@aislingyngaio: I got that reaction the last time too. I have to admit, I was pretty surprised when I realized it myself. Glad you're still reading!

@kaz: Thanks! Yeah, there's some fun stuff. And I'm definitely looking forward to his appearance, too. And, maybe someday, I'll even get to some new stuff!

*****
Chapter 18:

Dameon is horrified to feel his body responding to Eithera’s kiss. His breathing quickens and his arms, seemingly of their own accord, enfold her in a tight embrace pulling her against him for a moment before pushing her away. Too late. He sees the hurt, the anger, the betrayal etched on Rhen’s face.

Eithera steps back with a quiet chuckle, “What’s this, Dameon? Have you not missed me? Are you not pleased to see me?” She waits, the cruel smile on her lips showing that she does not really expect an answer. Suddenly her eyes narrow and her voice drops to a dangerous hiss, “What is wrong, Dameon? Where is your anger? You have grown soft!” For the first time since they entered the shrine she looks away from Dameon, taking in his companions with a cold, calculating stare. Her gaze lingers on Rhen for some time, her lips pursed in thought.

Dameon still does not answer. He merely hangs his head. He is too tired, too ashamed, too disgusted to answer Eithera’s taunts. Eithera. She is stunning – tall and powerful, as one would expect of the Druid of Strength. Her long silver-blonde hair is pulled back, as usual, although a few strands have slipped free and artfully frame her face. Her black dress with its thigh high slits accentuates the pale beauty of her face and hair, the grace and strength of her long legs. She has always known how to emphasize her beauty, bringing it to an almost other-worldly level without restricting her freedom of movement.

Eithera. Her temple had been destroyed along with Ahriman all those years ago. After Rhen had returned the Sword of Shadows to the Oracle and the wretched thing had been locked away again, the druids had left Aveyond. All except Eithera. The Druid of Strength had no temple, and so she stayed in Aveyond. She stayed in the Sun Temple. She was beautiful, there was never any question about that. She was, certainly, one of the most stunningly beautiful people that Dameon had ever met. But that was not why he had found her so irresistably alluring in those dark, lonely days after Rhen had left for Clearwater.

He was very nearly lost in those days. His anger, long and carefully nurtured into an intense hatred of Talia, had been unseated. It twisted him this way and that, targeting Talia, Rhen, the Oracle and even himself in turn. Ahriman was destroyed – there was no chance of further revenge. Rhen had left him and settled herself into the mundane life of a simple villager. Everyone was scattered. There was only Eithera, and Eithera loved his anger. She fed off the intensity of his emotions, using them to fuel a fiery passion that he could not resist, had not wanted to resist.

When had she turned against them? When had she turned traitor? Had it already begun back in those days? Had that been part of his attraction? He wasn’t sure that he wanted to know the answer to those questions. Was certain that he didn’t want the opportunity to ask them.

Dameon is pulled back to the present by the feel of Eithera’s finger softly tracing his cheekbone, dangerously near his eye. He bites his lip in anticipation and fear. Gentle is not her style. He waits nervously to feel her fingernail dig into his skin, so caught up in his awareness of her that he does not even notice the blood dripping from his lip.

“That is more like it, my pet,” coos Eithera softly in his ear, her teeth tickling his ear lobe, but not quite biting him… not yet. She steps back a single step so that she can see his entire face, so that he must look into her pale blue eyes. She raises her voice until it is just loud enough for Rhen and Talver to hear, “So, you waste yourself on this pathetic excuse of a Chosen One? Have you no pride, Sun Priest? You were meant for better things.” She pauses a moment, making sure that she has everyone’s undivided attention. “I had thought to kill her, but I think, perhaps, she will be more useful to me alive. If your anger is not enough to bind you to me, Dameon, then perhaps your fear or your foolishly naive hope will be.” She pauses to kiss the blood from his lower lip, savoring the salty tang on her lips before continuing, “Yes, my pet. I think that may work out for the best. If you are a good little pet, I may, perhaps, let her continue to live out her miserable days.” She taps her lips thoughtfully and walks out of sight for a moment. Before Dameon can do more than throw a very apologetic glance towards Rhen, Eithera is back. She holds a small glass vial in front of Dameon’s face. “I may even let her think that she is happy,” she whispers quietly so that only Dameon can hear. “If you are a very very good pet, I may even let you decide with whom she fritters away the rest of her useless life.”

Dameon recognizes the potion that Eithera shows him. It is a love potion. A powerful one. Certainly powerful enough to keep Rhen blissfully in blinders for the rest of her life. He wants to strangle Eithera and only barely keeps his hands impassively at his sides. He cannot win this fight. She is by far the strongest fighter in the room, and they are all unarmed. His defensive magic would do little beyond prolonging the inevitable against her powerful offensive spells. No. He is trapped. Utterly trapped. His love for Rhen will not allow him to sacrifice her to Eithera’s wrath, and even less is he willing to sacrifice the life of his unborn child. He feels as though his heart has been ripped out of his chest. He feels that he should be dead, and yet he is still living… still breathing… still moving. Hating himself more with every heartbeat, Dameon slowly lifts his hand out to cup Eithera’s chin and draw her in for a kiss.

“That is much better, my pet,” coos Eithera with relish. “I am so glad that you have come around to my way of thinking. Come. We have work to do.” She glances dismissively at Rhen and Talver who stand as quiet and still as though they had been turned to stone. “I do not believe that these two will be able to get into any trouble while we are gone.” And with that, she leads Dameon towards a small, insignificant-looking passageway at the back of her shrine. The passageway that she had had rebuilt exactingly, using the original stones whenever possible. The passageway that would take them to the very door of the demon realm.

