Ghosts from the Past

[Alais d Nitesong]

The images faded to black, and then opened to Uly and I arrived in the safety of I' Taurn once more by courtesy of my sorcery. He had dueled well at the tourney--not well enough, obviously--but pleased with the level of performance. The...confrontation...with Gerix had left him exhausted. I seemed the only comfort left from his darkening view of creation. The thing most certain, that he was not here to sway the balance of good and evil, cast aside once more. Another boundary crossed, further risk of his being. And what would happen if he ceased? He wondered if that is where the creator had gone--but he knew this question springs from despondency, not logic.

Uly’s thoughts….

How well Darius understood, and how frightening that was on the eve of the true beginning. Bound to the Death Knight, bound to Celebriel, twice bound to Alais and now the haphazard bond with Mimi--undeniably conscious decisions to support the preciousness of life in the face of self-destruction. And power--opening the fail-safes within, one by one--unreality, chaos, Daemonbane...the mountain and its consequences. Alais is asleep, and it is time for me to go. I've told her I depart for Harmony in these early morning hours--and our respect for each other's duties holds firm.

I'm too weak to shift across the continuums under my own power...even the gates in the bunker and Nathair are not enough in this condition. Through the portal below, I depart the space reserved for my...offices...into the somewhere, sometime, somehow of my native existence.

The recuperative time is infinite, collapsing possibilities into a singular existence for the struggle at hand...stepping into the alloy passages of Jacynth, the claxons ringing with the alarm of the battle joined.

Free of flesh, an amethyst existence crossing space-time-probability everywhere all at once, I'm among the ships I learned to pilot as a young man--a stepping stone to death and rebirth. The planetary void seems choked with red and golden lines of fire in infinitely complex webs filling the space between the Harmony system bodies.

There can be no extinction of this fleet. The crimson star escorting them is no mere messenger to be dispatched and pursued. It is war incarnate, prepared to engage my every defense. Dreadnoughts and cruisers trade fire among the darts of fighters and destroyers--I don't even know what fleet this is that Harmony attempts to repel, only that this glowing red of the war god is upon them and I've arrived perhaps too weak and too late.

Fate plays its hand, and with the brevity of fire in space--Aenaeus is gone. The moment of chaos all that the enemy requires. Perhaps it is fatigue. Perhaps mental and emotional distraction. Perhaps the subtle desire to cease. The Harmony fleet does not register the formation--and though I have seen the web of mauler-fire along the paths of existence, it is too late. Variables converge and in a bath of stellar energies the amethyst is overwhelmed and gone.

In the early morning, those longest and strongest bonds are quiet. As though the lifethreads intertwining there had lost the willful existence behind them.

[Alais d Nitesong]

The late night studies of scholars and sorcerers are sometimes rewarded with the witness of momentous events, and this early morning in Nitesong proved to be one of those moments.

Shimmering from an amethyst rift the gleaming face of Jacynth illuminates the Nitesong sky. The nimble minded reach for instruments and incantations. Thirty-five hundred kilometers in diameter, two-hundred and seventy-five thousand kilometers distant, it fit perfectly within the bounds of Nitesong projected outward and accounting for the curvature of Rhydin--centered in a forty-five hundred kilometer ring, the five hundred kilometers in each direction filled with crimson and golden streaks of fire.

Water tables quickly marked and measured, enchanted messengers dispatched for the coastline, the waterlines rose mere milimeters to its pull. Where Rhydin's natural moon was one and a quarter percent of the planet's mass, this must be a thousandth of that...impossible. Yet, there it was, hanging seventy-two thousand kilometers below the natural moon's nearest approach--and the tides could not lie. Hollow? Honeycombed? Divination supported this, for it was indeed tied to Ulysses and the Maireens--and they would have such technology.

As the crimson lines diminish to none, the golden points of light known to be Maireen by those who had witnessed the previous arrival appear to have prevailed. Why bring their battles here? Before reasonable answers take up the pursuit of the dozens of irrational questions, the orb is gone, slipped back through the rift whence it came.

Blinking lavendar light, a beacon drifts at forty thousand kilometers out--emitting energy pulses to the transponders at I' Taurn in the north of Rhydin City. Beyond it, the rift dwindles, but does not disappear...an amethyst scratch on the Nitesong sky.

