Willow's Lament

3.

Gaelae had been the cradle of civilization even before the Greeks claimed that their Zeus formed the world from his seat on Mt. Olympus.

Yet, the ancient history of the city of Gaelae would not exist without the threat of an antagonistic species and in that sense, the evil and the good seemed to beget each other regardless of the order in which they emerged.

Lyches were the children of the fallen angel who would notoriously become the Serpent. After deceiving the first woman, Eve in the Garden, the devil wandered, watching human lives flourish from Eve's womb until the seed of sin which he planted, brought forth Cain's

murder of his younger brother, Abel.

Though the traditional story suggests that Cain was cast out and marked for his transgression, every Gaelaen is taught that he was not alone as he wandered.

The Serpent wandered with Cain, seduced a wife for the scourged man-- a wife who would bore children for him and in time, the Serpent would whisper words like 'rebellion' and 'betrayal' in the ears of Cain's seed. All the trickster's efforts proved futile, save for one and this nameless son of Cain henceforth became referred to in all manner of lore, as simply, The Founder.

This man would go on to worship the ground that the fallen angel poisoned, practicing every manner of lude and lascivious living that the Serpent was certain was disappoint the Father in Heaven. A pact was made and in exchange for the Serpent's blood, and by extension, his power, the Founder promised that all of his seed would become soldiers to advance the Serpent's cause.

Thus, the Founder became the first lyche-- creatures of phenomenal strength, greed, limitless ill intent and an endless desire to usurp all power as a repercussion for the anguish and humiliation they were marked with when their ancestor fell from grace. For a moment in time, it seemed that they would succeed in doing so and lyche populations proliferated virtually uninhibited until there was some divine intervention.

As our legends would tell it, the city was then founded by a lineage of angels and their leader, Caiphus who was revered as a member of heaven's holy guard. It was intended that Gaelae would become the headquarters for a special battalion whose express purpose was to control, and where possible, eliminate Earth's lyche problem and any alternate and volatile species diverging from the original breed.

A proud warrior and a benevolent leader, Caiphus was triumphantly dubbed the first 'Defender' and subsequently became able to pass on such a right to his descendants. Gaelae flourished under his leadership for many years; thousands of years even if the historical scrolls hold any scientific integrity. For the majority of that reign, he devoted himself to training his people and to the establishment of a functioning High Court for peaceful governance and the resolution of the disputes of the citizenry. Caiphus would not father biological descendants of his own until he met his wife Lyra almost fifty years before the end of his reign. Only then was Gaelae able to claim that it had not one but an entire generation of Defenders, who, as ordained by the magic of their blood line, would become centurions, lieutenants and commanders of the city's army.

There was no malice; no inequities; no pride or greed-- or at least not in such proportions as to prevent Gaelae's people from achieving their primary directive. It was perhaps the most perfect military society in the history of both the civilized and uncivilized world and it was Gaelae's complete and implicit reliance on their ancient and fearless leader that would support peace and also nurture the impending calamity.

Generations were born and replaced, settlements were erected and destroyed under Caiphus' watchful eye. The old and wise held fiercely onto the old wive's tale that an eternal sun over Gaelae had rose the day that Caiphus was crowned and that it would set only when his reign ended.

"The sun will never set," they would chant in reverence and they believed... until Caiphus truly died, although what happened cannot be described as death. The king simply arose one evening, woke his wife and children from their beds and simply told them goodbye; assured them it was his time, only to disappear before their eyes as they watched him descend the palace steps. In their state of shock, they were only able to rationally conclude that Gaelae must always have a king and appointed Caiphus' eldest son, Maximus to sit on the throne in his father's place when he came of age.

The boy grew into adulthood and in so doing, maturity cultivated a radicalism within him that his father Caiphus would have fought to abate had he been alive. On his sixteenth birthday, he took total control of Gaelae's governance from his advisers and militarized the city. He mandated by law that the households of all living Defenders-- the houses of his sisters and brothers and their children, would reproduce on a somewhat contractual basis.

