Alright, that's a win for mshcherbatskaya.
Due to personal hassles, don't expect the next round for two weeks or so.
Due to personal hassles, don't expect the next round for two weeks or so.
The Ratings War III: Republic of Heaven (Second Round Finals)
- Thread starter The Sorrow
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Here we go.
Mort and the Fae vs. Harlequin
Location: Hellish: LOLTH
It's a big feckin' spider's web, and the queen ***** herself is watching. Bore her, she eats you. Take too long, she eats you.
Just don't fuck up.
Emanuel Cazinto vs. Jayck and Jyill
Location: Earthly: HIDE AND SEEK
Welcome to the Gorman Mansion, finest in all the land. Food, wine, all you care for. And the person you hate is there, too. Should be easy to tear through everyone, right?
Wrong.
This is a gathering of the supernatural, the vampires, werewolves, witches, and they don't take too kindly to murders at their party. You'll have to end your foe without anyone figuring it out. Sounds good, eh? Try the shishkabob.
Ten days, kiddos. Let's do it.
Mort and the Fae vs. Harlequin
Location: Hellish: LOLTH
It's a big feckin' spider's web, and the queen ***** herself is watching. Bore her, she eats you. Take too long, she eats you.
Just don't fuck up.
Emanuel Cazinto vs. Jayck and Jyill
Location: Earthly: HIDE AND SEEK
Welcome to the Gorman Mansion, finest in all the land. Food, wine, all you care for. And the person you hate is there, too. Should be easy to tear through everyone, right?
Wrong.
This is a gathering of the supernatural, the vampires, werewolves, witches, and they don't take too kindly to murders at their party. You'll have to end your foe without anyone figuring it out. Sounds good, eh? Try the shishkabob.
Ten days, kiddos. Let's do it.
agreed, good sir.ninjablu said:
did anyone else immediately think "batman" when they read this matchup?
Man, would I have loved to have the Hide and Seek arena. Would have been heaven for Miss Athena.
Wow, the ratings war only threw down three more pages since I went bye-bye a couple of months ago, I've got to give credit to folks who kept the place clutter free.
That's right everybody, BMT can't keep a man down forever, Toughie's come back home.
That's right everybody, BMT can't keep a man down forever, Toughie's come back home.
Ladies and gentlemen, for your consideration: Emanuel Cazinto.
"Mmm-hmmm. That's good wine, right there. Pity we can't afford any more--a drink such as this could never be appreciated by those who are not lovers of wine such as ourselves.
Contrary bastard, you are. Fine. A lover of wine such as myself. Happy? Oh aye, I shouldn't presume to speak for you, even if the vintage is godsdamned ambrosia. Not trying to ascribe words to your tongue or anything, but if you don't like this wine than you, sir, are legally considered dead.
Ai, you snap at me like that and then you ask for another glass. Inconsistent bastard, you are, and forgetful too. We don't have enough money for a second glass, my friend, but never fear; someone will provide. For the moment, back to the tale. To acquire drinks we must focus on the story.
It's always about the story, my friend. I thought you would know that by now.
Ahem.
I needed some patching up after the first battle in the tournament--as you may recall, Drane had given me a beating that normally would have taken weeks to heal. Apparently gods have better healers than we mortals, though, because I was up and on my feet the very next day. At least, I was told it was a day. I'm not sure if the realm called Purgatory actually has anything resembling night. No matter--I was healed, that was the important thing, without even a scar or twinge to mark it. I didn't see what happened to Drane, and I hesitate to offer a guess. Who knows the workings of gods? Not I, surely.
My second round in the tournament I hesitate to call a battle. Certainly it had all the trappings of one at first: Gabriel called my name and led me to the portal with that odd fluttering gait he had in common with most angels I'd seen, all ponderous grace and terse words, and spoke to me of the fight to come.
'You will be fighting Jayck and Jyill, in Gorman Mansion,' he told me.
'What?' I said, striving to match his pace. Angels move half with their feet and half with their wings, which is hard for a normal human to keep up with.
'Your opponents are Jayck and Jyill,' Gabriel said again, 'and the arena is Gorman Mansion.'
Now, I was kind of surprised by this, as anyone rightly would be. 'Two people?' I said, incredulous. 'I shall be fighting two people?' When Gabriel didn't reply, I continued, 'I was given to understand that this was a tournament of duels. Two against one is not a duel, it is a brawl. Or a mugging.'
'Two, one, what difference does it make?' Gabriel shrugged, which is a fascinating process for a being with wings. I almost stumbled while watching it. 'The two might as well be one, for they are held together by chains strung tight across their hearts and shackles clenched hard on their minds.'
'That's all well and good for them,' I said after some thought, 'but to me they're still two people, yes? Which would seem to give them something of an advantage. Not that I'm saying I'm not up to the challenge,' I hastened to add, 'but it doesn't seem...reasonable. You know.'
'No,' Gabriel said, and shoved me through the portal. I never figured out what he meant by that. Not one for conversation, was Gabriel--have I mentioned that before?
The pearly glow of the portal faded away, leaving me stumbling and somewhat annoyed. My mood quickly adjusted when I saw where I was, however: a fine antechamber, paneled in dark wood and edged in red velvet, with gold and brass much in evidence. The sounds of revelry drifted through a graceful arch at one end of the chamber, and at the other a pair of huge doors stood open to the night. Two large men dressed in elegant uniforms stood by the doors, waiting to take the coats of those who were on the guest list and to give those who weren't a suitable knock upside the head. They glanced over their shoulders and gave me professional nods. I straightened my hat and bowed, which seemed to amuse them.
I spared a moment to wonder why they weren't tossing me out the doors for showing up uninvited, before remembering that I didn't care. The important thing about any party is that you're in, not why or how. I probably should have spent more time pondering the question, now that I look back on it. Certainly more thought might have prepared me better for what lay beyond the archway. As it was, though, I gave my bloodred cape a swirling flourish and strode through the arch, the plume of my hat and the crimson length of my cape streaming out behind me.
The gathering beyond, well, it was...what's the word...weird, I suppose, though that doesn't have quite the punch I'm going for. It'll do until I think up something better. Anyway, the party was weird. It was a party, yes, just like the ones I'd been to in Chadrais, with ladies and gentlemen dressed in their finest garb and long tables laden with food and huge glass bowls filled with drink, and a quartet of musicians in the corner playing something cheerful that I didn't recognize, and a huge crystal chandelier with so many candles that it looked like a solid circle of flame, and all the things that a good party by rights ought to have. It was the people who were different.
Have you ever had one of those dreams where you're minding your own business--eating in a tavern, perhaps, laughing and joking with your fellows--and you suddenly notice that there's a dragon or something having a quiet drink in the corner? And you're the only one who notices? And everyone keeps on laughing and acting as though absolutely nothing is wrong, and a serving maid even goes up to the dragon and refills its drink, and you're afraid to say anything because if no one else sees it, or worse if they know about it and have to explain it to you (and you know they'll use that condescending chuckle that makes you want to duel them then and there), you'll look like a bloody great fool?
That's basically what this party was, except everyone was a dragon.
No, not literally. It's metaphorical. At least try to keep up, eh? What I mean is, everyone there was like the dragon in the dream, huge and out-of-place but with no one making a big deal about it like they should have been.
Give me a moment here. I need to find the right words for this--you need more than just a description, you need to know what it was like.
The party-goers were split up into little chatting groups across the hall, talking about various things with various degrees of animation. By which I mean some of them were dead. Vampires, I think, unless there's another type of pale bloodless creature with fangs and eyes like sultry death and no pulse. It took me a while to realize what they were: only after diligent scrutiny of one particularly fine (if pale) lady did I figure it out. They weren't the oddest ones there, either, not by a long shot. Some of them were--I shit you not--werewolves. They had hair and muzzles and glowing red eyes and teeth that looked like they should be chewing up something more substantial than party snacks. And then there were the ones who looked like regular people until you noticed that they weren't actually using hands to lift their plates, or who used sparks from their fingertips to light their cigars, or who spoke to animals crouched on their shoulders. And there were stranger creatures lurking in corners, ready to ambush my eyes: figures wrapped in bandages, and goblins and shadows and a man with flesh of brass and strangler's hands.
The worst of all were the ones who looked absolutely normal until you saw their eyes. Those I avoided at all costs. No good can come from someone with eyes like that. No, I won't explain what they looked like, as if I could. It's not something you can describe, it's something you have to feel. They were like empty holes, an abyss that was looking back at you. Omen eyes, they were.
You get the idea. No ordinary party, this, and I was suddenly self-conscious of my very human body and my very mundane sword at my side. Should any of those people have taken it into their heads to kill me, I would have died. I'd have put up a fight, certainly, but died nonetheless: when you're the only normal human in the room, it's hard to believe that everyone else won't gang up on you given the chance. You know how it is. The feeling made me a bit edgier than usual, a little paranoid and a little scared. Yes, I admit to fright. You would too, if you had seen those omen eyes.
I knew now why the doormen hadn't been surprised to see me. What with all the magic folk there, they must've had people popping in all the time. It gave me a weird feeling, thinking that they thought I was one of them...
Nevertheless, this was a party, and I know the rules of parties. Don't stay when you're not wanted, don't hog all the good food, and don't spill blood unless you get the host's permission first. Many a fine carpet in Chadrais has been ruined by sudden duels between guests. I wasn't sure why Gabriel and his masters had decided that the battle would take place in such an arena, but who was I to question them? And it's not as if I didn't fit in. The guests were dressed in a delightfully large array of styles, and my bloodred cape and plumed hat did not look out of place in the slightest. Some of the others even had elegant rapiers, though obviously not of such quality as my own. Yes, I fit in nicely, except for being the only person there who wasn't magical or bestial or both.
I made my way to an unobtrusive corner of the buffet, returning a few polite 'Hello's on the way there. Normally I wouldn't hide in the corner at a party, but I figured this time I could make an exception. There were two people here who wanted to kill me, after all, and as such it made sense to be cautious. The fact that all the other guests were frightening as hell had nothing to do with it, I assure you.
I deftly snagged a wineglass off a tray carried by a passing butler, and soon also acquired a plate with some small pastries, thin slices of pear, and a few pieces of cheese on little sticks. You know, usual party food. I was eying a bowl of something that might have been bean dip, trying to determine if it was edible, when I became aware of an intriguing conversation from behind me.
No, I wasn't eavesdropping, per se. It was a party, all right? A party where I didn't know anyone. If you want to talk to anyone at such an event you have to do a little listening in, just so you can tell when you can slide into the conversation.
'He's here,' said a voice, female and cheerful and full of certainty. Who's here? I immediately began to wonder, while hunting for something to put in the bean dip. There didn't seem to be any chips about, which showed an annoying lack of foresight on the part of the caterers.
'Is he?' said someone else, male this time. The voice was soft, and didn't really sound interested.
'Yep,' the female voice confirmed. I could almost feel the triumph in the word.
'Which one is he?'
'Dunno.' There was a pause, in which I discovered a low platter of corn chips skulking between the punch bowl and the dip. 'We'll figure it out soon enough. After all, he's going to be looking for us, right? We just have to look for people who are looking for us.'
'And then we kill him,' said the male voice. A cold finger of suspicion stroked my spine.
'Yes, then we kill him,' said the other, in a sweet, all-too-eager voice. 'Come on Jayck, let's get to it.' Suspicion crystallized into horrible certainty.
'You will be fighting Jayck and Jyill, in Gorman Mansion,' Gabriel had said.
They were right behind me.
If they had seen my expression right then, I would have been a dead man. There was no way I could keep my horror at discovering my enemy so close off my face. My instinct was to spin around, sword drawn, getting my oh-so-precious and vulnerable back away from them. Fortunately enough, sorting out where my hands were (one holding a chip laden with bean dip, one carrying my plate and one spare finger hooked around the stem of my wineglass) gave me enough time to realize how bad a plan that was. They knew I was here: of course they did. But they didn't know who I was, not even when I was standing right in front of them. They probably had exactly as much information as I had been given: my name and the name of the arena. I fervently praised Gabriel's uncommunicative nature, which had seemed like such an annoyance. If they had been given even the briefest, sketchiest description--for example, 'He's a swordsman who wears a red cape'--they could have slain me without me even knowing they were there. It still makes me blanch, thinking about how close it was. I need a drink. Perhaps some kind soul will be willing to buy it for me...no? Too soon for that? Alas.
Through sheer dint of will I managed to get my hand moving again, just then noticing that it had frozen in midair. I brought the chip to my mouth and chewed mechanically. I honestly could not tell you what it tasted like.
They stepped out from behind me and into my view, scanning the crowd, looking for someone doing the same. I tried to be as casual as possible while at the same time standing ready to throw my plate in their faces if they came for me. Fortunately enough they didn't notice my corner-of-the-eye scrutiny.
They were an odd pair, this Jayck and Jyill. They were obviously brother and sister, having almost the same hair color and the same eyes and skin tone and generally looking like siblings, both of them dressed in clothes that were noticeably too small for them. The boy was staid and expressionless, not a flicker of emotion showing anywhere, while the girl was smiling and worryingly keen. She was the dangerous one, I thought. With the stone-faced killers you knew where you stood, but with one such as this you never knew what would happen. She was looking at the other guests with a calculating eye, as though she could read every one of them down to their soul.
She was rather pretty, actually, with her long red hair plaited with tinkling silver, and sharp green eyes standing out against tanned skin. When she looked in my direction I gave her a wink and a tip of my hat, cool and casual. Her brother gave me a flat look--like he was seeing how to kill me instead of seeing me--and I shrank back just a little. The girl giggled and nudged her brother, whispering something in his ear, and they moved off together, leaving me to slowly calm down. The two of them moved with the sort of conscious grace that marks the more dedicated kind of athlete--they knew how to move in their bodies. Most people don't, when you get right down to it. These two had the walk that said they didn't just know how to walk, they knew how to walk all day and fight at the end of it.
I studied them, when they weren't looking at me. I hadn't had time to do this with Drane--that fight had happened too fast--but in most duels I can get a good idea of how an opponent fought simply by watching them move. The way a man carries himself, his unconscious ticks, his habitual movements--these things are deep wells of information, and I draw on them with an eye bent on finding the strengths, but more so the weaknesses. In every fighter there is a fault, a crack where you can put your sword and watch them shatter. All you have to do is find it.
With Jayck and Jyill the fault line was easy to notice. It was in every movement, every line of their bodies and every word or glance exchanged. They moved together. Hell, they even held each other's hands most of the time. They didn't need to say much because they knew how they thought, and they walked close to each other, like they were afraid of losing each other. They didn't just fight together, they needed to. I saw something like that once, so I know what I'm talking about. Man who had spent ten years fighting back-to-back with his best friend ended up fighting alone, for tragic reasons that I won't go into right now, and went down fast because he forgot that nobody was backing him up. It was a very depressing thing to see.
But anyway, that's what Jayck and Jyill were. Gabriel had known what he was talking about. 'The two might as well be one, for they are held together by chains strung tight across their hearts and shackles clenched hard on their minds.' Indeed. All I had to do was get them away from each other and they'd fall apart.
Plan thus completed, I took a long and satisfying drink from my wineglass, which had the unfortunate side-effect of reminding my body that I needed to relieve myself. There was a hearty debate between my bladder, which insisted that now was the time, and my mind, which knew that letting Jayck and Jyill out of my sight might mean I wouldn't be able to find them again later. My bladder, however, was insistent: only sheer nerves and adrenaline had kept me from noticing it earlier.
Looking back on it, I'm not sure why I made the decision that I did. Perhaps it was the party atmosphere. I don't usually feel the need to be constantly on guard at a party. Whatever the reason, I handed my empty wineglass and bare plate to a nearby servant, from whom I received directions to the nearest lavatory. I thought I could find my enemies again when I got back. After all, it's not as if I'd be gone for very long.
I went down a wide, unoccupied hallway to the lavatory, and did my business there. I'm sure you don't need the details. Suffice to say that the room was elegantly styled and quite comfortable.
I emerged from the lavatory, ready to head back to the main hall and resume stalking my opponents, and was greeted by Jyill. 'Hello!' she said, and swung a two-handed warhammer at my head. This, as you might imagine, was somewhat unexpected. I barely ducked in time.
No, I don't know how she got there. I do know where she got the hammer from, but I can't just tell you that sort of thing, you know. It ruins the story.
Yes, I do know where Jayck was, as a matter of fact. No, I'm not going to tell you that, either. Impatient bastard, you are.
Right.
Jyill swung the hammer at my head, and I ducked just in time. Great swaths of wood were carved out of the door behind me, which I felt was an excellent substitute for my tender skin, and I responded by lowering my shoulder and crashing into her. I don't think she was expecting the first swing to miss. I sent her stumbling back, which gave me room to draw my sword and assume a proper fencing stance. Now things could get serious.
Jyill laughed. 'Hey, nice moves,' she said. 'How's it going, Cazinto?'
'Ah...' I tried to bluff. 'Who? Are you perhaps looking for someone else?'
She had the audacity to laugh again. ''Who?'' she said, mocking my innocent tone. 'You are Cazinto, then. Good. I would have hated to be killing the wrong person.' She jabbed with the end of the warhammer, forcing me back a step.
I don't know how she knew where I was, or even who I was. I must have given something away earlier without noticing. And it seemed that my ideas about how Jayck and Jyill fought were completely wrong as well: no matter how hard I peered into the shadows in the hallway, Jayck was nowhere to be seen, and yet here was his sister trying to murder me as I came out of the lavatory. It's almost enough to make a man doubt his own judgment.
'You're going to diiiiieeeee,' she trilled, and swung again, a great roundhouse blow that I dodged easily. 'You're not so tough. We'll be out of here in no time.'
'That we will,' I agreed, 'one way or the other.'
I feinted with the sword, and she swung the hammer around to smash the blade out of my hand. Now that I was actually fighting her she didn't seem to be that skilled of an opponent--she fell for the ruse like a rank amateur. I flicked the sword in a circle around the hammer and slid into a textbook lunge, arm extended and blade unerringly piercing her side. She looked surprised, eyes wide and mouth open in a heartbreaking little O of shock, and I felt guilty for a moment. What was I doing, cutting up this girl, this child who could barely defend herself? She didn't even know what weapon to use! You don't bring a warhammer to a swordfight, you use it when you're fighting knights and need to crack their armor open. Any halfway-decent fellow with a rapier will skewer you while you're trying to haul your godsdamned warhammer around to block.
If things had kept on like that, the fight would have been over in less than a minute. What happened to interrupt that was...rather strange. There was a flash of light, so white and blue and bright it didn't seem like light at all, and for an instant Jayck and Jyill were both standing before me, holding hands like frightened children, and then only Jayck, holding a resplendent flail of barbs and spikes where his sister had clasped his hand. The flail had a nick on the handle, I noticed, about where I had cut Jyill.
All right, so I didn't actually notice any nicks. But you will admit that it should have been there. The head of the flail was all the same barbs and spikes that were woven into Jyill's hair, and, well, what other conclusion could be drawn? I was at a party of vampires and werewolves, magic was a solid presence in the air, and anything seemed possible and probably was. The flail was Jyill. Thus, supposedly, the hammer was Jayck. Their alternate forms suited them well, I thought.
Yes, I have had a while to think about all this, thank you for asking. I didn't realize all of what was going on at that very instant: I was more concerned with the large guy who was trying to shred my skin with a flail. A flail is a much trickier weapon to fight than a warhammer, and I was justifiably wary of it. Usually if faced with one I'd step back and wait for my enemy to take his own eye out by mistake, but Jayck wielded it with a worrying professionalism. In all my days I have met only one man who was able to use a flail effectively. That man was, unfortunately enough, Jayck. He stepped forward swinging, and I dodged out of the way. You don't try and block something like a flail, not if you want to keep your blade in your hand. The barbs caught the edge of my bloodred cape, but no more. Look here, you can see the spot where it was repaired afterward--the cloth the angelic seamstress used is just a little bit brighter than the rest of it.
Anyway, Jayck said 'Die' and swung, and I said 'No thanks' and dodged. I slashed at the wrist holding the flail, and missed, and we both sprang away with our eyes on each other's weapons. In the moment of silence we heard someone shouting from the main hall. Our combat hadn't exactly been inconspicuous, after all, and someone had heard us. Feet approached the hall we were in, and we spent a moment longer looking at each other, trying to talk without actually saying anything. I raised an eyebrow: Jayck nodded once. We came to an agreement: unspoken was the desire by both of us not to be torn to pieces by an angry mob of whatever demons were coming our way.
I turned and ducked into another hallway, and there was a flash of light from behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see the crowd from the main hall reach Jayck and Jyill, vampires and werewolves and stranger things sweeping down the corridor like a bad metaphor. There was no time to try and kill Jayck, so I saw no point in sticking around. With any luck the mob would tear them both apart for me. Alas, such was not to be.
'He went that way!' Jyill said excitedly, pointing down the hallway I'd just taken. 'He came roaring out of the bathroom and broke the door and ran away!' She sounded like a breathless schoolgirl who was unbelievably exited by what she had just seen. A natural actress, was Jyill. This explanation seemed to satisfy most of the questioning glances, with the exception of a few people who stood staring grimly at the hole in the woodwork, muttering about the prices that good carpenters charge these days. I would have been happier if she hadn't tried to get me in trouble with our hosts, but what can you do. If I were in her position I would have done the same thing. The *****.
