I have no good Friday offerings
Jun. 15th, 2007 07:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrBut a few people have asked about my dark story. Sadly, I will probabl have to put it on hold while I get stuff ready for lulu.
Am trying something rather tricksy for this, but I can't say what without giving the story away ^^;;
Um. Tried this once before, and a few may even remember it. Completely rehauled, and now is exactly what I wanted it to be ^__^
And I even have pretty picture to go with it, thanks to the lovely and wonderful![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nepenth
Very rough, so pardon errors. I'm not going to bother having it edited until the whole is done, b/c I'm sure there is much I will be tweaking and changing.
Prologue: 1000 Butterflies
He didn't realize he'd stopped breathing until a scuffing sound from behind made him jump and gasp. Spinning around, he glared furiously at the man who'd been attempting to sneak up on him.
"Alon! Stop playing around."
"Oh, look who's talking," Alon scoffed. "Master Balen is looking for you, Teivel."
Making a face, Teivel turned away. "Then I suppose he will eventually find me."
Laughing, Alon turned and ran off back to his assigned section of the ruins.
The old temple had been abandoned nearly a century ago, according to Master Balen. Why, the records did not say. Only 'no longer safe' had been written, the ink faded nearly to being illegible.
After settling into the new-old temple, Teivel knew one of his first assignments would be helping Master Balen to copy all the faded document. The price he paid, or so he was often told, for having a neat hand. Hours upon hours of monotonous copy work while the others got to work in the garden or about the temple.
Shaking his head, Teivel attempted to focus on the work he was supposed to be doing.
Very little of the temple was intact – when it had been left, it had been well and truly abandoned. They'd managed to clear out much of the wild growth and debris, but there was still much yet to do.
Nearly everyone else had been pulled to work elsewhere, leaving the last of the tidying up to him. Currently he was doing what he could to the altar.
He was fairly certain he was losing.
Still, it was better – probably – than whatever chore Master Balen was hunting him down to assign. Making a face, Teivel stooped to work on some weeds that had grown up through the cracks of the floor, knocking his head against the stone altar.
Grumbling, he glared resentfully it.
The stone altar, unlike the rest of the temple, was perfectly intact. White marble, carved with hundreds of thousands of Marks. More than he could read, than anyone could read. So many Marks had been lost over time…
He traced a few with his fingers, reciting the Marks he knew, mouth moving but no sound audible. The stone seemed to tingle beneath his touch, making Teivel laugh faintly. Absurd. Stone couldn't tingle. He was spending too much time with the novices.
Softly humming a prayer, he continued to trace the deeply-carved Marks, wishing he knew how to say them, what they meant. Master Balen had said once there had been innumerable Marks. Now…so very few.
His fingers faltered as he caught himself tracing…that Mark…
Drawing his hand away slowly, Teivel nervously tucked back a strand of his black hair, fingers clenching it tightly a moment before finally sliding away. It couldn’t be…
He reached out again, fingers just dusting over the Mark.
His fingers tingled.
Snatching his hand away, Teivel shook his head furiously and stumbled back, landing on his rear with a soft 'oomph,' hair falling back into his face. He blew it out of the way in annoyance, and stood up. Sighing, he brushed himself off and shook his head.
He looked again at the spot on the altar.
The Mark wasn't there. Teivel frowned.
Definitely too much time with the novices, if he was seeing forbidden Marks in sacred temples.
"Do tell me, Tei, were you taking a nap or sneaking snacks?"
Teivel rolled his eyes. "Master Balen. I was just on my way to find you."
"Liar," Master Balen said cheerfully. "If you were attempting to hide behind the altar, your creativity is lacking."
"My creativity is being killed by weed-pulling," Teivel muttered. "What humbling chore did you come to set to me, Master Balen?"
Master Balen grinned. "None, actually. I wondered if you wanted to have tea tonight, discuss our plans for this place once we're settled."
Teivel blinked. Did it again. "Our plans?"
"Yes, my boy," Master Balen said with exaggerated patience. "You have been with me since you were a babe, you are just turned twenty-five summers, and no one knows the Ways and my mind better. It is long past time you were properly inducted, and I can think of no better time than when we move into our new, larger temple." He rolled his eyes. "Much larger temple, by the grace and mercy of our Lord."
Teivel agreed fervently. It was always a good thing to have more followers than could be contained – but all would be happier when they were not five to a room when the rooms were meant for two. "Do I get my own room?" he asked.
Master Balen grinned. "That depends."
Groaning, Teivel flapped impatiently at him. "You did have a nasty chore for me to do."
"This room is looking grand," Master Balen said idly, ignoring him. "Only the roof is really a problem. It will be hard to enjoy spring services when spring pours down on us through those holes."
Teivel groaned even louder. "No! I am not doing the thatching. Priest! Not a thatcher!"
"But you've proven to be so adept," Master Balen said cheerfully. "My roof has not dripped once in five years."
"Would that I had left you to be drowned," Teivel replied tartly. "Not thatching."
"Only until we can afford some masons," Master Balen wheedled.
Teivel shook his head. "I’m busy pulling weeds."
Snorting, Master Balen turned away. "You'll start on that roof tomorrow then, aye?"
"Only if you can find me," Teivel retorted.
Master Balen laughed. "Challenge accepted. I will leave you to your weeding."
"Thank you, oh kind and wise leader." Rolling his eyes, Teivel waved him off and then knelt to get back to work.
His eyes strayed to the spot where earlier he'd seen the forbidden Mark….and recoiled when he saw it again. Furiously he rubbed his eyes, then cautiously looked again. Still there.
Beautifully carved, the lines elegant and smooth, even sinuous. The delicate, curving wings of a butterfly.
Strictly forbidden. Under no circumstances was that black mark ever to be drawn – least of all within the walls of a holy place. What was a Butterfly Mark doing here?
Cautiously Teivel held out his hand again, just barely brushing his fingertips over the mark. His hair slid forward with the movement, sliding over his cheek and getting in his way. Teivel barely noticed, wholly intent upon the Butterfly Mark.
It tingled beneath his touch, seemed to…move.
Something flickered in his eyes, catching movement from the corner of his eye – but when he turned his head, nothing was there.
He turned back the mark, which now seemed larger than ever. Around it the other marks were gone, as though swallowed but the Butterfly.
A cold chill ran down his spine and Teivel attempted to withdraw – but found he could remove his hand from the stone. Breath hissing out between his teeth, he forced himself not to panic. With an effort, he called up a prayer and forced it past his lips.
The Butterfly pulsed – then died.
Teivel tore his hand away from the altar, shuddering hard.
Was this why they had abandoned the temple?
Standing slowly, Teivel tucked his hair back with a trembling hand. That would teach him to play with Marks like a novice. And Master Balen wanted to put him in a position of authority. After this, he'd be lucky if—
"Tei!" Master Balen barked sharply, and Teivel's head jerked up in surprise.
His Master's face was as white as the marble of the altar, and a look of terror like nothing Teivel had ever seen… a moment later he realized Master Balen was pointing…behind him…
Whirling around, losing his balance, catching the altar for balance, Teivel stared.
A beautiful woman. He could see through her.
She reached out, and Teivel tried to scramble back but the altar was in his way and her touched was hot and cold all at once. He screamed as his body seemed to tear apart, seemed to feel as though a thousand needles were driven threw it.
Then it all went mercifully black.
"I'm a failure," Teivel said. "Master…"
Master Balen shook his head. "No, Tei. I think anyone would have been pulled into that spell. I should have searched harder for the reason they fled the temple. They must have sensed the wicked enchantment and did not dare risk unsealing her."
Tears streamed down Teivel's face. "Please, Master…tell me this is not what I think it is."
"My boy, I would be lying if I told you that it wasn't. Look at you. What else could it be?"
He didn't need to look.
They sat in Master Balen's room, the only room not overstuffed with people. The floor was bare wood, worn but well cared for, a warm golden brown. They sat at a low table made of the same wood, currently cluttered with tea and a light snack. Food made his stomach clench, and the tea he attempted only because his Master kept giving him Looks.
