Altered Paths

[Alais d Nitesong]

The great black blade lay atop the effigy, and yet to look at it, it did not appear entirely solid; as though it were a very dense fog rather than a solid object. Tass and Khirsah had left the mausoleum. I was alone with the dead kings of Annara, and an incomplete blade the likes of which I had never wanted to retain in the world of the living. Daemonbane. We, Morrin and I had managed to send it back this time, and yet, we had not entirely sent it back. Its shade or shadows remained in the realm of the living, and with each passing day, those shadows become darker, more noticeable, more solid in appearance.

To my view, it appears as though the manifestations in the land of the living are growing stronger, pulling the part of Daemonbane that resides here in Riverbend away from this place where it belongs, and back into a world that does not need it, nor want it. And I believe that Malchor’s escape is the cause for this phenomenon, as Rhaine would call such.

I had stood and considered the blade for a long while after Tass and Khirsah left. I had been fortunate once, and my taking up Daemonbane had not resulted in my complete consumption by the blade. Morrin had taken it back. But if I take up the blade a second time, there will be no reprieve. I will be bound to it as surely as Morrin was, and as surely as Khirsah is to the soul drinker he now carries. These are unforgiving things, and I study the semi-transparent blade before me gravely.

The ‘others’ whispered beyond the doors and walls of the mausoleum. There was a voice out there that did not belong here. It was not an Annaran voice, and I trembled. Sai Jon’s son had vanished in the war, could it be? I could not remove him from Riverbend until Malchor was caught and the exchange could be made. I had to hope I did not see Sai Jon, for I do not know how to tell him that his son would remain here until Malchor could be exchanged.

The decision is agony. Do I leave this here and allow the shadows to become more substantive in the world of the living, or do I take up this fading blade and put it back together in the world of the living, but have it bound to myself. I can keep the blade focused for some time, but in the end, such blades destroy those who carry them. And when that time comes, will I be properly destroyed and the blade sent back here with me? How do I assure that?

I reached for the blade then, it writhed beneath my hand, waiting for my touch upon its hilt. I would put the blade together, and then lock it into the chamber I had made for the books. Lock the blade away where none could ever again touch it. Then with resolution, I closed my fingers around the wire bound hilt. For better or worse, Daemonbane and I would be one.

The blade whispered to me as its hilt adjusted to my grasp; a subtle shifting of proportions to make the blade an extension of my own hand. It hungered too. It was wrapping itself around me, feeding the sorceries I had learned from Morrin, the same sorceries I had tied myself to long ago shifted as Daemonbane became a part of what I am.

When I exited the mausoleum, Tass and Khirsah were no where to be seen, nor felt in Riverbend. They had returned, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Daemonbane laid across my back, settled there as if it had always been a part of me. And I walked across the courtyard toward Glum’s forge. It had been there that I had first seen Morrin and Daemonbane. I stood in the doorway of the now silent forge, remembering back to the day when Xenograg and I had been speaking with Glum about re-forging Morvinyon. Memory played back that meeting, where Morrin had dismantled my shields as if it had been nothing but child’s play to him, and the great black warhorse stamped its feet in annoyance at being reined in to a halt. The black cloak Morrin had worn swung with his dismounting, revealing Daemonbane sheathed upon his back, and the writhing of the blade as it sensed new comers to Riverbend had been a frightening image.

Here I stood today, now the bearer of that blade.

It was time to go back to the living. Time to leave the quiet of Riverbend, and a part of me mourned that is was so. I shrugged into the deep blue cloak that would cover Daemonbane and traveled between the worlds.

[Alais d Nitesong]

My return to Matlal was unnoticed by Khirsah, who had not come to my island except to deliver me home and depart nearly instantly. Tass had not been to Matlal, and he had his own issues to deal with on Odhran. Garl was no where to be found, and my dragonet had gone missing as well. I frowned. Construction was continuing, and good progress was being made. I would go to RhyDin, perhaps I could find Tass and discover the where abouts of Garl, or the dragonet.

As I arrived inside the Arena, I was surprised to find Khirsah arriving shortly after my own entry. I had not even gotten to my sofa before the golden tear rent the fabric of time and space allowing The Elder entry into the room. It was almost as if he were waiting for me to arrive in RhyDin, and I wonder just how much he can tell through our link.

We spoke a bit about the trip to Riverbend, and I asked him if there had been any ill effects from having been there. It was never a good idea for the living to go to the land of the dead. Such travels always had deleterious effects on the living. He moved across the floor toward me then, “would you be surprised if I did?”

I paused at that, I suppose I would be surprised if he had suffered, and yet, he was a living creature, wasn’t he? “Aye, Ah’d ‘aff been surprised, bu’ all livin’ thin’s tha’ gae there suffer soome ill effect.” Perhaps it would take longer, or more time to develop, but living things did not belong in the world of the dead.

He gave me a knowing look, “do they?”

Khirsah is always an enigma, never saying more than is absolutely necessary, and leaving many things to me to ponder for myself. But, I nodded, “Aye. 't ist a realm fer th' dead. Th' livin' shouldst nae be there.” But Khirsah was born of the Primordial Darkness, a place that did not sustain life as we know it, and so perhaps the realms of the dead cannot have an effect on him. It is possible, but I prefer to believe that Tass and Khirsah are living entities, and as such, should fall into the same rules that apply to other living beings who enter the realms of the dead.

Khirsah’s iced eyes studied me, “yes, the Younger has been there, twice.”

