Down deep down, the water pounded against her eardrums.

Her heart thudded relentlessly trying to break out of her chest.

Her eyes stung and her stomach was a pit of empty dispair.


He had betrayed her, and now she was nothing.


More hollow than the Vessel without his life-force. Deeper in despair than seeing her father dragged away by slavers that night on the Isle of Glass. Worse than the cage that held her at market, worse than the thick coarse fingers of her first owner. More final than death, blacker than night.. betrayal.


For a long time she went down into the depths. She didn't want to surface. To have her soul sucked out, to see that awful visor, that sweet voice that had guided her, now turned upon her. She wanted to drown and disappear at the bottom of the lake. She wanted to die, and wake to find it was a nightmare. Arcalan wanted to undo time, and hear that her master really loved her, his daughter, his servant...


But she clung to life too dearly to trade it up for sorrow now. Come what may she'd try to survive. Arcalan broke through the waves and swam for shore, never looking back even when the heavens themselves sounded like they were cracking. Tears streamed down her face, her hair had come loose and hung about her face, as she clambered ashore. Shivering she stopped briefly to change into her old armor, discarding the fine robes she had worn. She dried her body quickly as she walked towards the entrance to Llyn Barfog. Evermore would she hate this land.


By dawn she would reach Snowdonia Station.

Astaroth watched Arcalan tumble from the boat. He lifted his arm higher to call down a spell upon her, foolish mortal that was trying to escape what destiny had in store for her. Energy crackled around his fingers when all of a sudden a light filled the air.


Shimmering dawn, celestial splendour! The night heard a chorus of voices pure and innocent, and before Astaroth's black figure shone a being of infinite and majestic light. It's face was hid by a white hood and mantle, it's features invisible save for a mouth, but all who saw it would dread to see the eyes of such a being. Wings stretched, the gold and marble figure hovered before the Vessel of Astaroth and spoke.


"Fallen One" the Angel said "Seek ye now a path of Redemption, for your course as is will lead to your doom."

"O host of heaven!" cried back the voice of Astaroth "Hear me now. Your time has ended, and you have no dominion over me! I know the dark and terrible secrets, the things God forbade men know. I have seen the flaws in the universe, I have studied the Qlippoth, and mastered it. Begone!"


Again the bright being issued warning "Do not set yourself in opposition to the Divine! Your hubris will exact a higher price than you can guess!" but the words did not impress Astaroth. His ethereal blade came up to meet the flaming sword that the Angel held in it's perfect hand, and loud and mighty was the noise of the two forces meetng.


Ashore men watched the battle, astonished to look on so perfect a being. They trembeled and looked to each other for comfort.

Thunderous blow after thunderous blow was exchanged, the firey arc of the Angel's blade carved through the night again and again to meet with the soulblade of Astaroth. The two weapons threw a terrible light and commotion across the land of Barfog, and lit the sky in the North with strange fires.


"ENOUGH!" said the voice of Astaroth "our power here is limited, and the Qlippoth holds you back. Begone Angelic warrior, I hide this world from your sight!" Thus saying Astaroth raised a gauntlet to the heavens and a purple light enveloped them both. A globe of blackest night decended upon the lake, and consumed the scene.


A minute passed before the dark globe faded. Summoned from the furthest emmanations, the energies of the Qlippoth bled into the world. When the act of creation was first performed, some of the vessels that were to hold the breath of God were not strong enough. They shattered, though none know why, and in that wasted residue the Qlippoth was born. Shells, husks, that which seperates the world of man from the divine host. Thus was the Angel resisted, for Astaroth had grown powerful indeed in the ways of the spirit.


The lake was filled only with the lone ethereal figure of Astaroth once again. He had pulled the world into the dark regions for a time, and once more divided his world from the Angel's. Yet his prey had escaped him. Arcalan was far from the boat now, and hiding herself from his senses.


Astaroth's boots fell heavily upon the lake, the water solid beneath his feet. He strode towards the shoreline, determining his course of action. Across the three realms his minions were preparing, ready to worship their master incarnate once more. His soul reached out to them, stirred them to war. He would search for Arcalan, for she could not long evade him.


The first tread of those shimmering boots upon the sand was like the grinding of a million souls beneath his heel. A new age was about to begin, his age, and it would last until the end of time...


________________________________________


Arcalan walked the long distance to the Station, instinctively hiding from the searching powers of her ma... of Astaroth.

She knew he would discover her sooner or later, but she had to try to escape from him.


As the sight of the Station came into view she shivered, for everyone inside now was doomed because of her greed. Her insides churned, and her mind melted with despair and terror. A new feeling washed across her, a feeling of regret.


Entering into the Station she paid for a warming broth, but had little of it before she felt sleep overcome her in the chair.

Her dreams were the dreams of the hunted, ducking, dodging, lying still and running quickly. His eyes, ears, fingers sought her out, grasping for her. As she slipped beneath a stone to keep from his sight, a terrible thundering filled her ears, he was almost there, almost upon her.. almost... the thunder grew louder, the rock was going to be lifted.. she'd be exposed...


