The Secret of Flamerule (in progress)

[Fallen Glory]

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Okay, I'll post each chapter here as I finish it. Post if you want, but please don't spam. I don't want to have to search for my posts, and on the off chance that anyone likes my story, they shouldn't have to search either.

Wish me luck!


Prologue



Mankind believed that the center of the earth was molten, based off of what they knew of other planets. They did not know that millions of years ago, a primitive race had proved them wrong. This race evolved into something strange in it's isolated niche, and was, eventually, the beginning of the end.

In the years of transition from Homo Erectus to Homo Sapien Sapien, called Cro-Magnon, a group of said long-dead humans found a cave. This, in itself, was not exactly unusual. Their people, yet new to that land, had always lived in caves, as their ancient rivals, the Neanderthals, always had.

Yet there was something different about this cave. With astounding luck that utterly defies the rules of chance, they worked their way deep into the honeycombing caverns. When the tribe tried to turn back, they found themselves lost, and through generations of time, they descended past the volcanic layer.

And reached the center of the earth.

They found, there, a pocket of air to rival anything that they could have imagined. Somehow, over years and years, the spores of some strange fungus had traveled down those same passageways, and their bioluminescence covered the top half of the perfectly sperical subterranian oasis. Seeds, too, had traveled, sprouted, and covered the bottom half with verdent greenery. The animals that had carried them had propogated, and eyes that had never seen sunlight, as the first generation of travelers had, stared in utter disbelief at the brightly lit paradise.

Over the millions of years that passed between then and the present year, 2034 Ano Domani, the prehistoric humans evolved. Because they were only safe in the pockets far above the greenery, as dangerous predators had also evolved there, their whole body structure gradually changed.

They slowly grew pale green wings, like those of a bird, which would camoflague them against the green of the luminescent moss. With wings, their bodies could no longer afford to have heavy bones and fat. They developed long, hollow, avian bones. Their bodies evolved to store fat differently.

Hair that tradition kept long became lighter, and the only way to do that was to make it thinner. It became more brittle, but shone beautifully in the light of the strange mold. It, too, became a pale shade of green, to blend in with the 'sky.' Only their skin color stayed the same, for reasons unfathomable.

Their life spans lengthened, as well, in Nature's attempt to protect this species. It was easier to keep the same creatures around for longer than to cycle through, reteaching over and over again.

In the confined space, even the nature of their minds had to change. They became more peaceful and slower to anger, but because there always had to be balance, their wrath was terrible.

Long before mankind discovered electricity, the ones who called themselves Himitsu harnessed geothermal energy, and with this serendipity, their technology advanced faster. They discovered how to control Climate in a world that even had clouds and rain. Rivers stopped flooding, and it only rained when it was convenient.

Their Eden was perfect.

And then something tragic happened. A sickness began, and spread like wildfire amongst the himitsu. It was deadly, and in order to ward off the Sleeping Fever, the cautious, isolated Himitsu needed to find their long-lost relatives... mankind.

The hunt had begun.  

[Fallen Glory]

VERSE ONE

The small woman of twenty and one glowdarks paused where she stood, almost camoflaged by the darker green plant life around her, and listened. She couldn't hear any Predators coming, but that didn't mean much. They had evolved to be the perfect hunter of the Himitsu. Her people lived in constant terror of them, and their only reprieve was the heavy, muscular body of the Predators. They couldn't fly, and the sides of the cavern they had always lived in were too sheer to be climbed.

It wasn't safe to be on the ground. Chimera checked the tap on one of the towering trees, and found it only half-full. That was a mistake. The pale green of her long hair and wings couldn't be seen, but the white of her flesh made her clearly visible for all to see. She heard a long, smug growl, far too close for anything resembling comfort.

The treetops were too thick, Chimera saw. The tree branches here tended to interlock, weaving a solid arborial web, and there was no way she could take off. She had to find an opening! She started to walk faster.

Trees, trees! All she could see, looking up, was the brown of branches, spiderwebbing across a roof of leafy green, with no hint of the much lighter glowmoss. A branch cracked behind her, and a surge of panic ripped through her.

