The Abbey
The fingers sweapt downward suddenly in a sharp snap that filled the woodlands for unnatural distances, and his two compatriots leapt forth into the fray.
One had both hands tightly wrapped about the hilt of a gleaming blade, it's monstrous size adding to the pervasive aura of death carried forth with regal grace by these Lords of the Endless Night.
He hissed and spun about on one heel, making a full circle he brought the blade down in a slash that would have severed an opponenet from shoulder to hip, yet served only to announce his presence in the middle of the entirety of the group.
The other tucked away his blade in mid-leap, inhumanly strong grasp closing upon Bran's arm's, simultaneously an ebon heel crashed into the boy's kneecap.
"Death" the leader enthused
Gathering himself below the agony, he tried to create a shield around his True Being. For this was a battle he could not loose. He would NOT turn against his friends
Free hand swept upward in co-ordinated movement with a silken clad knee, each striking their intended target. Chill digits held vicelike about Bran's delicate neck, accompanied with a crashing blow to the boy's groin.
"To the horses!" He yelled as he swiftly turned around.
> Languid movements brought forth a concealed blowgun, raising the bamboo weapon to his lips. Nimble gloved digits fitted a poison- coated needle into the blowgun and his smirk faded.
He inhaled deeply, and exhaled sharply, sending forth the needle at the woman Kara.
She didn't turn back, but instead forced her horse to go faster. She had a feeling in the back of her mind that it would be faster to run , but she pushed the thought away, not realizing that the thought was right.
She was still new to her new being, and she was not sure how to react to the thought that kept creaking into her mind. She knew that Tigra would be able to explain everything, once she woke up, but that might take days.
Some how she knew that Tigra was going to be ok. It was nothing more that a feeling, but that was one she was sure of. She looked back and saw Tigra alone on one of the horses , and thought that was strange. She left her with Bran, but he was no were to be seen. The group was so spread apart, that she did not try to find out why. She felt that he was safe, but it was a strange feeling, like it was planted in her mind.
She shook the feeling off and slowed to grab Tigra`s horse, and made sure the Tigeress would not fall off. She could tell that Tigra was coming in and out of her sleep, and was trying to control the animal . "Tigra, rest, for I have control", She yelled and then she kicked her horse into a fast gallop..........
All sense of self was lost-except an inner voice that continued to scream over and over *Why me? Why-what did I ever do-o-o.... *
Desperation presented a surge of inner struggle.
* I will not be taken this easily! You want me, you Monster, then Fight for me!!* He tore from the vampyre Lord through an act of sheer surprise movement. -the hands leaving runnels of blood upon his neck. Using a flying mount unto his horse he wheeled away-blood draining down his bare chest.The horse , terrified by the entire thing bolted, taking Bran out of reach of the conflict. Sadly, even as he left he felt a pull to return.
As the battle raged, he found himself drawn back against his will. His body took him where his brain said not to go. That was when the inner screams began to escalate in earnest.
The boy dismounted and was pulled toward the Nightlord. Suddenly a swirl of mist encompassed him and...
---- Drip. Drip. Drip. Undoubtedly, Bran was on the edge of losing whatever vestige of sanity still resided in the young man's mind.
His crimson stained form was sprawled out upon the cold flagstones of an eerily dark cell, yet it held none of the damp chill so famously attributed to such. Rather, the dry heat would quickly reduce men to snarling savages, beads of perspiration settled atop their noses.
The sound of water dripping only served to bring forth their tempers every few minutes. There were no walls visible, only an azure haze which could have been physical, or nothing more than a construct of the weakened boy's mind. However, the aplantic fleshed countenance appearing within the depths of those cerulean mists was quite real --
Slowly he returned to conciousness. His peril real, he looked around trying to locate anything or anyone to help him. Despair rose when there was no vestige of help in sight.
-- Crimson tiers curled pack, revealing ivory barracades that tapered into inhumanly jagged edges--
"What would you have of me, Servant of Jarg?" he spit through clenched teeth.
Tremors slid through the weary body as the child man waited the Vampyre's response.
