Post by Miss Jack on Feb 23, 2008 1:25:18 GMT -5
The air of the Eye of the World mountains had a chill to it that could pierce even the most hardy of Nightmares, and Alexander shivered despite himself as he climbed. The landscape had little to no vegetation; craggy, black and sharp. Just the trimmings to an already fatal setting. If you even stumble, it seemed to say, you’re dead.
It wasn’t cold, and he was already a walking furnace, but Alexander wished he’d bundled up more. His skin felt too close to the atmosphere.
Everything looked the same, and it was dark without being night. He almost missed the opening, and would have, probably, if his hand hadn’t slipped through it. He caught himself before losing his balance, glancing down the mountainside below him with a forced calm. Yeah. He definitely would have been shish-ka-bobbed on that spike before actually hitting the bottom.
He hauled himself through the hole with a soft grunt, and promptly tumbled down the steep tunnel. Digging his heels in, he clumsily stopped his progress, holding up two flaming fingers like a mini flesh torch. Now illuminated, the cave looked small, its walls cold and damp. On the side of one wall ran an oil trough. Alexander stood to his feet, licking his lips, and dipped a finger in. Instantly, a trail of fire blazed along the wall and disappeared around a corner.
He glanced behind him once, at the small hole above his head, the last glimpse of a purple sky, and followed the line of fire.
The small tunnel only lasted a few minutes before opening up into a rocky arena. The top of the cave arched high, and it had at least a mile of radius. And there, in the center, looking like the lamp straight out of Aladdin, was a small, crumbling podium, a pillar of dusty light spotlighting its prize. The source of the light was something of a mystery, but Alexander’s focus had been whittled to allow only one thing through.
“Hello.” He smiled, greeting it like an old friend.
Crumbled porcelain, contained in a tiny, clear prism, balanced itself atop an elaborate stand. The remnants of the Mask of Death, the only known artifact to purify and isolate Nightmare power. Finally destroyed and imprisoned by King Jack himself.
Alexander approached the podium, lifting the prism up in two fingers, the light making his hand pale. The stand was carved stone, and the bottom foundation had a series of ancient runes carved into them. Instructions.
A smirk warped his mouth, eyes glinting orange in the shadow of the light.
“Sorry, pops,” he said to the cave, and pushed in the trick lever.
-------------------------
A tremor rippled through the Isle of Morpheus. Small--- you probably wouldn’t notice it if there wasn’t something hanging from your chest giving a responding pulse that struck your chest like lightning. Neck deep in paperwork he a) didn’t understand, b) didn’t care about, and c) was going to pawn off to Simon anyway, Jack jerked at the sudden force.
He cursed, the expletive rolling out as he rubbed his collar bone, staring down at the Jewel of Ages suspiciously. “…the hell?”
He glanced at the window, just in time to the sky above the Eye of the World turn red, and a flash of lightning to pierce the sky. Frowning, he stood up, walking to the window. The jagged peaks of the Eye of the World mountains loomed in the distance, and above it the sky was rolling.
He felt as if a file was being scraped down his spine.
“Not possible,” he told himself, but he was not convinced. Dread twisting knots in his stomach, he ran out the door, never mind that he’d told his feet to walk. He nearly collided with his son as he flew down the hall.
“Armand-- good, come with me.”
“What’s wrong?” Concern leaked into the sharp, blue eyes.
“I think someone’s tapping into the Mask.”
Armand froze, and just as quickly, glowered. “Alexander.”
Jack’s brain came to a sudden halt, the thousand and one assumptions and worries doing roller coaster rides in his head temporarily forgotten. His jaw tensed, eyes narrowing. “What?”
“I know it’s him,” Armand said quietly. His frustration was concealed in the calm of his voice, but just barely.
“I’ll kill him,” Jack bit off, and together they headed for the Eye of the World mountains.
------------------
Almost done. All he had to do now was actually shatter the stupid thing. His own fist would probably do it.
