Cassandra

XVI. Shadow Of the Past

    A sharp jerk of pain brought me out of oblivion. There was no way to keep close track of time, but at some point in the long weary hours of waiting I had fallen asleep, escaping reality for a time. My whole body felt numb and aching, stiff with the torpor of sitting too long in one position, a persistent ache throbbing at the back of my neck. Anders had come back into the study, and had been busily cutting my bonds with a dagger. Tossing the limp shreds of cord into the fire, he suddenly seized a thick handful of my hair, dragging me to my feet.
Tingles flooded over my body as was I moved, agony piercing through the back of my head where he clutched at my hair. Viciously I kicked backward with my heel, trying to strike at his shin and force him to release me. But both of us had tussled many times, and we were both well aware of the other's talents. Anders had already anticipated my strike and I met only empty air.
"You listen to me, you little cat." Anders growled, giving the fistful of hair in his hand a sharp yank that made me cry out. "I'm not in the mood for games today--"
Before he could get any farther I jerked my head back, unexpectedly giving into his grip, smashing my head back into his face with all the force I could muster. Anders let out an exclamation of surprised pain, pulling his face away from me. Trying to slither out of his grip I dropped toward the floor, letting my own weight reinforce my attempt. With another impatient growl Anders maintained his grip on my hair, pulling me back into his arms, and before I could wriggle away again I felt the cold sharp edge of a dagger across my throat.
"I said. no. games." Anders repeated, his breath warm and humid right in my ear, and he gave my hair another vicious jerk that brought tears to my eyes. "We are going to have a friendly little talk, just the two of us, and then you are going to do exactly what I tell you. Is that clear?"
I made another attempt at escape, less successful because this time the Professor had been expecting it.
"You know, I'd give anything to be able to run this dagger across your throat right now, and be done with it..." Anders snarled in my ear, and I felt a line of heat across the side of my neck, as the dagger bit delicately into my skin. "To spill your life essence on the ground, feel your blood running through my fingers, and watch you expire right in front of me, would give me inexpressible pleasure. So if you want to keep your miserable life, you'll do exactly what I tell you, because I can't begin to express just how eagerly I'm looking for a reason to kill you."
Pain pierced through the haze of anger as the knife sliced into my skin. It hurt to breathe, every tiny movement driving the dagger deeper into my skin by the minuscule fraction, so that I was the source of my own torture. Fear constricted my throat. Fear and disgust. Anders visceral description of my death sent chills down my spine, and I could hear the sincerity in his voice. Nothing would please him more than the chance to end my life, slowly, and as graphically as possible.
"I am a fisherman miss de Rolo, and today you are going to be my hook. We are fishing for heroes, you and I, and when they get close you are going to cry out for help as loudly as you can, and draw them in. Kind hearted people will always come to the damsel in distress."
"They'd come to you anyway," I hissed. The act of speaking irritated the slice across my neck, and I winced, pain constricting my voice. "You know what that star on Vouk's forehead means. These rebels are avenging the de Rolos, and you betrayed them. You don't have to seek them out, they're already coming for you."
"As much as I loathe you my dear, you do have a very enviable talent for getting others to trust you." Anders replied ignoring my comment. "That's what we need right now, someone they trust, and here you are, the perfect little tool waiting for the right person to make use of you. All you have to do is say 'help me' and they'll inevitably swallow your bait. Hook, line, and sinker."
"I'm not your tool." I said, once again trying to squirm my way out of Anders' arms.
"I beg to differ my dear." Anders said sarcastically, resisting my attempt, and giving my hair another vicious tug. "We're all tools of the Lord and Lady, everyone in the valley, and if you keep fighting against that you'll only get hurt...Everyone is on a short leash, and if you try to escape that restraint, you'll only end up strangling yourself, just like the fools in this city are about to do. But you know that, don't you?"
His whispered words burned like a venom, all the more potent because I knew their truth. My heart ached. I was so tired of all the fighting, all the pointless death that achieved nothing. The first rebellion had brought nothing but death, the second had ended in utter ruin, yet still the people rushed to heedlessly waste more lives.
