Leafblade & Freelight: The Barracks

[Deiter Leafblade]

Rain pelted the men as the flurry of metal and claws raged on. Blinking against the barrage of water, Rehan charged forward at a panther mauling a young soldier. Swinging his sword hard, the blade whistled and lodged itself into the animal's neck. He knew the man was dead as he gripped the hilt of his sword and pulled it out of the beast. Bloody water dripped off his sword as he ran deeper into the fray, not bothering to clean the weapon.

Don't think about it, Rehan. Ignore it; keep swinging that sword if you want to live. The carnage was enough to make a seasoned warrior sick. Wounded men cried out in agony at the limbs they were missing, or deep claw marks ripping through their skin. Equally though, the army of beasts had their own casualties, saturating the ground with their own blood.

Lifting up his shield, Rehan barely managed to keep himself from being clawed to death by a cheetah. The force of the leap knocked him hard on his back, leaving him trapped under the animal as it clawed savagely at his shield. He blindly swung his sword at it, unable to get a clear view or be in a good position to wound the enemy.

An arrow whistled by, puncturing the cheetah's side. Growling in pain, the beast looked up in the direction the arrow had came from, and that was the distraction Rehan needed. Pressing all of his strength into his left shoulder, he heaved the animal off him and rolled on top, plunging his sword into its surprised face.

Staggering upward, he took heart at the sight of Lord Gerald fighting. The man truly knew how to hold his own in a battle, and Rehan was thankful it was on his side that Gerald was fighting on.

After a while it was uncertain who would win this battle. Each side suffered many casualties. As if unaware of the battle raging beneath it, the rain continued its harsh decent, creating a mixture of blood and mud for the battlefield.

Altair gave her hand a small squeeze that he did indeed know what he was getting into. His concerns though remained unvoiced. Could he so easily change who he was for her? Could he completely turn his back on his life of crime? Maybe he could retain some parts, and opt for the life of an adventurer. Searching for the world's hidden treasures and secrets with Robyn held a great appeal to him.

"Shh! We can't let the guards see us. Father said we're not allowed down into the crypt." Altair held onto Robyn's hand as they sneaked past the men and down to an old staircase. "I'll light a candle once we get down there. We can't let them see the light." The pair stumbled their way down the stairs in the dark until reaching the bottom.

The air felt stale and the silence that greeted them was eerie. Lighting the candle Altair brought with him, he held it up to illuminate the small area around them. Rows of stoned sarcophagus could be seen, holding within them the remains of past members of the Swizec family.

He stopped at each sarcophagus to hold the candle near the nameplate.

Jeremiah Swizec - 905 to 950 - He was a dear brother and valiant fighter. May his soul find peace

Alatir shook his head slowly. "This was my uncle. He used to teach me archery." Robyn continued to look at him questionably, and he felt compelled to say more. "You met him once, during the spring ball my mother always insists we host for the other families." Altair changed his voice to sound like his mother as he pretended to scold Robyn for not dancing with the other boys. He was rewarded with her giggling and couldn't help but smile.

Thier adventure inside the crypt lasted for several hours until their curiosity was quenched. They were about to leave when Robyn tugged at his arm and pulled him over to a larger sarcophagus. Two names were etched on the plate, revealing that two people had been buried together inside, and by the names Altair could faintly remembered it being his great great great grandparents.

Two stone hands clasped together in a loving embrace rested upon the top of the sarcophagus. He watched Robyn remove a small metal ring he had made for her. The ring was made of a flexible wire that he weaved into a criss-cross circular formation. He had made himself one as well, which she slipped off his hand. Pulling apart the ends of both rings, she intertwined the two so that they became linked together.

Taking the linked rings from her, he slipped them into the small gap inside the clasped hands as she instructed. Taking a step back he realized what he had done, and looked away from her as his face turned red.

Drowsiness started to tighten its grip on Altair as the night wore on. Shivering still, he moved as close to Robyn as he was able to and then leaned his head against her shoulder. Sleep enveloped him soon after.

[ 08-01-2006, 10:10 PM: Message edited by: Deiter Leafblade ]

[mistral4543]

The stormy clouds had drifted towards Alesbridge, leaving a drenched terrain of vegetation behind. Vegetation was the right description; the beasts had left at her instruction and headed for the city, intent on avenging the injustices they had long suffered at the hands of those people. The air was crisp and clear, but she noticed how a dull note seemed to ring in it.

