13th June, 2010
As the trees parted, the night sky emerged and Anathkash Dakari was awash with moonlight, eyes squinting in the sudden bright light.
The approach he'd taken was a rear access road to the country mansion he'd been sent to, nestled deep within the woods south of Walton in New York state. The road, little more than an overgrown footpath, was a massive detour; it would have taken Dakari only minutes to reach the stately home via the front entrance, though that was clearly out of the question.
Discretion was important. There could be no interruption to what happened tonight. No witnesses. There would be no forgiveness of Dakari for what he would do tonight; no-one could possibly understand and he'd never try to explain anyway.
Some things just needed to be done.
-#-
22nd May, 2010
Shyana told Dakari everything. So much so that she completely erased any and all doubts he might have had about her. He couldn't deny her talents, of course; she had already proven herself as a more-than-capable psychic... but now? Shyana knew more about Arthus Andarion and the Crimson Legion than he suspected even Mister Ravion did, and his knowledge of the "otherworldly" (as he called it) was vast.
So Dakari asked about Arthus Andarion and the information Shyana provided him with was chilling to say the least.
Andarion was part of the vanguard sent by the Crimson Legion to prevent any interference to Legion business from what she'd described as "certain parties," which Dakari suspected meant Mister Ravion, Mister Nihilus and anyone else who had a hand in stopping them. There were others but there whereabouts had been tracked as far as Foshan, China, then lost completely. Shyana said that the common belief was that they were dead - each and every one of them... But someone was still co-ordinating the Crimson Legion's movements and that had to be Andarion.
Shyana had reeled off a list of known Legionnaires' names; Corvus Valarian, Rhodri Caladan, Devron Anduji, Maeron Mentari, and others... but Dakari recognised none of them.
"Prob'ly for the best," she'd said. "The less you know, the less desperate they'll be to kill you, love."
Dakari didn't like his chances one bit. This advance warrior of the Legion could probably kill him to start with. Even if he were to succeed and escape alive he'd likely be hunted down by whoever was left anyway, regardless of how much he knew. The way Shyana had said "less desperate" only suggested that they intended to kill him at the first opportunity anyway.
Grim.
In the end, Shyana gave Dakari everything he needed, fear included. Fear brought Dakari down to earth, grounded him from the anger that had fuelled his journey thus far. By no means did rage control his actions, though it served as a constant reminder that he would avenge Benedict Ravion's death once he had carried out out his final wishes. Killing Arthus Andarion.
-#-
Date unknown
"Well... you told him," came a familiar voice from behind.
Draeden Darksky slowly turned around to face Daroth, the skeletal figure simply staring back at him without any hint of emotion. Draeden returned the expression, his keen eyes piercing the darkness beyond the circle of light of the burning car far behind him. The cold road beneath his feet stretched on forever, once again he found himself trapped in a strange world. How far must he walk this time before he reaches the end?
He sighed. "Was what he said true?"
A breeze whipped at Daroth's tattered robes, making the apparition himself seem even less animate, like a model skeleton with rags thrown on. "Regarding your failure? Only if you choose to believe it. You weren't brought here to fight Anathkash Dakari, that much is for sure."
"Anathkash Dakari? You mean 'The Author'?" demanded Draeden.
A soft laugh escaped Daroth.
"What's funny?"
"Ah, I beg forgiveness for my cruelty. I mean no ill will by my mirth, but must admit to finding amusement in this... situation. The most accurate name for this man you despise so much is Anathkash Darksky."
"Darksky?!"
"Yes. Duriel spoke the truth when he described your family's fate. Mother and father died, but infant and unborn sons both survived."
"The Author is my brother? And he was destined to kill me?"
"Hmm, I never did fully explain your presence here," Daroth admitted, rubbing at the space where his nose should have been. Force of habit. "Your spirit is detached from your body, true. Your soul now rests in a... facet of the afterlife. Another plane of existence."
"You already told me that."