A few...people? Let's call them people. A few people headed down my corridor, either out of curiosity or out of a desire to make someone else pay for repairs. I straightened my clothes and walked calmly towards them, exchanging nods with a werewolf in a suit as I passed.
'Did you see anyone come this way?' he asked me.
'No one besides you,' I said cheerfully. They were looking for someone running in the other direction, someone who could have torn the lavatory door off its hinges, and as such they didn't pay much attention to a finely-dressed young man in a plumed hat and cape. Jayck and Jyill had vanished, along with most of the crowd, so I made my way back to the main hall. Carefully.
That's how parties work, see. Something happens, people rush off to see if it's interesting, and then when it isn't they return to what they were doing. They're here to have fun, and they're not going to stick around if there's no promise of entertainment.
I avoided the large crowds in the main hall, having become even more paranoid due to recent events. I didn't eat or drink anything else, either--being balanced on the edge of abused nerves tends to discourage appetite. I didn't see Jayck and Jyill anywhere, which only made it worse. They'd figured out who I was and arranged an ambush for me without giving themselves away. For all I knew they were hiding in the rafters, watching my every move. That delightful thought lead me to scan the ceiling as well as the crowd. You can never be too careful.
Well, yes, I suppose it is possible be too careful, but not in this instance. Stop interrupting. I'm trying to tell the story here.
Something was happening in the corner of the hall where the musicians were playing. The band was shifting their stuff around, setting up new sheets of music and switching to louder instruments. An army of servants in livery descended from all sides and began moving the tables to the sides of the hall, which was an impressive feat considering that some of the guests refused to move. I saw two large butlers bodily lift a table above their heads and carry it over a group of chatting witches, who didn't seem to notice what was going on, not even when the table blocked the light from the chandelier. I was impressed, both by the butlers' professionalism and the witches' obliviousness.
They were preparing the hall for dancing, which was my cue to exit. In a crowd of chatting, eating people I could hide forever: in a sparse collection of nondancers, not so much. And on the dance floor? You can't hide on a dance floor.
I was by an archway, lurking in the shadows, when the band started up with a jaunty tune and people began dancing. My heart almost stopped when I heard Jyill's voice from nearby. She must have been right around the corner.
'Dancing!' she said. 'Look at them! They're so graceful.'
'Who?' Jayck said. I tried to become one with the stone and the shadow.
'All of them!' Jyill said, and I could almost see her watching the dancers, the werewolves leaping wildly and the vampires slow grace and the mages who spun and strutted in midair.
'You're better,' Jayck said, almost fondly. He never really had any emotion in his voice, but I fancied I heard the edge of something there.
'Am I?' I could feel her smile. 'Come on, let's dance!'
'Aren't we supposed to be killing someone?'
'We can do that later,' Jyill said. 'There's no time limit to these battles. We've got time for a dance.' She dragged her brother out onto the dance floor, and I watched them go from the shadows, feeling relieved. At least I'd know where they'd be for a little while, dancing the night away with the creatures of darkness, on the polished floor lit dimly by the crystal chandelier of Gorman Mansion.
A horrible idea struck me, and I glanced up. The chandelier loomed above the dancers, a thousand candles creating a perfect and complicated ring of fire, crystals bouncing the light in every direction. It was set up in the usual arrangement for chandeliers in halls like this, attached by heavy chain to a pulley on the ceiling so it could be raised or lowered depending on the amount of light needed. Right now it was set fairly high, because the witches and wizards wanted to be able to fly around without hitting things and because most of the guests could see in the dark anyway. Streams of dancers twirled beneath it, moving to the rhythm decreed by the band.
My eyes followed the chain to the pulley on the ceiling and from there to a small, discreet balcony purposefully hidden in shadows so the burly men who operated the winch wouldn't be noticed by the guests in the hall below. The balcony would be empty right now, I knew, the burly men off doing some other chore that required their muscles. There was always something.
It was easy to find my way to the balcony. All these mansions are set up the same way, with a few main broad hallways and the little servant's corridors and stairs tucked away behind them. It was those servant's corridors that led me to where I wanted to be. I have a fairly good sense of direction, and Gorman Mansion was laid out in a very logical way to prevent new help from getting lost, not out of any consideration for the servants but so that the service was always prompt. You don't want to order a butler to fetch you a beer and have it show up an hour later.
The balcony was hot and stuffy and dark, collecting all the fumes from the chandelier and the masses of people below in one uncomfortable place. From it I could look down and watch the dancers dance and the musicians play, everything normal and joyous and exactly the sort of thing that I spent my time on in Chadrais. It gave me a weird feeling, to be on the outside looking in. I felt like I ought to be down there, cape swirling and eyes charming, leading a beautiful lady in the dance.
And there, very easy to find, were Jayck and Jyill. It was Jyill's hair that let me spot them so quickly. I just looked for the bright red plaits whirling as she danced, and the space where the other dancers kept out of range of the silver barbs she'd woven in.
Watching Jayck and Jyill dance was a pleasure. They moved together so perfectly I can't describe it. They were one person with two bodies and two minds...no. They were distinctly two people, but two people for whom the world only contained one other person. The only things that were real were each other. They moved like they knew not what the other was thinking, but how they thought, and where they'd be putting their feet. I have seen professional dancers who would have retired in tears after seeing Jayck and Jyill dance together, for they would know that they could never be as good as this. They were perfect together, brother and sister, bound by far more than blood or magic.
I tore my eyes from the pair and reluctantly examined the winch. The chain ran from the chandelier to the pulley and from there through a notch in the balcony rail and into a large piece of machinery full of locks and sturdy bars meant to keep the chandelier from moving once the height had been set. One by one I opened or broke those locks with my dagger, until only one remained, a small iron bar that went through the links of chain and held them securely. I put my hand on that iron bar and looked down from the balcony once more.
I am a swordsman before anything else, and a good swordsman recognizes patterns. Usually they are patterns of attack and defense, looking for some habitual move by an opponent that I might take advantage of. And what is a dance if not a pattern? I watched the hall below, and my eye picked out the swirls and turns of the dancers. I knew where they were moving before they themselves did, and I watched Jayck and Jyill whirl across the dance floor, ever closer to the center of the room where the chandelier hung.
I tried not to think about what I was doing. Look, I might not be a man given to much self-examination, but, well...what was I doing? I was preparing to drop a huge crystal chandelier on a pair of, of children, because they were unwary enough to be dancing at a party. I mean, what is that? Is that any way for an honorable man to act? Yes, they were trying to kill me. Fair enough; lots of people have tried to kill me. I met them on the field of honor and we had an honorable duel. No tricks, no hiding, no skulking about in shadows, just two men with swords. Clean fights, every one. And now this? What I should do, I realized, was challenge the two of them formally. We could step outside, into the dark beyond the mansion, and have an honorable duel where we wouldn't be interrupted by the creatures at the party. I wasn't sure how it would work--would I duel just Jayck, or just Jyill, or both at once? How does their magic work, anyway? I'm sure arrangements could have been made.
That is what I should have done.
I could have done it. It would have been so easy. Just go back down to the main hall, tap one of them on the shoulder, and have a quiet conversation. Make arrangements. Step outside. Duel. Clean, neat, and honorable. But, but, who knows if they would have listened? Jayck, he was stone-faced, a stone-cold killer. He might see me and just take my head off, and never mind the crowd. And Jyill? There was something wrong with that girl. You could see it in her eyes, the way they widened and sparkled when violence was afoot. She was worse than Jayck. He'd just kill me: she'd make it humiliating as well. I can take injury, but I cannot stand insult.
They spun across the floor and my heart broke to watch them, moving so perfectly together, looking into each other's faces, calm and happy as could be. Jayck wasn't smiling, but he looked as if he should be, and Jyill was so radiantly delighted that I felt my own mouth turning up into a grin.
I watched the pattern of the dance, and I watched Jayck and Jyill. Perhaps they'd make my plans unnecessary and avoid the center of the floor, evade the area of impact where the chandelier would plunge down. Perhaps circumstance would endeavor to make me not a coward. But no, I saw their path, saw how it would take them straight to where I needed them to be, and in that instant I hated them more than I have hated anything before or since. Who were they to force this decision on me? I was an honorable man! This is not something I should have to do!
Jayck and Jyill danced, and with a fencer's eye I saw where their rhythmic feet would bring them to the center of the floor, and saw the exact instant when the falling chandelier needed to be started on its way to intercept them, just as I had seen the exact moment to strike a thousand times before in a thousand other duels.
What else could I do? They forced my hand. In a duel I move on instinct and reflex, and here...I saw the moment to strike. I have trained for years to take advantage of that one, perfectly clear moment, without thinking, without hesitating, for hesitation is always death. I can't allow myself the luxury of thought when that instant arrives: I must lunge through the opening and end the duel. I could no more stop my hand than I could fly.
I pulled out the iron restraining bar and the chain spun, slowly for a moment and then blurring with speed as the chandelier roared down from on high, and Jayck and Jyill took two steps light as birds in the thrall of the music and glanced up, faces peaceful and bemused, and were obliterated by the towering mass of crystal and fire. I cried out in shock, the impact was so great and sudden. The air was full of crystals and broken flame, and my heart rang and bled for each glittering shard.
I had to turn away. They were children, playing a game they didn't understand, and for that I had killed them. I had no choice. None, you hear me? Can you see something else I could have done?
I had to say the words. 'Jayck and Jyill have fallen,' I said in a hollow voice, 'and thus I claim victory.'
A portal opened before me, edged with the pearly glow of heaven, and I stepped through without a backward glance. I didn't see the final result of my actions, but I know what would be happening well enough. Witches and vampires alike would be rising through the air, trying to find what had gone wrong to send tragedy crashing down, and others would be putting out the blazing candles and oils I had sent among them, and still others would be clearing away shining crystals and dragging out a pair of bodies. I did not need to see this to know it.
Behind me, the music had stopped. Ahead of me, the tournament waited, the tournament that took in children and honorable men and turned them into corpses and murderers.
There is a silence here
In which a man has fallen
And falls, forevermore
I need a drink."
Contrary bastard, you are. Fine. A lover of wine such as myself. Happy? Oh aye, I shouldn't presume to speak for you, even if the vintage is godsdamned ambrosia. Not trying to ascribe words to your tongue or anything, but if you don't like this wine than you, sir, are legally considered dead.
Ai, you snap at me like that and then you ask for another glass. Inconsistent bastard, you are, and forgetful too. We don't have enough money for a second glass, my friend, but never fear; someone will provide. For the moment, back to the tale. To acquire drinks we must focus on the story.
It's always about the story, my friend. I thought you would know that by now.
Ahem.
I needed some patching up after the first battle in the tournament--as you may recall, Drane had given me a beating that normally would have taken weeks to heal. Apparently gods have better healers than we mortals, though, because I was up and on my feet the very next day. At least, I was told it was a day. I'm not sure if the realm called Purgatory actually has anything resembling night. No matter--I was healed, that was the important thing, without even a scar or twinge to mark it. I didn't see what happened to Drane, and I hesitate to offer a guess. Who knows the workings of gods? Not I, surely.
My second round in the tournament I hesitate to call a battle. Certainly it had all the trappings of one at first: Gabriel called my name and led me to the portal with that odd fluttering gait he had in common with most angels I'd seen, all ponderous grace and terse words, and spoke to me of the fight to come.
'You will be fighting Jayck and Jyill, in Gorman Mansion,' he told me.
'What?' I said, striving to match his pace. Angels move half with their feet and half with their wings, which is hard for a normal human to keep up with.
'Your opponents are Jayck and Jyill,' Gabriel said again, 'and the arena is Gorman Mansion.'
Now, I was kind of surprised by this, as anyone rightly would be. 'Two people?' I said, incredulous. 'I shall be fighting two people?' When Gabriel didn't reply, I continued, 'I was given to understand that this was a tournament of duels. Two against one is not a duel, it is a brawl. Or a mugging.'
'Two, one, what difference does it make?' Gabriel shrugged, which is a fascinating process for a being with wings. I almost stumbled while watching it. 'The two might as well be one, for they are held together by chains strung tight across their hearts and shackles clenched hard on their minds.'
'That's all well and good for them,' I said after some thought, 'but to me they're still two people, yes? Which would seem to give them something of an advantage. Not that I'm saying I'm not up to the challenge,' I hastened to add, 'but it doesn't seem...reasonable. You know.'
'No,' Gabriel said, and shoved me through the portal. I never figured out what he meant by that. Not one for conversation, was Gabriel--have I mentioned that before?
The pearly glow of the portal faded away, leaving me stumbling and somewhat annoyed. My mood quickly adjusted when I saw where I was, however: a fine antechamber, paneled in dark wood and edged in red velvet, with gold and brass much in evidence. The sounds of revelry drifted through a graceful arch at one end of the chamber, and at the other a pair of huge doors stood open to the night. Two large men dressed in elegant uniforms stood by the doors, waiting to take the coats of those who were on the guest list and to give those who weren't a suitable knock upside the head. They glanced over their shoulders and gave me professional nods. I straightened my hat and bowed, which seemed to amuse them.
I spared a moment to wonder why they weren't tossing me out the doors for showing up uninvited, before remembering that I didn't care. The important thing about any party is that you're in, not why or how. I probably should have spent more time pondering the question, now that I look back on it. Certainly more thought might have prepared me better for what lay beyond the archway. As it was, though, I gave my bloodred cape a swirling flourish and strode through the arch, the plume of my hat and the crimson length of my cape streaming out behind me.
The gathering beyond, well, it was...what's the word...weird, I suppose, though that doesn't have quite the punch I'm going for. It'll do until I think up something better. Anyway, the party was weird. It was a party, yes, just like the ones I'd been to in Chadrais, with ladies and gentlemen dressed in their finest garb and long tables laden with food and huge glass bowls filled with drink, and a quartet of musicians in the corner playing something cheerful that I didn't recognize, and a huge crystal chandelier with so many candles that it looked like a solid circle of flame, and all the things that a good party by rights ought to have. It was the people who were different.
Have you ever had one of those dreams where you're minding your own business--eating in a tavern, perhaps, laughing and joking with your fellows--and you suddenly notice that there's a dragon or something having a quiet drink in the corner? And you're the only one who notices? And everyone keeps on laughing and acting as though absolutely nothing is wrong, and a serving maid even goes up to the dragon and refills its drink, and you're afraid to say anything because if no one else sees it, or worse if they know about it and have to explain it to you (and you know they'll use that condescending chuckle that makes you want to duel them then and there), you'll look like a bloody great fool?
That's basically what this party was, except everyone was a dragon.
No, not literally. It's metaphorical. At least try to keep up, eh? What I mean is, everyone there was like the dragon in the dream, huge and out-of-place but with no one making a big deal about it like they should have been.
Give me a moment here. I need to find the right words for this--you need more than just a description, you need to know what it was like.
The party-goers were split up into little chatting groups across the hall, talking about various things with various degrees of animation. By which I mean some of them were dead. Vampires, I think, unless there's another type of pale bloodless creature with fangs and eyes like sultry death and no pulse. It took me a while to realize what they were: only after diligent scrutiny of one particularly fine (if pale) lady did I figure it out. They weren't the oddest ones there, either, not by a long shot. Some of them were--I shit you not--werewolves. They had hair and muzzles and glowing red eyes and teeth that looked like they should be chewing up something more substantial than party snacks. And then there were the ones who looked like regular people until you noticed that they weren't actually using hands to lift their plates, or who used sparks from their fingertips to light their cigars, or who spoke to animals crouched on their shoulders. And there were stranger creatures lurking in corners, ready to ambush my eyes: figures wrapped in bandages, and goblins and shadows and a man with flesh of brass and strangler's hands.
The worst of all were the ones who looked absolutely normal until you saw their eyes. Those I avoided at all costs. No good can come from someone with eyes like that. No, I won't explain what they looked like, as if I could. It's not something you can describe, it's something you have to feel. They were like empty holes, an abyss that was looking back at you. Omen eyes, they were.
You get the idea. No ordinary party, this, and I was suddenly self-conscious of my very human body and my very mundane sword at my side. Should any of those people have taken it into their heads to kill me, I would have died. I'd have put up a fight, certainly, but died nonetheless: when you're the only normal human in the room, it's hard to believe that everyone else won't gang up on you given the chance. You know how it is. The feeling made me a bit edgier than usual, a little paranoid and a little scared. Yes, I admit to fright. You would too, if you had seen those omen eyes.
I knew now why the doormen hadn't been surprised to see me. What with all the magic folk there, they must've had people popping in all the time. It gave me a weird feeling, thinking that they thought I was one of them...
Nevertheless, this was a party, and I know the rules of parties. Don't stay when you're not wanted, don't hog all the good food, and don't spill blood unless you get the host's permission first. Many a fine carpet in Chadrais has been ruined by sudden duels between guests. I wasn't sure why Gabriel and his masters had decided that the battle would take place in such an arena, but who was I to question them? And it's not as if I didn't fit in. The guests were dressed in a delightfully large array of styles, and my bloodred cape and plumed hat did not look out of place in the slightest. Some of the others even had elegant rapiers, though obviously not of such quality as my own. Yes, I fit in nicely, except for being the only person there who wasn't magical or bestial or both.
I made my way to an unobtrusive corner of the buffet, returning a few polite 'Hello's on the way there. Normally I wouldn't hide in the corner at a party, but I figured this time I could make an exception. There were two people here who wanted to kill me, after all, and as such it made sense to be cautious. The fact that all the other guests were frightening as hell had nothing to do with it, I assure you.
I deftly snagged a wineglass off a tray carried by a passing butler, and soon also acquired a plate with some small pastries, thin slices of pear, and a few pieces of cheese on little sticks. You know, usual party food. I was eying a bowl of something that might have been bean dip, trying to determine if it was edible, when I became aware of an intriguing conversation from behind me.
No, I wasn't eavesdropping, per se. It was a party, all right? A party where I didn't know anyone. If you want to talk to anyone at such an event you have to do a little listening in, just so you can tell when you can slide into the conversation.
'He's here,' said a voice, female and cheerful and full of certainty. Who's here? I immediately began to wonder, while hunting for something to put in the bean dip. There didn't seem to be any chips about, which showed an annoying lack of foresight on the part of the caterers.
'Is he?' said someone else, male this time. The voice was soft, and didn't really sound interested.
'Yep,' the female voice confirmed. I could almost feel the triumph in the word.
'Which one is he?'
'Dunno.' There was a pause, in which I discovered a low platter of corn chips skulking between the punch bowl and the dip. 'We'll figure it out soon enough. After all, he's going to be looking for us, right? We just have to look for people who are looking for us.'
'And then we kill him,' said the male voice. A cold finger of suspicion stroked my spine.
'Yes, then we kill him,' said the other, in a sweet, all-too-eager voice. 'Come on Jayck, let's get to it.' Suspicion crystallized into horrible certainty.
'You will be fighting Jayck and Jyill, in Gorman Mansion,' Gabriel had said.
They were right behind me.
If they had seen my expression right then, I would have been a dead man. There was no way I could keep my horror at discovering my enemy so close off my face. My instinct was to spin around, sword drawn, getting my oh-so-precious and vulnerable back away from them. Fortunately enough, sorting out where my hands were (one holding a chip laden with bean dip, one carrying my plate and one spare finger hooked around the stem of my wineglass) gave me enough time to realize how bad a plan that was. They knew I was here: of course they did. But they didn't know who I was, not even when I was standing right in front of them. They probably had exactly as much information as I had been given: my name and the name of the arena. I fervently praised Gabriel's uncommunicative nature, which had seemed like such an annoyance. If they had been given even the briefest, sketchiest description--for example, 'He's a swordsman who wears a red cape'--they could have slain me without me even knowing they were there. It still makes me blanch, thinking about how close it was. I need a drink. Perhaps some kind soul will be willing to buy it for me...no? Too soon for that? Alas.
Through sheer dint of will I managed to get my hand moving again, just then noticing that it had frozen in midair. I brought the chip to my mouth and chewed mechanically. I honestly could not tell you what it tasted like.
They stepped out from behind me and into my view, scanning the crowd, looking for someone doing the same. I tried to be as casual as possible while at the same time standing ready to throw my plate in their faces if they came for me. Fortunately enough they didn't notice my corner-of-the-eye scrutiny.
They were an odd pair, this Jayck and Jyill. They were obviously brother and sister, having almost the same hair color and the same eyes and skin tone and generally looking like siblings, both of them dressed in clothes that were noticeably too small for them. The boy was staid and expressionless, not a flicker of emotion showing anywhere, while the girl was smiling and worryingly keen. She was the dangerous one, I thought. With the stone-faced killers you knew where you stood, but with one such as this you never knew what would happen. She was looking at the other guests with a calculating eye, as though she could read every one of them down to their soul.