Each union of either a Defender and a non-carrier of the gene or a coupling of two Defenders would produce a minimum of eight children over the course of a five year period and he bullied the council men into signing the corresponding legislation to enforce it.

The legislation created an army of sanctioned soldiers for the radical king and a slaughter ensued on the lyche race-- one that many Gaelaen's were against but the council could not vote against since the existing constitution of the city made no prohibition against such mass murder; all that is said is that Defenders were meant to "wage war against the unholy lyche race."

Gaelae and all lyche populations suffered under Maximus' rule with none standing to oppose his unorthodox ideology. It ended rather unpleasantly however, when in a plan borne of rage, revenge and carelessness on the part of the royal guard, a lyche lieutenant infiltrated the royal palace and murdered the king, his wife and all of their legitimate children in their beds.

The city mourned their deaths, although all could agree that they knew nothing else would come out of such tyranny but the Queen and her infant princes had been innocent and not deserving of such a cruel fate.

For several months, the High Court was in disarray--unsure of who should be appointed the new leader and what criteria would be sufficient for the determination. The confusion was finally abated when it was discovered that Maximus had another child-- an illegitimate boy conceived when the deceased king was consumed with perhaps the only desire as volatile as violence and war: lust.

He had sowed his royal oats and though the child was a bastard, none could dispute Gaelaen law which stated expressly that Caiphus' seed would and must always sit on the throne. The bastard child, name Brandon by his mother was crowned and beset with advisers who successfully convinced the new king to repeal the law controlling Defender procreation that sent the city into chaos.

Defenders were henceforth and once again, allowed to reproduce as they saw fit and the stationed battalions withdrew from lyche territory having been commanded to attack only when there was true cause to do so and peace reigned supreme. Brandon's reign has since been profitable for his people; no direct attacks were made to the city or its Royal family and decisions to mobilize any portion of the military were only made with the most extensive logical, ethical and moral consideration.

Yet, Brandon like his father, never stopped believing that militarism and the extinction of lyches were absolutely paramount for Gaelae's continued longevity; he was simply far less vocal where that was concerned.

In recent years however, freedom and diplomacy have in Brandon's view, come at an enormous cost to the city. Lyche populations have decreased but with it, the emergence of an even greater threat: the extinction of Defenders.

With the ability to chose when to have children, the gene gradually became less frequently expressed among the population of the offspring. It seemed as if the abuse of their procreative ability under Maximus' rule had exhausted the gene and those soldiers lost in battle were so rarely replaced. Many men, ashamed of the resistance they had held against their former king and the perceived betrayal made in crowning his bastard seed, have dubbed the phenomenon Maximus' curse.

King Brandon himself could not even claim to be a true carrier though the gene lay dormant in his genetic makeup and it drove him mad to know of such a thing. A king not able to lead his people into battle was no king at all in his mind and so he sought out a resolution with every breath in his body.

To his credit, his efforts made him the first King in Gaelaen history to ever sanction scientific exploration where once it had been taboo and seen as direct blasphemy to The One Who Created All. His methods were primarily geared toward improving the odds of Defender's gene expression, volunteering his own blood for experimentation and every failure blossomed into lesions that ate away at his rational self.

Later in the early stages of his madness, he was granted the fortune of finding a companion and wife in the person of a woman who he truly loved and to make him happy, she committed to baring children for him as frequently as possible. The first of her children would later die in her womb and the Queen would become distraught. Yet, instead of succumbing to the pain of that loss and the myth of the late King Maximus' curse, King Brandon listened to the words of sultry oracles, who enticed him with tales of his seed ushering in a new and superior race of Defenders.

Five more children died having never left the comfort of their mother's womb and still Brandon interpreted the oracle's words to mean that he would have a son for a mighty warrior. Crooners will sing of King Brandon's disappointment for centuries to come; disappointment not that he had not received the child he and the city so desperately needed but because he had not been given the child he wanted.