The doors had been pushed open to let in the cool evening air, the only relief for his burning-hot skin. His fingers twitched anxiously around the smooth sides of his clay teacup. "Master…"
He didn't need to look, but he did anyway.
Butterflies. Hundreds of them. Master Balen had described the sheer mass to him in greater detail than Teivel had been able to take. They ran the length of his forehead, covered his cheeks, miniature ones climbing up the sides of his nose, just brushing the corner of his mouth. Larger ones ran down his neck to fan out over his shoulders and chest, vanishing into the dark hairs of his groin. One the size of a fist was apparently set between his shoulder blades, surrounded by a swirl of smaller ones that trailed down his backside, spilling down his legs to cover even his toes.
Near as he could tell, not a single bit of his skin was left unmarred.
"The Mad Queen," he whispered.
"So it would seem," Master Balen said grimly. "I do not know how her trapped Soul came to be in so remote a place as this…so very far from the Graveyard…" He sighed and looked pointedly at Teivel's cooling tea. "We will go to Zolota and see what we can learn."
"What's to learn?" Teivel asked bitterly.
The Mad Queen. Once known as the Butterfly Queen, ruler of a land of ageless beauty. Until she…simply went mad. Why, no one ever knew. A beautiful Queen turned into a raging Witch. Her perfect kingdom turned into a desert of black sand.
According to legend, it was her four guardians – wielders of forbidden and reviled blades, yet somehow still capable of magic – who turned on her and Sealed her away when her power proved too great to simply be destroyed.
Afterwards, they simply vanished.
"She's supposed to be…gone…" Teivel whispered. "What was she doing here? Why was it so easy to free her?"
Master Balen shook his head. "I don't know, Tei. We'll find out. I promise."
Teivel nodded and wearily closed his eyes. He knew Master Balen meant it. He always meant his promises.
But he could not hear the faint, echoing voice in the back of Teivel's mind. The eerie laughter, taunting and tormenting him. Whispering his name in a poisonous way…
He wondered how long he had until the voice drowned out everything else. Until it consumed him.
Part One: Spider
Chapter One
It was a full moon night, the sky clear, the air crisp. A perfect night.
Even the weather, it seemed, approved of his engagement.
Salil smiled and shook his head, amused at himself. Obviously he was letting it all go straight to his head. Still smiling, he turned and looked across the room at the woman so recently made his betrothed.
Of course, everyone had known it was coming. They'd been courting for two years now, an intricate and complicated affair, but so very worth it in the end. At last that end had been reached. Though everyone else had known it, he'd not been able to rest easy until the ring had found its home on her finger only an hour ago.
His bride-to-be looked up and instantly found him, smiling fondly before returning to the droves of silk-clad women surrounding her.
Pale skin and dark curls, clear brown eyes, dainty lips and elegantly-sculpted cheeks. Yes, Nova was divine in every imaginable way. His. He'd worked so hard for this moment – this life. The pale blue silk she wore tonight had been a gift from him, and that he could give her dozens more just like it…
Not because he had money. No, his family had never lacked for money. He could give her dresses and jewels and all the rest because now he was accepted. He had a respected, honorable place in society now. No one feared him. They invited him over for tea or dinner, raced to be invited to this private betrothal ball.
His Lady's father beamed proudly as he looked out over the festivities from the balcony.
At last he'd finally left his tainted legacy behind.
His mouth twisted as thoughts of his family snuck in.
No, there was no place for them here. He was not them. He was leaving it all behind. Had left it all behind. He was only Master Salil Arach now…and quite possible he would be a proper Lord someday. His ambitions could take him that far, if he tried.
He reached up unconsciously to touch his cheek, and the dark smudge there. Like ink or soot that had smeared, and had not been entirely wiped away. Faint, but noticeable. An odd sort of birthmark that had ever plagued his family. He'd tried innumerable things to remove it, short of anything so drastic as fire or a blade…though he'd been tempted.
Still, perhaps it was best. If he removed the smudge, he risked forgetting what he'd worked so hard to overcome.
A bell chimed off in the distance, the local temple tirelessly marking the hours. Nearly midnight, and the entire evening had gone off without a hitch. Salil allowed himself another smile, turning again to look up into the starlit sky.
Behind him, someone softly called his name.
He turned, and looked at the servant who waited. "Yes?"
"Master Arach, there is a gentleman here to see you. An acquaintance, he said. We took the liberty of putting him in your study. He had no card." Disapproval was thick in the servant's voice. Salil swore sometimes they were stricter about the rules than the nobles who made them up.
Nodding, Salil waved the man off. "I will see him. Thank you."
"Master," the servant said with a bow, and vanished.
He really did need to learn all their names, but he'd let Nova pick them out and there'd been no time…
Soon, though, he would have plenty of time.
Turning way from the balcony overlooking his small but exquisite garden, he strode through the ballroom and out into the hallway, smiling proudly at each painting and decoration that he'd worked so hard acquire. His home was one of which he was very proud.
He opened the door to his study, expecting to see one of two men – it was the first of his guesses.
His father. "Yes?" Salil asked, keeping his words clipped.
Then he saw the box on the desk. Long, not overly wide…made of some dark wood that no one who had seen the box had been able to identify. Nor would anyone ever, the source of the wood had vanished centuries ago.
"What is that doing here?" Salil asked sharply.
His father merely stared at him, and Salil tamped down on his temper. The eyes watching him implacably were the same dark blue as his own; so too the strawberry-blonde hair, though his father's was threaded heavily with gray now. They had the same broad, muscular build – age had not terribly diminished that.
"I do not want it," Salil said. "Have I not said a thousand times I want nothing to do with the legacy?" He spat the word, hating it.
"It is not as though anyone knows what it means anymore, to bear this mark. They fear only our coloring," His father said calmly, touching fingers lightly the smudge on his cheek, exactly like that which marred Salil's.
"They know to hate us," Salil snapped. "We have had this discussion thousands of times, father. I do not want to have it again."
His father sighed. "Nor do I, my son. However, it is your time to shoulder the burden. Guard it safely, guard it well."
"I do not want any part of it."
"Too bad," his father replied, voice still holding that hateful calm Salil could never master, never even mimic. "Do you think I wanted it? Do you think my father wanted it? Yet if we do not shoulder it, Salil, naught but ill will come to the world."
Salil bit back the words he wanted to say, knowing they were futile. "I do not want that thing."
"You will take it anyway." His father walked toward him, lingering in the doorway. "I hate it as much as you, my son. We always have, and always will, suffer for the blood which taints us. Take what comfort you can in the fact that no one else knows exactly why we bear the coloring we do, why we are Marked. You have the life you always wanted…this is the price you pay for it."
"Why do you hand it over now?" Salil asked tersely.
His father frowned, something like concern flickering briefly over his face. "It is time…" he said slowly. "Of late, I have been unsettled. I will sleep more easily knowing you care for it now, rather than I." He smiled weakly, tiredly, looking every bit of his fifty odd years. "Perhaps there is too much old man in me. Take care of it, my son. I would not force the burden upon you if I had another choice. I wish you could believe that. But it belongs to us, and with us it must stay."
"I know," Salil said coolly. "You've only told me my entire life."
Sighing, his father turned away. "I am proud of you, Salil…but sometimes…come and visit your mother. She misses you fiercely, and wants to see the 'lord' her beautiful son has become."
Nodding stiffly, Salil let his anger subside for the moment. "I will."
He didn't hate his family. Not at all. He just…didn't want to be dragged down by the burden so unfairly placed upon them. Raking a hand through his hair, he watched as his father vanished down the hallway, then closed the door and locked it.
Crossing to the desk, he whispered the words that deactivated the ancient Marks of Sealing upon the equally ancient wood.
Inside, nestled upon a bed of velvet, was his family's deepest secret. He touched the smudge on his cheek, which had suddenly begun to burn. He glared hatefully at the family legacy, a dirty secret to be kept until the end of time.
The Mad Queen was Sealed away by her own protectors. Sacred Blades, somehow capable of shedding blood in violence and yet still use magic. Blessed, or perhaps cursed, for with that power they betrayed their own Queen and then vanished from the world.
Except they hadn't vanished. Not entirely.
Sacred Blades of the Queen. All knowledge of them is lost, except that they saved us from her Madness.
