Damoxte felt it first. She had been sitting against the invisible barrier along the doorway of Allets all night. Vamps had entered and exited, some walking right through her, but she could not step into the wooden walled colony. So she sat all night. If she were alive, she would be tired. If she were alive, she may have enjoyed not needing to sleep. Now that she was dead ... she actually missed the ability to dream.
Therefore she knew she was not dreaming when she felt the presence of the furre of music. Damoxte could not deny the sweet music the feline was able to create from his flute. But if he had been from her days, she would’ve trashed that instrument at first sight. There was no time for foolish distractions.
She stood as her ears twitched, attempting to pin point Cyiet. She heard that song before. Was it something about a fishercat? Damoxte discarded the thought. It was merely a distraction.
Damoxte spotted a tall lanky feline silhouette eastward. The figure was standing with his head bowed into a flute as he faced the wooden wall. It was as if he was waiting for someone. Curious, Damoxte decided to walk to him and find out.
As she approached the poet, his ears twitched. He looked in her direction and met her gaze. Was he able to see me, Damoxte wondered. She easily dismissed that notion. He probably just heard something.
“Hello,” Cyiet greeted, “Do you have a request?”
The ancient commander froze.
“How can you see me?” she asked.
But Cyiet did not respond. He lowered his head again and played a long sad tune.
“Cyiet,” Damoxte whispered. It was not so much that she felt herself vulnerable at the moment, but the tune itself felt like it shouldn’t be interrupted, “How do you know me? We’ve never met.”
The melody was the answer. She knew this song very well. Yet it hadn’t been played for over a century. To her knowledge, no one alive knew of it ... except Kaelin. That song took her back...
Damoxte blinked. Three long shadows grew against Cyiet. She turned around, almost to the rhythm of the poet’s imagination. Three felines stood gazing into her eyes. One of them was Gelae, the other two she did not recognize.
Or did she? Damoxte always remembered a face. She knew the black furre with orange hair. She saw him years ago when he was a child. It was the day that she rescued Markliam. But ... didn’t the child have orange fur and black hair?
“Commander Damoxte,” the female announced, “I wish you weren’t here.”
Damoxte frowned at the woman. There was something familiar about this one too. But she knew she never met her. In fact, Damoxte had only met two furres with tufts on their ears and that was a family trait.
“My name is Exavia,” the strange female said, “You recognize that song, don’t you? It takes you to a time when your heart was beating ... to a time when you felt passion. A time when duty meant more than your life.”
Cyiet’s notes resonated inside Damoxte as if she did in fact have a heartbeat. The world she could only visit vanished away. The four furres were replaced by fog. She knew this time and place. She was still in the mountains.
“Commander?”
Damoxte looked down at Kaelin. She did not look any younger, but that was her charm. The grey furre was laying in her blankets, looking up at her commander with eyes engaging between curiosity and continuing sadness.
“Are you okay, sir?” she asked.
Damoxte knelt to the young furre. She had so much to say. Kaelin was her best pupil. She had surpassed all of her expectations. But now that Kaelin’s friend recently died ... Damoxte wanted her to know that she had gone through the same thing. But she could never bring herself to say it. She did not want to seem vulnerable to her soldiers.
“Get some rest, Lecari,” Damoxte told her, “We attack at dawn.”
Dawn, she thought. Was it not dawn now? She was just standing with Gelae and Cyiet, but now she was here. Yet this was very real.
“It is real,” Exavia’s voice rang through her head, “For with your memories, I can see your soul.”
“But why here?” Damoxte asked, “Why bring me here?”
“I can choose any memory I want.”
“Why here?!?” Damoxte shouted.
“Because I don’t want to help him,” Exavia replied, “But I’m forced to. Sand, music, and ice can’t stop me, but time can. You can stop me.”
“And if I can’t?”
“Then you will share your fate with Cyiet, Gelae, and Cucunner. I will take your soul and deliver it to him.”
Damoxte blinked, “Who are you talking about?”
Him.
“Commander?” a coarse voice said behind her.
Damoxte looked to the voice in the fog. She could barely see him. She stood and the fog buried Kaelin below her.
“Commander?” the voice called again.
“I’m over here,” Damoxte answered.
The feline reached her. It was Kliam, the head archer. His black hair was matted and worn. It had been days since this battalion had a real rest.
“Warrior Gorian sighted a few demon shamans,” he told her, “Roone suggests that they came from the mountains.”
Markliam was a spitting image of his ancestor, Damoxte thought. Brown fur, dusty eyes, and that strange smirk must have been exploited enough to be kept in the family.