The cell showed him walls of stone,deeply worn. Shackles hung , rusting and blood crusted. Old molded straw emitted foul odors of weary endings.
Words slowly and delicately spoken, woven with a silken voice as a spider would it's most intricate web, a slow stacatto forming as the pallid invidual came closer, his boots resounding upon the stone floors
Quiet words were carried to Bran, in a soothing tone far unworthy of this situation "Speak your final prayers to whatever god it is you worship, childe"
Then as the Master extended a wrist, the Childe partook of the Bloode.Pulling power with it. The flow was free and full of fire-BranVere drew deeply-the master set bounds, where the young Childe should stop-But BranVere battled for more-he wanted ALL!
You must feed nightly, as long as you've blood, you will be able to heal yourself.. and fuel certain other abilities.." Quick speech finished, he fished out a red marble, and struck it to the ground..
The Marble drew his eyes.
A flash of knowledge passed B'vere's thoughts as he was returned to camp.
ESCAPE
Bran had disappeared for a time-he was suddenly just there again as they left camp at full tilt-Guen puzzled this, but had neither the time nor the energy to pursue the thought.
With all safely together, Guen headed for the hills on the great War horse.
Guen rode hard, pushing the others, herself as well . The effects of the spell and the strain of a major healing had taken it's toll. "Hai'nn, don't let , me fall, Old One." She whispered into the great stallion's neck. As they left the clearing the trail through the woods narrowed , branches slapping faces, tearing at clothing. The pace was killing.
The terrain changed gradually. The level forest floor began to climb-taking the travellers up into a land of hills and deep vales. They had to traverse these highlands to reach the pass which would bring them to the desert and the Abbey.Many times as dawn broke and the day gained , they went down a ravine only to have to climb out again. It was a place too quiet, as if waiting or empty. None of the wildlife that should have been moving about, avoiding the travelers, was present.
Desperate for rest , the girl called a halt at nooning.
"Kara, will you light a small , dry fire there in that hollow-we need to eat-and rest. "
Turning to Kirjath, Guen spoke softly, not wishing the others to hear. "Warrior, I grow weak-the magic took much from me. I must count on your skills to get us to the abbey. We are a hard day's ride, perhaps more, away. The pass is there at the top of that ridge. On the far side we must bear Northeast. the landmarks are faint, but readable. Watch well when you reach the desert-a drift of rock lies to east-follow it north-there is a spring at the end of the drift, and then the Abbey is a fast ride due North."
Dragging a hand across a perspiring forehead, Guen continued."Look well for ambush. There are too many hidden places here. Given a choice , I would have brought us to the Abbey by a different road, but Fate chose this for us."
Gazing steadily at the warrior for a moment, she reached out to touch his face." I am glad thou art with us, Warrior."
With that , the woman stepped back and staggerd to a tree near the fire. She leaned against the tree and slowly slid down to a sitting position. A moment later she was asleep. Raza moved to curl up around her.
"Kara, will you light a small , dry fire there in that hollow? We need to eat-and rest".
Kara smiled and hopped off her horse. She let the reins fall, and went over and gathered Tigra off of her horse. She was as light as a feather , and Kara placed her in the shade, near -the soon to be built- fire.
The Vamps that they were running from were no where near to be found. For some strange reason , she smelled the air, and listened for any sound. There was no sound. Not from any thing. No air was moving, no insects were moving about, no birds were singing, nothing . It was as if they stepped into a vacumn. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and she felt her blood starting to boil once again.
"Damn it Tigra ,what did you do to me" She yelled, but her voice hardly carried to the trees. After gathering up firewood,and getting a small fire going, she went about making sure that Tigra and the others were comfortable. Bran was back with the group, and was carrying for the horses. She went over to the Mule and gathered up the supplies for the days dinner.
Grabbing a pan, she gathered up a few parts of meat and some water, to make up a stew. It was fast, and filling, and she needed to tid the hunger she was feeling. The fresh meat looked god to her without being cooked, and she had to hold back the urge to eat it raw. Finding a knife, Kara cut the meat in smaller pieces and threw them into the pot. taking the water, she pored it in and placed it over the fire.
