His visions had been dormant and mainly quiet since returning to Leoth, no more than brief flickers at the outermost edges of his mind. No more than whispers in the shadows. So he was almost knocked to his knees by the force of it as it had struck him.
He'd been inside the circular room high up on the mountain, watching, as though a part of the walls themselves. The two men had spoken in archaic tongues, a language he knew he did not know, could not possibly know, and yet had understood perfectly. Angry words between brothers. Sons of Ethis? Calate and Leoth. It could be no one else. What did it mean that he'd been shown it?
He had lingered there only a short time before being dragged from the room and deposited into another space. This room was a richly decorated solar, the walls made almost completely of brightly coloured glass. A man stood alone at the opposite end of the room, surveying whatever lay below. There was a regal set to his proud frame, an arrogance emanating from him, an inbred privilege. He wore a thin golden crown upon his head and the unmistakable mantle of a royal. Black and gold; the colours of Calate. Tall but with a slight arch to his upper back which brought him up a fraction shorter.
Theodan felt a chill sweep over him as he drew closer to the cloaked figure. Pure darkness emanated from him. His quiet rage almost violent in its malignancy. It seemed to pervade the very air around him. Theodan reached for his sword but found himself absent of it, and realised that he was completely unarmed. Baring his teeth, he forced his claws to extend as he picked up his pace, rushing towards him. There was no basis for it, no sense in it, it was instinct alone. Theodan knew this man was destruction, was ruthlessness, and that he alone could stop him.
The figure turned when Theodan was almost upon him, clearly sensing a presence, but just before he caught glimpse of his face the ground fell away, the glass walls of the room splitting apart into a million glittering segments as Theodan fell. The solid stone beneath his feet turned to nothingness as his body was pulled down into the darkness. It felt as though he fell for eons, through space and time, until the force which pulled and hauled at his body changed it's mass and weight so that it was no longer clear to Theodan the direction in which he fell.
A moment later he stopped moving completely, and hung there, suspended in impenetrable darkness. Able to turn himself around, he searched an end, land, something solid to grab hold of but the emptiness was absolute - a void of darkness, of nothingness. Suddenly, the air around him grew thicker and thicker still until its mass changed and began to seep into his mouth, his nose, his lungs. Water. Dark depths of water. He pushed out his arms to swim, panic flooding through him as he struggled to see an escape from it.
There was no concept of direction; up or down, left or right, no clue of where the surface might be until suddenly he heard a woman's scream pierce through the darkness. The sound was half-muffled by the burden of water but his blood told him it was hers. Fara's. He knew then that he would know her cry anywhere, that it would call to him anywhere. The sound of it forced his claws to over-extend and his teeth to push down once more from the roof of his mouth.
Twisting his body he saw a dim flicker of light far off in the distance, an echo glimmering through the water. Immediately he tried to push toward it, towards the cry and towards her but the instant he began to move he felt it. The dull, unmistakeable, weight of something leaden around his foot. He could see nothing in the dark, but when he reached down he felt a length of steel fixed tightly to his ankle, an assiduous weight that seemed to cling harder the more he tried to free himself.
The harder he struggled the faster his lungs emptied from the effort. Attempting to calm his body to preserve his air, he curled into a tight ball and reached down to try and free himself with his hands, hacking at the metal with his claws. It felt warm, alive, as though it breathed under his fingers. Even with all of the strength he possessed, it would not release him. Before he could stop himself he roared with frustration, which allowed the water to rush faster into his lungs. Had he his sword he would have been able to cut through it, blackened Leoth Steel could cut through any metal. It was the most powerful substance on any of the four realms.
The realisation struck him then, with a suffocating clarity.
As the air fled from his body and was replaced slowly by cold, ice, water he knew.
The only material strong enough to free him was the only material strong enough to contain him. Leoth Steel. No other realm possessed the substance, and Leoth did not trade it. One of his own wanted him dead? Suspicion ran wild and fast through his mind, through his veins, each nerve bursting with panic. As the last remnants of air slipped from him, the light dimmed and flickered, and the screams he knew for certain were Fara's faded as the depths of cold darkness swallowed him whole.
The ground beneath his feet returned in an instant, and he staggered to remain upright as he was all at once blinded by the light of the rising moon that shone down through the glass ceiling above. The welcome air flooded through his body, his panic receding as his blood came alive once more. He had never been shown his own death before. Had never felt his body die and his mind cease to exist before. Had not they forced Leoth to live his own death over and over again in his mind? Was this the beginning of it? Why else would he be shown his God and his own death in a single vision - what did it mean?
