Beneath the Greying Cliffs

Part 1

Caled laughed aloud. "So tell me what it's like."

His two companions threw him tired, irritated glances. "Tell you what what is like?" asked Manix from where he sat with his back to a tree.

Caled eyed the older man with a faint smile. "Tell me what it's like to die."

The Elder regarded him curiously. "Why would you like to know? Developing a conscience?"

"I have no room for a conscience," Caled replied simply.

Manix raised an eyebrow at that, but decided not to comment. "Toying with the idea of killing yourself, then?"

A bark of laughter came from the stream, where the fourth member of their party--a slender man dressed in shades of grey and black--stood at the water's edge. "That's hoping for a bit much, don't you think?" asked Hadrian, traces of bitterness in his voice.

Fire flashed in Caled's blue eyes. Only Manix caught it, wondering if the mercenary was aware of how much he revealed. He watched the lines around Caled's mouth deepen as he prepared a retort. Manix sighed. He could see where this was going.

"I don't remember the moment," the ageless mage replied, preferring to answer than listen to another exchange of barbs between his two companions. "I was in the midst of a Casting, conjoined with several other Elders. The moment of actual death was brief, I have been told. I was pulled back quickly." He passed a hand across the rough fabric of his robes. "One moment I was disembodied, the next I was back in this one."

Syellen, who had been listening rapt beside him, raised a hand as if to touch her master's hair. "The act aged your body somewhat, didn't it?" she asked. "Changed your hair to mostly silver." She blushed slightly. "It's lovely, actually. Suits you very well."

Manix smiled, recognizing the slight worship in his acolyte's voice. Four years of tutelage under him had not dimmed Syellen's fascination with him. She was young yet, younger than both Hadrian and Caled. She would soon learn that there was another soul in the world meant for her. Until then, Manix was intent not to hurt her feelings.

"Before the Casting I had hair like Hadrian's." Manix gave a self-deprecating smile. "Now, I may be mistaken for his father." A slight jest, that, because the handsome mage was in truth old enough to be Hadrian's great-great-grandfather.

"If you were his father, none of us would be here," Caled snapped.

Syellen smiled wistfully and turned to look at the irritated mercenary, who leaned against a tree across from where she and Manix sat. "Why are you asking? You've killed enough people to have drawn your own conclusions about what death is like."

Caled pulled out a dagger and used it to clean beneath his fingernails. "I'm asking for Hadrian's sake. I don't want him unnecessarily concerned when it's his turn to pass."

His eyes traveled to the black-haired man who stood in thoughtful contemplation of the stream. They had ridden all day and yet Hadrian had refused to join the others and relax. Caled smiled a little as his eyes traveled the younger man's profile. He knew his presence bothered Hadrian. He was glad of it. It was part of the reason Caled was here. The other part...his hand tightened on the hilt of his dagger. That would come later.

"Can't you leave off of baiting each other for an hour?" Syellen sighed. The young apprentice pushed her flame-red hair from her face. "You have no idea how tiresome it is to hear you two constantly tear at each other. I can't believe you still have the energy for it after all the riding we've done."

Caled ignored her, knowing how much it would anger her. Syellen was young and highly excitable. If she weren't Manix's apprentice, Caled would have found a way to abandon her long ago. That, and the fact the girl could probably magick him in some particularly uncomfortable fashion.

"Think of this as just another lesson," Manix said pleasantly. His black eyes rested fondly on his apprentice. "Caled and Hadrian are teaching you something, you simply have to determine what it is. Their behavior can be very revealing, if you but know what to look for."

Caled wished very much he could let fly with his dagger. He hated when the mage made comments like that. "Oh, yes," Caled scoffed. "If you look closely enough, dear Sy, you will see in my eyes all the ways in which I plan to make Hades' life a living hell once we find his accursed father."

"You mean you haven't begun already?" Hadrian asked wearily, leaving the stream and joining them. "You could have fooled me."

Caled spun the hilt of his dagger upon his opened palm. He smiled grimly. One flick. That's all it would take. The mercenary had taken out more men than he could remember with just such a move. Hadrian met his eyes and smiled, knowing exactly what was going on in Caled's head. No magick was required to read the fury and vengeance printed so plainly across the mercenary's face. Caled never bothered to hide it.

Caled let the dagger fall into his palm. Unfortunately, as much as he would like to satisfy his needs for revenge, there was the slight matter of the geas.

Helplessness and fury raged in him as he recalled the binding spell Manix had cast upon him in order to save the sorcerer's life. "Kill Hadrian and you yourself will die," Manix had explained succinctly. "I will release you when when we find Gavedon. Then, you may do as you like."

He couldn't kill Hadrian, but that didn't mean he couldn't hurt the grey-eyed sorcerer.

