Lilian’s Point of View Chapter 2

                     “I can’t believe that they are not watching her more closely. She has been training for years, but they believe her to be just a child.” Death Stalker’s hollowed voice echoed through the vast room. The haunting reverberation was as if a devil spoke while in the deepest pits of the Thirteen Hells. The dimensional portal, or window, that he looked through caused a void of the light within the room and would continue to ward the light as long as he stood this close to its surface. He knew this would alert the girl, but he had to look in on her. She would have too much going on today to worry of this minor intrusion. They looked so much alike, but to his eyes they were very different. Not just in mannerisms, but in their core soul. 

He watched through the slit in dimensions and could feel the power draw that must be sustained to hold the window. The consumption would be too much for mortals, gods and most Malds, but for him it was less than he would absorb in a given hour, he could sustain this viewer for three days before feeling the effects of its draw. He had two of them open at the moment, one looking in on each of the girls. He could see one in front of him and the other behind. They both woke at the same time, as they often did, and both had the same dream, though slightly altered for each. But they did not see the dream any where near the same way. “Lillian is a tyrant, ready to kill and destroy anything that comes her way. Pity that she will not learn the error of her ways until it is far too late. Eons will pass before that moment. Though I feel it to be very soon. I wish that I could intervene directly, but there is no helping it. If I become directly involved then some of the others will be allowed as well. We don’t need Malachi poking his face into our affairs. At least not yet. The girls are both nearing their threshold of power. One with the power of the mind and the abilities of a demon. The other with the power of the cosmos and the abilities of an angel. Neither are truly ready for what is to come.”

He could feel the squat Nombian at the door, waiting on him to say something or to do something that would allow him to interrupt and try to get another look at Death Stalker’s “body”. Magrana was a great help at times, but was also a bit of a nuisance. The choices that little rat was about to make would seal his fate and keep Death Stalker amused for a short while. He truly hoped the rat would make the right choices, but he was rarely wrong in these things and new that Magrana would choose poorly. “All of the pendants save two are nearly together. Once they come together the Destroyer will call for them. I have to keep them apart, even from Siratis. She believes that she is doing the right thing by working for the old man, but those pendants will spell the end for everything should they be brought to one place. My ruse will work for a short time. Hopefully long enough for me to get the pendants to new places, safer places, where they will either never be found, or can not be taken. Only Kira’s will be returned to her directly, should she be so inclined to grant me its use. Once they are all copied, I will send out the copies to a thousand different place, infuse them with this or that magic or power and ensure that everyone believes them to be real. Then I will hide the originals. Just have to get the pouch of fakes to Siratis, the ones that I am giving her without magic, so that she will give me what I need.”

Death Stalker looked away from one girl and over to the other. Kira was in her room, in the dark, batting at something to her right, but not able to find anything since there was literally nothing there. He looked back at Lillian, who was talking with someone on a mirror and looking about the room as if she suspected she were being watched. “Now, Magrana will interrupt me and this day will begin. It will end with me holding the pendants and the destruction of Bugsby’s anonymity. Then the real challenge begins. Malachi is coming and with him, Destroyer of all.”

He looked away from the two girls and into the void of darkness that was his body. He looked there for a long while before deciding what he was going to do. Then his decision was made and he would not falter from it. He looked back at the girl in the small slit of reality. “I will focus my attention on Kira for now. Let the two of them have their fight and if the girl wins, I will do nothing. If she looses, then I will offer her to become a child of the dark. Now, my attention goes to Kira.”

“She is growing more powerful, but they did not train her very well. The fools.” Death Stalker’s hollowed voice echoed through the vast room once again. “She has much to learn before she is ready, but her power grows steadily.” 

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The chilling touch of the cool wind kissed her face as she leaned closer to the window of the carriage. She slid back her thick hood and embraced it with great enthusiasm as she had done when she was a child. The morning air caressed and slightly massaged her skin, replacing the aches of age with the memory of a youth long past. Her old fingers, though nimble from years of practice and patience, seemed ablaze with the pain of arthritis as the warmth left them with the throbbing of her heart and the deep scars of age-old battles.  “Zerror, old love. Why did I ever leave?”

For the moment, the rhythmic sounds of the carriage lulled Siratis, allowing the alluring scents of nature to pervade her senses. The musty smell of the surrounding woods mingled with the perfume of abundant wildflowers, all overlaid with the ever-present smell of newly scythed illisian grass was both a curse and a blessing within her memories. The smells of Zerror, each more appealing than the aromatherapy she had once studied, left a tear in her eye as she tried to choke back her child hood from the lump in her throat. So beautiful were the familiar scents that she allowed herself the luxury of almost melting into the country around her and releasing herself into the air to be nothing more than the scenery. “To be naive again would be the blessing of heavens gates, but this place holds nothing of heaven for me now.”

They had traveled down the mountain pass of Mt. Karamander for well over two hours now and were just coming out of the foot hills where the mountain gave way for the Great Plains of Zerror. She had played in these foothills as a child and could remember the warmth that once lay in those memories and shame cloaked her heart. The moving clouds above seemed to pierce her evil soul with memories of betrayal and lost honor. “Spies of the sky, why do you vex me so? Old Guardians cease your accusations. We all know what was done. “

Great rocks jutted this way and that across their path where ages had worn them with the passing of time and wagons. A cool mist stretched across most of the foothills, giving them an eerie glimmer that left them nearly alive. With every movement beneath the small blanket of fog, the shifting of moisture upon the air would fluidly roll as if a great beast awakening from a long slumber. “If only I could awaken that mountain and have it pummel my adversaries now. But that power is long past and the blood that flows through these veins no longer holds sway over their moods. I am left to my own devices, which are not feeble in comparison, are not equal either.”

