[Dark] Waylon's Crossing by Dark

[Dark]

Hey! Turns out my flight offers wi-fi service. I feel like a junkie who's just gotten a fix!

 

Anyway, I posted a chapter: Chapter 14. It's considerably shorter than some of the recent ones, but I think you'll like it. 'Cept maybe for Q. *laughs*

 

 

God I love this story. And you really really have to write more really soon. I have been reading back over it and I want it I want it

 

I have to admit that there have been times when i have found it hard to like Kynan. I have felt that he is a bit whiny... but then i think what the hell he has a right to be and the fact that I have been thinking those things is testament to the richness and reality of the writing. Kynan is really a dark and light character in that he is strong and proud and clever but he's weak and unsure and confused. Nice. Alan is just Alan and as for the rest... Yeah, Aure is my favourite and you know that you swine

Aure is pretty awesome. There are things I like and dislike about each of the characters. I guess that's one of the things that make them real to me: sometimes, I just want to smack them! LOL

 

I'm glad you're liking the story just as much the 2nd time around.

[Dark]

It's only been 3 days, but I'm celebrating getting my internet back! New Chapter Here

 

I'm going to go back to posting once a week starting this Saturday. That should buy me enough time to get the last chapters written and proof-read.

 

For Q:

 

I meant to add this when I replied to your last review, but I just noticed it's not there ... hm, anyway, what was it Mel Brooks said once?

 

ah, right: "It's good to be the king."

 

:king:

[Dark]

Oh! And I've been meaning to start posting these for some time, but, just for forum members, here is the first of a short series of stories featuring the character's of Waylon's Crossing:

 

Chronicles 1 - The Offer

Water dripped off Kynan's hat and trickled down his neck under the back of his long coat. He grimaced and tugged on the collar, pushing his hat further down on his head. His eyes glittered in the light of the distant streetlamp as he scanned the sky. Seeing nothing, his scowl deepened and he tromped dispiritedly across the grass. A cat hissed and a dog barked nearby, followed by a man's curse.

 

Reaching the back fence, Kynan crouched, listening intently, before vaulting back over. He landed with a splash in a puddle that he could swear had not been there when he'd dashed over the fence to begin with. Luckily, the streets were deserted. Anyone with any good sense was somewhere dry and warm, and likely asleep. Clouds obscured the moon and stars and the stinging rain compounded matters. Kynan shivered and thrust his hands into the pockets of his coat. He looked up and down the street he stood on, getting his bearings before trudging off.

 

As he walked, Kynan adjusted his sword belt and clipped the shoulder ring so that the sword rested between his shoulderblades, receiving another drenching as a result. He swore and quickened his steps. He paused on the corner, ducking into shadows to avoid the notice of the Watchman on his bedraggled and miserable horse. Kynan trotted down an alley and turned towards the warehouse district, wanting to get out of the posh, upper-class neighborhood as quickly as possible, even if that meant he had a longer way to walk.

 

He slipped on the cobbles as he dashed across Merchant Way, turning his ankle and losing his hat to a particularly strong gust. Limping, Kynan snatched up the errant fedora and crammed the hat back on his head with another, louder curse.

 

The buildings grew older and shabbier the further he walked and the roads pocked with holes and ruts. He slowed his pace to disguise the limp and scanned the dark alleyways he passed warily. One hand reached for the long knife on his right hip, but no one disturbed his passage and Kynan moved on.

 

A small specialty cigar and smokeweed shop hid the entrance to the Borderlands in this area. Kynan knew the place well, having learned as a young vagabond that the old master had a weakness for the feral cats that roamed the back streets. Every night he had left out a saucer of milk, better than gold to a starving boy, and he fought off the cats gratefully for several nights before moving on. Kynan knew that if you slid a hand along the wall just past the boarded window, you would find an invisible crack in the worlds and if you stepped just right, you could step from the city of Waylon's Crossing into the City of Perpetual Twilight, the Borderlands that buffered the human and demon worlds.

 

This part of the Borderlands was outwardly indistinguishable from the human city, especially at night. The street that Kynan went towards sported a long row of identical houses, two story homes with attics and basements, just like the middle-class townhomes in a much better-looking area of Waylon's Crossing. The streets here were all dirt and, before he'd gone far, Kynan was covered over in mud. Even out here, all sensible beings were at home and there was no one to mark his passage, even if he hadn't taken all care not to be noticed in his approach.

 

There were three homes on the far end that actually was one single house. The inner walls had long since been knocked away or modified to allow the occupants free movement between all three residences. The main walkway, with their three stoops and three main doors, all remained and in the back the same could be said of the three small yards and carriage sheds.

 

To one of those Kynan now entered. He kneeled in the sandy mud, for his ankle would not support his usual crouch, and surveyed the house. The shed deflected some of the rain, but the night was still bitterly cold. As much as Kynan wanted to be indoors with a hot mug of koffee in his hands, he knew that this was the most dangerous part of his journey. He had to get inside unnoticed by the guards. He knew their routines well, but occasionally they changed things, and he could not afford to be careless. More than his own safety was at risk here.