She was rather pretty, actually, with her long red hair plaited with tinkling silver, and sharp green eyes standing out against tanned skin. When she looked in my direction I gave her a wink and a tip of my hat, cool and casual. Her brother gave me a flat look--like he was seeing how to kill me instead of seeing me--and I shrank back just a little. The girl giggled and nudged her brother, whispering something in his ear, and they moved off together, leaving me to slowly calm down. The two of them moved with the sort of conscious grace that marks the more dedicated kind of athlete--they knew how to move in their bodies. Most people don't, when you get right down to it. These two had the walk that said they didn't just know how to walk, they knew how to walk all day and fight at the end of it.
I studied them, when they weren't looking at me. I hadn't had time to do this with Drane--that fight had happened too fast--but in most duels I can get a good idea of how an opponent fought simply by watching them move. The way a man carries himself, his unconscious ticks, his habitual movements--these things are deep wells of information, and I draw on them with an eye bent on finding the strengths, but more so the weaknesses. In every fighter there is a fault, a crack where you can put your sword and watch them shatter. All you have to do is find it.
With Jayck and Jyill the fault line was easy to notice. It was in every movement, every line of their bodies and every word or glance exchanged. They moved together. Hell, they even held each other's hands most of the time. They didn't need to say much because they knew how they thought, and they walked close to each other, like they were afraid of losing each other. They didn't just fight together, they needed to. I saw something like that once, so I know what I'm talking about. Man who had spent ten years fighting back-to-back with his best friend ended up fighting alone, for tragic reasons that I won't go into right now, and went down fast because he forgot that nobody was backing him up. It was a very depressing thing to see.
But anyway, that's what Jayck and Jyill were. Gabriel had known what he was talking about. 'The two might as well be one, for they are held together by chains strung tight across their hearts and shackles clenched hard on their minds.' Indeed. All I had to do was get them away from each other and they'd fall apart.
Plan thus completed, I took a long and satisfying drink from my wineglass, which had the unfortunate side-effect of reminding my body that I needed to relieve myself. There was a hearty debate between my bladder, which insisted that now was the time, and my mind, which knew that letting Jayck and Jyill out of my sight might mean I wouldn't be able to find them again later. My bladder, however, was insistent: only sheer nerves and adrenaline had kept me from noticing it earlier.
Looking back on it, I'm not sure why I made the decision that I did. Perhaps it was the party atmosphere. I don't usually feel the need to be constantly on guard at a party. Whatever the reason, I handed my empty wineglass and bare plate to a nearby servant, from whom I received directions to the nearest lavatory. I thought I could find my enemies again when I got back. After all, it's not as if I'd be gone for very long.
I went down a wide, unoccupied hallway to the lavatory, and did my business there. I'm sure you don't need the details. Suffice to say that the room was elegantly styled and quite comfortable.
I emerged from the lavatory, ready to head back to the main hall and resume stalking my opponents, and was greeted by Jyill. 'Hello!' she said, and swung a two-handed warhammer at my head. This, as you might imagine, was somewhat unexpected. I barely ducked in time.
No, I don't know how she got there. I do know where she got the hammer from, but I can't just tell you that sort of thing, you know. It ruins the story.
Yes, I do know where Jayck was, as a matter of fact. No, I'm not going to tell you that, either. Impatient bastard, you are.
Right.
Jyill swung the hammer at my head, and I ducked just in time. Great swaths of wood were carved out of the door behind me, which I felt was an excellent substitute for my tender skin, and I responded by lowering my shoulder and crashing into her. I don't think she was expecting the first swing to miss. I sent her stumbling back, which gave me room to draw my sword and assume a proper fencing stance. Now things could get serious.
Jyill laughed. 'Hey, nice moves,' she said. 'How's it going, Cazinto?'
'Ah...' I tried to bluff. 'Who? Are you perhaps looking for someone else?'
She had the audacity to laugh again. ''Who?'' she said, mocking my innocent tone. 'You are Cazinto, then. Good. I would have hated to be killing the wrong person.' She jabbed with the end of the warhammer, forcing me back a step.
I don't know how she knew where I was, or even who I was. I must have given something away earlier without noticing. And it seemed that my ideas about how Jayck and Jyill fought were completely wrong as well: no matter how hard I peered into the shadows in the hallway, Jayck was nowhere to be seen, and yet here was his sister trying to murder me as I came out of the lavatory. It's almost enough to make a man doubt his own judgment.
'You're going to diiiiieeeee,' she trilled, and swung again, a great roundhouse blow that I dodged easily. 'You're not so tough. We'll be out of here in no time.'
'That we will,' I agreed, 'one way or the other.'
I feinted with the sword, and she swung the hammer around to smash the blade out of my hand. Now that I was actually fighting her she didn't seem to be that skilled of an opponent--she fell for the ruse like a rank amateur. I flicked the sword in a circle around the hammer and slid into a textbook lunge, arm extended and blade unerringly piercing her side. She looked surprised, eyes wide and mouth open in a heartbreaking little O of shock, and I felt guilty for a moment. What was I doing, cutting up this girl, this child who could barely defend herself? She didn't even know what weapon to use! You don't bring a warhammer to a swordfight, you use it when you're fighting knights and need to crack their armor open. Any halfway-decent fellow with a rapier will skewer you while you're trying to haul your godsdamned warhammer around to block.
If things had kept on like that, the fight would have been over in less than a minute. What happened to interrupt that was...rather strange. There was a flash of light, so white and blue and bright it didn't seem like light at all, and for an instant Jayck and Jyill were both standing before me, holding hands like frightened children, and then only Jayck, holding a resplendent flail of barbs and spikes where his sister had clasped his hand. The flail had a nick on the handle, I noticed, about where I had cut Jyill.
All right, so I didn't actually notice any nicks. But you will admit that it should have been there. The head of the flail was all the same barbs and spikes that were woven into Jyill's hair, and, well, what other conclusion could be drawn? I was at a party of vampires and werewolves, magic was a solid presence in the air, and anything seemed possible and probably was. The flail was Jyill. Thus, supposedly, the hammer was Jayck. Their alternate forms suited them well, I thought.
Yes, I have had a while to think about all this, thank you for asking. I didn't realize all of what was going on at that very instant: I was more concerned with the large guy who was trying to shred my skin with a flail. A flail is a much trickier weapon to fight than a warhammer, and I was justifiably wary of it. Usually if faced with one I'd step back and wait for my enemy to take his own eye out by mistake, but Jayck wielded it with a worrying professionalism. In all my days I have met only one man who was able to use a flail effectively. That man was, unfortunately enough, Jayck. He stepped forward swinging, and I dodged out of the way. You don't try and block something like a flail, not if you want to keep your blade in your hand. The barbs caught the edge of my bloodred cape, but no more. Look here, you can see the spot where it was repaired afterward--the cloth the angelic seamstress used is just a little bit brighter than the rest of it.
Anyway, Jayck said 'Die' and swung, and I said 'No thanks' and dodged. I slashed at the wrist holding the flail, and missed, and we both sprang away with our eyes on each other's weapons. In the moment of silence we heard someone shouting from the main hall. Our combat hadn't exactly been inconspicuous, after all, and someone had heard us. Feet approached the hall we were in, and we spent a moment longer looking at each other, trying to talk without actually saying anything. I raised an eyebrow: Jayck nodded once. We came to an agreement: unspoken was the desire by both of us not to be torn to pieces by an angry mob of whatever demons were coming our way.
I turned and ducked into another hallway, and there was a flash of light from behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see the crowd from the main hall reach Jayck and Jyill, vampires and werewolves and stranger things sweeping down the corridor like a bad metaphor. There was no time to try and kill Jayck, so I saw no point in sticking around. With any luck the mob would tear them both apart for me. Alas, such was not to be.
'He went that way!' Jyill said excitedly, pointing down the hallway I'd just taken. 'He came roaring out of the bathroom and broke the door and ran away!' She sounded like a breathless schoolgirl who was unbelievably exited by what she had just seen. A natural actress, was Jyill. This explanation seemed to satisfy most of the questioning glances, with the exception of a few people who stood staring grimly at the hole in the woodwork, muttering about the prices that good carpenters charge these days. I would have been happier if she hadn't tried to get me in trouble with our hosts, but what can you do. If I were in her position I would have done the same thing. The *****.
A few...people? Let's call them people. A few people headed down my corridor, either out of curiosity or out of a desire to make someone else pay for repairs. I straightened my clothes and walked calmly towards them, exchanging nods with a werewolf in a suit as I passed.
'Did you see anyone come this way?' he asked me.
'No one besides you,' I said cheerfully. They were looking for someone running in the other direction, someone who could have torn the lavatory door off its hinges, and as such they didn't pay much attention to a finely-dressed young man in a plumed hat and cape. Jayck and Jyill had vanished, along with most of the crowd, so I made my way back to the main hall. Carefully.
That's how parties work, see. Something happens, people rush off to see if it's interesting, and then when it isn't they return to what they were doing. They're here to have fun, and they're not going to stick around if there's no promise of entertainment.
I avoided the large crowds in the main hall, having become even more paranoid due to recent events. I didn't eat or drink anything else, either--being balanced on the edge of abused nerves tends to discourage appetite. I didn't see Jayck and Jyill anywhere, which only made it worse. They'd figured out who I was and arranged an ambush for me without giving themselves away. For all I knew they were hiding in the rafters, watching my every move. That delightful thought lead me to scan the ceiling as well as the crowd. You can never be too careful.
Well, yes, I suppose it is possible be too careful, but not in this instance. Stop interrupting. I'm trying to tell the story here.
Something was happening in the corner of the hall where the musicians were playing. The band was shifting their stuff around, setting up new sheets of music and switching to louder instruments. An army of servants in livery descended from all sides and began moving the tables to the sides of the hall, which was an impressive feat considering that some of the guests refused to move. I saw two large butlers bodily lift a table above their heads and carry it over a group of chatting witches, who didn't seem to notice what was going on, not even when the table blocked the light from the chandelier. I was impressed, both by the butlers' professionalism and the witches' obliviousness.
They were preparing the hall for dancing, which was my cue to exit. In a crowd of chatting, eating people I could hide forever: in a sparse collection of nondancers, not so much. And on the dance floor? You can't hide on a dance floor.
I was by an archway, lurking in the shadows, when the band started up with a jaunty tune and people began dancing. My heart almost stopped when I heard Jyill's voice from nearby. She must have been right around the corner.
'Dancing!' she said. 'Look at them! They're so graceful.'
'Who?' Jayck said. I tried to become one with the stone and the shadow.
'All of them!' Jyill said, and I could almost see her watching the dancers, the werewolves leaping wildly and the vampires slow grace and the mages who spun and strutted in midair.
'You're better,' Jayck said, almost fondly. He never really had any emotion in his voice, but I fancied I heard the edge of something there.
'Am I?' I could feel her smile. 'Come on, let's dance!'
'Aren't we supposed to be killing someone?'
'We can do that later,' Jyill said. 'There's no time limit to these battles. We've got time for a dance.' She dragged her brother out onto the dance floor, and I watched them go from the shadows, feeling relieved. At least I'd know where they'd be for a little while, dancing the night away with the creatures of darkness, on the polished floor lit dimly by the crystal chandelier of Gorman Mansion.
A horrible idea struck me, and I glanced up. The chandelier loomed above the dancers, a thousand candles creating a perfect and complicated ring of fire, crystals bouncing the light in every direction. It was set up in the usual arrangement for chandeliers in halls like this, attached by heavy chain to a pulley on the ceiling so it could be raised or lowered depending on the amount of light needed. Right now it was set fairly high, because the witches and wizards wanted to be able to fly around without hitting things and because most of the guests could see in the dark anyway. Streams of dancers twirled beneath it, moving to the rhythm decreed by the band.
My eyes followed the chain to the pulley on the ceiling and from there to a small, discreet balcony purposefully hidden in shadows so the burly men who operated the winch wouldn't be noticed by the guests in the hall below. The balcony would be empty right now, I knew, the burly men off doing some other chore that required their muscles. There was always something.
It was easy to find my way to the balcony. All these mansions are set up the same way, with a few main broad hallways and the little servant's corridors and stairs tucked away behind them. It was those servant's corridors that led me to where I wanted to be. I have a fairly good sense of direction, and Gorman Mansion was laid out in a very logical way to prevent new help from getting lost, not out of any consideration for the servants but so that the service was always prompt. You don't want to order a butler to fetch you a beer and have it show up an hour later.
The balcony was hot and stuffy and dark, collecting all the fumes from the chandelier and the masses of people below in one uncomfortable place. From it I could look down and watch the dancers dance and the musicians play, everything normal and joyous and exactly the sort of thing that I spent my time on in Chadrais. It gave me a weird feeling, to be on the outside looking in. I felt like I ought to be down there, cape swirling and eyes charming, leading a beautiful lady in the dance.
And there, very easy to find, were Jayck and Jyill. It was Jyill's hair that let me spot them so quickly. I just looked for the bright red plaits whirling as she danced, and the space where the other dancers kept out of range of the silver barbs she'd woven in.
Watching Jayck and Jyill dance was a pleasure. They moved together so perfectly I can't describe it. They were one person with two bodies and two minds...no. They were distinctly two people, but two people for whom the world only contained one other person. The only things that were real were each other. They moved like they knew not what the other was thinking, but how they thought, and where they'd be putting their feet. I have seen professional dancers who would have retired in tears after seeing Jayck and Jyill dance together, for they would know that they could never be as good as this. They were perfect together, brother and sister, bound by far more than blood or magic.
I tore my eyes from the pair and reluctantly examined the winch. The chain ran from the chandelier to the pulley and from there through a notch in the balcony rail and into a large piece of machinery full of locks and sturdy bars meant to keep the chandelier from moving once the height had been set. One by one I opened or broke those locks with my dagger, until only one remained, a small iron bar that went through the links of chain and held them securely. I put my hand on that iron bar and looked down from the balcony once more.
I am a swordsman before anything else, and a good swordsman recognizes patterns. Usually they are patterns of attack and defense, looking for some habitual move by an opponent that I might take advantage of. And what is a dance if not a pattern? I watched the hall below, and my eye picked out the swirls and turns of the dancers. I knew where they were moving before they themselves did, and I watched Jayck and Jyill whirl across the dance floor, ever closer to the center of the room where the chandelier hung.
I tried not to think about what I was doing. Look, I might not be a man given to much self-examination, but, well...what was I doing? I was preparing to drop a huge crystal chandelier on a pair of, of children, because they were unwary enough to be dancing at a party. I mean, what is that? Is that any way for an honorable man to act? Yes, they were trying to kill me. Fair enough; lots of people have tried to kill me. I met them on the field of honor and we had an honorable duel. No tricks, no hiding, no skulking about in shadows, just two men with swords. Clean fights, every one. And now this? What I should do, I realized, was challenge the two of them formally. We could step outside, into the dark beyond the mansion, and have an honorable duel where we wouldn't be interrupted by the creatures at the party. I wasn't sure how it would work--would I duel just Jayck, or just Jyill, or both at once? How does their magic work, anyway? I'm sure arrangements could have been made.
That is what I should have done.
I could have done it. It would have been so easy. Just go back down to the main hall, tap one of them on the shoulder, and have a quiet conversation. Make arrangements. Step outside. Duel. Clean, neat, and honorable. But, but, who knows if they would have listened? Jayck, he was stone-faced, a stone-cold killer. He might see me and just take my head off, and never mind the crowd. And Jyill? There was something wrong with that girl. You could see it in her eyes, the way they widened and sparkled when violence was afoot. She was worse than Jayck. He'd just kill me: she'd make it humiliating as well. I can take injury, but I cannot stand insult.
They spun across the floor and my heart broke to watch them, moving so perfectly together, looking into each other's faces, calm and happy as could be. Jayck wasn't smiling, but he looked as if he should be, and Jyill was so radiantly delighted that I felt my own mouth turning up into a grin.
I watched the pattern of the dance, and I watched Jayck and Jyill. Perhaps they'd make my plans unnecessary and avoid the center of the floor, evade the area of impact where the chandelier would plunge down. Perhaps circumstance would endeavor to make me not a coward. But no, I saw their path, saw how it would take them straight to where I needed them to be, and in that instant I hated them more than I have hated anything before or since. Who were they to force this decision on me? I was an honorable man! This is not something I should have to do!
Jayck and Jyill danced, and with a fencer's eye I saw where their rhythmic feet would bring them to the center of the floor, and saw the exact instant when the falling chandelier needed to be started on its way to intercept them, just as I had seen the exact moment to strike a thousand times before in a thousand other duels.
What else could I do? They forced my hand. In a duel I move on instinct and reflex, and here...I saw the moment to strike. I have trained for years to take advantage of that one, perfectly clear moment, without thinking, without hesitating, for hesitation is always death. I can't allow myself the luxury of thought when that instant arrives: I must lunge through the opening and end the duel. I could no more stop my hand than I could fly.
I pulled out the iron restraining bar and the chain spun, slowly for a moment and then blurring with speed as the chandelier roared down from on high, and Jayck and Jyill took two steps light as birds in the thrall of the music and glanced up, faces peaceful and bemused, and were obliterated by the towering mass of crystal and fire. I cried out in shock, the impact was so great and sudden. The air was full of crystals and broken flame, and my heart rang and bled for each glittering shard.
I had to turn away. They were children, playing a game they didn't understand, and for that I had killed them. I had no choice. None, you hear me? Can you see something else I could have done?
I had to say the words. 'Jayck and Jyill have fallen,' I said in a hollow voice, 'and thus I claim victory.'
A portal opened before me, edged with the pearly glow of heaven, and I stepped through without a backward glance. I didn't see the final result of my actions, but I know what would be happening well enough. Witches and vampires alike would be rising through the air, trying to find what had gone wrong to send tragedy crashing down, and others would be putting out the blazing candles and oils I had sent among them, and still others would be clearing away shining crystals and dragging out a pair of bodies. I did not need to see this to know it.
Behind me, the music had stopped. Ahead of me, the tournament waited, the tournament that took in children and honorable men and turned them into corpses and murderers.
There is a silence here
In which a man has fallen
And falls, forevermore
I need a drink."
Rogueshadows, if nothing else your characters were incredibly fun to write. Tell me, have you read Martin Millar?
Anyway, without further ado:
Anyway, without further ado:
Despair, left unattended, is a cruel creature that sucks life, energy, and hope from those it inhabits. Harlequin despaired, and it was for this reason that Harlequin went to his fight with his shoulders slumped as if he were carrying a great weight. Every step was a struggle to keep himself going, and it was melancholy that filled him as he stood before the portal a second time.
At the other portal, he spotted what looked like a scarecrow wielding a scythe and a large pumpkin for a head.
Death has come for me in the form of a pumpkin, Harlequin thought. He felt like he should be amused. He wasn't.
Harlequin was pulled from his thoughts by the cheers of those watching, just after the announcer finished detailing the arena they would be fighting in. Harlequin stared glumly at the portal in front of him, realizing his only inkling of where he was going was a faint smell of sulfur wafting out of it. With a miserable sigh, Harlequin dragged himself through the portal and into blackness.
______________________________
Harlequin was dropped out of his portal. Maybe he was fool to expect to be able to step out onto solid ground with every portal, but it seemed simply mean to drop a man face down onto his battlefield. When he landed on it, however, the situation made more sense. This battlefield was like a translucent net, not immediately visible unless you were looking for it. Harlequin could see a distant field of fire as if it were miles below him. It was the only source of light, and it made it hard to see very far. Everything beyond the first several feet was inky blackness.
Harlequin rose up on his feet and surveyed what he was standing on. It looked like a giant spider's web, with silk as thick as his thighs. Large globules were stuck across the net. Assuming this was a spider's web, that would be the glue. Harlequin thought it best not to find out.
Some distance away, the scarecrow lay prone as four fairies argued what to do about it falling and immediately getting stuck in that glue.
"Just cut off the arm! We can replace it later!" Joed shouted at them.
"No, you can't hurt Mort! he was hurt enough during the last fight and he needs the arm!" Gywn shouted back, crouching over it like a child attempting to shield an over sized stuffed animal.
Laea, fed up with the argument shouted over them, "If you both don't stop now, I'll take that scythe and use it on your skulls!" The two other fairies shut up for a moment.
"Now why don't we get back in Mort, and cut the spider web? If anything, it will just make that arm harder to remove."
This made such sense the other fairies initially resisted to cover their own feelings of idiocy. Laea had to grab Mort's arm and raise it for a swing before they relented and got the scarecrow up and moving again.
Above them all, a group of eight blood red eyes watched, and waited. They would skitter to and fro, watching both combatants, waiting for something to happen.
__________________________________
Harlequin slowly walked in no particular direction, waiting for something to find him. He was toying with the idea of just losing right away, but he knew what awaited him. He had committed every deadly sin in the book, and hadn't particularly praised God. Harlequin suspected hell was as painful as it was made out to be, considering that God existed, as did purgatory, and Hell seemed to be composed mostly of flames.
So, his best option was to live what life he had. Which meant he had to fight. Which meant he had to stop stumbling around this spider's web and
find that scarecrow.
Fuck it, Harlequin decided, and then shouted, "I'm here, you pumpkin headed bastard! Come and find me!"
With that, Harlequin sat astraddle of two threads and began to wait, arms crossed, his bat gripped tightly in one hand.
From the gloom, Harlequin heard the barest whispers of a response. It sounded not like one response, but several. For a while, it was too faint to
understand. It didn't take long for this to change.