[Alais d Nitesong]

The first Sidhe to see the unnatural object in Nitesong's skies were the patrols of Woodelves and the few sorcerers who studied the stars and constellations in the darkened skies.

For each, the appearance of this proximal vision brought instantaneous ceasation of activities. Some had been tracking the lunar energies and their effects on the ley lines of Nitesong when the studies were shattered by the appearance of this new *moon*. Surrounding the vision was a sky littered with gold and crimson streaks of fire... and anomalously low values for the deflection and rearrangement of ley energies.

The apparition fit the tie to Alais' lifemate... and yet... what brought it here? Why would Ulysses bring his wars and battles to the skies above Nitesong? And then the vision was gone... with the exception of the lavender glow of a torn and rent section of sky.

Logging her notes as rapidly as she could... the young sorceress had not had sufficient warning or time for exact measurements... but what she had did not make sense. Density was way too low for such a volume....

“ unless 't ist 'ollow... mayhap full o' invaders?”

That thought chilled to her core. The first attack had not been completely explained... what if this was the main invasion force?

Dissipating from her observation, she immediately went in search of Celebriel... Alais had left Nitesong in her care... she must know at once.

[Alais d Nitesong]

The dream shifts to the night Alais sought Morrin for a teacher, the threads of power pulled taut with the tension of the passing of a familiar presence, and trepidation trepidation coursed thru her blood... in the ley lines tension was tearing at her senses... the echoes of things come and gone reverberating across them.

Tendrils of magick essence -- latent thoughts, stray realities -- at once hidden in darkness and relegated to the shadows swirled around her, and she suppressed a shiver. Very quietly she whispered, “m'lord Morrin... g'eve” The memories and visions of his sharing stealing thru the tendrils of magick and stray realities to wrap around her very soul.

He paused, as if stilled in the very shadows of cool that follow in the wings of his woolen cloak. His voice whispered between us, “M'lady Alais, g'eve ta ya.”

I found myself stepping from the shadows into the moonlite. “'t ist pleasant tae see ye m'lord.”

He tilts his head slightly, his mithril hair cast about his face as silvery spider silk. “An' you, m'lady.”

I noted the eldritch features in the nearly full moonlite... forcing down the near panic his presence wreaks in her whenever he is near.

His voice was quiet silk in the darkness, “An' 'ow've ya been, lady?” He pauses and resettles his black woolen cloak about his shoulders.

My eyes reflected in his, the silver silver eyes nearly glowing like moonlite itself. “I haff been verra well m'lord... an' ye?” I found myself wondering if he’d thought any more on the blade Glum works on.

He shrugged, a gesture that was barely perceptible in the dim light. “Well enou', m'lady -- tis a mos' pleasin' night, no?”

I glanced about the deserted street, “aye…'t ist alsae pleasin' tae run intae ye m'lord.”

He raised an eyebrow slightly as I glanced about. “An' ya about wi' no company m'lady? Tis – “ he paused as he was about to say proper -- catching an old courtly impulse for a moment.

I stepped back slightly. “I haff seldom companionship whence I seek tae think m'lord... an' thought tae be wi' mine oon thoughts... effen though 't ist nae seemly.”

He nodded slightly. “Tis nae always safe abou' these streets, lady.” His eyes shadowed with the flickering lights of the nearby windows. “Ah'd nae wish ya tae come tae 'arm.” He understood my desires to be alone with my own thoughts.

My gaze flickers around us. “aye... though 'ere I dae feel most whom wouldst dae 'arm... an' neffer walk wi'oot shields “ But I suddenly realized he might take offense to such an admission.

He waved a hand. “Dinnae rely too much on magicks, fair Alais.”

I stood there with silver eyes regarding the dark mage. “I shall nae... thou' .... “ and I quickly bit back the thought.

He listened to me stop my thought, his eyes brushing hers. “Oh, m'lady?”

“yer correct o' course m'lord,” I amended. I knew my sorceries were useless against some.

He nodded. “Magic causes a hunger -- an' tis nae a pillar upon which tae rely.” He pulled his eyes from mine.

