Cyan works her way through the convoluted path, highly impressed by the various tricks and concealments.  "I would have likely missed it at a glance," she murmurs, "and why would I spend more time than that on a dead end?"  She listens to her tour guide speak of pastimes, and cannot help but smile.  "I find it difficult picturing you picking blackberries; perhaps we might do that, after we are finished?  Autumn is never far away, when one has the Myriad Worlds."  A quick jaunt away, a return, and it WILL be Autumn.

Berd, of course, perks up at the idea of blackberries.

But Cyan falls silent as Left finally speaks.  Slowly she nods her head.  "I fear I must apologize; I most certainly had not meant my observation as remonstration, Left.  You had reasons - and good ones.  There lies no blame or recrimination in me for you."

Her tone quiets a touch.  "And I am pleased you did not wish to keep secrets...my friend."

"As for your division?"  She shrugs, less concerned about that than her compatriot's feelings.  "That, as you note, is a concern for the future - much farther in the future than it would be here.  Perhaps, with time, your people might find a way past the problem; without time, there would be no chance.  This provides that time, and thus?  A preferable ending to the conflict."

The narrow tunnel ends, blocked by a tapestry which James pushes aside.  The group emerge into a wide hallway,  The nearer end, very close to the concealed tunnel, comprises a bay window, presenting a view of a steep-sided valley, with forest on the far edge.  In the other direction the hallway runs deeper into the castle,

James indicates a quartet of soldiers standing guard outside a double door across the hall.  "Bleys." he says, simply, and starts to walk towards them.  As he gets closer, he raises a hand.  "Ho Francis!  Is the prince home?  We have important news for him."

One of the men nods, "Hello James.  He's in, but give me a moment to see if he's receiving visitors."

The guard knocks on the door, which is opened by somebody inside, and he steps inside.  The door closes behind him.

The moment stretches into five minutes, before the door opens and the guard re-emerges.  Another man is behind him, flame haired and dressed in red and orange silks.

"James!  Come in.  I hope it's good news you have."

"Actually, it's my friend Cyan, who has the news, Sire, and I think you'll find it good."

They step inside, into a suite of rooms, luxuriously furnished, though a little untidy.  There are a number of empty wine bottles on one of the tables, and only one glass...

"Please tell me.  I could do with some good news." Bleys says, addressing Cyan.

Cyan silently waits, allowing James to take the lead on this.  She bows politely when the guard greets James, but otherwise offers no comment.  Time passes as she waits, and she draws upon what little maturity she has gathered over the course of this Quest.

Berd would say 'very little', naturally.

Finally the man returns, and for the first time Cyan lays eyes upon James' mentor.  She studies him, fiery-haired and charismatic, well-dressed and well-coiffed.  Certainly he holds the bearing of a prince, if a trifle more casual than expected.  But then, he taught James and certainly James, while polished, is relaxed in bearing and habit.

She touches James' arm, partly for luck, and moves to follow.

Once inside, they are greeted by empty bottles and a single glass.  Apparently, Bleys' habits are not so far from her own, though more extravagant.  Cyan bows again, this time to the prince, and commences.  "Your highness," she states.  "I am Cyan, of No Place In Particular."  For some reason, she feels compelled to begin with her old, ironic mode of address.  Is it to bring full circle this quest, which began romantic, became terrible, and transformed, in the end, into something more than both?

"I am here to tell you that the war appears to be over.  A solution has been found to the causes of the war, a solution that will end the threat forever without further loss of life upon either side."

A bold claim, but as far as she knows, truthful.

"I have with me leaders of the Archon race - together, we have discerned and verified the potential and truth.  We come here, now, seeking an end to all hostilities."

Bleys drops into a chair, his expression one of surprise.

"An end to... "  He pauses, as if not sure that he has heard correctly, "This is good news indeed, if you are correct.  What are their terms?  What do they seek in return for this cessation of hostilities?  Bear in mind that we will not surrender Amber, or any part of the Golden Circle to them."

And then he catches himself, and gestures towards other chairs, "Please, be seated, both of you.  Shall I call for more wine?"

Cyan bows at the offer of wine.  "If James wishes for wine - " he probably won't " - I would gladly accept.  I am, however, no connoisseur..."  Berd snorts with some amusement at this vast understatement, but the bard ignores him.  Instead, she moves to sink into a chair, grateful at the respite from standing.

It has been a long and tiring day.

"Terms," Cyan muses, her topaz eyes faraway for a long moment.  Then they focus on their host's face.  "The terms are minimal: the Archons will cease hostilities - and should already have done so - and leave.  They wish nothing more.  They have found an alternative to what they desired, a more acceptable alternative than the destruction of all.  And this has ended their desire for conflict."

