Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, so don't sue me! But the general world, etc, is mine.
Distribution: No, if anybody was considering it. This fiction was written for this board alone.
Rating: R/NC-17(?)

Summary: Here we find our heroes entangled in the dark politics of a land which may, at first glance, resemble medieval Europe - with a few important distinctions which will become clear as you read.

Rule

The skeletal trees cast shadows in the moonlight, turning the stalker's figure into a sharp silhouette tipped with fire. A light wind tossed the grasses beneath her feet as she made her silent way through the lightly wooded field. Deep groaning sounds began again from the woods before her, the sound of ancient trees as they resisted the power of the wind coming in from the North. The stalker grinned fiercely and quickened her pace. The time was nigh that the young should outpace the old, bringing the forest to its knees and establishing a new world order.

She found him under the tallest tree of the forest, partially embedded in the ground. He continued to claw at the earth, even after he saw her. His fingers clutched at the soil spasmodically, desperately - and then stopped abruptly.

A second later, all that was left of their midnight encounter was a handful of dust, which the wind caught up in her dark embrace. The ancient tree looked on impassively, but the wind was rising and he soon had better things to concern himself with.


* * * *


"Necromancy!" Even Tara Maclay's fury was almost gentle, but it bit hard. The councilmembers shifted uncomfortably in their seats, avoiding her gaze as it drilled into them. "Is this what this council intends to suggest?" When no one ventured a reply, she continued, "I didn't think I had to remind any of you that this province was built upon the ruins of the Red Guard. We are even still struggling to heal the deep wounds that our people have endured because of their magic. To find that my very own council..." She found herself speechless.

The room was lit by the red light of the setting sun, reflecting off the ancient rings, pearls, and fashioned cut glass that adorned each councilmember. Their clothes were otherwise somewhat simple, with basic embroidery and little flair, reflecting a style that would be considered barbaric by civilized standards, but which Tara had grown to admire.

A man near the end of the long table, with raven-black hair and a still darker look on his face, spoke up suddenly, his voice reverberating off the stone walls. "Crown Mother, these magics are in our blood. You speak truly that this land was first civilized by the Red Guard, but they learned their darkest secrets from our own caves and forests. They were oppressors, but they were also saviors, and our people will never forget what they did against the Dark Ones."

"Do you mean to suggest that our people would prefer their souls be ravaged and their identities stripped from them?" Tara said, but suddenly she was less sure. Heads around the chamber were inclining in agreement, and suddenly she felt twenty eyes on her.

"Mistress, we are not suggesting anything of that sort. Only that magics may help provide a solution to the problems at our borders. Your people would say this is Dark, but in truth the Dark Ones have no magic of their own, so it cannot be. This is our magic, Crown Mother."

Tara's stomach turned. She sat straight and addressed the room at large. "Is this truly the consensus?" She met each member's dark eyes in turn, aware once again that despite her best effort, she would always be an outsider. She would always be their mistress, and as such she could command but never truly understand.

The room was silent. Then tiny, bald Thielfor spoke up in the high voice of a eunuch. "Mistress, I myself have no opinion on the matter, only that I wish to see the Christ's desire carried out to its fullest." And now the final catch. Tara was not the true ruler. She merely sat in stead of her son, whose liege in turn was the Regent of Christ - Tara's husband, and ruler of the civilized world.

She realized now that they had been chipping away at her opposition ever since she had arrived three years since. First over doctors, then crop seeds, and finally, allowing Hunters to roam freely in her province. If this was the final step in their dance, it was a dance she had not been fully aware of her part in.

She would never be able to breathe a word of this to the Regent. "The old ways die hard," were his final words to her, a glitter in his grey eyes. Even the few concessions she'd already made would reek of betrayal to him. She would be stripped of title, child, and land. The first she cared little for, the last would mean death - but the second is what stayed her hand. This short, dark people, with whom she sympathized so much, would never intentionally threaten her child. She had spent this last three years attempting to gain their trust, after a series of abusive Crowns. Yet now they suggested magics.

She stood. "I will sleep on it. The highest warm regards for your attention." She recited the traditional dismissal, and then fled to her chambers.

Her son would still be outside, honing his hunting and ranging skills. He had been only four when they arrived, and the last three years had transformed the toddler into a a brilliant leader, sensitive and alert, willing to seek council but ready also to act. He had his father's eyes, but the rest of him was hers alone: the shock of dark brown hair which won him the locals' trust, and a personality which was most like the man he'd been named after, Tara's father.

Were she decried as a traitor, his fate would be uncertain. Yet also, if these atrocities along the border of the province did not cease, his suitability for this province's Crown would also be questioned. Only two months before, the son of another of the Regent's wives had been replaced by an infant son and his guardian. Perhaps the Regent would replace her, too, with military leader, which would suit no one. She and bright Thomas would be recalled back to the Capital, where Tara would be forced to receive her husband into her bed when he pleased, and where Thomas would be lost in the growing crowd of heirs and the dank stench of the city.

