Dark Armor: Another Departure

"Why didn't you tell me they were real?" asked third-princess Ashmiren, as they followed the gathered elders down through the undercrypts and out to the eastern caverns."I'd have... I don't know. Made ill-advised promises for a chance to see them, let alone ride one."

"I honestly wasn't sure," Pallian replied. "They were a story, like that ancient goldfish in the pools."

"Does this happen often?" asked Ember. "Where you do not know what is true about the place in which you live?"

Pallian and Ashmiren exchanged a glance. "Yes," said Pallian. "Surprisingly often. Is that different from your experience?"

Ember considered that. "No," it said after a moment. "Not in any way that matters. I had... I had hoped it would be different here."

"So had I," muttered Pallian, and Ashmiren smiled and touched his hand. 

"Your father has done poorly by you," she said. "Not all the noble houses are like that."

Pallian looked ahead, then looked back to her. "Too many of them are."

Ember considered that for a long moment, then said: "So we should avoid them. Especially since they will seek to learn my name and bind me to their service."

Pallian and Ashmiren exchanged a glance. They didn't say anything, but Pallian saw it in her eyes: they were both thinking that it wasn't the worst idea they had ever heard. "My father would absolutely send assassins to murder me -- or worse."

"It would completely destroy any chance of alliance," answered Ashmiren. Then she added, "If they learned of it."

Dark Armor: An Unexpected Reunion

"A moment before you go," the Grandmother said easily. She was looking around, eyes slightly narrowed. "There is something here that should not be. An intruder." Her voice firmed. "Come out."

Ember slid out of Ashmiren's shadow and stood, cowed and hesitant. 

"I know you," the Grandmother said. Her gaze shifted to Pallian. "You didn't destroy it?"

"I didn't see the need," Pallian admitted. "I didn't expect it to stay around after I broke the binding."

"Ah," she said. "You aren't much experienced with the Nightmare Realms, then." 

Pallian swallowed. "I confess total ignorance," he said, forcing his voice to stay casual. Just two people talking here; idle chit-chat, with nothing important at stake. "What I do know is that it's currently calling itself Ember, and it saved both myself and the third-princess from the Second's power."

"Did it?" asked the Grandmother. "How very interesting. I could bind it for you, if you like...?"

Pallian shook his head even as Ember shrank in on itself. "No," he said firmly. "Ember helped us because it wanted to. We owe it a debt, and that would be poor repayment indeed."

"Now that is interesting, coming from a prince of the realm and a son of your father. You trust it?" 

"It's shown itself worthy so far. Leave it be."

"As you wish," said the Grandmother. "Then it's the three of you bound for the Temple of the First?"

"Ashmiren?" asked Pallian. "Ember?"

Ember nodded immediately. "I will help as I said I would, and you will show me how to live here as one of you -- as you said you would."

Ashmiren seemed to hesitate, then nodded. "As much as I want to find my mother and sister, this is... I cannot turn aside from this. Yes, I'll go with you."

"Hrrm," said the Grandmother. "Excellent." She fixed her dead eyes on Pallian. "Leave the armor; the bats won't be able to carry it. Take the Spear; without the armor, you'll need it."

"If I take the Spear," Pallian said slowly, "the Second will know it."

"Not until you enter battle," the Grandmother answered. "If the First favors you, by then it will be too late."

Pallian nodded, acceding. He knew himself ignorant on most of these matters, and had no reason not to trust the Grandmother, whose survival evidently hinged on his success. 

"So we're taking the riding bats?" asked Ashmiren. The Shadow of Edrias was a mysterious, dangerous, terrifying figure, but right now she just sounded like an unreasonably excited little girl...

...And Pallian loved it.

Dark Armor: The Stone Tower

The vision appeared in fragments and flickers, images called from the misty depth of the tall silver scrying mirror in the antechamber to the chapel. It was placed there so that the Black Knight could look over the field of battle before it went to join the fight; but, as with so much else, nobody had ever bothered to inform Pallian that he had access to that resource. 

I should have consulted with the elders earlier, he thought. I should have been talking to them, learning from, this whole time. Only... when I was first sent here all I wanted was to be left alone, and I assumed that was what they wanted too. He pushed the thought aside, kept his attention on the mirror.

It was... he caught a glimpse of a massive statue supporting a section of curved wall, there and gone again with nothing to establish any sense of scale; a shattered remnant of the city wall, partly melted and twisted up to flow into the smooth white wall behind it; a more distant image of a tower, flickering against a distant horizon; a half-dozen stone statues held in a great stone hand; ramps and balconies and parapets...

"Whatever it is, it's replaced the city," said the sturdy older woman, her expression blank with concentration. "It's using a huge amount of magic, enough to warp the shape of this plane. I doubt there's a House out there who isn't aware of it by now."

"How the hell are the rest of the Second not aware of it by now?" asked Pallian. "Has there been any activity at the Tomb of the First?" 

"Some," said Dakrin Eld. "Not what I would have expected. Perhaps the others are waiting to see what happens. It's been centuries since any of them roused enough to dream their way free like this, after all."

"We have to go back," said the Shadow of Edrias, in that genderless, whispering voice. "We must free the royals if we can." 

There was a stirring behind them, and a woman's voice -- clear and ancient -- said, "And who are you, to set the course of the Black Knight of Teregor?" The elders parted, clearing a path from the door to the mirror, as an elderly woman approached. 

Pallian recognized her immediately and stepped forward. "Grandmother, this is third-princess Ashmiren of Edrias, in her guise as the Shadow of Edrias, our ancestral enemy and sworn ally."

"Ancestral enemy," the Grandmother all but spat, striding easily towards them. "Pshaw. Edrias is a lovely place and a worthy neighbor. Just because little Taimra was bitter over--" She broke off, looking at Ashmiren. "Forgive me. I am unused to visitors, and my hospitality is lax. You are a welcome ally, it seems, and our guest. Forgive me; I spoke harshly, and in ignorance. Nevertheless, returning to that tower is the very last thing you must do."

The Shadow of Edrias, standing exposed before the gaze of the honorable dead of House Teres, might have swallowed; it was impossible to say. But she came to the Grandmother and knelt before her. "As your guest," she said, "it behooves me to listen to your tales and your wisdom to share what I can of my own." Then, and entirely to Pallian's surprise, she added: "Even if you don't keep riding bats."

Before he could even choke in surprise, the Grandmother looked down at her. "Do we not? Have they become just tales? The eastern caverns are rich with them, and a double dozen of the elders here could teach you the ways of the sightless ride."