*It shouldnt take long to get this going*, she thought, and then noticed that the fire brought no smoke.
*This place is strange indeed. No noise, no wind,and now no smoke as well. I will be glad to get to this so called abbey and rest*.
Walking over and making sure that Guen was alright, she went back to where she placed Tigra. Tigra was still out of it, but she could sense that she was getting stronger.
* You have a lot to explain when you awake , my friend*, and her tail twitched behind her.....
He watched Guen draw Kirjath aside. Moving around , getting the animal;s cooled and comfortable, he kept an eye on the pair. *She likes him. Finally, Guen likes someone. * With a small smile he hugged the knowledge to himself.
When Guen slid down the tree, he realized how weak she was. Rummaging in his bottomless pack, he pulled out some herbs and approached Kara shyly. "Kara, this-this would make a tea that will give Guen strength . Would you make some , so it will be ready when she wakens?"
Kara made him feel so shy-he'd had no problems with the girls in Montfort, but this one- she was different. He did not just want her to joke around with him. He wanted to make her smile. She was so pretty when she smiled!
Thrusting the bag into her hands, he hurried back to the horses. At least he knew what he was doing with them.
*Kara, this-this would make a tea that will give Guen strength . Would you make some , so it will be ready when she wakens?*
Kara smiled and started to say something, when Bran blushed and ran back to the horses. *Hmm , he is acting strange today. Must have been all of the excitment.*
Taking the bag of herbs and smelling them, she went back and took another pan and water for the tea. Walking by Guen, she felt her forhead and smiled. "All will be better soon, my friend", and she went back to tend the stew. She saw Kirjath walk down from the path that they had just came from.
*He looks tired as well. It will be good for everyone to be at the Abby*..and under her breath she said a pray in a strange tongue... the tongue of a Tigeress.......
Once Guen closed her eyes and went to sleep, Kirjath moved down the trail a bit and away from the others to watch for any pursuit. This short respite was sorely needed. Not only was Guen exhausted, but the rest of the group and the animals needed rest as well.
Kirjath closed his eyes and listened. Silence. Odd, very odd. He wished that they were at this abbey soon enough.
ONE STEP BEHIND
"We go cautiously from here , my Lord Xan."
Trying to maintain the formality she knew to be essential to his Elvish pride, was beginning to be a pain, but she would work at it. Gods knew , that when it came to a crunch she could always use the Voice on him. She hoped , though , that he would listen instead. It would be so much easier and , less damaging to his pride.
"With your permission, Sirrah, we each need to take a side of the campsite and search for tracks and other sign that will tell us what happened and what our friends did after this...." she waved her arm aound the camp. "Guen would most likely head for the Abbey..mmmn. "
With the signs showing the battle and then the escape the old woman could only follow Guen's party toward the Abbey.
Giving a piercing whistle she called her owl, Repartee' and sent him to her friend, Jesse, the Keeper at the Abbey, after setting her message in Repartee's mind. She let him know what was happening and that she was trying to find Gueny , to help.
After a brief rest , the party continued on along the trail Bittea knew Guen would take.
ARROWWIND
As a Meta-the Abbey warriors- he found a place-his killing served a greater cause, and he soon stepped on into the world of the Tiriz, the Priest -Mages of the Abbey world.
Now , a Keeper in his own right, he ruled the whole area round the Abbey-true-it was with gentle and unseen persuasion, but it was in his charge.His friends , the Great war eagles told him of the coming of the Fellowship..
Sand , the great dragon, had been here for some time, trying to locate any information that could aid in their hunt for a weakness in Jarg. At least the weary travellers would remain safe here-once they came with in the Abbey walls-Jarg was not yet strong enough to conquer the strength of the Church. though he had tried the Abbey walls with his sorcery a few times.
Jesse grinned as he remembered the shock on Jarg's face, when he discovered WHO was Keeper here! That was a moment of unholy glee for Jesse. Ah, well-such are the joys of a quiet life.