It pained him that he had to be aided by one of the Menodice, the court guard taking his weight on his armoured shoulder, and using some effort to heave him upright. As his true vision returned and his breathing slowed to normal, he regarded the men who stood around him. Their normally unflinching demeanour looked somewhat shaken. Paeris had taken a few steps back from him and stood now observing him curiously.
'Has The Dark One chosen to deliver your verdict in person?' He asked, an amused glint in his eye that made Theodan's fists clench.
'Should the Dark One choose to tell me anything of use, be rest assured that you, Paeris, would be the last soul in Ethis to know of it.' He would likely counsel King Torrik first.
Paeris inclined his head and smiled a thin watery smile. 'You are well enough to go on, I assume?'
'I am.'
Turning on his heel, Paeris beckoned for Theodan to follow, leading him down the corridor towards the Great Hall as though Theodan had not walked it a hundred times or more before. Though, twas true, he'd never walked it as an accused. How many times had he sat down to cast judgement on others? Countless times. He never enjoyed this part of his council duty, but neither had he expected to be judged himself.
On each side of the corridor, the dark, polished marble heads of the Dark One looked on expressionless. He was reminded again of the Leoth in his vision, more human than any Leoth he had ever seen. Before darkness had claimed him. A God who had been mocked for his humanity. You always were the weakest of us.
He glanced back over his shoulder, to where he had left Fara under the protection of Vala. Theodan trusted her to keep her safe, to watch over her should the worst come to pass. Though Vala had not been pleased with the request, she would do as he had asked of her. Of course, Theodan felt some guilt about using her own heart against her, at using her own devotion to him in such a fashion, but with Elyon & Draden far from here, there was no one else he trusted as implicitly as he trusted Vala. Yes. He felt certain of Fara's safety, certain that the vision did not denote some immediate danger but instead a warning, a ruinous foreboding. The threat, he was almost certain, was in some way connected to the male who wore the crown.
The chilly reminder of his own bloodless demise stole his breath momentarily and he took a deep inhale to remind him that he was not devoid of air, that he was alive, and immediate - that fight lived in him still.
The Menodice halted at the foot of the marble steps leading up and into the Great Chamber. Only Paeris - as an anointed councillor - and himself, this time as an accused, were permitted beyond this point. If Theodan had not already been stripped of his weapons then he would have to surrender them now for no one was permitted to possess a weapon inside the antechamber. As it were he followed Paeris unarmed and unguarded up the steps into the Great Hall to meet his accusers.
The council were not seated, awaiting him as he had expected, but stood gathered together deep in some tense deliberation. Before Paeris had the chance to announce him, Sapphira turned her head in his direction and smiled a small, almost invisible smile. He knew better than to take any comfort from it. She enjoyed the theatrics of the court more than any other. With a sadistic streak that had seen many males broken and ruined, she was unpredictable on the best of days and malevolent on the worst.
Indeed on the journey here he had considered where the loyalties of the council may fall. He supposed he was guilty of the crimes he was accused of; he had not declared her, he had brought her here under The Plenary and he had left his command - and yet he also knew that he had had no option but to do exactly as he did. To remove Fara from Azura and bring her to Leoth was to keep her alive. King Torrik's suspicions would only have grown. So he could admit his crimes and make his case, pray for the leniency of his peers. Or he could he lie to his council, and proclaim ignorance of all. Which would keep Fara safe?
He focused his thoughts back on the members, recalling that he had not been lifted by the direction of his thoughts when he considered who might speak for him. Orrin, he could never hope to win over; Vala's brother despised him greatly. Theodan's consistent refusal to pledge his commitment to her and his equally consistent coquetry with various consorts of Asalla had seen to that. He could not blame the male for it; Vala deserved better.
Kalyn, however, could be swayed. Orrin had tried over the years to twist and warp Kalyn's feeling towards him, but since Theodan had spoken for him once against an accusation of steel trading he had thus bought himself a degree of favour. Favour he hoped had not been used up in the Azurian debate. Xanthus he had put on his side too, mainly as there was no trust between him and Paeris - something he hoped would work in his favour now.
Zola was diplomatic and reasoned and would vote whichever way the evidence weighed more heavily - her head was rarely swayed by feeling.
Caera and Seren would not necessarily be opposed to seeing him condemned - which caused his mind some trouble. However, his history with Narilia, he hoped, would pull her allegiance to his favour.
