City of IF

[Kalanna Rai]

Right folks, lets see how this fits your agile minds. Enjoy!
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Chapter Nine: Stolen Futures pt 1

And he did cry out into the darkness and from out of the darkness did an answer come. Bearing wings of ebon black and a blade with a thirst for blood the First Knight bowed his head to Faelyon.
-Legend of the Black Wings
-Unknown

Fallon stared into Wyvril's searching eyes knowing that the old man could glean no answers from the depth's of his own. The Grand Magus was shaking, a palsey almost, and a chill wind blew through the garden. The old man was obviously putting some thought into the question he would pose the gorgeous stranger that had invaded his life.

When Wyvril spoke, his words were slow, as if he expected Fallon to either blow up or misunderstand...neither of which Fallon had any intention of doing. Still, when the question came, Fallon sighed. It was the one he knew Wyvril would ask...and the one he was least prepared to answer. "Who are you?"

That was a question Fallon had been pondering for nearly a century, ever since the mysterious woman who had given Abuilla to Wyvril had cracked into his mind. He turned away from Wyvril, leaning back in the chair and gazing upward at the silk canopy above them. "I knew you would ask that."

"Does that mean you will go back on your word?" Fallon didn't need to look at Wyvril to know that he fliched back as Fallon's aura nearly crushed him with it's displeasure. The beautiful inhuman youth's voice was even and low when he spoke.

"I never go back on my word...I was simply trying to find some way to put it that you would understand." He tapped his slender fingers on the arm of the chair. The state of his memories was something Fallon didn't want to explain to this man, didn't want to explain to anyone.

He knew exactly the kinds of looks he'd get if he told someone that the only thing he clearly remembered from his life was his death. The arms of the chair shattered under his fingers as his fists clenched at the one clear, painful memory. He stood, wings flexing to shell around him a bit as he stared down at Wyvril. "Who am I you ask?" He looked toward the edge of the garden, his profile lit by the subtle ambiance of the spirit-space. "I am the one who shall destroy the so called Gods."

The crunch of the stones on the path covered the whispered word that Wyvril let slip between his numbed lips. Fallon leaned against one of the pavilion's posts. "Your Grandson is in a hurry."
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Ceddon came around the corner and skidded to a halt a few feet from the pavilion. Fallon's gaze pinned him like a sword through the gut and his Grandfather looked pale and striken. "You've brought bad news?" Fallon's voice, while soft, was like an iorn rod against his ears. How on earth could he know that?

Between panting breaths Ceddon managed to get his news out. "I went back...after you left...to see if I couldn't...repair any damage Layla...did." A few more heaving breaths, his wings stopped twitching. He really had exerted himself to get from the spirit-space he shared with Fallon and past all the intervening spaces to reach that of his Grandfather in a very short time.

"And..." Fallon was relentless.

"And they were gone! Somebody has taken them! Layla...she was clubbed across the head by something heavy and left but Darith and Asalia are gone." Fallon was already brushing past him, already vanishing down the pathways. Ceddon envied him because while his stride seemed easy and unhurried he covered an unholy amount of ground in just a single stride.

Wyvril's hand rested upon his shoulder, imparting strength for the return journey. Shooting him a thankful glance, Ceddon's brows knitted. "What's wrong Grandfather?"

"I gave you into the care of a monster Ceddon. I thought to protect you from those I thought darkest...from Prima and her ilk." Ceddon patted the human's hand, seeing the old man under the youthful apperance of the spirit before him.

"And you've done a wonderful job. Between you and Fallon I'm rather over-protected. But I should be going...Fallon might need me." Wyvril's grip tightened upon him.

"Beware Ceddon! Fallon's no friend to you or I!" Pulling free Ceddon gazed puzzledly over his shoulder at Wyvril's vanishing form as he sprinted after Fallon. What had gotten into him?
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Fallon raised an eyebrow as Ceddon stumbled back into their shared space. "The old man warned you off me didn't he?" The look of shock on Ceddon's face was all the conformation Fallon needed. "Nevermind. Where did you leave the Blade?"

Ceddon thought for a moment while Fallon watched him. "It was in it's scabbard, on my...or actually your back."

