Gliding on the Winds of Time, Part 2: Birth of a Legend by Black Blade, a.k.a. Eddie of Clan Winslow, a.k.a. Amy K. Cyrway blkblade@mailexcite.com TIME NOTE: This fanfic takes place three months after "...Love and War" ***DISCLAIMER: Gargoyles is a licensed trademark of Disney and Buena Vista. All characters save for Arin MacDuff, Kade Saeri, and Christopher Highblood are copyrighted by the above fore mentioned companies. Kade and Christopher, however, are truly copyrighted by Amy K. Cyrway, so they are my actual legal property and if anyone uses them without my consent, I can legally go mediaeval on his/her/its ass. This is an unofficial fanfic and is not intended for infringement of any kind. As for the content of this piece, it does contain ADULT CONTENT, in the form of swearing and violence. I would like to extend special thanks to my rookery sister, Mercedes, my rookery brother, Sombrero, and my brainwashed buddy ShadowBrook, who I totally corrupted with hour after hour of Gargoyle eps and my fanfic. Because of them (and the fact I was getting tired of writing stupid crossovers like South Park Horrors [I hear everyone groan]), I was forced to actual archive this fanfic. Also, thanks to all my buds at Station 8 Chat, including but not limited to: Stoney ("We're slimy, we're squishy, we're all a little fishy!"), DemonSpawn, of course Mercedes and Sombrero, Stormy, and, no, I won't forget Whitbourne! Cheers to all of you, blokes!*** KADE: Previously, on Gargoyles... CHRIS: Kade! Look what I found! (Show Kade and Chris looking over the Phoenix Gate in "Neon Knights") ARIN: What is it? BROOKLYN: A late-model Pontiac Trans-Am. (Show Arin and Brooklyn meeting with Kade and Chris, same ep.) (Show Brooklyn and Chris leaving without the Phoenix Gate, same ep.) ARIN: "Deflagrate muri tempi et intervalia!" KADE: Ah, you speaketh the language, you cultured soul. ARIN: Rather fluently, thank you very much. (Show Arin and Kade disappearing in a ball of flame, same ep.) *** Kade woke up in a start. "Must of passed out," she mumbled, checking her watch. Ten p.m, but when she examined the bright sky, she knew her Timex was wrong. "Yo, Arin!" She shouted, standing up. When she saw her new companion in stone hibernation, she was forced to laugh at herself. "Silly me." Unsheathing her large claymore, she slashed at a nearby tree as a landmark. Placing a hand on Arin's stone shoulder, she remarked, "I'll be back soon. Just going exploring." And, on an impulse, she took the Phoenix Gate from the gargoyle's grasp. Obviously Arin had mage blood. If the Gate and the gargoyle fell into the wrong hands, Kade would be stuck gods-know-where without Chris. Kade, on the other hand, was one-hundred percent warrior. She couldn't use the damned thing if she tried. Good thing. The humanoid closed her eyes and attempted to sense the direction. Her ROTC training did wonders when she located north. Now that she had that figured out, she deciphered the time. Roughly four in the afternoon. Keeping the sword drawn, Kade began walking away from the stone gargoyle. She didn't get far as an arrow whizzed past her ear and landed with a thunk into an nearby tree. Spinning around, she held her sword defensively. "In the name of the Triple Goddess," she shouted, "I demand to know who attacks me!" "A pagan?" A man's voice whispered. "I thought the Picts died out centuries ago!" She was in Scotland! Two men wearing armor similar to what her Scot anscestors probably wore rode horseback toward her, short swords drawn. They relaxed somewhat when they saw she was a woman. "Who're ye, lass?" the shorter man demanded. She sighed, thinking quick as she lowered the claymore. "I was fleeing England," she finally replied, praying to the Mother Goddess that she was in fact in mediaeval Scotland. "I am Kade, a Pict warrior from the southeast. I was enslaved by the English dogs a few years ago. I escaped a couple months ago, and found my home destroyed and my people dead." The two horsemen pondered this over. Good sign. "Your clothes are most strange, lass." Oh, shit. She realised she was wearing her torn jeans and grey Led Zeppelin tee-shirt. Her jacket, she left with Arin. "I've been through a lot these long weeks." Pitiful, she winced inwardly. "And the sword?" "My own, which I recovered." Again, the men mulled over this. "And what of the gargoyle with you?" The shorter one pointed to Arin about a hundred meters away. Grinning slightly, she hoped this was her home realm. "My friend, who helped me escape." "Ye must be tired from yer trip," he finally remarked, stroking his long moustache. "Prince Malcolm