Post by Solana on Sept 7, 2014 13:51:14 GMT -5
Chapter Twenty- Darkest Night of the Soul, Midnight
I cannot believe my eyes
how the world's full of filth and lies.
But it's plain to see, evil inside of me
is on the rise.
from "My Eyes", Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog
Bachlan had regained his former confidence at last. To echo this, his robes were freshly laundered, his hair neatly combed and tied back, and his beard was immaculately groomed once more. After taking a rest from Oriana's memory storehouse and regaining his magical strength, he was ready to get back to work.
Despite the minor setback of having a memory wiped from Oriana's mind, Bachlan knew that he would find what he was looking for. He created a light globe and hurried down to his workroom for the very last time.
Even in the cloudy light spell that Bachlan used, Oriana's skin had taken on a sallow gray tone from her imprisonment here. Dark circles smudged the skin under her closed eyes. Her wrists and cheeks were thin and sunken, and she weakly rested against the back of her crystal prison.
This would never do. Bachlan tapped the crystal with one fist and waited as it let out a clear ringing sound. Oriana didn't respond, so he opened up the case and rested a few fingers on her wrist. Carefully, as if riding a half-broken horse, he called on the stolen life essence to help replenish Oriana's lifeforce.
A splash of healthy pink, pale at first but steadily growing stronger, appeared in her cheeks as they slowly filled out. The sickly gray vanished from her skin, leaving it a fresh creamy color once more. Oriana seemed to breathe more easily, though she stayed unconscious.
Bachlan broke the connection between the woman and the power that she had formerly held. The life essence wasn't yet responding as easily to his call as the others, but even that would soon be fixed.
The memory essence instantly woke up at his command. Bachlan reached into his pocket to take Oriana's scorched locket with its burned hairs into his palm. He took a deep breath and dove back into her memory to pick up where he had left off on his journey.
Bachlan could feel the power in the crystal flag that he had planted on the 'snowy hill' waiting for him. He let the bit of power left behind reel him in as he drifted further and further down. He could see iridescent snow seemingly rush up to greet him, and dark smoky clouds forming over the celestial dance of colors above him.
Slowly, Bachlan's spirit form took his normal shape with the winter gear that he had donned before. It was excellent to be prepared this time for the-
COLD!!! Cold-cold-cold! was Bachlan's first coherent thought as he landed. The temperature had dropped at least thirty degrees since he had been here last. The winds were now pelting him with icy crystals instead of artfully rearranging them on the hills. What the hell happened here? How could this have changed to much, and so quickly?
With a hiss, Bachlan got to work redoing his snow gear to cope. Layers of warm, insulated fabric replaced the simple thick clothes of last time. Two pairs of gloves and three pairs of socks. A thicker scarf was wrapped around the bottom of a warm balaclava to prevent heat loss and prevent the icy wind from striking his face. On top of everything was a down-lined coat that reached his calves to overlap his thicker boots, and he huddled into it gratefully.
Now that his mind wasn't complaining about the biting cold, Bachlan looked around the more severe snowscape with an expert eye.
This wasn't right.
Oriana's life essence was a lot more flexible than most people knew, and its defensive powers would have easily allowed her to build this natural fortress in her own mind. Calling on the icy winds and deadly cold of her younger years in glacier country attested to that. Snipping out one of her own memories and storing it somewhere else... a stretch, but sill manageable.
As for all of this... he growled and dodged a fresh shower of snow that an errant wind had just tried to dump on him. Years of spells or no, she should NOT have been able to reinforce them to this point while being imprisoned and drained. It was impossible.
However, the frozen winds did not lie. Even as he watched, clouds piled on top of clouds in the black skies overhead, blotting out one star after another as if they were candles being snuffed out. There was another mystery here, and Bachlan was getting very tired of each one.
Very well. I will learn nothing useful standing here and freezing. If this is how the dice have fallen, I will find out whose hand has tossed them.
Grumbling to himself, he held out Oriana's precious locket. "Show me where to find what I'm looking for."
The locket twirled a moment on its makeshift chain of long hair, then obediently gave a tug to the north. Bachlan was relieved to note that it matched the direction that his crystal flag was pointing to. With a sigh, he returned to his trek.
This glacier had been getting taller and steeper for much of his walk so far, making the Memory Guardian wonder how high he truly was. Bachlan took a moment to stop and rest, making sure to take a few extra deep breaths in the thinner air. He had been walking for- hours? days?- and was starting to long for the warmth and luxury of the Memory Chambers.
Up ahead, he could see another glacier waiting to be traversed. Unfortunately, between the two enormous masses of ice was a deep crevasse. Bachlan made the mistake of walking to the edge and looking down, then instantly regretted it. Sharp needles and jagged points of white and a heart of deep cerulean ice promised a painful trip down up a fall.
He would have to be careful. Bachlan conjured a solid rock bridge between the two glaciers, not wanting to take any chances. He added handholds and made sure that it was anchored firmly in the ice with deep rock spears. After carefully testing the bridge, he stepped ont it.
Winds blew and tore at him. threatening to push him off of the bridge and send him tumbling down the crevasse. Bachlan tightened his grip on the handholds, then summoned a shield of still air to surround him. He bent into the wind as he moved, trying to make himself less of a target. Step by tortured step, he finally got across as the bridge vanished behind him.
Up ahead, he spotted what looked like an oval of purest silvery gray hanging in the air. Bachlan frowned, realizing that the power felt somewhat similar to his own, but not quite the same.
Before he could guess as to what the oval was, the winds gave him one more push forward. He stumbled on the slick ice underfoot and passed right through the oval to whatever lay behind it.
A much younger Bachlan, in his mid-thirties, was peering closely at a map of the Golden Palace and the surrounding Shenioka Plains with his top commanders. All of them were battle worn and weary after the long years of war, but hope still shone in all sets of eyes. Those left of the Golden Ones who had not pledged themselves to Bachlan's cause or been executed had huddled together to hide in their final fortress. Tomorrow morning would bring the last battle of what history would call the 'Rise of the Classes'.
(What was this? Oriana had not even been born yet, and he had never spoken of this day to her!)
Bachlan pointed to the Golden Palace with an angry finger. "They MUST have a way of getting supplies and people in and out! Even our Golden mages are stumped, and it's not as if it's floating in midair!"
Robus, their chief spymaster, shrugged. "I've sent every scout I have to investigating this. I've ordered the questioning of our newest prisoners. I can only gather that this is a new development, most likely in response to our attacks."
Bachlan turned to face Libra, the leader of his mage unit. "Commander, it has been difficult getting near enough to see," she admitted, "Perhaps under the guise of an attack-"
"Yes, enough of this sitting around!" roared Fondes, the cavalry leader and a former Golden One himself. "We outnumber the cowards hiding away. We can take the Golden Palace in a day!" He threw his gold-hilted dagger at the map, squarely hitting the symbol of the palace representing all that he had once fought for.
"Yes, we could!" Bachlan agreed, working to get control of their conversation back. He pried out the golden dagger and slapped it back into Fondes' hand. "But I ask you- how many more would needlessly die in such a reckless slaughter? How many more must we lose, Fondes? I tell you now- class makes no difference to me. Each life under my command is equally precious to me."
"We will lose nothing by taking another day to research," Robus pointed out. "And we may gain much."
Fondes snorted. "Do as you like. I will take my men hunting to add to our food supply, since we are stuck here another day." With that said, he left the tent and went to go find his squad leaders to organize the hunt.
Bachlan let it go. It had been no small thing to forge his army out of so many different groups of people, and even harder to make former enemies swear fealty to him and keep everyone on one path. If he had learned anything as a leader, it was to not sweat the small stuff. Besides, something Robus had said had caught his attention. "Robus, what was this about prisoners?"
Robus flushed. "Sorry, m'lord, but I didn't get the repoarts back as of yet. We've been doing recon all day..."
Bachlan waved it off. "As per my orders, so no apologies. Whom did you find?"
"A female Golden One officer and her squad. She wanted to talk to you right away, but they pretty much all say that," Robus answered. Most of the time, it was to offer Bachlan curses for being a traitor to his birth.
"She might have something more for us, especially as a recent capture. I would like to go see her right now, if you have the time," Bachlan replied thoughtfully. Robus nodded.
The two men made their way through the odd patchwork camp, seeing tents of all styles and substances that had served as the primary homes for his people for far too long. Food cooked on small campfires, with different spices and ingredients varying as they moved through different groups. A veritable hodgepodge of weapons were in sight for cleaning or last minute sparring. Despite the variety, all of his soldiers were children of Merna and worthy of a better life and world.
Robus found the center tent that held his most important prisoners. He nodded to the two guards, who answered with a crisp salute for the spymaster and a deep bow for their commander. Bachlan nodded absently, wondering how their new acquisition would play into his plans.
The light in here was bad, but he could see a woman chained securely to the tent posts, standing tall and proud despite being a prisoner. A bit of firelight shone in through the tent's opening to glitter on finely made armor and long red curls. Bachlan let out a small gasp.
The figure turned her head slightly at the sound. Intense brown eyes melted into tears. "My brother! I have found you at last!"
"Vesia!" Bachlan's voice carried the pain of not having seen her for the years of his campaign mixed with exaltation. "Robus, free her immediately! This is my dear little sister!"
Robus blanched. "I'm so sorry! Twice we have failed you-" He hurriedly found the correct key from his keyring and unlocked her chains. The second she was free, Vesia half stumbled, half ran to her older brother to hug him.