 

The place was quiet, with only a few lamps lit in the upper rooms. As he watched, he struggled not to sneeze. Then, satisfied that no one in fact was home, Kynan darted quietly through the shadows and rain to the back door of the house furthermost to the left of the trio. With a practiced jiggle of the handle, Kynan unlocked the door and stepped, dripping, inside.

 

There were no windows in this tiny room, only a narrow cot against one wall, a chest, a bookshelf that was propped up by the books it held, a small writing desk and chair, and a tiny wood-burning stove. A bucket by the door served as a latrine. A shelf banged into the wall held cans of milk and beans, and another had sacks of flour, sugar, and the all-important koffee. Kynan shoved wood in the stove and set water to boil before shucking of his sopping wet clothes. The coat and hat hung on a peg by the door, he draped his jeans and shirt over the chair, and leaned the boots up to dry by the stove with his socks and underwear.

 

The bed warmed quickly and before he knew it, Kynan was asleep.

 

He woke suddenly, coughing, and instantly reached for his sword as he realized that he was not alone. The door stood open, letting in the cold air and rain, and someone crouched by the stove. He looked up as Kynan stirred.

 

"What were you trying to do?" asked the demon, re-lighting the stove with a snap of his fingers. "Kill yourself? You forgot to open the flue."

 

Kynan grinned and let the sword fall from his fingers back on the floor. "Good to see --" he began, and coughed again.

 

The black demon crossed the room in a single step and knelt on the floor next to Kynan. He pressed one hand to Kynan's forehead.

 

"You're burning up," said Karadur, and then, after a minute. "Azil's coming."

 

"But --"

 

"Shh, we just got back from court, we're not expected to be particularly sociable tonight. Lie back, koffee will be ready in a minute, if Azil lets you have any, that is."

 

A smaller, red demon appeared in the doorwary with a lantern. Azil turned and closed the door, squeezing past Karadur to set the light on the desk and kneel beside the cot.

 

"How long were you out?" asked Azil, feeling Kynan's face and, carefully, setting his ear on his chest.

 

"I don't know."

 

Turning, Azil took in the still very wet clothes and shoes and frowned. He looked up at Karadur. "We need to take him inside."

 

Kynan objected, because Karadur didn't have to, but they ignored him anyway. The two demons stared at each other silently, waging their invisible war, until Karadur sighed.

 

"Very well."

 

Karadur doused the fire with another easy snap of his fingers while Azil gathered Kynan's wet clothes into a tidy bundle. Grabbing the lantern, he left.

 

"No," Kynan protested as Karadur lifted him out of the bed, blankets and all; but he suddenly had no strength to resist and the demon bore him from the tiny room as easily as if he weighed nothing at all.

 

The house stayed conspicuously empty as Karadur navigated the halls and stairs and deposited Kynan in the center of a giant bed in the corner bedroom. Azil knelt by the fireplace, cautiously handling the pot on the hook dangling over the low fire. Karadur toweled Kynan the rest of the way dry with the blankets from the little room and tucked him under the covers of the lush featherbed.

 

"I'm going out," he said, glancing back at Kynan, then at Azil. The other demon nodded. He smiled. Karadur scowled, but then shook his head on a laugh and stepped from the room, closing the door behind him.

 

"Just you and me again," said Azil, pouring boiling water into the teapot to steep. "We should really try to do this under less ... shall we say stressful circumstances?"

 

"You really shouldn't," said Kynan.

 

"Be quiet and drink the tea. Karadur said your ankle is swollen, did you get hurt?"

 

Kynan blinked. "Oh. I forgot." He sipped. "Blech! What is this stuff?"

 

"Lemon balm and birch bark. Aren't you so glad you asked? I'll make you some chamomile in a minute or so." He peeled back the blankets from the foot of the bed until he could see Kynan's feet. "Hmm, twisted?"

 

"Ouch! Ah, dammit!"

 

"You better not have spilled that tea."

 

"Only on me."

 

"I hope you get blisters. Now hold still."

 

"You're ... poking ... ah!" Inhaling sharply, Kynan started to cough again.

 

Quickly, Azil rescued the tea cup, refilling it and bringing it back to hold to Kynan's lips. "No, drink. Every drop. When did you eat last? Nevermind."

 

Kynan laid back and gave up, dozing off and on as Azil directed him to eat or to drink more tea, or waking suddenly as the demon changed the hot compresses on his ankle. He passed an uncounted number of days in that state, finally waking completely to find himself snug between two warm bodies. He twitched and sat up.

 

Azil, facing him, opened his eyes and yawned. "It's still early, go back to sleep."

 

"I ... can't, I ... uh ...."

 

Azil groaned quietly. "Just don't wake Karadur, he got in late." He tugged his own way out of the blankets so that Kynan could get past, and then snuggled back down beside the other demon.

 

This room had its own bathroom and Kynan took full advantage of such a luxury as running water, soaking in the claw-footed bathtub. He almost fell asleep again. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he returned to the bedroom, to see that Azil and Karadur were now twinned haphazardly around each other. Azil had such a soft smile that Kynan had to look away, pushing at the envy gnawing on his heart.

 

He made some tea and sipped at it, staring into the fire.

 

"How do you feel?" asked Azil quietly.