The room was spare, but so very clean, as the Aatari kept all of their dwelling-places. Tara had spent her childhood in the Capital, where goats and chickens were constantly underfoot and spent the night under their master's roof. Here, everyone had enough space and the sense to keep the animals apart, and now, when Tara walked through a pasture, the smells were unfamiliar.

The Red Guard had built the castle with their blood magic, sacrificing citizens to complete it. Yet they had chosen only criminals, and truly, the structure was mighty... Tara was beginning to wonder whether in fact the castle was worth that sacrifice. Her room was adorned by a few metal vases with fresh flowers in them, some embroidery, and a few chairs, one of which was so old it was unusable. The pre-Terror artifacts were a sign of great prestige.

She laid back in a chair, relishing the last rays of red sunlight on her skin. The answer would come to her while she slept, she decided.

When the sun set, she turned on her Rade-Dell. Bursts of static came through it for a few moments, and then a voice broke through the static. "The Regent wishes the Crown to be aware that all is well in the land of Christ." A loud beep ended the transmission, and she immediately flipped the switch to turn the ancient device off again. It would not do to run out of batteries.

That night, the Dream came again. One moment she was studying her tapestry - and the next she found herself in a moonlit grove. The ground felt spongy under her toes, like a bed. Yet she was not alone in this clearing. There was a woman, softly glowing in the moonlight. She was dressed in soft leathers, and her hair was a shining copper, but what Tara really saw was her skin. Looking at this woman, she could almost feel her skin, as soft as if it was powdered by fine flour. There was a sweet soft smile on her face, and a bright expectation in her eye.

The woman held a silver orb suspended above her fingers, and as Tara approached the light grew brighter. Inside the orb there were shapes, and as she approached they became more distinct. When she came close enough to touch the woman, she held out the orb to Tara. Tara stretched out her fingers without hesitation, and the moment she touched the orb she was inside it, and the woman was there with her. Tara was stroking that ivory soft skin, along the curve of the woman's hip. She buried her face in the copper hair, breathing in the scent of moss and rotten wood, the smells of the forest.

And then she woke up. She curled into a ball immediately, holding herself and biting her hand, hard.

DIBS!!!

Beautiful, sophisticated story! I love the layers, the political intrigue, the creation of a culture, of ritual and tradition.

I am enchanted, pulled in. As for your sensuous writing - you say it better than I can:


So many treasures to discover - thanks!!!!

Write some more, please - soonish!

Ariel
How I Met Your Mother

Your use of vocabulary and imagery is breathtaking, I feel like I've been pulled into a extremely thought out world. Please keep writing I want to see more

_________________
"be nor ret n'Khan, tizmar sae? Please stay beyond the cruel dawn"- Chris Anne Wolfe, Shadows of Aggar

"In the pale light of the moon, I play the game of you"- Neil Gaiman, Sandman

wow...great start

mmm... clear and fluent writing and an intriguing first chapter, I'm really curious about how this story will unfold. waiting for the next part, yuo got me interested!

_________________
Sanity is not statistical.

I am in awe of how much imagery and intrique you have invested into a single post. And it probably means you won't abandon this fic, cause you already put a lot of work into it! So that's of the good.

_________________
Did Curiousity kill the cat because Schrodinger opened the box?

My heart and I have wandered aimlessly beneath the Weeping Willows, searching for the sun. - Hayley Westenra, "My heart and I"

Ariel: Thanks for dibbing, and for appreciating the politics and intrigue of the story. I've been reading the "A Song of Ice and Fire" series and it made me realize exactly what a treasure such things can be. I'm doing a delicate balancing act, because I think stories like that really require a lot of dedicated writing, and produce monster volumes, but I really want to keep it accessible, too...

Nightmask: Thanks! I wanted to make it seem as real as I could, and there's all kinds of beautiful things in my post-Apocalyptic world. But disturbing too, no doubt about that.

bouncer73 Thanks for reading!

Agilulfa hahha... now I've got to keep you interested. I accept the challenge.

Promethea128 Hahah, true. I mean, whether I abandon the fic is ultimately up to you kittens, because if nobody else is reading except me, I'll probably set it down. *shrug* But so far so good!


Also, IMPORTANT! I added two paragraphs into the body of the first chapter which include relevant information, and I'll copy them here so you don't have to go digging to read them:

"[Her] room was spare, but so very clean, as the Aatari kept all of their dwelling-places. Tara had spent her childhood in the Capital, where goats and chickens were constantly underfoot and spent the night under their master's roof. Here, everyone had enough space and the sense to keep the animals apart, and now, when Tara walked through a pasture, the smells were unfamiliar.