Her head bows and she puts her elbows on her knees, staring down at her clasped hands.  "I realize this is of little comfort for those who gave up their lives in the war.  So many lives lost, on both sides.  What seemed completely necessary to both sides - for this was a war of survival, in a way, rather than ideology - has suddenly, miraculously, become unimportant.  But the conflict is ended."

Letting out a long, slow breath, she nods her head.  "We have stumbled back from the brink, both of the sides."

Bleys leans back, staring at a point somewhere above Cyan's head and tapping one index finger against his lower lip.

The moment stretches, until, "Do you agree with this interpretation, James?"

And James answers a simple, "Yes."

"This seems... more than we could have hoped for.  But I'll not look a gift horse in the mouth, as the saying goes."  He straightens up.  "I suppose you were looking for somebody to get word to Random?  I can certainly handle that."

"Meanwhile, I'm ordering both of you to stand down until further notice.  You both deserve a rest after this."

"As you wish, your highness."  Rising, Cyan bows to the prince.  But before leaving, she pauses at the door.  "I truly believe this situation to be the reality, your highness.  I have seen much upon this quest, much to call into question any kind of...swift end to the war, but in this case I will allow it to be truth."  Another bow.  "As does James."

She takes no offense at the questioning of her interpretation; it's a given, really, that in this circumstances there would be doubt.

Once in the hallway, she eyes her two-legged companion speculatively.  Waiting until far enough, Cyan prods his ribs with an elbow (it is grossly unlikely to hurt him at all).  "Well, James?  Your thoughts on this?  You know this prince, and I would hear your own...interpretation."  A small smile occurs at her use of the word; worried, but a smile nonetheless.

James stops, and looks about, as if to ensure that there is nobody within earshot.  When he answers, he keeps his voice low.  "Bleys wasn't his usual self.  Lacking in confidence, I'd say.  I think that this war has taken a great toll on him while we were away.  It would not surprise me if he other Lords of Amber are similarly disturbed."

"If that's the case, then they may be desperate enough to grasp this solution with both hands.  Without question."

His smile is a response to Cyan's own, "I believe we have found an answer, just as long as all goes well between the Archons and Banglen-Yp."

Cyan frowns.  "I confess to some nervousness if you believe Bleys was not...himself," she finishes.  "We have seen too much in the way of spiritual control and shapeshifters, both, in our travels.  Is there any way to ascertain that the man with whom we just spoke is actually not only the Prince of Amber, but in possession of his faculties?"

It's a tall order, she knows; presumably one of the other Princes and Princesses could manage, but Cyan?  Unlikely.  James?  More likely, but...

"Should it be the case," she continues, "then I agree - having them worried and willing to accept a truce would be the preferred situation."  Reaching out, Cyan places and hand on the Amberite's shoulder, her ruby eyes dulled.  "Ah, James.  To sleep in peace for a night is a dream, is it not?"

"A dream worth fighting for." James replies, and his smile is genuine, if a little tired looking.

"But I think you worry too much about Bleys.  He seemed real to me, just weary.  Most of the others I've seen this day bore the same weight, though it would, perhaps, only be apparent to those who knew them in happier times."

"We have more pressing matters to address now.  Somewhere to rest."

He stops again and looks down a side corridor.  "There are guest suites down that way."

"I shall trust your word on the matter," Cyan replies with a nod.  "You know these climes better than myself - far, far better.  Berd ensured that, even had you not been born in the family."  The little dragon stirs uneasily on her shoulder, and she touches him gently.  "You had your reasons," Cyan whispers.

"But I will gladly take that rest," she continues, raising her voice back to normal levels.  "Lead on, and I shall follow.  If my Lord Harbonah and the rest of my escort is satisfied and patient, we might spend some time amending our mortal weariness and rise refreshed in short order."

Briefly, she considers leaving behind one of her other friends...but they might be too easily noted, even doch.  These Amberites have skill with what they call 'Trump'...best not to take a chance.

James, Cyan, and her retinue of followers enter the corridor.  A few minutes later they encounter a servant and James speaks to her quietly.  She starts to lead them further along the passage, then points to two doors, standing opposite each other.  "These two are empty, Sir, and cleaned today."

Cyan looks around her room.  It's seems like forever since she's slept anywhere so comfortable.  A large bed dominates the chamber, with a desk against one wall, and a table and two chairs near the opposite one.  A large window gives a view of a city where lamps are being lit against the approaching night.