"...but he called Mort a bastard!"
"And we're going to kill him. That doesn't mean we're going to feed his entrails to fluffy kittens!"
"But he called Mort a bastaaaaarrrddd!"
"God, Gywn, you sound like a human."
"Is that him over there?"
"I think so. Let's get him!"
Harlequin stood and attempted to pierce the gloom, looking for the source of the voices. Harlequin didn't even hear the scarecrow move up behind him, readying his scythe. He just sighed and dropped back into a sitting position right as the scythe swung where his neck should have been.
Harlequin looked up to see a pumpkin creature standing over him.
"damn it all, you missed!"
"Shut up, I'll get him this time!" But even as Joed raised the scythe again, Harlequin got into a crouch and back kicked the scarecrow, forcing it to
stagger back as he propelled himself forward. He was off, scrambling on three limbs across the web. He could hear the cries of the Scarecrow urging itself to come after him, and he grinned because it meant his stick could now work.
But Harlequin quickly lost his grin. What could he use the stick against? If he hit the web, he would just be dooming himself to the fires below while it became something random, and the stick didn't transform air.
Harlequin checked back on the Scarecrow to note that it was gaining on him, and it appeared to flying more than actually running. He started trying to sprint across the web, stepping from giant silk string to giant silk string. Then he missed, and tripped himself on the string instead of stepping on it. Harlequin sprawled across three of the smooth, silky strings.
Without turning, he could feel the scarecrow step onto the thread his leg was caught on. No time to think, just spin and knock the bastard back.
Harlequin rolled over and struck the scarecrow with his bat just as it finished raising its scythe. The scarecrow did not simply fall back as expected, but began shaking violently as well.
"What's going on?" he heard a small voice say.
"Crap, getoutgetoutgetout!" he heard from another. As if from an explosion, four small creatures flew away from the Scarecrow, allowing it to fall and barely land on the spider web. An odd noise rose, like a half strangled scream, rose from the Scarecrow. Harlequin watched the creature rise to its knees and wrap its arms around its head. It started rolling across the web, got stuck in some glue, and bounced back and forth on that spot, shaking the entire web around it. It began to thrash, its blows against the web becoming all the more violent until at last the scarecrow simply disappeared. The scythe severed the strand the scarecrow had been laying on as it fell to fiery depths below.
Before Harlequin could make heads or tails of the situation he was confronted by a very angry, very small, very colorful group of creatures than hovered in the air mere inches from his face.
"What the hell did you do to our scarecrow! That was ours!"
"We ought to kick your ass!"
"Yeah, you tell him!"
Harlequin looked at them quizzically, not feeling very threatened. "Excuse me for asking, but what the hell are you?"
The four looked amongst each other. Finally one stepped up, looking for all the world like a little girl crossed with some sort of candy colored bug.
"We are the Fae. Fairies as you humans idiotically refer to us. Now what are we going to do about Mort?"
"Well, you guys did try to kill me with it..."
"His name is Mort!" said a second one, who rushed up right between Harlequin's eyes and smacked him right on the tip of his nose.
"Okay, okay! His name is Mort," the Fae backed off, appeased.
" You four tried to kill me with him. I don't think I really owe you for anything. I mean, I don't even understand how that happened. This stick can transform inanimate objects into different ones, but that scarecrow was most clearly animate."
Once he was finished speaking, the Fae in front of him appeared to look at each other.
"um, well, he didn't start out animated..."
"He was kinda just in a field."
"Then this annoying, naked monkey devil thing..."
"That I attached a kick-me glamour to!" which immediately set all four chuckling for a few seconds.
"Well, he made Mort get up and live. We dunno how, he just did."
Harlequin thought for a second. "So Mort was never alive to begin with, some devil just made it so?"
"Pretty much!"
"which means Mort never should have lived in the first place. He was unnatural, and I guess the batte's magic didn't know whether to ignore him
or affect him."
"Oh, because your ability to change things is so natural!"
"Well, no, I was just saying he wasn't exactly alive-"
"Which meant you had to kill him?"
"I didn't know it was going-"
"What kind of magic do you use, anyway?"
"I don't really-"
"Where is Mort?"
"I don't know! I don't know why it affected him and made him stop existing. I don't know! I don't even know how to happy!" he shouted out them, forcing them to flutter back from his volume. He took a deep breath and a ragged sigh, and then dragged himself to his feet.
"I guess since the portal didn't open, you Fae aren't done fighting yet?"
The four of them were silent.
"Well, alright then. I'm going to go if I can find a safer place than this web. Maybe a wall. You guys can do what ever you want."
As he began bouncing across the spider's web, the four Fae clustered together.
"What do we do now?" Doyle whined.
"I say he cut one of strands just before he steps on it and make him fall to his death!" Joed said, rubbing his hands together.
"I dunno, he seemed rather friendly anyway." Gwyn said wistfully.
"How would you know?" Joed countered.
"He didn't try to attack us when we flew up to him!" Gwyn said, getting into Joed's face.
"He couldn't have hit us at that range if he tried!"
Laea reached forward and bonked Gwyn's and Joed's heads together.
"Ow! Hey what did you do that for!"
"Well, I figured you had heads thick enough it wouldn't hurt you!"
There was an awkward silence before Joed and Gwyn got it.
"Hey! I'm nothing like that one!" they both said at the same time, pointing at each other. They then both gasped at the same time, and stared at each other with equally intense anger. Laea and Doyle's laughter broke them out of their death stares.
"I don't really have any more intention of fighting him. Do you three?" Laea finally asked.
The other three Fae shook their heads.
"But, then, who does?" Gwyn wondered.
Directly in front of them, and far enough from Harlequin that he wouldn't notice, a giant spider dropped from the ceiling settled onto the web. It
seemed completely oblivious to the Fae as it slowly began stalking forward on its web, all eight legs casually finding the right place to step.
The four Fae watched it slink off into the gloom, following Harlequin.
"Ha! He's going to get what he deserves now!" Joed said in a loud whisper.
Laea thought for a moment. "What kind of magic transforms objects like that?"
Doyle spoke up, showing a rare glimmer of intelligence. "Ours."
Laea nodded. "I think that's the only kind."
"whoa, whoa whoa whoa. You're saying he's a Fae like us?" Joed said.
"Well, maybe not a very good one, doesn't seem to know his powers very well, but I think so. Humans can have Fae influence, at least."
Joed stuck out his chin adamantly. "No way."
Gwyn turned suddenly in the direction of Harlequin. "I wanna help him."
"Why would we help our enemy?" Joed shouted at her back.
"Because he's not our enemy. He only attacked us because you attacked him."
Joed stared, caught without an immediate response. Finally, "he called Mort a bastard."
Gwyn thought for only a second before fluttering off in pursuit of Harlequin.
Dolye and Laea followed immediately, if only to protect their swarm mate.
Joed followed finally, cursing angrily as he did so.
_________________________
Harlequin traipsed further from what he figured was the center of the web. He had no way to judge other than intuition, but it proved right. The
strands began to get further and further apart, until at last Harlequin was forced to pause and consider his options. He could try crawling across the one strand that supported all the other ones, but that would leave him vulnerable if those Fae came back. He sighed and decided to sit, resting his head on his knuckles while one leg swung freely in the void below.
At least the Fae had been interesting characters. Too much of the world was black and white, a film noir where he was just some dumb schmuck with no happy ending at the end of his tale. Heh. The demoness who put him in this competition even made a great Femme Fatale.
And yet, though he disliked the role, he was a Harlequin. He had his own type of story and he really didn't fit in with this one. He shouldn't have a tale to end. He should have a punch line.
A bright fairy suddenly flew in front of him. Harlequin blinked in surprise, though the mask prevented the Fae from seeing it.
"You here to attack me?" He queried.
The Fae fluttered up close, nervously, and spoke in a rapid whisper. "No, I'm Gwyn and I want to help you. There's a big, scary spider right behind you, and if you don't move very quickly, I think its going to bite you." Gwyn then fluttered down and under the web.
Harlequin felt his spine go chill. He raised his feet up to the strand quickly, balancing himself into a crouch. Without a moment to hesitate further he launched himself up higher than he should have been able to as giant spider leaped forward and bit where he had been sitting. Harlequin managed to land right on the creature's neck. Instantly, it began cursing him in a language he did not understand and trying to shake him off. Harlequin was forced to hold onto its putrid, hairy body to stay atop the creature. It began running across the web, bouncing and shaking its entire mass along the way. Harlequin for all the world looked like a rodeo clown who had gotten on the biggest, meanest bull in existence for he was forced to keep one hand free to hold his batte.
Just when Harlequin had gotten over the initial adrenaline rush, he noticed there was another sound beside the Spider's cursing. Harlequin looked over and saw the Fae flying in pace with the crazed creature.
"Spider Rider! Spider Rider! Spider Rider!"
"There's no way he could be Fae. Look at him!"
"Shut up, Joed! We can deal with that after Lolth!"
"Wait, you know what this thing is called?" Harlequin shouted to them.
"Of course, dummy! It's shouting in Demon, quite loudly, 'I am Queen Lolth! You will get your puny, hairless, half-ape hide off of me or I'm going to
give you a slow death!' "
The Fae all seemed amused by this and giggled loudly. They began shouting in demon at Lolth, voices dripping with mockery. Lolth began thrashing noticeably harder when the Fae began prodding it verbally. Its hissing voice began cursing louder, and louder. After several verbal salvos back and forth, Lolth's tone suddenly changed, though its thrashing continued. The Fae stopped speaking in Demon to land on Lolth's back and laugh themselves stupid.
Harlequin shouted back at them. "What the hell is so funny?"
He received no response for several seconds except for more laughter, until the bossy one composed herself enough to land on his shoulder and inform him, "We've tricked Lolth into thinking you're Anansi, the African trickster and spider god, in human form. She's still going to kill you when she's done, but she wants to make you change into your spider shape because if you're this good at riding her now, you'll be even better at riding her as a mate!"
The Fae gripped Harlequin's shirt as she began laughing hysterically again. And Harlequin, quite unable to to help himself, joined her with loud and rancorous laughter. He laughed like he had never laughed before, causing himself to weep and his stomach to ache. Their insane laughter only infuriated Lolth further as she wondered if he was denying her. She began to foam at the mouth in poisonous bubbles at the mere thought.
When Harlequin had managed to subside himself into small giggles, he turned to the Fae on his shoulder. "What are your guys' names?"
"I'm Laea, the other three are Joed, Gwyn, and Doyle."
"well, you know what Laea, I really like you guys. I haven't had this much fun the whole tournament. Do you four wanna join me?"
Laea thought for a moment, and jumped back to the other three Fae who were busy scribbling horrible glamours onto Lolth's behind, mostly to the effect of, "I did a clown, ain't that funny?" and, "I had the best mate; sex and food on demand and I didn't even have to clean up his corpse!"
After some whispered discussion, the four of them came back and settled onto Lolth's head, facing the Harlequin. "What's in it for us?"
"Fun. Adventure. And if I win I'll still want to keep you four around, I'm pretty certain. So you may not get to rule, but you'll get to advise. And play pranks on all the important people who come to visit."
Gwyn suddenly spoke up, "I wanna paint the feast hall!"
Harlequin chuckled. "Sure, why not? A little random color isn't going to hurt anyone."
The Fae all gibbered excitedly.
Harlequin raised his hand to try and silence them. They, being Fae, ignored him completely. When the Fae started dancing, Harlequin drew his face close and shouted at them, "Hey!"
The Fae, unused to being shouted at by anything louder than their mother, were suitably stunned.
"Now this deal is all fine and good, but first we have to get me off of this damn spider. So I need you guys to go to her and tell her I'll only change back into a spider if she passes my test. Tell her that if she wants to be well ridden, she needs to prove she's a good ride."
The Fae giggled, and set off to do his bidding. After a short discussion in Demon, one of the Fae shouted at him, "she wants to know what she needs to do to prove herself."
Harlequin grinned. "Tell her to spin in a circle seven times!"
After a second or two, Lolth stopped charging about, and begun spinning around. Now Harlequin shouted. "Tell her to jump next!"
A series of rotations later, Lolth began launching herself into the air.
Harlequin looked up and noticed how close to the rocky ceiling he was coming. On the next jump he reached up, but it was just out of reach. He looked down and the entire web was shaking underneath Lolth's weight. He didn't think the web would be able to take much more stress than what she was putting on it.
"Tell her to jump higher, that I'm not impressed!"
Lolth responded by tensing her entire body into a spring, and launching herself straight up. Harlequin took his batte in his teeth and reached up,
grabbing a small ledge in the rock. Lolth, however, slipped out from underneath him and plunged into her web below. The web audibly snapped in
several places, and before Lolth could react the entire thing fell with herself still on it. Her hissing began to echo on her way down.
The Fae floated up to Harlequin, incredibly amused. As soon as they were within a short distance of Harlequin, a portal opened underneath. The Fae flew down into it as Harlequin let go and fell down on the main presentation stage. When he rose, it was to minor laughter from the few contestants still paying attention. Harlequin cartwheeled off the stage and performed a small slap-stick routine on his way out the door to the hall.
As soon as he got out the door, he turned to look if the Fae were following. He was beginning to suspect they wouldn't always follow him if something else diverted him. He was proven right, as three of the Fae were distracting a drunken looking fellow while the fourth set about tying the man's shoe laces together. Suddenly something spun him around from behind, picked him up off his feet and forced him against the wall. It was the demoness who had hired him.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" She didn't wait for a response. "You were put in this competition by me, with an agreement to me. You are supposed to commit one of the seven deadly sins. You didn't commit any this fight! You couldn't even commit lust against Lolth! So let me tell you how this is going to work. Your batte and your extra strength won't do you jack in the next fight until you commit one of the seven deadly sins."
The demoness smashed him into the other wall. "And if don't commit any, your ass is going be mine. We have a contract. You will honor it. Do I make myself perfectly, crystal, clear?"
Harlequin nodded slowly.
The demoness dropped him onto his feet, and strode down the infinite hallway before pushing one door open and slamming it behind her.
Laea and the others crawled in through the door to the portal room. "Wow. Lolth's got nothing on that *****." she said.
Harlequin chuckled and nodded. "I have an idea, though. If we can make this batte still transform objects and she sees it, she'll be somewhat confused as to what's going on. She knows about you, I think, but she's also the type to believe her plans are perfect. Can you four do anything?"
The four Fae looked at each other, then suddenly all grinned at once.
"Play a massive trick on a demon? Oh, you better believe we'll do it."
Doyle began giggling just thinking about it.
"Okay. Let's go take care of this in my room. Don't need a passerby noticing us working."
And thus, Harlequin and the four Fae set out to perform magic, laughing the whole way to his room as they bickered back and forth.
At the other portal, he spotted what looked like a scarecrow wielding a scythe and a large pumpkin for a head.
Death has come for me in the form of a pumpkin, Harlequin thought. He felt like he should be amused. He wasn't.
Harlequin was pulled from his thoughts by the cheers of those watching, just after the announcer finished detailing the arena they would be fighting in. Harlequin stared glumly at the portal in front of him, realizing his only inkling of where he was going was a faint smell of sulfur wafting out of it. With a miserable sigh, Harlequin dragged himself through the portal and into blackness.
______________________________
Harlequin was dropped out of his portal. Maybe he was fool to expect to be able to step out onto solid ground with every portal, but it seemed simply mean to drop a man face down onto his battlefield. When he landed on it, however, the situation made more sense. This battlefield was like a translucent net, not immediately visible unless you were looking for it. Harlequin could see a distant field of fire as if it were miles below him. It was the only source of light, and it made it hard to see very far. Everything beyond the first several feet was inky blackness.
Harlequin rose up on his feet and surveyed what he was standing on. It looked like a giant spider's web, with silk as thick as his thighs. Large globules were stuck across the net. Assuming this was a spider's web, that would be the glue. Harlequin thought it best not to find out.
Some distance away, the scarecrow lay prone as four fairies argued what to do about it falling and immediately getting stuck in that glue.
"Just cut off the arm! We can replace it later!" Joed shouted at them.
"No, you can't hurt Mort! he was hurt enough during the last fight and he needs the arm!" Gywn shouted back, crouching over it like a child attempting to shield an over sized stuffed animal.
Laea, fed up with the argument shouted over them, "If you both don't stop now, I'll take that scythe and use it on your skulls!" The two other fairies shut up for a moment.
"Now why don't we get back in Mort, and cut the spider web? If anything, it will just make that arm harder to remove."
This made such sense the other fairies initially resisted to cover their own feelings of idiocy. Laea had to grab Mort's arm and raise it for a swing before they relented and got the scarecrow up and moving again.
Above them all, a group of eight blood red eyes watched, and waited. They would skitter to and fro, watching both combatants, waiting for something to happen.
__________________________________
Harlequin slowly walked in no particular direction, waiting for something to find him. He was toying with the idea of just losing right away, but he knew what awaited him. He had committed every deadly sin in the book, and hadn't particularly praised God. Harlequin suspected hell was as painful as it was made out to be, considering that God existed, as did purgatory, and Hell seemed to be composed mostly of flames.
So, his best option was to live what life he had. Which meant he had to fight. Which meant he had to stop stumbling around this spider's web and
find that scarecrow.
Fuck it, Harlequin decided, and then shouted, "I'm here, you pumpkin headed bastard! Come and find me!"
With that, Harlequin sat astraddle of two threads and began to wait, arms crossed, his bat gripped tightly in one hand.
From the gloom, Harlequin heard the barest whispers of a response. It sounded not like one response, but several. For a while, it was too faint to
understand. It didn't take long for this to change.
"...but he called Mort a bastard!"
"And we're going to kill him. That doesn't mean we're going to feed his entrails to fluffy kittens!"
"But he called Mort a bastaaaaarrrddd!"
"God, Gywn, you sound like a human."
"Is that him over there?"
"I think so. Let's get him!"
Harlequin stood and attempted to pierce the gloom, looking for the source of the voices. Harlequin didn't even hear the scarecrow move up behind him, readying his scythe. He just sighed and dropped back into a sitting position right as the scythe swung where his neck should have been.
Harlequin looked up to see a pumpkin creature standing over him.
"damn it all, you missed!"
"Shut up, I'll get him this time!" But even as Joed raised the scythe again, Harlequin got into a crouch and back kicked the scarecrow, forcing it to
stagger back as he propelled himself forward. He was off, scrambling on three limbs across the web. He could hear the cries of the Scarecrow urging itself to come after him, and he grinned because it meant his stick could now work.
But Harlequin quickly lost his grin. What could he use the stick against? If he hit the web, he would just be dooming himself to the fires below while it became something random, and the stick didn't transform air.
Harlequin checked back on the Scarecrow to note that it was gaining on him, and it appeared to flying more than actually running. He started trying to sprint across the web, stepping from giant silk string to giant silk string. Then he missed, and tripped himself on the string instead of stepping on it. Harlequin sprawled across three of the smooth, silky strings.
Without turning, he could feel the scarecrow step onto the thread his leg was caught on. No time to think, just spin and knock the bastard back.
Harlequin rolled over and struck the scarecrow with his bat just as it finished raising its scythe. The scarecrow did not simply fall back as expected, but began shaking violently as well.
"What's going on?" he heard a small voice say.
"Crap, getoutgetoutgetout!" he heard from another. As if from an explosion, four small creatures flew away from the Scarecrow, allowing it to fall and barely land on the spider web. An odd noise rose, like a half strangled scream, rose from the Scarecrow. Harlequin watched the creature rise to its knees and wrap its arms around its head. It started rolling across the web, got stuck in some glue, and bounced back and forth on that spot, shaking the entire web around it. It began to thrash, its blows against the web becoming all the more violent until at last the scarecrow simply disappeared. The scythe severed the strand the scarecrow had been laying on as it fell to fiery depths below.
Before Harlequin could make heads or tails of the situation he was confronted by a very angry, very small, very colorful group of creatures than hovered in the air mere inches from his face.
"What the hell did you do to our scarecrow! That was ours!"
"We ought to kick your ass!"
"Yeah, you tell him!"
Harlequin looked at them quizzically, not feeling very threatened. "Excuse me for asking, but what the hell are you?"
The four looked amongst each other. Finally one stepped up, looking for all the world like a little girl crossed with some sort of candy colored bug.
"We are the Fae. Fairies as you humans idiotically refer to us. Now what are we going to do about Mort?"
"Well, you guys did try to kill me with it..."
"His name is Mort!" said a second one, who rushed up right between Harlequin's eyes and smacked him right on the tip of his nose.
"Okay, okay! His name is Mort," the Fae backed off, appeased.
" You four tried to kill me with him. I don't think I really owe you for anything. I mean, I don't even understand how that happened. This stick can transform inanimate objects into different ones, but that scarecrow was most clearly animate."
Once he was finished speaking, the Fae in front of him appeared to look at each other.
"um, well, he didn't start out animated..."
"He was kinda just in a field."
"Then this annoying, naked monkey devil thing..."
"That I attached a kick-me glamour to!" which immediately set all four chuckling for a few seconds.
"Well, he made Mort get up and live. We dunno how, he just did."
Harlequin thought for a second. "So Mort was never alive to begin with, some devil just made it so?"