"Now, you know what you're supposed to do." Anders said after a moments silence. "All you have to do is draw them in, understand?"
"I don't want to."
"It doesn't matter. You're a tool, it doesn't matter what you want. Just do what you're told, and keep quiet until the proper moment."
Thick deadly silence fell. It felt like I was choking on it, drowning in it. The dagger still itched against my neck, sending a thin trickle of blood down into my collar. I tried faintly to escape, but there was no real conviction behind it. It was nothing more than a silent message, and the Professor knew me too well to misunderstand what it meant. He jerked angrily on my hair, drawing a cry of pain from me, and snarled angrily "Shhh! You be quiet until you're told to speak. They should be close..."
I relaxed, giving in, and going limp in his arms.
"Now, when I tell you," He hissed in my ear, the dagger pushing into my skin, "I want you to say what I told you to say. Got it?"
I nodded. What happened next was almost too quick to see. With a loud crash the door to the study burst inwards, slamming back against the wall. One single lonely figure stood in the hallway outside, very lithe, dressed in black, and almost too quick to see. A breath of air hissed across my face, a blur passing the corner of my eye, and the Professor let out a roar of agony, as a slender finely crafted dagger sank deep into his right eye socket. Blood, hot and scarlet, streaked against the side of my face from the strike. Then the dagger disappeared from the wound in a swirl of dark smoke, and a gout of blood burst from the vicious wound.
On the heels of the first dagger, a second followed, this time striking Anders in the shoulder, but he was ready for it now, and grunted in pain without any other reaction. Like its brother this dagger also disappeared in a swirl of smoke, leaving Anders' shoulder bloodied. The Professor hid his injured eye with one hand, and I could see coming death in the remaining eye, boiling anger promising vengeance to this intrusive stranger.
"No!" I screamed, fear pouring through my body. The two ornate sets of polished armor on either side of the study door both shuddered, a weird reddish glow sparking inside their chest plates, filtering through the cracks in the armor and empty helmet pieces. Both like mindless demonic twins tumbled forward off of their decorative pedestals. Each, instead of collapsing in a heap, fell forward onto a knee and slowly stood up, the plates of magically controlled armor grinding together.
"Run, it's a trap!"
Anders let out a growl of frustration, and I could hear his teeth grinding right next to my ear. Viciously he dragged my head back, his breath hissing against my skin, and with a snarl of malicious triumph he firmly dragged the dagger's long edge across my skin, slicing deep into my neck. My scream turned into a wet cough as he slit my throat, blood bursting from the wound as panic rose to a crescendo inside me.
Vaguely I felt the Professor drop me, no longer interested in my fate, and I stumbled to my knees, trying to keep my balance. I could feel every pulse of my heartbeat, burning through my veins, prompting a fresh surge of blood. Weakly I tried to stem the flow, but it burst through my fingers, and burned down my throat. Breathing hurt, I was choking on my own life's essence, every intake of breath bringing down a smothering lungful of blood with it. Blood was pouring from my neck, staining the ground, staining my hands, staining my clothes. I gazed down at my own hands, hardly taking in the scarlet that covered them, and I stupidly wondered who's blood it was.
A firm hand grabbed me by the hair, dragging my head backwards, pulling my attention away from my hands. The lithe figure had entered the room, and was pulling me back into their arms. I collapsed into their grip, dragging weakly at their armor in an effort to keep my balance, and through the haze of blood and panic I confusedly grasped at vague details about the man in front of me. I saw a flash of dark hair, smooth very pale skin, delicate almost feminine features, and the slender pointed tip of an elven ear. Then he had clamped a burning hot hand over my throat, pinching the gaping wound shut, and he thrust a bottle into my mouth, force feeding me a thick grainy substance that burned my throat. A tingling itch poured through me, making me cough and choke, then a line of burning fire spread across the wound, as if someone had laid a white hot thread across my neck. I coughed weakly, trying to breath through the burning pain, then the fire was swiftly replaced by crushing relief. I dragged in a jagged gasp of free air, at last able to breath normally, and touched my throat feeling nothing but smooth skin under my fingertips. The elven man gently released me, and rose to his feet, brandishing a dagger in each hand and stepping between me and one of the two living suits of armor.