*****

“You are a fool, Dameon, and you always have been,” says Eithera conversationally as they walk through the stone passageway. “I never understood what you saw in that silly girl. I could never understand why you moped so after she left. She showed her true colors to all of us that day. She is a coward.”

Dameon feels anger crashing over him like a tidal wave. He has already betrayed Rhen’s trust of him – again – and now, now he has to listen to this traitor’s insults. “How dare you!” he hisses. She turns to face him, amusement clear on her face. “She saved your life, little though you deserved it, traitor!” He raises his hand to slap the smirk off her face, but she catches his arm before the blow can connect.

She smiles broadly as she holds his arm and pushes it back against the wall. “So I see that she has not unmanned you completely, my pet.” Her voice has dropped nearly to a whisper. She laughs softly, deep in her throat, “You are hardly the one to accuse me of treachery.” Her face is mere hair-breadths from his own. He can almost feel her lips against his. Her breath on his face stirs a deep passion, and suddenly he is kissing her, his free hand tangling in her hair as he pulls her more tightly against him. She pulls back after a moment, just far enough to break the kiss. Her lips brush against his as she murmurs, “No time for fun, just now, my pet. We have work to do.” And then she is walking away from him, approaching the door that opens into the demon realm.

Dameon falls to his knees, retching silently. What has he done? What has she done? He is disgusted with his weakness, even as his body yearns for her. He wants to crawl back to Rhen to beg her forgiveness, although he knows he does not deserve it. He wants to catch Eithera up in his arms, although he does not know whether he wants to kiss her or to kill her, is not certain if there is a difference. He moans quietly in despair.

Eithera looks back at Dameon’s prone body, and smiles slightly to herself. Oh yes, she thinks, this is going very well. She turns to finish the enchantment that will allow her and Dameon to pass through the portal without unlocking the door from the other side – it is not yet time to unleash demons on the world. When she is done, she turns back to Dameon and grabs him roughly by the collar of his robes. “Come along now, my pet. I have somebody I want you to see.” She walks through the door, Dameon stumbling blindly alongside, and they disappear without so much as a flash of light to mark their passage.

*sobs unrestrainedly*

I've been following this repost from the beginning. I'm sorry if my comments are few and far between. But WHY????? Poor Dameon... Poor Rhen... *continues sobbing*

I remember reading this the first time and feelings so sad then, but the second time around made me chuckle. Dameon seems weak and prone to getting bullied by his ex. XD He reminds me of Devin (which is a good thing in a weird way, since Devin is awesome ^^ lol).
Like before, I think it's also quite a wicked twist that he and Eithera were together. (I think Rhen didn't know of their relationship, eh?) XD Before I used to think that he was dwelling over losing Rhen and was just alone in the aveyond and 'innocent.'
Guess not, he's always been a bad boy at heart, so it seems.

@aislingyngaio: hmmm.... well... I guess it makes the story more engaging? But see, there's hope after all... Dis found it amusing(!) the second time around. I'm glad you are still "enjoying" the story. Hope to see you around more!

@Dis: Well, in his defense, she is the Druid of Strength, after all. She's got to be pretty powerful and overbearing. You know, when I started writing the story, I hadn't realized that Dameon and Eithera had been together either. It was quite a shocker when I realized what he'd been up to during his 15 years of moping.

*****

Chapter 19:

Rhen watches Dameon as he retreats from the shrine room with Eithera, each step that he takes piercing her like a sword. By the time he has disappeared from view down the corridor, Rhen feels as though she must be dead. It is a surprise to her that her heart is still beating, her lungs are still breathing. She sinks to the floor, hands wrapped protectively over her belly, too drained to even cry. She is a fool. She has already lost her husband and her children to her foolishness. And now… now she has lost Dameon, too. If it were not so cruel, it might even be funny. Surely she has gotten what she deserves. She wishes that she could will her heart to stop beating, perhaps then the pain would ease. She rubs her still-flat belly gently, wishing that she could feel some sign of the life she knows is growing there, the only hope left to her in the world.

“Rhen,” says Talver softly, awkwardly patting her shoulder. He wants to say more, but there is nothing to say.

She clasps his hand gratefully, eternally thankful that he has not asked her if she is all right or told her that everything will work out eventually or any of the other equally useless things he could say. For a time, they sit in silence.

Finally, Rhen takes a deep breath and then another. She forces her mouth to start moving, forces the words to start forming. “We must… get… to Veldt,” she manages after several attempts. Her voice sounds flat and lifeless even to her own ears.

Talver looks at her searchingly, but asks no questions. He does not want to aid her on a suicide quest. He sees Death in her eyes, but he sees something else as well. Perhaps she does want to live, or if not live, at least survive for a time. “We must find swords if we are to make it to Veldt alive,” he ventures finally.

She rewards him with a mirthless smile. “The Druid of Agriculture keeps a most impressive store of arms. Surely, the Druid of Strength will have an even more impressive collection.”

*****

As it turns out, Rhen had been right about Eithera’s storerooms. They are full to overflowing of enchanted and finely-crafted weapons and armor. After much digging around, Rhen and Talver are both able to find light-weight Elvish armor and perfectly balanced long swords. Out of the sheer pleasure of having such well-made equipment, they spar for a few minutes down in the storeroom.