“Gorian wants to discuss options with you,” Kliam continued. He turned and left, as if assuming Damoxte would follow. They both knew she would. It was her duty. She looked back to Kaelin, but with the fog, she was nothing more than a shadow.
I promise, Damoxte thought, I will open to you.
The commander recalled something. She looked
down at her feet. Her claws were just a bit longer than they should
be. She made a mental note to take care of them soon.
“Do we just leave her there?” Gelae asked.
Exavia nodded sadly. She was hoping the furre of time would be able to break that spell, but alas, she too had fallen. She watched as Damoxte laid on the grass. If she were not dead, Exavia knew the commander would be dreaming these memories. Yet the winged furre knew that this was not the case. She could not exist in Damoxte’s memories like she did in the other three. Yes, Damoxte was experiencing memories, but they were not placed in her dreams. Soon Damoxte will “awake” and she will involuntarily follow Exavia to him. And she will be his.
“Let’s go,” Exavia ordered, “She’ll meet with us soon.”
Cyiet continued to play as he walked ahead. Gelae strolled beside Exavia as they began their trek into a place very few furres knew existed. Yet as she walked away from Damoxte, a strange ripping feeling came over her.
“Cucunner,” she whispered.
She looked back to the vamp. He just stood there beside Damoxte and watched the other three.
“Cucunner,” she called again, “Its time to leave.”
Cucunner shook his head, “Its not my time to be with you.”
“Its our time,” Gelae protested, “We’re needed.”
“Exavia will lead you to him,” Cyiet added.
“No,” Exavia shook her head. She knew the answer as soon as she felt it. In fact, she should have expected it. Cucunner slipped away from her, just like sand. Perhaps she underestimated his power after all. Maybe time cannot stop her, but sand just might be able to.
“Leave him,” she said.
The three felines continued without him. She was unaware how much time had passed. She would have suspected it to be days, but that would not be efficient to furre of land. The mountains disappeared and all that was left was earth.
I thought you were bringing three, furre of land said.
They arrived at their destination, Exavia realized. It was probably only minutes, but she felt that years had passed by.
“Where’s Cunner?” the female equine asked.
Cunner? Was that his name? Exavia sighed. How could she have gotten that wrong?
“He slipped away,” she answered, “What else can you expect from sand?”
“I’ll get him back,” the equine offered.
No, Land said, Kill him instead. We’ll grab his soul that way. Since furre of seasons will soon be arriving, I’ll have her killed too.
“Understood,” the equine said.
Exavia wanted to sob, but she knew it was impossible. After being with him for years, she had lost that ability. She did not want Cunner dead, but there was nothing for her to do.
While you’re there, Land continued, Kill the orphans.
“I thought there was only one,” Exavia said suddenly.
“Gorian and Markliam are there,” the equine explained.
Gorian?
Exavia stumbled to the ground. She would not be comforted. Cyiet and Gelae were gone now. Cunner would soon be dead, as well as...
She started to cry.
Damoxte awoke looking at the sky. She tried to turn her head, but could not. Her mouth was open, but she could not close it. There was something very cold inside of her and within a moment, she knew it was a spear.
She was hanging on one of Dark Harvest’s wooden poles. The spear impaled her through her mouth and out her other end. Her feet were just above the ground. She had once spent years in this position.
His voiced rasped, “What have you done?”
“I’m sorry, master,” Damoxte rasped back, “Furre of land has someone working for him. She can take the souls of furres.”
“I know that,” he rasped again, “Did you think earth can do it alone?”
“He had a demon,” she winced, “I thought demons can do that.”
“They can. But earth is earth. Water can flush it away, ice can scrape it into oblivion, stars can make it explode. He cannot do it alone.”
“He has ice,” Damoxte reported, “And music and sand.”
“Not sand,” Dark Harvest answered, “He re-entered the colony. I could not follow because there was a barrier along the gateway. I sense a demon was involved.”
She wanted to see him. She did not know why. She hated Dark Harvest, but this master position made her feel like a little pupil. Why wouldn’t he consul her? Why was he so distant?
“When can I come down?” she asked him, while still looking at the sky.
There was a pause. But she knew the answer was forthcoming.
“Your soul might be under his control,” he said, “The spear will help make it mine again. Until then, I will stay. Furre of seasons is coming here anyway.”
Damoxte stiffened. An attack was on the way. Gorian, Markliam and Cunner were inside Allets, but they could not get inside. How could they prevent their deaths?