Niltsiar considered for a moment. The dark elves were definitely part of her long-term plans and this one had proven useful. It was time, she decided, to paint at least some of the larger picture.
* * * * * Long ago, in Ancient times, Merlyn crossed the dark expanse to bring human magic users from Earth to Majaos. Many ultimately co-operated to bring about Merlyn's Great Endeavour, but of all the assembled masses, he had but two firm allies - friends - two people he knew he could depend upon and entrust with his life. They were Ganieda and Artemis - his betrothed and his apprentice. To the people of Majaos, these three were the last of the Faerie.
When they arrived on Majaos, they found themselves on a continent they named Mythallen, from an old dialect, meaning `Land of Legend`. Given the richness of magic in this new world, though the Great Endeavour was finished, their work had only just begun. They had an entirely new civilisation to build, not only with each other, but also with the myriad of strange, wondrous and terrifying indigenous creatures. In addition, they needed to establish relations with the sentient beings of this world, to show that they came in peace as settlers, not as conquerors. Then there was the need for food. Although much of the plant life, indeed the whole ecosystem was similar to that which they had left behind, there were enough differences to make people cautious.
The task was great, but as is often the case in such matters, the hardship brought people together. By the time any of them had a chance to pause for breath, they realised their old enmities and the motivations behind them were as distant as their former home. None had any desire to return to that.
After a while, it was only natural that people would begin to pair off. In this, Merlyn and Ganieda led the way, giving birth to the first baby born on Majaos from Terran parents. Their daughter, Niltsiar, grew up in a golden age of magic and wonder. Great advances were being made, practically every day and for short-lived humans, specialisation was a natural response to there being too many possibilities for one to explore in a single lifetime. These were formalised as nine distinct colleges of magic. Other races adopted the system, too, if in a slightly more fluid way.
Niltsiar was not an obedient child. She was wilful and prideful and considered herself better than everyone else. She could never understand why her parents - and even that ridiculous Artemis - did not assert their authority over the whole world.
They had set up the Council of Magic. They discussed magic and laid down rules and restrictions and penalties regarding its use, all of which Niltsiar hated. To her, magic was a wild, ferocious beast that could not be tamed. The constant analysis and discussion stifled progress, in Niltsiar's view. Since she had never lived on Earth, she was blind to the advances that had been made. With all his ability, even Merlyn especially Merlyn - was constantly wary of the full extent of the power they were tapping into. Niltsiar was not at all wary - she embraced the power. Her parents warned of the danger; the danger thrilled Niltsiar. The others sought to exist in gentle harmony with the magic; Niltsiar violently fought the magic, treating it like a feral force that had to be subdued to her will.
Then, just when Niltsiar thought her opinion of her father and his Council couldn't sink any lower, they took a decision that would change the whole world forever and set Niltsiar on a collision course with them and their ideals.
* * * * * Z'rcona listened carefully, never interrupting - she didn't dare - while Niltsiar continued her history lesson, which linked in with some of the practicalities of Ancient magic that Her Divine Excellency had already begun to share.
At last, Niltsiar came to the climax of the story. There had been a final standoff between Merlyn and Niltsiar, father and daughter. Merlyn had caught her by surprise, grabbing her and transporting both of them away from Majaos. In this way, Merlyn could use his full power against her and if necessary kill her, without harming the world he loved. They fought long and hard, they fought in realms where Time had no meaning, but then Niltsiar used a burst of her power at the moment of a transfer, forcing them apart. They each found themselves in a different place. Different worlds, different planes, different times, Niltsiar did not know, nor did she care. She was drained, but she knew her father would be, too. They both were stranded until such time as they could find a way home. A very, very long time.