"Pretty much!"
"which means Mort never should have lived in the first place. He was unnatural, and I guess the batte's magic didn't know whether to ignore him
or affect him."
"Oh, because your ability to change things is so natural!"
"Well, no, I was just saying he wasn't exactly alive-"
"Which meant you had to kill him?"
"I didn't know it was going-"
"What kind of magic do you use, anyway?"
"I don't really-"
"Where is Mort?"
"I don't know! I don't know why it affected him and made him stop existing. I don't know! I don't even know how to happy!" he shouted out them, forcing them to flutter back from his volume. He took a deep breath and a ragged sigh, and then dragged himself to his feet.
"I guess since the portal didn't open, you Fae aren't done fighting yet?"
The four of them were silent.
"Well, alright then. I'm going to go if I can find a safer place than this web. Maybe a wall. You guys can do what ever you want."
As he began bouncing across the spider's web, the four Fae clustered together.
"What do we do now?" Doyle whined.
"I say he cut one of strands just before he steps on it and make him fall to his death!" Joed said, rubbing his hands together.
"I dunno, he seemed rather friendly anyway." Gwyn said wistfully.
"How would you know?" Joed countered.
"He didn't try to attack us when we flew up to him!" Gwyn said, getting into Joed's face.
"He couldn't have hit us at that range if he tried!"
Laea reached forward and bonked Gwyn's and Joed's heads together.
"Ow! Hey what did you do that for!"
"Well, I figured you had heads thick enough it wouldn't hurt you!"
There was an awkward silence before Joed and Gwyn got it.
"Hey! I'm nothing like that one!" they both said at the same time, pointing at each other. They then both gasped at the same time, and stared at each other with equally intense anger. Laea and Doyle's laughter broke them out of their death stares.
"I don't really have any more intention of fighting him. Do you three?" Laea finally asked.
The other three Fae shook their heads.
"But, then, who does?" Gwyn wondered.
Directly in front of them, and far enough from Harlequin that he wouldn't notice, a giant spider dropped from the ceiling settled onto the web. It
seemed completely oblivious to the Fae as it slowly began stalking forward on its web, all eight legs casually finding the right place to step.
The four Fae watched it slink off into the gloom, following Harlequin.
"Ha! He's going to get what he deserves now!" Joed said in a loud whisper.
Laea thought for a moment. "What kind of magic transforms objects like that?"
Doyle spoke up, showing a rare glimmer of intelligence. "Ours."
Laea nodded. "I think that's the only kind."
"whoa, whoa whoa whoa. You're saying he's a Fae like us?" Joed said.
"Well, maybe not a very good one, doesn't seem to know his powers very well, but I think so. Humans can have Fae influence, at least."
Joed stuck out his chin adamantly. "No way."
Gwyn turned suddenly in the direction of Harlequin. "I wanna help him."
"Why would we help our enemy?" Joed shouted at her back.
"Because he's not our enemy. He only attacked us because you attacked him."
Joed stared, caught without an immediate response. Finally, "he called Mort a bastard."
Gwyn thought for only a second before fluttering off in pursuit of Harlequin.
Dolye and Laea followed immediately, if only to protect their swarm mate.
Joed followed finally, cursing angrily as he did so.
_________________________
Harlequin traipsed further from what he figured was the center of the web. He had no way to judge other than intuition, but it proved right. The
strands began to get further and further apart, until at last Harlequin was forced to pause and consider his options. He could try crawling across the one strand that supported all the other ones, but that would leave him vulnerable if those Fae came back. He sighed and decided to sit, resting his head on his knuckles while one leg swung freely in the void below.
At least the Fae had been interesting characters. Too much of the world was black and white, a film noir where he was just some dumb schmuck with no happy ending at the end of his tale. Heh. The demoness who put him in this competition even made a great Femme Fatale.
And yet, though he disliked the role, he was a Harlequin. He had his own type of story and he really didn't fit in with this one. He shouldn't have a tale to end. He should have a punch line.
A bright fairy suddenly flew in front of him. Harlequin blinked in surprise, though the mask prevented the Fae from seeing it.
"You here to attack me?" He queried.
The Fae fluttered up close, nervously, and spoke in a rapid whisper. "No, I'm Gwyn and I want to help you. There's a big, scary spider right behind you, and if you don't move very quickly, I think its going to bite you." Gwyn then fluttered down and under the web.
Harlequin felt his spine go chill. He raised his feet up to the strand quickly, balancing himself into a crouch. Without a moment to hesitate further he launched himself up higher than he should have been able to as giant spider leaped forward and bit where he had been sitting. Harlequin managed to land right on the creature's neck. Instantly, it began cursing him in a language he did not understand and trying to shake him off. Harlequin was forced to hold onto its putrid, hairy body to stay atop the creature. It began running across the web, bouncing and shaking its entire mass along the way. Harlequin for all the world looked like a rodeo clown who had gotten on the biggest, meanest bull in existence for he was forced to keep one hand free to hold his batte.
Just when Harlequin had gotten over the initial adrenaline rush, he noticed there was another sound beside the Spider's cursing. Harlequin looked over and saw the Fae flying in pace with the crazed creature.
"Spider Rider! Spider Rider! Spider Rider!"
"There's no way he could be Fae. Look at him!"
"Shut up, Joed! We can deal with that after Lolth!"
"Wait, you know what this thing is called?" Harlequin shouted to them.
"Of course, dummy! It's shouting in Demon, quite loudly, 'I am Queen Lolth! You will get your puny, hairless, half-ape hide off of me or I'm going to
give you a slow death!' "
The Fae all seemed amused by this and giggled loudly. They began shouting in demon at Lolth, voices dripping with mockery. Lolth began thrashing noticeably harder when the Fae began prodding it verbally. Its hissing voice began cursing louder, and louder. After several verbal salvos back and forth, Lolth's tone suddenly changed, though its thrashing continued. The Fae stopped speaking in Demon to land on Lolth's back and laugh themselves stupid.
Harlequin shouted back at them. "What the hell is so funny?"
He received no response for several seconds except for more laughter, until the bossy one composed herself enough to land on his shoulder and inform him, "We've tricked Lolth into thinking you're Anansi, the African trickster and spider god, in human form. She's still going to kill you when she's done, but she wants to make you change into your spider shape because if you're this good at riding her now, you'll be even better at riding her as a mate!"
The Fae gripped Harlequin's shirt as she began laughing hysterically again. And Harlequin, quite unable to to help himself, joined her with loud and rancorous laughter. He laughed like he had never laughed before, causing himself to weep and his stomach to ache. Their insane laughter only infuriated Lolth further as she wondered if he was denying her. She began to foam at the mouth in poisonous bubbles at the mere thought.
When Harlequin had managed to subside himself into small giggles, he turned to the Fae on his shoulder. "What are your guys' names?"
"I'm Laea, the other three are Joed, Gwyn, and Doyle."
"well, you know what Laea, I really like you guys. I haven't had this much fun the whole tournament. Do you four wanna join me?"
Laea thought for a moment, and jumped back to the other three Fae who were busy scribbling horrible glamours onto Lolth's behind, mostly to the effect of, "I did a clown, ain't that funny?" and, "I had the best mate; sex and food on demand and I didn't even have to clean up his corpse!"
After some whispered discussion, the four of them came back and settled onto Lolth's head, facing the Harlequin. "What's in it for us?"
"Fun. Adventure. And if I win I'll still want to keep you four around, I'm pretty certain. So you may not get to rule, but you'll get to advise. And play pranks on all the important people who come to visit."
Gwyn suddenly spoke up, "I wanna paint the feast hall!"
Harlequin chuckled. "Sure, why not? A little random color isn't going to hurt anyone."
The Fae all gibbered excitedly.
Harlequin raised his hand to try and silence them. They, being Fae, ignored him completely. When the Fae started dancing, Harlequin drew his face close and shouted at them, "Hey!"
The Fae, unused to being shouted at by anything louder than their mother, were suitably stunned.
"Now this deal is all fine and good, but first we have to get me off of this damn spider. So I need you guys to go to her and tell her I'll only change back into a spider if she passes my test. Tell her that if she wants to be well ridden, she needs to prove she's a good ride."
The Fae giggled, and set off to do his bidding. After a short discussion in Demon, one of the Fae shouted at him, "she wants to know what she needs to do to prove herself."
Harlequin grinned. "Tell her to spin in a circle seven times!"
After a second or two, Lolth stopped charging about, and begun spinning around. Now Harlequin shouted. "Tell her to jump next!"
A series of rotations later, Lolth began launching herself into the air.
Harlequin looked up and noticed how close to the rocky ceiling he was coming. On the next jump he reached up, but it was just out of reach. He looked down and the entire web was shaking underneath Lolth's weight. He didn't think the web would be able to take much more stress than what she was putting on it.
"Tell her to jump higher, that I'm not impressed!"
Lolth responded by tensing her entire body into a spring, and launching herself straight up. Harlequin took his batte in his teeth and reached up,
grabbing a small ledge in the rock. Lolth, however, slipped out from underneath him and plunged into her web below. The web audibly snapped in
several places, and before Lolth could react the entire thing fell with herself still on it. Her hissing began to echo on her way down.
The Fae floated up to Harlequin, incredibly amused. As soon as they were within a short distance of Harlequin, a portal opened underneath. The Fae flew down into it as Harlequin let go and fell down on the main presentation stage. When he rose, it was to minor laughter from the few contestants still paying attention. Harlequin cartwheeled off the stage and performed a small slap-stick routine on his way out the door to the hall.
As soon as he got out the door, he turned to look if the Fae were following. He was beginning to suspect they wouldn't always follow him if something else diverted him. He was proven right, as three of the Fae were distracting a drunken looking fellow while the fourth set about tying the man's shoe laces together. Suddenly something spun him around from behind, picked him up off his feet and forced him against the wall. It was the demoness who had hired him.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" She didn't wait for a response. "You were put in this competition by me, with an agreement to me. You are supposed to commit one of the seven deadly sins. You didn't commit any this fight! You couldn't even commit lust against Lolth! So let me tell you how this is going to work. Your batte and your extra strength won't do you jack in the next fight until you commit one of the seven deadly sins."
The demoness smashed him into the other wall. "And if don't commit any, your ass is going be mine. We have a contract. You will honor it. Do I make myself perfectly, crystal, clear?"
Harlequin nodded slowly.
The demoness dropped him onto his feet, and strode down the infinite hallway before pushing one door open and slamming it behind her.
Laea and the others crawled in through the door to the portal room. "Wow. Lolth's got nothing on that *****." she said.
Harlequin chuckled and nodded. "I have an idea, though. If we can make this batte still transform objects and she sees it, she'll be somewhat confused as to what's going on. She knows about you, I think, but she's also the type to believe her plans are perfect. Can you four do anything?"
The four Fae looked at each other, then suddenly all grinned at once.
"Play a massive trick on a demon? Oh, you better believe we'll do it."
Doyle began giggling just thinking about it.
"Okay. Let's go take care of this in my room. Don't need a passerby noticing us working."
And thus, Harlequin and the four Fae set out to perform magic, laughing the whole way to his room as they bickered back and forth.
It always does that. When you post it, it will be correct. The weird symbols only show up in the preview window.vid20 said:
Pictures this if you can, thought it might take some action on the part of your imagination ? but only for now, trust me on this, this isn?t my story. - The wind whipped through the trees with unnerving persistence, its unceasing caress causing branches to creak, groan, and sway; long spindly appendages of bark and sap cast unnatural shadows across the quickly darkening path as day retreated from the world to be replaced by the eerie stillness of night. Somewhere off in the distance a thunder cloud rumbled; an echoing threat of rain to come.
In the quickly faltering light and fast diminishing conditions a lone figure made her way ? And trust me on this, despite the heavy cloak she wears she is a girl, but that?s all I?ll say for now. It is just a story after all - across the abandoned path towards the only source of light to be seen, a single globe of yellow swinging in the night winds. The globe was perched on the end of a sign, and the sign inturn protruded from a building. As the figure approached the globe of light she was able to make out the picture portrayed on the swinging sign. It showed a comical dragon falling down a cliff. This was the place she was looking for. With a slow deliberate extension of her hand she pushed open the hard oak door and stepped over its threshold into the warm interior of the ?Dragon Drop Tavern.?
It was a snug set up; cosy and inviting. Tables were spaced out evenly across the floor, and each table was set with an even number of chairs - but never more then eight. A group larger then eight could be considered a gang, and gangs encouraged incidents. - It would have taken maybe ten measured steps to reach the counter from the door, just enough time to let the patrons of the bar notice a new guest, but not so long as to make the new guest feel uninvited. It was the sort of distance you would call balanced. In the west wing of the tavern a fire roared, the tongues of its flame licking and crackling against the wood which fuelled its life. It was by this fire that the Story Teller spied who she was looking for, a young man of fanciful garb, and by reputation, even more fanciful stories. Her sort of man.
With ten measure steps; just enough to be noticed, but not so many to be isolated, she made her way towards where the man sat, listening to his voice rising above the crackle of the fire and the murmur of the tavern. As she approached she assessed the reputed spinner of fables. His physic was lean; agile legs, shapely but not over muscular arms, a strong chest with broad shoulders. He had the build of a sword fighter, and judging by the relatively pristine condition of his face he was he was an incredibly skilled one. Relatively pristine that was, except for a single long scar running down left cheek. Intelligent green eyes strayed from his captive audience only for a second to acknowledge her presence as she approached, then he was instantly back into his story.
?..It was parry sixte, parry quarte, and a quick riposte that hastily cut off as his other hand swept in...? As he spoke his sword hand ducked and weaved; parrying, feinting, the returning to strike with an imaginary blade. Most likely one that was similar to the rapier which hung by his side.
?It sounds like a very exciting story.? Said the newcomer, her voice was smooth almost spreadable, and immediately Emanuel Cazinto, story teller extraordinaire, master duellist, and self confessed ladies man was drawn to the newest member of his audience. He noted that despite the raging fire warming the tavern from the hearth behind him, the women ? as she sounded too old to be a girl ? was still wearing her travellers cloak; cowl pulled up. An air of mystery hiding a haunting voice, it sounded like the makings of a good story.
?I?m just getting to the best part; if you?ll sit and listen I will happily resume.? Emanuel took his eyes of the new comer and made ready to delve back into his story when he was interrupted again.
?Is it how you got that scar?? If her voice hadn?t been so sweet she would almost be irritating. Some of the assembled patrons of the tavern shifted uneasily as they fell from the trance that Cazinto?s words had induced in them.
?The scar?? Cazinto?s eyes glazed over as his hand swung from his rapier to his cheek and gently traced the healed flesh, his only blemish.
As his left hand massaged the wound his right again reached for the glass of expensive red that sat on the table beside him. He sipped at it thoughtfully.
?No. No its not.? When he finally spoke again his voice was distant and weary, it made him sound older then the years his physique and appearance portrayed.
?That my inquisitive friend is a different story altogether.? He knelt in close towards his huddled audience, eyes focused solely on the shadows behind the cowl.
?Would you like to hear it?? There was a murmur of approval from his audience, but all he heard was her.
?I warn you, some of it may seem unreal, but all of what I am about to say is true. You just need to believe me.? He swept his eyes once across the faces assembled before him, there eyes now sparkled with anticipation, while fingers absently gripped at knees in anticipation.
?It all starts with a tournament, one fought to decide the fate of the very world itself.? Some one near the back of his ensemble snickered.
?Don?t believe me??
Behind the cowl of her travellers cloak the Story Teller smiled.
?Oh no, I trust you, you are telling a story after all.?
***
Emanuel decided that he would never quite get use to travelling via shimmering portals of light. The experience was altogether unpleasant; not just because of how it made his stomach lurch, or his vision blur, or his skin tingle. But because every time the sensation left him he seemed to find himself dumped on the ground and crumpling his hat. He suspected maybe ?the power that be? had no sense for good fashion.
Picking himself up with as much dapper grace as he could manage he retrieved his hat and gave it a quick dusting off before again donning it on his head. The feather was slightly crooked, but the crook was jaunty. Jaunty enough to be passable for now at least.
Once his hat was dusted he went through the same process with his clothes; shirt, trousers, cape, and finally boots - although he doubted the value in dusting the latter but it seemed a crime to leave the job half done. ? Finally satisfied with his appearance again, Emanuel allowed himself the luxury of admiring his surroundings.
It seemed he had been dumped in the grounds of a rather illustrious manor. The biggest give away was the building which loomed a few hundred meters up the cobble road he had so gracelessly been dumped beside. It was everything he imagined a manor should be, daunting in size, extravagant in design, and completely superfluous. Emanuel fancied himself in a love of sorts with the building almost immediately.
The grounds around the manor however threw the buildings grandeur into a different light. Rows of neglected flowerbeds ? one of which he was presently standing on, ? lined the road up to the court of the manor; their dead and dieing flowers filling the air with the scent of decay. Trees of all shapes and sizes ? all with a most disturbing lack of green ? twisted their limbs around the buildings perimeter. Behind him a large brick wall over grown with ivy protected the grounds from peering eyes, while a black iron gate omitted entry to anyone and everyone (except for himself of course.)
Marble statues of mythical creatures dotted the ground between the pristine flowerbeds. Each statue was dramatically posed and completely free of any form of moss, algae, or weather damage. Out of curiosity Emanuel approached one of the marble visages ? a depiction of a wolf like man howling at the moon ? and reached out his fingers to the statues surface. He had expected the statues surface to be cold, the heat provided by the zenith of the sun long since lost in the fading hours of day light. But instead he found the surface to be warm, it also felt softer then any marble he had ever touched before. Although unexpected he didn?t let the experience throw him, after all stranger things had happened.
His musing on the statues bizarre state lead him to note that the yellow orb of the sun was fast disappearing behind the vastness of the manor, the buildings shadow now stretching out over the grounds like a foreboding blanket as it threw shades of black and grey over everything in its wake. Emanuel decided it would probably be best to head for some form of light and warmth. The chimney of the manor ? or at least one of them ? was busy chugging out smoke, so it seemed like a promising solution to his current predicament, so with purposeful strides Emanuel walked up the cobbled street towards the manor doors. Leaving the scented death of decaying shrubbery behind him.
***
Jayck and Jyill tumbled out of their portal in a sprawl of legs, arms, and hair.
?Graceful.? Muttered Jayck as he dislodged one of Jyill?s hooks from his shirt then helped pull her to her feet. They appeared to have been disgorged into a corridor. The floor, walls, and ceiling of which were made out of dark mahogany wood. A lush red carpet with intricate pictures woven into it dominated the centre of the floor, and large paintings hung in rows lined each wall. Each and every painting depicted the same image, a portrait of a man wearing an immaculate suit of black, a linen shirt of white, and a cravat of blood red. The only change from one picture to the next was the date beneath it. Illuminating the corridor were small oil lamps, secluded in small alcoves between the paintings, the flame flickering from between them causing the shadows on the walls to dance and bring the motionless pictures to life. A single chandelier of candles hung from the centre of the roof but they were all presently unlit, leaving trails of wax stuck mid melt winding down the candles bodies of white.
?So, where do you think we are?? Jyill mused, her eyes darting up and down the corridor, the quick jerks of her head causing her hair the chime in the emptiness of the corridor. Her eyes stoped momentarily to note the dates beneath the pictures; Mr. Gorman esq. 1896, Mr. Gorman esq. 1879, Mr. Gorman esq. 1900. The dates seemed old, and judging by the musty smell the seeped off the walls of the corridor the building was too. Jayck, distracted by a momentary wave of fear reached his hand underneath his shirt and checked on the vial, then satisfied it was still in one piece he turned to look with his sister.
?Corridor?? He replied helpfully. Jyill poked out her tongue.
?Well I suppose it doesn?t matter much really does it. All we need to do is ace the loser we are fighting and we are one step closer to..? Jyill let her voice trail off as she looked down corridor to a long arching window set at its far end. The frame appeared to be made entirely of silver and it shimmered underneath the flame from the lamps.
?I was thinking about that.? Said Jayck, noticing that his sister was becoming distracted, but knowing he needed to voice this opinion to her.
?Thinking about what?? replied Jyill dismissively as she made her way towards the shiny frame.
?About the fighting.? Replied Jayck, he had been feeling uneasy about it ever since they had won their first match only to end up in exactly the same place. The place which gave of a horrible feeling of never ending limbo.
?Yeah, what about it?? Jyill replied. She reached the window and let her fingers softly scrape at the sparkles.
?Well, what exactly are we fighting for?? enquired Jayck as he stood behind his sister and rested a hand on the nape of her neck. Generally reminding her of his physical presence would snap her out of a trance like this. Her skin felt familiar and warm beneath his fingers, just like the weight of her as a flail felt balanced and correct when he wielded her.
?What do you mean?? Jyill replied, reaching her hand over her shoulder to grip at her brother?s fingers; their hands clasping and digits intertwining.
?Well, all of this. I mean why are we here?? Jayck didn?t exactly consider purpose to be on the top of his list of priorities, but he enjoyed knowing why he was doing something, and all of this fighting so far seemed pretty pointless; even if everyone else seemed to have a fair idea of why they were doing it. Jyill shrugged her shoulders in response; she had become distracted again as her eyes sighted a lone man winding his way along the cobblestone road towards the mansion.