 

"Fine," Kynan replied, turning his head. "A little tired."

 

"That's to be expected. Try to take it easy for a while, okay?" The demon yawned slightly but didn't stir. "You should really climb back in here before you catch a chill."

 

"No, that's okay, I --"

 

Azil sighed. "Has either of us ever tried to jump those bones?" he demanded. "Come on, that side's empty, anyway." Yawning again, Azil wiggled slightly to get comfortable and closed his eyes.

 

Kynan poured more tea and carried it to the window. Perching on the sill, he looked back over at the two sleeping demons. Their comfortable joy felt as good to him as sunshine, and as bitter as old tea. He downed the last of his drink, hung up the towel, and slid under the covers.

 

He woke next to the sizzling smell of bacon and a light chuckle.

 

"Told you that would get his attention," said Karadur. He sat up in bed, leaning against the headboard, with a china plate propped up on a pillow in his lap. He held a paper in one hand and a mug of koffee in the other. He made such an incongruous picture that Kynan had to laugh.

 

Azil set a heaping spoonful of pan-fried potatoes, bacon, toast, and eggs on a plate and held it out to Kynan. He scrambled up eagerly to accept, taking the mug of koffee a minute later.

 

"Do not," growled Azil, handing him a fork, "get crumbs in the bed. I hate that." Then he rolled his eyes. "You know exactly what I meant, Karadur."

 

The other demon laughed and returned to perusing his paper. Azil sat back in front of the fireplace to stick another slice of bread in the wire trap to toast. Kynan drank his koffee, scalding his mouth, and applied himself to the food. Bacon was a luxury he didn't often have, and food of this quality was even more rare.

 

When they had finished, Azil gathered all the dirty dishes onto his tray, and stepped to the door. "I'll just leave you to your talk, then."

 

Kynan looked up from his koffee, to give Karadur a sideways look. Once again the two demons had a silent communion and then Azil left, carefully closing the door behind him. Now Kynan had Karadur's undivided attention and he fidgeted under that frank, appraising stare.

 

"Won't he know anyway?"

 

Karadur's brow twitched in a disapproving frown. "We have learned to give each other privacy when we ask." Then he relented a little. "But he doesn't really want to know, he just likes to fuss. Now I would suggest you stay out of court for a few days."

 

"Why?"

 

The demon smirked. "Rumor has it you lost your bounty."

 

"Why I nev --"

 

"You didn't expect that you could just disappear without comment, do you? The queen's got her eye on you. Hmm, but you know that, don't you? Are you sure you know what you're doing? The queen doesn't, well, her lovers tend to end up dead."

 

"I'm not!" gasped Kynan, making a face. "I don't -- she wouldn't ... would she?"

 

"Hard to say, but you have been making a name for yourself."

 

Kynan plucked at the blankets. "I had a good teacher."

 

He laughed. "Haven't you learned by now that I'm immune to flattery? Save it for the queen, you'll need it. And I suppose she'll at least keep you reasonably well-fed and dressed." He leaned sideways and pulled some coins out of a drawer in the small table next to the bed. These he handed to Kynan. "Here. Get yourself some new things before you go back."

 

Staring at the gold in his hands, Kynan swallowed around the lump in his throat. "I ... thank you, but," he stared up at Karadur, "why? I can't -- I could never repay everything you've done for me."

 

"It makes Azil happy," the demon replied with a shrug. "Caring for you. He gets tired of my whinging."

 

"But --" Kynan started, breaking off with a slow smile as he realized that the other was joking. He closed his fist around the gold. "Thank you."

 

"You are welcome to stay," said Karadur. "I've been sick, you know, there's no problem. We can smuggle you down to the other room tonight, if you'd prefer."

 

"Yes, thank you."

 

"Kynan, the reason I wanted you alone, I --" he cleared his throat and Kynan looked at him quizzically, unaccustomed to seeing the old demon discomfitted.

 

"You got my bounty, didn't you?"

 

Karadur frowned. "It had to be done, and yes, I did, but the bounty went to Lorun, which is why the queen is upset. A prize bounty like that shouldn't have fallen to that old fool."

 

"You've made me look like an idiot."

 

"Would you rather have the bounty on your head? I didn't think so. Now would you just be quiet? Kynan, I -- that is, we would like to adopt you, give you -- you object so quickly?"

 

"Why?"

 

"Have I ever told you that you ask too many damned questions?" sighed Karadur. "Look, we like you, and this would give Azil the greatest pleasure, and I ... you are like a son to us already, why not make it official?"

 

Kynan blinked and looked away. "It's too dangerous."

 

"You don't think I've thought through all the implications? We survived your apprenticeship, didn't we? It may be unusual, but it's not unheard of to formalize that relationship. Come, come, what's the real reason?"

 

Kynan stared at him through misty eyes. "My mother knows who I am."

 

"Oh." Taken aback, Karadur's face changed, sympathy replacing insult. "I am sorry, then. Well, if things change, let me know. And Kynan? You'll always have a home here."

 

"Thank you! I really -- this means -- I wish!"

