ItsNotHellButYouCanSeeItFromHereHellip[continued from Noble Doubts and Like Mourners at Their Own Funeral] “Good night, Cole,” Rhea whispered, kissing his lips - apparently unafraid to show her affections in front of the castle guards. “Thank you for a lovely evening. I need to speak with Mother and Father tomorrow. But the day after, can we see one another again.” "Two days, huh? Assuming your father doesn't send someone to do away with me, I should be able to survive that long. Somehow." He stole another kiss. "That will help." After receiving her answer, she reluctantly ascended the stairs to Amber Castle. Her timing could not have been more perfect. Cole could already feel his skin crawling as midnight approached. As he descended toward the main gate, Cole noticed three figures waiting at the periphery of the lower garden - cast in the glow from the castle’s ‘jewel’ lights. One he recognized - Malachi. The other man appeared much older, more rugged. Even at this distance, he noticed how the man’s eyes reflected the light eerily. Both Malachi and the tall man appeared to be armed - more so than would be allowed by law. It took him a moment to recognize the third. The tall man said something, jerking a nod in Cole’s direction. When the short man turned, Cole realized that he was in the presence of the King. “Take this,” Random told Malachi, placing a crystal swan into his hand. “Mirelle kept this by her bedside from the time she was a small girl. A gift from our mother. If - as you say - she lives, then she would recognize this.” Malachi held the swan gently. His eyes met Random's and held them for the first time. "I will," he said with conviction. The King had been waiting for Malachi and Rook when they arrived, meeting them in the castle’s garden. By then, they had already visited the Royal Armory to equip themselves. Rook now sported a heavy leather surcoat - inner-laced with a thin layer of mail. He’d also chosen a long and short blade of exotic and deadly design. Malachi was similarly dressed, though he bore a stout and heavy spear as well as a long dagger of polished steel at his belt. Rook coughed and jerked a nod at someone coming down the carriage path. Malachi recognized the scarecrow tall man - Cole. Already walking quickly, Cole ran toward the men. "Malachi!" he called. "We need to leave _now_." He skidded to a stop before the three men. "Excuse me, your majesty," he said to the king. "It's an emergency. Or, at least, it's about to be. This man's life is in danger. Crap, I really hate meeting you like this. Sorry." Malachi hovered somewhere between scandal and amusement at Cole's speech at meeting his monarch. "Your Majesty, this is my friend Cole. One of those I spoke of. Cole, you apparently recognize His Majesty. And this is Prince Rook, son of Prince Corwin. I have informed them about our situation." Random blinked at this outburst, puffing on his cigarette. He pulled the cigarette from his lips and pointed at Cole with it. “You’re the little punk that’s apparently diddling my daughter. Huh. Lovely. Malachi's head snapped around to gaze at Cole with wide and wondering eyes. He said nothing. <<At least I asked permission first,>> he thought. <<And it was his sister, not his daughter!>> Cole looked shocked. "Sir, I have done no such thing. There's been some kissing, but that's it. Regardless, this is not the time to discuss it." "What the hell is it with her and tall men?" Random continued. "I swear, she’s doing it to spite me.” He turned to the rugged looking fellow, “Rook. This is the young man I wanted you to eat.” Rook smiled faintly - his teeth like a row of ivory sword tips. "Of course, my liege." Cole smiled back. "Believe me, in about 20 seconds, you will be the least of my worries." Malachi shifts his gaze to Rook. "I am under your orders. If Cole says there is an emergency, I believe him. What shall I do?" Rook snorted, “He stinks of the Dark Hour. If he is your friend, we can use him in a few moments.” His golden eyes flickered. “Unless he is a coward.” "On that score at least I can assure you," Malachi said. "I have fought beside Cole. He is no coward." Random snorted, “A possible meat-shield. I like the sounds of this.” He smiled around his cigarette, giving Cole an appraising look that went far beyond fatherly ‘do-I-need-to-neuter-you’ interest. "What is this 'emergency,' Ser Cole?" Cole looked confused, deflated, then panicked. "You know about the Dark Hour? All of you? Then what the hell are you doing here?" He waved an arm behind him. "All the demons of hell are about to pour out of that place! That's the emergency!" "I think," Cole said, looking at Random, in a moment of irrational calm, "that it's some measure of my affection for your daughter that I walked her home, knowing what I'd have to escape when I left." Malachi held his spear as if Cole's prediction was about to come true that instant. "Details, Cole! Quickly!" he said. Cole grabbed Malachi's arm. "For one thing, the place we're standing is about to be swallowed when the lovely castle behind me grows and expands into Nightmare Central. We'll be engulfed. Can we at least discuss this over there?" He pointed to a spot beyond the guard house. “We are safe where we are standing, Ser Cole. Tartarus does not extend this far into this garden. But, run if you must,” Rook said in a condescending