Dark, cracked bark rose in columns around her, connecting the black soil to the treetop canopy. Chimera saw taps, left there by others of the Himitsu.

There, up ahead! Bright light streamed through some opening in the endless sea of leaves, glowing when it hit random spores of glowmoss. She saw that some of it had grown on trees and rocks, but doubted it would last much longer. Many of the animals ate glowmoss. Bright, eager eyes flashed behind her, when she glanced back, and she stifled a scream. She broke into a fast run.

An eerie, excited howl rose from the Predator's throat, and he began to chase her. Long, powerful muscles propelled what had, millions of years ago, been a wolf, and still strongly resembled one. This 'wolf,' though, stood four foot six at the shoulder, and was small for its breed.

Chimera cast her eye desperately ahead, and strained to run faster. Why hadn't she tried harder in Athletics class? The beast was less than ten yards away when she found the opening. Light streamed onto her face, and she unfolded her wings, crouched, and leapt into glorious open space, free of the dangerous, restricting forest.

One birdlike wing buffeted into a tree trunk. She had been careless in her relief; she began to fall back to the ground. Straining pale green wings, she checked her fall just before her feet hit the ground, and started to rise again, but so slowly, still fighting her downward momentum.

A snarl; a blinding, terrifying wave of pain, washing outwards from her calf. Chimera looked back, saw the glee in the creature's eyes, and knew there was no hope.

~

"We lost another one to the Predators, and Lyoda isn't getting better, she's sicker than ever," Jorin lamented. It was true, Dazarelle knew.

"I don't understand why I have to pick the next Winglady. Why can't you keep acting as Winglord, so that there's at least one person who knows what's going on?"

"Daz," Jorrin sighed, the normal sterness gone from his voice. Now he just looked tired, and closed the heavy record book. Standing, he put it back on the bursting shelf it had come from, which groaned in protest. "You know that can't happen. I assume someone has told you why, by now..."

"No," Daz informed him, agrieved. "I guess everyone thought it was obvious."

His father's mouth formed a small 'o' of surprise. "Well, we certainly can't have you leading the entirety of the Himitsu without knowing. When the bond is made, you and your Winglady will live in absolute synchrony. Your hearts will beat as one, and when she dies, so will you."

Alarmed, Dazarelle objected, "How am I supposed to train her without you? I assumed that I'd at least have your help!"

"You will have help," Winglord Jorrin reminded him gently. The lesser lords-"

"The lesser lords! They spend more time squabbling than ruling! What would they know about leading anybody? You do all of the administrative work," Daz said bitterly. He turned on his heel and exited crisply. "I'm going around to the precincts. Maybe some of the Ladies will be something resembling useful."

He tried to relax, feeling the frustration manifest in clenched muscles, and knew his eyes would frighten the next person he saw. Glancing about the barren stone hall, worn smooth by time, effort, and many hands, he saw no one. So he hadn't frightened anyone yet, yet being the operative word. He knew his intense obsession with whatever project he had started had upset people in the past.

There it was. Daz rounded a sandstone corner, and blinked against the powerful light of the Glowmoss. It was Glowlight, when the bioluminescent fungus was at it's strongest. Over the next twelve months, responding, somehow, to a change of seasons that took place hundreds of miles above, at a surface it had never seen, the light would gradually wane, until one day, with no warning, the feeble light would entirely disappear.

That was called the Glowdark, lasted for about an hour, and it began the new Glowlight when the entire canopy of moss released glittering, glowing spores, and died. It was dangerous to venture outside during such a time, and not only because of the darkness that would occur for a day or so until the moss matured. The thick clouds of spores would grow on anything, Himitsu or rock alike.

Dazarelle crouched, unfurled his bright wings, and lauched himself into the wide openness of the spacious cavern. If he strained his eyes, he could see the Himitsu-sized patch of bare rock as a dark speck in the light, exactly on the opposite wall.

A high, terrified scream rent the air, coming from straight below him, through an opening in the treetops. He saw, tiny as a thiefbug, the Predator, and the girl who lay in his grasp. Even as he dove, mind whirling with adrenaline, fear, and worry, the Predator pulled the girl down to the ground, and ripped into one flailing wing.

