[Spirit Walk:  LaCroix's perspective]
 

  Sunlight?!

  For a moment, LaCroix felt twin panic clutch his heart.

  The sun!  Who had opened a window?!  Could he get Nicholas' body out to
safety before they were both incinerated?  But as he leaned down to scoop up
the comatose form of his son, the ancient vampire found that it wasn't
there.  Nothing was.  Only green grass where the bed had been.

  No loft.
  No Toronto.
  No burning of his skin.
  No ochre-skinned man slumped at his feet.

  Instead, he found:

  A cold wind that chilled him.
  A large man dressed in what looked like some sort of martial arts suit.
  Strange, humanoid animals humming to themselves.

  And he suddenly felt a greater understanding for what Nicholas had gone
through when he had nudged the boy's guilty feelings into a surrealistic
dream.

  The large man was watching him with an odd expression on his face, graying
hair whipping about as the wind inceased slightly.

  "Doctor... are you well?"

  His question was answered by one of the creatures, a darker version of its
companion, who spoke as if straining under some great weight, its unusual
eyes holding a glassy sheen.

  "Of the...Doctor..is..is..naught.  One..who Nik..lahs...often fought.
One..has terr..or.. Both.. feel pained.  Melded now.. by.. blood.....
re..tained."  The speaker sagged to its knees as its kin kept it from
falling down completely.  Not that the whiter one looked that much better,
LaCroix thought.

  "Melded?  Melded with who?" the man asked, laying his hands upon the
strange creature as if he was trying to help it somehow.  "I thought the
Joining was for Nicholas."

  LaCroix was about to demand what the bearded fellow knew of his son, when
there was the sound of large wings beating against the air.  He spun around
as a large bird of prey---some sort of falcon---landed behind him.  And
started speaking.  Despite being forewarned by Pohl, LaCroix felt his jaw
drop slightly.  Curiouser and curiouser, indeed!

  "So it is, honorable K'wi Gwan Jinn---if they wish it.  But the Anaran
chose naught this union with he."  The falcon folded its wings, an action
that revealed it was not alone.  A man was sliding off the feathery back,
crouching as he hit the ground before slowly rising up to face him.

  Nicholas!

  Only the greatest amount of willpower he had ever brought to bear kept him
from launching himself at the blonde figure for those first precious
seconds.  It had been a matter of pride, of propriety, not to cave in to his
desire, and he was thankful for his restraint.

  For this was not his Nicholas.  Not exactly.  This was Nicholas as he was
before LaCroix had made him his:  a mortal warrior.  He even wore the
costume of that period.  Gods, but he looked beautiful with the sunlight
striking the golden hair..

  Well, no matter.  If time was playing tricks, then it would be a simple
matter to bring Nicholas back to his rightful place in his family.  Decided,
he made to fly over---and discovered he couldn't.  His feet simply refused
to do anything more than make mortal-sized steps.

  What manner of Hade's spells was this?

  "Lord K'tlysa, who is that?"  LaCroix heard Nicholas ask.  "He looks as
the other, yet he's not somehow."

  "Dr. Anders Pohl's dream-flesh has been devoured by another mind, young
one.  It is this other that you perceive--as well you should."

  "Should I, Lord?"

  "Aye, he is your sire."

  "My sire is dead.  There is only my maman and my sister."

  "Nethertheless, he is your sire.  You do not know this now, for those
memories are with your other self."

  "Then why does he seem familiar?"

  "Young one, it  is LaCroix who resides in that dream-flesh now."

   The mortal Nicholas gaped in horror.  "The Demon master of Janette!"

  "Vampire master," the falcon corrected.  "Do not be afraid.  He cannot
hurt you."

  "He tried to trap me!"  the knight grimaced as if suffering from a
headache, his eyes unfocused.  "He is the cause of my pain!"

  "He is my father!"

  Vampire Nicholas dropped from the sky before LaCroix, bowing low.

  "Father, you are different, yet I feel and recognize our link---you have
returned to aid me?"

  "Nicholas?  Mon  fils?"  LaCroix breathed, reaching out to touch the
blonde hair---somewhat darker for having been without the sun's touch for so
long.  It felt real--silky under his touch.  The glowing eyes of a predator
raised to meet him, fang tips peaking from the lips as he spoke.