Yes, Tass had been to Riverbend twice, and the first time he had suffered for that trip, and I have not seen Tass since his second trip, “Aye, an’ suffered fer ‘t.” I told Khirsah.

He gave a slight shake of his head, “No, his carelessness is what caused him to suffer, not his trip there.”

I quirked a brow at him, “th' realm o' th' dead doth usually steal th' life froom th' livin' tha' dae venture there.” I wanted to know if Riverbend had stolen life from either of the dragons, but about that time Xenograg walked into the Arena. He was dressed in a light blue knee-length topcoat with a yellow sash around the waist, brown trousers, and black boots, with a wide, gilt swordbelt, and was carrying the carved wooden scabbard in his left hand. The one that held Legend. The scabbard always drew my attention, should the ghost of my old friend ever get loose, there would be havoc in abundance, and yet it saddened me that it had come to such an extreme measure. I slid my gaze over Xeno, “g’e’en.” My discussion with the Elder could wait.

Xeno smiled, “Hello Old friend.” He made himself comfortable and a shiver rippled down my spine. Xeno did not yet know of my decision, and the burden I now bear. And I wonder how such news will affect him, and our relationship.

There was a quirk at the edge of his lips, but he let my comment pass, “your mentor was well enough surprised to see me there.. but not the Younger.” He gave then a slight nod to Xenograg, who had also greeted him, and was descending toward the arena floor.

I lifted a sable brow at Khirsah, “yer o’ life, o’ course ‘e was surprised.” I was surprised, and I know that finding both Tass and Khirsah in Riverbend had to be a surprise to him. “an’ more tha’ ye’ve th’ touch o’ ‘is oon sorcery.” That was probably an even bigger surprise, the touch of Annaran sorceries woven into the Elder.

Bran arrived and was looking for a duel, and this discussion was one I would prefer to head off, I greeted Bran as Xeno spoke up, “Sorcery, indeed?” He adjusted his grip upon that scabbard, and I glanced at Xeno a moment.

[Alais d Nitesong]

The faint quirk that played at the edge of the Elder’s lips remained there, and he did not press me in front of Xeno about Morrin’s surprise, “so tell me, Lady d’ Nitesong, if your mentor did not wish me there, why did he insist on pulling me into your matrix?”

I pulled the deep blue cloak more securely about myself before looking into those iced eyes, “Curiosity most likely.” I could think of several reasons, but none of them were ones I wanted to give credence to, so this was the most plausible answer I had for the Elder.

Khirsah lifted his head as if about to give a nod, but never completed it. It was as if he sought to sniff out the other reasons that may exist, but he did not challenge me openly.

I canted my head slightly, “ye neffer did tell me why ye 'n Tass didst coome.” I gave him a quicksilver smile. One day, this one would answer a question with a statement and not another query.

Xeno sat down upon the callers couch and rested the scabbard in his lap as Khirsah turned and actually made for a chair for a change, “so you come back with more than you have left.” It was a statement and not a query, and my own had been ignored for the moment.

My glance sharply shifted to Xeno and then back to Khirsah, and my voice dropped very low and soft, so that only Khirsah could hear me, “’ow dae ye ken such?”

Khirsah sat down and lifted a brow at me. What I saw in that expression was simply amusement that I even had to ask. And yet, I asked again, “ow?” I want to know unequivocally if the scar that we share tells him more than it tells me.

I glanced again at Bran, and decided to accept his request for a duel, and hope that the interruption would put a halt to Khirsah’s line of questioning. Marcus had brought Xeno a cup of Eldarie tea, and Khirsah quirked more of a knowing smile at my blatant choice to bypass his inquiry. “Your ring calls,” he told me as Xeno summoned Bran and I.

I headed for the ring, slipping the cloak off and the blade I did not wish anyone to see, carefully wrapping my cloak about it and laying them beside my ring. I could not leave the blade too far out of my sight and reach, yet I did not dare wear it into the ring. I gave the cloak a look before stepping into the ring and summoning Morvinyon. Xeno noted the extra care I took with my cloak, but did not remark on it. My salute to Bran and Xeno was perfunctory, and I hazarded a quick glance at Khirsah. Somehow he knew. The question was how.

Khirsah sat quietly, but that is misleading in the Elder, his eyes watching my movements as though he could feel everything I did, and I glanced again at the cloak and then Khirsah. He spoke softly, “you may wish to pay more attention to your duel rather than me and what lies within.”

I could feel the blood drain from my features then, and my attention snapped to Khirsah, which Bran took full advantage of, landing a painful strike. Khirsah lifted his hand and pointed toward my opponent. It was a clear indication I should focus on Bran and not on either he, or the cloak wrapped blade.

When Bran landed back to back attacks, Xeno spoke sharply, “Alais! Get your mind where it needs to be!” Yet I could not focus on the match at hand, and my attention strayed to the blade just outside my ring. As Bran stopped my slash for the final hit and win, I quickly saluted both and sent Morvinyon into oblivion before I could make my way to the cloak and its contents. My arms closed around the bundle, and a moment of panic abated.

Xeno sipped his tea, and at first I sought my sofa, but then paused, perhaps I should sit with Xeno rather than risk letting Khirsah too close to the blade I held so tightly.

Khirsah’s voice held no recrimination, but it cut through the silence of the room, “your attention is elsewhere.”