would like to hear of yer tale further." The silent man, barely out of adolescence, nodded, smiling warmly. "Thank you sirs, but we must find our friends." Should she mention them? "One is a brick red gargoyles with a beak, the other--" should she risk the fact that Chris was a half-dragon? "--is a green one, like a dragon." Good, but pitiful, coverup. "There are gargoyles who protect my castle. Maybe the leader knows of yer friends," The taller one, Prince Malcolm, remarked. "Aye," the shorter man, who seemed in his mid-twenties, agreed. "But it was said that the Picts were a tattooed barbarian race--" "Enough with this, Connor," Malcolm ordered cheerfully. "She is a Scotsman." He offered a strong hand out to Kade. "Will ye join us back to my castle? Accept our hospitality until we can locate yer friends, at least." "Aye, I will stay until my companion awakens," Kade nodded, accepting his hand. "But we must journey alone." A half-hour later, the three arrived to a large castle on the cliffs overlooking the North Sea. Malcolm stayed with her there as Connor barked some orders to a couple of men, who quickly gathered up some horses and a cart to go and retrieve Arin. Kade was led away to the guest quarters by who she vaguely remembered Malcolm introducing to her as his only sister, Llewellyn. The girl, no older than fifteen, energetically chattered away, asking questions about the "barbarians of the south" and if in fact Kade was indeed was a warrior as she pointed out the dining hall, the kitchen, and, when they arrived to the bed chambers, the wardrobe. "Malcolm invites ye to dine with us tonight, Lady Kade," Llewellyn then revealed. "I would recommend ye to wear something a little more--" " Lady-like,'" Kade nodded. "No problem. Llewellyn, this may be a strange question, but please bare with me, I've been gone for quite some time now: what year is it?" " Tis the Year of our Lord 957, of course," Llewellyn suddenly became downcast. "I'm sorry, Kade. I've forgotten." "S'okay," Kade reassured, throwing open the wardrobe. Gowns of various sizes and styles cluttered the closet. Being partial to green, she pulled out the only two green dresses and threw them onto the bed. Of course, none had tags, so she had to try them on individually. The blond girl watched in amused fascination as Kade shed her tee-shirt and jeans and slipped the first dress over her head. "I've never seen a lady with muscles like that," Llewellyn whispered. Giving up with the gown--the arms were much too small for her biceps--Kade looked down at her own body and shrugged. "I'm a warrior. What can I say?" She moved on to the other dress, which fitted nicely around the arms, but otherwise was much too big in the waist and gave away too much cleavage. Her grey sportsbra was almost entirely exposed. Finally, after Llewellyn called in the seamstress, they transplanted the sleeves of the larger dress to the body of the smaller ne. As unproportional as it seemed, the frankensteined dress fit rather well on Kade, even if the collar was a little itchy. And she could get away with wearing her own underwear. Excellent. Now with that settled, Kade yawned and checked her inventory. Sword? Check. Phoenix Gate? Check. Wallet with valid I.D.? Shit. She needed to renew her licence soon. M-80's? Check. VICA handbook? Now how did that get in her jacket? Pack of Magic cards?" Damn. Where was all this shit coming from? She tipped her jacket upside down and shook it. Two dirks, three other Magic starter decks, a CD player, various CDs, an umbrella, a Sony Watchman Color Crystal Ball attached to an enchanted RCA DDX satellite dish, and a note tumbled out. Perplexed, Kade picked up the note. Dear Kade-- May you never find what you need! Ha ha ha! Your loving coz --Cera "That bitch!" Kade snorted, crumbling the note. Her little prankish cousin, the family magic-user, had cursed her jacket. "How can ye fit so much stuff into yer--" Llewellyn pointed to the jacket. Damn. She was still here. "It's cursed," Kade mumbled, thinking of a loophole. Her cousin was always full of loopholes. Then it dawned on her. Snapping her fingers, she retorted out loud, "I don't need a belt pouch." Reaching into the pocket, she lo and behold pulled out a belt pouch. I don't need two dirk sheathes." And again, she pulled out the sheathes. Of course, she recoginised all the items that she had received; they all came from her room at home. The little vixen created a tiny wormhole between her jacket and her bedroom, so theoretically, she could go home-- But duty, honor, and friendship gnawed at her consciousness. Not without Chris, and not