Pallian interrupted gently, because events were moving quickly and he had the feeling that every heartbeat might count. "Grandmother, what must we do?"

"You cannot defeat the Second at the tower he has raised, because he is not truly there. You can only slay him in the Tomb of the First, where his body lies dreaming. There are ways to do that, but the most effective would be the Dagger of the First, called Life-Drinker, which was said to be returned to the sarcophagus some seventeen hundred years ago."

Ashmiren rose to her feet.  "Then we have our goal," she said.

Dark Armor: Return to the Crypt

So, I tried a scene out the week before last and it didn't work. We're deleting that one and going another direction. Such are the perils of storytelling.

"Ah, there you are, Boy," said Dakrin Eld as Pallian clumped his way into transport room. "I sent the others on ahead." 

The Black Knight nodded. The guards had not yet returned to their posts here, but it was only a matter of small time, and the fewer people who saw the Elders -- let alone Ember and Ashmiren -- the better. If word of their presence got back to Amedin, it would be a disaster. 

"Come," said the elder, and Pallian walked with him to one of the circles. There was that brief moment of darkness, and then they were back in the crypt. This time, Pallian had not the smallest urge to discover what might happen if he moved during that brief moment of darkened traveling. 

A moment later he was back in the antechamber to the crypt, the Black Knight's carriage still sitting where it had arrived. Ember looked up, and the ghostly ancestor beside it said, "You see? He returns intact."

Most of the elders he'd seen earlier were still here, though their presence was louder and cheerier than before: they knew how the battle had gone. Tybben was engaged in conversation with the Shadow of Edrias, but turned and made his way over immediately. "Forgive me, Lord," the hairless, dog-headed man said. "I was just speaking to your mercenary." 

Pallian glanced at Ashmiren, though fortunately the armor hid his expression. He would have liked to rest -- he would have liked to give all of them a chance to rest -- but whatever Amedin thought about it he couldn't risk hiding here while his father and brother might still be standing to battle. If his father survived and learned that Pallian had stood aside -- for any reason -- the wizard-king would have him executed. 

So Pallian ignored Tybben and turned to Dakrin Eld, instead. "Any word of the wizard-king and the heir? Or the royalty of Edrias?"

Ashmiren arrived at his side, Ember a half-step behind her. 

"No, Champion," said another of the elders. This one had been a woman in life, sturdy and determined, and it was only the chill grey of her skin and the faint shimmer of mist around her that betrayed her current condition. "Several of us attempted to scry, but... something has happened to the city of Marinul, and we cannot see past it." 

"Doesn't help that this place limits our reach," muttered a short, wizened man beside her. "I swear the Crypt was built to serve as a prison as much as preservation."

Pallian frowned. "What can't you see past?" he asked, before Ashmiren could.

Dark Armor: Priorities

So... sometimes in the process of writing you pull together a scene -- maybe even one that you've been looking forward to -- and then when you go back and read it, it just... doesn't work. It's the wrong point in the plot, or it doesn't come together well, or both. (Usually both.) But the main issue here is that neither Pallian nor Amedin would allow the Black Knight to vanish just as second-prince Pallian turned up; part of the mystique associated with the Champion of Teregor is that nobody is supposed to know quite what it really is. So the Black Knight would need to either depart for battle or return to the Crypt, and then after enough of an interval to obfuscate their connection, Pallian could return. That being the case, the There's Only One Bed trope will have to wait.

"This is your room?" asked third-princess Ashmiren. 

Pallian looked around, trying to imagine how the obsidian walls and darkwood furniture would look to someone unfamiliar with them. "It was," he said. "I didn't get a lot of choices about the appointments. My room in the crypt is more mine than this is."

"I mean, it isn't bad," Ashmiren observed. "It's just... bland."

"Clearly you don't share my deep-seated appreciation for obsidian as an aesthetic in its own right," Pallian told her. He had the helmet off, and was willing the dark armor to assemble itself on the wooden training dummy that he'd used for practicing Tan-Si after hours. 

"Is it usual to have a room of one's own?" asked Ember. 

"It was usual for me," Pallian told it. He turned to look at Ashmiren. "Do you want to go look for your family?"

"I do," she said, but then she hesitated. "...But the Shadow of Edrias does not move quickly over long distances, and I have no good way to get back to Marinul. And I might be the last survivor of the House of Edrias, just as you might be the last survivor of the House of Teres. I am not eager to throw myself into battle against one of the Second without support."

She did not add, Especially after he dropped a building on me, but then again she didn't have to. Pallian nodded his understanding. He didn't think that the half-dead priest Amedin had realized that the Shadow of Edrias and the Nightmare Lord Ember had taken part in the battle and were still in the citadel, which was why he had them gathered in his room: he knew the wards here, had set most of them himself, and could tell if anything was out of place. Outside of the crypt, this was the safest place in all of Teregor for them to talk. 

"So stay with me," he said, hoping his tone remained casual. "Let us rest, and learn what Amedin has discovered come morning." The armor rebuilt itself around the practice dummy, leaving Pallian in only his pants and shirt. Without it he was nearly swaying with exhaustion, and the bed looked better and better. 

"You would have us lay with you?" asked Ember.

Pallian turned to look at the nightmare lord. "If you need sleep," he said. "If you do not, there are books and the chair at the desk is not uncomfortable." 

There was a momentary pause, as the pale figure considered. "It is not a large bed," the nightmare said, "but I would prefer to lay beside you."

Ashmiren had her mask and hood off, though the rest of her body appeared to be cloaked in shadows. She swallowed, then said: "I would, too."

 

Dark Armor: Questions and More Questions

"Irksome," said Amedin, regarding the shattered obsidian fragments that had once been the massive enchanted gates of the citadel. "Your father makes peace with Idrias, gathers his army, and moves on Marinul -- and in that exact moment, the Emissary comes here, to Teregor, to assault us while the bulk of our forces are seeking it elsewhere. It is well he sent you back, though I have doubts about involving the Ancestors in this."

Since Amedin was old enough to qualify as an Ancestor himself, Pallian decided to ignore that. 

Instead, he turned his head and surveyed the area around the gates. There were corpses sprawled everywhere; those in decent condition would join the citadel's servants, perhaps even its guards, or be sent to the Crypt to serve there. Death was never wasted in the Obsidian Citadel; every drop of blood spilled here fed the throne and increased its power. If his father had remained behind, been seated on the throne when this invasion began... things might have been very different. He turned his head, looking around, but the helm showed no indication of anyone else listening in, except a very faint shadow that might have been Ashmiren. 