Yes, it certainly was. I had not done well before my old teacher, nor the Elder, and yet, the bundle I held tightly to now was more important than the duel had been. I looked at Khirsah, “Aye, sae ‘t wouldst seem.”

[Alais d Nitesong]

Xeno did not say anything, but he ran a finger tip up and down the top half of the carved wooden scabbard which still rested in his lap.

Khirsah said no more, but continued to watch me long moments, as if he knew that he would know the answer to his question soon enough, but the longer he simply looked, the tighter I held the cloak to me. I glanced at Xeno, that was the safer place for me to go.

Xeno sipped his tea, and I gave him a half smile, “th’ scabbard ist ‘oldin’?” I did not want to simply ask him if this trap was still holding Legend securely, but in that awkward moment, I did not know what else to say. He glanced up at me with puzzlement in his features. “Ye dae seem tae carry ‘t more ‘n wearin’ ‘t.” I slid a glance at Khirsah before focusing again on Xenograg.

He smiled, “an affectation,” he told me by way of explanation. “Even if I am not Grimblade.”

I rubbed my arm then, where Artemus had left bruises from his actions earlier. He had not been entirely gentle, and I had not wanted to seriously hurt him for his temerity, and so now I retained faint marks in my skin from his grasp. It was a good thing neither Xeno nor Khirsah could see those. They would have caused remark that I did not wish to give details for tonight.

I glanced at Xeno, “’ow ist th’ auld one?” I know that ghosts walk this realm, and since he mentioned Grimblade, I wondered if he’d seen the old one’s ghost since his passing.

Xeno blinked, “dead, last year, I forgot to mention it during our usual chats.”

My hand clutched reflexively around the cloak as Xeno said he had not seen Grimblade’s spirit at all, and he seemed most relieved of that too. “Ah’m sorra thence Xeno, Ah thought mayhap ye ‘ad.”

Xeno nodded, “thank you, he had a full life, if not a happy one. Thus, I am the last.”

I nodded my understanding as Xeno made a silencing motion. Xeno was the last of that line trained in the old ways. My attention shifted to Khirsah then, and I found his iced eyes practically piercing right through me with intensity. I was uncomfortable with the intensity of that scrutiny, and I rose and moved closer to his chair, but still clutching the cloak closely as I glanced at his hip, where his own soul devourer rested. He too had the need to keep it close.

Khirsah’s intensity suggested that he knew how many questions remained unanswered, but he was not willing to initiate the discussion.

I kept my cloak and the blade as far from him as I could, “Why dae ye carra such a blade Khirsah? Wha' dae ye haff need o' such fer?” The pain of a soul drinker was one I was beginning to understand more fully. And why anyone would willingly take up such a blade continued to elude me.

He turned slightly, “why do you carry yours?”

Xeno sipped his tea, seemingly unaware of the import of Khirsah’s words. “Nae, nae tha’ easa milord. Nae a question fer a question, ‘ow aboot an answer jus’ thi’s once?”

“You were given answers,” He replied.

“Nay milord, Ah was nae. Nae aboot annathin’.” He claimed I had answers, but Tass had not said why he carried such a blade, and neither had Khirsah. They were shrouding this thing in mystery, and I wanted to know why.

He gave a slight curl of his lips, “You were, you chose not to listen to the Younger when he gave them, as you wish, I shall answer. There is one who did not return to your mentor’s world of the damned.”

Xeno was paying close attention to the conversation now, and I lifted a sable brow at Khirsah as he continued.

“He did not return because of another.”

I knew Malchor was absent, and that another had been sent in his place, “wha’ oother?”

[Alais d Nitesong]

Khirsah lifted a brow then, “do you wish to know? Or merely seek to ask questions without answers?” He remained utterly still and unmoving, “That other has aided in the destruction of worlds.”

“Ah'd haff th' answer b'cause 't was mine job tae r'turn all o' 'em.” I told him as he continued. I glanced at Xeno, and his expression clearly said that he did not like the idea of an Annaran spirit loose in the world.

Khirsah lifted a brow then, “then you need not ask me the questions as you have the answers.”

The cloak shifted of its own, as though covering something alive, and I rose then, “Yer ‘ere tae deal wi’ th’ one tha’ aided Malchor?”

Khirsah smirked, “does that one seem to be here?”

I turned and headed for Xeno and the callers couch as Khirsah’s words followed me, “No, what you have in your cloak is the only one here, Lady d’ Nitesong.” This brought me up dead in my tracks. Khirsah’s voice remained implacable, :that other is not, nor is your wayward child.”

I turned slowly to face Khirsah, “Wha’ Ah haff ‘ere ist tae keep tha’ which ye dae wear ‘n balance.”

He shook his head, “no Lady d’Nitesong, that which you have is for you alone, not for the sake of me.”

I pondered his accusation a moment, then shook my head, “Ah dae disagree wi’ ye.”

“If you wish to speak of balance, you have thrown it out of proportion with returning it here.” He charged as I clutched the dark blade close.

“Ah couldst nae leave ‘t as ‘t was… th’ shade ‘ere ‘n RhyDin an’ th’ shade ‘n Matlal haff forced ‘ts r’turn.”

He lifted a brow, “did it? Or did your need force it’s return?”

I frowned at him, I never did want this blade, I never liked it, even when Morrin had it, “th' shadows 're growin' stronger, we dinnae need three o' these.”

“think carefully Lady d'Nitesong before you start to place blame for your desires.” He admonished coldly before standing, “I bid you a good eve.” He nodded at me, and then bade the General good night. And then he simply was no more.