until Arin and Brooklyn are reunited and returned home. And certainly not without her Trans Am. Adjusting the belt of her claymore scabbard, she slipped the loops of the dirk sheathes and belt pouch onto it. Stuffing everything else save for the Phoenix Gate and her sword back into the jacket pocket--thank the Triple Goddess it worked both ways, the satellite dish was expensive--she sheathed the weapons and placed the artifact into the pouch and glanced out the window. It was almost sunset. "Llewellyn," she beckoned as she strapped the sword belt to her waist, the claymore nearly dragging. "When will supper be ready?" " Supper?'" Damn Yankonics. "Dinner. Meal time. When you eat." "Oh. When the guests arrive from Castle Moray." Nice to know I'm not the cause of all this fuss." Kade hiked up the skirt and trudged ut to the courtyard. Somehow, this place seemed vaguely familiar. She strode out to the cart holding her friend and watched her shed her stone exterior with a roar and a yawn. "What happened?" Arin demanded, pointing her sharp chin to Kade's dress. "Apparently, this Gate--" the humanoid tapped the pouch at her side "--brought us to Scotland, circa 957 C.E." "Really?" Arin shoved her hands into her pockets and whistled slightly in the tune of "Time Machine" by Black Sabbath. "957. Why does that year sound familiar? Come to think of it, if I didn't know any better, I would say this is Castle Wyvern." "It is, lass," a deep alto voice heavily accented with Scot rumbled behind her. "However, I don't seem to recall ye..." Kade looked behind her and noticed the bulky brown gargoyle. He was a little shorter than the average gargoyle she knew about, but surrounding him as an air of authority. He had long blond hair and piercing blue eyes, and wore human armor and sword along with the traditional loincloth. Arin gnawed on her lip. Things were clicking in for her. This was Castle Wyvern. This gargoyle standing with them was a much younger Hudson, about twenty years--forty human years--younger, a handsome, no- nonsense type of soul, although her had that bright friendly twinkle in his eye ha always possessed since Arin met him. "I escaped English slavery with the help of this gargoyle," Kade retorted quickly, covering Arin's brooding expression. "Prince Malcolm found me resting this afternoon, and brought us both here." The brown gargoyle nodded with a warm smile. To Arin, he asked, "What clan do ye hail from, lass?" "I've no clan," she answered, somewhat truthfully. Technically, she hadn't even been born yet. How could she have a clan? He nodded again, grasping her hands. "Ye're welcome in our clan, child. If ye've no home, ye may call Wyvern yer's." "Thank you, sir," Arin smiled back. If he only knew she was already a clansman, courting the second-in-command-- Then realisation hit her hard. 957 C.E. The year Brooklyn was born, or rather, hatched. "Have your eggs hatched, sir?" Arin suddenly asked. If she remember Una's story correctly, the Phoenix Gate would have taken her to where and when she asked. And since the where and when was taken out of the equation, she had to settle for a who. Namely. Brooklyn. She was mildly surprised as well the bloody thing didn't dump them in actual Brooklyn, New York. Well, they'll just have to reuse the Gate and the next time, specify deeper. "No, lass," the gargoyle who would be Hudson shook his head. "They won't be ready for another year. Why do you ask? Think Viking. "The Vikings killed our clan south of here. They slaughtered our young while they emerged from their shells," she retorted, sniffing but keeping her eyes stoic. God, she loved acting, but she hated lying. "I'm the last of my clan." "Child, as I said before, ye're welcome to join our clan...." He trailed off, putting a friendly arm around her shoulders and giving her a fatherly squeeze. "Come, let me show you around...." He led her towards the wall, where many other gargoyles were gathered. Arin shot a look at Kade, who nodded in silent agreement. Tomorrow morning, before sunrise, they leave. Llewellyn suddenly appeared at her side. "Dinner is being held in the main dining hall," she hissed. "My brother asks for yer attendance." Kade sighed. "All right," she sighed. "Let's go." The dining room was full of cheerful and talkative people, all drinking some sort of ale or mead. Kade was shown a seat next to the prince at the head. Llewellyn was at his other hand, with a strapping young man about Malcolm's age, and an older man with long white hair dressed in mage robes. Kade groaned under the din of the crowd. She hated mages. Sure, Christopher was an