Wonderland - The Fall of the Last Castle

Wonderland
The Fall of the Last Castle
Lago de Como, 1347

A warm breeze whispered through the trees along the Garonne as Ariel Kildare dipped her toes experimentally into the gently flowing water. The sunlight breaking through the canopy behind her dappled the river's bank in patches of light and darkness, but the temperature was surprisingly mild for this time of year and the hot sun against her bare skin felt delicious. Light sparkled and danced on the waves rippling their way downstream, and Ariel glanced back once more at her belongings before sliding gracefully into the cool water.

Ariel shivered as the water enveloped her, feeling her way farther into the middle of the stream where the level deepened, but relaxed once she was in direct sunlight. Her long dark hair spread around her on the surface of the water as she waded out, giving herself over to the feel of the water and the warm sun. At moments like this, basking in the heat of a bright day, Ariel thought the sunless lands of Faerie had nothing on this world.

Once she was out a fair distance, Ariel stopped to wash the dirt and grit of the road off her pale skin and out of her hair. The world was silent but for the wind and the light murmuring of the river, allowing her thoughts to drift. Back to the old times, to the music on the wind in the wilds of home and the lighthearted, peaceful wanderings through the forests of this place. To when mother Lilian taught her the old songs by firelight. To those first moments in the mortal world, and the passion of young mortal men.

The wood nymph smiled to herself as she floated in the water, but there was a touch of melancholy to it as well. The pixies and sprites - like devious little Fabesham and her honeysuckle wine - that once would have greeted her arrival with merriment and feasting had all gone from these forests. Some of them had no doubt returned to the wilds of Faerie. The others - well, who knew? There were many old friends Ariel couldn't find anywhere. Perhaps they had slipped away into the mists and away from the lonely, increasingly hostile world of man.

Running her hands back through her hair, Ariel sighed and released herself back into the moment. But her thoughts were drawn back to far gone days and absent friends. To bitter Saul, holding his emotions in check against his own darkness. To revelries with Nerva and his general after ceremonies at the temple of Jupiter . To the old wager for the love of a hapless young man. To dancing in moonlit glades with Elune, Rivelle and the now pagan men from Eblana. Back when she, like humanity, was young.

The light of torches and campfires in the fields below danced in the eyes of Ariel Kildare. From her roost on the parapet, she could hear the noise of the soldiers and creatures gathering on the wind as well as the defensive preparations within the walls. The enemy was already well entrenched on the south side of the pass and around much of Lago de Como itself, and yet they waited. Still, it would not be much longer before they attacked. The night was early, and such as they would not wait until light.

The woman's breath frosted in the chill air as she sighed, leaning against the wall. Long-fingered, gloved hands slid over the stone slab as she peered into the darkness to discern their movements. But as much as she craned to look, Ariel couldn't see past her own distracted thoughts. In the mountains behind her, she could feel their connection to home weakening, and with it, her own strength. This motley army below her was at least as desperate as they were. There was a certainty in her that this siege was the last gasp of the old world.

How will history remember us for this? Ariel wondered, Will they remember at all?

She resisted the urge to look as Nicolas ascended the stairs to her left. The young mage was making rounds in anticipation of battle, bundled up against the cold in his plain cloak. He paused in relieved surprise when he saw Ariel, standing by the far wall. She was a grey, willowy figure in the moonlight, her face half-hidden by the hood of her old forest green cloak. Nicolas didn't believe he'd ever seen the faerie woman in armor before, let alone in the intricate leather and metal gear she wore now. It wore tight on her figure, a seeming antique from the design and ornamentation; another relic, like the sword on her back, from Ariel's impossibly long past.

Nicolas began to speak but thought better of it, walking over to join her by the wall. In all the years he'd known her, Ariel was the warmest and sweetest of their friends. She was rarely frivolous, though she always had a light tale from her long ago "youth" to tell, but never this brooding. Still, he thought he understood her feelings, mysterious though they often were. Magic was slipping from the world, taking they and all the old wonders with it. He felt it as much as she. Ariel's kind would soon pass into myth or extinction.