He felt the arrow coming before he saw it. He whipped around and it burst into flame, entirely disintegrating in mid air. The remaining ashes would have hit him in the face, but he manipulated it to split and sail passed on either side of his head. A smoky veil, slowly revealing two smoldering eyes.
Armand met the look unaffected and didn’t lower his bow.
Alexander’s eyes backed from the hold of their standoff first, flicking to Armand’s side where Jack stood.
The foundation of the cave was shaking, and an eclectic mass of dark magic was ricocheting off the stones, invisible but for the tremor in the air they left.
Jack took a step forward, and Alexander tensed. “Don’t,” he warned.
Jack raised an eyebrow, face calm, but the fury in the orange eyes belied any hint that he was merely amused.
“You’re an idiot,” Jack said. “You don’t know what you’re playing with.”
Resentment flashed across the younger prince’s face. “You don’t know what I know,” he answered.
Jack continued toward him, and the Jewel of Ages glowed silver. “It would kill you,” he said, keeping his voice even.
Alexander raised the prism in his hand, and took a defiant step away from his approaching father. Jack’s fists clenched and he struggled to maintain his temper. The jewel at his neck pulsed, and when he spoke, his voice had the metallic rasp of voices not his own echoing behind it. “Don’t tempt me, Alexander.”
Armand shifted uneasily. Not helping, Dad, he thought. Alexander and Jack had never been able to see how alike they were, and Jack was only going to push Alexander further like this.
“Let it go,” Jack barely managed to grind the words out.
Alexander’s eyes darkened. “No.”
“Alex---”
The glass shattered beneath his contracted fist, the shards sprinkling off his fingers. Alexander smirked and Jack froze. Horrified and furious and scared for his son, Jack waited, but nothing happened. Alexander frowned, opening his palm to look at the pieces of the Mask. Jack didn’t dare breathe. Unless there was a specific target for the magic in the mask to connect with, then it should affect the person touching it directly. And since there were no Night Terrors nearby, Alexander should be---
A cry of pain broke through his train of thoughts. His and Alexander’s eyes met for the briefest instant before both turned. Armand’s bow clattered to the ground and he fell to his knees with a low groan that seemed to reverberate from the stones themselves. His hunched form trembled.
“Armand?” Alexander’s eyes widened, and for the first time, appeared debased.
A beat passed and an eerie calm seemed to wash over the cave. Jack felt a dread like he never had before, but he couldn’t find the sense to react on it yet. There was a flash. A flash of light, or thunderous sound, or shock of the earth beneath their feet. It was hard to tell, because that was when Armand screamed.
Except the sound that shot through them both, a haunting, awful sound, couldn’t possibly belong to Armand. After that, everything happened fast. Armand’s eyes were glowing and blood leaked from the corners of his wide, maniacal grin. A flurry of wind whipped through the air as if he were the source of it, forming a nice, impenetrable tornado around him. A shadow loomed behind him, around him, in him, and it was the shape of a creature that wasn’t the Armand they knew. A monster.
“Oh my god…” Jack withheld the urge to vomit, and went to rush toward Armand, but a blast of power knocked both he and Alexander off their feet.
“What’s wrong with him?” Alexander shouted over the wind, looking at his brother with a mixture of fear and awe.
Armand laughed and it didn’t seem to come from his mouth. It echoed around the cave, an otherworldly sound that chilled your ears. Crush, crush, crush…. His hair had long ago broke free of its band and whipped into his face, breaking through his gleaming eyes.
“We have to stop him,” Jack choked. He was going to be sick. He couldn’t do it to his own son. But what choice did he have? An unchecked, newborn Night Terror running rampant could massacre entire towns.
Jack’s eyes lost their pupil, and the Jewel of Ages sprung to life. The king stood to his feet, and pushed the wind away from him with a simple gesture of his hand, as if he were merely flicking a fly away.
“Dad, no--! What are you doing?” Alexander said, struggling to follow after him, barely making it to his knees. He’d seen “Jewel of Ages King” before, and if Jack Ira was resorting to tapping into the past king’s powers, then it was serious.
