Vicky's Tale - The Swords of London

[Victoria]

London, May 2006

Victoria's head throbbed painfully, and wondered if a group of raging mad and bloodlusted picts had invaded her living room and assaulted her. She tried to sit, finding herself in the middle of a tangle of male arms and legs. For a moment, she blinked, trying to know what and who and how, then something drew her attention further:

"Is that a hand on my bum? I hope that's not a hand on my bum. It BETTER not be a hand on my bum!"

"Good lord, woman, shut up! I have a bleeding hangover and you wake me up by shouting in my ear about your bloody arse?" Jason rose his head.

"Someone has his hand on my arse."

The pile of limbs stirred again, this time to reveal Filipe: "I wouldn't blame the chap. It's a fine bum." he swatted at it distractedly "A little too big for my taste, but fine all the same."

"Excuse me... are you saying I have a big bum?"

"Eh, don't take it so hard. In some third world countries, an arse like this would be considered a virtue."

"So, now I have an arse like a third world country, do I?"

"Geez, what a whiner." Jason groaned and curled again, on top of Vicky's couch where the three of them had collapsed the night before after a raucous night of drinking and merriment on one of London's many pubs.

"He said I had a huge arse!!!"

"I most certainly did NOT!"

"Did too!"

"For fuck's.... Filipe, apologize or she won't shut up about this."

"Fine, FINE. Lady Victoria bani Quaesitor, Sword of the Five Drangonwes, your fine behind is the epithome of derriéres; the paragon of posteriors; your bottom has no compare, and it is indeed "an arse among arses". Poets would weep at the sight of it."

"Wanker."

"Shut up, you two."

"Okay. Care to explain why we are dressed, on top of each other and on my couch?"

She pressed a hand against her forehead, trying to prevent it from splitting in two. "And what the hell did you two slip to me last night? Because my head feels like it's about to explode."

"It's called a 'hangover', dahling. You would know it if you had had one before"

"Don't call me, dahling, you pillock. It sounds.... wrong when you say it." Vicky contained a grimace of pain.

"What do you mean... wrong, dahling?"

"Well... you sound like a fag."

"Ladida, Miss Yankee Rose... aren't we using very american epithets this morning? By the way, in case you didn't notice, I am a homosexual. Not a 'fag'."

Jason rose his head again: "Yes, because you all know what we do to fags in England...."

A collective cry resounded "WE SET THEM AFLAME AND SMOKE THEM!" immediately followed by an also collective wince and clutching of heads. "Okay..." Filipe whispered "maybe we should lay off the shouting for a few hours.... and the fag jokes too, preferably."

"You know, boys, you two will be to blame when I develop serious self-esteem issues in the future. I mean, here I am, hanging every day with two handsome lads, spending many nights working side by side with them and even sharing sleeping quarters, and they are both gayer than a treeful of monkeys on nitrous oxide. Can you even imagine what that does to a girl's self-esteem? Aren't you ashamed of yourselves?"

"Not really."

"Nuh-huh. Although, dahling, if you shook that fine arse at me, I'd be hard-pressed to resist your womanly wiles."

"Will you shut up about my arse, already? You know, one day I will be old and wrinkled, and I'll hang about in parks talking to myself while clutching a little tin box. And it will be your fault entirely."

"Don't you ever shut up?"

"Wait, Jason, this sounds good..."

"And everywhere I go, I'll hold the little box against my chest and I'll talk to it, and whisper 'Oh, Filipe... Filipe, why did you have to leave me?'. And one night I will die in my sleep, clutching the little tin box to the very end."

"And what did the tin box have inside?"

"Peanuts."

"Peanuts?"

"Yes... the last thing you were holding in your hand - before I pushed you into the Thames!" a loud 'bonk' followed as she illustrated her point by pushing Filipe off the couch.

"Ow! Shit, Vic, you made me fall on top of the sword box!"

"What sword box?"

"Damnation, woman, are you blonde or something?" There was a loud, indignant "HEY!" from Jason, who was the group's only blonde. "That was the reason for our celebration. We partied a little too hard because, guess what, we managed to locate the sword that everyone was looking for since Mannie got himself whacked on that assault on the vampire chantry two years ago."

"With, I might add... no assistance from anyone." Jason grinned.

"And we wiped out a nest of vamps in the process. Buffy, move over."

"Filipe, you're so full of it. It was only three of them..."

"Hey, we're only apprentices - we showed great ability and cunning. Cunning like an extremely cunning thing with lots of cunning."

"Stop quoting Blackadder. And not enough cunning to know when to stop drinking, it seems." Vicky clutched at her head again.."

"Weird..." Filipe grabbed the swordbox and shook it "This box is very ligh-- what the... THE BOX IS EMPTY? Where is the sword??"