Close enough to see her tearstreaked face now, Daz strained harder. The Predator bore down on her shoulder as she tried to get up. It had been aiming for the throat, but missed as she jerked away. The animal snorted in frustration.

It clawed her back, forcing her to the ground, and just as Daz reached that very spot, seemed to smile smugly. It mocked him, saying, "Look, I have won again!" It was wrong, he thought grimly, and landed on it's back. Poisonous spurs bit into the creature's thick skin.

"Run," Daz shouted at the girl. She nodded, and did so as he turned back to the beast. The poison took time to work, and as they didn't have time, he had to make it. He hovered just out of the Predator's reach, and it snarled angrily. Dipping to the left of the beast, he moved faster than it had anticipated. He jabbed the hideous thing's throat and chest with his spurs again, pushing hard, and used the momentum to rise out of it's reach.

There weren't many was that a himitsu could fight back against a predator, and the women had no way at all, but the poison, made and injected by the bright green and blue barb - retractable, which definitely came in handy - on his heel. It made walking utterly impossible when unsheathed, twisting and hurting, or even getting ripped off, but they were useful. They were the only defense.

The Predator stumbled, and Daz saw it's eyes finally glaze over with pain. It fell, spasmed, and was still. His spurs withdrew into their sheath, and he ran to where the girl - woman, he corrected himself; she was so short that it was hard to tell - lay, only a few yards away, on the ground.

"I assume you can't fly, miss..." he waited, hoping that she would supply her name.

"Chimera." She struggled to her feet. "And I can get back by myself." Daz opened his mouth to protest the obvious lie, but Chimera swayed and crumpled. That solved one problem, but the blood loss that had caused it posed another.

They had already lost one that day, and Dazarelle did not want to lose another. He sighed, and picked her up, wondering if he could carry that much weight. She was small, but she was still a person, which made his load heavier than his wings were used to. He leapt into the air, ascending through a stream of floating, golden motes.  

[Fallen Glory]

VERSE TWO


Lyoda no longer left her dreams. She had fallen into a coma, and Jorrin knew she could not live much longer. Neither would he. He bounced the vial of poison on his palm, and his eyes grew distant. /Yes, I can see, Lyoda. It doesn't matter whether we die now, or tomorrow. It might as well be now./ He lifted the stopper.

His eyes followed the movement of the viscous red liquid. It settled, and a single brown seed rose to the surface. The crystal vial gleamed. It was beautiful, Jorrin thought.

"Now, Lyoda dear, we will be together forever." He downed the poison, and a pink tongue flicked out to catch the last few drops. Curling up next to his beloved, he waited to die.

~

Something caught in Dazarelle's chest, and a rush of knowledge crowded his mind. Suddenly, he knew why Jorrin had only provided cursory training - the collective understanding of his new, esteemed position never died with its owner.

A spark lit in his heart, and an instinct guided him to leave his stone chamber and go, well and swiftly, to the wide room where all of the candidates waited. He heard nervous giggling and rustling wings, and he didn't care if they were useless. Strategy was not an option.

His heightened, mindless senses were afire, and he ignored the surprised expressions on the faces of random passers-by. One woman raised a hand in a hesitant gesture of respect. He ignored that, too.

There it was. He saw the bright light of cultivated moss in the glowchamber, where the bond between the Flightrulers were made. That bond was absolute, and some impulse forced his eyes away, keeping him from making contact with an unsuitable subject. That would be disastrous.

Standing tall, he touched the membrane that served as a door in himitsu households. It sprang away from one wall, drawing into the other, and he passed through. It closed again behind him.

Daz lifted blazing eyes-

And a concerned, female face popped into his view. "Dazarelle?" Chimera's small voice quivered. Even now, she was still afraid to speak to him as an equal. She was too used to being a subordinate. "Are you okay?"

Daz's eyes widened in shock, and Chimera stumbled, sitting down hard, and wincing as her heavily bandaged body contacted with the hard stone. /Oops,/ Chimera thought sheepishly. /I think I just did something wrong.../ Dazarelle felt the touch of her mind, heard her, and groaned. His senses returned to him, the instinctual drive to choose his Flightmate gone.

