by Heath Pfaff
"Do you agree to my stipulation?" Weaver asked, looking at both of us now.
I had no choice. I needed to see my daughter, so I offered my ascent. Malice, I saw, had torn her attention from Weaver, and was watching me, and waiting for my reaction. After I gave my consent, she nodded as well, though I could see it cost her dearly. It was decided. Weaver nodded to Ferocity, and she left the tent, a look on her face somewhere between nervousness and fear. My trepidation grew.
Whether it took minutes or hours, I couldn't have said. I waited with all the patience I could muster, trying to remain calm and steady. Weaver sat watching me, his eyes intent, expectant, as though he was in constant anticipation of some outburst. I couldn't guess as to what he might be waiting for, but occasionally his eyes would look to the tent flap, and I would see an expression cross his features much like the one Ferocity had worn before leaving to retrieve Kay. What, I wondered, was making them so tense? The tension was catching, for I felt it spreading through me until I was nearly pacing the length of the tent.
Finally, the time of waiting ended, and the tent flap pushed open. A young girl walked in, six years of age, tall for one so young, clothed in a beautiful dress of fine silk embellished with other expensive fabrics. Her face lit as she entered the tent, her oh-so-familiar purple eyes going wide as the canvas fell away. Her features were reminiscent of her mother, even more so than they had been four years before. She had energy and exuberance that reminded me of myself in my youth. My heart pounded in my chest, and a smile crept onto my face without me having to force it there. I felt, in that moment, such elation as I had never felt before. Kay was alive, and she was well. My daughter was safe, and all those years of darkness and worry seemed a part of some distant nightmare.
It took a restraint that seemed almost beyond mortal means not to go to her, not to swing her up in my arms and tell her, right then, that I loved her and that I had thought of her everyday she'd been away. Though, I don't think I could have spoken at that moment if I'd had the chance to do so, so choked with emotion was my throat. From the corner of my eye, I saw a single tear roll down Malice's cheek, and her face was lit with the most beautiful smile. We had traveled a long road for that moment, and I thought nothing could steal it away.
Kay's bright eyes burning with love, she raised her arms and ran, her voice a young echo of her mother's as she cried out, "Daddy!" She passed me, passed Malice, stirring our cloaks in her haste, and leapt into the arms of Weaver, who bent down to swing her up as she jumped to meet him.
". . . and how is my little Trillia doing today?" He asked her, and my daughter giggled and buried her head in his cheek. My beautiful moment shattered like a thawing stream in the early spring, the pieces flowing away from me and disappearing into the chill water of despair.
"Mommy said I could come see you because you wanted me to meet some new visitors!" She piped cheerfully, tugging at Weaver's scraggly hair.
"Yes, these fine warriors have traveled a long, long way just to fight with daddy. Trillia, say 'Hello' to Malice and Noble, good friends of daddy's." He smiled down at her as he spoke, the perfect image of a father shining his warmth upon his daughter, while he indicated us with the tip of a finger. Kay seemed to notice us for the first time, and her cheeks colored in shy embarrassment.
"Hello, Malice and Noble, it's very nice to meet you. I hope you fight the bad guys very well with daddy and mommy." She said, her voice was so innocent and sincere, that I felt like it was chiseling at the stone wall I'd built around my heart. I was bound to say nothing and do nothing. I nodded my head, and offered the slightest of bows, as I contemplated how I was going to kill Lucidil as soon as my daughter was away. Of all the things he could have done to me, I'd never imagined for a moment that he would take my daughter away from me in such a way. Four years. Had she really forgotten me in just four years?
"That's a good girl." Lucidil whispered to her. "Okay, now why don't you go back to the tent with mommy?" He put the girl down, and she looked up at him with obvious displeasure, then she looked at us, and seemed to decide that it was not the time to question an adult. She curtsied to Malice and me, and then departed, hand in hand with Ferocity. My daughter walked away once more, in the hand of the enemy, in the hand of her new mother.
Everything blurred around me, all my rage and anger overwhelmed me and in a moment all that existed was chaos. When that haze of rage faded, I was standing with my sword drawn, a group of fifteen black cloaks, and two Knights of Ethan, standing before me, all of their weapons drawn. Behind me, Malice had Lucidil leaned against his desk, her fist balled at his throat, and her broken sword, its edge still dangerously sharp, resting at his neck.
"I'm going to kill you." I heard Malice whisper, her voice low enough so that only the three of us, Weaver, Malice, and myself, could hear it. "What have you done to our daughter?" In her anger, she slipped and said what she had almost said earlier. "Our daughter" It shouldn't have surprised me that she would think of Kay as such, but it did for a moment. Malice had helped raise her as much, if not more, than I had. She had as much right to the word, "daughter," as did I. I found the sentiment oddly touching.
"I've done nothing to her. She's safe and sound. She hasn't been hurt, or abused, and she has had a life far safer, and in better care than most children could ever wish for." Weaver's voice was strangely calm. Those guards around us seemed on the verge of action, and I knew that at any moment things could degenerate into a bloodbath.