 

To his shock and embarrassment, Kynan burst into tears. Karadur stared at him for a second in surprise and sent a mental query to Azil, who had far more experience with the halfling than he. Karadur had never allowed a friendship to develop between himself and Kynan and found himself just as surprised by the strength of his own feelings as he was by Kynan's.

 

He's crying? was Azil's response, surprise and curiosity tinging his mental voice.

 

Karadur let his amusement over his pairling's insatiable curiosity show, and decided to let him know what had happened. They couldn't block feelings from each other; Karadur's unease, his hurt at the refusal, and his shock had all filtered through the unique bond that he and Azil shared. As the other demon digested the memories, his own surprise and dismay, and unexpected tenderness filtered back to Karadur.

 

Let him cry, said Azil after a moment.

 

I didn't know he could.

 

Odd, isn't it? First time I saw it, I thought he had something in his eyes. Held him in the bath to flush them out.

 

The mental image Azil brought forward into his thoughts almost made Karadur laugh and he turned his head to hide his smile. What do I do?

 

Hold him, like you would me -- well, maybe not like me, but --

 

I got it, interrupted Karadur before he started laughing. With a wing he snagged the startled halfling and dragged him closer. He took the mostly empty mug and set it beside his own on the table and wrapped Kynan with the edge of the blanket. Then he settled him in his lap and put his arms around him. After a minute, Kynan settled.

 

Poor kid, thought Azil to Karadur. If his family won't acknowledge him now, I don't think they ever will.

 

You don't think so?

 

No. Wouldn't you acknowledge, even an ill-conceived child, after what he's done these last few years? He's gained the favor of the queen herself! It is kind of funny, when you think about it.

 

What is?

 

That no one so much as knows who his family is.

 

He does.

 

Really. Huh. That is an interesting twist. Don't suppose he said who?

 

Karadur rolled his eyes. After teaching him so carefully not to volunteer information? Don't be ridiculous. He only said as much as he did because he turned me down. Hmm, now you mention it, I don't recall him ever saying, even before, any of this. You?

 

No, and it doesn't make any sense. If they're aware of him, why not acknowledge him? His blood may be tainted, but he's been far more industrious and crafty --

 

And lucky.

 

Yes, that, too. Anyway, even your family, I'm thinking, wouldn't hesitate to claim him now, right? If he was demon, he wouldn't even be full-grown yet and think how long you've been a Hunter and how quickly he's risen there.

 

I suppose you're right, said Karadur, with a pensive frown. But, then, the fault may not lie with him but his mother or father.

 

Good point. Karadur felt Azil sigh. Hell, if he'll stop trying to earn their acceptance, though.

 

I do wish you were wrong more often.

 

Azil's chuckle faded quickly. I love you for the offer, though.

 

Is that enough?

 

Ha! After all I've done to acquire your present? I don't think so.

 

Karadur grunted. That's what I thought you'd say.

 

Can I come back yet?

 

Will he want you to see him like this?

 

You're the one who's never seen him cry before, was Azil's quick retort, with some curtailed jealousy that made Karadur smile. Still, you're probably right. Disappointed, but Azil was also practical. Where's my harp? I think we need some music.

 

Karadur gave a mental shrug to accompany his amused annoyance. Why are you asking me?

 

But the random notes and phrases now occupying Azil's mind shut Karadur out and he smiled to himself in fondness. Where he had once found the minstrel an impossible shackle, now he wondered how he'd ever truly lived without that other mind adjoined to his own. Almost a thousand years paired and they were still discovering things about each other. One of those, he was learning to his dismay, was just how much Azil liked keeping secrets from him. The smaller demon was far too pleased with himself over this gift and Karadur had not been able to squeeze so much as a hint out of him, a frustration that only made Azil more smug.

 

"I ... excuse me," said Kynan eventually, and took himself off to the bathroom.

 

When he returned, Azil sat in one of the chairs by the fireplace, tuning his small harp. Karadur read his paper again as if nothing whatsoever had happened and Kynan, dressed in some clothes Azil had set out for him, curled up with more coffee in the other chair. In all, they passed a relaxed, quiet day, and Azil played all his satires to make them laugh.

 

In case you're not clear, these "chronicles" are set before the events of Waylon's Crossing (with one exception). These are pieces I wrote to help establish some of the characters, so some things might not match exactly what's current in the story.

 

Hope you enjoyed that. There are 8 chronicles. I'll release the remaining 7 periodically, so check back!

[Andrew Q Gordon]

Anyway, I posted a chapter: Chapter 14. It's considerably shorter than some of the recent ones, but I think you'll like it. 'Cept maybe for Q. *laughs*

 

 

Huh? As one of your more loyal readers, I'm highly offensive - errr offended. Why wouldn't I like it? Cause Kynan gotten beaten to a pulp?

 

Goes to his room and pouts.

 

 

It's only been 3 days, but I'm celebrating getting my internet back! New Chapter Here

 

I'm going to go back to posting once a week starting this Saturday. That should buy me enough time to get the last chapters written and proof-read.

 

For Q:

 

I meant to add this when I replied to your last review, but I just noticed it's not there ... hm, anyway, what was it Mel Brooks said once?

 

ah, right: "It's good to be the king."

