| | Silently, the thief was still cursing himself. Ever since the other night, when he'd been caught at trying to infiltrate the mansion in the town outside of the forest he now took refuge in, he'd railed against his own stupidity. How could things have gone so disastrously wrong? Wasn't it bad enough that he'd been caught by that strange-looking guard, one that seemed so out-of-place for the town, but to have had that hallucination of his brother? It seemed it was more of an illusion, however, since the guard reacted to the sight and voice of Talin just as Talon had. With a snarl on his lips, Talon tossed into the campfire the stick he'd been using to stir the coals as he brooded. Damnation, he thought. If only Talin had been there, we could have beaten that guard to a pulp, then stripped the place of all of its valuables. Now what am I going to do? Not a copper left, otherwise I'd be sleeping in a nice warm bed rather than out in the cold like this. Truth be told, he was more used to sleeping rough than in an inn. But, at the moment, he was in such a state over his turn of bad luck that he simply felt like complaining about everything. And this damned fire! Too bright. If anyone's looking for me, they'll spot me ten miles off! And the smoke! Enough to choke a damned worm in the ground, if you ask me. Too taffing hot, also. I oughta put it out. Yet, if he were to put out the fire as he was mentally threatening to do, not only would he lose his only source of heat and light, but he'd also lose the only thing that was keeping the wild animals at bay...all information he already was well aware of. With a quiet sigh, Talon watched for a few minutes longer as the flames popped and crackled, slowly consuming the logs and the stick he'd thrown in. Rising to his feet, he retrieved from a pile of wood a few more logs, laying them atop the burning coals so as to keep it going throughout the night, then lowered himself onto a pallet he'd made of his cloak and a few castoff blankets, wrapping himself in them, then closed his eyes to sleep. Tomorrow, he'd find some way of earning...or stealing...enough coin to arrange for a new mount, at the least, his last having gone to fill his belly since his hunting had turned out to be fruitless. Perhaps the snares he'd set would catch enough that he might be able to sell a few pelts in the town, provided he didn't run into any trouble. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- He was standing atop a rampart of a castle, overlooking a large river to the west. He looked down at himself, seeing that he wore black clothing and a matching cloak. Some part of his mind knew that, elsewhere, he was actually naked, but the small voice in his head that was trying to remind him of that fact was drowned out by the sound of the nearby river. He placed his hands on top of one of the cool stones that formed the half-wall that surrounded the lookout point, not noticing that this meant he was much taller than his self in that 'other world', sighing and fidgeting a bit. From below, his supernaturally enhanced hearing picked out the moans of agony coming from a woman in the throes of childbirth. Her contractions were coming more and more frequently now, with greater intensity. It would be soon. Turning, he headed down the spiral staircase that led down to the main part of the castle, pushing through the door at the bottom... ...and stepping out into a devastated village, the buildings all burning, all manner of humanity screaming in searing agony. A child, a half-elf, came running out of one of the buildings and began slamming his fists ineffectually against his body, screaming, "You killed my parents!" at him. A smirk on his face, he flicked one of his black bat-like wings against the child, sending him hurtling through the air and against one of the trees that surrounded the village. Then, turning away with a dark laugh, he headed into one of the buildings, which crumpled around him like paper with the merest exertion of energy. His vision was blocked out for a few moments by sparks, flames, smoke, and debris, soon clearing however... ...allowing him to raise his head from his kneeling position to face a darkness deeper than the black spaces between the stars. With a cruel smile, he muttered some benediction in a twisted tongue to the shadow that seemed even darker than the ebon surroundings, one that was even larger in frame and power than his own. The darkness surrounding him and the Other was filled only with tormented screams and the sound of thousands of tortured souls. He lowered his eyes and head once more.... ...then raised them to stare across a field of battle, warriors striving against one another literally atop the bodies of their fallen comrades. Beside him stood his brother-in-kind, surveying his own handiwork. He and his brother had been involved with this particular conflict since the seed of war had been sown with the Saluthi. This specific locale had been chosen because of his need to aid in the proper ending of the war. He raised his right hand, focusing his energies into it, his eyes sliding closed... ...then opening them to look upon an unnaturally beautiful woman, blonde hair sweat-matted, as she bore down with her nether-muscles, straining through the process of birth. The time passed as a blur, filled only with his encouraging words and her inarticulate moans and cries as she gave birth to first one, then another, babe. A boy and a girl, twins. He kissed the woman on the forehead, stroking her hair lightly as he whispered his love and pride in her for suffering through the difficult delivery. He swaddled and picked up the twins, carrying them to their mother and laying them on her breast, smiling as he sat beside them, father and husband to his family. Tears flowed unashamedly down his face, obscuring his vision for a brief moment. He passed his hand over his eyes as joy suffused his heart and spirit, then lowered his hand to... ...stare at the prone body lying before him, the life having been torn from the boy...no, the young Nephilim, as a part of his mind reminded him. First sorrow, then wrath, entered into his heart and mind as he looked down at the half-breed. Looking up at the black speck that hovered in the sky, he shouted, "Mage, your unnaturally extended life is over! From this day forth, count each hour as stolen, and keep watch over your shoulder! Death shall indeed come for you! You killed my...." "...son!" shouted Milenko as he sat up from the drenched bedding, sweat-soaked chest heaving from the rampant emotions that filled him. A dream, but one that made little sense to the mage. The images had felt so familiar, yet so alien. He felt that each of them should have been well-known to him, but he could attach no particular memory to them. He reached over to the bedside table and retrieved a glass of water, drinking it in a single quaff. His breathing and heart settled again, he rose from the bed and draped himself in a dressing robe, tying it at the waist and then walking over to the giant floor-to-ceiling window that faced the east, pulling open the curtain and staring out at the faint glimmer of light that signified the coming dawn. He pounded his fist against the wooden frame hard enough to cause the glass to shudder audibly, then groaned from the torment his mind was going through. Was he losing it? Was it possible that the strain of the missing years from his life, coupled with this latest twist, the nightmares, was causing him to go mad? Would he ever regain a point of stability in his life? |