exception, but they were together for as long as she could remember, best friends, almost close enough to brother and sister. And, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the mage stare at her. Did he sense the Phoenix Gate? Or her sword, which had magic sentience, but unclarified properties? Or perhaps both? She would probably never find out, she told herself, as she sipped her ale. It was bitter and strong, not like Geary's Pale Ale she was used to. Too bad there was no beer, or a Kalhua mudslide, or her Cinnamon AfterShock 80 proof, those were more her speed. Wine, forget it. She yawned, politely covering her mouth as she stole a look at Prince Malcolm. Who was, to her surprise, staring right back at her with a dreamy grin. She came to attention, gazing directly in front of her at the doorway. She knew that look. Malcolm stood, holding his mug high in the air. He wasn't the least bit drunk. The crowd quieted. "Countrymen of this court," he boomed. "I would like to announce, in the absence of my father, who valiantly died in battle last year, the engagement of Prince Conall of Castle Moray, and my sister Princess Llewellyn." A roar of applause rose from the crowd as Conall took Llewellyn's hand and the two of them stood, he bowed, she curtsied. They sat. As the festivities continued, Malcolm leaned over and whispered into Kade's ear. She dropped her mug in shock. Think of something quick. "Prince Malcolm," she whispered, "I cannot marry. My goddess would not permit it." Malcolm's eyes asked the all but obvious question. "I am a priestess of the war goddess Morrigan," she explained as convincing as possible. "We are not permitted to marry." Oh, shit. She had hurt him. He really had no time to respond, for Connor bursted in, sword unsheathed. Trouble. Kade could smell it, her hand to the hilt of her sword. "Prince Malcolm!" he shouted. "Vikings are coming from the south, about three hours ride!" "All able men to the battlements!" Malcolm sprinted from the table, followed by Conall and Kade. The other men in the hall followed suit, as they raced to the courtyard. It was funny, getting a tour of your own home, although there was no television room, no projection room, no offices, nor elevators. Although somehow, everything seemed...familiar, like a dream that disappears just as you begin to remember it. The brown gargoyle--Arin learned that he was in fact leader before Goliath-- finalised the tour by the doors that she recognised as the stairways leading to the more modern part of the Eyrie Building. "And this is the rookery," he replied, as two teenage gargoyles ran up to him, concern lining their young faces. "Leader," the lavender male, who the tan female recognised as a scrawny Goliath, "Prince Malcolm has asked us to join him in the courtyard." "The Vikings are coming up from the south," the azure female with flaming red hair added. "Blast!" Hudson drew his short sword. "Ye," he pointed to Goliath, who was about the size and stamina of Arin's Brooklyn, save that Goliath didn't slouch, "Gather yer brothers and sisters. As for ye lass," he switched his gaze to the blue female, "bring to attention of yer elders we need rookery watch. Ten'll do, then bring the others to the courtyard. And ye, child," he placed a hand on her shoulder, "how are you at fighting?" "I'm sorry to say, I really can barely hold my own when I spar." "We'll have t work on that later. Will ye join the rookery watch, then?" "Of course, sir," she nodded. "Thank ye, lass." And, with that he left. Arin mantled her wings, thinking. She and Kade couldn't leave, not now, on the brink of war. As she pulled open the heavy wooden door to the rookery, se felt a presence behind her. "You are the adopted clansman?" A dark red female whispered. Four other females and five males stood behind her, staring curiously at Arin. "I reckon so," Arin grinned somewhat, attempting to appear friendly. War never made her comfortable. "The leader asked me to go on rookery watch. I hope you do not mind." "Of course not," she smiled warmly, her hazel brown eyes welcoming. She had to be Brooklyn's mother, Arin thought as she chewed her lip. Same eyes, horns, and skin coloration. No doubt. Then again, gargoyles of this time period didn't have names, nor did they follow parentage. But still.... Sometimes things like that were obvious, like Goliath and Angela. Arin had never seen gargoyle eggs until now. They were large, bigger than ostrich eggs, and covered with a speckled stone skin. There were roughly forty in here, she estimated, as she watched te others gently turn the eggs, like a farmer would chicken