And quite suddenly, a lull appeared in the chaos, like a pulse that momentarily froze time. Jack paused, returning to himself a little. Armand withdrew his sword. His smile was gone, but his eyes were still white and hot. Jack tensed defensively, and behind him Alexander gave a low hiss, still on his knees.
The blade twisted gracefully in the master’s hand. It glinted, high, above his head, and then Armand plunged it deep into his own stomach. Jack’s knees gave out.
The rushing vortex of power sojourned and seemed to fall away like rain. Armand’s eyes once more were blue, clear and bright with agony. Hand shaking violently, he managed to grip the hilt with enough force to tug the blade free. He gasped and drops of crimson rolled off the steel and hit stone ground. The sword clattered to the ground. One hand began the descent to cover his wound, but before it made it, he stumbled, and collapsed onto the ground.
Alexander couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He felt like something was dying inside him. No-- something inside him was dying. “Armand!” He scrambled to his feet and ran, tripping and falling against his brother’s side. Panic clutched his lungs, and he gripped Armand’s shoulders, holding him against his lap. Armand’s eyes were closed, his face a ghostly white.
Jack appeared at Armand’s other side. Alexander had never seen him like this. He looked lost. “Armand…” he whispered, and pressed a hand to his son’s face, feeling like only a father can when his child’s blood stains the ground in an increasing amount.
Armand coughed, and blood spurted from his lips. His eyes fluttered. “He’s alive,” Jack whispered, and promptly hoisted Armand against his arm, pulling him up. “The wound,” he said and Alexander ripped off his sleeve, wrapping it around Armand’s torso.
“I… can’t….” Armand croaked.
“Shut up,” Jack commanded curtly. Armand obeyed, eyes sinking closed once more.
Together they carried him from the cave, as gently as possible, but Alexander still cringed with every gasp of pain that escaped Armand’s lips. The Isle of Morpheus was feeling the weight of her king’s fury. Storms struck and departed, the ground seemed to tremor.
“Dad,” Alexander whispered, sounding like a child. “I’m sorry…”
“Don’t,” Jack growled, barely sparing him a glance, but the look in his eyes for even that brief instant was enough. Alexander stared at the ground, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood.
It wasn’t cold, and he was already a walking furnace, but Alexander wished he’d bundled up more. His skin felt too close to the atmosphere.
Everything looked the same, and it was dark without being night. He almost missed the opening, and would have, probably, if his hand hadn’t slipped through it. He caught himself before losing his balance, glancing down the mountainside below him with a forced calm. Yeah. He definitely would have been shish-ka-bobbed on that spike before actually hitting the bottom.
He hauled himself through the hole with a soft grunt, and promptly tumbled down the steep tunnel. Digging his heels in, he clumsily stopped his progress, holding up two flaming fingers like a mini flesh torch. Now illuminated, the cave looked small, its walls cold and damp. On the side of one wall ran an oil trough. Alexander stood to his feet, licking his lips, and dipped a finger in. Instantly, a trail of fire blazed along the wall and disappeared around a corner.
He glanced behind him once, at the small hole above his head, the last glimpse of a purple sky, and followed the line of fire.
The small tunnel only lasted a few minutes before opening up into a rocky arena. The top of the cave arched high, and it had at least a mile of radius. And there, in the center, looking like the lamp straight out of Aladdin, was a small, crumbling podium, a pillar of dusty light spotlighting its prize. The source of the light was something of a mystery, but Alexander’s focus had been whittled to allow only one thing through.
“Hello.” He smiled, greeting it like an old friend.
Crumbled porcelain, contained in a tiny, clear prism, balanced itself atop an elaborate stand. The remnants of the Mask of Death, the only known artifact to purify and isolate Nightmare power. Finally destroyed and imprisoned by King Jack himself.
Alexander approached the podium, lifting the prism up in two fingers, the light making his hand pale. The stand was carved stone, and the bottom foundation had a series of ancient runes carved into them. Instructions.
A smirk warped his mouth, eyes glinting orange in the shadow of the light.
