them. Gone was the strength that lifted her onto his shoulders that now slumped in a tired heaped below his face, dark and worn. He swayed gently on bent knees and gripped a crooked staff in a thin hand for support.
A thin smile of recognition spread across his pale lips that quickly fell into pain and fear. She could hear him wheezing as he tried to speak. "I’m sorry," he said and fell to his knees.
The horses would not be calmed, once the door was opened. Aeysha told Mat that she would not go through, and no amount of coaxing or pleading was going to change hers or any of the other horses minds. With an audible sigh, he gently pried Lily’s fingers off of him and tethered the horses to an old tree stump. No matter what happens, wait for us, he told them, sternly. Our greatest need will likely be upon our return. With that, he quickly caught up to the steadily advancing women, and caught hold of his sister. Their fear was penetrating, but no more than his own.
It was a heart wrenching sight that awaited him. Aldric, the man who had saved him from certain death more than ten years ago and who had taught him how to harness the beast within himself. He was a mere shell of the man that Mat remembered, aged way beyond his years…and projecting a hopelessness way beyond anything that he himself had felt, even when he lay in his cell in the Spammer’s prison, gasping with what he thought would be his last breaths.
At first, he hung back, not wanting to interrupt the reunion between father and daughter, but when the old man fell to his knees, he could wait no longer. In his haste, he nearly knocked his sister sprawling.
Metal grated in the background- Satch and Bree had drawn their scissors. Randir had transformed back to her cat shape, and Lily knocked an arrow. The woman had nearly been forgotten about...She drifted out of the shadows...
Bree had of course told them all that had befallen her and Lily since the fog came, and while Leafy was glad they were both safe, and rejoiced in the Nóla’s death, something not quite comprehensible still tugged at her stomach, and she was unsettled, though she did not know why.
Not long had passed when Úcenite came striding out of the trees, and strangely, a small smile was upon her lips. Leafy wondered if she knew anything that had happened, but she simply gave a small nod of encouragement to Satch as she held yet a another cloth to Lily’s side, and moved quickly to Leafy’s side, sitting down upon a tree stump.
"I have just seen someone who wishes to speak to you," she said casually, reaching for Leafy’s broth and taking a large mouthful.
"Who?" Leafy asked, immediately interested.
"You will find out when we go, won’t you? This is delicious, Mind-Toucher."
"Go where?"
Úcenite let out a large sigh and set down her bowl. "You know, for a half-Dreamer your mind isn’t as swift as I would expect."
Leafy opened her mouth to let out an indignant exclamation, but Úcenite cut her off, speaking fast and low. "Listen, the Nóla is dead. No evil will dare come here for at least a while. It is time you returned to the spirit world and learnt more about your gift. The earth is trembling, you feel it don’t you?"
"I… I felt a little disquieted yes-"
"Yes. Something is happening, or is going to happen. I don’t know exactly. But you must be as prepared as you can be for when it does. Your Companion thinks so too. Now call him, and we shall depart."
"Uh, ok…" she walked over to the horse, and gave its bridle an absent-minded tug. The horse made no response apart from what Leafy could have sworn was a withering look.
"Manners, Leafy," Úcenite called, with a wry smile.
Leafy rolled her eyes at her, and turned back to the horse. "If you would be so kind, Master Steed, Miss Úcenite and I have need of you and would greatly appreciate your service."
"Can you not speak in your mind, child?" Úcenite hissed, exasperated.
"She is learning," replied a calm voice inside Leafy’s head. "Be gentle. Though perhaps you ought to know my name – Mîl."
"We have not time," said Úcenite. "Let us go." Grabbing Leafy’s hand, she placed it upon Mîl’s mane, and suddenly Leafy felt as though she had been tipped upside down, missed a step in a flight of stairs, and had her feet whipped out from beneath her all at once. There was a rushing of wind past her ears, and she fell forward, letting go of Mîl ‘s mane, and throwing out her hands to break her fall. However, she did not meet hard ground as she had expected, but seemed to slow down as she fell and simply come to rest on something that was neither solid, liquid not gas, but just… there. There was no other way she could describe it. She rolled over, or rather willed herself to float onto her back, then sat up and saw Úcenite and Mîl watching her.
"Welcome to the Spirit World," said Mîl.
