Verron Sandervitch hated working the
graveyard shift, especially on the night of the full moon. It had been less than
two hours since he had arrived at the guard post that stood on the west side of
the Atmospheric Purification Unit (APU), and he had already had to deal with
three attempted charges against the structure. He stepped back into the guard
shack, returning from the latest attempt at trespassing on government property,
with a gun that had a half empty clip.
He hadn't wanted to shoot the man
that was charging him. They had been friends once, schoolmates. Verron had a
respectable job now, it was his job to keep the miscreants away from the
machinery that kept the atmosphere pure and the air breathable over the town.
Talor had been in the charge. He had
taken for granted the friendship that he had once shared with the young guard
would keep him safe. He was furious when Verron had shot him in the leg, and
swore loudly until the authorities had come to take him to the incarceration
facility.
Verron hoped that the injury would
dissuade any other would be trespassers.
Verron was young. At the age of
eighteen he was the youngest guard to ever gain the important task of guarding
the mammoth structure that kept them all breathing safely inside their city
dome. He knew he had gotten the job by the merit of his father who had been a
guard here previously, before the accident that had cost him his life. The
thought didn't bother the young man as much as the memory of the day he and his
sister had gotten the call. Money had been tight after that, their mother had
died several years before, and their father was at work a great deal trying to
make enough money to keep his small family alive. Many hours of alone time had
caused him and his sister to become the best of friends.
He shook his head to clear the
thought. And looked into the night sky. The protective bubble gave the moonlight
a sickly green tinge. He never saw anything but the green light that he had
grown up with. He often wondered what the sky had looked like before the war.
Verron had heard that the planet
wasn't always like this. The domes were a somewhat recent addition to the major
population centers of Danu, added within the last one hundred years or so. It
was said that the air was once pure and breathable outside the cities.
Beautiful birds used to soar in the skies. Game animals roamed the plains and
mountains. That was all different now. The atmosphere had been destroyed during
the Great War. If they had not already had the technology that created the dome
and the APUs the planet would be completely unsuitable to support life. There
were reports of savage mutant beasts that stalked the perimeter of the city
bubbles. It was a well-documented fact that anyone that strayed from within the
city bubble never returned. Whether the atmosphere had killed them, or the
mutant beasts had made a meal out of them, was never known.
Several hours passed with no new
attempts at a run on the facility. Verron smiled. "All looks good, I guess
it's time to make sure that the facility is secure." He shook his head.
"I don't see why they make us do this. There isn't any way to access the
facility other than coming through this gate."
The APU was built in an alcove of a
mountain and was surrounded on three sides by sheer cliffs. A high fence with a
single gate was the only way that anyone could access the facility. Thus the
reason that a single guard was able to keep the building secure.
He was reasonably sure that the rest
of the night would be quiet at the gate, so he took his time checking the
doors. He came to the first and paused long enough to watch the status lights
on the lock panel: Green, Red, Green, Good. Satisfied he moved on to the next
door: Green, Red, Green, Good. And so it went on for the next fifteen minutes
as he checked all of the doors that lead into the massive structure.
He yawned as he approached the last
door. Pausing briefly, he watched the lights. Red, Green, Green, Bad. Not
believing what he was seeing, he watched the lights as they ran through the
second test: Red, Green, Green, Bad.
Drawing his gun, he placed his hand
on the handle to see if the door would open. Just as he was prepared to pull,
he paused. He had never actually been inside the facility before. As far as he
knew, nobody had. He briefly considered walking away and going for help. He
quickly quashed this thought as whomever had been able to get in, would
undoubtedly have a way out that he was unaware of. He quickly set his resolve
and pulled on the door.
The ease with which the door swung
open almost caused him to lose his footing. The sense of unease that had been
gradually rising in his chest suddenly jumped into full dread as he realized
that he had let someone enter the facility. He silently crept through the open
portal to the forbidden room looking for the trespasser.
The interior of the facility was
unlike anything he had ever imagined. The massive room was mostly empty. The
only thing that occupied the space was a small cluster of shelves that held a
number of white boxes. There were passageways on each wall, the door he had
come through, and halls that led deeper into the facility extending from the
center of each of the other walls. The floor looked to be grey concrete. The
ceiling was almost invisible in the gloomy light that filled the room.
Verron moved quickly to the shelves
in the middle of the room.
The boxes on the shelves were identical
in shape and size with no markings. There were hundreds, maybe thousands, of
these identical nondescript boxes stacked on the shelves. He didn't think too
much about the boxes, he was on a mission. He moved quickly up and down the
isles in-between the shelves. Looking for signs of someone's passage through
this area. It wasn't until he was pacing the through the last row of shelves. I
number of the small boxes had been upset and fallen to the floor. I fine white
powder floated in the air above the boxes. Small white foot prints led out of
the shelves toward one of the hallways.
As he passed through the white
powder, he succumbed to a momentary bout of vertigo. Kneeling down on one knee
to keep from falling, he wondered what had caused the strange sensation. As
quickly as it had occurred the dizziness passed. Without further delay, he
hurried off in the direction the foot prints pointed.
Pausing briefly at the entrance to
the hall, he looked to see where the hall would lead him. Dim lights in the
ceiling, spaced about three feet apart cast an ethereal glow in the distance.
The floor had a noticeable downward slope. Verron guessed that the end of the
hall was outside of the walls that enclosed the upper levels. There were no
other details worth noting about the hall.
Looking at the floor, he could make
out light foot prints heading through the passageway. He could tell that the
powder was wearing off the dainty feet, but that didn't matter. He already knew
which way the trespasser had gone. Pausing a moment more, he checked again that
his gun was indeed loaded, and ready for anything that he may face.
The descent of the floor made the
footing slightly more treacherous than he would like, but not so that he would
need to go slowly. He was moving at a good pace, and was completely unprepared
when the whole world went black. It was as if someone had reached into his mind
and switched his eyes and ears off. He quickly fought back the panic that was
welling up. He knew what this was. His "friends" had gotten their hands
on one a few years back and used it on him then. They were surprised when he
had successfully gotten through without getting lost.
Sensory Deprivation Fields (SDF) were
funny to those that were using them, but not for those that they were being
used on.
He had soundly beaten the ringleader
of the group after he had escaped the confines of the field. That was the one
time that he had ever instigated a fight. After he had explained the situation,
his father hadn't even punished him for it.
As with before, he found that closing
his eyes helped. If you knew that you shouldn't be seeing anything, it help you
keep calm. He began to hum the lullaby that his mother had often sung to him as
a child. Once he was fully prepared, he began to put one foot in front of the
other being very aware of the angle of his feet. If you turned even a little
bit, you could become lost in one of these black zones forever.
Verron figured it took him about five
minutes to get through the SDF. He was almost done with the second refrain of
the song when he realized that he could hear the sound. He opened his eyes
slowly, afraid that the time he had spent in the field may have caused his eyes
to become sensitive to the light. When his eyes were fully open, he turned to see
what was behind him. He was slightly unnerved when he could see all the way up
to the warehouse.
He was not looking forward to coming
back. The knowledge that the trap was there only increased the anxiety. Shaking
his head at the thought, he turned back to the task at hand. He moved at a
slightly slower pace, the SDF trap had opened his eyes to the predicament he
was in. He didn't know what other traps might be waiting to spring on unwary
passersby. He was greatly relieved when he reached the room at the end of the
hall without further incident.
His relief was to be short lived,
however.
The room was empty with a single halo
lamp in the center of the ceiling offering the only illumination. The cement
walls were scored with deep scars and scrapes. Verron didn't want to meet the
creature, or creatures, that caused the marks. There was a door on the far side
of the room with an observation window that was about eye level for the tall
young man. Raising his gun, he walked over to look through the window.
A thick metal pole extended from
ceiling to floor in the center of the room on the other side of the door. A man
was chained to this pole. The man would have been handsome, if not for the look
of pure terror that distorted his face. The fact that he was a very muscular
man was easy to see, due to the fact that the man was completely nude.
The walls in the room were all
mirrored, making it impossible to tell exactly how big the room really was.
Dark stains that reminded Verron of blood could be seen all over the floor.
This room was well lit, making it easy to make out every detail, including the
smaller post that rose about three feet off the floor. A large metal ring with
a chain secured to it sat atop the smaller pole.
An unseen door in one of the mirrored
walls opened, and a man with a sterile white lab coat entered leading a large
lion. It was clear that the large cat had been drugged by the glassy look in
its eyes. This was probably done to keep the animal docile, or so Verron
thought. The man secured the cat to the smaller post with the chain.
