Serial Saturday: "Clan of Outcasts" Season 3, Part 36: "The Boy With All The Gifts"

Part 36

"The Boy With All The Gifts"

Trevon stepped on the cool stone surface of the old cavern, a strange familiarity nagging at the back of his mind. In particular, he noticed the urge to stare up at the towering stone figures lining the walls. Unbidden, the memory came to mind of the very same faces as living beings, their skin darkening to hues of tan and brownish-pink, and, ever so slightly, even speaking to him... but how? This city had been deserted for ages, it seemed. Since when did statues come to life?

Distractions! His mind warned, and Trevon shook off the befuddling mystery to focus on the goal ahead of him: the Gate itself. There was the gap at the center for the Key he did not have. Trevon looked down at his hands. What did he have when it came to opening the Gate? He willed his hand into another form, watching it shift and glisten as if it were made of some malleable, metallic material. Tucking all but his pointer finger back, he pushed it into the gap designed for the Key, feeling the gleaming material seep and twist and tuck, filling all the facets. He turned his hand, as if his finger was the Key--but the lock didn't budge.

Trevon tried fire, water, ice, air, earth--even secreting substances from his skin that would combust on contact with the metal, or acid that could have eaten away at it, the way it ate through the floor when he let some drip off his fingertip as he watched the Gate standing unscathed. Not even a Gift that could produce white-hot and pin-precise laser beams from his fingertips could penetrate the mechanism barring him from his objective.

Trevon sank back in defeat, slumping against a nearby pedestal. He detected the approach of another person before the man entered the cavern, a grizzled soldier with a bushy, fair beard dressed in light armor. 

He seemed to disregard the awesome statues of the Angels as well, in favor of frowning at Trevon. "What are you doing here?"

Trevon gestured impatiently at the mess that lay before him, the rubble his Gifts had dislodged in the process of trying to get the Gate open. "What does it look like I'm doing?" he retorted. "I must find a way to open the Gate!"

The old soldier stopped about twenty paces away from Trevon. He gazed at the massive Gate in quiet surprise, nodding sagely. "I can see that you are trying," he admitted. "But I think I'd like to know why."

Trevon frowned. "Why I am trying to open the Gate?"
The soldier nodded.

The Crow Prince scoffed. "I am opening the Gate so that my sister can set up her throne right on the doorstep of the gods. They play such cruel tricks with us mortals, and it is high time we teach them a lesson!"

The soldier took one pace closer, and his eyes transfixed Trevon's gaze. "No," he said. "That's not it."

Trevon squinted. "What do you mean? That's the whole reason I'm here without the Key--my sister says it's the only thing that can open the Gate after it's been hidden for so long."

The old soldier snorted. "Your sister seems to say a lot of things, but I think it is ultimately up to you."

Trevon scowled at the audacity of this stranger. "What do you mean, up to me? What are you even talking about? Who are you?"

The man raised a hand in salute. "Sir Roger is what most call me. I am in service to the King and his family and friends. Who is it that you serve, young man?"

The young man's face twisted into a sneer, and he unleashed an earthquake that was so strong, the floor of the cavern split in half down the length of it. "I serve my sister, the Crow Queen, She of unparalleled power and matchless cunning."

Sir Roger shook his head. "No, I do not think so. If that were true, you would have waited for her, or at least tried to get the actual Key. Why are you really here, alone and trying to breach the Gate by your own abilities?" He leaned against the column behind him and folded his arms over his armored chest. "You're here of your own accord, aren't you?"

Trevon's face darkened further, and he raised his hand, producing a ball of crackling energy. "Enough of this. Begone!" He launched the orb toward Sir Roger, but it deflected almost immediately, fizzling into nothing right in front of the man.

The grizzled old soldier shook his head. "I'm afraid your ill-gotten Gifts can't touch me. All you have is your honesty. Tell me, young Prince--what is your true reason for being here?"

Trevon's face darkened, and the shadows gathered close around him, flailing and reaching out their curling tendrils and yet shying away from touching Sir Roger.

The old knight didn't move. "I want the truth... Tyrven," he said softly.

At the sound of the name that sounded more like a mispronunciation than another language, Trevon's arms went slack, and he stared at the cavern floor for a long time. The shadows receded, even if only a little bit.

"I... I remember," he stammered in a small voice. His eyes wandered out of the mouth of the cavern, toward the ruined city. "They weren't all slaughtered, you know," he whispered. "I saw a great many of them leave, they went through the Gate... I suppose that perhaps I was hoping... if there could be any chance... If I could just manage to crack it enough to get through... maybe I could find them again... I didn't want to set myself up as their leader, I just wanted--"
"To be in the place you feel you most belong," Sir Roger finished, nodding his head.

Trevon fell silent, caught between the moment of vulnerability and the orders he'd been given by the one he'd entrusted his life to.