?We?re doing it because its fun.? Replied Jyill as she gave her brothers hand a quick squeeze. This guy looked like a complete dandy; he would most likely be a pushover.
?Come on, he?s outside. We?ll get this over and done with and debate about it later.? Letting go of her brothers hand Jyill used her elbow to hit out the glass in the window, then with an excited smile to her brother she launched herself bodily through the gap and out into the abyss beyond, her body shifting into a flail as she fell.
?You don?t get it Jyill?? Muttered Jayck as he watched her clatter against the ground then shift back into herself. ?I almost lost you.? As he spoke the last words he too leapt out the window.
***
There are a few ? and only a few ? sights that Emanuel had never seen before. A girl and boy launching themselves bodily out of a window, only to turn into weapons, clatter on the ground, then turn back into said boy a girl, was one of them. Well at least it had been until about fifteen seconds ago. Now the two of them were both strolling through the courtyard of the mansion, making there way purposefully towards him. He suspected he had just found his opponents.
They both looked young, most likely younger then him. But they also both possessed what he could only surmise as a vicious temperament. Everything about; them from the way they looked ? fiery red hair with hooks, and a clean shaven sneer ? to the way they walked ? fast, agitated, and directed ? screamed hostility. Even the way they gripped at each others hands was forceful. Emanuel took a moment to take up a guarded position, but he did draw his rapier yet. He didn?t suspect they would have any sense of dignity but as a gentleman he was obliged to try.
?Good day sir and ma?am.? Said Emanuel, keeping his voice as level as he could while simultaneously making a dramatic bow, accompanied by a sweeping of his hat. ?I don?t suppose you fancy some ground rules?? he turned up to look at them, they were closer now, almost close enough to strike. From this distance he was able to discern more about them, minor details. The collection of shiny ? but other wise valueless ? bangles wrapped around her arms. The thin piece of leather hanging from his neck. All of it had significance; most likely all of it had a story, but he would never know them. That almost made him sad.
?Ground rules?? inquired the girl. The words rolling out from her purple lips like a snake. He had up until now suspected that he was the more dangerous of the two, after all he possessed a bigger frame. But everything about her from this distance seemed threatening, from her piercing gaze, to the sharp rolling of her tongue on the end of her sentences. Emanuel waited for the boy to add anything, but the sprightly young chap remained stationary and stony face. ?Charming dinner table company really? Thought Cazinto?s.
?Yes, so as we all understand each other. You know, to keep it fair.? The two exchanged a glance before turning synchronised stares on him.
?No?? he offered with a gesture of his hand. ?Not even a name before we fight?? Again they conferred with their eyes.
?I?ll go first if it?ll make it any easier.? To his surprise the girl laughed. It was mirthless and cruel.
?Not that it?s any value to you, but you can call me Jyill, and this is my brother Jayck.? She indicated each of them in turn as she spoke. So they were siblings, at least Emanuel was learning something.
?Good, well you can call me..? But before he had finished his sentence the girl cut over him.
?And not that it?ll do you any good but our rules are this; yield now or you will die a slow painful death.?
?Why won?t it do me any good??
?Because you won?t yield.? Replied Jyill. ?This is a matter of pride to you, everything about you screams it. Your lavish attire, your air of confidence, that stupid feather in your hat. You are a man of pride and you won?t yield, so instead you will die.? Emanuel thought that this snipe was a bit unfair, and he most definitely didn?t like the slight against his feather. But he had not time to voice either such opinions as the instant the girl finished talking she was on the attack.
He had known roughly what to expect. He had seen them both leap out the window as weapons so had assumed ? apparently quite correctly ? that they operated as a team. However had hadn?t expected them to be able to operate quite so quickly. One second they had been pleasantly talking ? well ok, that?s a bit of an exaggeration ? the next she was swinging a two handed hammer at him as easily as one would wield a lengthy piece of stick. Fortunately Emanuel was an experience fighter and well practiced against such dirty tricks. With a quick flurry of his feet he back stepped her initial strike, then side stepped her second. Letting the hammer smash nosily into the ground beside him as its weighted head caused some of the cobblestone to crack. Now she was over extended and undefended. With a single motion he drew his blade and struck at her exposed flank, reciting as he did so ?My name is Emanuel Cazinto?s, and you my dear have made your last mistake.? He probably would have caught her square too, that is had she not suddenly disappeared, instead her body being replaced by a flail.
***
Jayck had seen the blow coming for Jyill the instant she had swung, and so with a single unspoken thought the two had switched. Now Jayck was lying on the ground with his sister grasped firmly between his fingers. He kicked out at their opponent?s leg and slid his hand up the grip of the flail so he could use it to clear the air around him; allowing him to find his footing. Emanuel buckled under the kick then rolled to the side, letting the hooks from the fail pass harmlessly over head. Then with a single elegant motion Emanuel was again on his feet, watching intently as Jayck too climbed to his own.
?Nice trick you?ve got there.? Said Emanuel, his eyes studying his opponent. Jayck said nothing in reply, the boys mind was busy working over time as he and Jyill analysed there opponent. This guy was good, and not just a little good, he was incredibly good. He was faster then Jayck, and more refined then Jyill. Everything about him put them at a disadvantage. Everything that was, except for the fact that they still had each other.
Jayck tensed his leg muscles; Jyill was hungry for the fop?s blood. Throwing the chains of the flail to the ground Jayck again rushed at his opponent, he let the hooks and barbs catch against the ground so that dirt would get stuck in them. He knew Jyill would be pissed about it later, but she would appreciate his ingenuity. He stopped his charge a few steps before Emanuel, and with a quick jerk of his wrist brought the flail sailing up - well out of range of a clean hit, but Jayck wasn?t aiming to hit his opponent, he was trying to blind him. Dust and debris flew off the flails chains were it had gathered and straight into Emanuel?s face. Well that was unexpected, it worked.
Emanuel staggered back, his spare hand fishing for the hilt of his dagger. He knew he needed to force of his opponent and this was the quickest method he could think of. With a single jerk of his wrist he threw the dagger into air before him, guessing at were his opponent would be. His rewarded was a surprised yelp of pain; it seemed that this guy was both unexpected, and predictable. How interesting. Clearing his vision Emanuel prepared for their next bout.
***
The knife had been so sudden and so unexpected that not even Jyill could brace her brother for it. The blade hit him in the shoulder and now she was busy wrenching it free for him.
?Cheap prick.? Muttered Jyill as she looked at her brothers wound. It wasn?t deep, but it still hurt her to see him in pain. Jayck gritted his teeth and watched as Emanuel finished clearing his eyes and again starred at the two of them.
?Two can play at those games.? Offered Emanuel, his rapier now held before him.
?You?ll bleed by the end of today, mark my words we?ll make you bleed.? Snarled Jyill, she had finished assessing her brothers wound and now the two of them were again staring down there opponent.
?He?s good.? Muttered Jayck. Jyill nodded her agreement. She hated being bested, especially by this guy. Everything about him ticked her off.
?What next?? Jayck then asked, as he was fast running out of ideas himself.
Emanuel watched the two confer with each other again, they would be more cautious now, which was almost unfortunate, their recklessness had nearly cost them the match. While diligently studying them and waiting for there next move, Emanuel noticed that the sun had finished setting over the horizon. And as the last rays of light left the world, hundreds of piercing squeal descended sky around the mansion, the noise was accompanied by the beating of leathery wings, and a chorus of mournful howls. The gates at the end of the drive swung open with a metallic groan, and the pounding of hooves could be heard clattering up from beyond the mansions walls. Even the long dead flowers in all the beds around the grounds started to blossom and bloom in the moon light, bringing with them splashes of dark purples, midnight blues, and blood reds. The air was thick with the scent of fresh pollen mingled with spices, and alive with the sounds of hundreds of different animals. As the last rays of sun left the world, the grounds of Gorman Manor came to un-life.
The bats that swarmed from top of the manor flocked into the courtyard between the two combatants, the swirling, shrieking, mass of wings merging into the shapes of a man and woman dressed in classical Victorian style diner wear. The collection of mythical statues lining the walk up to the manor cracked to life as werewolves and gargoyles leapt from there podiums and started prowling the manors grounds and circling its sky. Carriages drawn by horses as dark as midnight clattered up the cobblestone path, before disgorging their cargo of witches, warlocks, and ethereal ghosts into the already crowded courtyard.
Everyone arrived just on time.
And as all the guests assembled in the courtyard the doors of the manor swung open, then from inside the buildings threshold came Mr Gorman himself, wearing his dustless suit of black, laced linen shirt of white, and blood red cravat. With the ease of a man whom has all the time in the world he made an encompassing gesture to all the beings gathered before him.
?Welcome, friends.? He said, with his voice as soft as silk. Some of the werewolves howled.
?Welcome again to my annual diner and ball.? Some vampires applauded, some warlocks cheered, a witch swooned.
?You all know the rules, but in case you have forgotten. While in my grounds you are all at armistice with each other. No one is to fight. Any who shed blood on these grounds will make themselves my enemy. No one wants to be my enemy.? A gargoyle shrieked in excitement while a mummy pulled a lose piece of its wrapping free from a werewolves teeth.
?Other then that, enjoy.? And with his last words spoken Mr Gorman esq. 2009 stood away from the doors, letting the guests filter into the manor behind him.
The interior of the manor was dominated by a foyer which was laid out with several tables cover in banquet food, food which ranged from the common ? chips, nuts, and small lollies ? to the down right bizarre ? a witch was already busy digging her fingers into some frog?s legs, while a werewolf ripped into a hunk meat, un-cooked of course. ? Beyond the initial foyer stood another pair of double doors, behind which was the main dinning room. Large sweeping staircases rushed up either side of the door way around the dining room, leading to the upstairs wings of the manor. Every inch of the building was made of dark red wood. Chandlers of iron and candle hung from the ceiling in each room, their now lit white wax torches flickering as wind swept in through the door from outside. In evenly spaced alcoves against the walls more oil lamps aided in lighting the room, but altogether the lighting was inadequate for such large spaces and so everything was covered by unnatural shadows, shadows which danced and turned against the flickering lights from the fire.
Jayck and Jyill found themselves swept up with the movement of the guests, an eager tide of anticipation rolling in through the manors doors. Jyill?s fingers held tight around Jayck?s and she felt herself pulled closer to him by his strong arms as he used his body to shelter them from the throng of people. As they were pushed and jostled she tried to keep her eyes on her opponent but he too was lost in the wave of guests. Jyill swore to her self.
?What?? enquired Jayck as he used his body to shield them and continued to move towards the foyers wall. Soon they were both sheltered and safe and watched as the procession of supernatural beings mingled in the foyer, eating hors d?ouvres and talking about the weather.
?I lost him.? Replied Jyill as her eyes frantically searched the assembled crowd, peering over heads in an attempt to spot that ridiculous hat.
?Does it really matter, you heard that guy.? Jayck held his sister close and enjoyed knowing they were safe again. He was losing his stomach for this. Jyill looked up at her brother, he was unhappy. He was holding her tighter then he needed too, and his voice sounded flatter then it should have.
?That big guy scare you?? she preened, her eyes eagerly gauging his reaction.
?He seemed wrong.? Replied Jayck. Jyill nodded in agreement, he had seemed different, well everyone here seemed different. But he had seemed ? well wrong really was the only word for it ? like everything about him was incorrect. An ageless evil. Jyill mused over this for several seconds. It didn?t seem like a good idea to go getting stuck into a fight anymore, Jayck was right. If they were going to do this then they would have to do it with a bit of discretion. As she pondered a werewolf stepped over to them and eagerly sniffed the air around them. His eyes peered hungrily at Jayck?s wound. Jayck met the creature?s eyes with his deadpan gaze. The werewolf sniffed once more then shirked away.
?So we can?t kill him directly.? Breathed Jyill as she continued studying the foyer. ?I guess that just means we are going to have to get a bit creative.? She then whispered as she watched a door underneath one of the stairways open to omit a small boy carrying a tray of food. ?Come on.? She gasped excitedly as she grabbed at Jayck?s hand and started to pull him across the foyer. Jyill loved it when a good plan came together.
Emanuel had found himself in many strange places during his life. He had also had many bizarre experiences. Still being in a diner party filled with supernatural beings was easily in his top three, but if his life had taught him anything it was that when fate dealt you a hand that didn?t really make much sense, you were probably best off rolling with the cards you were dealt and seeing were you ended up. So it was a party was it? Then Emanuel decided he would try to have a good time. Quickly picking his way through the crowd he passed the platters of food on the buffet table and absently grabbed at a handful of nuts, steered clear of some frog?s legs, and then with his spare hand intercepted a glass of wine carried on a tray by a young boy. This was definitely the sort of party he could enjoy being at, fully catered and no questions asked. The fight was not entirely forgotten but it was pushed to the back of his mind for now, after all the parties? rules had been very simple. No one was to fight. Emanuel suspected that no matter how violent the two siblings were, they were not stupid enough to risk throwing away there lives just to get at him. He figured he was safe for now and was enjoying musing on these thoughts when he felt a tugging on his hat as it was briskly removed from his head by a set of eager hands. The protest on his lips quickly changed its tune as he realised that the tugging hands were attached to a pretty young witch, a young witch who was now eagerly examining his hat.
?It?s a very nice hat.? She said softly, her eyes studying it top to bottom.
?And you are a very nice lady.? Replied Emanuel without missing a beat. He was in his element. The witch laughed, then offered her name ? Cynthia. - He replied in turn with his.
?So what do you do Mr. Cazinto?s?? asked the witch softly.
?Why I tell stories.? Said Emanuel with a smile.
?Oh, do you? Would you tell me a story, please?? She cooed as she playfully placed his hat on her head.
?But of course.? Replied Emanuel, and he started to talk; his eyes eagerly watching as the crowd around him growing bigger. Yes, he was in his element.
Jyill had guessed, quite correctly, that the door beneath the stairs led down to a kitchen. She had also guessed, quite correctly, that the kitchen was well stocked with everything imaginable. This was where they wanted to be.
?Idea?? asked Jayck, but as his eyes eagerly studied the interior of the kitchen and his nostrils greedily drank up the smell of cooking meat, marinate, and fresh herbs, he suspected that he already knew what she was planning.
?Jayck, we worked as cooks for witches our entire life. Get a little creative baby.? Squealed Jyill with glee as she jumped into the kitchen, startling several of the young children busy slaving away inside it, but none of them were brave enough to challenge the two newcomers so Jayck and Jyill were left to their own insidious devices.
It took them less then a minute to locate what they were looking for, then another few minutes to procure the necessary equipment. A few of the children threw weary gazes at them, but still none spoke.
?Think something is wrong with the kids?? Jyill asked her brother as he used his strong shoulders to work the collection of herbs around a medicine bowl.
?Mutes?? Offered Jayck, he wasn?t sure if it was true but it had sounded funny in his head. Jyill laughed, so he guessed it was as funny as he had thought.
?What are we going to put it in?? Jyill then asked. She wanted to do this right, they had to be sure the poison made its way into the intended victims mouth. After all she didn?t want to ruin a good party with too much murder. Jayck looked up from his grinding and saw one of the children uncork a bottle of wine near the back of the kitchen.
?The drink.? He offered. Jyill smiled, it was all too easy.
?Boy, come here.? Jyill waved her hand at one of the children getting ready to carry out a tray filled with glasses of wine. The child in question pointed to himself before casting a hesitant glance around the kitchen.
?Yes, you.? Said Jyill, the boy trundled over to her, apprehension in his eyes.
?Can you do me a huge favour?? Jyill asked softly as she knelt down in front of the child, bringing there eyes to the same height. The child looked on uncertainly.
?I have a friend out there, and they need a very special drink. They are sick you see, and if they don?t get it, well?? Jyill let her voice trail off and the child?s imagination finish the sentence for her.
The child nodded his head to show he understood.
Jayck finished mixing up the concoction and grabbed up one of the wine glasses.
?So we have made up this antidote, go give it to them and everything will be fine, and you?ll be a hero.? The child beamed. Jyill thought of spinning the tale a little further, but the child was already sold hook line and sinker.
Jayck finished mixing the paste into the red wine, the dark liquid hiding the insidious mixture it now contained, its powerful aroma masking the death which now wafted from the glass.
?Just look for the big hat with a feather in it, that?s who you need to give it too.? The child nodded once, and then was off.
?Too easy.? Replied Jayck. Jyill nodded, her hair jingling with the motion of her head.
?Wanna go watch the excitement?? giggled Jyill as she offered her arm to her brother, it was now his turn to nod. And like children in a candy store the siblings made there way ? arm in arm, - back up to the main foyer.
Emanuel?s audience were on the edge of there ? well collective paws, feet, and wraps I suppose ? as he continued to tell of one of his adventures in Chadrais. When he had started speaking it had been just a few, but since then the audience had more then doubled in size, and still more flocked to him with every passing moment. But despite the growing audience his attention was focused on the young witch who now wore his hat. She smiled radiantly as he talked, and clung to his every word. Cazinto?s was thoroughly enjoying himself. That was until one of the boys with the trays of drink came along and placed another glass of red in her hand ? she could drink that Cynthia. - She sipped at it once, twice, then started gagging violently. Immediately the crowd around Emanuel burst into a commotion.
?What?s happening??
?Is she alright??
?Is it part of the entertainment??
?What?s going on??
?Deception??
?Murder??
?Some one broke the armistice!?
Emanuel could see things were about to go very badly, and he knew right now this floor was not the best place to be. With a quick flick of his wrist he retrieved his hat ? now slightly trodden ? and made his way from the main foyer.
Jayck and Jyill watched from one corner of the room as the calamity unfolded. There was a crash as a guest collapsed, then the foyer turned into complete chaos. People were yelling, running, and screaming, but above all the commotion the siblings spied a foppish hat escaping up the stairs away from the main event.
?The kid poisoned the wrong person?? moaned Jyill in disbelief.
?Guess we?ve gotta do everything ourselves.? Agreed Jayck. And like predators the siblings wove their way through the ensuing chaos ? now fast becoming a brawl, - after their escaping quarry.
The procession of Emanuel, Jayck, and Jyill was also noted by one more figure. He wore a perfectly black suit, a white shirt, and a red cravat. He was the lord of this manor, and some one had just ruined his diner party. He was pissed.
Emanuel hit the upper deck and desperately started looking for a way out. He suspected that the poison had been intended for him, and figured that his best way of surviving the mayhem unfolding downstairs would be to avoid it completely. With any luck the guests would work out who had tried to kill him and carry out there own form of mob justice. He turned a corner and found himself in a long corridor laced with paintings. They were all portraits and every single one of them was exactly the same, the only change from one to the next was date on the plaques beneath them. Emanuel pondered for a moment how strange this was when a noise from behind him brought him back to reality.
?Why can?t you just die!? screamed Jyill as she and her brother cornered him in the corridor. Emanuel noted that the window behind him was broken, and if he got enough momentum up he could maybe make a leap out to the tree branches which lay just beyond it.
?Sorry, I enjoy being alive.? Replied Emanuel with an apologetic shrug of his shoulders. Jyill growled in fury then took two steps towards him, her brother?s fingers still intertwining themselves with her own. Emanuel braced himself and drew his rapier, they would come soon.
?You!? There was another growl from further down the corridor as Gorman found the three of them. ?Do you have any idea what you have done!? even in anger his voice was still silky smooth.
?Mind your own business pops, this is between us.? Shot back Jyill, her temper getting the better of her. Beside her Jayck braced himself, he didn?t like the situation they were now in.
At the end of the corridor Emanuel smiled, it looked like some poetic justice was about to be delivered.
With a single stride Gorman lunged ? with a speed that his frame hid well ? at Jyill, his fingers grabbing at her throat.
?Jyill!? Screamed Jayck and he pushed his sister back, intercepting Gorman?s hand with his own.
?Brat!? snarled the silken voice, and in one motion Gorman had over powered Jayck and slammed him bodily against the wall, his fingers wrapping themselves around the boys neck. ?I?ll choke the very life out of you.? Whispered Gorman, pulling himself close to the boy?s ear.
?Jayck!? cried Jyill as she struggled to her feet. She looked on in terror as the fingers crushed around her brother?s windpipe. ?Leave him alone!? Jyill got her self low and shoulder charged towards Gorman, but it was to no avail, with a single turn of his body Gorman faced her oncoming rush, raised a foot, and kicked her back down the corridor. It sounded like he broke something.
?You will both die for what you have done.? Said Gorman, his voice unnervingly calm as his fingers continued to squeeze at Jayck?s throat. Feebly Jayck tried to claw at the powerful hand now gripping him, but it was to no avail, his vision was speckling white and swimming with black. It was becoming harder to move his feet and his arms felt like lead. He was dieing, and there was nothing he could do about it. And after he died Jyill would too. If he could have mustered the oxygen in his lungs he would have cried.
Emanuel stood and watched the spectacle, he didn?t know why but he couldn?t tear himself away from it. He watched with fascination as the two siblings tried in vain to help each other, and then Jyill was sprawled out on the floor near him; doubled over and holding her stomach. Then ? in her greatest moment of weakness - Emanuel felt something he never thought he would feel for her, he felt pity. She tried again to find her feet but failed, and instead ended up leaning back against the wall as tears fell from her sorrow filled green eyes, and a single sob escaped her purple lips.