I do not blame anyone for my ‘desires’ as he called them. There is duty and responsibility associated with this thing, and I would not abandon them to fate.

I sighed as he vanished and headed for Xeno. He smiled, “sit and be at ease.”

I did, and sat beside Xeno, but kept the cloak clutched in my right arm, and used the left to gently rub where Artemus has grabbed me, “Ah neffer seem tae say th’ righ’ thin’ tae th’ Elder.” It was a statement of fact. The Elder never seemed pleased to have to deal with me, for any reason.

Xeno smiled, “You assume that is possible.”

I shook my head slightly as Gnimish arrived, dragging Drakhan along on a leash. Very quietly I glanced at Xeno, “Ah’ve done somethin’ ‘e cannae like.”

Xeno gave me one of his non-judgmental smiles, “Your responsibilities are yours. Your judgment prevails in the end.”

I nodded. Yes, in this case, I had only my judgment to follow.

[Alais d Nitesong]

The study of the shadow of the black blade had taken several days. And even now, I am uncertain I have the key to putting the component of Daemonbane back together with the part I even now maintain upon my person at all times. The short period of time I have kept the black blade has already created a bond with it that worries me. I cannot leave the blade out of my reach without suffering great concern and anxiety.

I desire a talk with Xenograg. His advice I respect, and I have yet to openly tell him what has transpired.

I coalesces from a column of shimmering silver and sought out Xenograg. The Baroness Topaz was there, and I greeted her enroute to where the General now sat. Pulling my cloak more closely about me as I paused near his chair.

“Good evening Topaz, and to you Alais.” He greeted as he made himself comfortable in a chair.

I motioned to my sofa near the back, inviting him to come sit with me there that we may talk more privately. He smiled as he walked toward the sofa with me, “You hardly need to ask.”

We both settled down, and he laid his loaned sword across his lap, and I sent Hubie for a cup of Eldarie tea and a glass of Liquid Fire.

Xeno studied me a moment, “Good to see you again, out and about.” He knew enough of my reclusiveness to recognize my extended absences when no one else did.

We chatted amiably about his construction project, and he told me that he had been using a bit of sorcery to help things along, and that the ground floor should be usable before work would need to stop for the winter. And that while it would be a residence of sorts for himself and his family, it was not to be their primary home. It was the idle chatter of friends before delving into the more serious topics that were truly at the root of the meeting.

We briefly touched upon Queen Teleperien, and he told me that she has had to remain in Eldicor continuously for specific reasons, but that he visited her daily and that she was healing well, as was the land itself. Xeno chuckled, “This Rhydin still manages to amaze me.”

When I asked him how so, he reminded me how mundane his own home world was, and that here there are many demigods, vampires and sorcerer-kings. I had to chuckle. He was correct. RhyDin is home to a veritable plethora of powerful creatures and entities.

Baroness Topaz sought to engage Xeno in a duel, but he declined to be drawn into the ring for the moment, for which I was thankful. He told her he was old and likely to break a hip, but she reminded him of the wards, but in the end, he told her that he needed to get back to annoying me, and that he was too old to be baited into the rings.

I rose then, swiftly removing the cloak, and wrapping it around the portion of Daemonbane that I now hold. Resting it against the back of my sofa, I returned to being seated, keeping the cloak and blade behind me, safely away from Xeno, but it moved and his gaze strayed to the covered bundle behind me.

My voice lowered for Xeno’s ears only, “Ah’ve nae seen th’ Elder since th’ nigh’ ye ‘eard us.”

He lifted a brow, “Lucky for you.”

I suspect Khirsah’s self assurance was not well understood by Xeno during the exchange, and so I set about telling Xeno what was transpiring. “there ist much distress whence Ah try tae leave ‘t.”

He frowned, “to you?” When I nodded once, he murmured, “Unfortunate.”

I nodded slightly, “aye, an’ th’ shadows haff nae been r’turned tae ‘t yet Xeno.”

He sipped his tea, “Your first task, I take it?”

I slid my gaze to his, “Aye, th’ shadows ‘re darkenin’, as though pullin’ ‘t froom Riverbend.”

[Alais d Nitesong]

Gavilean arrived then, and our greetings disrupted the conversation momentarily, and shortly thereafter Gnimish stomped down the stairs singing some sort of ear splitting gibberish that was probably an old Shylean war song or something, and he was waving his mug about cheerfully, suggesting that he had already been deeply into his cups, and not likely to remember much tomorrow. He secured Drakhan to a table leg and plopped down to resume his ingestion of the brew currently filling his mug.

When at last we could resume our discussion, Xeno had asked if I had any leads on putting the shadows back together with the blade, but my worries are more immediate, “whence th’ shades ‘re part o’ th’ blade again, ‘t wilst be e’en more d’mandin’.”

Xeno turned back toward me, “but you must return them as soon as possible, anyway.” It was no query, but a statement of fact.

I nodded, “Ah dae b’lieve sae, aye…. ‘n thence Ah dae plan tae put th’ blade deep ‘n th’ isle.”

Xeno nodded, “Just as I have no where yet to keep this.” He tapped the bronze hexagonal medallion affixed to his wooden scabbard. “But, when the keep is done, I will.”

I gave him a wry smile, “Ah haff th’ place, bu’ nae a whole blade yet.” He chuckled, it seemed we had opposite problems.

