DeathInTheDarkness[continued from And Back Out of the Logrus] She forced herself into the here and now, breathing in through her nose using biorhythmic patterns that she had been taught from the time she was a child. She focused on the demon in front of her- it's stance, the way it moved. It was short, wide, and muscular, but she could see that it moved better than fodder was intended to, which in and of itself told her something of their attacker. There was no trace of apprehension in the demon's eyes as it faced her, even though it was more than likely beneath her skill level by itself. Either promised great rewards, hopped up on something, or just plain blood crazy, it didn't matter. Amba shook her head, tired of that line of thought. She turned her body slightly, edging her leading leg forward as she dropped her center of gravity. She held one claw low, by her groin, as the other rose slowly to the level of her face. The demon feinted in, and Amba slipped to the side instead of instinctively retreating as his speed would generally cause one to do, avoiding a trail of the deadly spittle as it streaked through the location she would have been in. Almost unconsciously, she made note of the hissing sound, so she wouldn't inadvertently move through the puddle of acid, though she didn't follow up immediately as the demon withdrew. The demon circled, still trying to keep itself between Amba and Lord Torren, but Amba didn't move, merely watching her opponent. The demon began bouncing in a jerky fashion, attempting to put Amba off balance. But Amba had already seen the form, so when the demon made it's second run, he was surprised as the woman stepped directly into it's path of attack, hooking three of her own deadly claws beneath his chin to open it's major arteries, then slipped past him, lazily leaving her following leg to trip him as she passed. The demon was down and—if not dead, very shortly so to be. Despil seemed to have dispatched those around him—he was fighting one last creature, his blows a little wild and showing the edge of exhaustion—perhaps he had not been exercising much recently. The last two had backed Lord Torren into a narrow corner; he was fighting furiously and seemed not to need assistance. But now there was a shout from the courtyard. Despil, with a desperate blow,dispatched his last demon and nodded to Amba; he was willing to join her if she investigated. Giving Lord Torren's situation one last look, Amba shifted one of her claws back to it's natural form. She reached behind her head, then whipped her hand, ending in a salute to Helena's father as a black spike seemingly materialized in the demon's back, giving just enough distraction to open it up to a disemboweling strike from Lord Torren. "Come when you can," she said, even as she waved for Despil to follow her as she ran back to the courtyard. The courtyard opened out to show a mixed group of demons and men struggling around the carriage. Some wore the livery of Ishtar—some wore that of Sawall. Amba felt Despil pause beside her. "Amba," he said. "Those are not our people." "So you'll have no issues killing them, right?" She responded as they closed. "Just keep one alive, so we can get to the bottom of this," she added. Then she was among them. Ripping and clawing, she danced, the blood fountaining up in a ribbon of varied colours. As she moved amongst them, the hissing of futile fury rang forth in counterpoint to her movements, for she was as shadow, always in range to reach forth and flay their skins from their flesh, but never in range of their weapons. Again, as earlier, she forgot her enemies, the blood staining the ground nothing more than a sign of her passage rather than the evidence that where life had stood, none remained in her path. But the death her reaping wind brought was discriminatory, for none of Ishtar was touched by anything more than the stain of demonic ichor. And one demon that she had singled out from the beginning joined that group in safety. Or at least relative safety as those things went. It was possible that he would have run from the scene of the massacre. In fact, it was more than likely that he would have moved with all haste away from the cathedral, especially since seeing this apparition of death he was already inclined to. But the safety he enjoyed did not extend to his knees, and though he was only vaguely humanoid in shape, he couldn't move very quickly without them. The Chaosian demon collapsed screaming ... Around her all was blur and struggle - and then suddenly, she heard an familiar voice. "That's the last of them." It was Lord Torren himself. Despil was leaning against a wall, gasping, his sword smoking blood. But he appeared uninjured. Three of the Ishtar guards were dead, a further two were injured and being attended by their uninjured colleagues. Their attackers, apart