(Author's Note: Entered in the Science Fiction Writers of Earth short story contest. This came about after watching too much anime [I believe "El Hazard" may have had a hand in it] and discussions with friends over the balance of tradition and progress.) (Special Note: I must thank Jack for the original creation of the Technomancer, as he is the result of junior high musings and too much X-Men comics. This is not the complete Technomancer as Jack created him, but a variation.) ---------------------- "Relationships" by Jillian Parks ---------------------- A flash of light ripped over the small village of Little Graviton, belching with the fumes of ozone and burned circuitry. The sound of a thousand internet connections silently pinched the thick Summer air, barely disturbing the sleep of the Gravitonians. All except one. Old Aysha had been waiting for this all night. She felt the disturbance in her old bones, suspecting the worst, but hoping it was not. She hoped it had been her ancient mind playing tricks on her, but she was no longer wondering now. She squinted her sharp grey eyes to the north, toward the hills. A faint blue glow emanated from the horizon. "He has come," Old Aysha whispered. "Now, where is *she*?" The man stood up in the middle of the circle of stones, sniffing the wildflower-filled air. Long blonde hair flowed from under his wide-brimmed hat and over the dark duster covering his back. He was dressed in an old fashioned suit of moss green, with riding boots up to his knees. He surveyed the small town to the south with his lavender eye. His other eye covered by a scarlet and gold eyepatch, containing microcircuitry currently processing his position. The Technomancer held up his staff, the head wrapped in circuits and rainbow-hued wires, dotted with smoky crystals. The larger crystal at the top glowed a brilliant blue. He sent a thought to the staff, and a green bubble appeared before him. "Yes, Master?" the hallow voice asked. "Perform a level five scan of the surrounding fifty kilometers. Most especially run through the presence of unbound entities up to class twelve." The sphere bobbed, then quietly popped to perform its duty. It had been many years since the Technomancer had visited the small town. Too many years; he remembered when it was once called Violet's Wood. He remembered the time before progress settled in the form of the power plant. He remembered when he had a name. The green bubble appeared. "Status?" "Nothing to report, Master, save the usual local spirits and beings, all class three and lower energy types." "Any signs of her approach?" "None. She is outside the range, if at all." "Keep surveillance on all the roads and lands leading to the village. Inform me of her arrival; she must not catch me before I am done, the witch." "Yes, Master." The Technomancer turned to his staff, weaving a spell amid the wires and silicon. He had little time, indeed, for if she were to catch him before his plan is complete, he will lose much power from the harvest. "The hunter need fear the hunted when he becomes strong," he murmured, stretching the dark limbs of his soul toward the village. "And I shall be strong enough to enslave you, my huntress. It shall be done!" He chuckled to himself, letting the spell pour from the staff and wind its way through the air. A Chinese dragon of blue and green particles snaking to the sleeping village. All except Old Aysha, who sat up by her window, watching the computer-laced magic weave through the streets. "Please hurry, child," she breathed. "Hurry and catch him. Before it is too late." The indigo-grey cat looked up at the waxing moon, three-quarters full of brilliant silver-white light. She stepped carefully over the boots of her mistress, standing upon the bow of the small boat. They had been drifting downstream for days, the woman in deep slumber as the cat watched over the progress down the Brandywine Stream. She remained alert to the sounds of the woods and along the banks, making sure they were just frogs croaking or birds singing or a deer taking a drink. She sniffed ahead, finding a town further along the banks. The town her mistress was to come to. Soon, soon they will be on land again, and she can taste liver once more. Nothing but the sounds of crickets making love and the owls calling into the night around them as they floated silently downstream. The cat settled down, her nose twitching in the gentle breeze. Daylight's golden-rose threads crept over the dark shingles of the roofs and packed earth streets; tickling blinds open and licking the sleep out of the villagers' consciousnesses. Old Aysha clutched her walking stick, hobbling quickly down the sidewalk of the main road. She suspected trouble a- brewin', and she knew of a few who could help her. She rapped the stick on the door of the