The Children's Crusades, -For Nemai-

[Nemaisare]

Rowan’s easy acceptance of Theron’s edict pleased the young boy. It was gratifying to be listened to, and to have his words accepted as important things to follow. It was a relief to know he wouldn’t have to argue his point to the older boy. He was strong, he was, and knew words better than did Theron. An argument might not have gone so well, especially not with the way he was hurting.

He didn’t try to talk as he led the way through the halls. He had a few questions he wanted to ask of this newest of Shrake’s collection, many more than he could count in fact, but there were some things he knew Shrake didn’t like other people knowing, and those were his dealings with others. Theron knew more than most, but even he didn’t know all of his master’s secrets, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. And if there were some things a god liked keeping secret, then there had to be some things that other boys liked keeping secret too. Besides which, their last bout of questioning had failed rather dramatically, since he hadn’t understood anything that Stephan wanted from him. At least taking him to see Shrake was something he knew how to do.

So he stayed quiet, wondering, but not quite daring to open his mouth. All the boy’s bravery had gone into making sure Stephan wasn’t planning on hurting his master with words. Because he didn’t want Shrake to be hurt, not ever! Now he was stuck wondering and unable to work up the courage to let the other boy know what he was wondering about. But that didn’t matter, because if he wanted to, he could always ask Shrake. The god would either tell him what it was, or would tell him to mind his own business. Probably forgetting that Shrake’s business was his business. And then Theron would know that he didn’t have to bother wondering because he was never going to know anyway.

But it didn’t take as long as he had thought it would, because he was suddenly turning a corner and the long hallway was in front of them. The single door in the middle opening ever onto a dark, dark place. No light ever shone in there, Theron knew. He’d tried, once or twice, to bring a torch in with him, because he was frightened of the dark, but Shrake had cured him of that fear long ago. He couldn’t be afraid of the dark when there were more frightening monsters within it to chase the ones he imagined away. Theron stopped after a few more steps, hardly close to the door at all. He didn’t want to keep going, his knee hurt and he was tired and he’d just died, he didn’t think it was fair to make him walk so much.

The boy pointed silently towards it, his green eyes wide beneath his unruly dark hair. The faint shadows under them only making his skin paler. There it was the door to Shrake. If Stephan wanted to talk, he’d have to go through it. Theron didn’t need to walk him to it when he could see it right there. So he moved aside and leaned against the wall for a bit before sinking down to sit on the floor. He would wait here until Stephan was ready to leave.

[E'doa A'nii]

Stephan hesitated only long enough to take a deep breath before stepping over the threshhold of the unfathomble, endless darkness. He felt like he'd left the temple behind. The darkness was so dense, that the boy could not even see the light from door from which he came.

It was cold. And silent. One could have heard a pin drop. The boy prince could have sworn that there was at least a chill wind and he wondered if frost had formed on the ground beneath his feet. But that really wasn't important. What he had to say to the god was important.

He had to say it well.

But first he had to go about soothing the god's wrath. Obviously, it would be impossible to convince Shrake of anything if he was still angry. So, he took another deep breath.

"...I came to apologize...for...for my outburst. I do see now, that you care for your children." Quietly. He really was sorry. He even plucked at the hem of his sister's shirt in apologetic shame.

Well, that was a good start. The god did care. Just not the way Rowan had meant it. Well, he would speak the god's language. "I have been...considering...your offer... and well... I can't say it is unappealing." The right amount of modest hesitancy. Someone still unsure of himself and his standing. Not wanting to put himself at risk; just checking to see if, maybe, the offer was still open.

But he couldn't leave it there. If he left it there, Shrake might induct him before he could say 'boo'. Which was not quite what he had in mind. "And, while I am grateful...I don't think that...well--It's not that your incapable. Because your not.", wouldn't want to imply that he didn't think the god couldn't protect him," I just don't want to be a further burden on your children.--" He had been a burden hadn't he? Eleven children had died for him because the god had been too lazy to intervene. And if he got accepted, well then, the children might have to intervene again. Stephan did not want any more children to die.

"You see..." ,he continued, running a hand through his hair and shifting his feet uncomfortably, "...The men who attacked your temple... They were after me. They will be back." That last sentance was said with the grave certainty of much past experience. "They know I'm here. It grieves me that so many of your children have had to die already..." ,and here he sighed and swallowed the lump in his throat," and I could not live with myself if they should have to die again." A more polite refusal. One that implied that if the threat were removed he might reconsider joining.

And he paused, staring humbly at the ground and awaiting the god's reaction. Boy he hoped it would work. For a boy of twelve, Rowan was wise beyond his years. Too much experience of the world's evil had made him as such. Forced to learn the skills of survival, he had come to master their use. Right now, he was using every skill in his book.