The Red Guard had built the castle with their blood magic, sacrificing citizens to complete it. Yet they had chosen only criminals, and truly, the structure was mighty... Tara was beginning to wonder whether in fact the castle was worth that sacrifice. Her room was adorned by a few metal vases with fresh flowers in them, some embroidery, and a few chairs, one of which was so old it was unusable. The pre-Terror artifacts were a sign of great prestige. "

Ch 2: Interactive Nightmare

Tara stepped off the carriage into heaven. She was surrounded by beautiful flowers of all kinds, arranged without a complex of well-fitted stone, the most beautiful fortress Tara had ever seen. She noticed Thomas a distance away, spurring his huge grey goat named Henry on. Henry resisted stubbornly, so her small son vaulted off and plunged straight into the jungle of flowers. Her retainers chuckled at the sight of such a delighted Crown, while her carriage started moving again, to the sharp reprimands of the stableboy. One of the harnessed goats snapped at his leg.

Tara noticed a bright blue delegation moving down the steps to meet her, and forced herself to focus on them. Gracious, majestic, and most importantly, confident, she coached herself as she moved to meet them, relieved that the heat outside was far less than within the carriage. Once again she cursed the Aatari custom of not allowing their leader to ride a goat; the two-day-long journey had been almost unbearable.

On one hand, it was strangely comforting that the Aatari people recognized her, and not Thomas, as their leader. They didn't understand why Tara was not technically eligible to rule them, and so with typical pragmatism they treated Thomas like the son of their queen, and gave Tara every honor due to her status. Still, she always felt like cargo - not royalty.

A small horde of lizards crossed her path, hissing fiercely as she went to meet the delegation. A striking woman was at the head of the group, leading a posse of well-dressed brutes. Unlike most of the women in the province, she boasted a pair of well-fitted pants, bright satin blue, and high black boots. Her deep brown eyes flashed as she practically sprinted the final distance and pulled Tara into a bone-crunching hug. Tara sputtered and stood very still. "Lord Faith, I - I am honored..."

Faith laughed huskily. "Crown Mother, you honor me. What brings you to this backwater?"

"Business of the official k-kind." Tara was always deeply embarrassed by Faith's overbrimming enthusiasm, and attempted to hide behind her hair as Faith turned to lead her to the castle proper.

"Ah, the attacks, you mean." Faith nodded knowingly. She was the Lord of the Blue District, the largest district in Aatari territory. Once, Blue District was in the center of the Red Guard's land, but now, it was on the border between civilization and desolation. Too well-liked by her people to be ousted by Christland, Tara had been warned repeatedly to be careful around the brilliant leader and tactician.

"I will be honest," Tara said. "I am here to ask you if you are using the old magics to repel these attacks." Faith shot her a surprised look, and Tara continued, "It is said that even a hundred armed and prepared men can't withstand even one of the Dark Ones. Yet one witch..."

"Is completely illegal," Faith said, as if Tara had not known before. Then Faith smiled. "I've been waiting for you to ask." She turned around and pulled Tara with her back toward the fortress. "I wish I could have shown you this before."

Faith led Tara through the stone archway and down a spiraling staircase, leaving all but Faith's delegation behind. The daylight penetrated deep into this castle, giving it the name Sun Fortress. Even three or four stories belowground, there was still sufficient light; Tara presumed that a system of mirrors were strategically placed to keep the crypts and prison well-lit.

Faith led her to a large wooden door, then knocked loudly on it. Most of the honor guard leaned forward in anticipation. "Ripper, hurry your old ass up!"

A tall, blue-eyed man opened the door and peered out shortsightedly. "Faith, I'm in the midst - oh, my. I'm very sorry, my dear Crown Mother." He half-bowed and waved them in to the room, leaving the honor guard without.

At first Tara thought it was a butchery, which seemed odd. Then she realized that there were human hands in a huge barrel beside the door. She was suddenly afraid to look at the rest of the meat strewn around the room, but her eye was irresistibly drawn to a huge, hulking figure on the table in the center of the room. It was like a 9 foot tall man who weighed 400 pounds... except its stomach was completely open, gutted clean.

Faith eagerly approached the table. "It's almost done, you see," Ripper said thoughtfully, nibbling on his spectacles. Tara had just enough time to note the blood on his hands before she bolted, almost knocking down one of the guards on the way out.

Faith found her retching a bit farther down the passageway. She patted Tara's back. "Suck it up," she said, trying to be helpful.

Finally Tara composed herself and stood straight. Faith was grinning. "How's that for some Black Magic? That Ripper, man, he knows his stuff."

"I-Is that how y-you've been repelling the attacks?" Tara said, somehow not really believing it.

