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Why do I have the feeling I didn't do all this?" Callan muttered and peered even further into the gloom.
"The way behind us is clear," His voice was low and seemed to fall flat in the heavy silence, "I'm not so sure about the exit, but Yarwin and Adarin are doing their best to keep it protected. Now. Where is she?"
"A simple hello would have done" Bran muttered from his position flat on the floor. Pushing himself to his feet, he helped Fechine up. The boy was worrying him. Like a shell-shock victim he allowed himself to be pushed and pulled about as if he no longer knew which way was up.
"She's back that way. Down the corridor and then through the open door on the right. Just head for the screaming and hair pulling." Tiredness was starting to fray at the fair-haired elf's temper.
"Follow the sounds of what?" Callan had blurted out as he left Bran and tore off in the direction the Elf had indicated. What the HELL was Bran talking about? The Emperor could hear sounds coming from nearby, but hair pulling and screaming did NOT fit what his ears were picking up. What he heard was like low shriek of wind and sharp cracks of...electricity? The smell of melted stone and ozone assaulted his senses, reminding him of, "Hellfire and brimstone..." He uttered as he charged through the door and let out a startled yelp.
Black wings shot wide and back-stroked as his booted feet slid to a grinding halt.
"Blessed Father of Chaos, what in the name of Brighid?" His words were distorted, grainy, as though he was shouting into a sandstorm and his words were being sucked away by the coriolis wind that drove the storm. Topaz eyes immediately flicked down as he carefully backed up a half step.
Just beyond his toes, where the floor should have been, loomed an abyss of ebony night, a near-complete void where none should be. Suspended in the center of this was a female figure bathed in a rainbow of glittering colors and fragmented light. Odd, distorted howls, shrieks, snaps and cracking jolts of buzzing energy lashed her body and vanished beneath her skin setting it aglow as her floating form slowly revolved in first a vertical, then horizontal position. Flame red hair shrouded the face and hid the eyes of who could only be An'Thaya Alcarin as her body slowly turned upward then began an equally slow slide back to a facedown position. Jags of multi-colored light raced in from every crack, every crevasse in the stone, slammed into her, caused her body to arch and writhe and seemed to simply absorb into her very flesh.
"M'Tashnae?" Callan carefully nudged his bond to the Crimson Agaru and felt the very essence of the power that bound their souls almost ripped from him before he could slam the bond shut. Callan's brows knitted together as he slowly crouched on the edge of the chasm and struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. On his right wrist, the D'Riel Dragon crawled and clawed at his skin as if in reaction to sensing something familiar, something it belonged to, which stirred a glimmering of knowledge in the Black dragon's mind.
"Her conduit?" His words were torn away, sucked into the glimmering vortex and shards of energy. The calloused fingers of one hand gripped the edge of the shattered stone floor as he leaned further over the edge, then shouted her name, only to hear it go forth garbled, as if the very letters of her name were taken apart, transposed and shook about by her own power unleashed.
A grunting growl of frustration joined the mangled sound of his voice, what in the name of the gods was he supposed to do? Even he knew enough not to simply seize her in this altered state, but what other option was there? Topaz eyes rolled up to peer at the vaulted ceiling as a smattering of dust and gravel fell and pelted his shoulder. Sooty black cracks were creeping across the ceiling ominously, arcing down the opposite wall, and flowing into the darkness as if drawn to the Amazon suspended in a web of her own making.
Samara's keep was crumbling, caving in. Time was growing agonizingly short and Callan had to make a decision. A bark of rueful laughter joined the energy flowing into An'Thaya as one of his favorite sayings for when in doubt came to mind...
Well? Do something, even if it’s wrong.
With a mental curse directed at Samara and all her kind and a soul-deep prayer to any gods that might be wandering about, laughing their ass off and making wagers at the current situation, Callan Blackthorn leapt from the edge of the floor just as it too crumbled and flung himself at the enthralled Amazon.
