Fan Fiction ❯ Burning Bridges ❯ Stolen Moments Floating Softly On the Air ( Chapter 3 )

More days passed while Hardin journeyed with the brethren, and the air began to grow noticeably warmer with the approach of spring even within the short time. They slept in the open more often than not, and Hardin volunteered again for the watch each time he felt up to the task; it hadn't been long enough that he'd regained his former endurance, of course, and sometimes a day spent hiking through uneven terrain could wear him out. But it was something he could do for them.

And although he was ashamed of it, he had come to be fascinated by watching Sydney sleep.

It was entirely uncharacteristic of him, really. He'd never been one to intrude on others' privacy, and Sydney and the lovers he chose would not have left the rest of the brethren unless that was what they desired. The focused, impersonal demeanor Sydney assumed during the day was at odds with the sadness Hardin saw as the man lay dreaming, and that told him that it was nothing Sydney wanted anyone to know about. With his usual straightforward manner, which Hardin had witnessed firsthand in Ethan's back room, he guessed that Sydney would not have hidden anything if he didn't wish it hidden.

It was an act of invasion, and he knew that, but night after night, Hardin waited until his shift was nearly over, then sought out whatever place Sydney had chosen to spend that night. Each time Hardin found Sydney, most often lying with a lover's arm around him, he stood and watched the steady rise and fall of Sydney's chest, gazed upon the moonlight-softened lines that formed his delicate features, so full of that subtle despondancy. Hardin couldn't have said why it meant so much to him, except that it was a rare and beautiful sight.

He'd wondered for a time if perhaps Sydney's advances had not been entirely unwelcome after all. The mage was a rather attractive and charismatic man, after all - Hardin had to admit that - and each time Hardin saw him and his chosen consort for the night slip off alone, he had begun to feel a twinge of resentment. Occasionally, finding the two of them in a close embrace put thoughts in his head that made him blush... but that was only natural, he'd decided. Too much time spent alone was bound to make a man jealous of those who were not.

Besides, upon studying Sydney in repose, Hardin's thoughts were not lustful, but protective and contemplative. He remembered sitting by his brother's bedside, watching him sleep during his lengthy illness. The sickness had ravaged his young body so that even in sleep, Philip's face was drawn in pain, and he was prone to nightmares borne of the fever. Hardin had stood by to wake him if he began showing signs that another was coming on, and to hold him close when he woke sobbing.

Some nights Sydney appeared more restful than others, merely unhappy, and some nights he cried silently in his sleep as he had done the first night. So often, Hardin wanted to reach out to touch him, to draw him back to the waking world as he had Philip, but he didn't suppose that Sydney would understand, much less be grateful for the gesture.

That was why Hardin remained standing as he watched - if Sydney did wake suddenly, he could give the excuse that he'd been investigating a sound he heard, and had just come upon them by chance. Not the most promising situation, lying to a man who could read his thoughts, but he hoped his honest embarrassment would be enough of an emotional cover for Sydney to not see through the lie immediately. He'd been approached a few times by Sydney during the day, and had tried to cloak his secrets within a mask of concern for some other, more mundane matter, which he had to excuse himself to take care of immediately. He'd been able to escape any lengthy conversation thus far, and if Sydney had noticed anything suspicious, he hadn't acknowledged it.

One day they set an especially hard pace, and Duncan informed Hardin that they were close to Leá Monde; they would probably reach the entrance to the city the next afternoon, and sleep in real beds the next night. Hardin was still a little dubious about this supposed "dark city" of theirs, and considered his earlier intention of leaving them before they arrived. Those thoughts did not last long, however - Hardin found the idea of being on his own again rather unappealing. He'd grown quite fond of Duncan, with all his good-natured coarseness, and Padric's strong, gentle presence was always a comfort. The other brethren also treated him as one of their own by this time. It would be ridiculous to give up that kinship for the sake of superstition - especially as he had no place else to go. If he left the brethren, it would be back to sleeping under hedges and hiding from the authorities until they finally decided he wasn't worth it. With the prospect of a real bed with a real mattress waiting for him less than a day's journey away, Hardin's choice was quite simple.

But then, if they were to have beds and rooms, Hardin realized he would no longer be able to keep watch over Sydney at night. Weary as he was, he volunteered for the first watch that night nonetheless - it might be his last chance to keep that vigil.

Naturally, the one last time he intended to intrude in such a way, he was finally found out.