"Sure," Faith said. "Well, all our villages bring their dead here, and Ripper puts 'em all back together again and gives each outlying village one of his monsters, and a magic crystal. If a Dark One comes around, the village elder activates his Warrior and the monster drives the Dark One off. Our Ripper, he's the best at what he does. There are a few more fleshcrafters in the Gua- I mean, province, but everyone else is too scared of royal decree to use them."

Faith leaned closer. "On the other hand, if royal decree suddenly wasn't making itself known quite so much..." She winked, and Tara shuddered.

"Is this what the magic here does? Makes monsters out of your dead?"

Faith shrugged and grabbed Tara's arm, pulling her back down the passageway the way they came. "We can also use the living energy of a person to help create something amazing, which usually kills them. That's cruder, and I don't do that around here." She let Tara go when they'd passed the door, and Tara realized she'd probably meant to be comforting.

When they arrived in the interior courtyard, Thomas ran up to her and hugged her. "Mommy mommy they have blue cats here! And blue roses too, it's so pretty, can we stay here a long time? Please?"

Tara ruffled his hair and promised that they could stay a week. She didn't trust Faith, but she needed to know more about the situation at the border before she made her decision about "royal decree."

She began visiting Blue District's villages the next day. There were thirteen villages in total, and Tara spent a day at every village, staying much longer than she'd anticipated. Faith was a perfect host, and even accompanied Tara to a few villages. Tara examined the monsters at every village; some were in distinctly bad repair, but the magics kept the inert flesh from purtifying. She begged each village elder to describe the attacks, and she gave Christ's blessing to all assembled when she was through. They were unbelievably cheerful and hospitable, insisting that she stay to sample the Aatari staple foods and watching her eat with eager eyes.

When she returned from the third village, making her exhausted way through the Sun Fortress to her thankfully shrouded bed, the Dream came again. She was walking in a dark forest under the moonlight, as always, when she came across a shallow stream. There was a deep pool, and submerged inside the pool the woman lay as if sleeping. Tara walked into the pool, and found that the water was warm and soothing. No wonder the woman chose to sleep in it.

But when Tara touched the woman, her skin was as cold as ice. Sudden panic filled Tara. Why didn't she respond? How could she be so cold?

"Lover," Tara whispered. "Come to me... Wake up." Tara jolted out of sleep, and a few seconds later, Willow's eyes opened.

DIBS
This story just keeps getting cooler and cooler, what district is Tara's kingdom in? At what age can her son become king? I'd really like to know more about the world you created it just keeps pulling me in and making me want to know more keep up the fantastic writing! [:

_________________
"be nor ret n'Khan, tizmar sae? Please stay beyond the cruel dawn"- Chris Anne Wolfe, Shadows of Aggar

"In the pale light of the moon, I play the game of you"- Neil Gaiman, Sandman

Not too gross?
I think it's probably a bit too gross :/ sorryyy! It had to be done.

It's not gross at all [: I'm really enjoying it, my friend and I both have these worlds we kind of created while day dreaming in school, and whenever I find people who created their own world like we did I can't help but become incredibly interested

_________________
"be nor ret n'Khan, tizmar sae? Please stay beyond the cruel dawn"- Chris Anne Wolfe, Shadows of Aggar

"In the pale light of the moon, I play the game of you"- Neil Gaiman, Sandman

KnightlyLove,

So many layers. . . dream, culture, tradition, strategy, and magic.

I can't think of any brilliant remarks or helpful criticism. Just sincere thanks for your amazing imagination.

I'm thinking of a childhood favorite that I still like, Deryni Rising; that same rich atmosphere.

Anyway, keep writing! We need you.

Ariel

I am very intrigued by this story. You weave all the bits and pieces together well without giving too much away. Your writing is both sophisticated and readable. It's a great premise and I can't wait to see where it leads.

_________________
"Oh yeah? Well... so's your face!"

Before the update, one quick shameless plug. I've been annoying all my friends about this fanfiction, but I think I really should tell you guys about the best thing on this board: http://thekittenboard.com/board/viewtopic.php?t=4369

Okay go.

Chapter 3: Kerosene

Once upon a time, our people lived in a place of eternal night. It seemed to stretch to infinity, but if you kept walking you eventually found a blank metal wall. This wall protected our people, but something we didn't know was that it also was poison to us. Sometimes the plague came, and killed us, and caused much misery among us. Yet there was no escape. There was only the blank metal wall, all around, everywhere.

Suddenly, one day, a large sound came, larger even than the Celebration, larger than when all the men moved a Container. It made everyone very scared, and they all hid. Except one man. His name was Theodore, and he retrieved something from one of the Containers. As he was positioning himself, the sound came again... and then the world all changed. Their eyes burned and tears shone from every one, and a very chill draft came over them, and they all quaked with fear. A great roaring sound they heard, and suddenly the bright light lessened a little.

