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Part 26

A drop of sweat ran down Youlan's forehead as she concentrated on the half a dozen rings of glowing symbols that surrounded the weapon. Never before had mana felt so slippery, so hard to control, like trying to push a heavy load across a puddle of grease. Every time she thought she had found a foothold, Youlan's control would falter and she would nearly lose control entirely.

"Damn it." Youlan muttered to herself as she continued to fiddle with the outer casing of the mana bomb. She still felt ill just being near the wretched device, but at least Fern's talking helped. Still, it took effort to resist the urge to punch the device.

Fern was still perched on her barrel, but she was far more relaxed, leaning back and staring up at the high vaulted ceiling as she talked about her family. her voice was helping, but Youlan found her inability to feel any of the extreme discomfort the mana bomb created within her more than a little irritating.

Youlan winced as a twinge of pain flashed through her mind. "Shit! Will you just..."

Fern paused."Did you say something?"

"No, nothing. So, your brothers live on the mainland?" Youlan asked .

"My brother Ginn does, he lives with his mate in the fox coast Hearth. I haven't seen him in years, but he sends me candy sometimes."

"Uh huh."

"My other four brothers live in the west. Then there are my sisters. I think they all live on the mainland with their children now, but I haven't heard from them in a while.."

"How many siblings do you have?" Youlan asked, hoping to distract herself from her growing frustration.

"Seventeen."

"Seventeen?!"

"At least. I'm the youngest, but my mother was considering having another child when I left, so there could be more."

"Huh... and I'd heard you Basitins tended to have smaller families."

"The surfacers do, not so much in the Hearth." Fern shrugged. "Then again, I do have three mothers and five fathers."

Youlan paused. "Wait, what?"

"All three of my mothers are siblings. They raised us all together and all three of them treated me as their daughter. As for my fathers, well... Mating in the Hearth is a little different than for the surfacers. Truth be told, I'm not really sure which of them is my father, neither is my mother for that matter"

"That sounds... incredibly complicated."

"Not really. They all love each other and they all love us. They were all my fathers, so it really doesn't matter whose seed it was that gave me life."

"I suppose that makes some sense. Still, seventeen... You Hearth folk would give the Keidran a run for their money."

Fern crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Not bad, just different."

"And humans don't like 'different', do they?"

"Most humans are as ignorant as they are stupid." Youlan replied, her fingers twitching. "Even my own family. My mother always told me about how promiscuous Keidran are. 'Randy buggers' she called them."

Youlan's tone darkened. "As for my father... His thoughts were more along the lines of 'the more they breed, the more of their children I can sell'. He used to call estrus 'the gold sweats'."

Fern made no attempt to hide the disgust in her voice. "Charming."

"Far as I'm concerned, both my mother and my father were wrong about just about everything in life, so why would their opinions on the Kiedran be any different?"

The circles around the mana bomb flickered and shifted as Youlan felt a rush of rage.

"I think the Keidran are fascinating." Fern said, eager to change the subject. "I've only met as few, but they were all quite nice to me. They keep their connection with nature, with the flow of life. Both of our peoples may look down on them for their shorter lives and more primitive devices and methods, but I think that makes them more connected to the flow of life."

"I tend to agree." Youlan squinted as she tried to regain control. "In fact, that's part of what made me fall in love with Flint."

"Flint?"

"My..." Youlan hesitated.

"It's a manastone, it's a symbol of love to my people. And..."

"And what?"

"Well... it's a symbol of marriage."

"Wha- marriage?!"

"I love you, Youlan. I want to howl your name at the moon, to carve it into the stone, I want you to be mine and mine alone. I want to hold you, every day, from the moment the sun appears to the rise of the moon."

"Flint... I... I don't know what to say."

I... I know it's foolish, but-"

"Yes."

"W-what?"

"Yes, Flint, the moment you are free and we are safe, I will marry you."

The memories stung, but the hatred they used to kindle felt so empty and hollow. Whether it was the fell energy from the mana bomb or just her own feelings, Youlan didn't know, but for a moment she felt as if she were nothing more than a husk, a volcano whose spark had gone out. In that moment, Youlan had never felt so alone.

A single tear ran down Youlan's face. "My... my fiance. He was a keidran, a wolf."

"You... were in love with a keidran?"

"More than just in love, I was going to marry him."

Fern tilted her head. "You are no normal human, are you?"

