Obsidian Gate - Chapter Twelve

*Thought you all wouldn't mind a bit of double duty, as this means I have to get cracking on Chapter Thirteen. Here's Twelve and I hope you all really enjoy this*

Chapter Twelve

Danger on the Horizon and More Plots Abound

~ Solaris ~

It was nearly midnight and the pale illumination from the streetlights of Branneth poured into the antechamber of Lord Brenden Karsis. He was sitting in his favorite chair by the fire, a scowl marring his face, and his chin resting on his right hand, which was, in turn propped up by the elbow on the arm of his chair. His dark beard, hair, and eyes all caught small glints of the firelight as he sat but betrayed none of its warmth. A book lay open, forgotten, in his left hand, resting now on his thighs. He had been reading but his attention simply had not seen fit to stay fixed upon his tome. Karsis had no need to wonder what was troubling him. He knew only too well.
de Wynter. That haughty, arrogant, cold, snippy bitch had managed to escape justice one more time. No matter how hard he tried, there just seemed to be nothing that he could pin on this woman, nothing that would stick. This time he had been sure there was nothing the little snipe could do to wriggle her way out of the chopping block, yet she had managed to do just that. Naturally, her lawyer had been brilliant but that wasn’t what had bothered him. It seemed as if nothing had mattered, after the woman had taken the stand and trotted out the sordid details of her marriage for the world to see. The jury had simply bought every word of her story. It was a travesty of justice, but there you had it.
Sighing, Karsis was about to retire for the night when he felt an unseemly draft gust in through one of the windows, which he had cracked to allow some fresh air to permeate the room. Karsis fastened the window shut tight but, as he did, a particularly strong gust made its way through the room, blasting back the curtains and sending the fire all in an uproar. The Lord worked quickly to shut the door but, as he turned, the fire, which the wind had upset, abruptly winked out, curls of flame, sparks, and smoke all vanishing in a moment, as if they had never existed, leaving only cold embers.
Startled at the sudden darkness, Karsis froze, momentarily uncertain, consumed by that slight dread, panic, that sets in when one is unexpectedly plunged into darkness. Shadows filled the room, leaving only blackness and vague shapes. Karsis cursed softly and allowed his eyes a moment to adjust. When he thought he was able to distinguish the indistinct forms of his furniture, the man began to slowly make his way towards the door, fully intent on simply heading to his room and calling it a night.
Halfway there, he paused in confusion. The darkness in the room was very palpable but, all of a sudden, it took on a cloying, dense character, somehow sinister. It had been hard to see but now it felt as if the whole room had literally been swallowed by shadows. Karsis made another motion, as if to continue for the door and then froze, this time in absolute terror.
He was not alone.
Karsis jumped, feeling unseen eyes all around him, and was concentrating so hard on getting his eyes to adjust that he never saw the shadow detach itself from the wall. The Lord barely had time to turn, as the sound of a sword being drawn filled the room, followed quickly by Karsis’s harsh cry. Then there was an abrupt, chilling silence and, after, all was still.

2.

Alexandra Lee sat in the lonely hospital room, occupying the only chair and absently flipping through a magazine, barely registering the various articles about what star was dating which model or a particular star’s mental breakdown. The young woman did not notice the patient that occupied the room, nor did she really acknowledge Landen, who had been set to guard the room. She was actually staring out of the room’s only window, lost in thought, unconsciously fingering a slender braided chain of white and yellow gold around her neck from which dangled several rings. One was a matching wedding band set, a man and a woman’s, both genuine gold, with an intricate design of roses and thorny vines etched onto it. The other rings were part of another wedding set. The man’s was a large gold band with a small, rampant lion holding a rose engraved onto it and the woman’s was a modest, but exquisitely cut, imperial diamond with two small sapphires on either side of it on a white gold band. This attached to another white gold band imprinted with small alternating stars and crescent moons.
Charlie Hutton lay in the hospital bed next to her and watched her fingers fiddle with the rings, an amused smile on his face. The first degree burns and small lacerations on his face did not pain him very much, as he forced himself into a sitting position, though he did grimace once.
“Yer thinkin’ about ‘im, aren’t chya?” Charlie asked gently.
Alex jerked out of her trance like one pinched at the sound of his voice.
“Who?”
Charlie chuckled heartily.
“You know who I mean.”
Alex seemed about to deny it for a moment, to demand to know what he was talking about, then sighed and went back to staring out the window.
“Ah wanna help ‘im, Charlie.”
“Helpin’ ain’t the only thing on yer mind where that boy’s concerned.”
Al colored and gave the bartender a scathing look, as if she wouldn’t bother to dignify that with an answer. Charlie merely laughed.
“Don’ gimmie that!” he said, “You don’ fool me, Al. I’ve known you since you was just a punk kid, nineteen, without a hope or a prayer. You like that boy a Helluva lot more n’ you’ll admit.”
“He’s a client, Charlie,” Al replied, “It ain’t gonna happen.”
“How many times you said that in yer life?” the bartender rebutted gently, “’s how you wound up on my doorstep six years ago, if I recall.”
“An’ Ah was wrong den too! If Ah’d had de sense God gave a goat, Ah’d’ve jus’ sworn off men right den an’ dere!”
“Since when’s that ever stopped you?”
“Since Ah grew up, Charlie.”
Alex looked over at the bartender with such a sad look of wistful longing and heartbreak that it wrenched at Charlie’s heart to see it.
“Ah always thought love was de grandest thing on Earth. Dat was de thing dat made life worth livin’. What dey don’ tell you is love hurts, too. Life’s harsh an’ sometimes, love’s jus’ too delicate a thing t’survive.”
“I know yer grievin’, Kid. That don’t mean ya gotta give up.”
“Charlie, be realistic!” Alex shot, “Even if Dan and Ah were dat compatible, we’re from two different worlds. Literally. It wouldn’t work. ‘Sides, it’s bad form t’get involved with a client. Makes de business look bad.”
Attempting to change the subject, she added,
“De hospital called Kevan right after y’all were admitted. He should be here within a couple o’ hours.”
“I know my son’ll get here as soon as he can,” Charlie said, “Don’t try t’avoid this, Al. It ain’t healthy for ya.”
“Neither is leavin’ mah heart open f’one more loss, one more scar dat’ll never heal. Mah heart ain’t strong enough f’dis anymore, Charlie. Ah’ve got more important things t’worry about den de next person who’s gonna leave me cryin.’”
The bartender simply shook his head sadly.
“You can be more stubborn than Linn sometimes, an’ that’s sayin’ a lot,” he muttered softly.
“She sure can,” said a cheery voice from the doorway.
Both Charlie and Alex spun to see who the speaker was, then broke out in wide grins as two young women entered the room. The woman who had spoken was African American with pale, well cared for skin for that race, dark, luminous, chocolate brown eyes with long, soft lashes, and straight, thick, black hair that fell elegantly to just past her shoulder blades. She was five six and appeared to be in her early twenties with lush lips and soft cheekbones. Her long limbed figure was clad in a tight, black leather catsuit and her long, nimble hands were planted at her hips, a big grin on her face, as she regarded her best friend. She was beautiful and she knew it.
The woman who followed her was as sharp a contrast to her as could possibly be. Though they shared the same height and age, the resemblance and any similarity between them ended there. The other young woman was fair-skinned, pale as milk, with a spray of tiny freckles across her nose and cheeks, which were much more delicately formed than those of her companion. Her nose was also a bit smaller and straighter, almost haughty, but the woman did not carry herself with such an air. Her hair brushed just past her shoulders, hanging straight most of the way before springing into large, soft, yet wild curls, and was the vivid red/orange of an open flame. She wore a light blouse of palest, vivid blue that only served to bring out the blue in her unusual eyes, which were a startling, bright teal the color of deep Carribean water, and a simple, elegant navy blue skirt. Along with sensible pumps in a matching shade of navy, some light make up, and neutral colored pantyhose, she was a marked contrast to her more aggressively dressed cohort. While her companion had a lean, attractive, lithe, and athletic figure, this paler skinned person had more curvature and seemed more slender at first glance. She moved with an unconscious grace that the African American woman didn’t bother to imitate, eschewing that for a more free and light step. Both women broke out into delighted grins at the sight of Charlie and rushed over to see him.
“Hey, Charlie, howya doin’?” asked the darker skinned woman, giving him a light hug.
“Better,” he said, “I just wish these damn doctors’d leave me alone, though. What are you an’ Lyra up to today?”
“Comin’ here t’see you, of course!” the woman replied, then, turning to Alex, she grinned.
“Hey, Al! How’s it goin’? You manage t’spring that hot little number from jail yet?”
“Oh, please, y’all ain’t even met Dan an’ y’all’re already hittin’ on ‘im,” Al muttered, rolling her eyes.
The woman merely laughed.
“Looks like Sarah’s right,” she said, “This boy must be some pretty slick piece o’work t’have you all up in a huff like that.”
“Y’all’re dreamin’!” Al shot, irritated that she was being so easily read.
At her vehement protest, both women merely shot each other a look, then smiled, which only served to peak Alex’s ire more.
“Ah hate it when Sarah pulls this crap, Ah don’t need it from you too, Angie!”
The African American woman merely looked at her friend and laughed.
“Fine, we’ll play it your way,” she said, “We came t’tell you O’Brian an’ Landen been lookin’ fer the guys that did this but they ain’t found nothin’ yet. They playin’ it real cool too. I can’t get nothin’ out them boys ‘bout who they lookin’ for or nothin’.”
“So, ‘dere officially on de case, huh?” Alex prompted.
Angie nodded briefly.
“Not that they’re in a sharing mood or anything,” she scoffed.
“’Dat’s alright,” Al said, sighing, “We got our own investigation t’deal with an’ a client that need us.”
Angie’s cavalier smile returned.
“So, what he look like? He as hot as Sarah says he is?”
Alex gave her friend a scathing look to which Angie replied,
“Please, girlfriend, I know you better than that! Is he a hottie or what?”
Reluctantly, Al’s face softened a bit into a smile and she nodded. The woman then proceeded to recall all of the events that had transpired, including Dan’s handsomeness, agility, and general demeanor, all the while being vehement in her denial that she had any interest in the stranded elf beyond normal human sympathy for his plight and compassion.
Landen, sitting near the door, caught some of the conversation and smiled, rolling his eyes, and went back to reading his comic. He glanced up briefly from his newspaper, then paused, as he saw a group of individuals heading towards the nurse’s station at the end of the hall. Keeping himself calm, unassuming, and as alert as possible, Landen fingered the walkie talkie at his side and prepared to call for reinforcements.
The group of people paused briefly at the station. The nurse on duty greeted them with a polite smile then shook her head, politely but firmly, at something one of the men said. Something angry seemed to come from the individual she was talking to and the nurse frowned, her face deepening rapidly towards a scowl. Suddenly, and violently, one of the younger men in the group pushed his way rudely past the young nurse, striding with arrogant confidence towards Charlie’s room. The nurse squawked indignantly as the people pushed past and rushed to the phone at her station, trying to get word to the hospital security.
Landen, meanwhile, simply pushed the button on his walkie and radioed for backup.
“Stevens, you’d better call reinforcements now,” he said softly, “An’ get yer ass over here. We got ourselves a situation.”
He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and assumed an incorrigible smile not a moment before the angry mob of people was standing right before him.
“Somethin’ I can help you guys with?” he asked jovially, his cocky grin in overtime.
“You can move out of our way,” the leader replied nastily.
“Sorry, pardner, no can do,” Landen said jauntily, “Care t’try again?”
“Get out of our way!” another yelled.
“Not gonna happen.”
“You just gonna stand there and protect that freak lover?” a woman out of the crowd yelled and Landen froze.
All of the good humor leeched out of his face and he fixed the speaker and her crowd with a look so cold they all nearly turned and fled right then.
“That “freak lover” happens t’be a friend o’ mine,” Landen said icily, any traces of humor completely gone, “He’s a good man an’ if you punks wanna make an issue out of it, be my guest. Wouldn’t recommend it, though.”
Subtly, the detective reached down and displayed his gun and badge, fixing each and every one of the people in the crowd in turn with his level gaze.
“Now pay attention, people, ‘cuz I’m only gonna say this once,” he said, “This badge and this gun mean if you try anything stupid, you’ll be goin’ t’jail for assaulting an officer. I’m not joking an’ I don’t give second chances. You walk or you pay. Simple as that.”
“How can you defend someone who harbors those abominations?” a young lady from the crowd demanded.
“’Cause those abominations ye be talkin’ about’re human too,” came a reply from the other side of the door.
Landen smiled at the sound of the think Scotch/Irish brogue and relaxed a little as Lyra came to stand beside him. The redhead’s face was a dark storm cloud of fury and she folded her arms, glowering at the angry mob.
“They don’t look human t’me, lady!” one of the men shouted and was immediately quieted by the look of pure disgust on the woman’s face.
“I don’t know ‘bout you, girlfriend, but that sound like an insult t’me,” Angie called, coming to stand beside Lyra.
“Yeah, tell me ‘bout it,” Alexandra said, joining the group as well, “Ah always thought we all looked pretty normal. If Ah was y’all, Ah’d be pretty pissed.”
The smile that had been growing on Landen’s face grew in proportion to the smirk on Alex’s as he saw all three women barricading the door to Charlie’s room and folding their arms. They meant business and Landen could only hope the crowd realized they meant it.
“You ladies packin’?” the officer asked casually.
“Always,” Angie replied, “A girl can’t be too careful nowadays.”
“Permits and licenses?”
“Good t’go, sugah,” Al responded, smooth as honey, “You jus’ give de word an’ we back you up.”
“Cool, lock an’ load, ladies,” Landen replied.
All three women made a very nice display of cocking their weapons and placing them back in their holsters, each with their own little flourish, and Landen glanced back at the crowd, smiling.
“Let me break this down for you,” he said, “These ladies’re fully armed detectives. They aren’t police but they have licenses, permits, an’ my permission t’shoot the first one o’ you stupid enough t’try an’ hurt our buddy in there. Go home. Now.”
“You freak lovers too?” a man in the crowd demanded incredulously, looking Alex, Angie, and Lyra up and down.
“Honey, we are the freaks,” Alexandra said sunnily, “Now be a good boy an’ do what dis nice officer tells ya.”
Landen suppressed a groan as an angry mutter went through the crowd and hunkered down, ready in case the crowd decided to rush them. Suddenly, from around the corner, a small group of men in suits with sunglasses and badges came striding around the corner, purposeful looks on their faces and guns drawn. They strode up through the crowd and the mob parted like water around them, as if uncertain of what to do next. The leader of the crew, a stern looking man in a charcoal gray suit strode up to Landen and presented his badge.
“Agent Smith, FBI,” he said, “Backup is on the way and we have the situation under control. This is now our jurisdiction and anyone not complying with our wishes will wish they had never been born.”
Landen didn’t know whether to laugh or groan. As much as he hated the Feds, at least their timing was impeccable. Before he could express any kind of gratitude or complaint, however, the young man identifying himself as an agent turned and raised his arm, pointing something at Landen. There was a loud, sharp bang and Landen gasped, as fierce pain exploded in his chest. He barely heard the girls scream or saw the small trickle of blood that was pouring down. He simply slumped to the floor in an unmoving heap, as the man who had shot him glanced over at the women, cold and calculating as he tried to size them up.
Alex never even thought to reach for her guns. She just leapt for the gunman without thinking, her body instantly going into takedown mode. Launching herself into him with all her weight, she rode the assailant hard to the ground and pinned him as fast as she could. Turning her head only slightly, she called back to the girls,
“Plastic gun,” she said, “Be careful. Dere might be more o’dem!”
Gripping the man’s arms, Alex began to attempt to manuver the man beneath her into an arm bar to prevent him from getting up. To her surprise, the man struggled and wriggled like a snake, nearly bucking her off, as he strained to reach his hands down into the pockets at his sides. Al wrestled with the man viciously, trying to gain the upper hand and prevent him from drawing a weapon but he was just too strong and too determined. In a quick flash of motion, his hand came up, slicing towards Al’s neck, and the Latina reached out just in time to grip his wrist and twist it painfully before the blade in his hand could connect with her throat. The knife was oddly shaped and didn’t shine the way a normal blade would. As Al battled to remove it from the attacker’s hand, he made a sudden lurch and the woman was pitched forward onto the floor.
In a heartbeat, the man was on top of Alex, pinning her down and the woman snapped her arms up, barely stopping the crude blade as it came down towards her. The knife was balanced inches above her face and Alex groaned with the effort of keeping the man at bay. There was suddenly a loud explosion that seemed to rock the whole floor and the other two Sirens, Lyra and Angie, paused, where they had been about to engage the other members of the mob, startled. The man straining above Al grinned, teeth shining, in a cold, hard smirk, as he looked down at her.
“That’s the signal,” he called, “Tear them apart!”
Alex’s eyes grew wide as she saw the mob arm itself with knives, guns, scalpels, and surgery implements from out of nowhere, chrome, steel, ceramic, and plastic all coming to bear with deadly force. Lyra and Angie drew their guns and assumed a guard position around Landen, while Alex frantically clawed at her assailant. The man, however, just grinned down at her.
“You’re finished, freak!”
“Ah think not,” Al replied silkily.
With all her strength, the detective brought her knee up hard into the attacker’s groin and pressed up with all her might. The man above her yelped and Alex’s fist flew into his jaw, as he dropped off to the side, collapsing into a little ball. Al shoved him as far away from her as possible and kipped up onto her feet with blinding speed and drew both her pistols, a pair of silver plated Browning Louis IVX models, from their thigh holsters. Aiming high and weapons in hand, Alex charged into the fight, spinning hard into a whirling round kick that sent a man careening into the nearest wall. He hit his head hard enough to make a small dent in the wall and collapsed, sinking to the floor, as Al rejoined her companions.
“Divide and conquer, girls, y’all know the drill,” Al said softly and the other two women nodded, each picking out their targets.
The first man that came rushing at Al with a scalpel received a vicious kick to the face and the woman immediately noticed that the quarters were getting a bit too close to try using guns. Someone was going to get hurt. With a quick, practiced flip, Al’s guns were holstered again, safety locked, and she had a hold of her attacker’s arm. She wrenched once, viciously, and felt his elbow give way as he screamed in pain.
Lyra and Angie both fought viciously, kicking, clawing, and punching at their assailants, though Lyra was somewhat hampered by her heels, which she quickly used to crack an opponent over the head, continuing the fight barefoot. Alex meanwhile, was finally able to corner the man who had started the whole brawl. She faced him squarely but he turned tail and ran, giving her an impudent grin as he did so.
Cursing viciously in Spanish, Alexandra gave chase, barreling up the stairs after the perpetrator. He was very nimble and agile of foot but Alex spent at least two days a week jogging and one day a week running up and down stairs at the local stadium. She was able to gain on him quickly and caught up with him just as he shot out of a door at the top of the stairs and onto the smoker’s balcony. The open air, bright light, noise, and blue sky was a jolt to the system after the sterile quiet of the hospital but the recovery was swift.
Alex wasted no time in leaping madly at him, knocking him flat to the ground and coming down hard with her fist. The man blocked the shot but just barely. He was winded from the running and starting to show the strain. He put all his strength into one final heave and Alex tumbled off him just far enough that he staggered to his feet. He was swaying and unable to focus but he was upright. Alex brought him down with a quick kick to the face and threw him roughly on his back, pinning his arms behind him.
As she finally wrestled the last of his resistance from him, the door to the smoker’s balcony crashed open and Lyra, Angie, and about five officers came spilling out. Lyra was favoring her left leg a little from the rush up the stairs and Angie appeared to have a tear in the sleeves of her catsuit but they were both fine and looked over at Al concerned.
“You alright?” Angie called.
“Fine,” Alex said, as the officers came forward to read her attacker his rights and handcuff him, “Everything alright?”
“We got ‘em all,” Angie replied, “The officers showed up just in time. Landen’s in bad shape but they got ‘em sedated and the doc’s lookin’ at ‘em right now. We should know soon what’s goin’ on.”
“Any word on who dey are or how dey did this?” Alex asked.
“Nae,” Lyra said, shaking her head, “but me cousin’s in trouble! I heard the officer’s talkin’. Linn’s place’s under attack! O’Brian’s on his way there now!”
Alex’s eyes grew wide in panic.
“Dan and Sarah are there, too!” she gasped, “You an’ Angie help the police guard Landen an’ Charlie ‘til this’s all sorted out. Ah gotta go help them!”
“but Al!-” Lyra gasped.
Before they could say a word, Alexandra had already turned and rushed for the edge of the balcony. The officers saw what she intended and tried to stop her but the woman leapt nimbly over the edge, like an eagle taking flight, and plunged into the air seven stories above the ground. Angie just put out a hand to stop them and smiled, as she saw Alex swoop up and soar like a bird, without the aid of wings or props, and blast off into the air, literally flying as smoothly as a jet plane. The officers all stared openly, unprepared for the sight of the mutant flying away and when they glanced over at Angie, she just shrugged.
“That’s our Al for ya.”