  "Of course, Father," the confident voice spoke, yellow eyes lidded as cold
lips pressed against his hand---no, not *his* hand, yet somehow his anyway.
"I have always been yours... from the night you brought me into being with
your blood; forever yours, Master."

  LaCroix felt himself swell with pride and pleasure at his son's
declaration and show of renewed fealty.  Here was the son he had always
dreamed about:  self-assured, graceful, powerful, revelling in his very
nature.  And very mindful of his place under his paternal authority.  And
yet...

  He couldn't help but be drawn to that other, mortal Nicholas.  That
almost-twin of the one kneeling before him, eyes fearful yet determined to
hide it.  So weak, and yet somehow not disabled by that frailty.  So... so..

  So reflective of the Light.

  A quality that he had always privately treasured in his son.  And, he
realized now, a quality that was absent---or at least very dulled--- in the
primal creature at his feet.

  Both were Nicholas.
  Neither was his son.

  A dream after all, then.  A very... warped...dream.

  "You see it then, oh Ancient One,
    This soul is neither two, nor son,
    But half of one, and both quite lost,
    Still, neither willing to pay the cost."

  The Roman vampire eyed the plate-eyed owl as it ended its rhyme.

  A very, *very*, warped dream.  With poetry-spouting fowl to boot.

  "Not a dream, and still not real,
    Though senses have, and do most feel,
    Think this is but a jest on you?
    Vampire, we have dire need of you!

  LaCroix chuckled at the angry-looking owl to cover his own unease.  He
didn't like it that these creatures seemed able to read his thoughts...even
if this was only a dream.   "And how is it that I have 'ruffled' your
feathers, vermin eater?"  A series of unintelligible hoots was his reply.

  "K'an, brother... be still,"  the falcon admonished the other avian.
"Pardon my brother, General, but we are somewhat stressed.  You see, we are
in a war."

  A war?  LaCroix smiled.  He'd always liked wars.  But all he said aloud
was:  "I don't fight other's battles for them."

  "Not even for the sake of your son's well being?  Listen to our plight,
Ancient One.  Then do as you will."

  LaCroix thought about telling the bird to go stuff itself, but then
remembered that all that awaited him when awake was the reality of Nicholas
in a coma.  Perhaps this dream would be a pleasant diversion from his
melancholic brooding---a small vacation for his subconscious.  At least this
Nicholas---these Nicholi?---were aware and could interact.  "Go on."

  Nestling down on the grass, one wing protectively around Nicholas' human
half, K'tlysa began his narrative.

  "Once, there were only two life forces of Ava.  One was as powerful as the
other; however, they were of opposite intent.  K'yavanti reveled in life,
and delighted in creating forms.  Unayarek did not, seeing life as
unneccessary clutter upon the pristine rock and gases of this system.  So
K'yavanti created; and Unayarek destroyed when it moved on to another
project.  Undaunted,  K'yavanti reproduced itself.  It wove a tiny essence
of  itself in each of its creations so that Unayarek could not destroy it.
These essences---Songs---grew, and began to reproduce themselves as well,
however, this time there was not enough...energy.  The second generation was
weaker.  So the First generation housed the Second in physical mass as they
saw had been done in other parts of what Is.  The First tended and watched
over the Second.. guarding them as they developed, for encased so in their
housings these were  blind and deaf to all but themselves.  Of these second
ones, one developed a limited ability to see beyond itself.  They managed to
see beyond their own mass and 'sense' the essences of others.  They sought
out and communed with the First as best they were able, recording what they
learned in their memories and transforming the knowledge into a new form
that could be shared with their brothers.  These physical...
abstractions?...of the Songs helped others to connect better.  Unayarek
hated the Kievet for this ability, for the Second grew stronger by them.
And then something cataclysmic happened:  a race from beyond Ava fell to the
largest dry land.  Some survived and began to populate that far island.  The
First were not concerned at the beginning---they were yet few, these
Anarans, and not inclined then to cross Water.  And the First pitied them
too, for it seemed that they were orphans unable to return to their own
homes.  Besides, what could they do?  They had not the power to send them
back.