Fallon nodded...the time had come. "Let's go Ceddon."

The pale spirit peered at Fallon with a look of supreme surprise, his eyes growing even wider as the golden bands on his wings vanished. "You mean...it's time to split?"

Fallon nodded. He'd known from the moment he'd first let Ceddon take over their physical form that their time together was drawing to a close. He'd been able to feel it for some time now, a resonance in his spirit, a blurring of the space around them. It wasn't until now, until Wyvril had made him face his own truth, that he realized he wasn't going to get anything done if he was simply the shadow in Ceddon's soul.

It was time that he did what he'd been aching to do since he'd regained a body...regain his own body. Not that it was going to be easy and there was still one last thing he needed before that could happen...one last visit to make.

Looking at Ceddon as the space around them began to pull apart Fallon did something that chilled Ceddon to the bone. His lips quircked in the ghost of a smile. "Make sure you stand well away from the blade."

"I will. Be careful Fallon."

Fallon's smile deepened. "Ceddon...your Grandfather was right to warn you."
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Well...did that solve anything? No...too bad.

[Kalanna Rai]

Right, more fun. Enjoy
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Chapter Nine: Stolen Futures pt 2

Darith didn't know what was happening. One moment he was drowsing...the next he was trussed like an autumn boar and being hauled out of Layla's home. He didn't have time to collect his armor or even to attempt to get dressed. His captors, four large, burley, black skinned men with clean shaven heads hauled him along on the poles he was tied to.

They chatted back and forth in a language he didn't understand, which was odd considering that Layla had been able to converse with them just fine. Right now though he wished he was blindfolded as well as bound and gagged. He was getting a very good view of just how far down the bottom of the cavern was and all the ledges he'd have to bounce off of if he was inclined to struggle. He suspected that that part was deliberate on the part of his captors.

They hauled him up several more tiers above where Layla's home was, as he swung around a corner he glimpsed Asalia in much the same condition being hauled infront of him. Layla, however, was nowhere to be seen. Quietly cursing to himself Darith wondered just how long Layla had been planning on duping them all. It made sense though, the way these people salvaged everything slaves must be involved. It was just his luck that he'd lead Asalia right into the hands of slave traders.

Suddenly he was tossed into a cave, a grunt escaping his captors as it happened. In a flurry of activity he found himself shackled by one ankel to the wall behind him. He was then let loose from the poll and the thick braided rope, the knots picked loose rather than the rope just being cut, another reminder these people saved everything. Asalia was shackled next to him and she quickly scrabbled over to him, tears running down her face.

Darith wrapped her in a bear hug, amazed that their captors would let him have his hands free while he was still armed. Then, as he looked to where the Windaggers should be clamped to his wrists, he was shocked to see nothing. To cover his surprise he stroked Asalia's hair, whispering comfort to her while the strange dark skinned natives whispered to themselves at the cave mouth.

There were eight, all told, each with shaven heads. All wore some kind of armor, not Cabodise hide but something else. They were all older than Darith...older than Fallon had been even...but not as old as Belart had been. Not middle aged but no longer young. They all bore the scars of fights long healed, one had one that crossed through his left eye.

Darith couldn't tell if he could see out of it or not thought since they eyes of all the people were silver and white, like those of blind cave lizards from back home. These men seemed to have no problems seeing in the low light, every once and a while one would glance back into the cave and meet Darith's eye. They would always make a quick gesture with their hand and look away swiftly after doing so. A ward against evil perhaps? Why?

"What are they going to do to us Darith?" He patted her shoulder and shook his head.

"I don't know...but I know they'll have to get you over my dead body." She sobbed even harder at that and he patter her head. His fingers stroked her hair and suddenly something dawned on him. "Asalia...you can see me right?" She looked up at him.

"Yes why?" Darith gazed around the gloom of the cave. In this mirk it should be impossible for them too see without nightmare hair...and the twist that Fallon had placed in her hair was gone. He reached a shaking hand up to his own hair, which was matted and getting dirty once again, but no twist was present their either.

"How are we still able to..." His words were cut off as the crowd of men at the cave entrance parted and a new man entered. He was different from their captors in almost every way. He was obviously someone of great import from his stature and the way the other's bowed and scraped to him.