"Please," The chained man
pleaded with the other. "I can pay you anything that you want."
The man in the lab coat laughed. The
laugh caused the hair on the back of Verron's neck to stand on end.
"I assure you, sir, that you
could not give me anything that I do not already have." The lab coat man's
voice was monotonous as he spoke. "You should be happy. You are about to
become part of one of the greatest experiments of all time."
The lab coat man didn't say anything
more. He pulled a hypodermic needle from his lab coat and injected its contents
into the lion. He then left the same way he had entered.
As the door closed, Verron noticed
that the lion was becoming more active. The needle must have contained the
antidote to the drug that was keeping it docile. The lion eyed the man that was
secured to the larger pole hungrily. It lunged at the man, being stopped just
feet from its intended target by the chain. The man just remained silent,
watching the cat with terror in his eyes. The lion began to pace back and forth
as if trying to figure out how to escape from the chain so it could get to the
tender morsel that was set before its eyes.
A thick black mist began to fill the
room through holes in the ceiling and the floor. Both man and cat began to
scream as if they were both being torn limb from limb. Verron could no longer
see either of the occupants in the room, but he thought that their screams were
beginning to sound less unique and more uniform to each other. Within minutes the
screams were indistinguishable from each other. Through the screams, he thought
he could hear the sound of chains being broken, and a battle being waged. He
didn't know what it was, but something kept him rooted to the spot.
When the mist cleared, Verron saw a
scene that was drawn straight from one of his worst nightmares. Instead of a
man and a cat, there were two identical hybrid creatures. They were both semi
humanoid in appearance. They walked on two legs, with long arms that ended in
massive hands tipped with claws. They had broad muscular chests. The head was
that of a golden lion with a shaggy mane. One of them lay dead on the floor
with a massive hole in its chest, as the other sat eating a large chunk of what
looked like raw meat. Blood dripped from the survivors muzzle, mane, and
several deep gashes on its body.
Verron couldn't watch anymore. He
turned and ran back up the hall at a dead run. He was so frightened that he did
not notice when he ran through the Sensory Deprivation Field. He did not slow
down until he reached the warehouse. He couldn't believe what he had just seen.
He was sure that he was not supposed to have seen it, so he headed toward the
door to leave the nightmare behind him. He was halfway across the large room
when he heard it:
"You saw it, didn't you?"
It was a distinctly female voice that came from the vicinity of the shelves.
Verron spun around, pointing his gun
at the source of the voice. Just as with everything else that he had witnessed
since entering this accursed building, he was greatly unprepared for what he
saw. It was a woman that stood before him with her hands in the air. She had
long white hair, despite the fact that she looked like a young woman. A gold
tiara with a single red gem adorned her brow. Her skin had a light tan hue to
it, but still seemed pale compared to all of the other girls that he had known.
Her blue eyes were filled with terrible knowledge that suggested untold stories
of great hardship. Her clothes were a blue denim material adorned with a number
of red gems of various sizes. Her top was a low cut tank design with shoulder
guards that extended up to protect her neck. Just enough of a tattoo showed on
her left breast for him to make out what it was: a gold dagger standing in a
vertical manner. Her skirt wrapped around behind her, leaving the front open. A
long wide swath of cloth extended down from just below her navel to almost the
floor bisecting the frontal opening. The slits on either side was wide enough
that he was able to see her legs. She wore cloth boots that matched the rest of
her outfit.
Verron had never seen any woman like
this before. She was stunningly beautiful. Her body was slender, almost too
thin for as tall as she was. He figured that she must have been at least six
feet tall. Her face had features that he had never seen on a person before. Her
eyes were almond shaped. She had high cheek bones that gave her thin face an
almost elongated look to it. Her white eyebrows angled up sharply to point at
the tips of her ears. All of her features seemed foreign to him, but none were
as strange as her ears themselves. The tops of her ears were longer than they
should have been, extended well beyond her temples, and stopped in sharp
points.
"You saw the transformation, did
you not?" She asked again.
Her voice was as beautiful as she
was. So intent was he at examining her, he didn't quite understand what she was
saying. It wasn't until she took a step toward him that he snapped out of his
trance.
"Freeze!" He yelled. He
raised his gun to point at her again. Odd, he didn't even realize that he had
lowered it. "I will shoot you if you come any closer."
A sad look crept across her lovely
face. "You are so much like your father." The comment was very quiet,
almost as if she were speaking to herself.
His trigger finger twitched a little
at the mention of his father. "You knew my dad?" He was unhappy that
he was unable to keep the quiver out of his voice.
She smiled sadly. "I knew of
him."
This was impossible. There was no way
that this strange woman knew about his father.
Looking at her, he noticed that she
was several steps closer to him now then she had been. He didn't understand how
that could be. He had been watching her, and hadn't seen her take any more
steps.
"Don't come any closer. I'm
warning you." He tried to sound serious, but this whole situation had
seriously unnerved him.
Staring straight into his eyes, she
took another step toward him.
Whatever spell had been holding him
broke the instant she took that step, and his training kicked in. He squeezed
the trigger. With a deafening noise, a molten hot projectile made of lead
hurtled toward the strange woman.
"FRIEL!" She screamed as
soon as he had pulled the trigger.
A new dread crept into Verron's heart
as he beheld what had happened in the next instant. The bullet was suspended in
midair, motionless. The woman walked calmly to where the bullet floated and
plucked it out of the air.
"What... How... Who..."
Verron thought he had been frightened by the image of the cat creature. Here
was a woman that with a single word had stopped a bullet. He dropped the gun
and turned toward the door that would lead him to the safety if outside.
"FRIEL!" The word echoed
through the warehouse,
Verron suddenly found himself unable
to move.
The strange woman stepped in front of
him. "I need your help." She suddenly gasped in pain, bringing her
hand to her left breast. As she pulled her hand away, Verron saw the dark stain
on the fabric covering her breast, and the red blood on her hand. Without
another word, she turned and was gone.
The sound of several sets of feet
echoed around the room, making it difficult to determine exactly where they
were coming from.
"FREEZE!"
Verron would have laughed if he could
have. Obviously, the man that had yelled that hadn't noticed that he was not
moving.
"GET YOUR HANDS UP!"
Verron would have gladly complied
with the man's request, had he been able to move.
"I SAID GET YOUR HANDS UP! THIS
IS YOUR LAST WARNING"
The situation was becoming
ridiculous. Here was Verron, unable to move and being ordered around by a man
that was either too unobservant or too stupid to realize that fact. He was able
to ponder the situation for about ten seconds before he heard the gun shot and
felt the searing pain in his back and shoulder.
He fell forward in a haze of pain.
The last though that he had before the blackness overtook him was:
"Well, at least I moved."
Upon
waking, Verron found himself in an extremely uncomfortable situation. Dim light
shone in from a small window several yards above him. He was in a small room
with round stone walls. Hanging from the walls were several sets of iron
shackles, one of which secured his arms. His body was stiff and his wrists and
ankles were chaffed, signifying that he had been here for some time. His upper
back hurt, but not as bad as it should have after being shot. The dim light
showed a barred door directly across from him, illuminating a small portion of
the passageway beyond.
He shifted his weight a little to try
and relieve the pressure on his chaffed wrists. The rattling of the rusty
chains did little to muffle the moan of pain that involuntarily escaped him.
The area that contained the gunshot
wound complained defiantly against the movements.
"Ah, you are awake." An
entirely unpleasant voice commented. "I was beginning to think that you
were not going to awaken at all."
A small man stepped into the pool of
light that surrounded the door. The man was thin, with unnaturally white skin,
even in the dim light. Age lines crisscrossed the small beady eyes, indicating
that they had held that squint for many years. The man's shiny black hair was
slicked back to reveal a deep widows peak. Verron had to reevaluate the man. When
he heard the man's voice the first time, he had thought it was greasy. Now that
he had seen the voices owner, he thought that the voice matched the man's
appearance; that of a weasel.
The man held up an old fashioned
brass key ring to unlock the door. The rusty iron hinges screeched in protest
as they were forced to act in the function for which they had been designed.
The sound echoed through the small room and down the hall as the weasel man
limped into the room. An unpleasant smile spread across his face as he beheld
his captive.
"I am going to release your arms
and legs now so we can talk" The man's tone was conversational.
Verron glanced at the door way to
assess the possibilities of escaping.
The weasel man let out a wheezy blast
of laughter. "I see your mind, strong one. I would strongly suggest
against it." Verron's eyes snapped to the little man. "This may look
like an archaic cell, but it contains a state of the art anti-escape mechanism.