A body-jarring thud snapped An’Thaya out of her trance, air rushing out of S’Hean lungs as the Amazon’s small body was impacted by the massive Dragon Emperor. Emerald jewel’s popped open, one moment reflecting Tay, the next Agaru, both meeting topaz blue with a shocked expression as they freefell in a spinning-top tangle of wings, flaming hair and rainbow energy into the depths of the abyss. Stone fell in heavy chunks, hurtling past into the endless dark, barely missing the pair as both Elf and Dragon tried to make some sense of what had happened.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU ASS!” Tay’s mouth moved, forming the words, but no sound came out, snuffed by the conduit before it could form. It had taken every ounce of willpower to keep the conduit biased, to keep it from claiming the lives of her companions. Callan had disturbed that balance… and now the entire Keep was crumbling down around their pointed ears. “OH GODS! Let me go! Get out of here!”
The strain reflected on her face as she fought to regain control… Tay had known he was there, had felt his voice in the energy flowing through her body… felt the bond to Agaru sear throughout her own soul and sink into the vortex. Now she struggled to keep from absorbing the Dragon’s very essence, halting the flow of silvery black stars that drifted through emerald green. “Please… oh gods please… I don’t want to kill you…”
Another part of her mind was broadcasting as best as it could down the Web, taking the only route the Conduit had not yet touched. Bonds were compromised, but the one thing the conduit respected remained an open, though slightly garbled highway.
Fechine? Listen to me honey… you are going to have to find Shadow. Can you do that for me? You need to find Shadow… you have to be the Key… and Shadow can open the door. Just remember what Nenlante looks like and it will take you there. Get them home…
YOU ASS.... Callan didn't have to hear the words, he knew that venomous look and it had been directed at him pretty much on every single opportunity An'Thaya had ever had. YOU ASS.... a useful phrase that seemed to fit so many situations where Callan had found himself in close proximity to the fiery woman. Any idle thoughts, such as, spread your wings you ASS or make a grab for anything solid, you ASS were lost under a crushing tide of agony. For the span of only a few seconds, he felt the drain, felt his very life being drawn out of his body as if through the very pores of his skin.
The onyx tangle of black threads and silver memories of his soul seemed to lurch, the fiber of his very being tried to unravel, and through it all, his body felt like it was being shredded. A gasp of pain and spasm of tightening muscles later, it was over and they were still plummetting in complete and total darkness. Black wings unfurled, then snapped tight when the wingtips scraped down what felt like solid stone with a squealing, screeching sound like claws on slate that was promptly snatched from thin air and devoured by the raging conduit.
A loud, rumbling growl of irritation shook his body. Regardless of her protests, Callan gripped An'Thaya tighter with his left arm, shot her a look that said, YOUR ass better be hanging on, then both his wings struck out behind him. The joints and pinions creaked, the leathery hide was sanded off as they slammed into the stone face of the pit, then shoved the pair of them forward. Onyx talons and scales exploded from his right hand as they collided with the wall and dug deep in the rock. Their drop continued, but slower...and slower...and almost 15 yards later, Callan was guessing, they finally stopped.
Dangling above the sheer drop, Callan dragged in a deep, trembling breath. If he wasn't having to hang on to An'Thaya, he'd simply drop a handful of fire to see how far from the bottom he was. Of course, he could just drop her...time the scream until she hit bottom....
"AUGGHH DAMMIT!" , he growled mentally. He couldn't hardly do that, as tempted as he was. After all, she WAS Y'Roden's sister, and at least Galain would be happy to have her back, not to mention, he'd be dropping Agaru.
More cursing in the Black Speech, then, "Damn you S'Heans...you always weigh more than you look."
“Then drop me damn you,” the Amazon snarled soundlessly, “Damn it Callan! Let me go! You still have a chance to get out of here! Take it!” The jarring stop had nearly cost her control again… she had to hang on, for just a few minutes longer. They just needed a little more time… and they’d be gone. “Please… leave… I don’t want to die with your blood on my hands.” It was hard to tell who was saying what, a constant flickering of souls revealed both Elf and Dragon… sometimes almost appearing as one.