?Jayck..? she breathed, reaching her hand out towards her brother. Emanuel felt like a pervert as he watched her pain. Then those tear filled eyes fell on him, and her lips quivered with fear and hurt, and she struggled to mouth a word.
?Please.? She whispered. ?He is all I have.?
And Emanuel knew he couldn?t watch anymore. She was a lady in need, and he was ? first and foremost ? a gentlemen.
?Put him down.? Emanuel strode forwards and raised his voice, trying to project himself with more courage then he felt. It seemed to work. Gorman lowered Jayck to the floor, his feet dangling helplessly against it as he struggled to get a footing and again fill his lungs with air.
?Do you endeavour to tell me my business, inside my own house?? asked Gorman, his voice threateningly smooth.
?I do exactly that, and furthermore I shall make you desist.? Cazinto?s flurried his blade before him as he spoke, watching as Gorman dropped Jayck and the boy crawled along the floor towards his sister, somehow he was still alive.
?Do you have any idea what you are about to do?? Asked Gorman. ?I am an immortal; I have lived for as many years as the very foundations of this building. I fear no creature be it living or dead, natural or super natural, I am what nightmares fear. And yet you endeavour to challenge me?? Emanuel had to agree, it did seem like a pretty stupid idea. And yet even as he drew took up his stance to fight an even stupider idea formulated in his mind.
?As old as the foundations of this building.? The words circled through his mind like a broken record.
?Are you as immortal as you claim?? whispered Cazinto?s as his eyes quickly took in his surroundings, oil lamps, wooden structure, lit candles. ?Everyman has his weakness Gorman.? Proclaimed Emanuel, ?and unfortunately for you mine is a pretty face.?
As quick as he could Emanuel shattered the nearest oil lamp, letting the slick liquid coat his blade as it spilled out around the broken glass.
?What are you doing?? gasped Gorman as he saw the liquid spill to the floor, while the now exposed flames eagerly licked at the wood and art work.
?You seem a little vainer then most Gorman. That is a lot of pictures to keep lying around.? Offered Emanuel casually as he watched the fire lick and burn. ?They say pictures tell stories, well what?s yours?? the fire eagerly licked at the painting, causing the canvas to crack and peel, and the paint to bubble and ooze. At the end of the corridor Gorman started to undergo a transformation too, his suited started to rip and his shirt started to tear.
?What have you done?? He breathed, but it was already too late, the fire lapped and licked at its new home, quickly transforming the corridor into an inferno of burning pictures and exploding lamps. Through the raging fire Emanuel was sure he could see Gorman?s skin start to melt and peel, like all the paintings between them.
Jyill cradled her brother in her arms, kissing his forehead tenderly as she watched Emanuel transform the corridor into a prison of fire. It was exciting seeing him operate with such smooth efficiency. Unfortunately now the corridor they were in was burning, they needed a way out and fast.
?Jayck, can you transform?? She whispered into her brother?s ear. To answer her question his shape changed. She clutched at the familiar weight and used the hammer to help push herself to her feet, then she turned to look down the corridor at Emanuel again.
?We need to get out of here.? She said, her eyes starring at him in a way that was normally reserved for her brother. Emanuel returned her gaze, lost deep in thought. They still had a fight to finish, and she still looked beautiful.
?I.. I can?t.? Whispered Emanuel in reply. Confusion gripped Jyill?s face.
?We still have a fight to finish, and it?s a fight I don?t want to end.? Said Emanuel, ?If I go with you, we will still be in an awkward limbo.? He looked at her face, studied her eyes, examined her lips. He wasn?t in love, but he couldn?t hurt her. Not after what he had just done. He cursed himself for being a sucker for girls.
?So then what, you?re just going to stay here.? She breathed, already the corridor was uncomfortably hot, and getting worse by the second.
?I?ll find something, I always do.? Replied Emanuel with a nonchalant wave of his hand.
?So.. You forfeit?? replied Jyill.
?Yes, I forfeit? Said Emanuel, and then before he had time to even register what was happening Jyill was before him, hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him towards her face.
?Thank you.? She whispered as her lips embraced his, a quick pressing of moist skin in the inferno of the corridor. She held her face tight against his for a moment and a single hook from her braids caught against his cheek, scratching a long scar beneath his eye. The blood dried quickly against his skin in the heat. Behind the siblings a shimmering portal of blue, purple, and white opened, tearing asunder reality as it gave the siblings their chance for freedom.
?Thank you.? Breathed Jyill again as she grabbed up her brother and fled through the portal, leaving the inferno that was once Gorman Manor behind her.
***
Back in the ?Dragon Drop Tavern? the once crackling fire in the hearth had fizzled down to but a few dieing embers. Although Emanuel?s voice still trailed on ? reciting how he escaped from the raging inferno with nothing but his wits, a drape, and the sword by his waist; and yes he swears its true even if you don?t believe it. ? The Story Teller no longer listened; she had heard all she needed to hear. Her dear servants were alive and well, but most importantly they were learning and growing as people, exactly what she had wanted for them ever since this started. As quietly as she could she stood up from her chair; pulling a bag of coins from beneath her cowl as she did so and throwing it by Emanuel?s feet. He had worked hard to earn his keep and she figured it was the least she could do, after all he had not only saved their lives, but also their humanity.
?Thank you.? She whispered as left the tavern, but she wasn?t sure if he heard the words.
Emanuel watched as the figure left, noting with satisfaction the heavy thunk as the bag hi the ground by his feet, and clink of the coins inside it as they were jolted. He thought to thank her but by the time he had formulated the words in his head she was gone. He turned back to his expectant audience and subconsciously rubbed the scar on his cheek again. For the briefest of moments that woman had reminded him of Jyill, but then again maybe it was just how her words echoed through the room.
?Thank you.?
In the quickly faltering light and fast diminishing conditions a lone figure made her way ? And trust me on this, despite the heavy cloak she wears she is a girl, but that?s all I?ll say for now. It is just a story after all - across the abandoned path towards the only source of light to be seen, a single globe of yellow swinging in the night winds. The globe was perched on the end of a sign, and the sign inturn protruded from a building. As the figure approached the globe of light she was able to make out the picture portrayed on the swinging sign. It showed a comical dragon falling down a cliff. This was the place she was looking for. With a slow deliberate extension of her hand she pushed open the hard oak door and stepped over its threshold into the warm interior of the ?Dragon Drop Tavern.?
It was a snug set up; cosy and inviting. Tables were spaced out evenly across the floor, and each table was set with an even number of chairs - but never more then eight. A group larger then eight could be considered a gang, and gangs encouraged incidents. - It would have taken maybe ten measured steps to reach the counter from the door, just enough time to let the patrons of the bar notice a new guest, but not so long as to make the new guest feel uninvited. It was the sort of distance you would call balanced. In the west wing of the tavern a fire roared, the tongues of its flame licking and crackling against the wood which fuelled its life. It was by this fire that the Story Teller spied who she was looking for, a young man of fanciful garb, and by reputation, even more fanciful stories. Her sort of man.
With ten measure steps; just enough to be noticed, but not so many to be isolated, she made her way towards where the man sat, listening to his voice rising above the crackle of the fire and the murmur of the tavern. As she approached she assessed the reputed spinner of fables. His physic was lean; agile legs, shapely but not over muscular arms, a strong chest with broad shoulders. He had the build of a sword fighter, and judging by the relatively pristine condition of his face he was he was an incredibly skilled one. Relatively pristine that was, except for a single long scar running down left cheek. Intelligent green eyes strayed from his captive audience only for a second to acknowledge her presence as she approached, then he was instantly back into his story.
?..It was parry sixte, parry quarte, and a quick riposte that hastily cut off as his other hand swept in...? As he spoke his sword hand ducked and weaved; parrying, feinting, the returning to strike with an imaginary blade. Most likely one that was similar to the rapier which hung by his side.
?It sounds like a very exciting story.? Said the newcomer, her voice was smooth almost spreadable, and immediately Emanuel Cazinto, story teller extraordinaire, master duellist, and self confessed ladies man was drawn to the newest member of his audience. He noted that despite the raging fire warming the tavern from the hearth behind him, the women ? as she sounded too old to be a girl ? was still wearing her travellers cloak; cowl pulled up. An air of mystery hiding a haunting voice, it sounded like the makings of a good story.
?I?m just getting to the best part; if you?ll sit and listen I will happily resume.? Emanuel took his eyes of the new comer and made ready to delve back into his story when he was interrupted again.
?Is it how you got that scar?? If her voice hadn?t been so sweet she would almost be irritating. Some of the assembled patrons of the tavern shifted uneasily as they fell from the trance that Cazinto?s words had induced in them.
?The scar?? Cazinto?s eyes glazed over as his hand swung from his rapier to his cheek and gently traced the healed flesh, his only blemish.
As his left hand massaged the wound his right again reached for the glass of expensive red that sat on the table beside him. He sipped at it thoughtfully.
?No. No its not.? When he finally spoke again his voice was distant and weary, it made him sound older then the years his physique and appearance portrayed.
?That my inquisitive friend is a different story altogether.? He knelt in close towards his huddled audience, eyes focused solely on the shadows behind the cowl.
?Would you like to hear it?? There was a murmur of approval from his audience, but all he heard was her.
?I warn you, some of it may seem unreal, but all of what I am about to say is true. You just need to believe me.? He swept his eyes once across the faces assembled before him, there eyes now sparkled with anticipation, while fingers absently gripped at knees in anticipation.
?It all starts with a tournament, one fought to decide the fate of the very world itself.? Some one near the back of his ensemble snickered.
?Don?t believe me??
Behind the cowl of her travellers cloak the Story Teller smiled.
?Oh no, I trust you, you are telling a story after all.?
***
Emanuel decided that he would never quite get use to travelling via shimmering portals of light. The experience was altogether unpleasant; not just because of how it made his stomach lurch, or his vision blur, or his skin tingle. But because every time the sensation left him he seemed to find himself dumped on the ground and crumpling his hat. He suspected maybe ?the power that be? had no sense for good fashion.
Picking himself up with as much dapper grace as he could manage he retrieved his hat and gave it a quick dusting off before again donning it on his head. The feather was slightly crooked, but the crook was jaunty. Jaunty enough to be passable for now at least.
Once his hat was dusted he went through the same process with his clothes; shirt, trousers, cape, and finally boots - although he doubted the value in dusting the latter but it seemed a crime to leave the job half done. ? Finally satisfied with his appearance again, Emanuel allowed himself the luxury of admiring his surroundings.
It seemed he had been dumped in the grounds of a rather illustrious manor. The biggest give away was the building which loomed a few hundred meters up the cobble road he had so gracelessly been dumped beside. It was everything he imagined a manor should be, daunting in size, extravagant in design, and completely superfluous. Emanuel fancied himself in a love of sorts with the building almost immediately.
The grounds around the manor however threw the buildings grandeur into a different light. Rows of neglected flowerbeds ? one of which he was presently standing on, ? lined the road up to the court of the manor; their dead and dieing flowers filling the air with the scent of decay. Trees of all shapes and sizes ? all with a most disturbing lack of green ? twisted their limbs around the buildings perimeter. Behind him a large brick wall over grown with ivy protected the grounds from peering eyes, while a black iron gate omitted entry to anyone and everyone (except for himself of course.)
Marble statues of mythical creatures dotted the ground between the pristine flowerbeds. Each statue was dramatically posed and completely free of any form of moss, algae, or weather damage. Out of curiosity Emanuel approached one of the marble visages ? a depiction of a wolf like man howling at the moon ? and reached out his fingers to the statues surface. He had expected the statues surface to be cold, the heat provided by the zenith of the sun long since lost in the fading hours of day light. But instead he found the surface to be warm, it also felt softer then any marble he had ever touched before. Although unexpected he didn?t let the experience throw him, after all stranger things had happened.
His musing on the statues bizarre state lead him to note that the yellow orb of the sun was fast disappearing behind the vastness of the manor, the buildings shadow now stretching out over the grounds like a foreboding blanket as it threw shades of black and grey over everything in its wake. Emanuel decided it would probably be best to head for some form of light and warmth. The chimney of the manor ? or at least one of them ? was busy chugging out smoke, so it seemed like a promising solution to his current predicament, so with purposeful strides Emanuel walked up the cobbled street towards the manor doors. Leaving the scented death of decaying shrubbery behind him.
***
Jayck and Jyill tumbled out of their portal in a sprawl of legs, arms, and hair.
?Graceful.? Muttered Jayck as he dislodged one of Jyill?s hooks from his shirt then helped pull her to her feet. They appeared to have been disgorged into a corridor. The floor, walls, and ceiling of which were made out of dark mahogany wood. A lush red carpet with intricate pictures woven into it dominated the centre of the floor, and large paintings hung in rows lined each wall. Each and every painting depicted the same image, a portrait of a man wearing an immaculate suit of black, a linen shirt of white, and a cravat of blood red. The only change from one picture to the next was the date beneath it. Illuminating the corridor were small oil lamps, secluded in small alcoves between the paintings, the flame flickering from between them causing the shadows on the walls to dance and bring the motionless pictures to life. A single chandelier of candles hung from the centre of the roof but they were all presently unlit, leaving trails of wax stuck mid melt winding down the candles bodies of white.
?So, where do you think we are?? Jyill mused, her eyes darting up and down the corridor, the quick jerks of her head causing her hair the chime in the emptiness of the corridor. Her eyes stoped momentarily to note the dates beneath the pictures; Mr. Gorman esq. 1896, Mr. Gorman esq. 1879, Mr. Gorman esq. 1900. The dates seemed old, and judging by the musty smell the seeped off the walls of the corridor the building was too. Jayck, distracted by a momentary wave of fear reached his hand underneath his shirt and checked on the vial, then satisfied it was still in one piece he turned to look with his sister.
?Corridor?? He replied helpfully. Jyill poked out her tongue.
?Well I suppose it doesn?t matter much really does it. All we need to do is ace the loser we are fighting and we are one step closer to..? Jyill let her voice trail off as she looked down corridor to a long arching window set at its far end. The frame appeared to be made entirely of silver and it shimmered underneath the flame from the lamps.
?I was thinking about that.? Said Jayck, noticing that his sister was becoming distracted, but knowing he needed to voice this opinion to her.
?Thinking about what?? replied Jyill dismissively as she made her way towards the shiny frame.
?About the fighting.? Replied Jayck, he had been feeling uneasy about it ever since they had won their first match only to end up in exactly the same place. The place which gave of a horrible feeling of never ending limbo.
?Yeah, what about it?? Jyill replied. She reached the window and let her fingers softly scrape at the sparkles.
?Well, what exactly are we fighting for?? enquired Jayck as he stood behind his sister and rested a hand on the nape of her neck. Generally reminding her of his physical presence would snap her out of a trance like this. Her skin felt familiar and warm beneath his fingers, just like the weight of her as a flail felt balanced and correct when he wielded her.
?What do you mean?? Jyill replied, reaching her hand over her shoulder to grip at her brother?s fingers; their hands clasping and digits intertwining.
?Well, all of this. I mean why are we here?? Jayck didn?t exactly consider purpose to be on the top of his list of priorities, but he enjoyed knowing why he was doing something, and all of this fighting so far seemed pretty pointless; even if everyone else seemed to have a fair idea of why they were doing it. Jyill shrugged her shoulders in response; she had become distracted again as her eyes sighted a lone man winding his way along the cobblestone road towards the mansion.
?We?re doing it because its fun.? Replied Jyill as she gave her brothers hand a quick squeeze. This guy looked like a complete dandy; he would most likely be a pushover.
?Come on, he?s outside. We?ll get this over and done with and debate about it later.? Letting go of her brothers hand Jyill used her elbow to hit out the glass in the window, then with an excited smile to her brother she launched herself bodily through the gap and out into the abyss beyond, her body shifting into a flail as she fell.
?You don?t get it Jyill?? Muttered Jayck as he watched her clatter against the ground then shift back into herself. ?I almost lost you.? As he spoke the last words he too leapt out the window.
***
There are a few ? and only a few ? sights that Emanuel had never seen before. A girl and boy launching themselves bodily out of a window, only to turn into weapons, clatter on the ground, then turn back into said boy a girl, was one of them. Well at least it had been until about fifteen seconds ago. Now the two of them were both strolling through the courtyard of the mansion, making there way purposefully towards him. He suspected he had just found his opponents.
They both looked young, most likely younger then him. But they also both possessed what he could only surmise as a vicious temperament. Everything about; them from the way they looked ? fiery red hair with hooks, and a clean shaven sneer ? to the way they walked ? fast, agitated, and directed ? screamed hostility. Even the way they gripped at each others hands was forceful. Emanuel took a moment to take up a guarded position, but he did draw his rapier yet. He didn?t suspect they would have any sense of dignity but as a gentleman he was obliged to try.
?Good day sir and ma?am.? Said Emanuel, keeping his voice as level as he could while simultaneously making a dramatic bow, accompanied by a sweeping of his hat. ?I don?t suppose you fancy some ground rules?? he turned up to look at them, they were closer now, almost close enough to strike. From this distance he was able to discern more about them, minor details. The collection of shiny ? but other wise valueless ? bangles wrapped around her arms. The thin piece of leather hanging from his neck. All of it had significance; most likely all of it had a story, but he would never know them. That almost made him sad.
?Ground rules?? inquired the girl. The words rolling out from her purple lips like a snake. He had up until now suspected that he was the more dangerous of the two, after all he possessed a bigger frame. But everything about her from this distance seemed threatening, from her piercing gaze, to the sharp rolling of her tongue on the end of her sentences. Emanuel waited for the boy to add anything, but the sprightly young chap remained stationary and stony face. ?Charming dinner table company really? Thought Cazinto?s.
?Yes, so as we all understand each other. You know, to keep it fair.? The two exchanged a glance before turning synchronised stares on him.
?No?? he offered with a gesture of his hand. ?Not even a name before we fight?? Again they conferred with their eyes.
?I?ll go first if it?ll make it any easier.? To his surprise the girl laughed. It was mirthless and cruel.
?Not that it?s any value to you, but you can call me Jyill, and this is my brother Jayck.? She indicated each of them in turn as she spoke. So they were siblings, at least Emanuel was learning something.
?Good, well you can call me..? But before he had finished his sentence the girl cut over him.
?And not that it?ll do you any good but our rules are this; yield now or you will die a slow painful death.?
?Why won?t it do me any good??
?Because you won?t yield.? Replied Jyill. ?This is a matter of pride to you, everything about you screams it. Your lavish attire, your air of confidence, that stupid feather in your hat. You are a man of pride and you won?t yield, so instead you will die.? Emanuel thought that this snipe was a bit unfair, and he most definitely didn?t like the slight against his feather. But he had not time to voice either such opinions as the instant the girl finished talking she was on the attack.
He had known roughly what to expect. He had seen them both leap out the window as weapons so had assumed ? apparently quite correctly ? that they operated as a team. However had hadn?t expected them to be able to operate quite so quickly. One second they had been pleasantly talking ? well ok, that?s a bit of an exaggeration ? the next she was swinging a two handed hammer at him as easily as one would wield a lengthy piece of stick. Fortunately Emanuel was an experience fighter and well practiced against such dirty tricks. With a quick flurry of his feet he back stepped her initial strike, then side stepped her second. Letting the hammer smash nosily into the ground beside him as its weighted head caused some of the cobblestone to crack. Now she was over extended and undefended. With a single motion he drew his blade and struck at her exposed flank, reciting as he did so ?My name is Emanuel Cazinto?s, and you my dear have made your last mistake.? He probably would have caught her square too, that is had she not suddenly disappeared, instead her body being replaced by a flail.
***
Jayck had seen the blow coming for Jyill the instant she had swung, and so with a single unspoken thought the two had switched. Now Jayck was lying on the ground with his sister grasped firmly between his fingers. He kicked out at their opponent?s leg and slid his hand up the grip of the flail so he could use it to clear the air around him; allowing him to find his footing. Emanuel buckled under the kick then rolled to the side, letting the hooks from the fail pass harmlessly over head. Then with a single elegant motion Emanuel was again on his feet, watching intently as Jayck too climbed to his own.
?Nice trick you?ve got there.? Said Emanuel, his eyes studying his opponent. Jayck said nothing in reply, the boys mind was busy working over time as he and Jyill analysed there opponent. This guy was good, and not just a little good, he was incredibly good. He was faster then Jayck, and more refined then Jyill. Everything about him put them at a disadvantage. Everything that was, except for the fact that they still had each other.
Jayck tensed his leg muscles; Jyill was hungry for the fop?s blood. Throwing the chains of the flail to the ground Jayck again rushed at his opponent, he let the hooks and barbs catch against the ground so that dirt would get stuck in them. He knew Jyill would be pissed about it later, but she would appreciate his ingenuity. He stopped his charge a few steps before Emanuel, and with a quick jerk of his wrist brought the flail sailing up - well out of range of a clean hit, but Jayck wasn?t aiming to hit his opponent, he was trying to blind him. Dust and debris flew off the flails chains were it had gathered and straight into Emanuel?s face. Well that was unexpected, it worked.