Daz leaned against the closest wall, cradling his head in his hands, overwhelmed by the new awareness he had of Chimera. The whirling mix of sensations, and a terrible sourceless pain combined to make him sweat - though he would never admit it - and his stomach lurched unpleasantly. He felt her fear, twanging across their bond, and was alarmed by the power of the urge he felt to comfort her.

It took a moment for Daz to realize the implications of what had just happened. He stood, ignoring a growing sense of illness, and looked the woman in the eyes. One of the four women in the room spoke for the first time.

"What have you done?" Lady Rhais shrieked. "You had no place in this!" Three more angry, disgusted voices joined hers, combining to make a clamor that more than annoyed him. Chimera shook, her uninjured wing moving to cover her head, and curled in on herself.

"Enough," Daz murmured. "Nothing can be done to change it." At his weary glances, the four women fell silent again. One of them rearranged her skirts, embarrassed. He turned sharply around, and caused the membrane to let him though again. /Come,/ he told Chimera. She scrambled to her feet, and followed, ignoring the dirty looks the noblewomen sent her.

"I don't understand. Please, tell me what's happening," she pleaded. Daz looked back over his shoulder, not stopping.

"In my chamber," he told her tersely. He didn't honestly know if he could explain; not because he didn't understand, but because of the terrible pain the bond created until it settled. Thinking that he was prepared for it, he had overestimated himself. He had been trained for his entire life to disregard pain, and place duty first, but it wasn't nearly enough.

He supposed that if he lived through this, he could handle anything.

As Dazarelle entered his bedroom and flopped onto his bed, exhausted, he sighed quietly. "You interrupted something that you had no part in." His deep, gentle voice broke the silence, and Chimera sat, listening attentively. "When a Flightruler dies, his or her mate dies as well. The bond between them is too powerful to just vanish, so it changes, passing on the knowledge needed to lead the Himitsu, and causing instinct to take over. I am their heir, so it was passed to me."

"But why," Chimera began. Daz sat up and shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. She stilled her questions.

"Sorry," he muttered. "That's not what you wanted to know, is it?" She looked down. "Sit," he told her. "And not on the floor. You'll get dirt under your bandages, and you don't want an infection." Wordlessly, she sat, cross-legged, on the corner of the bed farthest from where he was.

Daz blinked back his weariness, and continued, "This is going to sounds strange, and it's a lot to spring on you, but in short, you're the Flightlady now. That's why those useless twits were so upset; you accidentally robbed them of their rightful chance to rule the Himitsu. They're just stupid enough to want that." He knew he was being rude, but it was hard to concentrate on being diplomatic.

Chimera broke out of the silence that was born half of respect, and half of shock. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Daz said indignantly. It didn't really matter that she knew he was lying. Leaders were not allowed to have weaknesses. "It's all just a little overwhelming."

She frowned. "Liar," she accused him, her good wing rustling. She leaned over to touch his forehead, and flinched away from it a heartbeat later. "You're really sick!" He shook his head. "Yes, you are. Lay down, and I'm going to get a healer."

/Amazing,/ he thought. /I've never seen her act forcefully./

"I can be when I need to be," Chimera retorted, getting up, walking around the bed, and pushing him down. He didn't have the strength or inclination to put up much of a resistance.

"Ooh, yes, don't worry about it," the old woman jabbered. "I was there when Jorrin chose Lyoda, and it was exactly the same, though I don't think I've ever heard of a Flightruler who wasn't noble-born." Chimera didn't doubt her age: the woman's hair and wings were pure white.

"But why is Daz so sick all the sudden," she persisted. "You haven't told me that. He's feverish, and I know he's hurting. He's just so stupid! Why won't he just admit that he's not well?" Fuming, she folded her arms across her chest.

Laris chuckled. "People don't have faith in a leader who shows weakness. Leaders are expected to be flawless, so they're trained throughout their lives to seem that way. It is a bit stupid, though. And I think that if he had his wits about him, he wouldn't have hidden anything from you."

That didn't answer anything important. She opened her mouth to say so, and Laris seemed to realize what she wanted to know. "Oh, that. You know that the bond between the Flightrulers is powerful, right? Well, the power comes from the past Flightrulers, and their heir receives it when they die."