Along the Web she felt Fechine do what it was he had been born to do, his fledgling soul soaring open and embracing the Aethyr as a portal opened to home.
Home… the sights and sounds of Nenlante filled her memory… she could almost smell the waterfalls…
“Damn you! Let go! I can’t hold it much longer! When I let go, this entire place is coming down!”
An'Thaya's shouted command filtered through the deafening white noise, and had his teeth not been grinding in an effort to keep their tenuous hold on the stone, he'd have laughed. She'd called him a stubborn bastard once too...he was certain she had, but couldn't put his finger on exactly when. More than likely, if they lived long enough, she'd call him that again, because he wasn't about to drop her, especially just because she told him too. Tender words for his Agaru would have to wait until later, right now he had three tender words for An'thaya D'Riel-Alcarin...
"Kiss..." Callan's talons were slipping and a booted foot slammed into the stone, as black spikes sliced through the leather and carved into the rock, giving him at least one foot hold, "my..." the other foot swung forward...and into nothing...a slow grin spread across his face, "ASS!"
Callan released his hold enough for them to drop once more, sank his talons in once more, and swung forward...and prayed to Brighid the nothing his foot had connected with was a horizontal tunnel. For a heart rending moment, he thought he just might have been wrong...an ungodly, unholy thought, then the two of them smacked into the dank and dirty floor of what smelled to be a long unused tunnel.
Tay let out a squeak of protest, then sucked in oxygen. “STOP landing on me!” she wheezed, pushing up against Callan’s massive chest. Whether he heard or not was hard to gauge… the sound had been reflected oddly in the tunnel before it sucked back into the conduit.
“Mmm… struggle a little harder,” came an all to familiar, though disjointed voice in the darkness, “by the look on his face… I’d say he likes it.” Samara stepped out into the light of the glowing tendrils, looking none the worse for wear after her struggles with An’Thaya. “Hello there big fellow… my… my… D’Riels always bring me the best toys. Why don’t you come over here and play with someone your own size? I promise… I’ll be much more entertaining than that little bitch. Though… I must say… she does squirm divinely… would you mind if I watched? Or perhaps you’d like to help me strap her down and we can both have a little entertainment.”
“Shit,” Tay hissed, ceasing her struggles beneath the Dragon Emperor, “she has more lives than a cat…”
A momentary flicker of Rage illuminated Callan's eyes as his head snapped up and he hauled himself and An'Thaya off the ground. He was no stranger to creatures like this; her smell alone marked her as demon-born. She stank of sweat and pride, souls devoured, broken and twisted. Wrath flowed in the very core of her being and arrogant beauty oozed out of every pore. Topaz eyes raked over her body, voluptuous and stunningly perfect.
A smile full of malice and dark intentions twisted Callan's face...a smile that been worn by Araxmarr so often in his youth. The grip on An'Thaya tightened painfully around her ribs almost to the point of cracking bones.
"Oh, aye...she does. I'd have to be dead not to enjoy it." There was a near imperceptible change in Callan's voice as the darkness his Silver blood held at bay was given free reign over his soul. Topaz eyes flicked to the struggling Amazon, then Samara, and Callan slowly twisted his head up and to the left and rolled his right shoulder back, causing his neck and shoulder to crunch and pop.
"The D'Riel's? Bring you...toys? See, I don't like that word...toy. To me, that suggests a certain, childish state of mind for you, and a lack of interaction, a certain...boring quality for me." The echo of the dead air carried his words in a soft hiss to the demoness' ears before they too were swallowed by the roiling conduit.
"And as to watching," Callan's teeth grew sharp, the canines and eye teeth growing elongated, more draconic, "What were you hoping to see?" A hate filled sneer twisted Callan's features into an equal mixture of half-Elven beauty and wicked, burning hate for An'Thaya, "Surely you know I harbor no love for this one..." The Emperor lowered his head to sniff her hair and slide his nose slowly down her cheek before lifting his eyes back to Samara, "even if she is indwelt by a Crimson."