eggs in an incubator. There was a curse, and ne of the males, a dark grey one as large as Goliath in Arin's own time, called over his brothers and sisters. Arin followed the red female who had spoken to her earlier t where the grey male was crouched. "One of the eggs...!" he exclaimed, pointing to the egg in front of him. A lightning-bolt shaped crack blemished the surface. And, by the sounds of it, the little occupant wanted out. "But it's too early!" The teal male with the spiraling horns retorted. "It's a little premature, yes, but that's not rare enough to endanger our little one," the dark green female with the sloping wings explained, kneeling next to the egg. "I spent time with the rookery mother of the last batch. She taught me what to do." To the tiny denizen, she whispered, "Come out, little one, Come out and meet your family." A tiny red talon stuck up through the fissure, and then an entire hand, forcing the crack wider. A foot kicked out. Both feet. Gently, the dark green female pulled away bits of broken shell. She peeled back a crumpled wings from the hatchling's face and body and beamed. "It's a male!" She cried, carefully scooping the mucus from his tiny nose and mouth. He took a breath. And another. Arin craned her neck to see the hatchling and grinned, mildly surprised. Well, she didn't specify which Brooklyn... But something was wrong. He did not take another breath. He exhaled, then that was it. The green female waved a hand over his beak and nose and glanced downcast. "I don't think he'll make it," she whispered ruefully. "He doesn't know how to breath." The red female let loose a wail and buried her head into the dark grey male's chest. Regardless of being raised by the entire clan, there was always that special bond between mothers and their children. But, then again, this was Brooklyn dying! Without Brooklyn, Arin MacDuff would be a lonely woman in New York, going to classes at NYU, normally, like a respectful human. Or, on the other end of the scale, stuck on Avalon with Oberon and his children. Suddenly, her mother's voice rang in her head. "Victim stops breathing. What do you do?" Arin took the small newborn and laid him flat on his back. She checked his pulse in the neck. Nothing was lodged in his throat, as proved by his past breathing. The pulse was weak, but steady. She never took a course on infant artificial resuscitation or CPR; however, this was the time nor the place to think about it. She would have to improvise. The others looked over her as she lifted his chin. His beak was far too big for her to do mouth-to-mouth, even as tiny as he was. But to resuscitate a dog.... Closing his mouth, she gave two deep breaths into his nose. Putting her ear to his nose, she listened for escaping air. He took it, and exhaled. But he did not breathe again. She checked his pulse again, then repeated the procedure. And he exhaled again. "Dammit, kid, breathe!" she hissed, checking the pulse again. There was none. "Shit! Everyone, give me room!" she ordered, tears flowing down her cheeks. Holding his chin, she gave two breathes through his nose as she ran her index and third finger down his breast bone. Finding the right area, she pushed rhythmically, counting as she did. "One and "Two and "Three and "Four and "Five and "Six and "Seven and "Eight and "Nine and "Ten and "Eleven and "Twelve and "Thirteen and "Fourteen and "Fifteen and "BREATHE!" She forced another two breaths into the little body. "One and "Two and "Three and..." The ten gargoyles watched in horrific awe as the lithe gargoyle whom they had not known just an hour before work some sort of magic on this tiny being. "...Ten and "Eleven and "Twelve and "Thirteen and "Fourteen and "Fifteen and "BREATHE!" Two more breaths. "One and "Two and..." Please don't do this, Brook... "Four and "Five and..." I need you, Brook... "Seven and "Eight and..." I LOVE YOU, BROOKLYN! LIVE, DAMN YOU, LIVE!!! Something clicked in the back of her mind, a power that stopped her dead in her tracks. Her eyes blazed red, then faded to silver as she felt a surge of raw energy course through her system, exiting through her hands like lightning from a storm cloud into the hatchling's body. And, as one, Arin and the baby took a breath together. Head pounding, Arin stood, picking up the hatchling that, in over a millennium, was destined to be her friend, her lover. The red and grey gargoyles, who had been holding their breaths themselves, exhaled with relief, joy, and awe as Arin presented them their biological son, who, for a brief moment, expressed a surge of parental pride, before passing the bay to