rectory. The heavy oaken door opened, revealing the middle-aged priest. A white kerchief was wrapped around his bald head; his black clothes and white collar neatly pressed. "Old Aysha!" he greeted her, grinning. "Come to repent your sinful life of devilry now?" "I think not, you pervert," she cackled, exposing tooth gaps between wrinkled lips. "I have enough Gods of my own to worry about, I don't need another to bother me." "True enough, grandmother. What can I do for you?" "May I borrow use of your children, Father?" He nodded slowly, "More devil exorcizing?" "In a sense," she wetted her lip. "I have an odd feeling." "Good enough," he turned his head back into the rectory. "Brother Calvin! Sister Lynne! Brother Jonathan! The Old Woman wants you!" The three students appeared behind him, their young faces floating over Father Elroy's broad shoulders, grinning at Old Aysha. "Don't get into trouble, you wild savages. Take what nonsense the Old Woman says with a handful of salt." "Yes, Father," Brother Jonathan brushed past him hurriedly. "Yes, sir," Brother Calvin replied quietly. "Of course, Father," Sister Lynne added, following the young men. Old Aysha turned to the west, the direction of the Brandywine. "Thanks, Elroy. You're turning out better than when I delivered you. Keep it up, you might be on even keel with me." "Don't sign any pacts with Horned Fellows." She waited until he was inside and they were out of earshot before mumbling, "Ingrate. He was made during a fertility festival dedicated to the Horned God of the Wood." The students giggled. Jonathan and Calvin lifted the small, frail woman up in their arms to carry her. "Where to, Old Aysha?" Jonathan asked. "The Brandywine. I'm expecting someone to show, if she exists." "A water spirit, mayhap?" Lynne smiled. "No, someone more powerful. On the side of Good." "Who?" "If my suspicions are correct..." The Technomancer watched the vortex in front of him, containing the old woman and the students as they walked along the street. All four were powerful sorcerers, as far as this dimension could produce from the mortals. The old woman being the most powerful, yet her ancient body rendered her too frail for any intense magic. The three young people were still raw, their power unrefined, and they were unaware of it. He concluded they would be only a minor set-back, if they discovered him. He waved the vortex back into the staff and cleared the cyber screen he held in his mind, connected to the computer in the staff. "New program." The computer clicked and hummed, setting an open file out, empty for the spell he would create. "Initialize sector two-E, copy program, drag portion seven of sector three-nine and paste, run program. New file name: Life Drain. Activate program." The staff hummed, glowing gold and silver. Dr. Ayres, the town physician, was in the process of examining a patient's broken arm. She sudden stiffened, her eyes glazing over. The patient's mother looked up from her magazine. "Doctor? Doctor?" Dr. Ayres remained still, staring into nothing with unblinking silence. Her breath, her pulse, her warmth all draining as her brain shut completely down. Life extinguished in her green eyes, glazed in absent dreams. "Doctor!" Father Elroy was kneeled in prayer, his rosary wrapped around his hands as he murmured the ancient Latin. He felt it. He snapped his intellectual spirit out and the icy fingers hooked into his mind. He struggled in mental battle, cursing the demon that snaked in and around his soul. The cold hand squeezed his brain. Droplets of life drained from him. His consciousness lost the battle to the stronger evil. Father Elroy was knelt in prayer, the rosary in his hands, his eyes glazed in lifelessness. "Enough for now," the Technomancer breathed in satisfaction. "Must not alarm the populace too soon." Brother Jonathan and Sister Lynne wandered down the stream bank of the Brandywine against the current. The woods on the other side of the water were thick and deep and cool, fragrant with wild violets. "What makes Old Aysha think this person will come by way of Brandywine?" he asked. Lynne shrugged, her habit stirring in the gentle breeze. "Who's to say? She's seen the Otherworld before the Father was born. According to her, she has battled goblins and spriggans, outwitted phookas and sprites, and lain with faerie kings and knights. The possibility of a magic-based being using modern technology to enhance a collective power is the stuff of fiction." "But it seems reasonable, Sister. Little Graviton is an odd place. Like it's in its own dimensional bubble." "How's that?" "Think about it-- most every place else has dropped the 'Old Ways' in favor of progress." "Yes, many have, including the worship of God, or even other deities." "Yet, we have balanced both. We have remained true to our heritage