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[Kaylor]

---

*Two years ago . . .

Kaylor turned, taking one last look at the world that had treated him so savagely. "Let us be gone from here, brother," he sneered, spitting on the soil with rancorous disregard. "My kingdom awaits her sovereign's return."

A blinding light engulfed the two men clutching at their shoulders, sending them spiraling weightlessly through sheaves of infinite nihility. Screeching speed slid past them as though every voice ever given sound was wont to race across eternity with boundless urgency. Agonizing. Breathtaking. Glorious.

Home!

Swirling mists rose up to greet them obscuring their view, but vision required no sight for the scent of decay presided heavily in the air deferring to silence unabashed tears crying upon the wind. Destruction was everywhere, a surrounding scream of protest upon the arrival of the one who'd wrought it.

"Sweet Faerwhynne," Kaylor whispered stepping through the brume. "I shall raise you up again, an invincible power forever feared, forever mine."
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*Even if you be otherwise perfect, you fail without humility. ~ The Talmud*

[Ancyous]

---

I stayed several paces behind Kaylor watching him walk, his carriage regal despite the weakness left in the wake of his ring's recent attack. He'd defeated the paralysis but not its sequelae. Although barely perceptible even to the closest of scrutiny, his legs sustained a great deal of damage and found him still with unsteady gait, hence his newly acquired habit of using a walking stick. He otherwise refused to accept this physical imperfection and may his Saints have pity upon anyone who dared breach the subject with him.

He hesitated upon approaching the keep, regret obvious in the rigid set of his jaw as he faced for the first time the devastation he'd wrought while under Dread's influence. The castle lay in ruins, its walls scarred by flame and lain to rubble. All that remained of the drawbridge was a lone stretch of parched planking. Carefully traversing the sole lingering means of access, we passed beneath a crumbling archway, sidestepping fallen stones to gain entrance to the inner bailey. Death's putrid stench instantly assailed us. Bones crunched beneath our boots as we made our way across the yard. This was where it had begun; here the fire elementals had been set upon their ravaging, here the prince had slain the king and walked away as though it never touched him.

Straightaway Kaylor stopped, a sorrowful sigh constrained within the confines of a loss realized too late. "Father." Pain evident in his tone, he knelt beside a sword, its intricately carven blade rusted in final repose atop the tattered remnants of a faded purple cloak.

He spoke more but I heard none of it for my attention was suddenly diverted. A presence Kaylor could not sense, though easily discernable by me being that I shared its undead realm, stepped forth with blatant presage.

And so the king returns to proceed Rhiannon's curse. When Faerwhynne's walls stand strong again, Craig's son will hand to me its throne!

I turned, my eyes falling full upon a knight clad in black armour, his identity concealed behind the lowered visage of his helm. Haunting laughter followed as he vanished, leaving me seething with unaccustomed fury.

[Kaylor]

---

From yesterday, it's coming
From yesterday, the fear
From yesterday, it calls him
But he doesn't want to read the message here

On a mountain he sits, not of gold but of sin
through the blood he can learn, see the life that he took
From a council of one
He'll decide when he's done with the innocent

*lyrics - From Yesterday - Thirty Seconds to Mars*

Kaylor took Craig's sword into his hand remembering the first time he'd been allowed to hold it as a lad of but seven years about to be sent away to squire. "When you return, my son, I shall rest this blade proudly upon your shoulders and welcome you home, a knight." How he'd searched his father's eyes with hope of finding love reflected within their depths, but all he'd seen was cold conviction - a final judgement passed upon his son rather than a promise of distinction.

A chill ran down his spine as he pulled away from the melancholy and turned his gaze upon Ancyous. "What has upset you?" It was indeed most rare that anything crossed the gypsy's serene disposition, therefore should something manage to do so there was nary a doubt the circumstance waxed grave.

"Rhiannon's curse?" Ancyous locked eyes with Kaylor. "Explain."

"What?" The sword fell from his grasp as Kaylor came to his feet, his every sinew tensing. "Why speak you of such here and now?"

"Tell me of your father."

"Tell you of my father? What is there to tell? You know as much as I."

"Do I?" Ancyous countered, his voice solemn with an undercurrent of condemnation.

"What is this about, gypsy? I don't understand this sudden . . . "

"Stop answering me with questions! I will have the tale told me when I ask for it."

"Speak you to a king like that, peasant?!" Kaylor growled, sparks of ire threatening to ignite the rage he kept buried just beneath the surface of his soul.

Ancyous shook his head with a sigh. "There is reason behind my demand. Take a breath and discover calm. Sit with me now. Tell me before it is too late for us all."

. . . to continue
_________________
*Even if you be otherwise perfect, you fail without humility. ~ The Talmud*

[Kaylor]

---

Drawing a deep breath, Kaylor sank down to the charred ground and began recounting what he knew of his father's story . . .

"Well, according to what I've been told, my father was standing upon a parapet when his attention was drawn to the road by a strange shimmering that presently took form, materializing into a woman as he watched. Startled as well as concerned for the safety of those within the castle walls he ran from the keep to where she stood, meeting her in confrontation as to her presence and the reason for it. She wore strange raimants and spoke with an accent he'd never heard before. Without the slightest hesitation she stated that she'd come from a distant time, explaining that the majority of her world's population had been annihilated - a war of bioterr . . . something." He paused, apologizing. "Sorry, Ancyous. Many years have passed since this tale was told to me. The exact word escapes me."

