Return to Raven Chapter Twenty-Eight



Raven
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Author: taylorgirl6
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I have a girlfriend, three dogs, and a house payment. Driver carries no cash. Only my ideas are my own. Use of Joss Whedon's characters should be construed as pure flattery.


Willow mumbled under her breath, repeating the story of the Ancients, hoping and praying that it would unlock the secret she needed the answer to. Her body was folded in on itself, doubled over on the edge of what remained of the castle by the sea. Cold wind and ice stole what little heat remained in her thin arms and legs, and she braced herself at each crash of the surf. "The wind blew and the trees bowed, for the Ancients walked among them. They came from the South, with eyes of water, bluer than the ocean waves. Flowers blossomed in their footsteps, for the earth was their charge, its very life their one hope.

"Their skin was the early frost, their tears the dew upon the grasslands. Their footsteps carved stone, hills bowed in respect to their passage. Their hands shifted the river current, and their gaze lit the sun and moon.

"This land was birthed to them, and theirs it shall remain, until the Keeper of Fire returns. Snakes on wing and a tide of smoke, the left hand of Blackness brings an end and a beginning. One with voice, one without, their cries will wake the dead, and the Ancients will walk again." The foundations of stone below her reverberated with a low rumble.

"I cannot allow this," a weak voice from the shadows called out. Willow spun in place and searched the darkness for the owner of the words. As she squinted, the figure of a young man emerged. In his hand was a long dagger. "No one will come for you," he explained softly. His speech was laced with regret, and his sad eyes took in the visage of the woman he had loved so strongly. "Try to understand, I never wanted this, Willow. I only wanted to love you."

"Instead you come to kill me," she spoke evenly, slowly moving to her left, away from the edge.

"I come to save another. Your death…" he looked away briefly, "your death cannot be prevented."

"Ren," she tried to regain his trust, "I am here to save everyone in the Known Lands. This is a task only I can complete. Try to understand-"

"No!" he shouted, his grip tensing on the blade. "For once you must understand me!" Willow backed away from his violence, fearing that no amount of negotiation could save her. "There is no place for magic in this world now. It is over. A new age will begin after tonight."

"And what then for Wake?" Willow countered, finally beginning to understand her former friend's motives. She glanced ever so briefly to the cavern wall, and the slightest movement caught her eye. "Will you also sacrifice him to banish magic in its entirety?"

The conflict in Ren's face twisted his brow and made him press his eyelids shut in pain. "It is for him that I stand here now. His magic-" the gypsy stopped short, unable to bear the thought of the boy who he had raised as his own son.

"Father," following Willow's slight nod, a third figure stepped from the shadows. Wake placed himself between his father and the sorceress. "She's one of us."

"Wake?" Ren fell to his knees, grasping the boy with both hands. "You've been here all along?"

"Magic brought him here." Willow held her place just a few paces from the reunited family. "Magic brought you here as well."

Father and son stared up at the redhead. Still holding the knife, Ren weakened his grip and softened his eyes. "They will kill him, Willow. They will hunt him to the ends of the earth, just as they have done to you, to me, to us all. It must end."

"It will," she reassured him. "It will end here and now." Her eyes began to blaze in the darkness, and a fire within her was lit. The rumbling in the earth which had begun as a low growl now erupted into waves of rolling motion, and the sea echoed back with vicious, tumbling waves. Anger filled her mind, and Willow pressed on, calling up her power from every vein, every pore, every muscle in her body. No one deserved to run in fear for their own existence. Magic was not to blame for the state of this world, and destroying those who possessed it was futile. Willow mumbled and pushed the power from her belly into her voice, praying that she had the strength to perform the spell. It had to work. It had to be enough.

"Can I help?" the little boy asked from behind, but his father held him tightly, terrified at the display of magic coming from the woman standing on the rocks.

Fire and heat surged through her chilled body, and Willow began to sweat from the flames which licked at her flesh. She did not burn, but the saltwater around her sizzled as it splashed on the rocks. Into the stone and mortar flowed every ounce of power she could summon, and yet the rumbling did not change. Hot air began to swirl and gust around the isolated gypsies. Ren hugged Wake close to his chest, shielding the boy's face with his free hand. Frustrated and feeling her magic wane, Willow pushed the fire away from her slight frame and called out into the air, "I call you to walk the Known Lands once more!" Her voice cracked in the thunderous noise. "Wake from your slumber!"