tone. “Even so, it may be prudent for the King to retire for the evening. I do not wish our proximity to inadvertently awakening him to the Dark Hour. I could not abide having his blood on my hands.” Random gave a wry snort, “And I would rather not have my blood spilled, thank you very much.” He nodded to the trio, “I expect a report in the morning. Or in a minute or two. However, that works. Malachi. I want to hear all about my sister, if you encounter her. He glanced over at Cole, “And you’ll come to the castle tomorrow. My wife and I want to meet you. Without my daughter being around. Easier to hide the body.” "Yes, Your Majesty, if I survive my unplanned and unarmed excursion into Fiend Central, I'd be honored to drop by." Cole bowed, with a flourish. As the King turned away, Cole and Malachi could feel a nest of icy tongues lapping at their skin, the air around them beginning to grow stagnant and oppressive. "For the record," Cole said, staring at the castle as it underwent its change, "nobody who knows me well would think me a coward. They'd be more likely to accuse me of being foolhardy. But as I've already told Malachi, this is just _stupid_." [continued from Sifting Through the Ashes] As the world began to fade, the trio noticed a lone figure climbing the steep mountain road toward them. Unlike the other people, the young man did not slow his pace - immune to the slowing effects of the Chrysalis. As he crossed the stone driveway, they could see that it was in fact Cynwyd. And Cynwyd could see them. A long shadow covered the group as the once magnificent castle underwent its horrid transformation. Like some sprouting tree, it stretched toward the sky and sent out abortive roots of stone and wood. They could see cyclopean balconies and open-air chambers open like wounds, stained glass windows of impossible shape and crude design emerge like tumors. Pillars and arches appeared like veins and exposed bone, pulsing with sickly green light. The perverted angles of the structure hurt the mind, if viewed at length. Still it rose, higher and higher. Until finally, it gave out a fetid moan and settled into its final monstrous state. A golden and bronze time-piece now shaped the only opening, a dizzyingly tall and darkened archway waiting beneath it. Rusted gears turned and clicked behind the blemished glass like clockwork organs, every movement of its hands echoing across the courtyard. “Now you see, Malachi,” Rook said quietly. His golden eyes turned in Cynwyd’s direction, assessing the possible threat. "Yep, now he sees. Objective fulfilled, time to go." Cole turned in the direction of Random's impervious black chrysalis and discretely flipped him the bird, with the hand on the opposite side of Malachi and his humorless companion. "Coward my ass," he muttered. Then Cole saw Cynwyd coming up the road. "Aw hell. Cyn, what are you doing here? I'm genuinely not trying to get either of us killed, I swear." "You stand here at the center of this orange clockwork hell, and expect me to believe you?" Cynwyd said as he drew closer. "But of course, your intentions as usual are clear as an unmuddied lake, Cole. As clear as an azure sky of deepest summer," he added without giving him a chance to respond. "And I suppose you drew him into this fool's errand? But I'm not going to be the one to face Kel and tell her where her erstwhile captain disappeared." "So tell me," he said, turning to Malachi. "What particular form of suicide did you have him convinced of? And who is this other you've convinced of the eminent sensibility of bearding the enemy in his lair?" When he could tear his awestruck gaze from the looming monstrosity above, Malachi ignored them both and turned to Rook. "They're each one of us," he said. "Not cowards, but not yet convinced." Turning to Cole and Cynwyd, he said "Neither is he, for that matter. Cynwyd, this is a prince of the realm. He goes by the name of Rook. And he is here because the King has asked him to be." "I don't have time to spar with either of you. I'm going in there. You can do as you like in the short interval before they come out to get you and overrun Amber. I wish you well and hope it will be long enough for your purposes, but I will not stand by and wait for it." He returned his gaze to Rook, his assigned captain. "I would say I'm ready, but I know you'd just say I'm not. So let's just go in while we still can, sir." "No reason will deter you from this folly? There are better places to spend this night, if what you prefer is intelligence on this 'war' rather than a heroes' bier," Cywnyd said. "I think that if he is whom you say he is," he continued, motioning towards Rook, "he could tell you the same. You don't win a war by dying for your cause, but by making the other poor bastard die for his. And to make that happen, you have to out think him before you out fight him. And you can't out think him if you don't have the information to make that possible." "The castle is the endgame, not the opening gambit, Malachi," Cynwyd said, putting all his powers of persuasion in his voice. "It's too early in the game for such a risky play. I *do* believe," he continued, his hand outstretched imploringly towards the other man. "And enough to do *whatever* it takes to set things aright. But this isn't it," he concluded fiercely. "I know that, and deep within, so do you." "This