"I've only been playing with you, Hades," Caled replied, using the nickname that fit all to well, mostly because it seemed to irritate the sorcerer. "When I really want you to suffer, believe me, you will know it."

Hadrian's amusement faded. His mouth tightened for a moment. "One day, you will tire of this. Maybe then you will understand that I am paying for my sins in ways you can never better."

"I doubt that," Caled retorted, but his eyes remained on Hadrian, unable to look away. It was moments like this when the sorcerer unnerved Caled. Those wide, bewitching grey eyes that could be as cold as stone one moment could just as swiftly become as soft and reflective as rain. Caled realized that it happened whenever Hadrian thought about magicking. A yearning, bottomless sorrow seemed to come over him that transformed his cool beauty into something that addled Caled's senses. In those moments, Hadrian was once again the beautiful young man Caled had nearly lost his heart to in Rhiad.

A memory floated to the top of his awareness. It was of Hadrian, laying amidst the hay of the loft, bits of straw entangled in that glorious raven mane. He was looking up at Caled and his cheeks were flushed. He was laughing, short of breath, because Caled had just tried to kiss him senseless. Laughing...When was the last time either of them had laughed? Not since Rhiad.

It seemed like a century ago. With a swift excision of his feelings, Caled reminded himself that it was those same high cheekbones, that same soft mouth that had been backlit by the raging flames that consumed the Mercenary Guild. The same fires that killed most of Caled's friends. Caled easily brought to mind the image of Hadrian standing amidst the carnage, his grey eyes empty of emotion as he razed half the town to the ground. A fair face would not protect Hadrian. Caled would see him punished.

"You know nothing of me," Hadrian continued stonily, his expression closing off. "You have become fixated on a truth you think is absolute. What would happen," he said in a cold, sharp voice, "if you ever discovered that you were wrong? What if you learned that the lines you've drawn aren't as crisp as you imagine them to be?"

Caled stepped up to him, using the advantage of height to crowd the younger man. "Trying to convince me you're innocent? It's a little late for that. You forget: I was there and I saw what you did. That line you're trying to blur is as sharp as the blade I'll bury in your back one day."

Hadrian's eyes burned like molten mercury. Concerned, Manix opened his mouth to speak, but the dark-haired sorcerer turned on his heel and retreated to the stream.

"Running away?" Caled taunted. The mercenary hesitated, then, to Manix's irritation, strode after the other man.

"At least they'll be out of earshot so we won't have to hear them," Syellen muttered.

Manix looked down at her with a surprised smile. "I suppose you're right. How fortunate for us."

He settled back against the tree and watched the men confront each other as they had done constantly since embarking upon this mission. They had come to blows only a few times since the terrible business with the vinegla. Their memories of what had happened in that forest were suppressed, just as he'd intended. But though neither man was aware that Caled's hatred had nearly ended this mission just as it had begun, the animosity simmered there, just beneath the surface. The Elder knew he needed to keep a sharp eye on them to prevent fisticuffs from escalating to a deadly repeat of events.

Hadrian frowned at the water as Caled came up behind him. He could feel the blonde mercenary's animosity like a source of heat against his back. He refused to turn. "I am weary of you today," Hadrian told him. "Isn't there an animal about that you can kill to slake your bloodlust?"

"The only thing that fits that description is you," Caled purred.

Hadrian resisted the shiver that wanted to ripple across his skin. Too easy, sometimes, to remember that same voice speaking words of lust instead of hate. He had used to enjoy the sound of Caled's voice, its husky timber that hinted at sinful pleasures Hadrian yearned to discover. Odd, how his voice did not sound so much different when forming words of anger.

"Turn around, Hades."

He closed his eyes at the command. "Leave me alone," he muttered. "Your obsession bores me."

The sorcerer's eyes shot open as a hand fisted in his hair and yanked his head back. He tried not to wince as Caled pulled his neck into a painful arch. His gloved hands grabbed at the mercenary's wrist. "Let me go!"

Warm breath drifted across his cheek, the sensation so unexpectedly sensual that Hadrian momentarily stopped fighting the grip on his hair. "You've got a lovely neck," Caled whispered. His free hand lightly stroked the sharp curve of the sorcerer's throat. Hadrian shivered, suddenly remembering intimate touches that he knew were best left forgotten. He gasped as Caled's lips grazed the side of his neck. They settled at the artery in his throat and the wild pulse that jumped there. "You feel this?" Caled breathed. His tongue ran up the length of the beating artery. Hadrian shuddered and pulled desperately at the grip holding his head. "Do you know, Hades, how badly I'd like to run the length of my dagger across this pretty piece of flesh and watch you bleed?"