The enormous mountain loomed over the city of Brindakrie and would one day fall to the sea, but that would not come for many years. As for now, she could remember the sky just beyond the mountain, how it always seemed to be the dark purple of moonlight hours and how the clouds seemed to part just as the top of the pinnacle poked through their cool embrace. Those same clouds masked other interesting details, of which only her line knew, a secret that most would take to the grave. These were details that would soon come to light and be all too present for even the common man. “Seeing the foresights of thousands of separate time lines has not yet allowed me the ability to find the correct outcome of this, and many other, encounters. I have seen this moment a thousand times plus, and have yet to find the correct solution to the problem. Finding a way to stop the Death Wars will be the only way forward. Warning that false king is the only thing we have not tried yet, and though it pains me, it may be the nail that opens the coffin.”

Siratis watched as the land passed her by at astonishing speeds. Leap after leap brought her closer and closer to the great city of Brindakrie and farther from her comfort zone back on Mt. Dryst. Her home was a place others believed haunted and evil, the perfect refuge for someone as vile and putrid as she thought herself to be. She wanted to end it all, make things stop, no matter the cost. Immortal beings, however, did not hold the luxury of suicide. “It has gone on too long. This has to work. I will avenge my mother of my own wrong doing and stop my own deeds. In the interim I will be allowing to live an evil that I once removed from the land. How can it be a decision like this? How can it be him that is to stop the Death Wars? Suprema are almost as cruel as Demantoria. The opposing side of the same coin, but both are very similar in their methods.”

The brilliant greens and crimson reds were amazing to the eye, or would be if she had been able to see them. The eyes she currently borrowed were of a different nature than her own. Color blind, they saw only varying shades of gray. This did not detract from the moment, however, because Siratis had seen Zerror in all its seasons and had a whole childhood worth of memories to draw upon. That Urzest could not see in color was a minor annoyance. Her near-symbiotic relationship with the great white tiger had grown comforting for they had been together so long now that she often forgot they were not of one body. Their hearts beat as one as the massive cats thoughts mingled with her own. She could feel the love of her pet, enjoyed the single mindedness of the surroundings. She felt no anxiety, no guilt, and no fear, only the joys of running free. Only this moment mattered.

Siratis began to release herself into that pool of freedom, as a lover would relax into the arms of their love. She realized now that she was trying to set her mind away from what was coming. “A trick of children but one the old should try more often.”

They ran for the next mile or so before the old woman brought back her mind to her old body. Her body ached as the cold settled back into her joints, but she could not stay out any longer, guilt and the necessity of readiness where too strong. “Must be ready, get this body circulating once again. It amazes me every time that I wake that I can even move at my age, but still, the curse of immortality will not lift its evil hand while still allowing my body to slowly wither away. If not for my magic, I would have been nothing more than dust over eight hundred years ago. Sometime believe dust is what I should become and leave it at that.”

“Ma’am.” The drive said, though his speech was rather rough. He wasn’t keen on talking and would only respond when directly asked. She waved him off and he spoke no further.

Shaking off her reverie, Siratis fidgeted with the royal medallion round her neck. She had not thought of it in many years, but it now came sharply into focus. The importance of the medallion had escaped her in youth, but became most powerfully evident in the years leading into her true woman-hood. It felt brittle and feeble in her time beaten grasp as though a single puff of air would shatter its intricate designs into a cascade of sharp colored shards, leaving nothing but the past to stare back at her. She knew, however, that it was of a greater strength than any metal on the probe, and even the Supre Malds would have a hard time scratching its surface. It was smooth and silky with neither nick nor mar. Made of Melaney metal, its glassy surface was warm and heated with each touch until its warmth could be felt continuously against the skin. The opposing side of the same emblem was rough, sharp even, but never actually cut her skin. She once thought of smoothing the edges to make it more “wearable”, but was told that this metal could not be shaped after it was hardened and would never be able to be smoothed or even scratched for that matter. She ran her thumb over the crest that had once represented a great family and pity began to overwhelm her. That well of pity that had followed her for so long and the guilt that associated with it could have drowned her for an eon with its sharp tendrils, which seemed to snare her from time to time “Driver, slow our pace. We shall not arrive too soon.” Siratis commanded.

The driver reigned in the horses with a light tug as he was commanded. He wore the attire of a manservant with leather pants that belled out slightly at the bottom and flailed away from the black leather boots. Black laces of horsehair were weaved through the eyes of the boots to create the ties, which held them fast. His coat was of finer silk and cloth of which few knew. It was stronger than most metals. The shine of its shell was such that he could be seen for a mile at high moon. A hat lay, fastened sharply atop his head and was plumed with great feathers of birds long forgotten.

The glamour made him seem human in every way with a small smirk upon his face to keep him seeming friendly and kind. He looked like a man that had been working carriages for many a year, his face wrinkled with the squint of the high moons. He had long black hair that lay back over his coat and his nose was slightly too long for his face to add character to him and draw attention away from the rest of his body. “We live or die by the details of everything we do.”