"Indeed. Do you not find it unusual that Jack hasn't joined you here? If Jack was an additional personality existing in your head then he'd be in your head here, too."
"What are you saying? That the voice in my head I'd been arguing with for nearly two fucking monthswasn't me going insane?"
"Quite the contrary. Jack's intrusion was to cause your insanity. Or death, whichever you submitted to first," said Daroth, staring into the distance. "He came quite close to success, I understand. But he's still in your head, Draeden. Just not your head here."
Draeden was astounded. "And you couldn't have told me this earlier, because..?"
"I didn't believe it important at the time. You had things to do."
"Had things to do? So what's changed?"
The spirit turned his head to face Draeden, who felt his gaze despite the hollow eye sockets. "First you needed to get here. Now the pawns are moving into place. Now you are waiting."
"For what?"
Daroth shrugged. A peculiar sight, a skeleton shrugging. It reminded Draeden of tossing rice in a frying pan. A mental image he quickly dismissed.
"You don't even know?"
"A more appropriate statement would be 'even I don't know.'"
"Don't be so fucking pedantic," Draeden growled, turning back to the burning car and folding his arms, fuming with frustration at his guide's terrible judgement.
Daroth said nothing for a few moments. "We wait and see what your brother does next."
It was Draeden's turn for silence. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He couldn't believe that Daroth hadn't bothered to tell him that his mind had been infiltrated by a malevolent spirit posing as a mental disorder with the intention of convincing him to commit suicide so it could have his body for itself. But then, would he even have believed him? 'Oh, by the way, you're not mad; there was a ghost in your head making you go crazy so you'd hand over control of your mortal body to it. But don't worry about it, it's not important.'
"It may interest you to know Jack's true identity," Daroth offered solemnly.
Draeden looked over his shoulder at Daroth, his face filled with thunder. "You think?!"
-#-
13th June, 2010
From out of nowhere the clouds appeared, bringing with them a torrential rain that obscured Anathkash Dakari's vision even further than the darkness and forestry combined had already achieved. It was as if some celestial force was trying to prevent him from even reaching the mansion, let alone completing his task. Dakari flipped his hood up and soldiered on, the ground beneath him gradually becoming slick with mud, slowing his pace significantly.
On one hand he wished that Just Wrestling hadn't folded, that Jody Monroe hadn't cut her losses and run off with what little money the company had left. This alternative scenario being the case then Dakari would have been in Canada somewhere, hopefully making it third time lucky against Dash Springfield and proving to himself if no-one else that he could beat the man. Twice in a row Springfield had defeated him in what had been described by the media -so he'd been told- as massive upsets, though it looked like he'd never get the chance to repay the favour.
Try as he might, Dakari couldn't shake present business from the forefront of his mind, no matter how much he tried to distract himself. He'd spent so long thinking about it that the mission was ingrained into his brain. The white elephant was killing Arthus Andarion. Truth be told, despite all his own preparation for this day he still felt as if he wasn't ready to do this. He had the weapons, sure; armed with the spectacularly unremarkable dagger Nihilus gave him and a Colt M1911 he'd picked up before he left Albany, Dakari could eliminate Andarion at any range within the house – assuming Andarion didn't see him first.
Which he shouldn't.
At least if Anathkash Dakari were to die then he wouldn't leave anything behind. His writings were worthless to anyone who should find them; so complex was his code that none would likely break it. There was no-one for him to abandon, no-one who depended on him, especially not with the bankruptcy of JUST. Even if his and Jody's relationship was bordering on personal at best, he knew she wouldn't lose any sleep over his disappearance now. Dakari had no pets, no friends, no family and no life to begin with.
Nothing to lose.
The increasingly sludgy path was beginning to drain his strength, the mud closing around his feet and holding him down as if the very Earth sought to swallow him up, to stop his progress. Up ahead he could see lights on the path, an indication that he was getting closer to the mansion and a morale-booster; small though that was, every little helped.
There couldn't have been much further to go, surely.