Anything to get Olivia back and free the children.

[Nemaisare]

Ah… Here was the boy again. Stepping into his world as Theron had just warned him to expect. Something was wrong already. Well, the god supposed that was hardly fair, considering the last discussion they had had. Something was not already wrong, something had been wrong from the very start. The difference was small, but it took some of the blame away from the boy. Which was kinder than he felt like being, but Death was, if nothing else, a fair god.

The darkness spun for a moment in surprise when the boy spoke of apologies. The god certainly had not expected such a thing. He had expected anger and more shouting and desperate attempts to tell him just why it was he did not care. But never an apology. This was why he liked children so much more than adults, they still knew how to surprise one pleasantly, or unpleasantly as the case may be. I am… pleased you have come to see such.

But the child was not finished yet, and the dark words faded as Stephan opened his mouth again. Shrake was listening.

The temple rumbled lightly, shaking at what he had to say. Not in anger, but it amusement. The invisible ground beneath Stephan’s feet shuddered before falling still, the sound of vibrating stone resonating within the chamber and through the halls. But Shrake did not interrupt with any more words until he was certain the boy was finished. It had never been an offer though, it hadn’t been up for consideration or open to negotiation. What Shrake wanted Shrake got, or there were consequences. True, sometimes Shrake suffered such humbling moments, but he rarely suffered them well. The boy had been his prize, and the price of those soldiers’ souls had been his life.

But it was amusing, listening to the child stumble through his words and try to find a balance between saying what he wanted to say and avoiding any outright criticism. He did well, for a boy. When the boy was done, the god was silent, thinking. Then, he sent the words out to the boy. They would need to talk about this.

Your apology is well meant, little one, and your words are… kinder… than they were. Even a god could feel the pain of wrongful accusations. This explains much, though not their zeal to die if they could not capture you.

They would have died anyway, for coming into his temple uninvited, but Shrake felt little need to explain such things to this boy for whom death seemed such a trial. It was simple though, really… If one stopped living, then one had died, whether or not the body continued was irrelevant, though Shrake had to await its end before he could take the soul. The children do not fight because I tell them to, boy. I force none of them to take up arms against my enemies. It is their choice, and this you must understand. Ask them, ask Theron, he will give answer to any question you have.

But enough of that. It was an argument that would likely get them nowhere. Now, you are mine, and I must learn more of your enemies. They have become mine and if you wish the children to remain without the danger, then I would know more of them. Tell me, little one, and I will see what might be done.

It was no idle promise that Shrake made. He loved his children as he could and, though this one had been irksome, he was still one of his children, whether or no he considered himself among their ranks. The god would do what he could for his children, when he could. If he could… But first he needed to learn more.

[E'doa A'nii]

Stephan did not correct the god's assumption of ownership. It would not do to point out that he hadn't actually said he would join. He would work out the details of that later. Right now he was happilly succeeding, so he could let that little assumption slide. It was, after all, not far from the assumption he'd wanted shrake to make anyway. Right now, close enough was good enough.

The god harbored him no ill will; though his concession to not caring was unsuprisingly lacking. At this moment the god's views on caring were irrelevant. What mattered was that he was willing to prove himself to Rowan. Or rather, he felt the need to prove himself to Rowan by learning about his enemies. The boy prince had the god right where he wanted him.

...his enemies...

Rowan sighed a sigh of mixed emotions. He was relieved that there would be help and worried about the source of that help. He hoped the children would not be involved again. But nothing was guranteed. Half of war was the risk of not knowing everything. The other half was knowing enough to win the war.

He hoped he had the right half.

"Well..." The boy began consideringly, "...He killed my father, took his kingdom and slaughtered my mother. He hunts my head and will stop at nothing to get it." That was simple enough. Concise. Spoken without any emotion whatsoever and delivered as if he had said the sun was yellow.

The next was spoken with an underlying hint of anger. "He holds my people in slavery. He puts their children to work and denies them food." His voice was getting louder. There was a deep anger there. Rowan stopped talking. He was choking on his own anger now. His free hand was clenching and unclenching as his chest heaved up and down.

It was a few moments before he composed himself and could continue. "He has a price on my head, and his hunting parties scour the land wreaking havoc in search of me."

[Nemaisare]

Shrake listened to the words the boy gave him. The darkness shifting around him now and again as the god absorbed the information he was given. So, this man was a murderer, a thief and a tyrant. And a powerful one at that. Shrake had known there was something happening across the border in the land of the Lights Children. But he was the god of death. And Death should not concern itself with the living until the living were no more. Then again, without life, there could be no death...