With steady arms and solid steps, Wake pushed aside his father's protective grasp and walked up to the edge of the cavern. He took a deep breath, inhaling the heat and fumes of Willow's fire, then yelled with all the strength he could muster. His wordless voice leapt from the shattered stone and out across the ocean, and its power spread over all they could see, lighting the waves with a sudden flash. Willow watched his command and saw a faint figure in the water before any other eyes beheld it. It slid from between the fallen stones which rested on the shore, noiselessly pushing itself up to stand. Though faint and flickering in and out of vision, it was soon clearly the shape of a man. He was tall and broad, twice the size of a normal man, and he moved with deliberate steps. Willow saw the pain in his eyes as he neared, and her heart leapt out to him. Something had gone wrong. Her spell had not worked. Perhaps Wake did not possess enough power. The man's form faded in the low light, translucent and pale as he struggled to remain in their presence. An outstretched arm shook with weakness, and Willow found herself reaching toward him with her own hand.

She would have caught him had the wind not shifted. She would never have known that anyone else existed in the world at that very moment, but her attention was pulled off course by a loud crash and a violent ripple of sea water. It was followed by another and another, and the grunts and cries of pain were so loud that all other sound faded into the darkness. Willow turned to face the splashing, colliding bodies which tumbled and fell and landed in the surf. The last to join them was a wyvern, and his rider was thrown clear by the impact.

She ran without thinking. "Phidi!" she cried. "Phidi!" The boy did not answer. He was nowhere to be seen. She searched the wreckage of armor and bodies, pushing and throwing as she looked for the scaly boy. The winged beast struggled and called out as it pulled its huge body from the water, dragging with it seaweed and leather. "Where is he?" she shouted angrily at it, storming up the rocky beach to confront the animal. It backed away in fear, sensing the flames beneath her skin. Willow tripped suddenly, and her eyes were brought down to a limp body, twisted and broken on the sandy shore. Blackness stared back at her. "Tara?"

The others had followed. Ren turned over one body after another, finding nothing but death. The third body stared at him with cold, familiar eyes. "Birch?" he whispered. Still and lifeless, the young man stared back, and Ren felt the loss of one more member of the Circle. Slowly, steadily, they were all being wiped out of this existence. Willow's cries carried over the wind, and Ren left Birch to run to her side. She had knelt on the shore beside the Black Knight. "Willow, stop!"

"Stop?!" she screamed, whipping her tear soaked face toward him. "Look what has happened!" With that, flames danced upon her fingertips and lit the hollows her feet had left in the sand. Blind though she was, two things caught her gaze. The first was the shadow of the Ancient, growing stronger and more solid as he climbed the rocks to the shore. He looked upon Willow and smiled faintly.

The second thing she saw was Wake, running at full speed toward them. Wet sand flew all around them as he crashed to his knees beside the Black Knight. His hands reached for the dark figure, but stopped short of touching. He turned to find his father's face, and asked a simple question. "Will you forbid me, father?"

Ren felt the weight of years of anger and pain threaten to overtake him. He fought back his own tears, and took Wake's hand. "I will not forbid you. You were brought here for this." The boy nodded, and his other hand pressed down on the Black Knight's chest.

Willow's fire died back, and she watched in awe as the child began to pull Tara from the edge of death, but a shadow fell over them all. She lifted her eyes and saw the infuriated Ancient bearing down upon them with great strides. He shouted at them, but his words were lost on the wind. Another threat grew in her mind, and it must have triggered something in Ren's mind as well, for they both turned simultaneously to look over their shoulders toward the precipice from whence the men and beasts had fallen. Far from the wreckage of broken soldiers and discarded weapons, a lone figure lifted himself from the sand and began to storm down the coastline. Though diminutive compared to the Ancient, his steps were no less threatening, no less terrifying.