“Sorry, pops,” he said to the cave, and pushed in the trick lever.
-------------------------
A tremor rippled through the Isle of Morpheus. Small--- you probably wouldn’t notice it if there wasn’t something hanging from your chest giving a responding pulse that struck your chest like lightning. Neck deep in paperwork he a) didn’t understand, b) didn’t care about, and c) was going to pawn off to Simon anyway, Jack jerked at the sudden force.
He cursed, the expletive rolling out as he rubbed his collar bone, staring down at the Jewel of Ages suspiciously. “…the hell?”
He glanced at the window, just in time to the sky above the Eye of the World turn red, and a flash of lightning to pierce the sky. Frowning, he stood up, walking to the window. The jagged peaks of the Eye of the World mountains loomed in the distance, and above it the sky was rolling.
He felt as if a file was being scraped down his spine.
“Not possible,” he told himself, but he was not convinced. Dread twisting knots in his stomach, he ran out the door, never mind that he’d told his feet to walk. He nearly collided with his son as he flew down the hall.
“Armand-- good, come with me.”
“What’s wrong?” Concern leaked into the sharp, blue eyes.
“I think someone’s tapping into the Mask.”
Armand froze, and just as quickly, glowered. “Alexander.”
Jack’s brain came to a sudden halt, the thousand and one assumptions and worries doing roller coaster rides in his head temporarily forgotten. His jaw tensed, eyes narrowing. “What?”
“I know it’s him,” Armand said quietly. His frustration was concealed in the calm of his voice, but just barely.
“I’ll kill him,” Jack bit off, and together they headed for the Eye of the World mountains.
------------------
Almost done. All he had to do now was actually shatter the stupid thing. His own fist would probably do it.
He felt the arrow coming before he saw it. He whipped around and it burst into flame, entirely disintegrating in mid air. The remaining ashes would have hit him in the face, but he manipulated it to split and sail passed on either side of his head. A smoky veil, slowly revealing two smoldering eyes.
Armand met the look unaffected and didn’t lower his bow.
Alexander’s eyes backed from the hold of their standoff first, flicking to Armand’s side where Jack stood.
The foundation of the cave was shaking, and an eclectic mass of dark magic was ricocheting off the stones, invisible but for the tremor in the air they left.
Jack took a step forward, and Alexander tensed. “Don’t,” he warned.
Jack raised an eyebrow, face calm, but the fury in the orange eyes belied any hint that he was merely amused.
“You’re an idiot,” Jack said. “You don’t know what you’re playing with.”
Resentment flashed across the younger prince’s face. “You don’t know what I know,” he answered.
Jack continued toward him, and the Jewel of Ages glowed silver. “It would kill you,” he said, keeping his voice even.
Alexander raised the prism in his hand, and took a defiant step away from his approaching father. Jack’s fists clenched and he struggled to maintain his temper. The jewel at his neck pulsed, and when he spoke, his voice had the metallic rasp of voices not his own echoing behind it. “Don’t tempt me, Alexander.”
Armand shifted uneasily. Not helping, Dad, he thought. Alexander and Jack had never been able to see how alike they were, and Jack was only going to push Alexander further like this.
“Let it go,” Jack barely managed to grind the words out.
Alexander’s eyes darkened. “No.”
“Alex---”
The glass shattered beneath his contracted fist, the shards sprinkling off his fingers. Alexander smirked and Jack froze. Horrified and furious and scared for his son, Jack waited, but nothing happened. Alexander frowned, opening his palm to look at the pieces of the Mask. Jack didn’t dare breathe. Unless there was a specific target for the magic in the mask to connect with, then it should affect the person touching it directly. And since there were no Night Terrors nearby, Alexander should be---
A cry of pain broke through his train of thoughts. His and Alexander’s eyes met for the briefest instant before both turned. Armand’s bow clattered to the ground and he fell to his knees with a low groan that seemed to reverberate from the stones themselves. His hunched form trembled.
“Armand?” Alexander’s eyes widened, and for the first time, appeared debased.
