From: bshsiung@quip.eecs.umich.edu (Bernard Hsiung) Date: 6 Jul 93 20:43:03 GMT Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] Endgame [ADMIN] Thanks to Hutch for being a driving force. Thanks to Li for taking my vague ideas and half-turned phrases, and patching them into something that looked presentable. Thanks to Kelly J. for the use of her character and her thoughtful criticism. And thanks to everyone who's ever expressed an interest in the [MG] thread! ---- "Between the desire and the action, there falls the Shadow." -- T.S. Eliot Focus. Whole. Curl one. Furl one. Then extend. My wings swooping, turning... You cannot hide from me any more, Mar, not with a portion of my own buried in you. There, that is the entry to the place of your desire. I twist, unbalance, tumble, fall. Very appropriate, I suppose. I flare, my brightness blurring the darkness palpable, and the darkness struggles back like a thing alive. Light and dark, Mar? Comfortable old symbols, an old dichotomy. Two other lights leap in the darkness in answer to me. Good, they are here as well. In an instant, I see where they all are, who they all are. It is a small world; my wings extend to -- ah, I see, you restrict my full motion most cunningly. "Coral, Dieter's over there. Hurry." She runs to where three face one. You have already wounded the one I turned, but she still stands and battles on. One of the lights is before her, the other behind her, holding back the darkness with fiercely bright pinions that tarnish under the onslaught. I hear your laughter, Mar, but now there are two of us arrayed against you, the Silver Warrior and I. The bright pinioned one, Silver Warrior, furls her wings at my entrance and I drop to stand at the other end of all that is. The darkness coalesces, shrinks between the two of us, and turns to face me. I am the more familiar foe. But what I see gives me pause. You hold these two closer than you did your own children, Mar. The cold meridians of your being intertwine and choke off the one, who in turn holds the other by her heart on your needles. I see the threads of your control that tilt her this way and that, always obstructing my avenues of approach. So. You have read me well; you can tell I will not countenance the unnecessary destruction of these two, not while there is still even the faintest chance that they may survive. You can tell that if you were to end them, I would, I could, in turn end this and you immediately. A careful balance. You smile at me, a baring of teeth in that so young face that belongs to the one asleep, choked to unconsciousness by your presence. I turn to test the borders of possibility, and visions of what may come begin to pass through me even as I start to act. [Raising my hand to cast of lights vortex shimmering in a falling upon you from all sides but one, but that is enough to break the hold you scrape the dormant spirit against it I must let go.] [Pulling on of your essence you avoid the separation coil and spring with my motion brandishing your tearing strips from my side.] [Feinting reflecting a off my ally in silver, you allow it to press through so that it catches and turns it back below.] [A steady pulse of driving through your being collapsing it entirely, but you drag the two others into the with you as you curse me and die.] [...] These are unsatisfactory. I must change the options and the conditions. I walk closer. The silver one shifts on the far side of your little world. I hear the sounds of fighting behind her, for your child, Mar. Echoes of song and laughter, and I know you will lose him. Somewhere a host is crushed under an eternity. And a voice which was made for gentle musings grates, "Turn against the hand that made you?" I see the gathering of your strength in preparation and I [intercept? counter? unbalance? strike?] -- but I find that the proper action is none at all. You catch the silver one off guard, knock her aside for a single instant, to rake hate through the slender back of your own child. She falls. Can you not see her beauty, the beauty you yourself built? Then silver winged one is up again and shielding, and you are repulsed. Bloodprice for an orphan. Black lines flame and wither and the other child of yours, Mar, he is turning against you too. His grief will heal them both... I reach across what is and touch the softness of her cheek through our connection, "Your naming has done you exceeding well, Joy." I walk a step closer and you whirl to face me again. You hold your shield high and I know you know I will not break it to get to you. You turn your shield's agony on to me, and I dare not touch... FIRE THAT BURNS {warm flames guard against the night} WATER THAT DROWNS {healing fluid, thirst-quenching} WIND THAT TEARS {refreshing air, crisp and fresh} EARTH THAT SMOTHERS {fertile soil, life-giving} NOTHING, NOTHING, THREE TIMES NOTHING {that which was not there before} I AM ETERNAL. I AM ALL-POWERFUL. I FOUGHT SEVEN WARRIORS AND WAS NOT DESTROYED. Look at yourself, Mar. You are the only portion that got away. You hide behind two souls. Had your words merit, you would not have to shout them. Had your words truth, you would not have to say them. Not at all, at all, all you see, you see, see, is, see is. All I see is agony; but within her eyes... [Eyes: my eyes, your eyes, her eyes... Her eyes?] An answer. [My eyes? So be it. This, then, is the path I take.] I reach to them and you, and I touch her. Her eyes are already as wide as they will ever be, ever can be. I feel the muscles of her chest crawling with her hurt, the warmth of her skin, and then I reach... PAIN where we meet, you and I. I push against it, into it, flooding through her, through the lines you've implanted in her through that bit of her that had accepted, thinking it was the gift of a friend. I push, harder and I stream from her, though those lines... Focus. Hole. Knit one. Purl one. Then expend. My hands sweeping, testing... You begin to scream. I must needs use both hands for the separation. The body of the sleeping one's being is so fragile within my grasp, and I must keep you away from him during the division. Both hands. So, even screaming, you reach forth and... Very near, I see the whorls of his fingers' prints, the swirl of your being through him. I catch, at the edge of my vision, the glint of the Silver Warrior's wings. I look to remember exactly where and how you hold this one who is only partially within my grasp. Then I see no more. I... I reach into the sleeping one and give him enough of my fire to awaken him. You scream louder, harsher yet, and more of him comes free. He breathes again, his breathing, not yours. He moves, and his first thought is for the betraying shield. You take the thought and try to throw the burning wreck away. But he stops you, gentle even in his bewilderment. He holds her as delicately as a child, even as I hear him ripping wide apart with the knowledge of what you have done with him, how he has been used. Is it better to forget, or better to regret? Remember, remember, child who lives and outlasts. But never regret, for what's done is gone, by and by, though it rests in the bones of memory. I hear him sobbing, feel him shudder; my face also is streaked with the warmth of honey-tears bleeding from my empty sockets. There is little more that I can do for him, not while I still must deal with you. The shield holds him as well. Now is the time. Fortuna, guide my hands. My substance alters in accordance to my will, changes to become transparent to the host. I am become a web like you, the better to snare you. Where we touch, there is more than pain. My fire consumes your threads. Your threads absorb my fire. We cancel each other directly, and I will purge you. This is so inefficient, but your host will live, may recover. That is my desire in your place. I myself losing coherence. But are burning. Passing again through. Farewell, Joy, Raphael, 'Raelf, ar'Elya... Jameson, Nescie, Dieter, Coral... Nireen... ...and Master. May the Beacon. Shine. Forever. ---- Comments, compliments, and complaints can be conveyed to... Bernie Hsiung (bshsiung@eecs.umich.edu)