You would be dead before you could reach the door." Verron looked around
the tiny room skeptically. "If you were somehow able to escape you would
find yourself deep in a labyrinthine series of halls that you would never be
able to navigate your way out."
The lack of mirth in the man's tone
told Verron that this was no joke, so he abandoned his escape plans at once.
Verron didn't trust this man. There
was just something about him that was, just creepy. "Who are you?"
The man started in mock shock.
"Oh... How rude of me." He bowed deeply, folding himself in half so
that his long black hair brushed the ground. "I am Azriel. I will be your
host for the remainder of your stay."
Chills ran down Verron's spine as
Azriel's words sank in. "You mean you will be my jailor."
Azriel's smile faltered as he
straightened his posture. "Semantics, my good sir." The greasy smile
appeared again. "Actually," He pulled a vial of a bubbling black
liquid from his coat pocket. "I will be your doctor."
Without another word the short man
released Verron's wrists and ankles. Verron's muscles screamed as they were
suddenly supporting his weight again. Slumping on the ground, he began to rub
his wrists. He winced as his fingers made contact with the flesh that had been
rubbed raw by the manacles.
Azriel removed the stopper from the
vial and poured a drop on Verron's right wrist. The black liquid began to
bubble harder as it came in contact with the sore area. The viscus substance
wrapped around the wrist, as if with a life of its own.
Tears leaked from Verron's eyes as
the pain in his wrist spiked. He knew that Azriel was enjoying this. He was not
about to give this wicked man the satisfaction of seeing him scream.
He started to panic as black smoke
began to start pouring from the bubbling liquid. He found it odd that the pain
seemed to be diminishing. The smoke billowed darkly for an instant before it
began to lighten to a light grey, then white, then disappeared altogether.
Verron held his arm up so he could
examine it. Where the flesh had been raw, and the skin rubbed off previously,
new skin had grown and the irritation was completely gone. The arm looked like
the wound had never been there,
"How did you do that?"
Verron looked past his arm, not bothering to lower his hand.
Azriel grabbed Verron's other arm and
quickly put a drop on the wrist and each of his ankles. Blood filled Verron's
mouth as he bit down on his tongue to keep from crying out. He hadn't really
been prepared for the intensity of the simultaneous reactions of his wrist and
ankles.
The pain had to have been more than
three times worse than his one wrist had been.
"Oh you are strong," Azriel
was nearly jumping up and down with joy. "Just like your father."
The reference to his father was not
lost on Verron. The smoke from his three appendages had faded to pale white,
and the pain was almost gone. "You knew my father?"
"Ah yes, it was a shame to have
to transform him. He was the best guard we ever had."
There was a note of regret in the
doctor's voice. "Like you he had seen too much. He had to be silence. Like
you we faked his death."
"That's im... wait... Did you
just say you faked my death?"
"Yes, you have been confirmed
dead. Your personal affects have been delivered to your sister."
Verron's heart sank. His sister's
greatest fears had been realized. She had lost her brother the same way that
she had lost her father. "Wait... That means that dad is still alive? How
is that possible? I saw his body."
"Ah yes, that is a great story.
Proof that you can turn an abysmal failure into a great success. It is a story
for another time, however, we need to make sure that you are completely
healthy." He pulled a tiny bottle of a red liquid out of his coat pocket
and offered it to Verron.
"Here, drink this."
Without thinking, Verron took the
bottle and drank the fluid. Instantly, a warmth began to flow through his body.
Strength flowed back into his muscles. He thought again of trying to escape,
but thrust this aside as he heard the sound that he had missed in his
exhaustion: The whine of electricity through the stone walls. He instantly knew
that Azriel had not been lying. If he ran, he would not even make it the short
distance to the door.
Azriel extended his hand to Verron.
"Come, time grows short."
Verron ignored the hand, and climbed
to his feet unassisted. There was no stiffness in his muscles as he rose to his
feet. There was no pain in his shoulder where the bullet had pierced it.
He was, as Azriel had said,
completely healthy.
Now that he was standing, Verron
could fully appreciate how small the other man was.
The top of Azriel's head came to the
young man's elbow.
Without a word, Azriel turned and
left the cell. Verron followed him out into the stone corridor that looked
identical either way that he looked. Again, he realized that the other man had
been telling the truth about the maze of corridors that he would need to
navigate through to escape. He shook his head and followed the doctor.
Every corridor that they turned into
looked exactly as the last had. Verron was sure that he would not even be able
to find his way back to the cell anymore. He was sure that Azriel knew exactly
where they were. The doctor never even paused to consider which direction to
go, he just went.
The monotony of the corridors
confused him just as successfully as the Sensory Deprivation Field had. He had
no idea how long they had been walking before he saw the difference in the
wall.
As they turned one of the identical
corners, there was an iron door several yards ahead. Up to this point there had
been no doors of any kind, other than the one that led to the cell that had
been home to an injured young man for several days.
They stopped in front of the door.
"In you go. We want you clean for the procedure."
There was a tone in the words that
made Verron think the 'good doctor' was not completely sane.
The door swung silently opened on
well-oiled hinges allowing Verron to step in. The site that met his eyes was
the last thing he had expected. The room was decorated with multi-colored
pillows of various sizes on most horizontal surfaces. Here and there
mis-matched sofas and chairs stood out in among the plumage of pillows. A large
pool covered half of the large room.
Steam drifted from the surface of the
clear water, indicated that the pool was somehow heated.
Another door on the far end of the
room opened and several women filed out. The women were all different ages,
shapes and sizes; Verron thought that they were displaying themselves to him.
They were each dressed in skimpy clothing that accentuated certain assets that
they possessed. The leader, an attractive red-head dressed in a green bra and
panties, stopped and the remaining women lined up shoulder to shoulder. They
began to shoot alluring glances toward him, obviously trying to catch his eye.
Verron may have been young, but he
knew what was happening. He was being executed.
This was essentially his last meal.
The red-head stepped forward and
bowed her head slightly. "We are here to assist you in any way that you
may need us."
Verron smiled faintly. "I think
I'll be fine, thank you."
The alluring looks that the women
were giving, suddenly turned to looks of fear.
"You don't understand." The
red-head spoke as if she were explaining something to a small child. "It
is our job to pleasure you. If we do not do our job, we will be severely
punished."
Verron did understand. He knew that
if he partook in what these ladies were offering, it would be akin to rape. He
had been raised to respect women, and this was just not something that he was
going to be a part of. How could he get around it?
He looked at the terrified looks on
the women. They were definitely afraid of what they were in for if Verron
refused them. He glanced at the red-head, and was surprised to see that she
didn't look scared. . . She looked bored. He stared at her thoughtfully until
she began to stare back at him. Her green eyed stare made him feel extremely
uncomfortable. If they had net under different circumstances, he thought that
he may try to get to know her better. This situation however was going to take
some real finesse. There had to be a way for him to keep his standards and to
keep these women from being punished for his upbringing.
By the time he had formulated his
plan, several of the women had begun to cry. This cause him greater discomfort.
He hated seeing women cry.
The line of women straightened up as
he took a step forward and cleared his throat. "Ladies, I appreciate your
predicament, but nothing would give me greater pleasure than to be left
alone"
The red-heads perfect mouth split
into a wide grin. She began to herd the others back into the room that they had
come from.
He watched until the last woman had
entered the room, and the door was shut. When he was sure that he was alone, he
stripped his clothes off and dove into the pool. The water was pleasantly warm
on his skin after the cold hardness of the stone. He began to swim laps,
letting his muscles work in ways that they had not been used in several years.
The exercise felt good, and it allowed him to forget about, what he feared, was
coming.
After several laps he turned over and
just let himself float in the warm water. As he approached the pool edge
closest to the door that the women disappeared through, he was embarrassed to
find the red-head sitting next to the pool watching him.
"What are you doing?" He
asked as he let himself sink into the water.
"She smiled shyly. A look that
did much to accentuate her beautiful face. "I brought you some soap and
towel." She gestured toward the items that were on the ground next to her.
"Thank you, now can you
go?" He pleaded.
"No, I want to talk to
you." She said matter-of-factly. "I will face the other way while you
wash, if it would make you more comfortable." Without waiting for an
answer she tossed him the soap and turned around.
She waited in silence as Verron
washed himself. When he had finished, he carefully pulled himself out of the
pool. Snatching the towel from the ground behind her, he wrapped the large
piece of cloth around his waist before walking around the woman to sit in front
of her.