A beat passed and an eerie calm seemed to wash over the cave. Jack felt a dread like he never had before, but he couldn’t find the sense to react on it yet. There was a flash. A flash of light, or thunderous sound, or shock of the earth beneath their feet. It was hard to tell, because that was when Armand screamed.
Except the sound that shot through them both, a haunting, awful sound, couldn’t possibly belong to Armand. After that, everything happened fast. Armand’s eyes were glowing and blood leaked from the corners of his wide, maniacal grin. A flurry of wind whipped through the air as if he were the source of it, forming a nice, impenetrable tornado around him. A shadow loomed behind him, around him, in him, and it was the shape of a creature that wasn’t the Armand they knew. A monster.
“Oh my god…” Jack withheld the urge to vomit, and went to rush toward Armand, but a blast of power knocked both he and Alexander off their feet.
“What’s wrong with him?” Alexander shouted over the wind, looking at his brother with a mixture of fear and awe.
Armand laughed and it didn’t seem to come from his mouth. It echoed around the cave, an otherworldly sound that chilled your ears. Crush, crush, crush…. His hair had long ago broke free of its band and whipped into his face, breaking through his gleaming eyes.
“We have to stop him,” Jack choked. He was going to be sick. He couldn’t do it to his own son. But what choice did he have? An unchecked, newborn Night Terror running rampant could massacre entire towns.
Jack’s eyes lost their pupil, and the Jewel of Ages sprung to life. The king stood to his feet, and pushed the wind away from him with a simple gesture of his hand, as if he were merely flicking a fly away.
“Dad, no--! What are you doing?” Alexander said, struggling to follow after him, barely making it to his knees. He’d seen “Jewel of Ages King” before, and if Jack Ira was resorting to tapping into the past king’s powers, then it was serious.
And quite suddenly, a lull appeared in the chaos, like a pulse that momentarily froze time. Jack paused, returning to himself a little. Armand withdrew his sword. His smile was gone, but his eyes were still white and hot. Jack tensed defensively, and behind him Alexander gave a low hiss, still on his knees.
The blade twisted gracefully in the master’s hand. It glinted, high, above his head, and then Armand plunged it deep into his own stomach. Jack’s knees gave out.
The rushing vortex of power sojourned and seemed to fall away like rain. Armand’s eyes once more were blue, clear and bright with agony. Hand shaking violently, he managed to grip the hilt with enough force to tug the blade free. He gasped and drops of crimson rolled off the steel and hit stone ground. The sword clattered to the ground. One hand began the descent to cover his wound, but before it made it, he stumbled, and collapsed onto the ground.
Alexander couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He felt like something was dying inside him. No-- something inside him was dying. “Armand!” He scrambled to his feet and ran, tripping and falling against his brother’s side. Panic clutched his lungs, and he gripped Armand’s shoulders, holding him against his lap. Armand’s eyes were closed, his face a ghostly white.
Jack appeared at Armand’s other side. Alexander had never seen him like this. He looked lost. “Armand…” he whispered, and pressed a hand to his son’s face, feeling like only a father can when his child’s blood stains the ground in an increasing amount.
Armand coughed, and blood spurted from his lips. His eyes fluttered. “He’s alive,” Jack whispered, and promptly hoisted Armand against his arm, pulling him up. “The wound,” he said and Alexander ripped off his sleeve, wrapping it around Armand’s torso.
“I… can’t….” Armand croaked.
“Shut up,” Jack commanded curtly. Armand obeyed, eyes sinking closed once more.
Together they carried him from the cave, as gently as possible, but Alexander still cringed with every gasp of pain that escaped Armand’s lips. The Isle of Morpheus was feeling the weight of her king’s fury. Storms struck and departed, the ground seemed to tremor.
“Dad,” Alexander whispered, sounding like a child. “I’m sorry…”
“Don’t,” Jack growled, barely sparing him a glance, but the look in his eyes for even that brief instant was enough. Alexander stared at the ground, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood.