“What does this mean?” Taranis asks Alastor.
Alastor peers at all the gathered people, looking into their eyes. Into their souls.
“It means, Taranis... heartache. Until we can find a way to kill Cain and destroy this damned armor, the threat will never be over.”
~-~~-~
Morrigan pauses, as if recalling some further event.
“They eventually sealed Cain,” she continues, remembering that she is telling the story. “The combined efforts of the Halvard and Judeheim priests creating a sort of spiritual key that kept his consciousness itself from waking. Or so it was hoped.”
“Amazing,” Mikha’el whispers.
“In all honesty, history judged Leon too harshly,” Morrigan reflects. “He did everything in his perceived power, and he accomplished more than was expected of him, especially afterwards, but he came to be called ‘The Lesser,’ just the same.”
Morrigan again becomes silent.
“What happened after that?” Morion asks.
“Oh. Eventually Leon achieved a greater control over the armor, culminating in being able to remove it at will. He married Cardea and had children, but after that, his story is lost to history. It does not take much to figure out what happened though, and it is safe to assume that he was eventually betrayed by his own blood.”
“Leon was betrayed by his own offspring, even after all he did?”
“Cain’s curse lived on, and to this day continues to do so.”
“But what about what Cain said, about how all Leon’s strengths were actually attributed to Elizabetha?”
“After Leon died, that too died with him. No one, as far as I am aware, knows more beyond what I have recounted to you.”
Morrigan stands from her chair, pacing across the Cloud Hall. Amy and Morion look at each other, silently reaffirming, both now knowing to a greater degree the origin of Alastor’s dark, tainted heart, and the destiny he is caught up in. Morion also finally sees her place in it all, or at least she suspects. Mikha’el laughs lightly as he thinks over Morrigan’s tale.
“What is it?” asks Amy.
“I had no idea that Uri’el was so directly involved in the affair.”
“Of what importance is that?” Morion asks him.
“Uri’el was my ancestor, as Leon was Alastor’s. Fate is not lacking for a sense of humor.”
“No, it is not,” Morion agrees.
Mikha’el’s smile changes, raising an eyebrow as a thought comes to him.
“What happened to Lionkiller?” he asks Morrigan.
“Why?” the Fairy responds.
“It seemed, from what you said, to have an extremely adverse affect upon not only the Black Armor, but Cain himself.”
“After Leon learned to control the armor, he was able to wield it again. He renamed it, then hid it in the event it was ever needed again.”
“Renamed it?” repeats Morion.
“Yes, to ‘Charlotte’s Defiance,’ of course,” Morrigan says with a small smile.
“Fitting.”
“Where was it hid?” inquires Mikha’el.
Morrigan takes a bundle from behind a bookshelf, setting it down before Morion. She uncovers the bundle, finding the sword Alastor had given her.
“Does this look familiar?” Morrigan asks her.
“I thought this was left in Halvard,” Morion says, amazed and relieved.
“This is Lionkiller?” Mikha’el asks.
“Charlotte’s Defiance,” Morrigan corrects with a grin.
“May I?” Mikha’el asks the Queen, reaching his hands out so that he can see the sword himself. She hands it over carefully. Mikha’el unsheathes the blade, looking at it in wonder. “An exquisite weapon,” he whispers as he sheathes it, handing it back to Morion.
“Why did Alastor give it to me?” the Queen asks, unnerved.
“Only he can tell you why,” Morrigan tells her, “though I am sure it was quite deliberate.”
Chapter Nineteen
Sins and Vices
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The world outside has become dreary and overcast, but remains calm and cool. While the others talk about Leon, Alastor and all points in between, Morion slinks away to check on the Knight himself. Alastor sleeps peacefully. The Queen sits on his bed for a time, holding his hands, her eyes occasionally migrating to the bracers. Forced into accepting that Alastor will not be waking anytime soon, she returns to the others.
“How is he?” Amy asks.
“Good, I think. He is at peace it seems.”