They looked at each other for a
moment before exchanging any words. She was dressed much more modestly than she
had been when he had seen her previously. She had apparently donned a large
brown shirt that fell to her mid thighs. The garment looked to me made of a
single piece of cloth, as he could not see any seams.
Verron was the first to break the
silence. "I am done. What can I do for you?"
The woman's eyes sparkled as she
looked at him. "I just wanted to meet you." Verron felt the breath
catch in his chest as the words reached his ears. He could not believe his
luck. His reverie was cut short by her next words. "You reminded me of
someone."
The breath rushed back into his lungs
with great force as the words meaning sank in. She had not sought him out for
him, but for this other person.
When he did not respond, she
continued. "Two years ago, when I was new to this life, a man was brought
here before his transformation." She seemed to lose her thoughts as her
piercing green eyes stared into his. "You look much like he did. He said
the exact same words that you did." Her eyes become unfocused as if she
were visualizing the event. I remember sobbing in relief as I was herded back
into the ante-chamber. Not only had I been spared the misfortune that fate had
dealt me, for I hated it than just as much as I do now, but I had been spared
the punishment that would surely have come had I been picked and refused this
man. I did not seek him out as I did you, for I was frightened. I do not know
what happened to him. I can only assume that he went through his transformation
like the rest of them do. You did all of us a great service this night. I just
wanted to thank you."
Verron couldn't believe what he was
hearing. There was no doubt that the man this woman was referring to was his
father. She had just corroborated Azriel's tale.
"He was my dad." Verron
couldn't think of anything else to say.
A motherly smile spread across the
beautiful face, rearranging the thin line of freckles splashed across her nose
with dazzling affect. "I thought so." She offered her hand to him.
"I am
Natasha."
He surprised at how firm her hand
shake was when he accepted her outstretched hand. "I am Verron."
"So, Verron, tell me about
yourself."
They talked for a long time telling
each other's life stories and getting to know each other.
As the time wore on, Natasha grew
ever more somber. Verron noticed the sadness creeping into the beautiful face,
"What's wrong?"
A single tear slid down her cheek.
"Where were you five years ago?"
Verron smiled. "I was thirteen,
my mom had just died, and I was living at home."
A loud banging echoed through the
large room.
Natasha started at the sound. Jumping
to her feet, she pulled Verron up with her. "You have to go. Azriel is
getting impatient. You don't want to give that evil man any reason to do
anything more to you than he already has planned." She hurried into the
ante-chamber, calling back just before the door closed. "Leave the towel,
you won't be needing it any longer.
Verron puzzled at her words, but did
as she bade. Dropping the towel where he stood, he quickly crossed the room to
the door that he had entered.
As he stepped through, Azriel had a
knowing look on his face. "I trust you enjoyed yourself, young sir."
Verron had decided that he was not
going to engage this man in conversation, so he just stayed silent.
Azriel seemed disappointed that
Verron was not going to play his little game. Without another word he turned and
stalked down the hallway. Verron, remembering what Natasha had said, followed
the small man.
After another series of turns through
nondescript hallways, Verron found himself in front of another iron door. He
began to feel nervous, not really knowing what to expect. Up until now he had
been going through this in a kind of surrealistic expectation of what was to
happen next.
He was unprepared when the truth of
the situation hit him as Azriel opened the door.
A sheen of sweat covered his body as
Verron walked into the room. This room was large, but not as large as the one
that he had bathed in. In the center of the room were two large pillars; one
with a set of manacles attached, and the other with a single loop. Attached to
the single loop was a magnificent black panther that paced back and forth,
watching the small group approaching. The room's walls were all mirrored.
So intent was Verron on watching the
beast he didn't notice the large man, until his arms were being muscled into
the manacles.
The look of glee was back on Azriel's
face as he stood facing Verron. "I think I will especially enjoy watching
your transformation." Without another word he turned and bounded out of
the room.
Verron knew that he was about to
experience the unfortunate event that he had witnessed before his little stay
in the dungeon. The knowledge did nothing to lessen the fear that was coursing
through his veins. It seemed like an eternity that he stood there waiting for
what he knew was coming next.
He quickly inhaled and held his breath
as the black mist poured into the room. He stayed that way until his lungs
burned and stars exploded before his eyes from lack of oxygen and he just
couldn't hold it any more. A loud rushing sound deafened his ears as he
expelled the breath and inhaled deeply.
As he drew black mist into his lungs,
his world ended.
It felt as if something had lit him
on fire, ripped his chest open, and was tearing out his organs while shoving
others into the empty space. He tried to not let the scream burst from his mouth,
but the pain was so excruciating that he could not help it. His screams and the
screams of the cat echoed through the room, a sickening harmony that quickly
combined into an eerie unison.
The pain ended as suddenly as it
began. Something was cutting into Verron's wrists. He tugged against the
restraints, and felt them snap easily. He was surprised how easily he was able
to break the manacles. His marveling was brought to an end when a black shaped
launched itself at him through the dissipating blackness.
He was too late dodging the massive
form, a fact that he became aware of as the sharp pain lanced through his arm
and the wet warmth began to flow. The pain and the iron tinged smell of blood
caused something inside him to snap. A red haze blurred his vision and he lost
all control of himself.
When he came to himself, Verron found
a dead abomination laying at his feet with a large hole in its chest. In his
hand was a half-eaten hunk of meat that still pulsed slightly. When he realized
what he was doing, he through the unfinished meat against the mirrored wall
across from him, causing it to explode into a mess on the shiny surface.
Instinct took over again as he saw
another of the abominations staring back at him from across the room. He
crouched down and began to move to the right. The creature mimicked him.
They moved toward each other slowly
until they were both within striking distance. Verron and the creature launched
themselves at each other.
The result was not what he had been
expecting at all. Rather than hitting moving flesh, he hit a cold hard surface,
and the other creature shimmered slightly. This did not dissuade Verron in the
least. He was obviously facing a cunning threat. He would just have to be
smarter. As he paced to the side, the creature followed him. Every move that he
made this annoying thing just copied him. He was beginning to think that this
creature was trying to drive him mad when two thoughts came to his mind: mirror
and reflection.
He moved his hand to see if the
creature would follow, it did. He stuck out his tongue and touched his nose,
the creature followed. Sudden comprehension came to him in a flood of memories:
The strange girl, the gunshot, the red headed girl, Azriel...
The name didn't mean anything to him
at first.
He was looking at himself in a
mirror. The sight was something to behold. He was now over seven feet tall. His
head was that of a large black cat. Long muscular arms rippled as he felt the
feline power flow through him. Course black fur covered his entire body. His
blue eyes were as vibrant as ever, with oval pupils.
A sudden memory brought everything
back to him. He was staring into a room, just like this one, watching a scared
man face a large yellow cat with a shaggy mane. A black mist filled the room...
He jerked his thoughts away from the image as he remembered the name of his
enemy.
"AZRIEL!" He screamed. His
voice a horse roar. He knew that the small weasel man was watching, so he began
to walk slowly around the perimeter of the room. As he reached the side
directly across from where he had been chained, he heard it.
"What is he doing?" The
voice wasn't Azriel's
"I am not sure. It seems the
transformation may not have been complete." Azriel's greasy voice
responded. "Extraordinary."
Verron walked over to the pillar that
held the broken remains of the shackles that had held his arms, and ripped them
out of the stone pillar. Spinning the chains as if they were a pair of bolas,
he flung the makeshift weapon at the wall.
The iron hit the shiny surface with a
loud shattering sound causing the wall to fall into millions of shards. A large
control room was revealed behind the wall. In the control room were two men. A
terrified man that Verron did not know and, looking scared for the first time
since Verron had met him, was Azriel.
Verron ran forward at incredible
speed and jumped from the ground into the control room. He snatched Azriel by
the collar, pulling the tiny man up so they were looking into each other's
faces.
"I am going to kill you."
Verron growled.
He reached his powerful arm back to
strike but was stopped by a familiar voice from below.
"Oh, no. I'm too late."
Azriel
was a mess. His hair was mussed, his shirt was torn, his glasses were broken,
and he could not have been happier.
"You saw her didn't you?"
He asked his assistant as he rewound the video again to see the image of the
young woman that had saved his life.
His latest experiment had gone
horribly wrong. The transformation had been incomplete. The creature had
retained its memories and his power of speech. It had smashed the one way
window through which Azriel had viewed the procedure, and had come very close
to tearing the scientist limb from limb.