"To be honest, I'd just as soon kill her myself than let you have her..." Callan's smile held no hint of a lie, no glimmer of untruth. Before he allowed Agaru to fall into this one's hands again, he'd kill her himself...and let Samara deal with what he would become when the Madness claimed him.
“That is exactly what I was hoping to see,” Samara’s tone was sibilant, her blood red eyes alive with amusement, “Do I look like a fool to you? Go ahead… take her apart… slowly… you know you want to. I’m sure a creature such as you could make it as pleasurable at first as it will be painful in the end. I want to hear her scream… and some part of you does too.”
The Demoness folded her arms across her middle and leaned against the wall. “In the end… she will take you with her… I’m sure you realize that, don’t you? Make her lose complete control and that Conduit of hers will be the death of you. Either way… I win. I get the floorshow… and I live on. Someday… Y’Roden will be mine again… and that end will be easier to reach with her out of the way.”
One taloned hand stroked up the cold stone wall and the Demoness stretched languidly before leaning in a little closer to the Dragon. “There… is… no… way… out,” a sharp fanged grin twisted porcelain features, “Not for the two of you anyway.”
An’Thaya shrank back; sickened by both of the creatures she seemed doomed to die with. She sensed the truth of Callan’s words and, for a moment, she was afraid. The ridiculousness of the feeling struck her as sheer irony. Had she not begged him to leave her to die only moments before? Why fear for her life now?
There was a temptation to simply let go… but no matter how repulsed she was by the Dragon Emperor at the moment… he had done more good than harm since all of this had begun. She could not take his life. Instead, she hijacked the bond to him through Agaru, taking a chance... they had one last option... she hoped.
Jump, Tay ordered him silently, If you love Agaru… trust us…
Callan seemed to ignore An'Thaya's commands, and in the fingers of his right hand was a dagger, a simple blade of common steel, forged by his own hand. It was nothing special in appearance, yet it was as deadly as anything he carried. The razor sharp edge found its way to An'Thaya's throat as his fingers slipped up her chest under her chin to force her face to turn and the artery at her neck be exposed. An agonizingly slow drag of the blade cut the Amazon deep, but not quite deep enough to end her life...only hurt. Blood ran down her skin, its scent filling the dank air of the tunnel.
A fine, telltale nerve beneath one eye twitched as the Demoness tempted him with the idea of hearing her scream and the scent of her blood filled his nostrils, "A floor show? A nice comparison, but I don't see how YOU win. Either way, you get robbed of the satisfaction of killing her yourself. Somehow, I hadn't pictured you as the kind to pass on a chance to taste HER blood." Callan forced An'Thaya's head back and looked down into emerald eyes full of revulsion, his own were frosted with cold hate and gleaming with burning Rage.
"You can smell it, can't you, Samara...and if you were a male...I'd say it makes you hard..." Callan laughed softly and his smile twisted crookedly as he peered down at Thaya. As he did, the blade began to change. The manner of the change was minute at first, nothing outwardly noticeable by anyone. The change was purely internal. Callan Blackthorn had a most unusual gift, one that Owen Diamondwood had recognized immediately in his young, half-Elven apprentice. Callan could...order...a blade against Chaos. Possible imperfections could be anticipated by the boy Callan had pretended to be, they could be smoothed away and removed...but the ordering was deeper, something that went into the fiber of the metal itself.
It was the power of transmutation, the changing of the very molecular structure of an item, and if Callan could order a blade against the powers of Chaos himself...so too could he order the blade against Justice and give the blade over to the chaotic powers of destruction. The blade almost thrummed against An'Thaya's skin, its structure wavering beneath the surface of the gleaming steel. The Chaos within was crying out to be unleashed, to be thrust beneath the flame-haired elf's skin and drink deeply of her blood.