It is a delight to hold such a sword again, and Rhen and Talver quickly settle into a rhythn of thrust and parry, advance and retreat – not so much fighting each others as performing a sort of stately dance. Rhen’s awareness is focused entirely on the intricate steps of their sword play, pushing out all thoughts of Dameon’s betrayal and her own failures as the Chosen One. At first Rhen does not recognize the feeling growing inside her, but it grows stronger with each move – a pounding in her chest, matching the rhythm of the swords. It spreads through her body, heightening her awareness, reaching through her arm and into her sword until it feels as though her sword has become part of her body. She draws the blade’s power back into herself effortlessly, her body’s dance shifting slightly, sliding around Talver’s balde, allowing his arm to overextend, thrusting toward his unprotected side. Her throat starts to form a piercing, shrieking cry before she realizes what is happening. She stops abruptly, frozen in shock, and the spell, so very nearly completed, backfires painfully against her. Talver manages to twist his arm on his backswing, so that he hits her across the chest with the flat, rather than the edge, of his blade. Rhen stands reeling from the pair of painful blows, her face an unreadable jumble of emotions, but a strange incongrous smile touching the corners of her lips.

“Rhen, Rhen! What is wrong?” calls out Talver, dropping his blade. “What has happened? Are you all right?”

“Slide Thrust,” says Rhen, wonderingly, her smile widening imperceptibly.

Talver stares at her as if she has just started speaking in tongues. “Rhen, what are you talking about?”

“Slide Thrust,” Rhen repeats. “I very nearly cast Slide Thrust upon you, Talver. It was the very first spell that I learned back at Shadwood – the only spell I knew for the longest time. Oh, Talver, I was afraid that I would never Sing again.” Rhen allows her sword to drop to the ground alongside Talvers, and she throws her arms about him, laughing and crying at the same time. “Oh, Talver, I am still a Sword Singer. I have not lost everything after all.” She hugs him tightly a moment longer before growing somber again. “…Not yet anyway.” She stoops to pick up both swords, sheathing hers and handing Talver’s to him. “We should be on our way. I… I don’t want to stay in this temple any longer than necessary.”

Excellent! Rhen is back in the game!!! Y'know, this story's gonna change my perception of Eithera forever XD

Quote:geez, what is wrong with her? dude, my man walks out with another woman, i'm not about to sit around moping about it, i don't care who she is.
ah, veldt...good times. good times. XD

This is so nice, I can't wait for an update.

Nice story.I'm just waiting for more.

@aislingyngaio: I know, I know. But it's not my fault, I swear! Amanda set it up, you know with destroying her shrine and all.

@kaz: Well, you know, she's feeling a little guilty. As well, I suppose, she should -- walking out on her responsibilities (TWICE!) Kind of like how bad Elini feels in your story.

@Animalaa, phoenixalia: Thanks! It's always nice to have new readers.

@All: Sorry for the long delay. I was thinking I might re-order some of the sections starting with this one. But I haven't had time to work on it, so this sticks with the original order. But there may be some changes in the future...

*****

Chapter 20:

Rhen and Talver peer cautiously out of the front door of the temple. Stronghold Temple is dramatically situated in the middle of a large underground lake. An enormous waterfall crashes into the lake behind the temple. The demon caves are rich in iron ore, causing the water to pick up the rust-red tint of old blood. The sight causes Rhen’s stomach to lurch, and she is forced to close her eyes for a minute, pressing on her stomach and willing it to stay calm. This is not the time, she thinks to herself, for morning sickness to kick in.

She opens her eyes, forcing herself to focus on the steps of the temple. “The Temple has a powerful protective boundary,” she explains to Talver. “It extends past the lake and through the first chamber of the Demon Caves, there,” she says pointing. “It keeps out the dragons and the imps, which is good. We might stand a chance against imps, but there is no way we could survive against a dragon. Not without…” she pauses for a moment, feeling as though her heart is about to burst. She takes a deep breath and forces herself to continue, “…not without Dameon’s fire shields.”

Talver waits a moment, but Rhen appears to be utterly lost to her thoughts. “Won’t Eithera have let down the boundaries?” he asks cautiously.

Rhen blinks, taking a minute to emerge from her thoughts. “I don’t think so. She can’t let the Oracle find out that she is working against us. She will need to keep appearances up.”

Talver is somewhat reassured by her logic as far as it goes, which, unfortunately, is not as far as the entrance to the Demon Caves. “But what about outside the boundary,” he asks hesitantly. “That cavern was crawling with monsters. How will we make it all the way across?”

“We shouldn’t have to,” says Rhen, more confidently than she feels. “There are portals along the way to help the temple’s pilgrims. All we have to do is make it to the nearest portal. It should take us right to the cavern entrance.” She hopes that Eithera has not thought about redirecting the portals, or that, if she has thought of it, fear of being discovered as a traitor has kept her from doing it. If the portal takes them further into the Demon Caves…. She leaves the thought unfinished, even to herself. “Come. Let’s go. We gain nothing by standing here.”

Slowly, carefully, cautiously they make their way down the temple steps and across the blood-red lake. They feel unseen eyes watching them from the temple, and with every step they wait for some trap to spring around them. Luck is with them, however, at least for the moment. They make it into the small cavern without any hindrance. They huddle at the entrance to the large cavern watching the monsters milling about. Rhen points out the nearest portal. “It is not so far. We should be all right, as long as we wait for a moment when there are no dragons between us and the portal.”

When their chance comes, Rhen and Talver clasp each other’s hands. They do not want to get separated. They edge out into the cavern, hoping to stay mostly to the shadows. As soon as they cross the invisible boundary, however, a loud piercing cry rends the air. Eithera’s disembodied voice calls shrilly, “Thieves! Thieves! Thieves!” Every monster in the cavern turns towards Rhen and Talver.