His clothing was fine woven cloth, and despite only being able to see in greyscale he could tell the patters were finely dyed as well. The man had a long ponytail of hair, orniments jangling from it. He moved like a man used to possessing power and, while he was slender of frame, he was not a muscular man. He made a motion with his hand and the eight at the doorway moved away, presumably to guard the entrance.

He did something with his hands and light flaired around them, torches lighting on the walls. Darith glared at him, standing and placing Asalia behind him. Even unarmed Darith knew he could win this fit...unless the ebon skinned man standing before him was some kind of hand to hand combat expert. Darith had a hight and weight advantage...and the advantage he'd been trained from birth to fight.

"You are indeed fine specimens of your kind. To think after all these years the Mages have returned to our people. You will breed magic back into our depleted ranks. The Great Lord has finally answered my prayers!"

"Your prayers for what?"

The man smiled. "Why the two of you shall put magic back into the blood of our people. The offspring you shall sire and beget shall breath new life into our world! Such as it was over three thousand years ago when last your pale-skinned people did come and do battle with the Dark and it's terrible master!"

Darith squared his shoulders. "I hate to tell you but we have companions who won't stand for our kidnapping."

"Ah, Layla you mean? Or perhapse the Great One who was with you?" The man grinned showing impossibly white teeth. "The Great One, more's the pity, has left. And Layla...she will not be a problem." The way the man continued to smile, Darith had no doubt that it didn't matter what his or Asalia's wishes in the matter were.

Suddenly the man's eyes snapped upward and Darith felt something brush his cheek. Reaching out a hand he caught Fallon's black feather as it spiraled down out of the blackness of the cave's vaulted ceiling.
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Right, still working. Please stand by.

[Kalanna Rai]

Next. En...you know the speal...
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Chapter Nine: Stolen Futures

Layla came around to someone patting her on the face rapidly. Slowly, blinking through the fog and pain haze that filled her head, Ceddon's face swam into view. She frowned slightly. "You came back?"

"I had a funny feeling. Seems I was right. Any idea who did this or did you not get a look at them?" Layla was tickled as he helped her sit up and sat her on the couch. In moments a cold cloth was pressed to the lump on the back of her head. She pulled it back and took a look at it, anger flairing at the sight of her own dark red blood.

"Oh yes, I know exactly who did this. Triss took them, Darith and Asalia both, for his horrible plans." She looked at Ceddon who was unstrapping his sword. With a one-handed swing he drove it deep into the rock in the center of her living room. "Hey..." The haunted gaze he turned on her made the rest of her exclamaition die unuttered upon her lips.

"I owe you an explaination...a good one. Unfortunately I cannot give it to you. I don't have all the pieces of the puzzle but, with your help, I can summon the one who does." With that he let go of the blade and Layla's eyes nearly popped free from her head.

As he stepped back the beautiful broadsword ceased to be. Almost instantly the blade changed, liquidly shifting from the massive weapon, into a blade far thinner and lighter. The scabbard changed as well, from the massive roll of sculpted leather, into a hard laquered affair that seemed to be carved from some kind of ebon stone. Ceddon gently laid it on the floor next to him.

It was then that Layla noticed the dark red blood that ran from the hilt along the blade, pooling where the blade entered the stone of the floor. All at once the relization hit her as she gazed from the painting on her wall to the blade in her floor. "The Legacy Blade..." She turned to face Ceddon, noting now that the golden bands hand vanished from his wings.

He was clenching a rag in both his hands, dark blood staining it. Catching her gaze he shook his head. "It's not mine."

"Then who?" He pointed back to the Blade.

"If you want to know grasp the hilt." Seeing what the hilt had done to his hands, the deep cuts that continued to bleed even now when they should have been healing. Now she felt a war within her, her faith in Elonia versus the curiosity she'd always felt about the old legends. She'd heard many different versions over the years, including some the Terrinian's had brought with them that had been preserved by the people.

And now she'd seen the depths to which Triss, the High Priest of the High Triad, was willing to stoop to just for a bit of magic. He didn't have her faith, had never had her faith. That was why Elonia let her have magic while Triss had none, while those who listened to Triss's sermons had none. Or was it, the treacherous thought rose in her mind, was it her Father's Gallaeni blood that gave her her powers.