their rookery brothers and sisters. They held him close, kissing his forehead, running their hands over his snowy white hair, still only a couple inches long. They all whispered thanks to Arin, as the child returned to her arms. He was tiny, yes, about the size of a newborn human. Surprisingly, his eyes weren't blue, he was alert, and had some control with motor skills. She stole a look at the grey male, almost squeezing te life out of his mate, he was so ecstatic. In the dim lighting, it was hard to make out the features of his face, but, as he approached her, she had to smile. Brooklyn had his father's face, all right, handsome and caring, right down to his kind grin. Arin held the hatchling out once more to him. "I'm glad I could be of service," she finally murmured, her voice wavering with fatigue. Whatever happened, it took a lot out of her. "I don't know what to say," he whispered, taking the proffered child, "except that you've done your clan proud." She smiled weakly, and fainted. *** Kade cursed, tripping ver the seam of her dress. Goddamned sexist mediaeval garb, she cursed silently as she climbed the ladder up to the parapets. She glanced down at the humans and gargoyles milling around in the courtyard below. Running along the wall, she pushed off from the stone and reached for the windowsill of her guest quarters. Airbourne, she realised she didn't have enough momentum. Split second decision, she stretched out her hands, her fingers becoming taloned and long. She caught the wall with a screech and began scaling gargoyle-fashion through her window. Shedding the cumbersome dress, she grabbed her jacket. "I don't need my battle armor!" She spat, pulling out a chain mail "halter-top", loose black pants, and arm and leg guards. Strapping on her armor with forceful tugs, she returned her belt back around her shoulder. Hand on the hilt, she strode back to the window barefoot and leapt, three stories, hitting the ground running. She rushed out to regroup, and was met by curious stares. "If I'm going to kick ass properly, I must wear my own armor," she stated in a mock pompous British accent. "They come!" An ice blue gargoyle with a long face shouted, pointing out to the south. "The Vikings come!" "Battle stations, men!" Malcolm shouted, raising his sword. "We'll defend our castle!" Kade whooped, drawing her great claymore and climbed up to the top of the gate. Off in the distance, she could see the wave of Vikings breaking over the hill. And suddenly, she got an idea. *** Arin was surrounded by blackness. She strained to see anything in the void, but failed miserably. "It's night," she whispered to herself, "but I'm sleeping." "You've strained yourself. You're unconscious." She did not have to turn to know the voice, the one she heard three months ago in a dream. "Hello, Shadow." The white-haired human blinked, surprised. "You...named...me?" "You claimed not to be Brooklyn, but an aspect, a shadow, of him. It's appropriate, I think." "I like it," he shrugged, placing a hand on her shoulder as he sat next to her. "You did well tonight." "What else was I supposed to do, let him die?" she whispered. "I love him too much." "Enough to use fae magic to save him." She blinked. "Excuse me?" "You magically gave him the ability to breathe. If you didn't, it wouldn't matter how long you gave him CPR. He would never be able to breathe on his own, and, in that time, he would have died." "Are you saying the Phoenix Gate brought us here for that reason?" "Not the Phoenix Gate. Brooklyn's need did. You see, you gave some of your life essence to that drooling little monster so that he may live. When that drooling little monster becomes a raging hormonal case, he's going to try to find that missing part of him. He'll try to find love in a mutated human who has no desire for him and the daughter of his leader who goes off with his brother. Finally he meets a lonely young woman, who somehow compels him to love her, for no logical reason up to that point save for the fact that he would do anything for her. And, for no reason she could think of, she feels something for him." Shadow shrugged and continued. "After countless mishaps later, the raging hormonal case gets thrown into a far distant future, and his love gets flung into the day he was hatched, finding herself trying to save the drooling little monster using CPR, but subconsciously gave some of her life essence to that drooling little monster so that he may live. The circle is continuous. Infinite. Unbreakable. You'll never have to face this dilemma again, but the drooling little monster's Arin will face it, and