3.

Danthias came to quicker than he had expected. Blinking, he was on his feet in a moment and glanced around, cautiously sizing up the situation. The fight had only progressed slightly and he could see that Sarah Lee was standing in front of him, viciously fending off any attackers that would have jumped him while he was unconscious. Cammo man was several paces away, nursing what looked like a compound fracture in his arm.
“Nice work,” Dan commented, readying his bow.
“It is the least he deserved,” Sarah replied, not taking her eyes off her current opponent and not even breaking a sweat as she sent a vicious kick to his ribs, “Are you alright?”
“My throat feels like it’s on fire but I’ll be fine,” he said, releasing an arrow that connected solidly with Cammo Man’s foot and sent him screaming curses to the ground.
Suddenly, there came a violent scream from the house and, as Dan’s head whipped around in that direction, Linnelle’s face paled.
“Jenny!” she gasped.
The trio looked up to see the front door of the house wide open and a young man in fatigues dragging Jennifer, screaming and struggling, from the house with a gun pressed to her head. Dan’s eyes narrowed down in anger and Linn snarled like a cat, shoving all her current opponents away in a bid to reach her step-sister.
“You let her go,” Linn hissed, “or I’ll be makin’ ye sorry ye were ever born!”
“One move and she’s dead,” the man responded, clicking back the hammer.
Linnelle, Dan, and Sarah all froze, each carefully considering the situation. After a moment, they all slowly began to disarm, too concerned for Jenny’s welfare to really care about the outcome of the fight. Before they could even make a move or decide, for sure, what course of action to take next, a golden blonde colored streak shot out from the open door, tearing across the lawn to where Jenny was being held captive. As the group watched on, stunned, Max leapt at the man who was holding Jenny and attached himself to the man’s arm, chomping down and snarling for all he was worth. The man quickly let go of Jennifer and reached around, attempting to get a good angle for a shot at the dog. Max twisted and jerked, putting more pressure on the man’s wound to make it harder for him, while Jenny frantically scrambled around in her pockets. The blonde quickly came out with a small, black device in her hand and pressed it directly into the back of the man’s neck. Dan could smell a flash of ozone and saw a small blue arc hit the man squarely. The man screamed once, then dropped at Jenny’s feet like a stone hitting water. The blonde gave everyone the quick thumb’s up, then grinned. Max yipped a little, as a small bit of the electricity jumped to him as well, then settled by Jenny’s side, ready for anything.
Danthias was about to suggest the blonde move out of the line of fire when another camoflage dressed assailant suddenly grafted onto Jenny from behind, several of his friends moving up to back him. Jennifer wriggled and jerked, screaming, as she tried to get loose. Three things happened then in a blinding flash. Sarah leapt forward, aiming one of the most vicious jump kicks Dan had ever seen straight at the head of the man holding Jenny, Danthias himself sent an arrow straight into the leg of the man right behind the leader, and Linnelle triggered her wards.
The elf had seen magic countless times on his world, watched priestesses, clerics, paladins, mages, druids, and sorcerers of all kinds weave their spells and incantations but he had never seen anything like what Linn Cassidy did then. There was no command word spoken, no rite, no chanting, and no flashy display of power. The woman simply closed her eyes for a moment and Dan felt a tingle start up his spine, the kind of thing meant to raise hair on the back of the neck. The air became thick and heavy, hard to breathe, as the witch focused her will.
The attackers all of a sudden paled, as if they had seen a ghost, or taken suddenly ill, each one obviously struggling violently to remain upright and in control of their own faculties. Some of them had taken on a decidedly greenish hue and Linn smiled at them almost sweetly, a look of pure venom in her eyes.
“Ye should nae ‘ave come here,” she said softly, “an’ ye should know better than t’threaten a witch an’ her kin in their own home!”
Then, in a violent surge of motion, Linn dropped into a crouch and placed her hands upon the earth. Danthias had seen a circle of protection many times but never expected to see one actually manifest on Earth. It was like blue waves of electricity just suddenly formed around Linn, arcing out in a fifty foot radius from where she knelt, pelting back anyone the Fae witch did not want near her. The power actually bled over into the visible spectrum, a bright, almost white, blue as Linn’s will and power gathered. Then, with a cry that could put fear into the heart of any sane man, the woman let loose her will and a bright streak of pure, vibrant green energy shot from where she knelt. The earth itself trembled, shaking violently and rocking to and fro, the mini earthquake surging outward toward Linn’s enemies. As Danthias watched her, the woman’s aura bled over into the visible spectrum, the same green as the grass and earth at her feet. Her eyes were glowing like twin jade jewels and it seemed as though moonlight had been thrust under her pale skin. Her blood red hair billowed around her like rubies and garnets tossed carelessly in the wind and when she spoke, it was with a power that Danthias knew and feared, that of the true Fae.
“Attackin’ one o’ the Tuatha de Danu is folly,” she hissed, “Ye fools should well have remembered that.”
The men and women who were left trembled and whimpered, as the very earth at their feet seemed to rise up to thwart them and vines of clinging ivy, seemingly from out of nowhere, rose to entangle their legs and hamper their arms in a vise-like grip. Several tried to struggle to no avail and Dan could smell fear and defeat emanating off of them in waves. The heart had gone straight out of them. The elf turned to congratulate Linn, then stopped in mid-motion, as the sound of marching feet reached his overly keen ears.
Following the sound, the elf jerked towards a little used side street that let out onto Linn’s avenue and stared, as what appeared to be nearly thirty armed men and women marched straight out of the alley and directly towards Linnelle’s house. They were all dressed similarly to Cammo Man and the elf mentally cursed himself for celebrating too soon. Before the Dwarven curse on his lips could actually vocalize itself, however, there were fully automatic rifles and machine guns pointed at the four defenders and, while Danthias was not familiar with guns, hating them as a rule, he knew when numbers simply overwhelmed all odds. Very slowly putting his hands into the air and cursing again at his own helplessness, Dan prepared himself for the worst.
The elf quickly began plotting various escape scenarios in his head but none of them looked pretty. Just when he was about to go into one of his more desperate idea modes, a large gout of fire erupted from the sky, seeming to split the ground at the feet of the invaders. The orderly assailants quailed and faltered, as the first rush of heat and searing flame rushed up to meet them. Dan glanced quickly at the sky and smiled at what he saw.
Alexandra Lee was flying, hovering above the enemies in mid-air, flames still dancing about her fingertips as she grinned down at her enemies.
“Now, now, y’all play nice!” she tsked, reaching her hand back and actually lobbing a small ball of flame directly into the center of the crowd.
Several of the mob screamed in panic and ducked out of the way, as the sound of sirens filled the air. Grinning the Southern belle looked back at Dan and winked.
“The cavalry has arrived,” she chimed merrily.
“Ye’re lucky it won’t take long fer me t’regrow that grass!” Linn shouted up, “I’d make ye pay t’replant it if me magic weren’t enough t’do the trick!”
Not taking their eyes off the threat that remained, Dan, Al, Linn, Jenny, and Sarah all assumed what they hoped were impressive poses, as red and blue flashing lights suddenly surrounded the house. Out of nowhere, policemen appeared, lead by a dark skinned woman in a black catsuit and a red head that looked eerily like Linn. In a sudden fevered rush, all the criminals who had gathered instantly scattered to the four winds as fast as they could. One man tossed a smoke grenade and was followed by several others, until the lawn of Linn’s house was a Fae twilight of mist. Try as they might, the police were only able to catch one or two suspects, as they began to disappear into the fog, melting away as if they had never been.
As the police were wrapping up booking those criminals they had been able to catch, the two unfamiliar women sauntered up to Al, big grins on their faces.
“Nice exit there, Al, we almost couldn’t catch ya,” the dark skinned woman quipped and Alex broke out into a big grin.
Seeing both women eying Dan curiously, Alex took the opportunity to very quickly introduce him. The African American woman with the diamond eyes and thousand dollar grin was Angela Hawk and the woman who looked eerily like Linn turned out to be her cousin, Lyra Kelley. At first, Dan could see why he had mistaken her for Linn at a distance but then noted all the differences there were in appearance. Lyra was only five six, a full inch shorter than her cousin, though you couldn’t tell it with her heels on. Her hair was much shorter, barely shoulder length, and a much paler, more natural shade of red and her curls were somewhat looser. Her eyes were slightly thinner and had a slight blue tinge to them, her lips were paler and somewhat thinner, and she had that spray of freckles across her face. She also appeared smaller, more demure in build, demeanor, and stature. She had long, manicured nails, and dressed in skirts, like a professional businesswoman, unlike Linn in her tunic style shirt and pants. Lyra also seemed much more softspoken and more ladylike and her brogue had more of a Scottish lilt to it than an Irish.
Danthias spent several moments chatting with the two women, as the blaring sirens that announced the arrival of the EMT’s commenced. Despite his horrible protests, Alex, Sarah, and Linn all wrangled Dan into letting the med-techs examine him. When he and all his friends were given the all clear, the weretiger, sighed, stretched and turned to Sarah, who was just heading his way from a conversation with Linn and Jenny.
“Looks like the fun’s over,” he commented casually.
Sarah fixed the elf with a penetrating, fathomless stare that said she was seeing things the lycanthrope could not even hope to comprehend. Her face pulled itself into a sad, knowing smile and she shook her head gently.
“No, Danthias, you are wrong,” the telepath said softly, “I think this has all just begun.”