What could have happened?

Anxiously, she tore her gaze from the horizon and downward, seeing the weeping trees. Another murder! Despite her earlier resolutions, she found herself spluttering with anguish. Why can they not leave us alone?! Must it come to this, even now, that at this old age of mine, I have to personally be involved in this war? I... Then she paused, her eyes transfixed upon the carcass. Peering closer, she shuddered as she identified the dead body.

It was herself.

Aco was flailing his remaining limbs, gesturing to those who cared to listen, that it had not been his fault. Why would he have slain their cherished mistress and friend, Gatha? To do so just after she had stroked him with such tenderness would have been a sin deserving of an instantaneous death. No, it had been the Lightning God's fault! And yet Aco glanced about, terrified of a swift rebuke for his audacity. Poor Gatha, she who had pampered and comforted them in their time of need... to think that she had died by the literal hand of one of them! The shrubs sobbed and their cousins shook their heads. It was such a sorrowful business, this. But Gatha would not blame them, would not blame Aco. She would understand.

But Gatha did not understand. At any rate, she could not comprehend how it came to be that she was witnessing this scene, her corpse still quite fresh and crushed under Aco's misplaced arm. What was she doing... and floating in the air? For strangely, she was really drifting around, her entire body (or whatever form it was) free from aches, injury and burdens.

Am I going to heaven? Perhaps her prayers had been answered, and she could feel her heart - if it were a heart - singing.

"UTTER NONSENSE." The sheer disgust in this pronouncement was unmistakable.

Who are you? No audible words emitted, but it appeared that they - whoever was talking to her - could hear her.

"WHO DO YOU THINK I AM?"

It was annoying, to say the least. Fancy butting in to others' thoughts without a self-introduction, and passing judgement on their thoughts. Who did they think they were, gods?

"FINALLY, YOU SEE SOME SENSE. GOOD." The patronising tone of the voice made her want to strangle it, except that she did not seem to have hands... eh? No hands? No feet? What was going on?

"IF YOU WILL STOP INTERJECTING MY PIECE, GATHA..." It was the first time she was being directly addressed. "... WE CAN COME TO THE INEVITABLE CONCLUSION SOONER. NOW, LISTEN TO ME."

A sigh of relief followed this, as whoever-it-was noted her meek complaisance for now. "YOU ARE DEAD. THAT IS QUITE OBVIOUS FROM THAT SPLAT ON THE GROUND THAT WAS FORMERLY YOUR SHELL." There was a slight pause, then, "YOU ARE NOT GOING TO HEAVEN, NOT AFTER THOSE NASTY THINGS YOU DID TO THE PEOPLE." And as if to silence her protest, the voice continued sternly. "DON'T GIVE ME THAT CRAP ABOUT NOT HAVING GOOD MORALS INSTILLED UPON YOU, AND I DON'T WANT TO SEE A SELF-ABSORBED, SELF-PITYING AND SELF-DECEIVING FOOL. YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF, TRYING TO PULL OUT THIS REASONING EVEN AFTER YOUR DEATH."

Gatha was dumbstruck; everything uttered so far was coherent. "JUST BEFORE YOU DIED, FORTUNATELY, YOU ACKNOWLEDGED THAT YOU MIGHT HAVE COMMITTED WRONGS IN THE PAST. THAT SHOWS THAT YOU DO HAVE AN INNATE CONCEPT OF RIGHT AND WRONG." Strange that these so-called gods needed to take a deep breath between statements too! "TWO WRONGS DO NOT MAKE A RIGHT. WHAT MORE, THE NUMEROUS WRONGS YOU COMMITTED."

Am I going to hell then? Ah well, she had tried at least... tried what, she could not really pinpoint, however.

"NO, YOU ARE NOT GOING TO HELL." And there, it seemed that the voice would speak no more.

Grimacing, Gatha growled. Are you trying to keep me in suspense, O mighty being? Where am I going, then?!

"DEATH HAS NOT SWEETENED THAT CAUSTIC TONGUE, WE SEE." The tone was mild, even amused; it only infuriated her more. "YOU ARE GOING... IN SUSPENSION."

What kind of a place is that? She made a face. Is it a ... funky place? Her release from an aged body had lended some humour, despite the retention of that uncontrollable tongue.