He was less than an inch from death
when she had appeared. Her voice had cut through the fury that the creature had
harbored, causing it to loosen its grip. Azriel found himself on the floor very
suddenly, nursing a broken ankle (that would be easy to fix).
The creature had jumped down to
confront the newcomer
"Who are you?" It growled
at the woman.
"Not now," She replied.
"We need to get you out of here.
It had left with her.
Azriel rewound the video yet again.
"Do you see?" he asked again "She is just like the one that got
away." He pointed toward the features individually. The almond shaped
eyes, the high cheek bones, the slight build, and the sharply pointed ears. He
had only ever seen on other like her.
It had been two years ago, just after
the boy's father had been through the transformation. He had happened upon the
strange woman in the market place and followed her home. Before she had reached
her premises, he had abducted her. Oh the experiments that he had been able to
perform on her. He had given results unlike any he had ever seen (and he had
been doing this for over five hundred years).
He had elected to put her through the
transformation, but she had escaped with her counterpart and he had never been
able to find her. It was after this that he had decided to let the creatures
prove who was the strongest by battling to the death. He also initiated the
death contingency to make sure that no creature that escaped would survive for
long.
Here was another one. Nothing like
these had ever been seen before, and now there were two of them. Azriel bounced
back and forth on the balls of his feet.
"Shouldn't we go after the
creature?" The assistant asked.
"The creature will be dead by
nightfall." He never took his eyes off the video."I want to find this
girl."
He rewound the video to watch it
again.
Verron
followed the strange woman out of the APU in silence. Millions of questions
burned to be vocalized, but he knew that this was not the time. He didn't know
how she kept sneaking into the facility, but it was apparent that the first
night they had met wasn't the first time she had been inside.
She stopped in the shadows of the
building, holding her arm out to have him stop too. It was mid-day and the sun
shone brightly, baking the land with its intense heat.
"This is where it gets
difficult." As she turned to face him there was no hint of fear. "You
will need to use your senses to follow me."
She didn't give any further
explanation before she started muttering something in a language that he didn't
recognize. Several seconds later a hot flash engulfed him and was gone just as
quickly. He was surprised that, while he could smell and hear her, he could not
see her. He was even more shocked when he looked down and found that he could
not see himself.
"Come." She said and he
heard her start moving toward the gate.
This had to be the weirdest thing
that Verron had ever done. This was even worse than the couple of times that he
had experienced the sensory depravation fields. He could still see and hear, he
was just unable to see himself. It was an unsettling feeling to not see his
hand as he waved it in front of his face.
He followed the strange woman. As
they passed the guard station, with its oblivious occupant, he realized that
this woman could have come in and out of the complex several times in the short
time that he had worked there.
Sudden rage surged into him at the
thought of her flitting past him this easily while he was trying to keep the
delicate machinery, and more apparently, safe. The guard in the shack glanced
out of the door nervously as the deep growl began to escape from his throat.
"What are you doing?" An
urgent voice sounded in his ear.
"You," He snarled.
"You did this to me?"
"No, I didn't." Her voice
sounded a bit panicked. "Azriel did this to you."
The sound of Azriel's name acted like
a bucket of ice water straight to the face. He flinched back involuntarily and
the rage drained from him. He glanced at the guard shack, where the guard on
duty was still looking for the source of the disturbance. They only had a few
moments to get as far away from here as possible before the man came out to
investigate further.
"We need to keep moving."
The woman's voice seemed calmer now, but there was still an edge to her voice.
Verron did not need to be told twice.
They both started towards the gate at a rather quick pace, more worried about
getting away than getting caught, especially after Verron's little outbreak.
They made it out of the gate without
further incident. It took them a few minutes to crest the hill. Verron found
that he was out of breath so paused on the far side of the hill.
The woman removed the invisibility
spell and Verron was once again taken by her unique beauty.
"Who are you?" He asked.
The woman smiled bitterly. "That
depends on who you ask. If you ask my neighbors, I am the witch girl. If you
ask Azriel, I am his next great experiment. If you ask Sareth, I am a mystical
princess from a far off world."
This caused Verron to look up
quickly. The movement made his head swim.
"If you ask me," she
finished "I am Morganna."
"Princess?" He was curious
about that. "From a different world?"
Morganna smiled stiffly. "I
would rather not talk about it."
Verron shrugged. He climbed quickly
to his feet and walked over to Morganna. He extended a large black hand.
"I am Verron. Verron Sandervitch."
She rose gracefully and accepted the
fuzzy hand. The fur was soft and warm. "I am Morganna Elloy." The way
that she spoke the words, Verron could see how she was possibly a princess.
He was about to tell her so, when the
world suddenly shifted. His eyesight went dark and he fell onto Morganna.
The impact of the large creature
hitting her caused Morganna to fall backwards, hitting her head on the hard
earth underneath. When she came too, memories of a very strange dream clung to
her consciousness. She didn't know how long she was unconscious, but Verron was
still asleep when she came too. His breaths were coming in short shallow
bursts. Sweat poured from his fur, as if he were running a fever.
Morganna wasn't completely sure what
was happening, but she did have some ideas.
After Sareth had escaped him, it was
rumored the mad doctor had instigated new fail safe that would keep him from
losing any more test subjects. If this was what was happening, she had very
little time to get him to Sareth, she was his only hope.
She carefully cast a levitation spell
before recasting the invisibility spell on him. She would have to be careful
getting him home. She was not well liked in the slums, where she and Sareth had
made their home since Sareth's grand escape. People did not care for the
strange things that she was able to do. She was serious when she had said they
called her the witch girl. When they saw her coming, most people turned the
other way, but a few of the braver souls often attacked her. She hoped that she
would not meet any of them today. She was tired from the exertion of all the spell
casting she had done today, and maintaining the levitation and invisibility
spells on this large creature was quickly draining her of any reserves that she
may have had.
She turned down the hill, heading
away from the APU, moving at as quick a pace as her throbbing head would let
her. It was difficult for her to concentrate on the spells with the injury to
her head. She hoped that Sareth was well enough to heal her. Sareth had been
sick since her stay with the mad doctor. His experiments had shattered her
health. Morganna would not be surprised if she died soon.
The thought of Sareth dying brought a
panic to Morganna. Her concentration faltered, and the spells almost failed.
What if Sareth was right? If she was some deposed princess from another world.
How was she supposed to get home? Did she really want to go home? This was the
only place that she had ever known. This other world would be more alien to her
than the alien world that she had grown up on.
Without warning, the dream she had
had when Verron fell on her forced itself to the front of her subconscious
mind. This had been the weirdest dream she had ever had. It was like she was
watching three different scenes at the same time, but they had each been
distinct and easily discernable for her. There had been two young women that
looked very much like she did, only different in style of dress and hair. The
third had been a young man about her age. He had been lying unconscious on the
grass with his wings outstretched. Wings... He had wings. This vision certainly
corroborated Sareth's claims. She decided that she would like to meet these
supposed siblings of hers.
"Hey witch girl, where are you
headed?" The call brought her out of her reverie. She had just entered the
slums and here was the last person she wanted to see.
"What do you want, Nalen?"
She snarled. She knew that this would do nothing to frighten the boy. He was
the ring leader of the group that always trying to hurt her.
He feigned a look of mock hurt.
"Oh, what' the matter. Aren't you glad to see an old friend?"
Digging up as much sarcasm as she had
energy for she answered. "We were never friends, you two faced son of a
jackal's backside." She knew that she couldn't cast a spell to deter him,
for several reasons. First, she didn't have the energy for it. Second, she knew
that he was not afraid of her. Third, she didn't really know any offensive
spells. Oh sure, she knew the freezing spell, but that was more defensive in
nature. Sareth had not let her study the advanced offensive magic yet. So she
couldn't cast a spell to stop him, but she did have a plan.
The fake look was replaced by genuine
anger. He didn't say anything as he reached into the box that he had been
standing next to and withdrew a large double edged knife.
Before he could take a step, she
raised her hand. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."
He sneered at her. "What are you
going to do, attack me with pretty lights?" He was referring to the first
spell she had used on front of people.
It had been a dark night, and she had
cast the spell so people could see better. She was sure that Sareth would have
stopped her, but she had been in Azriel's clutches at that time.
"If you take one step, I will
summon my familiar to deal with you." She was hoping that her bluff was
going to work, but it was a long shot.
"You don't have a
familiar." He faltered as he spoke. This was a good sign.
She just stood there watching the war
inside of Nalens's head. He was pretty sure she was lying, but not completely
sure.
