Outside the Cycle - Act XV

Very early because I tend to finish these early.

Please don't yell at me for what happens in this one OK, I promise you it's an important plot point :/

Act XV: The Throne in Flames

"How far off are we?" Vanath asked. Abaddon thought on the question briefly.

"A day and a half, perhaps. Armies move slower than individuals," he answered. The adrenalin was mounting in him, driven by the upcoming battle and confrontation with the Psychomancer.

His outriders had come back in that morning, the lord's second cousin among them. Vanath had brought him back his new weapon, courtesy of the Keeper.

Abaddon drew Demon Edge from its sheath, admiring the way the light glittered off of its Radiant Ore blade. He allowed a small smile to grace his thin lips. Once again, he wore the massive dark plate, that ancient heirloom of his House, and was seated astride his purebred steed. He knew the figure he cast, massive and indomitable. The sizeable army following him would help with the imposing image.

No doubt there would be casualties, grave ones on both sides, yet the lord was confident his soldiers, well-trained, well-disciplined, and loyal to a fault would be the victors.

"What if we encounter your old allies in the battle?" Vanath asked suddenly.

"Do not harm her - them," Abaddon corrected himself. "Remember, our purpose here is not to give victory to the Dire, but to see both Ancients in ashes." He wondered how much of a grace period he would have between the fall of the two, lest one take them all. He feared it would not be long, and hoped that there was some way to get Radiant armies attacking the throne of shadows.

"What is her name?" Vanath asked. "If you don't mind me asking of course, my lord."

He waved a hand. "It's all right, cousin. I have let slip too much to keep the rest secret." Abaddon sighed. "It is unfortunate, in some ways. We are fated to be enemies."

"She is Radiant?" his cousin asked, surprised.

"Lanaya. And yes, she is. The Templar Assassin, a servant to the Hidden Temple. She was with me at the Black Rook along with the Psychomancer and Skywrath Mage. Last I heard, Arash had betrayed her and sold her out to the Dire for whatever purposes he had." Abaddon's voice tinged with sadness as he spoke. "She may very well be dead."

"Yet you are hopeful."

"Of course I am. Infatuation makes a fool of a man, and reason abandons the smitten. I only pray that whatever difficult choices I have to make can be made with a clear head."

Vanath nodded, appearing to understand. The journey continued silently, House Guard marching and the lords riding. Abaddon had sent the Mistblades out to scout ahead, and slowly they trickled back in. Mostly, they delivered reports of clear terrain, forks in the road, and Radiant scout patrols to evade.

One, however, dragged in a prisoner.

"This one caught the prisoner heading back towards the Radiant base," the Mistblade informed gruffly, his voice a wheeze beneath the helmet. "Upon the knowledge that he faced a Mistblade of the Avernal font, he surrendered."

Something did not tick right. Deadly though a Mistblade might be, logic dictated that a Hero would defeat one. Yet this Hero had surrendered. Briefly, Abaddon considered that he might be Arash, yet the build was wrong. Their features were obscured by a full-body cloak of feathers in shades of purple and dark blue.

The lord glanced at the sun, which had begun to set. "We'll stop here and wring our captive for information before going further," Abaddon told Vanath. "Inform the troops of this and begin to set up camp."

He waved a hand at the Mistblade. "Keep the prisoner secure until I am ready."

"This one obeys as in all things."

Self-sufficient as always, Abaddon had no problem erecting his tent. He poured himself a glass of wine, and one for the prisoner as well. He was escorted in by a Mistblade, the other two standing guard outside. Abaddon offered the glass.

"I hope this will be painless," he said.

"I'm disappointed in you," the prisoner said wryly. "You didn't once check who I was."

"L-Lanaya?!" Abaddon leaned forward, setting aside his own glass. "What- how-?"

She shrugged. "I figured that it would be best if we conversed privately. I am unaware of how much your army knows of the true nature of the war."

"Enough that you could have been honest."

"I shall bear that in mind for next time." She gestured at the cloak she wore, shrugging the hood back. "Do you like it?"

"Unique design, well-made, of course I do. How came you by it?"

Lanaya laughed. "That's a long story, which I guess you must hear for this situation to explain itself."
___________________________

Dragonus waited, and brooded. Shendelzare slept, though how she did it in full knowledge of their determined fates he had no idea. The night was serene, yet nothing could soothe the tumult of rage in his heart.

For the hundredth time, he paced the cell, unable to spread his wings. The mage cursed loudly, punching the bars in a sudden fit of anger.

To his surprise, the door creaked, and slowly swung open on its hinges.

He wasted no time, and shook his queen to wake her. "We must go," he hissed. She stared with great intensity at the portal, and a vicious grin crept across her face.