that little drooling monster's Arin will face it, and...well, you get the idea." Arin nodded. "You did not want to, but your own subconscious had you use your fae heritage. It was inevitable." She nodded again. They sat in silence a little longer, until Shadow cleared his throat. "Why haven't you told him flat out you love him?" She sighed, staring off into the void. Shadow did so as well, and, with a slight wave of his hand, the stars began to blink into existence, illuminating a heather-filled field with rolling hills. "I guess it had to do with my last relationship," she answered truthfully. "I was in Soho, about two years ago, and hooked up with a blind date an acquaintance set me up. We saw each other a few more times, Eric and me, and finally, one night, he had one too many pints, and asked me if I loved him. I told him flat out no. He grabbed me, and began..." she took a breath, and Shadow took her hand and squeezed it gently, urging her to go on. "He began manhandling me. I told him to stop it, and when he didn't, I screamed." "What happened after that?" "Leo came out of his shop and scared the living shit outta Eric. He never bothered me again." Shadow smirked, hugging her. "Is that why you're afraid?" She nodded slightly. "You know Brooklyn would never do that." "I know, but..." Arin stood, inhaling the night air. "...but...dammit, Shadow, I love him! But every time I try to tell him...." Shadow stood as well, towering over her by a good foot-and-a-half. "Keep on mind your priorities, Arin," he whispered as he began walking away. "And next time you see him, tell him just what you feel." "Shadow!" she yelled after him. He turned to her, staring at her with piercing hazel eyes. "Where and when is he?" He shrugged. "All I can see is that he's in the future. Your future." "Thank you, Mr. Fortune Cookie!" He chuckled, then vanished with the shadows. And Arin awoke. *** Kade watched the advancing Vikings with undivided interest. Idea forming...idea forming.... She leapt from the gate and broke into a run toward the opposing army. "What are you doing, lass?" The brown gargoyle leader shouted. "I know what I'm doing!" She called back as she planted her feet firmly on the ground about five-hundred metres from the castle walls. The Viking swords rang out of their sheathes; short little blades with room only for one hand on the hilt. Kade scoffed silently. The Viking leader waited for more to pop out, he laughed and leered down at the woman. "So," he grinned. "The Scots are soft enough to send women to face us?" With a quick, fluid motion, Kade rushed him, sweeping his legs out from underneath him. "You are trespassing on Pict land, outlander." She shouted in a strong voice that resonated the very air. "Turn back, and live. Continue on, and die. This is your only warning." "The Picts died out centuries ago," the leader scoffed. "Then if you refuse," Kade grinned evilly. "Then you must face Morrigan's wrath." "And who, my dear, is Morrigan? You?" "I take that as a refusal," Kade drew her sword. "You wish to do battle." "The rules are simple, girl," the Viking remarked, standing ten feet away from her. "You and I. One-on-one battle to the death. If I win, my men will go through your land. If you win, we will leave the way we came." "Agreed," Kade nodded, swinging her claymore around her head and out in front of her, waiting the Viking's next move. He shouted a word she did not catch and charged her. Deftly, the woman snapped up her great sword, parrying the little blade and grazing the Viking's side. He cursed, backswinging. Kade grabbed his sword arm with bone-crushing strength and pulled him up to face her. "Never expose your back to an enemy. You're lucky I'm as honourable as I am not to stab you in there when I had the chance." "You are a fool," he snarled, groping to take his sword with his other hand. "No wonder your clan died out." Kade snarled inhumanly, thrusting him back, releasing him. He hunched over, his back to her. "Stand!" She ordered. "Stand and face me, raider! I will not kill you the way you would kill me!" The man chuckled, grabbed a handful of gravel from the road, and threw it forcefully at the warrior woman's face. She screamed again, this time in pain, as she wiped at her eyes. So the bastard wanted to make things difficult, she thought sourly, as she heard him charge her again. She sidestepped blindly and swung out with the flat of her sword, tripping him. Then, eyes still screwed shut, she balanced herself and took a deep gulp of air. Sheathing her sword, she faced the Viking warrior. "If you truly want to fight dirty..." she