Unayarek was not so short-sighted, however.  It noted something that the
First had not considered:  The Anarans did not possess the protective Song
of K'yavanti.  The Anarans could not hear us, nor have any connection with
Ava beyond the physical.   Unayarek twisted the Anaran's minds--not much,
for they are very different to our kind---but enough so that they learned of
destruction.  And this seed grew within them!  They took and manipulated the
Quads, making them slaves and giving them the perceptions of a predator.
Worse, they spread their malignancy, migrating themselves before the First
could decide what to do.  They could not stop the Anarans, you see, for they
are of creating and protecting---not attacking, not destroying.  So they
decided to delay until a solution could be found.  R'ket allowed Pamea Yer
to slowly swallow up their land,  forcing the Kievet to migrate from their
own island to the most populated one, much further away.  Together, they
would guard those living there.
But try as they might, the First could not get the Kievet to comprehend the
concept that others could mean them harm for reasons beyond that of food.
That destruction could be viewed as an aim in itself---and not as the
continuation of life in another form.  (Do you understand my meaning?  The
eaten ysh lives on in the R'ket, but not if it is charred.  Then it truly
dies and everything is but matter.

Sadly, our stalling did not last, and the Anarans came to their island.  The
vast majority of the Kievet could not understand the twist in the Anaran's
minds---only the contacted clan's Mieket did a little.  They earnestly tried
to heal them.  The Anarans felt it---but reacted badly.  Some desired the
feelings they received in a possessive way and sought to 'tame' them as they
did the Quads.  Others felt threatened by them and wanted their destruction.
Both reactions caused the Kievet to start dying.

There was one hope, however.  The Kievet did succeed in healing one
Anaran---Aguira Ruenam.  Aguira could not hear as the Kievet, yet in other
ways he understood better, for he understood destruction as well as
creation.  We made sure he was tutored well, he and another Kievet called
Yer.  These two led enough of the Kievet to refuge to keep the Songs safe.
And yet the situation was no better than before---worse, since so much Land
was lost and their Songs dimmed or stopped altogether---the First were
weakened.  Unayarek redoubled his attacks until they began to get past our
defenses.  Even to the Etwan.

For the Kievet had been affected terribly by their near extinction.

There were few surviving males, far less resources, it was colder than their
liking, and this made the females nervous.  They revised the social
structure to keep the males 'safe' and resources at acceptable levels.
You see, the K'tlyan were naturally more migratory---their instinct is to
travel.  The Etwan feared---and rightly so----that the K'tlyan would want to
visit the ocean as it held the greatest quantity of Songs, and would suffer
capture by the Anarans.  This fear opened them up to influence by Unayarek.
They forced Yer (now Mieket to the male young) to devise a false history to
teach their children so that they would na *want* to go beyond the
mountains.  The matriarchy took greater control over every part of their
social structure save the  K'tlyan's Song tending.
And then to the First's horror, a generation ago, Unayarek found a claw hold
on even a K'tlyan.  Stressed from within and without, poor K'yish en Mieket
et Ysh broke and let Unayarek wound his essence.  This started the chain of
events that led his kien, who as it happens was also named Yer, to want to
attack Unayarek after he left Ysh."

[Author's Note:  To read the details of the above, click on the link below.
The story is roughly 140kb though, and like the Parts 11 in Episode Two on
how K'yer and Pohl met, can be skipped if desired.]

K'yish's fall thru K'yer's vow to confront Unayarek

  (Out of corner of his eye, LaCroix saw the whiter of the two furry
humanoids flinch and bow his head.)

  "It was a suicide journey he wished for himself, and Unayarek used it to
give the Anarans access to the Kievet's refuge.  It orchestrated the meeting
of K'yer and Pohl of the Tanaken, knowing that the tenacious Pohl would be
enamored by his find and not stop until he found the Kievet again.  K'yer
was allowed to 'escape' back home so that his trail could later be followed.
Unayarek is very determined and could afford to wait.