"And let me give you a bit of advice on Y'Roden D'Riel." Callan lifted his head marginally to eye Samara, "Just keep hoping..." Callan's wrist snapped, the blade that was flooded with Chaos homed in on Samara's forehead...and with a leap of faith, Callan did as An'Thaya had ordered him to do.
Oh gods...she was going to kill him when they made it home...
An’Thaya’s eyes were wide with fear, her mind affected by the rampant chaos of the blade as its energy flowed into her open conduit. The Amazon’s body shook with the effort of keeping the conduit under control and stood frozen in shock as the blade buried itself deep in Samara’s skull. She knew it wouldn’t kill the Demon… perhaps only piss her off, but it gave them precious time.
The ground fell out from beneath her feet as Callan performed a swan dive off the edge, bearing them both back into the void. The others were long gone, there was no one left for her to protect but the Dragon himself. The scent of her own blood almost made the decision for her and fury boiled in the Amazon’s blood. Yet… he had risked his own life to save Agaru… Why did that mean so much?
There was no time to analyze it. Trust me… whatever you do… don’t let go. When I tell you to, open a portal. Not one second before or after. A moment’s hesitation… did she really want this creature to see her inner self? Even just a glimpse?
She had no choice…
With chagrin, she drew the cloud of silvery black stars that was the essence of Callan Blackthorn into the core of her soul and let go. For a moment everything seemed to grind to a halt, even their fall in the darkness… and then, a flash of blinding emerald light exploded out from the Amazon, power absorbed, now magnified and released like a nuclear detonation. NOW! DO IT NOW! The Key, magnified and empowered slammed into Callan’s soul, seeking the outlet of the portal that would take them home.
A rending howl of a portal being forced open shrieked through the air. A wide, jagged rip, its edges oozing with rotten green power split open. There was no time to open a portal properly, by requesting this place and time allow them passage. Callan did what his Black nature bid him do, and took what he wanted from Tenobrous without thinking, without question...without permission. The scent of fresh water, blue skies and verdant forests flooded his senses instantaneously with the flash of released, emerald green power and the Key being driven into his soul.
Don't let go....
A distorted echo, was it spoken or remembered? whispered through his mind.
Don't let go...
How could he? when much like Tenobrous, the Black Dragon Emperor roared in agony as his soul split open to receive the power that would take them home.
And then, at the far end of the dock the air shook, a slight disturbance at first, like someone had struck a surface similar to the taut skin of a drum. Several of the Rangers turned their heads, Elven hearing zoning in on the unfamiliar noise, one or two taking a step back as a jagged line of light scratched itself onto the night, leaking green mist that billowed out onto the stone. A low shrieking howl of air whistled through the crack of illumination, rising in pitch to a level that had several of the elves clapping their hands over sensitive pointed ears.
It seemed as if it might die away for the space of a breath, when the tear suddenly gave way as if beneath immense pressure and the dock rocked with a massive sonic boom, the portal forcing itself open in an explosion of power that roared up the narrow walkway, tossing Se’Liene into the arms of a guard. White light and tangles of black and emerald energy burst violently over the companions in a liquid cloud that tossed several of them off their feet, and brought with it one howling Black Dragon and a flame haired Elf.
Shadow and fire they spiraled above the heads of the others, as they reached the apex of the explosion, Callan’s outstretched wings shuddering against the push, then snapping back as the portal reversed, sucking everything it had expelled back towards its nexus. Tay’s scream of protest said she, at least, was aware of what was happening, and what their fate would be should they be reclaimed by the shrieking vortex.
“CLOSE IT!… CALLAN!… CLOSE IT DAMN IT!… Oh SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!”
The pair were only a few feet from the portal and the Black Dragon showed no signs of responding.
CLOSE IT DAMMIT!!!...The words had barely registered in Callan’s mind and echoed distantly in his thoughts. They had fallen through with An’Thaya crushed against his black armour, gravity had already caused them to twist, pulling Callan’s heavier mass down first…leaving him facing the portal and An’Thaya’s back to the liquid gash in the skies over Nenlante. Then Tenobrous had tried to deny them their freedom and began inexorably hauling them back. As they hung there, suspended over a place they‘d thought never to see again and the unholy, twisted place they‘d just left, his eyes had rolled open and a hot wind had swept around them, flitted across his chilled skin and ruffled his hair. There had been a very good reason why Callan Blackthorn had not closed the portal when the Amazon Queen crushed against him began screaming the command at him.