"I... I honestly don't know. I thought I knew what a normal human was, but I don't even know that any more."

"What happened to him?"

"He... He died... Murdered by the Templar." Youlan glared at the mana bomb. "That's what started this whole mess."

As she spoke, Youlan felt her control slip away completely. The circles around the bomb flickered and vanished.

Youlan had to steady herself to keep from falling as she stumbled back from the bomb.

"Dammit..." she panted.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't seem to get into it." Youlan snarled. For a moment she was tempted to kick the bomb, but settled instead for kicking one of the barrels. "It's fighting me, like it's got a damn mind of its own!."

"Then... this is hopeless?"

Youlan sighed and shook her head. "No... I have another idea, I just need a minute. This piece of junk isn't going to beat me."

Fern watched Youlan as she paced back and forth. After a few moments she spoke. "So, you sought revenge."

Youlan, who had been lost in her own thoughts, turned sharply "What?"

"You sought revenge for your fiance, yes?"

"Of course I did! It was all I could think about for a long time!"

Youlan's hands clenched into fists. "I wanted to hurt the Templar, to kill as many of them as I could. I wanted Legacy most of all, but honestly I didn't really care. Eventually it wasn't just the Templar, but all humans. I just... I just wanted someone to pay for Flint... for his pain..."

Youlan's shoulders slumped. "Revenge, justice, I thought... I though I wanted those things but... I don't even know that anymore."

Fern stared intently at Youlan as she paced.

After a minute or two, Youlan noted Fern's staring. "What? What is it? Why are you staring at me?"

"I was just thinking... It's no wonder you and the weapon affect one another so much."

"What do you mean?"

Fern hopped off the barrel. "Even in the Hearth we've heard tales of the Grand Templar's rage and cruelty. The ones who invaded the Hearth, they told us that it was he who built this weapon."

"And?"

Youlan was surprised and pulled back when Fern reached out to touch her.

"Shhh, it's all right." Fern's voice was quiet and reassuring. "My mother used to do this when i was upset or scared. I mean no harm. Please, trust me."

Reluctantly, Youlan relaxed and allowed Fern to cup her face in her hands. Ferm began to gently rotate her thumbs, massaging Youlan's cheeks, while gently tapping her face with her fingers. Almost immediately Youlan felt intensely relaxed, each breath felt as if she were exhaling poison from deep within her.

"Fate, the world, the universe, runs in patterns." Fern said softly, gently placing her forehead against Youlan's. "They are all strands of the great tapestry, woven together by the Spirits. You and this weapon, you are the same."

Youlan started to protest, but Fern put a finger against her lips. "You are fighting yourself, as much as you are this... thing. Hate, anger, a desire to destroy for the sake of retribution, the feelings that created this weapon also created you."

"So what should I do?"

"When I was little, one of my mothers took me to one of the island's coves to swim."

Still massaging Youlan's face, Fern sighed, her eyes sliding closed. "It was the first time I'd been outside of the Basikal Hearth. The sand, the water, the sun, it was all so wonderful and beautiful. Part of me wanted to live on that beach forever."

Despite a twinge of frustration building at the back of her mind, Youlan felt as if Fern's joy and comfort was being funneled into her. Youlan sighed, her own eyes sliding closed. "Sounds nice."

"My mother taught me how to swim that day. But, while I was swimming, I hit a rip tide. We basitins are natural swimmers, and very strong, but no matter how hard I fought, the current was stronger. Before I knew it, I was being drawn out into the sea."

Youlan, who'd only ever been swimming in a small pond, felt a shiver run up her back at the prospect.

"My mother saw I was in trouble almost immediately and swam out to me. When she reached me, my mother calmed me, and showed me how to escape. Instead of fighting the current directly, we relaxed and allowed the current to take us out. Once the current weakened, we simply swam to the side. Eventually we were free and able to paddle back to shore. If I'd continued to fight, I would have eventually tired and drowned."

Fern released Youlan and stepped back.

"I take it there is a point to this story?" Youlan asked, her frustration beginning to return.

Fern frowned and flicked Youlan's forehead. "The point, silly human, is that you are trying to fight this device with the same feelings that created it. Anger, loneliness, hate, revenge, this device was created by these things!"

Rubbing her forehead, Youlan looked back at the mana bomb.

