\--==Official Submission==-- FROM: General Debinani Rahl RE: The Death of Debinani Rahl \-A Statement by Xaviera Alexis on the death of Debinani Rahl I hadn't seen the father of my son in quite some time, which is why I was so surprised to see him at the door to my school in Papua last eve. There he was, after twenty years, dressed out in his uniform with a look on his face that could only be described as contemplative. I set my few students to their reading exercises and excused myself. Outside on the patio I found a small meal laid out on the table, wine already poured. Without saying a word, Deb pulled out a chair for me and then seated himself across the table. "What's this about?" I asked him, not entirely certain what the special occasion was. "Let's just say some things have happened recently that have opened my eyes to some other things," he replied, offering me a plate of fresh bread and cheese. "So you're going to quit the military and come teach classical languages to my kids?" He smiled warmly, but I saw the pain in his eyes. Something was definitely wrong. "Is everything okay?" I asked, suddenly worried, "Alexander's okay?" "He's fine," he said, nodding, "He's turned into quite a resourceful young man. I'm very proud of him." With that we both lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. I finally noticed the lines on his face, the intensity of his eyes. At some point, without my noticing, we had both become quite old. I found the concept of it so amusing I let out a chuckle. Deb looked up at me and smiled, apparently sharing my assessment of the situation. It wasn't until he reached for his wine that I noticed that he must have been suffering from an injury. He couldn't hide the wince that spread across his face. "You're hurt," I said, rising from my seat to fetch my supplies. "No, sit..." he said, motioning for me back into my chair. "There's nothing you can do. It's incurable." The weight of his words dropped me back into my chair more than a thousand chains could ever hope to do. The taste of wine in my mouth soured. Here before me was the man I had loved all my life, much older and grayer than when we had last spoken. The man who had taken my son...our son...and had turned the young rogue into a warrior and a gentleman. He and his army had become a commonplace name across all the lands. And as I looked at him, part of me still believing that the brash young man I fell in love with was as invincible as he had claimed, I knew he was dying. I knew why he was here. It was the reason we separated all those years ago. We were both living in Vesper and had a picnic planned for one particular evening. A contract in Yew had come up that morning and I told him...I told him that if he missed our picnic, not to return. The Society marched from Vesper that afternoon. He had tried to say goodbye, tried to make me understand but I wouldn't hear of it. I nearly broke into tears when I realized that he had considered our picnic a debt for nearly twenty years. We ate our meal quietly talking about old time and even older feelings. At times the tension was enough to light a flame. About the time we had run out of things to talk about except for the inevitable subject of his affliction, I heard the sound of magic behind the house, and lo and behold, Alexander came rushing around the corner, and hopped over the fence. He was flushed, a little tattered, but giddy as a schoolboy. Deb and I shared a brief smile before our son interjected. "I got it!" he exclaimed. "Got what, son?" the other asked. Alexander produced from within his tunic a very plain, but obviously antiquated dagger and beamed at his accomplishment. Deb's eyes widened as he examined the blade, and a smile crept slowly across his face. He looked at me, and I could tell he was about to apologize for cutting our long-delayed picnic short. As I raised a hand to forestall an apology, both men winced in pain and grasped at their ears, removing small crystals that were making the most hideous of noises. Both looked at their devices and at each other as if bitten. A moment later, Alexander's head snapped up as if sniffing the air, I noticed his hand resting on the dueling weapon at his side like a practiced warrior. I suppressed my motherly instinct to berate his father into the dirt for turning my baby into a killer, but something much more important seemed to be happening. Deb looked at his son curiously for a moment and then he seemed to notice whatever it was that the boy had sensed. They both looked into the swamps to the east for a long moment, both fingering weapons idly. Finally Deb turned to Alexander and examined him for a time, the most curious of looks on his face. Alexander eventually tore his eyes from the invisible menace in the woods and met his father's gaze. "You're the one, aren't you?" Deb whispered, almost too quietly to hear. Alexander kept his gaze for what seemed an eternity, and then looked down. He nodded slightly. A change came across my love then. He straightened