Giliath raced forward and laid her father's head in her lap ignoring the other Blade Runners as they nervously readied themselves and fingered weapons behind her. She hugged him wanting to feel the comfort of being close, wanting to just know he was there, but she pulled back. He felt so ethereal under her arms as if he would break apart if she squeezed with even the slightest bit more pressure.
He coughed and looked up at her scanning her face, trying to catalogue all of the changes that had been worked over it by the intrinsic passage of time. A brief smile drifted across his face, but it was quickly swept away by a wave of pain. Giliath could feel his body tense as it passed through him. He swallowed hard and looked behind her over his daughter's shoulder then turned away to speak to the empty air.
"You found me," he said dryly, low and furtive.
Giliath had always been aware of the sheer presence of her father, the thereness that had earned him a quiet respect from everyone they had known in the city, but now she was struck by how empty he seemed, how hollow. Why wouldn’t he look at her?
"Didn’t you know I would?" she asked. He didn’t answer but shifted in her arms. "I always was good at our little game," she added with an effort at a smile hoping that just a mention of the past would bring him back somehow. Why won’t he look at me?
She felt a sigh pass through him. He turned his head and looked straight at his daughter. Something odd brightened in his eyes. Was it defiance? "This time," he said with an intensity that seemed impossible from such a frail man, "I wish you had lost."
Giliath stiffened as if the words had bitten her. She knew there was something off, something behind what her father had said, but she could understand none of it and couldn’t get past the sting of his words to look any deeper.
Aldric turned away and looked passed Giliath’s right shoulder. Mathurin was looking down on her father with an air of joy battling with concern that she did not understand.
"Hello my boy," her father said with an effort bringing a hand up to rest on his chest close to Giliath where it could not be seen. Before Mathurin could answer he made a quick flurry of his fingers. Giliath recognized the signals of the battle code that her father had said all young boys learned in the last stages of their training in the Order, but she could make out little of what he said.* He had taught her a little in defiance of the rules, but that was so long ago. She translated the broken bits of the message silently. "Danger...woman...captured...must help..."
Mathurin made a quick gesture of recognition before simply answering: "Sir." He stepped back a pace and rested his hand on the hilt of his blades.
Aldric turned back to Giliath as if he had expected her to do something other than sit with her father in her arms. What was she supposed to do? What was going on? Her father was sick he needed help, felt like he was going to crumble at any moment. She had to get him out of there.
"Ada," she said, "what happened to you?"
He pulled himself up with a bony arm around Giliath’s neck and brought his lips close to her ear. She could feel the thin puffs of uneven breath on her cheek. "Run." he whispered. He fell back as pain slashed through him. Giliath instinctively threw her arms around him as if simply being close to him could take away whatever was hurting him. "RUN!" he screamed his voice crackling with the effort. He groaned and pulled at her sleeve nearly ripping it where his fist had tightened involuntarily against the pain. "RUN!"
Mathurin quickly deciphered Aldric’s message. Although he could feel a knot of fear growing in his stomach, he merely nodded in acknowledgment and stepped back, attempting to digest what he had just been told. Absently, his hand wandered to his blades, gripping them tightly. He doubted that weapons would be of any use, but the feel of the cold steel in his hand was always a small comfort.
Thrice, Aldric had ordered them to run, before sinking back into his daughter’s arms. His old teachers strength was totally spent from the effort, and his glazed eyes stared, unseeing, into the mist.
Mat knew that there was nothing that he could do to help the old man, now. Leaving him to Giliath, he tried to think. Aldric had told him that the woman skulking in the shadows had lured them to the hilltop with the intent of killing them. As far-fetched as it seemed, he was wise enough to be afraid. He had no idea what this woman was capable of…only that Aldric had warned him not to let her speak. The cryptic warning was confusing, but Mathurin had to make a decision quickly. Randir could most likely take care of herself, but he could feel three pairs of eyes gazing at him speculatively- three lives that were depending on him.
Lily had quietly come up behind him, resting a shaking hand on his elbow. It was not fear that unsteadied her, but weariness and pain, although she would loath to admit it. The full day of hard riding had been exceedingly difficult for her, and Mat could smell fresh blood trickling down her side from the open wound. Her face was pale and drawn, but her eyes were bright and alert.
Close to Lily was Bree. Her scissors were drawn, but she watched Lily carefully, ready to assist if her friend faltered.
