The Crown of Thorns

[Elwen]

The Crown of Thorns

 

“There is a traitor among you.” The half-elven woman reported. Julie Shadowdancer looked straight at the resistance leader as she said this. “I nearly died trying to uncover this plan-and escape with the information. You don’t have to believe me, but-“

 

“What is it?” Lissandrien L’riel asked. The young dark elf raised an elegant eyebrow at her.

 

“The Society of Sorcerers has found a way to implant sleeping personalities into people.” Julie said.

 

Lissandrien’s eyebrow arched higher. “Sleeping? As in hidden?” he asked.

 

“Yes.” She said. “A personality imbedded so deep into the psyche that you don’t even know it is there.”

 

“How is that possible?” Kyerith Marin, Lissandrien’s lover, asked from his place by the elf’s side.

 

“Sophisticated magic. My people have been trying to find a way to do something like that for centuries.” Lissandrien replied. Julie nodded.

 

“This personality has been reporting your movements to the Society for some time now. It would have to be one of you in this room, because you are the upper ranks of this resistance, and they need vital information.” The half-elven mage said.

 

“Any one of us could be the traitor.” Kyerith said, looking around the room. “Even-“

 

Julie finished for him. “Even you.”

 

Kyerith shut his mouth, not wanting to think about that possibility.

 

“How does this work?” Lissandrien asked.

 

“I thought you were a really skilled mage?” Rigby Delri, cleric of the war god, Diebus, asked.

 

“I am skilled in Bardic magic, but that is the wrong kind of magic for permanent alterations of the mind.” Lissandrien said, crossing his arms over his slender chest. The renegade dark elf looked grim. “And I never learned anything of the twisted mind-magics my people are capable of…that is reserved for females, the priestesses and High Priestess of the Queen of Darkness. Men, however powerful, are not considered ‘worthy’ of that ‘gift’. I was a necromancer: I dealt in death, not in life. I have not touched that power in thirty years.”

 

“Oh.” Rigby said. The cleric was not a resistance member, per se, but he was Lissandrien’s contact among the ranks of Diebus: he knew that another cleric, a priestess of the Dark Maiden, Valeria, was among Lissandrien’s contacts. Arilyn M’hael was another renegade, like Lissandrien, and the two of them were the only drow to ever forsake the Lightless Realms. He had been the only one to turn away from the pull of the death-magic, and she had been the only priestess of the Queen of Darkness to ever forsake the goddess of their people. Even though he had known Lissandrien for a long time, the drow still remained somewhat of a mystery to him.

 

“A new personality is embedded so deep into the subconscious that the person it is done to does not even know: the Society can work over someone pretty damn thoroughly. However, this personality remains mostly dormant, sleeping, until a key is sent into his or her mind. Once this happens, the old personality is destroyed, and the new one takes over, forever. Whoever has the alter probably has no idea of what was done to them: they have no idea that the personality exists.”

 

Lissandrien frowned. The former necromancer, turned bard/ranger looked very serious, even more than he usually did.

 

“You don’t have to believe me-“ she began.

 

“Can you prove it?” Lissandrien asked, his alto voice deadly quiet.

 

“You mentioned a password.” Kyerith said. The human swordsman put his arm around the elf’s slender waist. “Do you have the key?”

 

Julie exploded. “Of course I do! Finding out the key was what nearly got me killed!” she turned to Lissandrien, blue eyes flashing, and her long golden hair coming loose of her braid. “And I can prove it. Let me do a mental probe…all I have to do is touch the minds of everyone in this room and give them the password. That’s all. The personality will reveal itself then.”

 

“I cannot agree for everyone in this room.” Lissandrien said, and turned to the rest of his command staff, Rigby, and Arilyn. “Do you consent to this?”

 

Everyone nodded.

 

“We gotta do what we gotta do.” Sophia Laurel, a rogue human sorceress, said cheerfully. The Air Adept bounced up and down with barely contained energy.

 

“Tomorrow, then. Do your test.” Lissandrien said, and his violet eyes went hard. “I hold you responsible for whoever you kill by doing this.”

 

“Kill?” Julie asked. “I won’t be killing anyone.”

 

“Yes, you will.” the drow said. “The death of the soul is as final a death as that of the body…even more so.”

 

“Yes.” Julie agreed, knowing Lissandrien wouldn’t agree unless she took that death on herself freely. “I will be responsible…but more lives will be saved than if I do not do this.”

 

Lissandrien met her gaze, looking up at her: the half-elf was a good five inches taller than the resistance leader, who while tall by the standards of his people, was small by any other standards. Dark elves were smaller than even the surface elves, though not by much.

