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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Chaos Lives in Everything - 42. Chapter 42

Skold and Dom in the middle of packing for the flight to Berlin when Skold heard a knock at the door. It was Rebecca. Her hair was a mess of blonde tangles and their were dark circles under her eyes but she was smiling.

Before Skold could greet her properly she threw herself at him and embraced him in a bear hug. “You have no idea how much I missed you.”

“Thank you.” Skold patted her back awkwardly. He couldn’t help but smile. “I missed you too. When did you get back?”

“Just now. Can I come in? I’ve got a lot to tell you.”

“Yes, but just for a few minutes. Dom and I have a flight to catch in...” He looked at his watch. “...two hours.”

“What? Where are you guys going?”

“Berlin.”

“What the fuck for?”

“The fae king has summoned to stand trial.”

“Why? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Apparently he thinks I have.”

Rebecca snorted in disgust. “But that’s bullshit. He can’t do that. He doesn’t have any evidence.”

Skold smiled sadly. “He doesn’t have to, Rebecca. He’s the king. He can do whatever he wants. I don’t have a choice. How was your trip?”

Rebecca’s face darkened. “Bajork found me Skold. He tortured someone that I care about, almost killed him. Twig came to warn me. If he hadn’t gotten there when he did me and Melanie would probably be dead.”

Skold took her arm and led her gently over to the couch. They sat down. He looked at her, concerned. “What happened? Tell me everything. Did he hurt you? Where is he?”

“He’s dead,” she said softly. “I killed him.”

He raised an eyebrow, unable to hide his suprise. “You killed him?”

She nodded. “Skold I can’t believe it. He’s dead. He’s really dead. But I feel...different. I feel strange. I look at myself in the mirror and I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m not the same girl anymore that I knew.”

“No, you’re not. You’re a warrior now. You’ve seen and done things that you didn’t think yourself capable of. And once you draw blood like that, once you learn how easy it is to kill someone and that you are capable of it, you never forget it. Do you understand me?”

“I think so. I can’t go back to what I was doing before. When I killed Bajork I felt a rush. Almost like euphoria, you know?”

“I do,” Skold said. “Very well.”

“Will I ever know peace ever again? Will I ever be able to stop looking over my shoulder?”

“That I’ve been asking of myself as well,” Skold said. “When I find out, if I find out, I will let you know.”

“I want to go with you to Berlin.”

“You can’t. It’s too dangerous. You have put yourself in the middle of harm’s way one time too many. Fae politics is not for a mortal’s eyes or ears.”

Rebecca shook her head stubbornly. “I don’t care. I’m going anyway. Even if that means I have to go with just the clothes on my back.”

“I suppose I could always make you not go,” Skold said with a smirk.

She smirked back. “You know I’ll put up a fight-even though I know that you’d kick my ass.”

“I know that you would fight me. You’ve grown very feisty over the last few weeks.”

Rebecca’s face turned dead serious. “I want to go with you Skold, to support you. You’ve done so much for me. You’re my friend, even if you don’t consider us to be. And I’d walk through Hell and back for my friends.”

“We are friends.” Skold took her hand. “You can come if that’s what you wish. But this will not be like any of the other times. I will not be able to protect you. Do you understand?”

She nodded. “I do.”

Dom came into the living room. “Maeglin just called. We have to go.”

“There’s one more thing I want to grab before we go,” Skold said.

Maeglin’s private jet was waiting for them in the runway when Skold, Dom, and Rebecca arrived. Candestine had already arrived with a suitcase. Two elves dressed in steward uniforms loaded everyone’s luggage onto the plane for them.

“It is a nine hour flight from here to Berlin,” Maeglin explained as the group boarded the plane. “The moment that we land we will be transported to the king’s mansion where your trial is being held, Skold. There will be an opportunity in which all of us will be able to testify. So now will be the time to think about what you all want to say. Until then enjoy the refreshments. Anything that you want the stewards can get. There is also a full bathroom in the back of the plane.”

“I call dibs on the shower,” said Rebecca. She disappeared into the back of the plane.

Dominyc buckled in the seat across from Skold. “When was the last time you ate something?” he asked in his booming voice.

“I can’t remember,” Skold said. “Two or three days at least.”