4.

- New Orleans -

The sounds of Ella Fritzgerald drifted softly through the air, the queen of scat just doing her thing, as the vampire lounged lazily by his computer. Old and technophobic as he was, the man had to admit that some of these modern conveniences were damned useful.
He glanced indolently at the screen, only half paying attention to the data flitting across, blue eyes half closed and crooning along with Ella, tapping away at his keyboard. Then he suddenly stopped mid-verse and sat straight up, staring, unbelieving, at what he saw. The vampire blinked twice, rubbing his eyes, then stared intently to confirm what it was he was reading. After several moments of confirming current reports and double checking his information, he reached for the phone next to his computer and hit a single button. The other end was picked up after only one ring.
“Get the boss. Now.”
He hung up as soon as his terse message was delivered and went back to his data, feverishly making sure that he had not erred somehow. Within moments, the vampire felt the unnatural presence of another, much more powerful, vampire fill the room. The younger vamp cringed, moaned, and shuddered violently at the approach of his Master, as a profound unease settled over him, a foul miasma that stole his breath and his will, like a weight on his chest. The Master of the City had arrived. As he struggled to recompose himself, the elder vampire glided into the room on silent cat feet, radiating all the stillness and death that five centuries of undeath could grant.
“What is it, Edward?” the elder vamp demanded, smooth, scathing, cultured French tones like a whip, “Nicolette was rather upset about your rude summons. This had better be good.”
“Nicolette can be as snippy as she wants,” Edward said casually, stifling down the urge to remind his boss to call him Zane, his chosen moniker, “I’ve found her, Master.”
The elder vampire went deathly still, the way only the really old vampires could and regarded Zane intensely, his gaze a veritable dagger. The younger vampire squirmed and writhed uncomfortably under that gaze. Every vampire in the city owed this man fealty, especially those that had been Sired by him, and he was the type to make sure his presence was felt. It certainly didn’t help that Zane felt like a country cousin standing next to him. With his bare feet, faded, ripped jeans, wrinkled and sloppy white button up shirt, and wild, short, black hair, he knew he didn’t even rate in the same category with his Master, yet it still ticked Zane off to no end that the SOB could come storming into his lab and pull this whenever he wanted.
“Are you certain?” was the Master’s only response.
Zane nodded, knowing full well what would happen if he should lie to his boss.
“She’s still in New York, like you thought,” the younger vamp said, “We widened the search to fit the perameters you suggested and set surveillance in motion. She’s used several aliases over the years but all her important information is registered under her real name. Everything is going almost exactly as you predicted it.”
The older vampire did not waste a moment. With a curt nod of his head, he spun on his heels and headed for the door. He paused only once to call out to Zane over his shoulder.
“Have Nicolette prepare my private jet,” he said, “She won’t be escaping this time.”

5.

Lady de Wynter sat in her favorite chair, gazing out at the star strewn night, her mind far away, pondering the events of the day and how close she had come to the headsman’s block. It felt good just to revel in her freedom and know that she had somehow managed to avoid that fate. It was not long before her thoughts were interrupted by a polite knock, one authoritative rap, and then silence. A small smile etched its way into the Lady’s features.
“Come,” she called simply.
The door swung open noiselessly and a large, lithe figure made its way into the room, closing the door behind them. The man padded silently over to where the Lady sat and stood by her side at attention, patiently waiting to be acknowledged.
“Is it done?” Anya asked.
“Aye, Milady,” came the reply, short and to the point.
“Andarius, I do hope you haven’t been up to anything illegal,” the priestess scolded teasingly.
“Nothing that will hold up in court,” came the modest reply.
“I am still somewhat amazed that you managed to sway the jury the way you did,” the Lady commented, “That was brilliant, even for you.”
“My Lady is too kind,” Andarius said, bowing his head a little, “I merely did what had to be done. You would be surprised how far a few veiled threats and a little bit of money can go in this city. Seems a few of the jurors feared for their family’s lives and would rather take a bribe than risk being visited by you or I.”
“Imagine that,” Anya murmured, a slow smile spreading across her face.
For a moment, she simply allowed herself to bask in the freedom that she had so newly acquired and then she stood.
“Have you alerted those of your Order, as I requested?” she asked.
“Yes, Milady,” he said, “They await only your command.”
“Good, I need them and as many others as will come at the next esbat,” Anya replied, “I sense that something very monumental is about to happen and I want to be ready in case that something isn’t what I hope it is.”
Andarius bowed shortly.
“It shall be done, Milady.”
Satisfied with his response, the Lady stared out into the dark night for a moment more, then turned back to her grim companion.
“Come, Andarius,” she said, “There is much to be done.”
Andarius inclined his head in acquiescence and fell wordlessly in behind the Lady as she exited the room. Behind them, there was nothing but shadow and the boom of distant thunder, a deadly storm on the horizon.

Obsidian Gate - Chapter Eleven

*Well, everyone, here's Chapter Eleven. Any comments, etc. would be appreciated and I hope you all enjoy*