His face suddenly became very serious.
"Your lying." He said as he stepped forward..
Morganna just smiled as she dropped
the invisibility spell on Verron. The large creature appearing behind her
caused his courage to break. He didn't stay around long enough to see if the
creature was alive or not. He just fled as fast as his legs would carry him.
She knew that she had bought herself
a little time, but that time would be short lived.
Nalen was short on courage, but he
had the insatiable curiosity to make up for it. She knew that he would be back
soon, and he most likely would not be alone. Luckily her house was not far from
here, and Nalen held a healthy fear for Sareth's beast. They would be safe once
they were inside.
She didn't bother to try and
reestablish the invisibility spell. She wasn't sure that she would have been
able to accomplish it anyway. She had never exerted herself like this before.
She had never felt this exhausted
before. She forced herself forward, out of sheer force of will.
Verron floated after her, still
unconscious.
It took very little time for her to
reach her home. She was glad that she had gotten there before Nalen had
resurfaced. She quietly opened the door, and directed the prone form of Verron
into the building, trying to be as silent as possible in case Sareth was
resting.
A weak voice came from the other
room. "Did you get him?"
Morganna did not answer until she and
the creature were in the room with Sareth. "I was a little too late."
Sareth's eyes lit up in fear.
"What have you done? Why did you bring it here?"
Morganna had been expecting this.
"I don't think the transformation was complete. He can still talk; and he
is still cognitive. He can be reasoned with." She looked away from her
mentor. "I think he is dying."
"Put him in the chamber and load
the powder." Sareth instructed. "I do not think the reversal will be
complete, as we do not have both specimens, but I think the partial reversal
will save his life, and make him passable as normal." She answered the questions
that she knew would be whirling in Morganna's mind. She was surprised at how
easily that still came to her. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had
worked in her clinic back on her own world.
Morganna did as she was bidden, and
within minutes the chamber was filled with white mist, and echoing with the
screams of the man within.
She did her best to block out the
sounds coming from the chamber. She knew that he would be better off when he
came out. She had never known Sareth to be wrong about things like this.
Sareth gestured to her. "Let me
look at you, child."
Morganna grimaced. She hated being
called a child. Based on the lore that she had read, she had already passed the
threshold into womanhood. In these alien books, there were women here aged that
were betrothed or even married. Apparently this was not uncommon among her
people: the Elves.
She stood and presented herself to
Sareth spinning slowly. Sareth pointed to her left breast. "It was a
dangerous trip today?"
Morganna looked down and was
surprised to see the dark black spot on her top where her life blood had
partially been released. It was her warning sign. It happened when ever there
was danger. It usually hurt, but she did not remember feeling it... A sudden
realization came to her. It must have happened while she was unconscious. In
her vision all of the others had been in some sort of danger. This must have
triggered the reaction.
"No, there was no more danger
than usual. There was this..."
Sareth raised her hand to stop her
talking. "Get changed, then we can talk."
Moganna moved to the dresser that
held her clothes. She pulled out a simple brown blouse with a matching brown
skirt. Pulling her top off she paused to examine herself in the mirror. The
gold blade of the dagger that adorned her left breast, stretching from her
nipple to her collar bone, glimmered in the rooms light. There was no blood on
her, just on her clothes, as usual. There was no uncommon redness or damage of
any kind.
"It usually hurts so badly when
the warning comes," She never looked away from her image in the mirror.
"Like it's going to sever my nipple, but there is never any damage."
She turned to Sareth. "Why is that?"
Sareth smiled sadly "I have no
idea how this power of yours works. Until the first time it happened, I didn't
believe that you had any powers at all. The more I time I spend with you the
less certain I am that your father wasn't right."
The mention of her father brought her
out of her wonderment. She quickly finished changing clothes. As she tied her
belt around her waist she noticed that the screaming had stopped.
"Is it done?" She wondered
aloud.
"It would appear so."
Sareth replied. "Let's wait for him to come out."
#
Verron found himself in a large room
with two pillars with rings in the middle. On one of the pillars was a
beautiful white tiger that was pacing back and forth watching the person that
was attached to the other pillar. The room quickly filled with a black mist,
and the cat and the man both started to scream in pain. The transformation
didn't seem to take as long as either the one he had seen or his own. The room
quickly cleared showing two identical cat creatures. They were muscular white
feline-esque creatures with black horizontal stripes. Both creatures moved
toward Verron with unerring purpose. The thing on the left stepped forward.
"Verron, you have failed
me."
"Dad?" Verron had had this
dream before, but never with this much clarity.
The creature didn't answer. It just
attacked, ripping into Verron's chest and tearing out his life force.
Verron found himself laying on an
unfamiliar floor waiting to die.
#
"You say that the excursion was
not any more dangerous than usual, but your top was covered in blood, and your
skirt was caked with mud. Can you explain all this?"
The two women sat on Sareth's bed
while they waited for Verron to emerge from the chamber.
"Something really strange
happened." Morganna started. "When Verron fell, he knocked me over
and I hit my head. The blow cause me to lose consciousness." A concerned
look came across Sareth's face, but she let Morganna continue. "While I
was unconscious I had some sort of dream or vision. It was unlike anything I
had ever experienced before. I could see three different scenes playing before
me in complete clarity. I could see two girls and a boy with wings."
"Those would be your
siblings." Sareth interjected.
"I thought they might be, based
on what you have told me. They all looked like they were in trouble. The boy
lay on grass, his wings were bloody. One of the girls lay among the ruins of
what looked like concrete statues. The other girl lay unconscious in this weird
wheeled machine that was careening through the forest."
"With twins, it is not uncommon
for them to share a bond that lets one know when the other is in trouble. You
and your siblings shared much time in the womb together. It is probable that
this is the phenomenon that you experienced today." Sareth's voice began
to weaken as she spoke.
"Sareth!" Morganna
exclaimed.
"I am fine child." Sareth
answered. "I suspect you have other questions to ask. My time is short,
this is your time for answers."
"Why hasn't it happened
before?" Morganna asked in a small voice.
Sareth smiled, the action doing
little to dispel the sickly pallor. "If your siblings are as strong as you
are, and I suspect they are, it is likely that your minds blocked each other.
As unlikely as it sounds, it looks as if you all had a moment of weakness at
the same moment in time. This allowed you all to contact each other."
Morganna guessed that was a valid
explanation.
She was about to ask another question
when the door opened and Verron stepped out. It was immediately apparent that
he had not come out of this unscathed, just as Sareth had predicted. He was the
same height that he had been before the transformation. His body was heavily
muscled. He had shoulder length black hair the same color as his skin. The
facial features were those of a human, with the exception of the eyes. His cold
blue eyes had oval shaped pupils.
Morganna hurried to gather some
clothes for him to wear. She grabbed a white shirt and a pair of grey pants
that she thought might fit him.
"Here," She offered the
clothes to him. "These should fit you."
"Thank you." He purred. His
voice was deep and smooth as he spoke, much different than the youthful voice
that he had spoken in before.
She turned to give him some privacy
while he dressed.
He quickly donned the clothes.
"Now, will somebody please explain what is going on?"
Sareth
smiled weakly as she looked at the young man. She could almost distinguish the
difference the man that he had been and the features that were residual from
the transformation.
She thought he had been handsome before.
He reminded her of the nice guard that had help her escape from Azriel all of
those years ago.
"It is a very fantastic story
that you will probably not believe." Sareth said in a weak voice.
Verron looked at the women. They were
unlike anything that he had ever seen before. They were both very beautiful.
Long white hair flowed down there backs, yet they did not look old. Deep
intelligence shone in the older woman's eyes denoting many years that had
passed in her life. Deep gentleness emanated from her, and Verron's concerns
were quickly eased. "Try me."
Sareth smiled. "Sit down."
She gestured weakly to a stool in the corner of the room.
Verron retrieved the stool from the
corner and brought it closer to the bed. When he was seated and looked
semi-comfortable, Sareth began her story.
"Our tale begins twelve years
ago, when the dragon's attacked the castle."
Verron held up his hand to stop her.
"Dragons?" He said incredulously. "They are just
fairy-tales."
Morganna was the one that answered.
"Do you remember what I said when you asked me who I was?"
Verron thought about it for a moment.
That depends on who you ask. If you ask my neighbors, I am the witch girl. If
you ask Azriel, I am his next great experiment. If you ask Sareth, I am a
mystical princess from a far off world. "From a far off world. You were
serious when you said that?"