and ways of being, yet accepted progress as it is. With the plant, it employs only citizens of our village. The introduction of destructive elements is nil, and we retain our dignity." "Without the destructive aspects that plague the modern world," Lynne finished, looking up to the stream. She squinted her eyes to the north of the Brandywine. "Jonny, do you see anything up there?" He craned his neck to look. "Looks like a small boat floating with the current." "You think... ?" "Perhaps..." Jonathan took her wrist and ran toward the object floating downstream. As they got closer, they made out a cat sitting on the bow and a form laying in the boat. "I'll pull it up on the bank, go get Old Aysha and Cal." "Right." Lynne ran back to fetch the rest of their party. Jonathan slipped down the bank, waiting for the current to bring him the boat. The cat analyzed the young man staring at her, checking him through her senses and aura signature. He was safe. She let him grab the boat and pull her and her mistress out of the current. He panted with the effort, and the cat jumped out, rubbing her body against his leg. "Hey, kitty, what are you doing floating down the river?" he chuckled, reaching down to pet her. Jonathan studied the young woman in the boat, appearing to be in a deep meditation or sleep. He was taken aback by her long lavender hair, spread over the pillow her head lay on. She seemed to be in her early twenties, pale, with the build of a strong fighter. She was dressed in a short white cotton chemise, short chainmail dress, and knee-high black leather boots. The sword was magnificent. The hilt was held in her hands over her breast, designed as an ornate gold and silver dragonhead. It lead to the gold trimmed black leather sheath, measuring out to a longsword. "It's her... " he breathed. Old Aysha and the others appeared, running as fast as her old bones would allow. She bent over and gazed upon the face of the woman. With a gnarled hand, she reached out to smooth a purple strand of hair from her cheek. "The Lavender Maiden has come," she intoned. The students remained in silent awe, gazing at the warrioress. The cat yowled, demanding to be fed at last. Old Aysha took the girl and the cat home with her, letting the young people go back to the rectory. She scraped some leftover meat together and fed the indigo-grey cat, petting her soft fur as she stared off into space. "So, the Maiden has returned, but how do I wake her up? You have any ideas, Bastet?" she asked. The cat purred for a moment, pleased at being referred to as a Goddess. The old woman got up and went to her shelves of dusty, richly scented books. She pulled out the old texts of mythology and legends, flipping through their yellow pages for answers to her question. Outside her cottage, a green sphere silently bobbed. Another bubble, a yellow one, materialized inside. It drifted through the membrane of its host, seeking a way into the small house. A half-opened window was found, and the yellow sphere whizzed in. Old Aysha's hair stood up straight on her neck. Her stomach clenched, realizing something was in the room. She lifted her grey eyes to see the cat sitting completely still, watching the yellow bubble dance across the room toward her. she concluded in her thoughts. Her eyes followed the bubble approaching her face, circling on her left and right sides, determining if she were alive or a statue. Old Aysha's eyes watered, needing desperately to blink. The bubble drifted away toward the cat, seeing her whisker breathe. She blinked, and her head lowered. The sphere spun around and heading toward her. She closed her eyes, expecting it to embed itself in her face. A "whoosh" came across her face, and a "squish" was heard. She opened her eyes to see the gloved hand of the Lavender Maiden in front of her face, clenched in a fist around the remains of the Bubble Bomb dripping from her fingers. "Old Woman, you shouldn't be playing with bombs at your age. Might get hurt," the young woman remarked, smiling gently. Old Aysha let her breath out with a long gasp, and looked up into the girl's gold-flecked amber eyes. "Took you long enough to wake up." "The Father has been in a long time," Brother Calvin mused, tracing a finger absently over his Bible. Sister Lynne set the plates and forks out on the dining room table, saying, "He'll be in for lunch. Jonny is getting him, aren't you?" Brother Jonathan looked up at her from the notebook he s scribbled in and asked, "Is that an order, madam?" "Indeed. Fetch him, will you?" "All right." Jonathan got up and walked out of the door leading to the church. "Sister, what do you think of this whole business that Old Aysha spoke of?" Calvin inquired. "A Technomancer, a Lavender Maiden who sleeps. I've never seen a cat with that coloring before." "Search me, Cal," she