 ---------Flashback:  K'yer shortly after escaping from Pohl---------

Tired and dusty, K'yer stumbled along the dry, barren foothills.  Which way
had he come?  Not really expecting to try to return home, he hadn't paid
much attention.  And then he had lost himself in grief for an unknown time
only to awaken amidst strange beings both kind and predatory.   Ayth--- it
seemed an eternity ago that he had come out of Ava on R'ket's back.  His
dead Companion.  Dead because of him.  He swallowed back the pain of that
thought.  Best not to think of his loss..

"I am na going to die here.  I am na going to die here." he gasped between
gulps of air.  Blinking dizzily up at the  golden orb overhead he muttered,
"Why do you burn so?  Why are you hurting instead of comforting me?"
Panting, he sniffed about and found what he needed:  a small pool of trapped
rainwater.  He lapped the liquid up eagerly  then sat down and sighed,
closing his pupils off.  "Pamea, I have been terribly foolish.  Please help
me to get back home."  Silliness.  What chance that his brother spirit could
hear him Outside?  A familiar cry came to his ears.  Shading his eyes
against the abnormally intense sun, he searched the sky until he found the
origin of the sound.  "K'tlysa!"  K'yer whooped for joy.  Only the strong
messenger of Vast could transverse the Guardians so easily.  Could it be
that K'yavanti was granting him a guide?  He called out to the soaring
falcon in its own voice, waiting patiently as it glided down to land in a
nearby tree; glistening feathers spread out to him in greetings.  He
crouched before it.  "Great Messenger, I apologize for my lack of
cleanliness in your presence.  I am in bad straits--- my own fault--- being
Companionless and lost in this strange place.  Please show me the  way home
and help to get there."  The falcon spread its wings a bit more.

"You took the Path you chose."  A soft voice said in his mind.

K'yer nodded wearily, showing he accepted responsibility for his actions.
"The path  was not chosen in wisdom.  I let Unayarek taint my thinking."

"Unayarek still is."

"I will na listen to it anymore.  Please, K'tlysa, I want to see Ava again
if only to die there."

"That may yet be.  The path is hard, however, and lengthy.  And Unayarek
still is."

K'yer looked down at his worn boots.  What did K'tlysa mean by that?  Did he
not say that he would not listen to the Destroyer again?  "I will do
whatever you think best, K'tlysa.  Do you want me to stay Outside?"

"I will help you.  But what happens after the Guardian Mountains depends on
you."  The falcon took off, flying between two peaks.

Opening his physical eyes, K'yer looked for the 'real' mountain tops and
headed in their direction.  He had K'tlysa's aid.  That was enough.

----------o-------------

Half frozen and nearly starved, K'yer nethertheless gazed with deep
satisfaction upon the snow covered valley before him.  True to its word, the
Messanger had guided him back home.  But the journey had begun in winter and
that was when he found himself entering Ava.  The memory of being scorched
by an inhospitable sun had long ago given way to the current reality of ice
and snow.  He shivered.  There was not a chance of his surviving to reach
safe haven of course.  His body was already caving in to the physical
pressures.  He could hardly see or smell, and his skin felt numb.  He knew
he didn't have much longer.  All that remained to do was to make it possible
to Walk; otherwise, he would have to wait until some predator chanced upon
his body.  Only... how was he to accomplish the task when his knife was lost
in Outside?  He doubted he had the strength to claw at his own throat to an
adequate depth.

Such suicidal worries were brought to an abrupt end when a sudden weight
fell against his side and pain shot through his right shoulder as it was
clamped in a crushing vise.  At the same time his right leg buckled, forcing
his left to try to take on the job of continuing his upright stance---  a
job it was in no shape to perform.  K'yer got a fleeting glimpse of his
attacker before he fell over the small overhang  he had been standing on.
The V'rek's eyes glared balefully after him as he tumbled several yards down
the steep slope, as if its prey was at fault for its miscalculated lunge.