I glanced then at Gnimish and called his name, I hoped he was sober enough to remember whether or not he’d located the dragonet. He choked on the last few words of his song, as if he were surprised at my interruption. “’ey, Alais! Oh, that thing! Ya got lucky, he almost made it onto a dinner plate, we caught the wee one bein' chased around by one of the chefs in the kitchen!”

Xeno snorted a laugh, and I chuckled softly, “Indeed?”

The gnome shrugged, “I figure he finally got hungry, running this way and that all around the place!”

When I prompted him that I would happily take the wee one off his hands, he blinked, “Oh yeah, ya be wantin’ him back.” He set his mug down on the table and stood, pointing at the mug, “Now don’t you be goin’ anywhere!” Then he tapped his amulet, and vanished, ostensibly to retrieve the dragonet from Shylasa.

Xeno blinked, “Um, he left Drakhan.” I winked at Xeno and summoned Gnimish’s mug to our own, leaving the table empty and Drakhan guarding just the table. I smiled at Xeno, reminding him that Drakhan was leashed to the table leg, and he lifted a brow at me dubiously, “He can go anywhere he wants so long as it is away from me.”

Poor Drakhan heard Xeno’s comment and looked at us with a sad expression, and no small amount of drool handing from his jaws. I glanced at Xeno, “Ye dinnae li’ th’ lil one?”

Xeno scoffed, “He has ruined too many of my boots, thank you.”

I leaned down to offer Drakhan a bit of medium rare beef, “Och, dinnae put yer feet where ‘e migh’ drool ‘pon ‘em thence Xeno.” The wee dragon is ever so cute, rather like one of those Saint Bernard dogs that drool constantly. Drakhan seemed to enjoy the attention and happily gobbled up the offered beef just as the gnome reappeared with a translucent globe of blue floating at his shoulder, and within it, my dragonet, which was hissing at the gnome in a most indignant manner.

I rose, and fought the urge to take the cloak and its contents with me to retrieve the dragonet from Gnimish, reluctantly stepping away from the sofa to offer my arm to the dragonet as Gnimish dispelled the blue sphere. He then stepped back with a relieved sigh as it hissed at him yet again. “ ‘ey, no more bitin’ me for you!” The dragonet wrapped its tail about my wrist and forearm as I quickly thanked Gnimish and hastened back to my sofa.

Gnimish turned to reach for his mug only to find it missing. He stopped abruptly, “that darn mug, it done moved!!!”

I had to school my features before turning around toward Gnimish again, “Yer mug moved?” Des however could not stifle her amusement, as she had seen me move it.

Gnimish scratched his head, “well, I’ll be…” He clearly had not expected the mug to disappear on him.

[Alais d Nitesong]

I asked him if the mug usually had a mind of its own, and just then he snapped his fingers, “A-ha!! Oh no, it didn’t move on its own!” He then peered under the table, “Drakhan! What’d ya do with my mug?!”

Topaz came to the wee dragon’s defense, telling Gnimish that Drakhan did nothing with the mug, and that brought Gnimish upright, “Whaddya mean he didn’t do nothin’, no need to be stickin’ up for him ya know!”

Topaz gave me away then, “it might be Alais’ way of inviting you to sit with her.”

About then the dragonet hissed at Xeno, and Gnimish glanced toward us, “’ey? Naaaah, she wouldn’t steal my mug.” Gnimish plopped back onto his chair then, using this as an excuse to simply conjure a new, full mug.

I picked up his mug and waved it at Gnimish then, as Xeno wanted to know what was wrong with the dragonet, “Gnimish? Look familiar?”

He waved his new mug back as if in salute, “Oh, hmm…. Well, whaddya doin’ with my mug now?”

When I told him it appeared on ‘our’ table, he gave Xeno a suspicious look, “So he stole it!!!”

I hid my smile as Xeno told the gnome not to look at him as the culprit. To which I smiled innocently, “why nae Xeno?”

Xeno gave me an arch look, “Confess, troublemaker.”

The banter was shattered as a flicker of movement near my sofa resulted in a small figurine appearing upon the sofa cushion. One of the figurines that Sylus had thrown into the fire at I’ Taurn. I frowned as the mood was altered.

As I reached for it, words began to form upon the cushion near the figurine in a strange golden sand like material, “Distance matters not.”

Xeno looked at the figurine, and the lettering, and I traced each letter of the message before lifting my gaze to Xeno’s. “this was in th fire after Sylus d’parted.”

As he returned my look, I continued, “’e didst toss efferathin’ intae th’ flames.” I frowned then at the figurine before slipping it into my robes. Turning my attention back to Xeno, I told him that I hoped Sylus would be alright, and he reassured me that he was certain Sy would manage.

The night had grown late, and I shivered, reaching for the cloak and it’s bundle. “Ah’m r’turnin’ tae I’ Taurn fer taenigh’ Xeno.”

He nodded and stood, the wooden scabbard in his hands, “You should come by the dojo soon. It would be good for you and the girls.”

I nodded, “Ah’ll be there, pon th’ morrow ‘f tha’ doth work fer ye?”

He nodded, “late morning will find us there.”

I clutched the cloak and blade tightly, and vanished from the Arena.

[Khirsah]

The Elder stepped to the house’s gate. It would be a simple matter to pass through and into the manor itself, but it would not do to be impolite and arrive unannounced. Besides, this would give the Lady d'Nitesong time to gather herself. From what he had felt earlier that eve, she was in need of it.

