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Copyright 2016 Proficient City Limited Hong Kong

Published by Proficient City Limited Hong Kong at Smashwords

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Acknowledgements

Ayesha

My gratitude goes to God, my family for their support and Proficient City for their consideration.

Matthew

I'd like to thank my mother for inspiring a love of reading, my father for fostering my love-of-work attitude and my sister for not letting me getting away with stupidity. I'd also like to thank the extended family and friends for getting me out of the house once in a while.

Prologue

"Where is the prince?" The woman demanded. "The Lady Debra...if we do not find him, I do not know what she will do."

They had searched for hours, scoured every corner of the palace. Every barrel was open, every room searched, every closet emptied, but the princeling and his guardian had not been found.

"Maybe there's some kinda secret passages..." One of the younger servants suggested.

The woman slapped him upside the head. "Don't be an idiot. We don't have time for you to waste." The young man shied away.

"They're in the city by now. Ain't nothin' to be done by us, up to the guards now." The speaker was an old man who had been working at the palace for over three decades. He had seen troubles, but even he was shocked by this.

The woman shook her head sadly. He was right, and they would pay for it. Someone would need to be blamed, and it would not be the Lady herself.

"The king...and now this..." She said. They all cast their glances downward. There truly was nothing to be done.

"We check again." She told them, knowing as she said the words that they would find nothing. "We check again until the Lady tells us to stop."

They all nodded. They glanced at one another, then began to shuffle towards their separate areas to continue the meaningless search.

Gloria

Gloria stretched her long, sinuous neck and stared down at the couple rising to meet her. The woman was only weeks away from birth, her swollen belly uncovered and slick from the summer heat. The man was a simpleton, but he did his best to support her despite her dismissals. Even when the woman stumbled and he had no choice but to steady her, she would spit curses at him and bat him with her skinny arms.

Gloria was confused.

Little birdies climbing climbing, up they come, up up but why? Why up why climb? Familiar faces? Quiet faces, not like those loud faces, sin-faces. Not nice faces but good faces. Clean faces. Dirt-covered clean faces up up up. The loud ones are coming, clean faces shouldn't be upping should be downing down down gone away. Downing no screaming, never no screaming no loud loudly screaming. Maybe the loud ones aren't coming, maybe staying, goddess guide me loud or sad or quiet or dead.

Gloria continued to watch them, hoping they would change their minds and abandon their quest to find her. Alas, too often these days mortals came to tap into her gift. And they looked so strange...

Gloria's skin was so dark it could barely be seen against the obsidian behind her. When she stood straight, which she did as rarely as possible, she was almost half again as tall as a human woman. Every feature was sharp, her chin cutting above her throat, her nose and eyes slicing into one another, and her smile, on those rare occasions it appeared, edged as diamond.

When the pregnant woman finally reached the top of the path, steps away from the entrance of to the cave that acted as Gloria's home, she was too tired to notice to the half-goddess staring at her. The man, preoccupied with his abuser, also failed to notice Gloria as he stumbled upwards. He almost ran into the woman, but Gloria had been kind enough to some stones on the path to help him. He quickly dug through his pack to get her some water. The woman glared at him, then snatched the water away.

"What took you so long? I'm thirsty." She scorned. The man smiled sadly and nodded his head.

"Now where is this she-devil, this prophetess that can tell me the fate of the mewling squirm that wriggles inside of me?" The man looked shocked and stared at the woman for a moment before gathering his wits and looking around. He noticed Gloria immediately and began to point at her. The pregnant woman had closed her eyes, however, and directed her face to the sky. The man touched her lightly, and her face twisted with rage as she swatted at him.

"Idiot, you are not to touch me! Never again will I make that mistake, I..."

She noticed the look of terror on his face and noticed as he pointed more enthusiastically. The pregnant woman slowly turned her head and stared in awe at Gloria.

"Why are you here?" Gloria asked calmly. Here tear seer clear I don't see clear I'm a terrible seer what was I saying? Who is she looking at? That man has a nice smile why doesn't he smile smile smile, he smiled yesterday and might smile again or not lost a spot smile a while while you smile with style. I miss the beaches I...

"My Lady, my humblest apologies." The woman interrupted Gloria's thoughts as she stood up, then bowed as low as she was able. She teetered for a moment and the silent man dove to steady her again. Once she had straightened she shoved him away.

Gloria drew a hand to her face in what she thought was a mysterious manner and stifled a giggle. The pregnant woman seemed adequately impressed and stuttered as she continued.

"I...I have come to ask a question of you, lady. There is a child inside of me," obvious woman is obvious doesn't to the what is the thing that babies, "and I would ask what you know of it. I lay with this man, once upon a time, but a fall from a horse has addled his brain and..." The woman looked distressed. Lying faced liar, not clean no cleanliness on your face, that dirty dirt can't hide how dirty you are. "And I would like to know what you can tell me of its future. My father paid handsomely for information to find you, and would pay handsomely again for your wisdom."

Gloria turned her head and looked at her barren cave.

The woman followed her gaze. "Though I'm sure one such as yourself has no need of such petty gifts."

"You should leave." Gloria told her. Leave alive stay adead, a red dead blood smeared red.

"My lady, I have come so far, accompanied only by this simpleton," the woman looked at her companion in disgust, "Your power is great, and it is such a small thing I ask. I beg of you, tell me the future of my child!"

"So you can decide whether it is to live or die?" Die smie apple pie.

"I could not kill it, not now. Only...I would perhaps offer it another life. Is this your advice, lady? Should I give it away, and search for a more...capable man?"

"It is already dead, I am afraid." Afraid, I said, little little bloody red. Red and dead, said red dead head. Bled and bled and bled and dead.

The woman looked shocked and reached for her belly. She felt a small kick, felt confusion for a moment, then smiled to herself.

"They said you could see the future, but if you cannot see the present, how can that be? Has this entire trip been a waste?" The woman slapped her companion. "Idiot, you and your damned horses! Now look at us!"

Suddenly Gloria's face twisted into a mask of terror. "Quickly children," she said frantically, "Into the cave!"

She swept them up into her arms, and unceremoniously tossed them through the cave's mouth, then turned and looked as innocent as she was able. Bright cave bad cave sin face race race, race come sin some, come come come come come come come come come...

Gloria saw two shadows appear on the edge of the cliff. She stared at them, refusing to look up.

"Well met, cousin." One of the creatures spoke to her as it landed. "It has been far too long. I hope you have been comfortable." Gloria allowed her gaze to flicker to the faces of the brother gods.

They were almost exact opposites one bright, one dark. They wore no clothes, and could almost be described as man-shaped, except for their grotesque size. Each had a pair of gigantic wings that they flexed softly.

"Do not taunt her, brother," said the second one, "It is not her fault she is this way. It is a great burden she bears, to be gifted with only half a mind."

"Pah! Yaros, your compassion bores me. Fine, as you will." He turned to Gloria. "Prophetess, we have need of your knowledge. Share it, and we will be on our way."

"You smell like death." She answered. "Brothers alone. No cousins nor uncles nor mothers nor fathers bless this war. What do you want from me?" What do they want? They want to want! To want to know to know to want to want to...what do they know? Do they know of the goddess? Do they know? No.

"Get out of your head, cousin." The one named Yaros commanded. "The faster you tell us what our enemies hold for us, the faster we will leave."

Gloria stared at them for a moment, confused again.

"Who is who is what you should ask. Who will do what and who will die? There will be death amongst us. Not I, no, not I. You, or you, or you, or you. Not I. Sleeping stays slumbered. Awake unnumbered. Numb not noun new. New war, war wave worries. You worry, worry about warriors about. Ibalize beware lies and ties and smiles and wiles and.."

"Enough!" Ibalize cried. He launched a wave of magic into the cave and smiled as he heard the screams. "You attempt to confuse us with mystery and nonsense. We are gods against mortals. We already have two of the shards, and will soon have the rest. We waste our time here, brother. Let us go and wage our war."

Ibalize leaped into the air, his magic launching him forward. In a moment, he was gone from sight.

Gloria stared acid at Yaros.

"Sin-face." She said to him. "Sinny sinny sin-face." Then she turned, and danced into her cave.

Muda, Sophie, Yannick

"You will practice until you are no longer you. Until you are like a river, an unending torrent flowing between attack and defense, slowly carving away the mountain that is your enemy. You will meander from left to right, top to bottom, and then you will charge, or fall back, until the moment comes to strike. Then, like a waterfall you will crash into your enemy, defeating them utterly."

Muda stared at his instructor, once again noticing the deceptively casual saunter the man adopted when he was surrounded by his students. Many young men and women had been deceived by that walk, believing it to mean that the skinny instructor wasn't paying attention. When they thought he wasn't looking and they had time to lower their blades, or to close their eyes for a moment, a quick SMACK would remind them that he was always paying attention.

Muda had never fallen for this deception. He was no slouch, waiting for every opportunity to let down his guard. A coward, perhaps, but a vigilant one.

Muda would have been considered handsome in his native Yaloran, but in Sikeran he was ignored by most women. He was too slim, his muscles well-defined, but small. He face was nothing but angles – a sharp nose, sharp chin, sharp cheekbones and sharp, but tender eyes. He stood a head taller than most Sikeran men and had developed a slight slouch to accommodate for his height. He rarely wore the armor that Yannick had brought for him, instead dressing in simple robes like the Sikeran. He could not yet grow a beard so would shave daily, and he bore a few scars, but nothing significant.

After a short time and a few physical reminders, the instructor finally finished his speech and put them in pairs. He liked them to change partners for every exercise, preventing them from falling into habits easily found with friends. Muda stepped in front of an older, larger boy named Sigmund. Strong, stupid Sigmund, the other boys called him. They didn't see the need for creativity in their insults. Their task was to take turns slashing high and blocking with their shields. The instructor drove them hard for half a bell, and Muda was well tired by the end. He had been at practice since mid-morning, right after he finished his history lessons, and it would be dark in only a couple of hours.

Muda did not allow himself to slow down, however, and he made sure Sigmund didn't either. The instructor would pass by every few moments and correct Sigmund on his footing, or tell him to tighten his grip on his sword, but he rarely needed to correct Muda.

When they were worn and sweaty, the instructor called their attention.

"All right, you've done well enough for today. One more task and you can return to your mother's sweet bosoms." He smiled at his own jest. "You will spar in pairs with the broadswords while the rest watch. Three kill strikes for victory and the loser must clean up his opponent's training clothes. I will have no blood today, however, not like last week. If any blood is drawn, both boys will spend the evening doing laps down the path of altars. Is that understood?"

The instructor looked around.

"Muda, let's see if you can show some fire for once. Jakta, you will be his opponent. Remember boys, no blood. The wife will kill me if I stain my new pants."

He tossed them each a blunted sword and backed away.

"You may begin."

Jakta smiled evilly. He knew how the battle would go, how it always went with Muda. Jakta would strike hard and fast, and Muda would block. They would continue on and on, Jakta always attacking and never defending, until finally Muda would slip and Jakta would land a blow. The question, when battling Muda, was never of victory or defeat, only with how long until Muda fell.

Muda was tired today, he would not last long. Jakta dove forward with an obvious two-handed overhead slash. Muda brought up his sword and deflected, letting Jakta's weight carry him away, then turned and readied himself.

"Pathetic." He heard behind him. Yannick had come to watch, likely already half a bottle of brandy in, and eager to see Muda fail.

Muda stiffened, filled again with shame and anger. Yannick didn't need to come watch his training, it was always the same. Jakta was ready again and attacking. Not so bold this time, clearly tired himself, he slashed left and right, danced forward, then back away again, probing for Muda's weaknesses. Yannick spit loudly at another missed chance, and Muda turned his head, giving Jakta the chance to cut hard against the side of his head. Muda fell to the ground, dizzied.

"No blood, you ingrates!" The instructor cried as Muda hit the ground. He touched his ear. There was a small amount of blood on his fingers, so he scooped up some dirt and rubbed it on the side of his head to hide the cut. He lay there for a moment, head buzzing, then pushed himself to his feet, and held up his sword again. Jakta laughed. It would be over soon now. He dove forward again, same overhead attack, but this time Muda wasn't fast enough to dodge. He took a glancing blow along his helmet and stumbled.

"Close enough." The instructor said, "One more and we're done here."

Muda was no longer in the mood, and let Jakta have the last kill strike without much challenge. The instructor looked as if he might say something, but held back.

"Next two boys, Trig and Jerome." He said instead. Two of Jakta's crew, they didn't like to fight each other. Put the order of things into questions. They took the swords from Muda and Jakta, and readied themselves, but before they could start a messenger approached. Muda had sweat in his eyes, and could not see who it was. The instructor leaned down to listen to her words, then immediately lost his regular swagger.

"We are done for the day. Muda, for your unimpressive display, you are also charged with putting away all the equipment. The rest of you are dismissed." He turned around quickly marched away.

Most of the boys were kind enough to wipe down their own equipment and put it in the nearby chests, but Jakta and his minions were not so gracious. They dropped their items on the ground, chuckling to themselves as they dirtied them even more. Muda didn't mind so much. He had no motherly bosom to return to, just the drunken stench of Yannick. Muda looked around, but his caretaker had disappeared, likely to get himself another bottle.

Muda picked up the few pieces of equipment from the ground and carried them to the closed chests. He wiped each one carefully, making sure there was no dirt hidden in the crevasses and folds, then he lay it on top of the rest. He was about to close the chest when a slender hand reached from behind him. He turned around and saw Sophia's dark hair and almond eyes. He smiled.

"You forgot a piece." She said. "Hurry up."

She handed him a chest guard, and then looked at him impatiently. While he wiped it down he asked: "So what did you need to tell instructor?"

"It is a private matter." She responded with her usual coldness, "You need not concern yourself."

"Oh I'm not concerned," he replied, "Just curious. Not every day you see him move like that."

Sophia coughed, suggesting that he hurry. When the piece was clean he put it in the chest with the others and closed the lid. Finally, he covered it with a stone and sat down.

"So what are we going to do now?" He asked her.

"We are going to do nothing. I am going to return to my duties." She gave him a slight bow, then turned and walked away.

Muda looked around again, and seeing no one nearby, headed to a nearby tree. He sat down in its shade, closed his eyes, and started to imagine what it would be like to be the great Knight Javer as he faced down the god of death. If he himself only had the courage.

* * *

Muda awoke to a fist in the stomach, knocking the wind from him. He rolled onto his side, then tried to cough. Three boys laughed, and then one of them kicked him. Muda wiped the tears from his eyes and saw them clear. It was Jakta and his lackeys.

Jakta kicked him again, and the other two boys joined in, kicking and laughing as Muda cried. He tried to stand up, tried to fight back, but every time a wave of nausea hit him. He crawled forward, whimpering every time the boys struck him. Finally, he gave up and curled into a ball to protect himself.

Suddenly everything stopped.

"You will leave him alone." Muda heard Sophia speak. He let out one more sob, then uncurled himself and looked up. The three men were completely motionless. Muda saw Sophia standing a few feet away, and rushed behind her.

Sophia stood for a moment, contemplating what to do, then sighed and flicked her wrist.

The three young men followed through with their kicks into a boy who was no longer there. The looked unbalanced for a moment, then gathered themselves and turned to Sophia.

"Can't protect himself, eh? Got to get his girlfriend to come save him?" Jakta said as he took a step closer, followed by the other two.

"You will not touch him again." Sophia commanded. "Your actions help no one, least of all yourselves."

"They help me feel like I done something good today," Trig responded. "Cleaned up a bit of a mess that's wasting our time."

"He is less of a mess than you are." Responded Sophia. "Now leave..." Before she could finish Jakta buried a fist into her stomach and pushed her to the ground.

Muda stepped forward, ready to strike Jakta in the throat, but the moment his foot touched the ground another wave of nausea hit him. He swayed for a moment looking as if he would vomit, then fell to the ground beside Sophia.

"Ha! She fought for you, can't even return the favor? Coward. And you," Jakta kicked Sophia, "You think just because your mother's so important that makes you safe? You ain't nothin'."

The three boys laughed together.

"That's enough of that." A voice slurred from behind them. "You three get out of here."

Yannick stepped towards them and gave them a swaying glare.

"Not worth the effort." Jakta said after a moment, then motioned his friends to follow him. The three boys laughed to themselves as they walked away.

"Stuck with a coward and an idiot." Yannick said to himself as he dropped to the ground.

Sophia and Muda helped each other up, tears in their eyes, then looked down at Yannick.

"Thank you." Muda said quietly.

Yannick didn't respond, so the two of them walked away.

Alkorn

The moon was half way through the sky when their papers had finally been checked and they were allowed to pass through the gates. The soldiers were weary from a month of forced march but excited to see their families again.

Alkorn had no family, he had only his duties. Everything about him showed this dedication. Beneath his armor was a body primed from years of training and covered with scars from dozens of battles. His long, unkempt hair was tied back by a piece of string and he wore a perpetual scowl. His eyes moved constantly as he scanned the surroundings, simultaneously unnerving and reassuring his soldiers.

Alkorn scratched his thick, dark beard. He had only chosen soldiers with loved ones in the capital to accompany him and had taken as few as possible. They were unlikely to face problems here. Thieves and bandits would shy away, his group too well armed and thoroughly battle worn. Danger from other sources...they had come quickly and had not been specific about the details of their arrival. Hero generals also attracted other forms of protection.

As soon as they passed the first pub, the cries came out. Drunks started screaming that the heroes had returned. "Alkorn has come again! Cow-slayer and blood-letter has returned to us!"

"At least we're welcome." Alkorn joked.

Soon the streets were filled with well-wishers. Beautiful women batted their eyes, young boys asked to hold their swords. They were tired but slowed their pace. Alkorn had little patience for worship, but knew that Erik would encourage it.

When they finally arrived at his estate, the crowds had thinned only slightly. He had tried to send a runner ahead, but the woman had returned shortly after, unable to penetrate the crowds. Somehow Erik how was still ready for him. As soon as they passed through the gate Alkorn dismissed his guards, then entered the relative peace of his household.

"You look tired, general. Shall I prepare your chambers?"

"There's no time for that, and you damned well know it. Prepare some coffee, I will must needs meet with the Lady-Regent in the morning, and we have a lot to discuss before then."

He watched Erik walk away, then headed up to his study where a stack of documents was awaiting him. Most of it would be of no use to him, details on how his finances were progressing, new gossip, marriages, deaths, births and other information that Erik could use, but had little relevance to battle. But Erik had also made another, smaller pile detailing the new laws that Debra has instituted, and details of recent criminal activities. He sat down and began to read through these.

When he looked there was a cup beside him, and Erik was sitting across his desk, napping. He took a sip of the coffee and grimaced.

"Cold." He muttered to himself.

"Would you like me to heat it up?" Erik replied, eyes still closed beneath his cap. No matter the time of day that Alkorn found him, Erik was always perfectly put together. Even now, well past the moon's summit, he was clean shaven, his dark skin clearly visible in the flicker of the light. Erik's narrow eyes looked relaxed even in the most stressful situations, and his flat nose was entirely unblemished. He always wore his finest clothes, for reasons Alkorn would never understand. His hat bore a dozen small stones and was covered in frills and feathers. His shirt and pants were loose fitting and bright red, accented with purple throughout.

"I should make you start drinking coffee, if for no other reason than to make you understand what I suffer whenever you brew me a cup." Alkorn replied.

"I am the epitome of empathy, my lord. You itch, and I feel your suffering."

"So you enjoy suffering?"

"It keeps me young." Erik responded, finally opening his eyes.

"Pfah." Alkorn finished the rest of the cup in a single gulp.

"She's getting worse." He said after a drink of water. "You tried to warn me, but...I couldn't have imagined it was this bad."