Giliath had not budged. She cradled her father in her arms, rocking back and forth, as though he were a small child. With one last glance at the two of them, he turned to the young women and gestured for them to follow. The woman had seemed to float along in her billowing black cloak, her hood drawn low over her face, obscuring her ghostly features. Presently, she started towards them, as the companions circled her warily.
The woman made no move to run, attack, or even to defend herself, which heightened Mathurin’s fear, and as he looked around him, he could see that Satch and Bree felt the same way. Randir’s fur bristled, but if Lily was afraid, she hid it well.
Despite Aldric’s warning, there was going to be no other way to find out who she was without questioning her.
Suddenly, the woman threw back her hood, revealing a cascade of raven black hair. Her intensely blue eyes stood out from within her dark skin.
She first turned to Mathurin.
"Why so much trouble, shifter?" Her voice was light and musical, delightful to listen to. He knew that he should say something, anything.
"Who are you?" His own voice sounded harsh and unnatural.
"Patience, Shifter. Everything will be answered in due time" She continued to weave her spell of contentment and forgetfulness. Now, he understood Aldric’s warning, and why this woman had spoken to him before any of the others. She could sense the beast within him. . Her spell could not easily ensnare him or Randir. But as a cat, she had drifted to the shadows, and the woman was most likely unaware of her presence.
Now, her gaze averted to Lily.
"Why do you call these people your friends? First, this man who claims to be your brother won’t allow you to be healed, and then they try to abandon you. Why do you trust them?"
"I don’t know…." Lily’s voice seemed to be coming from a great distance.
Mathurin struggled to keep his mind focused. Transforming, he shook off the last vestiges of the spell and then pounced on her, knocking her down.
Randir suddenly ran between Lily's feet, throwing her off balance.
Satch and Bree seemed as though they were waking up from a dream.
Leafy stared at the old woman standing before her. Though the face was less wrinkled, and the hands less gnarled and age spotted than those she remembered, there was no mistaking the kind eyes gazing steadily at her. It was Nani.
Leafy could neither move nor speak. Her breath caught in her throat as a solid wall of emotion compressed her heart. A curious strangled sound emerged from her lips, and her knees gave way, reducing Leafy to a crumpled heap upon the floor, that shifted and curled about her in soft white wisps, as she sobbed painful hot tears that fell and were lost in the mist.
Nani sat beside Leafy and gathered her into her arms, rocking her as she would rock a young child that has fallen and scraped its shins. "Oh Leafy, how I have missed you," she whispered, tears rolling down her own cheeks. "My dear sweet child, how you have grown. I was so proud as I watched you risk everything to find Satch for me, journey to Elenos, and finally become the talented Blade Runner you were meant to be."
"How, how are you here?" Leafy stuttered between sobs.
"Child, here there is no life and no death. Age, time, sickness… they do not exist. That is why I can speak with you now, though I have not long, for you are only half-Dreamer, and the living must not as a rule converse with the dead. I have been allowed this time with you as a special favour."
"Nani, why am I a Dreamer? Why was I chosen?" There was a hint of bitterness in her voice, because Leafy was not sure she could bear it. It had taken so long to come to terms with Nani’s death all those years ago, only to have her here, a solid being, and so alive. Her heart was as confused as her mind.
"Why Leafy, Dreamers are not chosen, they are born."
"I was… born? But that means…"
"Many years ago, your father was not the simple farmer he is now. He was part of an ancient race, of which very few are left." Nani raised Leafy’s face till their eyes met. "Why child, he was a Dreamer."
"And I was his Companion," said Mîl, who had remained silent up until this point. "But, he did the very worst thing a Dreamer can do."
"He fell in love," said Nani with a soft smile. "He fell in love with a mortal. Your mother, a beautiful young member of a race of travelers both very great and powerful, though few and far between. How like your mother you look now that you are grown," she added, tenderly fingering one of Leafy’s curls.
"But she has her father’s eyes, and his inquisitive nature," said Mîl.
"Yes," said Nani fondly. "The eyes he kept only for Wendy. So great was their love that he gave up Dreaming, as far as he could, and returned no more to the Spirit World, though he retained all of his power, as it was not his to throw away. He chose instead to settle on a small farm in the West with his new wife, and bring up two beautiful daughters..." Nani stopped short, and Leafy exhaled sharply, as a painful pang reminded her of her sister, whom she had not seen in seven long years.