Two Sidhe guards met the cloaked male at the gatehouse. They both looked at the time, and then at one another. It was unusual for the Heiress to receive visitors of late, especially at this hour. However, they dutifully contacted the House, and were told to allow him passage, and the gates were opened to the man. "Follow the drive to the main entry. You will be met there."

His steps carried him through the open gate, and he graced the guards with the slightest of nods. In the game, it was never smart to slight the pawns, but it was never wise to raise them above their station.

He did not bother with the full trek up the drive. After he stepped past the guards at the gatehouse, his next step carried him to the door to the manor. There, the cape simply vanished, leaving him in the dark silks, and he stood there awaiting the rushing staff to realize that he was already at the door.

The House itself was fairly silent. The faint and muffled footsteps of only three or four others could be heard within. The house itself had a feeling of dormancy, as though life had fled this place for the most part. With that dormancy, there was an underlying sadness. The slow suffering of elven spirit weighed upon the House.

The doors to the Great Room on the right were closed tightly, but a faint, flickering candle light could be seen beneath the doors to shimmer and vanish upon the white stone floors. The pale golden light wavered and retreated as a candle’s flame in a draft would do.

An elven male appeared in the entry hall, taking in the abrupt appearance of the guest that he had only just been told was at the gates. He was used to sorcery and mages, but at this hour of the night, it was passing strange.

"You have come to see Lady Nitesong?" He then indicated the closed doors to the right. "This way please."

The Elder watched the man as he tried to figure out his sudden appearance at a door that should have taken him several minutes. It always amused him the way some would go about their stoic ways, choosing not to acknowledge what they did not know.

It was, however, annoying how they, almost without fail, seemed to make mention of the obvious. This was the Lady d'Nitesong's house, after all. Whom else would he be here to see? It mattered little, in any cause. He knew where he could find her. This was all just the pretext and movements of the pieces within the game.

Therefore, he followed the man to the door that held her behind.

The door swung open, and Alais turned from the fireplace where she stood contemplating the shadow that grew darker with each passing day. The faint candle light radiated enough light to see the shadow from across the room now, where as only a few weeks ago, such would not have been the case.

"M'lord Khirsah? Prithee, wha' doth bring ye tae mine 'ome taenigh'? She did not for an instant believe it was purely a call of pleasantries, and she stepped off the hearthstone as the doors were quietly attempted to be closed behind him.

His steps never carried him through the door after it had opened. He chose, instead, to stand at the threshold to await her invitation to enter.

He looked upon her as her back was to him first, then as she turned, and he could see the questions that boiled forth in that mind of hers. He, too, could see the hurt in her eyes from that which rested within the ashes of the hearth.

"So you come to regret your choices?"

[Khirsah]

Alais crossed the long room in the flickering candle light, a wavering figure that seemed to shift and shimmer with the candle's flames. She was surprised to see him, and more surprised that he would not cross the threshold of this room as the doors behind him could not be closed until he did enter fully.

"Please come in and be welcomed milord." She dropped him a curtsey and then rose, reaching for his arm. "You have come to I' Taurn for reasons of your own, but you ask if I am regretting my decisions?"

She attempted to lead him toward the fireplace at the far end of the room. And yet she was uncertain of his willingness to cross with her toward the shadow that waited.

He watched the play of her shadows from his peripheral. It was much like how she was wavering within. Perhaps the light that was she needed the bolstering of a brighter fire.

As she welcomed him within, he permitted himself to step through the doorway and across the threshold. There, he found himself being led to the hearth and riddled with a question to try to counter his own. She would learn... eventually.

"I have and I am." His reply was simple and direct. However, he was in the mood to play the game tonight, so his voice was a inviting as he could make it without the feel of a compulsion buried within it.

She stopped just at the edge of the hearthstone. "I believe we all regret some of our decisions." She turned to look up into his pale eyes. "Have you never regretted a decision milord?"

The black blade was sheathed on her hip, and the long blade would have dragged the ground had it not been sheathed in a sturdy scabbard, and it writhed as she stood beside the Elder, but she had been careful to wear it on her right hip, well away from any potential contact with the Elder. She always wielded a blade in her left hand, so it was a natural place to wear her swords, though for most people, it was on the wrong hip.

He watched her as she stopped and looked within the ashes, then as she raised her eyes to his. The blade that she carried at her side, or rather, the third of the blade, was working hard to close the gap between it and he, and that caused the edges of his lips to curl slightly in a semblance of a smile.

"No, Lady d'Nitesong. There are no decisions that I have made which I regret. But that is something which you already knew the answer to."

He regarded her a moment, his eyes piercing hers, then his gaze turned again to that which was held at her side.

"You are most fortunate then milord." She placed her free hand upon the hilt of the blade to quiet it. She had suspected that he never had a cause to regret any action, but the question was a logical one, and certainly one he should have anticipated. And it was something she could not understand. How anyone could go through so many aeons and never regret a single decision.

"You question which of my decisions milord? The taking of Daemonbane, or the severing of my relationship to Sylus?" She suspected that he questioned her resolve and commitment to the path she had chosen, but in her heart, she knew there was no alternative, and the path was the right one. But that did not change the pain such decisions are capable of causing.

She turned and studied his expression a long moment, noting his focus remained upon Daemonbane.

The thin smile spread a bit more on his lips. So the game was started.

"I do not question your decisions, I ask if you do." He queried again.