I was here to seek an audience with that same King, drunk with unfulfilled prophecies and militaristic patriotism. He had lost his wife some twelve years ago, a tragedy for which he still throws around the blame. Her death made him all the more consumed with High Court meetings and plans to thwart conspiracy. I prayed for patience and crossed the ripple of time into the realm of the great city, only to discover that Gaelae had not changed much since I left.

Through the rift, I found myself on the stone streets and surrounded by towering buildings of French gothic design. However, one should not be mistaken in thinking that a city as ancient as Gaelae somehow borrowed the style of the architecture. Rather our city was the inspiration for it, inclusive of the gargoyles, despite the fact that the exact history as to how that happened varies from one generation to the next.

A civilization of angels despite any misconceptions, is not particularly outlandish as far as appearances are concerned. In fact, its citizens were able to pass for humans, albeit, a city of human supermodels. The traits we share with our angel ancestors is evident only in our longevity and regressed aging, which allows us to live for hundreds, even thousands of years. The speed and strength you might expect of the proverbial master race is also its citizen's evolutionary advantage with the Defender being the most gifted in all of the before mentioned traits.

The only limitation for our species was our inherent mortality. Gaelaens had no real weaknesses; not in the way that lyches were allergic to metals like iron. However, any method of killing a mortal was like our kryptonite. Poison in certain dosages, stab wounds to vital organs, asphyxiation and the like were all sufficient although, very few creatures could manage to get close enough to land a fatal blow. We were supernatural; otherworldly sure but not indestructible. Our race was never meant to rival 'The One Who Created All, but merely to be a shadowy representation of Him.

We were still flawed; susceptible to petty and rash emotions, falling victim to rage, envy, lust and prejudice just the same. We were often guilty of discrimination too and I have since never met a species so committed to the meaning of the word 'outcast' and all the unpleasantness associated with it.

I could feel the stares; the eyes on my body as I passed the ivory fountain in the city square. Beautiful children and their beautiful parents dressed in leather embroidered with spun gold watched me in ominous silence. People who I had never met-- people who were not yet born when I left, scrutinized me; the obviously thought that they knew I was from the stories they told of me.

Their judgement pursued me to the stone steps of the gargantuan building at the heart of the city. The attire of the vultures congregating around the High Court became more regal now-- men and women making less of an effort to hide that they were sycophants and the same effect perhaps would have been achieved had the word been written in neon across their foreheads.

They smiled at me to hide their shock; some even bowing but only one man actually addressed me.

He was taller than I was, maybe six feet with a head full of black curls and skin a pale brown, like the color of coffee with far too much cream. He was the only man, from among my people who treated me with civilly since my self imposed exile. He was the only one who was not constantly seeking to pledge his unwavering fealty to me because of my title or plotting to take it away by discrediting me. He bowed, dressed in a dark suit and a pale blue tie with bright grey eyes on mine. "Sera Carlisle," he greeted me in his characteristically low voice.

"Merrick Price," I replied, trying to be stoic but failing and smiling anyway. He engulfed me in his arms. "It is good that you are here. He is preparing to announce another investment in what he considers to be science. I was worried that no sane mind would come forth to oppose him."

"I'm not here to stop him. You know he has never listened to anything I've had to say," I replied. Merrick was Gaelae's equivalent of a one-man public relations department; a liaison between the citizenry of Gaelae and the auspicious nature of the High Court and its members.

"Then why have you come?" He asked, releasing me. There was a silence that seemed to accompany the question. It was as if all of Gaelae had wanted to know the answer to that question but had not had the balls to ask. No heads had turned in my direction but I knew that the ears were attentive.

"Walk with me,"I replied, pushing the door to the building open.