"I have done my best to stay on her best side, but you've made it very difficult for me with all of those victories of yours. She doesn't like competition for the people's affections." Erik said.

"I'd bet she would like mass starvation even less. The damned cow-heads are getting bolder. They were preparing for something."

"Not for us, general?"

Alkorn paused. "She's not right very often, but she was here. They were more organized than I've ever seen them. If we had not attacked...Who knows what would have happened to our people."

Alkorn rubbed his eyes, then showed a sheet to Erik.

"What does she charge them with, these criminals?"

"Tax evasion, adultery, corruption. Whatever she feels like, really. She offers little proof. Everyone is afraid of her, and so she holds some sway over us all."

"What has been done to keep her in line?" Alkorn asked.

"What can be done? Any efforts are met with assassination." Erik responded. "The people need a symbol. They need someone to stand up and..."

"Stop. Stop right there. What you speak is treason."

"If she is not stopped, then she will do the stopping."

"It is hope."

Alkorn stood up slowly and began to pace the room. He always thought better when he was moving, when the blood was flowing.

"What progress has been made on finding the prince?" He asked.

"The prince is a lost cause, my lord. He could be locked away in the dungeons, for all we know. Or dead, his corpse locked in a box under her bed. He will not be found."

"Goddess be damned! I will not turn traitor. I am meeting with her tomorrow, correct? How can I make her understand that I work for the benefit of Yaloran?" Alkorn raged.

"First, you will need to watch your wording, my lord. One small slip could mean the end of even you, the cow-slayer." Erik smiled. Alkorn did not.

"Then we practice. She will expect me immediately after the morning meal, I expect?"

"I will delay in sending the message of your arrival, if you like."

"A wise decision, we have much to prepare, you and I."

* * *

When he arrived, a servant led Alkorn to a waiting room and asked to him to make himself comfortable. He lay down one of the seven couches and was quickly asleep.

He was awoken by a soft cough.

"The Lady-Regent Debra will see you now." The servant told him. He stood up and went to the nearest mirror to arrange himself, then followed the servant to the audience room. Debra had not yet arrived.

There were three thrones at the front of the room. The main throne, that of the prince who would be king upon his return, was empty, as was that of his future queen. Beside these, slightly lower and much less extravagant, was the throne where Debra herself would sit. Alkorn bowed deeply, as he had been coached, gritting his teeth at the absurdity.

She ignored him as she entered the room. It was not until she was seated that she acknowledged him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming so quickly, general? Didn't want me to know?" She asked with a wicked smile.

"I apologize Lady-Regent. I am not one for sensationalism, and we were hoping to avoid the crowds." Alkorn replied, as politely as he could manage.

"With little success, it would seem. Half the city awoke when the realized you had come. The great general, slayer of cow-heads and champion of Yaloran." Debra broke into a soft cackle, her mirth filling the room.

"I live to serve the realm, Lady-Regent." He replied. Erik and Alkorn had decided that he should stick to truth whenever possible. He was not a very accomplished liar.

Still smiling, she answered "And how was it? Did you kill all the baddies? Have you brought me any trophies?"

"The cow-heads are nomadic, I'm afraid. They care little for treasures we consider valuable. We have brought grain, however, and other foodstuffs for the people."

Debra's face darkened. "You think I cannot feed my people?" She asked sharply.

An error. He should have slept longer. "Lady-Regent, I meant no disrespect."

She pondered for a moment, then her grin returned. "Very well, general. I believe you. You are, after all, a great hero, and must be incapable of deception. Now, let us discuss your performance in the past campaign. You lost many soldiers."

"Every death was felt by the realm my lady, but in war there is always death."

"Still, I would have hoped for a bit more success from the King's favorite commander. Have the years since his death dulled your mind? Are you beginning to feel your age?"

Alkorn stiffened at the mention of the king.

"I have done everything in my power, Lady-Regent. If you are unsatisfied with my abilities, then I am happy to suggest some replacements."

"And have the whole absurd cycle continue? I think not. Besides, it seems there are few enemies left. We may not have need of your army for much longer." She answered with a smirk.

"I would caution my Lady-Regent against such thinking. My scouts were busy before our return. There is evidence of a greater army approaching. The cow-head prisoners confirm this."

"Please," Debra said, dismissing the idea with a wave, "Such rumors have reached us even here. It was an invasion they were planning, and we have undone their plan while it was still in its infancy."

Alkorn began to argue, but caught himself. There was no chance of convincing her, but great risk of angering her.

Alkorn stood straight. "Has there been any progress finding the prince, Lady-Regent?"

Debra froze, her face twisting with rage. "Every effort is being made. Do not try to distract from your own failures."

"Failures, my Lady-Regent? I have done exactly as you have..."

"Enough. I grow tired of your presence and have duties to attend to. There will be a banquet to celebrate your meager victory. I suggest you concentrate on soldiering in the future and stay away from matters that do not concern you. You are dismissed."

Alkorn grimaced at his mistake, then bowed deeply, and left the room.

Ibalize, Yaros

With one clawed hand Ibalize grabbed the man in front of him, and brought the other down, crushing his skull. He tossed the broken corpse aside, then slashed at a nearby horse, slicing through its thick flesh. The animal tried to scream but instead squirted blood from its open throat. It pitched forward and tossed its master. Ibalize caught the knight before she could hit the ground, and rammed a claw up through her chin and out the back of her head.

He looked around and reveled in the brutality his army was causing. All manner of monster surrounded him, the treacherous cow-heads, the fallen angels and mindless undead intermingled with a hundred different species, willing and unwilling, slaughtering at his command. Some had even been enemies, not long ago, but Ibalize allowed those with strength to survive.

He turned towards a charging lancer. Ibalize swatted away his petty weapon, then grabbed the man and drew him in close.

"You think you can kill me?" He ripped the man's arms from his body and tossed him to the ground to be finished by the dogs. Ibalize turned and started to walk away. The battle was all but won, he would let his minions finish the conquest. They would gather up survivors to be sacrificed in mortal combat, and his ranks would be renewed.

When he reached the rearguard his brother was waiting. Yaros glared at him with disgust.

"Everything about this battle is unsavory." Yaros said as Ibalize tried to walk by. "There is no need for so much death. Disorganized. Ineffective. Pointless."

Ibalize laughed. "The enemy lies dead, and I feast upon their corpses. What more could you want?"

"We need not feast upon our own soldiers' corpses perhaps?"

Ibalize laughed again. "These mortals, they are here for our pleasure and nothing else. If they do not amuse, then kill them yourself."

"As always, nonsensically, you miss the point."

Ibalize stared out across the battlefield, watching for spots he might be able to have some final bits of fun. Those that could had retreated, however. He would have to wait for the next army. He turned away and walked to the shade of a large tree. He had had all but the one cut down, to force the humans out. Yaros' idea. It had worked well, much to Ibalize's annoyance.

"You bore me, brother, but it seems until you have bored me enough I'll not be rid of you. What do you mean?"

"Your army dwindles. You need not eat, but your soldiers do. Their weapons are broken and their armor cracked. In short, brother, you can obviously kill, but if you do not care for your soldiers then you will be killing alone."

"More fun for me." He said. One of the undead brought him a sheep, and Yaros snapped its neck to stop the bleating, then began to strip it of its wool.

"Ever elegant. We will have slain every army, looted every town. Our soldiers die in foolhardy attacks and you..."

"I thought you just said we were low on supplies." Ibalize interrupted.

Yaros gaped.

"If we are short on supplies, then our soldiers will die of starvation. Is it not better that they die in the glory of battle?" Ibalize asked.

Yaros stared at him, dumbfounded. "You are a fool." He said, finally.

"Perhaps, but I am a fool with a plan. Now leave me to enjoy my unnecessary meal."

"You truly are a fool." Yaros said.

"AND I LEAD THIS ARMY." Ibalize rose to his feet, towering over his brother. "You had best remember that."

Yaros glared at him, unphased by this sudden burst of wrath. "Else you will lock me away?" He asked.

Ibalize snarled, then shoved his brother backward. Yaros stumbled, but made no move to retaliate.

"I tire of you." Ibalize said with finality, then went back to his sheep.

Yaros looked at him with disgust, turned and walked away.

Alkorn, Gloria

Alkorn hated feasts. He was surrounded by panderers and sycophants, all trying to sway Debra towards their petty concerns. His disgust made even the elegant foods that had been prepared in his honor taste like rot. He would have loved the magically preserved rations that his soldiers were now enjoying, if only it meant he had their company instead.

His only consolation was that Erik had been permitted to accompany him. Some lord or duke would likely find Erik later and attempt to curry favor with his father, but that was not Alkorn's concern. He was simply happy to have his friend nearby, and Erik thrived in such situations.

"You seem Lord Trillian, across from us in the red cape?" Erik whispered to Alkorn, not motioning to the man. "He lost his son, recently. Inciting rebellion. Three people to my right, the lady Songhearth. Her husband is rotting in the dungeons for misinformation about the whereabouts of the prince. Five to my right, the sickly looking one, released from the dungeon for tonight only, to appease his mother, who has troops the Lady-Regent needs."

"Everyone in this room has a reason to hate Deb...."

"Easy, my lord," Erik interrupted, "There is slight difference between gossip and treason, but it exists."

Alkorn glared at Debra in disgust. She sat at the head table, her hair neatly tied back. She was wearing her full suit of armor, and a sword that had been a gift from the king when she was knighted. She spoke casually to those around her, laughing at appropriate jokes, making her own in turn. She was the picture of nobility. Every once in a while, however, Alkorn could see the cracks in her facade. A suspicious glance at an overly boisterous laugh across the room, a grimace when the room feel too quiet. She ate very little, picking at her food, and drank even less.

"I would not stare overly long," Erik cautioned quietly, "As you watch, you are being watched."

Alkorn tore his gaze away and began to look at others around the room. The fear was palpable. Laughter was forced, and none had the courage to meet his gaze.

Debra stood up, and the room went silent. She waited a moment, then began to speak.

"Today, we celebrate a great man. I do not know how many of you have heard his story, but it is an incredible one. He began as a mere peasant, his parents, faithful to the realm but poor, were killed in a raid by the enemy forces near the eastern border. He was young, and smart, and hid himself in the latrine." Debra glanced over at Alkorn with pure sympathy, then continued.

"He was never one to give up, but he was young, and farm work was beyond him, so he ended up in an orphanage. He would not brag about these times himself, but the stories of his bravery are still told by his soldiers. Defender of the weak, he organized a group of cripples and weaklings to fight against the resident bullies, and restored some order to the place."

"When he was of age he joined the Yaloran Army and went off to war against the realm's enemies. His accomplishments there are too many to recount, but as you know he quickly rose through the ranks, making officer, and finally being promoted to general."

"General Alkorn has served us faithfully, and effectively. He has won victories where others thought no victories were possible, and turned crushing defeats into momentary delays."

"And so, today we celebrate our greatest warrior. We celebrate his boldness and his brilliance. And we finally offer him the chance to rest."

The nobles gasped as one and stared at Alkorn. He quickly got over his own shock, smiled at everyone, and waved. He looked to Debra, who motioned for him to speak.

"My Lady-Regent, I thank you for your kind words. I have done everything in my power to defend this realm, have been burned and bled. I...I am in need of rest. But should the realm ever need me again, I will be here." He was not a politician. Alkorn looked to Erik, who gave a slight nod.

"You will always be needed, General Alkorn, but your duties must change. Your armies have already been reassigned, but you can go to what is left of them tomorrow to say your goodbyes. Congratulations, General." Then Debra smiled, and sat down. Conversation slowly resumed, though the glances in Alkorn's direction stayed regular. He sat in silence, staring at his food.

Finally, when it seemed the people had grown tired of looking at him, Erik turned to him.

"You should leave."

Alkorn paused for a moment, then nodded and quietly snuck away.

* * *

He had been given quarters for the evening, but was certain there would be spies hidden to watch him, so instead he chose to wander the hallways. The castle had an abundance of guards, so he did not fear any assassination attempt. Besides, he was not one for politics and Debra had already taken away what influence he had.

When his thoughts returned to his surroundings he found himself in a small garden, hidden away from the rest of the castle. There was a single guard, but Alkorn stated his desire for solitude, and the guard left.

Alkorn contemplated his options. He could try to learn the ways of politics, Erik would surely guide him. He had no taste for intrigue and favors, however. He liked the clarity of the battlefield, liked knowing who his enemies were. Subterfuge and deception were always a part of it, but battles almost came down to how well you knew your soldiers.

"Thinky thinking of breaky breaking?"

Alkorn drew his dagger and looked around, but could see no one in the torchlight.

"Show yourself." He called out.

Gloria let her magic fall, and appeared beside him. Alkorn attacked, thrusting for her right arm, hoping to disable her, but she waved her hand and his dagger faded to rust.

"Silly small little silly man. I am a friendly friend." She looked down at him with a gigantic smile. Alkorn grimaced.

"Two smiles two friends, yes yes?" She released his wrist, and he backed away.

"Well, powerful one, you have me at an advantage. Why have you come?"

"A warning for you. Not in general, general, do I do such things. Warnings about warrings. But big warrings, so I must give warnings."

"Yes...Are you all right? You seem a bit...confused."

Her smile faded for a moment as she pondered his words, then returned even brighter. "Always." She said.

"Very well...warn away." He replied.

She grabbed his wrist and Alkorn saw his path

Sophie, Yannick

Yannick knelt in the temple with. His swayed slightly, eyes closed. His head still hurt from the previous night's drink, but he had woken early, and felt the need to pray.

"I have always been faithful to you. Even as a child, when the others would find excuses to avoid your worship, take out their horses to ride, or play at swords, I made time for you. But now, Goddess, now I question my dedication."

"The boy... There's no sense for it. He has the skill, no doubt of that. He could dance circles around the king himself, rest his soul. But all he ever does is hide!" Yannick spat. "It's not just the fight. He's never raised his voice against me, never stood up to a teacher, never done anything with a spit of fire. You can see he wants to. See it in his eyes. But every time the passion fades to fear."

"My Lord...I did not think it would be like this. I did not think that the boy would be so gods damned pitiful. You were fire and passion. You were strength and righteousness and nobility, and... When you whispered to me to protect him, to take him away from the capital, I thought he would grow and become a man like you, a man worthy of respect. Not a beaten dog, eager to please and afraid to try. You spoke so highly of him when we were on campaigns...How could it all be so wrong?"

"I have no child to gauge success, but I have done all I could. I corrected when correction was needed, encouraged when encouragement was due. I hid the child, snuck him away from the dangers of Yaloran. What else could I have done?"

Yannick shuddered, and fell backward onto his hands. He tried to roll to his side and stand up, but instead he fell onto his side, flopping like a sturgeon. He fought off the urge to vomit, then looked to the side and saw a pale face.

"How long have you been there, young one?" He asked.

"Long enough to understand." Sophia replied.

"You are far too young, child, to understand. Someday, perhaps, but not now." Yannick belched.

Sophia stared at him, not willing to give him the satisfaction of her disgust.

"He is not brave, I concede. But he has other virtues."

"Wetting oneself is hardly a virtue." Yannick shot at her, furious at being lectured by a child.

"Clearly not, else you would be the most virtuous man in the kingdom." Yannick glared at her. "But they are there, none the less. Are you sober enough to walk?"

Yannick propped himself against a bench. He took a step forward, but swayed. Sophia leaped forward, and caught him. He cursed, but did not refuse her help. When he was ready, Sophia stepped away.

"It is not far," she said, "But you will need to climb a bit." She set off, walking with a slow confidence out the front door.

"Were that it was you I must foster, and not that godless wretch." He followed after her.

* * *

Yannick was not a fit man. Years of luxury had given him a fair sized belly, and his jowls shook like pudding as he lurched upwards. He bore two days' worth of scruff on his face, and had a fat red nose. His hair was long as was the fashion when he left Yaloran, and tied back so it would stay out his face. He carried no weapon within the city, though he was permitted to do so. He knows that it would likely bring him more trouble than good.

True to her word the journey was short but the exercise rigorous. He was sweating heavily when Sophia told him to they had arrived. He immediately sat on the ground and tried to clear his head. He looked at Sophia. She was young but strong. Her skin was pale. Many said it was because the magic that stirred within her burned away here color. Her eyes were almond shaped, her nose small and high on her face, and her chin sharp. Yannick had never seen her smile, not once in his ten years in the city. Her hair was cut short, and she wore the flower embroidered robe that her mother had given her as a coming-of-age gift.

Sophia left him alone for a moment and checked for others nearby. When she thought him ready, she spoke again.

"Stand up." There was no broaching her authority. "Look past the training grounds. By the edge of the forest."

Yannick stumbled to where she was standing, then squinted his eyes to see into the distance. Sophia waved her hand, causing the light in front of his eyes to bend slightly, aiding him.

He turned his head with irritation. "Soldiers practicing their bow-skills, this is why you tore me away from my prayers?"

Sophia stared at him silently, until he returned his gaze to the soldiers. Sophia waved her hand again.

"They are younger than most of the soldier, aren't they. Wait...that one has a... a wooden leg. I've thrown him a few coins. The child beside him...I've also seen her begging for food. They'll never be soldiers, what are they doing practicing?" Yannick was amazed.

"While you are sleeping off your daily hangover, this is where he comes. Every day, he meets them here. He has prepared special tools for those who would normally not be able to draw the bowstring, taught others to wind the crossbow."

Yannick stared, confused. He looked to Sophia, visibly shaken by the image before him, by what Muda was doing. But as quick as it came, it was gone, and irritation consumed him.

"Pfah. He is weak and he blankets himself in more weakness. The blood of kings and he surrounds himself with an army of cripples while he himself hides, too frightened to lift a sword?"

Yannick turned away from Sophia, and began to descend.

"We have had enough of this place, he and I." He said as he went. "I will no longer allow this weakness to fester. We leave on the morrow."

With that he was around the corner, leaving Sophia with her thoughts.

Alkorn

The moon was halfway through its journey when they left the estate. They brought only the necessities, abandoning most of the household to Debra's forces. Those who chose not to accompany him were given gold, and told to hide, the rest Alkorn brought with him. They would not be of much use in camp, but Alkorn knew what Debra would do to them for even the smallest inkling of information.

They killed six spies as they left. Erik had known about them for weeks, since long before the banquet in Alkorn's honor. He had been feeding lies, and believed he had convinced them that the escape would not happen for another week.

There was a lot of risk in their plan. They were relying on Debra's own vanity, hoping that she would not predict them leaving so much behind, even when escaping for their lives.

Once the spies were dead they split into small groups, each taking a different path. They considered bribing the guards in advance, but decided the risk was too great. They would deal with them when they arrived at the gate. They could be bribed then, or if necessary, disposed of.

Alkorn's party reached the rally-point first. They chose an alley, and tucked themselves away while to wait for the others. After almost a bell they saw the first signal, and a few moments after that they saw the next two almost simultaneously. No motion came from the gate. Most of the guards were probably asleep, a few practicing their swordplay or their spells.

Alkorn quickly moved towards the gate with his soldiers. They used minor magics to disguise themselves, but knew they would soon be noticed in the still night.

The massive wooden doors cracked open just as they were about to reach them. Alkorn signaled for everyone to stop, then motioned one of the soldiers to edge forward and check what was happening. One of the mages cast a cloaking spell, then the soldier moved towards the doors. He pulled out his blade, and used the flat to push the door just wide enough that he could see through. When he was confident it was safe he signaled the rest of the soldiers to advance. His eyes didn't even have time to widen as he was engulfed in flames.

His screams sliced through the night's silence, followed by Alkorn's gruff commands.