"WE DO NOT KNOW, AND WE DO NOT CARE." She could almost swear that the so-called gods were shrugging their shoulders by now. "THERE SEEMS TO BE ONLY ONE OTHER CHARACTER SO FAR, WHO HAS ATTAINED THE STATE OF SUSPENSION."

Who? Yes, who was this pathetic creature whom they were speaking of?

"MYRON EPIMETHEUS. HE WAS LAST SEEN IN THE SHADOW OF LOVE THREAD IN THE LORD OF THE FORUMS THREAD."

Myron what? What thread in what thread? Perhaps her mental ability could not be enhanced by now, more was the pity.

"YES. UNLESS YOU MANAGE TO GAIN MORE SENSE, WHICH YOU MIGHT IF YOU VISITED HIS LIBRARY."

In the ensuing silence, she could feel it in her bones - but she had not bones, or did she? Oh, it was so complicating and frustrating! - that the intruders had gone.

Had they really been gods? It was hard to doubt these, although the choice of words they had used had been quite, well, ungodly (or rather un-godlike).

Whatever it was, there seemed only to be one journey ahead... to find this Myron Epimetheus guy in the Lord of the Forums thread and see what could be done there. It might even be interesting, compared to an extreme life of eternal bliss or eternal suffering.

Nodding to herself, Gatha took a deep breath and began on her journey to her new destination...

[mistral4543]

Watching Altair finally doze off, she beamed widely. I'll stay awake as much as I can... I've got to keep watch, after all. It was strange how well motherly instinct and passionate affection blended so well in her feelings towards him. As the air grew quieter without his gentle snores, however, her mood turned pensive and thoughts flew to her father.

How was he feeling at this moment? Would Mama have found him by now and be heartbroken? Staring into the fire, she picked up a stray twig and poked at it absently. Papa...

"Papa! Papa!" Her small feet padding along the corridor, she was busy wiping away her tears in search of doting and comfort. Stumbling against a pair of long flannel-clothed legs, she gazed up, her watery eyes filled with sadness.

"What is it now, Robyn?" Lord Gerald stooped down so that they maintained eye contact. She thought that he was the handsomest father anyone could ever hope for.

"I can't sleep..." and she broke into heartwrenched and helpless sobs again. "I've tried, Papa, I've really tried... but I can't sleep!" This was a tragedy he did not seem to grasp, and she wept, seeing his smirk. "I need enough rest for tomorrow's horseriding competition, Papa! I have to win!" She tugged at his sleeves accusingly. "Don't you care? I need enough sleep... Mama said so."

In answer, Lord Gerald swept her off her feet and carried her back to her warm, cosy bed. Tucking her in, he laid beside her, muttering his soft instructions.

"Don't worry, Robyn. You'll eventually drift off. I'll stay here until you do."

"I won't be able to..." She was as forlorn as he was amused.

"Hush now, my pet. You just shut your eyes and count... one... two... three..."

There was a long pause, then...

"I still can't!"

"Let's start again, Robyn. One... two... three..."

And incredibly, every single time, this magic of his would work. Regardless of how tired he was, somehow he just managed to stay awake longer than her, counting and re-counting until she did not know he had slipped back to his own room...

The tears would not stop flowing out of her eyes, now that she recalled this scene. It was only one instance of his kindness, patience and open-mindedness towards herself.

How had she reciprocated?

By flinging his words of caution into the air. By trampling his love for her, just as the hooves of the horse had trampled the grounds it covered as they tore their way to the forest.
By forcing him to surrender his own safety and health, in attempting to find her.
By hurling him into the hands of the enemy, who had then mutilated him.

Biting her salt-moistened lips and gently easing Altair's head so that it leaned against the wall, she crawled as silently and quickly as she could outside the overhang.

It had stopped raining by now, but the cold air breathed upon her back as if reprimanding her for her act of treason. Giving in to her pain, she knelt down and buried her eyes into her hands, suppressing her cries as much as she could. The repression only served to shake her entire frame and her shoulders heaved up and down uncontrollably.

I must stop. She wiped her eyes again, then the guilt returned. I ought to repent more. What was one to do - be rational or filial? Did being filial entail prolonged sadness, even if the sadness accomplished nothing?

Cuddling to herself, she gazed upon the starless night. You've got to be strong, for both Papa and Altair. Thinking of the latter, she pulled out her pendant again.