Salil grimaced, thinking of the old school lessons, the sermons told often in the temple. He wished he was as ignorant as the rest of the world. Sadly, he was not. There had been four Blades, and they had not vanished from the world, merely gone into hiding.
He wished they'd been someone else's family.
Heaving a sigh, he moved to close the lid of the box…but something made him brush his fingertips along the hated relic inside it.
A blade. Quite beautiful, if he forced himself to be honest. Though ancient, it looked new, the wavy steel gleaming in the light of the few lit lamps, the hilt of dark gold, engraved with delicate looking spider webs. The pommel was made of amber, smooth and round…and captured inside it, frozen there for all time, was a small, black spider.
There had been four Blades of the Queen. He knew the names of them all, but only one had ever mattered to him – Spider. That was the name which stalked and haunted his family, weaving a web that transcended time, tangling them forever in threads spun of sticky secrets.
Heaving a sigh, Salil once more made to close the box – but a sharp rap at the door stopped him.
Recognizing the knock, Salil smiled and immediately moved to unlock the door. No sooner had he done so than he found himself soundly kissed, shoved back into the room, arms twining greedily around him.
He moaned and let the kiss consume him, eagerly returning the fervor and heat. The kiss ended only when breathing became necessary, and he smiled, looking into the dark brown eyes that watched him with equal heat. "Papillion. I did not expect to see you until tomorrow, though I had hoped…"
"Show me how much you hoped," Papillion replied.
Salil laughed and scrubbed a hand over Papillion's short-cropped black hair, tugging him back in, kissing him slowly, humming at the sharp flavor of his lover, the way he smelled like summer. Their mouths fit together perfectly, moving easily, the heat a slow burn now. "Mmm, I have missed you. How did you manage to return so easily?"
"My last set of lessons was cut short. I've nothing to do 'til next month. How fairs your party?"
Salil tilted his head back to grant full access to the hot mouth exploring it, shivering in Papillion's arms. "Splendidly, of course."
"But I am more splendid still?"
"Of course," Salil said with a laugh. He shoved Papillion back, winking to soothe the pout that creased his lover's face. "Let me lock the door back. Are you hungry? Thirsty?'
"Not really," Papillion replied, turning away as Salil moved to the door.
He heard a sharp intake of breath. "Salil…what is this?"
Salil stiffened as he realized he'd never closed the box. "Nothing, Papi. Merely a chore my father has thrust upon me." He moved to the desk and made to shut the box, frowning when Papillion stopped him, fingers tight around his wrist.
"This…this is the Spider Blade, isn't it?" Papillion said excitedly. "I can't believe it. So it's true, all the old rumors about your family…"
Snarling, Salil yanked his hand free and slammed the box shut. "I do not want to discuss it."
"I can't believe you never told me," Papillion said, hurt flickering across his face. "Five years now we've been together…you always said it was nonsense."
"It is nonsense," Salil snapped, ardor replaced completely by anger now. "I detest speaking about it. I want no part of it. My father has forced the issue, but he can only force it so far. I did not tell you because I want it bleeding into my life as little as possible."
Papillion shook his head slowly back and forth. "Spider…I cannot believe you possess one of the legendary blades." He looked at the closed box, fingers twitching. Salil knew he wanted to open it again. "Can you use it?"
He put his own hand firmly on top of it, making matters clear. "We do not touch it – ever."
"So what of the rumor of power…"
"False," Salil snapped. "Why do you care so much?"
"Why?" Papillion demanded, jaw dropping. "Sal – the history of the Mad Queen and her protectors has shaped our world. Every single day I recount history to lazy students, and ever last bit of that history is somehow tied to the Mad Queen. Yet we know almost nothing about her. Right here on this desk is a piece of her legacy – a blade of one of her killers, a man who betrayed her! – and you ask why I care so much?"
Salil grimaced. "If you ask me, all is best forgotten. Nothing good comes from holding on to the blade of a traitorous killer.
"Think of the history…" Papillion said the words softly, eyes locked on the box, a strange light to them. Salil didn't think the word he'd wanted to say then had been 'history.' He felt a sudden chill.
Lifting his hand from the box, he cupped Papillion's jaw and tugged him gently forward, kissing him softly. "I know your obsession with such things, Papi, but do not tell me after an entire month you would rather look at an old blade than me."
Papi smiled. "It was an awfully interesting blade, Sal…" he teased.
Growling low, Salil bit down on Papi's bottom lip, then soothed it with his tongue, opening his mouth to the hard kiss Papi pressed upon him, groaning as it went deep, wrapping both his arms around Papi's neck, tugging him even closer. "But I'm more interesting?"
"You are," Papi said, the words low and husky. He turned them sharply, lifting Salil up onto the desk, spreading his legs wide enough Salil could feel his muscles strain, then stepped between them. A hard heat pressed against his own and Salil groaned, head falling back, Papi attacking it like a starving man. "Can we go somewhere more appropriate?" He dropped a hard kiss on Salil's mouth, sucking on his lower lip as he pulled away. "Or must we stay here?'
"Where did you stable?"
"The usual."
Salil groaned as Papi cupped his hardness, stroking it through the velvet of his breeches. He rocked his hips, pushing them together, eliciting a matching groan from his lover. With an effort he regained his thought, resenting wholly that he must. "Then I'll make my—excuses." He shuddered as Papi thrust against him, wanting nothing so badly as to doing these very motions naked. "Meet you at the s-stables. We'll go to your place."
"Splendid." With a last teasing touch, Papi stepped away.
When he could trust his feet, Salil rose, smoothing his clothes back into shape, focusing his thoughts on what his future father in law would do if he found his daughter's future husband locked in his study doing lascivious things with another man.
It had the necessary chilling effect.
"What about that?" Papi asked, nodding at the box.
Salil grimaced. "I guess I'd best hide it away until I have time to think of a better permanent resting spot for it."
"You could take it to my place," Papi suggested, holding up his hands in innocence when Salil cast him a suspicious look. "I intend to harangue you for every last scrap of information I can, but I won't touch the blade. Likely I'll beg to look at it, but I won't touch it. I can tell by the way you act that it's important." He snorted softly. "Lord above, I know how important it is. Hands off."
Slowly, Salil nodded, allowing himself to relax. "That would be ideal, then. Yes, thank you."
"Then I'll wait for you at the stables." Stealing a last kiss, Papi turned and swiftly vanished.
Salil remained, taking several slow, deep breaths to reorder his thoughts, find his proper focus.
Odd, to say the least, that he would risk the life he'd worked so hard to get for another man. Yet it wasn't. From the moment they'd mete five years ago, he'd known he would do almost anything for Papillion. Something about him had always called.
He grimaced at the table. For a man, yes. For a relic, no. When he got to Papillion's home, he would hide it deeply away and never think of it again. Perhaps if he buried it deeply enough, none would every find it…
Shaking his head, he pushed the matter aside and went to go make his excuses.
An hour later he was racing Papillion along the dark roads, throwing taunts over his shoulder, laughing into the wind as it snatched away the ribbon with which he'd tied back his hair. He very much wanted to cut it, but the sign of a gentleman was long hair
In front of him, the Light he'd earlier cast finally faded away. Summoning the appropriate marks to mind, Papillion spoke them loud and clear, throwing his hand out to direct the magic. Just ahead of him, a new globe of light flickered into being to show the path.
High above them, the moon cast its own silvery light over the field they raced.
At last Salil reached the cabin at the edge of the forest, tugging on the reigns, his horse rearing up and spinning around, coming down neatly as he waited for Papillion, who caught up a minute later. "One would think with all the riding you do," he teased, "that you would be the faster."
Papillion smirked as he drew close, drawing his horse alongside Salil's to lean in and take a quick, biting kiss. "We both know I lack your enthusiasm for riding, Sal." He licked Salil's lips, then pulled away and dismounted, leading his horse to the stable behind his simple home.
He employed only a woman who came periodically to clean his house, so currently they had the place to themselves. Quickly Salil tended to his horse, and had barely finished when he was shoved against the wall, mouth taken in a hungry kiss. He groaned loudly, spreading his legs at Papillion's urging, daggering his fingers into soft, dark hair. One hand slid down his side and curved around to explore his backside, the other circling to the front to cup his hardness.