"To me! To me!" The soldiers rushed towards him. An archer behind Alkorn shot a single arrow, ending the burning soldier's torment.

They formed a tight circle around the general, but he forced his way through and took up ranks. The crackling of burnt flesh filled the night air, and then a feminine laugh rang out. It started soft, almost a giggle, before launching into hysterics. When the laughter finally calmed Debra walked through the gigantic gate, followed by two dozen knights.

Alkorn's own soldiers released a flurry of arrows, but they were reduced to ash before they made it halfway. The soldiers drew again, but Alkorn signaled them to stop. He waited for the last remnants of Debra's laugh to subside, then spoke slowly.

"You have no right to stop me."

Debra let loose another sharp laugh. "You would leave when your country needs you the most? You are a traitor. I think that is reason enough."

"Once again you hide behind your lies."

"Your transgression here will be hidden," Debra replied, ignoring him. "You are still the people's hero and it would not do to have them know about your weakness. Perhaps under better guard this time." She paused, thinking.

"And a reminder, of course." She looked to the soldier beside her. "Kill them. All except the general." The guard nodded, obviously pained by the order but afraid to disobey. The knights drew their swords. They tried to move together, but Alkorn could see their lack of training immediately. They were too close together, stepping on heels. When they came they wouldn't be able to move properly.

Alkorn signaled his soldiers to move back into a smaller road. They would be three across, and would be able to hold off the untrained guards until another plan could be formed.

Debra was prepared. Her archers appeared on top of the walls and began to launch arrows. Alkorn's troops managed to shield themselves and take down two of the enemy, but six of their own were dead before they reached cover.

Just as Debra's soldiers arrived, a mage covered the path in ice. Debra's soldiers had spikes on the bottom of the boots and crossed the ice quickly, while Alkorn's slipped and struggled.

Alkorn knew they wouldn't last long. They had already lost a third of their soldiers. He sliced at an enemy soldier's arm, then pushed his back and signaled for everyone to scatter. The two soldiers beside him charged forward, sacrificing themselves while the others retreated.

Alkorn was down an alleyway in seconds, followed by two others. He had a few places within the city he could hide. He would rest for a few days, then contact Erik and make a new plan. Debra would have split the army by then, but a small force could be effective.

Alkorn suddenly noticed that no one was running behind him. He looked back and saw two bat-like creatures feasting on the remains of him soldiers. Their black, sinewy wings tore chunks of flesh and carried them to their mouths. The creatures didn't even stop to chew, just tear, swallow, tear, swallow. Alkorn raised his sword and prepared to charge.

Debra walked out from behind them.

"I wouldn't do that." She said. "They are not entirely obedient to me and I don't want you to get hurt."

"You're insane," Alkorn told her, "So many deaths..." He grit his teeth.

"The throne is mine, no lost prince or hero general will take it from me." She said, then looked up.

"You should have worked with me. Together we could have saved this realm..."

Alkorn tried to follow her gaze but saw only black.

* * *

Alkorn awoke with a bump. He coughed at the pungent scent of manure, then tried to reach for his throbbing head. He moved his hand a few inches, but it jerked to a stop with the jingle of chains. He was lying face down, straw rubbing against his face. He leaned his head back, grimacing with pain and opened his eyes. He was at the bottom of a wagon. He had been chained down, and a layer of hay had been hastily thrown over top of him. The sun was just peeking over the horizon in front of him, and he blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light.

Two men sat in the seat ahead of him. They were clothed in peasant garb, but Alkorn could just make out the light armor underneath. Their weapons were probably just ahead of him, also covered in hay, but still within reach. He could hear people outside the wagon, going about their groggy morning rituals and giving their morning greetings.

He tested the chains. One of the guards started to look back and Alkorn dropped his head. When he faced forward Alkorn tried again, quieter this time. They were well fastened and tight, he wouldn't be working his way out of them. Alkorn tried to guess where he might be. They were likely taking him to the mage quarters. Mages tended to be loner-types, no children with prying eyes, and the magic users themselves were smart enough to keep their mouths shut.

He could scream, but that would likely just get him hit over the head again, and a few citizens killed soon after. No, had been captured. He could only hope Erik had a plan to get his people to safety.

* * *

Erik had a plan. The odds of Debra discovering this plan were 74%. 1/4 chance of an easy escape.

So Erik had made sub-plans, and alternate plans, and sub-alternate plans.

Each plan had varying degrees of risk, both to the general and to the soldiers.

There had been an 89% chance that if Alkorn was captured he would be taken to the Mage Quarter. It was the safest location, once Alkorn arrived, and one of the easiest to get to from the gate they had approached. That's why he'd chosen it.

There had only been a 15% chance that Alkorn would be transported in an open wagon. This was a stroke of luck, and would mean fewer deaths.

Erik had placed scouts around the city when Alkorn had first returned. They had been a little out of place when they first arrived, but were trained, and quickly adjusted to their new environment. Several had disguised themselves as beggars, others had taken up conveniently situated lovers, while others simply stayed hidden on rooftops. Their regular reports gave Erik a clear view of the city.

He had not considered using his own spies within the city. Spies were untrustworthy for the very reason they were useful - they liked to tell secrets. Instead, the scouts had done their work well, and now he knew exactly where Alkorn was.

They had less than half a bell before the general would be unreachable, but this too was part of the plan. Erik saw the guards relax as they passed the final checkpoint. They had arrived, more or less, and believed themselves safe.

The two soldiers driving Alkorn's wagon died first, arrows through their throats to silence any potential screams. There were six more soldiers ahead, and six behind, all on foot and loosely disguised. The ones behind took a moment to realize what had happened, then alerted their companions. By the time they reached the wagon the horses had already caught the scent of blood and were skittish. Nearby peasants moved away quickly.

Erik's archers took out another four guards as the rest grabbed shields and weapons from the wagon. Two from the front grabbed the reins just as the horses bolted. Only two with shields made it onto the wagon to guard their fellow soldiers. The horses trampled two more.

Erik let loose his final trick. Spears had been laid across the ground, and were quickly brought upwards as the horses approached. They had no time to slow before the sharp wood pierced their bodies and brought the cart crashing into them. The broken and bleeding horses screamed into the morning, and Erik saw Alkorn hit his head against the wagon.

Erik's soldiers quickly dispatched the remaining guards and took axes to the wooden cart to free the general.

They turned back, and headed towards the next checkpoint. Mages faithful to Debra would soon be after them.

* * *

Debra paced in front of the King's throne. She had miscalculated. She had been outsmarted by a peasant and a common merchant!

Now the city was burning. After she had captured the general, she believed it to be over, but they continued to defy her! They must deny her at every step!

It had begun with trickery, giant illusory fires raged across the city, leaving not a cinder of damage. The citizens had tried to save their homes, but the water they threw wouldn't quench the fire, and they were too crazed to realize nothing was actually burning.

When they had given up hope on saving their homes, the people began to riot. Believing themselves utterly destitute, they began to destroy. They attacked guards, stole food, murdered... they went mad with their freedom.

Debra knew she could not trust Alkorn's forces within the city, and so she had called in the military police that was faithful to her instead. This had left Alkorn's army unguarded, but she had been that they would not turn on their own city.

Alkorn and his party had escaped in the chaos and now she could do nothing but rage. She did not know how her famous general had ultimately escaped, or what subterfuge his agents had used, but three days after the rioting began Alkorn's army had fled like cowards, leaving behind discord and death in her beautiful city!

She would find this 'general' and she would make him suffer. Already her prisons were lined with traitors to be questioned. She would know soon enough how the cowards had escaped and she would find them again!

Diablos, Ibalize, Solaris, Yaros

It was dawn, and the soft light brought a false calm to the previous day's massacre. The odd dog still wandered through the bodies looking for a bit of fun, but most had gorged themselves and were sleeping near the campfires.

Yaros stared across the field of death and embraced the serenity. Born from the patrons of life and death, he held no misconceptions about what would happen to those that had fallen here, and knew that it was not nearly so terrible as they imagined.

Ibalize approached from behind, making noise to inform Yaros of his coming. Yaros knew his brother, and this was as much an apology as he was capable of. Yaros smiled to himself, and turned to greet the god.

"We must visit our parents." Ibalize said.

Yaros had been expecting this for quite some time. Despite his bluster the day before, Ibalize recognized that they needed to move for Yaloran, but they could not do it without the harp. Their parents knew where one of the harp-shards was, and to continue their war they needed it.

They had not seen their parents since the war had begun. Ibalize hoped that her time stewing in disapproval had weakened her resolve. He had not forgotten who his parents were, however, and did not have high expectations.

Yaros nodded, and followed Ibalize to the rift. They had created it as an entranceway to their parents' prison. It was easier for Yaros to open, he made up in skill what he lacked in his brother's brutality. Ibalize could also gain access, but his methods tended to leave scars which could be used again.

Yaros compacted his will. He found the infinitesimal space between the bonds that formed this realm, and eased his way in. Once he was between space and time he slowly, painstakingly began to pull the bonds apart, slowly bending them away from each other. As he did so energy was created, and the gap began to power its own separation. Yaros changed tactics, concentrating on guiding the tear instead of pulling. This is where Yaros' true skill lay, and within a few moments a stable tear was ready.

Yaros contemplated walking through first, but decided it was likely not the best time to goad his brother, and stepped aside.

Once they had passed through they began to walk. Eventually, the path narrowed. Yaros watched his brother step across, then himself passed over, careful not to stumble into the infinity below.

Yaros was immediately enchanted by the smell of roses. He understood his mother's love for them, especially in this place. Roses used pain to protect their beauty, but they had no desire to kill. They were beautiful to survive, and survival was all that mattered.

"The spawn of our loins has joined us again, beloved. Rejoice."

"Sarcasm does not suit you, mother," Yaros said with a sad grin, "I would see you in a better mood."

Solaris glared at him, not unlovingly.

"Sunlight would put me in a better mood. Earth beneath me would put me in a better mood. An explanation would give me reason to praise the goddess." She retorted.

"You know what we hope to accomplish." Ibalize told them.

Diablos rose from the floor where he had been lying. "Everything you have told us far is much too moronic to be the truth." He said to his son. "From you, perhaps such an unexplored plan could have sprouted, but your brother lacks your dimness."

Ibalize tensed, and stepped towards his father. He started to speak, but Solaris moved in front and interrupted him. "I have all the time the goddess can offer in this place, and yet still I do not have time for your bickering. If you have not come to free us then you have come for nothing."

Yaros quickly moved in beside his brother. "Give us what we want, and we will finish our task. Then you will be able to return to your duties."

"To the remnants of world." Diablos shot.

"A dead world," Ibalize responded, "You should be joyous."

"Life and death work in tandem, as you well know! Your mother's gifts are balanced by my pragmatism, you would leave the realms barren husks!"

"We would rebuild!" Yaros exclaimed. "The power of the Harp will allow us to end the broken races that pollute the goddess' creation! We can start anew and accomplish what she dreamed before the dark ones came!"

"Pretty words." Solaris said calmly. "To mask your monstrous acts. Ibalize, will you grant your brother the power to make this truth?"

Yaros looked ashamed, his jaw clenching. Ibalize interjected, "The goddess made us most powerful, and I for one would not waste that. The Harp will give me options. I may choose to scour existence from the realms, I may choose to build anew. But I will have that choice."

"Not without our shard. And you will never see it."

Ibalize struck her, his massive hand knocking her down. Diablos was beside her instantly. He checked to see she was unharmed, then stared bile at his son.

"Leave." Diablos said acidly, then stroked Solaris' face.

Shame crept onto Ibalize's face. "Come, brother," he said, "We have eternity to break them." He left.

Yaros hesitated. He looked down with pity at his parents for a moment, then turned and followed after his brother.

* * *

"We must expand our search." Ibalize said slowly after Yaros had caught up to him. "There is only one place left."

"You cannot leave your army, brother. Their loyalty is already tenuous, if they were to find out where you went..." Yaros did not bother to finish.

"You're right brother, I can't go." He stopped, and Yaros almost crashed into him. "You will."

Yaros looked horrified. "We are forbidden. We do not know what lies beyond the great tears!" He stammered.

"That is the other reason you go first." Ibalize walked away.

Alkorn, Muda, Sophie, Yannick

"I have received a message. Much has happened since we left Sikeran." Yannick told Muda.

They had been at sea for over three months, and Yannick had been sober the entire time. Before they boarded he had demanded that the captain jettison all liquor. The sailors had grumbled at first, and many threatened to find other work, but when Yannick promised them more gold than most earned in several years, they grudgingly agreed. A few months of sobriety was well worth a year of drunkenness.

He had hidden a few bottles in his own chests, to ease the pain he told himself. He promised the goddess that he wouldn't touch them for at least a moon, but had broken the promise on his first night. He burned through a pint of brandy and passed out on the deck, much to the envy of several sailors who were nursing hangovers.

Muda had quickly understood Yannick's plan. When the old man passed out, Muda tried to go break into Yannick's cabin and find the liquor, but whenever he reached the door his sickness overcame him, and so he could only hope Yannick would find his own strength.

On the second night, the same thing happened. Yannick passed out, and this time, the sailors were a bit more vocal about their irritation. One sailor found Muda, doubled over outside Yannick's cabin, and lost his temper.

"Even the pup gets a drink, but not us sea-legs? Goddess' teats." He kicked Muda and started to walk away, but the young prince had an idea. He slurred his speech a little, and responded "Pfah to yoush. If yoush wantsh to have somesh drink yoush go ahead. Itsh inshide da chest." Then he fell to the ground, nausea overcoming him.

The sailor watched Muda for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders and let himself in. He grabbed a bottle, and wandered off to a quiet corner.

Muda soon discovered that sailors never were very good at keeping secrets, and within a bell four men had finished the bottle. They walked towards Yannick's room, swaying slightly.

When Yannick woke up the following morning he felt his head might implode. He dragged himself to his cabin and was horrified to find his belongings scattered about and not a drop of brandy left. He tried to find the captain, but his rage only made him sicker, and he passed out on the floor until the afternoon. When he awoke again he was mostly sober and his shame kept him from complaining to the captain. Thus began the longest sobriety of his adult life began.

Yannick had grown stronger in the three months, both physically and mentally. He dedicated a great amount of his time to training with Muda, who still lacked the courage to attack, but gave Yannick the opportunity to exercise. Muda himself grew quicker and stronger, and learned a little of tactics from the books that Yannick had brought.

But now circumstance required them to return to Sikeran.

"Sophia's mother has passed," he told Muda, "And this has left a void in the realm's leadership. Sophia will likely have made her own claims. She is more than competent, and her mother's name carries a lot of weight." Yannick stared at the approaching city. They would be there within a day.

"There are contenders." He continued. "Many tire of the complacency that has consumed the country. They crave glory, and dominion, and fear that Sophia will continue in her mother's path of peace."

"We are foreigners and guests, and cannot participate in this struggle." He cautioned, obviously trying to convince himself. "We are to remain neutral. I understand your feelings for Sophia, but you are not to interfere, am I understood?"

Muda had not taken his eyes from the city that had been his home for over a decade throughout Yannick's entire speech.

"Am I understood?" Yannick demanded again.

Muda turned slowly, and glared with an intensity that Yannick was not accustomed to.

"Sophia is young. Why would she be chosen? Why not someone older?"

"The Sikeran are strange, in this way. They believe in constant change, constantly adapting to new challenges and advances. You will see, one day, once a person reaches a certain age... It becomes more difficult to make these changes. Their elders are still allowed to advise, but choices are made by the young."

Muda considered this for a moment. "Sophia's mother wasn't very old. How did she die?"

"I am not certain." Yannick responded. "They are very secretive about such things. I have heard rumors that leaders are asked to step down at a certain age, and if they will not..." Yannick shrugged.

"But these are simply rumors." He concluded.

"What will happen to Sophia if she is not chosen?"

"I have no answer for that, either. Many contenders from the past have simply faded away from political life, others have themselves become advisers. Some do not survive the ordeal."

They were both silent for a time.

Finally, Muda spoke. "I will not allow any harm to come to Sophia."

Yannick snorted a laugh. "And what will you do to protect her?"

Muda drew back. Yannick felt a moment regret. "Your intentions are noble, as befits a king, but we cannot become involved. Even if you could become involved."

Muda stiffened, then turned his back on Yannick and left.

"Walking away again." Yannick muttered to himself.

It was far into the night before he finally went to his cabin.

* * *

When they arrived Yannick gave curt goodbyes and disembarked. Muda knew well to keep his lineage secret, but he still felt that he had his duties. He met with each of the sailors separately, and thanked them for services.

Most of the sailors had grown fond of Muda, and were happy to humor him. They exchanged warm farewells, then got to work preparing the ship so that they could enter the city and spend some of their hard-earned gold.

When Muda finally disembarked himself Yannick stood waiting for him. He was agitated, which Muda took as desire for the drink, and so he moved slowly, trying to decide how he would help Yannick stay strong at his first real trial in months. Finally, he sensed Yannick's irritation, and approached his mentor.

"You look good after these three months, Yannick." Muda ventured. "I would hate to see you lose what you have gained."

Understanding dawned on Yannick, and he cursed silently to himself.

"We have greater concerns than that. It appears the new leader is all but decided. Sophia is..."

Muda brightened. "Of course it would be her. I never doubted it. We must go see her immediately."

Muda started to walk away, when Yannick put a hand on his shoulder.

"There has been an attack." Yannick said quietly.

Muda stopped dead. "Is she alive?" He asked.

"She still breathes," Yannick replied, "But it was a close thing. The healers are with her now. They are doing their best to revive her, but...they do not know what will come."

Muda had already started to turn away. Yannick tightened his grip, holding Muda him.

"We cannot get involved."

Muda's face twisted with rage.

"You will take her to me now."

Yannick was taken aback. He had never seen such fire from his young ward. Hope swelled in him for a moment, but he quickly squashed it.

"We are guests..." Muda slapped his hand away, then turned and broke into a run. Yannick thought to yell after him, but decided against it.

"Fire that will fade..." He said to no one.

Yannick quickly arranged to have their belongings taken to their residence, then followed after Muda.

* * *

Muda's chest burned, and his muscled ached. He was in full armor at Yannick's request, and his clanks gave people ample warning to get out of his way as he sprinted through the streets.

He arrived at Sophia's door, gasping for air as he tried to force it open. When it would not budge he began to scream and beat his fists against the wood. A moment later a small but fierce voice called out to him.

"Silence yourself, you buffoon. The door is locked and will remain so until I am certain you mean no harm. What do you want?"

"Sophia, is she still alive? How does she fare? What did they do to her?" He cried.

"Quiet I said!"

Muda groaned, but was silent.

"Good. Now who are you and what do you want?"

Muda breathed deeply and forced himself to relax. "My name is Muda. Sophia is a friend."

"Ahh, she's feverish. She's said your name a few times. Wasn't sure if it was love or hate."

Muda said nothing.

"Love it is then. Just a moment, I'm an old lady and moving around all this furniture is no small thing."

Muda heard the sound of furniture being dragged across the floor, then after a few moments a sharp thud as the lock was unbolted. An elderly woman opened the door.

"Don't you go thinking I'm too trusting. There's a life full of pain for you if you try anything. The lady set up these magics herself, this here's a safe place for her."

Muda nodded impatiently. "She's in her room." The old woman said, then moved aside. He rushed in, heading for the room hidden away in the back. Not the largest room, which was preserved for guests, but a smaller, more humble room.

Muda stopped when he reached the door, tears welling up in his eyes. He clenched his jaw and straightened his back. After an eternity of uncertainty, Muda went in.