Bachlan hugged her back, tears threatening. Leaving behind the only member of his family that he truly loved had been the most difficult aspect of his campaign. The sacrifices had been worth it, but only now upon their reunion did he realize their true price.
"Vesia, why have you joined their side? What happened?" Bachlan finally asked softly, letting her go at last.
"It was to find you, Bachlan. I didn't want to think that what you said was true, about what they- no, we- were doing to our world," Vesia confessed, then swallowed hard. "The emperor and empress have been very adamant about keeping our people 'safe' so that more don't join you. I needed a way to do it and see the truth. They couldn't argue with me about joining the army to help put down the traitor."
"Clever girl," Bachlan said proudly as he had so often before, then sobered as he remembered his duty. "Robus mentioned your squad. Are they ready to aid us?"
"Oh, yes, and I bring a gift of information," Vesia answered confidently. "Robus was asking us about the Golden Palace. What you don't know is that last year, all of their mages got together and created a pair of teleport crystals to let anyone get in or out. The crystal outside of the palace is located in an underground cavern, with a tunnel leading to it from a sea cave. My squad can get back in through there and release the seals on the gates for you."
Bachlan hugged her again. He'd always loved Vesia, and just having her on his side was a gift. The fact that she had brought the key to salvation for their people and a victory to his army was a blessing he never could have hoped for.
"Lady Vesia, my apologies for capturing you and your squad. Would you be willing to show me and the scouts this sea cave tonight after some refreshment and rest?" Robus asked, ever the careful one.
"Yes, sir. I am grateful for capture, if it brought me back to family," Vesia replied with a laugh. "I'm ready when you are." She turned back to Bachlan, her eyes shining. "Victory will soon be yours, my brother. Whatever happens tomorrow, I am grateful to be at your side where I belong."
Bachlan stumbled out of the silvery oval that had dug up this memory and back into the bitter cold. He barely noticed it, being more confused than ever.
What had just happened was utterly impossible. Oriana had absolutely no knowledge of the days during the Rise of the Classes, and she wasn't a powerful enough memory mage to pull it out of him. Not even here.
The touch of power had felt wrong, too. Yes, it had been memory magic, and yes, it had felt similar to his own, but not quite. It had been wielded by another, and there was no one good enough on the face of Merna to have mastered his element well enough to beat him. His shields around the Citadel had not been tampered with, and only he and Oriana were here.
A spray of icy pellets kissed his nose. Bachlan growled and adjusted his balaclava to better cover his face before looking up at the sky. Black clouds blotted out every star. These were the thickest blizzard clouds that he had ever seen, and would make finding the hidden memory even more of a chore. Hard white flakes were already coming down, and the trail would be that much worse when the heavens completely opened up.
Well, he had two options. Bachlan could keep looking for the hidden memory and take the chance that it hadn't been whisked away like the other. That meant being cold and trying to fight the coming storm without making things worse in Oriana's memory storehouse.
There was also the opportunity to figure out just who the hell was interfering with him. Bachlan wiped more snowflakes from his eyes as he realized that this unknown person might have taken Oriana's memory. The only real connection to this busybody was the oval spell. Obviously, they wanted to show him something.
So be it. Bachlan steeled himself and walked back into his past.
Bachlan sat up straight on his horse and took a moment to survey his army with pride. Dark masses covered the green and gold Shenioka Plains, fanning out far around him. Sparks of power glowed in the air, belonging to his many mages. Countless weapons glittered in the fire of the dawn, echoing the diamond-strewn skies of the night.
Robus brought his steed up to Bachlan's side and threw his commander an eager salute. "Report, Robus. Is Vesia in position in the sea cave?" Bachlan asked.
"Yes, sir. I have a speaking spell ready to alert her squad to enter the palace and open the gates for us on your command," Robus answered proudly.
"Good. We've come a long way together, you and I. Merna willing, we'll see it to the end at last," Bachlan said to the one person who had left the Golden Palace with him all those years ago. Robus only nodded as Bachlan raised one hand. A bracelet holding a globe of tiger's eye encircled his wrist, spelled to carry his words and some images if need be to all of his commanders. "Libra, are your people ready?"
"Ready, my lord! Protections up, scrying bowls prepared to assist commanders, battle mages in place as ordered!" Bachlan was pleased to note that her voice came through clearly.
"Fondes?"
"Awaiting your instructions, sir!"
Everyone else rang in, and their eagerness came through the spells clearly. Bachlan raised his naginata high for all to see. "My friends, today the Golden Ones will see what the other classes can do when they arise as one! Let's go!"
Roars and battle screams rose from his charging army in palpable waves as they rode to meet their oppressors head-on at last in this final conflict.
What followed felt like days, weeks, months. There was Fondes on Bachlan's right flank, fighting as hard as he had on the day that Bachlan had defeated his army and made him one of his own officers. Libra had coordinated a perfect magical strike that aimed at enemy commanders and mages alike to leave infantry and calvary directionless. Archers picked off droves of those loyal to the Golden Ones from the back ranks as swordsment and pikemen led the charges.
Bachlan himself was fighting hard in the front ranks, and his brown eyes blazed with bloodlust as his naginata struck home again and again. Red soaked both of the once shiny silver blades on either end of the hardwood staff that he swung as if possessed.
The tides had turned when Vesia's people had opened the front gate of the palace from within. Though the Golden Ones' fury at the deception and renewed vigor made their fighting all the fiercer, it was too little and too late. Onward, ever onward, the once ragtag army managed to secure the gate and lead in the bulk of Bachlan's army. Brother and sister were reunited. Vesia vowed her twin dirks to Bachlan's safety and cause above all others.
His main squad joined up with the mages. Libra had fallen, but Bachlan had no time to spare for grief beyond a few thoughts wishing for her peace and thanking her for her years of service. Only later would he have the chance to grieve for all who would give their lives on this day. For now, he needed to take the emperor and empress into custody, or their lives if necessary. He was fully prepared for either.
The tides soon turned against them. If Bachlan and Vesia knew the palace from their days growing up, it was overshadowed by the fact that they were on the Golden Ones' homeground and had them cornered. Their success in taking the gate was short-lived. Magical traps sprang, and new buildings hid soldiers purposely held back for ambush attempts. Fondes and most of his company were cut down in one of these, protecting Bachlan's main unit. Again, Bachlan had to keep going. He owed all of his people, alive or dead, and their world this chance.
Up the stairs they continued, moving and clearing out level after level. Robus' scouts were being hit hard, Bachlan's unit was being slowly chiseled down, and the siblings were taking many injuries, especially Vesia from watching Bachlan's back. Others broke away to disarm and capture the Golden Ones' most loyal officers and administrators and keep an escape route open if the unthinkable happened.
Finally, there was the last staircase to the throne room. A large pair of double doors was shut fast and no doubt heavily guarded on the other side. Bachlan motioned for a pillar to be toppled and used as a battering ram, even adding his own strength to the attempt. Once down, he led the attack flanked by Vesia and Robus.
The emperor and empress were waiting for them, fully armed and armored and surrounded by a ring of the elite Golden Guard. Vesia reached into a pocket on one of her leather scabbards and withdrew a priceless gold-hilted dagger. Pressed with the crest of her and Bachlan's family, it had been presented to her on the first day of service for her rulers. Bachlan's had tasted the blood of his unyielding enemies, Golden Ones all, but Vesia's was unused. She held it up for her former rulers to see, and the royal pair stiffened with anger as she tossed thee weapon at the feet of their guards, returning the gift. Bachlan didn't do the same- his job was as yet unfinished.
Sparks of fury shone in the eyes of Bachlan's former rulers, but so well focused were they that not a word was uttered. The empress drew out a pair of spiked fire and wind wheels and gripped them tightly as the emperor drew his sickle sword with one hand, then raised the other and let it fall. The Golden Guard was on Bachlan's army before the signal was completed.
Bachlan and Vesia ignored the Guard, leaving them to Robus and the unit, and rushed straight for the rulers. Vesia was soon trading blows with the fast and powerful empress as Bachlan engaged the emperor at last. Bachlan's lips curled in a sneer. A pampered ruler with a simple sword against a double-eneded polearm- how hard could this be?
Unfortunately, Bachlan soon learned that the answer to the question was 'very'. The emperor was agile and very skilled at parrying and riposting Bachlan's blows with his crescent-shaped sword. He often flipped his blade to catch Bachlan's naginata on its concave side in order to come in close. Once he'd gotten in Bachlan's guard, he used his armored gauntlet to deliever fierce blows to pressure points on Bachlan's body.
Bachlan shook off a blow that partially glanced off of his elbow, then brought his naginata down in a diagonal slash aimed at his foe's neck. The emperor parried it, locking the polearm up in a horizontal position with the blades safely off to either side. His gauntleted fist came in for an overhead blow.
Bachlan swiftly stepped back. Instead of freeing the weapon as expected, he kicked the staff of his trapped naginata up, aiming for the emperor's throat. The blow missed, catching his chin instead, but it was enough to make the emperor back off and lose his grip on his foe's naginata. Bachlan reclaimed it and shifted his grip for a longer reach as the pair circled each other, each more wary now of the other's skills.
The emperor lunged in first, trying a thrust. Bachlan dodged and brought his naginata in for a flurry of fast strikes, forcing the emperor back on the defensive. The ruler had to block with both sword and gauntlet to keep up, and was having a difficult time trying to reach Bachlan for blows of his own. Blood rivulets were soon running over his golden armor.
