Destiny's Lament: Culmination
All rights reserved. © 2006. Destiny's Lament: Culmination and everything herein (excluding characters belonging to Connor "Safer" Riley and Andrew "Bloodsword") are property of Matthew "Wielder" McCarroll. Use of these without express written permission is strictly prohibited.
Destiny’s Lament: Culmination
by Matthew R. McCarroll
Prologue
Emptiness rich as Heaven stretched forever in all directions, dotted with tiny pinpricks of light. This chamber’s corners and walls, cloaked in purest shadow, gave the impression that one stared into the blackness of space on a frighteningly thin platform of spotless glass. “Terrifying, yet glorious all at once,” was the phrase most often used to describe this legendary throne of gods: Aset.
“My Lord,” spoke a collected voice fair as silk, strong as mahogany, “it is soon now that your will must be done.”
From nowhere, a tone like thunder boomed: “You have done well, my emissary.”
“Your adversaries are wary. This One fears her Lord may be subject to Judgment. What will His Lordship have me do?”
The Heavens fell silent for a moment. Then: “Conceal yourself. Let not my foes look upon your face, for then I shall certainly be discovered.”
“How must this One hide her face, Lord?”
“Go to that place to which our most beloved subjects are gathered. There, you will carry on with what I have purposed. Should my enemies look upon you, child, you must terminate. For much is at stake; more than your life or mine.”
Silence again; then that fragile, commanding tone came once more. “So shall it be, My Lord.”
***
“Mommy!” echoed a girlish call throughout steel halls. “Mommy, look what I can do!” The owner of this voice sat at the foot of her mother’s bed, arms waving in excitement. Her dark velvet dress bounced as she dove onto the bed, crawling forward.
The one addressed as “mommy” looked up from an open book, satin locks sliding over slender shoulders, and could not restrain a feathery laugh. “What is it, dear?” she cooed, brown eyes shimmering.
The child clambered upon the bed and bounced to her feet. Then, with a grunt of concentration, she held her hands apart and focused intently. A lamp on the nightstand flickered, accompanied by the ceiling light moments later. Wholly absorbed in her task, the young girl seemed not to notice. The room became filled with a pale, blue spectrum, and in that moment, a small orb of glittering blue appeared between her hands.
The lightshow was over as swiftly as it began, but the girl beamed in satisfaction, looking to her mother expectantly.
“That’s wonderful, Terra!” praised the brown-eyed woman with an applause. “You’re showing so much control. Daddy would be very proud.” She smiled at her daughter.
It was hardly four months ago that Amy Keir’s husband passed away, slain by one of his most trusted comrades, Tokumaru Kyô, the Heavenflame Samurai, who aimed to achieve divinity. The man’s partner, an elven caster named Terrin Tankira, avenged him in that battle. Both Tokumaru and Blitz Keir died tragically, leaving behind not so much as a corpse. For all the blood spilt that day at the ruins of Castle T’lemenheim, Amy remained a widow.
“When is daddy coming home?” beamed the little girl.
Amy gave everything just to keep smiling and softly whispered, “Soon, sweetie. Daddy will come home soon.”
“How soon?”
Lying to the child was harder than not telling her the truth. Despite witnessing her father’s death, Terra had it in her head that Blitz was out on a mission. Innocence would not let Amy’s daughter remember, but the widow knew from those nightly visitations for weeks after his death that Blitz would return to the land of the living. All that could be done was to hope.
“Soon enough to kiss you goodnight.
“Now momma has some business she needs to take care of, darling.” Amy took her daughter’s cheeks and planted a quick kiss on her forehead. “Viscen will take care of you while I’m gone.”
Terra released a prolonged “alright,” and pouted her lips in an obvious attempt to seem pitiful.
Amy couldn’t help chuckling at such a cute face, but soon as she rose from the bed and started toward the door, the pale-skinned woman’s smile faded. I tell her soon, but how long must we wait? She upturned her head ever so slightly. “Are you there right now, watching?” she whispered.