However, Merlyn's apprentice, Artemis, wasted not a moment. When it became clear that he could not gain the support of the full Council, even as Ganieda tried to hold them together, he acted alone and without authorisation. He knew Niltsiar would one day return and so he set traps in key locations. The idea that one of these key locations should be literally a location with a key, appealed to his sense of humour. The magic of some of his other traps had eroded with time but this one had not. There was no getting around his traps. For her to achieve her ambition, Niltsiar would need to take a number of deep magical readings from objects like the Great Spirit Key. Until then, the spells would remain dormant. In that state, they were bound to the object in question and could not be dispelled without destroying the object. So in order to safely destroy the trap, she would be forced to activate it first. Of course, no trap he could set would destroy Niltsiar
- he did not have that power and did not delude himself otherwise. But he could slow her down, frustrate her at every turn, giving the luxury of time to the one that prophecy said would come. The one named Du y Kharia. He could only hope it would be time enough.
“So,” Z'rcona mused, “Merlyn is still stranded off world, but Artemis is around here somewhere...”
“Meddling in things he does not understand, yes.”
“Artemis,” Z'rcona growled. “The Ancient enemy who stole the magic from the dark elves. He must pay for his crimes against my people!” “Oh, he will, I assure you.” Niltsiar affirmed. “In a way,” she considered, “he has already been paying for some time. I have seen him, Z'rcona. Still the annoying trickster he always was, like a buzzing insect and just as difficult to catch. He's not quite himself, however.”
“What do you mean?” “From what I have seen,” she said, “I believe that his attack on your people was more than he could handle. It is a wonder he found the power to do it at all. It would not be an easy task even for me. His mind has snapped under the strain and now he seems to go by thenickname I gave him oh so long ago.”
“A nickname?” Z'rcona wondered. “Yes. Artemis suffered from a seemingly endless variety of allergies from the instant he set foot on this world, but refused any attempt to cure him. He used to say it was `a minor inconvenience and a part of the person he was`, whatever that means.”
“Celebrating his imperfections?” Z'rcona sneered. “It makes him sound almost human.” She spat the word with obvious distaste. “I always thought so,” Niltsiar agreed. “I suppose it's only fitting that he should end up as a crazy old man, sneezing all over the place, adopting that ridiculous name. You see, as a parody of Artemis, I called him...
“Artisho.”
Chapter 1
Eilidh, Toli and Granite were once again in the presence of the Wise One. Eilidh had decided that they should stick with just the three of them. After all, if the prince was to be believed, only they had been `invited` and they didn't have time to travel all that way, only to be unable to find the Wise One's hut because they were trying to bring along uninvited guests.
Of her assembled friends, only Rochelle was particularly disappointed, but she cheered up when Eilidh commended her on her extraordinary literary find. Given a second source of information, it made sense to take advantage of both simultaneously, and there was no doubt that Rochelle possessed a mind that could cut through the extraneous knowledge and discover answers to some of the important academic and philosophical questions posed by this situation.
The Knights were preparing for action - not that they were ever unprepared - but Eilidh wanted to give Hannah as much time as possible to recover from her injuries and trauma. The Paladin insisted she was `fine` but she would probably say that if the roof of Shakaran Cas
tle fell on her head. Dark Knight Officer Sir Quentin Marr had placed himself in charge of overseeing her healing, cracking the metaphorical whip at the first perceived sign of anything less than perfect efficiency on the part of the royal healing staff. Bernice Ardra - Bunny - seemed to have developed quite a bond with Tanya, the easy-going Knight of Balance, and had attached herself to the Knightly trio; an interesting match, to be sure.
* * * * * The sumorityl had proved instrumental in Hannah's healing. Some of the chaos creatures apparently secreted some kind of anti-coagulant and the Clerics were unable to permanently stop the bleeding. They would staunch the flow for a while, but the wounds would always open up again.
Out of the blue, Bunny said, “I can do it. I can stop the bleeding. It won't be pretty, but I can do it. I was created from a vampire, remember?” she explained, when the others asked, “and I've got some of their abilities. One of them is the ability to control blood clotting. Vampires can prevent clotting while they're drinking and rapidly close a wound when they want to save a snack for later.” She paused, noting some of the horrified looks.