Sophia lay on the bed, wrapped in blood-soaked rags. Her breath was ragged and irregular, each gasp its own battle. All that was left was left of her long, dark hair was a thin stubble. Her face was bruised, and any part of her body that wasn't covered looked raw.

Muda stared.

"Who did this?!" He asked the nurse. "What monster would do such a thing...?"

"Young one, you don't need to concern yourself over that...Just be here with the lady."

He would not listen. "Not like this," he replied, "You must know that. You know who did this, I know you do. Let them know... Let them know I will kill them this day. One bell before sunset, in the square. I will have revenge." Muda looked sick even as he said the words, but he forced them out. "She will have her revenge."

The nurse nodded solemnly, then left the room.

Muda stumbled towards Sophia, grasped her hand, and began to cry.

* * *

Yannick arrived just over a bell later. He received less grief from the old nurse, and was soon at Sophia's door.

He too paused, and thought about what to say. For perhaps the first time in Muda's life since they had fled Yaloran Yannick had hope, but that hope was tied up in Muda betraying their neutrality.

He knocked softly and entered.

Muda was kneeling on the floor, his head resting against his two hands as they enveloped Sophia's. Yannick walked up to Muda, and softly cupped his head.

"She will survive." Muda said after a moment. "But they do not know how bad the damage is. Healers come four times a day."

"She was always strong," Yannick reassured him, "I think her chances for leadership are gone...but she will survive."

"Leadership? She lies at death's door and leadership is what you think of?"

"I think of what she would think of, as should you. She will wake, soon enough, and her first thoughts will be of her people." Yannick replied.

"Her people? They did this to her! They put these expectations on her and now look at her!"

"She has always done what she thought right. She would have made a glorious ruler, in truth..." Yannick coughed to mask his emotion, but Muda was not deceived.

"The people, that truly is all she ever lived for...The people be damned!" Muda stood up, and reached for his sword. "Her people have abandoned her, but I have not."

Muda pushed Yannick out of the way, hard enough to stop any argument. He swayed once as he left, his first step, but steadied himself and then was gone.

* * *

Muda stumbled through the streets his rage driving him through the sickness. People laughed as he passed, calling him a drunkard and a fool. A few less generous souls kicked him down, fueling his hatred. But he had no time for them, he had a meeting.

When Muda arrived the square was burgeoning. There were more guards than usual, but Muda knew they would not interfere. He had made a challenge, and would be allowed to fight. If the cowards who attacked Sophia chose to come.

The people parted as he walked to the center. He had grown worse with each step, and the nausea was now so bad that he couldn't see more than a foot.

When he finally reached the fountain in the center of the square, he collapsed beside it. He lay there for only a moment before a voice roused him.

"I didn't actually think you would have the stones to show up."

Muda knew the voice. It was the voice that had tortured him at every training session, which had mocked and jeered at every failed attack. That voice had called him a coward time and again. That voice...Jakta.

"You are a monster," Muda spat, "And a fool if you thought you would survive this."

Jakta laughed. "The little poppet is lucky to be alive, she'll not be able to challenge me. Now all that is left is her little lapdog."

The people jeered at this. They respected the rules, but many had been fond of Sophia.

Muda drew his father's sword, then used it as a crutch and forced himself to his feet. It was only then that he noticed Jakta had brought along his own lapdogs.

"Three on one? And you call me a coward."

"Rules are rules," Jakta said with a grin, "And you're the one who made the challenge."

"When we're done with you, we'll finish of the bitch of yours."

The three men drew their own weapons and Muda's rage returned. He swayed once, and then for the first time since his parents' death, Muda attacked.

He thrust forward aiming for a weak point in Jakta's armor, hoping to end the battle quickly. His strike was well aimed and almost caught Jakta by surprise, but he had been too far away. Jakta brought up his own sword to block the strike as he side-stepped, then followed with a quick strike that bounced off Muda's plate armor. Muda followed through, passing Jakta and charging into Trig, knocking him into Jerome. The two men fell backward and struggled on the ground while Muda found his footing. He almost went in for the kill, but Jakta was too fast and leaped around Muda to protect his two fallen friends.

Muda pushed forward, not wanting to give his three opponents enough time to organize a proper assault. He attacked three times in quick succession, then feinted a kill-strike at Jakta's head, but sliced through his sword arm instead.

Jakta cried out, then backed off, and let his two companions advance. Muda knew that he would need to finish the battle quickly, or else they would be able to tire him out and kill him. He feinted again, striking at Trig who was the better weaker of the two. Jerome circled behind Muda, and tried to attack as the two men often did in practice. Muda saw the trick and struck Trig hard to knock him off balance, then just as Jerome moved to attack Muda launched his elbow backward breaking Jerome's nose. Muda turned around and thrust his sword through Jerome's throat, severing his spinal cord. Jerome was dead before Muda even had time to withdraw his sword.

A wave of nausea hit Muda, and he fell to his knees. Jakta saw Muda's moment of weakness, and rushed forward hoping to end the fight and avenge his friend. Trig had the same hope, however, and the two men crashed into each other, bringing a righteous cheer from the crowd.

The noise brought Muda back to his senses. He swallowed his nausea, and turned to face the remaining two fighters.

They organized themselves, and attacked at the same time. Muda's blade was like fire, flickering back and forth between their attacks, nicking at exposed flesh whenever the chance appeared. Within a minute both Trig and Jakta were bleeding from half a dozen spots each. They both backed off, pausing to catch their breaths and figure out a new strategy, but Muda gave them no rest and doubled his attack. Trig tried to block a low attack from Muda, but was too slow, and Muda cut deep into his thigh. He screamed, and dropped his hands to his leg, leaving space for Muda to thrust his sword up through Trig's chin, and into his brain.

Jakta stumbled backward, listening to the cheers of the crowd as he watched his friend die.

"I...I yield." He pleaded. "I can still be useful. Do not kill me."

Muda's slashed hard, knocking Jakta's sword from his hands, then thrust his own through Jakta's heart. Muda spit as he watched the light fade from Jakta's eyes, then pushed the corpse backward, leaving his sword upright.

Muda raised his hands to the air and screamed his rage until he was hoarse, then fell to his hands and knees. Staring at the ground, he heaved, and tears came to his eyes. He clenched as if to vomit again and again, then finally a torrent of black flew from his mouth coating Jakta's body and the sword that still stood prone in his corpse. Thick black liquid reeked of rot and death. When he could vomit no more, he fell to his side, and slept.

* * *

The nurse walked into the room and scowled.

"He's gone, lady."

Yannick looked at the nurse, confused. He turned to Sophia and saw her eyes slowly open. She stared at Yannick.

"What...what have you done? He goes to his death!" He cried.

She stared at him for a moment longer, then spoke slowly, every word visibly racking pain through her body. "Perhaps. But thus far he has lived a half-life. There is a sickness in him, a disease that prevents him from taking action. Today, he will be tested. He will defeat that sickness, or he will die and no longer be a burden."

Yannick gawked. "But...you are his friend. You were the one who defended him, who showed me his trials with the orphans. You showed me the good in him, despite his weakness!"

"There are hard times coming. The people need a warrior. I need a warrior. These wounds were not intentional, I assure you. He is the best choice, but not the only one. He will become worthy of the task, or he will die. There is no other way."

"You're a monster!"

"I am what I must be. Now I must ask that you leave me. I need to get dressed."

Yannick, still stunned, watched as she grimaced from the pain of rising.

"Tut, tut." The nurse said with a gentle shove. "Might still be time to watch the excitement." She pushed Yannick through the door.

"That could have been done with a bit more tact, my lady." The nurse said after she heard him shut the front door.

"I have no patience left for that man," she replied, "He was sober, though. I am impressed with that. Maybe he, too, has hope."

The nurse tutted again, and then no more words were spoken. They quickly dressed Sophia in a loose fitting gown, elegant, but practical, and headed to the town square.

When they arrived Jerome was already dead. Sophia allowed herself a small smile, and sighed with relief when she saw Muda, sword in hand. In that moment, she saw their salvation.

She hid from the crowd until the battle was finished. Even as he expunged the darkness from his body, she stood by, and let the people see what he was, what he had become.

Cleansed.

The people stood, staring at him, unsure if he still lived. Sophia removed her hood and walked forward. She placed her hand on the shoulders of those in front of her, and when they turned around to see who she was, each would quickly back away. Soon there was an open path.

When she approached the center of the group, she walked past Trig's fallen corpse, and placed her hands upon Muda. She whispered a silent prayer to the goddess, then stood up to look at her people. She looked down once more at Muda, then began to speak.

"We are a people lost," she began, "We are a people who have forgotten nobility, and honor. We have grown fat, and deceptive, attacking in the dark and whispering lies, instead of standing up and fighting. Here lies a foreigner. Not a stranger, but a friend, who has shown us what we have forgotten. He is not of our land, but he embodies what we should be, what we once were. He is not of our land, but I name him my champion!" Sophia drove her arms into the air and the people cried out their approval in a torrent of cheers. When they quieted, she continued.

"I claim my role as your leader, with the champion Muda at my side. Together, we will fight the coming evil. Together, we will guide Sikeran to glory!" Cheers broke out again.

Sophia then bent down, and began to lift Muda. The people nearby rushed to help her, and they hoisted him above their heads, making sure to avoid the black sick that he had expelled.

Alkorn and Erik watched from the fringes as they carried him out of the square, and considered their next move.

Debra, Yaros

Debra sipped her wine. She had spent the day interrogating witnesses to Alkorn's escape, but all her efforts had earned were the names of more witnesses and a pile of corpses. A witness who was not killed, or at least seriously maimed preventing Alkorn's disappearance must themselves be a traitor, and she would not tolerate traitors.

They had seen two full moons since the chaos. The city had returned to normal, more or less. Farmers dribbled into the city to sell their grain, merchants once again hawked their wares in the streets, the nobles played their games of intrigue. She had tripled the city guard, and this meant many of them were undisciplined, but this was the cost of protection.

And of course, there were the refugees. They came by the thousands, begging for food and aid. Those that found work were allowed to stay, and those that couldn't were put in the dungeons and left to starve. She had no patience for freeloaders.

There was still a tenseness about the city, but...it was itself again.

She took another sip, then walked to a nearby window to see her city. It was quiet now, curfew had already been in effect for several bells, and she relished the silence.

"This city was meant to shine. It was meant to be a beacon, to show that humanity is not unworthy of salvation. It was meant to prove that you are capable of beauty and grace, to be a refuge for those who are weak, and a symbol for those who are strong. Is it these things, do you think?"

Debra's voice cracked. "Lord Yaros, we are in a small time of distress..."

"You have been in distress since the day I gifted you the power to slay the king and his family, and that distress has ruined this place. Now you have lost the greatest general in this pathetic world? Misplaced him?"

Debra coughed. "We tracked him until he reached Sikeran, there is no way that they would have given passage to the Yaloran, and even if they had, there is no way that they would have the means to house them and feed them!"

"Where are your spies? Why do you give me theories instead of facts? Is this why you murder any that come into your service? Because they report unwanted truths?"

Debra looked confused and lost, then her face twisted into rage. "I have never killed an innocent! They were traitors, every one. They lied and deceived and worked to destroy me."

Yaros stared down at her. Then he raised his hand and stroked her long blond hair. "I tire of your incompetence," he said, "I will be leaving for some time. When I return, I will see improvements, or I will see you dead."

He left, and Debra began to scream. The guards that were outside the door rushed in, but when they saw her alone they quickly backed out.

When she had calmed herself, Debra poured herself another glass of wine and drank it in two mouthfuls, then marched out the door. The two guards stood at attention, clearly frightened. She would have to find out why. She gathered her retinue and went down the winding stairs, past portraits of former rulers and heroes, until she finally reached the dungeons.

Two guards looked at Debra, not unsurprised, then knocked. The door opened to reveal a pale man, who might have been handsome if it were not for the perverse he stared at people, like they were another victim. He had been the dungeon-master since Debra was little, and the two were well acquainted.

"Take me to the handmaid," Debra commanded.

"She's got not more to tell ya, m'lady." The man said as he started to walk away. "Just rambles on about princes and poison all day long."

Debra took a torch from the wall and followed afterward, impatient but unwilling to pass him for fear she would lose her way. The dungeon master never hurried. She had threatened on several occasions to put him in one of his own machines, but he had just chuckled and said he was familiar enough with them already.

After a dozen twists and turns they arrived a rotting wooden door. There was no window or handle, just a small keyhole. The handmaid had long ago grown too weak to fight, so the dungeon-master would bring her a meal once a day, never afraid that opening the door would allow her to escape.

The pale man pulled out a single key and slid it into the lock. Debra heard a whimper from inside. He then jiggled it a moment, then found the spot and turned it with a loud thunk. He pulled the door open, and then said, "Sweetlet my sweetlet, you have a guest." He stepped back and bowed, gesturing Debra inwards.

In the corner lay a small, trembling women. She was more bone than flesh, and her body was covered in scabs. Her deep blue eyes were almost entirely obscured by stringy hair hanging down in front of her face.

"What has this terrible man been doing to you?" Debra exclaimed. "I told him to take better care of you. Mage, quickly, get in here and help this poor girl! And you there, take off her shackles."

The mage rushed in and began to cast simple healing spells on the prisoner. With each one the girl would sigh a gasp of relief, and Debra's face would grow more and more concerned. When the mage had finished Debra knelt down and stroked the girl's face.

"Leave us," Debra commanded. The room in seconds. Debra pushed back the girl's hair to reveal her face. She took a comb and used it to tie back the girl's hair. By the time she had finished, the girl was sobbing.

"Now, now," Debra said. "There's hardly a need for that. If you give me the answer I want there won't be any pain. Maybe we'll even let you outside for a little while."

The girl's sobs intensified, and Debra wiped away some of the tears.

"What happened to the boy?" She said finally.

The girl looked up, terrified. "My lady...please my lady...I've already told you...please..." She whimpered.

"You gave him the poison, but he did not die. You did not give him all of it, that I now know for certain, but what happened to him afterward? Where did Yannick take him?"

"I don't know my lady...please...please my lady...."

Debra's face turned sour for just a moment, but it was long enough for the girl to see that this time would be no different from any other. She desperately tried to back away, but her weakened muscles could not even be used to drag her across the room. Debra stood up and stared at the girl.

"I did not want to do it this way...but as always, you leave me no choice. There is some detail you have not told me yet. I know it, and I will hear it."

* * *

The sun had risen long before Debra finally left the dungeon. She had had to call in the mage twice for more healing, but the girl gave her no useful information. Interrogations calmed her, however, and she felt better. More confident. The handmaid was her favorite subject when she was frustrated. The girl had been given a very simple task, to feed an unconscious boy a small vial of liquid. She had believed, of course, that it would cure him. She had stopped part way through because Yannick had awoken. So she claimed, but Debra was not convinced. This had allowed Yannick to escape with the boy.

To Sikeran, of course. There was nowhere else they could be. It was the one place Debra could not go. Oh, she had tried. She had sent spies and assassins, but none had ever returned to give report.

Yaloran was not at open war with Sikeran, but there was an uneasy peace. Skirmishes were known to happen along the borders. She had even sent ambassadors, and while they were never killed, they were also never allowed entrance. Much had changed in the years since she had last tried, however. Perhaps it was time to contact them again. War had ravaged many of the nearby kingdoms, and the Sikeran had surely noticed, perhaps now they were open to an alliance.

Yannick, Alkorn

Yannick stared longingly at the ale in front of Alkorn, then sighed as his old friend took a drink.

"I did not expect to see you here. The Sikeran are not generally so open to guests. Though I suppose that is what drew you, as much as it drew me." Alkorn said, smacking his lips.

Yannick sighed. "We are not so much guests as patrons," he replied, "We pay both in gold and experience."

"Experience I don't doubt you have in spades." Alkorn laughed. "Do you remember when we met those cow-heads at that pub in Dralan? You beat two of them down without spilling a drop of your drink!"

Yannick laughed as well, "Little help you were, your face planted squarely between that trollops..."

"Hello boys," a barmaid approached, "Can I get you anything muscles? Your friend can't like drinking alone."

"I'm fine, lass."

The barmaid winked, then wandered off.

"It has been a long time," Alkorn continued, "Much has changed in Yaloran since you left."

"We get word, once in a while. Debra has...changed."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps we were simply blind to her follies, even then. It doesn't matter, I've left the city for now. Something is growing. Something wicked."

"So Sophia seems to believe as well. I do not concern myself with such things anymore. My goals are more...direct." Yannick said.

"The boy is still alive then? I was not sure. When you left, 10 years ago..."

"He fought off the worst of the sickness, eventually. I had thought entirely, but now I'm not so sure. It seems it lay something deep within him."

"That was him, then, at the square? That was the prince?"

"The king," Yannick replied.

"Debra is weak, now. Weaker than she's ever been. Her mind is cracking. If you are going to make a move, you must do it soon, or there may not be a country left for him to rule."

"We would need an army..." Yannick ventured.

"No old friend, for that I am sorry. Something important is happening. Something we cannot even imagine, and my soldiers are needed elsewhere."

"They are needed in Yaloran."

Alkorn stared at Yannick, who eventually averted his gaze.

"It is more complicated than you understand," Alkorn said finally.

"Then explain it to me."

"You would not believe me."

"I have seen wonders today that I could not have imagined."

Alkorn took another drink, and pondered. Finally, he shrugged, "I have known a long time that Debra was corrupt. When you first left with the prince... with the king, I could not believe it. But she has made choices that not even incompetence could explain. And she was never incompetent."

"Before I left, I was visited by a...seer? A prophetess? I'm not sure what she was, but she gave me a warning. The gods are no longer content to sit and watch us."

Yannick tensed, he began to say something, but Yannick interrupted him, "I am not speaking of your goddess. She still sleeps, as far as we can tell, but the others...they wage war on men. You must have heard the recent troubles. The cow-heads are more violent than they've ever been. Creatures that have not been seen for centuries, that were believed extinct or myth now roam the world again."

"Stories and wives tales." Yannick snapped.

"I have seen them, old friend. Creatures of such darkness... when I said you cannot imagine, it was no exaggeration."

Yannick glared, but remained silent.

"There is a tool. I have been told I need it, and so I go to claim it. That is why I cannot help you in Yaloran. Had I known you were here a year ago, that the prince was still alive...but it is too late. My path is set."

Yannick looked longingly again at the drink, then sighed. "It does not matter." He said begrudgingly, "The boy is a coward. He is not fit to wear the crown."

"He did well enough today." Answered Alkorn.

"One day, one moment in a decade of disappointment. Were that you knew how much I have suffered with him these past ten years..."

Alkorn took his glass into his hand and stared at it. He took a long, slow drink.

"Maybe he has not met your expectations. But it seems that you have also been lacking in resolve. Until recently, I expect?"

Yannick looked ashamed but did not deny it.

"But you have made steps. You have been tested today, and you have passed, just as the boy did."

Alkorn finished his drink.

"I must go, old friend. We only came to gather supplies, and must leave in the morning. I would have liked to have met the young king, but something tells me I will get the chance."

With those final words the two men stood, embraced as only soldiers can, and left the tavern.

* * *

Alkorn allowed himself an extra bell of sleep the next day. He knew the value of a good night's rest, and knew that he would be facing a lot of unknowns in the next while. He wanted to be fresh. He normally didn't drink alcohol, but he had heard rumors of Yannick's weakness, and wanted to see for himself. It was clear that Yannick was willing to fight, at least, but he did not know if his old friend would be strong enough. He likely wouldn't know for some time.

He slept an extra bell every day for the next week, but his sleep was fitful.