The door hissed open and General Viscen Zeth was standing over her with a grim yet dutiful expression. “Why, yes, as a matter of fact. Amy, you’re late for duty again.”
“And you’re late for babysitting.”
He softened his face, gesturing with a clipboard and responding to the words written on Amy’s features. “Look, I know you’re still in poor condition. We all took it hard. But you were on leave for weeks, and the wards need your help.” He rested a broad, gentle hand on Amy’s shoulder. She glanced at it, then back to her superior’s face and returned the dutiful expression he arrived with.
“Of course, General. I was just out to my rounds.”
Slightly taken aback by her forwardness, Viscen released Amy’s shoulder. “Well, then,” he paused, fumbling for words, “carry on.”
The cleric snatched her white coat and nametag from a coat rack next to the door, slipped them on, and brushed past the officer calmly.
Viscen watched her go, giving the stubble on his chin a contemplative scratch. “What in the Celestials is going on with that girl?” With a shake of his head, the general turned his attention to Terra, who was staring at him in wide-eyed, childish wonder. He thrust his arms wide and rushed at her in a tackle. “Hey!” The girl squeaked gleefully as he wrapped his arms around her and swung her around, smiling ecstatically. “Been a while, kiddo. ‘Ow you doin’?”
“Momma gave me a stethoscope!” She grinned proudly, latching onto his strong arms. “It’s so cool! Wanna see, uncle Vice?”
The general laughed and set his self-proclaimed niece to her feet. “Sure thing, kid.”
***
The mess hall in this particular quadrant of Base 17 was crowded during the afternoon. In fact, it was crowded most of the time, but especially so during the afternoon. Perhaps the tragedies that befell the Alliance—namely the recent deaths of Blitz Keir and Psyx Dredge, two of nine highly esteemed soldiers known as Tears—drove everyone to satisfy their hunger for resolution as though it were physical. Perhaps satisfying this hunger would be more effective with something more edible instead of the bland-smelling offworld dishes being prepared by the chefs, but they had little control over that. Because of this, it was also very loud, for many people were complaining about the unsatisfactory nature of their meals. Nevertheless, on this particularly crowded day in the mess hall, two individuals happened to bump shoulders. Despite their unusual garb, they most likely wouldn’t have given one another a second glance if they had not met previously and on very uncertain terms.
“Why are you here?” demanded Valerie Astrid, a blonde-haired woman with peculiarly long, furred ears and a bad temper. She was referring, of course, to a certain black-haired, male samurai who was turning in mid-stride with an apology on his tongue until he realized the person with whom he was unfortunate enough to cross paths.
“Valerie,” muttered Tokumaru dolefully, and drooped his chin. “I understand you are upset, and I do not expect your forgiveness so swiftly. But I beg pardon and hope that you will not treat me discourteously—”
“I said ‘Why are you here?’ dirtbag.” Proverbial venom dripped from the valkyrie’s lips as she cursed him. She knew why the Heavenflame arrived, but was unaware that he remained. Given his public appearance where she’d seen him only a few weeks ago, the violent woman was more than a little displeased to see him again.
“Oh, I see.” The samurai practically quivered in his boots. Though he outclassed the valkyrie in power by a margin, her demeanor was enough to make anyone uncomfortable. “I refused to leave, so they recruited me again.”
The woman’s eyes went wide, but her eyebrows thinned and turned downward along with one corner of her lips. She looked as if someone had just told her a disgustingly lewd joke devoid of humor. When the shock passed, she gave the new recruit a cold glare. “Get out.”
After blinking several times, Tokumaru dropped his gaze. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted watchful eyes from nearby soldiers who had grown quiet.
The truth was that he never wanted to kill Blitz Keir. It was necessary in order to fulfill his purpose, but now, seeing the fruit of his godly master’s designs, the samurai began to question whether it was worth the heartache. He was a god himself now, having his own throne on Mount Olympus. The very fabric of reality was a plaything to him, but in gaining these powers, he had lost one of his only friends in the universe. The entire Alliance to which he was once loyally employed now despised him. Amy appeared to forgive the Heavenflame, at least to an extent, and Terra sought companionship from Kyo’s own son, Alex. Blitz, who secretly lived on as a spirit seeking a way back into the land of the living, swore to forgive the samurai’s sins upon a successful revival, or when his beloved’s suffering came to an end; whichever happened first.