"Humans channel mana that runs within themselves, guiding it by our will and intent," Youlan muttered. "So if the Grand Templar's intent somehow poisoned the crystals... Hell, he may even have imparted some of his own will on consciousness into the crystals themselves."

"Then you are fighting fire with flame. Trying to drown water with rain."

As Fern spoke, a voice called out from the cellar entrance.

"Youlan!"

Youlan turned to see Davit descending the stairs.

Fern started to raise her spear, but Youlan stopped her. "No! He's a friend."

"Are you alright?" Davit asked as he approached.

Youlan was surprised by the emotion in Davit's normally placid voice.

"I'm fine. What... What about Lord Chariot?"

"Lord Chariot... has passed beyond my ability to help him."

Davit's words struck Youlan harder than she had expected.

"I'm sorry."

"His final command was that I protect you. Davit continued. As he spoke, Davit took one of Youlan's hands in his own. "I intend to honour that command."

Youlan's face turned a red as she felt Davit squeeze her hand gently, his tail curling around her waist as he pulled her close.

"This... isn't part of your oath... is it?" Youlan asked, her heart thudding hard as her breath quickened. The darkness of the mana bomb still pulled at her mind, but it was no longer as overpowering, its sharpness dulled.

"No, this is my own will." Davit squeezed Youlan tighter. "My desire and mine alone."

"You know... being with me could be dangerous. I kinda seem to leave disaster wherever I go."

Davit chuckled softly, reaching up to touch Youlan's ears. "I had a thought on that. There is an island, a tiny little spit of land off the southern coast. Nothing but rocks, trees, ocean, and an abandoned whaling station. I was thinking that perhaps we could go there, once all this is over."

"No people?"

"Nothing but fish, sea birds, and the odd monkey."

"Just... us?"

"Just us."

Youlan smiled, "You know... that doesn't sound so bad."

"No..." Davit said softly, leaning closer. "It doesn't..."

"Uh..." Fern hesitantly raised a hand as Youlan and Davit held one another close. "May I remind you that you are having this conversation within arms reach of a weapon that will burn this place and the nearby city to nothing but ash? Perhaps that should be our focus?"

With a heavy sigh, Youlan nodded, "Right..."

Davit turned to leave, but Youlan stopped him. "Please, stay."

Davit nodded. "I intend to."

Youlan once more approached the table.

"Quiet island, no people." she muttered. "And all I have to do is stop this thing."

As the rings of mana once more formed around the device, Youlan took a deep breath. As the tendrils of mana touched the mana bomb, Youlan felt a sharp pain in her head. For a moment she fought back, grinding against the foul mana from within the device.

"Don't fight the current, go around it..."

Forcing herself to calm down, Youlan instead focused on the glow in her heart that Davit had left. Slowly the pain faded and she was able to once more connect with the crystals within the bomb.

As Youlan got back to work, Fern leaned close to Davit.

"So... you and the human, you two are..."

"It would seem so."

"Huh... suppose it's true what they say, about human women and furry ears."

Davit smiled to himself. "Apparently she's more of a tail girl."

Fern raised an eyebrow, looking down at her own tail, and then Davits, before shrugging and hopping back up onto her barrel.

===

All his life, Auless Falmung had dreamed of being a soldier. He'd been born into a family of warriors, his mother a lieutenant in the navy, his father a captain in the fifth legion, both of whom had fought multiple campaigns in the west. As the son of officers, born in the capital, and possessing slightly above average martial prowess Auless's future was bright. And with his father on excellent terms with the powerful Chariot Family, prestige, glory, and promotions were all but assured. He even dared to hope that, one day, he might become a Great General.

One of his first memories was the joy he felt receiving a sword from his father on his fifth birthday, a piece of brilliant craftsmanship from one of Basidians finest forges. He'd carried the blade everywhere, going on long treks through the jungle with it on his hip, fighting off wave after wave of imaginary Western barbarians.

He remembered wailing for almost a full day when his mother told him that he would need to wait for a year before attending the military academy with his brother and sister.

But most of all, he remembered that each night, before he fell asleep, his father would tell him a story of a soldier, a protector of Basidian. They were great tales, full of heroism and adventure, of great battles and high honour. All of the stories ended the same way, with the brave warrior falling in battle, struck down by a barbaric westerner, a filthy pirate, or a Keidran invader. But in death, the soldier always won, the day was always his in the end, his sacrifice noble and his cause just.