-Your enemy is a man seated on your father's throne. A powerful man, to have achieved so much...- Shrake was thinking out loud. A thin skein of reluctant approval running through his thoughts. No, he did not approve of killers, but a man willing to be cruel enough to take a life for his own gain on a level of this scale was someone Shrake felt it would be wise to be wary of. Well, it is good that gods do not want for money then, and good that you have found us here.-

There was a soothing quality to those words. A small attempt to sweeten the boy's anger and lull him into forgetting his worries. The god did not enjoy meddling, and if he was to keep the boy, he was most assuredly already meddling. But if he could manage to keep from interfering more, then he would need to keep this boy from asking it of him. Of course, he could always refuse... But he was already annoyed that this enemy's men had dared to enter his temple and give him the lives he had been keeping safe from his own darkness. Perhaps he would not be able to refuse.

-Do you know any more of this man? Or of those who might stand at his side?-

((And I'm really sorry it took me so long just to give you this measly scrap of a post Eddy. Really, really sorry. My muse died for awhile and I couldn't revive it very well.))

[E'doa A'nii]

(Np)

There really wasn't much left to tell and the boy wracked his brains for anything else that might be remotely pertinent. That Gyle was a despot went without saying. That he was merciless and vindictive probably didn't need to be mentioned. So Rowan wasn't going to point out that the usurper would be upset that Shrake had just killed off his most elite warriors.

"Those who stand with him are one in mind with him. My father's court has become a feasting ground for all manner of vultures and swine."

He shifted his sister to his other arm, and hugged her a bit tighter to assure himself that she was still there. He couldn't see anything; not even his own hand. He did not know what money had to do with anything; infact, he had the awful feeling that Shrake would use the children to deal with Gyle. He was torn between risking his current victory, and begging for the children's life.

He sighed again.

He would compromise. So it was that with hesitency he spoke again. If the children were to be used, then he would have to go about convincing Shrake to use them in a safer way.

"His forces are many and cruel...." How to go about this. It seemed impossible not to just come outright and say 'don't fight him'. There was a pause while Rowan searched for the right phrasing: "All I need is a way to enter the country by myself, unnoticed. I can slay him in his castle and claim what is rightly mine."

Well if that didn't suggest guerilla warfare...Rowan didn't know what did.

----------------------

Panting and weak-kneed, Kevin dismounted a lathered horse and stood, trembling, just outside the door of the temple. The scroll in his hands shook like a leaf in the wind as the soldier attempted to collect himself. It was death here, or death at the palace. Not much of a choice... but death at the hands of Shrake was probably better then death at the hands of Sir Gyle.

"Ho There!" He called into the temple. He tried not to think about the yawning darkness, darker then night, which stretched beyond the open mouth of the temple door.

[Nemaisare]

Personally, Shrake liked vultures and swine. They cleaned up after the mess people left behind. He, of course, didn’t see any reason not to like them, since he’d didn’t deal in material substances like bodies. Bodies were for those who didn’t know any better. Shrake had built himself a temple, hadn’t he? No need for bodies then, no need for anything, and he didn’t have to worry about what might happen to it if he died. Until the balance of life and death was broken, his disappearance from the world was highly unlikely. Of course, a gatekeeper was not quite the same as the incarnation of an idea of fact. Shrake was not death, he was the god of death. It was a slight difference, but it was there all the same.

You? Kill this tyrant and claim the throne? His incredulous tones rang with surprise at the very suggestion. He hadn’t any idea where it had come from. A god was not all-knowing. He was not, however, shocked by the suggestion itself. Children, as he had shown Sir Gyle’s elites, could be a strong force when they wanted to be and knew how. He was aware of the more usual view of society regarding their capabilities though, so he felt that the question was not out of place. Any one of his children might have voiced it, and he fully encouraged such behaviour if it was what his children desired, but that Stephan, who had come so very recently into his hold, would be able to think this way without being shown, proved that he was more Shrake’s than any of them had believed. And likely, more than Rowan would have been comfortable with had he realized.

Suddenly, the temple began to shake, and the shadows in which Rowan stood writhed about, spinning and twisting like oil through the air. A god’s laughter was not always pleasant. It would be my loss the day I allowed you to do such a thing, my child. And to what ends? If I had wished such, I might have told Theron to take the throne for himself. My son could do it, you know, without my help… His musings were not skeptical, he believed in the boy called Stephan, but Shrake had no desire to set one of his children on a throne. Especially not in a country that had never much enjoyed his idea of balance. You are only a child, in the eyes of the world, little one. Would they recognize your rights? With my backing?