 

:king:

 

You for got this:

 

 

 

 

 

Oh! And I've been meaning to start posting these for some time, but, just for forum members, here is the first of a short series of stories featuring the character's of Waylon's Crossing:

 

In case you're not clear, these "chronicles" are set before the events of Waylon's Crossing (with one exception). These are pieces I wrote to help establish some of the characters, so some things might not match exactly what's current in the story.

 

Hope you enjoyed that. There are 8 chronicles. I'll release the remaining 7 periodically, so check back!

 

Very cool - I won't get to read this just yet, but will do it when I get my next fix

 

oh and just make sure posting these doesn't hold up the regularly scheduled posting.

 

 

Andy

[doesnt know jack]

Actually, let me re-direct you to chapter 1. Kynan says specifically that he is the Queen's son and that it's a huge secret known only to himself and his mother. And, you'd assume, his father, but that's another story....

-Hahahahahahaha.....clearly my observational skills are top notch. Although, in my defense I think it was a couple of weeks, if not more between the time I read chapter one and decided to go all in. And, I have to say...I think I kind of preferred being in the dark about that particular bit of information. Any reason you revealed it so early?

 

 

'Touched' people can be of any race from the World of Light. They came about when angels (servants of God) bred with the world's inhabitants. Generally, though, only creatures with devoutly Good hearts were blessed by the angels. There are some legends about the liasons between angels and mortals. After the angels were all killed during the Demon War, the Touched became very quickly rare, because most of them died in the war, too. Duncan is quite unique, and that's all the more interesting because so much time has passed that no one even remembers (at least, the humans have forgotten) the significance of Duncan's birthright.

 

-Cool. Very, very cool. (hehe)

 

I will also say that Waylon is not a secret identity of any of the characters we've met so far.

 

-Really? Bummer....see, I took that whole Scattered throughout the story are the clues to help you decode all the secrets. Let's see if you can put it all together and kind of ran with it. Perhaps in the wrong direction....I think I'll sit back and enjoy now.

 

I have more rambles...but no time right now. I'm glad you liked them, I'll keep going until you tell me to stop!!!

 

Seriously though:

I. LOVE. THIS. STORY.

 

It's all kinds of good.

 

I hope you've got your internet up and running...it's always weird being unplugged. (Then again, you probably do and probably mentioned it...did I say I'm awesome at the whole attention to detail thing??? :-p)

 

Talk to you soon!

 

Actually, let me re-direct you to chapter 1. Kynan says specifically that he is the Queen's son and that it's a huge secret known only to himself and his mother. And, you'd assume, his father, but that's another story....

-Hahahahahahaha.....clearly my observational skills are top notch. Although, in my defense I think it was a couple of weeks, if not more between the time I read chapter one and decided to go all in. And, I have to say...I think I kind of preferred being in the dark about that particular bit of information. Any reason you revealed it so early?

 

 

'Touched' people can be of any race from the World of Light. They came about when angels (servants of God) bred with the world's inhabitants. Generally, though, only creatures with devoutly Good hearts were blessed by the angels. There are some legends about the liasons between angels and mortals. After the angels were all killed during the Demon War, the Touched became very quickly rare, because most of them died in the war, too. Duncan is quite unique, and that's all the more interesting because so much time has passed that no one even remembers (at least, the humans have forgotten) the significance of Duncan's birthright.

 

-Cool. Very, very cool. (hehe)

 

I will also say that Waylon is not a secret identity of any of the characters we've met so far.

 

-Really? Bummer....see, I took that whole Scattered throughout the story are the clues to help you decode all the secrets. Let's see if you can put it all together and kind of ran with it. Perhaps in the wrong direction....I think I'll sit back and enjoy now.

 

I have more rambles...but no time right now. I'm glad you liked them, I'll keep going until you tell me to stop!!!

 

Seriously though:

I. LOVE. THIS. STORY.

 

It's all kinds of good.

 

I hope you've got your internet up and running...it's always weird being unplugged. (Then again, you probably do and probably mentioned it...did I say I'm awesome at the whole attention to detail thing??? :-p)

 

Talk to you soon!

 

PS. I still haven't quite gotten the hang of this forum thing...I'll try to quote it better next time.

[doesnt know jack]

Aure is pretty awesome. There are things I like and dislike about each of the characters. I guess that's one of the things that make them real to me: sometimes, I just want to smack them! LOL

 

 

 

I just want to jump in here and say the characters I don't like are usually my favorite. It's what makes them real to me too.

[Dark]

Huh? As one of your more loyal readers, I'm highly offensive - errr offended. Why wouldn't I like it? Cause Kynan gotten beaten to a pulp?

 

Goes to his room and pouts.

LOL. Silly Q. You usually make cracks about there being more unanswered than answered questions. If I slide chocolate under the door, will you come out?

 

 

You for got this:

 

I was thinking the scene in "Robin Hood: Men in Tights," but, yes, that's a good one! I love the "History of the World!" I'd honestly like to see Hitler on Ice ...

 

 

oh and just make sure posting these doesn't hold up the regularly scheduled posting.

Why would it?

[Dark]

-Hahahahahahaha.....clearly my observational skills are top notch. Although, in my defense I think it was a couple of weeks, if not more between the time I read chapter one and decided to go all in. And, I have to say...I think I kind of preferred being in the dark about that particular bit of information. Any reason you revealed it so early?

Don't worry; you're not the only person I've pointed that bit of info out to. LOL.

 

That particular secret is a core part to Kynan's character and you can't really know the character without knowing that little factoid. It's also the driving force behind why Kynan's in the situation he's in. The real mystery behind this particular secret is what's happening at the Dark Court. By giving you Kynan's secret early on, you have the background necessary to see some of the behind-the-scenes machinations. At least, I hope so!

 

 

-Really? Bummer....see, I took that whole Scattered throughout the story are the clues to help you decode all the secrets. Let's see if you can put it all together and kind of ran with it. Perhaps in the wrong direction....I think I'll sit back and enjoy now.

Oh, don't let me dissuade you from hunting down the clues! I was simply trying to re-direct your train of thought. Lots of possibilities out there, and many more dimensions to the characters and plot.

 

Yes, I'm back online! And, hey, my real-life attention to detail (or lack thereof) is constantly getting me in trouble. haha

[Andrew Q Gordon]

LOL. Silly Q. You usually make cracks about there being more unanswered than answered questions. If I slide chocolate under the door, will you come out?

 

 

Chocolate is one way to get me out, thought it might be easier to get me to let you in.

[Dark]

Chronicles 2: Chance Meeting

Kynan had a broken sword. What was he going to do with a broken sword? He stared at the dead man at his feet, scowling. The queen was not going to be happy with him that he'd killed this particular bounty. Great. What a wonderful day. He resisted the urge to kick the corpse and instead rooted through his pockets. A bit of cash, but nothing of note. He scanned the dark storeroom. He couldn't just leave the man dead, he had to cover his tracks, so if not robbery, then what? Not fire, he'd set off half the street if he did that. What kind of store was this, anyway?

 

Oh, right. Candles. He made wax candles and sold incense. There was nothing burning now, but the scents were heavy in the air. Gah! Looked like fire was going to be it, then, unless he wanted to haul the body elsewhere. Sure would be nice if he could summon fire like Karadur could; the Hunter could incinerate his corpses without touching anything else. Of course, that's why he was sent on those kinds of missions. Kynan was better at live capture. Drat again the chandler's slight mystical abilities that made the queen desire his work and protected him against Kynan's charms.

 

He drummed his fingers on the counter. The queen was not going to be happy.

 

"Mister, I suggest you explain yourself," said a calm, authoritative voice from behind him. Kynan felt the hard edge of steel press against his jacket. He groaned. This was just perfect. He hated kiling a member of the City Watch. Swat one and you had the rest of them on you like a swarm of wasps.

 

"This isn't what you think," Kynan said evenly, keeping his hands in view on the counter.

 

"Oh?" replied the watchman. "Looks like murder to me."

 

"I found the man," said Kynan smoothly. "He was already dead."

 

"Yeah, and I suppose that empty sheath of yours has nothing to do with the blade broken off in my buddy's chest."

 

"Of course not." He sighed. "Look, you don't know me, and you obviously don't know Luke that well, either. I'm going to give you this one chance to lower your blade and walk out of here."

 

"Or what?"

 

Kynan whirled, kicking the man's legs out from under him and batting the sword away. He caught the edge in his jacket anyway, fingering the gaping tear with irritation before staring down at the cop. He was younger than he'd expected, with dark hair and eyes and a drooping moustache. He scowled and reached for the sword. Kynan stepped on the blade and drew his knife. The wide, curving blade caught the policeman's eyes as Kynan rotated the hilt to catch the moonlight. He waited.

 

"Uh," said the watchman, "I guess I got here too late to catch the perp."

 

"How wise," Kynan replied. "You might just live long enough to make detective. Now get out of here."

 

He huffed a sigh as the kid took off and slid the knife back into its sheath at his back. He picked up the policeman's sword and slid that into the scabbard at his waist. In a few short minutes he had the chandler dragged into the back storeroom and, coughing, ducked out of the building as the flames shot up towards the roof.

 

The watchman's sword jingled in Kynan's scabbard as he made tracks for home. As he'd expected, the queen was furious and gave him a tongue-lashing. She'd wanted to get the secrets of the chandler's incense. That night Kynan did not sleep by her door in the position of honor, but returned instead to the tiny cubby he hid in when he wasn't on missions or in the queen's chambers. She must have been in a good mood, for he'd escaped with only a little humiliation rather than a beating.

 

Once he'd settled, Kynan drew out the new sword and examined it. The blade was smaller than his original, and very light. Too light to really be of use to him, but he liked the feel of the hilt in his hand. The sword was very well-balanced and was still new enough that only the barest of scratches marred its fine surface. Placing his hands carefully along its length, Kynan closed his eyes to concentrate on the sword. He could pick up four distinct auras: the cop, a faint other trace, and two very similar, stronger presences. They must be the makers of the sword. He gathered the scent towards him, breathed it in, and relaxed into the dreamscape.