"He told me about that."

"Yes," Laris nodded, unsurprised. "Jorrin's body had become accustomed to the power of the bond, so it didn't cause a problem for him, after a while. Dazarelle's isn't, yet. The result is pain - from what I've heard, I wouldn't want to be in his place - and illness. Give it a few days, and he'll be fine."

"Oh." Chimera thought about this for a second, and decided that the old woman was probably right. "Can we do something to make it easier for him?

Laris laughed again. "Daz wouldn't want you doting on him."

"Tough," Chimera said firmly.

Smiling, Laris murmured, "And he said you were timid."  

[Fallen Glory]

VERSE THREE


"Hey, Daz, what do we call this place, anyway?" Chimera sat, straddling the chair in breeches, as only she would dare to do, and blinked at him.

Dazarelle groaned, wondering how she could possibly be asking questions again. The waking bell hadn't even rung. It was dark in the room: the thick, opaque cloth had been pulled over the glowmoss, cutting off the light. He could feel his pulse surge through his temples, aching. "I don't know what you mean," he mumbled, pulling his blanket up over his head.

Chimera pulled it back down again. "This place. All of it. The trees, and the stone that the glowmoss grows on, and the ground, and all of it. You're educated. What do we call it?"

Daz sighed, realizing that she would not go away until he answered the question. She'd been doing that a lot that day; she had been asking questions the day before, too, he recalled, except they had, at least, been reasonable questions, asked the very day she had become Flightlady. He supposed that once she knew everything politically, she would have to move on to philosophy. "Flamerule. Why?"

Chimera shrugged. "I dunno. Why is it called Flamerule? What's flame? A made-up word?"

"Chimera," he muttered, "I'm trying to sleep."

"I know. Why is it called Flamerule," she persisted. There was a whole legend behind it, Daz knew, but he didn't really want to go into it.

"Go away."

"Answer my question!"

"Look it up yourself! It should be in the records as 'The Legend of the Phoenix,'" he yawned, and turned over onto his side. His wings stretched, refolded, and he fell back to sleep.

~

A little angry, Chimera wandered into the record room. It was an enormous place: wide, and airy, with a high ceiling. The walls, worn smooth near the bottom by countless hands, were the same lightly colored sandstone as could be found anywhere else. Their dull color actually looked good in the somber atmosphere.

"The Legend of the Phoenix," she murmured. "I wonder where it would be." Her eyes slid over the rows and rows of tall shelves, and realized immediately that it would be stupid to try and find it herself. "Hello," she called. The sound of her voice echoed strangely.

A tall, scholarly figure emerged from behind a dark wooden shelf, still holding an enormous tome. "May I he - oh! Lady Chimera, good morning!" He bowed.

"Dazarelle would disagree. In his opinion, it's not morning until a few hours after the waking bell." Chimera grinned briefly, then continued, "I'm looking for the Legend of the Phoenix. Can you help me?"

"Of course," he assured her. "Follow me." And she did. Winding through the maze of identical bookshelves, she wondered how he could possibly know where he was. The room was larger than she thought. They rounded a corner, and the scholar pointed at a door. "Myths and legends are in there. The entire room's codecolor is yellow, and that particular legend has an entire subcolor to itself. The best record of it can be found in..." he paused to work it out. "Yellow-purple-T."

Astonished, Chimera asked, "What does that mean, exactly?" He gave her a dry smile.

"Lord Dazarelle did warn me about you and your never-ending questions," he commented. "The first color is the room code. The largest room is the first one, Orange. It is factual history; that is, events and such that were recorded on spot. This room, Yellow, is events that were not. Instead, these were passed down orally until writing came about.

"The second color is the subcode. It, too, refers to the type of record or story, but it is more specific. For instance, yellow-purple refers to a myth or legend relating to the creation of the Himitsu. The letter is just the first in the name of the scribe. The one you are looking for was scribed by Terranis." He hesitated, wanting to excuse himself, but not entirely sure how.

Chimera noticed, and smiled broadly, bounding through the membrane-door, and called, "Thank you!"