With Shrake’s backing, it seemed more likely they would set the boy into exile, but the god felt that it was only fair to ask. Warnings could be given, but if Stephan wished to continue despite them, Shrake would not stop him. As he waited some reply, the god became aware of movement within his corridors, and of the grim intent within the minds of his young charges. So he sent Theron to go find out the cause.

The young boy picked himself up off the floor where he’d been idly scribbling nothings in the dust and absently moved off. Shrake didn’t think there was any need for urgency, so he would take his time. His legs hurt! And his shoulder, and his chest from struggling to breathe so hard that night. His face hurt and his arms too… He didn’t think he liked drowning much…

--------------------------------------

They came out from the darkness to stare at the nervous soldier with hard eyes. Those eyes shone like stones, bright white and dark brown. There was no expression except for anger or frank dislike on their faces. They were young, all of his watchers, each with a spear held in their hands as one slowly stepped forward and down the stairs to his level. The other children fanned out behind Arya and then moved, without any urgings, to block his escape. As one, they lowered their spears towards him, still silent, still wary and full of blank grief. This one, someone had recognized him. He had gotten away, but now he was back, and Arya wished to finish what they had started at Shrake’s orders. This was one of the men who had killed her friends. But he had come here for a reason. “What?”

[E'doa A'nii]

Rowan held his breath as the god voiced suprise. He hoped that his vocalizations of desire for justice would not be misinterpreted. He could not afford to loose his place now. Not now. He was so close! But Shrake did not seem mispleased, and so Rowan released his breath in a soft sigh.

That was too close.

His relief was, however, too soon. The floor beneath his feet began to shudder and sway. The disinherited prince toppled to the floor, twisting his body to protect his sister. Protectively, he curled up into a little ball; surrounding the tiny body of his sister with his own great bulk. The darkness seemed to take a life of it's own, pressing against Rowan's body like the pounding of fists. His own blood was pounding in his ears, and he found himself breathing hard. This was it! He'd done it. Shrake was angry.

The boy prince struggled to find something to say. Anything. So long as it would appease the god. Before he could utter anything, the ground had ceased to tremble. The darkness stopped it's assault.

"It would be my loss the day I allowed you to do such a thing, my child."

Of course. How careless he had been. He had forgotten that he had allowed the god to make the (somewhat unfounded) assumption of ownership. Of course not. No, Shrake, for all his eccentricity and carelessness would not allow his children to do such a thing. Ironic, but obvious. It would be seen as needlessly throwing his own children to harm. Besides, he was not the Chosen Favorite. That was Theron's unenviable position, and, therefore, his right to power; even if the throne did belong to the son of the Lord High Counselor.

--And of course, Theron was perfectly capable. Rowan had seen first hand what a bright young lad he was. There was a silent wish sent to Genesis, that Theron would not become his adversary. The last thing he needed was a god against him. One tyrant and a whole country was more than plenty. Much more than plenty.--

The son of the Lord High Counselor suppressed a sigh of irritation at himself and bit his tongue. Gingerly he rose, and, shifting his sister's weight on his arm, once again faced the endless darkness.

Prudence.

He had to save this situation if he could. There was continued silence while his brain worked feverishly at finding the right words in response to the god's next question. He did not know if he could get backing. Rumors of his allies and enemies abounded. For all he knew, he had no allies. They were all dead or slain in the taking. His greatest chance of success would be to have the nobles back him up. His second greatest option was raise a rebellion within the country. His third option would be to gain an alliance with someone, who was powerful enough to reinstate him. His fourth, and most distasteful optionwas to marry someone in line and hope for succession. (If he didn't die, get exiled, discovered, or fall into any other miriad of misfortunes, first.) So, no. He could not hope for backing. He could not, even, at this time, hope to be reasonably successful. That was why he was here.

To get help.

It wasn't like the people weren't desperate for a new ruler. They all hated Sir Gyle just as much if not more than he. His biggest obstacle, at the moment was getting back into his own country. As a boy...that was hard to do. He would have asked for an alliance, except that he didn't exactly trust the god of death. Call it cultural prejudice, but the fickle god was a little difficult to depend upon. He felt he was risking quite a lot just asking for passage into his own country.

Hoping his pause had not been...impolitely lengthy... he at last spoke.

"As it stands, the people will. But I do not know if the nobles will." With his backing... that was a tricky one. Shrake was well aware how the E'do felt about him. "...They wouldn't have to know you were in it..." he hedged. Perhaps, if he suggested anonymity, there would be a better reception to his suggestion. He would let the god open the suggestion of plans. Best to know how he stood.

