THE YEAR OF HELL

Of Plans and Plots
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Date: Tue, 23 Dec 1997 13:55:38 PST
From: Daniel/LordWolf & Co

In the early hours of the morning, Sir Poet and his company of men rode back into Camelot Castle. After reporting back his findings to Dream Knight, Poet walked to the Fire Hall for a goblet of wine to chase away the mornings chill. Quickly scanning the faces of those gathered, he sighs once seeing none that would need words from him. After obtaining his goblet he silently crosses to the hearth and sits near the fire, letting its warmth seep into him. For long moments he sits and lets his thoughts wander where they will. Within his minds eye, her vision appears once more as it always does. Xan. Her name rings within his mind, both soft and sweet. A precious treasure, the rarest of fruits. Forever forbidden him now. As a man who hungers will dream of food, so now he dreams of her. "Oh M'Lady, what would you make of me now? How quickly would you run from me if you knew? Worse yet, you may stay out of pity. This I can not allow you to do, Dearest Lady," he thinks to himself. His eyes close, the heat of the fire slowly causing him to slumber.

His dreaming mind once more sees her smile. The soft display of her kindness. The way her eyes twinkle, catching the candle lights reflecting it back like a priceless gem. Priceless. Yes, she is indeed priceless to him. He still recalls their night spent dancing within the gardens till dawns first light and the sudden rain of flower petals that surprised them both. His slumbering lips smile in remembrance. Once again he sees her, standing within the center of the fire hall. Her voice lifted in song as all watched on in amazement. Himself more captivated then the rest combined.

A gentle pushing of his shoulder suddenly awakens him, as he flinches away from the touch. Eyes open quickly to regard the youthful face of Lord Wolf bending down towards him. "Poet.

Wake up before you fall into the flames, my friend."

"Wolf," replies Poet sleepily. "Your back?"

"Aye, as are you I see." Wolf softly chuckles as a smile spreads across his face. "Wenn told me that you have been busy with the preparations. You even have a command of your own I hear tell?"

"Aye," says Poet as he sits up and adjusts his clothing a bit. "Dream Knight said he could use all the help he could get. Little did I know he would put me charge of so many."

"Well, from what I have heard, you have been doing an impressive job of it." Wolf steps to the side and takes a seat next to his friend. "Wenn has missed you at the Keep. She says that you have not been by to even see Elandra."

Poet looks away at his words. "I know. There is just so much to do and not enough time to do it all." Quickly he looks to Wolf, "You know how it is with war and all?" Poet looks away, unable to meet his gaze for long. "If it is not one thing it is another."

Wolf nods at his words. "Yes, I know all to well, my friend. Still, she would do better with a visit from you I think.." Wolf frowns thoughtfully. "It has been very hard on Simon and her, what with me being gone and what not."

Poet sighs and turns back to face him. "There are other reasons why I have stayed away from the Keep, personal ones."

Lord Wolf nods again, accepting Poet's request for privacy. "Well, there was a matter I was going to ask you to do for me. But in view of your feelings, I think I shall find another to do it." Poet arches a brow at his words, clearly wondering what it was that Wolf was about to ask of him. Wolf continues, "I will be leaving again with Quietus very shortly. As in a matter of days if all goes as planned."

"Quietus!" exclaims Poet. "Are you sure that you can trust him?" Wolf informs him of what has happened in regards to his brother the Dark Wolf and the Mother. After informing him of the matters brought before the Round Table he tells Poet of their plans to hunt and finally trap the aspect of Death. "You are crazy, Wolf! Not only for trusting Quietus but for even thinking you can contain Death."

"I never said I trusted Quietus," retorts Wolf. "In this matter, he has very little choice but to help. If whomever is causing this disturbance wins, Quietus will be destroyed as well." Poet looks doubtful but he is willing to accept Wolf's word on it. "Self preservation has always been high on list so he helps and will continue to do so."

"Help. Only until he can find a way to help himself that is," replies Poet. "Still, even if he does help, how can the both of you hope to destroy Death. How will the others accomplish their objectives of containing the other Horsemen?"

"First off we are not going to destroy Death, just contain him," inform Wolf. "To destroy Death, which is an ever present part of life, would be the quickest way to destroy this time stream and all within it. I am not sure how the others will accomplish their goals," continues Wolf. "I have been concentrating to hard on how to handle Death. After our last encounter, I am not to eager to come face to face with him again."

