Post by Solana on Jul 22, 2014 10:28:39 GMT -5
Chapter Twelve- Darkest Night Of The Soul: Dusk
You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.
Harvey Dent, The Dark Knight
Bachlan stormed down the stairs to his hidden workroom, doing his best to contain his currently raging temper. He had had all of the traitors at his mercy until they had somehow been teleported away by Oriana.
Such an act should have been impossible with most of Oriana's essence drained away and in his possession. As it was, interfering with her spell and scattering the six of Oriana's “chicks” to the four winds had done little to assuage his pride.
His snarl worsened. How had she managed to hide away a piece of her essence and keep it out of his reach? Where the blazes was it?
Bachlan raised his fist and called on the light essence to brighten up the dim room, then marched past his many work tables and completed experiments to Oriana's crystal prison. Oriana's lovely green eyes were shadowed against the bright light in his hand. She looked a bit pale from the past few days of incarceration and the draining of her power. Tangles in her limp blonde mane from being carried down here by Trista's winds gave her an unkempt look. Despite her appearance and situation, an unmistakable smile of triumph blossomed on her face as she noted Bachlan's presence and sour expression.
For a second, Bachlan could only stare at this impertinent woman who met his glare of fury with a strength equal to his own. His fists clenched with rage until the knuckles turned white. Why did she have to interfere so often with what he was trying to do? She, who claimed the title of “Guardian of Life”! "WHERE is it? What did you DO with it?!"
Oriana raised her head like a proud swan. "As I recall, you yourself made me a Guardian to serve the cause of Life as I deemed fit. This task has not ended merely because your motives have changed."
"No, you were to serve the cause as I deemed fit," he retorted, slamming a hand on his chest. "Why did it not fully come to me as the others did? I could have begun the Great Rebirth right then and there!"
Oriana's voice took on a sad turn that was echoed in her eyes. "You never will, Bachlan. Why have you been so determined to follow this path?"
Bachlan paused, a little surprised by the question and its tone. He had thought that his reasons should have been obvious. This world, their beautiful Merna that had cared for them all needed its Guardians to do the same. That was what the essences had been created to do.
But none of the others had lived through what he had, or witnessed the true price that unchallenged greed exacted. Bachlan had seen his world razed over for valuables, as enslaved as the lower classes by the Golden Ones. At the height of their power, Merna had been dancing on the edge of complete devastation. Once proud forests that had painted the land a vivid green had been mowed down to nothing more than matchwood. Open pit mines had been gouged into the lovely rolling plains or blasted in the heart of mountain ranges, dumping acrid smoke and dross off to the sides like cancerous tumors. Rivers and oceans that had once carried fish and oxygen soon bore a deadly cargo of poisonous runoff and dead creatures. A sky that had once gleamed the bright blue of a freshly cut blue topaz grew dusty, then turned a sullen gray that only allowed a weak light to mockingly display the wounds and carnage done to their world.
Bachlan alone had had the strength to weave together an army capable of toppling their dictators and to breathe life back into their world that had sustained them. Now, he was the only one with the vision to make sure that such a tragedy would never be repeated by any means necessary. Merna itself was now constantly reminding him of his task, and of his failures. These images from the past were coming back to him more and more often through the visions granted by the memory essence. They were a brutal promise of what could happen again if he ever let his guard down.
Perhaps an explanation could do what threats could not. He paused a moment or two, trying to find the words to make her understand what had been driving him for all of this time. "For so long, I have carried this burden. The memory essence isn't just a source of power - it carries a heavy price."
"All of them do," Oriana murmured. The ties to their elements could be overwhelming at times. How often had she physically or mentally felt what a patient experienced, either accidentally or purposefully to aid in her diagnoses? How often had she pushed a little harder, used a little more of her power, to help in fixing whatever was wrong because of those sensations? She had seen it in the others as well, as they fought to guide or control the elemental forces that continually shaped their world.
"Merna itself uses it to remind me of the glory that we once had," Bachlan continued. He turned to pace as his features became livid with anger and... shame? Yes, that was unmistakably shame. "Every time we fail, I am punished and shown what we had, the sheer beauty and pristine world of life it used to be." He slumped a little, rubbing his world-weary eyes as if trying to erase the images that they had beheld over so many millennia. "I wake from dreams of the past and confront what our world has evolved into at the hands of her lazy children. Our world will stand for it no longer, and will not suffer so again!"
Oriana's eyes flashed in sudden understanding. "Merna shall not stand for it, or you? Have you ever considered that you are punished for the failings in judgment that you have made all of this time?"
Bachlan's head snapped up. Failure!
He had cursed himself with that same thought after every vision for longer than he wanted to think about. His failures, his Guardians' failures, his peoples' failures... would that they could all stay in the wretched past where they belonged!
Bachlan had finally found a way to free himself and their world from that cycle. Once his Merna had been reborn anew, he would start things off right. He would teach the people all about the dangers faced during the Rise of the Classes, and make sure it never happened again. Then their world could be at peace, he would have proved himself worthy of his position, and the visions would stop. He would never fail again.
But Oriana was trying to suggest otherwise, as her precious protege had tried to do years ago. He could not, dared not think that there was a chance that they were right. He had too much to lose.
"What more could I do? A world can ask no more of me!" he protested angrily, then stopped a moment to breathe. No matter how she riled him, she was the one stripped of power and inside a crystal case, while he was outside with nearly all of the essences in his hands. If she would have been able to teleport herself out, she would have done so already. "But that will not be true much longer. Once I get the rest of your power, I will have all I need to recreate this world into what it was meant to be."
"Do you really have so little regard for our people, that you would kill so many just for this? You honestly believe that this is what our world would want?" Oriana asked quietly.
Bachlan couldn't let her see him flinch. "I've given our people twenty-five thousand years, Oriana. Trust me, they don't change."
"If you truly believe that, then you have already lost," Oriana replied mournfully. The sadness in her eyes was mixed with pity. "I believe that you will find that interpreting the will of a world is not as easy as one may think."
Lectures again! Did the woman think that he was one of her “children”, to be scolded in such a way? His voice took on a deadly chill. "My patience is fading, Oriana. I have no more time for debates. You will produce the last piece of the life essence immediately, or so help me, I shall find it myself by any means necessary."
"Killing me will keep it forever beyond your reach," Oriana replied smoothly. Despite her brave words, a tiny drop of sweat had collected at her brow and started to trickle down the side of her face. All of the awesome defensive powers of the life essence that had made her so confident earlier were gone, and he had still managed to overpower her then. What would he be able - nay, willing - to do now?
Bachlan could read the fear in her eyes and laughed. There was a way other than brute force to gain what he needed to know. Bachlan had possessed the memory essence for twenty-five thousand years, and one did not survive and thrive as he had without learning many of its secrets. If Oriana refused to say what she knew, he could go into her memory and find it himself. Such a thing could be very dangerous for an unwilling subject, particularly if the instigator did not use a velvet touch.
Bachlan had never been a man to use a velvet touch.
He leaned towards the glass case, his eyes narrowing as he called on his power and started to concentrate. Oriana shifted restlessly, her instincts screaming for her to set up a defense spell despite her powerlessness. Wisps of gray fire appeared around Bachlan's form, then concentrated in his eyes. The same gray fire appeared in Oriana's, and she trembled for a few moments before her body was suddenly, unnaturally, stilled.
Bachlan smiled. His power buoyed his thoughts and inner self, setting them free from his physical shell. He felt his spirit take a leap just as the world around him seemed to vanish...
... and he was returned to it, groaning and clutching his head from the psychic pain. It felt like his consciousness had been slammed against an immense glacier from the frozen North, impenetrable and immortal. Those mental shields that Oriana had been building for thousands of years hurt, and the smack of his impact echoed mercilessly through his mind.
But her defenses were not undefeatable. The shields no longer required a steady stream of her power to feed them and thus had not been affected by his draining spell. But they couldn't be repaired at this point, either. Bachlan had power in plenty to punch through them.
Power collected in his hand as he decided to try a mixture of his own memory magic, life to overcome her shields, and a bit of fire and lightning for their offensive properties. Oriana stared at him for a moment as if questioning why he continued to try something fruitless, then closed her eyes in mute acceptance of whatever was to come.
That angered him. "You could spare yourself this," he snarled at her.
"Then who will spare my children?" Oriana asked calmly.
"Have it your way." Making sure that the different elements were smoothly blended, he laid his hand on Oriana's prison and released his spell.
The gray memory power, sooty with all of the other colors swimming through it, mercilessly lashed at Oriana. She writhed and bit back a scream as pure fire and lightning tried to whittle away at her mental defenses. Bachlan watched impassively, arms folded, only waiting for a successful result to a test.
But yet again, it didn't happen. The various powers of his spell cracked apart and fizzled out, with Oriana's defenses as strong as ever.
Bachlan glanced at Oriana sourly, still rubbing one of his temples. The ringing in his ears had almost stopped. "This has been a delay. Nothing more irritating than that."
"It may give you time to think things over, and perhaps arrive at a better conclusion," Oriana suggested weakly.
"Don't count on it," Bachlan replied frostily, then shot a burst of raw power at her to knock her out. Oriana slumped against the back of her crystal prison as a faint whimper passed her lips. The spell that he'd used wasn't one of her gentle sleep spells used with patients, but a rather more violent use of the powers of life.
Once he was certain that she was out cold, Bachlan opened up the door for a moment to help himself to a small gold locket from Oriana's pocket and yank out a few strands of her long blonde hair. His memory spells were much easier to focus when using physical objects that had strong sentimental value or came from the actual person. Hair was better to use than blood because it wasn't renewed as often and could grow for years, especially when it was as long as Oriana's was.
Finished, he shut the door to the case and redid the locking spells to keep her out of his way. He brought his light spell with him, allowing his workroom to be plunged into an almost complete darkness.
Oriana slept on. A few small moans or whimpers escaped from her, as though she was locked in dreadful dreams. But a part of her spirit stayed out of those dreams, and instead concentrated on another layer to her inner defenses...
Bachlan was grateful to return to his palatial chambers. Concentrating on the walk was better than the psychic aftershock of his leap attempt, and the pain seemed to subside more and more with each step. It wasn't the first time he'd had to use this spell, but Oriana had certainly packed more of a punch than anyone else he'd ever tried it on. You underestimated her. Healers battle against death and pain for the very life of their patients. Oriana is a mother who thinks of those brats as her children. Why would her will be any weaker than your own?
He let out a sigh of relief only after passing through the massive double doors that led to the sanctuary of the Memory Chambers. Finally, a bit of peace and quiet from her endless prattling. He was tired of debates that were leading to nowhere, and a bit humiliated that he hadn't been able to jump into her memory storehouse the way that he should have been able to. Despite everything that she had done against him, Bachlan still needed the last seed of her power. For that, he needed her to remain alive- at least until he had found what he needed.
As much as he wanted to restart his experiments to determine how to pass her barriers, he had a few more chores to take care of first. Even at this point, he couldn't afford to be careless.
Bachlan set down his double-ended naginata and threw off his billowing cloak, then went straight for his work crystal. He took a deep breath and reached inside himself for the familiar feel of the memory essence and the new sensations given off by the other seven essences, ready to put them to work.
They swamped him, causing the Memory Guardian to stagger and nearly lose his grip on his own consciousness in the deluge of sensations that came to him now. He could feel water turned into mist in the sky, taking in light and fire and giving it off in turn before clumping together to fall back to the earth. The water in the tanks and reservoirs that served the Citadel yearned to flow freely. Sparks and bits of lightning danced through clouds nearby and far, while similar forces resonated in the ground below. Solar winds carried by atmospheric ones buffeted the crystalline walls of his fortress.
Out.
Every gas atom inside and out called out to him. The life force of grass and animals below, birds on his level, and the fish and plants that lived in the Citadel were shining threads in his mind's eye. The crystal of the Citadel sang in a soundless chord, to be answered by the great quartz quarries that had formerly housed it. The various stones in Eziban's collection each had their own voice to add to the cacophony, as if a rainbow had been converted to pure sound.
Get out.
Every element shrieked in his awareness in its own voice, insisted that it be tended first, and squalled utter nonsense about a lack of harmony. Surprisingly, the sibilant strains of water and torrid yells of fire were the least insistent about the last, but there was no time to ponder this.