from Amba's demon, were dead. "Back to the Ways, I think," said Torren. "And you, my Lord, come with us." Despil looked up, mutinous. Before Despil could formulate a response, Amba interjected, "Considering the fact that someone went to great trouble to make Lord Torren think that Sawall was involved- someone that left you out of the loop- your first reaction might not be the one for the occasion." "In fact, that you left blinded to meet us, and returned sighted might be enough to send your father into a most unfortunate rage," she added calmly, regarding her now normal length fingernails. Despil winced. "Very well," he said curtly. Torren signalled - one of his own men hurried away, and soon returned with the carriage. Torren waited till they were well on their way back before he spoke again. "What did you find?" he asked Amba. Amba sat still for a long moment, not even acknowledging that Lord Torren had asked a question as she looked out of the carriage at the carnage that they left behind. Finally, Amba looked towards Lord Torren. A memory bound her here- a memory that again broke through the malaise that clouded her thoughts. "Helena," she said haltingly, and even as she did, the dullness in her eyes faded as she said more excitedly, "Helena! She's alive!" "I had a trump call from Claudio, and he said he'd been in contact with her, and that she seemed a bit exhausted, but other than that fine. I was going to try to trump her, but Despil told me about the attackers at that point." "But she's alive!" Torren turned, reaching for Amba, gripping her arms so hard that a non-Chaosian would wince. "What? Where? Did he say where?" "No," she responded, seemingly oblivious to the grip Torren had on her arms. "But we could Trump her to find out." "Do it!" said Torren. "Now!" He seemed disinclined to wait for the the carriage to reach its destination, despite Despil's faint expostulation. Amba's set of trumps were very sparse by the standards of most, so she was able to produce it with a nimble movement of her hands from a concealed pocket with Helena's trump on the top. It seemed like such a long and short time since she had last seen Helena's face she thought as she visualized the picture coming to life... And she had a sense of contact ... Helena sat outside somewhere in a chair with a plate partially filled with food balanced on her lap. She wore a fluffy white robe and her hair was damp and her feet bare. Her eyes widened. "Trump contact," she said apparently for someone outside Amba's field of vision. "Yes?" Helena continued eagerly. "Who?" "Helena?" Amba said tentatively, with a restrained eagerness in her voice. "It's me... Amba." "Amba!" Helena stood up from the chair and grinned, her plate dropping to the ground unnoticed. "Pull me through! No, pull us through! No, wait!" She forced herself to calm down and turned to look at someone beyond Amba's vision. "Uncle Bleys, I cannot fully express my gratitude to you for saving my life, along with my sister's. Thank you. "I am going back to Chaos now. Ness, it seems, is coming with me. Do you wish to come as well? I am not aware of all of the politics involved, but if you want to come, you're welcome to." Helena held out her hand to someone. "I know you want to dress first, Ness, but I can't wait. I'm going through anyway." Though Amba was aware of the confines of the carriage, it somehow didn't matter as she held out her hand for Helena to come through. Despil had drawn away a little, as though to allow room for the egress. But now Amba became conscious of a slightly fixed stare in his eyes—and that he was nodding to some unseen interlocutor. Paranoid though her thoughts may be, Amba became suspicious of that nod, and the unhappy coincidence of Despil's apparent trump contact. Helena could see on the other end that Amba's expression had changed from one of open happiness to closed suspicion even as she looked past her instead of to her. But as she goes to pull, she sees that Amba has pulled back, her hand held up as to ask Helena to halt. Amba's body tensed as she looked towards Despil. "I'll apologize later if I have to, but I'm not willing to take any chances at this point," she said under her breath so that only Helena could hear. Then louder she said forcefully, "Paran. Geomjeong!" pointing towards Despil. Motioning urgently to Helena, but never taking her eyes off of Despil she tried to pull Helena through the contact... Helena recognized the power words Amba uttered. She immediately went on guard and fairly dragged her sister behind her in her haste to pass through the trump to Amba. Ness uttered a small surprised yelp as the world blurred to rainbow colors. "If you're quite finished," said Despil testily. "Don't you think I've suffered enough at the hands of House Ishtar without your running through your supply of powerwords on