“Run for it, NOW!” Rhen cries to Talver, giving up on stealth and running as quickly as she is able towards the portal, all the while pulling urgently on Talver’s hand. A fierce-looking blue dragon stands dangerously near the portal, drawing in a massive breath. “Run!” she calls, forcing her eyes away from the dragon and onto the portal. Rhen feels the cool tingle of the portal passing over her at the same time as she feels the first blast of the dragon’s fiery breath at her back. For a moment, unendurable searing pain engulfs her leg and then they are through. Rhen gasps in relief as she sees the Southern desert beckoning to them through the nearby cave entrance. The monsters are all gathered at the far end of the cavern, and they are able to quickly limp out into the relative safety of the open desert.

Rhen collapses as soon as they are free of the caves, tears streaming down her face from the pain of the burns along the back side of her leg. She can walk on it – barely – but it is painful. “Ah, if only…” she cuts herself off before she goes so far as to mention Dameon’s name. She recovers in time to finish with “… if only Captain Blaine had not confiscated our healing restoratives,” but the memory of Dameon’s soothing hands, healing her as he has done so many times, brings fresh tears to her eyes. Angrily, she dashes the tears from her face and stands up. “Come. Let us hurry to Veldt.”

The journey to Veldt is as unpleasant as any she has experienced in the Southern Desert. The painful burns on her leg bring tears to her eye with every step. The sun and the flying sands torment every inch of exposed skin. She is hungry. She is thirsty. She wants to die. Only the thought of the unborn child growing in her womb gives her the strength to carry on towards Veldt. Luckily, Captain Blaine’s men seem to have done a decent job of frightening off the desert’s predators. They come across the grisly remains of several packs of hyenas and even a few giant scorpions, but not even a distant sighting of their living brethren. “Well, I guess we do owe Captain Blaine a bit of appreciation,” mutters Rhen grimly. She is relieved that she will not have to fight on her injured leg.

After a seeming eternity of walking, although it could not have been more than several hours, they finally come to the strange statues that mark the entrance to the city. Talver gazes in wonder at the massive, scantily-clad women until Rhen nudges him. “Be careful, Talver. The women of Veldt are always on the lookout for new husbands.”

Talver tears his eyes from the statues hastily, “What do you mean, Rhen?”

“Did you not know, Talver?” says Rhen, lightly, enjoying the chance to tease her friend. “The women of Veldt take many husbands. I am not sure that I have ever met a woman from Veldt who would not happily add another to her… collection.”

Talver swallows nervously, but bravely bids them to continue on into the city. They move quickly through the streets. Rhen is eager to see her old friend and travelling companion again, and after Talver notices the frankly appraising stares he is receiving from the townswomen he is anxious to be off the streets as well. Before long they are standing at the door of Elini’s tower on one of the upper plateaus. “I do hope that she is home,” murmurs Rhen as she raises her hand to knock on the door. Before she can knock, however, she is distracted by the sounds of playing children on the path behind them. Rhen is so powerfully reminded of Clearwater that she turns without thinking. For the first heartbeat, she is not at all surprised to see her two younger children chasing each other up the path. Reality crashes back around her a moment later, and she raises her eyes to see Elini and Danny, walking hand in hand up the path. Elini’s eyes meet Rhen’s a split second later, and the color drains from her face.

uh oh... out of the frying pan and into the fire... I really do feel for Rhen... (WHAT'S WITH THE HAND IN HAND PART??????????)

okay, i suppose she should feel guilty. maybe i've seen too much jerry springer.

this is a great chapter (not that they all aren't). i still like eithera's security system; i was reminded of the 'alarm' at grimmauld place even before i got to that part.

wakakaka a fellow Harry Potter reader? Excellent!

@aislingyngaio: Holding hands.... Believe me, no matter what you are thinking... well, it's probably worse Sorry, you'll have to wait for the next chapter to find out, but in the meantime you'll get... well... you'll see

@kaz: Thanks, kaz! It's an honor to be mentioned (favorably) with Harry Potter.

@all: To anyone who is still reading even after my abysmal dropping of the ball, thank you! I can't believe it's been THREE WEEKS since I updated, and I'm only reposting. *CherryWine hits head against wall*

Anyhow, I've got good news and bad news. The bad news is that I will be off-line for a week. The good news is that it is because I am going to a writer's retreat! I am so incredibly looking forward to it. I hope, when I get back to be updating more. Although it is hard to say whether my energy will be with Rhen & Co or Kir (in Rhiannon Rising) or something else entirely.

*****

Chapter 21:

A hot wind scours Dameon’s face and arms, snapping him out of his self-pity. Eithera has stopped walking and is facing him with a slight smile on her face. “Ah,” she says contentedly as a snake pokes it’s head out of the neck of her dress. “it is good to be home.” The snake hisses in agreement, and Eithera gives an ecstatic shudder. “Do you not agree, Dameon?” Dameon leaves the question hanging in the air between them. He feels claws raking his neck and slaps at them without thinking. There is nothing there. It is only a tattoo – as Eithera’s snake is only a tattoo – to mark them, non-demons that they are, as welcome in the demon realm.

With some effort, Dameon pulls his eyes from the snake writhing around Eithera’s neck and looks towards the sky. The clouds, striated black and red, whirling madly all around, echo his own internal turmoil. He has not set foot in the demon realm for many years. Not since the day that Rhen saved him from his own misguided darkness, and he helped her defeat Ahriman. Ah, Rhen! He had forgotten how good it feels to be here. He had forgotten how the wild flow of anger and hate pulse through his body, his mind, his heart when he is here. He had forgotten how powerfully alive he feels when he is here. He feels the tatoo lynx settle more comfortably around his neck, its paws kneading at his chest, claws mostly sheathed, the periodic scratch serving to maintain his heightened awareness.