“Something I always thought impossible to hear,” says Mikha’el to himself.
Morion is struck by a thought like lightning from heaven.
“Can you tell me more about Cain’s curse?” she asks Morrigan.
“I can try,” replies the Fairy. “What specifically do you wish to know?”
“Alastor explained to me about the curse, and the armor being penance.”
“Yes, we talked about this. The armor and the curse are halves of a whole. The curse itself, the aftermath of Cain’s pact with Samael, can manifest in any number of ways, but more often than not it makes one more than human, and at the same time magnifies the vices in ones heart.”
“So, if someone had violent tendencies...”
“They become like Eoin’s father, a sadistic, murdering madman.”
“And what part does the armor play in that?”
“The flood gate through which the curse can flow.”
“If all that is true, how did Eoin and Alastor overcome their curses?”
“Who said they did?” Mikha’el counters.
“What were their vices then?”
“None of us knows. All I can tell you is that they both have avoided the darker fate of their precursors, striving to end Cain’s pact and destroy the armor. Except...”
“What?”
“Something went awry.”
Morion moves her sight to Amy, recalling the story of Eoin’s murder. Morrigan notices this.
“No, Morion. What Mikha’el refers to goes a bit farther back than Eoin’s death.”
“Then what happened?”
“My father gave in to his curse, and nine months later, my brother was born,” Alastor exclaims bluntly, coming without warning into the Cloud Hall.
They are all shocked at first, seeing Alastor up and about, however that shock gives way to overwhelming relief. Alastor takes his normal seat at the head of the table.
“Eoin gave in to his curse?” repeats Morion. “I do not think I understand.”
“My bloodline has had many lusts, usually for power or bloodshed. My father was far simpler - he had an unquenchable thirst for the ‘company’ of women.”
Both Amy and Morion blush, completely not expecting to hear such things of Eoin. Even Mikha’el is struck by this small though, by Alastor’s tone, powerful bit of information.
“Why would Lucius’ birth so greatly affect what Eoin was planning?” asks Morion, still unclear.
“In my father’s youth, he would have as many women as he pleased. There were no ideas or grandiose plans in his mind; that is until he met my mother. She did not give in to him as so many others had, and this troubled him, ate at him. My mother became all he thought on, bordering upon obsession. Other women lost their appeal, and he found himself falling in love for the first time in his life. It was my mother that began the transformation of Eoin’s heart toward the truth of our blood, and the inherent evil we possess.
“In short, it was mother that brought about the divide between Eoin and his father.
“After Eoin was forced to kill his father, mother took him to Judeheim, which is where he converted fully to the nameless God and devoted his life to ending the curse. He studied prophesies and began to see parallels between his life and what the old texts had to say. He married my mother, expecting to have a son, me to be precise, but his wife remained without child. Thinking he wasted his time, read too far int
o prophecy, he let his cravings out for a little air, having countless secret whores, all the while pretending to be the Eoin my mother married.”
Alastor pauses, the shade of a sneer passing on his face.
“A few years passed,” Alastor continues, “and one day Eoin learns that his wife was pregnant. On that same day, he meets his bastard child, as did my mother. She was not angry, but her heart died. Father took Lucius and his mother in to our castle out of guilt, and through his guilt named me before I was born.”
Alastor stops, letting the story sink into everyone’s mind.
“Alastor,” speaks Mikha’el, “I was always under the impression that you were so named because of the prophesies Eoin studied.”
“No. Father had not delved that deep into them until after I was born. He so named me because he felt no better than Cain, and that the history of the name was more than fitting. He felt that the son whom his wife would give birth to should be the means of his eventual destruction, a walking punishment for his crime.”
“That makes it all the more interesting.”
“What happened to your mother, Alastor?” Morion asks.
Alastor looks to Morion, then to Amy. Amy smiles at him, both she and the Knight reminded of the last time this question was asked. Alastor nods, answering the question at last.