me on the off-chance?" He looked with interest at Helena and, more especially, Clytemnestra. Helena looked with interest back at him. "What--?" Amba merely shrugged, her eyes still on Helena. "I wasn't willing to take chances," she said offhandedly. "If an apology will help, you have it," she added blithely. "It was a less permanent solution than any other I could come up with on the spur of the moment." There was a sudden lurch of the carriage. "I've moved us somewhere safer," said Torren, "for the moment. Helena ... " His voice had softened. "What has happened?" She turned at the sound of his voice. "Everything," Helena replied, smiling widely. She gave him a fierce hug. "Father, this is Ness, though you've doubtless figured that out by now. We need to talk. Amba! We need to talk. Despil...we need to talk." Ness was scanning the occupants of the carriage, but upon hearing the word "Father," a brief look of confusion crossed her face. Then her eyes locked on Torren, and her hand stole to the pocket of her fluffy white bathrobe. Amba smiled as Helena talked to her, though there was a tiredness behind it that Helena hadn't seen in a long time... Helena brushed Amba's cheek with the back of her hand. The carriage was now stationary. Torren push open the door - they seemed to be on a bare level plain with the soil a dusty blue, under a baking orange sky. Torren moved to assist them to alight. There was, at a little distance, a table set for tea. Two penguins were waiting to serve them. Ness stepped down from the carriage without Torren's assistance. She wrinkled her nose at the dusty soil on her clean bare toes. Then she walked to the table, pulled out a chair, and stood behind it, waiting for her sister. Helena accepted Torren's assistance, looking at him intently as he helped her out of the coach. She wanted nothing more than to corner and ply him with questions about Fiona--the only thing deterring her being Despil's presence. Speaking of the demon, she instinctively kept tabs on the outsider, making sure she got out of the coach and over to Ness before Despil could. She knew Amba would watch her back. "Go ahead and sit," Helena told Ness when she reached her, indicating the chair she was holding. Amba did indeed keep herself between Despil and the twins, still mindful of the 'innocent' trump call he had taken just before their arrival. Torren moved a short distance away and appeared to be scanning the horizon with what has suddenly become fierce hawk eyes. Despil climbed down too and stood for a moment, shielding his eyes, as though the weak sunlight was much too bright for him. Ness's harrumph was barely audible. She sat primly in the chair, closed her eyes, and began summoning the Pattern to mind. One of the penguins approached her, but--seeing the expression on her face--thought better of it and waited for one of the others to be seated instead. Summoning the Pattern in what was still the depths of Chaos threatened to give her a severe headache very, very rapidly. With an inarticulate growl of frustration, Ness gave up, and returned to toying with something in her pocket. Helena sighed. She didn't sit herself, but gripped the back of her chair and turned to look at the other three. Despil moved and took the third chair. "Helena," he said. "What's happened to my brother? To Jurt?" "Jurt? He hooked up with the Lady of Glimmergloom," Helena answered distractedly, part of her attention on Torren and Amba. "You can find Glimmergloom through Tir. Apparently trumps don't reach to that realm, though." "What?" said Despil. "Glimmergloom? What is that? And Trumps don't reach it?" "Full of nasty, nasty fae. Oberon sealed it away." Amba looked from Despil to Ness, with glances in between towards Helena, as if to make sure she was really here. Then after a sigh and one last look and the tiniest of smiles, she walked towards Torren, still managing to keep her attention partially on Despil. "Trouble?" she asked the Chaos Lord. "Not at the moment," said Torren. "But I am concerned. Helena will want to see her mother ... and that will be dangerous. It could cost her life ... and that ... cannot be allowed." He turned to look fully at Amba. "Will you help me to protect her?" "Of course," Amba said without a second's thought. But then after a moment added, "But why? Fiona would never hurt her..." Her gaze intensified as she looked over his shoulder to Helena. "So what then?" "Of course not," Torren agreed, perhaps a little too quickly. "But getting there ... that will be our problem." Amba found Helena gazing back at her with equal intensity. "Why don't you two join us?" Helena asked pointedly. Torren was still gazing at the horizon, which seemed to be darkening ... Ness stood up from her chair and stalked over to stand next to Torren, staring out at the horizon along with him. "So, what are we