Rainbow In The Dark

Barrow's Range


 * A conical-shaped rise with a slightly flattened top, the hill named as Barrow's Range is an oddity of nature in that it ascends from what is otherwise level grassland, and stands alone four hundred feet above those lands with nothing for miles around that can remotely compare.


 * However, although the hill itself is a natural construct, the fortifications that are present upon the flattened apex of the rise are not. It was once host to a great watchtower and a number of supporting buildings, and although the watchtower and fortifications were burned and destroyed many ages ago and have long since crumbled to dust, much of the bulwark of Barrow's Range remains all the same.


 * The base of the watchtower still stands, providing some degree of shelter from the elements, while the ring of smooth obsidian stones that once formed the perimeter wall are still present, though badly worn from the elements Amidst the vast debris and rubble that litters the area, one might also come across a number of interesting items.


 * The most distinctive of all these ruins is a pool of clear water, evidently tapped from a natural source, that rests in the middle of what appears to have been a religious shrine of some kind. The surrounding marble facade still mostly intact, along with a statue of an ancient and grim-looking monarch.


 * From this vantage point much of the surrounding landscape is revealed: A desolate stretch of ashen desert to the west, the rolling grasslands and foothills of the north, and the meadows and fields that rest to the south.


 * It is a cold night. The air is stagnant, not stirring with the slightest breeze. The skies are perfectly clear. The following of the six moons are visible in the sky: Herald (blue/waning), Dayhunter (crimson/waning), Torch I (gray/waning), Torch II (gray/waning). 

Celeste is standing near Rampart. Her hands move along the saddle bags. The moment one is flipped open, she is soon moving off to another. Agitation dogs her steps, a state rarely seen in the Mikin.

Taran makes his way out of the access tunnel, staff bright in the moonlight. "It is not like you to flee," he notes.

She looks over her shoulder, snatching at another buckle. "I grow weary of hearing how horrible we are," she comments, unable to mask the passion in her words.

Taran tilts his head. "No one has said a word about you," he says. "They are all happy you came, happy to have you here."

"I'm a Mikin, Taran," Celeste growls and a buckle catches her cheek. A streak of red appears where the metal hits, and she looks back in surprise.

Taran walks over to her, would put his fingers to the cut if allowed. "Varal is not a man who hides his feelings," he says quietly. "Or rather...he hides them behind other sentiments. Can the wolf love the hunter who stalks him for pelt? Likely not. But the wolf can accord the hunter respect for his skill. Between Varal and most mages, that is all we can do."

Celeste glances curiously to his hand, not pushing away from the ministrations. Temper still boiling. "So what am I, Taran? He's never hunted mages, and now he wishes little more than to feel righteous against the shadow."

"Against *us*, Celeste," Taran corrects softly. "Do you think we cannot see him watching us, judging us? This or that action weighed in his mind against the day he feels justified in hunting us down? And we *cannot* stop that, Celeste. Because we *can* fall. And we *cannot* trust our own judgement on that, not entirely - but who can be comfortable with their judge and executioner in the room, save one so sure of his own righteousness that nothing could disturb him anyway?"

"Do you think I do not watch over him as well, Taran? I"m not a fool," she sighs. Burning through her anger, she looks down to her hands. "He's not a monster. He's a good man, who just gets caught up at times."

Taran shakes his head. "Listen to me," he says, firmly now. "*Listen* to me. I do not hate Varal. Kallyn does not hate him. I know of no mage that does. He is a *necessary being* - one who hunts down Shadow and destroys it. Without hesitation. Without lingering guilt. Righteousness protects him from that, and gives speed to his blade." He holds his hand before Celeste's eyes, the blood from her cheek on his fingers. "...Should I fall, do you think you would see it? Could you drive the blade into my heart without hesitation, without grief?"

She looks to the taint of red and then past it. "A promise I made to you long ago," she murmurs. "Yes, if you fell, it would be my blade that finds your heart. Even if it should break mine to do so."

Taran nods, leaning forward. "But it would not break his. He would not hesitate. He would sleep well, secure in the knowledge that he had destroyed a thing of darkness. There is a place for that. We do not hate Varal. We are just never going to be that comfortable around him." He pauses. "...I suppose...as you are not comfortable around Norran. Do you not feel, every time he is in the room with you, that he judges you? Judges your thoughts, your words, your deeds against what he feels is fit for a noblewoman and a knight?"

Celeste stiffens, ad there's a twitch to her jaw. "He's an insult to both, Taran," she growls. "You know that as much as I. Do you think my kindness would stay my hand?"

"It would slow it," says Taran quietly. "Perhaps just a bit, just for a moment. But if I have fallen, that would still mean your death." He sighs. "You have a gentle heart. It makes you a better priest in many ways than Varal could ever hope to be. But the hardness of *his* heart makes him a better *soldier*, my love. I recognize in him...a worthy opponent, if that makes sense." He smiles briefly. "Likely, it does not. But he and I understand, even if you do not. We are not friends, he and I, and we never will be. We simply hold an indefinite truce, we hunter and wolf, against the day nature pits us against one another - rightly or wrongly. It cannot be otherwise, not if the Amnesty is ever to hold."