It was Aiden again this time, though Hardin had found Sydney with a different consort nearly every night he sought them out. He lay nestled against the tawny-haired young man's side just as he had been the first time Hardin had found them, the blankets spread out beneath them and across them in the same way. The blankets were much less necessary than they had been that night, however, especially since they'd secluded themselves within a small grove of trees which sheltered from the breeze. A stream nearby lent the peaceful sound of rushing water as a backdrop for the scene, and so Hardin assured himself he was in no danger of being discovered when he sat down a short distance away from the two lovers. His legs ached from walking, and he was tired from keeping the first watch on the two nights previous. Sydney had never awoken before, he reasoned - he was apparently a sound sleeper.

The moon was nearly full now, and its pale light filtered down through the bare limbs of the trees to cast intricate shadows upon Sydney's face. The night's dream must have been especially harsh, for his parted lips turned down in sad acceptance as tears trickled down his cheek. He looked like some kind of statue Hardin might have expected to find in a church - a tormented angel weeping over the tribulations of man. Dangerous thoughts, perhaps, considering that some among his followers believed him to actually be an angel, if not something more. As much as Hardin would have liked to believe in something like that, he had seen too much during the twenty-four years of his life to simply trust so easily.

Half-asleep himself, Hardin was rather startled when Sydney's eyes abruptly opened to look at him. Intense as always, they were, though they held neither the surprise nor the anger that Hardin was expecting, but rather a grave interest.

You are a very strange man, John Hardin.

Sydney's voice, though his lips hadn't moved. Hardin opened his mouth, his groggy mind still fumbling for an excuse as he got to his feet, but Sydney's head rose, and shook slightly.

No need to speak aloud, nor to excuse yourself. Your presence does not trouble me, so calm yourself before your stomping about wakes Aiden - unlike myself, I've no doubt that he would be upset.

Hardin froze where he stood, still shaken and quite confused as to why Sydney was not angry with him. He had every right to be. The trails left by the mage's tears still remained on his cheeks, and he made no effort to hide them or wipe them away, merely staring at Hardin with that same curious expression.

So you have been watching me, Sydney's voice came again. You have seen the tears that I have hidden for many long years. Why return again and again, Hardin? Why, when your own thoughts told you it was an intrusion?

Hardin didn't know, and he opened his mouth to say so, but Sydney's silent voice admonished him again. Hush - I have joined our minds in a rapport, so you have no need to speak out loud. Merely think what you would say, and I will hear it. ...So you don't know yourself?

Hardin swallowed hard against the shivers that it sent up his spine, and tried his best to follow Sydney's instructions. No, I do not. I pondered it again and again, and could come up with no definite answer. In a way, it was... it made me remember watching my brother sleep, when he was ill.

Ah, and when the nightmares came, you would free him from their grasp, I see, came Sydney's response. But you would not wake me from mine. What then was the point of watching?

That was exactly what Hardin had been wondering all along. Trying to put his thoughts into some kind of coherency, he hesitated before answering. Somehow, I just felt that I must. It gave me a feeling of peace, and it... it seemed such an unusual thing.

It made me more human, and less distant and cold, as you view the gods the others mistake me for to be. Is it not so?

It was so simple, Hardin was amazed he hadn't realized it before. Of course... you're right.

Why is it so impossible to you that I could be what they say?

Hardin frowned. ...If I may speak frankly, Sydney...?

I would have it no other way.

...You cannot be a god, because you have shown your face to me, treated me with kindness and generosity, and spoken to me. No god has ever taken the time to do such things.

Sydney's lips turned up in a slight, sad smile. Do you remember when I told you that the gods weep?

Yes...

Sydney's slight smile vanished, leaving his mouth small and serious. Many men believe, as you do, that the gods do not speak to them. I tell you this - the gods speak to man far more often than you would think; and men refuse to hear, because what the gods tell them is often... unpleasant.

His words combined with his grave expression were enough to explain to Hardin exactly what had been making Sydney cry in his sleep, and he had no idea how to respond. Seeing his uneasiness, Sydney sat up beneath the blanket that covered him to his chest. "You find the mindspeak confusing and distressing, do you not?" he asked. "I have placed Aiden in a deeper sleep; he will not wake unless I reverse the spell, so we may speak freely now."

"Thank you," Hardin replied softly, seating himself again. Even if Aiden could not wake, something about the moment seemed so fragile that it would have seemed wrong to speak at normal volume.