Vicky and Jason winced at the same time: "Don't shout, damnit!"

"Oh, excuse me, but you both seem to be missing the point that THE SWORD IS MISSING!"

"Okay, okay, point taken, let's think, it's 3 or 4 feet of metal, so it's kinda hard to misplace. When did we last have the sword?"

Vicky tried to block out the pain and think: "When we were in Hyde Park, I still had it... I think... we stopped by the lake and I vagely remember brandishing it when you started on your tirade from Mort D'Artur...."

".... you were summoning the warriors of old to come and assist you. And I think I heard you mention invading Belgium... or was it Ireland?" Jason also tried to fight the hangover enough to think clearly.

"Boy, weren't we wasted?"

"Yes, but that's beside the point... I mean, a sword just doesn't vanish like that. It's not as if we tossed it away..."

The words stroke a chord in Vicky's memory: "Huh, lads.... I think I remember what I did to the sword." She shifted her eyes from one to the other "I... tossed it into the lake."

"WHAT?!!!"

She winced: "Well, I was thinking that since Arthur was dead, Excalibur had to be returned to the Lady of the Lake."

"....Okay, that's it! You're never drinking in your life again."

"Go easy on her, Jason. I think that the entire thing was f**k**g brilliant!"

"You have to be kidding me! She tossed an artifact, a sword of the Order into a lake! When we broke every rule and then some to plan how to and then retrieve it!!!"

Still laughing, Filiipe patted Vicky on the knee: "Sucks to be you, dahling. You're in so much trouble now... They might send you to France for this. And we all know what people in France do to cute little things like you, especially if they have a fine bum as yours."

"What do you mean "I" am in so much trouble?" She asked indignantly "You're in as much trouble as I am! I'm the Sword, Mister Scalesbearer. You're the leader of our team and you and Jason are supposed to keep me controlled. Yet, you went out with me, and allowed me to become intoxicated and lose control."

"You have to be kidding me!"

"Oh really... should I quote the Code to you? Oh, better yet, why doesn't Jason, our very own Lawmaster, tell you?"

"She's right, mate. We were with her, which means that makes us as responsible as she is for her actions. We shouldn't have allowed her to get drunk."

"Bloody Code.... so, now what?"

"Now we need to find a way to gain time while we go and find the sword. We'll have to go to the lake and find it."

"Oh, sure... because a group of three pillocks carrying diving equipment to Hyde Park won't be bound to draw any attention."

"Sod off, will you? And how are we going to gain time? People know we were hunting for the sword yesterday. We should have checked it in when we got it, but we decided to postpone it to celebrate, remember?" Vicky pinched the bridge of her nose.

"We can replace the sword with another sword. Jason, you have one of those fantasy swords, right?"

"WHAT? Pull another one! We could never make them believe that a piece of metal is actually an artifact."

"Come, come, V. Think with me... why did we choose a Friday night to pull this off?"

Vicky scrunched her nose "Because..... because everyone is out partying and the vamps were probably out hunting?"

"Very good... and who else goes partying on a Friday night?"

"Huh, mostly everyone?"

"Including...."

"Including...?"

"Including the Keeper, who's in charge of the artifacts, who I distinctively remember being with us in the celebration, since he was rather busy putting his hands all over you. Which is kinda gross, since he's... what, 50ish?"

"I fail to follow your point..."

"It's 7:30 am. I'm sure he stayed up till very very late last night... say, like us. And oh, and he probably has a killing hangover, say, like us! And if we show up at the Mansion, cheerful and talking loud, I'm sure he'll be glad to let us put the artifact in place instead of doing it himself -- especially if we insist on telling him everything with a lot of details. He'll probably just take a quick look, make the register and have you store it. I mean, he trusts you and it's not as if an attack is being planned, so nobody will go and mess with the sword."

Vicky and Jason stared at Filipe, dumbfounded "You are kidding, right? Tell me you're pulling my leg."

"Come one, dahling." he gave her a charming smile "Don't you trust me?"

"Filipe..."

"Aw, you're killing me here...."

Vicky sighed: "I know I'm going to regret these words some day, but yes... I trust you. Let's do this. And please.... next time I consider getting drunk, kill me."

[Victoria]

One year ago, there were three of us.

I swear my everlasting loyalty to the Order of Hermes and its members.

We were young, eager and innocent. We took on much larger odds, and for twist of fate or dumb luck, we somehow always managed to come out victorious. We were brothers in arms. Fellow young mages, who had to uphold the greatest tradition of our Order -- we were a Trinity: the Scourges of the Council of the Five Dragonwes - the Tribunal of Mages of London. We were the executioners of their will.