It seemed strange to Auless that all of this should occur to him as he stared down at the blade buried in his chest. In the tales his father had told him, the dying warrior would grab his foes wrist, holding him trapped so that he could be finished off by one of his comrades. But all of Auless's comrades were either fallen, or fighting battles of their own. Even if they had been there, Auless doubted he had the strength remaining to hold onto anything. The sword he had received all those years ago fell from his hand and clattered to the floor.

The moment his opponent pulled her sword from his chest, Auless felt the strength leave his body. His legs gave out and he landed heavily on the stone floor. His opponent was gone, no grandiose speech, no cackle of victory, no mockery of his sacrifice like in the stories, she had merely moved on to her next target.

As he stared up at the burning ceiling above, the strength to even draw breath leaving his body, Auless found it difficult to remember... what it was he had even been fighting for.

Pulling her sword free from her opponent's chest, Marien spun round to engage another Chariot soldier. Her arm muscles protested as she blocked blow after blow from her new from the vibrations of her blade shaking her to her bones.

Marien's foe pressed her attack, trying to open a hole in Marien's defense. Believing Marien to be near exhaustion, the Chariot soldier attacked with sheer brute strength.

Marien did what she could to counter the offensive, waiting for the right moment. Finally, her opponent tried to smash through Marien's blade with a powerful downward swing. The Chariot soldier's sword struck the stone floor as Marien stepped to the side, before delivering a pair of deep cuts to her opponent's face and left hand.

Taking a few seconds to catch a breath as her opponent backed off, Marien quickly scanned the battle.

A few paces away, Volfen was fighting an opponent armed with the same kind of warhammer as the one he wielded. The sound of their weapons slamming against one another rang out loud and clear, even over the roar of battle.

To Marien's left, a pair of Hearth warriors fought side by side, one armed with a spear, the other armed with a sickle for harvesting grain. They attacked in tandem, from long and short range, forcing their opponents farther and farther back.

Marien never would have expected it, but the Hearth Warriors were holding their own. She couldn't say whether it was by skill, confusion of the enemy, or sheer force of will, but they were making a difference.

The sound of her opponent retrieving her fallen sword brought Marien back to the present. The Chariot soldier approached her with far more caution this time, Marien having taught her a very painful lesson.

As she fought, Marien caught sight of a Chariot soldier attempting to attack Volfen from behind.

"Lieutenant! Behind you!"

Volfen spun round, swinging his warhammer wide. The Chariot soldier's arm shattered with a sickening crack as Volfen's warhammer struck him just below the elbow.

Seizing on his opportunity, Volfen's warhammer wielding opponent raised his hammer over his head and swung with all of his might. Volfen cursed and managed to raise his warhammer to block, but the blow shattered his hammer's shaft.

Disengaging from her opponent, Marien rushed to the aid of her lieutenant.

Tossing his broken weapon aside, Volfen stepped back and drew his sword. But his enemy was strong and fast, striking Volfen in the stomach and then the jaw with the butt of his hammer. Volfens sword flew out of his hand as he crashed to the ground on his back, disoriented and bleeding.

Raising his hammer over his head, the Chariot soldier aimed the spiked edge of his hammer at Volfen's chest. Before he could take his swing, Marien leapt at him, driving forward with her sword as hard as she could. Marien's blade bent and very nearly broke as she drove it straight through the man's chest plate.

Both Marien and the Chariot soldier crashed to the ground in a heap. Slightly dazed, Marien shook her head as she disentangled herself from her fallen foe.

"Captain!"

Marien looked up to see Volfen standing over her, hand outstretched.

But as Marien reached out to take Volfen's hand, suddenly the point of a blade burst through the base of his neck. Behind him was the Chariot soldier that Marien had been fighting moments before.

Marien's world went white as Volfen blinked in surprise, before pitching forward and collapsing on top of her. She wanted to scream, her mouth was open, but nothing came out.

"NO!"

Everything seemed to slow down as the Chariot soldier took a step forwards, aiming her blade at Marien. Volfen's body was heavy, she couldn't move, her sword was broken, her helmet long lost, she was defenseless. All she could do was watch as the Chariot soldier lunged, a high pitched ringing growing in her ears as the blade approached.

"CAPTAIN!"

Marien's world came crashing back as, from out of the crowd, a pair of her soldiers slammed into the Chariot soldier, sending her flying. As she hit the ground, one of the thirteen soldiers drove his spear into her chest with an angry bellow. The Chariot soldier cried out, prompting Marien's soldier to stab her again.