whispered, then let loose a third, this one bloodcurdling, cry, her body exploded and reformed into what her opponent mistakenly thought to be a wingless gargoyle. Unsheathing her dirks, the dragon woman stood, beckoning him to strike. Overcoming his initial fear and shock, the Viking leapt at her. She caught him with her dirks, one parrying the sword, the other driving into his arm. "Damn you!" he snarled. "Damn yourself!" She snapped, for he had chipped her blocking dirk. Sheathing that, she slashed at him once more before taking up her claymore again. Block, parry, thrust, slash, the human and the metamorph danced a deadly waltz with grace and brutality. The claymore suddenly found a hole in the short sword's defense, and struck. The Viking swore, dropping his blade. Kade had found his heart. The draconian woman then imploded, returning to her human guise. "Honour your deal, Viking," she ordered. "Call off your men." "Men..." he gurgled, as death was imminent, "ATTACK!!!" "Shit!" she cursed, pulling her sword out of the carcass and sheathing it, cursing again about putting it away wet. With a single thought, her form changed again, growing in size and sprouting wings and a tail. The Vikings recoiled in horror, some even fled. The dragon took a step toward the remaining men. She was now a good ten feet tall, her wings unfurled, twice that. A magnificent but horrifying sight, she advanced again, taking in a deep breath. Unorganised retreat followed as she snorted streams of fire above their heads. When they disappeared over the horizon, the near-dragon sighed and reverted back to human. "Chickens!" she waved her fist at the retreating Vikings, then turned back to the castle. Malcolm's men stared at her when she walked through the gates. And no one dared to say a word, not even the gargoyles. *** Arin opened her eyes slowly to find a cool, damp cloth draping over her face. She groaned, sitting up. "How long have I been out?" she whispered to the green female tending to her. "'Tis about midnight, friend," she guessed. "Tell me, clansister," Arin whispered, "has the war party returned?" The teal male and black female nodded simultaneously. "They have, although your companion seems...inhuman," the black female whispered. "There are already rumors that she is a demon, or perhaps the old pagan war goddess Morrigan herself." "That she might be," Arin shrugged as the eleven adults- -and one hatchling, held proudly by the grey male--exited out the heavy doors of the rookery. The grey male rushed out to meet the leader, passing the child excitedly to the man who would someday become Hudson. Arin smiled weakly as the brown leader swore with a smile and held up the copper red baby for all of Castle Wyvern to see. "Do you think he'll be important one day?" the dark red female whispered behind her. "I wouldn't doubt it, friend," Arin smiled broadly, "if he becomes leader someday." *** Still wearing her armor, but with her black-and-orange letter jacket tossed over her shoulders, Kade glanced over the parapet wall, her hands fingering the Phoenix Gate. She heard the sound of claw against stone. "Are you glad we stayed, Arin?" She questioned her companion as Arin hoisted herself over the wall. "Very much so. The in-laws love me, the kid's doing fine, Hudson welcomes me with open arms. It's just so weird, though, saving your man's life when he's not even potty-trained." "Well, I hope we find him and Chris soon," Kade handed her the artifact. "I haven't said good-bye yet...." "Listen, Arin, you obviously know the leader--" "Hudson, yes..." "And he's alive in your time, your clan, right?" "Yes." "Then explain when you get back. He'll understand better than if you try to tell him now." "You're right," Arin nodded, holding the Phoenix Gate high above her head. "'Deflagrate muri tempi et intervalia!'" *** The old archimage glanced up at the parapet as the spheroid flame began to die. He cursed, realising he was slow to act. But there would be another time. But that was another story already told. ***THUS ENDS PART TWO OF GLIDING ON THE WINDS OF TIME. "Part Three: Love and Loneliness" is probably my best conflict to date, as Arin and Kade are taken to the war-torn world of "Future Tense". Sevarius runs the show now, and there is, as before, a traitor in the midst for both sides. And who said it was a dream? Introducing my lovable and highly psychotically disturbed little brother, Sombrero! Otherwise, besides Smith and Wesson and Sombrero, this is a dark work. Stay tuned, my fellow fanfic-ers! "Outlaw Torn" by Metallica, from Load Black Blade "My Cosmic Song Goes On For Eternity"