Bachlan began to smile, sensing his prey was weakening. He lunged in with a slash to the emperor's calf with one blade followed by a deep bite to the bicep with the other, hoping to break his foe's dual wielding defense. The emperor fell to one knee, his face twisted in pain. Bachlan closed in with his naginata raised high, ready to deal the coup de grace.
It proved a ruse. The emperor took advantage of Bachlan's nearness to lash out with sword and gauntlet. The sickle blade carved into Bachlan's right side, while his gauntlet directly hit a pressure point at Bachlan's left knee that was meant to immobilize the limb.
Bachlan staggered back with a yell of surprise, favoring his right leg heavily as he cursed his overconfidence. His left leg was partially numb and shuddering, and unable to bear his full weight. Blood poured from his right side, though the blow seemed to have missed any organs. If he had any hope of winning, it would have to be soon.
The emperor pressed his advantage, a cold expression in his eyes. His sickle sword was coming fast from the side, too fast to dodge. Bachlan knew that if he took a blow to a side pressure point and lost the entire left side of his body, he was done. Vesia was still in the heat of battle with the empress and wouldn't save his neck this time.
Instead, Bachlan brought up his still numb left leg and took the hit on that while positioning his naginata with one hand. The pain of the blow was dulled by his previous injury, though the shock ran through his body. The force sent him to the floor in a roll as he drew his gold-hilted dagger with his free hand. Bachlan's naginata had been placed to sweep the emperor's feet from under him and dump him to the ground as well.
The emperor's eyes seemed to wake up at last, and he gasped to get his air back. Bachlan didn't wait for him to recover and reached out with his dagger to slash the tendons at the back of the emperor's legs, hamstringing him. The emperor yelled his fury and thrust his blade at Bachlan's belly, but his body was already going into shock and the attack fell short.
The empress screeched when she saw what had been done to her husband, and Vesia took the opportunity to disarm her foe. One blade's flat his the side of the empress' knee to send her to the ground while the other was pressed up agianst her throat. "Surrender," Vesia ordered.
"Never, you disloyal little whelp," the empress snapped.
Bachlan shifted his naginata to the emperor's own throat, swaying a little. "That wasn't a suggestion. We've killed many of your supporters already. It would be no great hardship to add two more to that number."
The emperor laughed scornfully. "You really believe this role is so easy, Bachlan? You believe that you would have done better? Any leader is faced with difficult choices, and it's not a matter of 'because I told you so' like with your rabble."
Bachlan shifted his blade so that a shallow cut was opened on his former leader's throat. "Yes, I could have one better. I WILL do better"
"Ha! You'll be cut down by one of your own followers one day, Bachlan. I will be celebrating that day from the Nine Hells!" the emperor snarled. He glanced at his wife, who nodded, and both leaders thrust themselves onto their captors' weapons.
Are you really certain that the sovereigns of the Golden Ones ended their own lives? Has your memory, your chosen element, become so frail over time?
Bachlan froze. He knew that voice. Whenever he was presented with visions from his past, whenever he doubted and whenever he wondered if he was on the wrong path, this voice would accompany those thoughts. It was neither male nore female, but something far wilder and beyond a mortal's seeming. "Who are you?! What more do you want from me?" he yelled at the sky.
Keep following your path, Guardian of Memory, and you will find me. Only here will we be able to speak face to face. It is long past time that we had a talk concerning your duty to this world.
"Who are you?" Bachlan shouted again, but this time there was no answer.
His duty? For over twenty-five thousand years he had thought of nothing else but his duty! Angrily, he gripped Oriana's locket and left the scene of his greatest triumph.
After wrenching himself out through the mirror spell, Bachlan was shocked to find that the icy storm had become even worse. Screaming winds were throwing snowflakes, shards torn from glaciers, and ice-encrusted rocks around viciously, as if he were in the middle of a blender. Bachlan threw up yet another barrier and swore when an ice chunk grazed his cheek. The temperature had dropped again.
Bachlan checked his direction with Oriana's locket and glanced up wearily. His eyes narrowed as he squinted to see in between the blinding cascade of frozen ice crystals in the air. There was a circle of darkness in a large rock outcropping ahead of him.
Could it possibly be a cave?
Bachlan threw a rope of wind towards the circle and spread his arms, creating a channel of still air between the harsh gales that would also keep away all of the frozen projectiles that would obscure his vision. Yes, it was a cave! Perhaps he could find solace in there for a moment, then gather his thoughts and plan the next step of his trek.
Bachlan huddled in his warm clothes and made a flatout run for it. Sheets of snow shifted on the ground underneath him, making the footing tricky, but momentum kept him almost flying over the frozen ground. He timed his paces to go over the memory knots, not wanting another distraction.
Yes, he'd finally made it! It was such a relief to get out of the frozen wind and into a cool stillness, though he could still hear the gale behind him whistling and screaming in a shrill, nearly-human voice.
The locket was tugging him further inward. Bachlan took a closer look around, seeing a flickering orange light emanating from the ice on the walls. His cave was actually a tunnel, and he was curious to finally get some answers.
Actually, this place was remarkably like Oriana's former home of Vyski's cave colonies. The walls threw off a similar light and heat compared to the lava cores that served them and made them livable.
Dry snow crunched under his boots, getting lighter and lighter as he got further away from the entrance. Soon he walked on bare rock. The chill's power in the wintry air was fading as well. Bachlan found himself loosening the scarf around his neck.
The tunnel twisted and turned like the coils of a serpent, all the while going slightly downhill. The cry of the wind grew fainter and fainter with each step, until silence reigned over the cool air. Bachlan finished unwinding the scarf from around his neck and removed his balaclava, then let both dissolve into nothingness.
The tunnel ended in a giant amphitheater-like cavern. The rock walls glowed a warm orange that threw off a comforting heat, reflecting off of bits of mica embedded in the granite floor. The ceiling was cathedral-like, with smooth arches that looked handmade.
If anything, the cozy atmosphere brought Bachlan's hackles up. He glanced again at the floor, seeing the memory net continuing in here. The locket continued to tug, and he followed it to the back of the cave to his destination at last.
He let out a snarl. As before, the memory knot was missing as if snipped out. Bachlan bent down, touching the loose strands floating in slight breeze. There was no residue of power, nothing left behind. These trials had all been for nothing.
Bachlan had had enough. He drew his naginata and planted one blade on the ground, then drew himself up to his full height with all of the dignity that his role as Memory Guardian had given him. "Enough of these games! Show yourself!" he demanded.
Very well. Orange light streamed from the icy walls, forming into a ball that slowly took a humanoid shape. Grave gray eyes the color of the memory essence gazed at him sorrowfully, as if seeing into the depths of his soul and being disappointed by the result. Iridescent hair spilled past shoulders to frame a tawny androgynous face of ethereal beauty. The tall figure was wrapped in a soft robe of rainbow hues, exactly matching the six nature-related elements of their world.
"Bachlan, the first of my guardians... what a disappointment you have turned out to be," the figure (Woman, it must be a woman, Bachlan decided) proclaimed.
Bachlan was urged by he knew not what to drop to his knees in homage, but wouldn't allow himself to do so. He took a deep breath to steady himself. "You..." his voice trailed off, and he cleared his throat. "Are you the goddess of this world? Did you create our essences?
She chuckled lightly. "Yes and no. I am no deity, but the very spirit of this world, Merna's own avatar. It was I who welcomed the searching sea serpents to my waters, and I who created the essences to stand in trust for my chosen Guardians."
Bachlan's eyes turned hard. "So it was you who did NOTHING while the people suffered under the Golden Ones long ago!"
The spirit waved her arms around. "My true body is the entire world, Bachlan! In the physical sense, I am limited. My strength lies in being able to guide and empower the people through their hearts and minds. Just as I have tried to guide you all of this time, and failed. Perhaps you should see yourself through another's eyes, the eyes of someone you once loved," the spirit decided. She clapped her hands, and a fresh oval appeared. "Go, if you have the courage to see the truth!"
Bachlan stepped through immediately. What could he possibly have yet to see?
Vesia shifted uncomfortably in her ornate chair at Bachlan's left hand, dearly wishing that she was out camping with her soldiers. She didn't belong in such distinguished company, sitting at the honored head of a table filled with Merna's newly appointed leaders of all of her lands, but was only there to support her brother.
Meanwhile, Bachlan was taking it all in stride, smiling and nodding at each leader as he or she proclaimed their thanks for his victory. His expression was relaxed and confident, but only she and Robus could see the ghost of pain in his eyes for the soldiers that had fallen in his service. They had helped him mourn in private, but he now wore the diplomatic mask of a man who was being duly rewarded for a job well done.
The last to speak was the new duchess of Ninaz. She bowed to Bachlan, who nodded back, and smiled at the gathered. "My lord Bachlan, you have all of our gratitude and our loyalty. Truly, you have proven yourself a finer leader and diplomat than any of us."
Murmurs of agreement followed while Bachlan shrugged. "I cannot ignore the fact that life as a Golden One prepared me to battle them effectively. I also had exceptional officers to assist me. No leader is an island."
"Very true, but even with the war over at last, there is still a need for your skills in the world to come," the duchess continued.
Vesia noticed most of the leaders sitting forward expectantly, all except for the elven delegation. The warrior chief Tesla was completely confused and whispered something to his companions. She rested her fists in her lap as Bachlan waited to hear the rest.
"We have decided that it is past time to pass out the elemental essences. Bachlan, we offer to you the memory essence to become our first Guardian, to continue to protect us," the duchess finished to immense applause.