Was it treason to ignore that she might overhear this conversation? Yes. Did he care? No. No, he most emphatically did not.  Conspiring with the third-princess of Idrias against everyone else might not have been the smartest thing he had ever done, but so far it was very possibly the most satisfying.

"The Emissary isn't the threat," the Black Knight said, in its deep, distorted voice. "When we reached Marinul, we found one of the Second there."

"A Second?" asked Amedin. "Emerged from the Tomb?"

Pallian nodded. "It damned near killed me. Fortunately, the Ancestors had sent a demon to call me back; when the carriage returned to the Crypt, they were waiting to tell me of the invasion here."

"Your father and your brother? The royalty of Idrias?"

"I do not know," Pallian admitted. "I hope they live, and have triumphed."

Amedin hesitated. "Ordinarily, I would order you back to their defense. But it's not impossible that you're the last remaining heir of House Teres. I cannot risk it. You must remain here as the Black Knight. If you are the last, then I will find another to take the role and present you as the new wizard-king. The bloodline must remain intact."

"I trust to your guidance," said Pallian. Amedin, at least, could not read his thoughts.

Dark Armor: Accepting A Surrender

The fighting was all but finished by the time they returned to the central hall. The captured invaders left their weapons where they'd laid them, and remains of the Royal Guard came forward to begin the work of collecting them. Pallian didn't stay to watch; he followed Amedin back to the hall. Once everyone was assembled -- more or less -- Kolpis raised his voice. "Who remains to speak for you, troops of the Emissary?"

The woman who had first offered her sword to the Black Knight stood near the front. She turned to the remnant of the troop and called: "Overcaptain?"

Nobody answered. 

"Captains?"

There was a brief pause, then two of the troopers made their way forward to stand beside her. She acknowledged them, then turned back. "I will speak for my soldiers," she said. "I am Dessa of Nordich, the most senior of the remaining captains. These two are Orelan and Barria."

Amedin whispered something. It was utterly silent, but with the helmet Pallian could see his lips move.

"You invaded our lands, our capital city; you laid siege to and invaded our citadel," Kolpis said.

"We served Kilas Irrighast, Emissary of the Second. All that we did was driven by his will, and now he lies dead."

Pallian wondered just how literally she meant that. Were they merely trained to utter loyalty, or had they been given initiations to bind their actions to the Emissary's commands? He couldn't ask, and Amedin -- and therefore Kolpis -- didn't seem to consider the matter important.

"You will swear your loyalty to the House of Teres and the nation of Teregor?" asked the young nobleman. 

Dessa of Nordich took a moment to regard the Black Knight. Pallian ignored the attention, holding still as he regarded the exchange. After a moment she said, "We were ordered into battle, not to sacrifice ourselves to the very last. Yes, I will swear us to you -- both myself, and on behalf of my soldiers." She held up a hand and turned away. "Our Master is dead," she called, raising her voice for her troops. "Our oaths are voided. I will swear us to the service of this place and these people if they will spare our lives. If any among you cannot hold to such an oath, step aside now. I will consider all who remain bound by the oath I speak on your behalf."

There was a momentary stirring -- mutters, movements, soldiers repeating the captain's words to other soldiers further back. After a moment, a man came forth and planted himself by the wall, across from the bulk of the troops. Another followed him, and then a woman. A heartbeat after that another man stepped out, and then another woman. 

"The Second will dissolve your bones for this, Dessa," said the first of the dissenting men. 

Dessa looked at him with something just short of contempt, and shrugged. "The Second would punish us for our failure here regardless. I feel safer among enemies who seem, at least, to be willing to take us in."

The man spat, and Dessa turned back to Kolpis. "I am ready to offer bond for those of us who have not stepped aside."

Amedin glanced at Pallian -- a slip, since he shouldn't have acknowledged the Black Knight as anything more than the Champion of Teregor -- then stepped forward. "Will you swear to serve the House of Teres and the Nation of Teregor?" asked the half-dead priest. 

"We so swear," answered Dessa. 

"Will you serve as soldiers and guards, to protect the court from its enemies and ensure the prosperity of its people?"

"We so swear," Dessa repeated. 

"Will you remain loyal for all of your days?" asked Amedin. 

"For so long as the House of Teres and the Kingdom of Teregor endures," Dessa replied. 

Pallian nodded at that before he could stop himself. He shouldn't have done it; it was another tell, like Amedan looking to him for guidance. Fortunately, Amedin was nodding also; most people would only see that. 

Dessa's eyes were on him, though. She wasn't most people.

"High Trainer Westrov, Lord Kolpis, would you and your troops see to getting our new soldiers settled? We'll need to know what remains of their command structure, whether they can be integrated with our existing troops, exact numbers..." 

Kolpis grinned. "Fear not," he said. "We'll make it work" He glanced back at the Black Knight, his expression momentarily speculative. 

"Excellent," said Amedin. "I'll see to repairing the doors and their enchantments." He glanced back. "Black Knight, attend me. Until some member of the royal family can be found, the defense of the citadel falls to us."

Pallian nodded, and Westrov and Kolpis went to confer with the three formerly-enemy captains. It was several minutes before they had the troops moving, and the dark armor was starting to feel like a prison, but Pallian managed to keep himself under control. 

"What of us?" asked the squat, dark-haired man who had been the first to refuse Dessa's oath. He and his four companions were standing together, unarmed, surrounded by a detachment of Kolpis' private guard. 

Amedin turned his head, but it was Dakrin Eld who spoke up. "You want a chance to face off against our Champion, Squad Leader?"

The man hesitated, and Dakrin Eld cackled with an old man's abandon. "A prison cell might be best, until things are decided. Or I could remove you from the city, leave you to find honest work, starve, or turn brigand. You could even try running back to the Tomb of the First. Perhaps your loyalty would save you there."

Amedin said, "Dakrin..." 

Dakrin turned on him. "You're no longer my tutor, Amedin. That time is well past. If you dislike what I do here, take it up with the Wizard-King."

Amedin sighed. "Very well," he said. "Conduct them to the gaol, until the royals return to make a decision or they themselves change their mind about swearing loyalty."

The chief of Kolpis' private guard inclined her head to the prisoners. "This way, if you would."

When they were at last gone, Amedin turned to look at Pallian. "Walk with me, Black Knight. I must consider the gates, and there are things I needs must learn from you."

Dark Armor: The Heart of the Defence

The bulk of the troops had been pressing against the passage that led back to the nobles' chambers, and they were eager for action. They were not prepared to be assaulted from behind, or to be trapped against whatever defenses waited ahead. Desperate incantations shivered off the dark armor, no more effective than arrows or crossbow bolts, than blades or mace-heads. 