Wherever you are, the sun, star and moon will always be there for you even if you don't see it. Just as I will be.

Those had been his words of years ago, and their reunion might just not have happened. It was strange, how life worked. Perhaps there were miracles after all...

Heading back into the overhang, she sat herself next to Altair, but found her eyelids lowering after her earlier outburst.

Before she had counted to ten, she, too, had drifted to sleep.

[Deiter Leafblade]

Lord Swizec stood next to his son. "You should dance with the other girls, Altair. Young Vivian has wanted to dance with you, yet you keep ignoring her to dance with Lord Gerald's daughter." Altair made a face at the thought of Vivian Jasper. "Father, you can't expect me to dance with her! She only talks about our family wealth, and that's boring to discuss..." Sighing, Lord Swizec looked at his son sternly. "Your mother will be disgraced if she finds out you have been ignoring the daughters of our other guests. We want to find you a suitable wife, and Lord Jasper's family would make a nice political ally."

Gripping his son's arm, Lord Swizec brought Altair over to Lord Jasper and his daughter. "William! It's good to see you again my friend." Altair thought he was going to be sick at the fake pleasantries. "Ah, Ruben! You seem to be doing well." After shaking hands and the short swapping of stories, Lord Swizec thrust his son forward to Vivian.

She was a year younger than Altair, with rich brown hair and dark green eyes. The younger boys were quite taken by her beauty. "I'm pleased to see you Altair." A short curtsy was followed after, and he tried not to roll his eyes. Giving a slight bow, he forced out his words with distaste. "I'm glad you were able to come."

He was about to run off when he caught sight of Robyn, but Lord Swizec would have none of that. Practically throwing his son at Vivian, he offered a joke to Lord Jasper on how difficult children could be. Admitting defeat, he grabbed Vivian's hand and rested his left against her waist. Altair grimaced when he looked at her eyes. He loved Robyn's green eyes; they were always so bright and full of life. Vivian's, however, looked like dull glass that badly needed to be polished.

Looking over her shoulder, he caught sight of Robyn dancing with a young boy. She looked miserable as the boy rambled on about something Altair could only imagine. He continued to dance with Vivian, but moved her closer and closer to where Robyn was dancing. The dance required partners to be swapped for a brief moment with the pair next to them, and then swap back to the original partner.

They were dancing right next to Robyn now, and Altair timed it so Robyn would be the partner he swapped with. Grinning, he quickly moved Robyn away with him and began to dance with her in the opposite corner of Vivian. Their fun was short lived though when he noticed his father's disapproving glare.

Altair awoke from his troubled sleep as the sun began its crawl into the sky. His wounds were feeling a little better and his spirits raised at the sight of Robyn asleep next to him. The sunlight reflected against the pendant she had left out, and he reached out to examine it better.

He knew it was several years old, yet she had taken such good care of it that it appeared new. Resting the pendant back against her shirt, he started to wonder what Lord Gerald would say about the situation. Altair knew the man was gravely wounded, and would need his daughter more than ever. Letting out a deep breath, he knew today would be a changing point in his life, and he could only hope that it would be for the better.

[dplax]

As the first creature emerged from the darkness and its outlines became a furry mass at the light of the storm letting loose another bolt of lightning, Sean tried to calm his shaky nerves. He managed to calm them to the point where he at least wasn't visibly shaking. He glanced at Rehan, hoping to draw courage from the hero.

And then with a sudden fury the battle commenced. The adrenaline pumped in Sean's veins and his heart pounded in his throat. He held his shield and long sword high, protecting himself from any feline pouncing at him. The first wave of the attacking animals crashed against the defences and was repelled. Blood glistened on Sean's sword, but given the ferocity of the initial wave, he wasn't sure whether the blood was that of foe or friend. The second wave pushed Sean and his companions close to a breaking point, but they managed to hold their defensive line, but Rehan was swept back, deep in combat with one of the beasts.

"Slash, thrust, parry!" the voice of his trainer from years ago rang aloud in Rehan's mind as he put the well rehearsed moves into practice for the first time in a real combat situation. "Put your left foot in front of the right and bring up your shield arm! The other left foot Sean!"

Sean did as the memories told him, and just managed to avoid a panther lunging at him, bashing it aside with his shield. Once the disoriented animal landed on the ground, Sean pushed his sword through its hide, bringing a yelp of pain and anguish from his mortally wounded adversary.