“Father took in Lucius and his mother against my mother’s pleas, so she took to living in the keep, alone, while she carried me. After I was born was no different. She kept me in this very tower, as far away from Lucius and his mother as possible, and here we lived until the day she went into the forest, never to be seen again.”
“She vanished?”
Again Alastor pauses, and again he looks into Amy’s eyes, not Morion’s.
“No. She killed herself. Unable to live with her hollow heart, and unable to abide Lucius. Eoin she grew indifferent to, but she hated Lucius and his mother.”
Morion and Amy bring their hands to their faces, horrified.
“That is when Eoin cast Lucius away and returned to Judeheim?” Mikha’el asks Alastor.
“It was.”
Morion takes special notice of Mikha’el’s words.
“Cast away?” she repeats.”Is that why Lucius is the way he is?”
“No,” says Alastor. “Lucius had always shown a darker side. Father kept him and his mother out of a feeling of responsibility, but when his true wife died, so too did that feeling.” Alastor laughs softly. “Fearing his first born, and completely unsure of my fate, father used his power over the armor, a control far greater than that of the Lesser’s, to create an icon; an item endowed with the ability to negate the power of Cain’s armor, and thus capable of defeating whomever, Lucius or myself, would wear the armor next.”
Revelation fills Morion’s face as she reaches for her necklace.
“You mean to tell me...”
“One and the same, Your Highness,” Alastor says soft, tragic.
“Alastor,” Amy speaks up, “with what we know of your family’s history now, why would Lucius want to revive Cain? From the sound of things, none of your ancestors had any intention of doing so.”
“Honestly, I was hoping you might know, Amelia.”
“I cannot say that I do, sadly. He never spoke of Cain, or much of anything for that matter.”
“Is it possible he is trying to create a rebirth of Valachia?” Mikha’el asks. ”He has, after all, raised a sizeable army, gained control of a kingdom by means of murder and subversion. And, more importantly, the world has another Alastor. The similarities cannot be ignored.”
“Except that reviving Cain would mean that Lucius would have to abdicate power which he has spent years seizing for himself,” Amy points out.
“Or, he could just be doing this to instigate me,” whispers Alastor.
“All of this for the sake of sibling rivalry?” queries Morion.
“No,” Morrigan speaks, “something more sinister, though no less personal. Lucius was taught the family history just as Alastor was. This is a sick joke born from Lucius’ demented mind.”
“You mean forcing Alastor to battle Cain, as Leon did so long ago?”
Alastor stands abruptly and leaves, going down the spiral stairs.
“But I thought Alastor was supposed to fight Cain?” Mikha’el asks Morrigan.
“He would have, in time, after he was properly made ready.”
“And that is why Lucius had Eoin murdered, so that Alastor would never be made ready?”
Morrigan and Mikha’el begin discussing the intricacies of fate. Amy leans toward Morion.
“Perhaps you should go talk to him,” she tells the Queen.
~-~~-~
Morion finds Alastor in his room, on the balcony. She walks beside him, standing silently, still holding her necklace. Alastor watches her, the forlorn look on her face.
“What is wrong?” he asks her.
“I had always had a set idea of what this necklace meant. Something better.”
“A betrothal?” Alastor smirks.
“Yes,” Morion answers, not having the courage to face Alastor.
“I lied to you I am afraid.”
“How?”
“My father did not fear Lucius, at least not in the way he feared me.”
“What does that have to do with lying to me?”
“That necklace was not made for the possibility of Lucius taking the armor first. Just me.”
“Why would you keep that secret?”
“It is not easy to openly speak with the woman intended to be your executioner, I am afraid.”
“Executioner?”
“A far cry from a betrothal, no?”
“Quite.”
“May I ask you something, Morion?”
“Of course.”
“If you had all the power in the world, right now, what would you do?”
“Reclaim Halvard,” she exclaims without hesitation.
“And if you had to die in order to claim that power, would you still?”
“Without a doubt. There is nothing I would not sacrifice to bring freedom back to my people.”
“Death does not frighten you?”