Sydney seemed to understand as he leaned upon one metal arm to regard Hardin. "Yes, the gods speak to me in dreams," he affirmed, his voice also hushed. "They tell me of what has happened... and what is to be." He paused for a moment. "I know you do not believe in the gods, Hardin, and that is fine; your beliefs are your own, borne of your experiences. Please take no offense when I speak of mine, borne of my own."

Hardin nodded, curious as to what Sydney might say of these gods he believed in. It wasn't that he was closed to the idea that there might be gods, after all - it was just that he'd been given good reason not to believe.

"As you have witnessed firsthand," Sydney continued, "mankind is truly a primitive, barbaric species. Though we are capable of great kindnesses and incredible ideas, inventions and philosophies and art, we are also the only species which devours each other out of greed rather than necessity, which destroys for sport, giving nothing back to the earth - even burying our dead away where their remains cannot rejoin with the earth from whence they came. Despite all the goodness in us, a taint exists in our kind. It is a part of the mysteries of my followers and I, that this current age is drawing to a close due to this taint - the gods have revealed it to me in my dreams. The things that will come, the great evils that will be done..." His voice trailed off in contemplation, and Hardin was surprised when Sydney abruptly lowered his head, averting his eyes as his face took on the troubled look of melancholy that Hardin had seen night after night.

"The priest and philosopher Durai once wrote, 'And lo, the body is not eternal, for it must feed on the flesh of others, lest it return to the dust whence it came. Therefore must the soul deceive, despise, and murder men,'" Sydney murmured, absently tracing circles in the soft dirt with the claws of his right hand. "So it shall be done with increasing frequency in the coming years, with few recognizing the futility. As one man avoids returning to the dust, he sends another to the grave, and if no end is found to this cycle, naught but dust shall remain. I know not if I can avert this calamity, being only one man - blessed though I am. Others have performed this task before me, and yet..." He shook his head suddenly, seemingly breaking free of a trance, and looked back up at Hardin. "I suppose I have said too much. Being an unbeliever, you no doubt think me mad."

Hardin was dubious, of course, but as Sydney respected his beliefs, he would not offend. "I know too little to make a judgment such as that."

Sydney lowered his head again, this time with an ironic smile. "I understand. Apocalyptic prophecies, dreams sent from the lips of the gods... To a man with no faith, they seem as deceptive and fleeting as the fever dreams of your brother, do they not?"

"I don't know," Hardin replied honestly. "He was a boy, and ill. You are a grown man, and appear to be in good enough health. Neither have I seen indications of madness from you, even if I do find your beliefs to be more fanciful than my own."

Sydney chuckled. "In a way, I envy you your lack of faith, Hardin. Believing nothing, you are bound by nothing. For you, the end of the world is nothing more than a dream. But for one such as myself..."

His voice trailed off again, and his shoulders gave a slight shrug as he began idly etching circles in the ground again. Silence reigned as Hardin pondered the man's words, trying to think of something reassuring or profound to say, and Sydney sat cloaked within his own thoughts.

Finally, Hardin's thoughts found words, and he broke the silence. "If it's true, Sydney, and it is a revelation from the gods, then I am glad that I stayed up these nights to witness your sorrow. You have been good to me, you protect your followers well... it is not right that you should suffer this with no one knowing what you endure."

Sydney glanced up at him, a surprised smile of appreciation on his face. "A kind sentiment," he said softly. "I'd have expected nothing less from you."

They sat in silence a moment longer before Sydney spoke once more. "...But since you believe that there are no gods and no prophecies?"

"I wish I'd woken you as I did my brother," Hardin replied bluntly.

Sydney's smile turned to one of amusement. "You chose wisely. Your watching did not bother me, but your interruption would have."

His head lowered again, as he seemed to turn his attentions inward, still drawing in the dirt. "...Though often I have wished someone would," he admitted. "I would not have the gods' revelations cut short, but..." With a click, his hand closed, abandoning the spiraling shapes they'd fashioned. "It is at least a comfort to wake in the embrace of another mortal... to feel that warmth and to know before I even open my eyes that I am in the waking world again at last, and I am not alone."

He shook his head slightly, studying his scribbling upon the ground. "How would you have awakened me, Hardin?" he asked, his voice nearly a whisper. "How did you awaken your brother?"

A strange question, but Hardin answered readily. "A hand on the shoulder to-"

"No, no," Sydney interrupted, his eyes meeting Hardin's. There was an emptiness there that touched Hardin's heart with its longing. "Show me."