Get.
Them.
Out.
Bachlan worked quickly, sorting the elements he needed. Earth was the foundation for the wall he would build around his inner psyche. Next was life, with its mystic defenses woven into the more solid ones. Memory would bring the feelings of safety from the past into a reality for the present. Air for buffeting, water to soften, light to expose, fire and thunder to lash at anything to that would try to get past. His shields were solid, rigid, and made to snuff out any opposition.
The voices in his head quieted down to a dull roar, then a sibilant whisper. Finally, they were no more, and he was left once more in a blessed peace.
Those same protections would be needed for his home. The eight elements woven together would make a shield that would be impossible to break through, even should the others stand against him together. Bachlan felt confident with all the powers at his command now, and used the protections around his inner psyche as a model. Eight sources of power wove together neatly into another solid protection, this one against meddling people. Though his traitors were no longer a thought after being stripped of their power, Merna boasted a high enough population of strong mages and manipulators of the world's powers that he didn't dare take a chance of interference.
His shields finally complete, Bachlan flopped in his chair in sheer exhaustion. He had to get used to wielding so much power in a single sitting. Weakly, he reached for a mug of Oriana's restoring tonic and downed a few gulps. The sharp, pungent flavors of strong herbs still made him grimace after all of this time, even after relying on the tonic for months between his experiments and the extra work involved in keeping a world whole with two of his Guardians gone. It galled Bachlan to no end to realize that even if Oriana's life essence had come to him entirely, he would not have been ready to begin the Great Rebirth just yet.
Bachlan sighed. A hard truth, but one he could not deny. He took another sip of the herbal tonic, trying not to register the taste as he sat back to wait and think. Should he concentrate the power he had just acquired, or perhaps start to experiment with what he had? Should he see about tracking down where the others had been sent?
No, the others had served their purpose already. The powerless insects that had been tossed in the breeze wouldn't be able to stop him. He had blackened the names of his first two traitors for forty years so that many nations would refuse to listen to them. Those foolish enough to do so didn't rule lands big enough or powerful enough to make a difference.
Joshua's defiance after so long had surprised him- it seemed the boy hadn't yet fully embraced the lesson in his youth. It was a real shame, since his skills had been very useful all of this time, but Bachlan no longer required an ambassador. The days of the need to treat with petty politicians with their short lifespans and shorter visions were now over at last. Joshua could be spared.
Trista... Bachlan gritted his teeth, her weakness and loss of faith having hurt him more than he had believed possible. All of his plans for the future had included her at his side, serving him, and perhaps one day making her his queen. He had done so much for her, given her a new life, and had even grown to care for her. She had found a softness in him that he hadn't known existed anymore, and had been the only one to help him through his visions.
Yet, Bachlan knew that that softness was a weakness that he could no longer afford to have. He couldn't let his feelings for the girl interfere with his duty. Even for a girl who had let herself listen to a traitor like...
Solana...
Bachlan growled, then threw the mug in his hand at the floor with a satisfying CRASH. That ungrateful brat, to whom he had given a home and position after she had arrived a mere child from an overly proud homeland that thought themselves too good to align with a younger world. A homeland that she herself had led others to destroy! There was also the disaster that she had wrought in one of their own cities.
Despite everything, the wench thought herself worthy to dictate Merna's path thanks to some nonsense from a cluster of other worlds? Had that fool teacher of hers passed on that same arrogance?
It would never be.
He closed his eyes to help concentrate his thoughts, mindlessly waving a hand to dissolve the smashed ceramic mug into particles of dust. Extracting the last piece of the life essence and preparing for the Great Rebirth had to be his top priority. Revenge would come later.
As potent as Oriana's medicines were, they could only do so much to stabilize the body after acquiring so much raw power and putting a good deal of it to use in such a short period of time. He would need some honest rest to replenish his strength. Bachlan tried to get to his feet, then grew shaky and fell back into his chair. Wincing, he decided that one more spell was needed, and managed to teleport himself to his bed.
Bachlan collapsed gratefully against the plush mattress and fat pillows. The man was out cold before he could even think about crawling under the luxurious covers or taking off his boots.