"What are they waiting for?" she asked, her voice soft.

Flipping back his hood, Nicolas scanned the build up around the darkened landscape of the castle. Now Ariel did stir, turning to look at the young man. His brow was furrowed, dark eyes far away and thoughtful. The shadow of weariness marked his features. Ariel traced the line of his jaw and then up to his mouth, the full lower lip. "They're gathering their strength," he murmured gently, "It won't be long now. They know just as well as we do that time is running out."

"Do you think we can win this?" Ariel inquired, studying him.

Nicolas' hair stirred in a cold breeze and he brushed it back with a casual gesture. She often wondered what he had been like before they met, before ecclesiastical censure. He was, after all, one of the most compassionate and thoughtful individuals she knew. The institution of the church - and mortal faith in general - with its doctrines and rules, both perplexed and intrigued Ariel. "We need only keep them at bay for a while," Nicolas offered, glancing at her, "Long enough for our friends to escape before the gate closes."

"Many of us will have to stay and fight," Ariel noted in a low voice.

"Yes," he nodded, "I know. Still, Isabella Henault has brought some hope."

Sighing, Ariel closed her eyes and bowed her head, finding little comfort in the wizardry. Nicolas smiled faintly and put his arm around her for reassurance, rubbing her shoulder. She stiffened under his touch on reflex, but couldn't hide her anxiety. "You're shaking," Nicolas observed softly.

"I'm frightened," Ariel whispered back.

The young man gave her a gentle squeeze, but said nothing.

"Do you think we'll survive this?" she asked after a beat.

Nicolas shook his head and came around behind her, resting his hands on her narrow shoulders. "Most of us won't," he conceded evenly, "But we have no choice. I'm not afraid of dying. Though, unlike Isabella, I've no interest in martyrdom for its own sake." Nicolas smiled wryly to himself. "I'm never afraid of the future, whatever it might bring. I have no control over fate."

"It frightens me," Ariel breathed, "More than anything. I can feel Winter coming; we all can. None of us ever believed it would come in our time, and now everything hangs on a thread." She shook her head, her voice dropping lower. "These choices frighten me."

"Then go," Nicolas replied simply, "While you can. I won't think any less of you."

Shaking her head, Ariel turned to face him, pressing her back against the cold stone. His hands slid over and away from her body. Even in this faint light, Nicolas saw her eyes shining with held-in tears. Reaching out, she cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb over his rough, stubbly skin. "I can't leave," she returned faintly, breaking into a weak smile.

Nicolas nodded, but his breath caught at the emotion in her eyes. Underneath the cloud of pain and fear, there was something else. He felt a prickle of warmth in his belly, and an answering ache to that in her gaze. Her fingertips were hot against his cool skin, and she did not break the touch. Curiosity brought his voice back. "Ariel," he murmured, taking her slender hand, "What are - "

"Nicolas. Ariel." Aram called from the top of the stairs, eyeing them curiously.

Sighing at the interruption, Nicolas glanced toward the knight. Ariel hesitated a moment but broke away without another word. She slipped down the opposite stairway, disappearing into the darkness below. Nicolas frowned and ran a hand over his face as Aram strode over with an inquisitive expression. "Is there something wrong? I've been looking for you."

Nicolas shook his head, glancing in the direction she went. "What news?"

"Scouts have been seen near the east wall," Aram explained, "Take charge of the fortifications there and be sure there are no openings. They'll strike soon."

Ariel lifted her head at the sound of her name. She sat in the rafters of the small chapel which served the castle, her back pressed against the stone and one leg stretched out across a supporting beam. The other leg dangled into the empty air. Lanthinel looked up at her from the floor below, hands clasped behind his back. The enchanted armor he wore gleamed under his cloak, though his overall appearance was weary and disgusted. Still, nobility did not reveal such feelings readily, particularly not to commoners like her.

"Lanthinel," she nodded, her voice soft.