Chapter Eleven

A New Hope, New Friends, New Enemies, and the Same Ol' Song and Dance

- Earth -

The rest of the ride passed by in contemplative silence. Danthias was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice that his grip on the handle he was holding had lessened until the vehicle had come to a stop. The house that Sarah had brought them to was far on the outskirts of New York City, as far north as you could get in the suburbs toward Albany without actually leaving NYC behind completely. It was a quiet little street with nicely manicured lawns and the lawn of this residence was particularly nice, a lush, emerald green that spoke of meticulous care. The house itself was a small one story, painted a pale blue with trim in white and pale pink window boxes surrounded each window. Morning glories and moonflowers in white, pale pink, pale blue, and purple trailed down with long strings of ivy from each of the boxes. The door had been painted blue to match the outside and there was a small pewter plaque with a crescent moon on it and the words “Blessed Be” hung just above the copper door knocker.
Sarah readjusted the crimson colored duffel bag she had retrieved from the back of her car, then knocked three times, ignoring the loud barking of what sounded like a dog from within, and then opened the door when a small, cheery female voice called from inside,
“Come in!”
The home that Sarah lead Dan into was cozy and felt very friendly. The first room was an open, airy living room, with carpet that was well worn but well cared for, faded baby blue, and the walls painted a very becoming blue/gray. He could see a small, brick fireplace on the far left wall. On the mantle were pictures and knick knacks and an old, but obviously comfortable, bluish gray couch sat before the fireplace, with its back facing it. On the far right wall, Dan noticed a silver box shaped contraption with lots of other contraptions and wires hooked to it. There were also pictures, two plush blue/gray chairs that matched the couch, and a pretty oak coffee table that sat between them directly in front of the box. Swords, bows, shields, and other medieval memorabilia dotted the walls with the pictures and that utterly fascinated the elf.
Suddenly, a golden colored blur shot out of a doorway on the other side of the living room and tackled Dan. He looked down and found himself face to face with a rather friendly looking medium sized dog with large brown eyes and a shaggy coat of golden brown fur. When he consulted his new knowledge, he remembered that this breed was called a golden retriever. Danthias smiled and petted the dog, as it barked once, then proceeded to lick the elf’s face.
“Max!,” came a feminine cry from within the room the dog had exited, the same voice that had called to them at the door, “Don’t you bother them!”
“He is just making a new friend, Jen,” Sarah called, “Where is Linn?”
“She’s outside in the garden,” came the reply from within the small room, “Why don’t you go ahead and I’ll catch up with you in a bit? I’ve gotta finish this program. Feel free t’send Max back in here if he becomes a pest.”
“Will do,” Sarah said with a smile, then, to Dan, she said, “Come. Let us go before Maxwell decides to clean you off entirely.”
The elf merely laughed, pulled himself to his feet and ruffled the dog’s head affectionately, before following Sarah out of the room. Max made an affectionate noise and followed them, panting lightly and tongue lolling out happily. The kitchen that Dan and Sarah entered was immaculate and homey. Danthias caught a glimpse of ivory tiles with beige and pastel blue designs on them, white walls with ivy leaves stenciled on them in deep, forest green, a chandalier of oak and nicely done faux gold gilt, and a large, white topped, oak edged dining table, as they passed through to a set of glass doors, framed by gauzy white curtains. Sarah set down her bag and slid aside one of the glass panels, heading outside. Dan followed and, as soon as he had stepped outside, closing the door behind him, he was in Heaven.
The glass doors lead out onto a large, oak deck that presided over a spectacular view of the property. Dan passed by an oak patio set, a large, green umbrella jutting out from the octagonal patio table, and several steps onto an immaculate lawn that was so green, it nearly hurt the eyes. To Danthias, it was nothing short of miraculous. The lawn was sectioned off into gardens with paths leading between them, all lined with various colored stones of roughly the same size and shape. Dan could see more window boxes and a row of tulips beneath the windows.
The tulips had all been planted as a mirror and twin of the beds out front, a veritable rainbow, white to red to orange, then yellow, then blue, then violet, then deepest purple, and, finally, black in the shade. Ivy trailed down between the yellow and blue, flanked by morning glories and moonflowers in the same pastel shades as the flowers out front. Their scent carried along behind Dan, as he and Sarah approached the back part of the lawn. The elf could see daffodils, irises, lillies, orchids, daiseys, and sunflowers sprouting in the garden on the far left. Not all of them had peeked up yet but Danthias could tell what they were by the stems and leaves on them, even from a distance. They were planted roughly the same space apart but no two of the same were planted next to one another and there was no repeating pattern within the rows, giving the garden a fresh, wild feel.
The middle garden was a neat, orderly collage of tomatoes, peppers, corn, potatoes, carrots, parsnips, lettuce, cucumbers, and squash. There was even one small row of pumpkins, though Dan could see that they had a good long while before they would be big enough to bloom. The last of the gardens, the one on the far right, was nothing but herbs, a smell that immediately eased Dan’s soul. Rosemary, several different varieties of thyme, basil, parsley, sage, oregano, cilantro, lavender, catnip, gingsing, and several different kinds of mint all bloomed in a riotus, aromatic arc in the small patch of good earth.
All of this awakened Dan’s tired soul but what really caught his attention was the small area at the back of the property. A white picket fence held to the sides of the property, finally giving way several feet before the small area that had drawn Dan’s attention. The back part of the property was open, revealing a vast expanse of field, a small pond dotting the back of it, but before that, poised exactly at the center of where the yard proper ended and the field began, was a tree.
It was one of the largest oak trees Danthias had ever seen, rising easily one hundred and fifty feet straight up. The leaves were such a dark, healthy green that the elf could have sworn it had been transplanted from Solaris. There was a ring around the tree about two feet around, on either side, where the grass had been let grow wild. Interspersed throughout the slightly taller grass were wild violets, lavender, dandelions, and a single, wild, red rose. What caught Dan’s attention most, however, was the small circle of mushrooms just to the left of the base of the tree.
“A faerie ring, here!” Dan thought, “Ye gods, my luck must be turning.”
Dan took in the first real green place he’d seen since he’d arrived in this hellhole called Earth with all five of his senses. It wasn’t enough to completely ease his longing for home but it did help and he felt part of his anxiety just melt away. If Dan harbored any doubts about the kind of place this was, they soon faded. The elf had wandered over to the base of the immense oak tree, running his hands across it, as he glanced at the few sparse trees that dotted the field behind the oak, none of which were even half so high. He heard gentle feminine laughter and turned towards the sound. Then, Dan’s jaw dropped.
There was a young woman standing over by the herb garden, smiling. She was in her mid twenties with skin of pale ivory and eyes the most vivid emerald green that Dan had ever seen. The woman stood five feet and seven inches tall and looked utterly comfortable in this place and in her own skin. Her hair was a fiery halo of wild curls the color of newly shed blood that trailed all the way to her waist. It was caught back in a careless braid, most of the spiral curls near her face having already escaped the tie she had used to secure it, tumbling freely in the wind. She had high cheekbones, full lips, and the lush body of a female athlete, toned, muscled, long legged, lean, and with generous curves and an ample bosom. She was gorgeous in a very tomboy sort of way but that wasn’t what had caught Dan’s eye.
Whirling around her head in great streaks of color, blues, pinks, and greens, were fairies. Only the keenest of eyes would have seen them as anything but whisps of colored light but Danthias, with his sharp eyes, caught the tiny bodies, butterfly and dragonfly wings, and the high pitched, chattering voices of the pixies right away. They frolicked and capered around the woman like little, mischievous children and the woman seemed to accept them as a matter of course.
She approached Dan with a grin, setting down the herbs she had been cutting in a small basket at her feet. Then, she pulled off the dirty garden gloves she was wearing and set them in a small green tool chest next to the basket, depositing the small knife she had used to cut the herbs in there as well. The tool had a silver, crescent shaped blade and an ivory colored handle that looked as if it were actually made out of bone. The woman brushed a bit of dirt off the knees of her blue jeans, straightened the neck of her plain, faded green t-shirt, and padded over to where Danthias stood awestruck. She was barefoot and the sleeves of her shirt ended at her elbows, revealing very pale freckles, which seemed to be everywhere Danthias could see, except for her face. The woman set the basket and tool chest down and then stuck out her hand towards the elf.
“Well, hello there,” she said, “Ye must be the new arrival.”
“Yeah, hi, my name’s Danthias,” the elf replied, taking her hand.
The woman had a firm, strong handshake and her skin was soft but her hands felt calloused, as if they had seen a lot of work. Her nails, Dan noted, were also trimmed to a sensible length, girly but manageable. This one was definitely a no-nonsense type of woman.
“Name’s Linnelle Cassidy,” the woman said, releasing Dan’s hand, “Ye can call me Linn.”
“and I’m Dan,” the elf said, giving her an easy grin.
The woman’s thick accent, something Sarah would later tell him was an Irish brogue, was charming and Dan found himself more and more astounded by this odd world he had been thrust into.
“Why doan ye come on up t’the house n’ sit down?” she said, “I’ll be makin’ some tea.”
“As long as it’s not ginsing,” Dan said, “I’m allergic as all get out.”
Linn laughed.
“Nae, I think I’ll be makin’ ye some catnip tea, if that’s alright,” she said, teasingly.
Dan grinned all the harder.
“Sounds great.”
Linnelle lead the way back up to the porch, Sarah following them both, and gestured for them to sit at the table, while she went and got some hot water. The little fairies continued to caper around her and even followed her into the house, chattering all the while. They were still with her when she came back out a few moments later with a small tea pot full of hot water, several strainers, and some cups. She poured them the drinks, sat down at her end of the table and cocked her head to the side, studying Danthias intently for a moment.
“Al said ye were a cute one,” she finally commented, “Looks like she was right.”
“Thank you,” Dan replied, pausing only momentarily to pet Max, who had wandered up to him.
Noticing the ball in the dog’s mouth and the happy, expectant wag of his tail, Danthias resigned himself to a game of fetch and chucked the flourescent pink tennis ball the dog had offered in the general direction of the back of the lawn. Max bounded off happily after it, content yips heralding his movement the entire way.
“Now why doan ye tell me all about yer trip here,” Linn said kindly, smiling as the elf indulged the dog in his favorite game.
Danthias had no problems reciting his harrowing story. It took about an hour but the red haired woman listened intently, only occasionally asking questions when she did not understand a term that Dan had used. When he was done, she simply nodded, brushing her hair back behind her ears, as she did so. Then, suddenly, everything became crystal clear. Dan caught a glimpse of her ears and could not help but stare. They were slightly pointed and pierced all the way up, just as Dan’s were, and her eyes, now that he was looking at them more intently, had the slight tilt to them that happened in anyone with any kind of Elven blood. With all the fairies whirling around her, he was surprised he had not picked up on the hints of her heritage even more. The movement had also bared a little bit of her arm and, on her left bicep, he saw the tatoo. It was a pentacle surrounded by ivy leaves. That, combined with the knife she had used to cut the herbs for their tea, the bolline, left no doubt at all in Dan’s mind about Linn Cassidy. She was a witch. That much was certain. Whether or not she actually carried the blood of the daione sidhe, the nobility of the fae, within her as well was up for debate. She was not pure blood. The tips of her ears saw to that but he had seen too much other evidence to ignore it completely.
“Are you Fae?” he asked Linn suddenly.
The woman merely nodded a bit and smiled.
“I got a wee bit o’ the sidhe in me from me mum’s side,” she said, “She died when I was little so I dinnae know exactly what she was but me da’s family’s got a bit o’ the fae in ‘em too.”
“Seelie or Unseelie?” Dan inquired.
“A wee bit o’ both,” Linnelle answered, “Though how much an’ exactly what, I dinnae know.”
“I see,” Dan said, “Do you think you can send me home?”
“Aye, I’d stake me life on it,” Linn replied, “but it’ll take time. Why doan ye come in an’ meet me step-sister? She can explain some o’ what we have t’do better than I can an’ she’s been dyin’ t’meet ye. She’s shy but she’s also full o’ questions, that one.”
“Well, then, let’s go meet your sister,” Dan said, grinning.
The group stood up, tea in tow, and headed towards the house. Max, seeing that he was about to be left behind, dropped his ball and trotted happily after them. As they passed through the kitchen, Dan noticed a very nice set of well seasoned cast iron cookware hanging from a rack above the stove.
“Doesn’t using those hurt your hands?” Dan asked Linn.
Fae were notoriously allergic to iron, much like a lycan to their weaknesses. It struck Danthias as odd that Linnelle would have those in her kitchen.
“Aye, it hurts a wee bit,” Linn replied, answering his question soberly, “I use gloves so me hands dinnae burn. There’s no substitute fer ‘em, though; nothin’ else cooks the same.”
The little group made their way towards the room where Max had bounded out from. The dog trotted happily ahead of them, nosing the door open.
“Hey, Max,” the friendly feminine voice that had hailed them earlier called, “You get yourself in trouble already?”
Dan followed Sarah and Linnelle through the door to meet the owner of the voice and was not surprised to find that both the woman and the room in which she lived matched that small, high, cute, and breathless voice.
The woman herself turned out to be tiny, five feet one at most, and was built petite, fragile, delicate, and dainty. She had pale, golden blonde hair, which was mostly straight, except for a few little kinks at the end, brushing the middle of her back. The hair was pulled up in a lazy ponytail, two pieces, one on either side, falling out no matter how many times she tried to tame them. Her eyes were a heart stopping baby blue, only enhanced by her long, soft lashes and cute little wire-framed glasses. She had delicate, high cheekbones, pale skin that looked like it hadn’t seen the sun very much recently, and very pink pouty lips. She wore a pair of faded blue jeans, a comfortable checkered flannel shirt in blues, pinks, and purples, and comfortable looking white shoes that Dan noted were the ones called tennis shoes.
Her room matched her looks. The walls were a pink barely a shade darker than pastel with purple flowers stenciled over it. The ceiling was pink as well and the trim and carpet were both a darker shade of purple to create contrast. The bed was a plush, overstuffed luxury covered in a pink bedspread with a whole riot of purple and pink throw pillows. Above the bed hung a small, bright pink hammock, filled with tons of stuffed animals in various shades of purple and pink. All of the furniture was done in matching shades of purple and pink and Dan shook his head, feeling very out of place in this overly feminine room.
When the group first entered the room, the young woman was petting Max affectionately. Her head jerked up and, at first, Danthias thought the woman was young, no older than eighteen. Then he got a good look at her eyes and realized that he must have underestimated her age by at least three years. The innocence and naivety Dan saw in her face masked the incredible intelligence he sensed was there. It made him interested to see what this person was really like. The woman, for her part, gasped and stammered, as she saw Danthias, and blushed a little.
“Oh...hello there,” she said shyly, “You must be Danthias. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Please, dear lady, call me Dan,” the elf replied, kissing her hand gently, “and you are?”
“Jennifer Cassidy,” she replied, “Just call me Jenny.”
“Well met, Jenny,” Danthias said.
“Are-are you really an elf?” the young woman asked shyly.
“Yes,” Dan replied, amused, pushing his hair back from his ears, “I’m a moon elf.”
“Is that a particular sub-race of elf?” Jenny asked.
“Yes, somewhat like how humans are divided into Asian, Caucasian, and so on,” Dan said, hoping he was getting his terms right, “There are many different breeds of elf, though all of us share that common name; There are the gold elves, or sun elves, who are the most gifted magic users of our kind, the wood or sylvan elves who are our fiercest warriors, the drow, who are a subterrainean cousin of ours, the avariel who are winged, sea elves, desert elves, jungle elves, and glacier elves, each has their own skin tone, physical characteristics, and specialties but we are all Elven.”
“Okay,” Jenny said brightly, “I understand. I’d love to be able to take notes on all of this someday.”
“I think ye just made her day,” Linnelle said, smiling, “Jenny’s always had a fascination wi’ anything Fae or Elven. Ever since she saw the pixies following me around.”
“I’m surprised you can see them,” Dan commented, glancing at Jenny, “They must really like you. I’m glad I could help you, now please explain these strange machines to me.”
Jenny glanced where Dan indicated and stared out over the monitors, modems, keyboards, and various computer and scientific equipment that cluttered her desk. The immense, sturdy desk took up almost one whole wall of the room, stopping only at the doorway to Jenny’s walk-in closet.
“Oh, those’re my computers,” Jenny said, “I’ll be using them to help track down your portal.”
“I didn’t know you had mages on your world,” Dan commented to Sarah.
“Oh, Linn’s the handy one with the spells and the magic, not me,” Jenny commented, hastily, “I just do the computer, technical stuff and most of the research and development for our team. I don’t do combat or any of the fancy stuff.”
“I’m sure Linn’s magic is very powerful but she’s a witch, not a mage,” Dan said, “A witch’s power comes from Nature itself. A mage is a very different thing.”
“Oh, I don’t have any of her expertise in the occult,” Jenny protested.
“Nae but ye have us all beat, hands down, in brain power,” Linn replied.
Jenny blushed again, then glanced back at Dan.
“So, tell me about this world you come from,” she said, “You claim to know about Earth but the people of this planet haven’t managed to get further than our own galaxy. How’s that possible?”
Dan paused, putting his hand to his jaw in thought, then, when he had his story all figured out in his head, he spoke.
“Well, as near as I can tell, from the stories that’ve been preserved where I come from, all the races that exist on my planet once existed on your own, in one form or another, long ago before there were bards to record their existence. These races lived in harmony with the humans but were always outnumbered by them. They tried to compensate for this by teaching humans secrets about magic, nature, and other things that would tie them to the other races, force them to cooperate for the sake of learning. Then, the humans became too numerous and too aggressive. A new religion swept its way through the human lands, wiping out the old knowledge and planting deep seated hatred into the hearts of everyone, poisoning them against magic, against the other races.”
“Eventually, it got to the point where these races were on the verge of extinction and had nowhere else to go. The dragons, the oldest and wisest of these races, took pity on their fellow sentients and, appealing to their gods, used a powerful kind of magic unprecidented and unduplicated, and opened up portals to other planes of existence, other dimensions, other planets. All of the non-human races fled Earth in a mass exodus, traveling to other places that would be more hospitable, free of prejudice. They took with them sympathetic humans, even some of the very Church that had persecuted them, and left for another world. Some elected to stay behind and those who did retreated into the shadows, hiding from the humans ever after. Those who went through the portals eventually came to Solaris, my world, and settled it, mixing with the natives and populating it with all sorts of new species.”
“Makes sense,” Jenny said, “Humankind didn’t even know other races existed until just recently, within the last thirty years or so. The government’s still having trouble adjusting the laws to deal with us paranormals and normal people’re scared to death of us.”
“I’ve heard the term paranormal so many times since I’ve been here but I still really don’t know what it means,” Danthias admitted, “I mean, you all look human to me, except for Linn and Marissa but that’s because I know what to look for. What do you mean you’re paranormals?”
“Well, we’re mutants,” Jenny said, “Linn’s fae and Marissa’s half-dragon but the rest of us Sirens’re all mutants.”
When Dan looked at her confused, Jennifer smiled and explained.
“We’re a separate sub-species of human. We evolve from a normal, human embryo and can be born to two humans, two mutants, or a mixture of the two. We’re basically the same as humans but, somewhere along the way, during our development, a gene in our DNA mutates, giving us slightly higher resistance to colds and diseases. This resistance varies from person to person but that gene also grants us special “powers” if you will. No two mutants are exactly alike and no one can predict when a mutant’s powers will surface or what those powers will be, but sometime between adolescence and the age of twenty-one, a mutant will start to develop unique abilities that set them apart from the rest of humanity.”
“Like what?” Dan asked.
“Well, for example, Sarah’s psionic abilities. Those’re a direct manifestation of her mutated gene structure,” Jenny said, “We have mutants in our agency who can become intangible and walk through solid walls, who can change their shape to look like anything they want, and who can cause a fire with roughly the same temperature as the heart of the sun. It all just depends on what form the mutation takes. I’ve also seen mutants who have blue skin or multiple limbs. It’s truly different from one mutant to the next.”
“Can a child manifest these abilities?” Dan asked.
“Sometimes but that’s pretty rare,” Jenny said, “and usually, if they haven’t manifested their powers by their mid-twenties, they won’t manifest at all.”
“So what’s your mutation?” Danthias inquired.
“I’m really smart,” Jennifer replied quietly.
“That’s it?” Dan asked playfully, “I would’ve thought someone with your face would’ve gotten something a bit more impressive.”
Jenny laughed, blushed a bit, then smiled.