Arcalan's eyes fluttered open and the thunder of impending doom became the thunder of horses hooves. Familiar voices filtered through to her. The voices of the League, which seemed a hundred years in her past.


She rose from her chair, her dark-gold hair hung about her head, covering one eye. Her motion was unsteady as she walked across the room, her red lips parted to draw shaking breath. The door opened and she stood facing Crispian, Seneschal of the League.


Behind him were arrayed his friends. Jashen, Tobyas, Azaeli, Tashtego, Yardo... friends that could have been hers. Their paths had split a long time ago, and now here she was. By the light that stung her wide eyes she judged it to be nearly noon.

In a breaking voice she said

"Crispian, Lord Seneschal... I will ask only one thing, and then I shall tell you, truthfully, everything you ask of me."

His hand had been straying towards his hilt. Azaeli smouldered with barely checked rage, and Tashtego looked upon this woman Arcalan, so frail and small it seemed now. His Heart spoke softly to him, and he knew that there was much grief here, much he had not yet learnt to bring sorrow to the world.


Slowly Crispian raised his hand towards Arcalan, even as Tobyas made ready to hold him back. Jashen poised in case she should try and trick them, but he sensed how desperate this woman was... had she pulled herself back from the brink?


Takling Crispian's hand in her own, she slowly lowered herself to one knee. Then, with lightning quick motion, she drew a tiny blade from her glove and sliced across his palm.


The reaction was instant. Jashen lept forward to pin Arcalan against a wall. Crispian drew back his hand and Tobyas made ready to purge any poison from the wound, but foudn none. A strange tingling flowed through Crispian, and he too thought of poison, a last vile act.. but then he felt his mind clear, and a certain heaviness that had been upon him, a wooly fog-feeling in his mind, lifted.


"Do it!" screamed Arcalan "Kill me! I care not for life any longer!" she flashed a look to Azaeli, and felt her burning rage.. yes Azi would end her life. "Come Crispian, my wound has freed you from your bond. You can kill me now, raise a blade against me as you wanted to. Do it!" she bared her neck even as Jashen stepped back, her knees buckling and leaving her on the floor. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she sobbed, but remained vulnerable, eyes tight shut waiting for one of them to strike.

Within the Ways, Ayslyn helped Toorc to his feet. "He's returned," was all he said. Frowning, he closed his eyes, his brow knitted with concentration. "They're on the move, they head for Snowdonia." He reached out and began to trace the sigils upon the bark of the tree again. The Gate flared back to life, and He led the theurgist through it. They stood in the forest pass just beyond Snowdonia Station. Looking down, they saw Crispian and the League arrive, and the confrontation with Arcalan. Ayslyn cursed. "Here's hoping they don't listen to her. I think that her death would be a waste, first and foremost, and I think she might be the key to stopping all this."


Ayslyn clutched a smooth round stone in his hand. Down the hill, the sphere that Crispian wore flared hot, and then icy cold. Within the back of his mind he heard a voice, "Remember lad. There are none so lost, that they cannot hope for redemption, and yes, even forgiveness. Remember the book I gave to you."


(I am sorry, but I do so enjoy meddling )

 

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Crispian looked at the blood welling in his palm, and down at the sobbing woman before him. With lighting speed, born of battle command and tempered through childhood by Mirashta, he pondered the last months. The strange lassitude he had at times felt, the odd pensiveness that came upon him at times, the bargains struck, and work done. Arcalan sobbed, and he could feel the coiled rage and fury of his friends at his back. Most keenly, he felt Jashen's presence.


"No, Arcalan. Death would be too quick the release, and I am no murderer." He shook his head slightly. "Instead, you will gird yourself for this battle, which may cause the death of us all, but it will be fought."


She raised tear-reddened eyes to him. Her face was abject misery. She had been so wrong, so decieved. Her actions had been the folly of one over weened on pride and will to not understand the foeman that she dealt with. "He cannot be laid low by mere blades and spells, Crispian! Don't you understand what he is?" Panic nipped at her voice, causing it to rise as she spoke. Others in the room turned their heads toward them, wanting to hear but not wanting to seem to listen. "He will distroy the world! All shall be his slaves!"


Crispian knelt, his armor a slithering of steel against chain. "No, he won't. Those of the Light and the Will shall rise to oppose him, and even though he throw them down, more shall arise. Such is in our nature, Arcalan." His bloodied hand clasped around her shaking own. The scars of battles and training, the calluses of sword and shield pressed into the soft skin of the cabalist. His unchanging gray eyes met hers.


Therein, she read the conviction, the steadfastness, that had brought so many to the fellowship that this young man led. She saw clearly for the first time how he could be so flawed, so young, so passionate, that others would look aside of shortcoming and flock to the banner he waved, the cause he championed. "We shall prevail, Arcalan, in against the gates of hell itself," he said, drawing her to his embrace. "And no power shall prevail against the righteous."


A strange quiet descended for a moment over them all, broken only by the occasional soft sob of the cabalist.

 

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"I am undone" Arcalan spoke softly and almost to herself "I trusted him.. he was my father, when my birth father was dead. He raised me, nurtured me... and all for this." a pitiful sob escaped her lips once more.

