Tennant rubbed his eyes as he sat next to a drow body. His hair was black with soot, cuts lined his hands and face. His face sported a weeks worth of beard growth. He scratched at it idly. The wounds sealed over, the scabs fell from them, thin lines of scars appeared underneath them and they too disappeared.
"That's new." He said watching a great wound in his leg seal over.
Tennant pulled a wand from his pack and pointed at the body, "So much for the god of Drow." A thin beam of light struck the body and it slowly disappeared.
"This is not working. I was the one that tried to stop the death of the gods in the first place and I have killed more of them than anyone else, which is what I was trying to prevent. The council will be pleased but Morgan will not. You can't win in this place only Morrigan. Arumaga keeps me on a short leash but his leash is just as short. If I leave they kill me, if I stay, I have to do these things. Circles. There are never any answers just more questions."
Tennant picked up several orbs, placing them back into his pack. He stepped into a stone circle, and dialed an underdark location under the canary islands. In moments, he was gone.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Seraphim was striding through a town, his gait was fast.
"Seraphim?" Dream called to him.
Seraphim kept walking, "Now is not a good time, Dream. I have nasty business to do."
"I have brought Callas. She would like to talk to you."
"Dream, this is really not a good time, especially with Callas here."
"Tamsin is alive." Callas said quietly.
Seraphim stopped in his tracks, "Alive?"
"Yes, very. She was found in a pyramid as a statue and returned to flesh." Callas continued.
"Had you said this to me 3.5 millennia ago, I would have been ecstatic. But today, I am just a ghost bound by an evil mage. I have no form but what she gives me and no will that is not hers. There is no picking up where we left off, Callas. Just memories of what could have been." Seraphim answered.
"There has to be a way to break the spell."
"There is, Callas and that is to destroy the bones. That will set me free."
"But leave you dead, I assume."
"Yes, but better than this half life. You have not seen the things that I have, nor done those things as well. None of them would I have done, if I had a choice like today."
"Can we take the bones from Duchela? Will that put us in command of you?" Callas asked.
"The Servant of the Bones can only be transferred to the being that destroys the current owner," he recited.
"Kill Duchela and take the Bones and we can..." Callas faded out.
"Control you, are the words you are looking for. Yes, that's the way it works."
"Then we kill Duchela first and figure out how to release you back to the living later." Callas said.
"It will be the only way that you will recover the bones. Duchela won't give me up without a fight. She will dirty her hands for this but very little else."
"What do you mean?"
"Duchela likes to plan and implement things but unlike most dragons she doesn't like the actual work of killing people. She finds it somewhat revolting or simply beneath her. She prefers her time spent in research and the larger picture. That someone has to die to get what she wants, she orders me or Nikodemus to do that part. Like old Nik going after some girl named Teryl, she needs a pscionist tainted with red mitheral for some reason. I have to get going the pain is getting worse"
"Pain?"
"Whenever I am commanded to do something, I must do it. The longer I wait to do it, the greater the pain. I have never lasted more than a day at best."
"Just a few more questions, Please, if you can?"
Seraphim nodded.
"The ark?"
"The ark of the covenant, you want to know about your father?"
Callas nodded.
"So would the rest of the council. They don't have a clue what is going on there. Baile tried but failed to find a solution. Duchela is searching for a magical way to break in. The bits that I know, they found an old book with a picture in it of a person with long white hair or maybe grey, passing through the shield. All you can see is the back. The caption below it reads neither alive nor dead but both with breach the shield. The ark is waiting for someone to come and collect it. The book said it will call the bearer back to it. I can only assume that's what your father is, this bearer. The ark or the bearer is creating the shield. They don't know which. I have been messing with Dushela's magical incantations for weeks trying to stop her. She will breach the shield soon enough, I am afraid"
"One last question?"
Seraphim nodded again.
"What are you about to do?"
Seraphim stared at Dream for a while. "Tell her, when you go."
Dream tugged at your hand and pulled you to your next destination. Your sister.
You stared at him and he shook his head, "When we get home, it's your sister."
Dark hair flowed down her back, her legs strong and straight. The dream form of the female called Girl stared at you.
"Do you know who I am?" Callas asked.
"Callas, the woman I am to kill."
"Why don't you?"
The girl looked away and mumbled "You look like my mother, my real mother."
"That's because we have the same mother and father. I am your sister."
"You can't be, I have no sisters."
"None that you knew about. You were raised by a woman that your mother, Epona, chose to raise you. I was given to a family, that included our real father. I know its hard to believe but you haven't killed me for some reason and that is the reason."
The girl nodded, "I am going to have to kill you, someday though. Morgan will continue to torture me until I do. I just want her to stop."
"I am coming to rescue you, but it will be a month yet. I wish it could be sooner, but it can't be. Can you hold on that long?"
She nodded, "I think."
"Time to go again, Callas, Morgan is coming." Dream took your hand.
"Hold on, Dream." Callas turned to the girl. "Do you want a name?"
The girl smiled and nodded.
"Your name is Gemma. Gemma de Navarre. Our father is Atievno de Navarre. Bear the name in joy, my sister." She reached out and touched Gemma's hand briefly, and then turned to Dream. "Now we can go, Dream."