 

“I won’t be alone with any of you.” Julie said firmly. “So here’s a message for you. The personality has a strong sense of self-preservation…so it will attack anything it sees as a threat. And I am a threat. If I live until tomorrow, I’ll do the test.”

 

The rogue sorceress turned and left the chamber. Several minutes later, everyone else left the room, except for Lissandrien and Kyerith.

 

“Lis-“ Kyerith began. The slight man turned deep violet eyes on him, shimmering with silent tears. As he was used to holding his emotions within him, a habit carrying over from his days as a necromancer, it was a bad sign if Lissandrien was upset enough to actually show it. Kyerith drew the small man close, cradling the elf gently. “It’s alright, Lis. It’ll be alright.”

 

Lissandrien was pliant in his arms, almost passive, decidedly not a good sign.

 

“Lis? What’s wrong?” Kyerith asked.

 

Lissandrien didn’t respond for a moment. And when he finally did, he didn’t answer the question, and spoke not in Common, but in Elven.

 

“We will meet again…not here, but in the place where no shadows fall.”

 

***

In the middle of the night, Kyerith sleepily opened his eyes. Lissandrien lay beside him, eyes closed, deep in the trance that was the elven equivalent of sleep. Kyerith reached over and brushed the long, white bangs out of the closed eyes.

 

Lissandrien looked peaceful when he “slept.” He was beautiful no matter what, like a delicate jet figurine, but his true face came out when he was deep in trance. Kyerith had heard of a custom that someone wishing to marry would watch their prospective mate while he or she slept, for three nights, in order to find out what their true face looked like without the masks.

 

His Lis would have been snatched up long ago in that country, for his true face was one of such beauty that it outshone his physical loveliness. For that matter, all the drow except for Lissandrien and Arilyn would never find anyone willing to marry them in that country, for the dark elves, beautiful as they were, were-with those two exceptions-a cruel, evil race.

 

Kyerith frowned, a sudden sense breaking into his reverie. There was something very wrong…

 

“Lis.” He gently shook the elf.

 

“Yes?” Lissandrien asked, immediately out of trance.

 

“Something’s wrong.” Kyerith said.

 

Lissandrien was about to reply, when the door suddenly slammed open.

 

“What happened?” Lissandrien demanded of Aidan Vidrielle. Kyerith was very grateful for the blanket that was pulled up to the willowy sorcerer’s chin, and silently blessed his lover’s modesty. He was certain that if Lissandrien could have blushed-his jet-black skin was too dark to show if he did-that his face would have been nearly purple, considering that neither he nor Kyerith were dressed.

 

“Someone tried to kill Lady Julie.” Aidan said.

 

“We’ll be there in a minute.” Kyerith said, and Aidan left after a pointed glare from the swordsman, shutting the door behind him. Aidan was much too interested in Lissandrien for his liking, and Kyerith wasn’t exactly fond of him.

 

Kyerith slid out of bed, and retrieved his clothes, dressing as fast as he could. He grabbed Lissandrien’s tunic and trousers from where they were draped over the back of a chair, and tossed them in his direction. The drow-if it were possible-dressed even faster than Kyerith had.

 

The swordsman frowned. Wait a moment-I don’t think that I put his clothes there last night. I don’t think that either of us were thinking that coherently.

 

After a moment, he tossed the thought aside. I don’t remember things anyway, so I’m probably wrong.

***

Julie was badly shaken, but otherwise physically unharmed.

 

“What happened?” Lissandrien asked gently. “Besides the obvious.”

 

“I told you the personality regarded me as a threat.” Julie said, taking a deep breath. “It was a magical attack.”

 

“Magical?” Kyerith queried, exchanging looks with Lissandrien.

 

“Yes.” Julie said. “It was a death spell.”

 

“Necromancy.” Lissandrien said flatly.

 

“The only reason I’m not dead is because whoever cast it was badly out of practice.” Julie said. “They were powerful enough to easily kill me.”

 

Lissandrien sighed. “First thing in the morning, we are going to have you do that test of yours.” He said. “Would the alter try this again?”

 

“Probably not, now that suspicion has been raised.” Julie said.

 

“I’ll get Rigby to do a protection spell for you. I should have thought of that before.” Lissandrien said.

 

Julie was giving him a strange look. “Lissandrien-you said you were a necromancer once, right?”

 

“Yes.” The drow said. “I still am, for once you embrace Death, it will never let you go. But I have not used those spells in thirty years.”