"Wait, if you are leaving, who will watch after the Keep," asks Poet. "Who will protect Simon, Wenn and the Babe?"

"I had thought to ask you to, my friend," says Wolf with a soft sigh. "But I can see that you have other responsibilities to handle. I will ask Kavin to stay and guard them. He is very capable and has done so in the past."

"As you wish, Wolf," replies Poet. "I would if I could, you know."

Wolf nods and smiles slightly. "I know you would Sir Poet. You have always been there for us and we do appreciate it." Poet blushes slightly at the praise and looks to the floor, knowing he could not do what Wolf asks even if it were not for his Command position. The sickness was getting stronger with each passing day and he would not risk spreading that to Simon, Wenn or the babe, Elandra. Soon he would not even be able to maintain his position within the Host of Light. He just could not risk infecting the others.

Wolf reaches out and places one hand lightly upon Poet's shoulder. "My friend, please be careful. I know to Wenn, as well as to many others, you mean a great deal. We have lost you once already and it would greatly pain us to lose you again."

Poet grins, placing a smile upon his face. "Me be careful? I am not the one courting Death, ye old Wolf. You had best be careful. You will need to not only watch Death, but keep an eye on your brother as well." Wolf nods, understanding that and having no intention of trusting Quietus further than he need to. "Camelot has lost a lot of good people and allies, Wolf. A point I am sure I do not have to tell you. We can ill afford to lose you, my friend." For a long moment they regard each other and then with a few more words, they part company. One to return home to the Keep and the other to retire to his room at Castle Camelot.

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The Necromancer sat within the Shadowed Fire Hall of Camelot deep within the Shadow Lands. The Four Horsemen tread upon the material plane killing at will. With each death, his own power grew for when the shade reached the Shadow Lands, it feed his power as it's essence was collected. Yet he sat and waited to see how the events on the material plane unfolded. Soon, he thought to himself, soon they shall have to come for the Book of Life if they were going to stop him.

A presence entered the room, breaking in on his train of thought. Turning his albino head slightly to the side his cold passionless red eyes regard the shimmering in the air. "Greetings, Lord Entropy," says the Necromancer to the presence, "What brings you about this time?"

"I have come to inquire as to the proceedings of our little plan," replies Entropy, the sum of all Chaos. "I understand that you have been to see her again?"

"And if I have," states the Necromancer. "What concern is it of yours."

"I want to insure that you have not decided to change the conditions of our arrangement." The shimmering in the air draws closer. "The woman known as Nightshade does not present a problem does she?"

"If she does, she is my problem to deal with, MILORD." Necromancer turns his gaze away from the presence of Chaos. "She will come to me and the both of us will find the final sleep together. Hence," continues the Necromancer, "She is no problem to either of us, MILORD."

"As you say. Let us hope that it remains that way." The presence once more float to a different place within the hall. "How goes the gathering of the Host of Darkness?"

The Necromancer rises from his seat and turns to face the ethereal presence. "They are ready and Orcus but awaits word from me to commence the attack."

"Very well then," responds the Lord of Chaos. "I will leave you to your tasks. If you have need of me you know how to gather my attention."

"I will not have need of you till the end, MILORD," his words trail off as he realizes he speaks to an empty room once more. "And by then, it will be too late to late by far!" Once more he returns to his seat, his thought replaying his brief encounter with Sarah. "She will come to me," he whispers out loud without knowing it. "What choice has she."

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A dark form slips through the silent streets of Camelot. Those still out at this late hour never see the passing shadow as it blends into the many shadows of darkness in the night. The figure moves with a purpose, knowing directly to where it goes. On the Northern out skirts of the city it pauses before the entrance way to a smithy. Slipping around to the side of the building the shadowed figure looks upwards at an open window on the third floor of the structure. Moving to the wall the figure seems to climb the wall much as a spider would, with no aid in its progress. The figure pauses for a moment before it slips into the open widow, a stray shaft of moon light slips through the clouds for a moment falling upon the features of Quietus DarkWolf just before his enters the building.

Death and Xan
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Date: Thu, 25 Dec 1997 02:06:43 -0800
From: Sharon/LadyXan

( Author's note: Like others before me, please forgive any liberties I take.