Ceddon was still staring at her. He was willing to take the risk, he didn't fear the Black Wings as she did. Was it because, by the old standards, she was one the Black Wings would have exterminated? If that were so then why had he saved her not once but twice? Why had he come into her brother's castle when he was weak and set her free? Why had he come into her spirit-space and destroyed the servent of Isul when she'd been so cruel to him.

Tossing down the cool cloth she marched over to where the blade sat in the floor, Ceddon's blood running lazily from it's hilt down it's edge. Before her courage, and her blasphemy, failed her she reached out and gripped the hilt. The blade shifted under her hand, twisting so that it's form was the one most pleasing to her hand. It was slender, rapier-like, willowy and supple. She didn't want to let it go, feeling in that instant the weight and balance of the perfect blade. She knew she'd never again find a sword more suited to her.

Then she pulled her hands away, feeling the blade lance deep into her flesh though she had only touched the wire wrapped hilt. Her blood joined Ceddon's in flowing down it's ebon length as it revered to it's gracefully deadly shape. Taking the cloth she'd discarded only moments ago, she pressed her wounds against each other. Looking back at the blade she gasped. The blood, flowing downward, had begun to curve into the flowing shapes of the Runes of Ancient Gallaeni script.

The Runes should have been forgotten but these, these were runes seen in every temple, every place of worship. "Nine Traitors named upon the flat...the Divine Nine!" Looking at Ceddon she saw a sickness in his pale features as he came to the same conclusion. "So the old Tales are true...the Gods did kill Faelyon. But why?"

"I'm thinking we shall soon find out." The pool of blood that spread on the floor from the blade seemed inordinately large for the amount left upon the hilt. Almost as if the Blade itself were bleeding with every new drop placed upon it. She wondered if it was Faelyon's blood spreading in a pool on her floor...or was it the blood of the many who must have weilded the blade since he'd last touched it.

Suddenly she noticed something, two feathers laying on the edge of the pool. They were both black, their gold edging fouled by blood...which was odd considering the gold edges lay well away from the spreading pool. "Darith...Asalia..." The understanding dawned on them both at the same time. But how could blood be called over a distance and what did the feathers have to do with it?

Slowly the tide of blood over-took the feathers, drowning them, dragging them down so that it was if they'd never been. The pool crept outward at a snails pace until it stopped. It had spread to a three foot circle, glistening in the light of the luminous stones which turned it's color from the dark red of Gallaeni blood into an ebon black ichor.

Suddenly the room was filled with a presence, heavy and powerful. It felt like the whole world was listening as an amythest glow swirled off the blade, rippling the blood like a breeze on a still pond. Slowly ribbons of blood, thin trickles, began to spiral upwards. They twisted around the sword, which began to glow even more brillaintly. Violet power deepened to the color of midnight and pulsed around them.

It was then that Layla suddenly felt the presence of the Gods drawing near. It was an ability she'd had since she was small, an ability that had led her into the service of Elonia. But that wasn't the extent of her ability. She could also, to a degree, sense their emotions. What she sensed now chilled her to the core.

The Gods were afraid...
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If you're not on the edge of your seat now, your standing up.

[Kalanna Rai]

And the final part. Enjoy.
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Chapter Nine: Stolen Futures pt 4

Asalia hadn't known what to do when Fallon's voice had whispered directions in her head. She had been utterly certain, though, once the feathers had appeared in their hands what she was going to do. Monster or not she loved Fallon. He wouldn't do anything deliberatly harmful to her, she'd felt his aura. She knew he was a good man, even if he wouldn't admit it to himself. So she'd taken the feather and clutched it tight, feeling it's sharp edges slice into her palms.

Darith hadn't questioned her, he'd done the same, drawing shouts and blows from not only the ponytailed man but the eight guards who'd come pouring in from outside. It hadn't stopped them though, they'd held on until the feathers had vanished. Now Asalia felt a strange tingling spread all through her body. Like a limb long asleep was finally waking up. At first it was like the soft strokes of a feather...then it quickly became pins and needles.