After the Great Betrayal, where most of my Coven was slain by an unknown party, we found ourselves carrying the weight of the law in a world about to collapse. Sides were being formed, as mages rebelled against the secrecy that involved our order and demanded their rightful place at the head of Creation, rulling over man and beast. Others upheld the old ways.

I will not interfere with the affairs of mundanes.

We were the long arm of the law. The heartless blade of justice. We were so young, so innocent.

I will abide by the decisions made by the Tribunal.

But Fate is a harsh master. It has no pity. It cares not for love or friendship. And it certainly has an irksome sense of humour. The Great Betrayer was among us -- a wolf guarding the flock until just the right moment for the slaughter.

Keep your friends close. Keep your enemies closer.

I was his first target. He had once failed to kill me, thanks to the untimely intervention of my insane mentor -- and my mother's life, freely given to save mine. Once again, my mentor interfered -- but this time... he paid one life with an unwilling one. A friend's life.

I can still hear the horrible screams, as Jason was dragged out of this dimension by a spirit storm -- a trap meant for me. He was lost to us forever. If he was lucky, he wound up on the Twilight or the Ghost Realms. If he wasn't... it is said that Hell is somewhere in the Spirit Lands.

I will not deal with devils, lest I imperil my soul and the souls of my peers.

Five months ago, I thought there were three of us. It was a lie. One us was never there. Filipe was not the Great Betrayer.

He was his lover.

I request that, should I break this oath, I be cast out of the Order. If I am cast out, I ask my peers to find me and slay me that my life may not continue in degradation and infamy.

We all make choices -- it is never easy and things can never be the same. Filipe made his choice -- he could not live without his lover. He would rather betray friends and oaths than to live life without love. He chose his side -- and we found ourselves facing each other across the battlefield.

The enemies of the Order are my enemies. The friends of the Order are my friends. The allies of the Order are my allies.

For love, he was ready to kill me. All my rituals were shattered, my familiars poisoned, my artifacts defiled -- I was helpless as I saw him move against me. His lover could not do it -- he explained -- because the Old Masters would be wary of him. I wondered idly, as blood flowed of my wounds and I tasted death in my mouth, what kind of perverse emotion would cause you to betray all you once believed and cherished? What sort of feeling could lead you to forget allegiance and loyalties - and make evil justifiable?

I will not use magic to scry upon members of the Order of Hermes, nor shall I use it to peer into their affairs.

But Fate has indeed an irksome sense of humor. And Fate will NOT be denied. It was Fate that one of us would live and one would die that day. It was Fate, perhaps, that my former best friend underestimated what human fear and primal desire for survival can accomplish.

I did what no-one else dared doing in centuries.

I rode the Dragon.

As my friend stole my life away, I managed to crawl onto a ley line, primal rivers of purest energy - the stuff dreams are made of; the stuff planets and stars and all in between are made of.

The Dragon Veins.

It was like sticking your fingers into a socket. The energy was so pure and unfiltered I could feel my blood boil in my veins. No mage ever dares attempt such direct contact -- the power is too much, too soon. I had no longer a mind to consider strategies or remember spells. I did the only thing my body could remember -- how to do no matter what to survive.

I remember faintly grabbing Filipe's arm. I remember the pain as I became a living conduit between him and the mighty wave of universal energy that poured into me.

I remember the sound his heart made as it exploded inside his chest.

I will not slay nor attempt to slay any member of the Order, except in justly executed and formally declared Wizard's War.

I killed my best friend.

I would kill him again if I had the chance.

Death is a too small punishment for traitors.

The Great Betrayer escaped, leaving me and our Coven behind -- frail, broken things, but his Fate will not be denied: his great strength was having no identity. With a name, now, this world is not a large enough place to shield him from the wrath of my father and the rest of the Order. But he did not leave me uncathed -- the Dragon left its mark on me. Like my mentor, I now sometimes get lost in time -- I am constantly assaulted by visions of the past. Every night, when I lay down to sleep, instead of pretty dreams about the future... I have nightmares about the past.

And when I wake up...

... I remember every single moment.

The War of Mages has begun. And I am no longe a warrior of the light. I am an assassin in the shadows. We will kill the wolves in our midst... as we shed our own fleece and pretension of humanity, and became wolves as well.

"He who wrestles with monsters will also become a monster" - Nietzsche

I am the long arm of the law. The heartless blade of justice. I am no longer innocent.

"There is no time for innocence, not in this lifetime" - Sun Tzu

The first casualty in every war is innocence. Mine died with my best friend.

This oath I swear. Woe to they who try to tempt me to break this oath, and woe to me if I succumb to the temptation.

Now, I was sent alone to a city of heroes, but magic still hides in corners and shadows. I have have no mercy, no pity. I am the Mageslayer. I am the law.

I am always watching you.