The horses were much the same, in that they were perfect stallions with deep brown hair and lovely mains that bore great shine in the moonlight. They pranced lightly as they moved along the well-trodden roads that led to Brindakrie. Siratis was quite the powerful witch with tricks as old as time, but her powers would be noticed almost instantly by the Cophnier. Siratis felt the void of their power once before and the helplessness was something she never wanted to feel again. “If it were up to me, they would all be destroyed, those damned hounds of destruction. Good for nothing but desolation.”

The sound of the wheels now hitting paved road told that they were nearing civilization, but she knew they were at least another twenty or so minutes from the castle. Her eyes need not explain anything to her for she knew the roads of Zerror better than the Great Plains themselves. She waited, listening for a moment and then heard the rocking carriage begin to cut into thick grass on either side of its rails. The wheels were muffled as they moved across the stones with grass thickly rooted through the cracks and crevices between each stone. The great plains were well traveled but the grass grew with such speed that even an hour left without the pressing of carts would give a cushion from the grass below. Her mind wondered over the creation of Zerror and she remembered a great tree just past the great hills of Karamander and was now curious if it still stood. Using Urzest’s eyes she could see its great branches swaying in the morning wind as the carriage passed through its shade. She could hear the creaking of its branches and wondered if the carvings that she had once placed upon that tree were still visible, but Urzest would give her no clarity to this memory, for the great cats eyes could not catch enough detail for pictures or carvings, at least not enough to discern their meaning.

Siratis had watched as the probes were created and saw evil enter that once perfect environment like a plague quickly sweeping through and distorting everything in its path. That was her reasoning to return to Zerror once more. She was hoping to under a mistake that she once made that still haunted her, even after all these years. The actions of this day were all but justified for her to become what she must. All, that is, except for one. That one was the worst thing she had ever done and the only thing she truly wanted to change. Every time, three thousand times, she had never been able to stop that one mistake, to live this life over and over without the ability to change that one moment, was more torture than any hell she had ever visited. This time, though, she would have to witness it once again. The beauty she held, the kindness and the courage. Then the fear, betrayal and heartbreak all at once just before the crystal sucked her in. Siratis had dreamt of that night nearly every night since and that was a lot of nights. “Oh, our wicked ways do seem to fall back upon us all.”

The old woman began rubbing her hands across the wood of the carriage’s interior and felt the intricacy of the carvings. The exquisite maple was smooth in texture and so well polished that even her trained hands could not trace all the superb details the first time. The carvings were virtually real and came to life in her hands. It was like a painting from one of the old masters. Every time she returned to a place, she found more detail within its gracious folds. This told Siratis that the carver truly loved his work and had poured his soul into the making of this carriage, not for the brik value, but for the craftsmanship it allowed him to display. She could see this carriage had become a part of him and that it truly pained him to part with it. She felt the hours consumed by the painstaking exactness the carver had taken with each piece. This was truly love, the kind of love and care a parent would take with their child, helping mold them into the type of person they wanted them to become. The kind of love and care everyone should devote to at least one thing in their life. How devastating it is when one discovers that all that care, love and pride amounted to nothing more than misshapen wood. Such was not the case with this carver, but was well the case with her own life. “A parent should never deceive their child. Rather they love them or not, they should always nurture them until adulthood. Losing a parent is hard, but destroying one for their own actions is much worse. It was a hard lesson to learn, and would have been a hard one to watch. We will remove that part of the story this time. She will be left to her own devices and left with.. him. They say this may be the change that is needed. The change that will ultimately stop the loop, and though I am fervently against the act, it is mine to alter and my choice to make. It will be done and by my hand. Afterward, they will see the true self that he hides from them and know what I went through all those years. They will see what Daniel knew all along. The one thing I have avoided until now.”

“How am I to absolve my sin? To defend oneself from the monstrosity I once was would take much more than I am willing to devote. But to leave that child in the hands of that monster will help nothing to shape the future. It will simply harden the past.” Siratis sobbed, feeling the self-pity welling within her as she rubbed the wood and thought of the perfectness within its creation. She wondered why she could not have been created with such perfections. Wondered if she could ever be more than the monster she saw within. “No, not monstrous, but so heinous no word can describe my actions. Even the thirteen hells were amazed at my foolishness and monstrosity. My actions damned my line and the whole Probe. I will not allow those actions to replay in Lillian. I will stop the steps taken and in doing, stop time from reverting once again. Even if it means leaving her with that man.”

Siratis felt her emotions drifting back again and she suddenly forced the morose and vivid past out of her mind. She focused on the movements of Urzest instead. The cat’s thoughts were surprisingly not on the surroundings but on the gypsy witch within the intricate carriage. Her feline eyes watched not the grass or the great tree, but the carriage as it slowly strode past. The white coloring was brilliant through her eyes and the stripes of red were nothing more than gray. The intricate detail of the outer walls was not lost on Urzest’s gray shaded world, though the actual meaning was not within her grasp. 

Urzest watched intently as the feelings slowly washed over them both and Siratis cracked a smile, the bad emotions quickly fleeing. “I’m fine. Please, continue. We will enjoy these last few minutes old friend. We may have nothing more in the future that may be enjoyed as much as this moment. Treasure it greatly.”