is the easy way- the way that obviously lies forward. Victory doesn't lie in such easy reach- it's just an illusion, and a dangerous one at that." Malachi glowered at the other man, his slow-burning fuse beginning to show at last. "I've not treated you as a coward because I do not think you one. Do me the courtesy of not treating me like a fool. I'm not going in there to win the war or face the enemy directly. I'm going in there for intelligence. To show it can be done." "I have not been here so long as you, so I will not attempt to sit in judgment. But I do know that you each seek your own solutions, running hither and yon like a shaken sack of cats. Don't misunderstand; I trust that each of you have made sacrifices and efforts. But the one effort none of you seem to have made is to organize. You invite the enemy to cut you down one by one and scoff at the idea of a reasoned, organized approach. You're not making the other bastard die; you're dancing on the edge of ruin while his strength grows day by day and you don't know what is ten feet inside these walls. Well, after tonight you'll know. Or you won't have to worry about my madness any more." "Hold on a minute," Cynwyd said holding his hands up in abeyance... With that, Malachi wheeled about and strode toward the castle. Cole, unarmed, stepped into his path. "No," he said. "You're not going in there yet. Not unless you can get past me. There are too few of us for you to commit suicide now. If you can defeat me, then maybe you're strong enough to survive in there long enough to get the information you want and get back out with it. But if you can't get past me, unarmed as I am, then you have no business going in there." <Finndo,> he said inside his skull, <Back me up here. This one hasn't joined yet. We can take him.> Cole felt a surge of power within him, flooding his body with adrenaline and power. <About time we got to fighting> "You speak strong words, hypocritically assuming our position, and our stance, and what we've done and been able to do, neither seeking, nor asking, but in your own way running about doing what you say we do." Cynwyd said to his back. "We seek our own paths because we don't have the information, and neither do you. I don't call you fool, and neither do my words. I don't care what you go in there for, it is the enemy's stronghold at this time." "I haven't had the questionable pleasure of meeting Bob, nor his opposite, so I'm going off of very little hard earned situation. But your words before did persuade me to seek in a different direction, for in them there was the ring of truth, and wisdom. I was in the castle during the day, seeking sources of information in less perilous times. And find sources I did, in less dangerous places- ones where we might help others, even as we gain knowledge," Cynwyd continued. "Don't treat with us as your enemies- we say what we say not because we are better, but because there *are* so few of us. Going in there at *this* point will accomplish nothing but your death." He sighed then, heavily, waving Cole aside. "Cole, leave him be. If his choice results in his death, we will have to mourn the absence of one we could not afford to lose in the coming fight. If he will not see the wisdom in the words, then force will not suffice where logic has failed. Choice is what separates us from the other side in this conflict, so we can't deny him his." Snarling like a wolf, Malachi leapt at Cole while Cynwyd was still talking and without waiting to see what Rook ordered. He tried to seize the swordsman before he could draw a weapon and use his strength to hurl him to the ground. As he did so, Malachi’s mind flooded with a deep, burning rage - but not his own. This bitterness stemmed from a memory; an echo of mocking laughter, the smell of mud and damp wood. A brother’s teasing words. A wet, cold dress clinging to her small body. And the satisfying crunch of cartilage beneath a balled fist. Much to Cole - and Finndo’s - surprise, Malachi moved with an unnatural speed, closing the distance between them and seizing his arm and elbow. And for a moment, he felt his feet begin to lift as the young man yanked with brutal, jarring force; bones and sinew protesting. But he quickly recovered and shifted his center of gravity, becoming stalwart as an oak tree. The two wrestled and fought, neither gaining the upper hand. That was until Cynwyd’s silky words truly reached Malachi’s ears. They washed over him like a lulling music, a siren song that penetrated his mind and spirit. The man’s words just. .. made. . . sense. He would meet his death in there. Why endanger himself. Listen to Cynwyd. He knew what. He was talking abou. . . NO! His mind rebelled against the intrusive words, his resolve returning. But by then it was too late. Cole had gained the upper hand and trapped him in crushing bear hug, from which there was little hope of escape. Rook stepped forward and snarled, revealing ~rows~ of sharp teeth - his golden eyes blazing in the moonlight. “Release him. Now. I will not ask twice.” His hands cracked and groaned, the digits lengthening into feral claws. "Good," Cole said, "Because the answer would be no both times. I made the man a deal. He obviously took me up on it. He lost. Until someone can tell me what is so damned important about going in there, a specific objective that's