Theodore took all his courage together in his breast and used his great gun then, and the monster reared, screaming and thrashing. Many of the Containers it plucked up and hurled outside, destroying them. Yet no-one was hurt, and eventually, its thrashings ceased.

Sight was hard, and everyone was very afraid. Yet Theodore was not. He walked to the opening. He stared outside. All about there was great desolation, with only grasses and a few great trees. He stood for a long time on the ripped edge of the blank metal wall, which was no longer. And then, he took another step, outside of the wall, outside of his people's poisonous prison.

Eventually dark came again, but by that time, everyone had come out of the wall and breathed the clear, fresh air, and no-one wished to return, ever again. They took everything out of the Containers, and roasted the great beast which Theodore had slain, and danced about in the flickering light of the fires they had made, for the first time.

Yet even in the midst of this great event, they soon knew that this new world also had its travails. For that very night, the first of them was stolen away, to return to them a great foe and a monster.

For all that, the people survived. They continued to hold Celebrations, and with their combined happiness they built great cities upon cliffs and along rivers. When the first Plague came, rather than Recycling the bodies, they used Celebrations to create great warriors, who protected them from the Dark Ones after their guns were gone.

It was in this time that they first saw the Devils. Four of the Devils came upon a village and massacred them, and so we will always hate and despise the Devils, with their inhuman looks, strange gestures, and evil fire-magic.

The storyteller finished, and there were a few moments of awe in the assemblage before Thomas sprang up and clapped enthusiastically. Half of the village was seated in an outdoor amphitheatre in a small grove of olive trees; Tara's fifth village. After the first round of praise was over, Tara asked the storyteller, "What do the Devils look like?"

"Oh," the girl said, and suddenly lept up and snarled at Tara. She involuntarily started, jumping away from the sudden movement. "They are unbearably fearsome, with skin like ghosts! Their touch is like the poison nettle, and their eyes like the scales of a dragon. Every one of them carries a white bundle of death, with hoppy legs, but their hair, their hair is their most fearsome quality. It is... the color of fire."

The storyteller stood tall, and suddenly she seemed fearsome in the afternoon light. "Someday, the Devils will stop hating each other and they will unite instead in their hatred of us. When that happens, their fire magic will overwhelm all our defenses. Their bunnies will destroy our castles and villages, and they will roast our babies and eat them."

The storyteller then mimicked what we know as a rabbit. Everyone around the fire gasped in terror. The storyteller abruptly giggled.

One of the group raised his voice. "Anyanka, how do you know our Creation when you are so obviously from a different Bunker?"

The storyteller threw her head back and laughed, oddly. "Boy," she said, although he was clearly older than her. "I know of places, of people you could never dream. I have lived through the opening of each Bunker, and also before that. The times before the Terror." Her voice had been getting softer, and Tara could barely distinguish it. But the Terror is the beginning of time, she thought, confused.

"Cities!" Anyanka's voice echoed through the clearing, and everyone jumped. "Great cities with fingers that reached for the sun! Tiny boxes that could remember more than any library! Paper, in great piles, that the Ancients buried like trash! Ships that sailed among the stars!" People were murmuring.

One man stood. "You cannot mean that you are a Dark One, for it is daylight and you would burn. What then, say you, that you are?"

"I am..." Anyanka drew out the moment, "a storyteller." She laughed sharply, and then abruptly walked away.

Thomas clutched Tara's leg nervously. Of course, the first time he comes with me, a storyteller shows up...

"Mommy?" he said softly, but Tara heard. She led him to a stump away from the storyteller's audience, feeling their eyes on her back as she knelt next to him.

Thomas took some time to compose himself, and Tara was silently proud of her young son. "I have many questions," he finally said, and he was so serious that Tara couldn't help but smile at him adoringly. "The first is... Why do you and her look so much alike? And why... why are my eyes funny?"

Tara had never spoken to him about this, and she realized now that she should have. For half of his short life, he had only seen Aatari. This storyteller must have been the first person in the last three years who looked like his mother. "Honey, we all come from those Bunkers. Your father and I are not from the same bunker as everyone else." She ruffled his dark brown hair. "Some people from this bunker have eyes like yours. The Aatari welcome you as one of their own."

He shifted on the log. "But... not you." Tara knew he was talking about the pockmarked teens from earlier that day, who had laughed and spat at the ground near her as they passed. She had grown used to such treatment, but her son was not.

"I am their ruler." The words tasted like ash in her mouth, false. She shook her head and tried again. "They think I am Christland, and they wish Christland had stayed on the other side of the Sea."

Thomas looked at her, eyes wide. "Why?"