Even though his life was in danger, and at any moment it might have been snuffed out by a lucky swipe of a paw, or jaws closing around his neck, Sean could not help but contemplate what madness had brought the two sides to fight each other. What will could have pushed the normally secluded creatures to come out in force, with the clear aim of destroying the town of Alesbridge. Was all this mindless killing really the doing of the beasts, or had they been force into doing it against their will?

Sean's train of thought was cut short by a sharp reminder of the current situation as an arrow sent by a friend whistled past his ear, to imbed itself into the mouth of a jaguar, just about to jump at him. Sean glanced gratefully behind him, only to see the archer's jugular slashed open by another jaguar.

The cruelty of the situation threatened to overwhelm him, but gripping his sword tightly he rushed at the jaguar.

[Deiter Leafblade]

”You like Altair very much, don’t you, Robyn?”

Glancing up at her father, her emerald-green eyes admonished him. As if she had to verify such a fact! Papa could be so muddle-headed sometimes.

“How much do you like him, then?” Her father’s eyes, a shade darker than hers, glittered just as brilliantly. “Enough to marry him and be his wife?”

Marry? Wife? The very words strangled her breath, just as they brought a rush of colour to her cheeks. “You’re not being fair, Papa. I’m only ten, you know.”

“Precisely.” That was all he had had to say. Too late did she discover she had fallen for another of his winding paths; their lengths varied with what the occasion required, but he always got back to the point and made it look so simple that she felt foolish. “You are only ten, Robyn, but you show such favouritism for a boy you’re not sure you want to marry and be a wife to.” Yet he had enough mercy to give her a friendly nudge. “Aren’t you giving up your chances too soon? And those poor boys who tried so hard to pass you love-notes, send you flowers and offer you candy?” He coughed slightly. “Yes, I’ve noticed these intrigues going on for a while, my daughter. If you didn’t know before, I’m sure you do now. You’re quite an attractive young lady, even if I say so myself.”

“What are you trying to get at, Papa?” She was studying her fingers diligently. Did he want her to ignore Altair? How could she say such a thing to Altair? He seemed so dominant in her life, even when he was not physically around. Their hearts connected indescribably, and each day spent without his company was an ordeal.

“I think you should give yourself, and Altair, some time.” Lord Gerald’s expression was serious now, as he gently tilted his daughter’s chin. “If you’re not sure you want to be his wife - and that’s assuming we, your parents, have no objections - you shouldn’t waste his time, and yours unnecessarily.” Sympathy radiated in those radiant eyes as he caught the expression that flitted across her face momentarily. “I’m not asking you to totally avoid him, of course. Friendship should always be encouraged.” That was Papa; so understanding and always treating her as an equal. He would have been the perfect husband if he were her age. “But try to give yourselves some space, Robyn. Feelings keep us alive, but an excess of them without further thought is dangerous.”

As he got up, he patted her shoulder reassuringly and left the room, she turned to the window and peered out at the pouring rain. Did life have to be so complicated? Was it not good enough to know she wanted to be with Altair forever? Did wanting to be with him forever mean she wished to be his wife? The thought sent another flush to her cheeks, though a delicious thrill was gurgling somewhere inside. Maybe she was just shy and did not want to admit a decision subconsciously formed since some time ago. Or was she just being selfish, that she did not want to share Altair – and perhaps have to give him up totally, if he should wed a possessive wife – with another woman?

The rain continued to fall, ignoring the torrent of questions left unanswered in her troubled heart. But with the typical exuberance of youth, she shoved her confusion aside and turned to her texts on hunting instead. Yes, Papa was right. She was so young, and there was plenty of time. When she and Altair were both grown, her suspicions would probably be confirmed. She only hoped that Altair would wait for her…

Somewhere, an audience was applauding because the spectators were enjoying the unfolding of a long forgotten tale. The protagonists had grown up and only last night, found each other. The male lead had shown that he liked the leading lady still, and in a way beyond that of friendship. It was not time yet for the curtains to fall, but the scene was still heavenly; so heavenly that the audience did not want to leave, to be interrupted.

But there was another call to answer, and its tone was urgent. It reminded Robyn that Papa was still in danger and she had to return to him. Reluctantly, she let go of her happy state and arose, only to find Altair in a serious mood, staring into space. She waited until the moment passed, then got up and placed her hand on his shoulder gently, murmuring the words of the cure wound spell, followed by the remaining cure light wound ones.