 

Stepping out into the city, he took a deep breath, holding the scents in his mind, searching, searching. There was something in the fire, of hot iron and steam, and also a steadying calm, but underneath that was a jostling energy, an impatience that warred with amusement. Kynan loped through the city streets, searching, listening and sniffing for the sounds and tastes of the forge, the hammers and the hiss of steam.

 

There were times when the elusive track grew stronger, only to vanish with the next street, sending him backtracking, again and again and again. The scent of the young watchman kept trying to override the search, fouling the trace and complicating the hunt, but he didn't want to stop. The track was an elusive one, but it was in the city, which meant that the swordsmith had to be there somewhere.

 

The hiss of steam by his elbow made the werewolf jump in surprise. Looking down a dark alley, he saw clouds and clouds of steam pouring through the chimney. Here at last the track strengthened and he moved forward on two legs, the better to observe his surroundings. The little shop glowed slightly amongst the shady buildings around him, reflecting light out onto the cobbled street. Kynan moved closer, drifting through the walls and fading his own form to a bare ghost of himself.

 

Inside, a black and silver werewolf worked at the forge -- a werewolf for a smith? -- quenching a set of horseshoes over and over for a parade of hooves of all kinds. There didn't seem to be any horses attached to them, just the hooves and Kynan felt a smile tug at him. Surely a workman's dream, enough steady work to be comfortable.

 

Then there was a BOOM! from above, followed by a child's cackle of delight. Kynan cocked his head. He didn't linger for long, drawn as he was to the other noise. Rising to the level above the shop, he spied another werewolf holding a long metal tube in his hands. Smoke poured out of the far end, pointing towards an archery target. Or, rather, the remains of an archery target. Kynan pressed in deeper and saw that the young werewolf dreamed inside a vast workshop, the size of a whole city street and as bright as if there were no roof at all. Glass tubes and noxious chemicals and small fires bubbled glass beakers from all sides and the kid talked to himself in equations and foreign insignia and a floating book wrote magically as he spoke.

 

Kynan drifted closer. A drawing manifested on the current page and the pup held up the metal tube again, using flint and steel to light a small dish-shaped device on the top. He shook his head at the difficulty and the drawing in the book altered and shifted according to whatever was going through his mind. Kynan stared, practically forgetting where he was so taken in was he in this dream. The pup cocked a small lever, pointed the tube at the archery target, and Kynan jumped as ... something smashed the target into pieces. He started to cheer, too, stopping himself just in time. He had no wish to disturb these thoughts!

 

Eager now, he returned to the smith's dream below, prowling around that dream to move in and out of the shop. When he felt reasonably sure of the shop and its location, Kynan backed out of the dreamscape.

 

He dragged himself into his bed with a groan of stiff muscles. Now he could sleep, but not for long, his excitement would not be contained. Grabbing his sword, Kynan pulled on his worn and torn jacket and hit the streets of the city. He found the place easily by the smoke and steam pouring out of the chimney stacks. He grinned, jiggling up and down on his toes as he reached for the doorknob. He opened the door and went in.

 

The outer room was neater than he'd envisioned, with samples and product for sale. An older man, with black hair sprinkled with gray, appeared in the hallway behind the counter in response to the bells on the door. Kynan gave a surepitious sniff, but he couldn't tell if this was the werewolf from his dream.

 

"Good day, sir," said the smith. "And what might I be able to help you with today?"

 

Kynan moved forward to lay the blade on the counter. "Are you the maker of this sword?"

 

"I am." The smith picked up the small sword and studied it with a frown. "Is there something wrong with it?"

 

"Oh, no, it belongs to a ... friend. I would like to commission another."

 

"I see," murmured the smith. He looked up at Kynan and his frown deepened slightly. The stranger still wore his sunglasses, even in the darkness of the shop.

 

"So, can you?" Kynan asked. He gestured to the sword, "Make me one?"

 

"Of course, of course." He set the sword down and came around the counter. "Take off your coat." He went to a collection of steel poles in a corner and came back with a few for Kynan to hold.

 

He discarded the first set with a grunt of surprise. Kynan was stronger than he'd expected. When he was satisfied with the weight and length, he had Kynan perform for him, slashing and parrying and jabbing. That was then followed with measurements of hand and grip and arm and shoulder. Kynan endured all the tests with amusement. He kept looking around, but the noise from the back and the horse smell completely masked anyone else's presence.

 

"There, that'll do," said the smith finally. "I'll have it ready for you in a week."

 

"Price?"

 

They leaned upon the counter and haggled. Just as they went to shake on the deal, a blast from the back made the whole place shake, items falling from the walls and a great cloud of smoke billowing into the main room. The smith swore.

 

"Alan!" he shouted, running towards the back.

 

Kynan followed. Standing next to the forge, covered head to foot in soot, his hair standing straight up, stood a human child. He jumped up and down, a packet of something in his hand.

 

"It worked! It worked!" he cheered.

 

"How many times have I told you not to toss your concoctions into the forge?" roared the smith. He grabbed the boys ear and shook him.

 

"Ow! Ow! But, Papa! It works! Boom! Did you see that? Ow, ow! Ow! Did you see?"

 

Kynan had to clutch the doorjam to keep from falling over with laughter. All the chastizing in the world was not going ot wipe the big grin off the kid's face.