"Inside, Papi," Salil said.
Papillion rumbled a low protest.
"You can have me up against a wall in the house," Salil said, stroking his chest through the linen of his shirt, nails pressing hard. "Not here, where it smells like horse."
Laughing, Papillion acquiesced, tugging him away and turning to lead them to the house.
Salil broke away and moved to get the box he'd left nearby after removing it from his horse's saddle. "I need to put this away, first."
"Put it in my study," Papillion said impatiently, hand teasing along his backside, pressing just so, making Salil shudder.
Distantly, he noted the impatience, the disinterest. Good. Perhaps he did not have to worry about Papillion and the stupid blade after all. Then as they made it to the house, and he was able to cast the box aside, he thought only of the hands and mouth upon him, the body pressed against his own, the voice that called his name in passion.
He woke screaming in pain, but even as he sat up, the scream stopped.
Salil realized he did not know why he screamed. Cautiously he looked around, the sudden panic fading away beneath the grogginess of having just woken. His mind felt thick, heavy, and it took more effort than he liked to think over the past night's events.
They had come here…been all over each other, always they were hungry for one another. The wall, the bed, then a snack…wine…Salil frowned as he realized he could remember nothing more.
He threw back the tangle of blankets, and realized abruptly he was soaked in sweat.
A shiver raced up his spine, reminding him that he'd woken screaming.
The pain hit him as he stood, a deep throb from somewhere in his head he could not exactly pin down. Not like the headaches he sometimes got at work, for which Nova's maid always gave him the most marvelous tea…
No…this was all over, as though pulsing out from the very center.
It pulsed hard and he stumbled on his way to the wardrobe, just barely catching himself upon it, holding a hand to his head, groaning in pain.
Another shiver raced up his spine, chilling him, prickling the hairs at the back of his neck.
He realized abruptly that at least one thing was decidedly odd – Papillion was missing. The man never stirred from bed before he absolutely had to, and after a night like the one which had just passed…
Shaking his head, wincing at the pain steadily worsening, he swiftly dressed in his riding clothes, pulling on his boots and raking back his hair, tying it off with a strip of leather as he raced down the stairs.
Some deep foreboding, and the increased pulsing in his head, drew him to the study.
His blood turned to ice in his veins as he saw the box on the desk.
Open. Empty.
The Spider Blade was gone.
Spinning around, Salil raced out of the house and to the stable, not bothering to saddle his horse as he drew her out and threw himself on her back. Digging in his heels and holding tight, he pushed her to go as fast as possible, racing for the town.
There was something wrong. Every last bit of him screamed it, fear clawing at him. Why? Why was he so terrified? Papillion had probably gotten carried away in his scholarly way, off to do something stupid. All would be fine. He would beat the man senseless, then fuck him senseless, and all would be well.
Except as he crested the last rise to the town…
It was gone.
Nothing remained…except smoldering wreckage. Cinders and ash…
A scream stuck in his throat, Salil half-slid, half-fell from his horse, stumbling toward the wretched remains of his home…
"No…" he whispered. "NO!" How could this be? What had done this?
Yet he knew…
Feared by all, for what they had been. For what they had done. It is impossible to trust a man once he has proven himself to be capable of treachery. They turned on the Four, and attempted to kill them. Like their Queen, however, the guardian Blades were too powerful. So the people did what the Four had done to the Mad Queen.
They destroyed the bodies and Sealed the power away, placing that power under a terrible curse to ensure that never would anyone try again to resurrect it.
To wake the sleeping power of the Blades required a great sacrifice. One thousand deaths per Blade. No one would ever be willing to pay such a terrible price, the people knew, and so they were safe.
Biting back a panicked sob, unable to accept that it was true, that…that he'd really let this happen.
No. He refused. Papillion would not know how, and even if he did he would never betray him. Never.
Wiping away the tears that streamed down his cheeks, swallowing against the bile that tried to rise up in his throat, he stumbled back to his horse and climbed up. Angrily he forced himself to focus, to think.
Tracks. He saw tracks, there where the forest began. It ran thin here, near the village, but increased farther out. Papillion's home was at the edge where it began to grow truly dense, and the forest then continued for miles upon miles. The only way to the cities beyond were through it, or around it. Most chose around, the forest wasn't a safe place.
These tracks, however, led into it. With an angry snarl, the smell of smoke, of ruin, sunk into his nostrils, Salil raced off into the forest, following the tracks the bastards had not even attempted to conceal.
Arrogance.
He wished suddenly that he had brought a blade. Though such things were illegal, and those who used them outlaws, he could use one. It was yet one more burden placed upon his family, to know always how to use that which they guarded.
'Know thine enemy' his father had said.
His father.
Dead. Turned to ashes. And their last words…
Bile again rose up in his throat, but Salil refused to give in to any weakness now. He followed the tracks, consumed by rage, the pain in his head growing unbearably.
He heard the voices a moment before he burst into the clearing.
The men saw him first, and one came after him with a blade held high.
Something snapped in Salil's head, as though it were breaking…or falling back into place. But before he could figure it out, the man was upon him, and he reacted without thinking, movements as smooth as though he'd done them a thousand time.
Shifting, placing his hands on his horse, he swung his legs over, ramming the man in the head, hearing something crack, barely noticing as he landed, rolled, grabbing up the blade the man had dropped.
It felt both wrong and right in his hand. Something….crawled through his mind, faint and feather-light.
Then more men were upon him, and Salil saw only enemies, knew from the soot staining them that these were his culprits. Screaming, he attacked, metal flashing in the afternoon sun as he sliced one across the chest. Then the metal was only dull with dark blood. He dropped to one knee even as he spun around, dodging a swing, lunging forward from his crouch, thrusting through the stomach of his attacker, roaring as he shoved the man off his blade, turning and smashing the pommel into the face of the one coming up on his side, then thrusting to the side into the throat of another.
No more came at him.
A laugh, familiar and yet strange, broke the shaken silence of the glade.
Salil spun around, wiping blood from his face with the back of his hand.
He stared uncomprehendingly at what he saw before him.
Papillion.
Not as he'd always seen the man…
No, the man now…a stranger. Gone was the warmth, the smiles, the heat. His eyes were cold, a cruel twist to his mouth. In his right hand, he held the Spider Blade. "Papi…" Salil whispered hoarsely. "What…"
"All this time, it was you," Papillion said. "I truly believed you when you said that you had nothing to do with the Four. Yet all this time….all these years wasted searching for the Spider Blade and you had it the entire time."
"The village…why…all these years…"
Papillion shrugged. His left hand strayed to his neck, and Salil saw for the first time a Mark there. A butterf…no, it wasn't a butterfly. Not an ordinary one, anyway. No…it was…a moth. A type of butterfly which came out only at night. "I do all that I must to serve my Master. Including fucking a spoiled brat who did not appreciate the power bestowed upon him. Your loss. I made the sacrifice and the power of the Spider is mine now."
Who are you?" Salil asked, voice thick, eyes stinging. "I thought…"
"You thought a great many foolish things," Papillion said coldly. "I have what I want."
Rage sliced through him, along with a hate so powerful it left Salil shaking.
Then it only left him cold. "Give it back," he said softly, no longer caring about the pain in his head, his heart. He could do nothing about his sins, except take back his blade and kill the man who had paid the terrible price for a power no one should have. "That blade is not yours, give it back."
"Come and take it."
With an angry roar, Salil obeyed, racing toward him, swinging hard. Steel clashed with steel, cutting through the glade.
Papillion threw him off, shoved him to the ground. "I spared your life, Salil," he said, and for a moment he seemed to be the man Salil had loved. "I could have killed you with them, but I let you live. Come with me."
"Die" Salil snarled, and lunged, managing to slice Papillion's thigh.
Then a blinding pain came from behind, stars flashing in his eyes.
He vaguely heard Papillion speak, then slumped into darkness.