"Last one for the night." Dream said, moving between the realms.
"8 men dead from the plague and a Garrison of troops stationed here. None of them look sick." The elf, the same one as before, said.
"They are sitting on the antidote, watching us die off, so then they can start the journey without us. They are using this plague to kill off the weak. Shall we show them how weak we are." The drow looking like an elf said.
"We will, friend. In just a few days, more elves are coming. The wood elves are coming to help. They didn't like being left out of the journey either. We will take this castle and burn it to the ground."
The "Drow" got up. "Good night friend, we will meet in 6 days then and find that antidote."
A few miles later, the drow is walking by himself, he enters a dark cave. "It all goes well lord Lazlo. The elves will attack each other and the cavern is nearly dug."
Lazlo extended a great green claw forward, "you have done well. Baile chose wisely when he put you in charge. Unfortunately he did not chose as wisely for himself. When the battle begins, the man on the inside will open the gates and let all the elves inside. When that happens we will punch holes though the cavern and release the gas. Everyone within 1 mile of here will die. Less elves are a good thing. A war between the elves even better."
"We are home now, Callas." Dream said, pointing to your own sleeping body and Galvins curled around you.
"What did Seraphim tell you?"
"I was hoping you wouldn't ask."
"I did. Out with it, Dream."
"Corison was killed this night by Seraphim. He was also told to kill Brenna the headmistress of Ireland. He slit her throat, took both bodies to Dushela, for her to reanimate them in a way that would bring them back to life but still be dead, in hopes that that would fool the shield into letting them through. Elata escaped, because Seraphim didn't know that she was the real headmistress. I am sorry, Callas."
____________________________
Galvin wakes. The first thing he knows is that Callas isn't there, which is unusual; she's rarely able to slip out of bed without waking him. The place where she was is still a little warm, though cooling rapidly. She's been gone only a few minutes.
He sits up, looking around, and sees Callas standing by one of the windows. Moonlight turns her into a statue of silver and ebony as she stares out over the courtyard and to Madrid beyond.
He studies her for a long moment. She has changed in the past few weeks. Because he sees her every day, he hasn't really noticed; but where she has always reminded him of an Arabian horse, all compact, sleek curves, he's now put in mind more of a Thoroughbred, hard bone and muscle. The moonlight picks out the long scars on her sides and the new ones on her shoulders.
But the most profound change is in how she carries herself. Even now, with only him in the room, she is guarded, her body ready at any moment to run or to fight. And there's something more than that, even--a new strength, born out of rage and grief, tempered in the fires they've all been through. She is beginning to come into her power, and there is no telling where that path will lead her. She could so easily be another Arumaga, he knows; the right loss at the right time and she would burn Europe to the ground in her grief. But she could also be a force to unite Europe to fight the evil that threatens them all. There is no telling, at the moment, which way things will fall.
He worries about her, this woman he loves. She seems so fragile sometimes. Yet alongside the fragility there is the potential for great strength, the two bound together in a helix inside of her. She's always been both wise beyond her years and innocent despite the hard path her life has taken, but the innocence has mostly fallen away, taking her into that last long step into adulthood.
She greatly resembles her mother, he thinks. And her father would be proud of her, if he knew her today.
He doesn't realize that he's spoken that last aloud until Callas turns. Her voice is soft and sad. "Do you really think so? Would he be proud of me if he knew what I'd done, what I still have to do?"
He slides out of bed and pads towards her, joining her at the window. He comes up behind her and slides his arms around her, resting his head against hers. "Everything you have ever told me of him makes me think that he is a good man who understands necessity; and you have done what is necessary, and done it admirably."
"I wonder." She stares out the window, not really seeing, he knows. "I'm sorry I woke you. I'd thought you could well give this mood a miss, love."
"Nonsense. What is wrong? You were in a better mood, I thought, when we had finished talking this evening."
"I was, truly." She turns her head and nuzzles her nose along his jaw. "It was the dreams again. Some good. Some bad. One very, very bad."
Galvin waits for her to speak. There is a deep grief in her tonight, drowning her anger.
"Corison is dead. Killed by Seraphim. Ordered by Dushela. Brena is dead, as well. Both of our Irish military leaders, taken from us in one stroke for some purpose of Dushela's. She's mad to crack the shield around the ark and thinks that reanimating their corpses so they are both dead and alive will do it.
"By the Name, love. How...how on earth am I going to tell Gavaio?" Her voice shakes with unshed tears. "If he'd fallen in battle, that would be one thing...but to be taken by an assassin and used to further the council's plans? To be turned into one of the undead? How do you tell someone that one of the few people they trust on the planet has been taken from them like that?"
He holds her, understanding now why she was staring out over the city. "just tell him. He'll understand. If he's angry, it won't be at you."
"I know. Knowing that won't make it any easier." Callas turns in his arms, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Mi corazón...have you ever thought about running away?"
"Taking you, the horses, and a set of rods? Finding some corner of the world where we could have a bit of land and peace for the rest of our lives? Of course I have."