Pallian was ill-suited to be a Prince of Teregor. He knew this, because instead of feeling a rush of power he only felt regret. He trudged forward, restricting himself to gauntlet-sword and shield as he cut his way through. In addition to their captains -- who were better-equipped, though nowhere near well enough -- these troops had mage-ensigns assigned to them. 

The Shadow of Edrias located and eliminated them with a cold efficiency, often before the troops around them even noticed she was there. 

By the time the Black Knight was close enough to note that his old friend Kolpis stood to arms beside the arms-trainer Westrov and shouted commands at the guidance of the half-dead priest Amedin, the troops in front of him were throwing down their arms and backing away. 

Pallian kept the gauntlet-sword ready, but ceased cutting as he continued his approach. 

Amedin met his eyes through the helmet and asked, "The Emissary of the First has fallen?" 

The Black Knight nodded. 

"Mercy!" cried a woman's voice, not in pleading but in demand. "We served honorably, but our masters were defeated. Spare us, and we will serve you honorably as well."

Kolpis scowled, but the Black Knight raised a hand, then lowered it. He waited. 

The woman who had spoken came forward, stopped before him, and lowered her weapon to the ground. There was a brief pause, and then a scuffling as the soldiers behind her in their dual-gemmed armor did the same. 

The Black Knight didn't speak. Not where anybody beyond the House of Teregor might learn of it. He turned back to Amedin, Westrov, and Kolpis, and nodded. 

"We accept your surrender," said the withered, half-dead priest called Amedin. He knew what Pallian's presence here must mean. "Spread the word among your allies, and let us gather in the hall to discuss what comes next."

Dark Armor: The Battle in the Obsidian Citadel

Battle wasn't hard to find. 

They'd followed the passages towards the central hall, and found it lit from the outside. The double doors had been smashed in, and troops in curiously antiquated armor were formed up in the hall, while others in similar armor were spread out to cover various doorways. 

"Oh, lovely," said Dakrin Eld, and gestured. A wave of frost flowed over their foes, and Pallian strode forward in his armor. Third-princess Ashmiren had vanished, but Ember had simply stepped to one side of the passageway they'd arrived through, standing next to the ghostly ancestor who'd chosen to accompany him. 

Pallian drew a deep breath, focused on his sense of third-princess Ashmiren, and projected a thought in her direction: Wait 'til the Emissary shows itself, then take it out. I'll cut into the troops, but your skills are wasted there.

A soft breath of the night wind came back to him. I'll be ready. 

He reached the first of the Emissary's troopers and cut through them as they stood stunned and half-frozen, then began carving his way into their ranks. A moment later there was a sort of muted growl, and half of them -- the ones not close to him -- were on fire. They screamed, but their screams were muted...

A lone figure, previously hidden by their numbers, spun and saw the Black Knight approaching. "You," it said. Pallian merely continued cutting his way forward. 

The figure was tall and heroically proportioned, dressed in a breastplate and a battle skirt, with sandals laced up to just below its knees. It held a cutting-spear, and screeched as it turned to face him. There. Pallian started towards it, but then it shrieked as it began to dissolve into mist. It pulled itself back together momentarily, but by then most of the enemy troop was on fire -- at least, the ones in the Entry Hall were. 

Pallian shifted slightly as it threw the spear, letting the Black Knight's shield turn it aside, and came forward as it continued to struggle against being dissolved. It pulled itself back together again and raised one hand; the cutting-spear reappeared in its grip. 

The Black Knight slapped the tip aside with his shield, then stepped in and drove the gauntlet sword through its torso. The breastplate was no impediment at all. The Emissary shrieked again, but suddenly the Shadow of Edrias was behind it, opening its throat before slipping away to dance through the remainder of its troops. 

Ember and the Ghostly Ancestor moved into one of the corridors, tearing through the suddenly leaderless troops. 

"We'll hold the hall," called Dakrin Eld, gesturing to the flesh-clothed ancestor beside him. "Clear them out!" 

Pallian smiled inside his helm, and started forward. Ashmiren was gone again, but he knew she was keeping pace; any surprises in front of him were likely to get a surprise of their own.

Notes for the next entry:
(Westrov the Arms-Trainer)
(Kolpis, Pallian's old friend, representing his House at court)
(Dakrin Eld, Ancestor, Great-Grandfather's brother; teleporter)
(Ghostly Ancestor, hanging out with Ember to guide it and be protected by it)
(Fleshly Ancestor, pledged to protect Pallian as best he can)
(Amedin Halfdead, Master of Initiations and Advisor to the Wizard-King of Teregor)
(Kareth Teres, the Wizard-King)

Dark Armor: The Emissary of the Second

They came out in the same receiving room where the scroll had deposited Pallian days earlier. He paused for a moment, orienting himself. Then he turned to Ashmiren. "I trust your judgement, Princess. Will you stay hidden until I have the Emissary's attention?"

The shadowy figure nodded. "If you can buy me a few minutes to get into position, I will take out everyone I can." She turned to Ember, and the nightmare gave them both a nod. "I will wait, I think, and follow your lead. I do not wish to destroy your troops by mistake."

"Our troops," said Dakrin Eld, "may be living or dead, wearing livery or not. Word on the Emissary and its troop is that each has two rubies decorating their armor: one on their forehead, and one over their heart."

Ember made a sort of awkward bow. "I will look for such enchantments," it said. 

The ghostly ancestor drifted to its side. "I'd like to stay with you for this battle," she said. "I can offer some guidance, and I suspect you'll afford me some protection."

"Guidance would be welcome," Ember told her, "and protection is easily provided."

She reached out and scratched it behind its ears in a manner that suggested that she definitely thought of the nightmare lord as some sort of half-feral pet cat, and Pallian was suddenly very glad that the helm hid his expression. 

"Very well," said Dakrin Eld. "We're inside now. Let's go find a battle. You lead, lad."

Dark Armor: Violations

"Put your mask back on," said Pallian, as the carriage shifted again and its wheels bumped against the ground. He lifted the helm and let it once again enclose his head. 

Beside him, Ashmiren nodded and slipped her mask into place. 

"Both of you seem to be skilled at blending into the shadows," he continued. "Can you conceal yourselves when the doors open, and follow unseen while I return the armor to its place and try to uncover what exactly just happened?" After the Grandmother's work, Pallian was no longer certain that he didn't possess such talents himself... but even if he did, this was neither the time nor the place to invoke them. 

"I can certainly try," said Ashmiren, while Ember responded with, "I will keep us hidden."

"All right. Stay secret; stay safe. I'll let you know when it's safe to show yourselves."

The carriage rolled to a stop, and a low boom -- more felt than heard -- indicated that the gate to the crypt had closed behind it. The carriage door swung open, and the Black Knight stepped out. 

He was not surprised to see Tybben, hairless and dog-headed and dressed in an ornate red robe, waiting as his boot touched the ground. He was surprised to see a double-dozen dead ancestors gathered behind the disfigured servant. Still, this was the crypt and these were his people; even in his role as the Black Knight, he was not forbidden to speak to them. "What has happened?" he asked. "What brings you all here?"

Three of the dead started forward; four more pulled them back. Tybben said, "The Emissary has arrived at the Obsidian Citadel. It has forced the gates, and battle rages within. The Wizard-King remains absent, as does first-prince Ravaj. The Amedin commands the defense, but without the royal family or their champion..."

The Black Knight nodded. "My friends," he called quietly, "I need you."

Ember and Ashmiren stepped out of the coach as if they'd never been hidden inside it. The long-dead lords and ladies drew back as they came to stand beside him.

The Black Knight looked around at his dead ancestors. "We will need someone to carry us to Obsidian Citadel," he said. "Someone who can pass its defenses, and doesn't fear death. If you can hide yourself and be ready to bring us back afterwards, all the better." 

There was a brief moment of stillness and silence; then one figure, who was very nearly a skeleton, hawked and spat. "I'll take you in, lad. Dakrin Eld, your great-grandfather's brother. I can carry your friends as well, and I might even be a bit of help myself." He grinned, or at least Pallian thought he did; the movement of that nearly-fleshless jaw might mean anything. "And if I die at this, it's a good death in defense of the realm."

"I'll follow your lead," said another, whose bones were still clothed in flesh. "If you can get us there, I'll protect you as best I can."

"A third," said a woman's voice, firm and solid despite the nearly insubstantial figure who spoke. "I haven't dissolved anyone into mist in centuries. Let me help." 

"Uncle," said Pallian, before this could get out of hand, "How many of us can you carry?"

Dakrin Eld looked around. "The six of us," he said. "It gets too risky after that."

"Then come forward," Pallian said, trying to sound certain and commanding when he was uncertain and even utterly baffled. "Let us counter this threat." Please let that sound inspiring, and not like something from a tale for children...

Dakrin Eld stepped forward. The other two ancestors followed him. Pallian, Ashmiren, and Ember stepped forward to meet them. "Let's do this," said the ancient skeleton, and lifted a hand. 

The world swirled away around them.

Dark Armor: Reintroductions

The figure on the floor of the carriage groaned, then shifted its position slightly and went very still. "Ashmiren?" he asked again. "It's Pallian. You're in the flying carriage of the Black Knight -- which is me, so please don't stab me or throw yourself out the door. I'm on the rear bench, and I have..." 

He paused, and looked across at the nightmare lord. "...I don't know how to refer to you. Do you have a name? Pronouns? A name for your people?"

The nightmare lord looked back at him. "I cannot give you my name. I cannot risk it."

"Then don't. Choose something else that I can call you by."

There was a momentary hesitation, and then it said: "I have been the flame's shadow, and the shadow's flame... but I am free now, and need not do those things. Ember, perhaps? A spark waiting to be extinguished, or grow into something new."

"Very well, Ember." He set the rest of his questions aside as the Shadow of Edrias stirred gently, then eased herself up into a crouch and looked around -- at least he thought so; it was hard to tell through the eyeless blankness of her mask. 

Very well, said the Shadow of Edrias, and her voice was a whisper on the night wind. How did I end up here? 

"My friend Ember rescued us both," Pallian told her, through the deep, slightly-distorted voice that the mask gave him. 

The Shadow of Edrias tilted her head in a way that made Pallian think she was studying him dubiously. "I didn't know the Black Knight kept company with a demon. That would explain a lot."

Pallian shook his head. "It's a new development, and something of a long story."

There was a momentary pause, and then the Shadow of Edrias drew herself up and seated herself on the seat beside him. After a moment she reached up, and drew the mask off her head to expose her face. "Fallen lords, Pallian," said Ashmiren. "You really will make friends with anyone, won't you?"

He put a hand to the Black Knight's helm, willing it to release him so he could place it in his lap. "Not just anyone," he said, once his face was exposed and his voice was his own. Not my family, certainly. "It's not like I've had a lot of practice at this."

Ashmiren studied him a moment longer, then turned to look at Ember. "And you... Summoned but not bound, I take it? But you helped us anyway."

"This is so," said the nightmare. "Pallian spared me and released me from my binding. I thought he would appreciate it if I... rescued... someone who had helped him similarly."

Third-princess Ashmiren chuckled at that. "Then I owe you both. Where are we bound?"

"Wherever the carriage takes us," Pallian said, trying -- but probably not succeeding -- at keeping the bitterness out of his voice. "My father has always set its path for me. At a guess, we're likely bound for the Crypt." Even if his father hadn't issued such a command, it might have been built into the carriage's enchantments as a default.

"Well," said Ashmiren, "I supposed that's definitely one way to go to ground."

"You'll be safe there," Pallian said quietly. "I lived there for several years, before my father dragged me back to the court." It would be a temporary safety, if the Second carried through on his threats, but even temporary safety and a chance to regroup would be welcome.

Ashmiren frowned. "So you were just... stranded there? Being the Black Knight?" 

Pallian nodded. "Whenever my father called. At least until you murdered my sister; then he condemned me for failing to save her. He rescinded the sentence when he realized that he would need me to help deal with the Emissary."

The third-princess looked away. "You attacked one of our cities, broke our defenses, murdered its champion, and stole the Spear of the First. You and your sister set all of this off."

Pallian hesitated for a long moment, then nodded to concede the point. Still... "I wasn't accusing you. I barely knew my sister. I was just sharing some very private and painful personal history."

"Oh." Ashmiren leaned her head back against the rear of the carriage. "Well, that's awkward. I'm... sorry?"

Pallian chuckled. "It's weirdly easy to forget, but our nations were bitter enemies until about a week ago. It was always going to be awkward."

Ashmiren chuckled back. "I suppose it was."

Across the carriage from them, Ember leaned forward. "If it helps to know this," it said, "this is no less awkward for me."

Ashmiren turned her head, studied those inhuman features, and said: "Ember... you saved both our lives, I think. If Pallian released you, then you've certainly repaid the debt -- and you don't owe me anything. You're free to do as you wish."

Ember nodded in a very definite fashion. "I wish to stay with the two of you. You will not try to bind me. You will show me how to live in this world."