She lifted a sable brow at him. "I was not gifted with precognition milord. Of course I question some of my decisions, but not the ones most would assume." Many would wonder if she questioned following Morrin, and she did not. Others would question her choice of magery, including herself sometimes, but that had been necessary, and had done more good than ill. Still others would question her choice to live amongst the dragons, yet it was not something she would question, it felt right.

He chuckled dryly.

[Khirsah]

"Many assume because they are afraid to ask for the answer. What is it you question?"

Alais released Khirsah's arm at that point, turning to face him clearly. "What is it you feel milord? That is what I question. My decisions regarding this blade and my commitment to Matlal are not the things I question."

She stepped up onto the hearthstone, reaching with her fingertips to trace the dark shadow of the blade before turning to look at him over her shoulder. "I question my decision to follow a heart that was rent into pieces long ago." She’d let herself be drawn to this eldest of the dragons, and in that choice she had many questions.

He regarded her as she sought to lash out at him and his assessment of things. He knew she questioned herself in her decision to walk a hard path. She knew it would be such, and as such, it was not he who she questioned, but her own self.

“What is it you wish to hear me say regarding my… feelings? You do not question your decision to take up a blade that will, given time, destroy you... yet you do so with a rent heart that you question to follow. Perhaps this is why the blade is not whole. Perhaps this is why it will consume you faster than any other before you.”

“You must be in control, Lady d'Nitesong, of yourself before you can seek to control any other. That includes that which hangs at your side."

Alais stood upon the hearthstone pinned there by the stinging words. Khirsah was never one to couch his views in soft words or sentiments.

"I told Xeno that I never managed to say the right things to you milord." She took a deep breath before continuing. And it seemed that even now she was incapable of saying the right thing.

"Daemonbane must be put back together and then set aside. That milord Khirsah is my goal. What shredded my heard does not play a part in this thing, but rather in something unrelated."

She gave him a wry smile. "Only too well do I know I am no match for this thing Lord Khirsah. That is the reason this must be done quickly. Before it can consume me to the point I cannot set it aside as must be done."

She regarded him a long moment before adding, "I would ask your help to do this thing, but I fear I have asked too much already."

"That it must be put back together is something with which I shall agree with you, as well will I agree with you on what pieced your heart. However, because that heart is pieced in thirds, one cannot see to make the three blades whole and one if the bearer of it is not."

She moved then away from him, putting distance between them before turning once more. "I am at peace with my decision to let Sylus go, though I shall always care for him. He will hold a special place in my heart Lord Khirsah. As for Ulysses, if you have never suffered the loss of a soul mate, perhaps it is difficult for you to understand the suffering that accompanies such a loss. It is as though I have lost a part of me that was vital. And for the third...." She shrugged then. "I have no confirmation that where that part of my heart went was either wanted or needed."

Then she rested her hand again on the hilt of the blade, and it shifted to be within comfortable reach for use, "But I do know you are capable of seeing to it that when the time comes, this blade SHALL be set aside and locked away. No matter what objections may rise."

He regarded her silently as she moved to put distance between them. She still could not see, it seemed. Her ranting of the past loves and her confusion with the current was enough to prove that.

He turned, set his back to her, and walked a few steps, regarding various different things about him. However, it was still to her that he directed his focus.

"You are not at peace with your heart about Sylus, or you would not be here looking to the ashes and what he left in and out of them. Correct?"

[Khirsah]

He did not bother to let her answer just yet, but the question would be remembered.

"You say you are still torn from the loss of a soul mate, but that was many years ago. Yet, upon his return, you let yourself be divided once, choosing to seek solace in his return. Yet, he left again, and so you sought a third, and allowed yourself to be divided a second time. And even with that third, you are unsure though you know the answer already to your worry.”

“In each of these times, you have not allowed yourself to right to accept you hurt the ones before. You have not allowed yourself to forgive. You have not allowed yourself to heal and be whole.”

“Alais d'Nitesong... you are not whole, and again, until you are such, you have no command over any.”

“As for the objections, you may wish to seek the land's approval before you make declarations that it will house it. I do believe that the Second may wish to be consulted since it will be She who is housing it."

During this time, he had come full circle around the room, each piece that hung from the wall, each item that laid upon another... all was carefully passed, with nothing more than a glance, until he was once more by her, this time on the side of Daemonbane.

She lifted a sable brow at him. "Milord, you assume much. I would take it from your words that feelings are not something of value." His tone had implied that the pain of lost loves was something to be let go of in some way.

She moved away as he came up on the side where Daemonbane rested, "and I am at peace with Sylus. The ashes you seem to think you saw me studying were not in fact what I was considering." She pointed to the shadow above the hearth. "There is my focus milord."

She moved to stand on the other side of a long table that separated the room down the center, "I let Ulysses into my life because he was my life once. As I said, I cannot imagine that you can have lost a soul mate if you do not understand."

If Matlal would not willingly house Daemonbane, she would find another place to do so. The Second was not available to her to ask, and even as she had placed her faith in his ability to support what needed to be done, he was apparently refusing her even now. It was an old tale, and she gave him a wry smile. "You came here tonight to tell me that I am not whole Lord Khirsah? I could have told you that."

He let her beratement pass over him. He knew that ashes had found their way to her in the basement of the Inn, and he had felt the remorse then as she retreated here. If she would not see, then it was her folly for it... Unfortunately, this time, “it” was that of both himself and her.

But as far as the matter why he came tonight...

"I came here tonight to help you become whole. Because to be anything but will not give you what you desire."