Gasping, and trying to get my bearings, I clasped a hand around my throat and tried to take in the rapidly changing events in front of me. The elven man was deep in conflict with both sets of magic armor, flanked by them both, and through the door had come bounding a giant figure so tall it had to stoop to get through the door. Numbly I took in a flash of grayish white skin, bulging muscles, and meaty hands wielding a giant two handed iron warhammer.
"Vax, what the fuck did you do?" The newcomer exclaimed. The elven man grinned and called out playfully "welcome to the party!" Before dancing gracefully over me, and moving toward Anders, backed up against his desk and looking both confused and angry.
The sharp crack of a gunshot startled me, filling the room and making my ears ring, and I looked up wondering how on earth Ripley had managed to break out of the dungeons and retrieve her gun. But it wasn't Ripley. Standing in the middle of the room was the tall shadowy figure of a man. Dark black smoke was swirled around his body, and he towered over the room, almost seeming to drive away all the light from his immediate vicinity. The gun in his hand had six barrels, unlike Ripley's that only had four, and looked much more decorative than the doctor's sleek featureless design. But it was smoking dangerously, one of the gun barrels dented and twisted out of shape. With a deep reverberating yell of frustration that shook the room, the dark figure upended one of the tables, disappearing behind it with the broken gun.
Both Professor Anders and I had seen this figure. I felt a chill of foreboding, and Anders in the corner looked equally shocked. By this time blood was soaking through his robes from the many wounds Vax the elven man had already inflicted, out from under the simple breastplate he wore, and streaking down his face from the gaping wound where his eye had been. His one remaining eye was darting fearfully around, with the look of a cornered animal, and I felt a vindictive thrill of pleasure in his fear. I hoped they killed him.
Raising his hands, Anders began to chant quickly under his breath, his fingers pantomiming tearing something open in front of him. Behind the Professor, sparkling in the middle of the air, a faintly purple tear crackled, growing and expanding as Anders continued to pry it open with his fingers. Then with a flash the doorway sputtered and vanished, the air behind the Professor stitching back together and becoming void.
"Mm, mm, that door is locked motherfucker." A man's voice said. Standing in the doorway to the study, was a dark haired woman, and stunted form of a child or midget, standing no higher than her waist. She had a gracefully curved longbow, and he was holding a shawm in one hand, half cocked as if he had just finished playing a note on it, and grinning mischievously he added "get used to it, 'cause I am."
Anders with an expression of rising horror looked over Vax's shoulder at these two figures, the towering half giant man with his black warhammer, then back at the elf in front of him, who was gripping his daggers on the brink of a fresh attack. One fearful glance flitted over the Professor's shoulder, at the featureless wall he was trapped against, I could almost see the thoughts passing through his mind. There was nowhere to go, but into the arms of his attackers, he was trapped.
"Come to my aid!" Anders commanded urgently, and both sets of magical armor froze, their empty helmets turning to look at the Professor with a weird sense of intelligence. "Quickly!" 
With a squeaking of metal against metal, one of the armor sets moved toward the shadowed figure, who was still hidden behind the table, brandishing a long jagged sword, and a shield that had a giant spike in the middle. Seizing the edge of the toppled table, the living armor pulled it aside, stabbing down twice at the stranger with the gun. The other with mindless obedience moved toward Vax, raising it's blade to strike as it did.
Something thick wrapped around my ankles. A knotted green vine had sprouted out of the wall, entangling my feet. Pulling them out from under me I was jerked away, twisting just in time to see the elf who had saved me crumple to the ground, then watch the armor sink it's blade into his torso and withdraw it, sending an arc of blood across the ceiling. The dark haired woman in the door let out a scream, darting into the room and sliding on her knees across the stone floor to the fallen elf's side. Loosing my balance completely, I was turned over on my back and deposited across the room, in a corner near the door. Standing over me was a slender woman with red hair and a long twisted wooden staff, who with a flick of her wrist, unwound the vines from around my ankles.