“OK, maybe that was too much information,” she considered. “Let's just say it's a little trick that comes into play during vampiric conversion.”
When that drew more horrified gasps, Bunny just rolled her eyes. “Oh, for pity's sake! Look, I'm not going to turn her into a vampire!”
The others seemed unconvinced. “Fine, forget it!” She pushed angrily through the others, intending to storm off, but halfway to the door, she rounded on them, employing all of her self-control to keep her vampiric form from surfacing in instinctive response to her rage.“Y'know, it's really charming!” she complained. “Here I am offering, as a valuable member of our team, to do something decidedly unpleasant to save our friend's life, and all you lot can do is stand there pulling faces! I saved a bunch of children from a burning building, just like Loric. Only he's a heroic dragon and I'm a vampire with ulterior motives! I rescued Phaer from the dark elves - after he went blabbing about Niltsiar. I'll bet he'd be welcomed if he came back, but all I get is suspicion. I faced down a basilisk, put my life in considerable danger and I came back here to fill you in on what you've been missing, but you still don't trust me! I could have gone anywhere, but I chose to come back here because I believed - believe - I can help! But you still! Don't! Trust! Me! Why?”
She let her accusation hang in the air for a moment before continuing, “OK, so this is almost certainly the safest place in all Mythallen right now, and I'll admit saving my own skin is pretty high on my list of priorities. Is that so wrong? What have I done to deserve this treatment?” She asked.
Nobody answered.
“Tell me!” She demanded, her scream reverberating around the high-ceilinged chamber.
The others just looked at one another, shifting uncomfortably.
“Doesn't anybody around here trust me?” Bunny persisted
“I do,” volunteered Tanya Nightingale.
The others stared at her in disbelief.
The Knight spread her arms in an elaborate shrug. “Well, I do!” she insisted.
“Apart from her,” Bunny dismissed with a smile.
Tanya giggled - not a sound one would ever expect to hear from a typical Knight, but Lady Tanya Nightingale was anything but a typical Knight.
Calming down, Bernice tried again. “I believe I can close Hannah's wounds. You can let me try, or you can put your faith in the Clerics to suddenly come up with a cure at the last minute.” “It seems to me,” Eilidh said, trying to smooth things over. “That this is Hannah's choice. You know what she's like for following the rules of her Order, although I doubt there's anything specific about allowing a sumorityl vampire to heal a Knight of Paladinia.”
So they proposed it to Hannah who, once she was assured it did not involve magic, agreed to the unorthodox treatment. “Just one thing,” Bunny told Tanya and Quentin, taking them to one side. “This is going to involve me drinking some of Hannah's blood. Not much,” she assured them when Quentin got that look again. “Just enough to activate the necessary glands. I don't make a habit of it - at least, not anymore - because I can start to lose myself and get a little...`excited`. Pure blood – pure human like all you Knights, pure elf, whatever– is particularly intoxicating. So, if I seem to be acting strange and drinking more than necessary, you'll need to pull me off, because in Hannah's current condition that would most likely be fatal. If it does happen, I won't come quietly, but I'd really appreciate it if you didn't kill me or break any bones when you knock me out.”
“Thou art serious?” Sir Quentin wondered.
“Deadly serious.”
Tanya raised an eyebrow.
“Sorry,” Bunny apologised with a sheepish grin. “Bad choice of words.” Bernice prepared herself, mentally, and all visitors left Hannah's bedchamber except the other two Knights. She began to drink what was necessary, bracing herself for the jolt, the horrific pleasure of this vile act. When it came, she knew she had to resist like never before. This was important - to Hannah and to Bunny herself. She wanted to prove that her vampiric abilities and sumorityl nature could be put to a positive, constructive use. This was her chance and it was vital she did not succumb to her base, predatory instincts that would soon kick in... Any moment...n-
As it turned out, however, the `now` never happened. The very absence of a shock was a shock in of itself. It was a bit like someone bracing themselves to dive into a lake or pool that they were convinced would be freezing cold, but when they hit the water, it was actually very pleasant and not at all like they expected. So Bunny was able to keep enough control to do the job without the need for violence.