Siratis began to watch the terrain again as it passed in front of the cat’s eyes. She lost herself in the scenery as she felt her hand reach for the medallion. Instead, she laid her hand upon the ancient cane to her left. The wood was carved from the first tree of creation and it always seemed to sooth her nerves. “Run old friend, release us both to that natural freedom of the wild.”

Urzest was on the move with such speed that Siratis did not realize she had even taken off. She felt the air whipping through the great cat’s hair as if it were her own. The ground under the feline’s paws was strangely soothing to the touch and the leaps shot her into the air and released her into the morning sky, as though flight were achievable of such as them.

Urzest made more of a show of the ordeal than was truly needed, but she knew that Siratis needed the outlet to free her mind for a short time. Urzest was correct. The two shifted from one hill to p the lower valleys of Zerror as the great feline sprang from one patch of probe to another. Urzest began to shift her weight this way and that as the cool breeze began to pick up against her face. The shifting of her weight moved her slightly to the left or right and gained her an extra second or so of flight through the glorious breeze. Siratis, leaning back now and letting her own skin feel the breeze of the morning air as though she were the cat, felt her heart begin to sour as passion began to fill her mind as never before. It was her greatest moments to be Urzest and to have Urzest be her. She felt the fondness and knew that she once again loved someone besides herself. Urzest felt much the same and they could have lost themselves on the plains of Zerror for a million years and never needed anything more. 

The feeling of freedom was overwhelming to the point that Siratis nearly forgot to call the great cat in before entering the city’s sight. A great squawk from overhead told her of their position and reminded her of the tasks at hand. Grudgingly, Urzest headed back, noting with some satisfaction that her master would willingly trade places with her without a second thought. Jumping through the opened door the great cat settled on the carpeted floor of the carriage, her enormous head resting on the seat. So graceful were her movements that Siratis could not help being impressed even after all the years of their relationship. Bending to place Urzest’s water bowl on the floor, she was rewarded with a playful butt of the great cat’s head, sloshing water all over the seat. Panting heavily, nearly exhausted, Urzest drank greedily, but Siratis knew she would have gladly run another few miles if given the chance. Not just for her pleasure, but also for that of her master.

The sound of metal grating metal told Siratis that they were entering the city gates. She looked through the cat’s eyes, but the water bowl was Urzest’s primary concern and the occasional drops of water flailing this way and that kept her too busy for other things. 

Applying herself, Siratis decided to let her hearing be her eyes so there would be no need to pull back the curtains of the carriage, or to use those of her other friends, which left her with dirty feeling every time she chose to use them. Listening to the hubbub and bustle surrounding her, she could hear only three men turning the pulley to release the gate wench. Such was the way in peaceful times. She felt a little anxious, like a caged animal, and now understood how Urzest felt from time to time. As the gate slammed home behind them, Siratis nearly screamed. “Scarred of the past, worried of the present and hopeful of the unseen future. We have returned, Urzest and as always it is during a time of great unrest. Back at the scene of the crime…home.”

A royal flag had allowed them entrance thus far into the grand city, but as they passed slowly across the wooden bridge, she could hear the arrows being notched far above. One word from the main gate guard and those arrows would fly, leaving her dead for a time and leaving her out of this day’s events. She thought for a moment of driving those men to attacking her simply to get out of her destiny. As it were, the smell of leather told her that she was soon to be addressed.

“What is your business in Brindakrie?” A man announced to the driver of the carriage, impatiently awaiting an answer.

“We have business with King Charles. Our flag is of the royal house and cannot be contested. As you well know.” The driver mimicked as Siratis spoke the words through the glimmer upon the dead corpse.

Looking at the flag, which draped sourly within the windless chamber of the two walls, the soldier recognized the insignia that slightly showed from its crumpled folds. The Imarse that sat also upon his breastplate was the insignia of the King and only those in the service of the king or under his permission would have such a sign. “Let her through. She is here by order of the king.” The soldier announced as the sound of strung bows being slowly released back to starting position told her that she was correct about the soldiers in the tower. “Your path shall not be halted again.”

The sound of another pulley being drawn in front of the carriage triggered the sound of a pull just behind her. The two bridges could not be opened at the exact same time as a security precaution and as one rose, the other lowered. “Such a precaution does not work against those that do not need use them for their attacks.”

As the bridge lifted home behind her and the city broke just before her, she could smell something that had been long out of her mind. Siratis’ mother had loved the smell of this particular flower and her husband, the king of Brindakrie at the time, had ensured that there were plenty around for her to encounter.

“Linious.” Siratis said allowed as she remembered the name of the flowers. She could not bring herself to think of or even speak her mother’s name, but the flower she loved was there with little effort and without warning. That small deep red flower was much like a rose but with a much sweeter smell and without thorns. As the flowers’ smell caught in her mind, the crystal came to mind and she could see her mother being dragged in, kicking and screaming against the pull. She watched with cold eyes as her mother was dragged into another dimension and thought she would one day return with new education and a fresh outlook on life. She never dreamed that Ibanez would use her mother as some sort of lab experiment. That he would turn her into a living zombie that only he controlled, drooling on her sleeve if he didn’t give her an order. She never thought…she never thought.