The Sidhe bristled slightly at being referred to by name rather than the honorific, as was customary, but let it go for the moment. He was the sole remaining noble in the castle, with lordship over the fae here, but aside from simple combat his command extended primarily to directing the evacuation. Still, this was only a lull in the fighting and there was little time to waste on social formalities. Not that her kind kept firmly to tradition under normal circumstances. At least she was not pooka. "Your friend Nicolas has been looking for you."

"Don't tell me that you're running errands for mortals now?" Ariel mocked lightly.

Lanthinel shook his head, sending blond hair swaying against his shoulders. Like the other Sidhe, he spent his time principally at court rather than in the mortal world. Still, whereas the other nobles had long since fled back to Faerie in the face of coming Winter, Lanthinel had at least remained to attend to their kind here. Even if she sensed he was not remaining much longer. "Hardly," the noble replied with a slanted smile, "Consorting with humans is the preoccupation of nymphs such as yourself. Actually, it is my own curiosity that brings me here."

Ariel chuckled dryly and looked away. The same old jibes, even after three thousand years. It was enough to make an immortal tire of her own existence at times, as it often had lately. Lately being the past few hundred years or so. The failing of magic in the mortal world often seemed reflected to her in the stagnation of their own lives, their culture. Perhaps, as Lanthinel so often feared, they lived and died by humanity's dreams. Perhaps they had no true identity or existence of their own. "Some things never change," Ariel wryly quoted the human adage.

"You have changed a great deal," Lanthinel countered mildly.

Ariel shrugged. "So has the world."

Lanthinel's boots clocked softly against the stone floor, reverberating about the empty chamber, as he walked toward her. "One of your advantages perhaps," he offered, "Once. Those of you who spent the most time here understood it best. You understood mortals best. Though it seems this attachment to the human world will be your downfall as well; I cannot imagine that you and the others will survive here long, human sorcery aside."

Green eyes flashed bright as Ariel glanced up. "You know I'm staying?"

Lanthinel smiled grimly. "I never expected you to make any other choice. You long ago ignored your responsibilities of knighthood, curious proposition though it was at the time, to House Fiona and the High Queen. Your absence from Faerie and the courts of Arcadia has long been a given. If you were not a nymph and your title more of an amusement than a true honor, you would have felt the consequences long before now."

"I see that Sidhe arrogance hasn't changed," Ariel muttered, "Nor Gwydion animosity."

The noble's eyes narrowed sharply, but his voice was cool. "I know very well you have no love of aristocracy nor respect for its authority. That is why you prefer the company of mortals, or the fringes of Faerie, is it not? You enjoy your freedom." A smile touched his lips. "You are not a knight, you are a bard. But your intentions are good, and your deeds are appreciated. That is why I spoke up for you when others wished to strip you of your title."

Ariel studied Lanthinel thoughtfully. "You?"

"Yes," he nodded, his smile widening at this little victory, "I have been your companion on several occasions, and I know you. Though you have changed greatly with the passing of time. I may not often agree with your choices, but I understand them. And your reasons are - usually - quite honorable."

Brow furrowed, Ariel dropped gracefully to the floor, landing in a catlike crouch before him. Lanthinel cocked his head to one side, smiling indulgently, as she straightened up. The ornamented armor of her rank, sculpted specially for her in ages past, glinted faintly beneath her cloak, roses winding over the dark metal scales amongst the leather. There was a hint of softness in his blue eyes as Ariel met his gaze. "Why tell me this now?" she asked.

"I do not expect to meet you again," Lanthinel shrugged.

Ariel nodded her understanding. "What are you curious about then?"

A sad smile crossed the noble's features. "As I said, you have changed. When first we met, you would not have remained here to fight. You are not a warrior, after all. Nor would you have sacrificed yourself and your true nature, even for freedom. The wilds of Faerie are your home and no one will command you there. You know this."

"Yes, I do," Ariel agreed, eyeing him questioningly.