Eithera leads them through the desolate wasteland of the demon realm, and the images of grass, of sun, of green growing things grows ever fainter in Dameon’s mind. Anger, hatred, rage, loathing. With every heartbeat they grow stronger, while love and gentleness are scoured away by the never-ceasing winds. Eithera had been right, after all, Dameon realizes. He has grown soft. And it is the softness that has made everything seem so difficult. So confusing. As his anger, so long supressed, finally flows unfettered through him, Dameon begins to realize that life need not be so complicated after all. “Eithera,” he calls out, his voice rough from long silence and from desire. She stops and turns to face him, smiling warmly and holding her arms open for an embrace that he eagerly returns. When he is able to speak again, he finally answers her question. “Yes. It is good to be home.”

*****

It seems they have been walking for days, although it is possible that it has been only hours. The glorious re-awakening has faded some. Dameon is angry, frustrated, tired and bored in equal measure. Eithera seems to be leading them toward the foothills of the Demon Range. They are unlike anything Dameon has ever seen in the human realm. Strange lumpy hills rise abruptly from the monotonously flat plains. Their irregularly shaped peaks make them look as though some monstrous creatures had once broken the tops off much larger mountains leaving behind only these misshapen stumps.

Dameon glares ahead at Eithera’s snake tattoo. At the moment it is wrapping itself langorously around her upper thigh. He is certain he has seen the cursed snake sticking its tongue out at him laughing, when it can be bothered to notice him at all. The cat tattoo kneads its claws in Dameon’s scalp, adding to his anger. It lashes its tail furiously as it stares hungrily at the snake, each twitch choking him momentarily as the tail winds tightly around Dameon’s neck. He wants to kill the snake. He wants to rip the snake to shreds and devour its lifeless quivering body. He wants to be the snake. He wants…

Suddenly, his intent focus on Eithera’s upper thigh is interrupted by an inhuman screech. It takes Dameon a moment to recognize Saurva – the demon has acquired a set of large, leathery bat-like wings and a thick gold band encircles his neck. He drops suddenly to the ground, mere inches from Dameon. “So,” he snarls, “I thought that I recognized your foul stench, Sun Priest. You are even more of a fool than I thought if you think that you can set foot here again and live to tell the tale.”

“I killed you once, demon. It would be a pleasure to do so again,” replies Dameon, dismissively.

Suavra throws back his head and howls his rage to the sky. “I would like to see you try, Sun Priest. You have no Sword…”

“Enough of this!” snaps Eithera. “We do not have time for these playground taunts.” Sauvra and Dameon both turn to glare at Eithera, but she continues speaking in a softer, and much more dangerous voice. “I do not believe that Darius would be pleased with you, Sauvra, if you damaged his son. You are already bonded,” she says glancing pointedly at the gold band around his neck, “How much do you think it will take to lose his favor completely? You would be wise, I think, to stick to your messenger duties.”

Dameon loses track of the conversation. He is only vaguely aware of Sauvra glaring at Eithera before flying off. He is in shock. He feels as if he has just been punched in the stomach, or worse. She cannot possibly have said what he heard her say. She cannot possibly have meant… His father is dead. He saw him die. He saw Talia’s dagger sticking from his throat. He saw the blood.

He is fifteen again, kneeling in front of his father’s body. He is trying to staunch the bleeding, but it just won’t stop. The blood is everywhere. The hilt of Talia’s dagger quivers with every slowing heartbeat. He is afraid to take it out. If only he were a Priest already. Then he could stop the bleeding. Then he could save his father.

He raises his eyes from Darius’s lifeless body, looking for his mother with murder in his heart. He sees her standing there, hands hanging limply at her sides, head bent. He wants to kill her. How could she have done this? She approaches him slowly, places a hand on his shoulder, “Dameon? Are you all right?”

“All right?” he roars. He grabs her arm, throwing her to the ground. Quickly he straddles her, his hands wrapped around her neck. He will make her pay. Distantly he hears the warning hiss of a snake, and then Eithera’s tattoo strikes painfully at his fingers. His grip loosens instictively, and he is shocked to see that it is Eithera and not Talia that he has been throttling. Eithera, however, smiles widely and, wrapping her arms up around his back, pulls him towards her. She kisses him intensely, and Dameon feels his killing rage of a moment before turning into an entirely different, if hardly less violent, passion.

Quote:
Might it have clawed off his hair before? jk

Nice. Glad to see yah updating again, Cherry. W00t! 10 more to go!

glad you're still with us, cherry; i was beginning to think you didn't love us anymore.
great chapter (as are they all). the tattoos rock. wonder where i can get some like that?...
a writer's retreat - sounds awesome! hope you have a great time!

@Dis: Hmmm.... maybe that is what happened to his hair! Maybe 9 more to go... or maybe more. I've been renumbering as I go along. This one used to be Chapter 17!

@kaz: Of course I love you guys! I've just been wanting to re-write parts of this. I keep hoping to have time/energy. I should know better.

The retreat was awesome! I am so not ready for work tomorrow. It was a writing and meditation retreat up in the mountains. I got some good work done on Kir's story, so that may start showing up some day...

*****

Chapter 22:

For a moment – just a moment—the entire tableau is frozen, although in Rhen’s memory the moment will last a lifetime. It is her four-year-old, Kai, who moves first. Ignoring his older sister, he runs as quickly as his still-short and slightly chubby legs can carry him, straight to Rhen, burying his head against her and wrapping his arms so tightly around her legs that she nearly topples over. “Mommy! Mommy! I knew you weren’t deaded! I knew it!”