Erik had learned as much as he could, but there had been precious little time. There was a gate that would take a large surge of magic to open. Everything afterward remained a mystery. They had prepared in what ways they could, the Sikeran had provided them with food and water to last for months, and his mages had done what they could to magically preserve it. They had additional weapons, clothing for any type of weather they might face. They had planned tactics for virtually any type of enemy they could imagine, and decades of experience. They had ointments to protect from insects, fire to protect from larger beasts, easily assembled siege weapons in case they met a fortified enemy, and more. Hauling the abundance of equipment and supplies is why it had taken them as long as it had.

They had prepared for everything.

Now they had arrived. Erik stood beside Alkorn as they stared up at the gate. His mages had done their work, ripped the earth from the sky and left a gaping wound that bled sickness. He had sent his best three scouts through, with strict instructions to spend no more than a hundred breaths inside, then to return. It had been over a day since they passed the boundaries of the tear, and his men were most likely dead.

"My Lord," Erik broke the silence that had consumed them for nearly a bell, "We must send another group."

"Mages, this time," Alkorn responded, "have them use what abilities they have to cloak themselves. Five breaths, then they return."

Erik nodded his head, then left to select the mages. He would choose the best. Not the most powerful, but the most capable at hiding themselves. The most likely to survive.

Erik returned a few moments later with two mages, who had prepped hours before. They looked nervous. That was good, it would keep them sharp.

"You have your orders," Alkorn told them, "Goddess speed."

They saluted, but just as they started to turn and make the long walk to the portal's edge a cry came out.

Alkorn saw the two mages slump with relief, then pick up their feet and hurry to the portal in case they were needed. Alkorn and Erik followed after them.

When Alkorn first saw the scouts he thought the portal was distorting his vision, but when he got closer he realized that the looked exactly the same. One still had the smudge of dirt slapped across his face.

The three soldiers stood at attention, clearly confused. The superior officer, a rugged captain much shorter than her male counterparts, saluted when Alkorn arrived.

"Report." Alkorn said simply.

"General," the captain replied, "We were gone no more than a hundred breaths, as you ordered."

"You have been gone for more than a day." Alkorn replied.

"I understand, general...but...each of my men can confirm. None of us drew more than one hundred breaths."

"And what does it look like in there?" Alkorn asked.

"The land is similar to the mountains north of the capital just before autumn," she began, "It opens into a grove. The air was slightly humid and difficult to breathe. There was a pool of what appeared to be water 100 paces in front of us. There was a wide variety of vegetation, coniferous trees as well as long vine plants, along with short undergrowth. We neither heard nor saw any wildlife, nor did we see anything that looked like intelligent life."

"Very good captain, you and your soldiers may get a meal, then we will have a more thorough discussion in my tent." Alkorn said.

"But my lord," one of the men interjected, "We've only just eaten."

Alkorn shook his head. "Very well. Head to my tent now then."

They saluted, and left.

Alkorn turned to Erik, who shrugged and said, "It appears time is a bit strange on the other side of the tear. Slower than it is here. We may not return to a world we recognize."

Alkorn scowled. "But we continue none the less. Make sure that the army knows as little as possible. They may not be excited at the prospect of never seeing their families again."

"They will not be happy when we return." Erik replied.

"With the goddess' guidance, whatever is inside will prevent that from mattering. We do not have time for further scouting. We leave tomorrow morning."

Muda, Sophie, Yannick

Sophia watched as Muda showed one of the younger warriors a quick thrust that was effective against heavily armored opponents. Muda and Yannick had been training them almost a year, showing them how to deal with siege weapons, cavalry, and archers. The Sikeran way had always been hit, run, and hide, but Sophia knew that future battles would not allow them this luxury. Whatever was coming would need to be hunted down and obliterated, and her forces would no longer be able to hide in their mountainous terrain.

Her warriors had embraced the new training with fervor. Almost all of them worshiped Muda, fought to be in his training groups, boasted of landing a blow upon him. Even those who did not like him appreciated his skill. He had defeated three of Sikeran's best warriors, he had cleansed himself of evil, and he was the champion of Sikeran.

Muda had changed much in the past year. Fear no longer consumed him. He would accept any challenge, charge mindlessly into any contest. His body and skill seemed to be adapting, as well. He was stronger than he was before his battle in the town square, and faster. He could strike before most warriors had time to raise their weapons.

Muda had been forced to stop using his own sword. It radiated fear, and turned anyone who faced him.

He now only used it when training with his elite warriors, those that would surround him in battle. They had begun to resist its influence, but its pull was strong.

Sophia enjoyed watching Muda train when she had the time. He was patient and knowledgeable, a true boon to her people. She had very little time, however. Her own duties had grown ten-fold, and she now found herself being sought for every manner of inconvenience. She was required to settle disputes, help plan military efforts, organize farming and infrastructure.

They had also seen an influx of refugees. Usually, such people tended to avoid Sikeran. It was hard to get to, and had a history of being hard on strangers. But tales of food shortages had come from Yaloran, and other countries were rife with disease, so the people decided a potential quick death here was preferable to a slow death from starvation elsewhere.

So far Sophia had not turned any away. Her mother had always been a practical leader, and had stored a significant amount of supplies, but even those supplies had seen a significant dent.

She watched for a few more moments, then walked the rest of the way down to the training grounds.

"Armored opponents are not so difficult as mages," she called down, lighting a small flame around her hand for the warriors to see, "When will you train them to battle magic users?"

Muda smiled at the sight of her. "Your mages should be making that unnecessary."

He spoke truly. Sophia's own gift had grown significantly in the past months. The goddess gave what gifts a leader would need, and it appeared that Sophia also had battle in her future.

"But that does not mean mage and warrior need separate their efforts. Magic users can be proficient at support, as well as attack. Deception, magical enhancements, distractions, healing. An adept will be able to use their power to meet any situation."

"An army must find balance on the battlefield.

Sophia nodded. "I would have a word with you, champion." She said to him.

"Just one? Hardly seems worth the effort." He smiled at his own joke. Sophia glared down at him.

"It is good that you are a better swordsman than a humorist." She replied.

He pretended to be hurt for a moment, then smiled again. "You're probably right at that."

Muda turned to his fellow warriors. "We have done enough for one day. Tomorrow we will practice the spear." He walked the short distance to fetch his sword that was locked away in a chest, then hurried to walk alongside Sophia who had already started away.

Muda noticed that Sophia was wearing a necklace.

"I have not seen that on you before," he said gesturing to it, "It is beautiful."

"It is the privilege of our leaders," she replied, "I had not felt worthy of it until today."

She did not elaborate, and so Muda did not push the issue, and they walked in silence for a time, until they reached a path of altars. Sophia often came here. It helped her to think. She found clarity amongst the leaders of old.

Only those that were truly loved were given a place here. The trials that were required to leave a tribute scared most off, and killed all of those that were brave enough to try. One had to be a truly noble leader to merit a place amongst them.

Sophia often wondered if she herself would be here one day. She already spent a lot of time amongst them, amongst the altars of wood and stone and death. Death was always present here.

"Names are not allowed on the altars. Do you know why?" Sophia asked.

Muda shook his head.

"Each altar is a story. Each can be felt as you pass by. Written words would do little to add to this effect because the altar itself gives an understanding of the person it was built for. Names are forbidden because they detract from these feelings." She explained. "It is very dangerous to build an altar here. The others can grow jealous, and if the feelings of the maker are not pure they will not survive the process."

"Often they are killed outright, but sometimes it is only their mind that is destroyed. Then they are found by people like me, who walk the path for wisdom." She paused again. "The altar is the truest possible representation of how the people perceived a person."

They stopped in front of an altar made of sharp rocks. They were forged together into a cutting spiral, and a pool of ever-flowing blood lay at the bottom, shimmering in the sunlight. Muda tried to understand the emotion that flowed from it. One word would never be able to describe it, but it was a mixture of wrath, and passion and...will.

"This is my favorite," Sophia said, "It was made for a long-dead courtesan, who lived when we still allowed such things. Hers was a truly brutal time in our history, and she became brutal enough to match. After her lover died, she took control. Many died by her command. Tens of thousands died. But in the end, this brutality helped her forge the realm that you now know as Sikeran. Through her will a dozen distribute tribes were forged into a realm that has lasted millennia."

Sophia dipped her finger in the pool of blood, and shook.

"The first time I ever did that I spent an hour screaming before my body gave into exhaustion."

She knelt down and wiped the blood in the grass.

"There are many altars here. Some made of soft woods, flowers floating in smoothly crafted bowls. Others are living thing, plants and creatures melded together in harmony. But not the courtesan's. Hers is pure, sweltering will."

She turned to Muda. "I would do anything to protect my people." Sophia said. "Which is why I needed to speak with you today. We must find a use for the refugees. I would have you find one thousand who are able-bodied, but have no other relevant skills, and begin to train them."

Muda snorted. "You would have me take cowards, and turn them into soldiers?"

"Not long ago the same was said of you, but you were offered training." She retorted.

"That was different." He said coldly.

"It's always different. I have already taken those who know a trade. You will first ask for volunteers. You are already known amongst them, and many will be willing. Once no more choose to come forward, you will make your own selection. Many of these people come from countries where women do not fight alongside men in battle. If any of the women wish to participate you will convince their companions that this is their right."

Muda nodded. This at least he could agree with. "And where will we put them? We cannot have soldiers mingling with the civilians. What of weapons and armor?" He inquired.

"Armor and weapons are being made, they will be ready before the training is complete. We have set up a camp outside the city. You will live there, with them, until you have established order. You will have Sikeran warriors to help you, of course. You may choose any who you deem appropriate. Yannick will help as well, of course." Sophia stared at Muda.

The relationship between the two men had grown worse over the past few months. Muda was making up for a decade of timidness and obedience with rage. He challenged every statement that Yannick made, belittled him in front of others, and made his derision for Yannick's own weaknesses well known.

"I have no need of him."

"You are a brave warrior, Muda, but you have never seen a battle. Everything you know of tactics and strategy you learned from Yannick, and I doubt he's had time to share every bit of knowledge."

Muda glared at her. "He is to act as an advisor, no more. I will not have his weakness sabotage my army."

Sophia had expected this, and in truth was inclined to agree. Yannick was not the drunkard that he had once been, but he had stumbled a few times since his return from sea.

"Acceptable." She replied simply. "You will also be given a troop of mages. They have been instructed to obey you in all things, unless they feel there might be a danger to the other soldiers, or the citizens of Sikeran."

Muda smiled. He had wanted the opportunity to experiment with the mix of magic and soldiery for quite some time.

"I will see their power from the vanguard, when my blade slays a thousand enemies!" He boasted.

"The goddess protects us." Sophia sighed.

Yaros, Muda, Sophie, Diablos, Solaris

Ibalize stared down at his army once again. Most were at the pits, watching as the last of the survivors battled in the arena. Soon they would be permitted to challenge his own army's champions, or join the ranks themselves. He promised freedom to any that could work their way through the trials, and challenge him themselves, but none had yet attempted. None were so stupid to challenge his lieutenants.

Ibalize no longer enjoyed the contest. It had grown predictable. He had considered commanding some of the lesser gods to battle, but Yaros convinced him not to. The army was already ripe for mutiny, no need to push it. Soon they would march to their next battle.

He needed distraction. He needed carnage. He needed... Yaros was gone. He needed nothing, and could do anything.

He began to concentrate, slowly shedding himself of physical sensation. Taste and smell, heat and cold, pain, direction, balance, light, and time faded away. When he had nothing left but himself he thrust down into the so deep the earth itself melted and raged. Then he began to search. He was unsure what he would find, but felt around. Finally, a small flicker of life. He went towards it cautiously, knowing that it could be a trap. Instead, he found something weak - barely alive. It had spent too much time in these deeps, had not fed. Ibalize slowly, cautiously funneled energy into it. When it began to stir, he intensified his efforts, giving it more strength. Finally, it was ready and he grasped its mind.

Muda, Sophia

Muda and Sophia had managed to meet twice in the three days, twice for meals and once for a short walk through the path of altars. Muda himself was very busy, Yannick had assembled a long list of books that he was to read, and battles that he was to study, and they had been discussing plans for army training.

Sophia did her best to give Muda her full attention, but it was obvious that she was distracted, and he felt guilty for taking away from her duties, so he tried to keep the conversation about her efforts. Muda had spent his life studying strategies of leadership, but until recently had had little opportunity to put them into practice, making his knowledge mostly theoretical. Sophia would listen when Muda gave a suggestion, and would sometimes use his ideas, though always with slight changes.

Muda decided it was time to leave. Yannick had given all he could, and so when they had the morning meal together, there was little to talk about. Goodbyes were brief, but warmer than Muda had expected. With Yannick's death a real possibility in the coming future, Muda was finally beginning to think about what his mentor had done for him.

Yannick gave Muda a scabbard as a parting gift. He had had some of the mages cast buffering spells on it, to reduce the new effect that Muda's weapon was having on the soldiers, at least while it was tucked away. There were no intricate decorations, or gold casting, just the inscription Honor and Sacrifice on one side.

After Muda left Yannick's home, he traveled to Sophia's to say goodbye. She was meeting with leaders of the carpenters union, and so Muda sat in her waiting room. Sophia's home was rife with tributes to the goddess. The story of the God's Harp covered the walls. Once the world was complete the gods of light and dark both craved the tool, and thus the Seraphic Wars began. In the end, the gods of dark were banished to the void, but the goddess fell into an ageless slumber as she broke the Harp into seven pieces. Each shard was given to a god of light, to be hidden away.

Muda did not believe in such fantastic stories, and if the goddess still existed he had no love for her. He did acknowledge her bravery in the story, though. It was a hard thing to destroy what one made.

When Sophia was ready, they head out into the city to walk along the riverside. They spoke of trivialities and eventually decided to take a break beneath a tree.

Swarmlord

The creature passed through stone and mineral as if they were water, its giant maw grinding and crushing the earth. It stopped twice to feed, feeling the thump thump thump of feet on the ground above it, then bursting through the earth towards its meal, tearing through red flesh. A dozen two-leggers thump thump thumping, and the creature was full.

It did not sense time, only felt the distance to its goal, dark hair dark skin throbbing with magic. Bright, bright spirit, so delicious. Up up up and through the crust to eat and... Dirty dirty dirty water!

Muda, Sophia

Muda saw the river begin to bubble, and dove in front of Sophia as he drew his sword. She was immediately struck by a wave of fear, but her mind to magic and with a quick spell negated the sword's effects. She placed a weak magical shield around her company, then began to prepare something more deadly.

The creature shot straight up from the water, and came crashing down on Sophia's guards, killing them instantly. It twisted towards Sophia who rolled away just in time. Before it hit the ground Sophia hardened the earth so the creature could not pass through. It slammed down, then rose upwards, confused. It raised half its body and opened its gaping maw.

Muda stared at the creature, calculating how best to attack. The worm was twenty paces long, and covered in thick plate. Its mouth opened with four spikes, revealing tough red flesh holding dozens of teeth that pulled inwards, crushing and lacerating. A pungent rotting leather smell erupted as viscous brown slime dripped down towards him.

The creature dove forward, the four tusks prone to grapple and force Muda down the jagged throat. Muda dove to the side again, slashing at the side of its head. The sword rang as it hit the stone-like hide, and Muda's hands went numb. Sophia tossed a ball of fire as she dove away, but the worm barely noticed.

"The mouth!" Muda screamed.

Sophia nodded and began to prepare another spell to stun the creature. It seemed to understand them, however, and back its head away, striking with its tail. The tip whipped towards Sophia, cracking the air as it snapped to where she had just been standing. She dove behind Muda.

"Protect me for a moment, I need to concentrate." She told him.

Muda picked up a jagged stone from the ground, and threw it at the creature's mouth. It snapped the rock from the air, then attacked again with its tail. He fell back, then threw another stone. The worm launched its whole body towards Muda, knocking him backward. It dove for the kill as Muda lay on the ground, but the young warrior gathered his wits and raised his sword. His blade cut into the rugged flesh, and the creature twisted, a shrill screech escaping its maw.

It tried to back away, but was suddenly unable. Muda looked at Sophia and saw her face clenched with concentration. He prepared for the worm's final attack. It dove forward, and Muda planted his sword into the ground. Sophia saw, and used her powers to force the monster forward. Unable to stop, it smashed down onto Muda's sword. It drew back, and tried to dislodge the sword, but its efforts only made the weapon cut deeper. With a final shake, the sword lodged into the creature's brain, and it slumped forward, dead.

Muda ran to Sophia to see if she had been injured, but she was unharmed. He turned back to his sword, but Sophia placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Do not worry about your sword for now." Sophia suggested. "I will send workers to cut it out."

Muda stared at her, not understanding her calmness. "We...we almost died!" He said.

"A mistake on my part," she replied, "I have been lazy with protections within the city. This will need to be corrected."

"The creature is known as a Swarmlord." Sophia continued. "They are supposed to be almost impossible to kill. It was being...guided, I suppose you might say. Someone wants us dead."

"I sensed it as well." Muda replied. "It was powerful, and...angry."

"It appears this alliance with Yaloran may be more necessary than we previously believed. We must speak with Yannick. There is much to be done."

The two of the quickly walked away, too shocked to speak further.

Alkorn

There was no sun on the other side of the portal to help Alkorn and his soldiers go about their daily routines. No sun to tell them when to wake or prep camp, no sun to guide their path and keep them right. Just a constant haze, like autumn dusk.

So they relied on their bodies. When the soldiers were tired, they rested. When they were hungry, they ate. They had made camp eleven times, and one in every three they were given a full 'day', of extra rest, but half rations. They had not found any living creatures to hunt for meat, but some of the trees bore fruit, and there was water in abundance.

They could not tell how much time passed, but it felt like every day they were able to travel longer. The soldiers all said the same thing, the void was soaking into them, reinforcing them. It was making them stronger.

The results could be seen in their training. Blows came harder than expected, breaking equipment and occasionally bones. Small cuts and bruises healed in what seemed like a matter of bells, and those that had known sickness before entering no longer showed signs.

Erik believed that the void wanted to make use of them. He claimed it had a kind of sentience, like a hound that could sense the goodness of its master, and so would let him near her pups when anyone else would get a firm bite. It was building them up to help with something, though Erik could not say what, or why.

Alkorn was more concerned with practical matters, like enemy forces, and so he sent his scouts out in every direction, in hopes of finding some clue. So far they had found nothing

Getting the entire army through the tear had been a feat. At first, they believed that time moved slower on the other side, and their world was speeding by, but as more and more people through, they realized it wasn't so simple. They entered in units, fifty at a time. Sometimes when a group went through they would find their predecessors standing, waiting patiently across the grotto, but other times they would crash into each other. When a troop of horses had to pass through they crushed a soldier's legs. He was fortunate a pair of mages stood ready.

When the entire army had finally assembled, Alkorn picked a direction and they began to march. They left a trail so they would be able to return, but did not even consider communication with their world. They were until they found what the void had to offer, or they were dead.

So the marched, not knowing why or where. Until today.

"One of the scouts did not return two days ago." Erik told him. "We sent out six more, in groups of two. One of the scouts has just returned. It appears we are not alone, and our companions are not human."

"Cow-heads?"

"Some, yes," Erik paused and thought for a moment, then let out a slow breath, "Other things as well. The scout that returned got a good look at the enemy. Their force is approximately the size our own, but most of it is unrecognizable. Creatures of nightmare was his best description, like your night in the alley, but worse. Green things that look almost human, but are half the size, or double the size. Giant dogs. Fish things. He even described a giant lizard the size of five horses."

"Impos...." Alkorn couldn't finish the word. He had seen too much to believe anything was impossible. "Do they know we are here?" He asked instead.

"The scout is uncertain. His partner was killed by something, but he claims it was not sentient. The others have still not returned, but it does not look promising."