You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.
Harvey Dent, The Dark Knight
Bachlan stormed down the stairs to his hidden workroom, doing his best to contain his currently raging temper. He had had all of the traitors at his mercy until they had somehow been teleported away by Oriana.
Such an act should have been impossible with most of Oriana's essence drained away and in his possession. As it was, interfering with her spell and scattering the six of Oriana's “chicks” to the four winds had done little to assuage his pride.
His snarl worsened. How had she managed to hide away a piece of her essence and keep it out of his reach? Where the blazes was it?
Bachlan raised his fist and called on the light essence to brighten up the dim room, then marched past his many work tables and completed experiments to Oriana's crystal prison. Oriana's lovely green eyes were shadowed against the bright light in his hand. She looked a bit pale from the past few days of incarceration and the draining of her power. Tangles in her limp blonde mane from being carried down here by Trista's winds gave her an unkempt look. Despite her appearance and situation, an unmistakable smile of triumph blossomed on her face as she noted Bachlan's presence and sour expression.
For a second, Bachlan could only stare at this impertinent woman who met his glare of fury with a strength equal to his own. His fists clenched with rage until the knuckles turned white. Why did she have to interfere so often with what he was trying to do? She, who claimed the title of “Guardian of Life”! "WHERE is it? What did you DO with it?!"
Oriana raised her head like a proud swan. "As I recall, you yourself made me a Guardian to serve the cause of Life as I deemed fit. This task has not ended merely because your motives have changed."
"No, you were to serve the cause as I deemed fit," he retorted, slamming a hand on his chest. "Why did it not fully come to me as the others did? I could have begun the Great Rebirth right then and there!"
Oriana's voice took on a sad turn that was echoed in her eyes. "You never will, Bachlan. Why have you been so determined to follow this path?"
Bachlan paused, a little surprised by the question and its tone. He had thought that his reasons should have been obvious. This world, their beautiful Merna that had cared for them all needed its Guardians to do the same. That was what the essences had been created to do.
But none of the others had lived through what he had, or witnessed the true price that unchallenged greed exacted. Bachlan had seen his world razed over for valuables, as enslaved as the lower classes by the Golden Ones. At the height of their power, Merna had been dancing on the edge of complete devastation. Once proud forests that had painted the land a vivid green had been mowed down to nothing more than matchwood. Open pit mines had been gouged into the lovely rolling plains or blasted in the heart of mountain ranges, dumping acrid smoke and dross off to the sides like cancerous tumors. Rivers and oceans that had once carried fish and oxygen soon bore a deadly cargo of poisonous runoff and dead creatures. A sky that had once gleamed the bright blue of a freshly cut blue topaz grew dusty, then turned a sullen gray that only allowed a weak light to mockingly display the wounds and carnage done to their world.
Bachlan alone had had the strength to weave together an army capable of toppling their dictators and to breathe life back into their world that had sustained them. Now, he was the only one with the vision to make sure that such a tragedy would never be repeated by any means necessary. Merna itself was now constantly reminding him of his task, and of his failures. These images from the past were coming back to him more and more often through the visions granted by the memory essence. They were a brutal promise of what could happen again if he ever let his guard down.
Perhaps an explanation could do what threats could not. He paused a moment or two, trying to find the words to make her understand what had been driving him for all of this time. "For so long, I have carried this burden. The memory essence isn't just a source of power - it carries a heavy price."
"All of them do," Oriana murmured. The ties to their elements could be overwhelming at times. How often had she physically or mentally felt what a patient experienced, either accidentally or purposefully to aid in her diagnoses? How often had she pushed a little harder, used a little more of her power, to help in fixing whatever was wrong because of those sensations? She had seen it in the others as well, as they fought to guide or control the elemental forces that continually shaped their world.
"Merna itself uses it to remind me of the glory that we once had," Bachlan continued. He turned to pace as his features became livid with anger and... shame? Yes, that was unmistakably shame. "Every time we fail, I am punished and shown what we had, the sheer beauty and pristine world of life it used to be." He slumped a little, rubbing his world-weary eyes as if trying to erase the images that they had beheld over so many millennia. "I wake from dreams of the past and confront what our world has evolved into at the hands of her lazy children. Our world will stand for it no longer, and will not suffer so again!"