"Hi," she said distractedly, "just hang on." Forgetting my presence the red haired woman lifted her arm, balled a fist, and muttered through clenched teeth "Healing. I command you." The familiar chill of nearby magical energy washed over me, and she threw her hand forward as if she were releasing a projectile outwards.
The second sharp crack of a gunshot interrupted the confusion of my thoughts, cutting through to the center of my being, and I flipped over onto my stomach looking back at the room behind me. Anders had fallen to one knee, doubled over clutching his bleeding leg. Across the room the figure wreathed in smoke had risen from his hiding place behind the table, and with an agile leap he vaulted over it, walking coolly towards Anders as he raised his gun for a second shot.
"Percival, you disappoint us all," Anders snarled tauntingly, still nursing his bleeding leg. "All you had to do was die like a good de Rolo."
"Traitor!"
A plume of black smoke burst from the front of the gun, Anders reeled as another shot hit him in the chest, punching a bloody hole through his armor. Blood spattered against the ground, and more dribbled down the Professor's chin as he coughed. He laughed trying to regain his balance.
"This land has a greater destiny!" Anders exclaimed, throwing out his arms, and he grinned madly, blood staining his teeth. "You and that fool Ripley, you place your faith in toys and dust, you seek only the transient truths..." The casually advancing figure dropped his gun arm, and lifted the other to pull something from around his neck. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted a dark leather mask, shaped like the long pointed beak and glassy eyes of a crow, and silently drew it over his face. Looking up into the pointed mask of the man who now stood directly over him, Anders laughed suddenly fearless. "I die to rise again, we are his blood--"
With an impatient movement the shadowed figure thrust the gun into Anders mouth, interrupting his speech.
"You're the face I saw when murder entered my heart." He growled. "This is your doing."
The last shot echoed out over the room with frightening finality. Anders' head crumpled as the gun went off in his mouth, and the entire back of his skull exploded outward, splattering the writing desk and wall with gore. Jerking the blood covered gun out of the vacuous hole that had been Anders' head, the figure raised his foot and kicked Anders' poised body, which toppled with a wet meaty thud.
What ever I had been expecting to feel, it didn't come. He was dead and it hardly mattered. In the end he had been dead all along. From the moment he had let Anna into the castle, Professor Anders had been fucked. His fate had been waiting for him all this time, and now it had claimed him. The battle wasn't over yet, the world didn't pause because the Professor was dead, and both the armor sets were still glowing with aggressive arcane energy.
Seizing his dagger from the ground where he had dropped it when he fell, Vax rolled away from the dark haired woman and the armor set standing over him, and bounced to his feet. Flinging two daggers close upon one another, both sank into the magic armor's empty breast plate, leaving two jagged knife shaped holes. Then with a swirl of black smoke both knives blinked out of sight and reappeared in Vax's hands. Out of the armor's reach, he backed away into the corner breathing hard and clutching at his stomach, blood still streaking down his torso.
The gray-skinned half giant let out a roar, foaming at the corners of the mouth, and veins bulged in his neck. Brandishing the hammer he bore down on the armor, batting it like a kitten with a toy, and its red arcane glow flickered like a sputtering candle on the verge of going out. Tucking away his shawm, the tiny Gnome man in the study door skipped jovially up to the other set of armor, and ripped his shirt open, thrusting his chest forward with a yell. A rippling burst of energy, with a deafening clap of thunder exploded outward, flinging the armor set head over heels, and it ignominiously tumbled over the upended table.
"Percival," the dark haired woman said, still on her knees, and she reached up, taking the shadowy figure's hand. "How are you?"
"Fine."
"Darling, take the mask off." She replied, and rose from her crouched position on the floor. The armor nearest her suddenly struck out with its sword, cutting across her shoulder, and she stumbled out of it's reach. With one fluid, practiced motion she knocked two arrows on the same string, dropped to her knees, and shot both arrows up into the empty helmet. In an instant the red glow blinked out, and with a crash the now lifeless armor tumbled in a confused heap.
Behind me with a crackling of roots, the vine that had pulled me to the wall swelled, and slithered across the floor, dragging the remaining set of armor across the room in the same way that it had dragged me. I backed up, hurriedly pulling myself out of the way to keep from getting trampled. The red haired woman slammed her staff into the magic plate armor's helmet, but without an physical force behind it, and it pinged against the metal uselessly.