"Ember," said Pallian carefully, and Ashmiren shut her mouth and turned her head to listen. "We're both in very great danger. If you stay with us, you will be too."

The nightmare lord shrugged. "Then I will help you to deal with that, so that you will not be in danger and we can all be happy."

Dark Armor: Escaped Prisoners

He triggered the countermeasure, and the stone around him cracked but didn't fall away. He triggered it again, and the stone shattered further, but being buried in gravel was little better than being buried in solid stone. He still couldn't move. He tried the left-hand gauntlet's missile, let it build, then loosed it...

I supposed that's marginally better. He could now rotate his wrist and wriggle his fingers. The armor's perceptions informed him that he'd drilled a passage to the open air, but it was only two fists wide and the gravel had already collapsed to fill it. Well, fine. He tried again, and then again, trying to remove as much stone as he could. He kept expecting it to close back around him, subject to the will of the Second, but it didn't. 

He still couldn't get himself loose. He couldn't turn his wrist far enough to free himself -- not and maintain the missile. If he could get the gauntlet off, he could escape as smoke; but the gauntlet would not come off by itself, and the rest of the armor was still pinned in place around him. That's a design flaw, he decided, not that he could do anything about it now. 

He triggered the countermeasure that was supposed to keep him being overwhelmed by a swarm of enemies, and it shoved enough of the shattered stone around him into the hole that he was able to return to using the gauntlet's missile to clear more of it out. He shoved more out, giving himself more room to move, and returned to blasting it away. The process was painfully slow, and probably doomed; all it would take was a moment of attention from the Second to undo all his work. 

Until that happened, he was determined to proceed. If he could remove enough stone to escape in the armor, he would. If he could make enough space to remove the armor, he would use his Smoke initiation to escape and leave it behind. 

He stopped, stiffening involuntarily. Something was approaching; the armor gave warning. It was a something the armor recognized, a being of darkness and fire...

The world went dark and Pallian felt himself moving, dragged through impenetrable shadows. Then he was loose, and he staggered at the sudden release. 

"Run," said the voice of flame and shadow. "The carriage is just ahead, but he is just behind. He must have felt me..."

"Later for that," Pallian ground out, before he remembered that he wasn't supposed to talk when he was wearing the armor. He caught his balance and found the carriage door, then flung himself inside. "Let's move." There was something soft on the floor, and he would have stumbled over it if the armor hadn't been watching for him. He slapped the wall, desperately hoping that his father had left a contingency in place... or that the carriage had one of its own. 

The thing appeared on the bench across from him in a burst of flame, and the carriage door slammed closed. The carriage itself began to move, gaining speed and rising into the air. The bundle on the floor stirred and groaned. 

"I took her too," said the nightmare lord. "She stabbed your enemy, so she must be your friend. I think she was hurt when the building collapsed on her." There was a momentary pause, and then it asked: "Was that the right thing to do?"

Pallian's head was still spinning, but the further the carriage went without anything assaulting it the better he felt. He looked down at the carriage floor. 

What he'd taken for an inconvenient bundle was, of course, a body: a woman, tightly clothed beneath a loose cloak and hood, armed with various short blades and a wide variety of enchantments. 

The nightmare lord had rescued the Shadow of Edrias.

The Shadow of Edrias was a woman.  

He considered that for a long moment, and then he swallowed. "Ashmiren?" he asked. "Is that you? Are you all right?"

Dark Armor: The Second Battle of Marinul

The statues weren't as fast as living men, but they weren't slow either. Pallian lashed out with a gauntlet-covered fist as one of them turned to look at him, and the blow shattered its head. The impact rocked it slightly back, but otherwise failed to even slow it. 

He grabbed its wrists as it reached for him and slung it around, smashing it against the stone bodies of the other statues around him. Damn it! The armor would keep him safe from harm, but with so many of these things around he could still be pulled down and immobilized; the armor had a counter to prevent that, but he wasn't sure how well it would work against these heavy stone opponents. 

He slid his right hand into the gauntlet sword, and triggered the left gauntlet again. The small ball of fire that formed could be called quickly but was little more powerful than a javelin. The second stage would loose a spread of such missiles, perfect for smashing down a door or taking out a small group of enemies at close range. Neither would help here. He laid about him with the sword, chipping off limbs and shattering bodies, as he waited for it to build.

The fire flared again, becoming the stone-shattering ball of green flame that he'd used earlier, and Pallian looked up at the one who they'd thought was an Emissary... The one who'd just declared himself one of the Second. 

It was still hanging in the air, and it was looking down at him. "No, I don't think so." A band of stone shot up from the ground, caught his arm, and dragged it down, pointing the weapon away from the Second. "And what exactly are you? A construct? Undead? An armored warrior?"

Pallian didn't answer; from inside the armor, he couldn't speak. He was still striking out with the gauntlet sword, but with one arm trapped his movement was limited. A statue tried to punch him in the kidneys, and the armor absorbed the blow. He struck at the pillar, trying to free his arm, and carved a gouge in it; above him, the Second shook his head. 

Not like this, he thought. He didn't want to die as the Black Knight, as the voiceless servant of his father, and he did not want to be taken prisoner by the Second. That seemed like a good way to end up as an armored statue, or worse. There had to be a way out. 

An arrow slammed into the invisible bubble around the Second, and this time it cracked and shattered. The Second looked momentarily stunned, and then even more so as a shadow flowed up through the air behind him and planted a dagger in his back. One shadowy arm curled around his throat, and a second arrow buried itself in his chest. 

The Second scowled, grabbed, twisted, and flung, and the shadow tumbled through the shattered-open wall into the second floor of the governor's mansion. Then he gestured, and the build crushed itself around the shadow. Another arrow stopped, caught by unseen forces a palm's width from his face, and the Second turned and gestured, sending the arrow back the way it had come. 

By then the statues had crowded close around him, and even with the armor's strength added to his own Pallian was having trouble swinging the sword. Others were climbing on top of them, weighing him down and trying to take him to the ground. He caught a brief glimpse of the Second looking down at him; then stone closed over him and buried him entirely.

Dark Armor: The Governor's Mansion

It only grew worse as he neared the governor's mansion. The statues here crowded the streets, blocking his way and frustrating his attempts to approach quietly. At last he gave up and raised his left gauntlet and called the burst of flame to its palm. He held it while it flared, then flared again into a burning green ball the size of Pallian's head. 

He loosed it, and watched as smashed through a line of statues, carving him a path to the door of the mansion. 

Slow, sardonic clapping filled the street. 