Hesitantly, Hardin rose and went to kneel beside Sydney, placing his right hand on the cast metal plates which served as the mage's left shoulder. "Like this," he said simply, as he shook him gently, taking the hand of the other arm in his own. Bittersweet memories came drifting back, and he sighed, remembering Philip's sobs as the boy buried his face in Hardin's chest, his arms around Hardin's waist. "It wasn't anything-"

His words were cut off as Sydney's metal arms slipped around his waist, holding him tightly. Overwhelmed by the memories, Hardin's head lowered, and his left hand drifted up to tousle Sydney's hair as he had done with Philip. Whether Sydney's dreams were simple nightmares or divine visions, they obviously caused him much anguish; Hardin realized that despite the comfort Sydney received from his nightly consorts, he must have been starving for someone with whom to share more than a warm body and a blanket. And so he knelt there for a time, holding Sydney's slender form in his arms, feeling the weight of the mage's head upon his shoulder without awkwardness, despite the discomfort Sydney's earlier advances had given him. It was the first time he'd had such intimate contact with anyone since before he'd been imprisoned, and to his surprise, even with Sydney, that closeness was welcome.

The moment was shattered, however, when he felt Sydney turn his head, his lips pressing tenderly against Hardin's throat as one of the metal hands slipped beneath the leather of the jacket he wore. The cold sharpness of the blades was dulled by the layer of fabric between them and Hardin's skin, lending them a strange feel, gentle but spidery as they caressed his back, slipping down further...

Hardin pulled away in shock as he realized what Sydney was doing, causing the mage to draw back as well, since he'd been leaning against Hardin. "By the gods, Sydney, what was that about?" he exclaimed, leaping to his feet.

Oddly enough, Sydney was wearing a sly smile, seemingly not offended in the slightest as he leaned forward again, resting his chin in his hand. "I thought you might like it," he said simply.

"I told you before, I have no such interest in you!"

Sydney raised an amused eyebrow as his intense eyes pointedly glanced down from Hardin's. "Your voice may say that, but your body says otherwise," he observed wryly.

Hardin felt his face grow hot - he'd been hoping desperately that Sydney would not notice. "It doesn't surprise me that you know exactly how to poke and prod to get whatever reaction you wish out of people."

Sydney shrugged. "That is part of what makes me an extraordinary lover, so I have been told."

Hardin's face grew hotter still, and a strangled growl came from his throat, as he was unable to put his anger into words. How could Sydney play upon his emotions that way - use even those precious memories of Philip to get him right where he wanted him? Behind Sydney, Aiden still lay sleeping despite Hardin's outburst, and he suddenly found it incredibly disturbing. Sydney really was willing and able to do exactly as he wished with anyone he chose.

Sydney's smugness vanished suddenly into exasperation. "Hardin, I truly meant no harm,"he began, but Hardin cut him off.

"No more of your little tricks," he growled. "Not on me. I won't give you a chance again. For all I care, you can delude yourself with your gods and their prophecies, but don't delude yourself by thinking you can have me."

With that, he turned to go back to the camp, but a voice called out after him. "If that is what you wish, there will be no more... tricks." There was a pause, then his voice called out again with a more knowing edge to it. "Sleep well, dear Hardin."

Hardin paused, almost turning back in disgusted anger, but forced himself to keep walking.

Rising early the next morning, Hardin definitely did not feel rested. The night's agitation had left him lying awake even after his shift had ended, thinking furious thoughts, and when he'd finally drifted off to sleep...

He shouldn't have been surprised, he supposed. Prison in itself was bad enough, and knowing all the time that his little brother from whom he had been so suddenly separated needed him, that made it a living hell. After months in hell, of course the mind tried to accept it as something normal, something it could tolerate. Of course he would dream of it, of agonizing, endless hours spent doing nothing but worrying helplessly and listening to the curses and cries of those in the cells around him. Some, old comrades of his, had even been cursing him.

He'd not been frightened in the dream - what made it more of a nightmare was that he'd simply accepted it. It was only upon waking that he felt a profound sense of anger; he was free now, and it simply wasn't fair that those feelings still could return to him. He'd die before he went through that experience again.

It was that fervent sentiment that left him less angry when his eyes met Sydney's, as they were preparing to break camp. After the cold loneliness of the dream, his indignation towards Sydney seemed rather inconsequential, especially as the man's generosity had helped him to come a long way towards recovering from his time in prison. Besides, Hardin had been every bit as ill-behaved in his own way, spying on Sydney in his sleep, even if Sydney hadn't seemed to mind. In fact, that had probably been what provoked such behavior in the first place - Hardin's dream had shaken him badly enough, and he knew it to be only a dream. In Sydney's case...