The Chariot Soldier's agonized cry swiftly turned to a desperate gurgle, and then silence as she went still.

Marien blinked in surprise, the soldeirs that had saved her were from the detachment she had sent to guard the door.

"Jonah? Kirk?"

Marien looked up as a chorus of yells erupted, and suddenly there were troops coming at her from the direction of the door.

Realization tore through Marien, they had done it! They'd punched through! The Chariot forces had been split!

The Chariots suddenly found themselves fighting against reinvigorated opponents. More than a few simply turned and retreated as the tide of battle swiftly shifted against them.

"Push them back!" Kent's voice roared out from somewhere to Marien's left. "Force them into the north and south halls!

With the Chariot forces divided and in retreat, Marien was left alone with Volfen. Waving off a soldier that tried to help her up, Marien laid Volfen on the floor, resting his head in her lap.

Volfen was still fighting for air, but the wound was clearly fatal. Marien could feel his warm, wet blood soaking through her armour and tunic..

"We did it Gaheras." Marien said, cradling Volfen's head in her lap. "We got through, thanks to you."

Though he could not answer, Marien could tell by the look in Volfen's eyes that, even through the fear and the pain, he understood. He tried to speak, but could only manage a strangled gurgle.

"It's okay." Marien said, smiling as best she could, petting Volfen's cheek. "You've done enough. Go to sleep. I'll see you soon."

Within moments, Volfen's gasps grew shallow, his movements slowed, his arms dropping to his sides. As the light faded from his eyes, Marien stroked his head one final time, before gently sliding his eyelids closed.

Picking up Volfen's fallen sword, Marien got back to her feet. Taking note that Kent was directing the forces pushing to the north hallway, Marien turned towards the south hall.

"We've broken their momentum!" Marien bellowed, charging forwards. "Now tear them apart!"

===

Each step took considerable effort and focus for Lyon as he struggled to make his way from his quarters to one of the main staircases leading up to the central levels. Many of the hallways were filled with smoke and burning debris. More than a few sections of floor had collapsed, leaving gaps that led into a room engulfed in fire, appearing more like visions of hell than what had once been his home.

Even though the pain had been significantly duller, Lyon still found it difficult to catch his breath, and every time he coughed his hand came away from his mouth covered in blood. That, and the increasing shakiness in his legs, had forced Lyon to use his sword as a makeshift cane.

But hardest of all, was watching as the Chariot family legacy was destroyed around him. The wall of heroes, a collection of paintings of the various heads of the Chariot family, from Tahl Chariot to Lyon's father, was gone. Lyon himself would have had a portrait up there someday, but now nothing remained but ashes and blackened cotton. The Chariot family library, containing dozens of irreplaceable books, was gone as well. The family that had filled him with pride since the first day he could remember, had fallen to ruin.

Lyon wished he didn't care, he wished that he could shrug it off and say, in a voice tinged with his old arrogance, a pronouncement that he would build a new legacy, regardless of what trappings were lost.

But there would be no more Chariots. The legacy of one of Basidian's greatest families was burning to ash around him, and despite the respite from the pain he knew his body would soon fail as well. All he could do now, was make certain that he and he alone, dealt with the mistakes that had been made.

Finally, he reached the bottom of the staircase that would take him to the floor just below the main level. But, while the stone stairs themselves were intact, the walls were wreathed in flame. The air was punishingly hot and filled with sparks and smoke. Lyon was certain that if he tried to climb the stairs without protection, the air would sear his lungs and he would die.

Thankfully, Lyon had had the forethought to soak his cape in one of the barrels of fresh water that Sara had ordered placed outside of his room. Wrapping the still soaking wet cloak over his head, with just enough of a gap that he could see where he was going, Lyon started up the stairs.

He hadn't even gone up a dozen steps when suddenly he felt a rush of pain from his feet. The stone stairs were so hot that his pads were sizzling.

Lyon refused to back down. Taking the syringe of poppy nectar from inside his tunic, he inserted the needle into his thigh through a gap in his armour. Though he was careful not to inject too much, almost immediately he felt a wave of dizziness. For a moment, it felt like he might faint, but Lyon gritted his teeth and fought through it.

"I am Lyon Chariot, and I will see this through!" he growled, forcing himself to take another step, and then another. "I am Lyon Chariot, and I will see this through!" With each step he repeated his mantra.