“Why did I do it?” Siratis asked Urzest as the large cat simply looked down at her bowl. “I had the country, though he was selling off much of the lands for no good reason, I could have easily conquered them back after his death. Instead I made that cruel and unnatural deal with the Demantoria, Ibanez and then got involved with Vincent. How stupid was I?” 

Urzest shifted her head from the bowl to find the fragrance that had her master so enthralled, but the smell was much different to her feline senses and held no memories for her to linger upon. She quickly returned to the bowl and tried to catch the sloshing drops. Siratis smiled lightly at Urzest and patted lightly on her head. The feline often tried to understand things of which, even Siratis, was rarely sure.

The aroma of the city crept through her thoughts and stripped away the pleasant smells and memories of childhood. Intermingled with the fragrance of the flowers and shrubs was now the pungent odors of cooked food, unwashed bodies and animal dung. The ordinary smells associated with a city bombarded her with such force that a tear rolled down her eye and for the first time in years it was not from pity or crying. Siratis’ senses were assailed not only by the mélange of odors but also the cacophony of sound. People hawking their wares, talking to neighbors and going about their daily routines made more racket than an entire symphony orchestra. Unsettled and edgy, Siratis drew into herself, stilling her mind, until she could adjust to her surroundings. It was a trick she had learned a long time ago and which always proved useful. It was a skill greatly understated with other races. The teacher that instructed her on this trait told her that it was a “home within her mind”. She had built it as carefully as possible. 

Urzest, following much the same path as her master, slowed her breathing for a moment to allow her nostrils to adjust, while still playfully batting at the water droplets that spouted here and there from her bowl. She panted slightly, but pulled her tongue back in for a few seconds as the tastes of the city caught her by surprise as well. She stopped playing for a moment and let out a small whimper as her nose wrinkled slightly at the strange thickness of the air. The moment passed and Urzest went back to the playful bowl with renewed concentration.

Siratis could hear the noises of the city still, but now they were muffled and distant. She stood in the small home she had created within her mind just in front of a plaque she had hung there centuries ago. It was a statue of her with no glamour or glitz. The statue was young and naked as it stood with its head hung low. The brown hair, nearly black, of her youth, hung to nearly her waist, covering the face she dared not stare into as it swayed slightly in the gentle breeze of her mind. On the plaque was a single sentence. “Be true to yourself for no one else will!”

“What we do today will alter everything, and leave a little girl with a monster. Though the girl be a monster as well, I am not certain how she will turn out under his direct tutelage.” Siratis explained to Urzest as the carriage shot up around her and her “home” was washed away. She hoped someone would either stop her or applaud her efforts. Neither happened and she knew she would never get an answer until after the effects, or during.

Urzest raised her head and looked deep in Siratis’ eyes. Their unblinking lids drew back slightly as the great cat looked on to find nothing but a haunting emptiness of which she had grown accustomed. She watched for a moment as if she were about to say something, then looked back down at the floor, waiting on another drop of water to catch her eye. The sound of her paws scrapping slightly against the wood told Siratis that the cat was back at play.

Everything within the city seemed normal, as no person, seer, wizard or mage was aware of the coming flood. Only one person could have stopped it, but she would not do so for twenty years. Siratis listened as the sounds of the city slowly melded into the background and she became aware of the animals. They could feel her nearness and were confused by the duality of her nature. They could feel her for what she truly was, and she could hear them getting restless as she approached.

“She returns and we are not ready for her terrible turmoil!” A voice shot out from the crowds just outside the carriage. They were passing the main streets of Brindakrie by now and the major shops were just outside. She was in the center of the city and new the owner of the voice, the only being in all of Brindakrie that would know of what was going to be coming in the next few hours. “She will bring ruin. Ready yourselves lest you be cast into the fire with sin on your hands!” 

“The beggar that we all thought was crazy actually turned out to be nothing but. I wish that I could see him now, but me or Urzest showing our faces within the city might turn out to be a bad thing, best that I do nothing for now and try to speak with him another time.” She thought aloud as she listened to his “rantings” of the truth.

“She passes like a thief and we will all be punished for our blindness. The mother of all destruction is upon us! One here and one there, both as evil as the other and both on a mission of destruction. See yourselves to the fire and wait for the Great Wars, as they will be upon us soon. Sharpen your blades and ready your deaths as even the Great Tempter shall sully our cities and walk through the halls of Great Brindakrie. ” He shouted, but no one seemed to notice. A few people shouted for him to shut up and go drink another pint. He stopped and sat on the curb as he watched the carriage roll by and began to clap his hands loudly. “Oh mother, how you have been blind for so long. Let now your eyes be flung open and see what you could not. Know what you did not and understand the things around you that everyone else could already see. Your mission will fail and will succeed in both the same ways.”

Siratis tried to hear more, but even her amazing hearing wasn’t able to hear him over the crowd. What did he mean by the last verse. He never said anything without meaning and this meaning was something she had not heard any of the times she had returned. Was he speaking directly to her? She was a mother, but then so were probably a quarter to a half of the crowd he was just speaking with. She was on a mission, but then she figured a good handful of the crowd was as well. Maybe he was talking to a couple people in the crowd, at the same time. Her mission, which she figured would fail due to the king being pompous and foolish, was one that would matter little in the grand scheme of things and thus its failure or success wasn’t what she was worried of. The events that followed were all that she was concerned about. “If I succeed, then my mother may not be placed into that crystal and Charles may well live through the day. Every time that I have come here, I have witnessed the death of Charles within a few hours of my arrival. Thirty of those times, I was killed due to my supposed involvement. I was never involved, but that was beside the point. The handful where I wasn’t killed, I would hear of my mother’s kidnapping the following day at the hands of the Koltu. Changing that one event is all that truly matters. This time, I will warn him of the coming danger and he will live through it, then protect his wife. Hopefully that will be enough to sway the outcome of the flowing steam of time and keep the Death Wars at bay. Not to mention, it will erase one of my many crimes.”