She lifted a sable brow at him then. Just how would he propose to make her whole enough to deal with Daemonbane?

"What would you propose to accomplish your reason for coming tonight?"

Her fingers curled over the scar in her palm, pressing tightly against that mark.

He studied her for long moments before his next words came forth. "What are you willing to give up in order to be complete?"

Silver eyes studied him for long moments of silence. Her concepts of being whole did not include giving things up, whole should mean filling in the missing parts. Or putting back together that which had been shredded, but Khirsah wanted to know what she was willing to give up.

[Khirsah]

"The things I would give up are many. What would you ask as the cost of such a priceless thing?"

"It is not my cost to give, and you are avoiding the question. Your concepts of being whole are partly correct. To fill, you must give... to mend, you must give...”

“You cannot give to all and expect to heal all. In crude terms, when a healer tends to a patient, they are neglecting another. Yes, they may get to that other patient in due time, but what is to say that that patient will not be beyond recovering when the healer gets to them?”

“So I repeat for a second time. What are you willing to give up?"

"Every healer has a price milord. Some exact a fair price; others exact a higher price for the skills they wield."

She walked toward the floor to ceiling mullioned windows where moonlight glittered in rainbow shadows in the night. Khirsah’s price was bound to be all or nothing if she guessed rightly.

Lifting the scarred hand, laying it against the cool glass, she spoke to the faint reflection of Khirsah that was visible in the crystal wall.

"I would give most any price to be complete again. The question is will that price be something within my power to yield up?" Not all things were within her grasp to yield.

He watched as she moved to the window, feeling the anguish that she was feeling within. When her scared hand reached to the reflection in the window, that reflection lifted the same hand and pressed it against hers.

His voice carried to her from where he still stood by the mantle, gazing up at the second of the three blades, but it was barely more than a whisper brushed against her ear.

"That question, and its answer, is something you have to decide for yourself"

Emotions swirled chaotically inside her mind. Khirsah stood within the walls of her home for the second time ever, and he was offering her something priceless, with a cost too nebulous for her to grasp.

Tass had always told her that the Elder was always the logical one, ever driven by the cold and unfeeling logic of his kind. Yet his offer hinted at emotions too strong to put into words, and feelings too deep to simply ignore.

"Khirsah? What do you feel? Not what does logic tell you, but your feelings, about any topic, do you release the logical side and let the feeling side rule?" She wondered if he ever let the feeling and emotional side out.

The edge of his lips curled as he listened to her words. The image in the window continued its connection with her, but he turned and lifted a hand to the shadow above the mantle, tracing the air before it... yet never touching it.

"To act with feelings, Lady, is to act without knowing. You ask me what I feel... Lady, what I feel is a need to fix what is wrong."

She watched him trace the air before the shadow, the elegant confidence of his movement present as he informed her that action upon feelings was the same as acting without knowing.

She felt a pang of sorrow for him then. To believe that feelings meant an absence of knowledge was as anathema to her as believing that death was preferable to life.

Her voice was elven soft in the darkened room, "I am sorry to hear that you believe such to be true milord, for I believe that feelings must play an important role in decisions if they are to be fair or just decisions."

His hand lowered from the shadow, and he turned, and looked full upon her.

[Khirsah]

"You confuse what I say. I said that to act on feelings is to act without knowing. I did not say that to act on knowing is to not act on feelings."

She watched his reflection in the mullioned glass. “Then you simply refused to answer my question, did you not?"

She turned slowly, keeping her hand against the cool glass, "I asked you what you felt... about anything."

He smiled as she turned and asked her question.

"I have not refused to answer the question; I merely have not done so to your convenience. Much as you have done with my question to you on what you are willing to give up."

He smiled as she turned and asked her question.

"I have not refused to answer the question; I merely have not done so to your convenience. Much as you have done with my question to you on what you are willing to give up."

She lifted a sable brow at him. "Milord, your question has no parameters, and I have told you there is not much I would not yield to regain something that has been missing since Ulysses' death."

She shook her head sadly, "I never do know how to communicate with you such that you seem to be pleased. Perhaps it is because elves are more accustomed to feelings first, logic second."

"My question's parameters are in your own bounds. You say that you are willing to give up much and more to feel whole, but do not set limits or bounds on what that will be."

He quieted a moment; the look that he passed was one of consideration.

"I will not give up my memories milord. Bitter sweet as they are, they are part of what shaped me."

"Ask what you will of me. This once, I will answer you true."

His next words stopped her cold. 'Ask what you will of me. This once, I will answer you true.' He was offering this one time to answer one question. The one question her heart wanted an answer to was the one question she would not ask him.

The cool glass seemed to radiate through her hand and up her arm.

"Milord Khirsah, will you help me secure Daemonbane once it is made whole, no matter my objections should the blade take too great a hold over me?"

She wanted, in fact needed to know if he accepted her but asking was out of the question.

He smiled as he felt the question radiate through her, and then the one that passed her lips. "It will not, and yes I do"

She smiled at the image reflected in the window, "I am relieved to know Daemonbane will not win in the end. It has been unfettered too long."

The images hand actually extended from the window and wrapped around hers.

And he, on the other hand, smiled seeing that she did not catch the full answer.

"All will be taken care of."

She should not have been startled when the mirror image of her hand against the glass curled around her own, but she was. Then she curled her fingers into and around those that had reached for her.

"I can ask for no more then Milord. Two questions answered when one was promised."