"Tinari," Willow whispered. Below her hands, the limp body on the beach began to breathe, and her attention was once again brought back to the company at her side and to the woman her heart cried out for. Wake released his hand and nodded to Willow. "You brought her back?" She looked at the masked figure. "Tara?"

Shaking, gloved hands reached up to the gypsy and held her close. Willow removed the wet mask and was shocked by the color and life in the face of the Southlander. "Willow?" Her voice was confused. "I fell."

"We caught you," Wake answered with a half smile.

Breaking from her momentary joy, Willow addressed the two men. "Wake, Ren, we have to get back up to the others." In her voice was a warning they both understood. "This is not what I thought it would be, but I'm beginning to understand." She glanced at the infuriated Ancient, his form once more flickering and wavering in the moonlight. "Can you help me carry her?"

Ren reached under Tara's shoulders to help her up, but was surprised when the warrior leapt from her resting place and spun over the rocks, deftly avoiding a killing blow from Tinari. "So," the Prince drawled, "a few little mysteries have been revealed." The sword in his hand was curved, and its sharp edge nearly glowed in the light. "I feel quite the fool for never having guessed your secret, Black Knight," he grinned maliciously. Unarmed, Tara crouched and stepped sideways, always facing Tinari. "Your actions indicate that you understand the weight of your own crime. You have deceived the Queen. You have deceived the people. Perhaps you have even deceived your own friends." He smirked, jerking his head toward Willow and the others.

"I love her," Willow said simply, standing behind the Prince. "My heart was never deceived." He swung around to see her, still keeping Tara in his sight. "Your ideals are the reason she was forced to hide. The Known Lands have never seen a woman with true power because of you. But that time is over."

"Your words are folly," he sneered. "You cannot save her every time I kill her." His cold eyes turned toward Wake. "My sword is quicker than your spells." Fury burned in the pit of Ren's stomach as the evil man glared at his son. He fingered the dagger at his side, slowly grasping it in his steady hand. "What little magic is left in this world shall be mine," Tinari boasted, "and Avinash will be the most powerful nation known to men. Do not be mistaken, Willow. I know what you are. I know what power you possess." He licked his lips. "I know how it will taste when it passes into my flesh at the moment of your death."

Willow stepped forward, closing the space between herself and the Prince. "The power of an Ancient cannot pass to another," she stated with confidence.

"Ah," Tinari laughed, "there is so much you do not know, little gypsy. There is power in this world you have never even heard of. Ancients are more frail than they wish to tell in their legends." He swung his sword in a slow arc. "They cry and feel pain. They hide when they are afraid. They can be imprisoned and tortured, and they wither and die just like men if the right weapons are used." He raised his eyebrows and spoke so softly that Willow had to strain to hear his words. "Jesse cried like an infant after I tortured him for those long weeks in the dungeon. He begged for death at the end, and I gave it to him. I am, after all, merciful."

"Jesse?" Willow whispered, her face and mind twisting with the name of her old friend, one whom she had always thought to be human. Could he truly have been an Ancient? The pain of his death reverberated through her chest, stealing the breath from her lungs. "You killed Jesse?"

Tinari closed his eyes, remembering. "He had seen so much. The memories from his father and grandfather were in his own mind as well. The things he chose not to share with me, I took from him." Black eyes opened and bored into Willow's heart, chilling her body to its core. "You were such a beautiful child," he crooned. "Hepsebah never wanted you to know your own legacy. She tried to keep you from me, but fate brought you directly into my arms."

The earth below Willow's feet began to spin and heave. She let her eyes find Tara, and in her was a comfort that steadied her pounding heart. The warrior woman crept over the sand, always keeping herself ready to intervene. "You will not have her," Tara warned the Prince. "This place strengthens her magic, and I will not see harm come to her. You are outmatched."

Throwing his dark head back to howl with laughter, Tinari's fangs glinted in the moonlight. "Outmatched?" he howled. "I made this place what it is! It was by my hand that these Ancients were confined and destroyed," he threw his arm wide, pointing at the frail, fading body of the man still fighting the surging tide. Though immense, what little strength ran through his translucent body was clearly failing. Willow looked at him, and conflict raged through her veins. She knew that much of the story of this place was unknown, but nothing she knew seemed to match what was happening here and now. "You are but the last in a long line of conquests," he spat at Willow. "It is time you faced the end of your race." Cold power flickered in his black eyes, and the sword in his right hand was raised up before his face.