Bachlan's face was shining with pride as he rose, while Vesia's heart was echoing the statement. Such an honor! So well deserved! There was no one else who could have done what he had done, or was so worthy to take such a post. "I am pleased to say that I will acce-"
"NO!"
The leaders glanced around in shock at the outburst. Tesla was on his feet, his face pale in horror. "You cannot do this! The essences are only to be passed out as our world deems fit."
"Really?" Bachlan asked casually. "Why did our world not pass them out to assist us in her time of greatest need?"
"I... I do not know," Tesla confessed.
Bachlan took a few steps towards him. "You elves stayed out of my campaign. You stayed in your forests while human blood was shed for your protection!" He faced the other leaders, pointing at the elf in disgust. "The elves wished to keep the power of the essences for themselves!"
Vesia was feeling sick to her stomach. The leaders began murmuring to each other. "That's a filthy lie!" Tesla snapped back. "We elves were given the duty of protecting the essences when we first stepped onto Merna's lands. Merna's own spirit was there to welcome us, to inform us to tell the next waves of people that would join us here. The spirit has been here for thousands of years and sees more than mortal eyes."
Bachlan's smile was sly. "So you say. So you have said from the beginning. But tell me, Tesla, where is the proof? It is only by elven tales that we know of this 'duty'. And what did this spirit do while the world was falling to pieces?"
"Nothing!" shrieked the duchess who had offered Bachlan the role of Memory Guardian. Others shouted in agreement.
Bachlan nodded in satisfaction as Tesla cringed. "That's right- absolutely nothing. When fairy tale spirits and cowards fail to act, the rest of us must step up to preserve our lives. The essences do not belong in the hands of those who will not use them when the need comes. I will not allow this travesty to happen a second time!"
Applause rose up from the leaders as the other elves stood behind Tesla in support. The warrior chief looked tired and apprehensive. "Go against the spirit of our world at your peril, Bachlan. One victory alone does not warrant taking on a role that you were never meant to fill. We're done here."
Bachlan's eyes glittered dangerously as the elves filed out. Vesia knew that the essences would have cut years from the long campaign that would be known to history as the Rise of the Classes. She couldn't imagine whom the elves believed would be more suited to the role. And yet, the heated exchange had made her uneasy.
The rest of the meeting was thankfully short. Bachlan's answers were clipped and cold compared to before, and it was with relief that the last speaker finished and the other leaders filed out.
"Bachlan, just ignore what Tesla said. They must have their reasons for keeping the essences out of anyone's possession just yet," Vesia stated.
Robus grumbled, then reddened as he remembered who she was. "Forgive me, my lady, but you joined us the night before the last battle. You did not see how many of us were lost, nor how much we suffered, until we came to that point."
Bachlan's eyes were closed as if reliving the entire campaign. Vesia understood that he still felt responsible for those who had died in his service, especially Libra and Fondes, and touched her brother's shoulder compassionately, but he shook it off. "This isn't over," he growled under his breath.
Vesia sucked in a breath. She felt that an icy wall had gone up between them, when there had never been an angry word spoken before. "My brother, be grateful for what we have accomplished! Freedom and new life for the world!"
"At what cost? For how long?!" Bachlan asked, taking her by the shoulders and staring at her face. Vesia trembled at what she saw there. "You know human nature, Vesia! You are not a fool! The people will forget what we have fought for, and this will repeat itself one day. It can't- I won't allow it!"
"How...?" she whispered.
Bachlan shook his head as he released her. "Not now. If you love me, sister, you will support me in this. If not, then we part ways," he stated with a sad finality. "Robus."
"Yes, my lord," Robus answered obediently.
"Come with me. We have work to do," Bachlan ordered, and they walked away.
Vesia's heart ached with pain and indecision. She had always believed the elves and their stories of the Great Birth, of how they had welcomed the humans that had immigrated to their beautiful Merna. How could Bachlan have turned on them for this, a role he had never thought of before?
Or... hadn't he?
Vesia clenched her fists. Her brother, her only true family... what was he planning to do?
That day proved the last time she would ever see her brother in person. Bachlan contacted her with a letter explaining his plan to retrieve the essences from the elves and make himself Guardian without their consent. She would join him, or never show her face in front of him again.
Vesia burned the letter, knowing as she did so that she was burning the last ties to her beloved brother for life. Later she would not remember the heinous act that she had been asked to help achieve and celebrated Merna's first Guardian with most of the rest of a grateful world.
Nor would she remember that she ever had a big brother....
Bachlan staggered back out of the mirror spell, feeling as if he had been punched in the gut. He shut his eyes in pain. He had just assumed that Vesia had drawn away from him out of ear, but the calm, accepting way that she had burned his last letter to her suggested otherwise.
"You killed the compassion and love in your heart for your sister, your people, your world on that day. I had hoped that Trista would be able to reawaken those-" the spirit began.
An icy blade pressed down into Bachlan's chest as he remembered Trista's tears during the confrontation, her beloved features shifting into Vesia's for a moment. "Leave... her... out... of... this." he ordered in a quietly menacing tone. "No one else had the vision or strength to take my role. I couldn't let Merna fall into that kind of devastation ever again. I chose my Guardians well, except for that mistake Solana, and have done the best I could with what I had."
The spirit's smile turned chilly and cunning. "Your Guardians, Bachlan? Yours?"
"What..." Bachlan choked.
"Would you have selected a woman of another world, whose teacher had just turned down an alliance? A son of the elves that you so mercilessly slaughtered? A disgraced prince of the empire that your family created? A spirited woman who stood up for herself after you showed her such lack of courtesy, after you insisted that her mother take the role instead?"
Bachlan opened his mouth to deny it, then stopped. He had been furious with Elder Ezekiel's dismissal of what Merna had to offer that egotistical ancient world, but still agreed to let Oriana train Solana for healing and take her on? Aryn had been mistaken for a kitchen servant instead of the daughter of the baroness of Fief Caldera and had fired back some choice insults for his trying to send her back to her proper place. And Raoul.... how could he have ever thought that accepting one of elven blood had been a good idea?!
Because it wasn't mine...
Comprehension and sheer rage dawned in Bachlan's eyes at the way he had been used. His struggles, his failures that had been replayed in his mind time and time again- this one was responsible for it all. His fists clenched. "You've played us, all of us, for all of this time. Tell me, were we to serve as your toys for all of eternity?!"
The spirit sighed and sat down on a rocky seat. She gestured for Bachlan to do the same, but he stubbornly remained on his feet. "No, I did not move anyone's hearts to accept their essence. The desire to protect had to be strong enough on its own to last the ages," she explained tiredly. Her head drooped down. "I accepted you after you slaughtered my elves because I had no choice. I had no idea of the monster that would spring forth from the hero you had once been. All I wanted was for you to become that great man again!"
"I became what I had to, and what you shaped me to be," Bachlan snapped back. Weakness, weakness, more of this weakness. This one had been holding them all back for all of this time, and playing with him like a marionette. Never again!
He lunged out with his naginata, slashing through the spirit's form. It dissolved into multi-colored fires that vanished, but the voice remained.
"No, you made a fateful choice to take this path, long before my failings." Her voice carried pain- not from his attack directly, but from what it implied. "I am not blameless, but I will continue to make reparations beyond hiding Oriana's memories and safeguarding what she has begun. Your sun has set, Bachlan, and the future belongs to those who dream of a beautiful world. I will await the coming of my true Memory Guardian."
The cave began to collapse, and all of its colors washed away. Bachlan felt power wrap around him, and a gray light flashed....
Bachlan came back to himself while sprawled on the solid floor of his work-room, breathing harshly as if he had been thrown to the ground. His head had a heavy feeling that let him know that he had been inside Oriana's memory storehouse for a few days, not just hours.
He sat up sourly and glanced at Oriana. A soft glow enveloped the Life Guardian, giving her a bit more vitality back. When he reached out to her memory, it felt as if it had been encased in a protective shell from the inside. The spirit was not going to allow him to try a jump again, as if there was anything left to be gained from such a move.
Bachlan slowly got to his feet and threw Oriana's locket down into the dust with disgust. He then made for his chambers, thinking over the images from his past that he had been bombarded with over the millennia. He had seen them as a source of shame and failure, but had that really been the case?
His will had enabled him to storm out of the Golden Palace with only his naginata and longtime ally Robus by his side and return years later as the commander of an army that hailed from all corners of his world. It had allowed him to overthrow a corrupt way of life that had permeated into every culture.
His mission now was to complete the work that had been begun twenty-five thousand years ago and begin the Great Rebirth, with or without the last piece of the life essence. It also wouldn't hurt to come up with some plans against interference. Bachlan knew that Solana wouldn't give up that easily, and Aryn would never let her do it alone.
Yes, I see it now. I have to become that man again. Even the army that helped me topple the Golden Ones, who led me to my last victory proved themselves faithless once the immediate danger was finally over. Once I was installed, they left me behind to pursue their petty destinies. They did not tell their children of our struggles and the devastation, or if they did, it was in the form of a mere bedtime story.
This time will be different. Instead of troops, I am armed with the magic of a world which will never betray me.
The spirit of Merna let out a soft sigh that danced across the Shenioka Plains as a rippling breeze. Instead, it turned its eyes towards the stalwart hearts of the other Guardians getting closer and closer to their rendezvous point, united in one purpose at last.
Helping Oriana hide the memories of the last piece of the life essence from Bachlan's grasp, giving you new essences when your hearts were sure.... this is all I can do for you, my children. Remember what you have overcome on your journeys, what led you here, and that even heroes can fall. I will be watching always...