Finally the trees broke away from the path, which gradually became more paved. The house was there in front of him now, beyond a long swimming pool; none of the lights that he could see were switched on, though there was an eerie glow from the underwater pool lights that illuminated much of the back of the stately home and the raised decked area at the back door.
Dakari's eyes locked on a dark shape moving around by the back door, comfortably strolling to and fro across the decking. A man dressed in a long black coat, who too had his hood up to shelter from the rain, clouds of smoke billowing from his mouth. Dakari could only assume that the man was standing guard, there was no other reason for him being there, besides smoking. Keeping to the treeline, Dakari circled the pool, dagger in hand. The man was completely oblivious to his presence and would likely remain so until it was too late, provided he didn't turn around at the wrong moment. His field of vision would be restricted by the hood, but that didn't matter to Dakari.
He already had his target in sight.
-#-
The cursed rain made keeping watch ten times harder than it should have been. To say that Arthus Andarion expected an attempt on his life would be moot – there were many more who knew of his presence in this world than the Legionnaire would have liked and as such he conducted his activities with the utmost vigilance. Anyone seeking entry would need to do so with care and planning.
He flicked his cigarette at the pool. It fell short, landing in a puddle.
The watcher's boots made no sound on the decking, as they were designed to reduce footfalls for those trained in the ways of stealth. The uneducated might describe him as a ninja, a silent assassin with immeasurable talents in martial arts. He knew of a thousand ways to make a man die in silence and he would certainly not fall victim to some--
The man turned around just in time to lean out of reach of the dagger swung at his face in a horizontal arc, though the roundhouse heel kick to follow cracked him square in the jaw, sending him reeling and crashing into the wooden railing around the deck and then to the floor. Turning over to get up he saw the man descending upon him, the glittering dagger plunging down to perforate his face.
-#-
As Dakari commenced delivery of the killing blow, his victim's hood fell away with barely a moment to spare before being impaled. The knife stabbed harmlessly into the wooden deck beside the downed man's head.
Righting himself and yanking his weapon free, Dakari pushed himself to his feet. "Florien?" he whispered in disbelief.
"Dakari," the man gasped, using the rail to help himself up. "Fancy seeing you here."
"I could say the same. Why are you here?"
Grinning, Florien D'nesca threw his hood back up and straightened his coat. "Same as you, more or less. You never hung around long enough to find out what Benedict said to me in his letter."
"I didn't think, you'd tell me anyway."
"Wouldn't have, at the time. Too angry, or so I'd have you believe."
"You mean at the bar?"
"Yeah," chuckled Florien, placing an arm across Dakari's shoulders. "You had to believe we'd not meet again in order for those watching you to think the same. I figured the best way to do that would be to punch you in the face."
Dakari scowled. "Job well done."
"Yup!"
"To what end?"
"I know why you're here. Benedict explained how this evening would pan out to me long ago. It took me a while to come to terms with it but I am to protect you with my life because for some reasonyou're the only one who can kill Andarion," the taller man said, taking his arm away to shrug dramatically, as was his way. "Don't ask me why, Benedict never explained that."
"How did you know I'd be here tonight? Here and now?"
A sickeningly cheerful smile clung to Florien's face. "You're not the only one who can tell fortunes, you know. This day has been written about for decades. You're about to prove history!"
"Prove history?"
"They already know it's going to happen, Dakari. It's just a case of going in there and doing it. I don't know exactly what's going to happen tonight but it's going to change both of us in ways we can't possibly imagine."
Dakari frowned. "Like from being alive to being dead? That's pretty drastic."
Florien's grin faded. "I sure fucking-- uh, hope not," he complained out loud, quietening down again. "C'mon, we'd better get inside. The camera out here is looping footage but if we make too much noise..."
"If you make too much noise, you mean."
"Whatever. Asshole. Door's unlocked, I got bored waiting for you."
With a long sigh, Anathkash Dakari nodded slowly to Florien. "Then let's get this over with."
-#-