Once in the room, it didn't take long for her to locate 'purple,' and then 'T.' She pulled out the book, entitled "The Phoenix Theory," checked the index, and opened it. Her eyes move slowly, right to left, as she read:

~

Before our long before our fathers' fathers' times, there were no people. The Great Phoenix saw this, and was saddened. His beautiful world was meant to be filled with song and laughter. And so, he created humans.

These humans grew, loved, and wandered throughout the earth. They multiplied, and covered the enormous, wide open spaces that they dwelled in. Above them was a blue expanse called the sky, and below them was an endless, flat surface: the ground.

Humans were not pretty creatures. Their hair was muddy-colored, as were their eyes. They were short, with thick, heavy limbs and brown skin. Wingless, they were helpless without their weapons. Still, they were resourceful.

From the moment they were created, mankind was destructive. They were given the gift of fire from the Great Phoenix's realm, and burned forests and grasslands alike. They killed animals, burned them, and ate them, covering themselves with the skin of their dead prey. They fouled water and made war amongst themselves.

A small group of these humans were unhappy with their existence. They were bothered by the barbaric ways of mankind, and asked the Great Phoenix for help.

He agreed to help.

Not long after, they descended down the Stairway of Flame, each holding one the Great Phoenix's golden feathers so that the fire would not hurt their feet. He took them to the egg he had hatched from, which had become a paradise in his absence. In his honor, they named it Flamerule.

The humans changed, to become a lighter, purer, more beautiful form of themselves. They became the Himitsu, and set up a successful government, so that they would not become as war-torn as the Upper World had been.

As an additional measure, the Great Phoenix created Predators, to remind them that they were not perfect.

To this day, according to scholars, we live in the egg of the Great Phoenix. There is...

~

Chimera closed the book with a snap, her questions far from quelled. What had happened to the humans? Had they died out, bent of destroying things? She put these thoughts aside, content to pursue them at a later date.

The waking bell rang out.

"I wonder if Daz is awake yet," she murmured to herself. A small smile touched lips that were yet unused to such actions. However cheery she might seem, she rarely gave a genuine smile. After all those years, it was hard to be happy enough to smile. Exiting the record room, and from there, the record rooms in general, she kept on smiling.

And stumbled, quite literally, upon old Laris, who was just exiting Dazarelle's room. As she had moved into Daz's room, Chimera was surprised when Laris threw out an arm, blocking her passage. "He's not awake yet," she whispered.

"The waking bell has rung, he's going to miss breakfast," Chimera protested. A stern look from the elderly healer shut her up again. "Right, not waking up Daz," she promised. "I'll... bring something back for him?"

"That's better," Laris confirmed.

The next moment, Laris and the retreating Chimera both jumped, as Daz's beautiful - and cheerful, at the moment - voice rang out. "Good morning!"

"Daz," Chimera gasped, spinning around to face him. "You're awake? Before the midday meal?" Even she wasn't entirely sure whether this was sarcasm, or just a comment.

"It's your fault," he pointed out mildly. "Did you find the legend?" She grinned, nodded, and bounded over to hug him, her good wing lending her extra speed. He put an arm around her, and said abruptly, "I have a meeting with the lesser lords. Come with me?" The last bit was addressed to Chimera. She nodded again.

As they turned to walk down the hall, more slowly this time, two things happened almost simultaneously. The first: something slipped on Daz's face, and suddenly, she thought she could see pain that had not been there before, and an instant later, vanished again. Second, Laris tapped her on the arm, and whispered something to her.

"Watch him, and pull him out of the meeting if anything seems wrong. He should not yet be out of bed." Chimera nodded determinedly, and bounced back into her place at Dazarelle's side. There were stubborn lords to placate.  

[Fallen Glory]

VERSE FOUR


"Why would you do a foolish thing like that?" Lord Birn roared, slamming a heavy fist on the long wooden table. Daz's patient eyes regarded him with mild amusement, as he pushed a lock of long, moss-hued hair out of his face.

Lady Ira placed a calming, fine-boned hand upon her mate's shoulder. "There is no rule declaring that the Flightlady has to be of noble birth, love." He did not look at her.