She looks back to the offending buckle, fingering it now. "I could kill a mage, Taran. Do not think my heart will stay my hand. There's a time and place for kindness, and hope. But others would have killed Kallyn where I fought to save her."

"As I said," Taran replies, smiling gently. "You are a better priest than Varal could ever hope to be. You represent but one facet of the Light. And so does he. I do not feel, from my admittedly distant perspective, that *either* of you are wrong. You both do a thing that is badly needed in this world, that few understand or appreciate."

Celeste cuts a sidelong look to the side, studying Songbird. "Taran, I cannot sit and listen to thoughts on a man I respect. Do forgive me," she prompts. "He is my cousin, and dear to me. Who knows, I may stand at his side when he marries one of our friends."

Taran tilts his head. "Stand at his side?"

She nods. "As family does," she explains. Her brow creases. "Not as his betrothed, Taran. He does not see me in such a light, or I for him in that matter."

Taran blows out a relieved breath. "Thank goodness for that. You must know I worry you will lose patience, and find another..." he shrugs. "Do you like it any better, when he tells you how much he dislikes those who are mages?"

"I correct him. Try and educate," Celeste explains. She reaches up and curls a hand to the marred one of his. "Taran, we spoke on duty. Mine rests in what I can do to aid against the shadow. I will never be a knight, or be able to serve the Empire as I wish."

Taran smiles. "So is his. Can I show you a thing? Perhaps it might help?"

Celeste nods, allowing him to lead the way.;

Taran smiles, and points straight up. At the four moons in the sky. "They give Light, yes?"

She follows his gaze, nodding. "Of course," she replies.

"Do they destroy Shadow?" asks Taran, still smiling.

Celeste's gaze falls and she shakes her head. "No, why do you ask?"

Taran raises his hand, still with that little smile. "Yet by their light we can see," he points out. "The world is not black about us. Without a torch, you could yet find your way to our camp from here. Yes?"

Confusion settles in. "To here? No," Celeste states candidly. "I do not know my way through the wilds, my dear. Though I wish to learn."

Taran laughs. "But you found your way to your horse," he points out.

"Of course," Celeste replies and meets his gaze. "Taran, what are you trying to say?"

Taran holds up his hand, smiling. "Patience?" he asks. "You see the Light in just one way. I see it in two. Varal does not need correction, Celeste. Only balance - just as you seem to." He points up at the moons. "You are like those moons, love. You do not seem to realize it, but you are. I wish you to understand how important that is. You seem to wish to be like Varal. I suppose that is a valid thing, but you should understand your own light first."

Celeste glances skyward. "You believe I've grown weak with my absence from the church," she suggests quietly. "Being a beacon is only worthy if you can instill trust in someone to speak openly. To have them come without fear and reservation."

Taran shakes his head. "No. Are the moons weak?" He sighs. "You do not have to *do* anything at all, my dear. Really. Truly." He looks a little amused, a little crestfallen, a little wistful. "Celeste...by your very presence, many who can still see Light in the world are drawn to it. Whether you speak of theology or...or *flowers*. Simply by being in your presence, the world is brighter, the way clearer." He points up at the moons. "They do not need to speak to me. By their presence, I can see the path before my feet and the shadows along my course. Just because they are *there*. You do the same. Mages who would never trust Varal come to your door. Many untouched who otherwise would grow to fear the night without distinction, by your light can recognize the true dangers in their path. How is this weak?"

"It is only that you believe that I could not fight a mage. Kill them in fact," she comments. A quick glance towards the horse, she offers a hand for the two to step farther away. "In this, I wonder if you see me as weak."

Taran blinks. "No," he says. "I think you would not be as quick as Varal, to kill a mage that you know as a friend. Quite a different matter." He blows out a breath. "And it is not weak. You can do many things he cannot, even if he had the same powers. As well see him as weak for that."

Celeste shakes her head. "I don't see him as weak, Taran. Only that he thinks in the ways of the old Church at times. That there are times, my own hands itch to fight."

"Yet if you did that, and only that, would a mage such as Kallyn confide in you?" asks Taran gently.

She bites to her lower lip, stealing a glance to the tunnel. "I made her talk to me, Taran. She wished to kill all like myself."

Taran lipquirks. "I rather doubt that," he says. "You are often the only Sunkissed a mage will talk to freely, or admit anything to." He purses his lips. "Tell me. In the battle between Light and Shadow, where stands an act such as buying a bowl of hot stew for a hungry stranger?"

"I would think it lends on the side of kindness," Celeste comments. "Unless you've an intention to poison the meal. But I would say it could be seen as a blessing of the Light and kindness of another."

Taran nods. "Where stands an act such as finding a bed for a homeless wanderer?" he asks.

She frowns, "the same."

"Listening to the troubles of a man at the end of his rope?" Taran asks, smiling now.