Sir Roger reached up to clap him on the shoulder. "You know that the only way the Gate will open is to whomever holds the Key," he declared somberly. "There's no way around that."
Trevon nodded. "I know," he said.

"So why not use the power of Shadows to compel whoever's holding it to come here and give it to you? Not even your great and powerful sister could stand in your way."

Trevon shook his head. "No, I know exactly where the Key is, and I could very easily walk in and get it myself, but I promised myself I'd never go back there, after what happened last time."

Sir Roger tilted his head. "Last time?" he echoed. "What happened the last time you were at The Roque?"

Trevon winced. "It's the place where everything went wrong," he answered.

Sir Roger stood aside, giving Trevon a clear view of the mansion's uppermost spires. "But it is also the place where you can make everything right again, Tyrven," he replied. "The choice is yours."
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The stretch of land between the city limits and the Roque wasn't so much a battlefield anymore--it was a sparse and pitted forest, strewn with barriers of fallen trees, dead bodies, and uneven landmasses. Mallory called upon another circling flock to be her eyes in the sky--but they could only view her forces once they had gotten below the canopy, and once they were below the canopy, they were targets for the opposition.

Not to mention that it was becoming increasingly difficult to know exactly where her fighters stood. Something was drawing their minds out of her grasp, blocking her telepathic control somehow. At least as crows it was easier, since her natural Gift was stronger on birds than on humans--but they weren't much use to her as birds, and if she had too many of them in flight at once, they would just flock in swirling circles, having lost all sense of direction outside of what she could tell them. And with all these infernal trees in the way, she couldn't tell them much!

A river of hissing purple light trickled toward her, and a man dressed in a tunic of black feathers pulled toward her from the shadows.
"Please tell me you've found the Prince!" Mallory snarled.

Kamau shook his head. "I am sorry, Milady--but I'm still looking. I came to tell you that I have found the source of the influence that is turning your men away from you: it is the young queen whom you targeted before."

"I knew she was going to be trouble!" Mallory howled, flinging her arms out. The force of her telekinesis leveled several trees closest to her. "Where is she?" Mallory gripped Kamau's arm with enough force to leave pale marks on his skin.

To his credit, Kamau didn't even wince. "My intelligence tells me she is inside the castle--but that the fighting has worn down the uppermost defenses. If you enter from the top, you will be able to get inside, where you will find the Key... and the Cursed Blade."

Mallory flinched. "That Blade! I saw them waving it about earlier--they are still convinced it might stop me!" She cackled and released her servant. "Meet me inside, Kamau."

The man nodded and gave a low bow. "Your wish is my command, Milady." He folded back into the shadows, drawing his glowing snakes toward him, until he emerged, himself a very large and shadow-black snake crawling almost invisibly through the grass.

Meanwhile, a new crow joined the weakened wanderers of the sky--a larger bird than most of the ones, but stuck on the same aimless path... or so it seemed. If any of the fighters now hunting the tree-strewn grounds for any remaining black-garbed soldiers had thought to watch the swirling flocks overhead, they might have easily spotted the giant crow looping its way through the masses, mimicking their flight pattern, yet on its own path; one that curved closer and closer to the unprotected towers of The Roque...
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The Roque was nearly full-to-bursting with people when Nyella entered, using a potent dose of telekinesis from Seline to carry four more stretchers of wounded soldiers along behind her. She passed by the parlor, where Velora and Brinley lounged with Bronn and the surviving wolf pack. In the study, Beren and Jaran stood with their wives, poring over maps and doing their almighty best to convince Zayra that going out and personally challenging Queen Mallory was a bad idea. The headstrong princess wouldn't hear it, and she stormed out of the room and up the stairs, shouting protests over her shoulder all the way.

Nyella dragged the stretchers into the ballroom, which had been converted into the unofficial infirmary, since the Great Hall was now the base of operations and the place where most people gathered to eat, rest, refresh themselves, and basically wait out the last of the fighting as Mallory's forces dwindled, and she ran out of fighters to attack, since they were no longer outside the protective runes, and there was no way for her to get in.

Quilla received the injured parties, shielding them until Edri or Lizeth was available to heal them. She nodded to her friend. "Are there any more, do you think?"

Nyella sighed and slumped into a nearby chair as the telekinesis wore off, leaving her body aching all over. "At this point, there's more birds in the sky than boots on the ground," she answered. "I'm guessing that if there are any more of our fighters still on the loose, there are few enough of Mallory's soldiers that they'd be able to hold their own." She accepted the cup of water Quilla offered, and took a long sip. "Besides, Markus and Denahlia have all the intelligence about everyone on the ground. If there was anybody, they'd let us know."

Just as she finished speaking, Nyella's shoulder spasmed. She rolled her eyes and groaned. "Speaking of which... I better get back out there."