“You should take advantage of the down time and eat something-and prepare our testimony while we’re at it.”

Skold smiled and pulled out the crystal vial from the pocket of his leather trench coat. Then he leaned forward and kissed Dom on the lips. “I have everything that I need.”

“How can you not be nervous? Yaldon is insane and he has it out for you? What if he convicts you? Last time he erased your memories and exiled you? What if he decided to kill you this time?”

Skold’s smile never left his face; his confidence did not falter in the face of Dom’s doubt. “He won’t. Because if he does I will tear his head from his shoulders with my bare hands.”

 

For the past decade all of Samhein’s funds had been going into having Paladin’s castle restored. For seven centuries the ruins had stood watch over a small Romanian village, slowly decaying. But now it was almost done; a few more years and Paladin’s castle would be restored to its former glory.

Samhein’s room was at the top of the South tower. It was in this room where Paladin had slept, ate, and fucked. Even now he could sense Paladin’s presence in the room, as if he had never fully left. The room was large but sparsely furnitured with a wooden wardrobe and a wooden chest at the end of his four poster bed. To his right was a large bookshelf, to the left a wooden riding desk. He stood before the crystal window.

The castle stood on top of a mountain. Down below he could see the small Romanian village. It was mostly a farming community with a population of nine hundred and eight. It had one traffic light in the middle of what would be considered the town square. The roofs of the one and two story houses shimmered under the silver light of the half crescent moon. The town would probably be closed down in the morning, for a strong blizzard had blown through the night before. All of the mortals and their little children were sleeping, wrapped peacefully in their blankets. Warm. Safe. Comfortable and dreaming. Unaware that before the sun rose their new lives would begin.

It’s almost poetic, he thought, amused. It’s ironic, even, the way that history has a way of repeating itself. No matter how many years passes or the new ground-breaking technology that is invented, the world never truly changes.

He remembered the day that Paladin had been defeated, remembered it as if it had just happened yesterday. He remembered how the village, this very village, had been flattened, the villagers laying dead in the snow, slaughtered like the helpless cattle they were; he remembered how the snow had been splattered with their blood, red streaking the snow like something out of an abstract painting. He remembered how Skold had appeared on the horizon after years of everyone thinking he was dead, leading his army of the undead. Even then Samhein had known that the war was over, that Paladin had lost. By the time Samhein had found Paladin it was already too late. Paladin was already dead, his head laying next to his body, the castle burning down around them. And Skold was gone. He remembered falling on his knees and holding Paladin’s head in his hands, his hands covered in blood, crying tears. The tears had been hot and he had felt real angquish, like his heart was about to give out on him. Like he no longer had the will to live. Paladin had been everything to him and Skold had taken him away from him.

“This war is for you, Paladin, my love,” Samhein whispered, looking up at the moon. “And this time we will not be defeated.”

He grabbed a candle holder and lit the wick with a softly whispered spell; the flame immediately sprung into life. Even though the palace had electric he could not quite get over the nostalgic pleasure that using a candle gave him.

At the end of the red carpeted corridor was a long spiral staircase. The walls were made of stone. The doorways on both sides of him were made of wood were tall with high stone archways and steel door knobs. The inside of the castle was cold, drafty. Samhein wore a long crimson robe that swept the floor behind him. The journey to the basement was long. He had to climb down seven floors to get down to get to the dungeons which had been converted into a labratory. It was here that three dozen of Aethyx’s best scientest toiled endlessly, doing what they did best.

Several scientist dressed in hazmat suits stood around a black crystalline lab coats; they each held a wooden clipboard and pencils, scribbling down results. One of them turned in Samhein’s direction, as if sensing his presence the moment that he entered the labratory.

“Sir, I am pleased to form you that they are ready.”

Samhein was pleasantly surprised. “Already?”

“Yes. We found that hitting them with radiation makes the process go much faster. It’s remarkable.”

“Indeed.” Samhein ran a hand over the top of the cocoon lovingly.

“When do you want us to wake them?”

Samhein cocked his head to the side, thinking silently for a moment. “Now,” he said. “Do it now. Tonight Paladin’s dream begins once again.”

2017 Valentine Davis
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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So glad that Rebecca came with Skold, I know it might not help but just think they should all be together.  I wonder what Skold got that makes him so confident...

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