The pain was greatly reduced, but he could still hear his flesh sizzling, the scent of singed fur was thick in his nose. Even under the wet cloak, the heat was stifling, the world swayed beneath his feet. His cloak was so hot the steam burned his eyes.

"I... Am... Lyon... Chariot... And... I... Will... See... This... Through!"

As he climbed, strange thoughts and memories drifted across his mind while multicoloured stars swam in his vision. Voices of dead friends and relatives echoed in his mind, he was certain he saw his old toy ball bouncing down the stairs past him, followed by a cousin who had died in the war years ago.

For a moment Lyon was certain that he lost consciousness. He didn't know where he was, everything was just light and heat.

"Lyon."

The call of Amber's voice broke him from his confusion. He looked up, and there she was, standing no more than ten paces in front of him. She was dressed in the same green and ivory dress she had worn when Lyon had first met her, the day before their wedding.

"Come on." She gestured for Lyon to follow her.

The stone stairs beneath Lyon's feet were replaced with long green grass, the smoke filled air replaced with the cool and clean air of the Chariot vineyard on Baskarri Island.

"Where are we going?" Lyon asked.

"I just wanted to talk to you." Amber replied, folding her hands behind her back as she walked between the rows of grape vines.

Lyon paused to look over his shoulder. His father was deep in conversation with Amber's father, Minister Erwin Breakwell.

"Come on." Amber urged as she grabbed Lyon's hand and pulled him into the grape field. "They're talking about some mining proposal on the mainland. Not even a western invasion would make them look up."

Hesitantly, Lyon nodded and followed along behind Amber.

"So... what did you want to talk about?" he asked, watching as she traipsed through the field, her tail swishing back and forth.

Amber shrugged, picking a grape and popping it in her mouth. "I suppose I just want to know about you."

"We're getting married tomorrow, we'll have plenty of time after that to talk."

"I know, I know. Believe me, since I turned fifteen it's been 'marriage this' and 'marriage that'. It's been nothing but sutor after sutor. I received so many bouquets of flowers that the servants haven't needed to cut any from our own garden for the last two years.

Amber bent over to look at a ladybird walking along one of the vines. "I suppose it was fun, but I'm almost relieved that my father finally picked someone."

"He would have been foolish to pick anyone but a Chariot." Lyon replied, raising his chin. "And once I challenge General Alaric, your husband will be the second most powerful Basitin in the world."

"That, or dead."

Lyon felt a flash of indignation at the suggestion, but there was no anger or hint of rebuke in Amber's voice. She was merely stating a fact. It had certainly not been the response Lyon had expected.

"Is she... Testing me?"

Lyon had entertained many prospects over the past year as well. He had met dozens of females that ran the gamut from quick witted and intelligent, to foolish and dull. But they had all shared one thing in common, a fixation on the Chariot name, and what it would mean for them and their own families.

"Surely you shall be king some day!"

"A more handsome man I have never seen!"

"Truly, you could conquer the entire world!"

Others had tried more direct approaches as opposed to empty flattery. Secret touches beneath tables, dresses designed to show off just enough to entice without being indecent. More than one had even been foolish enough to try seducing Lyon, in direct violation of the law.

"This one is different," Lyon pondered to himself, following along behind Amber as she resumed her walk.

"What about you?" Amber asked. "You must have had a number of proposals as well."

"A few. Frankly, I share your relief. I have attended enough tedious luncheons that the mere thought of tea makes my stomach turn."

Amber laughed a little. "For me it was cakes. If I never see another cake in my life, that would suit me fine."

"And the conversation." Lyon added. "If I ever have to discuss the weather or the 'climate' at length again, I may lose my mind."

For a few minutes both were silent, wandering through the vineyard, watching the seabirds as they wheeled about overhead.

Eventually it was Amber who spoke first. "I take it you will want me to come back to Basikal with you?"

"That would seem to be the proper thing to do."

"Is it nice there?"

"The Chariot Estate on Basikal puts even this place to shame. It is a beautiful place, gardens, trees, and a stunning view of Kaiser bay. Basikal city is smaller than the Capital to be sure, but the port is lively and there are always new goods coming in from all over Mekkan. I am certain you will find a great deal to keep you entertained, at least until our children are born."

Amber's tail twitched and her ears drooped. "Yes... children..."