"Tradition demands-"

"Please," Chimera put in. "It wasn't supposed to happen at all, but as the bonding cannot be reversed, oughtn't we to move past the issue?"

"She seems to be a sensible woman," Lady Cormila commented. "Even though I would have preferred someone born to the lifestyle, I have no objection to Lady Chimera." Her mate nodded in agreement, brown eyes flashing approval.

Birn saw the rejection of his argument of every face. "She doesn't know how to rule. Ignorant leaders have nearly destroyed the Himitsu in the past!"

"Like you, Lord Birn? Narrow-mindedness has been categorized as ignorance," the young Lord Rhael snapped rudely. Lord Birn glared at him, then sat back, sinking further into his chair.

Lady Moramel, Lord Rhael's mate cast a graceful smile in his direction, and Chimera stifled a laugh as the young lord flushed. Moramel eyed her suspiciously. "Pray, tell me," she said, turning enormous blue eyes on Daz, "Why did you choose her?"

Through their connection, Chimera felt Daz's indecision, and then his choice. He was not going to tell them that it had been an accident, preferring to save his own pride, and hers. Men!

"It was an accident," she broke in. Dazarelle shot her a venomous glare. Ruthlessly, she continued. "I popped in at the worst possible second, and was the first person he saw." Moramel chuckled softly, having caught on to the exchange. Rhael glanced at her, quizzical, his brows furrowed.

Ira raised a delicate eyebrow. "She has the manners of a farm-girl. She's dressed like one, too. A shame: I expected more." Heat rose to Chimera's cheeks, but her expression did not change.

/Oops,/ she thought to Daz, by way of apology. Suddenly, nearly everyone in the room jumped, excluding Daz, who was far too used to composure to do something like that.

"Turning to the issue of the Predators' unusual aggressiveness..."

The tall, broad double doors banged open. The conference-room doors were the only ones not to have been replaced when the membrane-doors were invented. Chimera froze like a scared rabbit when she saw the form in the doorway. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lady Moramel get up to mutter something into the communication unit.

"This meeting is adjourned," Daz said smoothly, and the lesser lords and ladies filed out, silent. Lady Moramel flashed her a reassuring smile, white teeth gleaming.

"Where is Chimera," the tall, heavyset man demanded. Spotting her, he grabbed her by one wing - her injured wing - and hauled her out of the chair. "Ungrateful brat! Where have you been?"

Chimera cowered on the dusty stone floor. "I'm sorry, Daddy!" She shook as he kicked her. "Please," she whimpered.

Daz rose, and strode quickly to the scene of the conflict, an arm extended protectively. No matter what, he would not let this man hurt Chimera. "Get out, and do not come back."

"I'm collecting my daughter," Chimera's father informed him. "Who do you think you are, telling me I can't do that?" Chimera wondered if Daz was going to pull rank. Suddenly, her father's eyes widened in white fury. "You! You're the one who's been keeping her here!" He lunged at Dazarelle, fully intending to beat him.

"No, Daddy!" Her bright eyes were wide, frightened. This was not the strong-willed girl Daz had known. This was how she had been when he met her: timid, frightened, and meek. It was this man's fault. He had hurt her.

This man had hurt his Chimera.

Daz's wings spread angrily, and he caught the wrist of the infuriated man. With a twist that was, at once, elegant and economic of movement, Dazarelle broke the man's arm. Blind, quiet rage burned in his eyes.

He felt a tug at the hem of his breeches. A small, pale, pathetic hand, Chimera's hand, lay there weakly. "Please, stop," she whispered, looking up at him. The fire left his eyes, and they unfocused. He swayed on his feet, and collapsed. His face was white, and his breath ragged.

"You really have to learn... how to save... yourself," Dazarelle breathed, and his eyes closed. Too late, Chimera remembered the power of the bond. His body could not have become accustomed to it in less than a day, and in a drive to protect her, he had drawn on that power. Maybe the drive to protect her was part of the bond. For some reason, that depressed her. Chimera wanted Daz to want to protect her.

And now he was hurt, because of her. He'd been getting better! Chimera cried out in pain as her father hit her again, his hard fist ripping into deep wounds that were only just beginning to heal.