When he at last felt his body come to a halt, K'yer didn't even open his
eyes, but lay there in the soft snow moaning quietly to himself.  It was a
pity the V'rek had loused up its attack so badly.  If it had not, it would
undoubtedly be filling its stomach now; while he would be beginning his
Walk.  As it was the animal had missed a meal, and he was in a state of dull
pain.  His right shoulder and upper thigh felt warm and wet.  No doubt he
was bleeding fairly badly.  Ah, good!  His failing hearing could just make
out scrambling sounds.  Perhaps he had not fallen quite as far as he had
thought and now the predator was coming to claim its meal.  That was a
relief..  Aye, something was tugging at him---  he could barely perceive
it---  it must be gutting him.  Any moment now..."

"K'tlyan?"

The senior Kievet shook the younger again and this time was rewarded by
semi-opened eyes and a slight smile.

"K'ya- vaaaaan.. ti?"

The older male grinned.  "Just K'tahv, my little brother."  But the eyes
drooped closed again before he could continue.  K'tahv, Singer from the
Valley of Yuiti, grunted and looked upward into the concerned face of his
Companion.  "My brother is almost gone, R'ket.  Perhaps you should have let
that V'rek eat.  As it is I may have to prepare my knife for the ritual."
He looked again at the blood soaked bandages he had hastily used to stop the
bleeding.  It was a miracle the youngster was still alive at all.  If the
V'rek had not been in a weakened state itself, if this K'tlyan had fallen
just a little bit further toward the precipice...  If he had not heeded the
urge to travel to Flah instead of Wesh to seek Eldership.  No, there were
too many signs that this one was meant to live.  If this was why K'yavanti
had led him here then so be it.

"R'ket, you are going to have to keep him warm while I tend to those wounds.
I only hope I have enough medicines.. that leg is very bad.  What he really
needs is to get to an Etwan valley as soon as possible.  Perhaps the Elders
there have herbs. "  He busied himself at one of the paka bags, gathering
things he would need.  "He looks young enough to have just stepped out of
Flah itself."  The black R'ket grunted in agreement as it carefully knelt
down beside the Kievet that it had kept from being eaten.

K'yer dreamed he was a young kien bundled up in the cozy warmth of his
Mieket's pouch as they both rolled to the easy rythm of a R'ket's gait.  It
would have been pleasant to have just stayed with the sensory memory;
however, numerous aches and pains of ranging intensity were beginning to
envelope him.  He whimpered  and tried to snuggle closer to the imagined
comfort of his guardian's heartbeat

 K'tahv looked down at the blanket-wrapped form he was cradling in his arms
and signaled his Companion to slow its gait.  Then he breathed his warm
breath on the worried-looking face.  "Are you hungry?"

"Aye, Mieket."  K'yer responded dreamily.

His holder snorted softly at that.  "I am afraid my young brother is wrong
again, but I am honored."

The kind whisper finally brought K'yer to full conscience.  He yawned and
tried to lift his head, but his neck felt abnormally stiff and unbending.
"What?  Where am---   Who are..?"

"Please do not try to move overly much.  Those bandages are all I have and
you have bled enough.  Now, as to your questions---  I am K'tahv en K'tlyen
en Yiuta and we are both being taken to the Flah Valley by the kindness of
my good Companion--- "  The R'ket bugled.  "who insists that you know is the
one who beat your assailant into the snow."  K'tahv finished with a chuckle
as his Companion grunted in satisfaciton.  "There.  Now I ask again, young
brother, are you hungry?  It is Snow time so the river is na as full as it
could be, but you are welcome to drink from it."

"Eh?"  K'yer breathed, still not fully comprehending that he was neither
dead nor dreaming.

Fumbling with his tunics, K'tahv managed to pull the volumnous fabric over
his patient's body without letting it fall.  K'yer smelled a faint sweetness
as the warm torso bent over enough for his nose to come in contact with the
older's right shoulder.  The nearness to such a strong food source made
K'yer's mouth water.  He was terribly hungry.  But this brother was not
Mieket.  He had no bond with this one to accept such a precious gift.

"Please drink, young brother," K'tahv urged, "for you are in bad need and I
have na other suitable food to offer you.  We are still some distance from
the Low Valley.  I will worry about you if you dona eat."