Am trying something rather tricksy for this, but I can't say what without giving the story away ^^;;
Um. Tried this once before, and a few may even remember it. Completely rehauled, and now is exactly what I wanted it to be ^__^
And I even have pretty picture to go with it, thanks to the lovely and wonderful
nepenthVery rough, so pardon errors. I'm not going to bother having it edited until the whole is done, b/c I'm sure there is much I will be tweaking and changing.
The Blade and the Butterfly
Prologue: 1000 Butterflies
He didn't realize he'd stopped breathing until a scuffing sound from behind made him jump and gasp. Spinning around, he glared furiously at the man who'd been attempting to sneak up on him.
"Alon! Stop playing around."
"Oh, look who's talking," Alon scoffed. "Master Balen is looking for you, Teivel."
Making a face, Teivel turned away. "Then I suppose he will eventually find me."
Laughing, Alon turned and ran off back to his assigned section of the ruins.
The old temple had been abandoned nearly a century ago, according to Master Balen. Why, the records did not say. Only 'no longer safe' had been written, the ink faded nearly to being illegible.
After settling into the new-old temple, Teivel knew one of his first assignments would be helping Master Balen to copy all the faded document. The price he paid, or so he was often told, for having a neat hand. Hours upon hours of monotonous copy work while the others got to work in the garden or about the temple.
Shaking his head, Teivel attempted to focus on the work he was supposed to be doing.
Very little of the temple was intact – when it had been left, it had been well and truly abandoned. They'd managed to clear out much of the wild growth and debris, but there was still much yet to do.
Nearly everyone else had been pulled to work elsewhere, leaving the last of the tidying up to him. Currently he was doing what he could to the altar.
He was fairly certain he was losing.
Still, it was better – probably – than whatever chore Master Balen was hunting him down to assign. Making a face, Teivel stooped to work on some weeds that had grown up through the cracks of the floor, knocking his head against the stone altar.
Grumbling, he glared resentfully it.
The stone altar, unlike the rest of the temple, was perfectly intact. White marble, carved with hundreds of thousands of Marks. More than he could read, than anyone could read. So many Marks had been lost over time…
He traced a few with his fingers, reciting the Marks he knew, mouth moving but no sound audible. The stone seemed to tingle beneath his touch, making Teivel laugh faintly. Absurd. Stone couldn't tingle. He was spending too much time with the novices.
Softly humming a prayer, he continued to trace the deeply-carved Marks, wishing he knew how to say them, what they meant. Master Balen had said once there had been innumerable Marks. Now…so very few.
His fingers faltered as he caught himself tracing…that Mark…
Drawing his hand away slowly, Teivel nervously tucked back a strand of his black hair, fingers clenching it tightly a moment before finally sliding away. It couldn’t be…
He reached out again, fingers just dusting over the Mark.
His fingers tingled.
Snatching his hand away, Teivel shook his head furiously and stumbled back, landing on his rear with a soft 'oomph,' hair falling back into his face. He blew it out of the way in annoyance, and stood up. Sighing, he brushed himself off and shook his head.
He looked again at the spot on the altar.
The Mark wasn't there. Teivel frowned.
Definitely too much time with the novices, if he was seeing forbidden Marks in sacred temples.
"Do tell me, Tei, were you taking a nap or sneaking snacks?"
Teivel rolled his eyes. "Master Balen. I was just on my way to find you."
"Liar," Master Balen said cheerfully. "If you were attempting to hide behind the altar, your creativity is lacking."
"My creativity is being killed by weed-pulling," Teivel muttered. "What humbling chore did you come to set to me, Master Balen?"
Master Balen grinned. "None, actually. I wondered if you wanted to have tea tonight, discuss our plans for this place once we're settled."
Teivel blinked. Did it again. "Our plans?"
"Yes, my boy," Master Balen said with exaggerated patience. "You have been with me since you were a babe, you are just turned twenty-five summers, and no one knows the Ways and my mind better. It is long past time you were properly inducted, and I can think of no better time than when we move into our new, larger temple." He rolled his eyes. "Much larger temple, by the grace and mercy of our Lord."
Teivel agreed fervently. It was always a good thing to have more followers than could be contained – but all would be happier when they were not five to a room when the rooms were meant for two. "Do I get my own room?" he asked.
Master Balen grinned. "That depends."
Groaning, Teivel flapped impatiently at him. "You did have a nasty chore for me to do."
"This room is looking grand," Master Balen said idly, ignoring him. "Only the roof is really a problem. It will be hard to enjoy spring services when spring pours down on us through those holes."
Teivel groaned even louder. "No! I am not doing the thatching. Priest! Not a thatcher!"
"But you've proven to be so adept," Master Balen said cheerfully. "My roof has not dripped once in five years."
"Would that I had left you to be drowned," Teivel replied tartly. "Not thatching."
"Only until we can afford some masons," Master Balen wheedled.
Teivel shook his head. "I’m busy pulling weeds."
Snorting, Master Balen turned away. "You'll start on that roof tomorrow then, aye?"
"Only if you can find me," Teivel retorted.
Master Balen laughed. "Challenge accepted. I will leave you to your weeding."
"Thank you, oh kind and wise leader." Rolling his eyes, Teivel waved him off and then knelt to get back to work.
His eyes strayed to the spot where earlier he'd seen the forbidden Mark….and recoiled when he saw it again. Furiously he rubbed his eyes, then cautiously looked again. Still there.
Beautifully carved, the lines elegant and smooth, even sinuous. The delicate, curving wings of a butterfly.
Strictly forbidden. Under no circumstances was that black mark ever to be drawn – least of all within the walls of a holy place. What was a Butterfly Mark doing here?
Cautiously Teivel held out his hand again, just barely brushing his fingertips over the mark. His hair slid forward with the movement, sliding over his cheek and getting in his way. Teivel barely noticed, wholly intent upon the Butterfly Mark.
It tingled beneath his touch, seemed to…move.
Something flickered in his eyes, catching movement from the corner of his eye – but when he turned his head, nothing was there.
He turned back the mark, which now seemed larger than ever. Around it the other marks were gone, as though swallowed but the Butterfly.
A cold chill ran down his spine and Teivel attempted to withdraw – but found he could remove his hand from the stone. Breath hissing out between his teeth, he forced himself not to panic. With an effort, he called up a prayer and forced it past his lips.
The Butterfly pulsed – then died.
Teivel tore his hand away from the altar, shuddering hard.
Was this why they had abandoned the temple?
Standing slowly, Teivel tucked his hair back with a trembling hand. That would teach him to play with Marks like a novice. And Master Balen wanted to put him in a position of authority. After this, he'd be lucky if—
"Tei!" Master Balen barked sharply, and Teivel's head jerked up in surprise.
His Master's face was as white as the marble of the altar, and a look of terror like nothing Teivel had ever seen… a moment later he realized Master Balen was pointing…behind him…
Whirling around, losing his balance, catching the altar for balance, Teivel stared.
A beautiful woman. He could see through her.
She reached out, and Teivel tried to scramble back but the altar was in his way and her touched was hot and cold all at once. He screamed as his body seemed to tear apart, seemed to feel as though a thousand needles were driven threw it.
Then it all went mercifully black.
"I'm a failure," Teivel said. "Master…"
Master Balen shook his head. "No, Tei. I think anyone would have been pulled into that spell. I should have searched harder for the reason they fled the temple. They must have sensed the wicked enchantment and did not dare risk unsealing her."
Tears streamed down Teivel's face. "Please, Master…tell me this is not what I think it is."
"My boy, I would be lying if I told you that it wasn't. Look at you. What else could it be?"
He didn't need to look.
They sat in Master Balen's room, the only room not overstuffed with people. The floor was bare wood, worn but well cared for, a warm golden brown. They sat at a low table made of the same wood, currently cluttered with tea and a light snack. Food made his stomach clench, and the tea he attempted only because his Master kept giving him Looks.
The doors had been pushed open to let in the cool evening air, the only relief for his burning-hot skin. His fingers twitched anxiously around the smooth sides of his clay teacup. "Master…"
He didn't need to look, but he did anyway.
Butterflies. Hundreds of them. Master Balen had described the sheer mass to him in greater detail than Teivel had been able to take. They ran the length of his forehead, covered his cheeks, miniature ones climbing up the sides of his nose, just brushing the corner of his mouth. Larger ones ran down his neck to fan out over his shoulders and chest, vanishing into the dark hairs of his groin. One the size of a fist was apparently set between his shoulder blades, surrounded by a swirl of smaller ones that trailed down his backside, spilling down his legs to cover even his toes.