Nani looked suddenly over her shoulder, as though she had heard something that Leafy hadn’t, and then began speaking again hurriedly. "You must return to the material world very soon, for your friends have great need of you, but first I need you to help Satch with her own Gift. You know, of course, that she does not know how to use the pouch? That was my error; I left myself not enough time to tell you before I passed on. Whenever Satch has need of the Gift of Foresight, she must run the nail of her left forefinger all along the outer seam of the pouch, whilst inhaling deeply with her eyes closed and concentrating on receiving the vision. Then images will come to her, maybe not at first, and when she starts receiving them it is likely she will not be able to control them for a long while, for the Future is full of treachery, and nothing is certain. Tell her never to open the vial, and not to use it unless she has great need, for it is a gift both powerful and dangerous, and it could destroy her if she has not the strength of mind to resist. It is not her Gift by blood, so this could befall her much more so than any other who is born with it. Foresight will not quench a thirst for knowledge, for it gives not fact, only possibilities, and what she Sees may not ever come to pass."
Nani paused, and looked kindly at the young Blade Runner. Leafy gazed back at her, trying desperately to commit to memory every moment of the reunion, and keep it fresh in her mind, for she did not know when they would meet again, if ever. Nani glanced over her shoulder again, and inclined her head slightly as if acknowledging some unseen person. Then quickly, she got to her feet and held out her hand for Leafy to follow. "You must go. You are needed," she said, but her eyes glistened with tears.
"But I need you, Nani," said Leafy clutching the woman’s hand. "I don’t want you to leave me again. I cannot bear it."
"You must," answered Nani sternly, taking her hand away. "Do not argue with me, Leafy. You know not the peril. Now this I will say to you:
Sometimes you have to harm
To save those you love the best,
For true love conquers all
Even those you lay to rest.
Remember what i left for you in the forest, Leafy."
A glimmer of recognition flickered in Leafy's memory at the words, but then it was that she thought she heard voices crying to her from far, far away, the voices of her friends, begging her return. She turned, and saw no one but Úcenite and Mîl. Turning back, she gave a cry, for Nani had become semi-transparent, and was fading quickly from view. She put out her hand to grasp for her cloak, but felt only cold mist swirling about the woman’s form. Nani smiled, and raised her hand in farewell, and within a few seconds, she was gone. Leafy sank to the ground and put her head in her hands, but soon she found herself being yanked up again by Úcenite.
"Come along child, heed the words of the Foresighted, for those such as Nani are seldom mistaken in their advice." Mîl trotted up, and bowed his great head for Leafy to touch his mane. Once more, she felt the curious sensation behind her navel, the rushing of wind and the spiraling dizziness, before coming to an abrupt halt on very solid ground.
A great peace came upon Lily, and all of her cares no longer seemed to matter. Warm contentment flooded through her and she stood oblivious to the gathering pool of blood at her feet.
The woman spoke and Lily was awed by the sheer beauty of her voice, which lulled her into an even deeper sense of security. The voice of reason continued speaking to her. Lily was entranced, hanging onto every word. She stepped forward, captivated by the strange woman’s steady gaze.
Suddenly, she stumbled. Her inner peace shattered, leaving behind only her emptiness and pain. The ground came rushing towards her, but Bree and Satch were immediately at her side, supporting her. She looked down at her gown and realized that it was soaked with blood.
Lily shook her head in irritation and disbelief. She was angry, but mostly with herself for allowing her guard to fall down so easily. Although, she already knew the answer, she glowered at the waif-like figure and demanded shrilly, " What is going on? What have you done?"
Her brother had quickly transformed back to his human form, and gripped the woman firmly, with his hunting knife at her throat.
The woman merely laughed coldly, and leveled her gaze back at Lily.
"What’s the matter, little one? Can you not handle a few sharp words? Is the truth about these so-called friends of yours too harsh for your sensitive ears?"
Lily took a few deep breaths, desperately attempting to close her mind to the stranger’s poisonous words.
Mat’s blue gray eyes glinted in annoyance, but he spoke evenly.
"Shall we try this once more? I warn you that neither I nor any of these women are to be trifled with…Who are you, and what do you want with us?"
The woman’s gaze never left Lily.