Lyon cocked his head a little. "Do you... not want children?"

"What will you be doing?" Amber asked, ignoring the question.

"The Chariot family is trusted with a great many things." Lyon replied after a moment. "There will be campaigns to run in the west, and the overseeing of the Basikal defense forces. The island has a regional governor of course, but in truth it is our family that holds the power."

"I see."

Emerging from the vineyard, Amber and Lyon approached the shore of one of the estate's ponds. The water was crystal clear, flowing down from the mountains on the northern half of the island. Dozens of swans paddled around the pond, seemingly unperturbed by the ice cold water.

"The first ten pairs were a gift from the human King." Lyon explained, stopping beside Amber as she stared out over the pond as the swans. "Now the island is swarming with them."

"I've never seen them before, only read about them. They're beautiful."

As Amber spoke, a pair of swans emerged from behind a cluster of nearby bullrushes, followed by a procession of eight small grey babies.

"I suppose that will be us eventually." Lyon said, turning to Amber. "Though I suppose eight might be a little-"

He paused as a tear ran down Amber's face.

"What's wrong?"

Amber turned away quickly, rubbing her eyes. "Nothing, apologies just... something got into my eye."

"Hey!" Lyon reached out and grabbed Amber's shoulders. "Let's not start our marriage on a lie. Tell me, what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, it's nothing just..." Amber turned, watching as the swans paddled away. "They mate for life, you know. It can take them years before they find the right partner."

With a sigh, Amber's ears drooped again. "I guess... it seems strange that a bird would have more control over its own life than I do."

"Do you not want to get married?"

"Yes. I mean no... I..." Amber shook her head. "I'm sorry, really. It's the best thing for both our families. It's not that I don't want to marry you, it's just..."Amber paused, unable to find the right word.

"You want a choice." Lyon nodded, "I can understand that."

"Please ignore what I said Lord Chariot, I truly-" Amber froze as Lyon drew a dagger from his belt.

Pulling his cape from his shoulders, Lyon used his dagger to slice off one of the eyelets that bound his cape to his armour. With a second cut, fished a small metal reinforcing ring out of the hole.

"I know it's not exactly traditional, but..."

Turning back to Amber, Lyon drew his sword and got down on his knees. Placing his sword on the ground in front of him, Lyon cupped the ring in his hands and raised it up to Amber.

"I can end this engagement with a word." Lyon said as Amber stared at him. "I will say nothing about your involvement, it will be my decision alone."

"But your father-"

"Will have no say in the matter."

"Lord Chariot I... I don't know what to say."

"I refuse to be a source of misery for you. I'm not so foolish as to expect you to love me immediately, nor will I lie and say that I love you. However, I can be your friend, and from there... we shall see. But the choice is yours. That is my first gift to you."

Amber stood still, her eyes staring directly into Lyon's, her expression completely unreadable. Lyon was surprised to find that his heart was beating fast, and his mouth felt dry. Despite everything he had just said, he found himself hoping that she would say yes.

"I think I would like a friend." Amber said with a smile. Carefully she took the ring from Lyon's hand and placed it on her finger.

"Come on." She said, taking Lyon's hand and leading him back towards the house. "We should get back before your fathers make any more decisions without us."

As Lyon followed her, Amber's hand slipped out of his grasp. He tried to walk faster but he couldn't seem to catch up to her. Even as he broke into a run she got further and further away.

"Amber! Wait!"

With a gasp, Lyon's eyes flew open. He was lying on the floor at the top of the staircase. His cape lay beside him, a steaming, smouldering wreck. Most of the fur from his legs and his tail had been scorched off, his flesh red and raw and his armour badly scorched.

As he tried to get his bearings, Lyon felt something clenched in the palm of his right hand. As he opened his hand, Lyon blinked in surprise at the sight of the simple silver ring he had given to Amber all those years ago. But that made no sense, he himself had made certain the ring was placed in Amber's hand before she had been buried.

"Amber... I understand."

Lyon had to crawl on his hands and knees until he reached the wall.

"Just... a bit longer." Lyon groaned, leaning against the wall as he slowly forced himself to stand. "I promise... I'll be there soon..."

===

As if waking from a dream, Auless's eyes flew open. He was lying on his back, staring up at a gigantic night sky, an endless plane of stars stretching out above him.