Great relief surged through her as she found him restored to his full health now, and impulsively, she wrapped her arms around his back. Altair. Was the strong emotion she had always felt for him, love? Would this emotion which she suspected he returned, enough to see them through the trials ahead?

Releasing her hold, she patted him gently on the arm. “It’s time to move on.” Another wave of regret, uncertainty and affection washed over her.

[ 08-02-2006, 10:14 PM: Message edited by: Deiter Leafblade ]

[Deiter Leafblade]

Perspiration was pouring down the side of Gerald’s face as the minutes, then hours worn on. Above, the skies were transiting from a gloomy black to an orangish yellow, and this brightening of day, as well as the retreat of the storm, emboldened him, even as he felt his shoulders aching terribly and legs slowly giving way to the sheer strain that the battle was placing on him and his fellowmen.

Grunting as he swung his prized blade round and tore it across the throat of a leaping puma, he was about to head towards a guard nearby who was struggling to fend off another ferocious leopard when a deafening roar stopped him in his tracks. And it seemed that everywhere, man and beast froze in response to the roar, which lingered and surprisingly, sentiments.

The intent to terrorise had been obvious, and fury was easy to detect. But nothing had quite prepared Gerald to feel the sense of loss. To his distress, he found himself beginning to feel sorry for the dead, whether these were his allies or foes. Was this witchcraft, or delusion? How could he be on the enemy’s side? Yet this was an unstoppable emotion that rooted him to the ground, as if someone were telling him: all life is precious, and one murder does not bring back the life of another.

Gradually, the roar died off and he thought he caught the glimpse of a magnificent lion, its mane flowing freely in the cool shafts of wind. There was wink of light in those bright, humane eyes and he briefly contemplated if a film of water covered their surfaces. It could not be, though, surely; animals could not cry.

Before long, and to his complete astonishment, the creatures began to withdraw in deadly silence and Gerald hurriedly motioned for his men to back off. There was no honour in attacking when the enemies’ backs were turned, and besides, an inner voice told him that a greater sorrow awaited them. Perhaps something untoward had happened to their mistress… yes, that was most likely. Now that he was out of danger, he could even afford to be magnanimous and wish her well; and it was not difficult, for despite her earlier cruelty to him, she had kept his entire family intact.

Speaking of which, he now had to deal with Yasmine.

Wearily, he trudged on, his tired eyes skimming the carcasses and corpses even as he instructed his men to help the wounded immediately to the infirmary. In the background, he sensed slow movement, but it was movement nevertheless; everyone was exhausted, and as long as they could hold on, medical aid was on hand to nurse them back to health.

Pausing in his tracks, he stooped down as he saw the glaring garment before him. There had been enough patches of the garish colour amid the mud stains and films of blood. Holding up her back, he gazed upon the face of the woman he had married nineteen years ago.

This was the woman whom he had been smitten by in her coming-out ball, for she had been simultaneously vivacious and elegant; her family wealth had sealed their match but he would have chosen her even if she had been penniless and his parents had objected.

This was the woman who had captivated their guests as much as she had fascinated him, the woman who had given birth to the apple of his eye. She had been an outstanding hostess, a supportive companion and a reasonably caring mother.

This was also the woman who had abandoned him at the first sign of his imperfection. And it was not just abandonment; she had urged him to take his life.

How was such a turnabout possible? It did not make sense, and in hopeless puzzlement, he searched her lifeless body, hunting for a clue. Success was his reward, when he chanced upon a letter, tucked away so snugly that had he not taken extra pains, the find would never have been made. The note’s scented perfume still lingered in the air, and her handwriting had never been fairer:

”You will be surprised and even jubilant at your victory, my dear Karl. To that, I have nothing to say, because this triumph comes so unexpectedly and you have not worked for it the way I had hoped.

Be that as it may, time is short, so listen carefully, my darling. The years of torment are over; we will shortly be reunited. In fact, you are to make haste here to Alesbridge in the swiftest mode possible. Gerald lies at death’s door, and I have given him the key to unlock it. The details, I will give you later, as soon as I am in your arms again and drawing strength from you.