 

Silence.

 

“How many necromancers are in the command staff?” Julie asked. “Not counting you.”

 

“Three.” Lissandrien said. “All apostate-they have turned off that path.”

 

“Alright.” Julie said shakily.

 

“I’ll send Rigby down.” He said quietly.

 

“Thank you.” Julie replied.

 

She still watched Lissandrien closely.

 

***

 

Half an hour later, after Lissandrien sent Rigby to put up the protection spell, Kyerith lay awake.

 

Julie said it was a necromancer who attacked her. An out-of-practice necromancer. There are four out-of-practice necromancers. But I can’t believe it’s Lissandrien. It can’t be.

 

He looked over at his sleeping lover, remembering when Lissandrien had been kidnapped by the Society of Sorcerers. He had been rescued two days later, somehow…

 

No. It’s not Lissandrien. Kyerith told himself firmly.

 

It took him a very long time to go back to sleep, however…

***

 

Julie stared into his eyes as she touched his mind. A moment later, she disengaged, and smiled at him.

 

“You’re fine.” she said to Kyerith. The swordsman sighed in relief.

 

She had gone through almost the entire command staff, as they stood outside on the warm spring day, and now she turned to Lissandrien. Blue met violet, as she slipped into his mind-

 

Lissandrien’s hands flew to his head, as if his mind was being split open.

 

Kyerith’s mouth fell open. You’re killing him! he mentally shrieked at Julie, and suddenly realized what had just occurred.

 

No, no, no- he felt his heart break, shatter beyond repair.

 

Lissandrien’s once-soft, sparkling violet eyes were cold, as he pointed at Julie furiously. “You ruined my cover! You’re dead, Julie Shadowdancer. Do you hear me? You’re dead!”

 

It was Lissandrien’s voice. The way he moved. But it wasn’t him behind the eyes, behind the words. Lissandrien would never have threatened a woman he considered a friend. Never would have threatened to kill her.

 

Kyerith wanted to weep. Lissandrien…it had been Lissandrien. Lissandrien had been the spy for the Society of Sorcerers…it had been him, all along.

 

But Lissandrien had made it clear that Kyerith was in charge in case anything happened to him.

 

Swallowing his grief at Lissandrien’s death, Kyerith pointed at the man who had once been Lissandrien L’riel.

 

I won’t forgive you, Julie. Not for this…not what you did to him.

 

“Lock him up, now!” Kyerith shrieked. The other necromancers, who could handle Lissandrien’s magic, stepped forward-

 

And froze.

 

At the far end of the clearing, a man dressed in the white robes and insignia of the Society of Sorcerers stood there. He beckoned to the slender dark elf, who began to walk towards him. No one else moved.

 

Kyerith watched as the small figure turned to face them all, who had once been his friends.

 

We will meet again…not here, but in the place where no shadows fall.

 

A perfect memory…

 

He wouldn’t let the Society spoil all he had left of Lissandrien.

 

Kyerith swallowed, and reclaimed his discarded crossbow. The weapon was loaded, and Kyerith knew that while he would never be an archer, he was fairly good with the weapon.

 

“Kyerith?” Arilyn whispered, her lavender eyes brimming with tears. Lissandrien had been her best friend, after all.

 

“In the place where no shadows fall.” Kyerith whispered.

 

Lissandrien had died the moment Julie had opened the lock in his mind. Now all there was to do was make an end.

 

The crossbow bolt would pierce through armor. Kyerith had no doubts as to its ability to pierce a fragile, unarmored elven chest.

 

Kyerith raised the crossbow, took aim, and fired.

 

~Owari~

[Damon Inferel]

This, i think, was an interesting piece, especially the ending. It leaves enough room for a few different endings, and I thought it was a nice touch. A very suspenseful story towards the end, I believe, though the beginning of the plot was something i've heard ina few plays before. The concept of a traitor amongst friends is not exactly new, but you still pieced together a fairly easy read, and rather well-composed story.

 

The only part that confused me was this sentence...

The drow-if it were possible-dressed even faster than Kyerith had.

I didn't get it, and i kind of bothered me through the rest of the story, but the rest of the whoel thing was, as usual, done well. The characters were realistic enough to have their own lives and feelings, not a collective Borg snese of mind, and it didn't just jump around from action event to action event. There was that break in the middle when the two were sleeping. (speaking of which, I'm tired...)

 

Merf... i'm not too good at writing reviews, but I still think this is a good story, execpt for that one line. fiction's a hard busines to get into, but i think you'll do good.