“Consider this,” Sarah piped up, “The average person uses between 3 and 5 percent of their brain. Jenny uses somewhere around seventy-five. The average I.Q. is around 100. Hers is somewhere around 250. It does not sound like much but you do not have to outfight your opponent if you can outthink them.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Dan said, grinning.
Jennifer, meanwhile, ducked her head modestly.
“I’m just glad to be able to help out,” she said.
“Help out, ye’re the most valuable researcher and information gatherer we have,” Linn said, laughing, “Without ye, we’d be lost.”
The blonde blushed again, then looked at Danthias shyly and asked, in a very hesitant voice,
“I know this’s really rude of me but.....how old are you?”
Dan laughed, the sound and movement of it lighting up his whole face, smoothing away the cares of the past few days. In that moment, Jennifer Cassidy knew what Alex must have seen in Danthias Silverbow when she first met him and blushed a little.
“I’m one hundred and twenty five years old,” Danthias said, sitting back in his chair, “Since elves don’t age the way you humes do, that’s your equivalent of twenty-five.”
“Is that what you call us, humes?” Jenny asked quietly.
Dan nodded.
“Are elves immortal?” Jenny asked suddenly, feeling acutely self-conscious.
“I wish!” Dan exclaimed, chuckling, “We’re born about a year after we’re conceived and then grow to maturity very slowly. It usually takes about fifty years for an Elven child to reach puberty and we’re considered adults when we reach one hundred. We can still die from wounds, shock, massive trauma, blood loss, even disease, though that’s rare. If nothing like that kills us, though, we just keep on living until we slowly stop aging and start losing the will to live. Then, we just simply choose to fade away, to go into seclusion and seek eternal rest in the land of Arvandor, the land of the dead, also called Valinor or the Undying Lands.”
“How long do most elves live?” Sarah inquired.
“Depending on sub-race, we can live anywhere from five hundred years to around one thousand, though most have gone into the West and sought the peace of the Undying Lands by then,” Dan said.
Jenny was about to say something else when Dan’s ears perked up, eyes going wide, as a very familiar sound reached his ears. Before he could even pipe up to warn the girls, the sound of breaking glass jarred everyone from the moment, and everyone whipped their head in the direction of the living room. Confusion reigned for a few moments, as Jenny, Linn, Sarah, and Dan made their way towards the sound of the disturbance, Jenny firmly keeping hold of Max, who had begun to bark furiously at the noise. There was also a slight sense of wrongness in the air. When Danthias looked over at the women for an explanation, Linn just smiled.
“Our visitors tripped the wards I’ve put around the house’s all,” she said gently, “Helps keep me from gettin’ too surprised by their like.” Then, the good mood was shattered, as the group stepped into the front of the house.
The front room was a mess. The front window was shattered, little tiny slivers of glass strewn across the blue carpet. A rather large stone lay in the middle of the room, the obvious culprit and, before the group could investigate any further, there was a loud yell from the front lawn.
“Come on out, freaks!” a young, male voice called, “We know you’re in there!”
Danthias stiffened, his entire body going tense with outrage at the intrusion on his friends’ home. Glaring, he reached for the haversack. Linn stayed his hand gently.
“Let’s see what they want first, before we decide t’get mean wi’’em,” she said.
Linnelle moved carefully towards the window to confront the intruders but before she could reach it, Sarah’s head snapped up suddenly and she gasped sharply. The telepath seized Linn’s wrist in a firm but gentle grip and, when Linn looked at her quizzickly, Sarah shook her head softly.
“Do not bother, my friend,” she said regretfully, “They have a sniffer with them. They will be deaf to your words.”
Linnelle cursed softly but enthusiastically in Gaelic, while Danthias looked at them both perplexed.
“What’s a sniffer?” he demanded.
“A mockery of our kind,” Sarah replied, “A sad and ruined form of humanity.”
When Dan merely raised an eyebrow, the telepath continued.
“Several years ago, when humanity first learned of our existence, the populace was frightened and began to panic. They felt threatened by the superior power and strength of the paranormal community and the police were ill equipped to deal with those few mutants and others who chose to terrorize humans simply because they could. The public demanded solutions to this problem and the government responded with a program to create super soldiers, elite fighters who would be human but better physically able to stand up to us. They took a group of willing volunteers, soldiers, patriots, and subjected them to a series of rigorous experiments, injected them with serums and drugs, radically altering their DNA.”
“Not all of them experienced the same results but one group displayed an exponential increase in their olfactory senses. Their neural pathways had been altered so that they would be able to track paranormals by scent and thus lead the police and those who wished to hunt them straight to them. The government regulated their people as best they could, kept very good tabs on them, but they never anticipated the consequences that tampering with these people would have. Radical, fundamentalist, anti-paranormal agencies within the government began brainwashing them and using them to track down anyone they deemed a threat. No one realized what was happening until it was too late. To make matters worse, ninety percent of those who have undergone this transformation slowly degenerate and, within three to five years, are almost completely insane.”
“Can they be reasoned with at all?” Dan asked.
“Unfortunately, no,” Sarah replied, “They are violently unstable and utterly convinced that mutants and all paranormals are a scourge to be wiped off the face of the planet. Talking will do little more than waste breath.”
“If they’re so unstable, what’re they doing with these guys?” Dan asked.
“I highly suspect the gentlemen waiting outside are from Advocates for Humanity. You have met their type before. They hate mutants and paranormals so much, they do not really care who they take orders from, so long as it means we suffer or die.”
Sighing, the telepath leaned down on one knee beside the crimson duffel bag she had brought in earlier and unzipped it. Glancing furtively behind her, she removed what looked to be a small, red wallet from her bag and stuffed it into her back pocket, then retrieved what appeared to be a sleek, silver firearm, checking the ammunition and cocking back the hammer with practiced ease, before setting the weapon down beside her.
“I had hoped I would not need that today,” she said sadly, as she reached back into the bag and produced what looked to be a crimson vest of some kind. It was form fitting, sleek, and thick, covering all of Sarah’s major body parts. Smiling, she glanced over at Dan, as she fastened it into place.
“Protection,” she explained, “I do not heal from bullet wounds as easily as you do.”
Then, lastly, she withdrew from the bag a weapon of some magnificence. Reverently she held it, as though it were precious to her. Danthias could see that it was a sword, a katana, in a crimson sheath with what he now knew were Chinese symbols done on it in black. There was also a dragon with claws extended curled at the end of the sheath, drawn in a highly stylized manner that reminded him of Xaixunian artwork back home. The sheath was attached to a crimson silk sash, which Sarah expertly tied to her waist.
“If I need this,” she said, quietly, “Then we are in quite a lot of trouble, indeed.”
“Nice piece of weaponry,” Dan commented.
“Thank you. Her name is Callisto. My father made her for me long ago. If you are going to fight with us then I suggest you avoid using guns and avoid killing blows,” Sarah said, “If you are caught using firearms without a permit like the one I have in my pocket, you will be sent to jail and killing people makes police nervous. Defend yourself but try not to leave bodies.”
Dan nodded, solemnly, and Linn’s face took on a decidedly determined look.
“Follow me,” she said, “I’d like ye t’watch my back while I get ready t’meet our guests.”
Danthias traipsed along behind the redhead, as she walked through the living room and the kitchen towards a doorway near the back of the house. The door opened and Dan stepped behind Linn into the paradise that was her room. Deep green carpets and vibrant yellow walls painted with a stunning array of green and gold ivy and tree branches reaching for the pale green ceiling surrounded the elf. He saw many windows, streaming with light, and delicate tree designs painted across the ceiling. With the few potted plants that covered the room, it was like being in a forest and the elf smiled, as Linn threw open the door to her walk in closet and rummaged her way around to an old safe. Drawing a key from her pocket, she opened the steel safe and retrieved two blue vests similar to the one Sarah had put on, a small wallet with a similar documentation in it to the one the telepath was carrying, and a small, sleek, black gun.
Stuffing the permit in her back pocket, Linn strapped on her gun and snapped up her vest, before hurrying back into the living room, Danthias right on her heels. Not a peep had been heard from outside and it was beginning to make everyone nervous. Quickly, Linn handed the second blue vest to Jennifer.
“You know what t’do, Jen,” she said quietly.
“Right,” Jenny said, strapping on the vest.
The blonde reached up and gently retrieved a large, medieval style silver shield with gold Celtic knotwork on it from the wall and headed towards her room.
“C’mon, Max,” she called, “You know the drill.”
While Danthias watched in puzzlement, the dog obeidiantly followed his misstress directly into her bedroom. Curious, the elf wandered over that way to find Jennifer coaxing Max underneath her bed, then, she turned towards her window and lifted up a small glass bowl from the windowsill. Upon closer inspection, Danthias could see a small, green painter turtle scuttling around inside the bowl.
“Alright, Samwise,” Jenny said gently, “Time to put you somewhere a bit safer.”
The elf watched as Jennifer opened up a door her closet and set the turtle down gently on one of the shelves. Then, the blonde crouched down, leaving the door to the closet open, and pulled the shield up before her, giving her an effective wall to hide behind.
“What are you doing?” Dan asked, confused.
“I’m not a shooter,” Jenny explained, “I’m no good around combat situations and I don’t know much more than basic self defense. I’m a walking target with a ransom note pinned on it at best and a hostage or casualty waiting to happen at worst. It’s better for me to get where I’ll be safe so those who can fight can do what they have to do without worrying about me getting in the way. As for Sam, I didn’t want to leave him in the window, in case they break in and there are no windows here so I don’t have to worry about glass.”
“Makes sense,” Danthias replied, reaching into his haversack and removing a long, slender rod, “You just keep your head down and holler if you need us.”
“Will do,” Jenny said.
“Oh, and remind me to teach you a few tricks when this’s all over,” Dan said, “I want you to be able to defend yourself if your friends aren’t around.”
Throwing Jenny an easy smile, the elf ducked back into the living room. He reached into his haversack, blessing the magical enchantment that gave the bag nearly endless storage capacity. Dan's hands disappeared up to his elbows but he came out holding a rod and a belt with several sheathed swords and daggers strapped to it. Pressing the button on the rod in his hand that would extend and curve it to become his bow, Dan retrieved one more sword from his bag and set it across his back, as he strapped on his belt. Reaching once more into his bag, the elf plucked his string and his arrow quiver from his haversack and strapped them on, getting his arrows in position and his bow ready to fire. It was truly a thing of beauty, ivory and mithril with golden Elven scrollwork down the sides of it with pictures of animals and forests all around and the silvery string to set it shining. In the very front was a small depression and into that, Danthias set a small diamond, grinning as he secured the pouch that contained his other bow gems to his side. He was now officially armed to the teeth.
“Let’s do this,” he said, drawing and readying an arrow.
The women all nodded, each in their turn, and Linn headed for the door, motioning for Dan and the others to follow her. The elf reached up and gave one last tug to make certain his bow was stringed properly, then pushed his hair proudly out of the way of his ears and exited the house behind Linn, arrow ready and his ears, nose, and eyes ever alert for danger, Sarah bringing up the rear. The group spilled out onto the front lawn and Danthias could not help but stare at the small force that waited them there. It was a motley crew to be sure but there were roughly twenty of them and they looked armed to the teeth.
“What about the police?” Dan asked Linn quietly, “Will anyone bother to call them?”
“Knowin’ Jen, she’s already taken care o’ that,” Linn replied, “Let’s just get through this an’ see what they want.”
Turning to the invading crowd, Linnelle scowled darkly.
“Unless ye’re with the police, boyos, I’d say ye’re trespassin’ on private property.”
The leader of the group, a man dressed in camouflage from head to toe and wearing combat boots like a reject from an army supply store jumped down from the small jeep that he was driving and stepped over towards Linn. Even his walk, buzzed haircut, and the gun at his side screamed “army reject” or at least “wannabe.” It was impossible to tell his hair or eye color thanks to his hat, haircut, and the big, black sunglasses he wore, but it was obvious he was scowling when he finally deemed to address Linnelle.
“Shut yer piehole, Red,” he snapped, “Ye’ll talk when we say.”
Looking back over his shoulder, he glanced at another man, this one hunched in on himself, rocking back and forth, as if in the thralls of madness. He was whimpering slightly, like a wounded animal, and his dark eyes were wide, bloodshot, and frightened. His hair was a nondescript brown color, though what its original shade might have been was impossible to tell because it looked as if it had been dyed so many times that the original color was now hopelessly lost. It was also shaggy, unkempt, and long, forever dangling into the young man’s eyes, and appeared as if he had not bothered to wash it in the last two weeks or so. His dark colored clothes were ragged, somewhat dirty, and poor, the kind of thing bought at a second hand store at the last minute because other clothing had fallen apart, and very ill kept, like he rarely bothered to wash or fold them. Even his tennis shoes were in very sad condition, the original white long lost under layers of dust, dirt, and mud, and the laces hanging all askew, only tied by the loosest definition of the word.
The young man who appeared to be leading this little expedition leaned down and spoke to the scared one loud enough that he obviously didn’t care if everyone overheard.
“Well...” he said impatiently.
“None o’ them are human,” the huddled figure said softly, “None of them.”
A cruel smile split cammo boy’s face, showing poorly cared for teeth, and he turned back towards Linnelle, who was shaking with quiet rage by now, and surveyed her group with a calm eye.
“Well, well, lookee here, boys an’ girls, we caught ourselves a whole parcel full o’ muties,” he said, grinning even more widely, “Hansen’s done it again.”
“Who’re ye callin’ a mutie, ye shaved ape!” Linn called, scowling, her brogue thickening in her anger, “I should shoot ye just fer that!”
“Pipe down, faerie princess,” the man replied, scoffing, “We’re here mostly fer the animal. Ye keep quiet, you an’ yer little mutie friends might live t’see another day.”
“Well, you found me,” Dan said calmly, pulling out his ray bans and throwing them on to protect his eyes from the sun’s glare, as he lifted his bow and sighted along the arrow, “What’re you going to do about it?”
“Dan!” Sarah gasped, softly, reaching out to touch Dan’s arm. The elf jerked away before she could even make contact.
“No,” he said firmly, “This man’s threatening and insulting my friends. If he thinks he’s man enough to deal with me, then let him step away from his cronies and we’ll settle this.”
“Three against twelve, lycan,” the man pointed out, “Your odds don’t look so good.”
“I’ve had worse,” Dan said, pulling back on his bowstring calmly.
“Get them,” the man in cammo screamed and instantly, young men and women in endless variations of clothing and appearance rushed out from the three jeeps that were parked near Linn’s house. All of them had weapons, most of which were guns.
Danthias, meanwhile, had already detached himself and gone to the place he did whenever he did a lot of shooting. His vision narrowed down to the tension in his arms and back, the feel of the arrow shaft against his cheek, the point of his arrow, and the target that was waiting at the end of it. Without conscious thought, the archer released his grip and felt the satisfying twang as the bowstring snapped back, music to Dan’s ears, and his first arrow flew true towards its target.
Black and silver shot through the air with a lyrical scream and struck its intended home with the force of two hundred pounds of pull. The cammo man screamed and dropped, as the arrow slammed through his calf, and he writhed in agony, as he tried to dislodge it. Dan grunted in satisfaction and moved on to his next target, another arrow already prepared. For the elf, time seemed to have slowed down to a crawl. There was no sense of urgency, no worry, no need to try notching more than one arrow at a time. These opponents were slow, clumsy, ill organized, and poorly armed compared to even the sloppiest orc patrol Danthias had ever encountered. They posed little threat to the elf, really weren’t even worth wasting the arrows, but they needed to be taught a lesson. These fools needed to see what happened when you messed with Danthias Silverbow and his friends.
Another arrow flew, straight and direct, blasting through the hand of another thug, who had raised it to shoot at Linnelle. The man screamed, dropping his weapon from his now useless hand, and the redhead used the moment to deliver a particularly nasty kick to the man’s face. Danthias winced, as he heard fragile nose bones breaking, and watched the man go down like a limp sack of potatoes. Not missing a beat, Linn was already rounding on her next opponent, a young woman with so much metal in her face, Dan wondered how one could even tell what she looked like under all the hardware. Linn simply put her hands up in a classic boxing stance and delivered a particularly vicious punch to the woman’s face, right where her fragile cheek bones were the weakest. The woman yelped, surprised, and responded with a clumsy punch barely deserving of the name. The redhead laughed in the woman’s face and Danthias was not surprised when the fae woman dodged merrily out of the way and responded with a half hearted kick to the woman’s backside that nearly sent her tumbling.
Dan, seeing that Linn was alright, glanced over towards where he had last seen Sarah. The telepath appeared poised, calm, and had dropped into a kung fu stance that Dan actually recognized from one of his rare travels to the Eastern part of his world. Other than the fact that she had quite a few opponents, it looked like she would be pulling through the encounter alright.
“So far, so good,” Danthias thought, knowing his luck too well to even begin to hope that it would last.
Taking what time was available to him while he could, the elf readied another arrow, aiming square at the shoulder of another opponent. This one had a gun aimed at Sarah, who was hurriedly trying to get herself to a position where she would have the advantage over the four people who had gathered around her. Danthias didn’t hesitate. In one smooth motion, the bow went up, the arrow was notched, the arrow was loosed with a satisfying twang, and the arrow struck the exact spot that Dan had aimed for. Instantly, the man gripped his shoulder where the arrow had struck, dropping his weapon in the process. He tried to make his arm respond to his commands, to pick the gun back up, but the nerves that sent signals down his arm had been properly neutralized, severed cleanly by the arrow. Until the broadhead was removed and the nerve reattached, he would be harming no one with that arm.
The young lycan smiled and was moving on to his next target when an all too familiar stabbing pain went through his left arm. Glancing down, Danthias noticed a thin line of blood trickling down from a thin, inch long gash where a bullet had grazed him. The elf immediately could sense that the wound was not healing as it should and snarled, cursed, in frustration.
“Godsdamned silver bullets!” he muttered, “Do these half-wits on this world use nothing else?!”
The elf spun around, following what he believed to be the bullet’s trajectory, and faced the man who had shot him, glaring. His face momentarily went up in a startled, surprised expression, then returned to its normal, grim state, as he quickly prepared to take aim. Cammo man was back and he looked pretty pissed. Blood was seeping profusely from the man’s wounded calf where Dan’s arrow had been dislodged and the angry man was hobbling furiously, somehow managing to stay upright by sheer force of hatred alone. His gun was aimed dead center at Dan’s body.
Danthias saw him raise the gun a bit to the left and moved swiftly, growling harshly, as another bullet barely missed him. Dancing deftly to the side of the deranged looking racist, the elf let loose a shot of his own, scoring a direct hit to the man’s primary shooting hand. He screamed and dropped his gun, cursing at the lycan in the most foul language the elf had ever heard outside of a Solarian sailor. Danthias let loose of his bow and curled up his fist, launching a furious punch at the man’s face. Cammo man dodged, grinning and gave Dan one of the most vicious kicks he had ever received, right to the knee. The lycan gasped and cursed, as he limped back a few steps, reaching towards his boots for the rather large and scary knives he kept there.
Before the elf could complete the move, however, the Cammo man smiled and reached into one of his pockets with his left hand, removing a small pile of dust of some kind. Lifting his palm level with his chin, the man blew hard onto the dust and watched it fly straight into Dan’s face. Danthias choked, sputtered, coughed, then blinked in surprise, almost sneezing as the dust invaded his nostrils, his mouth, and his throat. Then, before the confused look he felt coming on had even had time to make its way from thought to his face, the elf’s senses began to burn and his nose, throat, and mouth were in agony. Danthias’s eyes watered and his vision blurred, as he felt his tongue swelling and his nostrils flaming. His throat felt like it was on fire and the young elf cried out in pain.
“Powdered silver!” Dan thought, “Sonova-”
Danthias got no farther than that thought. Cammo man, grinning like a madman, rushed the lycan, crowing triumphantly. He beat Dan with the butt of his pistol which, with Dan’s rotten luck, turned out to be pure silver, and the weapon left stinging, blistering welts wherever it touched the lycan’s sensitive skin. Danthias dodged and scrambled out of the way as best he could, narrowly avoiding bullets, but the man just kept on coming. When he couldn’t beat Dan anymore, he kicked him, vicious shots to the ribs and kidneys, and when that didn’t work, he settled for throwing things at the struggling elf, who eventually sank to his knees in anguish. He screamed wordlessly, trying to get up and get away from his opponent long enough to recover but it was just too much. Danthias collapsed face first onto the deep green grass and listened as the man beat him and called him the most horrible names imaginable. Slowly, somewhere in the midst of all the pain, the elf simply passed out and the world was, once again, nothingness.