Quilla nodded, and some parting words were on her tongue--when the ghostly, silver-haired form approached her, looking very disturbed about something.

"Have you seen Seline?" Polaris asked, completely ignoring Nyella, who was among those unGifted who couldn't see him anyway.

Quilla shook her head. "You might try the upstairs rooms," she said. "I know she was working with the Mages to try and replace the damage done to the runes Rysin made."
Polaris nodded brusquely and faded from view. Quilla sighed and returned to the arduous task of keeping the wounded alive.

Out in the corridor, Damaris and Anahita emerged from the kitchen with a basket of bread and a pot of soup. Not long after they pulled back into the Roque, the pair were back in their element: working together in the kitchen to cook up a tasty meal. The meager stores had been dramatically depleted with all of the people suddenly dependent on Tessa's hospitality, but they found enough to use in creative ways to keep the meals coming. Anahita carried the basket of bread, while Damaris kept a pot of soup piping hot all the way to the table--right at the moment Polaris coasted over their heads, causing Anahita to stumble and lose her grip on the basket as she cried out in surprise. "Oh, goodness!"

Polaris paused to acknowledge his mistake. "I'm sorry," he said, powerless to assist in recovering the bread. "I keep forgetting that so many of you can see me as I'm moving around, although you can't feel me."
"No harm done," Anahita muttered, dusting herself off and picking up the basket again.

"Where's Jaran?" Damaris asked. "I thought you were bound to his side as long as he bore the Knife."

Polaris nodded. "He told me that as soon as the last soldiers are recovered from the battlefield, he's going to return the Knife to Tessa--he's got it safely secured, and while he's not wearing it, I can wander around the Roque, at least." The ethereal figure glanced back toward the Great Hall, and Damaris could almost see him sigh with longing.
"Well, don't let us keep you from... whatever you're doing," Damaris responded, urging Anahita forward.

Polaris continued on toward the main hall of the house, where the stairwells connected to open balconies on each floor. From there, he saw Seline herself fly down to the second-floor balcony, where the argument between the four royals still went round and round.

"Please just wait a bit longer," Beren begged his wife. "Let us make a plan! We saved Erlis and gained Korsan to help fight for us and defend us, she's lost just about every advantage she originally had--"

"All the more reason I should be out there, hunting her down!" Zayra insisted. "You all can't possibly understand what it's like for me--I can feel her power drawing me, like a compass pointing north! If I allow my Gift to draw me to her, I can also use it to pull her power away from her, allowing Jaran the leeway he needs to get in there and kill her with the Knife!"

"For what it's worth," Jaran grumbled, "I don't want to be near either of the two of you when you're engaged in some cosmic tug-of-war. I've already been there, when Troy encouraged you to use my own Gift against me, and--enchanted knife or not--I'm not going through that again!"

"Zayra, just think about what you're asking," Azelie inserted, reaching for the Princess' hand. "How can you be certain that once you start drawing Mallory's ability, you won't also attract the Gifts from anyone else who comes with you?"

The fair-haired woman stiffened and pulled her hand out of the telepath's grip. "Well then... Give me the Knife, and I'll go, myself!"
"Not without a plan!" Jaran insisted. "The moment that Knife leaves the Roque, we're all vulnerable--Polaris most of all." He glanced up as the ethereal ghost entered the room, noticing Seline's arrival as well.

The Angel settled in the corner of the room, the light from the chandelier overhead playing over her long locks. Ever since taking on her Angelic form, the short-cropped hair had disappeared with the Elvish disguise, growing longer over her shoulders and completely changing her appearance even more than just the addition of wings.

Said wings, she tucked close against her shoulders and said, "Korsan mentioned that you four were arguing about something--what is wrong?"

Azelie spoke first. "Zayra has gotten it into her head that she wants to march out there and challenge Mallory before the woman cooks up a terrible scheme."

"I can do it!" Zayra insisted. "The rest of you don't stand a chance with her, because she is powerful enough to override your Gifts. My Gift draws its strength from the power of others--the more powerful they are, the more strength my Gift can draw!"

"Dearest," Beren cajoled her, "You have already barely escaped danger with your life when you wore the Key out onto the battlefield," he reminded her. "If Juros hadn't sent Raedyn and given him the Gifts he needed to protect you, we wouldn't be having this conversation! Would you really want to flaunt such protection?"

"They can come with me, if they like!" Zayra protested. "Raedyn already told me that Juros made him pledge to be my protector for life, and as such, he would be uniquely safeguarded against my Gift!"

All eyes wandered toward Seline. The Angel tugged on a lock of her her hair as she considered the problem before her.