She wondered why the guards and the man had backed up. "Darith are you..."

"Don't move Asalia. Don't move." Looking at her brother she stuffed a fist in her mouth to keep from crying out. False wings, like those Layla had, had ripped through the back of his robe. She knew, without turning, without reaching behind herself, that something much the same had happened to her.

"You two are...are..." The man with the long ponytail stepped back, gibbering in their strange language to the other guards. Asalia frowned at him. What? What were they? What had happened to them?

Her questions were cut off almost instantly as a siren song of power called to her. Turning her head, noticing Darith do the same, she calmly walked past men who'd only moments ago wanted to use her against her will to bear their children. Now they cowered back from her, flinching at the slightest inadvertant brush. Why?

They'd clubbed Layla without a thought, what made she and Darith different? Coming to the cave mouth they began to walk, uncaring that a misstep would send them falling to their doom. Asalia had the sense that wouldn't happen to them. Had the sense that she could have jumped into space and she would have floated on the back of the power calling them. "What is happening to us Asalia?"

She looked dreamily into Darith's face, heart beating in a calm, serene fashion. She smiled patting Darith on the arm. "Nothing bad...nothing bad." The call intensified, became a part of her. Each heartbeat forced more blood down her fingertips to leave a trail of droplets behind her...yet had she turned to look she'd have seen each of them vanish before they hit the stone.

It wasn't long, they were almost running by now, before they returned to Layla's door. Entering they were forced to their knees, a malestrom of violet power crackling in a collumn in the center of Layla's living room. The furnishings, the art, all of it floated in the air yet both Ceddon and Layla were on the floor.

Callix was standing off to the side, his wings mantled, one foreleg extended, another curled up under him. His nose touched the floor, his hind legs braced behind him. His tail was curled between his legs. He was bowing to the pillar, kneeling just as Ceddon and Layla were, to the awesome power being brought to bare.

There was a tremendous crash and the furnishings were forced down the hallway, a flash of power swirled around Asalia and she knew in that instant who it was. "Fallon..." The name was little more than an exhale, a whisper too low for any but herself to hear, yet she knew it had been heard by ears greater than her own. A thrill of pride went through her, pride at being here, at seeing this.

There was a massive flash, a blinding echo, and Asalia had visions.

She saw an old man and a young-looking Gallaeni woman, holding her bleeding palms, standing over a map look up in awe. She knew them, Grand Magus Wyvril of Althur and Queen Abulla of Cerdes.

She saw a young half-Gallaeni man who bore a great resemblence to Layla stare into a crackling dark sphere with a look of horror heedless of the blood flowing from split palms. A monster made of darkness recoiled inside the sphere, it wail shaking the world of UnderDark.

She saw half-Gallaeni everywhere turning their gazes toward her, toward the source of power that touched their souls. She saw the deep cuts on their palms as they each let a black and gold feather drop.

She saw faces, each brillaint and radiant with the power of Divinty, stare at their palms in horror as splashes of dark black ichor appeared on them...the stains of a murder they thought they'd erased all memory of coming back to haunt them.

The visions faded as feathers fell into the room, curling into a collumn up and around the sword. The song intensified, becoming less a siren call and more a cry. It was wordless, a cry of pain that transformed into rage, then sank into the haunting depths of vengance. It brought tears to Asalia's eyes. "Let me help." She didn't realize she was standing, that she had moved, until her fingertips touched the swirling edge of the collumn of blood webbed power.

Images flashed again into her brain, not images of the now, but of the then. Images of a past long before her time, before there had been an UnderDark, before there had been a Terrinia. Images of a beautiful land, the land that had once been, and the Gallaeni people in their prime. They laughed and smiled, their kession companions never far away. It filled her heart with joy to see it.

She saw a smiling child, he couldn't have been more than five, with golden ringlets and wings that seemed to be spun from summer sunlight. Around him much younger versions of the Gods each vied for his attention, each trying some new wonderment to catch his attention, to be rewarded by one of his smiles.

Then she saw the nights, the Gods waiting outside his door, each prying into the darkness to send forth some new horror. The boy thrashed and screamed, but it was wordless terror. The Gods would frown and call forth some other horror, something even more terrible. It was a bet with them, a competition. They were trying to see which one of them the boy would call for.