Thousands of shapes stream across the darkening sky, then drop towards the base of the castle.  Bats?

No, not bats...  Nor are they birds...

•• Harbonah has called his people •• They fly to the bridge • though these are just the first of them ••

Bangle-Yp is in more or less human form again, and wearing a green robe that shimmers and rustles as she moves.  More, the robe appears to move by itself

•• We can keep watch outside the door • if you wish ••

Cyan slowly nods, staring out the window.  "If you wish, Banglen-Yp."  She flashes the other woman a brief smile.  "I feel that I should be safe here, on the other hand.  Or hope."  The topaz eyes shine in the twilight as she turns back to the Seraphim.  "If...if we have truly found an answer, surely I will spend a night safe?"

What a curious...woman is Banglen-Yp.  Cyan can think of her as nothing else, despite her true identity.

"Look at them," she whispers, studying the Archons.  "So beautiful.  I hope they find what they desire."  Enemies once...but people, still.  Savage, uncaring of anything but their own...but is that not the way of people everywhere, until their minds open further?

Has she not seen that, time and time again, through this journey?

Berd crawls to the pillow, curling up.  Perhaps now he might sleep.  Well, most of him.  He'll do it in shifts.

Banglen-Yp smiles brightly, •• Beautiful • yes •• We shall see that your rest is undisturbed • at least by outside forces ••

And she starts to dwindle and distort... until, dropping to all fours she crawls towards the door, sprouting extra limbs, and passes beneath it in the form of a small spider, which leaves a trail of dust on the carpet.

The sky darkens, but still the Archons are visible.  Or at least a portion of them are - an endless river of sparks and embers moving through the deepening night.

Cyan watches them for more than an hour, with no apparent depletion in the flow...

"This could be the end of it, you know." Jack says, his presence no more surprising than if he had been by Cyan's side throughout the journey, and had simply stepped in to wish her a good night.  But now he wears a lightness about him, and Kalika is with him, smiling, and Hunter too.

"If it's an ending, then it's better than I would have thought possible."

Closing her eyes, Cyan smiles.  "It could be, Jack."  Opening them again - topaz, now - she turns her head to regard her friends over her shoulder.  Friends first, they were, her, Jack and Kalika.  Hunter as well, despite never getting along with Berd.

Fallen, now, by the wayside of the quest, but carried with her...and now, perhaps, together anew.

Tears burn in her eyes as she regards them, shifting slightly to see them with the burning arc of brilliance above them, the archons tracing a path through the night sky.  "My friends," Cyan whispers, her throat tight.  "You.  Us.  And others."  Her voice drops to a whisper.

"Tander, of the forest people."

A green-skinned man with a sharp smile.

"Duncan, from lands unknown."

His heavy accent still rings in her ears.

"Morgan, of the courts."

A greeting sent her way, on entering a distant inn.

"Ares, guardian of peace."

A delighted laugh as Berd makes himself known to the dark warrior.

"Kaelyn."

A heart cold to anything but duty, yet she stood firm in that.

"Leonardo."

Rose-tinted sunglasses, lost in the waves.

"The fallen.  And the others," she whispers.  "Still alive, I hope, still walking the worlds."  And the names roll forth.

Lazarus.  Kendall.  Lexy.  Andrej.  Chance.  Dorian.  Kia.  Meredith.  Serena and Devlin.  Trista.  Morgan and his cats.  Roman.  Tahirah.  Jonnee.

"Aaron," she whispers.  "Even Luke."

"And here?  James.  Banglen-Yp."

All of them, walking on the path.  All of them, making the path.  The path, the story, the salvation of all.

Tears flow down her cheeks, unhindered; for once, Cyan's grief is graceful, mixed as it is with joy and hope.  "Love," she breathes.  "I have loved you all, in different ways, and still do.  Whatever comes, that shall not change.  Wherever you are, wherever you go, you have my thanks."

And with each name whispered, a friend appears, or a companion, or an ally.  They speak to Cyan briefly - words of gratitude, or congratulations on her finding a successful solution.  And then they fade away again, until no more of them remain to be summoned...

And then a final form appears unbidden, one that makes Cyan, the real Cyan, stir in her sleep.  A figure clad in armour which bears the image of a monstrous snake-haired woman on the breast plate, and wearing a helm which conceals its features.  This one says nothing, but it sketches a bow, and then the armour falls apart, revealing that it is empty.

Just an animated shell - Harbonah's General is no longer within, and not even the ghost of her pain remains inside the armour.

Cyan opens her eyes to find the grey light of dawn beyond the window.  The stream of Archons still pours out of the sky...