" No....no.....no.....NO!! " Xan came awake with an abrupt start. Glancing around the room wildly she realized she had been dreaming, actually, it was more like having a nightmare. Yet, it seemed so real to her. As her eyes adjusted to the dim room's interior, her bashing started to even out and her heart to calm. What had she been dreaming about..... Poet! She dreamt Poet was dying. "Lady Bless, " she whispered with closed eyes, "please don't let this be so. Please just let it be apart of a really bad dream. " Even as she spoke the words, her heart was sinking. Something was wrong, this she knew. From their first meeting, she felt a bond with him and with each passing day it had grown.

A cold gush of wind swirled about the room, lifting the bed curtains and tweaking the tapestries that hung on the wall. Xan looked around her, trying to find the cause. The air from a darkened corner of her room shimmered and Xan's eyes focused there. She watched as a figure with a scythe formed before her. Her eyes narrowed and a bitter taste entered her mouth. The form chuckled and stepped from the corner, it's scythe edge crusted with blood.

" No taste for Death, Milady? " came the cynical question on a chuckle.

Xan climbed from the bed and reaching out, took up her staff, holding it in front of her. Death chuckled again and the room grew colder. She approached the form of Death, defiance blazing from her eyes, caution in each step she took. She tilted her head to gaze upon the shadowed face of Death.

" Death does not frighten me, Milord. When my time comes, I will embrace the touch as that of a lover. " An ashen, bony cold hand reached out, it's fingertips, tilting her chin upward even more.

" And if I have come to claim you now, Milady Xanthia, will you come willingly?" Xan pulled her chin away and walked backwards a few steps. Mithram had taught her that when one could only see the face of thine enemy, one was too close.

" The only way you will claim me this night, Milord, is to take from me what isn't yours to take. We both know my time has not yet come. " Bony shoulders shrugged even as Death's amused chuckle filled the air around her once more with it's stench.

" I would willingly make you a trade, my dear. " Xan looked puzzled.

" What do you mean a trade? "

" Tsk, tsk, Xanthia. Why waste my time by making me explain? You know of what I speak. "

" But I don--- Poet! " her eyes flew to the shadowed face. Watching with dread as Death dipped his head in acknowledgment. " No! Oh, Lady Bless, NO! "

" Even your Lady can not help him now, Xan. I would have said, no one can, but then, you and I know differently now, don't we?" came his mocking tones. Xan lifted her head defiantly.

" I would give up even that for Poet, if I thought it would save him, but we both know this is not so. You are a greedy Task Master, Milord. Why settle for one if you can get both? Do not simply take me for a foolish woman in love....."

" So, you admit it then? "

" What? "

" That you are in love with the good Poet. Come Xanthia, why are you wasting my time? I will take what I chose to take, when I chose to take it and I want both of you. "

Xan raised her staff protectively in front of her, " Not if I can help it, Milord. " Death laughed.

" Oh my dear, you amuse me so. I think I need to keep you by my side for awhile. No, I won't give you up to the Necromancer, not yet at any rate. Do you really think you can stop me?"

" No, but I can, " came an authoritative voice from behind them. Without turning her eyes from Death, she knew who it was, for her ruby had been glowing and vibrating ever since Death had come into her chambers. She watched as Death turned to face Mithram, bowing it's hooded face in greeting.

" Greetings, Mithram. It has been a long time, has it not? Did you admire the way you died? Your throat cut wide open, your life's blood seeping into the wooden floor? " Death sighed, " I have to say I admired the way you handled it. " Mithram stepped from the Shadows. " Come now, Mithram, you know there is nothing you can do to stop me. I have decided to come for your child here, Teacher. I did offer to let her take the Good Sir Poet's place. " Mithram looked to Xan, a question clearly visible in his eyes and Xan answered it by shaking her head. Death watched, amused. " Nay Mithram, you have taught her wisely and well. She saw through me, but alas, it will do her no good, for I will have them both, " Death raised his rusted scythe toward Xan, " and you know you can not stop me, " he taunted Mithram again. Mithram chuckled and folded his arms over his chest and looked upon Death.

" Nay, I can not stop you, but IT can!" he declared and all watched as Death paused in his thoughts as well as his deed. " Xanthia, the staff. " Xan raised the staff between her and Death, watching mesmerized as it started to glow, the runic etchings coming alive and writhing upon the oak. Her hands seemed frozen to it and seemed to shake with the effort to hold it aloft. She cried out as she felt the Power surging through it. She felt a great heat but no pain. She watched as Death took steps back from her and it.

" Damn you, Mithram! How in the Ages were you able to---" his words were cut off by Mithram's booming voice.