Ice blue, softly glowing eyes that seemed molten topaz swirled with living emerald as he stared into the portal. Jags of illuminated power snapped and lanced out from the torn edges between here and there, reached for he and the flame-haired woman he refused to give over to the Demoness. Transfixed, he watched…in the place they had just left, stone and mortar fell, darkness and light seemed to try engulf everything at once, and through the destruction, beyond it all yet within the dying stronghold, was Samara in her true form, enraged. In her fingers was the Chaos tainted blade, its metal fairly humming with unspent energy. Seconds passed, yet eternity seemed to flow around he and An’Thaya.
Visions of a chained and broken Amazon played through his head, bloody cuts and bruises covered her as his own hands both healed and inflicted the pain.
“You could have her, you know. You were cheated of her once before...Oohhhhh...you don't remember?" Soft laughter echoed through his very core, "No matter...imagine the power you would have with my blessings on your House. Imagine what I could give you…”
Images of the Keep, shrouded in green murk, the lands around it smoldering and burning, cleansed by DragonFire, seized his imagination, “Everything your sire failed to take would be yours, the Elven lands, the AngelHome…all of it, yours. Pretend all you wish, Araxmarr…the Light does not command your heart. You want this, you want her, yes?” Her voice was a sultry, full of macabre promises…all of which she knew Araxmarr wanted, yet denied himself.
“All you have to do, is…just…let…go…”
It sounded so reasonable, it sounded so simple, so easy to do just that, to let go and he was a hair's-breath away from giving Samara what she wanted so desperately. Black wings had snapped forward, pulled into the tugging current of Tenobrous' invisible fingers coaxing them back. Land and power, death and destruction, to be free of regret and cares...she had offered him exactly what he longed to have, she had offered him a chance to be who he was before the first seeds of love had been sewn in his soul.
Gods, how he wanted that...he could taste the fear, the doubt, the lust and pride of countless victims, men and children, women and the old. Noble or peasant, it hadn't mattered to him, a job was job and pleasure was just that. A tantalizing game that always ended in prolonged agony for the dying and exquisite release for him.
"You're not a half-elf, Araxmarr...Callan is but a ghost, a mere memory, a whisper of guilt in the back your brain...he would be easy to exorcise..."
"Just. Let. Go."
Almost, he released her, almost he believed the promises...but it wasn't just An'Thaya she wanted him to release, it was his sense of right and wrong, his honor. She was asking him to give up the fight; the battle between living the way he knew was 'right' and living the way he desired so badly.
Half-remembered words filtered through his mind and chewed at his thoughts..."Whatever you do...don't let go..."
Time slowed, paused, seconds to those watching were minutes to Callan Blackthorn...then a malevolent smile twisted Callan's face and his arm spasmed tight around the red-head, "I have all I need..." His voice was gravelly, husky with Rage and refused temptations. The vicious, half-Elven grin turned crooked, arrogant, a smile that had infuriated so many creatures in Callan's long life, "find yourself another toy..."
“CLOSE IT!… CALLAN!… CLOSE IT DAMN IT!… Oh SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!”
Time jolted and lurched forward...
In a last ditch effort; the Amazon wrenched the wards themselves shut. Her back slammed against what seemed thin air, Callan near flattening her in the process. For a moment, the pair seemed to hover before the raging vortex, nothing but the invisible barrier of the wards between them and what would have been certain death, until gravity worked.
Tay was given the equivalent of whiplash as the massive Dragon Emperor dropped like a rock and the pair revolved on the way down, and for a moment she panicked, sure she was going to die squashed beneath him… yet again. As physics would have it, however, Callan hit back first, sparing An’Thaya and her pride in one go. However… he seemed to have taken the ‘don’t let go’ instruction a little to literally. For a moment, she wondered how big the cockroach was they had squished judging by the noise, then instinctively started swinging.