"Then what has changed you?" Lanthinel inquired.

Ariel shook her head slightly and walked away a short distance, her heels clicking on the stone. Lifting an eyebrow, Lanthinel trailed after her, watching the sway of her hair and cloak against her back. He heard her sigh. "Time," she answered softly, with a small laugh, "Time here, with these people . . . their lives are so short, but they will sacrifice themselves for what they believe in, for each other."

Lanthinel nodded. "You have fallen in love with Nicolas."

The woman jerked around to look at him in surprise.

"You're a creature of passion, Ariel," Lanthinel chuckled, "Even if you have taken on more human characteristics with age. Do you really believe you can conceal your emotions so well? Though certainly I did not expect this to affect your choice so greatly. You have had many 'loves' before, after all."

Ariel's voice was tight. "Does he know?"

"Of course not," Lanthinel smiled solemnly, "The man was a priest and you are his friend. Perceptive though he might be for a mortal, it would not even occur to him. Even if he did know, he would never allow you to sacrifice yourself for him."

Frowning, Ariel looked down at the floor in thought. "You don't expect us to survive."

"No, I do not," the noble replied, "But while I disagree with your decision, your reasons are your own and I respect them. I also know that you cannot turn away from this choice of yours, regardless of however frightened or torn you are. Such a thing is not in your nature. However, given this, I suggest that you stop this pointless fretting and tell Nicolas while time remains."

Ariel looked up at Lanthinel with quiet eyes.

Exhausted in body and mind, Nicolas cared little to stir from the deep dreaming that consumed him, curled in the middle of the chamber's enormous oaken bed. It was enough that the fireplace cast a warm, orange glow onto the room, taking off the chill in the bitter December air. Under the crackle of the flames, it was sometimes possible not to hear the noise of battle and the camping armies whispering through the windows.

At last, however, the young man's mind calmed and the twisted nightmares of the earlier battle receded, leaving in their wake only a numbing ache. It was then that the chamber's sturdy old door opened and a womanly shadow entered the room, approaching quietly. Nicolas stirred at the sound of her breathing, and footfalls against the cold stone floor, lifting his head.

It was Ariel, her hair a mass of dark curls tumbling against slender shoulders, dressed in her old green cloak. Only now the cloak was faded and dirty, with little cuts and tears in the fabric. Her green eyes were no longer brilliant, no longer shone with that irrepressible spirit of hers. Instead, they revealed a weight of weariness much greater than would be expected from a woman who seemed barely twenty years of age.

"You should go," Nicolas grunted, startled that the faerie woman remained, and sat up stiffly in the midst of the bed, "Or you'll lose the way home."

"Lanthinel has already gone," Ariel replied dismissively, "As have most of the others."

"Why do you stay then?" Nicolas asked faintly, "We will all die here."

Shaking her head, Ariel stood at the edge of the bed. The cloak parted with the sway of her hips, baring the shimmer of gossamer and silk underneath. A warm shiver rippled through Nicolas' belly. "Perhaps. But I'd rather die here than leave you."

Tentatively, without realizing that he did so, Nicolas reached out to touch the satin fabric underneath her cloak, his fingertips stroking against her waist. The heat of her body through the fabric felt delicious, almost unbearable. His protests and concerned urgings died in his throat as he understood the pain in her eyes on the parapet, the way she touched him. These things and the feel of her body, stirred a tumult of emotions in him. "Ariel . . . "

Ariel clasped Nicolas's hand and lifted it to her lips, planting a soft kiss in his palm. And then, with seductive languor, she guided his hand to the emerald and silver broach at her breast. It took only a flick of the wrist to let it loose, and the cloak fell away around her body. A filmy gown of green silk billowed against Ariel's body, shining with her milky skin in the firelight. Shocked, Nicolas let her tug him into her, pressing his cheek to her belly.

"I'm in love with you, Nicolas," she said simply.