Still foaming at the mouth the muscular half giant gripped his hammer. Raising it over his head he roared "BACON!" At the top of his lungs, and the black iron weighted head of the hammer burst into flame. Both strikes from the hammer left dents in the armor plates, letting out a ringing sound like a struck bell, and the flames left charred marks on the polished metal. The tiny man tried to leap off this giant's knee and strike at the armor with a short sword he had drawn, but the armor only deflected him with it's shield and he bounced off like a rubber ball. Across the room the faceless figure slowly pulled the bird like mask off his face. The smoke around him was beginning to dissipate, gradually revealing the details of a dark blue great coat, and several rounds of ammunition slung over one shoulder. Raising his pistol he sent three shots across the room at the armor, which all pinged against it without much effect.
"Aw, you guys, I thought someone was going to kill him!" The red head exclaimed, once again striking the armor harmlessly with her staff.
"I tried," the gnome said, clutching his arm dramatically, "but he hurt my wrist really bad!"
Rolling her eyes, either at the tiny gnome or the redhead, the dark haired woman sent another arrow across the room. With the sound of splintering wood it shattered against the metal, broken splinters of wood showering over the ground. Frowning at her failure and biting her lower lip, she took more careful aim, and fired again. This shot struck more true, sinking deep into the center of the armored chest plate, and once again the glow of magical energy blinked out.
"Vex," the half giant said admiringly, "thats two of em."
"Whats up bitches!" The dark haired woman gloated, throwing her arms out challengingly. At that moment a giant furry brown bear appeared in the study door, holding a what looked like a torn coat sleeve in his mouth, and he moaned plaintively at the Vex.
"Where did Ripley go?" The gray-skinned giant said.
"Oh, Trinket..." Vex said disconsolately, clutching her longbow to her chest, and the bear growled sadly in return. "Did she get away?"
Roughly the half giant latched onto the tiny man's shirt, ignominiously tucking him under one arm like a package, and he jogged past the bear and out of sight.
"Trinket, find Ripley." Vex commanded, pointing after her musclebound companion. "Smell her out for them Darling." Obediently the bear began to sniff about in the passage, and set off at an awkward run down the hallway, still nose to the ground.
Across the room the man with the great coat dropped to the ground, pulling a rag from his pocket, and he began to carefully clean the blood off of his gun. The redhead finally turned her attention fully on me, and dropped to her knees at my side. Gently she lifted my chin with one finger, and began to carefully examine my neck. I submitted to her touch, still shaken by the whole encounter, as the adrenaline slowly drained out of my body and I took steadying breath.
The woman in front of me was very beautiful, with dark green eyes tinged with hazel, a scattering of brown freckles across her face, and now that I had more time to look at her I realized that she also had elven blood in her. The tips of her ears were pointed, and she was paler than most humans would be, but I could trace human blood in her too, for she didn't have quite the ageless quality of a full blooded elf. She was a half elf, a mingled descendant of both bloodlines.
Her hair, which was a very rich red color and hung all the way down to her waist, was pulled back from her face, and framing her temples was a twisted headpiece almost like a crown made out of slender white roots. Leaves, stained by the rich reds and yellows of fall, were almost growing out of the headpiece, and two polished white antlers curved back on either side of her head. All her clothes were very loose and flowing, mimicking the colors of autumn, and adorned with strings of beads. On her arms, all the way from shoulders to finger tips, were curving black tribal tattoos, clearly meant to visualize the flowing of wind or free air.
She was very skilled, and as she examined me closely her hands were very nimble, at last she released me, apparently satisfied with my wellbeing. I myself, now that I had a moment to examine myself, felt much better. I was a little shaken, and both my hands and feet were icy cold, the skin pale and waxy, but other than that I was relatively unharmed.