“Let me go you egomaniacal moron!” Even from this position and the limited movement for swinging a punch, the crunch when she connected with his jaw was immensely satisfying.
"YOU WENCH! YOU REDHEADED, ARROGANT BITCH! GET. OFF. ME!" Callan's grip loosened marginally and strong fingers snapped around one delicate fist as it descended again and began to squeeze the fine bones of her hand painfully. Every word was laced with blood flecked spittle...not only had the lining of his jaw been shredded with the force of her swing, but several ribs had been broken from the impact of his back slamming into the air-dock. He was also guessing from the sharp pain lancing his side and his inability to catch his breath properly, apparently a lung was damaged.
"Well, she's right here," Galain finally managed to say, a huge grin of relief plastering itself to his face.
"Oh aye...and apparently none the worse for wear." Ash quipped as her bi-colored eyes widened. "May I suggest you use the flat of his blade on the end of his nose, m'lady?"
Shadow eyed the display with no small amount of amusement, "Always one for scaring the hell out of us, aren't you?" She was referring to An'Thaya, but it probably fit Callan as well, though from the shouting she doubted she'd been heard.
A sigh of relief escaped Bran. The loss of the Amazon and the Black Dragon Emperor, two people he both liked and respected, had weighed heavily on him. A frown still darkened his brow, however. Something was wrong. He knew it as surely as he knew his own name. Mira should have been here. So should Muirne. They both should have felt bonds be re-established, heard the commotion within the palace as the travelers returned. Where were they? What wasn't the Queen of Corin telling him.
"Se'Liene," he began, and then stopped. How could he press when her own daughter had just returned from somewhere like Tenobrous? and yet, how could he not?
"Your Majesty. Please, where is my wife?"
Voices filtered through to Tay, through the pain of Callan’s grip on her wrist, through the horror in her mind over what the Dragon had almost done. His soul was still sheltered within her own, and everything he had seen… felt… desired… it had all cut through her mind and soul like a razor. The sound of Galain’s voice should have soothed her, eased the stress, but it only added to her rage, inflaming it with the agony Samara’s words had caused. The Amazon didn’t have to look to know where he would be… with Ghet, hovering over her like a worried mother hen. The other redhead always needed him more…
“You… little… bitch, well… at least you understand how I feel now. How it hurts to have your mate taken away… to be able to feel him, to hear him, but not truly touch him. Husband in name… but he loves her more, doesn’t he. The truth is painful… what if I told you… he never cried out for you once while I tortured him… but he did cry out for her.”
“SHUT UP! Let me go you son of a bitch!” Horrified, the redhead realized if she could feel everything about him… the reverse was true. Shame and fury flushed her skin a brilliant shade of red and the small woman reared back, swinging with her other hand and nailing the Dragon smack in the eye. I’m not stupid, she snarled, wrenching at his soul, I saw what you wanted… you sick bastard.
What was truly terrifying, was the reality of Samara’s envisioning… the accuracy of detail… and what disturbed An’Thaya the most, was her own screams. Not the tones of fear or revulsion… but something else entirely.
Twisting she threw her weight, pressing on broken ribs with malicious intent.
An explosion of silver light eclipsed the low moons of Whispin "AAAGGGHHH!" Callan's brief snort of pain was followed by a bellowing roar that would have shook glass windows, had there been any close by. Writhing in agony as An'Thaya's knee dug into fractured and broken bones, one black wing slammed into the airdock and flipped them over. Callan's bulk pinned the enraged Amazon to the dock and one hand had a handful of fiery hair seized up to pull her head back and expose her throat. The flash of his down-striking arm was the only warning the Amazon had before a black dragon-scale blade slammed into the stone next to her head close enough to her cheek that a thin rivulet of blood beaded up then ran down her skin and chips and slivers of rock showered the side of her face.