Something like maddened desire coiled inside the young mage as he listened to the woman's slow, tremulous breathing. They had been friends always, though he couldn't deny the flutter of lust or ache for her on occasion. Perhaps he'd always thought this might have happened in time. And here she was, offering the temple of her body to him, in spite of the death surrounding them. The death awaiting them. There was so little time left, especially for her. So little time for anything, let alone falling in love.

"Ariel," Nicolas murmured hoarsely, "There's no time for this, you need to go."

"I have loved you for a long time now," Ariel whispered, "I've been too afraid to tell you. Too afraid because I couldn't leave you if I did." Her voice grew softer, laced with hurt, and she ran her fingers through the length of his coarse black hair. "I've never loved anyone before. Not in all this time. And now . . . "

Nicolas clasped her hands tight and looked up at her fiercely. His voice was faint and shaky. "Then go. Get out of here. Don't die here for me, Ariel. Please. I could never forgive myself for letting that happen to anyone, let alone you." Her palm brushed over his cheek and ear, silencing him.

"I won't go," she answered softly, "I'll die here with you if that's my fate."

The two were still for a long moment as Nicolas wrestled with the swirl of feelings within him. Love was something he'd never heeded and rarely considered seriously as a man of God. And Ariel was one of his dearest friends. She would surely die with the rest of them if she stayed. But now that she'd opened the door to the emotion, Nicolas found himself falling in love with her, and becoming aroused by the closeness of her body.

"If we may die tomorrow," she whispered, "Why be alone tonight?"

Nicolas closed his eyes. Perhaps it was the desperation of the moment, the knowledge that there would be no more second chances now, that made the decision for him.

Trembling, his hands slid over the breadth of her hips and clasped lightly, tugging her down onto the bed with him. A moan of relief escaped her lips as she slid down upon him, hair spilling forward in a curtain around them. Nicolas looked up into her face, lips parted and needful, and lifted himself against her with a kiss. Even as their lips met, he felt delicate hands pulling away the cloak he wore. Within a moment, Ariel's fingers broke open his shirt to find bare skin, warm hands caressing his chest.

"Ariel," Nicolas sighed faintly. None of this seemed real.

"Don't let me go," she pleaded, kissing and biting gently at the flesh of his throat, "Never let me go. I'm yours . . . "

Clutching her hips, Nicolas pulled her into his body, his fingers sliding upwards to undo the bodice of her gown. Thoughts of battle and dying were fleeing under the soft crush of her body. The faerie woman tasted sweet and hot, melting into his embrace. Clothing was broken away of in a flurry of limbs and searching lips, and as the moment came, the two lost all sense of themselves and became, for the only time, one being.

What followed was the last dream Nicolas would know, his head resting upon the pillow of her breast, her fingers combing through the length of his hair in slow strokes. The flames danced upon the sheen of their skin amidst the swirled velvet and satin, and he was consumed by knowing the moment could not last. That this woman could not be his. That there was no time for any of the aches and longings within him. Tears trickled down his cheek and over her skin as she held him, but neither one could find their voice for a long time.

In time, however, fierce resolve set in, mad though it was. Ariel's confession and their love-making irrevocably changed things between them, and there was too much he needed to abandon hope. And so, sliding up over her body, he kissed her. His face was rough, but his lips were moist and soft, the sweet enigma of a man, capturing her mouth in gentle exploration. The orange light danced upon his skin as he hung above her, draped in intimate shadows. "We're not dead yet," he reminded her, pressing his forehead to hers, "We'll find a way. Don't be afraid."

"I have found a way," Ariel breathed.

Nicolas frowned, brushing the hair back from her face. "What is this?"

A weak smile touched her lips, but there was pain in her eyes. Nicolas ran his hands over her face and hair, studying her in confusion. "Isabella," he murmured in realization, "The Changeling Way."

Ariel nodded slightly, her eyes shining with held tears now.

"You did this for me?" Nicolas asked weakly.

"Without the dreaming, I'll die here," she replied in a strained voice, "What's left of our magic can't save us." A tight laugh crept out under her breath. "We're little more than tales for children now, fanciful myths for human entertainment. I'm too in love with you and this world to let go."