You may blame me then, for so heartlessly leaving you back then. I had no choice then; you know how these obsessions with family wealth and traditions are like. The frequency and length of my past letters are surely sufficient proof about my feelings for you.

Enough said; you must make haste, and forget the packing. There is enough here to last us a lifetime. Come to me, I say.

Yours,
Y.

So fair a hand, and so treacherous a heart. He lowered the letter, not quite crushing it, as if he knew that he would reread it in time to come. I hate you, Yasmine. Hate could not even do what he was feeling, justice. Have our happier days not moved you at all? Fool that he was, thinking that he would be able to touch her heart with time, even as she had told him frankly one night before their wedding that she could not return his love the way he deserved it. No, I deserve it. She had been honest enough, though she had not mentioned her secret lover.

He could not tell whether his heart was burning or bleeding, but pain gripped him all the same, and in such circumstances, did it really matter what the symptoms were? You feel this because you love her, Gerald. Sighing, he folded the letter and slid it into his inner pockets. You’ve given your heart to a woman who could not return it, and the hatred only shows the extent of how you felt for her. He remained squatted, his hand tracing her cold fingers slightly. You can erase neither those memories nor that passion you bestowed upon her. As if in an afterthought, he lifted her left hand and removed her wedding ring; it had meant nothing to her, and she would certainly not miss it now.

Slowly, he got up, his gaze lingering upon her face. One day, I will feel sorry for your side of the story, Yasmine. But not today. I need time. Turning aside, he called for the manservants to carry his dead wife to the family tomb, ignoring their wonder at his lack of grief. The day is dark, Gerald, but you will survive. You always have.

Holding his head up, he nodded to himself and walked towards the manor.

[Deiter Leafblade]

Sighing in relief, Rehan slid his sword home into its sheath. He marveled how terribly beautiful and tragic war could be. Blood had painted a picture of agony and hope across the drenched ground. Shaking water from his hair, for he had lost his helmet at the start, Rehan made his way over to help a wounded comrade.

The older guard had a deep gash across his chin, and appeared to still be witnessing horrors long forgotten. "Calm down, I'll get you to the healers." Struggling to stand up, the guard gripped Rehan's arm and leaned heavily against him.

"You're lucky, you know that?" The older man raised his eyebrows at Rehan and grumbled something under his breath. "We're in a better position then that dead man there, or that archer with his throat torn open..." Shouldn't he be feeling happy? The battle was over, Alesbridge had won, and yet all this death tainted his thoughts.

Was it for nothing? While several had given their lives, several more had lived because of it. He should feel proud of the effort these men gave for their home and loved ones.

"I have two young daughters." The solider commented roughly. "I helped save them, as did you and the rest of Alesbridge... That made all the slaughter here worth it right?"

Rehan nodded, feeling pride fill his chest at what Alesbridge had managed to accomplish. "Yes, you helped save this city. Alesbridge has won!" He gave out a loud cheer which the wounded guard followed in soon after.

He was impressed at Robyn's skills of healing his injuries. Rolling his shoulders only caused a dull ache, which he suspected would soon disappear. Her affection towards him that morning had been a warm surprise, causing him to return the embrace before they set out for Alesbridge.

It was a somewhat uncomfortable journey due to their damp clothing that weighed down on them. As they made it back to the forest, Altair considered the chances they would have of going through it. Something was different, and he couldn't quite place it. It seemed as if the life was being sucked out of the woods before them. The choice was a gamble. Walking around the forest could possibly take another day, while going through it would only be a few hours.

"Do you feel it?" He whispered to her as he edged closer to the tree line. Animals that would be normally heard in the morning were quiet, and the vegetation seemed to be lacking its energy. Maybe the guiding force behind all of this is gone? Altair didn't have an explanation for the strange occurrence.

Robyn's life was now put on the line along with as his own. He could no longer so easily gamble his life away on choices that he didn't know the outcome to. Returning his gaze to her, "Which would you rather do? The forest is a mysterious danger that I would like to skip if we can, but it is a faster way to Alesbridge. Something has happened to it, some sort of change, and I don't know if it is in our favor."

[ 08-03-2006, 02:31 AM: Message edited by: Deiter Leafblade ]

[mistral4543]

There was something about retreating in the midst of battle that was dreadfully undignified. Several of them had turned in disgust, especially when they heard the devious humans approach them with drawn weapons. It was Torch's growl - low but audible - that kept them in their place, however. Just as the chieftain of the other side signalled his men to step aside.