The royal carriage pulled to a stop just outside the front entrance of the royal palace before she realized how much time had passed. The flag atop her carriage ensured that the eighty or so guards that assuredly flanked the front entrance of the palace would leave them alone.

The bricked, circle drive was wide enough to accommodate thirteen carriages of the same size as her own, side by side. When the Council of Elders was called, though, there as rarely enough room to get them in and out. The carriages had to be moved away from the drive simply to allow in all fifteen of them, that including the carriage of the Royal Family made for a busy day amongst the courtiers.

Long ago, the Royal Family ruled over all of Zerror, but the present rulers decided to divide the kingdom into five provinces with Kelpnar and Phlanria ruled jointly by the Council. Control was split evenly between the royal families with no one family having more power than the other, at least not at face value. “Such a foolish idea, one that brings ruin to the houses. The man was a fool, just as his brother stated.”

“My lady, may I help you down?” The attendant asked jolting Siratis back to reality. He smelled of whip leather from cowhide and was a bit dirty from the road. His voice issued a faint lisp he had tried to lose since birth. The pungent smell of oil rose from his clothing, only slightly as it mingled with the cowhide leather and that of dirt from the passing carriages as they left small puffs on their way across the brick drive. 

“I think not, young man. My friend might make that a bit of a bad idea.” As she spoke, she pulled her hood back over her head and hid her face. The cloth rubbed her fingers and she realized it was not something she should have worn to a high court such as this. There was no helping it now, though, so she simply put that out of her mind and pushed on. She was more comfortable in the clothes of a commoner now, than the silk laden, jewel-infested robes of old.

The attendant quickly withdrew his arm as a startled gasp escaped his lips. Urzest was growling as she stalked slowly around the carriage, twice, sniffing and looking slowly at the gray meshed world around her. Siratis felt the cool air of morning striking the sides of the cat as she watched the brilliant moon light dance off the palace walls and cobble stoned drive. A row of statues lined the front carriage way and each was Ratilian crafted and beautiful beyond measure. They had been a gift from a Rattle king to Charles’ father.

They told of true greatness in the man for the Rattles share their art with no one save those they believed were fully worthy. Even the heroes of old would not have gained favor in the high standards of Ratilian culture. Yet, here were, not one but, twelve statues of grandeur. The detail was somewhat lost from Urzest’s eyes, but was still evident within many folds of beautiful carvings. They had been delivered three days after the drunken kings apparent death. Though, it was not sure how he had truly died, nor what he had done to gain such favor in the eyes of the Rattles, it was evident that they had greatly appreciated whatever he had done.

A roar shook the carriage and called all the guards present to arms. At that exact moment, a large Craken bird, one of the carrion family, flew overhead and let out a hideous squawk. The guards, half looking up, the rest at the tiger, each had their swords pulled slightly out of the sheaths at their sides. Completely undone, the attendant stumbled backwards and quickly moved out of Urzest’s range.

“Very well, Urzest.” Siratis answered in a soothing tone as she stepped down from the coach. Only then did the smell of the city wash away and give birth to the smell of the palace. The Linious overpowered all else save the faint hint of honey suckle mingled in with their powerful allure. The honey suckle plants were well known for eating bees and were planted close to the Linious to keep the bees away, since Linious were well known for bringing great amounts of bees from all over.

The sound of rushing water caught her attention and drew her senses off the smells of the bushes surrounding the circle drive. “The fountain? How could I have forgotten my fountain?”

She remembered the day her father had the surprise fountain installed out front. It was her twelfth birthday…her eyes welled up as the memories flooded her. “Business at hand, old girl.”

“I am sorry, mi lady? Could you repeat that?” The attendant asked, baffled at the phrase but being sure not to enter the circle of protection that Urzest plainly drew around the old woman.

She gave no explanation, simply pushed on. Her gown flowed back from her body in the morning breeze, its voluminous folds revealing nothing of her physical stature. The blue and gray dress was, in a time long past, stylish, but was now stained with the hem grimy and be trodden. Her hand, withered as it were, extruded from a three-layer sleeve of the gown and lay upon the coat of the tiger, the fur seemed to swallow the old hand and hide its true age. Her left hand was on the pummel of a short cane that had been modified to be a walking stick. The cane had some odd markings and beautiful carvings of animal heads in its wood and was nearly as elegant as that of the carriage behind her. It was the only elegant thing that she carried.

There was nothing about Siratis that would draw the eyes of the noble, fashionably dressed people at the court, save for that cane, and it was hidden within a small glamour of its own to ensure that only those with powerful eyes would see its true marks. She did draw attention, however, for something about her, and not just her unusual companion, drew people’s eyes. A sense of nobility and poise surrounded her accompanied by a regalness that could only be inbred.