Emanuel staggered back, his spare hand fishing for the hilt of his dagger. He knew he needed to force of his opponent and this was the quickest method he could think of. With a single jerk of his wrist he threw the dagger into air before him, guessing at were his opponent would be. His rewarded was a surprised yelp of pain; it seemed that this guy was both unexpected, and predictable. How interesting. Clearing his vision Emanuel prepared for their next bout.
***
The knife had been so sudden and so unexpected that not even Jyill could brace her brother for it. The blade hit him in the shoulder and now she was busy wrenching it free for him.
?Cheap prick.? Muttered Jyill as she looked at her brothers wound. It wasn?t deep, but it still hurt her to see him in pain. Jayck gritted his teeth and watched as Emanuel finished clearing his eyes and again starred at the two of them.
?Two can play at those games.? Offered Emanuel, his rapier now held before him.
?You?ll bleed by the end of today, mark my words we?ll make you bleed.? Snarled Jyill, she had finished assessing her brothers wound and now the two of them were again staring down there opponent.
?He?s good.? Muttered Jayck. Jyill nodded her agreement. She hated being bested, especially by this guy. Everything about him ticked her off.
?What next?? Jayck then asked, as he was fast running out of ideas himself.
Emanuel watched the two confer with each other again, they would be more cautious now, which was almost unfortunate, their recklessness had nearly cost them the match. While diligently studying them and waiting for there next move, Emanuel noticed that the sun had finished setting over the horizon. And as the last rays of light left the world, hundreds of piercing squeal descended sky around the mansion, the noise was accompanied by the beating of leathery wings, and a chorus of mournful howls. The gates at the end of the drive swung open with a metallic groan, and the pounding of hooves could be heard clattering up from beyond the mansions walls. Even the long dead flowers in all the beds around the grounds started to blossom and bloom in the moon light, bringing with them splashes of dark purples, midnight blues, and blood reds. The air was thick with the scent of fresh pollen mingled with spices, and alive with the sounds of hundreds of different animals. As the last rays of sun left the world, the grounds of Gorman Manor came to un-life.
The bats that swarmed from top of the manor flocked into the courtyard between the two combatants, the swirling, shrieking, mass of wings merging into the shapes of a man and woman dressed in classical Victorian style diner wear. The collection of mythical statues lining the walk up to the manor cracked to life as werewolves and gargoyles leapt from there podiums and started prowling the manors grounds and circling its sky. Carriages drawn by horses as dark as midnight clattered up the cobblestone path, before disgorging their cargo of witches, warlocks, and ethereal ghosts into the already crowded courtyard.
Everyone arrived just on time.
And as all the guests assembled in the courtyard the doors of the manor swung open, then from inside the buildings threshold came Mr Gorman himself, wearing his dustless suit of black, laced linen shirt of white, and blood red cravat. With the ease of a man whom has all the time in the world he made an encompassing gesture to all the beings gathered before him.
?Welcome, friends.? He said, with his voice as soft as silk. Some of the werewolves howled.
?Welcome again to my annual diner and ball.? Some vampires applauded, some warlocks cheered, a witch swooned.
?You all know the rules, but in case you have forgotten. While in my grounds you are all at armistice with each other. No one is to fight. Any who shed blood on these grounds will make themselves my enemy. No one wants to be my enemy.? A gargoyle shrieked in excitement while a mummy pulled a lose piece of its wrapping free from a werewolves teeth.
?Other then that, enjoy.? And with his last words spoken Mr Gorman esq. 2009 stood away from the doors, letting the guests filter into the manor behind him.
The interior of the manor was dominated by a foyer which was laid out with several tables cover in banquet food, food which ranged from the common ? chips, nuts, and small lollies ? to the down right bizarre ? a witch was already busy digging her fingers into some frog?s legs, while a werewolf ripped into a hunk meat, un-cooked of course. ? Beyond the initial foyer stood another pair of double doors, behind which was the main dinning room. Large sweeping staircases rushed up either side of the door way around the dining room, leading to the upstairs wings of the manor. Every inch of the building was made of dark red wood. Chandlers of iron and candle hung from the ceiling in each room, their now lit white wax torches flickering as wind swept in through the door from outside. In evenly spaced alcoves against the walls more oil lamps aided in lighting the room, but altogether the lighting was inadequate for such large spaces and so everything was covered by unnatural shadows, shadows which danced and turned against the flickering lights from the fire.
Jayck and Jyill found themselves swept up with the movement of the guests, an eager tide of anticipation rolling in through the manors doors. Jyill?s fingers held tight around Jayck?s and she felt herself pulled closer to him by his strong arms as he used his body to shelter them from the throng of people. As they were pushed and jostled she tried to keep her eyes on her opponent but he too was lost in the wave of guests. Jyill swore to her self.
?What?? enquired Jayck as he used his body to shield them and continued to move towards the foyers wall. Soon they were both sheltered and safe and watched as the procession of supernatural beings mingled in the foyer, eating hors d?ouvres and talking about the weather.
?I lost him.? Replied Jyill as her eyes frantically searched the assembled crowd, peering over heads in an attempt to spot that ridiculous hat.
?Does it really matter, you heard that guy.? Jayck held his sister close and enjoyed knowing they were safe again. He was losing his stomach for this. Jyill looked up at her brother, he was unhappy. He was holding her tighter then he needed too, and his voice sounded flatter then it should have.
?That big guy scare you?? she preened, her eyes eagerly gauging his reaction.
?He seemed wrong.? Replied Jayck. Jyill nodded in agreement, he had seemed different, well everyone here seemed different. But he had seemed ? well wrong really was the only word for it ? like everything about him was incorrect. An ageless evil. Jyill mused over this for several seconds. It didn?t seem like a good idea to go getting stuck into a fight anymore, Jayck was right. If they were going to do this then they would have to do it with a bit of discretion. As she pondered a werewolf stepped over to them and eagerly sniffed the air around them. His eyes peered hungrily at Jayck?s wound. Jayck met the creature?s eyes with his deadpan gaze. The werewolf sniffed once more then shirked away.
?So we can?t kill him directly.? Breathed Jyill as she continued studying the foyer. ?I guess that just means we are going to have to get a bit creative.? She then whispered as she watched a door underneath one of the stairways open to omit a small boy carrying a tray of food. ?Come on.? She gasped excitedly as she grabbed at Jayck?s hand and started to pull him across the foyer. Jyill loved it when a good plan came together.
Emanuel had found himself in many strange places during his life. He had also had many bizarre experiences. Still being in a diner party filled with supernatural beings was easily in his top three, but if his life had taught him anything it was that when fate dealt you a hand that didn?t really make much sense, you were probably best off rolling with the cards you were dealt and seeing were you ended up. So it was a party was it? Then Emanuel decided he would try to have a good time. Quickly picking his way through the crowd he passed the platters of food on the buffet table and absently grabbed at a handful of nuts, steered clear of some frog?s legs, and then with his spare hand intercepted a glass of wine carried on a tray by a young boy. This was definitely the sort of party he could enjoy being at, fully catered and no questions asked. The fight was not entirely forgotten but it was pushed to the back of his mind for now, after all the parties? rules had been very simple. No one was to fight. Emanuel suspected that no matter how violent the two siblings were, they were not stupid enough to risk throwing away there lives just to get at him. He figured he was safe for now and was enjoying musing on these thoughts when he felt a tugging on his hat as it was briskly removed from his head by a set of eager hands. The protest on his lips quickly changed its tune as he realised that the tugging hands were attached to a pretty young witch, a young witch who was now eagerly examining his hat.
?It?s a very nice hat.? She said softly, her eyes studying it top to bottom.
?And you are a very nice lady.? Replied Emanuel without missing a beat. He was in his element. The witch laughed, then offered her name ? Cynthia. - He replied in turn with his.
?So what do you do Mr. Cazinto?s?? asked the witch softly.
?Why I tell stories.? Said Emanuel with a smile.
?Oh, do you? Would you tell me a story, please?? She cooed as she playfully placed his hat on her head.
?But of course.? Replied Emanuel, and he started to talk; his eyes eagerly watching as the crowd around him growing bigger. Yes, he was in his element.
Jyill had guessed, quite correctly, that the door beneath the stairs led down to a kitchen. She had also guessed, quite correctly, that the kitchen was well stocked with everything imaginable. This was where they wanted to be.
?Idea?? asked Jayck, but as his eyes eagerly studied the interior of the kitchen and his nostrils greedily drank up the smell of cooking meat, marinate, and fresh herbs, he suspected that he already knew what she was planning.
?Jayck, we worked as cooks for witches our entire life. Get a little creative baby.? Squealed Jyill with glee as she jumped into the kitchen, startling several of the young children busy slaving away inside it, but none of them were brave enough to challenge the two newcomers so Jayck and Jyill were left to their own insidious devices.
It took them less then a minute to locate what they were looking for, then another few minutes to procure the necessary equipment. A few of the children threw weary gazes at them, but still none spoke.
?Think something is wrong with the kids?? Jyill asked her brother as he used his strong shoulders to work the collection of herbs around a medicine bowl.
?Mutes?? Offered Jayck, he wasn?t sure if it was true but it had sounded funny in his head. Jyill laughed, so he guessed it was as funny as he had thought.
?What are we going to put it in?? Jyill then asked. She wanted to do this right, they had to be sure the poison made its way into the intended victims mouth. After all she didn?t want to ruin a good party with too much murder. Jayck looked up from his grinding and saw one of the children uncork a bottle of wine near the back of the kitchen.
?The drink.? He offered. Jyill smiled, it was all too easy.
?Boy, come here.? Jyill waved her hand at one of the children getting ready to carry out a tray filled with glasses of wine. The child in question pointed to himself before casting a hesitant glance around the kitchen.
?Yes, you.? Said Jyill, the boy trundled over to her, apprehension in his eyes.
?Can you do me a huge favour?? Jyill asked softly as she knelt down in front of the child, bringing there eyes to the same height. The child looked on uncertainly.
?I have a friend out there, and they need a very special drink. They are sick you see, and if they don?t get it, well?? Jyill let her voice trail off and the child?s imagination finish the sentence for her.
The child nodded his head to show he understood.
Jayck finished mixing up the concoction and grabbed up one of the wine glasses.
?So we have made up this antidote, go give it to them and everything will be fine, and you?ll be a hero.? The child beamed. Jyill thought of spinning the tale a little further, but the child was already sold hook line and sinker.
Jayck finished mixing the paste into the red wine, the dark liquid hiding the insidious mixture it now contained, its powerful aroma masking the death which now wafted from the glass.
?Just look for the big hat with a feather in it, that?s who you need to give it too.? The child nodded once, and then was off.
?Too easy.? Replied Jayck. Jyill nodded, her hair jingling with the motion of her head.
?Wanna go watch the excitement?? giggled Jyill as she offered her arm to her brother, it was now his turn to nod. And like children in a candy store the siblings made there way ? arm in arm, - back up to the main foyer.
Emanuel?s audience were on the edge of there ? well collective paws, feet, and wraps I suppose ? as he continued to tell of one of his adventures in Chadrais. When he had started speaking it had been just a few, but since then the audience had more then doubled in size, and still more flocked to him with every passing moment. But despite the growing audience his attention was focused on the young witch who now wore his hat. She smiled radiantly as he talked, and clung to his every word. Cazinto?s was thoroughly enjoying himself. That was until one of the boys with the trays of drink came along and placed another glass of red in her hand ? she could drink that Cynthia. - She sipped at it once, twice, then started gagging violently. Immediately the crowd around Emanuel burst into a commotion.
?What?s happening??
?Is she alright??
?Is it part of the entertainment??
?What?s going on??
?Deception??
?Murder??
?Some one broke the armistice!?
Emanuel could see things were about to go very badly, and he knew right now this floor was not the best place to be. With a quick flick of his wrist he retrieved his hat ? now slightly trodden ? and made his way from the main foyer.
Jayck and Jyill watched from one corner of the room as the calamity unfolded. There was a crash as a guest collapsed, then the foyer turned into complete chaos. People were yelling, running, and screaming, but above all the commotion the siblings spied a foppish hat escaping up the stairs away from the main event.
?The kid poisoned the wrong person?? moaned Jyill in disbelief.
?Guess we?ve gotta do everything ourselves.? Agreed Jayck. And like predators the siblings wove their way through the ensuing chaos ? now fast becoming a brawl, - after their escaping quarry.
The procession of Emanuel, Jayck, and Jyill was also noted by one more figure. He wore a perfectly black suit, a white shirt, and a red cravat. He was the lord of this manor, and some one had just ruined his diner party. He was pissed.
Emanuel hit the upper deck and desperately started looking for a way out. He suspected that the poison had been intended for him, and figured that his best way of surviving the mayhem unfolding downstairs would be to avoid it completely. With any luck the guests would work out who had tried to kill him and carry out there own form of mob justice. He turned a corner and found himself in a long corridor laced with paintings. They were all portraits and every single one of them was exactly the same, the only change from one to the next was date on the plaques beneath them. Emanuel pondered for a moment how strange this was when a noise from behind him brought him back to reality.
?Why can?t you just die!? screamed Jyill as she and her brother cornered him in the corridor. Emanuel noted that the window behind him was broken, and if he got enough momentum up he could maybe make a leap out to the tree branches which lay just beyond it.
?Sorry, I enjoy being alive.? Replied Emanuel with an apologetic shrug of his shoulders. Jyill growled in fury then took two steps towards him, her brother?s fingers still intertwining themselves with her own. Emanuel braced himself and drew his rapier, they would come soon.
?You!? There was another growl from further down the corridor as Gorman found the three of them. ?Do you have any idea what you have done!? even in anger his voice was still silky smooth.
?Mind your own business pops, this is between us.? Shot back Jyill, her temper getting the better of her. Beside her Jayck braced himself, he didn?t like the situation they were now in.
At the end of the corridor Emanuel smiled, it looked like some poetic justice was about to be delivered.
With a single stride Gorman lunged ? with a speed that his frame hid well ? at Jyill, his fingers grabbing at her throat.
?Jyill!? Screamed Jayck and he pushed his sister back, intercepting Gorman?s hand with his own.
?Brat!? snarled the silken voice, and in one motion Gorman had over powered Jayck and slammed him bodily against the wall, his fingers wrapping themselves around the boys neck. ?I?ll choke the very life out of you.? Whispered Gorman, pulling himself close to the boy?s ear.
?Jayck!? cried Jyill as she struggled to her feet. She looked on in terror as the fingers crushed around her brother?s windpipe. ?Leave him alone!? Jyill got her self low and shoulder charged towards Gorman, but it was to no avail, with a single turn of his body Gorman faced her oncoming rush, raised a foot, and kicked her back down the corridor. It sounded like he broke something.
?You will both die for what you have done.? Said Gorman, his voice unnervingly calm as his fingers continued to squeeze at Jayck?s throat. Feebly Jayck tried to claw at the powerful hand now gripping him, but it was to no avail, his vision was speckling white and swimming with black. It was becoming harder to move his feet and his arms felt like lead. He was dieing, and there was nothing he could do about it. And after he died Jyill would too. If he could have mustered the oxygen in his lungs he would have cried.
Emanuel stood and watched the spectacle, he didn?t know why but he couldn?t tear himself away from it. He watched with fascination as the two siblings tried in vain to help each other, and then Jyill was sprawled out on the floor near him; doubled over and holding her stomach. Then ? in her greatest moment of weakness - Emanuel felt something he never thought he would feel for her, he felt pity. She tried again to find her feet but failed, and instead ended up leaning back against the wall as tears fell from her sorrow filled green eyes, and a single sob escaped her purple lips.
?Jayck..? she breathed, reaching her hand out towards her brother. Emanuel felt like a pervert as he watched her pain. Then those tear filled eyes fell on him, and her lips quivered with fear and hurt, and she struggled to mouth a word.
?Please.? She whispered. ?He is all I have.?
And Emanuel knew he couldn?t watch anymore. She was a lady in need, and he was ? first and foremost ? a gentlemen.
?Put him down.? Emanuel strode forwards and raised his voice, trying to project himself with more courage then he felt. It seemed to work. Gorman lowered Jayck to the floor, his feet dangling helplessly against it as he struggled to get a footing and again fill his lungs with air.
?Do you endeavour to tell me my business, inside my own house?? asked Gorman, his voice threateningly smooth.
?I do exactly that, and furthermore I shall make you desist.? Cazinto?s flurried his blade before him as he spoke, watching as Gorman dropped Jayck and the boy crawled along the floor towards his sister, somehow he was still alive.
?Do you have any idea what you are about to do?? Asked Gorman. ?I am an immortal; I have lived for as many years as the very foundations of this building. I fear no creature be it living or dead, natural or super natural, I am what nightmares fear. And yet you endeavour to challenge me?? Emanuel had to agree, it did seem like a pretty stupid idea. And yet even as he drew took up his stance to fight an even stupider idea formulated in his mind.
?As old as the foundations of this building.? The words circled through his mind like a broken record.
?Are you as immortal as you claim?? whispered Cazinto?s as his eyes quickly took in his surroundings, oil lamps, wooden structure, lit candles. ?Everyman has his weakness Gorman.? Proclaimed Emanuel, ?and unfortunately for you mine is a pretty face.?
As quick as he could Emanuel shattered the nearest oil lamp, letting the slick liquid coat his blade as it spilled out around the broken glass.
?What are you doing?? gasped Gorman as he saw the liquid spill to the floor, while the now exposed flames eagerly licked at the wood and art work.
?You seem a little vainer then most Gorman. That is a lot of pictures to keep lying around.? Offered Emanuel casually as he watched the fire lick and burn. ?They say pictures tell stories, well what?s yours?? the fire eagerly licked at the painting, causing the canvas to crack and peel, and the paint to bubble and ooze. At the end of the corridor Gorman started to undergo a transformation too, his suited started to rip and his shirt started to tear.
?What have you done?? He breathed, but it was already too late, the fire lapped and licked at its new home, quickly transforming the corridor into an inferno of burning pictures and exploding lamps. Through the raging fire Emanuel was sure he could see Gorman?s skin start to melt and peel, like all the paintings between them.
Jyill cradled her brother in her arms, kissing his forehead tenderly as she watched Emanuel transform the corridor into a prison of fire. It was exciting seeing him operate with such smooth efficiency. Unfortunately now the corridor they were in was burning, they needed a way out and fast.
?Jayck, can you transform?? She whispered into her brother?s ear. To answer her question his shape changed. She clutched at the familiar weight and used the hammer to help push herself to her feet, then she turned to look down the corridor at Emanuel again.
?We need to get out of here.? She said, her eyes starring at him in a way that was normally reserved for her brother. Emanuel returned her gaze, lost deep in thought. They still had a fight to finish, and she still looked beautiful.
?I.. I can?t.? Whispered Emanuel in reply. Confusion gripped Jyill?s face.
?We still have a fight to finish, and it?s a fight I don?t want to end.? Said Emanuel, ?If I go with you, we will still be in an awkward limbo.? He looked at her face, studied her eyes, examined her lips. He wasn?t in love, but he couldn?t hurt her. Not after what he had just done. He cursed himself for being a sucker for girls.
?So then what, you?re just going to stay here.? She breathed, already the corridor was uncomfortably hot, and getting worse by the second.
?I?ll find something, I always do.? Replied Emanuel with a nonchalant wave of his hand.
?So.. You forfeit?? replied Jyill.
?Yes, I forfeit? Said Emanuel, and then before he had time to even register what was happening Jyill was before him, hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him towards her face.
?Thank you.? She whispered as her lips embraced his, a quick pressing of moist skin in the inferno of the corridor. She held her face tight against his for a moment and a single hook from her braids caught against his cheek, scratching a long scar beneath his eye. The blood dried quickly against his skin in the heat. Behind the siblings a shimmering portal of blue, purple, and white opened, tearing asunder reality as it gave the siblings their chance for freedom.
?Thank you.? Breathed Jyill again as she grabbed up her brother and fled through the portal, leaving the inferno that was once Gorman Manor behind her.
***
Back in the ?Dragon Drop Tavern? the once crackling fire in the hearth had fizzled down to but a few dieing embers. Although Emanuel?s voice still trailed on ? reciting how he escaped from the raging inferno with nothing but his wits, a drape, and the sword by his waist; and yes he swears its true even if you don?t believe it. ? The Story Teller no longer listened; she had heard all she needed to hear. Her dear servants were alive and well, but most importantly they were learning and growing as people, exactly what she had wanted for them ever since this started. As quietly as she could she stood up from her chair; pulling a bag of coins from beneath her cowl as she did so and throwing it by Emanuel?s feet. He had worked hard to earn his keep and she figured it was the least she could do, after all he had not only saved their lives, but also their humanity.
?Thank you.? She whispered as left the tavern, but she wasn?t sure if he heard the words.
Emanuel watched as the figure left, noting with satisfaction the heavy thunk as the bag hi the ground by his feet, and clink of the coins inside it as they were jolted. He thought to thank her but by the time he had formulated the words in his head she was gone. He turned back to his expectant audience and subconsciously rubbed the scar on his cheek again. For the briefest of moments that woman had reminded him of Jyill, but then again maybe it was just how her words echoed through the room.
?Thank you.?