There was something about making their way so slowly out of the arena that was maddening. True, they had been in war and those surviving were bruised, yet that was no reason to leave so pathetically, devoid of pride and honour. Again, it was Torch's snarl that it was not in their place to decide.

Torch's gnarl was as welcome as herbs, for their meals. Never had he had to command them and the fact that he was doing so depressed not only themselves, but Torch himself. Gatha had left him as chief-in-command whenever she was away and decisions had to be made; but this had been a totally unnecessary measure, until today.

Today, Torch unwillingly led his friends back into their home. There was no need to sing heroic songs of their fallen comrades, unlike the humans; actions spoke louder than words. "Look to the future." Gatha had often told them, and the best tribute they could pay her was to heed her words.

Gatha. As each beast pronounced her name in his or her heart, differing recollections arose. Some had heard of Gatha's sprints with their great great grandfathers, in her younger days; others had borne her on several romps around the inner parts of the forest. Still others had sulked when she offered them berries instead of fresh meat, ignoring her cajolling caresses. One or two had tried to trip her just a few weeks ago, and smirked when she gingerly got up and rubbed her thigh and back. The younger ones' faces crumped as they remembered snubbing her when she tried to tell them tales of the forest.

No one dared to cry, because Gatha would not have liked it. She, who had had every reason to cry, had only done so once. By word of mouth, all had heard from their ancestors, relatives and friends that this iron-willed champion had cried only upon the night she was forsaken to die in the forest. "There is no point crying." she had said afterwards, and not only a few times. "No one would care, and it only gets me drained from being weepy." Again, the biggest compliment they could pay her now was to accept her death without whimpering like weaklings.

Yes, they knew she was dead. They had known since they heard Torch's first gnarl. And he had learnt the news when a flock of woeful mynahs swept down to his ears and relayed the tragedy. Torch, who had just ripped off a human's arm, had suffered a gash in his stunned response, before he hurriedly gripped the human's longsword with his teeth, flung man and weapon a few metres away and made his announcement.

On they padded the ground, each lost in a world of his or her own. So many things they saw or heard reminded them of Gatha, and their burdens just never got lighter. What would life be without her? How could she have gone without saying goodbye?

Entering the forest now, they felt the protective arms of the trees shading them from the distractions of an outer world they cared nothing for. Occasionally, a branch would sweep down and stroke their backs, only to jerk back when they angrily refused the act of consolation. They would be fine; just leave them alone, thank you very much. And the trees lapsed into a shield of empathy.

Suddenly, one of them espied a couple of humans in the distance at the edge of the forest. Before she could leap off, however, Torch had sprung into her path and snapped. There would be no more bloodshed for now, the glint in his eye ordered. She lowered her head in disappointment and kept in line.

At long last, they had reached the site of the disaster, and all fell upon their limbs, their heads bowed in respectful silence.

The wake of Gatha had begun, but no eulogy was required.

[mistral4543]

She would dearly have loved to just take off into the forest, for the longer she stayed away from Alesbridge, the more she feared for her father's safety. Besides, these clothes are sticky and cold. Already, she was starting to shiver. The worst thing that could happen was that either of them fall ill, and their return to the city delayed.

Altair's words, however, rang in her ears. He, who understood her most, would know how badly she wanted to be home. He had said his piece, only because he was truly worried for their survival. Gratefully, she smiled at him. It was so nice to be cared for.

Yet even as they lingered there, she could sense that something odd was happening in the forest. The sagging branches, the sickly shades of the undergrowth all pointed at a subdued energy level, which contrasted starkly with the raw danger she had felt when she first entered it.

Quickly, she lowered her ears to the ground and listened intently. "There's a horde of beasts in that direction." She spoke softly, pointing ahead. "But from the sound of their footsteps, they seem to be moving lethargically... as if the will to live has been drawn from them."

Getting up, she turned to Altair. "If we move quietly enough, they may just let us by... they don't seem very active and bloodthirsty today." But when her eyes focused on his face, she faltered. I'm being too selfish. Besides, if anything happened to herself, who else would take care of Papa?

"Let's take the longer route, Altair." She grabbed his wrist and began to tow him away. Don't loiter, or your conviction will waver.

[ 08-03-2006, 09:31 AM: Message edited by: mistral4543 ]