Calantha was too difficult to predict, and so he had not. Which meant if his count was accurate, he was in trouble.
The High Visier, who would perhaps be inclined to lend her support given the circumstance by which he had brought Fara to Leoth, would only be called upon if the vote was split. She was duty-bound to lean toward whatever outcome most favoured Leoth. The Commander of its army, a visier, and a respected member of the council who had only ever followed the order of the Dark One was too valuable to Leoth, surely? He had to hope so.
It took Paeris' voice echoing through the chamber before the others became aware of their presence, so deep were they in conversation.
'As summoned, members, I bring forth the accused,' he announced with an air of pomposity. The council stopped speaking immediately, turning to look upon him coldly. They seemed almost irritated by the interruption. 'Theodan of Teredia stands for our judgement of his crimes.'
As they took in the sight of him Theodan was certain he saw a look of relief in some eyes. Some disapproval in others. Nonchalance in the rest. They shifted towards him, and suddenly a figure who should not have been present on the floor of the council chamber - a figure who should at this moment have been many many lengths from the council chamber - stepped out from between Orrin and Calantha.
'Commander,' Elyon greeted, a grave look in his eye. He dipped his head in the usual fashion.
'Who leads the men?' Theodan demanded. 'Draden?'
Elyon nodded. 'It seemed best I bring the news to you and the council, Uki is the faster beast after all.'
Theodan frowned. 'What news?'
Elyon glanced toward Orrin, seeking approval before speaking. The look sent tension snaking down Theodan's spine, curling around his torso and pulling tight. Orrin stepped forward, something accusatory in his eyes as he met Theodan's stare.
'It appears the Calatian's are not so cowardly after all,' he said.
'They have taken up arms, finally?' Theodan asked. 'Well we expected it - sooner of course - but they are no match for our men.'
'They attacked the beach,' Elyon added, his face grave. 'We were unprepared. Zybar lost many men. The shore ran red with their blood as I left it.'
'How many Leothine were lost?' He asked instead. He cared not about Zybar lives, but his own.
'Warriors, none - though some of our servehands and women were injured,' a shadow rolled over Elyon's dark eyes. 'Jhaan was wounded in the attack.'
Theodan's breath caught as he sent a silent prayer to the Dark One. He was but a boy, untrained in Valka, unable to defend himself in battle. The rage coursed through him. Guilt too, his veins filling with the sudden urge to action, to fight, to kill. How many times had Jhaan pleaded with Theodan to teach him how to fight? You are not a soldier, Jhaan. You're a servehand. I will not teach you War. 'Tell me he lives?' Theodan asked, quietly.
Elyon nodded, but it was the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes which filled Theodan with dread. 'When I left Azura he lived still. I bid the healer on your name to do all he could to save him. He was too badly wounded to travel by Varveh, or I would have brought him home with me, Theo.' Theodan swallowed, nodding, guilt and panic and rage swirling around his trembling body. If he had been there... if he had not abandoned his command... 'In truth, the Calate forces were stronger than we could have expected...' Elyon continued. '...their armour was like... like the Menodice, Theodan - impenetrable.'
Theodan nodded, blinking to reclaim his focus. 'And our men? Where are they now?'
'After we beat Calate back from the beach we loaded the ships and the Varveh with our spoils and wounded - we return to Leoth to mobilise our defences. The men are already weakened, you know tis' so - we could not have launched a counterattack before regrouping,' He advised, a hint of shame seeping into his features as he looked away. Theodan nodded his agreement, the men would indeed need the air of Leoth to revitalise their strength. 'Theo, the men need their Commander for what is to come.'
'What is to come?' Theodan echoed, scowling. When no one spoke he looked around at the faces of the council members, all upon him with expectation, accusation. 'Surely we do not intend to counterattack?' He asked, incredulous. 'The war we agreed to fight is won. We have no desire to rule Azura. Let the Zybar wrestle it back from Calate if that is what they so desire. Tis nought but a last attempt at engagement as the dying embers of war turn to ash.'
'That is not why we must fight, Theodan,' said Kalyn, sounding fatigued.
'Then I suppose you must again convince me why we fight a war that is not ours!' Theo snapped.
'Why, because this war is ours!' Orrin shot back. When Theo gave him only a bemused look, Orrin levelled his stare accusingly at him. 'The Princess Fara was declared dead by your hand, Theodan. Together with The Crown Prince and Queen Arielle. And as vengeance for the slaughter of its own, Calate has declared war... Upon Leoth.'