shrugged, pouring glasses of juice. "I find the whole thing fascinating-- like a modern faerie tale." Jonathan returned from the church alone, slowly closing the door and leaning against it. His dark eyebrows bunched over his brown eyes in puzzlement, and his lip was firmly between his teeth. "Where's Father Elroy?" Lynne asked him. "He's in there... " Jonathan stated quietly. "But he's not 'there'. In fact, I don't think his soul is here either." "He's dead?" Calvin pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped it across his sunburned forehead. "No, missing." Lynne bit her lip and closed her eyes, reaching out with her spirit to locate the Father, the way Old Aysha taught her. coldness brushed her soul, and she retreated back. "He's in the grip of evil... " "What are we to do?" Calvin asked. "To Old Aysha's." "My name is Yolanthe, and I've come for the Technomancer," the Lavender Maiden stated, her voice soft and warm, low in tone. "Yolanthe?" Old Aysha repeated. "Another name of 'violet'. I recall when this was Violet's Wood, and the elders told me stories of an earlier name of this place as Yolanthe." "Centuries ago, Aysheia," she nodded, a lavender strand of hair escaping over her eye. She brushed it back and continued, "He is already here, is he not?" The old woman nodded. "Last night." "Have there been any occurrences?" Pounding hit the front door. Several fists, and voices of young people shouting, "Old Aysha, open up! Something bad is going on! Old Aysha! Please!" Both women got up from the kit hen table and went into the livingroom. Old Aysha opened the door to find the students completely panic stricken and in shock, shrieking in gibberish. "Quiet down!" the old woman ordered. "One of you, tell me what's going on?" Lynne took a deep breath and spilled, "Father Elroy's soul has been-- has been--" "Taken!" Calvin blurted, pacing around the livingroom. He neglected to notice the figure until he rammed into her. "Oops, sorry!" Yolanthe looked down at him, and he stared up at the nearly six foot tall woman. "Taken, you said?" she asked. "Tell me: does he have a glazed look to his eye, and he cannot be moved?" "Yes," Jonathan replied. "His rosary was still around his hands, caught in prayer." Lynne simply threw her arms around Old Aysha and sobbed into the old woman's dress. "This is dire. His work has already begun," the woman's amber eyes met the old woman's. "Where was he last seen?" "Open program. Life Drain. Activate." The local radio went silent, as Moore fought the ice- old grip in his brain. His consciousness swallowed with a prayer on his tongue. Professor Pend, headmaster of the high school, became stiff, his finger raised in a student's face in the middle of a lecture. Postmaster Robere stuck a handful of letters in a box, and remained that way, staring into nothing. Miss George paused in the alteration of a wedding gown in her shop, clutching the pins in her mouth and the white satin in her fingers. The engaged girl stood straight, gazing absently at her reflection in the three-way mirror. Coach Sky still held the whistle in her mouth, never allowed to blow for the soccer players on the field to stop beating each other. "End program. Now, more of a welcome for the huntress and her new friends." "So, this has been an on-going battle between you two?" Jonathan asked over lunch. The lavender-haired woman nodded. "For many centuries." "Centuries?" "Always leading back here." "Why here?" "Because this was my home, and this was his home. Violet's Wood, and now Little Graviton. Magic and technology always playing against the other, in assurance that neither swallow up mankind. For if either did, you will lose your humanity, becoming either Gods or machines." Old Aysha sat back, a mug of tea to her lips. "I remember the last time they had appeared," she mused. "I was a young girl-- shut up, Jonny, I used to be young and beautiful, too-- I was a young girl. The town was in the middle of the War, so the presence of a fighting woman and man using sword and staff wasn't too odd. Quite a lightshow, too." "Norman was dramatic," Yolanthe smiled gently. "NORMAN?!" the three students giggled. "Norman Putzweiler," Old Aysha grinned. "Maybe that's why he's such a foul demon," Lynne remarked. "He was given a crummy name at birth." "His parents didn't like him, did they?" Calvin chortled. Yolanthe shook her head, knowing that the children couldn't understand. Too many years had lost their touch with... She couldn't place her finger on it. Yet, the emptiness was there in the middle of the night, when she was truly alone. An ache in her-- could she call it her soul? Perhaps being Damned would have been better. She was so tired. "Yow." "What is it, Peesha?" she reached down and stroked the cat's incredibly soft fur. Her eyes slitted, and her hand