Oriana's eyes flashed in sudden understanding. "Merna shall not stand for it, or you? Have you ever considered that you are punished for the failings in judgment that you have made all of this time?"
Bachlan's head snapped up. Failure!
He had cursed himself with that same thought after every vision for longer than he wanted to think about. His failures, his Guardians' failures, his peoples' failures... would that they could all stay in the wretched past where they belonged!
Bachlan had finally found a way to free himself and their world from that cycle. Once his Merna had been reborn anew, he would start things off right. He would teach the people all about the dangers faced during the Rise of the Classes, and make sure it never happened again. Then their world could be at peace, he would have proved himself worthy of his position, and the visions would stop. He would never fail again.
But Oriana was trying to suggest otherwise, as her precious protege had tried to do years ago. He could not, dared not think that there was a chance that they were right. He had too much to lose.
"What more could I do? A world can ask no more of me!" he protested angrily, then stopped a moment to breathe. No matter how she riled him, she was the one stripped of power and inside a crystal case, while he was outside with nearly all of the essences in his hands. If she would have been able to teleport herself out, she would have done so already. "But that will not be true much longer. Once I get the rest of your power, I will have all I need to recreate this world into what it was meant to be."
"Do you really have so little regard for our people, that you would kill so many just for this? You honestly believe that this is what our world would want?" Oriana asked quietly.
Bachlan couldn't let her see him flinch. "I've given our people twenty-five thousand years, Oriana. Trust me, they don't change."
"If you truly believe that, then you have already lost," Oriana replied mournfully. The sadness in her eyes was mixed with pity. "I believe that you will find that interpreting the will of a world is not as easy as one may think."
Lectures again! Did the woman think that he was one of her “children”, to be scolded in such a way? His voice took on a deadly chill. "My patience is fading, Oriana. I have no more time for debates. You will produce the last piece of the life essence immediately, or so help me, I shall find it myself by any means necessary."
"Killing me will keep it forever beyond your reach," Oriana replied smoothly. Despite her brave words, a tiny drop of sweat had collected at her brow and started to trickle down the side of her face. All of the awesome defensive powers of the life essence that had made her so confident earlier were gone, and he had still managed to overpower her then. What would he be able - nay, willing - to do now?
Bachlan could read the fear in her eyes and laughed. There was a way other than brute force to gain what he needed to know. Bachlan had possessed the memory essence for twenty-five thousand years, and one did not survive and thrive as he had without learning many of its secrets. If Oriana refused to say what she knew, he could go into her memory and find it himself. Such a thing could be very dangerous for an unwilling subject, particularly if the instigator did not use a velvet touch.
Bachlan had never been a man to use a velvet touch.
He leaned towards the glass case, his eyes narrowing as he called on his power and started to concentrate. Oriana shifted restlessly, her instincts screaming for her to set up a defense spell despite her powerlessness. Wisps of gray fire appeared around Bachlan's form, then concentrated in his eyes. The same gray fire appeared in Oriana's, and she trembled for a few moments before her body was suddenly, unnaturally, stilled.
Bachlan smiled. His power buoyed his thoughts and inner self, setting them free from his physical shell. He felt his spirit take a leap just as the world around him seemed to vanish...
... and he was returned to it, groaning and clutching his head from the psychic pain. It felt like his consciousness had been slammed against an immense glacier from the frozen North, impenetrable and immortal. Those mental shields that Oriana had been building for thousands of years hurt, and the smack of his impact echoed mercilessly through his mind.
But her defenses were not undefeatable. The shields no longer required a steady stream of her power to feed them and thus had not been affected by his draining spell. But they couldn't be repaired at this point, either. Bachlan had power in plenty to punch through them.
Power collected in his hand as he decided to try a mixture of his own memory magic, life to overcome her shields, and a bit of fire and lightning for their offensive properties. Oriana stared at him for a moment as if questioning why he continued to try something fruitless, then closed her eyes in mute acceptance of whatever was to come.
That angered him. "You could spare yourself this," he snarled at her.