"Loyalists," she declared triumphantly. "Oh, you of little faith, my love!"

Dragonus wasn't so sure, but followed her out into the open. By Avilliva, it felt good to spread his wings, feel the wind rush to them! He took off as soon as the prison was behind them, noticing but ignoring the corpses of the guards.

The two landed on a nearby spire, overlooking the palace walls.

"What now?" he asked.

Footsteps clicked behind them to the sound of a confident stride. "Now we restore the queen to her throne," a female voice announced. "The patrols have grown lax, and the guards on the second section of the wall have fallen asleep." Slowly, the Templar Assassin strode into view, nodding to Dragonus and bowing courteously to Zare.

"Who are you?" the queen asked.

"This is Lanaya, an ally of mine," Dragonus said. How had she gotten here? "Did you free us?"

"Of course I did, though it was not my idea," she admitted. "Before he was taken, Arash suggested that we rescue you for help with the destruction of the Ancients. You seem like a much nicer person than him, so I agreed to go along. We must be quick now, but I think that explains it all."

She leapt down from the spire, into the abyss, but before she fell far hurled a grappling hook and leapt to the wall where the guards slept. Dragonus watched as she leapt over the crenellations and slashed the throats of the two guards. Zare followed her, and after a brief pause so did he.

"Where is Ahoren Bladewing?" Shendelzare asked.

"Dead already. He seemed very surprised as to my coming," Lanaya smiled. She seemed more confident than he had known her to be, and then he realised - this was a job for her. Assassinations, subterfuge, this was her realm. Of course she would feel at home. The mage had always seen her as an intimidated little girl, but she most certainly wasn't.

The assassin stalked off into darkness, making not a sound at all. The Skywrath followed her, Zare smiling at him.

"Your allies are very proficient," she said. His face darkened.

"Proficient - yes, of course they are. Trustworthy - don't count on it. Despite her Radiant allegiances, I do not trust Lanaya being here…"

She lightly cuffed him on the arm. "Allow yourself some hope, hmm?"

"Hurry!" Lanaya hissed from up ahead. "We have less time than I would like."

They leapt down from the walls and slid down the spiralled platforms to the courtyard of the palace; from there they slipped through to the antechamber, then to the throne room.

The Throne of Thorns, barbed and bladed, was unoccupied. Shendelzare reached out and caressed it, turned, and smiled at him.

"We're here at last," she said musically. Without any warning, she reached up and kissed him deeply, and he returned it with passion. Lanaya coughed tactfully. Reluctantly, he broke off.

"Where is my sister?" Zare asked, her voice hardened. Lanaya gestured towards the royal wing. Without another word, the queen stalked off. Dragonus watched her long stride, her impeccable grace. The result of the coup was a foregone conclusion, now. He swore he would never fail her again.

A stabbing pain ripped through him, and he staggered forward, eyes widened with shock at the lance protruding from his chest.

"Enough is enough!" the voice of Ahoren Bladewing snarled from an upper balcony. Dragonus turned around, and fell to the ground with blood gushing from his wound. The guard captain had a bandage around his chest, but did not seem weak.

"Impossible!" Lanaya exclaimed. "His heart- I cut right through it-"

"Skywrath anatomy is different from you humans," Ahoren laughed. "You missed, little girl!"

The Templar Assassin's face grew black as Direstone. "Nevermind. I shall rectify that mistake."

"Unlikely." The captain reached back and hurled the lance. Lanaya's hands clapped together, and she caught the point of the weapon between her palms. With aching slowness, the lance blackened and crumbled into ash.

"You have called the judgement of the Temple upon yourself," she intoned, and vanished from view. Ahoren cried out, and toppled off the balcony. His wings outstretched, and he took to the air. Where he once was, stood Lanaya, psi blades shimmering into view. Dragonus coughed up blood, and could only watch the spectacle.

Ahoren snarled and whirled around. The razor edges of his cloak spun off, hurling a flurry of knives at the Templar Assassin. With speed that belied her mortality, she twisted through them, deflecting some with her palms and allowing others to bounce off her refraction shield. Yet a final blade creased her cheek, and a thin line of red erupted upon her skin.

"My turn," she sang. The Bladewing did not give her a chance, and dived down, crashing into her. His much larger bulk sent her tumbling head over heels, and he grabbed her and hurled her down to the ground.

Lanaya landed next to Dragonus with a loud crash. She groaned, and rose to her feet, only to again be struck by Ahoren's swoop. She flicked her right blade up, and his graceful dive turned into him skidding across the floor, leaving a trail of blood from the inflicted wound.