Near as he could tell, not a single bit of his skin was left unmarred.
"The Mad Queen," he whispered.
"So it would seem," Master Balen said grimly. "I do not know how her trapped Soul came to be in so remote a place as this…so very far from the Graveyard…" He sighed and looked pointedly at Teivel's cooling tea. "We will go to Zolota and see what we can learn."
"What's to learn?" Teivel asked bitterly.
The Mad Queen. Once known as the Butterfly Queen, ruler of a land of ageless beauty. Until she…simply went mad. Why, no one ever knew. A beautiful Queen turned into a raging Witch. Her perfect kingdom turned into a desert of black sand.
According to legend, it was her four guardians – wielders of forbidden and reviled blades, yet somehow still capable of magic – who turned on her and Sealed her away when her power proved too great to simply be destroyed.
Afterwards, they simply vanished.
"She's supposed to be…gone…" Teivel whispered. "What was she doing here? Why was it so easy to free her?"
Master Balen shook his head. "I don't know, Tei. We'll find out. I promise."
Teivel nodded and wearily closed his eyes. He knew Master Balen meant it. He always meant his promises.
But he could not hear the faint, echoing voice in the back of Teivel's mind. The eerie laughter, taunting and tormenting him. Whispering his name in a poisonous way…
He wondered how long he had until the voice drowned out everything else. Until it consumed him.
Part One: Spider
Chapter One
It was a full moon night, the sky clear, the air crisp. A perfect night.
Even the weather, it seemed, approved of his engagement.
Salil smiled and shook his head, amused at himself. Obviously he was letting it all go straight to his head. Still smiling, he turned and looked across the room at the woman so recently made his betrothed.
Of course, everyone had known it was coming. They'd been courting for two years now, an intricate and complicated affair, but so very worth it in the end. At last that end had been reached. Though everyone else had known it, he'd not been able to rest easy until the ring had found its home on her finger only an hour ago.
His bride-to-be looked up and instantly found him, smiling fondly before returning to the droves of silk-clad women surrounding her.
Pale skin and dark curls, clear brown eyes, dainty lips and elegantly-sculpted cheeks. Yes, Nova was divine in every imaginable way. His. He'd worked so hard for this moment – this life. The pale blue silk she wore tonight had been a gift from him, and that he could give her dozens more just like it…
Not because he had money. No, his family had never lacked for money. He could give her dresses and jewels and all the rest because now he was accepted. He had a respected, honorable place in society now. No one feared him. They invited him over for tea or dinner, raced to be invited to this private betrothal ball.
His Lady's father beamed proudly as he looked out over the festivities from the balcony.
At last he'd finally left his tainted legacy behind.
His mouth twisted as thoughts of his family snuck in.
No, there was no place for them here. He was not them. He was leaving it all behind. Had left it all behind. He was only Master Salil Arach now…and quite possible he would be a proper Lord someday. His ambitions could take him that far, if he tried.
He reached up unconsciously to touch his cheek, and the dark smudge there. Like ink or soot that had smeared, and had not been entirely wiped away. Faint, but noticeable. An odd sort of birthmark that had ever plagued his family. He'd tried innumerable things to remove it, short of anything so drastic as fire or a blade…though he'd been tempted.
Still, perhaps it was best. If he removed the smudge, he risked forgetting what he'd worked so hard to overcome.
A bell chimed off in the distance, the local temple tirelessly marking the hours. Nearly midnight, and the entire evening had gone off without a hitch. Salil allowed himself another smile, turning again to look up into the starlit sky.
Behind him, someone softly called his name.
He turned, and looked at the servant who waited. "Yes?"
"Master Arach, there is a gentleman here to see you. An acquaintance, he said. We took the liberty of putting him in your study. He had no card." Disapproval was thick in the servant's voice. Salil swore sometimes they were stricter about the rules than the nobles who made them up.
Nodding, Salil waved the man off. "I will see him. Thank you."
"Master," the servant said with a bow, and vanished.
He really did need to learn all their names, but he'd let Nova pick them out and there'd been no time…
Soon, though, he would have plenty of time.
Turning way from the balcony overlooking his small but exquisite garden, he strode through the ballroom and out into the hallway, smiling proudly at each painting and decoration that he'd worked so hard acquire. His home was one of which he was very proud.
He opened the door to his study, expecting to see one of two men – it was the first of his guesses.
His father. "Yes?" Salil asked, keeping his words clipped.
Then he saw the box on the desk. Long, not overly wide…made of some dark wood that no one who had seen the box had been able to identify. Nor would anyone ever, the source of the wood had vanished centuries ago.
"What is that doing here?" Salil asked sharply.
His father merely stared at him, and Salil tamped down on his temper. The eyes watching him implacably were the same dark blue as his own; so too the strawberry-blonde hair, though his father's was threaded heavily with gray now. They had the same broad, muscular build – age had not terribly diminished that.
"I do not want it," Salil said. "Have I not said a thousand times I want nothing to do with the legacy?" He spat the word, hating it.
"It is not as though anyone knows what it means anymore, to bear this mark. They fear only our coloring," His father said calmly, touching fingers lightly the smudge on his cheek, exactly like that which marred Salil's.
"They know to hate us," Salil snapped. "We have had this discussion thousands of times, father. I do not want to have it again."
His father sighed. "Nor do I, my son. However, it is your time to shoulder the burden. Guard it safely, guard it well."
"I do not want any part of it."
"Too bad," his father replied, voice still holding that hateful calm Salil could never master, never even mimic. "Do you think I wanted it? Do you think my father wanted it? Yet if we do not shoulder it, Salil, naught but ill will come to the world."
Salil bit back the words he wanted to say, knowing they were futile. "I do not want that thing."
"You will take it anyway." His father walked toward him, lingering in the doorway. "I hate it as much as you, my son. We always have, and always will, suffer for the blood which taints us. Take what comfort you can in the fact that no one else knows exactly why we bear the coloring we do, why we are Marked. You have the life you always wanted…this is the price you pay for it."
"Why do you hand it over now?" Salil asked tersely.
His father frowned, something like concern flickering briefly over his face. "It is time…" he said slowly. "Of late, I have been unsettled. I will sleep more easily knowing you care for it now, rather than I." He smiled weakly, tiredly, looking every bit of his fifty odd years. "Perhaps there is too much old man in me. Take care of it, my son. I would not force the burden upon you if I had another choice. I wish you could believe that. But it belongs to us, and with us it must stay."
"I know," Salil said coolly. "You've only told me my entire life."
Sighing, his father turned away. "I am proud of you, Salil…but sometimes…come and visit your mother. She misses you fiercely, and wants to see the 'lord' her beautiful son has become."
Nodding stiffly, Salil let his anger subside for the moment. "I will."
He didn't hate his family. Not at all. He just…didn't want to be dragged down by the burden so unfairly placed upon them. Raking a hand through his hair, he watched as his father vanished down the hallway, then closed the door and locked it.
Crossing to the desk, he whispered the words that deactivated the ancient Marks of Sealing upon the equally ancient wood.
Inside, nestled upon a bed of velvet, was his family's deepest secret. He touched the smudge on his cheek, which had suddenly begun to burn. He glared hatefully at the family legacy, a dirty secret to be kept until the end of time.
The Mad Queen was Sealed away by her own protectors. Sacred Blades, somehow capable of shedding blood in violence and yet still use magic. Blessed, or perhaps cursed, for with that power they betrayed their own Queen and then vanished from the world.
Except they hadn't vanished. Not entirely.
Sacred Blades of the Queen. All knowledge of them is lost, except that they saved us from her Madness.
Salil grimaced, thinking of the old school lessons, the sermons told often in the temple. He wished he was as ignorant as the rest of the world. Sadly, he was not. There had been four Blades, and they had not vanished from the world, merely gone into hiding.
He wished they'd been someone else's family.
Heaving a sigh, he moved to close the lid of the box…but something made him brush his fingertips along the hated relic inside it.