* * * *

Later that day, the elder brought her to a small hut. Inside the hut, an old woman was tending to a young man. They carried the boy out, and he was almost completely blue, unconscious and nonresponsive. "Crown Mother, please, please, will you give your blessing to him?"

Tara struggled to keep the helplessness out of her voice. "What happened to him?"

"A snake, it was a snake," the old woman said. "He was so strong, and so brave..."

Tara nodded sadly, knowing that there was truly nothing she could do. Within the day, she realized, this boy would be brought to the Sun Fortress for what his people knew as a burial. She took a deep breath, and in that moment every part of her rejected that practice. If he is to die, his body should be revered and precious, not combined with others and the magics to produce an abomination, she shuddered.

The boy suddenly turned and groaned, his voice full of pain. She looked down at him and said, "Grandmother, I will do all I know."

She raised her hands before her, above the boy, and started whispering. If you asked her today what she whispered, she could not tell you. But as she whispered, the blue tinge faded. The tension in his limbs loosened, and finally, his eyes opened. "An angel," he said, his voice full of awe.

His grandmother was crying, patting his body and thanking Tara again and again. Tara stared in shock. Her blessing - for that it was, it must have been - her blessing had never worked before. To cure a snake bite? No blessing of Christ could do that.

Suddenly she felt completely exhausted. She turned to her retainers, beckoning one of them to offer his shoulder. "Elder Johnson, might it be possible for me to stay here the night? I find myself... unable to take the long journey tonight."

Through the cracks in the roof thatching, she looked at the stars and waited for the Dream to come. It never did.

Hi,

As soon as the rabbits came up, I knew!

More and more intriguing - definitely staying with this story!

Thanks for the update!

Ariel

XD oh man I'm dying of laughter I can just picture Anya telling little kids scary stories about bunnies. This part of the story reminds me of norse mythology of how things began all dark and bad when two wolves chased the moon and the sun didn't exist. keep writing the plot is getting incredibly intense! [:

_________________
"be nor ret n'Khan, tizmar sae? Please stay beyond the cruel dawn"- Chris Anne Wolfe, Shadows of Aggar

"In the pale light of the moon, I play the game of you"- Neil Gaiman, Sandman

Interesting. I am now insanely curious. How far advanced did the pre-apocalype get? Was it like us, or even further advaned, then they returned to a religious/magical/fantasy world? Are the Dark Ones a specific type of demon, or just a general monster type? When Tara dreamed of Willow, she smelled of "moss and rotting wood," the scents of the forest. My initial thought was that she was some type of faerie, and that theory is furthered by fire colored hair. So are the "Devils" misunderstood, or is Willow/will she be a rebel? You probably won't answer most of these, except in prose, as the story unfolds. But like I said, insanely curious.

_________________
Did Curiousity kill the cat because Schrodinger opened the box?

My heart and I have wandered aimlessly beneath the Weeping Willows, searching for the sun. - Hayley Westenra, "My heart and I"

Okay okay, I suck really bad... I added another half-chapter on to the last one. So yay, you get 1.5 updates!!! The last sentence when I originally posted this story was "One of the group raised his voice. 'Anyanka, how do you know our Creation when you are so obviously from a different Bunker?'" Please read from there - it's really important!

Also, a few important distinctions which were not clear in the first draft of this text; I've fixed the inconsistencies now, but you guys don't really need to re-read it all. So here they are:
1. Magic is 100% completely illegal in this province, because it's part of the Christland, where magic is illegal. Only prayer is legal, but only the prayers of certain people work. Tara isn't currently one of those people.
2. The "Crown" is in charge of a province, of which there are several in Christland. Tara's son is the Crown of this province, but there are many other provinces, too - and many other sons of the Regent. This is why Tara is worried about losing the province. Tara is referred to as "Crown Mother", but the Aatari who live here think the distinction is meaningless.

Responses to the responses:
Ariel: Thanks for sticking with me hehe, yes... Anya will continue to be an important player in the story.

Nightmask: Glad you enjoyed Anya I hope that my addition to the chapter makes everything more logical as far as the creation story and all.

Promthea128: One thing first: your name just makes me think of Prometheus - did you mean to refer to the Greek story? I'm glad you're working on the Willow question; it's not an easy one, and certainly you don't have all the pieces yet, but obviously it's pivotal to the plot

Chapter 4: Camp

Early that morning, before the fire was stoked, the boy Tara cured came to her. He went to one knee and pledged his loyalty until death, renouncing every familial tie and swearing himself to her. Such an offer could never be refused, and so Tara graciously accepted, feeling as she did a great weight on her heart. The swearing was as good as a magic spell. This boy, Xander Harris, would protect her until she died - or he did.