Slowly, she paces across the room to again stand at the window, the panes opened wide.  Leaning out, the bard rests her arms upon the stone, staring at the stream of light across the lightening sky.  A slow sigh escapes her, a release.

Peace, perhaps; her friends have once again supported her, putting to rest her inner demons.

Boktnoj flies the realms above; Denokad paces the forests of her spirit alongside gamboling Vadchok.  Gratag-nok calls out to the eagle from his water, and Hokod watches from the shadowy bushes.  As for Juchak, and Doch?

They keep company with her mentor, [click]-ogok, with her yet in spirit.

"Left?  Right?" she queries quietly, not knowing if Left remains, or where Right might be.  "I shall never forget you, even if you choose to leave.  Nor Staosha, Barkiel, and Shalgiel."  Reaching up, she studies the arc wistfully, passing her fingers through it in her vision as if it is a ripple in a river.  "Your support made this possible as well."

On the bed, Berd watches, his eyes alight, swirling galaxies within them.

A small smile tilts her lips, and Cyan cocks her head to the side.  "And...my Lord Harbonah?  Are you yet here?  Or have you left this place, to guide your people?"  She closes her eyes, shutting her lids on amythest irises.  "If you yet remain, I would speak with you a moment."

Unseen, Luke watched.  His presence brought Cyan discomfort, but perhaps...perhaps this time they might speak without rancor, here at the end: both children of their father.  He would wait, watch, and judge the moment.

As always.

Left is, as it turns out, still present.  Much reduce in size, and hovering as silently as an Archon can, which is to say that she is no larger, and no louder, than a gnat.  Still, as Cyan speaks her name, she starts to grow in both size and volume.

+ WE ARE STILL HERE, GENERAL.  AND WE CAN FEEL RIGHT MOVING ACROSS WORLDS, ON THE WAY HERE.  HARBONAH HAS CROSSED THE BRIDGE AND MOVED FAR BEYOND IT.  HE IS OUTSIDE OUR REACH FOR THE MOMENT.  OUR PEOPLE FOLLOW HIM OVER.  NUMBERLESS AS GRAINS OF SAND. +

Cyan slowly nods.  "It might have been good," she whispers, "to have spoken to Harbonah a final time.  My good wishes, I suspect, mean little to him.  But I think I would have liked to give them, in any case.  To tell him that what lies between us, lies in the past."  A small, sad smile quirks her lips.  "And that I hope a glorious future awaits him, and his people."

Peace; within and without.

Berd stirs again on the bed, but for now Cyan pays him no heed.  Instead, her topaz eyes fix on Left.  "And you, Left?  You and Right?  Will you leave, I wonder?  Will you avail yourself of The Bridge now, or at some near point in the future?"  Her smile fades and she grows solemn.  "For The Bridge, I think, will remain until someone does something foolish."

Someone always does.

Turning back, she studies the still-flowing river, reaching out a hand again, this time as if to let the distant sparkles trickle through her fingers.  "I expect that shall not happen for some time to come.  Banglen-Yp - herself, her...other self - seem perfectly capable of holding it."  Again Berd stirs, and Cyan's smile returns.  Berd will, she knows, assist with that in his own, subtle ways.

"Or will you stay?" the bard continues.  "Will you journey this universe that has begun to fascinate Right?  Will you continue to question, to seek, to learn as much as you can before departing?"  Her smile becomes wistful.  "I could be your guide, your interpreter...I know something of the Myriad Worlds, after all of my wandering.  I have not yet visited a hint of their glory, but I know travelling."  Her stare seeks something in the distance, well-outside of sight.  "I have journeying of my own to do."

Turning, she faces away from the stream of Archons and toward Left.  Her friend.  "Perhaps James will accompany us - I cannot say.  But I would enjoy your company, yours and Right's should you so choose."  Her head inclines in a small nod.  "But if your desire is to join your people, this I understand...and hold nothing against that choice, or yourselves.  I only wish you the best of a new life in a place free of war."

+ WE MAY STAY, RIGHT AND OURSELVES. + Left replies.  + HARBONAH MAY DEEM IT WISE TO KEEP AGENTS IN THIS WORLD.  WE WOULD CROSS THE BRIDGE, AND SOON.  BUT IF HARBONAH SEEKS AGENTS, WE WOULD PUT OURSELVES FORWARD.  WE HAVE EXPERIENCE OF DEALING WITH PEOPLE HERE, AND YOU HAVE TAUGHT US MUCH. +

+ WHEN WE CROSS THE BRIDGE, WE CAN CARRY YOUR WORDS TO HARBONAH, IF YOU SO DESIRE. +

The Archon moves across to hover near the window, as if she needs to do that to see her people swarming past.