"Then we assume we are known. How far away are they?"

"Approximately half a day's march." Erik hesitated. "There's more. Nothing has been confirmed yet, but whatever the mages have been sensing, they are confident that it is in the direction we are moving. It has been faint, but it gets stronger as we progress, and...it appears that the other army is moving in the same direction."

"I think it is safe to assume we have found our prize. And that we go to battle."

"Inspiring, my lord." Erik said with just a hint of sarcasm, "I go to prepare the troops.'

He was gone before Alkorn could finish scowling.

* * *

None of the other scouts had returned, and they soon met the enemy in battle. Only minor skirmishes, but they cost the Yaloran dearly. Scouting groups began to travel in groups of ten, with at least one mage.

The addition of magic users had been particularly useful. The dog-like creatures that had originally attacked were terrified of fire. The mages could sense them before they arrived, and would set up a few fire traps to either kill or frighten them off.

"The enemy has noticed the 'dogs' disappearing, and have sent out more intelligent troops." Erik said.

"It's incredible how easily we can label things. 'Days', 'dogs'." Alkorn said. "Have they altered their course at all?"

"Not yet. It appears they hope to reach the source of energy before us and make their stand there."

"Will they outrun us?"

"Undoubtedly, but not by much. We may be able to surprise them before they have prepared any proper defenses. We do not know their battle tactics, and we can only make assumptions about how their army functions, but it seems they do not have the best discipline. Their camp was set up haphazardly, and there seemed to be infighting during the short time our scouts watched them. When they march, they are disorganized. We should be able to send a few units ahead to set up ambushes. They will not kill many, but should cause some chaos."

"Arrange it. They seem to adapt quickly, however. I want no repetition of tactics, and hold back the mages who have seen the greatest change. I do not want the enemy to know about them."

Erik left the tent, and Alkorn sat down. His only luxury was a simple chair. He tried to study the reports, but had gone over them already a dozen times, and would get no new information from them. He rose, and went outside.

Alkorn walked amongst his soldiers for a time. It was good for moral for them to see him on occasion. Not that morale was currently a problem. He gave suggestions about the proper way to sharpen weapons, helped a young woman who was practicing her lance-work, fed his own horse, and joined a group of soldiers at their fire for a time. He never spoke to one person for very long, though. It made soldiers uncomfortable. But he made his presence known.

Suddenly, the world grew dark. It came quickly, and within moments the sky was black. The soldiers broke camp in minutes, and formed a defensive circle, guarding their weaker units and supplies as best they could against an aerial attack.

They waited in silence, no sound except for the scraping of armor as soldiers swayed against one another and the whinnying of horses. A low hiss sounded above them, and soldiers began dying.

The mages launched waves of fire over the soldiers' heads. Each was followed by a chorus of hideous shrieks and bat creatures began to fall from the sky. The sound tore through the ranks, forcing soldiers to their knees as they grasped their ears. The archers began to loose arrows, firing volley above the screams of dying men and women. The infantry soon came to their senses and began to finish off the monsters that struggled on the ground. With sword and spear they killed hundreds.

The dusk-like light returned, and the surviving creatures flew away, back towards the enemy camp.

Alkorn ordered half the mages to move through the ranks of soldiers and begin healing, while the rest stayed on guard. This had been a test, a distraction to slow them down, but the enemy had underestimated them. Their camp was packed, and the soldiers were raw from the adrenaline of battle.

Once the healing was finished they cremated the bodies of the fallen, and stowed the injured in wagons, then headed out to meet their enemy.

* * *

"My Lord, there is something you must see." Erik came to him while they marched. They had not stopped once, and though their bodies cried for rest, it seemed that each step also made them stronger. Knights could lift a fully armored man, archers could shoot a plum at a hundred paces. If they returned they would be the most powerful army in the world.

Not all the changes were worthy of celebration, however. The mages had begun to...twist. Their minds slowly wicking away. They spoke to the dead as if they were still there, and borrowed their powers.

"What madness challenges us now?" Alkorn asked.

"This place, it keeps giving us gifts, and it appears there is another. We have found something living. Let me show you."

The army was called to a halt, and the soldiers were allowed a short rest.

"The goddess never ceases to amaze." Alkorn said when he saw the creature.

It was about the size of a horse, but looked like a cross between a multitude of creatures. It had the head of a bird, but its front legs were a mixture of talon and claw. Giant wings sprung from its back, leading down to dog-like hind legs, and a cat-like tail.

"It appears to be safe to touch." Erik told him.

He reached out, and the creature pushed its head forward to rub against his hand. Alkorn took a step forward, and began to stroke it, as he did. The creature purred.

"They are kind enough to us, though I would not call them tame. We found this one feasting on one of those bat-things. There are more nearby, but they are shy."

The creature drew away, and stared him in the eyes.

"There is intelligence in that gaze." Alkorn observed. "I expect this one is an ambassador of sorts."

"You could be right, my lord. I have read about these creatures, or at least I think I have. They are called gryphons. Favored of the goddess, so the stories go."

Alkorn looked at Erik, and grinned. "She truly does amaze. Come, we will allow the soldiers to rest a while longer, and we will think about how these creatures might help in the coming battle. Something tells me they will decide to tag along."

Muda, Sophie, Yannick

"It is a creature of the gods." Sophia was beginning to lose her unshakeable calm. She sat with Yannick and Muda, discussing the attack.

"Nonsense," Muda retorted, "The world is a vast place, and you have seen little of it. It is probably some creature forced from its home by the war. It was hungry, it attacked."

"In the middle of a city?" Yannick argued. "When is the last time you encountered a bear in the town square?"

"It was confused. The mages are already setting up protections, we have more serious worries than the gods."

"The gods have entrenched themselves in this war, whether you accept it or not. You had best prepare your army." Sophia said. She stood up. "I have trusted my people to you, I will not allow your disbelief to endanger their lives."

"We prepare for anything, even your imaginary creatures." Muda said coldly. "If you doubt my abilities, then find another."

Yannick sighed softly, then clapped his hands down on his knees. "He speaks true, young one. His army trains for situations even I could not imagine, and he did well enough against the creature today, did he not?" He turned to Muda. "Things will come that you, too, have not imagined. You would be wise to shed yourself of this new-found overconfidence."

Muda's hand dropped to his sword unconsciously. He breathed heavy, then turned away. "You speak true enough, I suppose. I have been... trying to prove myself since my cleansing."

Muda's gaze turned to Sophia, and softened slightly. "I apologize for my words."

Sophia stared back, then finally said: "I as well."

"Excellent, now, how do we proceed with Yaloran?" Yannick asked.

That sat in the room, silent for quite some time. Finally, Sophia spoke. "You will have to go."

Yannick chuckled. "Of course, I will still have to go, but what is our plan? Do we join them or do we stall?"

Muda looked shocked. "But...you have just said the gods will fight us, and you plan to leave Sikeran?"

Yannick looked over with some compassion. Sophia was not so forgiving. "A war before we knew of the gods would have been dangerous. With the powers involved...it may be suicide. We need what allies we can muster." She turned to Yannick. "You will promise them our aid, but we will command our own armies. We will fight by consensus, not by command."

"Debra will not like that." Yannick replied. "She was always demanding, and Alkorn claims that has not changed."

"Who is Alkorn?" Muda asked. "Why did we not meet with him?"

"Sophia did, as I am to understand, though only shortly. To be truthful, I am surprised that you allowed his army to pass through Sikeran."

"The goddess led him. I could not deny her."

Muda coughed, but held back comment.

"Very well," Yannick continued, "Alkorn is perhaps the greatest general that Yaloran has known. When he was old enough to hold a sword he joined the army, and managed to work his way up to a position that is generally given to nobles. He is a talented swordsman, and a genius tactician."

"Why was he here?" Muda asked? "If Yaloran is going to fight, he will be needed."

"I am not entirely sure." Said Yannick. "As Sophia said, he believes the goddess is leading him somewhere. His task is greater than just protecting Yaloran."

Muda felt uneasy about this. Yaloran had been his home for many years, and he still felt the need to protect it.

"And there is nothing else you can tell us?" Sophia asked.

"About Alkorn? I could spend weeks telling you our tales, but that is the gist of it. Yaloran now needs us just as much as we need them." Yannick replied.

"Can Debra be trusted?" Muda asked.

"Most likely not. Alkorn said she has grown paranoid. But I think I should be able to handle her. We have a history."

"Excellent. Then you will continue as planned. Our next topic of discussion – the people need a celebration. There has been too much tension with the refugees and the coming war. With this creature breaking the magic defenses, we need to give them something to celebrate."

"Very well, you obviously already have an idea, and it obviously involves us. What do you propose?" Muda asked.

"You and I will marry."

She paused, letting the idea sink in for a moment. The two men stared at her, in disbelief.

"It has other benefits," she continued, "There are still some who do not believe you should lead our armies because you are not one of us. This would quash those doubts. When the war is over, if you choose to reclaim your throne by force we will be able to use the Sikeran army."

"And love?" Yannick asked.

"Irrelevant." She replied. "I am a leader, not some fanciful farm girl."

Muda's gaze hardened, and so she softened her voice. "I do understand, however, that this is a significant request. I will allow you some time to think on it."

Before Muda could say a word she had left.

"Marriage?" Muda tried to grasp what had just happened.

"She never was the romantic type." Yannick tried to comfort him. "Listen, I know that you feel for her, and it might be that she feels the same..."

"She's never given a hint, never an inkling of such a thing..." Muda answered.

"She likes to keep her thoughts close. I cannot advise you here, only warn you. If you reject her, she will find another, and those many benefits she spoke of may no longer be yours."

Muda sat down in a nearby chair, and stared at the floor. After a few minutes Yannick left him alone with his thoughts.

Yaros, Gloria

Gloria sat down and picked up a couple of her favorite rocks. She stared at them for a moment, then tossed them to the ground. A mutt in Yaloran would soon father a pup that would piss on Debra's carriage. A shard was about to be found. She would have chicken for dinner. Trivial matters.

A wave of dust covered the rocks before she could gather them up for another throw.

"I am in need of your guidance, witch." Ibalize said to her.

"Such a sweet talker. I bet all the demi-goddesses swoon when you walk into a tear."

Ibalize stared down at her.

"And what would you like to know this time? Let me guess, who's got the biggest..."

"I do not have time for your mockery." Ibalize spat.

"No doubts there." She replied.

He stepped forward, his shadow engulfing her. "What do you mean by that?" He asked.

"Your brother isn't with you this time." Gloria said.

"He had pressing matters to attend to. The boy, I have found him. He holds one of the shards, but I do not have the power to kill him. My army diminishes with each battle and I...have been weakened."

"Feeling a bit shaky, are you? What's god you down? Get it?"

"Enough! Tell me what I need to do next, or I will kill you here and now."

"Kill me? You have power, Ibalize, but the goddess has laid her protections on me. I much doubt you could even scratch me."

Ibalize took another step, he was now so close that Gloria had to bend her neck to look up at him. He placed his hand beside her head, and stroked her hair. He raised his hand and struck her down.

Gloria stared up at him from the ground. "Tickles." She said.

Ibalize drew close again, then reached into a small bag at his waist, and pulled out two pieces of glowing blue metal. Gloria gasped.

"You see, prophetess, you do not know everything. With these, I can break even the mightiest of wards."

Gloria stared at them. She had not known they were in his possession. For all her sight, for all her gifts, she was powerless.

"Your brother is in danger. You must save him." She said, her voice wavering.

Ibalize stared hard for a moment, then turned around and took wing. Gloria breathed a sigh of relief. He had two shards. Each was different, but two might be enough to kill her... A chicken ran in front of her.

Gloria looked down, and dusted off the rocks, then stared at them for a moment.

"Yaros, you sly thing." She mumbled to herself, and chased after her dinner.

Alkorn, Ibalize, Yaros

The gryphons did follow, as Erik had predicted. They flew around the army acting as scouts from the air. Occasionally a group of them would gather, and attack some unseen prey. Scouts sometimes stumbled upon absolute bloodbaths, prey scattered across the earth, but the Gryphons never had a speck of blood on them. Never a speck of blood on them. The soldiers often whispered prayers to the goddess that it stay that way.

Eventually, the mages told Alkorn that they had almost arrived. He had the soldiers break camp, knowing that a few hours rest would benefit them more than rushing to limit enemy preparations. They were allowed no alcohol, nor were they allowed to gorge themselves to sluggishness, but the best foods they had brought were served. Fine beefs and fruits, Sikeran and Yaloran delicacies. It would be the last meal for many of them, and a last meal should always be memorable.

When they were rested and fed, they packed up camp and marched.

The enemy had positioned themselves against the side of a mountain. They had cut down a portion of the forest to for their defenses, and then tried to burn back even further. Fortunately for the Yaloran army the enemy had burned too quickly in their haste, and the fired had not spread.

The enemy had dug small trenches, and lined them with hastily-made wooden spikes covered in some sort of black sludge. The mages would be able to get rid of those easily, enough. Behind this their soldiers were ordered unimaginatively, but effectively, with the bigger, meaner looking units in front, lancers behind and archers behind them. The gigantic lizard that the first scout had spoken of was nowhere in sight, but Alkorn was glad that the gryphons were nearby just in case.

Alkorn could not tell who led the enemy army, no creature stood above them ordering commands, and he could not see any line of command. This was for the best, targeting generals was often more trouble than it was worth. Soldiers would often attack blindly, desperate for glory, and find themselves struck down from all sides.

Alkorn had once been one of those eager soldiers, but time and trial had dulled his passion for glory. Now, though the realm had gifted him with a strength that he had not known for decades, he would not be in the thick of the battle. He lamented this fact only a small amount.

It was time. Alkorn signaled the advance. The lancers marched first, separating themselves from the archers and mages. Once they had separated enough to ensure archer safety from incoming infantry, they archers moved forward, followed by mages. Knights stood on the outer edges of the troops, ready to move quickly if any section needed support.

The enemy army noticed their start, and prepared themselves. When the lancers reached one hundred paces they slowed. Suddenly, the earth behind them began to rumble. The lancers paused for a moment, but knew that stopping to turn would be suicide, and so they continued, leaving the archers to fend for themselves.

Decaying hands shot up from the ground. They grasped at the earth and pulled, revealing rusted armor and dead grins. Within moments a mass of undead warriors was shambling forward.

The archers stopped, petrified. A few notched arrows and loosed, but the monstrosities they struck would not even stumble.

The mages were not afraid. Their faces grew dark, their eyes became dark pits, and their skin turned gray and hollow. They rose into the air, dark waves of power pushing them from the earth. They moved as one, raising their arms into the air. Every gesture was uniform, as if they were puppets on the same string.

The mages unleashed their magic. A wave passed over the archers, and nausea replaced their fear. Most vomited. In front of them the undead compressed, their rotting flesh falling in upon itself, twisting and shrinking with the sound of cracking bone and shrieking armor.

When it was done, the remains fell like stones to the ground. The lancers had not noticed and their advance remained steady. The archers looked back at the mages, now once again on the ground, and began to march.

They managed to release three volleys before the lancers struck, and then the rest was lost in chaos.

Alkorn had planned for the mages to make an initial attack then spend the rest of the battle reinforcing and healing, but disposing of the undead had made that impossible.

The battle proceeded, Yaloran troops acting defensively in their attacks. The archers made small targeted attacks and acted as bait to draw out the enemy for the knights.

As the battle continued the knights began to change. With each strike they too grew darker. Alkorn could think of no better word. They no longer looked human, and blackness trailed after them.

It was then that he realized that the same was happening to Erik.

"It has happened to everyone, my lord. Everyone except you." Alkorn ordered a soldier to bring a mirror. When the soldier returned, Alkorn hesitated. He felt different, somehow, but he did not know what to expect. Finally, he looked at himself and saw light. He was consumed by it, pouring from every part of his body.

"What is happening to us?" As he spoke, for the first time he heard the new ring of his voice.

"This world craves balance." Erik said simply.

Then the battlefield erupted in fire. Alkorn looked up, and saw the great lizard breathing death upon enemy and ally. Screams could barely be heard through the roaring of the flame.

The gryphons took flight. They swooped in, cawing in rage towards the giant beast. At first, it did not notice them, but the cries drew its attention. They spread themselves out avoid the fire, but the lizard was fast. It spewed flame through the air, killing half the gryphons within second. One managed to latch onto the lizard's back, and began to tear at its wings. It shook the gryphon loose, but this left its long neck open to attack by another gryphon, which latched on and drove its claws in deep.

One of the enemy mages shot a wave of energy at the gryphon, causing it to spasm, and fall to the earth. It landed amongst a group of cow-heads, who quickly chopped it to pieces.

The lizard was hurt, and more vicious because of it. It let loose another burst of flame that shot out of the hole in its throat, instantly cauterizing the wound. The gryphon that had earlier been shook off was attacked one of the lizard's wings, tearing a hole. The dragon turned its long neck to attack, but the gryphon was quick, and dodged away. The lizard pushed forward, lost in its fury, and three more gryphons attacked from behind. Each of them dug deep into the creature's chest with their beaks, and tore out large chunks of flesh. The lizard turned, and belched fire towards them, but was too hasty in its attack and only managed to catch the tips of their wings. The fourth gryphon attacked again, but was slow, and the lizard bit it in half and screamed its victory. The three gryphons took advantage and committed to their final attack, each attacking a different spot. The force ripped the lizard's long neck away from its body. It fell to the earth, and crush the cluster of warriors battling below it. As those that were pinned under it tried to scramble their way out the creature's corpse burst into flame.

Alkorn watched the events with a cold horror. He had watch soldiers die before. Tens of thousands. But he had never seen a creature like that, never seen something so capable of dealing death. If their winged allies had not helped the battle would be over.

"General," Erik interrupted his thinking, "It seems that the most powerful of the enemy troops have been concentrated at a single point. There is an entrance behind them. It is well hidden, but the mages have managed to unweave a few spells with their remaining strength. We have begun to drive a wedge and should have access soon."

"Any clue what lies within?" Alkorn asked.

"We expect it is what the mages have been sensing, but no idea beyond that. It is probable that whatever is in there has prepared some very dangerous surprises. Also... the mages claim that the essence is changing."

Alkorn nodded, then began to check his armor. "How long until we breach?"

"You should probably head down now, general."

* * *

Alkorn met the enemy only once in his journey to the hidden entrance, when a cow-head was thrown into the air and over their thin line of defenses. The nearby guards turned to slay the creature, but Alkorn had already finished the job.

When they reached the tiny entrance chaos still raged behind them, but unless more surprises appeared it was obvious that the Yaloran forces would be victorious. Alkorn left Erik to oversee the enemy's final death rattles, and took his closest guards into the mountain.

They were forced to travel single-file, knights at the front and rear, lancers next to them, mages next and the Alkorn in the middle. The tunnel itself was smooth as tempered glass. The mages had created small balls of fire before they entered, but soon discovered that Alkorn's new shimmering light reflected off the stone, giving them all the sight they needed. They walked for what felt like a bell until the tunnel finally widened. Along the way they met a few magical traps, but it was nothing that the mages could not handle, and they lost no soldiers.

Eventually, the tunnel widened, and they traveled in pairs. They met with a group of cow-heads, but ambush was impossible, and Alkorn's soldiers dispatched them easily. Soon afterward the path expanded into a great chamber that towered even beyond Alkorn's light. The mages made use of their fire again, launching waves out into the darkness, but it faded away before striking anything.

After a short discussion they decided to walk along the outer edge. They left behind a ward to orient themselves, then started to march. They walked for what could have been days before they returned to the ward. The chamber was circular, and had only one entrance. There was only one direction left to go: inwards.