I cannot believe my eyes
how the world's full of filth and lies.
But it's plain to see, evil inside of me
is on the rise.
from "My Eyes", Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog
Bachlan had regained his former confidence at last. To echo this, his robes were freshly laundered, his hair neatly combed and tied back, and his beard was immaculately groomed once more. After taking a rest from Oriana's memory storehouse and regaining his magical strength, he was ready to get back to work.
Despite the minor setback of having a memory wiped from Oriana's mind, Bachlan knew that he would find what he was looking for. He created a light globe and hurried down to his workroom for the very last time.
Even in the cloudy light spell that Bachlan used, Oriana's skin had taken on a sallow gray tone from her imprisonment here. Dark circles smudged the skin under her closed eyes. Her wrists and cheeks were thin and sunken, and she weakly rested against the back of her crystal prison.
This would never do. Bachlan tapped the crystal with one fist and waited as it let out a clear ringing sound. Oriana didn't respond, so he opened up the case and rested a few fingers on her wrist. Carefully, as if riding a half-broken horse, he called on the stolen life essence to help replenish Oriana's lifeforce.
A splash of healthy pink, pale at first but steadily growing stronger, appeared in her cheeks as they slowly filled out. The sickly gray vanished from her skin, leaving it a fresh creamy color once more. Oriana seemed to breathe more easily, though she stayed unconscious.
Bachlan broke the connection between the woman and the power that she had formerly held. The life essence wasn't yet responding as easily to his call as the others, but even that would soon be fixed.
The memory essence instantly woke up at his command. Bachlan reached into his pocket to take Oriana's scorched locket with its burned hairs into his palm. He took a deep breath and dove back into her memory to pick up where he had left off on his journey.
Bachlan could feel the power in the crystal flag that he had planted on the 'snowy hill' waiting for him. He let the bit of power left behind reel him in as he drifted further and further down. He could see iridescent snow seemingly rush up to greet him, and dark smoky clouds forming over the celestial dance of colors above him.
Slowly, Bachlan's spirit form took his normal shape with the winter gear that he had donned before. It was excellent to be prepared this time for the-
COLD!!! Cold-cold-cold! was Bachlan's first coherent thought as he landed. The temperature had dropped at least thirty degrees since he had been here last. The winds were now pelting him with icy crystals instead of artfully rearranging them on the hills. What the hell happened here? How could this have changed to much, and so quickly?
With a hiss, Bachlan got to work redoing his snow gear to cope. Layers of warm, insulated fabric replaced the simple thick clothes of last time. Two pairs of gloves and three pairs of socks. A thicker scarf was wrapped around the bottom of a warm balaclava to prevent heat loss and prevent the icy wind from striking his face. On top of everything was a down-lined coat that reached his calves to overlap his thicker boots, and he huddled into it gratefully.
Now that his mind wasn't complaining about the biting cold, Bachlan looked around the more severe snowscape with an expert eye.
This wasn't right.
Oriana's life essence was a lot more flexible than most people knew, and its defensive powers would have easily allowed her to build this natural fortress in her own mind. Calling on the icy winds and deadly cold of her younger years in glacier country attested to that. Snipping out one of her own memories and storing it somewhere else... a stretch, but sill manageable.
As for all of this... he growled and dodged a fresh shower of snow that an errant wind had just tried to dump on him. Years of spells or no, she should NOT have been able to reinforce them to this point while being imprisoned and drained. It was impossible.
However, the frozen winds did not lie. Even as he watched, clouds piled on top of clouds in the black skies overhead, blotting out one star after another as if they were candles being snuffed out. There was another mystery here, and Bachlan was getting very tired of each one.
Very well. I will learn nothing useful standing here and freezing. If this is how the dice have fallen, I will find out whose hand has tossed them.
Grumbling to himself, he held out Oriana's precious locket. "Show me where to find what I'm looking for."
The locket twirled a moment on its makeshift chain of long hair, then obediently gave a tug to the north. Bachlan was relieved to note that it matched the direction that his crystal flag was pointing to. With a sigh, he returned to his trek.
This glacier had been getting taller and steeper for much of his walk so far, making the Memory Guardian wonder how high he truly was. Bachlan took a moment to stop and rest, making sure to take a few extra deep breaths in the thinner air. He had been walking for- hours? days?- and was starting to long for the warmth and luxury of the Memory Chambers.
Up ahead, he could see another glacier waiting to be traversed. Unfortunately, between the two enormous masses of ice was a deep crevasse. Bachlan made the mistake of walking to the edge and looking down, then instantly regretted it. Sharp needles and jagged points of white and a heart of deep cerulean ice promised a painful trip down up a fall.
He would have to be careful. Bachlan conjured a solid rock bridge between the two glaciers, not wanting to take any chances. He added handholds and made sure that it was anchored firmly in the ice with deep rock spears. After carefully testing the bridge, he stepped ont it.
Winds blew and tore at him. threatening to push him off of the bridge and send him tumbling down the crevasse. Bachlan tightened his grip on the handholds, then summoned a shield of still air to surround him. He bent into the wind as he moved, trying to make himself less of a target. Step by tortured step, he finally got across as the bridge vanished behind him.
Up ahead, he spotted what looked like an oval of purest silvery gray hanging in the air. Bachlan frowned, realizing that the power felt somewhat similar to his own, but not quite the same.
Before he could guess as to what the oval was, the winds gave him one more push forward. He stumbled on the slick ice underfoot and passed right through the oval to whatever lay behind it.
A much younger Bachlan, in his mid-thirties, was peering closely at a map of the Golden Palace and the surrounding Shenioka Plains with his top commanders. All of them were battle worn and weary after the long years of war, but hope still shone in all sets of eyes. Those left of the Golden Ones who had not pledged themselves to Bachlan's cause or been executed had huddled together to hide in their final fortress. Tomorrow morning would bring the last battle of what history would call the 'Rise of the Classes'.
(What was this? Oriana had not even been born yet, and he had never spoken of this day to her!)
Bachlan pointed to the Golden Palace with an angry finger. "They MUST have a way of getting supplies and people in and out! Even our Golden mages are stumped, and it's not as if it's floating in midair!"
Robus, their chief spymaster, shrugged. "I've sent every scout I have to investigating this. I've ordered the questioning of our newest prisoners. I can only gather that this is a new development, most likely in response to our attacks."
Bachlan turned to face Libra, the leader of his mage unit. "Commander, it has been difficult getting near enough to see," she admitted, "Perhaps under the guise of an attack-"
"Yes, enough of this sitting around!" roared Fondes, the cavalry leader and a former Golden One himself. "We outnumber the cowards hiding away. We can take the Golden Palace in a day!" He threw his gold-hilted dagger at the map, squarely hitting the symbol of the palace representing all that he had once fought for.
"Yes, we could!" Bachlan agreed, working to get control of their conversation back. He pried out the golden dagger and slapped it back into Fondes' hand. "But I ask you- how many more would needlessly die in such a reckless slaughter? How many more must we lose, Fondes? I tell you now- class makes no difference to me. Each life under my command is equally precious to me."
"We will lose nothing by taking another day to research," Robus pointed out. "And we may gain much."
Fondes snorted. "Do as you like. I will take my men hunting to add to our food supply, since we are stuck here another day." With that said, he left the tent and went to go find his squad leaders to organize the hunt.
Bachlan let it go. It had been no small thing to forge his army out of so many different groups of people, and even harder to make former enemies swear fealty to him and keep everyone on one path. If he had learned anything as a leader, it was to not sweat the small stuff. Besides, something Robus had said had caught his attention. "Robus, what was this about prisoners?"
Robus flushed. "Sorry, m'lord, but I didn't get the repoarts back as of yet. We've been doing recon all day..."
Bachlan waved it off. "As per my orders, so no apologies. Whom did you find?"
"A female Golden One officer and her squad. She wanted to talk to you right away, but they pretty much all say that," Robus answered. Most of the time, it was to offer Bachlan curses for being a traitor to his birth.
"She might have something more for us, especially as a recent capture. I would like to go see her right now, if you have the time," Bachlan replied thoughtfully. Robus nodded.
The two men made their way through the odd patchwork camp, seeing tents of all styles and substances that had served as the primary homes for his people for far too long. Food cooked on small campfires, with different spices and ingredients varying as they moved through different groups. A veritable hodgepodge of weapons were in sight for cleaning or last minute sparring. Despite the variety, all of his soldiers were children of Merna and worthy of a better life and world.
Robus found the center tent that held his most important prisoners. He nodded to the two guards, who answered with a crisp salute for the spymaster and a deep bow for their commander. Bachlan nodded absently, wondering how their new acquisition would play into his plans.
The light in here was bad, but he could see a woman chained securely to the tent posts, standing tall and proud despite being a prisoner. A bit of firelight shone in through the tent's opening to glitter on finely made armor and long red curls. Bachlan let out a small gasp.
The figure turned her head slightly at the sound. Intense brown eyes melted into tears. "My brother! I have found you at last!"
"Vesia!" Bachlan's voice carried the pain of not having seen her for the years of his campaign mixed with exaltation. "Robus, free her immediately! This is my dear little sister!"
Robus blanched. "I'm so sorry! Twice we have failed you-" He hurriedly found the correct key from his keyring and unlocked her chains. The second she was free, Vesia half stumbled, half ran to her older brother to hug him.