Yes, he'd probably overreacted - it had just been a poor judgment borne of anxiety on Sydney's part. There was no point in holding a grudge. Now that the mage knew better, he wouldn't do such a thing again, after all. The smile he gave Hardin seemed to say that he understood. And if there seemed to be a sly edge to that smile... well, he usually did have a shrewd look about him. Hardin decided to be wary, even if he had forgiven the man.

Not long after the sun had reached its peak in the sky, Hardin caught the scent of salt water on the mild breeze, something he hadn't smelled for years. It meant they were close, Duncan told him, for Leá Monde lay at the ocean's edge, upon a peninsula formed by the earthquake that had killed thousands, ending the great city's prosperity.

Hardin had heard some of the details about that event, though he'd been only a boy when it had happened, and living far to the north. "Is it true, then, that the quake disrupted the land so badly that there is no way in or out of the city?" he asked.

"Close enough," Duncan replied. "There only be one natural way in, far as I know, and it be no simple path. A man can get in below ground, through the cellar, and even that be a difficult route, thanks to the way the ground split apart. Many of the buildings above still be mostly standin' though - and could've been rebuilt easy enough, if ye ask me - but thanks to the Dark and the road in, none but a madman would want to live there."

"And so we shall!" Domenic commented cheerfully from a few paces ahead of them, where he led the horses, and those around him laughed.

Hardin chuckled himself, despite his curiosity. Whatever made them refer to Leá Monde as the "dark city", whatever cryptic comments they'd made about it, it couldn't be anywhere near as bad as the absurd rumors he'd heard, if they were willing to go in so casually.

A short time later, they reached the seaside, and began to follow an old highway paved with cracked and weathered brick that stretched southward along the coastline. Hardin, having been on assignments inland for so long, and then confined to a tiny cell for many months, stared out into the ocean in wonder - it seemed to stretch on into infinity below the clear blue sky. The land sloped upwards, changing in time from a sandy beach to jagged coastal cliffs, and when they finally reached the crest, the great city was laid out before them. Even from such a distance, the pale stone buildings formed aesthetically pleasing lines and shapes, and the spires and dome of the great cathedral rose above them majestically, shining in the afternoon sun, and Hardin saw little evidence that would have caused him to believe the city was a ruin.

Continuing down the highway brought them nearly to the sharp cliffs of the ravine separating the mainland from the ruined city, and as they approached, Hardin began to see glimpses of the city's devastation - the crumbled tops of buildings and great cracks in the outer wall. Padric pointed out a cracked stone structure on the ground near a low, broken wall, telling Hardin that there lay the stairs that led down into the cellar, the one route in, but the brethren left the disused highway for the rocky ground and passed by it, not even slowing.

Hardin frowned. "Where then are we to go?"

"There be only one natural way in, I told you," Duncan reminded him. "And it be not wide enough for a horse and cart by far, so either we leave them for the rovin' thieves, or take a bit different approach."

One natural way... "Sydney's teleportation, then," Hardin supposed.

"Not exactly, but close," Padric replied. "I am not entirely sure how it works myself; I only know that it does. It has something to do with creating a magical... portal, you could say. Something to do with the planes, or perhaps the Dark can mold the fabric of space as easily as it can bring forth the elements-"

"It's beyond our ken either way," Duncan said with a shrug. "All we know, all ye need to know, is a man takes a single step, and he finds himself somewhere else. It's made things far easier for us." He glanced sideways at Hardin, a somewhat wicked grin upon his face. "Knowing you an' the way you like to have solid ground under yer feet, ye'll be wantin' to take a deep breath, I think."

What was that supposed to mean? Hardin tried not to play into Duncan's teasing by showing his sudden unease, and merely shrugged. "Just give me a warning," he told the smaller man, who chuckled and nodded.

The brethren continued on their way, skirting the edge of the ravine, until they halted near the remains of an ancient stone building, low and flat against the ground. The roof had caved in, and little remained of the walls, but the paved area nearby, visible now through the gaps in the shorter wall that enclosed it, seemed to indicate that it had once stabled horses. A wide barred gate of iron stood almost comically intact between the remains of the wall, and was even locked with a padlock and chains.