"You have to understand, when she got here, the black cloaks that brought her had exposed her to some terrifying situations. They had not harmed her, but she had witnessed the death of the other woman, Wisp, as well as many other deaths necessary to deliver her safely. She was traumatized. She wouldn't speak, wouldn't eat, and we were afraid she might never recover from the trauma. I had my medics, those specialized in the practice of magics of healing, remove her memories. She recovered not long after that." Weaver explained calmly.
My hand tightened on my sword hilt. "You are trying to tell me you did this only for Kay, and not simply to punish me?" My words were as sharp as my sword.
I could not see Weaver, but I could hear the anger in his words. "You deserved to be punished, Noble. You betrayed us all. You almost cost me my ambitions. Yes, I knew that what I did would hurt you, and I knew that it would hurt you even more when I adopted her as a daughter, and Ferocity and I raised her as our own child. I knew that when she responded to the name I'd given her, "Trillia," and not the name you'd given her, that it would tear you apart inside. I knew it and I lavished in the thought. . . . but that doesn't change the situation. You can't kill me now."
"I can. . ." I heard Malice say. "I should, and I will. . ."
"No!" Weaver's voice was heavy with "the voice," dark and gravely, and I heard Malice's killing movement stop, as did the advance of all the guards who had, in that moment, almost fallen upon us with swords at the ready.
"If you kill me," Weaver continued, his voice calm again. "no one will be able to unite the people against the Hungering, and all of humanity, and all of the Uliona, and all of the other peoples of our world, will become food for the their forces. I am not boasting. I have the connections to save us all, and if I die here, all of that will fall away, and you, Kay, and everyone else, will suffer a terrible death at the hands of our enemy. You can hate me all you want, but you cannot kill me."
"How could you do this to me?" I asked, my sword point still raised, my eyes still darting amidst the group of enemies before me. "How could you do this, and still greet me as a friend?"
"We should be friends, Noble. We should be friends, Malice. We are the strongest of our kind, and we should be friends. We should be fighting together. It's all I've ever wanted. I want to stand next to my strong friends, and push back the evils of the world. You betrayed me. You tried to take my dream away from me, but I can have it back. We can still do all of that, together." He said, and his voice was filled with the passion of his convictio
n.
"I want my daughter back." I told him, sickened by the extent he'd gone to in order to achieve his goals. He was, I knew it that moment, one of the greatest evils of the world; a man so certain of his own convictions and wants, that he ignored all else in their pursuit.
"It's not that simple. She is my daughter now, whether you like it or not, but you could become an important person to her. It will take time, but you could become a favorite uncle. How is that going to happen, though, if you kill me here? Do you think she'd ever forgive the people who killed her beloved father? Malice, do you think she'd ever want to be held by the woman who cut her daddy's throat?" He asked, and the only answer we had was our silence. We couldn't kill him. I knew it, and Malice had to know it as well.
If we gave in to our desire and killed him, Kay would be lost to us forever, and the Hungering would destroy the lands of men and all else beyond. We were tied inescapably to the fate of a single tyrannical mad man. For the second time in my life, I felt that everything of importance in my world was being stripped away from me.
"Let me go, and I'll send the guards away, and we can talk in a more civilized manner. Afterwards, if you agree to be calm, I might even invite you to my tent for supper this evening, and you can see Trillia again." His voice was calm, persuasive, and he emphasized my daughter's new name.
I had to bite back the terrible anger I felt. I knew it would not serve me well. He had pressed us into a corner, and we had no choice. I heard her release the cloth at his throat and step back. I heard her sword return to its scabbard. I let my own sword point fall, and finally returned the steel to its leather. We had been defeated without even a fight.
I turned to face Lucidil. His red eyes were calm as he straightened his clothing and dismissed the guards, who only left reluctantly. As the last guard was about to exit, Weaver called out to him.
"Send in Ethaniel and Telistera. We should all be here for this meeting. Time is running out, and now that Noble is here, we need to get to work." He ordered. The black cloak nodded its head and left in a flash.
"Why did you have them kill Wisp like that?" I asked, for that was a terrible memory which I could not push away. It was such a brutality that I had thought it even beyond Lucidil's means.
Lucidil met my eyes, and he shrugged. "That was never my intention. The Black Patch Brigade, they were not entirely under my command at the time. I had to break one of the basic rules that bound their behavior in order to send them on a mission against the king's command. Because I did not specify how to deal with Wisp, they took their own liberties. When I received word from Tyvel, I was greatly upset. She was a fine warrior, and did not deserve what was done to her."
That was, I realized, the closest he would ever come to feeling sorry about what had happened to Wisp, my sister at heart. It was not enough, and in truth, I knew, he could never do enough to make up for what had been done to her. That he had not ordered the atrocities committed did little to alleviate his responsibility in the outcome, or my anger over that outcome.