worth losing both of you as resources in this war, and why it can't wait until we're as strong as we can be, neither of you are going in there." "Rook, is it? Do you know who else are you? Do you know the name of the voice in your head? Have you faced him? Because if you haven't, you aren't ready to face what's in that castle." "We sure as hell shouldn't be discussing this on the enemy's doorstep. Let's go meet our allies and make a plan instead of charging in blind and unarmed." "You arrogant son...." Malachi began. Rook appeared to grow taller, his clothing sprouting fur like dark grass, meshing with the skin beneath. “I know my Voice,” he growled. “He is . . .” An insane laugh echoed across the courtyard, cutting him short. A tall thin, beautiful almost waiflike insane woman cackling with glee, along with her similarly cold-hearted brother, standing in the causeway. The woman laughs and says, "Look at the pretty dollies! How they fight! And here you said they'd be fun! Oh well, we're gonna destroy the world while you tussle... we are going to destroy the world, right?" she says, looking at the cold-eyed man. Rook narrowed his eyes and sniffed the air like a wolf. His expression became one of confusion. Cole released Malachi and turned to face the newcomers. <Those lovely loyal new ladies of ours,> Cole said in his head, <I think we just ran out of time to fetch them. Is there a way to bring them to us?> <Aye, boyo> Finndo replied. <It’s one of the first tricks we learn after walking the Pattern. You’ve got to ‘believe’ they’re waiting for you somewhere. That there is no other possible place they might be. They ain’t where you left them. Now they’re where you need them. Say inside a rotted tree or buried under a hay bale in that stable yonder. And you need to ‘walk’ toward that possibility, aye? Transform your ‘belief’ into a motion, and the motion into belief. Understand?> Malachi's face went white at the sight of the twins, especially the girl. Then he regained himself and stepped in front of Rook, spear lowered. "You're going to molder in a grave," he told the mad girl. "And I'm going to make sure you stay there permanently. We have unfinished business, you and I." "No," the cold-eyed man said, assessing the men. "I don't think so." Malachi wasted no time in recriminations. Now was the time for action. "He's got a gun. She can throw her trumps," he told the others. "Watch her. She's dangerous." Rook stepped forward and placed a claw on Malachi’s shoulder. “Be careful, cub. There’s something wrong with these two. They have no scent. Even ghosts have such. So, I like this not.” "Ooh!" the woman cried out, clapping like a little girl. "Let's play a game!" "Yes, pet," the man said, looking fondly at her, though keeping his eyes on the men. "A game of chase! And no cheating with the doggie there-" "No, no," the woman said. "Bad doggie! That wouldn't be any fun. Eyes only! Pretty... big... eyes!" And with that, they were off at a breakneck speed, bounding over the terrain like human jack-rabbits. Their path took them southward, away from the castle and into the city. The military ward. Rook growled again, falling onto his hands and knees. . . or he would have if his body had remained remotely human. The air rushed outward as his bulk expanded six times in a churning storm of fur and teeth and powerful muscle. Where the man had been now stood a massive dire wolf - its shoulder level with the top of Cole’s head. When it spoke, its voice was of thunder and cracking rocks. “I do not tolerate insult, but I sense chicanery in this. We must be wary if we follow this path.” Cole blinked, looking up into the wolf's enormous eyes. "You..." he said, "You have my permission to go in the castle there any time you want." He shook his head to clear his thoughts. "I don't like it either, but we know they're going to cause trouble. Let's go stop them." He started running. "Good thing I left my new sword and bracers in _there_," he pointed at the stables, taking Finndo's cue, "in case there was fighting." "Cole," said Malachi. "Wild goose chases are intended to draw your attention away from something else. Usually a weakness or an important fact. Mischief they may cause, but they are not real. The real enemy is still inside. Or perhaps marching after the rest of your friends. Good luck." After a brief and baleful glare at Cynwyd, Malachi turned to the dire wolf. "Can you continue, sir?" Rook gave a consenting growl and padded toward the clock-shaped entrance to the Tower. "My, my... it appears that good intents are indeed rewarded," Cynwyd said, shaking his head at Malachi's expression, amusement in his eyes. "And though you stubbornly persist in this belief that the castle is the only direction, I will have you know that I don't believe that their appearance was merest coincidence nor misdirection- for in that direction lies the area that the Queen spoke to me about earlier today." Reaching into his cloak he languidly pulled out a finely made blade that was surely not hidden there before. "I do hesitate to split forces at this juncture- but I believe that the castle holds few answers at this point, and in that direction," he continued, pointing where the pair had disappeared, "lies the truth that we seek." [Malachi continues in Into the Mouth of Madness?] [Cole and Cynwyd continue in Chasing Shadows] |