Approaching the gate, Sydney drew a key from somewhere within his cloak and set about unlocking it, as Padric, Kermiak, and a few others stepped forward, loosing the weapons they carried. It seemed bizarre to Hardin, considering that only a few paces from the gate the stone wall had crumbled, leaving a gap that two broad men could easily have walked through side by side. He didn't ask, though; already he'd learned that around the brethren of Müllenkamp, it was best to simply trust that they knew what they were doing much better than he did.

When the chains had been pulled away, Sydney pushed the gates open, and Padric and the others entered - and vanished from sight before Hardin's eyes. Fortunately, this time he didn't gasp or step back in astonishment; he'd seen enough in the past weeks that he was almost becoming accustomed to such things. "This would be the 'portal' you spoke of, I take it," he asked Duncan, who almost looked disappointed that he hadn't given much of a reaction to be teased about.

"Aye, tis the gate that serves as the entrance, and the exit be in the mines below the city," Duncan confirmed. "The horses be safe there, and 'tis only a short walk to our rooms in the city's keep. Now and then a creature may wander in from elsewhere in the mines tho', so our fighters go in first to secure the place."

Those who had gone in reappeared almost immediately, stepping out of thin air from all appearances. "'Tis all clear," Kermiak told Sydney, and the mage nodded, motioning for Domenic and Aiden to lead the horses forward through the gate after the fighters had gone through once more. Upon reaching a certain point, the two young men, the horses, and the cart all vanished at once, and this time Hardin had to try a bit harder not to give any reaction. Four horses and an entire cart!

The other brethren began to follow as Sydney stood on, watching, and Duncan nudged Hardin's arm. "This be your warning, friend," he said with a chuckle. "Not that ye need to be concerned about it, but it can be a mite unnerving the first time."

"My thanks," Hardin replied as they stepped forward with the others. He was determined that he wouldn't flinch at this; it wasn't that he minded Duncan's good-natured ribbing, but he was rather tired of being constantly startled by each and every thing the brethren did.

Thus, he was quite satisfied when he only blinked and stopped short after a strange rushing sensation filled his head, and a single step took him from the sunny cliffs and ocean breeze to a dim, torch-lit chamber. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, and then he found the brethren's familiar figures bustling about the chamber, unhitching the horses and taking boxes and barrels from the cart. He quickly moved aside as more of the brethren stepped out of the darkness behind him, not skipping a beat as they went to aid their fellows. With a shrug and a glance over his shoulder as the last of Sydney's followers came through, he went to help in the unloading as well.

Halfway across the chamber to where the horses were being tethered, the composure he'd been so proud of was shattered when a metal hand fell upon his arm. He flinched before he could stop himself, knowing for a fact Sydney had not been present a moment ago. "You are weary, are you not?" the mage's voice asked at his side. "You did not sleep well last night."

"No thanks to you," Hardin muttered, removing his arm from Sydney's touch as inoffensively as he could.

Sydney ducked his head, not quite hiding a wide smirk. He didn't look the slightest bit regretful of what he'd done, Hardin thought with mild irritation. "Anyhow, you've no need to help us; we can manage perfectly well with one less set of arms. Rest yourself, Hardin - you are our guest here."

"I thank you, but I don't mind working as the rest of your men do," Hardin assured him, still a bit wary. "I refuse to take advantage of your hospitality-"

"Ah, but that is impossible," Sydney said, giving him a charming smile. "Hospitality is not hospitality unless it is given freely, is it? Besides, I am no slaver - if one of my own is tired or unwell, I would likewise ask him to rest. And also, I must tell you something. Come, sit," he instructed Hardin, motioning towards one of the crates that the brethren had already unloaded. "You are taller than I, and staring up at you makes my neck ache."

Hardin did so, somewhat taken aback by Sydney's amicable manner, which seemed quite unexpected after the way he'd practically shouted at the mage the night before. Sydney seated himself on another crate across from him. "Doubtless you've heard the rumors about Leá Monde, have you not?" he asked, folding his hands in his lap.

"Who hasn't?" Hardin replied. "I imagine the tales must have been all over the land before they reached me, judging by how tall they'd grown."

"Oh?" Sydney regarded him with amused curiosity. "What do they say?"

"Ridiculous things. Stories better told by my childhood friends around the campfire than the grown men who told them in taverns a decade later. Tales of demons prowling the streets and hordes of the walking dead falling upon any living who go near." The stories he'd heard had always seemed foolish to him, and seemed more so now that he was sitting within the city himself. There was nothing intimidating at all about his surroundings, except perhaps that the dim torchlight and rough stone walls enclosing him made him feel a bit uneasy after dreaming of a similarly lit prison only hours before.