As the redhead broke away from me, Vax rose from his ball in the corner, still limping and clutching a hand over his stomach as he made his way clumsily across the room. Vex, the dark haired woman, hurriedly crossed the room to support him, tenderly offering him a shoulder to lean on. Now that I could see them right next to each other, it was abundantly clear that they must be twins. It wasn't a difficult conclusion to draw. Their features were so unnervingly similar, gender being the only difference, and even that wasn't striking. Both had long straight black hair, which the sister had pulled into a braid, and both had identical black eyes. Vex had three blue feathers tucked into her hair behind one pointed ear, and her clothes were more natural in color, making up dusty greens and browns, over which was pulled a dark black cloak that almost seemed to melt into any shadows in the room. The man was dressed in much darker colors than his twin's, all his armor and gear very dark blacks, and the only colorful thing he wore was a dark purple cloak with tiny gold runes embroidered around its edge. He had four different daggers, two strapped to his back, with two others in a belt at his waist. And both upon closer inspection, while somewhat elven, also had something human about them that I found difficult to place, indicating that these two were also halfelven like the redhead.
"That was a close one." Vax murmured, half supporting himself against his sister.
"Yeah...you know I feel like we've been here before..." The redheaded woman said, with a show of thinking hard, hand on her chin. She narrowed her eyes for a moment, then her face hardened and she added scathingly, "oh right! That's right, we have been here before..."
Vax only laughed, a shuddering halting sound, and he winced as the chuckle irritated his wound.
"You know I'm in love with you right?" And pulling her in, he planted a kiss on her mouth. As he did, his sister's face twisted with a look of juvenile disgust at seeing her sibling kiss somebody right in front of her, and pulled away from his arm. Completely caught off guard, the redhead reeled as he pulled away, blushing until she was almost as red as her hair. Vex, grimacing in an exaggerated show of disgust, left the room.
"The way you turn into animals and stuff is really cool." Vax mumbled, stumbling without his sister's support, and leaning against the wall. "I'm losing a lot of blood right now..."
"Oh! Right..." the redhead exclaimed with a start, casting aimlessly about her for something to do, while her blush deepened even further "Just...let me...Umm..." Awkwardly placing her hands against Vax's stomach, she whispered under her breath. Tiny threadlike vines began to creep out from under her fingertips, winding around Vax's torso, that bloomed with starlike white flowers for an instant. Then the flowers wilted, the vines crumbled to dust, and she pulled her hands away. Straightening, Vax gingerly pushed a finger into his stomach, testing the newly healed wound, and let out a sigh of relief. At last the other figure in the room, the man with the six barreled gun, rose from the ground. This man, unlike the others, was clearly human, his chin rough with dark stubble, and his face was more rugged, less ageless than the half elves. But even though he didn't look old, and had vaulted over the table very dexterously earlier in the battle, his hair was white.
I could now see that the six barreled gun was not the only weapon he bore, and as he moved I noticed that he had a metallic gauntlet on his left hand, and a much larger gun slung over his back. A white gemstone was set in the palm of the gauntlet, that sparked with electrical energy every time he flattened his hand, and across the back, carved into one of the metal plates was the word Diplomacy. The larger gun was hanging behind his back on another gun belt, which was loaded with several rounds of much larger, and far more deadly looking, ammunition. But the gun itself was a vicious looking weapon, too large to be easily fired at close range, with a scope on the top spine of the gun, a barrel that was much longer than the pistol's, and the title Bad-News carved across the butt of the gun by the same hand that had given the metal gauntlet its name. It was abundantly clear, from the expert and familiar way this white haired man handled all these weapons, the pistol, the larger rifle, and the sparking electrical glove, that they were all his creations, and he knew their functions intimately.
As soon as he stirred my eyes were magnetically drawn to him, strangely fascinated by his movements, but he didn't look at me. Instead tucked his pistol away into a holster under his greatcoat, and began to collect fallen arrows from the ground, bundling them into a small handful.
"Vax, are you alright?" He asked, crossing the room, and gripping the arrows tightly in one hand.
"Yes, I feel better," Vax said with a grim shrug, "thank you."
"That's good." The man declared, then he suddenly began striking Vax with the bundle of arrows as hard as he could, punctuating every word he said with a fresh strike. "Don't. You. Go. Into. Rooms. By. Yourself. Goddammit!"
"Percival, he had a knife to your sister's throat! He was going to kill her."