"How dare you defend him," he growled. "I'm your father! I am supposed to come first! Who does he think he is?" He punctuated each enraged declaration with another crashing blow. Her ears rang, and the edges of her vision began to retreat. Clutching at the bloody ruin of what had once been a very nice dress, Chimera sobbed.

"That is more than enough!" Displaying greater strength than Chimera could have possibly expected, Laris marched in and, incensed, slapped him, guards trailing behind. "You will not lay hands upon the Flightlady!"

"I haven't touched the Flightlady," Chimera's father protested. "I was only disciplining my daughter." His expression, which had been one of wounded reproach, changed. His eyes darkened. "Oh, I see. And now you want me to believe that this," he kicked her again, "worthless piece of trash is the ruler of the Himitsu?"

"Remove him," Laris said coldly. "Place him in a class-four cell. His offenses demand execution, which will proceed within three days of now."

Speechless with horror, Chimera's father opened his mouth, swallowed hard, and choked out, in a barely audible voice, "What have I done to deserve such punishment?"

Laris glanced at Chimera. "Might as well be now. Dazarelle told you about this, I assume? No," she corrected herself with a small smile, "You pestered it out of him, while he was trying to sleep."

"See? She's an impuden-" Laris shot him a withering look. Chimera nodded, feeling very small. Reminding herself that she had to be strong, at least for this moment, she stood up, brushed off her darkening, blood-stained skirts, and stood up straight.

"Kr-" her voice broke, and she swallowed. "Kriln, you stand charged of fifth-level assault of our person, and second-level assault of the Flightlord. Additionally, you have shown insubordination to your Flightleaders, which is a level-one minor offense. Your punishment is..." Chimera's eyes grew bleak, but it was better than death.

But not a lot better.

"Exile. As of the moment your feet touch the ground below, you will cease to exist. No one will see you. No one will hear you. Your wings will be clipped, and you will be trapped on the ground. We will escort you to your family unit, so that you may say goodbye to them. Any that wish to join you may." The last few words echoed, and it hurt her to hear them. She felt that she owed a lot to her father, and she ought to have explained the situation better - there was nothing wrong in what he had done to her - but she could not allow him to get away with hurting Daz.

As the guards dragged him away, with him kicking and thrashing the whole way, Chimera felt weak. "What have I done," she murmured. Sinking to her knees, a cry rose in her throat. Clutching at Dazarelle's warm, yielding arm, she sobbed brokenly.

An hour later, Chimera awoke in a soft bed. Her whole body ached, and she saw bandages everywhere, With a groan, her head fell back onto the pillow, and she turned to see Dazarelle's sleeping face at her back. He wasn't bandaged, but she knew that a small piece of the pain she was feeling belonged to him.

Able to feel the pain across the connection, which wasn't nearly as bad as feeling it in person, Chimera fully appreciated his agony, and felt a growing sense of respect for him. How it must have taxed him, going to that meeting, without showing any pain. And then, to protect her, he made it even worse...!

He was always doing that, wasn't he? Smiling, she recalled his daring rescue several days before. Without thinking of the danger he was in, Daz had dived into the fray, and killed the Predator.

Chimera decided that she was in love with him.  

[Mlada_Lockhart]

Wow, I definitely admire the creativity in this! Such an awesome imagination! I can't wait to read more of this...

However, a few things bothered me (but can easily be fixed)...We have Chimera's description, but you didn't describe what Daz looks like. I do this all the time, so this doesn't bother me that much. LOL...

And I got the impression that they were living below the surface (which I didn't grasp at first), however towards the end, Chimera said to her father:
"Exile. As of the moment your feet touch the ground below, you will cease to exist. No one will see you. No one will hear you. Your wings will be clipped, and you will be trapped on the ground."
Does this mean there is another layer?  

[Fallen Glory]

Shoot, I forgot the prolog!!

sweatdrop

That explains everything.

Yes, they're at the - you know what, you should read it yourself. I'll post it presently. It'll be in the same post, above, as Verse One.  

[Mlada_Lockhart]

That helps tremendously

...But I still don't know what Daz looks like...LOL  

[Fallen Glory]

sweatdrop Sorry. I'll try to work on that