Biting her lip to keep from crying out from the pain of the hug against her burned leg, Rhen gently loosens Kai’s grasp and drops to her knees to hug him tightly. “Oh, Kai” she murmurs into his hair. “I’ve missed you so much.” For a moment she allows herself to be lost in the smell of his hair, the feel of his perfect precious arms around her neck. As the tears course freely down her cheeks, she raises her eyes to search for her ten-year-old.

Sylvie is standing exactly where she had been when she had first seen her mother on the path. She is older and wiser by far than her baby brother, Kai. She knows that something is wrong, although she cannot quite put all the pieces together on her own. Her older sister will help her figure it out, she is sure. Finally, seeing the expectant look on her mother’s face, the arm held open to hug her, she throws her doubts and questions aside, at least for the moment, and runs into her mother’s arms.

“Sylvie! Kai! I love you so much!” cries Rhen. She cuts herself off before she can say more, before she says more than their young ears need to hear. She takes a deep breath and then another, trying to calm herself. When she has managed to stop crying and thinks that she can keep her voice even, she pushes them ever-so-gently away from her. “Let me see you,” she says. “Oh Kai, you’ve grown so much! Such a handsome lad you are.” Kai puffs his chest out proudly, soaking in his mother’s compliments. “Sylvie,” continues Rhen with a quiet chuckle at Kai’s antics, “you are so grown up now! Almost a lady!” Rhen knows that she is gushing, hopes she is not overdoing it. She hopes that somehow, if she can just find the right words, take the right tone, that she can make her shocking absence and this unexpected reunion just another part of a normal childhood.

Sylive looks dubiously at her mother. “If you think I’m all grown up, just wait until you see Alaya.”

A sense of foreboding comes over Rhen at the mention of her eldest, fourteen-year-old Alaya. She hides her dismay with another tight hug, then pats her two youngest children gently on the back and stands. “Run along inside now, children” she says as lightly as she is able. “I need to talk with your father, now.”

Sylive rolls her eyes, but grabs Kai by the hand and pulls him toward the door. “Come on, Kai,” she whispers, giggling, “Alaya is not going to believe this.”

Rhen suppresses a sigh. She wishes that she could talk to Alaya herself, but it will have to wait for now. She pushes Talver gently, urging him to follow the children inside. Then, steeling herself, she turns her attention back down the path to where Elini and Danny still stand, no longer holding hands, but both watching her closely. Elini is still pale, as if she had seen a ghost, but she walks resolutely up the path towards Rhen as soon as the children have disappeared inside.

“By the gods, Rhen, you are alive!” says Elini clasping Rhen’s hands together in both of her hands. She kisses Rhen’s hands, then drops to her knees. “My life is yours,” she says, “Know that I would never have married Danny had I suspected that you were alive. I just ask, out of our old friendship, that you make it quick,” and Elini prostrates herself in front of Rhen, carefully pulling her hair from the back of her neck.

“Elini,” says Rhen aghast, “what in the name of all that is holy are you talking about?”

“I have taken your husband,” says Elini simply. “My life is yours. It is the law.”

It is much too much for Rhen to take in all at once. Her children. Her husband – now Elini’s husband, apparently. Her old friend asking for a merciful death. “Elini,” says Rhen, stuttering through her suppressed sobs, “I c-came here for help and s-s-support. I didn’t come here to k-k-kill you!” Her shock and exhaustion finally overtake her, and she falls to the ground crying bitterly. Talver rushes from the house, glaring angrily at the strangers who have caused Rhen so much distress. He kneels beside her and gently strokes her back until her tears finally stop and her breathing becomes slow and even.

Curtains gently flutter in a window up above, as two small faces pull away, no longer interested in the scene unfolding below them. A third face remains pressed tight against the glass, a thoughtful look in the eyes that never waver from Talver as he hovers protectively over Rhen.

*****

When Rhen wakes, she finds herself laying in Elini’s bed, a bizarre combination of rock-hard mattress and delicate lace canopy. Rhen shifts irritably, trying to find a comfortable position. Elini had always insisted on a firm mattress to keep her from going soft, she said, during her infrequent stays in Veldt. Her movements act as a summons for Danny, who has been sitting vigil.

“Ah, Rhen,” says Danny in his deeply comforting rumble, “it is so good to see you again. Akward. Definitely akward. But I am glad to see you. You, however, must think I am the most worthless excuse for a sack of bones to ever disgrace the face of the Arishta Isles.”

In spite of herself, Rhen starts to giggle. “Danny, I swear I would never think such a thing of you.” She wants to sink into the easy camraderie that Danny seems to be offering, but she is caught up by her own guilt. Danny’s infildetity is writ large for the world to see. Hers, for the time being, is a secret that she need not even share. “Listen, Danny,” she starts hesitantly, “there really is something you should know…”

“No, Rhen, please. Let me go first,” interrupts Danny, suddenly serious. “I died inside the day you left us. Letting you go was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life.”

“Then why did you?” asks Rhen through the tears that have suddenly sprung to her eyes. What would she have done if Danny had tried to make her stay that morning?

Danny does not answer for several minutes. When he finally starts speaking again, his voice is distant and even, belying the unshed tears in his eyes. “It seems like a lifetime ago that you came back to Clearwater after all of your adventures. I… I couldn’t understand what brought you back. I was never foolish enough to believe that it was me.”

Rhen starts to protest, but Danny holds up a hand, “No, please, Rhen. Let me finish.” Rhen bites her lip, but eases herself back on the pillows. She misses the easy, teasing Danny of a few minutes ago. She does not want to revisit her decision of fifteen years ago.