"You really need to control your pet, here. Did you forget to take him for a walk, today?" she sneered.
Mat’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. His whitened knuckled pressed the knife against the delicate skin of her neck, and a trickle of blood ran down her throat.
Lily struggled against her friends wanting nothing more than to tear this vile creature limb from limb, but there grip on her arms tightened.
"Lily, be still." Bree murmured. She was trying to get inside of Lily’s mind…to do anything that was necessary to make her regain control of herself. But Lily willed herself to block it out.
Satch had remained silent, but Lily could feel the younger girls anger. It fed into her own, making her hatred of this woman that much stronger.
"I think that it is time for you, your children and your puppy to be done with your little camping trip and go home….."
Lily dug her elbow hard into Bree’s ribs. The girl gasped and involuntarily loosened her grip for a split second…long enough for Lily to pull herself free.
Mat could not understand what kind of insanity had contorted Lily’s features into this senseless mask of rage. Willful and stubborn she might be, but to display such intense hate over a few childish insults was not like her. Not the same young woman that he knew just a few hours ago.
His first impulse was to slit this strangers throat and be done with her, but the thought came a split second too late.
Mat was totally unprepared for the force of Lily’s impact, which sent him reeling backwards with her and the woman on top of him. The violence of her attack slammed the breath out of him, and his knife flew out of his hand, landing a good distance away. The two women rolled away and he quickly got to his feet.
For a fleeting moment, he thought of transforming and ending this before it could get started…so that he could kill this horrible woman without having to deal with human remorse, but he stopped short. The tang of fresh blood hung heavy in the air and he doubted that he would be able to stop himself after just one kill…he could just as easily kill his sister…
To distract himself from the guilt of having such a desire, he quickly surveyed the situation as well as he could.
Bree was only just struggling to her feet and seemed to be concentrating intently on something unseen. What that was, he didn’t know, and that moment, didn’t care. However, Satch stood still, with her arms dangling by her sides. She wore a slightly bemused expression, but Mat assumed that the younger girl was overwhelmed by what had transpired in such a brief space of time. Her eyes were flat and glazed, and he expected no assistance from her.
With a sigh, he saw that he was on his own to stop the madness that was taking place before him.
Lily had clearly forgotten all that she had learned about hand to hand fighting, as she and the woman kicked and clawed and slapped like a couple of common street rats.
Blood stained the dry, brown grass, most of which was Lily’s. As the two women grappled, each seeking to tear the other asunder, Mat noticed that Lily’s gash was open and bleeding heavily.
Instinctively, he grabbed her arms, attempting desperately to pull her away from the fray, but he received a vicious kick above his kneecap for his efforts. Unable to suppress a sharp cry of pain, he let her go. The brief distraction had been long enough for the woman to land a glancing open handed blow to the side of Lily’s head. Razor-sharp nails raked across her cheek, leaving a bloody trail, as bits of soft flesh tore away.
Lily fell backwards, nearly senseless from the blow. As she tried to rise and renew the assault, the woman smiled…a terrible smile as she advanced on Lily. Her dark hair was limp and clammy, her face torn and bleeding. Her black robe hung askew about her shoulders…
Without warning, she was upon Lily. The same nails that had ripped her cheek open dug into the open wound on her side…
Lily’s piercing scream shattered the uncanny silence of that place, and then she lay still. As Mat limped to her side, he noted that Satch was pummeling this creature with all of her strength…
Satch watched as the woman taunted Lily, and continued to watch as Lily leapt forward and attacked the woman with fists and nails. Her red hair seemed to mirror her rage, and flamed around her as she beat her opponent. Stood in almost a daze, Satch had listened to the new comer’s voice knot its way around Lily, and then felt her own anger grow when the woman turned to her and began to sneer scornful comments in her own direction.
"What are you staring at, child?" she sneered, her voice weaving its way deep into Satch’s unconscious. "Run back home to your mother, you are barely old enough to look after yourself – let alone look after others around you." Her mouth twitched slightly at the corner, giving her a slightly amused expression which made Satch want to leap forward and slap it away.
"Why on earth would these so called friends of yours ever want such a useless infant like you slowing them down!?"
Her own increasing irritation at this woman’s spiteful words had seemed to entwine with the anger she felt pulsating under her grip on Lily’s arm; and her daze grew till she barely knew what was going on. Only when Lily’s scream cracked through the clearing did she realize that she had let go of her grip on Lily’s arm some moments before, and it was only then that she really saw what was going on around her.
