From: bshsiung@undergrad.math.waterloo.edu (Bernard Hsiung)
Subject: [R] Dariel:  flashbacks, part 2/2
Organization: University of Waterloo
Date: Sun, 30 Aug 1992 01:21:51 GMT


[ADMIN:  Part 2 of 2]     

     The Black Aedile glared at me malignantly, the mist cloaking his body.
"You serve your Master, and I serve mine," he whispered, his voice a
melancholy, empty thing.  "Shall we strive, then, for this world?"
     "I do not claim this world.  I only wish that you do not claim it."
     The Aedile laughed, a hurtful, bitter sound.  "It is the same, where my
Master is concerned."  He leaned forward.  "Don't you know when you are beaten?
Every day, your brothers and sisters die in the service of the Keeper.  Every
day, my Master gains new servants.  It will not be long until all of you are
gone and forgotten.  All of you."
     "It doesn't matter.  We will fight to the end," I said calmly.
     He clenched his fist.  "It does matter!  After every one of the Servants
of Hope are destroyed, no one will fight the Reaver.  It is not possible.
There will be no Hope.  His Will shall be the only will.  Every Place will know
Despair, the beings within slaying each other in the face of doom.  They will
cease to resist Him--and shortly cease to be.  He will then destroy His
Servants, because we will be the only ones to oppose Him, as we share a part of
his Will to annihilate all else."  The Aedile winced.  "I do not look forward
to that day.  Then, He will be left by Himself in emptiness.  When He is
satisfied that He is the whole of existence, He will destroy Himself.  There
will be Void everlasting."
     "What does this have to do with me?" I asked.
     "I cannot know Hope, Servant of Stronghold.  But I would like for you to
be there, at the time that the Reaver destroys His Servants.  All His Servants
are powerful for destruction, but we have no hope against the Reaver.  I forsee
that if enough of you are with us, all of us together can destroy Him."
     "And then?" I prompted.
     "If we fail, the final result is the same.  If we succeed, then His former
Servants would fall to quarreling and fighting with each other, destroying and
unmaking.  We cannot be other than the way we were made.  But the Reaver would
be gone.  You will survive.  Make of that what you will."
     "How can you preserve me to that time?"
     "The Servants of Stronghold are different from us.  You can forge your own
life.  If you will renounce your Master and Stronghold, and Name yourself, you
will be free, yet keep your own hope.  I will give you a share of my power and
the Reaver will pass over you.  Then, you can do as you wish until the time
that the Reaver's servants rise against Him."
     "You spoke of service, yet you speak also of treason to both your Master
and mine," I said, wondering.  "Does the Reaver tolerate this?"
     "He knows.  It is the nature of His Servants, because it is His nature
also.  He does not think that we can convince enough of you."
     His words gave me a feeling of discomfort.  Betray my Master?  To destroy
the Reaver?  "I never thought that I would say this to a Servant of the Reaver,
but--I am sorry.  I serve the Keeper of the Beacon of Hope."
     He shrugged.  "Then we will strive in the usual way."  And he leapt at me.

     "The Master wants you, Dariel," Zhinael told me after healing my wounds.
I went to the Eye of the Beacon, where He stood, contemplating the flames.  He
smiled at me, reducing Himself to my size to clasp my hand.
     "We are well-pleased, Dariel.  Thou hast done well.  Thou knowest now that
the Reaver is sometimes able to turn Us against Ourselves.  We do not serve
Him, ever, but He can distort Our Form until We forget that which We are.
Sometimes the Form can be recovered; sometimes only the essence is salvagable.
Be wary, Dariel, and know what thou art."
     "Master, I am Your Servant."
     "Indeed, thou art."  He placed His hand on my shoulder.  "And, as all Our
Servants are, thou art Our Child, also.  Do not forget."

     "We are sorry, Dariel."  Were there tears in His eyes?  There were in
mine.  "Zhinael, Kuilam, Teiras, and the twenty of the domain of Sheol are no
more.  They fought bravely.  We have committed Our finest to return them:
Gabriel takes Michael to guard Raphael in recovering their essence."
     "Master, can You not recreate them as they were?"
     "No, Dariel, for each of you is a part of Us.  They may dance again in the
Eye of the Beacon and serve in a different Form, but that which the Enemy
consumes cannot be as it was.  Perhaps someday, We shall again be able to call
them forth.  For now, We grant them the rest they have earned."

     "Dariel," my Master said, "We send thee now to a Place where neither We
nor the Reaver have been since the Time of Sundering.  Four of those who were
Our Archons have broken the Seal and travelled there."  His voice saddened.
"They were Nehand, Lodri, Ranos, and Tibell.  End their mischief, and return
their essence to Us.  Dost thou understand what We ask of thee?"
     "Yes, my Master," I replied.  "There may be no return.  Nireen will bear
me, but the Seal will be restored and there will be no Wayfarer to bring me
back for a long while.  The Reaver gains ground every passing moment, and every
Servant has an appointed task.  Must I go, Master?"
     He looked at me, His eyes compassionate.  "We are thy Master, Dariel, and
thou knowest what thou art.  But the choice is thine, as it always has been."
     "I am Dariel, the last Seeker, Your Servant.  I go, Master."  But I
looked back, twice, before leaving Stronghold.

     We stood on the Paths, outside the Doorway.  "I don't want to fight the
Last Battle without you," Nireen joked, despite the anxious look on her face.
"You are coming back, aren't you?" she asked.
     "I hope so.  You can't get rid of me that easily," I said, smiling,
although my heart was heavy.  "Fare well, sister."
     "Fare well, brother."  We embraced, then I stepped through the Doorway.

     The renegade Archon screamed in rage and frustration.  "Why do you oppose
me?  You can be your own master!" it shouted.  "I can give you freedom--freedom
and power beyond imagining!"  The Archon didn't look like my Master any more;
it barely looked human.
     "I pity you," I said, yet I felt simultaneously attracted and repulsed by
its strangely altered shape.  "Once, you were Ranos, Disciple over Waters, and
the Dynae sang your praises.  Have you forgotten?"
     "Do not call me by that name," it growled, flexing the pair of pincers at
the end of its right arm.  "I Name myself now."
     "The Master requests that you return--"
     "The Master does not concern me anymore."
     "Then, forgive me, you who were Ranos, for what I do."  Sheathing my hands
in Power, I appeared next to it, behind it, in front of it.  It fell after I
struck it three times.

     I opened my eyes, feeling refreshed and renewed.  The probe was still
hovering next to me.  I studied its construction for a while before returning
my attention to the complex snarls of Power that held me within the crystal.
Hmmm...  Those lines of dynamic force were braced upon that substructure of
truncated longitudinal dyadics, buttressed by the innate patterns of the
sand-crystal, counterbalanced with ...
--
ADMIN:  That's about it for now, since I'm moving sometime in the middle of the
coming week and my e-mail address will change.  Dariel will be left in Amaan's
grubby little paws until I get my life straightened out a little.  'Til then,
comments, compliments, and complaints can be conveyed to ...

Bernard Hsiung (bshsiung@descartes.waterloo.edu)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn