Fan Fiction ❯ Burning Bridges ❯ She Breaks the Golden Band ( Chapter 16 )

When Hardin woke, it was dark - probably the middle of the night, he guessed, though the thickness of the trees he'd bedded beneath made it difficult to tell for certain. Even with the concealment of hour and shade, he knew instantly that he was not alone in the place he'd found, at the foot of an embankment a short distance from where the other brethren had settled down.

It had been Sydney's suggestion, he recalled, that they might take some time setting up camp, and that after all Hardin had done for them, the least they could do was spare him that task and allow him to rest without interruption. Despite the conclusion - or lack thereof - they'd come to in their talk earlier, Hardin had wondered if perhaps Sydney had more personal motives for suggesting he sleep apart from the others, but he had been much too exhausted to remain awake and find out.

But now his heart felt drawn somehow, prompting him to turn his head, to see that the mage stood near his feet. He was watching Hardin, that much was obvious in spite of the distance he assumed almost constantly. Strange, Hardin thought, that this time it should be himself waking to find Sydney watching him as he slept.

Sydney smiled slightly, probably hearing the thought, and for an instant he looked very young, very innocent. "You've not fully rested."

"I've rested enough." Hardin's eyes were adjusting better to the darkness as he sat up, rubbing a hand across them to clear away the last remnants of sleep so that he might see the mage more clearly. "And you? Have you slept?"

"I've slept enough." Hardin smiled at his own words echoed back to him. "Much has taken place in the past few days, and if you've rested 'enough', then I believe I should fill you in." Hardin nodded mutely, pushing back the blankets to settle himself comfortably as he listened to what Sydney had to tell him - though what Sydney told him was not the least bit comfortable.

"We've lost fifteen, as well as some of the villagers we tried to protect."

The statement struck straight into Hardin's heart, snapping him wide awake, and he struggled to hold on to something of hope. "...Lost...?"

"They were slaughtered before I could reach them." Sydney's words were blunt, and his voice remained perfectly level as he began to list the fallen. "Jonas. Fanella. Dorian. Miklaus..."

With each name, the hope Hardin had tried to keep hold of was drained away, and a few made him shudder; Garret had been perhaps sixteen years old, at most, and Marcellia had been carrying a child. Sydney paused, and gave him a vague, ironic smile. "I thought it would be best to tell you after you'd slept. Do not mourn, Hardin - not for their sake. They've gone to the arms of the gods, who welcome their martyrs as the most blessed."

Hardin lowered his head to rest in his hands, sighing heavily. "...This can't go on, Sydney. The brethren shouldn't be made to endure such a life - they've done nothing wrong."

"And yet the knights still prowl the forest," Sydney reminded him. "Even if we had not been framed, in their sight already our lives are forfeit, as we've refused to acknowledge the false hope they offer."

"Demand is more the word," Hardin growled, dropping his hands in disgust. "Hope! What they do is eliminate hope - why would anyone put their hope in such men as would slaughter the innocent?"

"Why? Because they have never been shown that there is an alternative," Sydney replied. "The king has given the church of St. Iocus freedom to do as they wish within his borders, never having seen an alternative himself. And like their ruler, the majority of the people believe what they are told, never finding reason - or strength, when there is reason - to question." His eyes fixed on Hardin's, glittering faintly in the darkness. "You know this, Hardin - you trusted those blindly loyal to the king and to the church, up until the very instant they betrayed that trust."

"I was a fool," Hardin agreed grimly. "And it was not only myself that wound up paying for that folly, but those who most trusted me - my companions, my brother! And how many others have fallen victim to their lies, Sydney? Nearly a score in just the past few days, and the same several times over in a single incident not long before!"

"Calm yourself, Hardin-"

"Calm myself?" Hardin exclaimed in disbelief, frustrated by his inability to do anything more than fume. "And why should I do that? This can't be allowed to happen any longer! When such things happen, what kind of a man would remain calm?"

"A prudent one," Sydney told him. "A man who realizes that one day all will be put aright."

Hardin paused and looked up to regard Sydney, helplessly searching for some glimmer of hope. "Will it, Sydney?"

Sydney lowered his head. "It may. It has been made known to me that this age is drawing to a close. The violence wrought by the church of St. Iocus could be likened to the birthing pains of a new mother - more suffering must take place before relief comes. If this pain is overcome, it will be forgotten in the joy brought about by the dawning age; but if the pain becomes victorious, it will be as a murderer, and all will remember and curse it." The mage lifted his eyes again to meet Hardin's steadily. "I do not intend to allow that."

Hardin nodded; even had he not believed in Sydney's power after all he'd seen, the determination in the mage's voice showed that he meant what he said, and with all his heart. "How soon, then?"

"I know not the hour." Sydney's voice was quiet, but firm. "That is something the gods have not revealed."

"You misunderstand," Hardin put forth. "Why should we wait for the enemy to be overcome?" Something was coming clear in his thoughts, the same idea that had begun forming while he had been directing the brethren with him in battle tactics and evasion, and he rose to pace as he went over it out loud. "Why not hasten the process? Only a handful of men and women, few of whom had ever handled a weapon before, managed to beat back a greater number of fully armed and trained Crimson Blades, Sydney - think what could be done against them if we were more organized!"

"Is that so?" Sydney asked coldly. "Would you have me lead my flock - the innocents who have come to me for refuge - into battle? Would you have them form an army to rebel against the puppet king and the cardinal, when their armies number in the thousands, and ours only a few dozen?"

"Not an army, and not into battle. But with all we are capable of, why do we still die? If those seeking us will not cease, I say we should not sit back and be hunted like rabbits. They've spread their lies about us, and I say we ought to give them less lies to work with. If Müllenkamp is already known as a pack of troublemakers," Hardin declared, turning to face Sydney seriously, "then let us use the powers given us through the Dark to make such trouble as they've never seen the likes of before."

"What would you do?" Sydney shook his head in mocking exasperation. "Burn the cathedrals and churches to the ground? Magically appear in the midst of the king's court and behead him?"

"Give me some credit, Sydney," Hardin muttered. "I am not so foolish as to think that it would be as simple as that. In the PeaceGuard, we were not ordinary foot soldiers; we were trained in more than simply swinging a sword. We learned subversion, discretion... and the patience to wait until the time was right, and acceptable tactics had been decided upon."

His tirade stopped short when he noticed that the exasperation in Sydney's face was seeping away, being replaced by curiosity. "So then, Hardin," the mage said, his gaze intent upon the taller man's face, "what would you do?"

Hardin hesitated. "Precisely? I am not quite sure," he admitted. "But after I had watched, waited, learned all I could about our enemies... then I would formulate our plan. Perhaps something could be stirred up among the people of Valendia to keep them occupied - civil unrest, if not outright rebellion. The people deserve to know what their supposedly holy cardinal has done, what their monarch has allowed to happen. With a public outcry against them, they would be all the more vulnerable to small, focused strikes to undermine their foundation. That is when the Dark could be used to our best advantage."

"Hmm." Sydney seemed intrigued by the idea, tapping a metal claw upon his folded arms thoughtfully.

Something about the expression on his face made it suddenly clear to Hardin. "You've thought about doing precisely this before, haven't you?"

"Who would not, when he is plagued time and time again by the same troubles?" Sydney raised his hands in a small, graceful shrug. "It was impossible before - never have we had any among our number who were experienced in such matters."

Hardin could scarcely believe how everything was falling into place. It was more than he could have hoped for to think that he could have a place and a purpose with Sydney, that he could still be useful in the pursuit of justice, that he might have a chance to strike back at those who had used him. "But now-"

"However, you speak of 'us'," Sydney interrupted. "You are not one of us. You have much experience in military operations and a particularly useful talent, yes, but you know little of the Dark - how it works, what possibilities it holds, its weak points."

"Then teach me," Hardin urged Sydney. "Teach me everything. Sorcery, summoning... whatever there is to be learned of the Dark."

Sydney eyed him, almost smirking. "There are a few things I believe we should discuss before I oblige you in this... if you still wish to go on once the discussion is through."

"Then let us begin." Hardin did not intend to change his mind.

"Yes... let us."

Despite Sydney's words, it was some time before he spoke again, but instead he began to pace slightly himself, his focus remaining on Hardin. Hardin found the critical look in his eyes to be distracting - even a little disturbing - as he circled, almost appearing to prowl. "Your voice may ask this of me," he said finally, "but your heart is still filled with fear."

"I won't deny that," Hardin admitted.

"Good."

Hardin was snapped to attention by the sharp word as the half-smirk vanished abruptly from Sydney's face, replaced by an icy intensity. "The Dark is a very dangerous thing, particularly when one is not afraid of it. The more a man desires the Dark, the more thoroughly it fills him, until it has eaten away all that he is, leaving him no more than a shell through which the Dark can work destruction. Even the gods are not immune, as you'll recall from what I taught you of our order's history. And you, John -" Sydney met his eyes with a dangerous look, lowering his voice. "If you do not respect the Dark - if you forget that fear and long to be filled with its power - you could become a demon. And I would destroy you."

Hardin froze where he stood, his blood running cold; in his fervor, he'd forgotten the true nature of the Dark. Seeing the look upon his face, Sydney nodded gravely. "Your desire to bring our oppressors to justice is strong, but it must never surpass your fear - and yet you must never be overcome by fear, lest the Dark turn on you in your weakness. It is a constant struggle for balance. If I am to teach you what you wish to know, you must always remember this. Are you willing to take such a risk?"

Hardin considered, and then nodded. "...Yes, I am," he agreed finally.

"Why?"

The question surprised him, and he thought for a moment, searching for the right words. "Do you remember when you asked me about my dream - if I would rather suffocate slowly in a prison cell or burn in the flames? I would burn, Sydney," he told the mage earnestly. "I would much rather burn. I know that I can't set the world aright on my own, for I am only one man, and not a powerful one. But perhaps... perhaps if only I can help you to do what must be done..."

"Or you could leave, and live a peaceful life."

"Could I?" Hardin asked, shaking his head already. "Where would I go? What would I do? I am a wanted man."

Sydney's lips almost curled in a smile of amusement. "Few that have seen your recent deeds have lived to take a description to their superiors," he pointed out. "As for your former crimes, those were not so great that they would keep searching, or ever suspect you if you were to so much as take a different name."

"And what purpose would it serve to do so?" Hardin replied. "I might become a mercenary, or a bodyguard, but why would I? With my brother gone, I have no need for money to buy any but the most necessary things - food, clothing. You have provided me with both, and I would earn my hire from you, who has need of a loyal swordsman, rather than those whose doings I would know and care little about."

Sydney frowned. "Hardin... your heart cries for something more than justice or vengeance. This choice you would make is an act of passion in more than one way. Which passion is it that moves you to speak thus?"

Caught up as he was in the moment, Hardin didn't realize what he meant right away. "I can't be sure," he admitted. Sydney was already nearly convinced, Hardin was certain of it, or he would not have even asked these past few questions. He did not intend to jeopardize his chances by stretching the truth. "Regardless, it is my choice, is it not?"

"It is," Sydney agreed. "But if it was someone other than myself who stood before you now, if it was anyone else living... would you still take this burden of the Dark upon yourself?"

Hardin nodded without hesitation. "Yes, I would. I have faith in your power, in addition to my faith in your character."

"And if I never should return these sentiments of yours?"

Hardin faltered for a moment; it was a frustrating thing to admit to, but he nodded. "I've nothing to return to now - even if my family still lived, I have come too far from the life I knew to ever go back. My bridges are all burned, and I have nothing," he said honestly. "There is nothing in this world for me aside from what you have given. Even had nothing more passed between us than the meals and campfires we've shared, that fact would still hold true."

Sydney paused, looking deeply into his eyes. "You speak truly," he murmured. "Kneel, then." He raised an eyebrow at Hardin's curious look. "Surely you do not think that power in the Dark will be granted without an oath, do you, Hardin?" he asked simply. "Or are there any among the brethren who were not made aware from the very first that there can be no turning back from this path we tread? The oath will be yours to decide, for I would ask nothing of a man that he does not offer freely."

Hardin nodded. Of course Sydney would need to be certain how serious those with him might be, and how far they intended to go; to lead anyone into a life of such danger without that certainty would be irresponsible at best. His eyes still fixed on Sydney's, he obeyed.

Naturally, Sydney was not at all surprised. "What oath will you offer?" he asked as Hardin knelt before him on one knee. "What do you pledge - your assistance? Your allegiance? Your life itself? And who do you pledge it to?"

Hardin lowered his head, considering. He hadn't had the time to think it through enough to decide that yet. He still found it difficult to simply trust in the gods he could not see, and as he'd stated, the Dark terrified him despite his wish to learn more. By that same token, the idea of swearing an oath to those who served these forces did not seem right. His passion was for a great many things - justice among them, as well as purpose - but also a more simple wish that might never come to be. As much as anything else, it was that wish that inspired the words when he finally spoke, summing up all he could do for Sydney, all his hope lost and hope regained through Sydney, and even the promise that Sydney had refused to let him speak more directly the day before.

"You have given me my life and my freedom," he murmured. "I choose now to return these gifts to you. Every drop of blood in my body shall bear your name; should it spill out, it shall be a witness before the gods and the world that I belong to you. This I swear."

His head was bowed, his eyes upon the long grass at Sydney's feet, but he could feel the cold metal sliding across his scalp as Sydney's hand came to rest upon his head, accepting the oath. And perhaps accepting the implications that it held as well, for sharp steel fingers slid down past his ear to his throat, coaxing him to raise his head enough to see Sydney looking down at him with darkened eyes and the most serious of expressions.

"So be it," Sydney murmured, and he sank to one knee as well, taking Hardin's head carefully between his palms and leaning in closer, softly pressing his lips against Hardin's.

A kiss to seal an oath was not unheard of, but certainly this was not entirely ceremonial, for it lasted an instant too long, with a tenderness too inspired, and Sydney did not let go or straighten when the moment had passed. He remained as he was, gazing at Hardin with that somber darkness in his eyes, until they closed and he leaned forward again to accept the kiss Hardin offered so earnestly.

This time the kiss was lingering, and quickly followed by another, and then yet another. Hardin hesitantly raised a hand to reach out as Sydney's tongue danced lightly over his lips, and when Sydney did not pull away, he indulged himself in caressing the smooth skin of Sydney's back, tracing the line of his spine from shoulder to waist.

It was uncanny how Sydney seemed to know exactly what felt right, and Hardin too found himself intuitively slipping into a strangely familiar routine, accepting the touch of lips and tongue and teeth without question as his left hand rose to glide upward through Sydney's hair, gently caressing the back of his neck. As the kiss grew deeper, he felt almost dizzy, unable to comprehend anything besides the feel of Sydney on his skin and the sound of the breeze in his ears.

The moment could not last forever, though, and it was Sydney who retreated first. Still holding Hardin's head gently between his palms, he seemed almost reluctant to let go. Rather than the relief and hope Hardin felt at the reception of his oath, or the quickening of his breath from the physical acknowledgement that had accompanied it, Sydney's face gave away nothing of the sort. If his distant eyes held any expression at all, Hardin thought, it was more a look of sorrow than joy. Hardin might have tried to smile at him, to show him that it was all right, but something told him it would do no good, and so he did not.

At last Sydney stood, straightening as if nothing had happened. "There are provisions back at the camp, if you care for a bite," he stated. "Leftover bread and soup is not quite a feast to welcome our newest brother into the fold, but more palatable than foraged roots and berries, no doubt."

"Yes, I'll be along in a moment." Still slightly disoriented, Hardin remained on his knees to get his bearings as Sydney turned to go. Again Sydney's actions confused him, and he wasn't sure whether he was grateful for the reception he'd been given, or disappointed by the way Sydney now seemed to act as if nothing of importance had happened.

Starting up the rise that would lead to the top of the embankment, Sydney hesitated, but did not turn back. So faintly Hardin thought it could almost have been imagination, the wind carried back a quiet whisper: "Forgive me."

It did nothing to lessen Hardin's confusion, but it made him feel somewhat better regardless. "I don't mind," he called softly after the mage, who was momentarily lost from view behind a stand of young juniper as he continued on his way. He was never sure whether Sydney had heard him, for the mage did not emerge from the opposite side - and when Hardin followed a few minutes later, he was nowhere to be found.

Gods, what does this mean?

The wind was picking up as the night went on, omens of a storm to come, but Sydney cared little for what turmoil the clouds might bring. Turbulent emotions rolled within as well while he wandered the forest in the darkness, but if anyone had been present to see him, they would not have known. The mage had carefully schooled himself through the years to show nothing upon his face unless he chose, and now he had no use for such superficialities as expression. With no one to see, his face was blank and emotionless as he dropped to his knees in the grass, bowing his head in urgent, resigned prayer as the first faint rumble of thunder sounded somewhere off to the south.

Hallowed Ones... forgive me. I knew that not much time remained, and there was no time to find another. I... I fear, from the oath he gave, that I may have disrupted Your divine plans with my own selfishness, if it is even possible for a man as I to do such a thing. ...It isn't, is it? Even if I had been certain... Sydney could not entirely keep himself from grinding his teeth at the thought, for certainty was something he had come to resent greatly since he'd been given the gift of prophecy. ...It does not matter. Either way it was selfishness, whether against You or against him. But all remains the same despite my efforts - You have won, I have lost, and there is no more for me to do but repent for my rebellion and continue onward. Tell me what must be done, and I shall do it.

A quiet chiming sound behind him told him that he was not alone, and her soft voice fell upon his ears, though none but he would have been able to hear it, for she spoke within his mind just as he had. My dear prophet... what were you thinking to accomplish, anyway?

A normal man might have smiled in gratitude, but Sydney merely said a silent thanks to the gods. "I am not sure, my Lady." He turned to look up with the Sight he had been granted as the ancient priestess' shade approached him, the vaguely glowing ornaments at her waist giving a faint, hollow jingling with each step. More than simply a forerunner, to him she had been a counselor, a mother, and occasionally more, but always she remained a friend above all else. To her, he could speak freely, as to no one else.

My little rabbit, you have room enough only for your lettuces or your carrots, she chided him fondly. If you had not chosen - rather, if he had not chosen for you - both would have withered away before your eyes.

"I know I have been selfish," he admitted. "At first, I thought I might free him. But..." The thought troubled him so that he was unable to put it into words. "...Now I wonder if that was my intention at all."

You've managed to entrap both him and yourself, haven't you? Müllenkamp murmured silently, placing her phantom hand against Sydney's cheek comfortingly. But he is stronger than you think - though he is quick to accept judgment, for he does not recall himself, his spirit will not yield.

"His body will." Sydney knew that for certain, and had for some time. Still, it seemed to cause his heart to tighten even more painfully when his Lady said nothing to contradict it; strange, the way he had not relinquished all his hope already.

Would you really have been happier if he had gone? What of your love?

The mage stared at her in spite of himself, but quickly rearranging his expression to something more characteristic of him, and gave her a knowing smirk. "I am afraid I'm not acquainted with such a concept."

Oh? His Lady answered him with a smirk that was nearly the mirror of his own. Then for what purpose have you drawn him so near? You have no shortage of those who would share your bed already...

Sydney shook his head. "No, it is not lovemaking that interests me." It had occurred to him some time ago that he was dreadfully bored with making love to those among his followers who offered themselves. With them, it was... impersonal, really. An act of worship, and a blessing bestowed. Any passion was borne of their love for the gods, not for him. But personal passion was irrelevant, and his words were firm. "Nor love. It was not pursuit of him, in truth. When it is given to a man to know what I know, he learns to avoid such trifles. My love is for the gods, and for the mission They have given me - not John Hardin."

She raised an eyebrow at him shrewdly, and Sydney frowned; she was entirely too much like him at times. Often he wondered if that was why he had been chosen. Have you forgotten? John Hardin has a place in your divine mission. And despite my interventions - which were rather improper of me, you realize, but you left me little choice - you nearly left that place completely vacant. On more than one occasion, and in different and obnoxious ways, no less.

"They were miscalculations. ...Mostly." Sydney did not want to think about it, honestly. That terrible night in Leá Monde, before Padric had contacted him through the mindspeak to say that they'd found Hardin in the streets of the undercity, Sydney had endured several minutes of the most painful guilt he'd ever experienced. But before he had heard Hardin's voice, he had been lost between hope that the man had escaped, and fear for what the consequences of that escape might be, for the both of them. "His soul has been torn to shreds by one kind of prison already. I did not wish to place him in another."

Even if it is the will of the gods? She regarded him with another amused smirk. You have dealt with this situation before, and you will do so again. And yet this time you fight it. Hmm... Why is it that a certain word keeps ringing out in my mind? A short word, much overused-

"Stop that." Sydney wearily rested his chin in one metal palm. Even if she was right, it would still be better by far if he ignored it. All he knew was that he was very tired of watching it happen over and over, and this time it wearied him far more than usual.

I know... An ethereal arm settled weightlessly across his shoulders as her unspoken words answered his. The gods know as well, as they know all. They cannot fault you for it.

Sydney's eyes closed as he breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Lady."

The weight of the world does rest upon you in an almost literal sense, however, she reminded him. There is something greater than you or he at stake. And remember... he has already forgiven you.

"He did not know what I asked forgiveness for."

The priestess smiled, more softly this time. If he did, it would have made no difference. His answer would have been the same.

It was true - Sydney could not dispute that - but it only drove the frustration deeper into his heart. "And so even if I did defy the gods, are we to have no choice, then? Are the godless allowed free will, while we who freely choose to follow Them are doomed by such concepts as 'fate' or 'destiny'?"

An ironic question, coming from one who has forfeited even his soul in Their service.

"But he has not," Sydney pointed out.

The gods already know his heart. They know what he has chosen; indeed, They knew it long before he decided. Is it so different that he should swear to one devoted to Them, than to Them directly? The result is the same.

"...I understand." Sydney put aside the troubling thoughts as well as he could, and met her eyes with resignation. "What is it that They require of me in regards to him?"

Only what comes naturally, little rabbit, she replied with a cryptic smile. Or perhaps in your case, I should say unnaturally.

"Very droll, Lady, but that tells me nothing."

Then perhaps that is your answer. With that, she whirled about, her ornaments chiming and her scarves drifting through the air, and then she was gone.

Sydney considered for a time, sitting and pondering her meaning nearly until the sun began to rise, when the sound of Hardin's approach broke its way past the distant thunder and into his thoughts. Hardin seated himself quietly at Sydney's side, saying not a word, and they listened as the storm to the south passed them by without so much as a drop.