"I see," Sydney murmured, smiling to himself. "Well then, you can see already that these tales were exaggerated ever so slightly."

"Indeed."

"However," Sydney told him with a knowing smile, "there is a mite of truth within them. The Dark runs strong here in Leá Monde, as the others have told you, and many strange things occur here - things that are not terribly different from the stories you have been told. The dead can walk, given reason; and certain fey creatures occasionally do make an appearance, though rarely, and never in the parts of the city the brethren and I make use of."

Hardin looked at the mage skeptically; his manner was rather casual for speaking of such things. "Surely you must be joking."

Sydney shook his head, growing more stern. "Hardin, I speak the truth. Leá Monde can be a dangerous place for those who are not well-acquainted with the Dark," he said gravely. "Even the brethren do not venture into certain areas without a very good reason. And you, skilled as you may be with a sword - you would be near helpless within these walls. I would ask that you never venture beyond these few rooms, the open streets above, and the keep alone - and never set foot outside the keep at night."

He did look completely serious now... but the man was speaking of fairy tales. Walking dead, unearthly creatures - Hardin could accept that Sydney believed in gods and prophecies, but to believe in such things as these! Perhaps he was mad after all, Hardin thought.

"Now, Hardin," Sydney reproved him, "you have seen many unusual things in the past weeks, have you not? Things you would never have believed, had I not shown them to you?"

That was true, of course, and Hardin couldn't deny that. "...Very well then, I agree," he told Sydney, more to put his mind at ease than because he believed him. It was not a particularly large request, at any rate.

"Very good," Sydney told him. "As I told you once before, your obedience is more important to your own well-being than to mine - do keep that in mind, won't you?"

"Begging your pardon, Sydney," a voice broke in, and the two of them turned to see Domenic approach. "Shall I ride north into the Graylands tonight to fetch supplies? If so, we need not settle all the horses in, after all..."

"No, I think it is a bit late," Sydney replied. "You would have to ride quickly in order to return before sundown, and both we and the horses have travelled far already today. We can make do tonight with what we have remaining from the journey, and whatever may still be in the larders. I shall send someone tomorrow."

The young man nodded and returned to his work with the horses, and Sydney rose, turning back to Hardin. "I must tend to the business of my followers now, Hardin - it's been quite some time since we were last in the city. If you'll excuse me..."

"Yes, of course." As the mage departed, going to speak to a few of the brethren elsewhere, Hardin rose as well, to get out of everyone's way as they finished unloading the cart. Looking around to see what might be next for them, Hardin saw Padric looking at him from the far end of the room. A slight frown was on his face, as if he was somewhat troubled. Upon seeing that Hardin had spotted him, the taller man gave a small nod, and gestured for Hardin to join him.

"Do you mind if I ask you a rather personal question, Hardin?" Padric asked in a low voice as Hardin drew near.

"Not at all," Hardin replied, curious to know what had Padric frowning like that. "As long as you do not mind that depending on the question, I may not answer."

Padric nodded. "Of course. I'm curious - has Sydney... I'm not sure how to put this delicately, I'm afraid," he began hesitantly. "Has Sydney expressed an interest in you?"

Somewhat surprised at the question, Hardin frowned as well. "You could say that," he replied quietly.

"And you do not reciprocate, do you?"

"Certainly not." It was no surprise that if Padric's talent had allowed him to learn of the matter at all, it had picked up on Hardin's annoyance as well.

"Hmm." Padric's puzzled frown grew deeper.

Hardin waited to see if he would say more, but he did not. "What is it?"

Padric hesitated for a moment, then beckoned for Hardin to follow him. "Come, let us go to secure the keep. Beasts rarely wander so far into the city, but I always go ahead, just in case. Keep your sword handy, though most likely you will not need to use it."

Obliging, Hardin followed the man through the caverns, up a crumbling staircase and across a crude but sturdy bridge over an area where the quake had caused the ground to drop away entirely. Fresh air, late afternoon sunlight, and the faint sound of rushing water greeted them as Padric opened a door a few rooms beyond, which opened onto a back alley of the ancient city. The buildings seemed to be mostly intact just as Duncan had said, but had fallen into disrepair. Despite the early season, vines climbed up the side of many of the surfaces, while moss and lichen had crept into every crack and crevice caused by the quake, causing the stone walls to crumble further. The wooden shutters and doors set in them were grey and mildewed from the exposure, while metal locks and hinges were red with rust. Even so, Hardin found the city still held an air of dignity in the uncomplicated lines of the structures and the tight fit of the paving stones that remained intact, as Padric led him beaneath an archway onto a wider avenue.