"Then who will spare my children?" Oriana asked calmly.
"Have it your way." Making sure that the different elements were smoothly blended, he laid his hand on Oriana's prison and released his spell.
The gray memory power, sooty with all of the other colors swimming through it, mercilessly lashed at Oriana. She writhed and bit back a scream as pure fire and lightning tried to whittle away at her mental defenses. Bachlan watched impassively, arms folded, only waiting for a successful result to a test.
But yet again, it didn't happen. The various powers of his spell cracked apart and fizzled out, with Oriana's defenses as strong as ever.
Bachlan glanced at Oriana sourly, still rubbing one of his temples. The ringing in his ears had almost stopped. "This has been a delay. Nothing more irritating than that."
"It may give you time to think things over, and perhaps arrive at a better conclusion," Oriana suggested weakly.
"Don't count on it," Bachlan replied frostily, then shot a burst of raw power at her to knock her out. Oriana slumped against the back of her crystal prison as a faint whimper passed her lips. The spell that he'd used wasn't one of her gentle sleep spells used with patients, but a rather more violent use of the powers of life.
Once he was certain that she was out cold, Bachlan opened up the door for a moment to help himself to a small gold locket from Oriana's pocket and yank out a few strands of her long blonde hair. His memory spells were much easier to focus when using physical objects that had strong sentimental value or came from the actual person. Hair was better to use than blood because it wasn't renewed as often and could grow for years, especially when it was as long as Oriana's was.
Finished, he shut the door to the case and redid the locking spells to keep her out of his way. He brought his light spell with him, allowing his workroom to be plunged into an almost complete darkness.
Oriana slept on. A few small moans or whimpers escaped from her, as though she was locked in dreadful dreams. But a part of her spirit stayed out of those dreams, and instead concentrated on another layer to her inner defenses...
Bachlan was grateful to return to his palatial chambers. Concentrating on the walk was better than the psychic aftershock of his leap attempt, and the pain seemed to subside more and more with each step. It wasn't the first time he'd had to use this spell, but Oriana had certainly packed more of a punch than anyone else he'd ever tried it on. You underestimated her. Healers battle against death and pain for the very life of their patients. Oriana is a mother who thinks of those brats as her children. Why would her will be any weaker than your own?
He let out a sigh of relief only after passing through the massive double doors that led to the sanctuary of the Memory Chambers. Finally, a bit of peace and quiet from her endless prattling. He was tired of debates that were leading to nowhere, and a bit humiliated that he hadn't been able to jump into her memory storehouse the way that he should have been able to. Despite everything that she had done against him, Bachlan still needed the last seed of her power. For that, he needed her to remain alive- at least until he had found what he needed.
As much as he wanted to restart his experiments to determine how to pass her barriers, he had a few more chores to take care of first. Even at this point, he couldn't afford to be careless.
Bachlan set down his double-ended naginata and threw off his billowing cloak, then went straight for his work crystal. He took a deep breath and reached inside himself for the familiar feel of the memory essence and the new sensations given off by the other seven essences, ready to put them to work.
They swamped him, causing the Memory Guardian to stagger and nearly lose his grip on his own consciousness in the deluge of sensations that came to him now. He could feel water turned into mist in the sky, taking in light and fire and giving it off in turn before clumping together to fall back to the earth. The water in the tanks and reservoirs that served the Citadel yearned to flow freely. Sparks and bits of lightning danced through clouds nearby and far, while similar forces resonated in the ground below. Solar winds carried by atmospheric ones buffeted the crystalline walls of his fortress.
Out.
Every gas atom inside and out called out to him. The life force of grass and animals below, birds on his level, and the fish and plants that lived in the Citadel were shining threads in his mind's eye. The crystal of the Citadel sang in a soundless chord, to be answered by the great quartz quarries that had formerly housed it. The various stones in Eziban's collection each had their own voice to add to the cacophony, as if a rainbow had been converted to pure sound.
Get out.
Every element shrieked in his awareness in its own voice, insisted that it be tended first, and squalled utter nonsense about a lack of harmony. Surprisingly, the sibilant strains of water and torrid yells of fire were the least insistent about the last, but there was no time to ponder this.