"Thank you, but next time count to ten!" At last he threw the arrows away, and turned to look down at me.
I didn't know him. The face was square and chiseled, with sharp cheekbones, and he was extremely pale, almost waxy, so that he looked almost ill, with dark shadows under the eyes. All his hair was white, tousled and unkempt except for the dark stubble on his square jawline. In that hollow pale ghost of a face, his blue eyes were startling, and they too looked tired, shadowed and haunted.
It was like trying to see an old friend's face through a broken window, all warped and wrong, the vaguest shadow of what you remembered. I could see where Percy's face might have been, if the man before me were healthier and less hardened. But I couldn't trace the brother I knew in the shadows before me. Though I recognized nothing, I still felt irresistibly drawn to this stranger, instantly attached to him and concerned for his well being, despite the fact that I knew nothing about him. Somehow it broke my heart, and I longed for the joking older brother I thought I knew.
"Percy..." It wasn't a greeting.
"Hi..."
The answer was so unbearably awkward. There was doubt in it too. He was as unsure of me, as I was of him. When faced with the task of saying everything that should be said, that one word of greeting was so stupidly inadequate, it felt like some kind of pointless joke. We were both utter strangers to the other, but somehow I knew him. His eyes, even though they were hardened, old, and tired, were my brother's eyes. And that one clumsy word was the exact kind of dumb shit my brother would say.
"Percy."
"I am so sorry..."
The words hardly mattered, and I was in his arms almost before he said them, the embrace saying far more than clumsy speech. It felt like there was something broken inside, something torn and bleeding, that suddenly stitched back together. Strangely it hurt more than I could put into words. I was like a man dying of thirst, who was suddenly drowning in water. My chest hurt, the old wounds stinging, and I bit my lip trying to keep myself together.
"I am so sorry for leaving you." Percy said, pulling away at last.
"I thought you were dead!" I said, laughing haltingly. Slowly, almost afraid that he would stop me, I reached up and ran my fingers through his white hair. "I see we've both survived quite a bit."
"I wouldn't trade."
Despite the pain, I could have happily stood like that forever, but we weren't alone, and I suddenly remembered the other people in the room. Years of training had drilled us both never to show any kind of physical affection in public, and it was hard to throw off old lessons now. But deeper than that, there was some half foreign impulse that prompted me to withdraw, and I reluctantly shrank away.
"You shouldn't be here..." I faltered. "They were using me to get to you...I'm sorry..."
"Are you alright, did they do anything?" Percy asked soberly, brushing aside my words. "Are you yourself?"
It almost felt like something answered for me, and I slowly nodded. "I'm good..." I declared, and having said it, I realized that I believed it. "I'm good."
Part of me wondered if Percy actually believed me, but if he had any doubts he didn't voice them. Taking me by the arms, he drew my eyes to his face, and I shivered at the icy resolve I sensed underneath his words.
"We're putting an end to the Briarwoods tonight, before the sun sets. This is the end of them. It's all going to be over, and we're going to stop whatever it is they're doing under the city."
No. The inner response was immediate and vehement, rising half against my will, and I was frightened by the force of the feeling. No. That mustn't be. Indignation swelled within me, my thoughts coiling protectively around the Briarwoods as soon as he threatened them. This was wrong. How could my brother be so terribly wrong?
"You say this," I murmured coldly, "but we've tried twice."
"I know." Percy responded, maddeningly dismissive, as if all the lives lost, all the flames, all the tears and blood, meant nothing. "This is it."
What made me say my next words, I could hardly tell, but it struck it's root in a little rising resentment against my brother that was the cause of all this inner confusion: "You left me you know."
"I did...and I am so sorry..."
My words had hurt him, I could see that, and much to my own chagrin, it sparked a little whisper of bitter triumph to see it.
"Good." I said. Then I gave myself a shake, hastening to take refuge in business. "Well if we are going to do this, I need to get ready."
"No..." Percy contradicted half heartedly, his former doubt resurfacing. "You're going to your room--"
"Yes I am--" I cut in.
"--to wait till this is over."