Bachlan hugged her back, tears threatening. Leaving behind the only member of his family that he truly loved had been the most difficult aspect of his campaign. The sacrifices had been worth it, but only now upon their reunion did he realize their true price.
"Vesia, why have you joined their side? What happened?" Bachlan finally asked softly, letting her go at last.
"It was to find you, Bachlan. I didn't want to think that what you said was true, about what they- no, we- were doing to our world," Vesia confessed, then swallowed hard. "The emperor and empress have been very adamant about keeping our people 'safe' so that more don't join you. I needed a way to do it and see the truth. They couldn't argue with me about joining the army to help put down the traitor."
"Clever girl," Bachlan said proudly as he had so often before, then sobered as he remembered his duty. "Robus mentioned your squad. Are they ready to aid us?"
"Oh, yes, and I bring a gift of information," Vesia answered confidently. "Robus was asking us about the Golden Palace. What you don't know is that last year, all of their mages got together and created a pair of teleport crystals to let anyone get in or out. The crystal outside of the palace is located in an underground cavern, with a tunnel leading to it from a sea cave. My squad can get back in through there and release the seals on the gates for you."
Bachlan hugged her again. He'd always loved Vesia, and just having her on his side was a gift. The fact that she had brought the key to salvation for their people and a victory to his army was a blessing he never could have hoped for.
"Lady Vesia, my apologies for capturing you and your squad. Would you be willing to show me and the scouts this sea cave tonight after some refreshment and rest?" Robus asked, ever the careful one.
"Yes, sir. I am grateful for capture, if it brought me back to family," Vesia replied with a laugh. "I'm ready when you are." She turned back to Bachlan, her eyes shining. "Victory will soon be yours, my brother. Whatever happens tomorrow, I am grateful to be at your side where I belong."
Bachlan stumbled out of the silvery oval that had dug up this memory and back into the bitter cold. He barely noticed it, being more confused than ever.
What had just happened was utterly impossible. Oriana had absolutely no knowledge of the days during the Rise of the Classes, and she wasn't a powerful enough memory mage to pull it out of him. Not even here.
The touch of power had felt wrong, too. Yes, it had been memory magic, and yes, it had felt similar to his own, but not quite. It had been wielded by another, and there was no one good enough on the face of Merna to have mastered his element well enough to beat him. His shields around the Citadel had not been tampered with, and only he and Oriana were here.
A spray of icy pellets kissed his nose. Bachlan growled and adjusted his balaclava to better cover his face before looking up at the sky. Black clouds blotted out every star. These were the thickest blizzard clouds that he had ever seen, and would make finding the hidden memory even more of a chore. Hard white flakes were already coming down, and the trail would be that much worse when the heavens completely opened up.
Well, he had two options. Bachlan could keep looking for the hidden memory and take the chance that it hadn't been whisked away like the other. That meant being cold and trying to fight the coming storm without making things worse in Oriana's memory storehouse.
There was also the opportunity to figure out just who the hell was interfering with him. Bachlan wiped more snowflakes from his eyes as he realized that this unknown person might have taken Oriana's memory. The only real connection to this busybody was the oval spell. Obviously, they wanted to show him something.
So be it. Bachlan steeled himself and walked back into his past.
Bachlan sat up straight on his horse and took a moment to survey his army with pride. Dark masses covered the green and gold Shenioka Plains, fanning out far around him. Sparks of power glowed in the air, belonging to his many mages. Countless weapons glittered in the fire of the dawn, echoing the diamond-strewn skies of the night.
Robus brought his steed up to Bachlan's side and threw his commander an eager salute. "Report, Robus. Is Vesia in position in the sea cave?" Bachlan asked.
"Yes, sir. I have a speaking spell ready to alert her squad to enter the palace and open the gates for us on your command," Robus answered proudly.
"Good. We've come a long way together, you and I. Merna willing, we'll see it to the end at last," Bachlan said to the one person who had left the Golden Palace with him all those years ago. Robus only nodded as Bachlan raised one hand. A bracelet holding a globe of tiger's eye encircled his wrist, spelled to carry his words and some images if need be to all of his commanders. "Libra, are your people ready?"
"Ready, my lord! Protections up, scrying bowls prepared to assist commanders, battle mages in place as ordered!" Bachlan was pleased to note that her voice came through clearly.
"Fondes?"
"Awaiting your instructions, sir!"
Everyone else rang in, and their eagerness came through the spells clearly. Bachlan raised his naginata high for all to see. "My friends, today the Golden Ones will see what the other classes can do when they arise as one! Let's go!"
Roars and battle screams rose from his charging army in palpable waves as they rode to meet their oppressors head-on at last in this final conflict.
What followed felt like days, weeks, months. There was Fondes on Bachlan's right flank, fighting as hard as he had on the day that Bachlan had defeated his army and made him one of his own officers. Libra had coordinated a perfect magical strike that aimed at enemy commanders and mages alike to leave infantry and calvary directionless. Archers picked off droves of those loyal to the Golden Ones from the back ranks as swordsment and pikemen led the charges.
Bachlan himself was fighting hard in the front ranks, and his brown eyes blazed with bloodlust as his naginata struck home again and again. Red soaked both of the once shiny silver blades on either end of the hardwood staff that he swung as if possessed.
The tides had turned when Vesia's people had opened the front gate of the palace from within. Though the Golden Ones' fury at the deception and renewed vigor made their fighting all the fiercer, it was too little and too late. Onward, ever onward, the once ragtag army managed to secure the gate and lead in the bulk of Bachlan's army. Brother and sister were reunited. Vesia vowed her twin dirks to Bachlan's safety and cause above all others.
His main squad joined up with the mages. Libra had fallen, but Bachlan had no time to spare for grief beyond a few thoughts wishing for her peace and thanking her for her years of service. Only later would he have the chance to grieve for all who would give their lives on this day. For now, he needed to take the emperor and empress into custody, or their lives if necessary. He was fully prepared for either.
The tides soon turned against them. If Bachlan and Vesia knew the palace from their days growing up, it was overshadowed by the fact that they were on the Golden Ones' homeground and had them cornered. Their success in taking the gate was short-lived. Magical traps sprang, and new buildings hid soldiers purposely held back for ambush attempts. Fondes and most of his company were cut down in one of these, protecting Bachlan's main unit. Again, Bachlan had to keep going. He owed all of his people, alive or dead, and their world this chance.
Up the stairs they continued, moving and clearing out level after level. Robus' scouts were being hit hard, Bachlan's unit was being slowly chiseled down, and the siblings were taking many injuries, especially Vesia from watching Bachlan's back. Others broke away to disarm and capture the Golden Ones' most loyal officers and administrators and keep an escape route open if the unthinkable happened.
Finally, there was the last staircase to the throne room. A large pair of double doors was shut fast and no doubt heavily guarded on the other side. Bachlan motioned for a pillar to be toppled and used as a battering ram, even adding his own strength to the attempt. Once down, he led the attack flanked by Vesia and Robus.
The emperor and empress were waiting for them, fully armed and armored and surrounded by a ring of the elite Golden Guard. Vesia reached into a pocket on one of her leather scabbards and withdrew a priceless gold-hilted dagger. Pressed with the crest of her and Bachlan's family, it had been presented to her on the first day of service for her rulers. Bachlan's had tasted the blood of his unyielding enemies, Golden Ones all, but Vesia's was unused. She held it up for her former rulers to see, and the royal pair stiffened with anger as she tossed thee weapon at the feet of their guards, returning the gift. Bachlan didn't do the same- his job was as yet unfinished.
Sparks of fury shone in the eyes of Bachlan's former rulers, but so well focused were they that not a word was uttered. The empress drew out a pair of spiked fire and wind wheels and gripped them tightly as the emperor drew his sickle sword with one hand, then raised the other and let it fall. The Golden Guard was on Bachlan's army before the signal was completed.
Bachlan and Vesia ignored the Guard, leaving them to Robus and the unit, and rushed straight for the rulers. Vesia was soon trading blows with the fast and powerful empress as Bachlan engaged the emperor at last. Bachlan's lips curled in a sneer. A pampered ruler with a simple sword against a double-eneded polearm- how hard could this be?
Unfortunately, Bachlan soon learned that the answer to the question was 'very'. The emperor was agile and very skilled at parrying and riposting Bachlan's blows with his crescent-shaped sword. He often flipped his blade to catch Bachlan's naginata on its concave side in order to come in close. Once he'd gotten in Bachlan's guard, he used his armored gauntlet to deliever fierce blows to pressure points on Bachlan's body.
Bachlan shook off a blow that partially glanced off of his elbow, then brought his naginata down in a diagonal slash aimed at his foe's neck. The emperor parried it, locking the polearm up in a horizontal position with the blades safely off to either side. His gauntleted fist came in for an overhead blow.
Bachlan swiftly stepped back. Instead of freeing the weapon as expected, he kicked the staff of his trapped naginata up, aiming for the emperor's throat. The blow missed, catching his chin instead, but it was enough to make the emperor back off and lose his grip on his foe's naginata. Bachlan reclaimed it and shifted his grip for a longer reach as the pair circled each other, each more wary now of the other's skills.
The emperor lunged in first, trying a thrust. Bachlan dodged and brought his naginata in for a flurry of fast strikes, forcing the emperor back on the defensive. The ruler had to block with both sword and gauntlet to keep up, and was having a difficult time trying to reach Bachlan for blows of his own. Blood rivulets were soon running over his golden armor.