Obsidian Gate - Chapter Ten

* As promised, here's Chapter Ten and happy reading to all. Edits made and ready to go. *

Chapter Ten
Aftermath

~ Earth ~

It was as silent as a tomb. In the aftermath of the deafening explosion, not a single thing moved. Then, finally, motion returned, as Danthias pulled himself up slowly. The elf shook his head slightly, then glanced over to see that Marissa was moving to help some of the patrons that had been injured when the bar blew. Luckily, it was a weekday and few people had been anywhere near the blast. Marissa was bleeding a bit from a wound that appeared to be high up on her leg but didn’t seem overly concerned with it, no doubt allowing her healing ability to do its work. Danthias, noting her casual air, decided she must not be badly hurt and began to assess what other damage had taken place.
Dan felt the ringing in his ears already beginning to recede, as he took in everything around him. Alexandra was tucked safely next to him. Dan had leapt frantically to cover her body with his own and the elf wasn’t regretting that protective instinct one bit, despite the bruises he was sure to have from the impact. His face was contorted in concern, as he reached over and touched the woman’s face, reaching down and feeling for her pulse. To his relief, it was strong and steady. At the elf’s tentative touch, Alex’s midnight blue eyes fluttered open and she reached her hand towards her forehead, groaning, as she struggled to sit up.
“Easy,” Dan said, halting her progress and gently lowering her back down, refusing to let the woman outside the protective shelter of his arms, “Are you alright?”
“Ah’m fine,” Alex said, rubbing the center of her forehead a little, “Mah head jus’ hurts a little’s all.”
When the woman attempted to get up again, Dan restrained her again gently.
“Relax. You could have a mild concussion. Just stay here for a few minutes until help arrives. I think they’ll be here soon.”
Sirens had begun in the distance, as if in response to Dan’s words, and the elf thanked all the gods he knew that someone had been swift to respond. He felt Alex’s heart jump several beats in reaction to his nearness, heard her breath catch in her throat, and smelled her desire, a momentary flash of heat on the wind, sharp and clean as a knife. Then, she was pushing herself to her feet, despite Dan’s renewed protests, with a firmness that stunned the elf. There was a haunted look on the woman’s lovely face that Danthias could not fathom and it hurt Dan to see it there, like a thousand needles piercing his heart. Instinctively, the lycan reached to comfort Alex but, despite his protests, she quickly disengaged from him and fled towards the back of the building to assess the damage and search for more wounded. Dan sensed she was running from more than just concern for other people and was left to ponder what could have gotten into her. In the end, it was a futile effort. The elf watched Alexandra go and felt sad, confused, and lost, though he had no idea why.
All in all, the group was very lucky. Few people had been injured at all and the building was mostly intact. Miraculously, the Sirens’ office and the expensive neon sign that Charlie had spent so much money on were both completely unharmed. The very back of the nightclub had escaped any serious damage and the building itself was still mostly intact but the front was littered with glass and debris, torn open, nothing more than a gaping hole, most of it blasted apart. The beautiful bar itself was almost entirely gone, along with most of its precious stock, as well as the surrounding tables and booths, pieces of which littered the rest of the club.
The blaring sirens were close now. Danthias could see the flashing red and blue lights that signified the police were on their way and he turned to make certain that Sarah and Charlie were okay. Sarah was over by where Charlie had landed, gently touching his forehead. Sarah herself seemed to have come through with a miniscule scratch on her cheek that would not even scar and Dan knew she was searching with her telepathy to see how badly wounded Charlie was. The elf was instantly worried at the man's appearance. Charlie had landed hard and badly, twisted onto his side where he had been thrown into a large grouping of chairs. These had collapsed under the force of his landing and were laying in splinters all around him. Charlie’s arm was twisted up at a severe angle above his head and he was not moving.
“I think he is alive but I can not find a pulse,” Sarah said, but when Dan and Al made a move to join her, worried looks on their faces, the telepath shooed them away, saying, “Make certain there are no other injured and I will attend to him.”
Dan and Al moved back, giving Sarah some room as she began CPR on Charlie, checking every so often for his pulse. Her eyes were full of concern but she did not let her inner panic affect her reactions. She remained calm and collected, forcing the bartender to breathe and keeping him intact, while Danthias and Alexandra paced restlessly around the bar. The sirens finally stopped and what seemed like an endless stream of people entered the bar. Landen and O’Brian were the first, having made the scene within ten minutes of the bomb. O’Brian immediately tried to rush to Charlie’s side and aid his old friend, but the EMT’s that he and Landen had summoned as soon as the call went over the radio beat them to the punch, moving Sarah out of the way so they could treat Charlie’s wounds.
O’Brian, running a frustrated hand through his dark hair headed over to where Dan, Al, Marissa, and Sarah were gathered. It was tough avoiding the inevitable too large crowd of people that had swarmed the place but the Detective parted the crowd with a flash of the grim look on his face. Landen wasn't far behind, concern written on every feature and all trace of his usual teasing gone.
“Are you all okay?” O'Brian asked immediately.
“Yeah, we’re fine,” Alex replied, “How’s everyone else?”
“The damn EMT’s aren’t talkin’ right now but I guess they’ll spill when they’re done doin’ their job,” O’Brian said, tense, “What the Hell happened?”
“It was a molotov cocktail,” Sarah said, “Someone tossed it through the window closest to the bar.”
"Molotovs don't explode like that," O'Brian mused out loud, "Must've thrown something else at the same time."
“Did you see anyone?” Landen asked.
“No, we were all talking,” Sarah replied, sighing in frustration, “Trying to figure out the best way to help Danthias here get home.”
O’Brian glanced over Dan’s direction.
“You catch a whiff of anybody?”
“Truthfully, no. I knew something was wrong when I heard the bottle fly at the window but that’s about all the warning we got.”
“That’s just weird,” Landen commented, “I thought you guys were supposed to have awesome sniffers.”
“Most lycans do,” Marissa replied, arms crossed, as she frowned in thought, “The fact we didn’t know they were comin’ until it was too late means they probably covered up their scent somehow.”
“Makes me wonder who the real target of this little lesson was,” Dan said, though, in truth, he was only teasing. He knew exactly who this little demonstration had been aimed at.
As the group pondered the situation, one of the EMT’s came by, rolling Charlie gently past on a gurney. The man looked pale and shaken but was awake, alive, and alert. Immediately the entire group moved, as if to converge on the gurney but the EMT, a woman who looked like she knew her job and knew it well, put out a hand to stop them.
“Mr. Hutton is going to be just fine,” she said crisply, “We managed to revive him but his face and chest are pretty tore up from glass shards. He took a nasty knock on the head, he has a couple of deep cuts that’re going to need stitches, and his left arm’s severely sprained. He’s in a bit of pain right now and I have him somewhat sedated. We’re taking him to Saint Michael’s. If one of you officers would care to ride along, I’m sure we can arrange for you to question him, as soon as he’s in a condition to entertain company, but right now, he is not going to be able to tell you anything.”
O’Brian swore gently, then nodded.
“What about his things, his business, healing expenses?” Danthias inquired.
“Mr. Hutton assured us he has every insurance under the sun,” the woman replied, kindly, “He should be well taken care of and everything that was lost here can be replaced when he’s well.”
“Anyone else injured?” Landen asked, glancing around.
“Nothing more than a few cuts and bruises,” the woman replied, “Now, if you gentlemen’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get Mr. Hutton here to the hospital. Whoever’s coming needs to come now.”
O’Brian glanced over at Landen.
“I’ll go. You stay an’ take whatever statements anyone’ll give,” he said, “I’ll get Charlie’s statement when he wakes up an’ help you with the paperwork later.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Landen nodded, running his hands through his hair in a tired, frustrated gesture, “Jus’ take care o’ him, alright?”
O’Brian nodded and was already making his way through the crowd when Alexandra turned to follow.
“Hermana,” she said to Sarah, “Ah need you an’ Marissa t’get in touch wit’ everybody. Ah’m gonna go wit’ Charlie an’ make sure no one comes after him at de hospital. You get Dan here t’Linn an’ Jenny’s stat an’ see if Marissa’ll stick around t’keep an’ eye on things an’ help with some o’ de clean up.”
“It will not be a problem,” Sarah replied, as Marissa, who was standing nearby, just nodded.
Danthias wanted to go with Alex, as she piled into the ambulance with Charlie, but she stopped him gently with a hand.
“It’s alright, sugah,” she said, “Charlie an’ I’re jus’ goin’ for a ride. Marissa’s gonna stay here an’ watch over de place f’Charlie but Ah need y’all t’go wit’ Sarah. She’s gonna take y’all t’meet up wit’ some more o’ our team. We need t’get you home. It ain’t safe f’y’all here. Now leave Charlie t’me an’ the rest t’the cops. It’s ‘dere job.”
Before Danthias could even give Alexandra a look showing her how much he trusted cops or even protest, she was gone, that same sad, lost expression on her face that had so touched and hurt Dan before. He had no idea what the healer woman had meant by insurance or what exactly the Sirens had set up when he hadn’t been paying attention but he knew that Charlie was hurt, his livelihood threatened, and Alexandra was sad and worried. The worst part was that he couldn’t escape the sensation, no matter how vague and absurd, that all three were somehow, at least in some small part, his fault. There was also nothing he could do about any of them right now and that was what hurt the most of all. Danthias could only hope and pray everyone knew what they were doing and go along with them.
As he turned, he saw that there were several other people sitting with the EMT’s and police that had stayed behind. They were cut, scared, and shaken, but otherwise fine. There had been no deaths and, for that, all were grateful. The whole scene had shaken Dan badly for some reason that he just could not explain. Rushing up the stairs, Dan quickly donned his armor and gathered up his haversack, where he had stashed his bow and other weapons. After the discussion he had had with Alex about weapons in this world, he had no desire to be caught unarmed but also wanted to keep a low profile. No sense in getting arrested again for illegal possession of weapons. He finally came to stand in front of Sarah, utterly bemused, bewildered, befuddled, and a bit hurt inside.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked gently, the look on Alex’s face haunting him, “What’s going on?”
Sarah was watching where her sister had been a moment before, a look on her face that said she knew something was wrong and was worried. Dan knew in an instant that she had sensed what Danthias had as well and that she was anxious about it too. The elf watched her hide the expression from him, literally wipe it off her face, as she turned to him, and that scared Dan even more.
“Do not be ridiculous, Danthias,” she said gently, “You have done nothing wrong but the situation has become a bit more complicated and there is no time to explain here. We will have to talk as we go along. Follow me.”
“Are we going in one of those automobile things?” Dan asked nervously.
“Yes,” Sarah replied, unblinking, as she moved towards the front of the nightclub.
“Must we?” Dan inquired, sighing.
Few things terrified the elf more than those cursed death machines and, when Sarah gave a slight nod, Dan sighed melodramatically, resigned himself to his fate, and allowed the woman to lead him to her car, flashing lights and chaos surrounding them the whole way.
There were more people swarming in and around Charlie’s than there should have been. Dan was glad to get away from the ambulances, police cars, sirens, lights, EMT’s, officers, trembling witnesses, and hapless gawkers that seemed to invade the place. The elf had to fight his intense dislike of crowds, which nearly suffocated him, as they wormed their way under the yellow police tape and out into the calmer atmosphere of the afternoon light. Though things seemed more mellow the farther behind they left Charlie’s, the elf was still dreading the ride to come.
Sarah’s vehicle turned out to be a sturdy red four-door thing called a Jeep Grand Cherokee, which was parked in the small, fenced in parking lot across the street from Charlie’s. Danthias assumed what he had come to call “the safe position,” hands latched onto the handle above the passenger side door, as soon as he was belted in. In the end, he had decided this was marginally better than sprouting his claws and sinking them into that thing Marissa had called a dashboard. Somehow, he sensed that would be very rude. As the vehicle pulled away from the curb, Dan glanced over at Sarah.
“So where are we going again and why?” he asked, trying to sound casual, even though his heart was in his throat.
“Alex and I contacted several friends of ours who work for our agency last night, when we got back from the jailhouse,” Sarah replied, “I also contacted them again just now, via telepathy. We have all agreed to help you find a way home but we also have agreed that Charlie’s is no longer safe for you. Until the person or persons who have done this are caught and you are safely home, it is better if you stay with us, where you will be less likely to be found.”
“Okay, so you ladies are going to help me find my way home and give me a place to lay low until these guys are caught,” Dan said, “It sounds like a good plan but how’re you going to accomplish that?”
“You have already told us that the portal that sent you here is magical in nature,” Sarah said, “and that it seems to be highly unstable. It also sounds like it may be the only way back to your world and, with all this recent trouble, getting you home is even more important. Alex, Marissa, and I are willing to open up our homes to you, as will the rest of the group, once they get to know you, but we will need help in locating the portal.”
“How are we going to send me home when we don’t even know how to begin finding the portal?” Dan asked.
“Marissa, Alex, and I know little about the ways of magic, however, we have two people who are very knowledgeable about the arcane,” Sarah replied, “One is an expert on magic and the occult and the other is the most skilled person I have ever seen with a computer. If anyone can help you, they can.”
“What’s a computer?” Dan asked, “I understand the meaning of the word, thanks to you, but what’s its function?”
“It is an electronic device for gathering and storing information,” Sarah replied, “You will understand better, once you have been shown what it is and what it does.”
“Okay but how is this computer thing supposed to help?”
“There are many programs for analyzing things,” Sarah replied, “No doubt our computer expert will have one that can analyze magical signatures. We will probably journey to where you first appeared in New York and see if we can pick up any magical vibrations. After that, we can analyze it using the computer and try to find other places where similar magical vibrations have occurred. It may be we can locate this portal.”
“Sounds complicated,” Danthias said, sighing.
“It is but we will explain it better as we go along,” Sarah replied.
For a few moments, there was only silence, then Sarah glanced over at Danthias, sensing his deep distress.
“What is really bothering you?” she demanded, “I can see something flitting across the surface of your thoughts that troubles you but I do not wish to pry into it uninvited. Please, tell me what is wrong.”
Her voice sounded so sincere that Danthias finally decided to just talk. “What’s bothering your sister? One minute she was fine, considering what just happened, and the next, she seemed so distant, scared. It hurt me to see it.”
“You care for her,” Sarah said softly, stealing a quick glance at the elf’s stricken face, kindness illuminating her gentle features.
“Very much, though I’ll be damned if I could explain it. I know she’s attracted to me. I can feel it. But she just suddenly closed off. I don’t understand it. Am I not communicating effectively?”
“No, your verbal skills are excellent,” Sarah replied, smiling a little.
“Thanks to you,”
“Do not be too quick to give me all the credit, Danthias. I only gave you the information you needed and accelerated the process that had already begun in your own mind. Your language skills are amazing and you would have figured it out yourself, given enough time. You have learned remarkably fast, even given the circumstances under which you were taught.”
“Then, what is it?”
“My sister has always been a very free spirit. She flirts and teases. That is just her way but something...very bad happened to her about six months ago. She has been more cautious, guarded, closed off, ever since. I have sensed her interest in you as well but I think that things are happening very fast and that frightens my sister. Ever since that horrible event six months ago, she's started running away anytime a man tries to get close to her.”
“Why?” Dan asked, “What happened?”
“Those answers are not mine to give, though I may choose to at a later date if Alex does not give them willingly,” Sarah replied, “Give her and yourself time. Focus on trying to discover what has become of that portal. Let us attempt to see if we can get you home before you worry about such things.”
“You’re probably right,” Dan said, “I just hate to see her in pain.”
“Me too, Dan,” Sarah said, a sad look on her face, “Me too.”