She snapped out of her dream-like state. A burst of anger shot through her, and she leapt forwards in fury, slamming her fists into the stranger before her with as much strength as she could muster.
"Stop!"
The sudden shout of protest from behind her caused Satch to lash out just one last time before wheeling around and looking for the source of the interruption. She looked up to see Giliath standing a short distance in front of her, and noticed Gil’s father lying on the ground just a little further away.
"Stop." She said again, her voice quieter than it had been before. Satch watched as the girl walked towards her, and then past her, positioning herself between her and her enemy. A cold fury still bubbled inside, and determined not to let her friend stop the fight; she tried to take a step around her.
Her way was barred by Giliath’s hand on her shoulder. Angry, she stepped forwards again, and her friend’s grip was backed by more power. She was pushed backwards, and lost her footing, falling backwards onto the ground. Enraged, she pushed herself up from the ground and once more tried to push her way past the girl who was blocking her.
"What are you doing?" she hissed, becoming angrier by the second.
"Just stop." Giliath said, her voice calm and relaxed.
The relaxed tone in Giliath’s voice infuriated Satch with its lack of care or concern, and she flung herself forwards, lashing out at her friend. The other girl caught her wrist, mere inches from her face; and as Satch struggled to break free, she felt her friend pulling her closer until they were looking straight at each other.
Gil’s voice was as calm as it had been before Satch had tried to attack her, and she continued staring straight at her. "Stop now."
"But I can stop HER!" Satch screamed, pulling herself away from her friend, and glaring at her with fury in her eyes.
"So could I," Giliath said, but her voice showed uncertainties that Satch had not heard before. As Giliath continued to speak, it felt as if a cool breeze was blowing over her, and she began to feel her anger ebb away. "So could Mathurin," she continued, "and Lily and Bree." The girl’s head dropped down and she continued speaking for a moment, though too faint for Satch to catch the words.
"Stop!" The shear volume of the intrusion made satch and the other combatants wheel around, but not before satch had landed a solid punch on the strangers jaw sending her stumbling back from the group.
Giliath was standing a few paces behind them in front of the silent form of her father. One of his hands lay palm upward on the ground between her legs. It looked too light amidst the loose stones it rested on especially next to Giliath's feet. She had planted them shoulder width apart and they sank deep into the rubble. Her boots look strangely like the last black guard posts of some old monument for a fallen king. Her cloak had been discarded. She had a pair of scissors in her hand.
She had sat with her father in her arms listening to the violence growing behind her. She watched him struggle through the pain, smelt the sweat soaking through his clothes and then felt him pass into pitying unconsciousness. She had seen men die before, knew her father was slipping, had no way of helping him and her friends were beating the person who had done this to him into oblivion. She had wanted nothing more than to join them and tear the woman apart, but this stranger might be the only the person that could help her father.
Giliath glared forward at the woman who was wiping away the evidence of satch's last hit. She met her stare and held it, grey against blue.
"Stop." She said again coming a few steps forward until she was level with satch who still held her fist high and clenched. The girl was panting heavily and Giliath took another small step forward placing herself between the stranger and satch. She stepped forward, but Giliath held her back with a firm hand on her shoulder. She came again, but Giliath threw her back. She lost her footing and tripped. She pushed herself off the ground and tried to force her way past Giliath, but met her friend’s shoulder firmly in the chest.
"What are you doing?" satch hissed.
Giliath relaxed and said with a strange lack of power: "Just stop."
Satch threw herself forward and stopped just short of slapping her friend across the cheek. Giliath had grabbed her wrist and was holding the hand poised a few inches from her face. Satch struggled to get her hand free, but Giliath pulled her closer forcing her friend to look straight at her.
"Stop now," she said keeping as level a voice as she could muster.
Satch tore herself away and stepped back glaring at Giliath. "But I can stop HER!" she screamed.
"So could I," Giliath said with an odd measure of doubt that seemed to contradict what she said. "So could Mathurin, and Lily and Bree." Her head dropped and she looked down at her scissors. "At least," she continued quietly under her breath, "we think we could."
The stranger spat loudly drawing the group’s attention back to their rival. "So," she said wiping away the blood from her lips, "I have an ally then."