"Anyway, her name was Sarah. She claimed herself leader of those who remained, a small group whose males were no longer capable of siring children, a direct result of this war of theirs. It was her responsibility to see to the world's repopulation and thus she'd read, researched, sought and finally discovered the way to accomplish her goal. Being there was no man in her time capable of fathering a child she would navigate time to fine one who was. And find one she did in a book of history; Craig McKairin, King of Faerwhynne - strong, virile and possessing of all the qualities for perfect progeny. Having access to a device that accomodated the necessary travel she set upon a journy to locate and bring him back with her."

"He thought her mad, was in the midst of calling his guards to take her to the dungeon, when suddenly it was he who found himself the captive. Thick steel bands were tightly clasped about his ankles and wrists holding him fast to a cold steel table, his mind without cognizance of how he'd come to be there."

"After countless days of examination and testing he was moved to a room that was barren except for a bed and small lantern. It was here that Sarah returned to him with intent to beget his child. Supposedly she was beautiful, but his misery surpassed all possible pleasure, for Faerwhynne had been at war and much in danger of being overthrown. Now without its king such was most certainly inevitable."

"As you know, Ancyous, my grandmother was murdered as she slept. Upon discovery of this, my grandfather immediately set out in search of her killer leaving my father to oversee the realm during his absence. Many years passed. He never returned. My father's title was changed from Crowned Prince to King. The murderer appeared at the coronation proudly proclaiming both deaths as his 'first step' toward assuming Faerwhynne's throne. That was the day Craig McKairin and The Black Knight became enemies.

. . . to continue
_________________
*Even if you be otherwise perfect, you fail without humility. ~ The Talmud*

[Ancyous]

---

"She never carried a child, did she?" Ancyous asked, purposefully distracting himself from his ill humor and the dire circustance at hand. "Or perchance have I the story worng and she gave brith to twins?"

"She did not, you dolt," Kaylor quickly retorted, shoving his brother's shoulder. "The times away from my father she spent copulating with an ass and from that did she push out a gypsy!"

His scowl a rich mask of delight, Ancyous groaned in mock unnerve. "Such insult, MiLord! Please, I beg thee to surcease 'ere the very ground doth bury me for displaying such disrespect as to sit beside His Majesty rather than be bent upon my knee before him!"

"And the heaven's send lightning to strike thee for being such a twit!" Kaylor laughed. "Now, do you want to hear this tale or have you had enough of it?"

"No, please continue. We shall argue over who should be kneeling to whom anon."

Kaylor rolled his eyes with a mirthful sigh. "Very well then . . . . . "

. . . "The wench's endeavor was indeed but futile, serving little more than to give her to bed with a fantasy albeit one with whom she quickly fell in love. Craig used this to his advantage. He charmed the woman into believing her fantasy was shared, that she'd won his heart and his only desire was to have her as his queen. Once she'd fallen hopelessly into his ruse he told her of his need to be away home to save his realm from The Black Knight's tyranny. Playing his hand he offerred to take her with him if she would send him back, all the while knowing she would not - could not - leave as she'd already made it clear the device she'd used to come for him was functional that one and only time. Finding it impossible to refuse the man - the dream - she finally agreed to set him free, to see the king returned."

"Shortly thereafter, while under a potion influenced sleep, she had Craig taken to Rhiannon. A witch of sorts, she'd promised to help Sarah - for a price. Not only would she send him home, but make him immortal so Sarah needn't ever worry for his safety in their eternal parting, however in her place, she would go, she would become his queen."

"When next Craig opened his eyes he stood here, where we sit now, only to learn that upon his throne then sat The Black Knight in perfect duplicity, thanks to Rhiannon. The wench proclaimed my father the imposter and, were it not for his familiarity with his own castle, he surely would have been imprisoned. As the guards came toward him he ran, seeking refuge in the shadows and escaping through a secret passage that wound beneath the keep leading to an exit near the northern cliffs."

"In the meanwhile Rhiannon fell before 'the king'. Revealing to The Black Knight how he happened to be sitting where he was, she vowed that there he would remain . . . as long as she was queen. They were wed the following day."

"Not an easy task, one that took cunning and time, my father eventually managed his way back to Faerwhynne and was able to convince his Man at Arms of his true identity. Together with his knights he plotted evil's demise, meeting it with great success."

"Virtue," Kaylor whispered, his voice quelled by melancholy. "Useless. Look where it got him."

Ancyous considered reaching out to console his brother, but thought perhaps it best to allow him to his grief - a lesson to be learned. Instead he coaxed him to continue. "How did he achieve it, this success of his?"

Sliding his hand across the ground, Kaylor took up a handful of dirt and watched it sift slowly through his fingers as though the very sands of time were drifting from his grasp. "He sent forth a missive asking Rhiannon to meet him in the chapel, just the two of them alone. Of course he knew that she would come, but far from by herself, and so he set his knights laid low beneath the pews. Sure to his prediction she arrived upon The Black Knight's arm . . . and left the same - in death."

"On her lips, her dying words, a curse:

What here ends, but now begins. Thine own blood beget the forfeit that thou hast just imagined gained.

Ancyous frowned. "I still don't understand, although I fear the meaning of her words shall all too soon be made quite clear to me."

"Why do you say that? What prompted this discussion in the first place, Ancy?"

A sudden darkness surrounded the two men, death brushing a skeletal chill along its crimson edges.

MY realm awaits this tale's TRUE end, McKairin!