Jesse walked the herb garden in meditation, great hands folded under his soft blue robe, his grizzled head bowed under the hood. As the fountain played softly, he was able to center again.
Later that evening, he recieved an owl from Bittea, an old friend. She now ran a Caravanseri and was a wide traveller. She often sent him snippets of information that she thought might be of importance to him. So, he set it aside and forgot it until the next morning.
That was to prove a dangerous and costly mistake for all of them. She would never let him live it down , either.
Jesse stalked down the long hall to the heavy library door . They swung open easily at his touch, making no sound. The great study hall was quiet-it's atmoshpere of calm enhanced by rich paneling and heavy cerulean blue draperies. The great windows let in the light , while the Shaing vines on the arbor outside keep the glare from causing pain to the eyes. Deep soft settles lined the spaces between the walls, and fireplaces that would hold half a tree graced either end of the long room. several refrectory style tables in rich wood stood about with straight chiars pulled to them. Good glow lamps were well placed for reading. Several of the Pere's were reading quietly or perusing old manuals at the tables.
The grizzled hair of Jesse's beard shone in the light as he passed into the next room. Here was Mirage's place. The tall stern woman had been there forever it seemed. at least no one now living could remember when she first came.
Few realized that Mira was dragon, a Great Blue. That knowledge was entrusted to only the Keeper. Though she was fierce if any tried to remove books from the Library without permission. Like a Dragon with it's treasure hoard, Mirage knew every book and scoll that lay within her Hold and protected them as adamantly.
There was reason for this. Arrowwind was repository for much of the magical works of the area. And the Abbey was ancient. there were tomes, Jesse was sure , that only Mira had any idea of their content. And she would not divulge the secrets. You were allowed to search, and utilize what you found, but she kept well the secrets of Arrowwind.
Jesse was in luck! Mira stood at a shelf nearby.
"Mira, " he queried "Have you seen that young scamp Sandanamous?"
Irritated , Jesse continued "His companions are in a running battle and have need of his aid! Is he still buried down in the stacks? There are no answers there, they have been searched for the last 15 years, hoping to find a clue to what really happened to Jarg. What makes that young scoundrel think he will have any better luck than the rest of the known world?"
Mirage looked at Jesse, smokey eyes glowing with a hint of fire. "Patience, My Friend. The Dune will find his answer soon. The Fellowship will have his help in time." the tall woman turned slowly hands hidden in the folds of her deep blue robe and paced slowly toward the spiral stairwell that lead to the stacks below. Looking over her shoulder with a slight smile on her long mouth, she asked, "Well are you coming? You do want to find him?"
With that she began to descend the stairs.
Jesse mouth open like a school boy, recovered and followed the Librarian below in search of Sand.
His sandy brown head of feathery hair seemed to have a mind of its own, and most of its energy was focussed on getting in his eyes. He absentmindedly combed it back with long bronze fingers. The face that studied a few worn pages of ancient text looked slightly dragonic. There was really no other way to describe the slender jaw, accompanied by a beaky nose, slightly slanted amber eyes, and lobeless ears. He wasn?t exactly attractive, but then he wasn?t -not-. Which didn?t matter one lick if you were in a fight with him. Because, beneath the cream colored breeches and tunic, his muscles were as lean and compact as a cats. His tall, thin frame only -appeared- weak.
He shifted against the stone floor, rearranging his blade to a more comfortable position, and sighed heartily. He'd been down here for months! He was sure the dust and musk of this place had permeated his bronze skin and become an integral part of him! He wouldn't be surprised if a cloud of dust rose the next time he Shifted! And for what had he spent hours upon hours reading tome after tome? Oh sure, he was best fit for the job, being 1800 years old gave you time to learn languages . . .
But he should have been out -there-, helping Guen and Tigra and putting his claws to good use! He stared at one stubby (to him) human hand, curling the digits with a dissatisfied air. He hadn't found a single bloody thing of any use . . .