They began to walk, the mages dropping small balls of light every few hundred steps to keep them going straight. They had placed well over a hundred by the time the mages began to tire, and so they stopped to rest. The battle outside had no doubt long since finished, but Alkorn had left strict orders for no one else to enter. Erik would wait as long as he thought appropriate, and then if they still had not returned he would take the army back to their world, and hope that the time-shift had not left their world in ruins.

When the mages felt strong enough they packed up and continued on. The ground began to gradually slant downwards. The slant became more prominent until they were doing more climbing than walking. They tried to dig into the ground to make small footholds, but it was too hard, and instead they were forced to scamper along, supporting each other and relying on the mages.

As gradually as it had begun, it stopped. They continued forward and soon afterward they saw a shining blue light.

The soldiers thought they were hallucinating, but Alkorn could feel the light calling to him. They drew their weapons, and moved forward until they saw the enemy.

A lone warrior stood amongst a pile of corpses. He had his back turned towards the Yaloran, and was oblivious to everything but the light in front of him. Alkorn called out.

The tall, bright creature ignored him at first, and so he called out again and it turned towards him.

"A mortal... You are the one that has defeated my army, yes?" The creature looks almost excited. "I am known by my brethren as Yaros."

* * *

As soon as he passed through the tear, Ibalize sensed the trail his brother had left. He was not burdened by an army, and so traveled with what mortals would consider suicidal haste. As he went, he saw the destruction that Yaros' soldiers had left and found himself feeling amused. Even his holier-than-the-goddess brother could not control his army completely.

Ibalize, too, sensed the shard, and sensed his brother near it. He wondered if this is where the danger to his brother lay.

He soon saw the smoke of a war camp rising into the air, and knew that he had arrived. It was almost too late before he realized it was not his brother's army who controlled the fires. He felt his rage rising, but calmed himself, realizing that even he could not defeat this army in this place. Instead, he reached out his senses to see if his brother had left him any clues. Ibalize knew he could always count on his brother to have a back way out. In just a few moments he sensed it, a small gateway that traveled through the edifice, deep into its bowels. There was some danger in entering, he would likely have to defend himself on the other side, but he trusted his brother's instincts. He passed through.

"What are you doing here?" Alkorn asked.

"I expect I am here for the same reason as yourself." Yaros gestured to the blue light. "This."

"Do you know how many of my soldiers have died outside?" Alkorn continued, cold and calm.

"Unfortunate, that...but I don't recall forcing you to come. Nor to follow my army. Nor to attack us. Also, I believe you army fared much better than my own."

Alkorn looked sideways at his mages and warriors. They had changed so much during their time here. Physically their bodies how morphed, becoming stronger, and darker. Mentally as well. Where once they used to laugh at camp, now they thought only of battle.

"Perhaps death was a blessing." He said finally. "This place has poisoned us."

Yaros nodded. "Then go home, and leave this to me."

"What is it?" Alkorn asked.

"A weapon." Yaros said, and then he attacked.

Ibalize exited the portal and watched Yaros crush the throats of two soldiers, then barrel over another who shined. He went for the mages, but they released their spells, engulfing the charging god in flame and ice. Ibalize watched as Yaros flinched with pain, then saw him fall to the ground. Ibalize hid in the darkness. Yaros tried to rise, but the mages cast spells to pin him down.

"What kind of weapon?!" Ibalize heard one of the humans scream. His brother grimaced with pain.

"A weapon to crush worms like you."

The glowing man struck Yaros, then turned towards the blue light.

"If it is a weapon, then I will use it." He thrust his hand inwards, grimacing through his fury. The light seemed to collapse upon itself, folding inwards towards his hand and growing in intensity. The man's face turned from a grimace to a strange mask of horror and pleasure.

The light began to slow and a shape began to form. Jagged, twice the length of the man's had.

The light finally disappeared with a burst of energy, and all that was left was a shard. The energy hit Ibalize hard, bringing him from the shadows. Yaros saw Ibalize and relief flooded his face, but when the darkness returned and Ibalize did not move, his relief turned to horror. He struggled to rise, struggled to call out to his brother, but the mages would not let him.

The shining man, who had fallen to his knees, now got up and walked towards Yaros.

"Let us see what this weapon can do." He said, then thrust it into Yaros' chest.

Yaros' screamed, and Ibalize watched as energy rose up through the shard into the shining man. The light grew brighter and brighter, until Yaros collapsed.

Ibalize knew how he would win his victory. With a final look towards his brother he passed through the portal.

Yannick, Muda

Muda slashed down, through the cow-head's shoulder and deep into its chest, then quickly anchored his foot against the creature's stomach and pulled the weapon out. As he pulled he pivoted his foot, and twisted the sword 180 degrees, thrusting it through another enemy's heart.

The soldiers around him quickly finished off the surrounding enemies, then regrouped into a wedge and charged into the next batch. They pushed the group of cow-heads apart, separating them from the protection of their allies. A soldier to Muda's right was struck in the head by a projectile, and fell to the ground. The soldiers moved as one unit to surround their fallen ally, then one shot a fire arrow straight up into the air. Within seconds a soft light surrounded the injured soldier, healing from a mage half on the other side of the battle. He stood up, and quickly rejoined the fight.

After a short time Muda withdrew a small stone from his pocket. He spoke and the item amplified his voice.

"Hold." He said. Suddenly the ravages of war stilled, and the cow-heads simply were no more.

"Report." He spoke again.

Within a few moments every soldier on the battlefield was standing in file. There was a quick head-count, and then half a dozen captains approached Muda.

In the end, there were six soldiers who would need at least a day's rest for intensive healing, but no casualties. This was a vast improvement on their first training session, which had happened a few months before. Many of the soldiers had been paralyzed with fear at seeing the illusory the cow-heads, and had been struck down. They'd lost six soldiers that day.

Sophia had been furious, and threatened to take away the mages, but Muda had calmed her when he explained what he was doing.

The illusions were terrible fighters, but they were effective for scare-tactics, and for tiring out enemy forces. Muda even had them working on creatures much more vicious than cow-heads. The traditional fire and ice attacks still had their place, but Muda was interested in seeing what else the mages could do.

Muda dismissed the captains, and then the army, and headed back to his own tent. He had a dozen scholars recording every moment of the battle, as well as sketchists who would draw key moments. Muda would go over these reports along with his officers, and adjust their tactics accordingly.

When he entered his tent Yannick was already waiting for him.

"Hello, Muda."

Muda did not like when Yannick came unannounced but he was a general could not have his soldiers believing he was unwilling to listen to advice.

"Yannick. I am surprised to see you here."

Yannick smiled softly. "You did well today. I will have to plan something a little bit more complicated next time."

Muda grimaced at the compliment. Muda wanted as little to do with Yannick is possible, and so Sophia had suggested that Yannick be more subtle in his teachings. Muda had not realized until just now that the mages had not been planning the illusory army's attacks on their own, as he had instructed them.

"The refugees have learned much in the short time they have been here. They no longer cower at the sight of a cow-head like they once did." Muda said.

"You have changed a lot, as well. You are no longer the scared child I remember."

"And you are still an object to be pitied. Have you come for any other reason than to gloat?"

"To advise, as is my duty." Yannick replied. "There are some things that you either cannot, or do not want to learn. I am here to discover which it is."

Muda bit his tongue and stilled his rage. His dislike of the man had not lessened, but he knew Yannick's tactical advice was sound.

"Then speak your mind. I am busy." He said.

Yannick took a few deep breaths, calming himself. "You lack patience." He said when he was ready. "The illusions are weak. They are sloppy. Real enemies will not coddle you."

He moved to the table where there was a mock-up of the surrounding valleys. Muda followed after him silently.

"Your army was here, at the base of this valley. The enemy was to the east, between the river and the mountainside." Muda watched the table as Yannick spoke. "You moved forward, forcing the enemy to higher ground. You had the advantage, but were caught up in your bloodlust. Had I wanted, I could have ordered the mages to block off the water, and drowned your entire army. The enemy would have been able to force your soldiers back from the high ground long enough. They would have lost a lot of soldiers, yes, but your entire army would be dead."

Muda grimaced, then looked ashamed.

"What should you have done?" Yannick asked.

"I should have sent a small force to face the cow-heads." Muda decided. "They could have drawn them out. Then we could have faced them here, where we would have had the high ground."

"And if they could not be tricked into being pursued?"

Muda thought for a moment. Using the same tactic of raising the waters would not have worked, there was plenty of room for the enemy to escape. The terrain was too rugged to send soldiers around to flank...

"The Sikeran way." Muda replied finally. "It is not the noblest method, but...Mounted archers. The cow-heads lack proper shields. The horses can move fast enough to avoid the waters if need be, and the charge could take a few dozen soldiers at a time. It would be slow, but would work eventually."

"Excellent." Yannick replied, grinning.

Muda saw the smile and allowed himself a small one as well. He was about to say something when a soldier entered the tent. Muda turned to him, and the soldier saluted.

"My lord, the lady Sophia has asked for your presence in the city. Master Yannick, you are also needed."

Muda and Yannick shared a look, then Muda dismissed the messenger.

"She has not once asked for me to join her in the city." Muda said.

Yannick looked at him and saw the shadow of pain and longing in that statement.

"She has now." He said softly. "I have not taught you much of women, but I tell you now it is not wise to make them wait."

Muda laughed. "That lesson Sophia herself has taught me a hundred times."

The two men left the tent.

* * *

They arrived a few hours later. Sophia had chosen to meet them in a small grotto close to her home. The townspeople had respectfully left it to her.

Yannick noticed Muda grow more anxious as they approached the city. He rode higher on his horse and fidgeted with the reins as they rode. But from the moment he saw Sophia, his anxiety disappeared.

The Sikeran were not overly formal people, and Muda had fallen into their habits. He approached Sophia with no more than a smile, which was of course not returned. But this did not seem to bother him. Muda walked slightly faster, reaching Sophia before Yannick.

"You look well." Muda said, stopping before her.

"My Lady." Yannick said when he arrived.

Sophia looked them both over.

"I did not expect you to arrive together."

"War meetings." Muda replied. "You were right about the refugees. They fight well enough, and are learning quickly."

"I am pleased to hear it," she responded, "But we have other matters to discuss. A messenger has come from Yaloran. They have requested that I visit. They claim they would like to negotiate an alliance."

"This is not overly strange, lady," Yannick said, "Your own mother visited, I believe, when she first came to power."

"So I've heard. We do not have time, however, for court pleasantries. No formal alliance has ever existed between Yaloran and Sikeran, as you know. We are small, but our armies have been effective in defending our borders thus far, and Sikeran has little of value to be worth conquering or establishing serious trade."

"They are growing weaker," Muda said, "They also know what comes, and they are not prepared."

"Possibly," replied Sophia, "But I expect it is more complicated than that. Yaloran's army is the most powerful in the known world. Unless they have learned of our recent efforts, there is no reason to believe that we would be of much help."

"Perhaps," Yannick ventured, "What they crave is information. Debra has grown weak over the years, and paranoid. Perhaps she fears us without knowing why."

"Another possibility," said Sophia, "But we must know for sure. I cannot go myself, and so I must send another in my stead, with apologies."

As she spoke the words, her gaze shifted to Yannick.

"It must be you."

Yannick did not react, processing her statement. Finally, he answered. "I am a traitor and an exile, my lady. I do not think that a wise approach."

"None of my people know the city, or the culture. None of my people have friends in Yaloran."

"It has been more than a decade since I left, lady. Any friends I once have would no longer trust me, if they even recognized me. Not to mention the fact Debra would kill me the moment I passed through the gates."

"It is a possibility." Sophia answered coldly. "But I do not think it likely. You will be under my standards, and will be afforded all the protections that my people have."

"I do not think that will matter...Debra was never one to conform to tradition when it interfered with what she wanted."

Muda, who had been silently shocked the entire time, finally spoke up. "I will go. She will not recognize me."

Yannick looked at him with pity, but before he could speak Sophia interjected. "That is impossible, and you know it. We barely have an army as it is, and their general wandering off on missions of peace would demoralize them beyond repair."

"My soldiers are not as weak as that, and as much as I hate to say it, Yannick still far surpasses me as a tactician." He looked glum as he spoke the words.

"You still do not understand what it is to be a leader." Sophia explained. "Your abilities as a tactician matter, but it is your presence that fuels their passion. It is watching you in battle, hearing you speak. You are needed here."

She turned to Yannick before Muda could argue. "You will leave in ten days' time. I have prepared a special guard for you, as well as a gift for the people of Yaloran. You will be gone for quite a while, I suggest you prepare."

Yannick nodded.

"It is a soldier's lot to die." He said simply, then turned and left.

After he had gone, Muda turned to Sophia.

"You are so cold, sometimes." He said.

"I am what I must be." She softened for a moment. "It is good to see you. It has been difficult, here..."

Muda noticed that Sophia looked very tired.

"I hope you can stay for a couple of days. Yannick will likely have much to explain to you before he goes." She said, and then she, too, turned and walked away.

Gloria, Diablos, Solaris

Gloria hopped over then path. Then she hopped back. Forward. Back. Hop, hop, hop, hop.

"Would you please stop doing that?" Solaris said.

Gloria made the final hop into the tear, then bowed deeply.

"Apologies Lady Sun. It's just such a strange sensation. Infinitely far, infinitely close. Like dinner time."

"Come, my love, the insane prophetess has arrived to taunt us." Solaris said to her husband.

Diablos rose and looked at Gloria.

"You look well. I had thought you would be joining us sooner. The goddess really did offer her protections." He said.

Gloria curtsied.

"You seem more...stable than last time we met." Solaris observed.

"No time to be crazy. We're busy busy. Your boys have been bad bad bad. They've been hurt hurt hurt hurting...four times is no fun... hurting people."

"We are aware." Diablos said.

"Oh no," replied Gloria, "Here is a safe place. If Yaros gets his way...kaboom!"

"Ibalize, you mean. I suppose that is why Yaros placed us here. I expect Ibalize would not care much if his parents were destroyed, but Yaros has always had a tender heart." Diablos said.

"You have the strangest view of our sons." Solaris replied musingly. "Well, then, semi-sane prophetess, why have you come?"

"No time for safety. Time for risks. Time for adventure!"

"You need the shard." They replied at the same time.

"Need, no, want yes. No shard is good. One shard is great. One shard for seven shards, then sweet sweet peace. No shard means small kablamy."

"We may have taxed her a bit too much." Solaris told her husband.

"Perhaps, but the goddess has put her trust in Gloria. And she's never been wrong before." Diablos responded.

"She's never predicted anything more thrilling than a thunderstorm before." Solaris retorted.

"That was a good storm. Lots of lightning. Very pretty."

They stared at Gloria again.

"What proof do we have that you will succeed?" Diablos asked.

Gloria smiled, then started to dance towards Diablos, chanting "Get the shard, stop the boys" over and over again.

After a few moments, Solaris grew tired of this.

"Go back to your hopping, young one." She told Gloria. "My wife and I will talk."

Gloria danced away from Diablos, and back towards the path.

Solaris turned towards her husband.

"The goddess tests us." He said to her.

"Tests our patience, perhaps," she said coolly, "If we were to do this..."

"They chose their paths. We warned them. We pleaded. We have done everything we could to prevent this, but they would not listen. The other gods will not come to our aid, and so... so we must deal with our children. As we should have done long ago." Diablos said.

"Our siblings will not intervene, but if the opportunity presents itself they will judge."

"Then we will have to temper their judgments. Come, wife, what other choice do we have? Ibalize will find the shard eventually, and I do not know what he will do with it."

Solaris drew close to her husband, and he wrapped his arms around her. They stood there while Gloria, who had stopped her hopping, stared at them. Finally, Solaris softly pushed her husband away, and turned to the prophetess.

"We will help you," she said, "We will show you how to find the shard. Show us how to leave this place."

A childish grin overtook Gloria's face. "It's as simple as hop, hop, hop, hop."

Muda, Sophie, Yannick

Yannick and Muda stood together, staring down at the crowds that had gathered below them. They were divided into groups of twenty to fifty people, each representing a family. Each family had constructed a mobile shrine, which was carried on the shoulders of their strongest men and women. The shrines bore their family sigils - boars, bears, poppies, princes, origins, and oaths. They had made them to honor the union between their champion and their leader. When the moon was at its highest point they would gather outside the city walls, and the shrines would be ignited. It was said that many spirits gathered for the union, and they would choose their favorite, causing it to burn bright. That family would have a generation of good fortune, and be favored by the newlyweds.

Of course, most people would be far too drunk to accurately remember who's was the brightest by the end of the evening. Muda was glad Yannick was not amongst them.

"The ceremony is extremely specific." Yannick advised. "Do you remember the steps?"

"I am about to marry the woman who I have loved since I was a child, and all for her political advantage. I have much more pressing concerns than the details of a ceremony I've seen a dozen times." Muda spat back.

Yannick felt his anger rise but calmed himself. The boy was not wrong. But he was also not right.

"Let me tell you a secret that most cannot figure out for themselves. The ceremony exists to distract anxious men for the awkwardness of their situation. Also, if you fail in one single step they will banish you with nothing more than your underclothes." Yannick informed him.

Muda gawked, and Yannick smiled. "Not really." He continued. "But they are a ceremonious people. Getting it right will honor them, and they will honor you in turn. Now recite the steps to me, please."

Muda took a deep breath. "She will already be waiting for me at the top of the stairs. I am to walk halfway, then draw my sword. I will stand battle-ready, but lower my head. She will walk down to me, then draw her own weapon. We will cross blades three times, then step back, and bow our heads. Each will then offer their weapon to the other. We will cross blades three more times, then trade weapons again in the same manner. We will bow to one another, then I will grasp her right hand with my left and we will climb the stairs together. The priest will bless us, we will bow to each other again, and then I can finally go back to eating meat."

Yannick chuckled. "It's only been a month, Muda. A month of vegetables and beans is good for a young man every once in a while."

Muda shook his head. "She does not love me."

Yannick was silent for a moment. "I was very bad to you for many years." He said finally. Muda looked up, surprised and slightly angered.

"Let me continue," Yannick asked softly. Muda said nothing, and so Yannick went on. "I thought you a coward, and gave up on you. I drowned my shame in drink, and left you to fend for yourself."

Muda tensed but continued his silence. Yannick could not help but be impressed. "For your successes. For your education, and skill with a blade, I have Sophia to thank. It was her that made sure you had lessons, and it was her that made sure I was sober for at least a few hours a day so that I could train you with the blade and books. Even then I saw your skill, but I was as poisoned by the poison as you."

"I abandoned my duty, and it nearly destroyed me. Sophia is so much stronger than I ever was. As are you."

Muda softened. He had never seen anything like this from Yannick before.

"Love is not always what the stories would tell us. It is not always heroes and rides into the sunset. It is hard and complicated. It is painful. It is riddled with mistakes, and selfishness, and doubt. But it can survive all of this because it is what binds us."

"She may not love you like a brainless farm girl, but she cares for you at least as much as every other one of her people. And she would do anything for her people."

A thunderous cheer rose up from the crowd. Sophia had begun her ascent.

* * *

Muda did his part perfectly. Sophia looked as if she might have trouble holding Muda's sword, but she whispered a spell to strengthen herself. She looked beautiful, as she always did, but cold. Few had illusions about her romantic nature, but the Sikeran's were a dutiful people, and she was doing her duty to them. And they were all drunk, so it was hard to care about fairytales.

Yannick spent the rest of the afternoon and evening on the fringes. He avoided the most rigorous of the drunks, wandering through the crowds, stopping to greet a few old friends, but mostly soaking in Sikeran's traditions. He had been to many weddings in the past, but this was the first one he truly felt he belonged.