" Be gone, Death. You know her time has not yet come. Leave here. You have gotten power crazed since the Seals started to break. Remember you well this, the balance may be tipped now, but in time, it will right itself once more. So it has always been, so shall it remain. "

Death backed slowly into a darkened corner, cursing Mithram, whom he could no longer touch and cursing Xan as she stood with the staff, reminding her that he would be back one day for her, promising it would not be a pretty sight. She didn't speak, but continued to watch until Death turned and fled her room. Only when he was gone did the etchings on her staff fade away, the Power that had surged through it, also gone. Xan slumped into a nearby chair. Her ruby no longer glowed and she knew Mithram was gone also.

" Oh Poet, " she whispered into the night. Did Death now stalk him? Would she ever see Poet again? She could only pray this was so. Even then, could she convince him of what lie in her heart? Did he want to see? So many questions, not enough answers or the time to seek them out. They both had a sworn duty and above all else, this must come first. But oh, how her heart ached. Her eyes closed and she fell asleep in her chair, thoughts of him abounding.....thoughts of Death stalking him...... Visions of Chaos raping the land and it's people......

The Gift
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Date: Saturday, December 27, 1997 4:21 AM
From: Ernie/Simon/Lerrad/Tuckian/etc

The figure steps into the door of firehall, his head and face wrapped in cloth to hide all his features except his bloodshot eyes. He pauses there, glancing quickly about the room and only when satisfied that no one is in the hall does he proceed. He is pleased to see that even the tender, Lumiere, is away on this morning..perhaps delivering some holiday greeting to a family member on the early Christmas morning.

He moves quickly to the kitchen, not wishing to be found by anyone in this condition. He pauses again, his eyes scan this room as well before proceeding. A short cough escapes his lips as he crosses the kitchen in search of food, finding what he needs and tucking it into a fold in the rags that he is wearing. He removes a small bag of coins from a pocket and places a few on the countertop then turns again toward the door.

"Can I help you?", a female voice says from the doorway of the kitchen and he immediately recognizes it, but it is too late, he has turned to face her. He lowers his face quickly, the cloth draped over his head falling past his eyes. He only shakes his head in answer, not wanting to reveal his identity.

"Then perhaps you will tell me why you sneak about..and steal food from our kitchen.", Jolieve states in her own unique impatient tone that he recognizes immediately. He does not speak, for that would surely tell her who he is, instead he only points to the money of the counter..his bandaged hand shaking as he does.

Jolieve looks at the coins on the counter and nods, "So you are a paying thief?", she pauses, curious. The covered man stands his ground, unable and unwilling to move past her in the doorway. Instead he waits silently, his features covered from her.

"Are you going to tell me who you are or will I have to look for myself?", she steps toward him with her words gesturing as if she would uncover him..."No!"..his voice rings out in urgency as he backs away from her.."..you mustn't.", raising his eyes to meet hers.

"Lerrad? What are you..?", she steps toward him again only to see him recoil away, almost to a corner of the kitchen now. "Joli, don't..it..it isn't safe."

"Lerrad, what is happening here? Why are you dressed so..and why are you not with your family on this holiday?"

Lerrad pauses, lowering his eyes thoughtfully then looking back at her..his face still covered, though his eyes tell stories..."I will tell you my story, Joli. I will tell you what has happened...what I have done...and why I am here.", he swallows in a pause, releasing another cough. Jolieve nods, a concerned expression sweeping over her as she hears the cough.."Go on.", she says, tilting her head with concern for her brother-in-law.

Lerrad lowers his head and begins his tale..."I had taken Wenndolyne and the children to Flaxley for the holiday and was on my way back to Camelot to do some last minute purchasing. Elspeth and I..."..his words trail off as he pauses, as if thinking of his next words.

"Along the road..as I made my way..I heard a strange sound. A whimpering, but faint...almost silent. I stopped there, looking about until I found the source." He raises his eyes to Jolieve, tears forming in them. He speaks quietly, "It was a girl, Joli. She was just in so very much pain. Whoever had her..they had left her on the road to die. They had left her like rubbish to be discarded." He lowers his eyes again before going on, "Twas the plague...she'd been stricken and was close to death. I could not believe that her family..that any family would leave such a beautiful child along the road...", his voice trails off.

Jolieve speaks softly, "Lerrad? Go on..please."