This time, it was her that pressed the advantage, leaping into the air and disappearing with a blink to rematerialise above the guard captain. Dragonus' eyes met his as Lanaya crashed down on top of him, driving her blade through his neck.

Slowly, the head rolled off and fell aside. She rose, frowning at the lance through the mage's chest.

"Will you be alright?" she asked. He managed to nod.

"It missed anything vital," he murmured. The room started to go dark as unconsciousness took him. The last thing he heard was Shendelzare's cry of triumph far above them, and the shriek of a dying traitor.
___________________________

"Dragonus recovered rather quickly, of course, with the best of Skywrath healers working on him. I was given this lovely cloak as thanks from the new queen, and now there is a contingent of Skywrath armed forces ready to assault the Ancients at my behest."

Lanaya stopped talking, feeling rather pleased she'd told it so well. Abaddon nodded slowly.

"I see," was all he said. He sipped at his wine, and she did the same. If this was how the lord lived normally, then he had it very well off indeed. The vintage was excellent, though she was no expert.

"What are you planning?" she asked, before they could lapse into awkward silence. He answered with no hesitation, which given their opposing sides surprised her.

"I'm going to strike from the south, hopefully with backup. You say Arash is a Radiant prisoner?"
"I gave him to Commander Tresdin myself. We can manage this without him, no?"

"I'd like to think so, but nevertheless he could be an asset."

"I don't trust him enough to keep him on a leash, no matter how short," she declared. The memory of her brief insanity, and his pathetic apology for it, caused her to clench her fists in anger. "With any luck, he and Nevermore will kill each other and the rest of the world can be better for it."

"You are too harsh on him."

"Am I?" she snapped. "He has betrayed us too many times. I am sick of him using us on his single-minded quest for revenge."

Abaddon nodded his head in submission. Angrily, she drained her glass and placed it down on the table next to her. The other held up the bottle as an offer. Lanaya nodded, appreciating the hospitality.

"Do you usually treat your prisoners so well?" she asked teasingly. He smiled at her.

"You're a special case. We have a battle tomorrow, I figured that relaxing would be in order."

"And I take it you will celebrate the war's conclusion?" she suggested.

"When the Ancients fall, I will return to Slom. Radiant and Dire forces will find themselves with no reason to continue fighting, and as the master of an ancient House it is my responsibility to help seal the peace," he explained.

"And how do you plan for that? Diplomacy isn't my speciality," Lanaya admitted.

"Usually, alliances are sealed with a marriage."

She had to smile at that. "Hah. Which relative are you giving away?"

He rolled his shoulders. "I don't know. I don't have many left. I expect that I shall do my part."
"You?! Marry? I can't really picture that, I'm afraid. Who do you have in mind for that?" she laughed. He was much better company than the ultra-serious Radiant, that was for sure.

Abaddon opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Go on," she teased.

He gave her a look that first confused her, but then she understood. "You can't mean-"

"You, Lanaya. I know… I know we are nothing alike to each other, that you have every right to never want to be anywhere near me after the Black Rook, but I cannot imagine a life without you. I do not want to either."

A thousand thoughts rushed through her head. He- no, he couldn't… she had never thought about him that way! Why her? He was a lord, she was nothing of that!

"I - I can't," she stammered, feeling mousier than ever.

"Why not?" he urged, leaning forward. An edge of desperation was in his voice. "Give me one reason."

"Because-" and that was the crux of the matter, she couldn't. He was what other women would kill for, the legendary Lord of Avernus, high lord of the House, wielder of Demon Edge, a Hero of the Dire. But she did not love him, not in the way he felt for her. Could she ever, if she tried?

His eyes were pleading with her although his mouth did not move. She tried to say something, but there was nothing she could think of. "I can't," she repeated lamely.

"Is it someone else?" Abaddon asked softly.

"What? No, but…"

"What must I do to convince you? I would throw away anything to have you in its place. Anything."

"I would never make you do that," she moaned. "Please, just…"

He leant back. "I am sorry for bringing the topic up," he said, and she could feel the hurt in his voice.

"No, don't, I…" she took a deep breath. "I will."

The expression on his face alone was worth it, that mix of hope and ecstatic joy from a man whose greatest dream has been realised. Despite this, Lanaya felt trapped.

"What is required of me now?" she asked. Abaddon gave her a quizzical look.

"You need not do anything. Of course, there are state affairs, negotiations and the irritating problem of an heir, but that all comes later. Much later."

The assassin frowned. "I have to tell you… I do not-"

"Love me? No. But in time, maybe you will." He raised his glass in a toast. "To prosperity and the hope of a future."

"I'll echo that," she smiled, and drank. It is always darkest before the dawn.