A blade. Quite beautiful, if he forced himself to be honest. Though ancient, it looked new, the wavy steel gleaming in the light of the few lit lamps, the hilt of dark gold, engraved with delicate looking spider webs. The pommel was made of amber, smooth and round…and captured inside it, frozen there for all time, was a small, black spider.
There had been four Blades of the Queen. He knew the names of them all, but only one had ever mattered to him – Spider. That was the name which stalked and haunted his family, weaving a web that transcended time, tangling them forever in threads spun of sticky secrets.
Heaving a sigh, Salil once more made to close the box – but a sharp rap at the door stopped him.
Recognizing the knock, Salil smiled and immediately moved to unlock the door. No sooner had he done so than he found himself soundly kissed, shoved back into the room, arms twining greedily around him.
He moaned and let the kiss consume him, eagerly returning the fervor and heat. The kiss ended only when breathing became necessary, and he smiled, looking into the dark brown eyes that watched him with equal heat. "Papillion. I did not expect to see you until tomorrow, though I had hoped…"
"Show me how much you hoped," Papillion replied.
Salil laughed and scrubbed a hand over Papillion's short-cropped black hair, tugging him back in, kissing him slowly, humming at the sharp flavor of his lover, the way he smelled like summer. Their mouths fit together perfectly, moving easily, the heat a slow burn now. "Mmm, I have missed you. How did you manage to return so easily?"
"My last set of lessons was cut short. I've nothing to do 'til next month. How fairs your party?"
Salil tilted his head back to grant full access to the hot mouth exploring it, shivering in Papillion's arms. "Splendidly, of course."
"But I am more splendid still?"
"Of course," Salil said with a laugh. He shoved Papillion back, winking to soothe the pout that creased his lover's face. "Let me lock the door back. Are you hungry? Thirsty?'
"Not really," Papillion replied, turning away as Salil moved to the door.
He heard a sharp intake of breath. "Salil…what is this?"
Salil stiffened as he realized he'd never closed the box. "Nothing, Papi. Merely a chore my father has thrust upon me." He moved to the desk and made to shut the box, frowning when Papillion stopped him, fingers tight around his wrist.
"This…this is the Spider Blade, isn't it?" Papillion said excitedly. "I can't believe it. So it's true, all the old rumors about your family…"
Snarling, Salil yanked his hand free and slammed the box shut. "I do not want to discuss it."
"I can't believe you never told me," Papillion said, hurt flickering across his face. "Five years now we've been together…you always said it was nonsense."
"It is nonsense," Salil snapped, ardor replaced completely by anger now. "I detest speaking about it. I want no part of it. My father has forced the issue, but he can only force it so far. I did not tell you because I want it bleeding into my life as little as possible."
Papillion shook his head slowly back and forth. "Spider…I cannot believe you possess one of the legendary blades." He looked at the closed box, fingers twitching. Salil knew he wanted to open it again. "Can you use it?"
He put his own hand firmly on top of it, making matters clear. "We do not touch it – ever."
"So what of the rumor of power…"
"False," Salil snapped. "Why do you care so much?"
"Why?" Papillion demanded, jaw dropping. "Sal – the history of the Mad Queen and her protectors has shaped our world. Every single day I recount history to lazy students, and ever last bit of that history is somehow tied to the Mad Queen. Yet we know almost nothing about her. Right here on this desk is a piece of her legacy – a blade of one of her killers, a man who betrayed her! – and you ask why I care so much?"
Salil grimaced. "If you ask me, all is best forgotten. Nothing good comes from holding on to the blade of a traitorous killer.
"Think of the history…" Papillion said the words softly, eyes locked on the box, a strange light to them. Salil didn't think the word he'd wanted to say then had been 'history.' He felt a sudden chill.
Lifting his hand from the box, he cupped Papillion's jaw and tugged him gently forward, kissing him softly. "I know your obsession with such things, Papi, but do not tell me after an entire month you would rather look at an old blade than me."
Papi smiled. "It was an awfully interesting blade, Sal…" he teased.
Growling low, Salil bit down on Papi's bottom lip, then soothed it with his tongue, opening his mouth to the hard kiss Papi pressed upon him, groaning as it went deep, wrapping both his arms around Papi's neck, tugging him even closer. "But I'm more interesting?"
"You are," Papi said, the words low and husky. He turned them sharply, lifting Salil up onto the desk, spreading his legs wide enough Salil could feel his muscles strain, then stepped between them. A hard heat pressed against his own and Salil groaned, head falling back, Papi attacking it like a starving man. "Can we go somewhere more appropriate?" He dropped a hard kiss on Salil's mouth, sucking on his lower lip as he pulled away. "Or must we stay here?'
"Where did you stable?"
"The usual."
Salil groaned as Papi cupped his hardness, stroking it through the velvet of his breeches. He rocked his hips, pushing them together, eliciting a matching groan from his lover. With an effort he regained his thought, resenting wholly that he must. "Then I'll make my—excuses." He shuddered as Papi thrust against him, wanting nothing so badly as to doing these very motions naked. "Meet you at the s-stables. We'll go to your place."
"Splendid." With a last teasing touch, Papi stepped away.
When he could trust his feet, Salil rose, smoothing his clothes back into shape, focusing his thoughts on what his future father in law would do if he found his daughter's future husband locked in his study doing lascivious things with another man.
It had the necessary chilling effect.
"What about that?" Papi asked, nodding at the box.
Salil grimaced. "I guess I'd best hide it away until I have time to think of a better permanent resting spot for it."
"You could take it to my place," Papi suggested, holding up his hands in innocence when Salil cast him a suspicious look. "I intend to harangue you for every last scrap of information I can, but I won't touch the blade. Likely I'll beg to look at it, but I won't touch it. I can tell by the way you act that it's important." He snorted softly. "Lord above, I know how important it is. Hands off."
Slowly, Salil nodded, allowing himself to relax. "That would be ideal, then. Yes, thank you."
"Then I'll wait for you at the stables." Stealing a last kiss, Papi turned and swiftly vanished.
Salil remained, taking several slow, deep breaths to reorder his thoughts, find his proper focus.
Odd, to say the least, that he would risk the life he'd worked so hard to get for another man. Yet it wasn't. From the moment they'd mete five years ago, he'd known he would do almost anything for Papillion. Something about him had always called.
He grimaced at the table. For a man, yes. For a relic, no. When he got to Papillion's home, he would hide it deeply away and never think of it again. Perhaps if he buried it deeply enough, none would every find it…
Shaking his head, he pushed the matter aside and went to go make his excuses.
An hour later he was racing Papillion along the dark roads, throwing taunts over his shoulder, laughing into the wind as it snatched away the ribbon with which he'd tied back his hair. He very much wanted to cut it, but the sign of a gentleman was long hair
In front of him, the Light he'd earlier cast finally faded away. Summoning the appropriate marks to mind, Papillion spoke them loud and clear, throwing his hand out to direct the magic. Just ahead of him, a new globe of light flickered into being to show the path.
High above them, the moon cast its own silvery light over the field they raced.
At last Salil reached the cabin at the edge of the forest, tugging on the reigns, his horse rearing up and spinning around, coming down neatly as he waited for Papillion, who caught up a minute later. "One would think with all the riding you do," he teased, "that you would be the faster."
Papillion smirked as he drew close, drawing his horse alongside Salil's to lean in and take a quick, biting kiss. "We both know I lack your enthusiasm for riding, Sal." He licked Salil's lips, then pulled away and dismounted, leading his horse to the stable behind his simple home.
He employed only a woman who came periodically to clean his house, so currently they had the place to themselves. Quickly Salil tended to his horse, and had barely finished when he was shoved against the wall, mouth taken in a hungry kiss. He groaned loudly, spreading his legs at Papillion's urging, daggering his fingers into soft, dark hair. One hand slid down his side and curved around to explore his backside, the other circling to the front to cup his hardness.
"Inside, Papi," Salil said.
Papillion rumbled a low protest.
"You can have me up against a wall in the house," Salil said, stroking his chest through the linen of his shirt, nails pressing hard. "Not here, where it smells like horse."