The Black Knight looked up and beheld a slim, pale figure standing on a balcony. It wore unfamiliar robes in a light, draping style and there was something curiously gray about its skin; its left eye was pure white, and as the helm focused in on it he realized that it was marble. 

"You have murdered my people, the people of Edrias," said the High Magister. She was suddenly standing on the corner of a building, across from and slightly above the balcony the Emissary had chosen. How she'd gotten there, Pallian had no idea. 

He started forward, since he'd need to either enter the building or climb up its face to reach his quarry. There was no point in waiting; this was only going to end one way. He triggered the flame again, letting it build. 

The Emissary sneered. "I have rendered judgement upon a city which presumed to keep the Spear of the First hidden from its rightful bearer." 

"My lands," said the High Magister, "are not yours to judge."

Pallian raised his arm, anticipating what was coming next. 

He was only partly correct. The High Magister gestured, and shining bands of golden light formed around the Emissary, who cried: "You dare?" 

Something moved in the room behind the balcony, a faint shadow that was barely visible even in the helm's enhanced perceptions, and a moment later the Emissary threw back its head and shrieked. 

Oh, well played. Pallian grinned appreciatively inside the helm. The High Magister had known that the Wizard-King would use the Black Knight to lead the attack on the Emissary, and had used him as a distraction while the Shadow of Edrias positioned itself for the true attack. For a moment he dared hope that they'd be able to finish the Emissary before it could react. 

Then the cobbled street rumbled and shook beneath his feet, tilting statues as a column of stone rose up beneath the balcony, the top of it spreading out into a sort of horrible flower that curled around the Emissary and then began to reach down toward him from above. With the helm, Pallian could see it prying at the golden bands. 

He loosed the ball of fire, the dark armor's own personal siege engine, and the stone column shattered; but by then it was too late. The Emissary remained floating in the air, and with a gesture sent a wave of rubble through the room behind him, where the Shadow of Edrias had been. "Pathetic creatures," it said. 

A bolt of lightning flared up around it, impossibly bright and loud, but was held at bay by some unseen bubble that surrounded the floating Emissary. "Such reckless audacity you have, to violate the flesh of the Second. For such a crime, I will execute every living thing here." He paused, and an arrow skipped off the bubble surrounding him. "Kill them."

That was when the statues came to life.

Dark Armor: The Fate of Marinul

The walls were much as he'd last seen them, with shattered earthworks built up in front of the gates and the gates themselves standing open. The corpses were gone, and he hoped they were honorably buried; the conjuror had offered him a real challenge and deserved a decent grave, and the city's champion likewise.

He reached the gates, and pushed them wider. Then he stepped into the city, cautious, letting the armor assess nearby threats but also looking back and forth himself, seeking after things that the armor might have missed. His steps were heavy, unavoidable, unsubtle -- and he hated that. He would much prefer to have been something more like the Shadow of Edrias, but no: his ancestors had praised the dark armor, and his father preferred to awe their enemies with its unstoppable strength. 

Nobody approached him, or the armies that followed in his wake. Nobody cried for help. Nobody begged for mercy. Nobody attacked, or even shouted threats. 

The streets of Marinul were empty... almost. 

He paused, and his father's voice filled the helmet: Onward to the governor's manse. The High Magister suggests this route. A quick image of a map filled his consciousness, and he shoved it into the helm to guide him. A moment later, he saw the first of them: 

Statues.

This one was a woman, remarkably lifelike, with her hand on a doorframe. The sign outside the building suggested a chandlery.

The next was a coachman, the statue in its place atop the coach, reins in its hands, the four horses that would have pulled it statues as well. 

A chill went through Pallian, though the Black Knight let none of it show. The whole city is dead, he thought, turned to stone and gone. Killing the Emissary, necessary though it is, will bring none of them back... just as killing me would bring back none of the people I've killed. It was small comfort that the ones he'd slain had been soldiers in battle; for the most part, they'd been barely stronger than the civilians, barely more able to defend themselves. Oh, this is going to end so badly. 

He didn't have to wonder about that. It already had.

Dark Armor: Arrival at Marinul

By the time the carriage returned to the ground and rolled to a stop, the Black Knight was ready. The armor still recognized him, even with his initiations changed; it obeyed his will as it always had. He had no doubt that it would still follow his father's commands before his own, but that had always been the way of this. 

He left the gauntlet sword at his belt and the shield across his back, and stepped down from the carriage to find himself well back from the gates of the city, behind the gathered forces of Teregor and Edrias. The helmet picked out sounds for him: the rush of the wind across the plains, the murmurs of the soldiers, the whinny-and stamp of a horse as it shifted nervously. 

The Black Knight came forward slowly and deliberately, passing through the lines as the soldiers made way for him. Inside the armor, Pallian fought the urge to shake his head; it was strange to be back here, especially so soon. Marinul was where he taken the Spear of the First, after -- barely -- defeating the city's champion, who had been armed with it. Marinul was where his sister had died, slain by the Shadow of Edrias, and so sealed his fate; his father the Wizard-King blamed him for Rebka's death, and had ordered him sealed in the Tomb of the Living until preparations were complete for his execution. 

It was only the appearance of an Emissary from the Tomb of the First that had saved him, its presence forcing an alliance between the royals of Teregor and Edrias in the face of a greater threat. 

So, so very strange to be back here now, already, so soon after what he'd thought was victory had turned to disgrace. He'd broken the lines of the enemy defense in front of the gate, faced their champion and nearly died, claimed the spear, and been ordered back to the crypt while Rebka took the rest of the city. 

The earthworks were still largely intact before the gates; the gates themselves stood open. The city itself was utterly silent, at least from out here. He emerged from the last of the Teregor troops and stopped, looking around until his helmet highlighted his father's figure at the juncture of the two allied forces. He turned and walked that way, keeping his pace controlled and deliberate; the Black Knight did not hurry except in actual battle. 

"Very good," said the Wizard-King of Teregor. "You will face the Emissary from the Tomb of the First. You will kill it if you can, but you will keep it distracted while our forces deal with whatever it has brought. The rest of us will support you as we can."

The Black Knight bowed, straightened, and looked around. Of course I am to lead the assault and draw fire. That is what the Black Knight does. His father was -- inescapably -- there. His brother Ravaj was there. The High Magister of Edrias was there, as was her leonine body-servant, now armored with an enchanted steel chestguard and skirt. The second-princess Arwidden was there, now holding a bow and with a quiver of arrows set at her hip. Another young woman, perhaps a bit older than Arwidden, was also there, wearing armor and holding a poleaxe. Was this the first-princess of Edrias, his future bride? 