went for the sword at her side. The young people and the old woman quieted, watching her. "Eek!" Lynne squealed. The rest turned to see a thick yellow strand of goo drip from between the floor boards of the upstairs room. The first landed right in her cup of tea, then a steady stream across the table. Yolanthe leapt out of her seat and bounded up the stairs three at a time. The students jumped up to follow her to the bottom of the staircase, debating should they back her up or not. The Lavender Maiden found the door ajar. She drew her sword, the cool dragon's head of the hilt held firmly in her grip. She pressed the door further open with her other palm, and stood in the doorway, studying the creature. Fifth class demon, somewhat intelligent enough to follow orders. Rather skinny limbs with a pot belly and a large nose that took up most of his face. Sparse hair all over, orange colored flesh save for the nose being red. "Good afternoon to ye," she raised her sword. "Want to play a game?" "Thought you'd never ask, witch." Her eyes glowed gold, illuminated with battle aura. "Let's go." Old Aysha held the three younger people back with her walking stick as the noise of battle exploded from upstairs. Furniture and walls cracking and shaking, yells from both the woman and the monster echoed down the stairwell. Lynne clutched Jonathan, and Calvin was praying fervently with his rosary twisted in his fingers. The sickening crack of bone was followed by a curse in an arcane language which caused Old Aysha to blush. Moments later, dead silence. "Is she... ?" Yolanthe sauntered down the stairs, covered in yellow goo. She wiped her face, and gazed at the four below her. "Sorry about your bedroom, Aysheia, but the bugger was a hard one." "You all right?" Jonathan asked. "Yes, but I sure could use a shower." "Back to the rectory after you're cleaned up," Lynne said, picking up Peesha. "What was that thing?" She studied the religious students, then eventually replied, "A minion of Technomancer's. Seems he sent the welcoming committee." A great whirlwind of sapphire and diamond crystals sparkled in the noonday sun, rising up above the ring of stones in a small twister of light and color. The movement appeared lazy, yet the driving force cut the ground around the Technomancer's feet. "Blasted lavender witch!!!" he shrieked, raising the staff up higher, letting the electrical current feed the tornado. "How dare you kill my demon?!" With a swing of the staff, he spun the sparkling twister toward Little Graviton and the Lavender Maiden. He panted, watching it plow through the dirt road to the village. Then he turned to his still glowing staff. "Open program. Life Drain. Activate." "Something's wrong," Sister Lynne said, gazing around the streets. The five were making their way back to the rectory. Old Aysha and Yolanthe allowed the students the illusion of safety the religious walls provided, and did not dissuade them from the thought. Both knew the Technomancer cared not for religious dogma, and there was little protection should he decide to attack again. "Something is definitely wrong," Old Aysha stated. "Where is everyone?" The dirt streets were silent and barren. Where commonly there was much activity of students and power plant employees going home for lunch, there was not a soul to be seen. Save for the one person who was always out at this time, the constable. "Old Aysha!" he greeted the old woman. "Something foul is a-foot, wouldn't you say?" "Indeed, Jeff," she paused and leaned on her walking stick, looking up at the burly blonde man. "Where is everyone?" "Haven't the foggiest," he raised his baton up to shield his eyes and study the lavender-tressed girl next to her. "Stranger in town, I see." "Not by my doing, sir," Yolanthe bowed her head. "I'm actually here to stop it. Tell me, can you call for your fellow policemen?" "Haven't yet," he pulled the radio from the back of his belt and hit the send switch, "Mike, can you hear me, lad?" He let up the button, answered by silence. "Mike, reply to me when I call ya', lad... That's odd. The channel's on, but no one's home." "Oh, my," Lynne bit her lip. "Tell you what," Jonathan announced. "Why don't we all go to the station and-- " "Too late," Yolanthe said, pointing toward the constable. Everyone turned to him and Old Aysha tapped him with her staff. "Stiff as a board," she mused. The constable stood with the radio to his ear, staring into the horizon. No breath or pulse, his eyes glazed over. Lynne started moaning in terror, and Jonathan wrapped his arms around her, guiding her toward the rectory. Calvin began to chant, "Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God..." "Snap out of it!" Old Aysha ordered him. "Go with Lynne and Jonny and barricade yourselves in the rectory. Stay in there until Yolanthe and I return." "Yes, ma'am!" he breathed, and ra ed after his fellow Brother and Sister. Peesha glanced up at her mistress. The woman nodded, and the cat ran after the students to watch over them. "Good, Aysheia," the young woman said. "I don't want them in harm's way." "Nor I." "Grandmother?" "Yes?" "Brace yourself." Yolanthe held up the sword and murmured a few ancient words. A violet bubble appeared around them. Careening down the lane was the crystal-packed twister, cutting the dirt and blowing debris through the streets at the shielded women. "Another part of the welcoming committee?" Old Aysha chuckled, digging her walking stick into the ground. "Appears to be the ride. Hang onto me and don't let go." The old woman laced her thin arms around the young woman's waist and held tight, closing her eyes. she thought. She felt the bubble pick up in the winds, hearing the crystals scrape and shatter against the sphere they were in. Yolanthe checked herself, running an internal diagnostic for any alterations made by the twister to her systems. Everything came out clean, no virus contained. She clutched the old woman closer to her, to protect Old Aysha from the jerking of the winds on the bubble. The twister carried them through the streets, out of town toward the north where the stone rings were located. She smiled to herself, recognizing it ... it was the last place she knew when she was human. So wonderfully human. Had it been so long ago? The ring came into view. The grass below them swayed in the unearthly wind as the sapphire and diamond tornado dissipated, setting them down in the middle of the circle of grey and black stones. Total stillness reigned at last, and Old Aysha opened her eyes. "I'll be, the Energy Ring," the old woman gazed around through the violet bubble. "As a young girl, I remember coming here for picnics and star gazing. Some of the nature worshippers used the circle for healing of sick cattle and sheep." "And it was used for other ways of worship," Yolanthe added. She brought the sword back up and the bubble quietly popped into nothing. "I'm surprised he chose this as our battleground." "And why should it?" the Technomancer asked, appearing from behind one of the stones. "This was the last place we knew when we were human, was it not?" "Hello, again, Norman," Old Aysha gave him a semi- toothy grin. "Well, Aysheia, age has withered you into an old crone," he chuckled, surveying her with his lavender eye. "I'm surprised you're still alive." "And proud of it; being the Crone is good. Just a question: where'd all my fellow townspeople go, just out of curiosity?" The Technomancer tapped the crystal at the end of his staff. An orange flash opened a vortex in the ground in front of them, and the women looked down into it. The souls of the Gravitonians drifted aimlessly in a void of blue and violet nothingness. Their souls appeared as pliable gold streaks, shifting without direction or purpose. He closed up the portal and met their eyes. "I'm almost done. I still have a few more to go, but after that, there'll be enough power for me to finally finish our battle for good, Lavender Witch." Yolanthe met his eye with her amber ones, smiling sadly, "I see you're as tired of this as I am, old love." He turned his head, as if she had slapped him. "We're no longer lovers. We lost that privilege with our humanity," he stated bitterly. "Pardon?" Old Aysha banged her walking stick to the ground. "What's going on?" The Technomancer looked up at the old woman and told her, "It's a long story of why we battle, Old Woman." "I've time," she eased herself down on the Altar Stone, arranging her skirt. "It can be shortened," Yolanthe corrected. "He and I were young, in love, and careless." "We were just horny," he spat, tracing his fingers impatiently over his wired crystals. "And that is how we lost our humanity, all balls and no brains," she snapped. "By making love in this circle with only lust to power it. We blew that one sky-high." "Oh, yes, we did, Swivel Hips," he replied sarcastically. "The fireworks were quite bright that night. In effect, we became the keepers of tradition and progress, in a continual battle for superiority over mankind." "What?" Old Aysha asked. "How'd that happened with just doing some plowing?" "We are the victims of some low-humored entities," Yolanthe replied. The Technomancer nodded. "Still looking for him. Once I find him, I'm going to beat him into submission. And I can't quite do that with that witch following me around and mucking with my plans to get enough power to do so!" He swung the staff and a bolt of electricity shot out at Yolanthe. She leapt up in the air, unsheathing her sword, and twisted her momentum to crash right at him. "Think not!" He twirled out of her path, his duster receiving the blade edge and a rip. She landed on both feet and stood up. "The only way you can see getting enough power is by draining the life out of mankind!" "And why not?" he sent a thought to his staff. "There are more than enough of them. With the on-going march of progress, they will be Gods in a matter of time. There's power to be had from all that energy!" The Hydra-like beams of energy shot out of the staff and circled around the woman. Her sword glowed, slashing at the energy pulses as they threatened to envelope her. "That is not the way," she stated. "They-- oof!