2.

~ Solaris ~

Sylus Stryfe glanced up warily at his destination and felt a faint twinge of uneasiness settle upon him. The imposing edifice of the structure he proposed to enter did not daunt him so much as the implications of what was inside. One did not simply stroll into the head church of Mordus without at least some precaution. Only those who were fools or suicidal would assume those walls held anything but death and Sylus was neither.
The sun rode low in its xenith and shone down lazily on the city of Perkyn, Freeport. The view from the high hill in the center of the main street that would eventually lead through the city overlooked the harbor and that view was surely one of Solaris’s finest. The sunlight danced off the waters of the capital city’s port, little diamonds dancing on top of the waves, undulating crests of azure and pearl, all caught in the fiery blaze that was the dying sun’s last light. Boats of all sizes with white sails all flying the emblem of Freeport, the blue flag with the tan ship and leaping golden fish on it, dotted the harbor, bringing in the valuable goods that Freeport used to trade with the outside world. The priest could see the small black dots of fishermen pulling in nets and waving to their fellow tradesmen, as they passed, just another day in the city. They were all thrown into shadow, little black shades upon the blazing water.
If Sylus closed his eyes, he could smell the salt and spices on the air, scents that calmed him, reminded him with shocking clarity of the port town in which he had been born and mostly raised, Brighton, in the country of Coriander. Though that place was much farther north, the distant cry of merchants hawking their wares in the streets and people going about their business was balm to Sylus’s stained soul. Wondering for the thousandth time what he was doing here, the man headed straight for the tall, black building, made of stone and mortar, which rested to the westernmost extreme of the town’s harbor.
The road he was on was paved, made of plain, gray cobblestone and even that seemed to glitter in the light as it wound its way through a grassy, emerald field dotted with trees on either side. This gave way to stones of a more bluish color laid out in concentric, circular patterns as he approached the city proper and he stopped only long enough to state his business to the guards, citing visiting relatives as his reason for entering the city. Rodolfo followed quietly at his master’s heels, carrying all the worldly goods Sylus had thought they would need on their travels. He remained silent but the priest had no doubt that the nezumi would just as soon slit his throat as carry the belongings any farther.
After making sure that the town guard believed his story, the priest was allowed to pass into the city and ducked quickly beneath the red and black tiled awnings of the city’s many buildings. Blue stone, white stucco, and tiles of red and black swam past Sylus in a wave of impatience, as did the many interesting folk of all races, dressed in clothes from all over the world. No doubt, with the weather improving and promising to stay warm, Perkyn would be bursting to the brim with merchants and traders from all over, desperate to make their fortune. Sylus was glad the busy season was still a couple of weeks off.
The priest stopped only once before hailing a carriage to take him out towards the harbor and his destination. He paused briefly in a courtyard filled with fountains that flanked the main street, peering every which way at centaurs, satyrs, nymphs, and dryads, all captured perfectly in stone and emitting their liquid charges without complaint into the basins at their feet. Sitting on the lip of a fountain that showed a great minotaur in all its savage glory raising hands full of enormous axe to the sky, bellowing his triumph, Sylus quickly adjusted the sandals on his feet and the folds of his plain brown robes. His simple belt rope was easy to right and, with his nondescript looks, the priest hoped he resembled nothing more than one of those country friars who followed what they called the One True God on his way to see the country.
The required carriage came by remarkably fast, a sleek, tan colored affair pulled by a team of black stallions. The driver was surprised and leery at the man’s destination but spoke no word against it. He merely accepted Sylus’s gold and bade he and Rodolfo to alight into the carriage. After aiding the nezumi to get himself, his master, and their belongings settled, the man was up in his seat and the carriage was fairly flying through the streets. It did not take long for the harbor to come into view, with its sparkling water, as well as the small, rocky peninsula that jutted out at the westernmost edge of it. Far out on that peninsula, braving the rocky waves, was a lighthouse made of pure, black stone, its beacon light strong and sure even after centuries of use. Before it was the destination of Sylus’s journey and also the source of his disquiet.
Sylus was only too glad to see the back of the horseman’s carriage. The driver would come no farther than the end of the peninsula it seemed and bade them goodbye as soon as was polite to do so. The priest barely registered his going, however, nor saw how he made a sign against the evil eye as he fled. Sylus merely turned to Rodolfo and had the nezumi gather up their belongings from where the coachman had left them. Then, Rodolfo struggling along behind him with the bags, Sylus came to stand in front of the Church of the Silent Blade, the head church of Mordus.
It towered over everything on the tiny peninsula, which was no more than half a mile wide, rising fully five stories into the air. The façade was made of the same black stone as the lighthouse near the cliffs at the end of the road. Balconies, doors that lead out onto them, and little windows of some dark reddish glass almost the color of dried blood dotted the tower at every level and Sylus could see arrow slits and murder holes built into every crevice that would hold them. The door itself was a yawning portcullis of black wrought iron. Folks could call this a church if they wanted to but Sylus knew it for what it really was, a fortress, and one stop on the long road to Hell.
The whole place was alit with torches and candles like the maw of some grinning demon. Sylus forced his feet to move, one in front of the other, until he was standing right before the door to the demon’s mouth. Ignoring the dark shadows that had begun to engulf the dark tower’s edifice, Sylus reached up and clanged the immense knocker that hung on the door three times in rapid succession. He then paused for a count of three and banged three more times, then repeated once more, as he had been taught.
There was an eerie silence, as the echoes of his knock, a last deafening peal, faded away into the recesses of the church and Sylus contented himself with waiting on the doorstep with Rodolfo, half hoping the door never opened at all.
A slot in the door, which was almost exactly eye level with Sylus, opened. A pair of hard, dark eyes peered out, scanning what there was to see, and fixed glaringly upon the priest.
“What is your business here?” the man demanded, his voice every bit as cold and cruel as his eyes.
“Tell Cabal that his cousin is here to see him,” Sylus said.
“Wait here,” the man snarled and, before Sylus could so much as say a word, he was gone.
Sylus did not have to wait long. The man returned within five minutes, the door opening to reveal a dimly lit hall.
“Deathdealer Cabal is expecting you,” he said, motioning the priest inside.
Somehow, the small smile the man gave Sylus was all the more cold because it did not reach his eyes, no more than a thinly veiled mask. Sylus followed the young man willingly enough, however, Rodolfo cringing on his heels. The man had a deadly quiet stride and his frame and features were covered, only his eyes and corded arms visible from within the black cloth he wore. Definitely not someone to cross, though Sylus pegged him for mid-level clergy at best. He was far too obvious. The scarier members of Mordus's clergy could kill so swiftly that their victim was often dead before they even felt the wound that had killed them.
Sylus made it a point to keep an eye on the man in front of him, while still observing his surroundings. It wasn’t often a priest of Salazar was allowed inside the inner sanctum of the Church of Mordus as anything but a sacrifice.
The church suited both the god to whom it was dedicated and the worshippers that called it home perfectly. It was more of a fortress than a Church, built in the open, unlike Sylus’s church, which was run in secrecy. Smooth, polished gray/black stone walls, high, arched ceilings, and very solid oak floors were on all sides, black tapestries with scenes of death and murder sewn on them in crimson, silver, and gold thread lining the walls. Sylus caught a few glimpses of stone statues of Mordus, all cruel eyes and bloody hands, but caught little else, as the man in black ahead of him sped a little and the priest had to rush to keep up with him. The man turned a corner and lead Sylus straight into a small, spartan chamber that could only belong to his cousin, Cabal.
The man himself was seated calmly at a desk, his dark red eyes regarding Sylus with the barely disguised contempt the priest had come to expect. To his surprise, Cabal had actually had another chair brought in for him. Sylus made his way cautiously to where the other priest was seated, as the man that had brought him knelt before Cabal and spoke a few quiet words that Sylus could not hear. Cabal nodded at him and the other priest disappeared. With his escort gone, Sylus waited patiently for Cabal to speak.
He did not have to wait long.
“So, you’ve finally arrived, have you?” Cabal demanded.
It did not take a genius to see that he was irritated, barely containing a deep rage. It was in the agitated drumming of his abnormally long nails on his desk, the slight flush of his pale face, and the dark flash of his intense eyes.
“Good,” Sylus thought, “Maybe my point sunk in.”
Unable to suppress a smirk, the priest bowed his head cheerfully and replied,
“I never said I wouldn’t come, dear cousin, just that I didn’t much care for the manner in which your invitation was delivered.”
“It wasn’t an invitation,” Cabal said, eyes connecting firmly with Sylus’s, “Sit.”
For a moment, the priest of Salazar remained standing, blatantly ignoring Cabal’s curt gesture towards the chair.
“And, as I believe I told your subordinate, I am not a dog to be called to heel,” Sylus said, “I am a High Priest of my Church and I have every bit as much rank as you do, in my own right. If you wish to bargain with me, dear cousin, it will be as an equal, not as a master to his cur!”
Cabal’s lip curled in an ugly grimace of barely contained hate and he glared at Sylus, incredulous, not trusting himself to speak. When he finally did reply, it was through gritted teeth.
“I think you forget who you’re speaking to,” he growled, flashing canine teeth almost long enough to be fangs.
“Come now, Cabal, just because we’re both a couple of unscrupulous, evil bastards doesn’t mean we can’t be civilized,” Sylus replied jovially.
Cabal merely glared at the other priest all the harder, until Sylus finally sighed in irritation.
“I see your sense of humor has not improved,” he muttered.
“Nor, you will find, has my tolerance for games or my patience,” Cabal said pointedly.
“Oh, very well,” Sylus sighed, “I merely wanted to make sure we’d reached an understanding.”
“You’ve made your point, now will you please sit the hell down?” Cabal snapped.
“Certainly, my dear cousin.”
Sylus settled himself on the chair in a flourish of robes, ignoring Rodolfo who stood in the corner wringing his pawed hands. The priest allowed himself a small moment to bask in the satisfaction of having won this first round, then forced his brain back to business.
“Now, tell me, what’s so important that you would have your minions whisk me away in the dead of night?” Sylus asked, folding his hands.
“I’ve had a vision.”
“Oh?”
Sylus’s head perked up, as he poured himself a glass of the wine Cabal had set out for them. Whatever else you could say about the man, he cut to the chase, and what he had said so far was intriguing. Ears perked, Sylus listened.
“There’s a portal created by shadow magic somewhere in the Unicorn Forest,” Cabal began, “It leads to another world, one rich in technology and weapons, the kind of sophistication we could never even dream of.”
Sylus froze, his attention fully caught, as Cabal continued.
“I know for a fact the Nes’reenans are also looking for this portal. One of their Order probably opened it long ago, trying to recreate the great portals that brought our ancestors here in the Second Age. I’d like to find this thing before they do.”
“What part do you expect me to play in this?” Sylus demanded.
“Simple. I have great power but little skill in Divination,” Cabal replied, “I want you to find me that portal and then you and I are going to get all the information we can on it.”
“To what purpose?”
“We’re going through that portal, you and I, to see what there is to see,” came the reply.
“I admit, you propose an intriguing offer but what’s in it for me?” Sylus said, “If I’m to put my considerable resources to work for you, not to mention put myself at potentially great risk, what am I and my Church going to get out of it?”
“The possibilities of weapons, technologies, and knowledge you and yours could gain by this are endless. This portal could very well lead to the ancient world from which most of our ancestors sprung. Think about that for a moment. And, there’s also one thing in particular that will make it all worthwhile to you.”
“Oh? And what, pray tell, would that be?”
“I happen to know for a fact that Danthias Silverbow is on the world on the other side of the portal right now.”
Sylus sat straight up, eyes glistening. The sound of that name was like a gunshot and Cabal found he had the priest’s full attention.
“We will find that portal, walk through to the other side and, while you and I explore the limitless potential of this new world and plunder its technologies, we will hunt down and destroy your Church’s greatest enemy,” Cabal was saying, “Danthias Silverbow will lie dead at your feet.”
“Technologies and weapons aside, I think I might accompany you just for that alone, dear cousin,” Sylus replied, “Salazar would heap no ends of rewards upon the one who could end that miserable elf’s life.”
“Do we have an accord?” Cabal asked, pouring himself a glass of wine and holding it out towards Sylus.
“We do indeed,” Sylus replied and, without hesitation, he lifted his glass and he and his cousin toasted their new fiendish enterprise.