The boy screamed again, the horror before them evoking a scream of pure terror from Asalia's own lips. The boy was crying for help, the scream wordless, empty of anything but the need for salvation from this terror he could not banish...

Then the terror was gone, split in two by the blow of a black blade, the Legacy Blade, that emerged from the same darkness as the monster. The Gods, watching through the walls, looked at each other in horror and apprehension, suddenly realizing that none of them had created this saviour.

The dark winged man strode over to the little boy, a single shake clearing the gore from his blade. With a smile the boy thanked him, asked him to stay and keep the terrors away. The black winged man stood, watching until the boy fell asleep, before turning his face toward the wall, before turning a killing gaze upon the Gods.

Years passed but the boy never grew up and his beautiful protector never aged. The Gods, however, grew ever older. She saw the argument, spurred by the gods, saw the Blade left alone. She wanted to warn the little boy away as he took up the Blade, ran with it back to where the gods were waiting.

Her scream echoed again as the blade swept through the air, held in the hands of Vathos himself, and struck deep into the little boy's body. The blade clattered to the ground next to the small body, blood curling around it. And suddenly the black winged man stood there, slamming the gods out of his way as he knelt next to the boy's side.

Asalia wanted to warn him as she saw the Gods, each overlapping each other for strength, take hold of the bloody blade and raise it high. The black winged man, Fallon, whirled around just in time for the blade to slide cleanly through his heart. She expected a look of shock or anger or pain. She didn't expect his chill smile as blood trickled from the corners of his mouth.

Asalia gasped as the vision broke, as she fell forward into a void that had suddenly sprang up as the collumn of power had vanished. Yet she fell only a few inches into strong arms. Looking up she stared into violet eyes she'd throught closed forever. Under each of those eyes curved a dark black triagle. "Eyes marked by the tip...it was you."

Fallon's voice was low and even as he lowered her to the floor, a floor clean of blood and feathers. "And now you know. You, LifeHeart, know the whole sordid tale. You know how the future of Creation itself was stolen."

Asalia was dimly aware of Darith, Layla, and Ceddon standing around her, of Callix looking over Fallon's shoulder. Yet all her fading attention was focused on that face...that perfect, flawless, un-Godly beautiful face. A face made perfect in darkness, in some secret place she knew nothing of. Those eyes held her and wouldn't let her go. His voice brought her around, brought her closer to fully waking from this half-lived haze.

"Well now, LifeHeart, the question I must pose you requires consideration. You alone cannot face the Gods. Your companions alone cannot face the Gods. Together though, you are an entity that they would do well to fear. I have their aid...I would ask yours. Will you help me recover the spheres and right what was wronged all those years ago? I cannot promise you your life, I cannot promise you happiness. All I can promise you is that you will fight, you will be pushed beyond your breaking point...and that I will never reciprocate your feelings for me."

Asalia felt the blow in those last words...but understood it now. He had greater things to do. Still...she had to answer that question. She wanted to help him...but did he really need her help?

What answer would she give him?
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There you folks go. You know who Fallon is, you know what he's trying to do...or do you. Hope you liked.

[Lilith]

OMF, Rai! OMF! Wha.. jeez... I don't know what to say about all of this but WOW! This tale... it must be one of the best and most intricate ones i have ever read! WOW!

Anyhoot, I think that she should help. and this answer is soooo obvious that i dont understand why you made it a DP.

(okay, so when's the next chapter?)

[Kalanna Rai]

You're not asking the obvious question Lily. If Fallon is as powerful as he is...why does he need their help in the first place? I'd be giving that question serious thought if I were Asalia...

[dinranwen]

*whoops* I knew it! I just knew it! *cheers* Three Cheers Rai!

And the answer to the question of Does Fallon even need their help? Simple...He doesn't, but THEY do.

The ones of Fallon or should I say Falleon has 'called', he does not need to help him, he doesn't need them....but THEY need to help him, because something greater needs them.

As for the DP...of course she agrees...it just wouldn't be interesting or worth it if she didn't. You know that as well as I do.