She took pains to hide the medallion of her true origin as it hung like a light of old hope round her neck, reminding her all the while how hopeless this journey truly was.

Urzest was by her side and walking with such grace and pride it would seem she had been trained as a noble’s pet. Also, she allowed no one close, growling in her low, menacing voice when anyone entered her sphere of comfort. The guards, though more relaxed at this time, were still weary of the cat’s movement and kept their hands upon the pummels of their swords.

The old gypsy witch could hear the sound of the subligacculum as their galbun leather flapped in the slow gusts of wind. The metal clank that followed told her that, though each of these men had their hands on the pummel of their weapons, they had not yet drawn them for the wind was slowly slapping the shield in their left hands against those swords on their left legs. All soldiers of the royal guard had to wear their weapons on the left as well their shields, for it was tradition. Though some be left handed fighters, they had to learn to fight right-handed if they wished to join the royal guard at all. She remembered so many soldiers that wanted to join that would have done anything to put on that armor and gain that honor. “So foolish are we humans.”

“My lady”, the door attendant announced as she heard two great doors creek, slowly open with a heavy sway of their hinges; here heart sank to her feet and she could feel her whole body screaming for her to run. The smell of Maple told of great expense and finery, for the Maple was a sentient tree. Only the rich could afford such a feat as chopping one down. Much less the massive fortune it would have taken to build such a magnificent door since Maple is much like building with solid rock, though not quite as heavy. “May I take your cane, or shall I stable your animal?”

A low growl greeted the word “animal” with distaste. Siratis gripped slightly to keep Urzest in check. She knew that particular growl very well.

“My dear boy, you would do well to speak of my friend as your equal or simply my pet. Lest you never have chance for regret.” Her words were toned with a since of humor and upbeat, but she knew Urzest would tear this man apart should he speak down of her again. Only Siratis could speak of Urzest as an animal, something she rarely did. “As for stabling her, I would have a great displeasure of stumbling and fumbling around should you take from me mine eyes. Which should explain the cane as well.”

As she was speaking, a small gust of wind blew open the large cloak revealing only her upper chest, but it was enough for the attendant to notice something of great interest. He looked there and Urzest followed his gaze as Siratis witnessed a mistake in process. “You…you have the royal emblem. Are you of the House of…?”

“Mind your own business, boy!” Siratis snapped and closed her cloak. She then fastened it tighter to ensure there would be no further problems. Siratis continued, not pausing for the awestruck attendants response. Urzest simply snorted her disgust as she moved past. “I can not reveal my true reason for being here until the right time. If that attendant tells anyone and it gets to the king, he may very well not have audience with me, but I dare not take arms against him lest I start the exact chain reaction. I shall simply wait and see what comes of it all.”

The marble floor was deep black and scared in places where magic battles of long past had been fought within the palace. Siratis could still smell the resonate magic signatures of those combatants. She could place most of the faces that were connected to them. Most were dead or dying at that point. Most, save for the most prominent signature in the entire palace, in all the city for that matter. “Jofus”, Siratis felt the pain in her heart and guilt of shameful acts. “I will undo what I have done. I will save you from the shame upon my head.”

The smell of metal filled the room from the many Dalim that worked within the castle as the doors slammed home behind her. The ting of metal feet brought her face to her right as she listened intently to the sound of metallic lungs forcing air in and out of the superb Dalamian body.

“Please, follow us.” The sound of the female voice came from behind the males, telling Siratis this was a young Dalim who had yet to reach the maturing age of one hundred.

Siratis allowed Urzest to lead her through the ground levels of the castle as they followed the Dalim into the waiting room off of the main hall. As the Dalim were walking away, Siratis could feel cold eyes upon her as she felt the recognition from the mind of the female. She knew who Siratis was and the hateful, all too common voice was emanating from her mind. Urzest recognized it as well and moved slightly toward them, but Siratis stopped her short of actually growling or jumping. “Can’t say as I blame her. I don’t like me either.”

Siratis sat on a small bench that was cushioned with down covers of the finest material, though she could not place the material at that moment. She could not see the rest of the room for her minds eye had not but passed this way a few times over the years. The waiting room was for those that actually had to request an audience with the king, which was far beneath her in younger years. Now, she was happy to wait, ecstatic to be sure.

Urzest brushed her furry head against Siratis’ leg, trying to draw the old woman’s attention and keep her mind off of the pasts. “So long ago, my pet, and yet still I dwell over the loss. It will not happen again…I hope.”

The great cat’s eyes shed little light on the room for everything seemed gray and dull. Siratis could never get used to seeing things in such colorless tones, though she appreciated being able to see at all. From the cat’s eyes, the tapestries were nothing more than curtains that hung on the walls with fuzzy spots on them in different areas. Siratis could still “see” them in their original glory, though, welcoming all that bore entrance and calming any that might have ill will towards these lands. She remembered that, because she had helped to pick them out as a little girl. 

Urzest, now moving her eyes wildly around, trying to see if she could catch the mysterious shapes that formed before her, was watching the dancing fire light shadows as the brilliant candles left trails of their waning life here and there. Though most of the room was well lit from the single window, it was mid-morning and the moon had already risen past the open space. 

The clinking of metal and a strong metallic odor, told Siratis that their escort had returned to take them to see the king. The sound of metal grating across stone told her that this was a different escort, but a Dalim none-the-less. She arose as he entered and straitened her dress. Without a word spoken, he turned and started toward the Council Hall and Siratis, Urzest leading, followed him. 