Anger and frustration surged in Hadrian. They fueled the elbow he rammed backwards into the other man's chest. Caled let out a gasp as the wind was knocked out of him. Hadrian whipped free of the man's slack grip, rubbing his throat to obliterate the mercenary's touch from his skin.

Holding his diaphragm as he struggled for breath, Caled grinned ruefully in the face of Hadrian's fury. "That's the only thing I like about you, Hades. You're a challenge. When it comes to the moment when I kill you, I know you won't make it easy for me."

Hadrian's glare was icy. Not bothering to respond, he stalked back to the others in disgust.

Caled watched him go, a dark part of him pleased by Hadrian's response. Goading the raven-haired sorcerer satisfied a need in him that Caled knew better than to study too closely. He knew simply that he needed to do it. Joining this mission gave him ample opportunity.

Blithely ignoring Syellen's smirk as he returned to camp rubbing at his sternum, Caled pulled his daggers with the intention of practicing his throwing skills. Just as he was picturing Hadrian tied helpless to a tree, Manix suddenly rose to his feet. "Something approaches," he said, pulling up Syellen. "Fieran."

Hadrian, who had been sitting by himself several yards away, stood up and joined them. "Fieran?" He frowned, looking to the sky. "We are a fortnight from the Fanawel. Fieran don't stray this far from the mountains."

"Apparently this one has," Syellen muttered, drawing close to her master.

Caled tucked away the daggers and drew his sword. "Only one?"

Manix nodded. "From the north."

Hadrian's eyes narrowed. "The north?"

"There!" Syellen cried, pointing to a shadow above the trees.

Caled flexed his knees, weight balanced on the balls of his feet. He was not a particular fan of Fieran. Those few he had encountered had been messy to dispatch and had left the marks of their encounters upon his body. Grimly, he spared a glance for his companions. Not a one could wield a sword. Useless, all of them.

Perhaps not all. Manix raised his hand, speaking ancient words beneath his breath. A ball of heat surrounded the group, growing larger and traveling outwards like a ripple in a lake. There was a screech overhead and a black body fell to the ground, striking the earth with a heavy thud. Caled caught a glimpse of great leathery wings and rippling scales before his attention was seized by the long serpentine tail that whipped before him.

He jumped to the side and hacked at the appendage with his sword. Hot, black blood spurted over the ground, darkening his blade. He sidestepped the pool and struck out again, burying the length in firm, thrashing flesh.

"Look out!" Syellen shouted as the Fieran's head swung towards them.

A great golden orb with an obsidian pupil stared at them. The gaping mouth beneath gnashed a mouthful of dagger-like teeth.

"Aren't you a lovely thing," Caled muttered to himself. The Fieran's single eye followed Manix and Syellen as they ran across the clearing. Caled took advantage of the distraction to hack at the extended neck that was as thick as a large tree limb. More hot blood gushed, soaking Caled to the elbows. He cursed beneath his breath as the head snapped around to him.

"Come on," he hissed, holding his ground as the Fieran's great wings flapped once, stirring up a wind that whipped dirt and debris into Caled's face. "I'm done with this game."

The Fieran's head shot forward, teeth snapping. Caled jumped aside, barely dodging the assault. The mercenary scrabbled across the ground, slipping in the pools of blood. A whoosh of air over his shoulder as another bite missed his shoulder. Too close...

The Fieran let out a sudden shriek. Caled looked up to see the hilt of a dagger protruding from the corner of the beast's lone eye. The Fieran sought the source of this latest attack and found Hadrian, braced beside a tree.

For a moment, Caled hesitated as the Fieran approached the unarmed sorcerer. It wouldn't be difficult to wait a second too long. A second to allow the beast to do with Hadrian as it would. Caled could say it had been an accident. Unavoidable. It was Hadrian's fault for not having any skill with the sword.

But there was still the matter of the geas. If Hadrian died, Caled would die.

Frustration welled up in Caled. It lent strength to his strike against the Fieran's bared neck. The blade sliced deep. The Fieran let out a wail that scratched across Caled's spine like the bony fingertips of Death. He stood, gasping for breath, as the Fieran's head dropped to the ground in a puff of dust. The black wings beat weakly against the dirt as Caled stepped up to the head. He raised his eyes to Hadrian's and held the gaze as he drove his sword into the back of the Fieran's skull.

This could have been you.

He knew Hadrian understood the message in his eyes. The sorcerer nodded almost imperceptibly, his face emotionless. Caled wanted to laugh. Hadrian was indebted to him. How grand. He spun on his heel and headed for the stream to clean himself.

Hadrian watched him go, his stomach twisting. He would have congratulated or even thanked the blond-haired mercenary if he thought it would be received without mockery. As it was, he could say nothing. Caled's feelings toward him held no room for acts of friendship or respect. Hadrian would be wasting his breath.