"It is odd," Padric said finally, pausing at what appeared to be a dead end; the road was completely blocked by a wall of stone and rubble. "Do not misunderstand, Hardin, I know Sydney to be a good man... but he is very much accustomed to getting whatever he wants."

"You think he will persist, then?" Hardin asked, troubled by Padric's words. If there was a repeat of the previous night's events... Nightmares or no, he had told Sydney that he would not tolerate such behavior again, and he meant it.

"I could not say," Padric replied. "I would not think he would bother you so, but one reason he always gets the things he desires is because he is very perceptive, especially about people. He never sets his sights on something - or someone - unattainable."

"Until now," Hardin finished the thought.

"Yes. As I said, odd." Climbing up on some weathered crates that were stacked in the street, Padric pulled himself up to the low, flat rooftop of one of the buildings. Hardin followed his lead and did likewise, dropping to the streets again once they'd passed the blockage. "I know not why he would single you out, if you were unlikely to be responsive. I don't believe that it's something you should be concerned about, but it certainly is curious."

"Hmm." Of course, he hadn't been entirely unresponsive, Hardin had to admit to himself, but certainly Sydney could tell the difference between honest desire and... He tried to put that out of his mind quickly; it was not something he wanted to dwell on, and definitely not anything he wanted Padric picking up on accidentally. Sydney had already humiliated him enough.

Apparently not noticing Hardin's discomfort, Padric showed Hardin through the streets to a shadowy alcove where the walls were thick with climbing vines, and opened the simple wooden door set there into what appeared to be a courtyard. "This is the keep, where we stay during our time here," Padric informed him, and Hardin glanced around at the area, open to the sky and covered with wayward greenery, which even wound around an ancient statue in one corner. "Not here specifically," Padric continued with a chuckle, "but in the rooms beyond, to the right. To the left lies a forge, though we rarely have use for it, and here..."

Padric led him through the long, dim hallway that comprised the backbone of the keep, and Hardin's trouble was forgotten as his friend showed him around. Two of the doors led to segmented rooms with several beds, used as the sleeping quarters, and another room was lined with shelves reaching all the way to the ceiling, filled with books. Hardin was intrigued, though he was not much of a reader. There had been little time and littler money in his life for such luxuries as books, which were rather rare and expensive to begin with, and so such a collection impressed him a great deal.

These chambers, unlike the rest of Leá Monde, had been restored for the brethren's use, and rather well, at that; Padric commented that Sydney would never have left his books unattended for months at a time unless he was certain they would not be damaged by water seeping in through the walls. "And as he did not wish to look as though he cared more for them than he did for us, he took the same care for our quarters as well," Padric remarked with a smile, "though we are waterproof."

By the time Padric showed him to the large chamber where they would be eating their meals, some of the other brethren had arrived as well, and they set about cleaning and lighting the ovens for the night's dinner. Padric excused himself to go help with the transport of the supplies they had brought; there was much to be done before the spring holiday, which was to take place in only a few days.

Having been excused from the chores by Sydney, Hardin decided to take the mage's advice and relax for the time being. Even after spending so long in the open, Hardin found that being within the confines of stone walls again left him a bit uncomfortable, and so he spent the remaining daylight hours in the open air and salt breeze. All was still as he sat in thoughtful silence at the edge of the wide river that ran through the area west of the keep, the only sounds being those of rushing water, birdsong, and wind in the budding foliage of early spring. The slanting sunlight lent the pale stone of the buildings a reddish hue as the evening wore on, until the dusk had grown deep enough that Hardin recalled Sydney's warnings. For the dark, cursed city that Leá Monde had been described as, it certainly gave him a feeling of peace, he thought as he reluctantly returned to the keep.

Ugh, blast this logical mind of mine - I thought for quite some time about what they might do with the horse and cart, considering they can't take them in through the Wine Cellar, and then wandered around in the game for awhile trying to find a good place a portal (just like those you see in the Keep's "time trial" doors in the game - behind which are actually the rooms the brethren stay in, by the way, just at this point the doors aren't locked with sigils and enchanted to zap people elsewhere in Lea Monde) could send them. If anyone actually cares about the details, the horses are being kept in The Treaty Room in Abandoned Mines B2, from which Padric and Hardin went up into Rue Morgue in Town Centre South, and entered the Keep from Forcas Rise. *whistles* At any rate...