Once Danny is satisfied that Rhen is listening, he continues, “I couldn’t believe my luck when you said that you wanted to marry me. It was my boyhood dream come true.”

This time Rhen cannot hold herself back, “It was my dream come true, too, Danny! It was a dream come true.”

“Perhaps it was at that,” Danny says with a sad smile, and he leans over to kiss her gently on the forehead. “Perhaps it was a dream come true. But it was a childhood dream, and it belonged to childhood. My dreams changed after you came back. It started on our wedding night – after we had gone to sleep,” Danny adds hurriedly upon noticing Rhen’s suddenly crimson cheeks. “A nasty old lady visited me in my dreams that night. She thumped me with her cane and said to me, ‘So, you’re the one the Chosen One chose. Hmph. I can’t say that I can See why. Well, just remember this, Danny, you’ve got her on borrowed time, my lad,’ and then she disappeared.”

“Oh, Danny, how perfectly dreadful!” cries Rhen, but Danny doesn’t seem to hear her.

“That was the beginning. After that, I would occasionally have these dreams – nightmares, really. They were always different, but always the same, you know. They always started with me waking up alone in our bed. Frantically I would go looking for you, but whenever I found you, wherever you were, whatever you were doing, I could tell that you were different. My beloved Rhen had been replaced in the night, like a changeling, and nothing I could do was right. Oh, you would stay if I asked you to, but terrible things would start to happen. Our children would die horrible, painful deaths right in front of our eyes. Clearwater would be destroyed. It was awful. Finally, I learned that I had to let you leave. I couldn’t follow you – those dreams were awful, too. No, I just had to let… you… go.” He trails off for a moment, lost in the misery of all those hopeless nights. “The last one I had was the morning you left,” he says, sadly. “When I woke and found that my dream was true, I knew I didn’t have a choice. I had to. I had to let… you… go.”

Rhen stares in shock at Danny. In all their years together she had never suspected anything like this. She had known that he suffered from nightmares occasionally, but he had never told her what they were about… always claimed that he couldn’t remember them. Talia and the Oracle had been busy. For the first time, Rhen starts to understand the anger that Dameon could harbor towards his mother. For the first time, Rhen begins to resent Talia and her endless meddling. It takes her a moment to realize that she is, in fact, trying to rescue Talia. That worthless old bat, Rhen thinks angrily. For one split second, Rhen wants to give it all up and throw herself into Danny’s strong arms again. To forget everything that has happened in the last seven months and go back to her quiet, peaceful life. But in the next moment, Rhen is almost overcome by a powerful wave of nausea. Too late, she realizes. It is much too late to go back now.

“After you left,” continues Danny, “it didn’t take me long to realize that I couldn’t stay in Clearwater. I felt like I had died, but I also felt more awake than I had in years. I felt trapped in such a small village. And, oh, the widows would not give me any peace. I… uh... I had told everyone that you died, you see. I didn’t want the kids to feel like you had left them, so I… I said that you had stumbled and fell down the Heights while we were out picking mushrooms in the early morning. Oh, Rhen, I’m sorry. That’s really what’s made the current mess. I told everyone that you were dead, and I tried to believe it. And really, it did feel almost like it was true. I never thought that I would see you again.” Danny’s eyes are a bit wild by this point, and Rhen tries to pat him comfortingly, but he shrugs off her arm, “I wasn’t looking to get married again. I… I came to Veldt because I wanted to visit Elini. I… I… I thought maybe this would be a good place for the girls to grow up, and it is I think. I don’t know. I wanted another adventure. I… I couldn’t stay there anymore. I just couldn’t. Elini…” his voice trails off, and for a moment Rhen can see in his face that he is truly in love, “Elini got me back on my feet. She asked me to stay, and I don’t know what came over me. I just… I just asked her to marry me. Oh, Rhen. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry about everything. I should… I should probably let you get some more rest,” and then Danny is running out of the room, barely ahead of the tears falling from his eyes.

“Oh, Danny,” says Rhen softly after his retreating figure, “there is nothing to forgive.”

wow seven months? that figures. poor everyone.

@aislingyngaio: It used to only be about 2 months... I let Rhen and Dameon hang out longer in Sedona this time, but I just don't think I can make it longer than about seven months. She left Clearwater in the early spring and they left Sedona in the autumn... Sorry, enough rambling. Danny had a lot to deal with.

*****

Chapter 23

“Ouch!” Alaya jumps as her needle pricks her finger. She quickly drops her embroidery and pops her finger into her mouth, hoping to keep any blood from staining her needlework. She sees Talver looking over at her sympathetically, but his glance just makes her feel more foolish. She feels the blood rising in her cheeks, and looks away hurriedly. Her eyes fall to her embroidery, seemingly the only safe spot for her eyes in the whole room. She examines her work critically, looking for any sign of resemblance to the rose that she is trying to embroider. She sighs. There is none. If anything, it looks more like a sickly green dragon has just coughed up a fireball.

She sighs again. In Clearwater she had never done needlework. She had been a peasant, and her life had been full of the things that servants did for her now. She would have thought that she would enjoy being a noblewoman, but so far it has been dreary. Lessons, needlework and lots and lots of just sitting. She misses running.

She hears heavy footsteps coming down the stairs, and she looks up to see her father holding his head in his hands, pausing for a moment before entering the room. His eyes meet Alaya’s when he looks up, and he tries to smile naturally, but Alaya can tell it is forced. He walks over to her and pats her on the shoulder, looking down at her embroidery as he does so. “Lovely work, Alaya. Lovely. Is it a fish?”