Bachlan began to smile, sensing his prey was weakening. He lunged in with a slash to the emperor's calf with one blade followed by a deep bite to the bicep with the other, hoping to break his foe's dual wielding defense. The emperor fell to one knee, his face twisted in pain. Bachlan closed in with his naginata raised high, ready to deal the coup de grace.
It proved a ruse. The emperor took advantage of Bachlan's nearness to lash out with sword and gauntlet. The sickle blade carved into Bachlan's right side, while his gauntlet directly hit a pressure point at Bachlan's left knee that was meant to immobilize the limb.
Bachlan staggered back with a yell of surprise, favoring his right leg heavily as he cursed his overconfidence. His left leg was partially numb and shuddering, and unable to bear his full weight. Blood poured from his right side, though the blow seemed to have missed any organs. If he had any hope of winning, it would have to be soon.
The emperor pressed his advantage, a cold expression in his eyes. His sickle sword was coming fast from the side, too fast to dodge. Bachlan knew that if he took a blow to a side pressure point and lost the entire left side of his body, he was done. Vesia was still in the heat of battle with the empress and wouldn't save his neck this time.
Instead, Bachlan brought up his still numb left leg and took the hit on that while positioning his naginata with one hand. The pain of the blow was dulled by his previous injury, though the shock ran through his body. The force sent him to the floor in a roll as he drew his gold-hilted dagger with his free hand. Bachlan's naginata had been placed to sweep the emperor's feet from under him and dump him to the ground as well.
The emperor's eyes seemed to wake up at last, and he gasped to get his air back. Bachlan didn't wait for him to recover and reached out with his dagger to slash the tendons at the back of the emperor's legs, hamstringing him. The emperor yelled his fury and thrust his blade at Bachlan's belly, but his body was already going into shock and the attack fell short.
The empress screeched when she saw what had been done to her husband, and Vesia took the opportunity to disarm her foe. One blade's flat his the side of the empress' knee to send her to the ground while the other was pressed up agianst her throat. "Surrender," Vesia ordered.
"Never, you disloyal little whelp," the empress snapped.
Bachlan shifted his naginata to the emperor's own throat, swaying a little. "That wasn't a suggestion. We've killed many of your supporters already. It would be no great hardship to add two more to that number."
The emperor laughed scornfully. "You really believe this role is so easy, Bachlan? You believe that you would have done better? Any leader is faced with difficult choices, and it's not a matter of 'because I told you so' like with your rabble."
Bachlan shifted his blade so that a shallow cut was opened on his former leader's throat. "Yes, I could have one better. I WILL do better"
"Ha! You'll be cut down by one of your own followers one day, Bachlan. I will be celebrating that day from the Nine Hells!" the emperor snarled. He glanced at his wife, who nodded, and both leaders thrust themselves onto their captors' weapons.
Are you really certain that the sovereigns of the Golden Ones ended their own lives? Has your memory, your chosen element, become so frail over time?
Bachlan froze. He knew that voice. Whenever he was presented with visions from his past, whenever he doubted and whenever he wondered if he was on the wrong path, this voice would accompany those thoughts. It was neither male nore female, but something far wilder and beyond a mortal's seeming. "Who are you?! What more do you want from me?" he yelled at the sky.
Keep following your path, Guardian of Memory, and you will find me. Only here will we be able to speak face to face. It is long past time that we had a talk concerning your duty to this world.
"Who are you?" Bachlan shouted again, but this time there was no answer.
His duty? For over twenty-five thousand years he had thought of nothing else but his duty! Angrily, he gripped Oriana's locket and left the scene of his greatest triumph.
After wrenching himself out through the mirror spell, Bachlan was shocked to find that the icy storm had become even worse. Screaming winds were throwing snowflakes, shards torn from glaciers, and ice-encrusted rocks around viciously, as if he were in the middle of a blender. Bachlan threw up yet another barrier and swore when an ice chunk grazed his cheek. The temperature had dropped again.
Bachlan checked his direction with Oriana's locket and glanced up wearily. His eyes narrowed as he squinted to see in between the blinding cascade of frozen ice crystals in the air. There was a circle of darkness in a large rock outcropping ahead of him.
Could it possibly be a cave?
Bachlan threw a rope of wind towards the circle and spread his arms, creating a channel of still air between the harsh gales that would also keep away all of the frozen projectiles that would obscure his vision. Yes, it was a cave! Perhaps he could find solace in there for a moment, then gather his thoughts and plan the next step of his trek.
Bachlan huddled in his warm clothes and made a flatout run for it. Sheets of snow shifted on the ground underneath him, making the footing tricky, but momentum kept him almost flying over the frozen ground. He timed his paces to go over the memory knots, not wanting another distraction.
Yes, he'd finally made it! It was such a relief to get out of the frozen wind and into a cool stillness, though he could still hear the gale behind him whistling and screaming in a shrill, nearly-human voice.
The locket was tugging him further inward. Bachlan took a closer look around, seeing a flickering orange light emanating from the ice on the walls. His cave was actually a tunnel, and he was curious to finally get some answers.
Actually, this place was remarkably like Oriana's former home of Vyski's cave colonies. The walls threw off a similar light and heat compared to the lava cores that served them and made them livable.
Dry snow crunched under his boots, getting lighter and lighter as he got further away from the entrance. Soon he walked on bare rock. The chill's power in the wintry air was fading as well. Bachlan found himself loosening the scarf around his neck.
The tunnel twisted and turned like the coils of a serpent, all the while going slightly downhill. The cry of the wind grew fainter and fainter with each step, until silence reigned over the cool air. Bachlan finished unwinding the scarf from around his neck and removed his balaclava, then let both dissolve into nothingness.
The tunnel ended in a giant amphitheater-like cavern. The rock walls glowed a warm orange that threw off a comforting heat, reflecting off of bits of mica embedded in the granite floor. The ceiling was cathedral-like, with smooth arches that looked handmade.
If anything, the cozy atmosphere brought Bachlan's hackles up. He glanced again at the floor, seeing the memory net continuing in here. The locket continued to tug, and he followed it to the back of the cave to his destination at last.
He let out a snarl. As before, the memory knot was missing as if snipped out. Bachlan bent down, touching the loose strands floating in slight breeze. There was no residue of power, nothing left behind. These trials had all been for nothing.
Bachlan had had enough. He drew his naginata and planted one blade on the ground, then drew himself up to his full height with all of the dignity that his role as Memory Guardian had given him. "Enough of these games! Show yourself!" he demanded.
Very well. Orange light streamed from the icy walls, forming into a ball that slowly took a humanoid shape. Grave gray eyes the color of the memory essence gazed at him sorrowfully, as if seeing into the depths of his soul and being disappointed by the result. Iridescent hair spilled past shoulders to frame a tawny androgynous face of ethereal beauty. The tall figure was wrapped in a soft robe of rainbow hues, exactly matching the six nature-related elements of their world.
"Bachlan, the first of my guardians... what a disappointment you have turned out to be," the figure (Woman, it must be a woman, Bachlan decided) proclaimed.
Bachlan was urged by he knew not what to drop to his knees in homage, but wouldn't allow himself to do so. He took a deep breath to steady himself. "You..." his voice trailed off, and he cleared his throat. "Are you the goddess of this world? Did you create our essences?
She chuckled lightly. "Yes and no. I am no deity, but the very spirit of this world, Merna's own avatar. It was I who welcomed the searching sea serpents to my waters, and I who created the essences to stand in trust for my chosen Guardians."
Bachlan's eyes turned hard. "So it was you who did NOTHING while the people suffered under the Golden Ones long ago!"
The spirit waved her arms around. "My true body is the entire world, Bachlan! In the physical sense, I am limited. My strength lies in being able to guide and empower the people through their hearts and minds. Just as I have tried to guide you all of this time, and failed. Perhaps you should see yourself through another's eyes, the eyes of someone you once loved," the spirit decided. She clapped her hands, and a fresh oval appeared. "Go, if you have the courage to see the truth!"
Bachlan stepped through immediately. What could he possibly have yet to see?
Vesia shifted uncomfortably in her ornate chair at Bachlan's left hand, dearly wishing that she was out camping with her soldiers. She didn't belong in such distinguished company, sitting at the honored head of a table filled with Merna's newly appointed leaders of all of her lands, but was only there to support her brother.
Meanwhile, Bachlan was taking it all in stride, smiling and nodding at each leader as he or she proclaimed their thanks for his victory. His expression was relaxed and confident, but only she and Robus could see the ghost of pain in his eyes for the soldiers that had fallen in his service. They had helped him mourn in private, but he now wore the diplomatic mask of a man who was being duly rewarded for a job well done.
The last to speak was the new duchess of Ninaz. She bowed to Bachlan, who nodded back, and smiled at the gathered. "My lord Bachlan, you have all of our gratitude and our loyalty. Truly, you have proven yourself a finer leader and diplomat than any of us."
Murmurs of agreement followed while Bachlan shrugged. "I cannot ignore the fact that life as a Golden One prepared me to battle them effectively. I also had exceptional officers to assist me. No leader is an island."
"Very true, but even with the war over at last, there is still a need for your skills in the world to come," the duchess continued.
Vesia noticed most of the leaders sitting forward expectantly, all except for the elven delegation. The warrior chief Tesla was completely confused and whispered something to his companions. She rested her fists in her lap as Bachlan waited to hear the rest.
"We have decided that it is past time to pass out the elemental essences. Bachlan, we offer to you the memory essence to become our first Guardian, to continue to protect us," the duchess finished to immense applause.