Tinari charged at Willow, but Tara leapt between them before he could complete three steps. She knocked the sword from his grasp, sending them both sprawling to the earth. Fists and knees thrashed and struck out at whatever was near, and the grunts of their struggles echoed over the sharp rocks. A hard blow to the Prince's jaw separated them, and Tara's powerful fist returned to her side, ready to strike again. She jumped to her feet, bracing for another series of punches. Wiping the blood from his lips, Tinari grimaced and growled, the voice of a wolf overtaking his ability to speak. He crouched and sprang at her, claws bursting from his gloved hands. Tara stepped aside to avoid him, but he was faster than she could prepare for. Tumbling into the surf in a splash, his claws sank into her arms. She knocked him off deftly, flipping him under her and forcing his head under the water. There she held him, her whole body tense with the effort of restraining him. When at last his struggles diminished, she spared a quick glance at Willow, making sure the young woman was safely out of the way. From the depths of the black water, a hand holding a small knife thrust upward, catching Tara just under her last rib. Her body was lifted by the blow, then hurled sideways into the sea.

"No!" Willow screamed, her feet carrying her into the fray. "Tara!"

Ren caught her, spinning them both to the ground. "No, Willow!" he cried through gritted teeth. She strained against him, desperate to get to the wounded warrior. "He will kill you!"

Tinari stood and shook water from his body. The bloody knife was still in his hand, and a look of pure hatred burned in his eyes. "I will," he spoke, his voice still growling like a wolf, "and I will have your power."

"You will have no such thing," a new voice called out over the crashing of the tide. All eyes turned to the cavern from whence Willow and Ren had come. A broad-shouldered man stepped into the last of the moonlight, brandishing a long handled battle axe. "I have cropped your tail before, cur," Merl warned him boldly as he came to stand by the gypsies. Though he bore the cuts and bruises of the battle far above, the barkeep was still stronger than anyone could have guessed.

Stunned as they were by the sudden appearance of a man they knew little about, Ren and Willow took the opportunity to creep out of the direct line of the Prince. Crawling on hands and knees in the wet sand, Willow sank down beside the wounded woman. "Tara?" she whispered.

The pale face of the warrior turned toward her, and blue eyes blinked rapidly in the darkness before the earliest light of morning. "Willow," she muttered. "I tried to save you from him."

"You did," the redhead answered, tears resting on her eyelids. "You did save me."

"This world isn't ready for us, is it..." her question faded on her lips, and her breathing grew shallow.

Willow placed a hand over the bloody wound on Tara's stomach. She pressed into it firmly, holding on through the woman's writhing at the immense pain. "We will make our place in it together," she answered, desperately fighting back the sobs in her chest. "Stay with me, Tara," she begged. "Stay with me."

A weak hand reached up and stroked Willow's face, taking in her beauty with every sense she could use. Tara had never felt so much love, so much regret. "Someone is calling to me," her eyes turned in an awkward way. "That voice..."

"It's me," Willow cried. "I am calling you. Stay here, Tara! Stay!"

"No," Tara answered softly, "it's something else. It calls."

Willow grabbed Tara's hand with her free one and gripped it tightly. "No, Tara! Don't listen to it! Don't leave me!"

Blue eyes turned back to Willow. "I can't stop it," she mumbled. Her eyelids fluttered. "I love you, Willow. Remember my name."

"Tara?" the gypsy leaned forward, shouting into the suddenly pale face of her true love. "Tara? No!" She shook the woman, praying that it was only weakness which had overtaken her. "Wake up, Tara!"

Beside them both, a large hand reached out and rested on Tara's forehead. Willow followed the fingers up a long arm and found herself looking into the golden eyes of the Ancient. His body lit up from within, and all that had once been hollow was suddenly solid and vibrant. He inhaled, and Tara's body went limp.

"What have you done?" Willow accused. "What have you done to her?"

"She is in me now," he spoke slowly, his words forming from wind and the crash of water against stone. "I have returned."


Continue to Raven Chapter Thirty


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