"No, I'm not." I responded, summoning as much of my old conviction as I could muster. It had been a long time since the first rebellion, but I called up the same force of leadership now. "I'm going to my room, to get my things, to get Mother's armor."
"I--I don't think thats a very good idea." But I could almost smell his weakness. If I continued to insist, he would inevitably give way.
"You've been fighting them for a few days," I said, that same foreign resentment stirring within me, prompting my words. "I've been fighting them for nearly three years. You have no power over me brother, and if our goals are aligned to free this city, then lets do it together. But I don't have to listen to you."
It was a challenge, a contest of power, but I never hesitated in setting it. A moment of awkward silence fell, in which Percy and I never broke eye contact. He was angry, I could see that, and there was also a tinge of regret, but I sensed a feeling of admiration underneath. Part of him admired what I had become. All this bloomed in my mind, in the space of a few moments, then Percy frowned, and his face darkened.
"Oh god, you're irritating..." He suddenly exploded, and fuming he turned away, throwing his hands up "Fine!"
There was no triumph in the victory, it was already forgotten, but I did feel a tinge of satisfaction ripple through me. This was more like what I remembered, this was more like the old way. We never could manage to get along without arguing, even when we were only children. Always hiding behind irritation, that was Percy's way.
As I left the room, the tiny little gnome and his half giant companion had come back, and they passed me in the door.
"That Ripley is very talented..." The tiny man said grudgingly as he entered. "She got away..."
"I have no doubt she did," I overheard Percy say wearily. "Honestly, we have bigger issues than Anna at this point."
For an instant I paused, trying to make out more of the conversation, but their voices had faded out of my hearing and I cast the effort aside. Vex was also returning, slightly behind her two friends. Her bear companion was trudging along submissively, with his mistress sitting on his back like a queen, and the halfelven woman was idly re-doing the thick braid of her hair as they went along. Gathering myself, I quietly passed them, tracing the way back to my room.
It was clear that Percy and the others had already been here, the papers on my desk moved out of place, the doors of my wardrobe left open. It looked as if they had been searching for me, or some clue of where to find me. I shivered. Something about seeing my private space disturbed felt extremely vulnerable, as if everything they had touched didn't belong to me anymore. Fearfully I crouched down, and slithered under my bed once again, reaching for that bundle of old velvet. But this at least was completely undisturbed. All my clothes were in the exact same place, my boots, my blades, and Mother's Armor, all just as they should be. I let out a small sigh of relief.
Mechanically I began to dress in the mirror, swiftly removing my blood soaked dress and trading it for my more functional clothes from under the bed. My movements were swift and efficient, but I was aware of ever tiny muscle in my body. The old ritual of dressing for battle was refreshing, like a sharp spice, and I was more alive than I'd felt in years. I drew Traitor from its sheath and felt the keen edge of the blade, satisfaction stirring within me as I felt how sharp it was.
Then, in the middle of dressing I paused, my shirt half on and half off. What was I even doing!? Was I planning on joining Percy, betraying my new family, and clinging to the old one? What was I going to do? The question burned in my mind, demanding an answer, an explanation, a plan.
In the dim semi light of my room, the dark scars across my bare skin were fully visible. A jagged wound across my side, and a shallow cut across my collar bones, the work of Geru. Underneath that shallow mark, a much deeper slash given to me by Silas. It was carved into my chest with deadly accuracy, still red and jagged, a long vicious line across the center of my chest. Finally beneath that, three round scars, reminders of the arrows that had punched through my skin. The memory of how I had got them made my skin burn painfully. My brother gave me these. I reflected, and once again the thought rose out of that little seed of bitter resentment.
No sooner had I gotten my old family back, then it was threatening my new one. Percy, Percy, why did he have to come back to me such a heartless fool? I knew what I had to do of course. I had known from the beginning. The answer had been clear from the start, I had just been running from it. The weight of it settled over me, instantly extinguishing the vigor of anticipation, and I settled into it, embracing the burden.
"You find your family, and you protect them with every bone of your body." Wasn't that what Ivan had told me? "You find what you want, and you pursue it, to the very end."
I wanted my family to be safe. That was my task. Keeping Silas and Delilah safe from my brother was the only thing that mattered.