"Let me die Crispian, I envy the dead now rather than this." a thought occured to her.. a chance to end this miserable existence.. one was here who perhaps would still grant her wish.

"There is nothing for me here.." she glanced into Jashen's eyes and looked at the floor once more "..anymore." Her chance there was lost, no longer would she ride to glory with jashen at her side, but rather he would spit when people mentioned her name, and call her memory accursed. How she had been a fool, a willing lamb to the slaughter.


"Stand up Arcalan. You will come with us and help us defeat him." Crispian said.


She stood shakily, blurred eyes held back tears. "I care not for my fate anymore. To stop him though you'll need these, or else you too will perish in his path." she handed Crispian a pouch full of 8 silver rings, simple in design. He recalled what Tobyas had said about a magical ring to ward against the breath of Astaroth...


"For my part I'll take my own life.. like Apolexia did." she locked eyes with Tashtego. "es Tash, she's gone. Dead like Azi's father. I caused it, I did it all.." she advanced on them "come strike then" she was nearly screeching it as a plea "Come! Where's your justice, an eye for an eye!"


she clutched at her heart, the gaping hole in her feelings, and prayed to the God she had shunned that either Tashtego or Azaeli would strike her dead, plunge cold steel into her, end this misery.

Jashen stepped toward her, between both Azi and Tash and the cabalist. His eyes were a mask of pain and torment, suffering mirrored from soul to world. "So, is this it then? You show sparks of true feelings and shutter them off on this drive to bring this, this Asteroth into being and then just kick aside those who would stand by you still? Even when your error is clear before us all?" His lips curled into a sneer even as his chin quivered. "DAMN YOU, ARCALAN! You might have had your little plan for this to come to pass, but I tried! I TRIED! I wanted you to see world with love and joy, not just your obessive quest." His voice broke as he tried to swallow, Adam's apple working at the top of his chain hauberk.


"Or was that just a charade? Just part of your act?" Tears rolled silently down his cheeks as he looked into her eyes, his entire being revealed to her. "I wanted to love you, Arcalan."

 

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Azaeli swallowed tears at Jashen's pain, turned her back on Crispian and Arcalan's embrace, and made her way quietly outside. The others watched as she stepped out into the sunlight, but none followed.


This was indeed a difficult turn of events. She had been sincere in her prayer that Arcalan would would be safe in the end, but standing here now, knowing the pain she'd brought and the darknesss to come...Azi clasped her shaking hands before her, desperately holding herself in check.


She looked to the west, toward Lynn Barfog. The distant lights that had flashed beyond the mountains had ceased. She remembered the white light that her heart seemed drawn to on thier ride. With each flash of it she was filled with peace. But then the shadow had fallen over the mountains and the white light had ceased its fury. The others seemed to watch it too as they rode, but no words were spoken among them.


There was a shuffling inside and a soft murmur and Azaeli stepped further from the station with the sun on her back. Bless Crispian, she thought, bless him for having the compassion and willpower that she did not. Had it been she who Arcalan had cut, Azi didn't know if she'd have been able to hold herself back. He was in the right, though. She drew in a deep breath, tasting the dust and cool mountain air, and tried to calm herself.


It was then that she felt it, a stab of panic, her chest constricting, her hand grasping for the sword at her back. Kill her! It was a command, a unspoken push. She drew her sword with a ring of steel and turned swiftly to face the Inn.


"No!" She cried aloud, forcing her blade back into its sheathe with all of her will. She dropped to her knees before the steps of the station, shaking.


She wanted to so badly, to avenge the pain her father had been subjected to, to avenge the anger she'd felt toward her sister, to avenge her own trials after killing Hecathia. It took every fiber of strength to fight the desire to kill her as she was commanded to. But she knew in her heart that it wasn't Arcalan who was at fault. It was him, the dark one of her dreams, the serpent-wielder.


Chainmail boots swished toward her and glinted in the doorway before her, and she looked up into Tobyas' kind eyes.

Toby's mouth lifted in the wry grin that was so much his trademark look. "She has a way of putting us to this, doesn't she?" His gauntleted hand rested lightly on Azi's arm. "The worst part of it is that Cris called this one right, probably for her own well-being." He sighed, green eyes dancing with the life and joy he seemed to always have. "So what do we do, Azi?"

Azi couldn't help but smile. There was something familiar in Tobyas, something that reminded her of her father. It was the Light, it brought her peace. It was an odd feeling. She had known Tobyas as a friend for so long, fought battles beside him. His holiness had always been a part of him, but she had never seen it as that before today.


"Isn't it strange how some things are put before you every day, but it sometimes takes a moment of revelation to see them as they really are?" She said to herself more than to him. Tobyas looked at her with a bemused smile as she embraced him in a long hug.


"Arcalan is not the enemy, Tobyas. He is. And we have no choice but to defeat him before he can harm any other innocents of this world." She tightened her embrace and then stepped back from him. She peered past him to the group clustered around Arcalan and smiled. "We have on our side now the one person in this world I think who knows our foe inside and out."