Sareth smiled weakly. "My time
grows short, we must continue." She paused as she watched the emotions
race across Verron's face. She could tell that a war was raging in his head.
"Why don't you sit down and listen to our tale, before you decide whether
or not to believe us?"
Verron sat down on the end of the bed
to listen in objective silence.
Morganna said a few words I the
strange language from.
Sareth began again, her voice weak.
As Sareth began to speak, colors began to detach themselves from all over the
room. The colors coalesced in front of Verron, spinning and twisting until
there a picture formed in front of him. "As I mentioned, our tail begins
on the day that the dragon's attacked Morganna's father's castle..."
#
Paron
Elloy sat on his throne watching his three daughters play on the floor in front
of him. He marveled at how advanced they were, even for elf children. He wasn't
bothered by it to much, look at who their parents were: Paron Elloy, the elf
that had sat on the throne for ten thousand years and Ahlana T'Halan, high
priestess of the last dark city.
Thoughts of his beloved wife caused a
shadow to fall across his countenance. It had been exactly one year since the
death of his companion of the past five thousand years. She had died giving
birth to their four children.
"I have been alive far too
long." He commented to himself. "Twelve thousand years is a long
time."
He returned to watching his daughters
play with each other. Another child toddled into the room. This was Taren, his
only son. Taren was an anomaly. He was the final of the four children born
exactly one year ago today. Multiple births were rare among the Elf people, and
then there are never more than two. The second, and bigger, difference between
the only son and youngest child of the king and the rest of the Elves were the
blazing white wings that protruded from the child's back. Recently, Taren had
proven that his wings were fully functional.
Paron watched as his son started
flapping his wings and flew around the throne room.
"Oh child, I am sorry." He
whispered to his son. "You will never be accepted among your own
people."
He was watching as Taren was doing
loops, amazed by the mastery that the child had achieved in such a short time,
when the sound of the throne room door opening drew his attention away.
A dark eyed elf hurried into the
room. He spoke quickly as he dropped to one knee. "Sire, the dragons are
attacking."
"Is Silax with them?" The
king asked.
"Aye, sire, she flies at the
head."
On the night of his wife's death, a
strange gypsy fortune teller had given the king a delightfully disturbing
prediction:
"When next you meet the Mother
Dragon in battle," she had said, "you will be reunited with your
beloved Ahlana."
The words spurred Paron into action.
He jumped down the steps that led up to his throne and gathered the girls in
his arms. "Taren, come here." He called at the small boy that was
still circling the throne room. He glanced at the blue sword hanging on the
throne room wall. "Cyan, call my guards to me without delay."
The transparent blade pulsed as Cyan
Iceblade issued the call. In less than a minute
Sareth Hope, Grathius Wolftracker,
and Seth Silvermoon entered at a full run. Each of the guards had their weapons
drawn, ready to follow their king into battle.
He waited for a moment for the final
guard to arrive, when it was clear that she was not going to join them, He
hugged each of the girls before handing them to his guards.
Morganna was the first one to be
passed off to her guardian. Sareth Hope accepted the child with reservations.
"Sire, I..."
Paron raised his hand to stop her. He
hurried to his throne, where he grabbed a nondescript leather bag. He rummaged
through the bag as he returned to the group. As if by magic, the king pulled a
long crystal staff out of the bag.
"I made this just before the
virus came." He explained. "Use it to keep my daughter safe."
He then scooped Tarea into his arms
and handed her to Grathius. Rummaging through the bag again he pulled out two
swords. A tear fell down his face as he handed the swords to the strange
wolf-man. "Teach her to fight well."
Lastly he handed Saria to Seth.
"I was not able to finish my gift to her." He seemed uncomfortable as
he spoke. "Guard her well." He then addressed all three of them.
"You will not follow me into battle this time. I need you to get my
children to safety." He paused for a moment distinctly aware of the
urgency required by the dragons' approach. "I do not care where you take
them, as long as they are out of the Dark Lords' reach."
The three guardians ran out of the
room. Paron watched his three daughters leave with the sad knowledge that he
would never see them again. Looking around the room, he noticed that Taren was
no longer visible. "TAREN!!" Ripping his transparent blue sword from
the wall he ran out of the throne room in search of his son.
Thirty minutes later, Paron had still
seen no sign of his son. He knew that the child could be anywhere at this
point, so he decided that he should deal with the issue of the dragons. He
hurried to the ramparts. Many of his soldiers were standing on the high wall
that surrounded the king's palace watching in horrified fascination as the
dragons laid waste to the surrounding town.
Several of the better soldiers had
rushed out to defend the town. All but one had died rather quickly, and the one
was now missing his right arm and half of his right leg.
Six dragons of various colors
assaulted the town while the enormous form of Silax (The Mother Dragon) loomed
in the background. He knew that she was toying with him. This was the finale of
a game that she had been playing with her foe just over ten thousand years.
Tired of the usual charade, Paron
jumped up on the low wall that kept the defenders rooted in place. Brandishing
his icy sword he called out to the massive black beast.
"SILAX," He yelled "I
KNOW WHY YOU ARE HERE! YOU WILL NOT HAVE THEM! THE DAGGER WILL SURVIVE THIS
DAY!"
At the sound of the king's voice, the
Mother Dragon began to advance. She moved silently past the city without a
glance at the destruction that the other dragons were inflicting on the pitiful
Elven populace. With a singleness of mind, she moved toward the castle. Her
secondary target had just revealed itself.
The elves on the rampart with the
king watched in dismay as their king challenged the mother dragon. They had all
grown up listening to stories of the atrocities that the enormous black beast
had performed. Now they found themselves facing her.
Silax increased speed as she advanced
eager to be rid of the objects that had caused her much pain over the past ten
millennia. "Paron Elloy, Elf king, prepare to meet thy doom."
She flapped harder causing her massive
frame to begin to rise higher into the air.
The guards on the wall watched in
horror as the dragon reached the apex of her climb and dove. She had fallen a
considerable distance when the stream of flame issued from her open maw. The
jet of fire extended in front of the dragon about 30 feet before it curled back
on itself.
The blue sword in Paron's hands
pulsed with a bright light, causing the flame to freeze. The soldiers on the
ramparts were showered harmlessly by red shards of ice.
Silax screamed, rising into the air
again. Tired of the typical charade that she played with the ice blade, she
decided to change tactics. She chanted an ancient incantation as she rose,
causing the air around her to shimmer. When she was satisfied with the status
of her protective barrier, she pulled her wings close to her body.
The soldiers on the castle ramparts
saw the form of the Mother Dragon hurtling toward them on a collision course.
Many of them lost their nerve and fled what they thought would be certain
death. The kings sword spewed forth a constant stream of ice in an attempt to
cause the black beast to change her course.
Silax laughed maniacally as she dove
towards the castle. She was delighted to see that the lesser beings were
fleeing before her. She was equally pleased to see that the accursed king and
his sword stayed rooted where they were.
Paron watched as the dragon sped
toward him. Cyan was urging him to flee. The king knew that the time for the
gypsy's fortune was at hand, he was about to join his beloved Ahlana in the
halls of Naratha. The Mother Dragon's laughter did nothing to unnerve him. He
was prepared to die. "Take care of them." He sent his quiet request
to his guardians and friends.
The impact created a deafening sound
that was heard for dozens of miles around. Stones from the castle were thrown
hundreds of yards. The king and everyone that had been brave enough to stay
with him were instantly killed.
The three guards ran out of the
throne room with their charges tucked carefully under their arms (this was
especially difficult for Seth, for he was short, even for a dwarf) heading
toward the cave of the war birds. They each knew that the war birds would allow
them to fulfill the wishes of their king and closest friend. They were loathe,
however, to employ the use of the ancient machines. It was their arrival that
had brought so much destruction. The visitors had unwittingly brought the virus
that had infected the technology and almost destroyed the world.
Each of the Guards reflected on what
they would be leaving behind. They all had spouses and children; some of them
even had grandchildren. Each of them was certain that they would never see
their families again.
Grathius and Seth stopped abruptly to
keep from running into Sareth and the small child that she was holding. The
healer was facing them, her face flushed and anger burning in her eyes.
"This is stupid." She spat the words out like they left a foul taste
in her mouth. "How do we even know the children will do what Paron thinks
they will do?"
The two stared at her incredulously.
"This is not the place nor is it
the time for this conversation." Seth said "The king has given his
orders, and we will obey." A warning flashed in his pink eyes as a harsh
redness stained his normally colorless cheeks.