-- are only children still-- aannhh!-- growing up. You can't take their souls!" "Will you shut up and die, witch?!" His hand covered the crystal and he lifted it up, a red ball of flames in his palm. He snapped his wrist and the flames shot at her. She deflected the fireball with the flat of her sword, careening it toward the Hydra energy. The explosion flittered into glitter, covering the stones and themselves. Old Aysha knew where she wasn't wanted, and had crawled behind a stone out of harm's way. She looked around frantically for something to help Yolanthe. He was abusing his ability with magic, enhancing it with his technological perversities. The Technomancer looked up to see the blade coming at his face. His staff shot up, preventing it from slicing his head open. He and the Lavender Maiden stood less than a foot from the other, gazing into the other's eyes around the staff and sword. "You will be mine again," he breathed. "Only if you give up this hunger," she whispered. "You know I can't," his hand went up to the crystal on his staff. "And I can't let you," she touched the dragon's eyes on her sword. "Then we are both Damned." "That was the plan." Old Aysha clutched the stems of the flowers and whispered a prayer into their fragrant petals. It was a shot in the dark as she threw the flowers toward the dueling immortals. Just as they crashed and tangled in the lavender locks of the woman, both the staff and sword began to glow bright white. Their strength matched in intensity, equal parts of hard science and pliable magic dancing as the yin and yang in the circle of infinity, balancing their power over both. "Going to hell for this," the woman said. "And I'm taking you with me," the man added. Old Aysha recognized the hum of overloading power cels, the stench of concentrated magic mingling in the warm air. She hunched behind the stone, huddled to keep herself clear of the blast that was going to blow them to particles. Who was she kidding, she knew anything within a mile radius was going to turn into a smoking crater. She briefly wondered if Father Elroy would recommend prayer at the moment of death. "Old Aysha, wake up." "Is she dead now?" "Doubtful. Everyone else is back." The old woman fluttered her eyes open. She waited for her vision to clear to make out the forms of Brother Jonathan, Sister Lynne, and Brother Calvin around her, concern in their young faces. "Are you all right?" Lynne asked, picking up her hand and rubbing it. "Actually, no," Old Aysha moaned. "My head hurts and my friggin' back is on fire." "No wonder. You've been hunched against this stone for several hours it looks like," Jonathan gently lifted her up. "What happened to you?" She explained what transpired that afternoon in the ring, how she must have been knocked unconscious or something to cause her to not remember what happened. Calvin held Peesha in his arms, and the cat wriggled to be let down. He obliged her, and Old Aysha stood against her walking stick, watching the cat sniff the battleground. "Where are they now?" Lynne asked. "Wherever they go when they reach a stalemate. To start the battle over again... " the old woman gazed to the horizon. "For time eternal, until the progress of man catches up with his past of tradition." "But here, of all places," Calvin looked from the rings to the power plant to the south. "A neutral ground," Old Aysha stated, turning to walk back to the village. "Little Graviton or Violet's Wood, we've balanced tradition and progress seamlessly. This is where they can remember they were once part of us... and I think that is the only reason they ever return." "To remember their humanity," Jonathan mused. "Incredibly sad," Lynne murmured. Old Aysha sighed, her work done. The last time she'll ever know of the Technomancer and the Lavender Maiden in this lifetime. Peesha watched them leave, and she bent her head down to sniff the ground where her mistress last stood in Death's Dance with her old lover. She sneezed, having stuck her nose in a pile of violets with magic residue clinging to them. She brushed a purple petal off her nose with a paw, and studied the aural signatures streaking out of the ring of stones. She found the lavender trail. The cat set a paw out to start her journey to find her mistress once again.