There was no female on this Dalim, which meant he was mature and probably very wise. Such was the way with Dalim, once they reached maturity they became very wise and very smart, but until then, the males could not carry on a conversation with a twelve-year-old human and keep up.

The grating sound continued with every other step he took, it was the sound a limp metal leg. Siratis felt a pang of recognition and instantly looked through Urzest’s eyes. The cat was far too busy at first to look up at the Dalim, for the slight spark here and there that the limp leg gave off peaked Urzest’s curiosity. She was about to start stalking the strange fireflies when Siratis gently nudged her mind.

Urzest, begrudgingly, looked up at the Dalim as they walked. He was five feet five inches tall, but was nearly six feet wide, making it so that the doors had to be adjusted within the castle to accommodate his kind. His massive arms nearly dragged the ground as he walked, hunched, as did most males. The bum leg was pulled with his right and used like a pirates peg leg as he strode forward with each step. His body swayed oddly and it seemed as though he could fall over at any time.

He wore a Calnor round his neck, which is made of thick wool. It had an Emmarse embroidered on it that circled from his right chest all the way around his large frame to the right back of the calnor. The Emmarse is simply looking toward and unseen horizon as it slowly creped around his body. The calnor itself was red and the embroidery was a deep blue like the dark just before Luna sets. 

He wore a tunic that was made of a light wool that had no adornments on it at all, but was of two separate colors being cut down the center with deep blue on his right and a dull brown on his left. The tunic disappeared beneath a large gramt that circled his entire body. The gramt was a belt that was made of Galbun leather and was usually used in human uniforms.

Verger had on the subligacculum of the soldiers of this nation and wore a small pair of wool pants under it. The subligacculum itself was nothing more than a Galbun leather skirt that was made in strips that over lapped one another as they hung only mid-thigh down the soldier’s leg. In Verger’s case, the subligacculum was made special and used quite a bit of leather.

Across the large man’s chest were two gramt that criss-crossed from one shoulder to the other. These gramt had dagger sheaths built in intervals going up the chest but not on the back. Each dagger that resided in Verger’s sheathes were ornately beautiful and hand carved out of bone of some sort. They were locked in place with a magic seal that kept anyone but Verger from pulling them, Siraits could feel the magic pouring off of them in its Orange hue. “Charles. Always ready to cast this or that spell.”

Verger also wore a pair of Galbun leather boots that were made especially for him as well. The left boot came down and then covered the foot below, ending with a single tie that tied just beneath his big toe. His right boot, however, ended at the ankle, as there was no real foot to attach the leather round. These boots were more for the appearance of normalcy, as was most of his uniform, for he wished to fit in with the humans. All of this Siratis could see, though Urzest could witness only the great Dalim’s back, for the old woman remembered everything as clear as the sins that now plagued her. “How foolish I once was.”

“This your first time in the castle?” Verger asked as the voice seemed accusing and she caught her breath. His speech was much like a deaf child that had an impediment. 

“Verger?” Siratis asked. “Is it…?”

“Yes?” Verger asked and answered at the same time. The Dalim turned to meet her gaze, but saw only the darkness within the hood. At that moment, she knew it was him and every detail, down to his scarred face with the deep grooves that seemed to cut down into his being were there. Urzest was looking quizzically at the leather bands that rapped round his legs but seemed to vanish at his feet. These were not there to protect his feet, but more for the appearance of normalcy in a land full of humans. No Dalim would have need of boots of any sort, for their feet were as hard as iron. “Do I know you?” 

“Sorry. I believe I met you once before. Though I do not remember when.” She lied, letting it go at that and hoping he would do the same. He turned slowly, but said nothing. Then he moved off again.

Siratis thought of those days and what had transpired. She thought of telling him now and letting him take the message on to the king, then she could leave this cursed place and go home, but she knew that he would not believe her. None of them would. She would have to show them to make them believe as they all followed that wretched man, and he was nothing more than a foolish king. Without proof, it would all start again. With proof, she would damn the girl and damn her plans. Leave her with nothing, once again, and at the “kind mercy” of her father. It was a crappy plan and one that she did not wish to finish, but had no choice. “The choices we make plague us for all time.”

“We now step into the looking glass.” Siratis said aloud. Though Verger seemed not to hear her, his momentary pause told another story. Then he stopped abruptly at the doors just before them.

“Stay here that I may introduce you.” He stated in his broken common tongue. “Who should I say is here?” 

“My name is Siratis.” She said and Urzest looked up and down the large hallway just outside the fantastic doors in search of anything or anyone. A predator was accustomed to keeping an eye out for prey or other predators.

“Siratis!” Verger’s voice changed sharply and it was evident that her name had preceded her once again.

“Yes. The witch of Mt. Dryst and protector of the Evil Flame of the Damned, has come to Brindakrie in search of an audience of the king. I will not have need of grandeur in your introduction, for I am amply positive that everyone in that room knows me, or at least of me.” She explained. Her name was so well known that even in Cross Roads, the harshest and bravest city in all the land, her name could strike fear in the hearts of the citizens and most the armed guards. Even Rattles with their bodies removed of all fear, would pause a moment before taking on anyone that donned the name.