“Why should it? After seeing my father again, I would embrace whatever fate might be in the hereafter.”
Alastor grins, detached from everything, at these words. Morion had never seen the Madness, so she had no reason to fear it, and she never will.
“I wish I could know your optimism, Your Highness. Your fearlessness.”
“Why do you ask me these things?”
Alastor sighs as he thinks of an appropriate answer.
“I suppose I was looking for confirmation.”
“Of what?”
“What I should do.”
“Did you find it?”
“I believe so.”
Morion places her hand on Alastor’s.
“You will go to face them both then?”
“I do not see much of an alternative.”
“When will you go?”
“At such a time as Fate in her infinite wisdom instructs me to.”
They stop talking, staring at the world. Morion rests her head against Alastor’s arm. He does not try to stop her.
~-~~-~
A blackness engulfs the west, ominous clouds gathering. Alastor heaves a heavy sigh. Morion too knows that the building storm is the sign that Alastor has been waiting for. She does not find Fate’s grotesque sense of humor even remotely amusing, and ending this perfect moment with Alastor borders on unforgivable.
Morion looks up into Alastor’s eyes, and he into hers. Cautiously, she leans forward, bringing her lips to his. They kiss, albeit briefly. Alastor says nothing, and neither does she. He takes the Queen back up to the Cloud Hall with the others, who are also looking out from the tower balcony. Morrigan, however, is nowhere to be seen.
“Where did the Fairy go?” Alastor asks Mikha’el as the winged one faces him.
“She mumbled so
mething about needing to pray, then just left.”
“Where?”
“She did not say.”
Alastor and Morion both turn to Amy.
“Morrigan said nothing to me,” she admits.
“Did she leave before or after that storm started?” Morion asks.
“Just as it began, actually,” Amy recalls.
Morion stands with Amy and Mikha’el, at which point Alastor tries to make a stealthy exit, only to be caught.
“Where are you going?” Morion calls out.
“Down to see father,” he answers with a lukewarm tone.
“Hurry back, then. We need to start formulating a proper plan for assaulting Halvard.”
“As you wish, Your Highness.”
~-~~-~
In Eoin’s crypt, Alastor stands beside the encased body of his father.
“It is such a strange thing,” Alastor whispers to himself. “I spoke with you what was only a day or so ago, yet here you are. Can you even hear me I wonder? Whether you can or not, I need to say this: Cain is revived, father, and the armor is still whole and Lucius is the cause of it all. Together they will bring only pain, death and destruction if I allow them to go unchallenged. Father, I know what you believed but... nothing that has happened since you died has made any sense whatsoever. What am I supposed to do? Lucius alone would not have been a contest. Time consuming maybe, but I would have been the victor. Cain alone would have been nothing more than a recreation of Leon’s duel with him. But... both? What would you have done, father? What would Leon have done? Not that those situations hold any meaning. I am not you, father, and I am not Leon-Alastor either.”
Alastor sets his right hand on Eoin’s crystal coffin.
“I am going to unseal the armor. Success or failure hold no sway. If I triumph, then the curse is ended anyway. If I fail, Morion is more than capable, now equipped with all she would need. I know this is far from what was planned, but I see no other choice.”
Alastor stands still for a time, staring at his father, remembering not how he was in life, but in the Madness, and in Valkyr. The Knight in Shining Armor. Alastor leaves the crypt, methodically climbing up the spiral stair. He pivots his head upward, wondering what Morion, Amelia and Mikha’el might be discussing. He also ponders on why Morrigan would leave. His history with Fairies praying was not an ease to his mind. The first time was in Arkelon, after killing the barbarians. The second was in Judeheim’s catacombs, that time it being the younger Fairy. Alastor at that memory wishes he could speak with that younger Fairy right now. Unlike Morrigan, Alastor finds that she is one he can talk to and get answers from. She, even though appearing young, had a very matriarchal quality to her. A grandmother. Perhaps even a mother. Yes. That is who she reminds him of. He shakes the thought from his head, however. To think such things now is childish.
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