+ THE RATE AT WHICH THEY GO TO THE BRIDGE HAS REDUCED.  NOT BY MUCH, BUT IT IS A DEFINITE REDUCTION.  AT THIS RATE, ALL WILL HAVE CROSSED WITHIN SIX DAYS. +

"You have carried me; I will ask a touch more of you," Cyan requests, "to indeed carry my words.  For what they are worth."  She leans her forearms on the windowsill, staring into the growing light with burning eyes that shift shades through all shades of stones but two: diamond and onyx.

"Six days," Cyan whispers.  "Then I shall see you no more, save if Harbonah chooses to send you.  But only if you wish, Left."

"I would go with you," she continues, and Berd stirs again.  But he yet maintains his silence.  "But I doubt I would survive.  And I, in the end, would be alone, I think.  Best I stay here.  Wander the worlds for what time remains to me."  Her head turns, her eyes find her father.  Slowly the little dragon nods.  "However many years that might be," Cyan whispers, returning her gaze to the glittering river of light.

It might very well be few; Berd forged her strong, and she burns all-too-quickly.

"Endings come to everything," Cyan whispers.  "Even to this war.  Thank the Lords of the West."  A smile touches her lips again.  "Thank my friends, who truly did this deed."

"But," she states, taking up an earlier thread, "I believe I shall wander alone - or with you, Right and Left, and perhaps James - in the beginning."  Berd does not nod, this time, only watches her carefully.  Turning she studies the ancient creature upon her bed.  "We need time apart, Berd.  Time for you to find yourself...and for myself to do the same."  She bows her head.  "But not forever.  I would not be separate from you.  I only wish...."

Understanding flows from Berd, and Cyan sighs with relief.  "Thank you," she whispers.

+ ENDINGS.  YES. +  Left's voice, for all that the Archon is a hoop of scraping, clashing metal, without an actual face, sounds almost as if she is smiling.

+ WOULD THAT ALL ENDINGS WERE AS GOOD AS THIS ONE, OUR GENERAL. +  Then she hesitates, before adding, + OUR FRIEND. +  She sounds as if the word feels unfamiliar to her.

+ FRIEND.  WE DO NOT BELIEVE THAT WE HAVE EVER USED THAT WORD BEFORE.  WE MAY BE THE FIRST ARCHON EVER TO USE IT, AT LEAST WITH ANY DEGREE OF SINCERITY.  WE ARE CHANGING. +

And Left lapses into silence, or as close to it as it's possible to get when one is a wheel of rapidly moving metal shards which can never be still.

"This pleases me, greatly.  Because..."  Cyan reaches a hand toward the Archon, stopping well-short.  "I value friends.  I have so few, now.  I would not lose any of the remaining ones."

"Not for some time yet, in any case," she whispers.

Back to the window, and she leans against the sill, holding herself with her arms.  Staring out into the sunrise and the glittering rainbow of Archons in the sky.  "I shall await Right.  Find out your decisions.  Watch, as this river fades.  And when it is done, I shall leave this castle."  Glancing down at the stony walls, she sighs.  "So much time passed trying to come here, and I finally discover it is not the place for me."

A shrug follows, her ruby eyes glinting with some amusement. "But then...is that not what journeys are for?  To also find oneself?"

And she raises a hand toward the vanishing Archons - salute, a wave goodbye, recognition of their place (old and new)...

...all of those things, and more?

"Thank you."

Behind her, Berd falls off the bed, ambling in search of food.  The more things change....

The day passes slowly, and without much change.  The stream of Archons continues to flow across the sky, diminishing slowly but never halting entirely.  Occasionally something happens to disturb them, and they wheel and swirl, like a murmuration of starlings settling to roost, and then they settle down again, and the stream trails unendingly across the sky once more...

Beyond the door there is occasional panic, but authoritative voices calm the people, and the incidents lessen as the day goes on.

James calls in to announce that the Lords of Amber are taking steps to maintain order in the face of the sudden influx of former enemies.

A couple of times during the day servants appear with food, rapping politely on the door before entering and depositing a tray close to Cyan.

The bard watches the Archons.  Banglen-Yp keeps her informed of how things progress beyond the bridge.  James brings news from elsewhere in the castle.  All seems to be going well.

And gradually the sky darkens, as the sun sets in a blaze of black and crimson.  A darkness split by a current of fire and lightning...

And it occurs to Cyan that the Shadow War is ended.

It's time to find something else to do.




This message was last edited by the GM at 13:53, Sun 12 Mar 2017.