"IF it were not for Agaru... I swear..." Callan's threat died on his lips, only to be internalized and Sent instead.
"Were I you, I'd be very careful who you call a sick bastard, An'Thaya Alcarin... your own soul betrays you... and be very grateful I don't need what SHE offered to BE the sick bastard I am."
"Take my wife," he said to Vanya. "Please." He was sick with as he lurched toward Callan and he punched the... he punched him out.
"Don't. Ever. Touch. My. Wife." he gasped, punching again. "You've made her bleed. That's MY prerogative." Gods, if he could just separate the dragon from the lady.
Two wives. Two achingly dire injuries of the worst sort. Galain groaned and kicked Callan away.
Vanyalin did as her Father asked, crouching down to support Ghet as Mena moved forward to take Rhagi’s hand. “She needs medical attention,” the redhead breathed, a little wild eyed as she watched Galain take a shot at Callan. “What the hell are they doing? Never mind, you,” she gestured at one of the guards, “I can’t lift her, carry her up to her chambers and call the healers.” Dropping her gaze the young Elf stroked her stepmother’s face with gentle fingers. “Ghet? Can you hear me? We are going to take care of you now… ok? Captain D’Brel is going to carry you up to your room.”
Ghet just closed her eyes and nodded. She didn't want to be here, not for this. Her heart ached almost as badly as her stomach. She wanted to be somewhere quiet and still, the feeling growing on her that this time... she'd pushed her luck a little too far.
"And it’s MY prerogative to not let YOUR WIFE..." Callan hissed out as he grabbed Galain's ankle and jerked him off his feet, "RAPE my soul any longer than necessary...THEN SHOVE the things I both despise and want to embrace IN MY FACE."
Callan let the elf who was his friend lay as his shoved himself up on his knees. The black blade, bracers and armour slid away; leaving him in the crimson quilted 'shirt' he'd worn through Tenobrous. The back of a shaking hand wiped black-red blood from his mouth and nose, then snapped his wrist, sending fat drops of dragon blood to the stones.
Still fighting to shove the Black side of his blood back, Callan rose to his feet, glared down at his friend, then flicked his eyes, still roiling with D'Riel emerald to the Amazon.
"Get your gods damned, Light's Hope soul away from mine...and while your at it, don't you EVER..." Callan jabbed a finger at An'Thaya, "EVER presume to treat me like you're better than me. At least I admit what the hell I am."
Dazed Tay slapped a hand to her cheek, and then shielded her face with her arm as Galain attacked the Dragon Emperor. She was torn between utter hatred for Callan, and unbearable guilt for tearing her husband away from his second wife when she needed him. The odd mix of emotion halted the raging scream and translated into tears. Your own soul betrays you… A hot flash of shame and anger lanced down her spine and the Amazon thrust Callan’s soul from her own.
Too fast… and too forceful… the effort threw An’Thaya’s whirling galaxy slightly out of alignment, and left her feeling oddly empty. A low whimper fell from her lips and she rolled onto one side, a cascade of flaming hair flowing down to hide her tear streaked face.
Se’Liene straightened with the aid of a guard and met Bran’s gaze. “Mira is with Silverthorn,” the Queen Mother said softly, her eyes flickering past him to her stricken daughter, and then back again. “I’m sorry Bran… Linnis took Muirne and the twins and ran off to Elemmiire. Your wife and my daughter in law have gone to retrieve them.”
Eyes that were a mix of topaz and D'Riel emerald suddenly squeezed shut as Callan felt his stomach roll dangerously when An'Thaya literally threw him out of her soul. For a moment, he swayed on his feet, an oak tilting dangerously in a thunderstorm, then swallowed bile back. When his eyes flickered open, the color was once again clear topaz, not the reflection of a soul being violently hijacked.
"I'm glad you think she's worth it..." Callan mumbled at Galain, as he turned on his heel to leave the dock. The fire was rapidly leaving the Emperor, and in its wake was exhaustion, complete and total. "I know I don't."
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