Nevertheless, Tokumaru was deeply troubled by the treatment he received from everyone here. It was not so much that he felt deserving of better, but rather that he loved these people. The Alliance was an organization devoted to stamping out hidden wickedness of the world, and yet they displayed nothing but disgust for the Heavenflame, who shared their dream of a more peaceful Earth.
Valerie, likely the most violent soldier of them all, and definitely the most unforgiving, reached for one of two serrated daggers fastened to her belt. “I said get out,” she hissed, bearing teeth sharper than any human’s.
Hesitantly, Tokumaru fixed firm eyes on the valkyrie’s acid expression. It proved fatal, for the woman was upon him faster than he could blink.
“Valerie, enough!”
The valkyrie’s electrically charged weapon stopped less than an inch from a wide-eyed Tokumaru’s throat. Her eye twitched, a gesture of begrudged acknowledgement to her confidante’s order. “This bastard left us exposed.”
“He also prevented the main force’s extermination.” Zeroun’s tone was cool as ever. His enchanted blue robes whisked noiselessly across the floor with each step he took from the cafeteria doorway, countering Valerie’s virulent aura with a much calmer one. That friction only aggravated her, knew the wind mage, so he appealed to her self-interest. “What you are doing is betrayal. It is beyond my power to stay the authorities’ hands should you act brashly again.”
Valerie trembled with frustration, razor teeth inherent to her people flashing dangerously. Listlessly, Tokumaru held her gaze, unafraid yet visibly hurt. She struck a blow, not to his throat, but to his heart. That was enough for her. Snarling, Val withdrew the electric dagger, drawing not so much as a drop of blood.
Zeroun motioned for Valerie to leave the cafeteria—which she did, albeit with a string of curses—then cast an scolding glare at the surrounding soldiers who swiftly dispersed. Once the cafeteria’s noises resumed, Zeroun eyed the Heavenflame. “I apologize for her rash behavior.”
Tokumaru fixed his eyes on the one Tear who was willing to forgive him. “No.” The sincerity in his voice was genuine as he insisted, “This whole mess came about because of me. I am the one who should be apologizing.”
“Perhaps.” The wind mage stared unblinkingly into Tokumaru’s eyes. “Yet, it is senseless not to forgive one sincere for his sins, especially such a valuable asset as yourself. There is little you would not do in order to redeem yourself.” After a brief pause, Zeroun frowned. “I hope you do not think me cold. Your wellbeing equally concerns me.”
It must have been a struggle for the samurai to keep his composure with so many cold shoulders against him. Zeroun himself did not remember weeping, even in his childhood. The wisdom imparted by his scepter, which even now served as a cane to his feet, made tears a redundant expression of sorrow. That wisdom came not without empathy, however.
“I,” started Tokumaru, struggling for words, “I am…grateful to be of service.”
Despite fierce persecution, he perseveres in regaining the Alliance’s trust. Smiling at the thought, the wind mage gestured toward the waiting line for food. “Service is for when we are on the field. Now, enjoy your free hours while you can. Join me, Lord Kyô; let us eat.”
Tokumaru blinked in surprise. “You would grant me such an honor?”
Bearing his comrade a graceful curtsy, Zeroun replied, “Oh, but it is my honor to dine with the Heavenflame Samurai, servant of Hephaestus, ancient God of Fire and the Forge.”
Managing a small smile, the samurai accepted his mage companion’s offer, feeling that he was at last making some progress. Perhaps there was still hope to win back the trust of his former allies.
12-10-2006, 02:32 AM
) I could almost feel the emotion coming from the characters.
When someone in America refers to the "True God", the first thing that comes to mind, typically, is Christianity. Base 17 is located somewhere in southwest US, but Blitz and Drake are both Texans by birth. That is to say they were born in Texas. Their roots are quite a ways away from the US.