Although he now knew at least -fifty- more ways to kill twenty different types of creatures, and herbal remedies for at least five-hundred- different ailments. If only he knew he'd searched -everywhere-, looked in every last part of every last tome, he would be satisfied to take Pegasus and go back to Gwen's small company of heroes. With an even heavier sigh, he set the tome aside and picked up another one, leafing through its pages one by weary one.
Mirage, almost as if she had heard his thought's slowed at a landing and said "Jesse, it is not my place to tell your kind the answers, but I will gift you this, for the loyalty the abbey has shown me over the centuries, Sand is on the right track. Follow through with the path he is taking. It will lead you well." With those words , she resumed the downward spiral.
DISCONTENT
In the corner was a small bed, the oakwood slats cut and polished by Cambrian and his father, back when the diligent warrior-magi had yet been a boy. The plain brown curtains had been thrown wide, and the sunlight cast upon the bed brought a dull shine out of the dark polish that Cambrian had layered upon the wood.
On the bed rested a thick quilt, one fashioned by his mother's hands, strand by strand. It was stuffed with the only warmth a poor family could provide; loose strands, broken spools of thread, grizzled cobs from a corn dinner that his mother had always made just right.
Two feet from the foot of the bed, set against the wall where the small window was, rested the small clothing chest. In it was layered the man's meager possessions. A few brown shirts of a heavy burlap, several robes of matching hue and texture, as well as cotton and silk versions there of.
The wall opposite the one blocked by the bed was overtaken by a myriad of crooken shelves the Young Cambrian had put up himself, and upon it rested more books than any man could imagine reading. But then, no-one said Cambrian actually Read the books.
This left two walls- the one with the window and dresser, and the one with the head of the bed. Except for those few things, these walls were kept bare of all except padding.
The 'padding' was cotton bags full of thick hides, which the boy would spend hours daily punching, kicking, ravaging them as he would any opponent.
The boy had created this place, the man dwelled here. The elected leader-monk of the abbey refused to let him have another room, for he felt that it was wasteful to move into a larger room when he already had a comfortable existence.
This lead to more than one argument, and the boy only grew angrier. It didn't matter to him, of course, he just continued blaming Gerald, the student that lived across the hall from him.
Cambrian would do nothing wrong. He would be walking down the hall and see Gerald picking up some fallen books. A playful tug- that's all it was! Yet Gerald fell down in a mess of flailing limbs, and the leader-priest somehow said it was Cambrian's fault! How rude.
The man remained dressed well, despite the average in the Abbey. He entered his room in a huff, after having had another tiff with the Leader, and this time he merely threw himself at the padding, taking out his frustration as he always did- abusing the padding until he grew tired, then abusing with magick.
Hours later he fell to the ground, chest heaving and sore. His bared flesh was layered with welts and bruises, yet he did not react to any pain. Heavy lids stole shut, and he fell to sleep.
DISCOVERY
One doesn't growl at a Great Blue in her wyer.
Mirage's eyes went from smokey grey to an amber boil in less than two seconds. The pupils changed from human to nictating in less time, even. Wisps of sulphuric steam began to float around her head and she seemed about to stretch into something Jesse felt he would really regret seeing, at this time and place. Then , just as Jesse, hardened Warrior that he was, began to fear for his life, she settled. It was almost as if a falcon had mantled.
Mira breathed deeply for a moment, turning her back on the Tirizi. Then with a chill calm, that boded ill for the future, she said "He is within. I will leave you to continue . You may find your own way out."
With that , the angry She swept away down a dark corridor, her dark rich robes trailing behind her-reiminesent of a blues scales, as they shimmer in darkness.
Jesse, knees turned to rubber, sagged against the wall of the corrider.Sweat poured from forehead and armpit-the stink of fear was on him.
*Never in all my encounters with dragons , have I ever thought of Mira as one. But she is and an old one at that? which is she?*
Racking his brain , sorting through all the legends he had garnered through his travels, yet he could not put a name to this Great One.
Exhausted by the encounter, the weary Keeper pushed open the door to this lowest of the book rooms. The smell of age overpowered him as he entered. There was Sandanamous!