And where was Ashmiren? He would have preferred that she was away from all this, but it was hard to imagine that such was the case... especially if she was what he suspected.

Straightening, he lifted a hand. Order me. 

"Lead us into the city," his father said.

Dark Armor: Inside the Carriage

"...Why are you still here?" asked Pallian. "If somebody cut me loose like that, I'd have been gone before anybody could so much as whisper my name."

The thing's face twisted through an unreadable change of expression. "Perhaps I was curious about the one who released me," it said. 

Were you? It didn't seem like a safe question to ask; if the thing had wanted to explain its motivation, it would have. Instead, after a moment's consideration, Pallian admitted: "Well, I'm certainly curious about why you wouldn't want to leave."

A rippling motion passed down its arms, ended with its claws scraping against the floor of the carriage. The were tilting now as their conveyance changed directions, drawn through the air by its nightmarish steeds. "Do you not know this?" it asked. When Pallian didn't answer, it said: "While I remain here, I cannot be summoned again. Without the binding, I can do as I like on this plane. It is... less comfortable than my native land, but I find that trade acceptable."

Pallian nodded slowly. "That makes sense, at least." He hesitated. "What do you intend to do, now that you're here?"

That same rippling motion passed down its arms, an unnatural gesture that should have been impossible for flesh and bone. "I do not know," it told him. "Learn more of this place, perhaps. That is why I came back to you. I need a guide, and you neither banished me nor destroyed me."

Nighted Hells, Pallian thought, I've unleashed a summoned nightmare on an unsuspected population. He paused for a long moment, thinking, and then said: "All right. I released you. I suppose it's my responsibility to help you find a way to live here." He didn't mind helping the thing, at least in principle; there was something plaintive about it, an appeal in the inescapable fact that it wanted help.

 "This is--" It stopped as if unable to finish the sentence. "How do we proceed?"

That, Pallian had an answer for. "When I wear this armor and step into this carriage, I am riding to battle. You understand that?" 

"I know battle," it answered. "I know ages of battle."

Pallian nodded. "This is not your battle. You don't have to help, and it will be better if you stay back and avoid notice. My father and my brother will be there; so will the House of Edrias. Any one of them might take an interest in trying to bind you once again."

The thing seemed to consider. "I would not like that." 

"So stay near the carriage, and keep yourself hidden. When the battle is done, we'll talk more about where you might go and what you might do. Can you look human?"

It blinked. "I do look human." 

Pallian sighed. He should probably have seen that one coming. "Can you shorten your arms, flatten your claws, make your fingers and hands more like the proportions of my body?"

The thing considered that, then drew itself in. It was still otherworldly, too pale and too tall and too skinny, but at least now it might pass for an odd-looking human, or somebody who'd taken a few ill-advised initiations. "Better," Pallian told it. "Hold onto that look. I need to get ready for battle."

Dark Armor: The Spirit of Fire and Darkness

He recognized that silent voice. It was the thing, the same thing that the Grandmother had summoned and bound to her supply room. 

It should be gone now. He'd destroyed the enchantment that had bound it in place, freeing it to return to its home. If it was somehow still bound to try to kill him... Then it should have done so while I was still asleep after the Grandmother adjusted my initiations. Perhaps it hadn't been able to; perhaps it had needed time to recover too? 

"Because I thought that would send you back to your home, or at least release you from an unwanted burden so that you could depart."

Why didn't you kill me?

Pallian blinked. I don't have time for this. "What would have been the point? Listen, I need to get to the carriage. If you're going to attack me, do it now. If you want to have a dialogue, follow me while I run to get there on time."

This carriage? A swirl of fire and darkness surrounded Pallian briefly, and when it receded he was looking at the carriage. They were in the readying-room of the stable. 

"That was... actually... helpful," Pallian admitted. "Climb in behind me if you're coming along." He had no idea what he was doing with a demonic companion; that was an area of enchantments and initiations that he'd avoided completely and deliberately. Clearly the Grandmother had had other ideas. Either that, or she'd intended for him to prove his worth by killing it, and he'd released it instead...

The thing was a shadowy presence at his back as he climbed inside. The armor sensed it and marked it as a threat, but Pallian forced the armor into quiescence by an act of will. 

It seated itself on the bench across from him. It was humanoid, though its arms were long enough for its talons to touch the ground when it stood erect at its full seven-foot height. Folded into the carriage, it looked a bit cramped, though not uncomfortable. 

They waited as the carriage began to move, the invisible horses drawing it out of the crypt and up into the air.

Dark Armor: The Sanctuary and the Armor

The Sanctuary never failed to dazzle him. It had the look and feel of a small chapel, for all that it was carved from the deep stone like most of the crypt. The stained-glass windows were placed into stone walls enchanted to emit light, and glowed as if the whole room sat aboveground at noon. 

The image that caught his eye this time was the first and only depiction of the Black Knight, in a window off to his left. At the top, his grandfather Obiah Teres was lowering the helmet onto his own head, having enchanted the armor to protect him; there, a little lower, the black knight entered a ruined village; and there, there, and there the dark armor held the wizard-king Obiah Teres safe as he battled with a demon that had been unwisely summoned and unwillingly released. 

The legend had grown from there. 

Pallian didn't remember when he'd first known that he would wear the armor himself. He knew he'd heard stories of the champion's exploits, and he remembered the other children playing at being the Black Knight. He didn't remember ever doing so himself, though. Had he been excited when his father first called him to this duty? Wary? Or merely nervous, as he was at any time he came to his father's attention?

He had no idea. 

The armor was arrayed on a statue that stood where the altar might have been in a more ordinary chapel. He laid a hand on it, reluctantly renewing their acquaintance, and then drew the helmet up and lowered it onto his own head. 

Many things had changed since Obiah Teres first crafted the dark armor. Its enchantments had been expanded, improved, deepened and widened. It was a study in countermeasures for anything that might once have defeated it. And it did not wait to be donned. 

The moment Pallian settled the helmet into place, the rest of the armor swarmed off the statue and snapped into place around his body: a greave here, a pauldroon there, gauntlets and boots sliding into place... The shield dropped onto his back, and the gauntlet-sword slid into its sheath. Its enchantments soaked into him, protective and healing, and Pallian wondered how all that power would interact with his newly-redesigned initiations. Most likely the Grandmother anticipated this... 

The armor preferred to move slowly, deliberately, but Pallian could force it to move at double-time. He needed to make up for the time he'd lost earlier, and his father would know if the carriage failed to depart swiftly. If necessary, he could catch his breath once he was safely inside. He braced himself for the effort, and--

Why did you release me? asked a voice that seemed made of fire and darkness.