She sighs. "I was wondering if it was just me. But they'd find us, no matter how far we ran. And, more than that...I can't abandon this now. I will see it through. Afterwards, if I live to see afterwards, though..."
Galvin kisses her. "We will find some nice corner of the world. If we both live through this, I promise to help you set down what you carry, and steal away with you in the middle of the night if that's what it takes." Callas giggles at the image. "Speaking of...I have something for you. I was going to give it to you tonight, but it slipped my mind."
He crosses the room and rummages in one of his saddlebags briefly, pulling out a pouch made of velvet. Callas smiles, since she knows what it is. "Oh, they finished with them? Let's see."
Galvin pulls from the pouch two bracelets and comes over to the window where the light is stronger. The bracelets are made of braided hair, black from Callas, dark brown from Galvin, and the shining silver and white that is hair from the tails of Dream and Daffodil. If Galvin had a familiar, the horse strand would contain hairs from the familiar, but since he doesn't they agreed to let Daffodil stand in.
The braid is wrapped with silver wire that ends in clasps--Callas' clasp in the shape of a feather, Galvin's shaped like a sail filled with wind. The bracelets are also wrapped with a minor preservation spell that will keep the braid from fraying under normal wear.
Such bracelets have been a traditional love-gift between Epona clerics since time immemorial. They do not wear rings because of the kind of work they do, but bracelets are easier to deal with in their work. The bracelets are renewed every year that the relationship lasts, and are destroyed when it is broken off. (But, like a wedding ring, if one partner dies the other will often continue to wear the bracelet.)
The bracelets represent the weaving together of lives; the two lives of the partners, and those of their mounts. When a couple has children, hair from each child is woven into the third strand.
Galvin fastens the bracelet around Callas' wrist, and Callas fastens Galvin's around his. Callas, when this is done, takes Galvin's face in both her hands and kisses him, long and gentle. "Thank you...they're beautiful."
"You're welcome, ma petite. I'm glad we finally had a moment to have them made."
Callas rests her head against Galvin's chest, her fingers running along his side, tracing his scars in what has become an unconscious habit of hers. "Me, too. Because I'm not sure we'll have such a moment again, not for a long time. There is so much darkness I've seen...Tennant is going through his own dark night of the soul, and I'm not sure I could convince him to unburden himself to me. It seems to me that, among all of us, he is one of the most alone. The only way to free the Servant of the Bones is to destroy him, and even gaining control of him requires killing Dushela--which is a last resort, because we need her help with the plague. And there is an old book that says that the only person who can pass through the shield around the ark is someone who is both alive and dead at the same time. Who comes to mind, I wonder?"
"Aiden."
"Got it in one. And my father...my father is the bearer of the ark. Nobody knows what that means, but...I have a bad feeling about what happens to him when the ark is destroyed. I hope at least I get a chance to talk to him before anything happens.
"And the elves who are attacking Cartmage are walking right into a trap that will kill them all. We have to stop that from happening. I have a few ideas about how we could do that, but all of them center on getting our hands on the person who's leading them into that trap.
"The only piece of good news is that my sister knows who I am, and who she is, and she thinks she can hold on another month so we can come and get her. If Morgan kills her..." Callas' voice holds the echoes of an icy rage. "There is no mercy in the earth, above, or below for her, and I will come for her no matter how well she hides herself." She shivers, tension communicating itself from shoulders to hands. "But...she has a name, now."
"What name did you give her?"
"She is Gemma. I gave her our father's last name, as well."
"A good name, love. I hope to meet her, some day soon."
"I hope you will."
"I do have one more piece of bad news for you, if you think you can hear it now. Otherwise, I'll wait till the morning."
Callas makes a face. "As if I could sleep, knowing you had something you weren't telling me...what is it?"
"I had a look at a map tonight, after you stormed out on us. Navarra is on the only real route between Andorra and Madrid. It looks like Pomplona is going to be right in the way of the army as it comes down to Madrid."
She pales, stands still as a statue. "My sisters."
"Are standing in the way of an army, without any idea of what's coming."
Callas swears. "We might be able to warn them, but I don't think we can get them out ourselves. I don't think there's going to be time. And I don't know if they'd listen to me, they haven't seen me for years, and they probably still think of me as their bratty little sister. Josephina might listen to me, but Maria's as stubborn as Papa."
"Send them a message tomorrow morning. For now..." Galvin takes Callas' shoulders in his hands, and steers her towards the bed, "for now, we have a long day tomorrow. We both need to sleep." They slip into bed, Galvin curling around her, his breath warm in her hair.
They are quiet for a few minutes. Then Callas' voice drifts upwards, fuzzy around the edges as she slips off into sleep. "Galvin?"
"What?"
"I'm not going to be able to save them all, will I? I'm going to lose some of them."
He kisses her hair. "Perhaps. But that's a worry for tomorrow. Sleep, ma petite. And tell Dream to let you actually sleep. No more dreams tonight, all right?"
She stirs slightly and mumbles, "All right..." And she is breathing deeply, sound asleep.
And soon Galvin follows, leaving his worries behind for a few more hours, until daybreak comes again.
Back to Callas de Navarre | Back to the Twilight of the Gods campaign