Weary of such thoughts, he approached the fallen Fieran. The black-scaled body was not a danger to them any longer. Caled's blow had been true. Hadrian stood by the head, which was larger than a horse's, and willed the single eye to open. If it suddenly came to life and seized him by the throat, would he care? Would anyone else? Manix would be disappointed, yes, but only because it would hamper the mage's mission, nothing more.

Resigned to the fact that the beast was, in fact, quite dead and would have no chance of killing him, Hadrian extended a hand to the reflective scales. Unable to help himself, he tugged off one of his gloves. He flexed his fingers, savoring the feel of cool air against his skin. He touched a single scale, letting his fingertips caress the smooth surface and trace its jagged edges. The sensation was as erotic as a lover's touch. It sent shivers across his skin, reminding him of how long it had been since he had last touched anything with his bare hand...

"This is only a youngling," Manix commented, stepping up beside him.

Hadrian retracted his hand, swiftly drawing on his glove. He felt the mage's eyes upon him and refused to look up, afraid of the pity he would see there.

"Caled dealt with it easily enough," Hadrian concurred, steeling his features. "You said this came from the north. Does that not bother you?"

Syellen had squeezed her way between the two men and now regarded the Fieran with disgust. "Perhaps it circled 'round."

"Perhaps," Hadrian murmured. But it still disturbed him to find the beast so far from the Fanawel Mountains where such creatures nested. They were mountains which lay to the southwest. With gloved hands, he absently touched a scale discolored by a scar.

"It's dead, leave it to rot," Caled said, striding from the trees. His tunic was wet and dark from immersion in the stream. "Your fascination with death grows wearisome, Hades."

Hadrian spared him a dark glare. Caled merely smirked at him.

"I thought that was more your interest," Hadrian returned evenly. "You're the dealer of Death. And so willingly, might I add. Any coin will do."

"It's honest compared to the ways in which you have taken life, Hades."

"Sometimes we don't have a choice in what we do," Hadrian replied, feeling his head begin to throb.

"Are you trying to convince me you were helpless back in Rhiad?" Caled murmured. "For I know better."

To Manix and Syellen's ears, Caled was referring to the Scourge that had decimated the Mercenary Guild. But Hadrian heard otherwise. The blue eyes that mocked him were daring Hadrian to remember a time before that fateful night. When those same blue eyes had looked upon Hadrian with desire and need and Hadrian had responded likewise. Hadrian shivered, facing the Fieran again. No, he refused to think on that time. It inevitably led to thoughts of the destruction that had occurred later. He had enough nightmares already.

He turned away, ignoring Caled's shoulder as it brushed his own. "Something on your mind, Hades?"

He knew Caled was trying to find ways to torture him. Hadrian could not afford to give him any help in the matter.

"What is this?" he said abruptly, tugging on the scale he had been holding. With a forceful jerk, he pulled the scale free. It was as large as his hand and shimmered iridescently. But what caught Hadrian's eye was the scar, which he had initially assumed to be a souvenir of fights with other Fieran. Upon closer inspection, it looked to be man-made.

Syellen extended a hand and traced the markings. "It looks almost like a brand."

"No, not a brand," Manix said grimly, taking the scale from Hadrian. He held it to the sunlight, studying it carefully. "This is the mark of a compulsion. Someone has forced this beast to find and attack us." He frowned. "And by the look of this searing, I'd say Gavedon was one of those who had a hand in it."

Hadrian studied the mark, disquieted. "No, Gavedon would not resort to such inconsistent methods. Nor would he have chosen such a young Fieran for the task. He would send a legion of adults." He shook his head. "He would not even send Fieran at all. He would do it himself."

"Gavedon can compel more than one adult Fieran?" Syellen looked skeptical.

You have no idea, Hadrian wanted to tell the young apprentice. You have not seen true power such as Gavedon yields. But he could not tell Syellen that. The girl studied under Manix, who was an Elder. The Elders were the self-appointed wardens of magickal practice in Juxtan. Theirs was a rigid, formulaic magick, confined by the use of spells and ritual. What Gavedon and his followers -- indeed, what Hadrian used -- was far more volatile and morally questionable. Blasphemy, the Elders thought. It would not do to drive this point home to Syellen now.

"This is not his work," Hadrian reiterated simply. "I'd guess that he merely gave his blessing on this compulsion. Someone else is attempting to assist him in their own way."

Manix pocketed the scale. "Hadrian's right. This is not Gavedon's hand, but I do not recognize the mark. We are not far from Tagwar. Perhaps we will find some answers there."

"Tagwar," Caled said with thinly veiled disgust. "We grow ever nearer your beloved home, Hadrian."

Hadrian didn't answer. He had no home. He had seen to that quite effectively.