Not a Solo Act Anymore

     It was strange to live with a deep pit of darkness repressed in the gut.
     Yet, it was necessary.
     He hated things that were "necessary".
     In his line of work he needed to appear trustworthy and capable, but it was the darkness that allowed him to get things done.
     He disliked this stage of things, it was absolutely the worst. The waiting, endless waiting... To his right, Jebediah fidgeted.
     Since his experience the previous year with the Heretics that had been kidnapping and cannibalizing young boys, he had been kept on a tight leash by the Exemplaries. So used to running missions on his own, he couldn't even do that anymore. They hadn't sent him out since then until this new threat came along. To them, he was expendable, and he accepted that.
     Ike could admit that the fiasco of last year was a total cockup, he'd made a right mess of it. However, the end results had been more or less positive, and he found himself...not annoyed, not irritated, but perhaps... Confused. They treated him as if he had done something wrong! He supposed, in their minds, it was easier to blame him than accept the truth- their combat Exemplaries had been caught unawares, under prepared, and it had led to a bloodbath. Ike, however, had a shady past that no one could quite pin down, and had once lived in the Dark Mountains; only monsters came out of the Dark Mountains. Well, except Ike, but it seemed to him that that was now quite possibly under serious debate.
     Jebediah fidgeted again, tail thrashing angrily in the air.
     "Now, Jeb," Ike murmured. "You know I want to spring into action as badly as you do, I hate waiting, but there are limits to what we can do in every time frame." The felis lupus grumbled under his breath but settled to the ground once more. This was his partner. Previously a normal Exemplary, he had been cursed with a somewhat odd form. He existed in a state that wasn't quite cat nor dog, but a mixture thereof. He retained his normal faculties and human mind, but could no longer speak or enjoy the things he had as a human.
     Bloody bastards. Why, in the Exemplar's name, do they do this to me?
     The moon had yet to reach its peak, which meant Ike and Jeb had to wait a few more hours before they could proceed into the temple ruins. They were closing in on the territory of the Dark Mountains, and the strain of waiting was driving him mad.
     Before this temple had gone to ruins, Ike had seen it. As a half-elf, he lived much longer than a human but much shorter than an elf. He was somewhere in between, and it was only luck that he had drawn more human features than not. He could pass for human, that's all that mattered; elves were distrusted. They never did anything for others, there was always something they were getting out of it. Elves only did things to benefit themselves. Some half-elves were of that mind, whereas some weren't. Ike had been the former, but was now the latter. Things changed. He no longer wore the mantle "Angelf of Death" - a moniker only, not a representation of him - and he had stopped using magic for anything more than the subtle things. Things like making his ears appear slightly more rounded since unaided they had that damned obvious tilt and point.
     However, the ruins were bringing up memories, and stirring the darkness in his gut, too.
     Except for the Exemplaries, those who knew Ike thought he was a rather nice guy. Alright, maybe he could occasionally be tricky, but always in good fun and never harmed anyone. He was affable and humorous and intelligent. What they didn't see was the violence inside of him. When pushed to his limits, all those lovely human traits that Ike had cultivated faded away to the cold darkness within. If it really came down to it, at the core he was brutal, merciless, and unrelenting.
     Luckily, he rarely got pushed so far.
     The moon crested and as one Jeb and Ike silently slipped down from their hidden perch, making their way through the darkness. Ike attempted to remember what god had been worshiped here... He thought it was a shroud form. They weren't really gods; in fact, as far as Ike was concerned, there was a single divinity above all the rest. But shroud forms were the weakest of "all the rest", and tended to do their work in primal matter: blood, saliva, fingernails, the like. It was the most primitive form of magic there was, but undeniably potent. Sometimes the basics were best to inflict maximum damage, if you knew how to use them. Ike hadn't enough raw power to engage in this most dangerous form of magic. He had developed excellent control over his skills, but they were minor talents and nothing more.
     Silence seemed to blanket the ruins, both Ike and Jeb not making a sound as they moved. Abandoned temples tended to attract a menagerie of unpleasant beasts and beings, and neither had any desire to draw attention. They were nearing the final collapsed pillars when Ike heard a high-pitched whine in the air.
     Trained to be skilled above all in combat, Ike dropped to the ground and smacked Jeb down with him. Above the two, shards of black onyx whistled through the air where they had once been. Impalement, what a shit way to go. Immediately, Ike was rolling up on his feet, whirling to face the direction the shards had originated from. But there was nothing. A strange, throaty laugh vibrated through the ruins, and Jeb growled.
     "A man cursed and a... Now what are you exactly?" It was a male voice, but definitely not a shroud form. A shroud form would have pierced straight through the minor enchantments hiding his more elven aspects, it wouldn't have appeared muddled and uncertain.
     "Who are you?" Ike asked carefully, his ears pricked and alert.
     "Oh, I'm asking the questions here. Why are you headed to the Dark Mountains?"
     "That's a major assumption. We could be headed to Brenton."
     "Pah! No one goes to Brenton. Place is a pit of rot, stink, and poverty. People'd rather visit the Dark Mountains than Brenton."
     "Perhaps we're natives, revisiting our old home for the jollies."
     "Stop lying to me, boy!" The voice shouted out. Ike's eyes rolled at the word, "boy". Over a century old, he felt it was rather insulting, but the enemy was working off of his youthful appearance. Certainly this enemy was not a shroud form, probably some follower descended into madness.
     "What's it matter to you?" Ike called out.
     "'Cos."
     "Because?"
     "I have my reasons." The voice responded snootily.
     "Well, if we won't answer one another, we'll be stuck here all night, and I'm sure you know what happens at morning light."
     "You seek to trick me," the voice hissed.
     "Is it working?"
     "...I have been tasked with stopping a particular traveler."
     "Well you can see I have a companion here, so obviously we can't be the traveler. We're travelers."
     "That means nothing! You could be attempting to deceive me!"
     "Look, who is this traveler?"
     "Called 'im the Angel of Death."
     Ike felt his body freeze. Who could have known his task was bringing him back home? he had killed Wulthus last year, made damn sure of it! It had to have been a seer, but why? Why would they turn against him? They were the ones who told him he had to leave in the first place.
     "Neither of us goes by that nickname."
     "How do I know you're telling the truth?" Ike still hadn't found the voice's location.
     "Don't I appear a reasonable and trustworthy man?"
     "No," the voice whispered. "You appear a liar, decay surrounding your cold, dark soul. You're a coward and a murderer, and I think you might be the man I'm looking for."
     Ike quickly pulled his sword and moved in a slow circle, waiting for the first attack. He had no idea where Jeb had gone off to. But now the voice screeched.
     A figure stumbled into the open, Jeb clawing at his head, uniquely fastened to the man using the claws of his front and back feet. Ike couldn't help his grin - at least, until the figure muttered some magic before grabbing Jeb and throwing him over his head. Jeb his the ground with a thud and didn't move. Ike could see the steady, if slow, fall and rise of his side, so returned his attention to the figure.
     "Eramis?" Ike asked in disbelief as his eyes took in the sight before him. There stood a bone thin man, coated in a long ago tattered black robe. No inch of skin was unwrinkled, no spot escaping the hideous progress of time. His hair and beard appeared as one giant mat of gray, and his eyes...
     There was only one word for it. His eyes were crazed.
     "The prodigal son returns," Eramis cackled. He abruptly ceased his laughter and fixed one eyes squarely on Ike. "You aren't supposed to go back.:
     "Says who?" Ike snapped.
     "New boss."
     "Who is that? If it isn't a seer saying I shouldn't go back, I see no reason to listen to your boss."
     "Don't make me kill you, Isaac."
     "No need to spew that bullshit at me. Every damned choice you make it yours and yours alone, the Exemplar help you. You can try to kill me Eramis, we both know your magic is far superior to mine. But I've learned that even against magic, sometimes all you need is the right angle and a thrust." Ike's grin turned feral as he shook his sword arm to loosen it up.
     "I am sorry for this, truly," Eramis whispered. Then he raised his hands to the sky, and Ike knew what he meant to do. He hadn't expected Eramis to be willing to give up his life in order to kill him, but since that seemed to be the way it would go, there was no point in waiting around.
     Ike raced forward, Eramis's attention focused only on the sky, the pull of magic, the words being spoke.
     Sheathing his sword as he ran, Ike's torso slammed into Eramis as he tackled him. The wind and words were knocked out of the elder man, and Ike rolled away before grabbing his dagger from his boot. Eramis was still winded.
     "Sorry, old man," Ike said with eyes as cold as ice. "No bloody time for this."
     That said, he quickly struck with the dagger, piercing straight into his heart. It was a far more merciful death than a slit throat when conscious. Plus, it was infinitely messier to slit a throat when working with a dagger.
     Ike stood slowly while Jeb staggered to his paws, shaking his head. "We gotta move," Ike muttered. "Morning light soon." His new plan was merely to put one foot in front of the other. The iciness had vanished, and now he felt numb. Eramis hadn't merely turned on him, but been willing to die to fulfill the betrayal. How? How had things fallen apart this way?
     Ike's only hope was that they would meet a few seers along the way, and he could ask them some very pointed questions.