I shivered slightly...unsure if it is his words...or the chill of the nite air. “dae ye feel such an' 'unger?” And then very quietly I added, “I dae”.

He narrowed his eyes slightly as he glances into the night. “Hunger, m'lady? Aye -- Ah feel manna passions knotted in me -- an' 'unger tis bu' one. An' wha' di' ya 'unger fer, lady?”

My silver eyes study the moon a moment. “'unger doth nae dae justice tae th' feelin's 'ere...” I pointed to my heart. Then added even more softly, “'unger... oh... aye.”

His eyes meet mine, wolfish in the silvery glow of the moonlight. “Consumption? An' fer wha' di ya 'unger, Lady Alais?” He repeats his question with in a cool voice.

I turned my gaze onto the mage. “more... an' I cannae name 't.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opens them, his cool, distant eyes drifting back to her -- curious now. “An' Ah'll nae press ya tae name it, lady.”

I studied him with an intensity almost palpable.

“Fer naming our 'ungers oft gi' those passions power.”

I stepped closer to th' Arch Mage. “ ye ken verra well m' meanin' then?”

He sucked a breath through his clenched teeth. “Aye. Ah di'.”

Then I gently touched his arm. “teach me tae answer this hunger M'lord... I beg ye.”

His aura burns about her fingers -- hot and chilled as ice. “Ah cannae -- Ah cannae -- .” His grey eldritch eyes lock onto hers as her touch sends a tingle up his arm. “Fer tha 'unger can consume ya -- Lady twill consume ya.”

I was startled by the hot and icy sensation... but realized immediately it's sorcerous cause.... silver eyes meeting grey eldritch. “I shall be consumed by th' 'unger ...an' that must be far worse than th' alternative.”

He shook shakes his head, his hair as molten mithril about his shoulders. “Time'll sate 'unger -- but tae feed it, tae feed it is tae be consumed.”

I found myself stepping still closer... fighting the instinct to flee. “m'lord.... time hath nae sated this 'unger... nor shall 't....ye cannae believe such.”

He stepped back from my touch, the shadows stirring about them as if brushed about by a broom in cobwebs. “Aye, Ah can believe.” The weapon slung over his shoulder stirs for the first time.

There was intense longing in my eyes.

“If ya gi' in tae tha 'unger tha desire, tha pain grows, lady -- i' dinnae subside.” The muscles in his jaw tightened.

I quickly dropped my hand as the blade stirred. My silver eyes suddenly called back to the mages own. “I cannae stop this 'unger Morrin.” Then suddenly shocked at calling him by his name.... stepping back a bit. “forgiff.”

His voice was quiet whisper of sound, “Tch... tis nae a thin' tae fergive, m'lady. Bu' Ah cannae pass on such thin's.” He lowered his eyes.

I could feel the faint blush. “m'lord.... I cannae longer fight th' need, th' 'unger....” I turned slightly away.... casting my face into shadows.

He turned a pointed question to me, “An' where will ya go tae fill this 'unger?”

I stood frozen in place a moment, then slowly turned to him. “where mayst I go? If ye willnae teach me th' pain an' th' joy o' yer experience... I must needs search still further.”

His voice barely audible. “There is nae joy... only darkness an' further consumption. Dinnae go there, lady, dinnae go.”

“there ist th' joy o' learnin'.... o' answerin' th' hunger”..

He shook his head. “Learnin' yer doom tis nae joy. I' tis a curse -- a cruel hoax, lady.”

“an' this incessant 'unger... which doth devour me from th' inside is nae a curse?” turning to study the moon again.. my features in profile.

He turned his eyes from the sight of me as if avoiding a familiar vision -- dream -- or reality. “Ah'd fight tha 'unger, lady -- if tha was all Ah'd experienced, rather than face other 'orrors.”

I was fighting for control of my emotions that I had let slip so freely.

“'Orrors o' me own makin'.” He whispered.

I could not look at him...as silvery tears glistening in my eyes, the moonlite shattering into a sparkle of lite.

I heard the slightest word, “come to Riverbend.”

[Alais d Nitesong]

I woke with a start, shaking in my pallet, in the pre-dawn light.