She traveled to the next village that day, and he followed along with her retainers, walking briskly to keep up with the goats everyone else rode. This village was like all the rest, except the Elder's mother, who peered at Tara with sightless eyes and informed her that she was a Northerner. "The Northlands ride to save us," the Elder's mother assured Tara. "You are our champion." Whispers followed her around the village, and even her retainers were disturbed.

After lunch, Xander took her aside and explained, "She is a prophet. She foretold the fall of the Red Guard, and she... knows about other things, things she shouldn't." He shifted, looking uncomfortable. "Say, you don't happen to be a Northerner, do you?"

Tara shrugged. "I'm from the First Bunker, to the North of the Capital." She paused, and then said, "But that's not what she means, is it?"

"No." Xander grinned awkwardly. "The Northerners come from beyond the mountain on great lizards. At least that's what the prophets say. They have golden hair, and they're just... tiny, except they have the strength of a Warrior."

Tara's lip twisted at the mention, but she couldn't help but notice the reverence in his tone. She knew better than to question him about the Warriors, but she was beginning to understand why Faith felt so oddly comfortable showing her Ripper's monstrous work. Only she was disturbed by the deformed corpses. Every time she visited one of their Warriors, all the villagers' faces were filled with anticipation at her response. They were eager to show her their monsters, and every time she struggled to reconcile her own disgust with their sunny expectations. She found herself responding positively, not because she was impressed, but because it seemed rude not to.

Soon after her hushed conversation with Xander, she was brought to their Warrior. News of her true intention had travelled much faster than she did, and after the second village she hadn't needed to ask again.

The warrior was in a stone basement under a huge open-air pavilion which they called the Celebration House. Everyone but Tara walked down the dank stairs with a spring in their step, and as always they all hummed under their breath. They weren't really humming together, or any sort of tune, but the air was filled with tension and power. She'd heard the Aatari hum before, but she'd never felt the power in it. She wondered if it was a different humming, or if the way that she heard it had changed. Somehow.

They entered a long crypt, which held small stone statuettes to represent important people who had died in the area. The statuettes were spaced well apart, and they looked impassively on the group as they walked the length of the crypt. There was a great stone box, and Tara felt slow dread come upon her.

Elder Andrew came forward and slid the stone slab off the box. Inside stood a Warrior; under his feet, blood pooled, but his body wasn't mangled, as those from the western villages were. Rather, his skin was unbroken, muscles bulging impressively, and his face was undeniably beautiful. He stared at Tara with a serene smile on his face, and looking into his eyes Tara could see golden-blue lines of power along the length of his body, twining about muscle and bone.

The Elder stood beside her, watching her face. "My son," he said finally.

Shocked, she tore her eyes off the sight and looked at him. Sure enough, she could see common features now. "He's... b-b-b-beautiful."

* * * *

Two weeks had passed when Tara once again mounted the loathsome carriage and departed, heading toward the Brown District to the east. The annoying storyteller, Anyanka, joined the delegation as they started on their way. She regailed the group with anecdotes, some helpful and some downright disturbing. Thomas and, oddly, Xander Harris seemed to be the only ones who found the stories thrilling, and unfortunately the attention fed the storyteller's antics.

Lord Faith rode with them for the first half-day, although Tara didn't see her, trapped as she was in the carriage. This journey would last another long two days, and as she watched the sun rise the next morning she decided that she'd had enough of it. Breakfast was cooking on the fire, people were starting to emerge from their tents, and if it killed her Tara would not ride in the carriage today.

She approached the stableboy, a large, stout boy a few years older than Thomas but probably three times her slight son's weight, and asked whether he had a goat she could ride. His eyes widened, but he brought her a goat neatly saddled after breakfast.

She addressed the group at large, which consisted of the storyteller, Xander, the stableboy, three royal guards, a ranger, and her secretary. "When we approach the Mountain Tower I will ride in my carriage, but until then I prefer to feel the wind on my face." The royal guards and secretary bowed, and then continued packing the night-tents away. She released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and from then on, she rode a goat while traveling.

They stayed the night at a town, and since Tara was unable to refuse the best accommodations they had to offer she and Thomas stayed in the Elder's own home. They were on the border of Brown District, and mountains loomed large on the horizon. This town did not have a monster, although they were remarkably wealthy. Xander informed Tara before they arrived that this was the center of woodworking expertise in the province, and when they rode in Tara realized why he said so. The most beautiful designs were carved into the corners of each wooden house, and in the dusk air Tara swore she could see a glimmer somewhere deep in the designs as she passed.

The rest of the group stayed in what the Elder called a hotel. When their hosts left, Anyanka complained loudly that she was expected to stay in a room that "At least several dirty snively little brats yanked off in for six months," meaning that these were the accommodations that apprentices from other villages and towns used. The ranger, by the name of Andrew, reminded her that she was lucky to get the room for free, which shut her mouth.