Get.
Them.
Out.
Bachlan worked quickly, sorting the elements he needed. Earth was the foundation for the wall he would build around his inner psyche. Next was life, with its mystic defenses woven into the more solid ones. Memory would bring the feelings of safety from the past into a reality for the present. Air for buffeting, water to soften, light to expose, fire and thunder to lash at anything to that would try to get past. His shields were solid, rigid, and made to snuff out any opposition.
The voices in his head quieted down to a dull roar, then a sibilant whisper. Finally, they were no more, and he was left once more in a blessed peace.
Those same protections would be needed for his home. The eight elements woven together would make a shield that would be impossible to break through, even should the others stand against him together. Bachlan felt confident with all the powers at his command now, and used the protections around his inner psyche as a model. Eight sources of power wove together neatly into another solid protection, this one against meddling people. Though his traitors were no longer a thought after being stripped of their power, Merna boasted a high enough population of strong mages and manipulators of the world's powers that he didn't dare take a chance of interference.
His shields finally complete, Bachlan flopped in his chair in sheer exhaustion. He had to get used to wielding so much power in a single sitting. Weakly, he reached for a mug of Oriana's restoring tonic and downed a few gulps. The sharp, pungent flavors of strong herbs still made him grimace after all of this time, even after relying on the tonic for months between his experiments and the extra work involved in keeping a world whole with two of his Guardians gone. It galled Bachlan to no end to realize that even if Oriana's life essence had come to him entirely, he would not have been ready to begin the Great Rebirth just yet.
Bachlan sighed. A hard truth, but one he could not deny. He took another sip of the herbal tonic, trying not to register the taste as he sat back to wait and think. Should he concentrate the power he had just acquired, or perhaps start to experiment with what he had? Should he see about tracking down where the others had been sent?
No, the others had served their purpose already. The powerless insects that had been tossed in the breeze wouldn't be able to stop him. He had blackened the names of his first two traitors for forty years so that many nations would refuse to listen to them. Those foolish enough to do so didn't rule lands big enough or powerful enough to make a difference.
Joshua's defiance after so long had surprised him- it seemed the boy hadn't yet fully embraced the lesson in his youth. It was a real shame, since his skills had been very useful all of this time, but Bachlan no longer required an ambassador. The days of the need to treat with petty politicians with their short lifespans and shorter visions were now over at last. Joshua could be spared.
Trista... Bachlan gritted his teeth, her weakness and loss of faith having hurt him more than he had believed possible. All of his plans for the future had included her at his side, serving him, and perhaps one day making her his queen. He had done so much for her, given her a new life, and had even grown to care for her. She had found a softness in him that he hadn't known existed anymore, and had been the only one to help him through his visions.
Yet, Bachlan knew that that softness was a weakness that he could no longer afford to have. He couldn't let his feelings for the girl interfere with his duty. Even for a girl who had let herself listen to a traitor like...
Solana...
Bachlan growled, then threw the mug in his hand at the floor with a satisfying CRASH. That ungrateful brat, to whom he had given a home and position after she had arrived a mere child from an overly proud homeland that thought themselves too good to align with a younger world. A homeland that she herself had led others to destroy! There was also the disaster that she had wrought in one of their own cities.
Despite everything, the wench thought herself worthy to dictate Merna's path thanks to some nonsense from a cluster of other worlds? Had that fool teacher of hers passed on that same arrogance?
It would never be.
He closed his eyes to help concentrate his thoughts, mindlessly waving a hand to dissolve the smashed ceramic mug into particles of dust. Extracting the last piece of the life essence and preparing for the Great Rebirth had to be his top priority. Revenge would come later.
As potent as Oriana's medicines were, they could only do so much to stabilize the body after acquiring so much raw power and putting a good deal of it to use in such a short period of time. He would need some honest rest to replenish his strength. Bachlan tried to get to his feet, then grew shaky and fell back into his chair. Wincing, he decided that one more spell was needed, and managed to teleport himself to his bed.
Bachlan collapsed gratefully against the plush mattress and fat pillows. The man was out cold before he could even think about crawling under the luxurious covers or taking off his boots.