She glares up at him. “It’s a rose!” she says angrily, but then she giggles despite herself. “Do you really think it looks like a fish? I thought it looked more like a dragon.”

“Mighty scrawny for a dragon, I’d say,” he answers with good humor, and ruffles her hair. “Listen, dear, your mother’s awake now, and she hasn’t had a chance to talk to you yet. Why don’t you go on upstairs and let her see you, now.”

The smile freezes on Alaya’s face, and her all-too-brief good mood dissolves as if it had never been. Cold fear and white hot rage war within her heart, a battle that had started the moment Sylvie raced into their room yesterday evening with the unbelievable news that their mother was standing at the front door. Alaya glances down at her hand, gathering strength from the glint of her tawdry ring, and takes a deep breath. “Very well, father,” she says and kisses him on the cheek as she rises.

Alaya walks up the stairs quietly. Perhaps her mother will have fallen back asleep, and she won’t have to talk to her yet. But when Alaya reaches the door, she sees Rhen lying in Elini’s bed, eyes wide open though unfocused. Her mother. Elini’s bed. Elini’s bed. The injustice of it all crashes over her and before she knows it, she is almost shouting, “So you think you can just waltz back into our lives, just like that? You think it’s that easy, do you? How dare you try to replace my mother!” Alaya is shocked to hear the words come out her mouth, and fear freezes the rest of her her tirade. She has gone too far. She knows it. But she is still angry.

Rhen’s eyes close for a moment before looking to see Alaya standing in the doorway. “Alaya,” she says quietly, “I am your mother.”

Alaya feels her fury like a fire engulfing her. “Really? My mother? You really think that you are my mother? Elini is more a mother to me than you have ever been!" she knows that she is exaggerating, but her anger seems to be speaking for itself now, "Mothers do not just walk out on their families! They do not just leave their children! What kind of a mother do you think that you are?” Alaya fights hard to control her voice. She does not want Talver to hear her screaming like a… like an ungrateful child.

“I don’t know, Alaya,” says Rhen sadly. She slowly gets up from the bed. Alaya is as tall as she is now, Rhen is surprised to note. Sylive was right, Alaya is all grown up. And Rhen is surprised to realize that Alaya is the same age that Rhen was when she was kidnapped from Clearwater all those many years ago. “I don’t know,” she repeats herself and embraces her daughter.

Alaya freezes. She was not expecting this. She wants to fight. She needs to fight. She holds still for as long as she can stand it, and then she shrugs off her mother’s hug. “Feeling a bit sorry, are we,” she hisses. She wishes that her mother would put up a fight. “Well, it’s just a bit late for that, don’t you think? Perhaps a better time might have been… hmm… oh, I know! Maybe before you left us with nothing more than this cheap copy of a diamond ring!” she waves her hand in front of Rhen’s face for a moment before pretending to examine the ring closely. “What a lovely parting present. A fake wedding ring from a fake mother.” Alaya braces herself for the blow that she knows that she deserves, but nothing happens.

“Alaya,” says Rhen grimmly, finally breaking the tense silence, “there is nothing that you can say to me that I have not already said to myself.”

Alaya stares at her mother for a moment, then storms out of the room. She takes a moment to gather herself on the stairs, trying to control her rage. As soon as she is able to breathe evenly again, she joins the others in the sitting room. Smiling as cheerfully as she is able, she announces, “I am going to the market to buy some fresh flowers for Mother’s room. Sir Knight, would you please accompany me?” She glances shyly at Talver and tries to flutter her eyelashes in the way that her new royal cousins have been teaching her.

Talver looks at her in surprise, “It would be an honor, m’lady,” he says formally. “Although I am not a knight.”

Alaya grasps Talver’s arm and leads him out of the room. “Oh, but you must be a knight. You carry yourself like one,” she simpers. She has seen him hovering so protectively over her mother. It he was the reason why their mother had left them, well… she would show her! Besides, she thinks, glancing appreciatively at his strong arms and handsome face, he is much too young for Rhen.

*****

Rhen stares pensively after the retreating form of her daughter. Alaya’s words had cut into her like daggers, and she savors the pain as her rightful punishment, a badge to proclaim her failure as a mother, her failure as a wife. She has failed at everything she has set her hand to. Eithera’s scornful words rise up in her mind and cut a vicious counterpoint against Alaya’s enraged ones.

So, you waste yourself on this pathetic excuse of a Chosen One?

A fake wedding ring from a fake mother.

Over and over again she sees Dameon lift his hand to cup Eithera’s chin and bring her in for a kiss. How could she have been such a fool?

Slowly she paces back and forth across Elini’s room, her hands absently rubbing her belly, tears falling unnoticed from her eyes. Spiteful words chase unendingly through her head punctuated by images of Danny’s face as he speaks of Elini, Dameon leaving with Eithera. Each step takes her deeper into her despair. Her feet feel heavier with each step she takes until it seems that she should not be able to move at all, but she continues walking back and forth, back and forth, afraid that if she stops, she will never be able to move again.

Whee, I finally caught up again. Man, I must say I would have reacted exactly like Alaya. She should be angry after what's happened. Sorry Rhen...

Quote:
Eh, didn't her "grandmother" (the nameless one married to Tailor) teach her anything or is she just bad at sewing? lol, Maybe she should make Talver some shoes, eh? jk

Anyhoo, yay! 8 chaps to go before an update!

oh, grow up, rhen.
but this is where the fun begins. (hehehe.) i seem to recall that a certain someone has some powerful 'friends'...