Bachlan's face was shining with pride as he rose, while Vesia's heart was echoing the statement. Such an honor! So well deserved! There was no one else who could have done what he had done, or was so worthy to take such a post. "I am pleased to say that I will acce-"
"NO!"
The leaders glanced around in shock at the outburst. Tesla was on his feet, his face pale in horror. "You cannot do this! The essences are only to be passed out as our world deems fit."
"Really?" Bachlan asked casually. "Why did our world not pass them out to assist us in her time of greatest need?"
"I... I do not know," Tesla confessed.
Bachlan took a few steps towards him. "You elves stayed out of my campaign. You stayed in your forests while human blood was shed for your protection!" He faced the other leaders, pointing at the elf in disgust. "The elves wished to keep the power of the essences for themselves!"
Vesia was feeling sick to her stomach. The leaders began murmuring to each other. "That's a filthy lie!" Tesla snapped back. "We elves were given the duty of protecting the essences when we first stepped onto Merna's lands. Merna's own spirit was there to welcome us, to inform us to tell the next waves of people that would join us here. The spirit has been here for thousands of years and sees more than mortal eyes."
Bachlan's smile was sly. "So you say. So you have said from the beginning. But tell me, Tesla, where is the proof? It is only by elven tales that we know of this 'duty'. And what did this spirit do while the world was falling to pieces?"
"Nothing!" shrieked the duchess who had offered Bachlan the role of Memory Guardian. Others shouted in agreement.
Bachlan nodded in satisfaction as Tesla cringed. "That's right- absolutely nothing. When fairy tale spirits and cowards fail to act, the rest of us must step up to preserve our lives. The essences do not belong in the hands of those who will not use them when the need comes. I will not allow this travesty to happen a second time!"
Applause rose up from the leaders as the other elves stood behind Tesla in support. The warrior chief looked tired and apprehensive. "Go against the spirit of our world at your peril, Bachlan. One victory alone does not warrant taking on a role that you were never meant to fill. We're done here."
Bachlan's eyes glittered dangerously as the elves filed out. Vesia knew that the essences would have cut years from the long campaign that would be known to history as the Rise of the Classes. She couldn't imagine whom the elves believed would be more suited to the role. And yet, the heated exchange had made her uneasy.
The rest of the meeting was thankfully short. Bachlan's answers were clipped and cold compared to before, and it was with relief that the last speaker finished and the other leaders filed out.
"Bachlan, just ignore what Tesla said. They must have their reasons for keeping the essences out of anyone's possession just yet," Vesia stated.
Robus grumbled, then reddened as he remembered who she was. "Forgive me, my lady, but you joined us the night before the last battle. You did not see how many of us were lost, nor how much we suffered, until we came to that point."
Bachlan's eyes were closed as if reliving the entire campaign. Vesia understood that he still felt responsible for those who had died in his service, especially Libra and Fondes, and touched her brother's shoulder compassionately, but he shook it off. "This isn't over," he growled under his breath.
Vesia sucked in a breath. She felt that an icy wall had gone up between them, when there had never been an angry word spoken before. "My brother, be grateful for what we have accomplished! Freedom and new life for the world!"
"At what cost? For how long?!" Bachlan asked, taking her by the shoulders and staring at her face. Vesia trembled at what she saw there. "You know human nature, Vesia! You are not a fool! The people will forget what we have fought for, and this will repeat itself one day. It can't- I won't allow it!"
"How...?" she whispered.
Bachlan shook his head as he released her. "Not now. If you love me, sister, you will support me in this. If not, then we part ways," he stated with a sad finality. "Robus."
"Yes, my lord," Robus answered obediently.
"Come with me. We have work to do," Bachlan ordered, and they walked away.
Vesia's heart ached with pain and indecision. She had always believed the elves and their stories of the Great Birth, of how they had welcomed the humans that had immigrated to their beautiful Merna. How could Bachlan have turned on them for this, a role he had never thought of before?
Or... hadn't he?
Vesia clenched her fists. Her brother, her only true family... what was he planning to do?
That day proved the last time she would ever see her brother in person. Bachlan contacted her with a letter explaining his plan to retrieve the essences from the elves and make himself Guardian without their consent. She would join him, or never show her face in front of him again.
Vesia burned the letter, knowing as she did so that she was burning the last ties to her beloved brother for life. Later she would not remember the heinous act that she had been asked to help achieve and celebrated Merna's first Guardian with most of the rest of a grateful world.
Nor would she remember that she ever had a big brother....
Bachlan staggered back out of the mirror spell, feeling as if he had been punched in the gut. He shut his eyes in pain. He had just assumed that Vesia had drawn away from him out of ear, but the calm, accepting way that she had burned his last letter to her suggested otherwise.
"You killed the compassion and love in your heart for your sister, your people, your world on that day. I had hoped that Trista would be able to reawaken those-" the spirit began.
An icy blade pressed down into Bachlan's chest as he remembered Trista's tears during the confrontation, her beloved features shifting into Vesia's for a moment. "Leave... her... out... of... this." he ordered in a quietly menacing tone. "No one else had the vision or strength to take my role. I couldn't let Merna fall into that kind of devastation ever again. I chose my Guardians well, except for that mistake Solana, and have done the best I could with what I had."
The spirit's smile turned chilly and cunning. "Your Guardians, Bachlan? Yours?"
"What..." Bachlan choked.
"Would you have selected a woman of another world, whose teacher had just turned down an alliance? A son of the elves that you so mercilessly slaughtered? A disgraced prince of the empire that your family created? A spirited woman who stood up for herself after you showed her such lack of courtesy, after you insisted that her mother take the role instead?"
Bachlan opened his mouth to deny it, then stopped. He had been furious with Elder Ezekiel's dismissal of what Merna had to offer that egotistical ancient world, but still agreed to let Oriana train Solana for healing and take her on? Aryn had been mistaken for a kitchen servant instead of the daughter of the baroness of Fief Caldera and had fired back some choice insults for his trying to send her back to her proper place. And Raoul.... how could he have ever thought that accepting one of elven blood had been a good idea?!
Because it wasn't mine...
Comprehension and sheer rage dawned in Bachlan's eyes at the way he had been used. His struggles, his failures that had been replayed in his mind time and time again- this one was responsible for it all. His fists clenched. "You've played us, all of us, for all of this time. Tell me, were we to serve as your toys for all of eternity?!"
The spirit sighed and sat down on a rocky seat. She gestured for Bachlan to do the same, but he stubbornly remained on his feet. "No, I did not move anyone's hearts to accept their essence. The desire to protect had to be strong enough on its own to last the ages," she explained tiredly. Her head drooped down. "I accepted you after you slaughtered my elves because I had no choice. I had no idea of the monster that would spring forth from the hero you had once been. All I wanted was for you to become that great man again!"
"I became what I had to, and what you shaped me to be," Bachlan snapped back. Weakness, weakness, more of this weakness. This one had been holding them all back for all of this time, and playing with him like a marionette. Never again!
He lunged out with his naginata, slashing through the spirit's form. It dissolved into multi-colored fires that vanished, but the voice remained.
"No, you made a fateful choice to take this path, long before my failings." Her voice carried pain- not from his attack directly, but from what it implied. "I am not blameless, but I will continue to make reparations beyond hiding Oriana's memories and safeguarding what she has begun. Your sun has set, Bachlan, and the future belongs to those who dream of a beautiful world. I will await the coming of my true Memory Guardian."
The cave began to collapse, and all of its colors washed away. Bachlan felt power wrap around him, and a gray light flashed....
Bachlan came back to himself while sprawled on the solid floor of his work-room, breathing harshly as if he had been thrown to the ground. His head had a heavy feeling that let him know that he had been inside Oriana's memory storehouse for a few days, not just hours.
He sat up sourly and glanced at Oriana. A soft glow enveloped the Life Guardian, giving her a bit more vitality back. When he reached out to her memory, it felt as if it had been encased in a protective shell from the inside. The spirit was not going to allow him to try a jump again, as if there was anything left to be gained from such a move.
Bachlan slowly got to his feet and threw Oriana's locket down into the dust with disgust. He then made for his chambers, thinking over the images from his past that he had been bombarded with over the millennia. He had seen them as a source of shame and failure, but had that really been the case?
His will had enabled him to storm out of the Golden Palace with only his naginata and longtime ally Robus by his side and return years later as the commander of an army that hailed from all corners of his world. It had allowed him to overthrow a corrupt way of life that had permeated into every culture.
His mission now was to complete the work that had been begun twenty-five thousand years ago and begin the Great Rebirth, with or without the last piece of the life essence. It also wouldn't hurt to come up with some plans against interference. Bachlan knew that Solana wouldn't give up that easily, and Aryn would never let her do it alone.
Yes, I see it now. I have to become that man again. Even the army that helped me topple the Golden Ones, who led me to my last victory proved themselves faithless once the immediate danger was finally over. Once I was installed, they left me behind to pursue their petty destinies. They did not tell their children of our struggles and the devastation, or if they did, it was in the form of a mere bedtime story.
This time will be different. Instead of troops, I am armed with the magic of a world which will never betray me.
The spirit of Merna let out a soft sigh that danced across the Shenioka Plains as a rippling breeze. Instead, it turned its eyes towards the stalwart hearts of the other Guardians getting closer and closer to their rendezvous point, united in one purpose at last.
Helping Oriana hide the memories of the last piece of the life essence from Bachlan's grasp, giving you new essences when your hearts were sure.... this is all I can do for you, my children. Remember what you have overcome on your journeys, what led you here, and that even heroes can fall. I will be watching always...