"How did you use Tyvel to spy on us? I thought he was the king's advisor." I asked next, for my mind had gone numb, and I was simply trying to gather as much information as I could. I had a questioning nature, and when I could do nothing else, I could always ask a question.
"The king thought so as well. In that way, I used him to spy on both of you. In truth, I had long ago stolen the third box of binding, and Tyvel's sleeping body. I kept the body hidden away in a place only I knew of. For Tyvel there was no greater fear than losing his existence, so the only thing I needed to do to ensure his cooperation was to threaten to kill his body if he did not serve me faithfully. He agreed readily enough.
"I tasked him with convincing you to kill the king on my behalf so that I could capture the land, and bend it to my whim. Of course, you foolishly went off course and had yourself damaged by the Kaziem Wolves." He looked at me, his red eyes sharp and attentive. "I see though, that word of your injuries was severely overstated. You are far more powerful than you were last time we met."
Any hope I'd maintained of keeping that information a secret, I realized, was gone in that moment. It wasn't the first time that Lucidil has seen easily through one of my deceptions. He seemed almost unnaturally skilled at judging the capabilities of those around him.
"I had never intended for you to be trapped in the dungeons for four years, but after your injury, and your failure with the king, there was little I could do. I had my own plans to pursue and other avenues by which to obtain my goals. It was a long, hard road, but I've managed to take the throne for myself. Now, if I can just destroy the Hungering, I can finally bring about the era of peace we all desire."
I had trouble believing that the red-eyed warrior before me would ever be satisfied with an era of peace, or that he was even aware of the proper way to obtain such an idealistic world. Lucidil was a barely chained beast, and I did not think a world of peace had any place for his kind. If it did not have a place for his kind, nor did it have one for mine. Fighting, it seemed, was all I knew. I had come too far from the young apprentice of lore I had once been, and for me there could never be a return. I had tried to escape it all, but fate had drawn me back to the battlefield.
Before I could ask any more questions, a face I had not seen in a long time entered the tent, though it was far changed from how I remembered it, and not for the better. Ethaniel entered, tall and fierce, but his fatherly expression was missing from his features. The calm and relaxed face I remembered had been replaced by a terrifying countenance unlike anything I had seen before. Two separate sets of eyes gazed at me. The black eyes, tinged with a hint of deep blue, I recognized, but above those were a set of gray, almost smoky eyes on his horned forehead. Those shadowy eyes seemed to cry a black mist that vaporized into the air as it swept from those alien orifices. I had never seen a Knight, or any other creature for that matter, with a set of eyes like that, and I stepped back involuntarily, my hand going to my sword.
"What have you become?" I heard Malice's voice, a note of fear in it. Those strange, gray-smoke eyes considered me with such dark intent that I felt rooted to the ground.
The blue in his Knight's eyes seemed to have faded, so that, if I had not known it should be there, I might not have noticed it at all. Was that the cost of these new extra eyes he wore? Ethaniel seemed changed, and not just physically, but it had been a long time since last I'd encountered him. It was possible that time had changed him, and not the newest strange addition to his body.
"I have become the tool of necessity." Ethaniel answered Malice, his four eyes dissecting her with their harsh gaze.
"There is much I must explain yet." Lucidil said from the other side of his desk. I couldn't have agreed with him more. Many things needed explaining, but I doubted that it would be possible to clarify everything.
No sooner had those last words left Lucidil's lips, than another faintly familiar figure came through the flap in the tent. She was taller than any of the Knights in the room, and powerfully muscled. She moved with a grace and femininity that denied her muscular nature. Her hair was a pale blue, as though touched softly by the moon on a bright night. Her eyes were like liquid silver, flowing with energy and life. I had first seen her at the king's side long ago, and here she stood before me again. She was every bit as impressive as she had been the first time, an ashen skinned woman of a race I'd never encountered, larger than any legend.
"Ethaniel, Telistera, thank you for coming on such short notice. It is vital that we update Malice and Noble on the situation. They know very little about what has been happening here. Malice, Noble, the tall, silver-eyed beauty is Telistera, a friend from across the sea. She brought us the first solid information about the Hungering. Telistera, these are two of our finest warriors. Knights whose names will live on long after they have gone, Noble and Malice." He indicated us each in turn as he made the introductions.
"Telistera, since you know the most about our enemy, please tell us
your story first. You'll have to start at the beginning, since Malice and Noble know nothing of the events that have happened here over the last six years, or those events in history which have led us to this point." Weaver handed out orders easily, like the king that he had become.
Telistera bowed deeply to Lucidil, and then turned to face Malice and me. Her silver eyes were almost hypnotic to stare at, as was the surprising amount of flesh exposed by her strange armor. It hardly seemed an effective covering at all. It surprised me that she wore so little in the harsh cold weather of winter.
She spoke in a sing-song voice, with an accent that was both heavy, and somehow airy and light, caressing the words even as it made them seem sharp and harsh. "I shall start at the beginning. This all began a thousand years ago. . ." Her story unfolded.