A low growl sounded in Grathius
throat. "You say: What if the king is wrong? I say:
What if the king is right? Either
way, our dearest friend has asked us to protect his children. I am going."
Without waiting for a response, Grathius clumsily walked past Sareth. Once he
was past the elf, he bent down and started running on three legs, looking like
a large brown dog with a hurt leg.
Seth bounded past her on his small
legs, running flat out to keep up with the larger wolf creature that was
Grathius.
Sareth Hope stood staring at the
empty space where her two companions had stood, dumbfounded. They had never
spoken to her thus before. Yes, she had her disagreements with the king's
views, but the others had always remained neutral.
A horrifying sensation ran through
her mind, causing her to snap out of her shocked state.
"Paron Elloy, Elf king, prepare
to meet thy doom." The Mother Dragon's words slithered through her mind.
Realization flooded her being. She knew of the gypsy's prophecy. She knew what
Silax's presence here signified. That knowledge coupled with the knowledge that
she possessed of Paron's unfailing loyalty to his family and friends spurred
her into action. He had given his most treasured possessions to them to protect
for one reason: He was preparing himself to die.
She ran silently down the hall
towards the secret passage that would lead them to the cavern of the war birds.
Her light elfin grace allowed her to quickly catch up with her friends.
Nobody said anything, no
acknowledgment was made that she had rejoined the group, until they reached the
tapestry that marked the doorway to the passage. Sareth quickly triggered the
release mechanism and the door slid open.
Moments later the trio was dashing
down the dimly lit hallway towards the only machines in the world that had been
spared the fury of the Techno Virus. It was a matter of speculation as to why
they had not been brought to life. By greater majority it was thought that they
were immune due to the fact that most carriers are not affected by the illness
that they carried. Apparently, this applied to electronics as well as
biologics.
They paused briefly as the sound of a
loud crash reached their ears. They didn't spend to much time trying to puzzle
the meaning of the sound before they took the last few steps into the cavern of
the war birds.
The cavern was enormous. Standing in
the middle of cavern were four aero-space fighters that they had piloted during
the techno war, when the high technology had been infected by an alien virus
that had brought the various devices to life. The living machines were then
transformed into insectoid shapes and given the insatiable drive to destroy all
biological life on the planet. With the help of the war birds and the Crystal
Blades the defenders were able to destroy the monster machines and literally
save the world. Technology had been outlawed since, for the techno virus was
still in the air (or so the crystal blades claim).
The sense of urgency that they had
felt since the king gave his command continued unabated. They each hurried to
the bird that they knew, leaving the largest for the last guardian whenever she
chose to show up. They quickly flipped the switches that began the pre-flight
checks, each hoping that the systems had not been damaged in the thousand years
since the machines had last been employed. While the various systems went
through their checks, the pilots turned to the navigation system to find
habitable planets where they could take their charges and live until the time
that they would be called to return. For each knew that the tiny girls that
they had been entrusted into their care would one day be brought home.
An alarm sounded for all three war
birds, letting the pilots know that the weapons ordinance was depleted and
needed to be reloaded. The pilots had expected this, as they had used the last
of the ammunition that last time that they had found the need to employ the
alien crafts.
They would have to rely on speed to
out run the dragons; they certainly would not be able to fight them.
A few seconds after the "all
clear" sounded on the rest of the ancient systems, the navigation
computers came back with suitable planets that they could reach in a relatively
short time, based on the criteria that each pilot had input.
"Zzrrtt... Sareth, do you read
me." It was Seth's voice.
Sareth Hope toggled the talk switch.
"Yes, I hear you. Are we all ready to go?"
After an affirmative answer, the
three birds began to inch forward. They gathered speed through the open expanse
of the cavern, until they were going fast enough to obtain the necessary lift
that would allow them to fly. They were about forty feet off the ground when
they reached the passageway that lead out of the cavern.
It had been a thousand years since
they had flown out of the cavern like this, but it seemed like it had only been
a few days. They were sure that the enchantments were holding, so they wouldn't
have to worry about cave-ins or other obstructions in the blackness outside of
the small sphere of light that was cast by the vessels that they flew in.
The sound of rushing water let them
know that they were approaching the cavern's exit. Light, diffused by the
waterfall that they would soon be flying through, lent an otherworldly glow to
their surroundings. They could see the gouges in the dirt where they had fought
off the gallivanting mechanical hordes in the tech wars. The shadows cast by
the light created images of demons lurking in the darkness, waiting to claim
the unwary. They knew that these were unreasonable thoughts; the demons had
been banished at the time the balance was created between darkness and light.
They didn't have much time to ponder
the sinister shadows before they burst through the waterfall that covered the
entrance to the cavern and into the light of day. By unspoken consent, they all
turned their crafts toward the palace, curious to see what had happened.
The sight that met their eyes was
disturbing. The beautiful castle had been totally destroyed. The surrounding
town was totally engulfed in flame. In the remains of the Gardens of Night a
large black beast was gnawing on the carcass of what looked like a large horse.
"Oh no." Sareth breathed
"Not that."
Silax looked up at the war birds as
she finished with her meal. Fire erupted in her eyes, and from her mouth, as
she saw them. She had been led to believe that the accursed machines had been
destroyed. She quickly jumped into the air to challenge the new threat that was
bearing down on her.
Fire shot from the tail of the three
war birds, sending them into the cold blackness of the cosmos. The pilots knew
that they would be safe, at least temporarily.
#
Sareth's
voice was very weak as she finished her tale. Verron could see that she would
not be with them much longer. He watched as she closed her eyes, sweat dripping
from her jaw from the exertion of telling the story. He was mildly surprised
when she opened her eyes and looked at Morganna with a steady gaze.
"Bring me the staff,
child." Sareth commanded.
Morganna jumped at the words. She had
never been allowed to touch the staff before. Even when Sareth had been
captured, somehow the staff had mysteriously disappeared until she had
returned. She approached the staff slowly, examining the object as she had
never been allowed to do before.
She thought that the make of the
staff seemed silly. It was made out of a transparent material that reminded her
of glass. The whole thing glowed with a deep purple light. The middle of the
staff was wound with gold cord making a hand hold. A few purple gems were
evenly spaced through the gold wrap, making it very apparent where the wielders
hands were supposed to go. In the very center of the weapon was a large
amethyst that seemed to pulse with a regular rhythm that reminded Morganna of a
heartbeat.
Very slowly, she reached out and
grabbed the weapon. An electric shock immediately shot through her arm, causing
her fingers to contract around the cylindrical shaft. Immediately after, a
warmth raced up her arm, through her shoulder and neck, and into her head. As
quickly as the sensation had started, it was gone. She found herself in full
control of her body once again.
She returned to Sareth's bed with the
staff and offered it to her guardian. "Here is your staff."
Sareth smiled weakly. "No, it is
your staff. Your father made it for you before he sent us away."
Morganna looked at the staff again.
Its beauty was enhanced by the fact that it was created specifically for her by
her father.
Sareth laid her head down on her
pillow wearily. Weakly, she gestured for Verron. As he knelt down beside her,
he was amazed at how quickly this strange woman's health had deteriorated as he
watched.
"It is up to you to protect her
now." Verron had to lean in so he could hear her. "You need to make
sure that she on the summit of Talon Peak on the next Stasis Night."
Sareth closed her eyes, and so did
the cat lying next to her. In unison both the woman and the cat stopped
breathing. Sareth's skin went grey as the warmth faded from her body.
Morganna fell to her knees next to
the only parent figure that she had ever known, tears streaming down her face.
Verron
stood behind Morganna uncomfortably as she cried. He didn't know why he was
still there, he certainly didn't owe either of these women anything. Yet, he
found himself rooted to the spot as this strange young woman knelt by the side
of her departed mentor. As the minutes wore on, he found himself looking at any
place in the room except at the bed. The site that kept drawing his gaze was
the strange glass staff. The brilliant purple glow seemed to have dimmed.
It was almost as if the staff itself
were mourning the loss of Sareth.
Verron stepped forward and placed a
hand gently on Morganna's shoulder. "Come, it is time to let the dead rest
in peace." His voice sounded strange in his own ears, it was much deeper
than it should have been.
Morganna stood up, her tear streaked
face was pale in the dim lights that illuminated the room. She walked over to a
small box on the dresser and removed several small objects, including a piece
of chalk. She began outlining the room with the chalk.
"What are you doing?"
Verron asked.
Morganna did not answer, she just
continued to outline the edges of the room with the chalk. When she was done
she gestured for Verron to leave the room. As soon as he crossed the threshold
of the room, it exploded into flames.