Giliath swallowed hard, but didn’t respond.
"Your father said you were a clever girl. Makes one wonder why he left you."
Giliath’s face flushed for a moment before she gathered herself again and stepped forward until she was within a foot of the stranger. "Don’t think for a moment that I did that to save you," she said with a deliberate lack of emphasis. "I would have let her beat you into the ground, but you are the only one here who knows what is going on." Giliath swallowed the anger and disgust that was rising up to choke her. She squeezed the scissors in her hand, felt the comfort of the familiar steel. She needed to find out how to help her father more than she needed to plunge that steel into the strangers chest. "What do you want?"
The woman straightened and a cold smile pulled at the corner of her swollen lips. "You’re right," she sneered, "I am the only one who knows what’s going on." She looked passed Giliath at her father still lying behind her. "And by the time you figure it out you’ll all be dead and him with you!"
Giliath’s shoulders dropped and she turned as if to walk away, but, without any conscious decision to do so, she whirled around behind the stranger and grabbed a handful of her hair pulling her head back to expose her naked throat. Cold steel pressed up against the woman’s skin. Giliath’s face came up beside her captive’s ear. "What did you do to my father?"
Almost immediately, Leafy felt a great weight bearing down on her body, and a voice heaving with sobs.
"Leafy, my dearest Leafy!" whimpered the voice. "Do not let them hurt me, please, don’t let them hurt me!"
Leafy rolled the weight away, and sat up, to look down at the shuddering heap of robes before her. There was silence in the glade apart from the girl’s pitiful weeping as the Blade Runners stood in an expectant circle, many of them fingering their scissors in doubtful suspense.
"Who are you, Spammer?" Leafy spat in revulsion, recognising the uncouth cut of the girl’s apparel.
"Do not you know me, after 7 long years, do not you know me?" wailed the girl. Leafy, now doubtful herself, drew her own scissors, stood up, and used her foot to roll the Spammer onto her back. And there, hidden behind a mass of dark curls, was a face very like to her own. Moss had returned.
The scissors dropped from her hand. Falling to her knees, Leafy crawled to her sister and raised her face to her own, staring searchingly into her tear-stained eyes. "How comes this?" she whispered fearfully.
For a moment, it seemed like the girl’s sobs subsided, but then they started afresh, and she buried her head in Leafy’s bosom, brokenly begging her, "Don’t let them hurt me." Astounded, Leafy looked about for the Blade Runners, who stared back just as confusedly.
Lily began falteringly, "She, she attacked us. She was guarding Giliath’s father, but when we went to, to… "
"To kill her?" Leafy said, with a touch of ice.
Lily shuddered, and ended feebly, "When she said who she was, we couldn’t."
"And a good thing it was too!" said Leafy shrilly, her voice rising. "You might have killed my sister!"
"But Leafy, her clothes!" protested Giliath. "There’s no way we could have known – she looks just like one of them! You said so yourself-"
"I couldn’t see her face, could I?" Leafy snarled, rising to her feet. "You saw her, she looks just like me! How could you have even attacked her?"
"The Spammers have many ways of disguising themselves, and anyway, she attacked us!" argued Satch.
"Don’t you dare try to excuse yourselves!" Leafy shrieked. She is my blood, my family, my SISTER!"
"And you also were my sister, but not anymore," said a low malevolent voice behind her. Before Leafy could turn, she felt the hilt of her own scissors connect with the back of her head, and the blow sent her reeling forwards, as Moss backed off, a manic blaze in her eyes, and the hand holding Leafy’s scissors shaking with adrenaline. Mîl and the Blade Runners rushed forward, but Moss shouted a word and great plumes of swirling smoke and ash blasted out of the ground in a thundering ring around the two sisters, blocking them from view and aid.
Filled with pain and shock, Leafy could only stutter, "Moss… why…"
"Oh Leafy, young, naïve Leafy, how short-sighted you always were! You never knew our father’s lies to us, and when I discovered his power, the power that should have been mine, he refused it me, even refused to use it himself, the fool. He never understood, you never understood, you simpletons, that nothing else matters except power. If we don’t gain power, we ourselves become slaves to it, and I will not be a slave Leafy. You see why I had to leave. Look at the power I have now. Power enough to draw all the Blade Runners to me, and power enough to fight them! And all I had to do was curse that girl’s father!" She snorted in disregard. "Soon, very soon, I will be celebrated beyond belief, and all I have to do is dispose of you!"