Seated crosslegged amidst a massive pile of tomes, the boy was obviously getting frustrated. With a wave of his hand, Jesse cleared the air of dust and instead filled it with fresh air off the high mountain meadows. And ...*Let's have a little light on the subject , too!*
"Getting no where fast , are we? " he boomed in his least tactful manner.
,br> The boy needed roused from his weariness and fresh spark added. So..*Time to be abrasive*.
,br> Jesse proceeded to fill the room with noise and questions, while he was actually waiting to share what Mirage had told him.
His next sense to be assaulted was hearing, the boisterous voice of the Keeper filling the book room as the scent and light had before.
Blinking slowly, as a cat who has just awaken, he looks up at the man who is Jesse.
*It is always odd to be missing my third eyelid*
Attempting to answer the barrage of speach, he finally dumps the tome from his lap in a rare show of violent emotion. Exasperation wore ragged lines in his smooth face as he leapt to his feet.
Harmonious voice held discord, "Nothing! I have found Nothing! I am wasting my time here! I need to be out there helping Gwen!" Bronze arm flung out, pointing in an indetermanite direction. "And I'm _certainly_ not doing that here!" His eyes glowed red for a minute, arms raised and fingers flexed as if they were his talons, instead of human digits.
Then he deflates, sagging in on himself. Softly, he speaks. "I am a dragon. Dragon by birth and by nature. I need to hunt, to kill. I need to _be_ a dragon."
Curling his long arms in, he stared at his finger tips, then drug his gaze to Jesse. "I have spent too many days down here without food or water. I am almost at my limit. I can't even think strait right now." Looking around the book room with weary-blinded eyes, he repeats. "I need to hunt."
" Sand, tha Great Dragon, you are yet a child, even in Dragon years. You have punished yourself seeking these answers, that many wise mages have failed to dicover. Do you know that the Mirage is one of your kind?"
Jesse didn't wait for the answer but went on speaking- "She has been here beyond the time of any of these great records. She is under a Geas not to interfere, yet she has this day told me that thou art on the right track.Hold steadfast my Son and we will yet find the answer."
Laying a hand on the young man's shoulder he asked "Do you remember anything that spoke to you while you were searching? A sense that 'This might be it'?
Jesse sat , too. Racking his brain for anything that might give them some direction.
*What was happening politically at that time? I know that much of what happened with Jarg had to do with our friendship. The three Warriors! * Sadness slipped through the barriers the old warrior had placed around his heart. Old grief welled-as much for Jarg as the murdered Reen.
Jesse reviewed his knowledge of history during the time of Jarg's change. He new that Jarg had become progressively evil as time passed and was eventually exiled after betraying a close friend and slaughtering the family.
Weary brain cells rebelled.
Closing his eyes and centering the old Tirizi focused and began the cleansing ritual. As the energies flowed and cleared his physic channels, he became aware of waft of heat , off to the right in the stacks. "Sand?" He whispered softly-focus there-pointing in the direction he felt the warmth from.
"COME!" He commanded Sand.
Rising from the floor, he slowly followed the feeling of power he got. It led to rack of older scrolls-their green binding indicative of a court record. Then the warmth left , as suddenly as it had overwhelmed him.
Jesse didn't know or care what it all was-at this point he was ready to try ANYTHING! Reaching out a hesitant hand he picked up the first scroll. It was a record of the civil charges, brought by friends of Reen's against Jarg, after the massacre.
As he went through scroll after scroll, assisted by Sand, his horror grew. Reen had been killed while Jesse was over the seas. Tho Guen had told him a little, she had not gone into detail. Now he understood why and understood the wall of terror barely concealed in her eyes.
Holding the last scroll in his hands, he hesitated to open it. He, Reen and Jarg had been friends for years before Jarg turned. The campaign across the seas had kept him away while Jarg betrayed Reen , and by Jesse's return, Jarg had become an Evil creature.
Jesse was not sure he wanted to read on. But he needed to know. Opening the scroll he began. As he neared the nightmare ending a scrap of paper fell to the floor. Weathered gold stood out against the dark stone flags. The paper seemed to glow . Jesse was about to reach for it when Sand...