3.

Selunday, 23rd of Springtide, Continent of Lucresia, Country of Venule, City of Branneth

It was quiet in the courtroom. Quiet enough that Lady Anya de Wynter felt a slight tinge of nerves, as she waited patiently with her lawyer for the closing arguments to finish. In the three days since Anya had been arrested word had gotten around rather quickly about the scandalous trial. People from all corners of Venule and all walks of life had crowded into every crevice of the courtroom to watch the events unfold, to hear the Lady take the stand in her own defense. Now, all that was left was to hear the closing arguments and to let the jury decide her fate. It was widely known that Lady Anya was beloved by the common people but despised by all the nobility, as if she were some foul, loathsome thing crawling beneath their shoes. Anya could feel their hatred, palpable enough that they had braved the unnatural chill that had settled over the courtroom to see her get her just rewards. Anya reigned in her abilities as best she could, showing only the icy calm face of the Lady of Winter, lest anyone suspect she was nervous, or that she was the source of the unnatural cold.
The prosecutor, Guisseppe Gildarin, was one of the best the court system could afford and he was very shrewd. He’d very neatly taken her through the questions that had her state her name, occupation, date of birth, and place of residence for the court records before going for the jugular. Anya was pretty sure he hadn’t bought half her story but she cared little whether or not Gildarin thought she was lying. It was the jury she was worried about, though, truthfully, she would have enjoyed dispatching him as easily as she had the rats in her cell.
The man’s summation and that of her lawyer’s seemed to take forever. Anya was on pins and needles until the jury was finally dispersed by Judge Sheverton to begin their deliberations. Anya noted, not without some amount of bitterness, that they certainly hadn’t been dismissed until they had pried into almost every intimate detail of her rocky marriage to the late Percival Erron Weatherton, so called Lord Weatherton because he had married Anya whose family was titled.
Twenty minutes later, the jury filed sedately back in, resuming their places without a word or glance to betray their thoughts. If nothing else they were doing their job well, Anya thought.
The courtroom, if it were at all possible, grew even more quiet, as the jury finally readied themselves. After a few moments, the judge regarded the jury soberly.
“Has the jury reached a verdict?” Judge Sheverton asked.
“We have, Your Honor,” the foreman, a simple young tailor, replied.
The bailiff took the slim slip of paper which held Anya’s future from the man and passed it to the judge. Sheverton read the note briefly, then nodded for the bailiff to return the paper to the foreman. He then faced Anya and spoke very soberly.
“The defendant will please rise and face the jury while the verdict is read.”
Lady de Wynter rose calmly, thanking her breeding that allowed her to do so without trembling, and faced the twelve people who were about to decide her fate. Judge Sheverton gave them a single nod and the foreman stood, facing Anya squarely.
“In the matter of the Republic of Venule versus Lady Anya Merridon Snow de Wynter, we, the jury, find the defendant not guilty and further rule the death of her husband, Lord Percival Erron Weatherton, accidental, and all titles accorded to the Lady by either inheritance or marriage should not be denied her.”
There was a collective sigh throughout the courtroom and Anya let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding, as Judge Sheverton began to speak.
“So be it. By the laws of the free Republic of Venule, Lady de Wynter, you are free to go.”
As the gavel fell and the court was adjourned, Anya could not help but smile. She gave the hand of her lawyer a firm shake, promising herself to see to it that the man was immediately promoted within the Church of Nes’reena. He had done her a great service.
“Your efforts will not go unrewarded,” she said, knowing full well that actually mentioning the Church out loud was the quickest way to get herself a one way ticket to the chopping block. The lawyer, Atherton, was quick to read between the lines and simply nodded, shaking her hand and smiling back.
“Fare you well, My Lady,” he replied, though Anya could read “Shadowveil” in his tone, plain as day.
As she finished bidding adieu to her canny lawyer, Lady de Wynter turned to leave and noticed another person approaching her through the crowd. She smiled warmly at his approach and held out a hand to him, her features softening just a little.
“Andarius,” she greeted him warmly, “I knew you would come through for me.”
Sir Andarius Kilcannon Valerius took the hand she offered and knelt briefly, kissing her ring solemnly.
“My Lady,” he said, his voice smooth, rich, and deep, “I’m glad your faith in me wasn’t misplaced. It seems, by a stroke of marvelous luck, my messages got through in time for you to avoid a most gruesome fate.”
“You do have a way with words, my friend,” Anya said, motioning for him to rise, “Come.”
Andarius complied instantly, falling just slightly behind and to Anya’s left, becoming a tall, dark shadow at the Lady’s side. Anya did not need to see him to know that Andarius walked with his hands clasped behind him at the wrists, touching his dark purple leather bracers and noticing everything. It was, however, a pity she couldn’t observe him at that angle. Andarius Kilcannon Valerius was, by and large, an impressive man. He was as tall as she, six foot four, and towered over those around him, sporting a very broad chest and shoulders and powerfully muscled arms, which he had toned through countless hours of hard work. Andarius appeared to be in his mid-twenties with a soft, somewhat effeminate facial structure, more pretty than handsome, and fathomless, vaguely almond shaped eyes that seemed to search everything. Anya could never decide whether they were lilac, lavender, or violet, but they were stunning, as were his high cheekbones and full lips. The gods had seen fit to give Andarius long, luxurious chestnut/auburn hair, which hung all the way to his shoulder blades in subtle waves and he had the kind of handsome, porcelain features one would expect on a knight in some epic tale.
Right now Andarius was wearing a simple, purple silk shirt to emphasize the unusual color of his eyes, pants a few shades darker, and well-worn black leather boots that gained him maybe a quarter of an inch in height. His hair was pulled back by a black leather thong into a single ponytail, all gold and auburn highlights, glinting in the light. He was good looking enough to give most women pleasant daydreams but it wasn’t his looks that had drawn Anya to him, to place him as her bodyguard. It was his unswerving loyalty. That and Anya had sensed somehow that he was not fully human, though the man himself seemed to have no clue as to his own heritage.
“Everything is proceeding according to plan, Milady,” Andarius informed her quietly.
This brought another smile to Anya’s face, this one colder, more satisfactory. If all continued to go well, the Most High would soon be helping her to hatch her schemes.
“I trust you’ve been handling my affairs?” Anya inquired.
“To the letter of your instructions, Milady,” Andarius replied, “Results should be forthcoming within a fortnight.”
“Excellent,” Lady de Wynter said, “Seek out others of your Order. I want all precautions taken and no surprises.”
“As you wish, Milady,” Andarius replied, inclining his head slightly.
Both knew that, though Andarius was a fully inducted Knight of the Republic of Venule, that was not the Order to which Anya had referred.
The pair had been slowly making their way out of the courtroom, when a very blustered and pompous form made his way towards them. Lord Karsis, dark hair and eyes flashing in his wrath, stormed slowly over to where Andarius and Anya stood, his many gaudily jeweled rings and necklaces clanging and glinting just over his rich, dark green doublet. Andarius moved subtly between them, casually off to the side so as not to attract notice.
“Lady de Wynter!” Karsis bellowed, “Do you really think you’re just going to walk out of here, after what you did?”
“Perhaps your end of the courtroom had bad acoustics,” Anya shot icily, “I’ve just been cleared of all charges.”
“Bribed the jury, no doubt!” Karsis snapped.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t provide you and your friends with the prerequisite beheading for your entertainment, however, since it was my head that would’ve been on the chopping block, you must forgive me for being a bit reluctant,” Anya quipped.
“Keep it up, you haughty, arrogant bitch!” Karsis snapped, “One day your acid tongue, slick lawyers, and personal assassin won’t save you!”
There was a shocked silence in the courtroom and Andarius’s hand was instantly at the ebony and obsidian hilt of the wicked looking sword at his side. It hung from an ordinary black leather belt but the ornate onyx and obsidian inlay on the sword’s scabbard said that if that blade cleared its sheath, all bejeweled with amethysts, someone was going to die.
“Apologize,” Andarius hissed, his voice full of quiet menace, as he stared daggers at Karsis, “Beg My Lady’s forgiveness or I’ll cut you down where you stand.”
The entire courtroom froze. The bailiffs readied to move into action but wondered, heavily, if they would be able to get there in time should this confrontation escalate. Then, Lady Anya spoke, one word echoing through the courtroom.
“Andarius,” she said, her hand reaching out to stay his, then added quietly, “Do not stain a worthy blade with fool’s blood. Come.”
With that, Anya simply turned, expecting Andarius to follow. He paused only long enough to give Lord Karsis a look that said, plainly, orders or no orders, there would eventually be blood between them. Then, he turned and instantly became Anya’s obedient shadow again.
Once they were outside, Anya hailed her driver, Marten, happy to see that he had shown up with her carriage, more of Andarius's careful planning. The black carriage with the crowned white swan that was her family crest made Lady de Wynter’s heart glad. The sun was shining, not a bonus, but fair weather would make for fair traveling.
“It’s so good to have you back, Mum,” Marten gushed, as he hopped down to assist in opening the carriage, “We’ve all missed you so; Been worried sick, we ‘ave.”
“Thank you, Marten,” Anya said, as Andarius took her hand to help her into the carriage, “Please take us home; There’s much to be done.”
Marten’s blue eyes teared up in happiness and he rearranged his short, gray hair neatly, as he pulled his sixty-two year old frame into the driver’s seat. Andarius secured Anya in the carriage and slid inside himself, tapping the side of the carriage for Marten to begin their journey.
For the longest time, as they sped through Branneth and on towards Wyntersgate, the de Wynter family home, Anya and Andarius did not speak. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Andarius broke the silence.
“He knows.”
“Karsis?” Anya replied.
Andarius nodded.
“About us?”
“Among other things. I think he’s dangerous, Milady, and I know he won’t rest ‘til he sees you dead.”
“I can’t afford a thorn in my side,” Anya said, “Too many plans have been laid. I trust you to make certain this thorn’s sting isn’t deep.”
“It shan’t even scratch you, Milady,” Andarius replied, a ghost of a smile playing across his face.
After that, the two of them lapsed gently into companionable silence, as the carriage rode on, pulling them both closer to home.