Laughing, Papillion acquiesced, tugging him away and turning to lead them to the house.
Salil broke away and moved to get the box he'd left nearby after removing it from his horse's saddle. "I need to put this away, first."
"Put it in my study," Papillion said impatiently, hand teasing along his backside, pressing just so, making Salil shudder.
Distantly, he noted the impatience, the disinterest. Good. Perhaps he did not have to worry about Papillion and the stupid blade after all. Then as they made it to the house, and he was able to cast the box aside, he thought only of the hands and mouth upon him, the body pressed against his own, the voice that called his name in passion.
He woke screaming in pain, but even as he sat up, the scream stopped.
Salil realized he did not know why he screamed. Cautiously he looked around, the sudden panic fading away beneath the grogginess of having just woken. His mind felt thick, heavy, and it took more effort than he liked to think over the past night's events.
They had come here…been all over each other, always they were hungry for one another. The wall, the bed, then a snack…wine…Salil frowned as he realized he could remember nothing more.
He threw back the tangle of blankets, and realized abruptly he was soaked in sweat.
A shiver raced up his spine, reminding him that he'd woken screaming.
The pain hit him as he stood, a deep throb from somewhere in his head he could not exactly pin down. Not like the headaches he sometimes got at work, for which Nova's maid always gave him the most marvelous tea…
No…this was all over, as though pulsing out from the very center.
It pulsed hard and he stumbled on his way to the wardrobe, just barely catching himself upon it, holding a hand to his head, groaning in pain.
Another shiver raced up his spine, chilling him, prickling the hairs at the back of his neck.
He realized abruptly that at least one thing was decidedly odd – Papillion was missing. The man never stirred from bed before he absolutely had to, and after a night like the one which had just passed…
Shaking his head, wincing at the pain steadily worsening, he swiftly dressed in his riding clothes, pulling on his boots and raking back his hair, tying it off with a strip of leather as he raced down the stairs.
Some deep foreboding, and the increased pulsing in his head, drew him to the study.
His blood turned to ice in his veins as he saw the box on the desk.
Open. Empty.
The Spider Blade was gone.
Spinning around, Salil raced out of the house and to the stable, not bothering to saddle his horse as he drew her out and threw himself on her back. Digging in his heels and holding tight, he pushed her to go as fast as possible, racing for the town.
There was something wrong. Every last bit of him screamed it, fear clawing at him. Why? Why was he so terrified? Papillion had probably gotten carried away in his scholarly way, off to do something stupid. All would be fine. He would beat the man senseless, then fuck him senseless, and all would be well.
Except as he crested the last rise to the town…
It was gone.
Nothing remained…except smoldering wreckage. Cinders and ash…
A scream stuck in his throat, Salil half-slid, half-fell from his horse, stumbling toward the wretched remains of his home…
"No…" he whispered. "NO!" How could this be? What had done this?
Yet he knew…
Feared by all, for what they had been. For what they had done. It is impossible to trust a man once he has proven himself to be capable of treachery. They turned on the Four, and attempted to kill them. Like their Queen, however, the guardian Blades were too powerful. So the people did what the Four had done to the Mad Queen.
They destroyed the bodies and Sealed the power away, placing that power under a terrible curse to ensure that never would anyone try again to resurrect it.
To wake the sleeping power of the Blades required a great sacrifice. One thousand deaths per Blade. No one would ever be willing to pay such a terrible price, the people knew, and so they were safe.
Biting back a panicked sob, unable to accept that it was true, that…that he'd really let this happen.
No. He refused. Papillion would not know how, and even if he did he would never betray him. Never.
Wiping away the tears that streamed down his cheeks, swallowing against the bile that tried to rise up in his throat, he stumbled back to his horse and climbed up. Angrily he forced himself to focus, to think.
Tracks. He saw tracks, there where the forest began. It ran thin here, near the village, but increased farther out. Papillion's home was at the edge where it began to grow truly dense, and the forest then continued for miles upon miles. The only way to the cities beyond were through it, or around it. Most chose around, the forest wasn't a safe place.
These tracks, however, led into it. With an angry snarl, the smell of smoke, of ruin, sunk into his nostrils, Salil raced off into the forest, following the tracks the bastards had not even attempted to conceal.
Arrogance.
He wished suddenly that he had brought a blade. Though such things were illegal, and those who used them outlaws, he could use one. It was yet one more burden placed upon his family, to know always how to use that which they guarded.
'Know thine enemy' his father had said.
His father.
Dead. Turned to ashes. And their last words…
Bile again rose up in his throat, but Salil refused to give in to any weakness now. He followed the tracks, consumed by rage, the pain in his head growing unbearably.
He heard the voices a moment before he burst into the clearing.
The men saw him first, and one came after him with a blade held high.
Something snapped in Salil's head, as though it were breaking…or falling back into place. But before he could figure it out, the man was upon him, and he reacted without thinking, movements as smooth as though he'd done them a thousand time.
Shifting, placing his hands on his horse, he swung his legs over, ramming the man in the head, hearing something crack, barely noticing as he landed, rolled, grabbing up the blade the man had dropped.
It felt both wrong and right in his hand. Something….crawled through his mind, faint and feather-light.
Then more men were upon him, and Salil saw only enemies, knew from the soot staining them that these were his culprits. Screaming, he attacked, metal flashing in the afternoon sun as he sliced one across the chest. Then the metal was only dull with dark blood. He dropped to one knee even as he spun around, dodging a swing, lunging forward from his crouch, thrusting through the stomach of his attacker, roaring as he shoved the man off his blade, turning and smashing the pommel into the face of the one coming up on his side, then thrusting to the side into the throat of another.
No more came at him.
A laugh, familiar and yet strange, broke the shaken silence of the glade.
Salil spun around, wiping blood from his face with the back of his hand.
He stared uncomprehendingly at what he saw before him.
Papillion.
Not as he'd always seen the man…
No, the man now…a stranger. Gone was the warmth, the smiles, the heat. His eyes were cold, a cruel twist to his mouth. In his right hand, he held the Spider Blade. "Papi…" Salil whispered hoarsely. "What…"
"All this time, it was you," Papillion said. "I truly believed you when you said that you had nothing to do with the Four. Yet all this time….all these years wasted searching for the Spider Blade and you had it the entire time."
"The village…why…all these years…"
Papillion shrugged. His left hand strayed to his neck, and Salil saw for the first time a Mark there. A butterf…no, it wasn't a butterfly. Not an ordinary one, anyway. No…it was…a moth. A type of butterfly which came out only at night. "I do all that I must to serve my Master. Including fucking a spoiled brat who did not appreciate the power bestowed upon him. Your loss. I made the sacrifice and the power of the Spider is mine now."
Who are you?" Salil asked, voice thick, eyes stinging. "I thought…"
"You thought a great many foolish things," Papillion said coldly. "I have what I want."
Rage sliced through him, along with a hate so powerful it left Salil shaking.
Then it only left him cold. "Give it back," he said softly, no longer caring about the pain in his head, his heart. He could do nothing about his sins, except take back his blade and kill the man who had paid the terrible price for a power no one should have. "That blade is not yours, give it back."
"Come and take it."
With an angry roar, Salil obeyed, racing toward him, swinging hard. Steel clashed with steel, cutting through the glade.
Papillion threw him off, shoved him to the ground. "I spared your life, Salil," he said, and for a moment he seemed to be the man Salil had loved. "I could have killed you with them, but I let you live. Come with me."
"Die" Salil snarled, and lunged, managing to slice Papillion's thigh.
Then a blinding pain came from behind, stars flashing in his eyes.
He vaguely heard Papillion speak, then slumped into darkness.
no subject
Date: 2007-06-18 12:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-18 09:52 pm (UTC)No!
I owe apologies now =_= I NEVER want my readers to think they can't say what they think. I didn't mean to come off so harsh. I was just disconcerted everyone seemed so focused on his name. But - I should have know better. Kitty started calling him Heavy Metal Papillion loooooong before anyone else saw this story ^^;;;
You were fine. It's obvious Megan needs to chill the fuck out >_>;;; So I apologize profusely. You were completely cool and did not bother me at all. I just will be more careful of what French words I latch onto ^^;;;
<3