 

"No more experiments!" yelled the smith, and the boy winced under the tight grip on his ear. "Out! Out!"

 

Kynan slumped against an empty space along the wall, doubled over with mirth. When the smith turned his scowl on him, Kynan could only laugh harder. The kid meanwhile had not yet stopped jabbering about his invention and the smith, after a long moment, gave it up himself and laughed, releasing his son.

 

Kynan followed the boy back into the main shop. "What were you working on?" he asked.

 

"Oh, just something."

 

"Would it have anything to do with this?" Kynan pulled out a badly rendered drawing of what he remembered from the dream.

 

He grabbed it, staring, then turned a suspicous frown on Kynan, totally spoiled by the fact he still looked like he'd just crawled out of a chimney. "How did you know about this?" he demanded.

 

"I've seen something of its like," replied Kynan, shrugging, hard-pressed to contain his excitement. So this was the little werewolf!

 

"Can you make me one?"

 

"Crimey! Don' be encouragin' the boy," sighed the smith, coming up beside them. He sighed. "Kynan, meet my son, Alan. Alan, this gent has just commissioned a sword."

 

Alan glanced back down at the drawing. "So what do you want a gun for?"

 

Kynan grinned. "Because they're neat! Don't you agree?"

 

The smith sighed, grabbing what he'd come for and leaving again.

 

Alan was nodding absently. "I could make one, I suppose, but --"

 

Kynan dropped a small sack onto the counter. "Consider this a downpayment," he said, opening the drawstring and dumping out a handful of tiny gems. They glittered blues and greens and reds. Alan gasped.

 

"You got a deal, mister!"

 

Kynan extended his hand with a grin. "I'll contact you in a couple weeks to see what progress you've made. I promise another sack like this if I'm satisfied."

 

Alan shook his hand, surprising Kynan with the strength of his grip. "You bet!"

 

Laughing, Kynan ruffled the blackened hair and took himself from the shop. He whistled as he strode down the street, silently thanking a particular chandler for the serendipitous affairs which had crossed his path with a green cop and a sword. Ah, what a good day!

[Dark]

New chapter alert!

[Andrew Q Gordon]

New chapter alert!

 

Holy Crap Dark man, I've missed two chapters

 

Be back later

[Dark]

Edited chapter 20. Hopefully that clears things up. Let me know!

[Dark]

Guess who sent me some more art?

 

 

You can check out more of her work here: http://yaoi.y-galler...jefferystrider/

[Dark]

ALERT: New Chapter!

[Dark]

You know what's exciting? For awhile now, my story, "The One I Want" had more fans, but a recent fav has tied things back up!

 

Here is your weekly installment: chapter 23

[Dark]

Oh, by the way, I forgot to ask, how did y'all like Chronicles?

[Andrew Q Gordon]

You know what's exciting? For awhile now, my story, "The One I Want" had more fans, but a recent fav has tied things back up!

 

Here is your weekly installment: chapter 23

 

After you left us on that damn cliff at the end of 23 I just might have to revoke my like and leave this one behind The One I Want - hmph

 

Childish tantrums aside - it was interesting how the demons are portrayed in this chapter - they are no more or less likeable than anyone else. Maybe even a tad more likeable. Well except for Alan - I have a soft spot for him.

 

I wonder what the Prince would do if he were face to face with an angry Karadur? Do demon's crap their pants? Or Soil their Britches? Just wondered.

[Dark]

*bribes with chocolate*

 

Karadur scares everyone. It would be interesting to see Karadur and Xeran face off. Hmm..

 

And, just so you know, demons are no more or less "human" than anyone else. Stereotypes aside, of course.

[Andrew Q Gordon]

You and your chocolate bribes, sadly for you food weakness is not chocolate. Keep trying maybe you'll find it.

 

On a more serious note, this chapter did a good job of showing us how magic works. Now we just need to get the boys away from Xeran - Go Karadur, go Karadur.

 

I bid 200 Quatloos on Karadur! Hand out the Pugil Sticks and lets get ready to rumble. :mace:

[Dark]

Hm, must've been your evil twin who said:

Chocolate is one way to get me out, thought it might be easier to get me to let you in.

And what, may I ask, is a Quatloo?

[Andrew Q Gordon]

Hm, must've been your evil twin who said:

And what, may I ask, is a Quatloo?

 

NOOOOO!!!!!!!!! I so knew you were gonna get the reference.

 

Definition of a Quatloo

 

Star Trek Episode - The Gamesters of Triskelion.

 

From the Wikipedia page: The fictional currency of "Quatloos" is much-referenced in Star Trek fandom and other contexts,^[1][2] and is used as the name of the anti-fraud website Quatloos.com.

 

*slinks off, heart ripped out and stomped on by Dark *

[Dark]

What did I say?

 

BTW, love the new title, Andy!

[Andrew Q Gordon]

What did I say?

 

BTW, love the new title, Andy!

 

I was just SO sure you would know what a Quatloo was - not knowing ruined the post about betting 200 Quatloos on Krandur.

 

No biggie, all my jokes are flopping today

[Dark]

And here I thought I was a Trekkie!

 

Any thoughts on where the story is heading now?