as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders, but at the same time, his face tightened. He became...older somehow. He looked at our son with a father's unrivalled pride, but there was pity there too. I wanted desperately to ask what was going on, but I felt it was a moment not to be interrupted. At that single moment, I felt we were truly a family. And then everything went straight to hell. \------------------------------------------------------------ -------------------- \-An Official Report to the Captain Concerning the death of General Rahl \--Addendum to the statement taken from Xavierra Alexis by Stf. Sgt. Rahl I understand full well that the officers and I had agreed not to tell my father that I was the subject of so much prophesy, but in the end I know that he knew. There was a moment of silence while he completely changed his world- view around, and then he rose. He pulled a scroll and a rune out of his pouch and pressed them into my hands. "Get your mother and the children out of here, now," he said quietly. I tried to argue, to say that since we have the dagger we can figure out how to cure his wound, but he continued preparing for a fight. I finally told him that he couldn't do it, that the Ringwielders were my fight, not his. And he looked at me with an odd look in his eyes and he smiled. "No," he said, "Your fight is tomorrow. Mine is today." He sighed deeply and looked at my mother sadly. "The magics keeping me on my feet won't last much longer, maybe not even the night. And I refuse to be an invalid." He looked back at me and smiled in that funny way again. "Get these people to safety, son." He painfully mounted his old warhorse and went through the routine of tightening his armor. I had almost gotten the children together when the small force of undead beasts, led by two Ringwielders marched from the swamp and formed a semi-circle around the house. "What the hell?" exclaimed my mother upon seeing Lord Sprirt, looking exactly as my father had in his youth, standing amongst the undead with a wicked grin on his face. I fumbled around getting the gate cast and ushering my mother and the dozen or so frightened children through into the Lycaeum in Moonglow. I let it close behind them. I walked out to stand beside my father's mount to face down the horde. He looked at me and smiled warmly. I don't think I'll ever know what that look was meant to convey. And then he paralyzed me and rode several yards towards the throng. "Greetings old man," started Spirit, "I've come to finish what I started." My father grinned at him, shifting to hide the line of blood from his wound that had started to seep through his tunic. "Have you now?" responded the other cheerfully. He pulled the dagger from his tunic and looked it over, presenting so the Ringwielders could see it from the distance. "I think that's the most interesting offer I've heard in years." The smile faded from Spirit's face, and the Ringwielder of Water, whose face I did not know, backed away a step. The paralyzation spell faded and I started forward, just to be caught in another one, deftly cast by my father as soon as the first failed. "Well then," he said, "Let's get to it." My father pulled his sword and a handful of reagants, took one final look back at me struggling against my invisible bonds, and he smile and winked. Spirit snapped his fingers and the horde of undead creatures charged forward and were met by my father's magical fire. He spurred his horse forward and charged into the throng, hollering "FOR THE ROSE!" as he cut a path to the Ringwielders. He was pulled off his horse and I lost sight of him, but I still heard the sounds of battle. Then the explosion came. I'm not sure what happened, and I probably never will be, but a huge explosion rocked the center of the fray, decimating the undead force. When the dust cleared, the only one left standing was Spirit, and he was grinning from ear to ear. A rage filled me, I couldn't control myself. I pulled my blade and charged forward and met him steel to steel. He never once stopped grinning. Something filled me, something I had never felt before...a strength of sorts, and I met his skill blow for blow. I can't remember much of our battle, I was in a warrior's haze I suppose. But finally, he got a particularly good shot in and everything went red. When my vision cleared all that was left of Spirit was a skeleton. I searched the crater where the explosion occurred but there wasn't much left. There were bits of bodies strewn everywhere. Spirit's corpse still had his ring, as well as the hideously mangled corpse of Water, and I collected both. I found the remains of my father's trusty steed Artix, literally torn to bits. And I found some bloody scraps of uniform and flesh that could only have been the remains of my father. I sat for a few moments among the carnage in shock before I buried what few remains of my father I could find. Then I returned to Northwood and broke the bad news. Respectfully- Staff Sgt. Alexander Rahl