Tara wasn't sure what exactly she was complaining about. Every room's bed was raised on a wooden frame, and each frame carried the most beautiful carvings she had ever seen. There was also a chair, similiarly adorned, and a chest of drawers. She wasn't sure if her room in the Royal City was better-furnished than these.

"Crown Mother," Xander addressed her at dinner. "Tomorrow we cross the great river Zala. Should we ford, or should we go north to the ferry?"

Tara considered. They couldn't ford with her carriage, and she hated the contraption with the fury of a woman just released from prison, but she didn't want to offend Lord Warren. "The ferry," she decided. "We can't leave the carriage behind."

Xander shrugged, but assented. Anyaka dragged her attention off the food. "I don't understand why you insist on lugging that monstrosity around when you so obviously despise it," she said petulantly.

Tara cast her eyes down on her food and let the comment pass, not sure she could trust herself to speak. Xander responded for her. "We should at least bring it back to the Royal District," he said reasonably.

A clamour erupted from the other side of the table. The secretary had knocked several glasses over, and was coughing violently, standing up and holding his book away from the table and his body. Andrew sprung up and took the book from him, and Xander tried to contain the damage. "Hey, there, big guy, that's alright, let it out," he said reflexively. When the mess had been mopped up, Xander addressed the secretary, who was still coughing weakly. "Say, I don't remember your name."

"Eric," the man croaked. "Is my book around?" he asked, suddenly worried.

"Here," Andrew said, and handed him the book.

Eric stood and bowed to Tara. "I apologize for the disruption. I will be in my chambers."

They rose early the next morning, and by mid-afternoon they had reached the river. They spent another hour working their way north, a few hours ferrying everything across, and by the time they reached the city proper it was dark.

A single man-servant was there to greet them outside the Tower. "Lord Warren sends his apologies, as he is not well to-day. I will show you to your rooms, if you would follow? Leave your goats without," he threw over his shoulder. How is it that even his servants are pompous and unpleasant? she thought as she followed.

The servant continued as they climbed the winding stairs of the tower. "On the morrow you are invited to an execution. This one should be good," he added. "A Devil, what was found prowling about our borders." He misunderstood Tara's shiver for fear, and continued, "I assure you, we have it well-secured. It will roast in its own sins, that's for certain."

DIBS!!!
ok I'm betting that the devil they caught is Willow or Buffy or some other main character!
I'm loving the map and the new part is getting interesting
do the monsters have anything to do with Adam from the 4th season?
How big exactly are the goats compared to the size of the Aatari people?
Keep writing! you never fail to impress me [:

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"be nor ret n'Khan, tizmar sae? Please stay beyond the cruel dawn"- Chris Anne Wolfe, Shadows of Aggar

"In the pale light of the moon, I play the game of you"- Neil Gaiman, Sandman

My username is kinda a triple reference, lol. The orginal myth, the comic book series "Promethea" by Alan Moore, and Kyra, aka Goth Girl's username from "The Astonishing Adventures of Fanboy and Goth Girl."

You made a map! I love maps in fantasy/scifi stories. Now that Nightmask mentioned Adam, it seems likely that the Warriors would connect to him somehow. Why would a 'storyteller' be rare, and frightening? (Unless they all have Anya's personality, lol) Buffy? Eric made me suspicious. So Tara now has prayer-magick, when she shouldn't. Curiouser and curiouser....

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Did Curiousity kill the cat because Schrodinger opened the box?

My heart and I have wandered aimlessly beneath the Weeping Willows, searching for the sun. - Hayley Westenra, "My heart and I"

TAAA-DAAAA!!!! i got my head out of my ass and read it!!! aren't you proud of me? it's shaping up to be a great story. captured a devil? i would imagine it's willow, and tara will... woops! bad tina, bad tina, bad tina!!! noone likes spoilers, gotta let YOU tell your story. i am still going to make the insistance on a prologue though, it will help draw in readers and ease them into the setting and the storyline to follow. you're doing a wonderful job, i'm finding it more engaging then tolkien really, so keep up the good work and i'm looking forward to being of assistance.

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if it's not real, you can't hold it your hands; you can't feel it with your heart, then i won't believe it. but if it's true you can see it with your eyes, even in the dark; and that's where i want to be. 'brick by boring brick' -paramore

KnightlyLove:

You keep drawing me in, confusing me, showing a buried glimpse of an understanding – this is an archelogical dig of a fic!


I like the little details, “before the fire was stoked” and the ritual oath of loyalty.


Tension gathering, mystery . . .

Again, the unfolding of a world rich in detail and sense of daily life. I can’t claim that I understand it all but it pulls like a darksome tide . . .

Thank you for your imagination in all its fell shining.

Ariel