Celeste rolls her eyes skyward, huffing up some. "Again, the same," she replies. Clearly not putting the pieces together.

"The Church taught you that Light was locked in a war against Shadow," says Taran, and points up at the moons. "If it had truly understood its own words I doubt it would have fallen. Those acts are Light, my love. They are the door by which Light enters the world and every life. And they are what *you* do, all the time, by your very nature. Lighting the world before you without even thinking about it, even as they," and he looks up at the moons, "give light enough for you and I to see one another." He lowers his arm, more serious now. "Have you ever *been* that hungry stranger, that homeless wanderer?"

Celeste's gaze trails from the moons, down to rest on his features. Her head dips in a subtle nod. "Yes, when I left the church," she sighs.

"When someone gave you a meal, or a place to sleep, and asked nothing in return," says Taran slowly, "How did that affect you, if it happened? Did you not know hope, in that moment?"

"Yes," she replies, shifting uncomfortably. "There's a time that the Light touches on us all, Taran. Your voice, and gift, that is not the shadow when you perform."

Taran raises a finger, tut-tut, but smiles. "Hope is a door to Light," he says. "Even as anger is a door to Shadow. Charity, kindness, mercy. These are the doors of Light. To hesitate, to refrain fron judgment. To offer a second chance. These are all the doors of Light into a heart. Yes - I think if I or any other of your mage friends fall, you would hesitate. That is not weakness, but simply the way the Light speaks through you. There are hundreds like Varal in the world. There are almost none like you." He nods upward, at the moons. "There are two ways to increase the power of Light in this world, my love, and both are valid. You can take your candleflame of Light and make a sword of it, destroying those lost to Shadow. Or you can take that candleflame of Light, and use it to light the wicks in others' hearts. In time, that light becomes a bonfire greater than any Varal could hope to make."

"How can you speak like this and worry me so at the same time, Taran," Celeste sighs, stealing a glance back to the tunnel. "I came out here so you would not see my anger, and pain. How can I help you, though?"

"You already are," Taran smiles. "Exactly as I told you. I grieve, I hurt...I cannot deny that. But I have only to sit near you a while, and somehow it is less. You stay a while longer...I remember hope. A while longer, and I remember joy." He shrugs, smiling almost sheepishly now. "You will discount it as a bard's poetry, but you are my moon. When you are gone it is hard for me to see anything worth caring about. When I am near enough to see your light - even when we are fighting and arguing, I can see the path for us both."

Celeste chuckles, her temper fading. "We have the most interesting fights," she confesses. "When I feel lost, you help me to find the path. Will you truly stay here, Taran?"

"I will call it home," Taran agrees. "But Celeste...really. How often am I ever 'home'?" He shrugs. "I will see about this bear of Blackfox's, we will continue our mapping...I would ask you to come with us, but you have candles to light, I think."

"I wish to help with this bear, Taran. For Blackfox," Celeste states sincerely. "But I cannot remain here indefinite. YOu met two of my students, and I would wish they do not feel they are alone."

Taran nods. "And do not feel badly about Varal," he chides. "The Light made you to be the one who offers hope. The meal for the hungry man, the bed to the homeless one. Varal is just the other side of that - the sword for the man who, offered a bed for the night, steals from the host. The hungry man who, offered stew, takes a knife to the giver's throat. There are those your light cannot reach...for those, there is Varal. It would hurt you too much to take his role, my dear. And in hurting you...perhaps you would not offer that bowl, or bed, and then light would not reach those people. You know Varal does not do these things. Working together, but acting within your own gifts, the two of you would be a powerful combination."

Celeste grimaces, looking down to her hands. "Don't say that, Taran. Please don't say that," she sighs. "There's times I've worried that Varal would see me more than then studious cousin, so far, that holds true."

Taran tilts his head. "I meant in terms of your devotion to Light as a cause," he says. "Not as a couple. I think...that would be heartbreaking, to lose you to him."

"He's a good man, but I could not offer him children," Celeste confeses sheepishly plucking to the corset. "No, his heart belongs to another and he needs only to realize it."

Taran raises an eyebrow. "Perhaps I might help. A little mockery is a powerful motivation from the right source," he teases.

Celeste tilts her head, confusion seems to travel in waves this evening. "What do you mean, dear," she prompts.

Taran grins. "Nothing much. But it has occurred to me that a lover in his life might calm Varal down considerably." He sobers up, wiping drying blood from Celeste's cheek with a careful thumb. "...You likely have no idea how much I would like to kiss you, just now, and hold you close. As if I might swallow Light itself in that."

"I don't believe he's had a lover for some time," she replies, with a wry smile. "Taran," she reaches out to touch his cheek. "I worry on you, every day."

"Not the *best* answer, to a request for a kiss," Taran answers dryly, and bends forward to kiss - on the forehead. "I will find time, and see if Serath will speak to me, if you like. I have no duties, anymore...but I do have people. As you do."

Return to Season 7 (2008)