"Moss, you don’t know yourself. The Spammers have you under a spell-"
"No Leafy, for the first time in my life, I make my own decisions. I see with clear vision, and I know what I have to do. For my power to wax, you must wane. And wane you shall, and all those you stand with you."
And with an evil crow, Moss leapt forward, Leafy’s blades raised. Leafy rolled out of the way of the stab, and scrambled to her feet, searching desperately for anything in her pockets that would serve as a weapon. Her hands travelled over her water bottle and her food packages, and lighted on the cold hilt of something she had not thought about for many months. Leafy drew the tiny dagger, and remembered all over again the perfection of its making, the faint ethereal glow of the blade, and the ease with which it fit into her palm. Suddenly the poem on its mahogany handle started to burn intensely as if lit by a furnace from within, and the riddle was etched into the back of her head.
"Sometimes, you must harm
to save those you love the best
for true love conquers all
even those you lay to rest."
"Remember what I left for you in the forest, Leafy." Nani’s voice came back to haunt her, and her eyes widened in horror as realisation dawned. No Nani. I won’t do it. I just can’t, she hissed viciously. You can’t make me!
"Who on earth are you talking to Leafy?" Moss drawled mockingly. "I hope you’re not calling for help; haven’t you realised it’s just me and you now? Just like old times, Leafy." She advanced steadily. "What a pretty little knife. I may have to borrow it from you." Suddenly she sprang, slashing out again with the scissors, catching Leafy’s arm and leaving a long gash. The dagger flew from her grasp and bounced away towards the precipice. A blow to the face, and another in the stomach brought Leafy to her knees, and coughing and wheezing, she dragged herself towards it on her elbows, feeling blood drip from her nose.
"Run, run Leafy!" came the mocking call. "I heard you’ve been running a lot since I left. Yes, all the way into the desert, where you got William killed, and you carried on running, to Elenos, where you joined this motley crew of abnormal freaks."
"Those freaks are my friends!" Leafy gasped. The dagger was only a few metres away, right on the edge of the precipice. She could reach it, she could…
"Friends! Yes, they are your friends till they rob you of everything. They know you’re a Dreamer, and they want to take that power from you!"
"They can’t, Nani said you are born with it."
"Nani? Nani’s dead, you fool!"
Leafy reached out her arm.
"And why am I not a Dreamer?"
Just stretch a little further…
"That power should have been mine! It will be mine!"
Moss kicked the dagger over the edge of the precipice. "Oops." She said with a wry smile, and then grabbing Leafy by the hair, she yanked her to her feet. "Your power will be mine," she spat in her ear, the blades of Leafy’s scissors against her throat.
"No!" Leafy shouted, and with a last effort, she drove her elbow into Moss’s stomach, and tried to spin away, but Moss caught her as she turned. Chuckling maliciously, Moss raised the scissors, but suddenly part of the cliff edge crumbled away, and she lost her footing. Releasing Leafy, her arms flailed wildly as she began to topple backwards over the cliff. With a cry, Leafy grabbed a handful of her clothing and tried to heave her back, but furiously Moss hissed "Don’t you touch me you filthy Blade Runner!" and slashed at Leafy’s wrists with the scissors. She had to release her, but Moss continued to cackle as she disappeared from view over the precipice. There was a sickening thud as her body hit the ground, and then all was silent. The plumes of smoke disappeared, and the sun sparkled through the spring leaves.
She can’t be dead, Leafy panicked. The ravine isn’t deep, just a few metres, that’s all, she can’t be dead…
Ignorant of the blood pouring from her wounds, she scrambled over the edge and slid down the steep muddy slope to Moss’ motionless body. A trickle of red ran from the corner of her mouth, and her eyes gazed unseeing into the shifting treetops above. Desperately, Leafy held her fingers to Moss’ neck, but there was no pulse. An inhuman wail of agony and grief escaped her mouth, and she scooped Moss into her lap, weeping with broken, gasping sobs.
Something small and shiny fell from the body and clattered to the ground where it lay glittering red in the sun. Through eyes dimmed with tears, Leafy saw her dagger, its handle dripping with Moss’ blood. She closed her eyes in grief, and darkness settled on her heart.
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