"You did this for me," Nicolas repeated, closing his eyes.

Ariel smiled and nodded, caressing his cheek. "Yes."

Nicolas watched from the parapet as Ariel fought a handful of human soldiers, her blade flashing silver in the firelight as she parried and struck in her graceful, dancing style. Her blade caught the throat of one man, then a thrust caught another in the chest, even as she whirled to catch the weapons of the others pressing in around her. Then, crawling over the debris of a shattered catapult, came a hunched figure carrying a spear. One of the Balor.

He shouted a warning, but she couldn't hear him over the roar of the din. She spun the blade in the air and caught it for a reverse swing, catching another of the men along the stomach. Catching his breath, Nicolas hurriedly began a spell against the figure sliding up behind her, but even as she finished off the last soldier, the blow came.

The Balor rammed the spear through Ariel's back. The head pierced her abdomen as she arched, limbs twitching with shock and agony, dropping her blade to the ground. Nicolas heard himself scream her name as the creature released the spear and allowed her to fall forward. The spear was driven further in as she hit the ground and twisted, coming to rest on her side. Grinning, the Balor squatted and collected the rose-etched blade to continue fighting.

Nicolas didn't hear his own scream, but the creature was thrown against the wall behind it as he lashed out. He held it against the wall with his magick, driving his hand forward as he exerted his will. Its thin squeals reached him over the din of the battle. Bones popped, then cracked. Blood spurted against the wall as he pushed harder. The ribs crumbled inwards with a wet sound, and the squealing stopped. He only stopped when the skull smashed flat, the body becoming a twisted smear.

Breathing raggedly, Nicolas dropped from the wall to the courtyard below. His ankle twisted underneath him as he landed hard, but the young mage was up again in an instant. Angry tears trickled down his cheeks as he ran over and skidded to a halt beside her. He released a hoarse cry as he found her still breathing, albeit in short, harsh gasps, her cloak and the stone around her slick with blood. "Ariel," he whispered, brushing the hair out of her face. More blood gurgled out of her mouth as she tried to talk, ending in a thick cough.

"Nicolas," she choked faintly, "I can't . . . I can't breathe . . . "

"Hold on," Nicolas whispered, removing his gloves, "Just lay still."

Grabbing one of the soldier's weapons, Nicolas chopped off the head of the spear. And then, gritting his teeth, he pulled it out of her back. Ariel shuddered and uttered his name with a rasping breath as she bled. Even as Nicolas lay his hands on her sprawled body with the beginning of his prayers, her lips moved soundlessly with the effort of speaking. But Nicolas didn't hear her, silence falling on the world as he called upon whatever magick he had left.

The young man didn't know how much time passed. But when he opened his eyes, trembling violently over her body, he saw that Ariel lay still. Her soft green eyes were wide and blank. Nicolas knelt there, staring at her uncomprehendingly, until he heard the noise of fighting returning there. He closed her eyes and smoothed the hair from her face without a word, rising to his feet.

Aram entered the courtyard from the adjoining cloister, haggard and bleeding from the right leg. He paused at the sight of Nicolas, standing dazed over a sprawled woman's body, and limped hurriedly over. "Nicolas?"

"Ariel's dead," the young man answered hoarsely.

Pain crossed the knight's face for his friends' sake and he joined Nicolas by her side.

The Fall of the Last Castle is a collection of scenes from the White Wolf chronicle's past, particularly the time when the world was changing, magic fading from the world, forcing the fae to flee to the safety of their homeland or otherwise find a way to survive. Ariel, Nicolas and the others are defending the castle Lago de Como, which guards a pass in the Alps leading to one of the few remaining gates to the faerie lands. The story of these events was conceived by my boyfriend, Stephen, with some additions by my (i.e., the romance between Ariel and Nicolas, Katherine and Steph's past incarnations). It's a much larger story than presented here, and though I may eventually finish it, it will take quite some time.