That decided it.  He couldn't very well cause grief to the one who had taken
such trouble over him.  Taking the offered etiwas into his mouth, K'yer
began a slow sucking.  His host gave a soft sigh of pleasure as the thick,
amber milk was forced upward from the gland resevoir in his shoulder.  The
etiwas duct and nipple was one of the most highly sensitive spots on a
male's body.  His warmth from the arousal stirred the internal gland to
produce yet more, and soon K'yer was feeling an inner glow from the rich
food.  Curbing a desire to suck the gland dry, he instead let sleep overtake
him.  His body was anxious to put the powerful fuel to use while conserving
as much of it as possible.  He snuggled up against the furry torso and fell
asleep.

Still awash in his warm feelings, K'tahv hummed softly to himself a song of
everday valley life.  He hoped that Flah would need and accept him as a
K'tlyan't.  Not only was he getting too old to Journey, but his spirit was
beginning to feel the yearning for continuity---  a small kien to raise into
the place he would one day vacate.  Maybe even three or four before Ava
reclaimed his body.

--------------------End flashback-----------------------

  The more Song-starved Etwan of Flah (their valley more isolated and near
the forbidden Outside) was failing faster than the other Clans.  Many of the
Etwan became lustful.  It was there K'yer fell further from the K'tlyan
path, for his hurting found ease with a young Etwan---to the rising
jealously of another.  Events spiralled down even further when Pohl and
Matek showed up and stole K'yer's student, K'tay---my own chosen brother at
that!
And then Unayarek did something that made all the other things pale by
comparison:  it influenced the coming of yet another alien Evil.  This Evil
made it possible for Pohl's Anaran essence to meld with K'tay's Avan's!
Incomprehensible!  And Evil was planning to oust the selfhood of Ayar so
that it could infuse the body with itself!  Unayarek would be able to
harness the power of Kievet Song to empower itself further!

  The First became desperate---Everything was suddenly at stake, not just
the Second generation, nor just Ava---but an entire Universe.

  And an idea came to Pamea Yer:  If Unayarek could alliance with outsiders,
why not they?  It was risky.  What knew we of alien thought other than those
few observed?  What if our Chosen was also unfamiliar with Evil?  But then,
what choice did we have but to try?

  So I, K'tlysa, flew farther than I had ever dreamed.  I saw and considered
the Jedi, but realized they were unprepared and blind
themselves."---Qui-Gon's brows furrowed at that, but he remained
silent.---"Many I evaluated, but only one held my attention, though I had my
doubts about the choice.  This one was wounded, hurting like K'yish had.  I
turned away.  And yet, I could not help but return my attention to him.  He
had so much potential within him.  This one was Good, yet had extensive
knowledge of Evil both as ally and as foe.  A fierce fighter, aye, prone to
wishing to give up---yet not doing so time and again.  Better, he was tired
of living in his world---wanting a change that he thought could only be
gained one way, na knowing that I held another option.

  Nicholas de Brabant.

I decided to show that option to him.  When his body weakened enough, I
pulled him free of it and flew him to the hybrid.  Just in time!  For Evil
had struck and Ayar lay dying.  I quickly shoved my chosen in the empty
shell and flew back home.  Now it was only a matter of waiting for the
supressed instincts of Ayar's flesh to kick in.  They would lead the Chosen
home.

For this I apologize.  I had assumed that Nicholas de Brabant would adjust
to new surroundings as he had so many times before.  In my haste to return,
I did not consider that this 'moving on' would be far more than even he was
used to.  Unfamiliar beings, new form with hormones in disaray, loss of
*everything* familiar... That his mind would be compelled to splinter itself
in order to deal with with it all.

Fortunately, Ayar had more foresight than I and came to show me my error.
It was with great relief, Jedi, that we watched your approach.  The battle
is nearly upon us, there is no time to seek another."

  "Na time,"  K'an hooted in agreement.  "The Song is dying faster.  R'ket
grows weary.  Na long before Unayarek breaks through to claim victory.  Wait
na for Ni'ka'las heal self.  Heal now.  LaCroix will do so."

  The ancient vampire smirked, not happily.  "Heal him?  Being his father, I
have been trying to do so for the past several centuries.  His response was
that I stake him as his 'best friend.'  What makes you think that he will
listen to me now?"

  "He has Ayar's memories to help him.  And yours as well----if you will
share them with him."