Sitting up, all Auless could see, aside from the stars, was a vast, black void around him. There was no sound, no smells, it was neither cold nor hot. It was all just inky black stillness.

After a short time, though honestly he had no idea how long it really was, Auless noticed that he was sitting in a few inches of water, yet he didn't feel wet.

Auless ran his hand through the liquid, but it didn't stick to his fur. As it moved, the water seemed to be made of silver, each ripple creating brilliant streaks of light.

As he stood he felt somehow lighter, not just in his body, but his mind as well. He remembered pain, and fear, and anger too, but they all seemed so far away now, as if they had happened to someone else.

Looking around again, Auless could suddenly see dozens of other Basitins, some sitting, some standing, most of them looking around with confusion. Their forms were pale, with an unearthly white glow that reflected in the water at their feet.

Auless looked down at his chest, but there was no wound. In fact, there was nothing there at all, no armour, just an old white shirt that used to belong to his father that he had carried with him everywhere, even when it had been far too big for him. At his hip was his treasured sword.

"Hello."

Auless turned as another Basitin, an older male in a military uniform approached him.

"Who... who are you?" Auless asked.

"My name is Gaheras... but everyone calls me Volfen. You?"

"Auless."

"Pleased to meet you."

"What... What is this place?"

Volfen shook his head, "I don't know... But I'm pretty sure I died."

"I think I did too." Auless touched his chest. "There was a battle. I was fighting, and then..."

"I was fighting as well." Volfen shook his head, "I was fighting... the Chariots? That sounds... that sounds right."

"I think... I think I was on the other side."

For a moment, Auless and Volfen stared at one another.

"I feel like it should matter." Volfen said at last. "But..."

"But it doesn't." Auless nodded. "Is that weird?"

"Dunno, though I suppose there's no point in fighting at this point..."

As they spoke, another Basitin wandered by them.

Auless blinked in surprise. "Captain Meklinger?"

The Basitin turned and smiled as she walked by. "Oh, hey Auless."

Cally Meklinger, the commander of Auless's unit, was not the stern, grizzled warrior that Auless seemed to remember. She was young, with long flowing hair and a dress covered in multicoloured patches. The scars that had marked her body had all vanished, and the look on her face was one of utter contentment.

"Where are you going?" Auless asked.

"Over there." Cally raised her arm and pointed off into the distance.

Auless and Volfen turned. There was a silvery white glow on the horizon that they hadn't noticed before. It looked the same as the eastern horizon did as the sun first began to rise. Dozens and dozens of Basitins were making their way towards the glow, walking without any hurry, their steps leaving long, rippling trails of silver in the water.

The moment Auless saw the glow, he felt drawn to it. He turned to ask Cally another question, but she was already gone, wandering towards the horizon without a care in the world.

"We have to go there." He said, looking back at Volfen.

"I know."

Slowly he started walking, with Volfen following along a few steps behind.

As they walked, the sound of crying drew Auless's attention. There was a young woman a short distance away, curled up and sobbing.

The light called to them, but both Auless and Volfen turned and approached the crying woman.

"Wait...." Volfen said, gently touching his neck again. "I know her."

"Me too, I think she was a friend of mine." Auless knelt down. "Amelia?"

Still sniffling, the woman looked up. Her soft face was framed with short brown hair, and her eyes were a brilliant, piercing sky blue. "Auless?"

"It's me."

"I... I think I died!"

"Me too. I think... I think we all did."

"But my son... but Jesse! He's just a baby! Who's going to look after him if I'm gone!" Amelia buried her head in her arms, "I can't... I can't be dead! I have to get back to him!"

"It's alright." Volfen said, kneeling down beside Auless and smiling down at Amelia. "He'll be alright. They'll all be alright."

"How..." Amelia stared up at Volfen. "Wait... I know you. How do I know you?"

"I think you are the reason I'm here."

"The reason... I... I killed..." Amelia's eyes widened in fear for a moment, until Volfen extended a hand towards her.

Volfen smiled, "Come on, we have to go."

"But Jesse..."

"It's his world now. And someday... Someday he'll be here as well."

Hesitantly, Amelia took Volfens hand and he guided her to her feet. Auless also got back to his feet. The three looked at one another for a few moments, before turning and resuming their walk towards the light.

"What do you think it will be?" Amelia asked, still holding Volfen's hand as the silver light grew brighter and brighter..

"I don't know." Volfen replied. "Let's go find out together."

End of Part 26

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