doing here, Daddy?" she asked. The acidity in the last word would have etched steel. "Do you mind if I call you Daddy? I mean, technically you're married to my mother, and you've raised my sister here on the other side of the universe from me and her real father, and 'my mother and sister's jailer' just doesn't flow off the tongue conveniently." Helena stood in stunned silence, staring at her twin. Amba started to speak, but at Clytemnestra's outburst looked towards the darkening skies taking up Torren's watch in case he was distracted. "I suggest you call me Lord Ishtar," said Torren calmly. "Our acquaintance, as you have pointed out, Lady Clytemnestra, is of the slightest, and so far you are amply confirming the wisdom of your mother's choice." Ness turned to face him, hand clenched tight in her pocket. In an equally tight voice, she replied, "I wasn't aware that she had any sort of choice. What choice was that, pray tell?" Amba still kept her back on the tableau, ignoring it in principle, even if it were impossible to ignore the open spilling of the very ugly family issues. Helena, equally distracted by Torren's curious statement and her sister's hostile behavior, forced herself to focus on her twin. "Ness!" she snapped angrily, "I know you're holding that knife you took from Bleys. Whatever you're thinking of doing--don't. You won't succeed and I will never forgive you." Torren, who had been about to speak, said nothing, but smiled faintly. "No," he said after a pause. "She wouldn't succeed. But wounding me might give her satisfaction. Your mother, Clytemnestra, chose to let your father take you rather than Helena. And so Helena was reared by us ... as opposed to your father. How is he, by the way? It's a while since we met." "Don't change the subject," Ness spat, her eyes full of pent-up rage, her right hand still clenched tight in her pocket. She knew she probably looked ridiculous, threatening a lord of Chaos in her fluffy white bathrobe, and that only made her more angry. "Why? Why did you split us up? My heart was ripped in two and kept from me on the other end of the universe and I want to know why!" Helena unclenched the back of her chair and padded softly toward her sister. "Ness..." Torren closed his eyes momentarily ... They seemed to flicker behind the lids, as though some strange light filled them, but when he opened them again, they were mostly human - though very dark. "The division ... was something the Emperor decreed. You father would have kept your both. Your mother claimed you both. To entrust both of you to one parent would, the Emperor felt, have made that parent ... to independent. There he decreed that a choice should be made." He smiled thinly. "If it is of any consolation to you at this late juncture, both fought it furiously." "The Emperor..." Ness whispered. Her fury seemed to have abated somewhat, but her eyes still glinted dangerously. "Why would the Emperor care about two little girls? Was it just something to keep Mother and Father under control, or was it something about us in particular?" Helena continued walking toward Ness, her hands open at her sides. "The Emperor cared nothing about two little girls," said Torren. "But anything he could do to control the power of your progenitors ... he was willing to risk much ... " He glanced at Helena - and then smiled faintly, almost ruefully. "Risk?" Ness asked, eyes narrowed. "What risk was involved?" She glanced at her sister, wondering if some sort of signal had been passed. Helena paused to look over at Torren. "What risk was involved?" she repeated, her tone echoing her twin's. "That, between them, your progenitors would bend the universe to their will. Or, perhaps, I should say their whim." He looked at them both, a ghost of a smile. "And although the Emperor might have discounted two children, there were others who wondered ... what power a double dose of the offspring of Mandor and Fiona might unleash. And who thought that separation might be safest ... for the rest of us." Ness smiled wryly, removing her empty hand from her pocket and crossing her arms in an insouciant stance. Her anger seemed completely gone. "Well, then," she said. "Seems like it's about time for a prophecy to fulfill itself." Helena stepped between Ness and Torren and put her hands on her twin's shoulders, looking her in the eyes. "The past is past, but we're together now, and that's what matters. Let's go see Mother. Together." Meanwhile, Despil had moved closer to Amba, and now spoke softly. "About her mother's injuries." He was silent for a moment, and then added, so softly that she barely heard him: "About mine." "Why?" Amba asked simply, now turning more of her attention to Despil as she awaited his reply. "How much does Helena know?" Feigning ignorance, Amba asked without taking her attention off of Helena, "About what?" |