--------------------------------

Kraven didn't know wether to be relieved by the sight of the children, or whether to wet his pants. The fact that the men had died inside the temple was indisputable. How they had died was another question. At who's hand was even more uncertain. Personally, the coward had his money on the god's direct intervention.

So it was that he finally decided to heave a sigh of relief. After all, how much harm could children do? He tried not to place too much significance on the fact that they belonged to Shrake.

Children or not, they were not very happy to see him.

Infact, they were downright aggressive. Like a military they fanned out and encircled him, forming a ring of spears. "I-I wish to make a deal with Shrake." Kevin tried his best to make that sound authoritarian and adult-like.

[Nemaisare]

Shrake waited with the patience of one who has all the time in the world for the young Stephan to pull himself together after what the laughter had done to his nerves. The god had not meant to do that, but the manner in which one laughed could not be helped. Soon enough, the boy had a hold of himself again and began to answer the important questions. And there was his answer.

The people would, but not the members of class and high nobility. It was likely beneath their dignity to pay attention to children. Had Shrake had a face, he would have smiled at the words that came next. As it was, it was likely a good thing he did not. Still… You would begin with a lie to your country? It was a good question. Maybe a little strange coming from the god of death, but then, the E’do held some harsh prejudices against him. Not that they weren’t mostly true…. He was asking the question only to test the boy’s resolve. His own opinion regarding whether or not his interference was public knowledge didn’t matter. Mostly because he didn’t care. He wouldn’t be doing this to gain in strength, but because one of his children asked it of him.

Finally, Shrake decided to stop waiting for the words to be spoken on their own time. There was something else to deal with now. A stranger on his doorstep, the last of those men who had invaded his temple. Tell me now, little one, what you would of me. He did not like meddling, but then, perhaps, that dislike would no longer serve him well in this case. If he wished to keep this child for himself, it seemed more of his children would die. Perhaps… Perhaps if he did this thing for the boy, he would be remembered differently by at least one man in E’do. And, strangely enough, that did matter to the god. It galled him to be judged by what he was without any margin for reshaping that judgment.

-----------------------------

Arya stared at the man for a moment. He looked like a fool, he probably was. But he’d survived, oddly enough. Fool’s luck, likely, which only re-enforced her opinion of him. He wanted to make a deal with Shrake? After what he’d just done? Suddenly, the hard-eyed young woman threw back her head and laughed, harshly. The others did not join in her display of amusement, and it only lasted for a moment before she shut her mouth abruptly and sneered at the man. “An’ what makes you think Shrake’s in’erested in th’likes of you?”

Theron heard the last of her question as he emerged slowly from the temple, and it made him curious, so he didn’t immediately do anything to call attention to himself. Arya had it all in hand anyhow, and Shrake wanted to know the answer to that question too. So he sat on the top step, setting his chin in his hands and his elbows on his knees, green eyes avidly bored as they stared at the man and awaited his reply. Many things waited on that answer, though he didn’t know it, but he did know that, no matter what words were spoken next, the man was marked for the same eternity of darkness and fears that the rest of his company had found. Just as were all those others who’d run away before. No matter what, no matter how long he lived after this, and, judging from Arya’s laughter that wouldn’t be long, he would find the gates closed to him. And Theron felt a certain satisfaction in that knowledge.

[E'doa A'nii]

Rowan resisted the urge to be indignant. A lie? No. He would not have to lie. For one thing, his people would not be concerned. If they were, he would deal with it then. After all, who would suspect? He knew the children for what they were, but others did not. Most anyone would see pain-hardened waifs left to fend for themselves. And even if the god chose to use his powers directly, no one would question the sudden death of a truly virulent man.

"...No..." He began carefully, "...I don't think that would be necessary..."

He hoped that his words would not be taken as insolence.

Thankfully, the god did not see them as so. He did, however seem to wish the discussion over, as he requested that Rowan get to the point. The boy prince had to consider this momentarily. Only for a brief moment, however, because he already had some idea.

"I need you to give me assistance back into my own country." Even if the god just helped him through the gate, he would be grateful. It was asking a favor; but not one so big that the payment would be too high. Not so small, as to be insignificant.

No, just getting back into the country would be enough. Surely, he could handle it from there.

---------------------------

The lone survivor of Sir Gyle's mightiest force paused at Arya's laughter. His situation was truly, not a light one. But then, Shrake was a cruel god. (In the view of certain mortals.) So perhaps he had some awful fate awaiting him. Kraven crushed that thought. Of course, not. With the power he had come to offer? His life would be spared in gratitude for the gift.

So he allowed himself a smile in return.

A smile that quickly vanished at her sneer. No matter. "Because, I offer him great revenge against the country that has wronged him." He would show this girl.