It was less populated inside with en-robed figures engaged in quiet conversation near sparsely arranged seating furniture. Woven tapestries of important events in Gaelae's history, most of which were Caiphus' victories on the battlefield and the coronation of all of the city's kings.

Caiphus' depiction was perhaps the most intricate of all the tapestries, with his braid of blonde hair made of woven golden thread and his gleaming grey eyes the color of newly minted silver. He was made to look as benevolent as the oldest among us claimed he was and just as glorious as any founding father is made to look from the perspective of his people.

The tyrannical king, Maximus had been a spitting image of his father with golden knotted hair in a messy bun and grey eyes that seemed to watch me from his image's seat on the throne. In life, it had been said that Maximus' eyes were more powerful weapons than even his prized war ax. Within those eyes, a people looking for hope and strength saw almost limitless zeal and determination. Opponents saw the mania in his cold stare and could not help but be afraid. Women were made weak in the knees by the lust they would see there too. Maximus' desire and unmatched confidence would have made him a great king had it not led him to forfeit the rights of his people. Now the image of him in his youth, with a bright smile was all that remembered him. Even the men in the room engaged in oblivious conversation had no concern with the almost living, breathing history around them.

They didn't even seem to notice Merrick and I, apart from a few glances and that gave us the freedom to talk. "I need them to discuss amending the boundaries of my hunting permit; to expand my scope a little."

Merrick stopped walking beside me for a split second as we headed for the enormous steel door just a few meters ahead. "Why would you want to do that all of a sudden?" he asked."You made it very clear even before you left that you did not want to be Defender. Even after that, it was hard enough trying to convince you to accept assignments on his behalf."

Merrick and I had a secret telephone lone for the dissemination of the kind of assignments he was referencing. He used it to inform me of any important missions the Court needed completed and I was perfect person to accomplish them. Indispensable, irreplaceable and relatively trustworthy, I became the perfect soldier and often was made responsible for sanctioned executions, reconnaissance and the like. On occasion, I had done my fair share of extraditions as well but I usually did not hand deliver my catches. Instead, I would just leave them bound and gagged with iron and silver chains and a copy of the extradition order with the guards at the city's gate.

So, he was very familiar with my lack of interest in the job. "But this is different, Merrick. This time things have gotten a little too close to home. "

"Close to home," he gawked. "When has there been a lyche related sighting in Gaelae?"

"You know very well Merrick, that this is not my home. It has not been for a long time. I just want to discuss expanding my jurisdiction, not move back home."

We were directly in front of the door now and we both knew who and what lie in wait on the other side. Merrick grabbed my hand as I reached for the handle.

"And if the Court does not approve?" he asked.

"Then I will do it anyway," I rebutted coldly, pulling away from him. "I do not need their permission; this is simply a courtesy."

The moment I shoved the doors open, a dozen wide eyes, the scleroses frosted over with age, turned in my direction from where they sit around a carved, wooden round table. Women and men dressed responsibly stared at me in various forms of dismay as they flanked the man at the head of the table.

He was the man I wanted to see-- a stony faced man, jaded by time and experience, sat at the head of the round table with long blonde hair gathered behind his head with a black cord. The man was clean shaven with eyes as blue as the ocean and dressed in the traditional councilmen's garb: an all black suit. He didn't look at me at first, instead he remained focused on the shorter man with silver hair and grass green eyes who stood behind him and presenting a few sheets of ancient, rolled parchment. '

When he did finally acknowledge my presence, all the men and women seated around him rose to their feet, bowing their heads in greeting but the blonde man stayed seated, watching with cold eyes.

He was undeniably handsome despite his nonchalance, a spitting image of his father Maximus and his grandfather Caiphus with the exception of the eyes. He had the eyes of his mother-- the woman who had not been the wife of the late king Maximus.

He was Brandon the bastard boy made king and given the surname 'Carlisle' like his father and his father before him. I looked into his eyes: my green irises to his blue and greeted him, bowing for the sake of formality.

"Hello, father."