Lerrad nods, swallowing back the lump in his thought, "I saw her pain..Joli, I am helpless when it is a child involved..I.. I could not see her like that. I could not leave her like that." Suddenly his speech becomes quickened, almost pleading to her..."She was going die anyway, you see...and she could only lay there and whimper at that point." He looks at Jolieve's face, his eyes widened.."So, I held her close, cradled her against me...so close to me...", he gestures to his chest, holding his open hand against himself there..."..then pressed her face against my chest...she struggled for her breath within my grip, but she was too weak...so very weak." Lerrad grows silent for a moment, dropping his arms slowly to his sides and slumping his shoulders.."She was going to die anyway...and I could not see her in such pain.", he says quietly.

Expectations
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Date: Saturday, December 27, 1997 4:21 AM
From: Joy/TheMorrigan/LadyElspeth/menagerie

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elspeth awakens with a start, squinting as the bright morning sunlight streaming through the window assaults her eyes. She looks about, disoriented for a moment, her mind reeling from the nightmare that she can remember nothing about.

She shifts uncomfortably in the chair...chair?...she's sitting in...and tugs at the rather constricting cloth of gold bodice..."What on earth? Why am I sleeping in the hall..." Her eyes wander to the table, and the untouched holiday repast spread there as she remembers.

It had started out, a beautiful day...a clear, crisp winter morning...perfect for a holiday. Simon was beside himself...Elspeth smiles as she thinks of the boy dashing from the gifts to Wenn and back again. They'd exchanged gifts...laughing and merry...Then Wenndolyne and Simon bundled up for the long ride to Flaxley for the remainder of the holiday.

Lerrad had taken her aside and kissed her forehead...assuring her he would be back well before dinner, and they could exchange their gifts to one another then. She'd told him to be careful, as she always did...and he gave her the heart-melting grin, as he always did, then they were all bustling out the door, a kiss on the cheek from Wenn, a hollered "BYE!" from Simon as he dashed past.

She watched from the top of the steps as they drove away...blowing a kiss, giggling as Lerrad pretended to be knocked over by it...and then they were gone.

She had gone back into the keep, still smiling...and settled before the fire to put the finishing touches on her gift for her husband. As always, she'd waited until the last minute to do what needed to be done. It took her all morning, and she finally laid it beneath the tree with a fond smile, not for the gift, but for the man who would receive it. She had then realized that dinner would not be prepared if she did not get into the kitchen and prepare it herself.

She'd gone into the kitchen, tied the apron on...and lost herself in the intricacies of creating a meal. She spent the afternoon poring over the many cookbooks, found what she wanted...and set about preparing what she hoped would be a fine meal for Lerrad.

Finally...all was in the oven...or chilling, and Elspeth smiled. This day was coming together nicely. She actually had enjoyed this quiet time today, her heart set on making the perfect holiday for her husband. And it WAS going to be perfect... She looked down at herself...and realized everything was perfect, but herself.

She hurried off to bathe...and changed into her best holiday finery...arranged her hair artfully...sparing no detail...He would be dazzled when he walked through the door. She was determined. She had then gone to prepare the table, setting it with crystal and china, spread out the meal, and sat down by the fire to wait...he would be home any minute, surely... For today was turning out to be a perfect day.

The fire died down, and she placed another log on it as the waning sun shone through the window, bathing the hall in a red glow...He would be home soon. He IS laird of Flaxley after all...he couldn't just pop in and pop out...he must have stayed for just a bit.

The stars were visible in the clear winter sky as she stood at the window...She just knew...he would come sweeping in soon...and this growing dread in her middle would melt away. Elspeth had found a book and settled by the fire...to finally fall asleep. And now...it was morning...and he had not come home on Christmas.

She sat, paralyzed with fear...Surely he didn't stay at Flaxley, knowing she would be waiting for him...and if he had, he'd have sent word...wouldn't he?

Had he been set upon by bandits? Or...what if the horses had bolted and he was thrown...Is he lying injured in the snow somewhere? Her eyes fill with tears at the helplessness of her situation, then a thought comes. Joli. She will help...she will know what to do...she is always so good about these things.

Clinging to the hope that her strong-minded sister will know what to do...Elspeth quickly changes into a warm dress for traveling, wraps cloak and scarf about her and sets off to Camelot...praying she finds her sister there, and not daring to pray for Lerrad, hoping, instead that he doesn't NEED her prayers...that all is well and he is safe somewhere.