It was puzzling. Her self-control wasn't even all that stretched. Had she really come so far? It was a dangerous assumption and one she was reluctant to believe. Like a man who becomes addicted to certain intoxicating herbs, the greatest danger of relapse was in that moment when he considered himself cured. In truth, there could be no cure for Bernice Ardra. She was what she was and that would never change, but she could - and did - aspire to higher things. Redemption she had once called it. As good a word as any, she supposed, but in truth what she wanted was nothing more or less than a place in civilisation. She was different, certainly. Unique, perhaps. But was she not also equal? So she was created in a laboratory, not a mother's womb. Did that negate her right to exist? To live her life? Did the life of Lady Hannah Collins pure blood human and Knight of Paladinia - automatically have a higher value than that of a force grown human-vampire mongrel like herself? Way back in her father's cage - a lifetime ago from Bunny's perspective - she chose to believe that was not true. Should people - and she chose to believe she was a person, not an animal - be judged by what they are or by what they do? She believed the latter.
Her right to life and freedom was as valid as any elf's, but she knew full well that however far she thought she had come, she still had a long way to go before she could earn her place in civilisation...assuming there was a civilisation left after Niltsiar and her pet monsters had finished with it. Still, for today she had achieved what she set out to do: Hannah's wounds bled no more and Bernice was in control of herself.
Tanya moved over to Bernice to check she was alright, shattering her introspection. “Adds new meaning to the phrase, `licking your wounds`,” the Knight remarked.
Bernice grinned, although doing so in vampire mode with blood around her mouth didn't quite have the desired effect.
* * * * * As for Jayne, she was training alone, somewhere. She wasn't exactly life and soul, even by Eilidh's standards. One might even say antisocial. But she was loyal and dependable with an uncanny knack of being there whenever she was needed.
So that left the three of them sitting in the Wise One's home: Eilidh, Granite and Toli, gradually coming to terms with that contradictory feeling of a cramped little hut and limitless dimensions. Eilidh ignored that particular conundrum, however, to focus on the task at hand. She wanted some a
nswers from this wise old sage.
“Ah, welcome!” the Wise One intoned. “Your quest was a success, I trust?”
“Actually, there's some debate over that,” Eilidh replied.
“Start from the beginning. Tell me everything.” The Wise One listened intently to Eilidh's story. Sometimes, Granite or Toli would fill in a detail that Eilidh might have skipped over, and the sage occasionally stopped her to ask a question or clarify some obscure point. The young woman also included an account of Rochelle's fruitful trip as well as, with Prince Garald’s permission, news of the state of the empire, particularly the destruction of Merlyon. The Wise One was clearly distressed and saddened by this news, but Eilidh pressed him nonetheless. There would be time for grieving later, if they survived.
“So, which key was it?” Eilidh demanded. “Was that whole crypt thing meaningless? Were we really out there risking life and limb just to get you some tea while the world turns to ashes around us? Or was there actually some purpose to the whole `Great Key` thing? Which is the truth?”
“Sometimes truth is difficult to recognise. Perhaps both are true,” suggested the Wise One, “or maybe neither. Maybe the key to stopping Niltsiar lies in some other aspect of that quest. Did you ever consider that?”
Eilidh rolled her eyes. “Riddles,” she groaned. “I come here for answers and you give me riddles. If something is important enough, why not just come out and say it?” “Some things are too important to be left in plain sight,” the sage countered. Then, catching Eilidh's expression, he added, “alright, you want plain speech? I'll give you plain speech. You want a simple answer to your question? How can you stop Niltsiar? Simple answer, four words:I do not know.”
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