"I think that if such a challenge were to be made--I said if, your Majesty," she spoke slowly. "It would surely need agreement from all parties involved." She looked at each face in turn. "I would advise you all to include Raedyn in the discussion, and the King is right, you ought to work out a plan rather than just leaving the protection we have here and exposing yourself and all of us to danger. Use your friends outside to locate her, assess what other threats you might encounter, and work out escape routes all along the way. We have come so far, and are so close to defeating her, it wouldn't do to let down our guard and be too impulsive now!"

Four heads nodded, and the couples filed out of the room. Seline waited, noticing how Polaris hadn't left yet, either.

She tilted her head at him. "What is it? Do you disagree with my decision?"

Polaris shook his head. "Not that," he stammered. "It's just... I have something else I wanted to ask you. It's about Tessa."

Seline smiled, pulling her hair back from her face. "Yes? What can I do?"

Polaris steadied himself. Here was his moment! "I think it's time... I mean, I am ready to ask you if... give her a--" As he spoke, his voice and his figure faded in and out again.

Seline frowned, reaching toward him as if she could touch his shape. "Polaris, what's wrong? What are you trying to say?"

Polaris hadn't realized anything was amiss. He frowned and tried again. "I'm trying to-- if you would... Tessa... be with--"

It was getting worse. Almost every other word vanished in blank silence. Seline glanced toward the hallway, where Jaran's room contained the enchanted Dagger that held the bulk of Polaris' essence. "Polaris, something's wrong," she said. "You're fading--"

"I'm fa--" Polaris disappeared completely after this, and a terrible shout went up from downstairs. Seline raced out of the room and launched toward the ceiling, terrified at what she saw:

Queen Mallory herself, standing on a cloudbank in the main hall of The Roque, with the Dagger of Polaris in her hand.

Everyone had come out to see what was the matter, but no one dared move against her.

"So this is your secret weapon you wanted to use against me?" she taunted them, twirling the Knife in her hand. "Just sitting there in an empty room--you fools! You thought you would be protected in here, you thought your precious magic would hold against the likes of me!" She threw her head back and cackled.

Damaris burst into flames and leaped toward her, but Mallory made a striking motion with her hand, and he slammed back onto the floor with his flames extinguished.

"Oh, by the way--don't bother attacking me just now. Anyone who tries will find their Gift Jacked--and not in the good way." She grinned. "I hear you have the Key as well--but now that I have this dagger, I suppose I don't need it." She smiled as she flourished the blade again. "You won't be able to stop me, and I really won't need the Key if I've got one of Juros' own Knights to open the door for me!"

"No!" Azelie shouted, but everyone remained frozen in place.

"Mallory, stop this at once!" commanded a booming voice, and just below Mallory's elevated cloud bank, a black shadow coalesced, and Prince Trevon stepped out.

Mallory sneered. "Ah! My little brother finally decides to show up! Aren't you here to help me, little brother?"

"Put down the knife, Mallory," Trevon replied. "Your army is scattered, the Mages have finished their spells to keep us both trapped in here--you've done everything you could to defeat them, but they're still standing."

"Traitor!" Mallory seethed. "What, you've thrown your lot in with them again? After all I've done for you? All that I've given you--why, when I met you, you were a spineless, voiceless little dishrag--I've made you fit to rule by my side!"

"You're wrong, Mallory," Trevon responded, using his shadows to rise to an equal level with the Crow Queen. "You didn't give me a voice; I already had one, even though I didn't use it very much. You might have unlocked the ability to speak in me, but my words are my own." He folded his arms. "I am done with your influence, you have lost control, and you have lost the battle. You should yield."

"No!" Mallory snarled. "I haven't lost anything, you great, lumbering fool! I'm about to finish this once and for all--and you can kiss your joint throne goodbye, for all I care!" She raised the Knife high over her head. "Polaris, turn out the lights and take me to the Gate!"

Immediately, the entire mansion plunged into darkness, and several people cried out. Lizeth lit the bluefire in her hands, and Jaran sent up a pulse to recharge all the glowlamps in the vicinity.

The great door lay open with half its hinges blown. Mallory had vanished, but Trevon still stood in their midst. Azelie blinked against the bright lights and looked around her, but only the Seramis brothers stood nearby. She gasped. "Where's Zayra?"

"There!" Beren pointed, as his wife marched right out the door of The Roque, and outside the boundary of protection. "Zayra! Come back!" He yelled, but she kept right on walking. Once she crossed the boundary, she took off running toward the ruined city.
"Somebody stop her!" Jaran commanded.

"We'll go after her!" Raedyn announced, followed closely by Edri.
"Don't let her out of your sight!" Jaran shouted after them.
Beren added his own caution. "And don't you dare let anything happen to her!" he warned.

Edri turned to acknowledge with a resolute nod. "We will lay down our own lives before that happens," she promised. The pair disappeared, borne away by Raedyn's teleportation Gift.

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