When the moon was almost at its apex, he went with the others into the fields outside the city. He watched as each family mixed the burning powders, then ceremoniously scattered them on their shrine. He watched as they drunkenly smashed flint and stone together, and smiled when he heard the gasps of children. When they shrines had all been lit, were blaring in the darkness of the night Yannick found his horse and rode to meet his honor guard. He was on his way home.

Gloria, Yaros

"WHERE ARE THEY?" Ibalize screamed as he slammed Gloria to the ground.

She looked up slowly and cocked her head sideways, then barked at him. Ibalize raised his gargantuan hand and slapped her across the cave. He moved towards her again, then picked her up by the leg and slammed her down again and again.

"Where are my parents? Where is the shard they hid?"

Gloria giggled. "Tickles..." she said.

He picked her up and slammed her down again.

She pushed herself up, then looked at him, and yawned. "That won't work, and you know it. Now you're just wasting time."

Ibalize stopped and stared at her. "Do you tire of immortality, bitch? Are you so desperate for death that you would cross me?"

"Death is the one thing I hope to avoid. It is the one thing that the goddess has tasked me to do, I will honor her."

Ibalize began to laugh. "The goddess has abandoned you, little prophetess. You still live one reason. Despite your little betrayal, you are still of use to me."

Gloria giggled again. "You think I will tell you where the shard is? Silly silly."

"My parent's shard...Yes, that is quite the nuisance. But I will find it eventually. I am in no rush, and the shard is now in play. One way or another it will be drawn to me. No, you will serve another purpose now. Since your words can no longer be trusted, you will help me test a theory of mine."

Ibalize withdrew his shard, and Gloria whimpered.

"Yes," he spoke, "I thought you might feel that way. It is even more glorious than you could have imagined. I just saw my brother die. I saw him killed with a shard. Do you know what else I saw? His power, his very essence was stolen from him."

Ibalize dragged the shard along her face, leaving a crisp red mark. "With this I can do more than kill you. I can steal your strength. I can steal the gifts the goddess gave you."

Gloria's eyes went wide with terror, and she began to struggle, but Ibalize held her tight.

"Your own lies are your undoing, little prophetess. Now I have the means to become more powerful than you could imagine."

"You will be stopped." She spat.

He jammed the shard into her stomach and she screamed a hollow, echoless scream. Slowly, energy twisted around the shard, crawling up Ibalize's arm, and dissipating into his chest.

When she finished screaming he threw her motionless body against the wall, then turned around and flew away.

Debra, Yannick

"Lady Debra, the representative from Sikeran will arrive shortly."

Debra had recently begun sitting in the king's throne, and looked down at him from it. She thought he sounded afraid. What did he have to be afraid about? She would get her spies to look into his recent doings.

"There is a problem, my lady. The representative...he is one of the former king's advisors."

Why is he only sharing this information now? What does he gain from holding onto it for so long?

"It is the lord Yannick."

Debra scowled and threw the glass she was holding at the man. For ten years she had searched for him, and now he was going to walk up to her front gate. Did he think that he was protected? Did he think she would not find out where the boy-king was!

"He represents a powerful ally. I would go down to meet him." She said as she stood. She hurried to her chambers. Much to the servant's relief she had not yet had the courage to move into the king's own rooms.

She had the servants shine her armor while she took a bath. She made sure to lock the door while she cleaned herself, and carried her sword into the room so she could ready it herself.

After the servants went to inspect her armor, never once putting her sword down. She checked the armor for poison needles, razors, spells and the like, and then when she was finally satisfied she put it back on.

Next, she went down to the barracks. They had grown empty as of late. Too many traitors to be dealt with, but they made due. She chose twenty soldiers that she thought she might be able to trust. When they were ready they headed down to the main gates to await the traitor.

Yannick did not expect Debra to be the first person he saw in the city, but he took it in stride. He dismounted, then withdrew his sword and lay it on the ground before her as he kneeled. She stared down at him from her horse, looking almost as noble as he remembered her. Finally, after a few moments of silence, she smiled graciously.

"It is good to see you old friend!" She said. "I did not expect we would meet again, and certainly not under these circumstances! The Sikeran are very lucky to have you representing them." She dismounted as well, and then bent down to pick up his sword. She offered it back to him hilt first.

"You honor me with such trust." Yannick said.

She laughed softly. "It is not hard to trust that such a man as you does not want to die." She motioned him to stand up.

"Come, ride alongside me," she said, "I would hear your tale."

Yannick bowed, then backed away from Debra as she turned around, conscious to never turn his back. He mounted his horse and pulled up alongside her.

"How was your journey?" She asked him. "I hope you did not encounter any trouble."

"It was pleasant, my lady. Sikeran has little trouble with bandits, and Yaloran's roads seem to be safer than I've ever seen them. Though there were refugees at every step." Yannick replied.

"They have become a problem, in truth. But we have prepared ourselves for such emergencies, and while there is rationing the people persevere."

Yannick looked around at the people on the streets. They looked happy and healthy enough. But there were no beggars, and what was for sale was not being sold, simply sitting on carts.

"You've been gone for a long time." Debra continued. "I would know why you left. And how."

Yannick paused. He knew this question had been coming, but he did not know how best to answer it. "It was a...complicated time, my lady. The king had died, and with his final breath he asked me to protect his son. I did not know who I could trust, and so I chose to trust no one."

"Except for the Sikeran." Yannick could hear Debra's voice starting to crack.

"After a time, yes." "I have spent a significant amount of time and resources searching for the boy." She said. "His throne awaits him." She said, almost idly.

"I do not believe he has any interest in a throne. He craves nothing more than to meet enemies on the battlefield, and fight for the glory of his people."

"The Yaloran are his people." Debra said coldly.

"Once, perhaps," Yannick replied, "But time and trial have changed his outlook. He would not want to take command when you are doing such a fine job."

Debra seemed to consider this for a moment, then replied, "I have always only been holding his place. And in truth, it has begun to tire me. But we will not change his mind tonight." She laughed gaily.

Yannick smiled, relieved as the tension lightened.

"I will have my officers speak more thoroughly with you later on this. Perhaps they will be able to give more insight. For now, let us speak of other things." Debra said, laying a hand on his arm for just a moment.

They spoke of trivialities for the rest of the journey. How the city had changed, family members and cultural differences. Finally, they arrived at the castle, and entered its protective walls, and were met by a troop of archers and lancers.

The Sikeran drew their weapons.

"This is unnecessary, my lady." Yannick said.

"You are a potential traitor and kidnapper." Debra replied. "Tell your soldiers to disarm, and they will be spared while you yourself await trial."

Yannick did as she asked.

"Very well." She said. "Take them to the barracks, and lock them in. Each of them is to be questioned. You may take Yannick up to the guest chambers in the eastern wing. He is to be given anything he requires."

Yannick sighed with relief. It was a significant risk he took, asking his soldiers to abandon their weapons. Being imprisoned was also within his expectations. Now, the negotiations would truly begin.

Alkorn, Ibalize

Alkorn and his soldiers prepared the bodies of their allies after the battle. They were cremated, and their ashes were collected to be given to family or friends, should the opportunity present itself. They made a small meal, but none had the energy to eat. They tried to sleep but were too consumed by grief and curiosity about the shining blue shard that Alkorn held.

The others had tried to touch it, but it burned them, and so Alkorn was left alone to consider its power. And the power it had given Alkorn. He felt stronger than he ever had. Even the powers that this realm had bestowed upon him paled in comparison. He now spent most of his time staring at it, trying to discover its mysteries.

He began to experiment with it. He tried to carve off a small piece, which was impossible. He had exposed it to fire. He had scratched his own flesh to see if anything happened, but the shard remained silent.

Eventually, he decided to see what would happen if he once again brought it to the corpse of his enemy. He poked and prodded, much to his soldier's disgust, but nothing happened. He would leave the body alone for a time, then find himself returning to it, examining it once again, seeing if there was any life left. He felt compelled to try more extreme measures, as if he had no choice in the matter.

Alkorn sat down beside Yaros and began to concentrate. He began to think about the few moments he spent with the god.

From the corner of his eye, Alkorn saw Yaros stir, and so he concentrated hard, putting all of his energy into any tiny movement. He heard a gasp.

Yaros sat up suddenly and began to cough. The small wound caused by the shard sealed itself. The mages had him instantly.

"Yaros." Alkorn said softly.

"He abandoned me," the god replied, "My own brother left me to die." He chuckled softly.

"What do you mean?" Alkorn asked.

"My brother was here. When you struck me with the shard, he watched the whole thing happen. And he did nothing." Yaros struggled slightly.

"I have weakened." He said, finally.

"What are you?" Alkorn asked, "What are you talking about?"

Yaros smiled sadly. "Your kind call us gods, though none of us have the power of the goddess, or of the dark ones."

"Impossible." Alkorn looked stunned. "The gods exist, far away. They look down at us, but they never..."

"We do as we please, mortal. We have not walked your world for an age, that is true, but even gods get tired of watching. My brother, he..." Yaros stopped.

"He left you to die."

"He is the only reason I am here. The only reason I left my home, captured my parents. I never felt the need to kill....but he is my brother."

"Betrayal I can understand, at least." Alkorn responded. "If your brother does not protect you, then there is no reason for you to defend him. There are likely still pockets of soldiers fighting outside. Tell your army to stand down."

Yaros turned his eyes to look at Alkorn. "You truly do not understand... they will not surrender. If they are ever freed they will be hunted down. They will be dragged back to the war camps, and flayed alive, along with their families and loved ones. Oh, no, mortal. Every soldier out there will fight until their blood is spilled, and even then they will spill their own blood at your feet, in fear that Ibalize watches them."

Alkorn stood shocked. "But...why? What does he hope to gain from slaughtering his own soldiers?"

Yaros stared mockingly. "Gain? He wants nothing more than to ease his boredom. He needs nothing. He wants nothing. He kills because he can find no other task to amuse him."

"Then he needs this." Alkorn held up the shard and listened to it crackle for a moment. "Once he has conquered this world he will grow bored once again, won't he? With this, he can grow stronger."

Yaros laughed. "That side effect was entirely unexpected, actually. He likely has not even realized the shard's potential."

Alkorn turned to one of the mages. "Has he truly been weakened?"

The man's face was calm, he exerted almost no effort for his spell. "It seems that way my lord. Magic is about balance, and if you truly feel your own powers have increased we can assume that his must have diminished."

Alkorn looked at the shard again. "Do you think you can restrain him until we reach camp?"

"Yes, general. We can also set up a few wards which will do great harm if he attempts anything." The mage replied.

"Very well." Alkorn turned to the god. "Yaros, you are my prisoner. I hope that you do not have the same zeal for death as your own soldiers, but if you do we will do our best to accommodate you."

Alkorn turned to his own soldiers. "We have been here long enough. It is time for us to go."

Yaros smiled cruelly. "I made a gate which leads directly to the outside world. My brother made use of it, perhaps you would also like to as well?"

Alkorn shook his head. "I tire of your voice. Mage, silence him."

Yaros was not permitted to speak until they had returned to camp.

Debra, Yannick

Yannick spent several weeks in Yaloran. Every day he would wander the castle for a bell, escorted by ever-changing guards. He would visit his soldiers, who remained disarmed and segregated from the local troops, but were otherwise well taken care of. They were even allowed to practice their drills with blunted weapons, though the captain in charge had been smart enough to maintain military secrecy.

He spent a fair amount of time thinking about Muda. The boy had changed since his cleansing. He had a creativity that Yannick himself lacked. He was stronger, now, as well, and had Sophia to guide him. Yannick was no longer needed to protect the young man.

Yannick spent most of his time in his chamber trying to figure out what Debra really wanted. He had little contact with anyone but his guards, his soldiers, and Debra herself. Occasionally a clerk would come and ask him questions. He would give what information he deemed prudent, but his own questions were never answered. He was given books to read, but he had little taste for them. His eyesight had long gone, and reading was strenuous.

He wrote letters, and asked for them to be sent to Sikeran, but he was confident this did not happen.

So he sat, waited, and met with Debra when she was available. Debra would occasionally raise the subject of Sikeran, but always passingly. Whenever Yannick attempted to push the subject, speak of their alliance or the coming army, she would look irritated then change the subject. She would often ask about Muda, but Yannick was also evasive in this regard. He did not want her to know too much about the general.

It was obvious that she had no intent of giving up her power, but he had been telling the truth when he said Muda had no great aspirations for the crown. His protestations had no effect. He waited.

It happened soon after dusk. Debra had her own meal brought up, and they dined together. She wore a dress, instead of her customary armor, and was more jovial than usual. She smiled, and joked, and talked of the past. Yannick was immediately suspicious but played along, hoping it wasn't a sign of something dire. Finally, she broached the subject of Muda.

"So the princeling does not want to claim his throne?" She asked once again.

"My lady, I do not know how else I can reassure you of this fact. He is Sikeran, now. Yaloran has not been home to him for a decade, and even then it was a different place." Yannick replied.

Normally at this point Debra would start to tell him of the great progress that had been made while she had been in charge, but today she stopped speaking and began to devour her meal. Yannick sat in silence for a short while, watching her consume the food, barely taking time to breathe, then tried to pick the conversation once again.

"My lady," he said, "I would speak to you of the alliance with Sikeran. We must settle this as quickly as possible. Our own scouts warn that the enemy army is fast approaching."

She did not answer, but instead continued methodically working her way through her meal.

"We should position our armies close together." He continued. "Sikeran armor has no hope of matching Yaloran's. Your soldiers will act as the shield, and Sikeran's will strike where they are weakest, as they do in their own lands." He sensed she was getting worse and made sure not to refer to himself as one of the Sikeran. She continued to ignore him.

"We do not know their exact numbers, but we are confident if we work together we will win."

She had almost finished. Yannick waited for a moment, then tried another topic. "My soldiers are being well cared for. I would thank you for that."

She took her last bite, then drank the remainder of her wine in one mouthful. Yannick watched her, unsure what was about to come next. Finally, she smiled softly at him.

"I get very hungry when I am working." She said. "I sometimes forget to eat beforehand, and have to stop half-way through."

She stood up slowly, drawing in Yannick with the shape of her body. She leaned forward as she spoke.

"What happens here...It's going to hurt. I want you to know that I had never intended this. But I simply cannot allow the princeling to live. Even if it means harming you, old friend."

She called out softly and half a dozen guards rushed through the door. Yannick tried to resist, mostly for the sake of his pride, but he has unarmed, unarmored, and they were too many.

They tied rope around his hands and strung him up to the roof. The soldiers handled him carefully, they did not beat him, and they tied the rope only as tight as they had to. Yannick could sense their own fear.

Once he swung from the ceiling they stripped off his clothes. One of Debra's soldiers brought in a toolkit, then everyone but the Lady-Regent left the room.

"You have gotten fat, old man." She laughed as she drew open the kit. Inside lay a myriad of tools, each sharpened and immaculate.

"I will ask you again about the boy, and about the Sikeran army. I know that they hope to overthrow me, and I will discover their plan." She withdrew one of the knives and held it up in front of herself. She examined every edge, felt its balance and softly tested its blade against his skin. Yannick clenched his jaw as the knife slid across his arm.

"This is my sharpest knife." She told him. "I don't like to use it very often. Usually only early on in the interrogations. Too much blood for too little pain. I'll use it now, though. As a mercy to you."

She crossed to the fire that warmed the room, and held the knife above the flames.

"Of course, I can't have you bleeding to death, can I?" When the blade was red she began her work."

* * *

Despite her healthy meal beforehand, Debra still needed to pause partway through. It was well past the moon's peak before she grew bored. And a little worried that Yannick might die.

After she retired, a healer came and did what she could. Yannick slept through the entire thing.

He was not allowed wander the castle again, and Debra returned almost every day. Yannick resisted, at first. He spouted nonsense at first, then began to tell small truths. He sprinkled these confessions with lies, adding false tactics and making up numbers at whim. Occasionally he would slip up, and give real information, but he hoped Debra would not be able to discern between the two.

On the tenth day Debra did not appear. Yannick was certain that Debra was toying with him. He wanted to rest, but knew that he might not have another chance.

When Yannick had been a boy he had been given free rein to explore the castle. He did not enjoy battle as much as the other boys, and so while they were beating at each other with wooden swords he would explore.

It was during these adventures that he discovered the tunnels. He had been poking been in a seldom used part of the castle, and had heard a bird chirping from one of the chimneys. He set himself to climbing up the narrow passage, when his foot pressed against one of the stones and a doorway at the back of the fireplace opened. He instantly forgot the bird, and crawled through the new entrance.

He discovered almost immediately how dangerous the tunnels could be. He tripped over a thin wire, and had he not been so short, he would have lost a good portion of his head. He was much more careful after that.

The tunnels led to most of the rooms in the castle, and he would sometimes use them to spy on others. He had never been a gossip and did not want anyone else to discover his pathways, so he was always tight-lipped about what he discovered, though he relished in the knowledge. Being so young, he did not understand much of what he saw, and did not realize its significance until he was much older. By the time he was in his teens he had a very clear idea of who could and could not be trusted.

It was these tunnels that Yannick thought of most often during his days of torture, and now that Debra had not come, he made his way to the hidden switch that would open him to the hidden pathways. He prayed to the goddess that it had not discovered and sealed.

He found it in the back of the fireplace. He first tried to push the small stone inwards, but it would not budge. He nearly fell to the ground in despair, but instead retrieved a small spoon which had been left from one of his previous meals of broth, and began to carve away dirt and soot from the switch's edges. When he cleared away as much as he could, he tried again and this time, the block moved smoothly.

The back of the fire pit swung open, revealing a black hole. He would not be able to see, but he had traveled the darkness hundreds of times in the past.

He entered and closed the passage behind him. He moved slowly, making sure to check the ancient traps as he went. He had already decided that his best means of escape was the north tower. It bordered the water, and so there were usually few guards. He could scale the wall, drop into the water and try to swim to the nearby shore. From there he would be able to make his way towards the Sikeran forces.

He did not want to abandon his soldiers, but he saw no other choice. Their only chance was bringing the rest of the army to Yaloran, and disposing of Debra.

He reached the base of the tower and felt for the long stone ladder that would take him to the top. He almost fell twice as he ascended, but managed to catch himself both times, then prop against the wall to rest.

When he finally reached the top he rested again, then put his ear against the closed entrance. When he didn't hear anyone on the other side he breathed a sigh of relief and pulled the small latch to open the door. He peered through, and when he could see no one he opened it rest of the way and passed through.

"I wondered if you would have the courage," Debra said from beside him.

Yannick froze. He turned and saw her sitting on a chair in full armor with her sword across her lap, then looked towards the window. It was several hundred feet to the surface of the water, and he likely wouldn't survive the fall. The pathways behind him offered the same problems. He decided to edge his way to the window and see if a solution came to him.

As he moved towards it, Debra spoke again. "You told me about them, do you remember?" She sighed softly. "It was after that battle by the ruins of Cloud City, the one where you were stabbed in the shoulder. You clutched that cow-head's thorns and kneed him in the groin until he vomited blood." Debra laughed, her voice like a bell.

"We were drunk, you and I, and you were oh-so-clumsily trying to seduce me. You told me that you had seen me changing once, but you had turned away so as not to sully my honor. That was the first time we made love." She looked at him sadly.

"You told me all about the tunnels as we lay naked. You told me where to find the switches, and what kind of traps I might encounter." Then her face turned hard. "I've had ten years to study them. I put guards at all the other exits where you might try to make your escape, of course, but this is the one I thought you would use. It took longer than I expected. I thought you'd try to escape by the fourth night."

"Why let me use the tunnels, then? Why not just block it off and be done with it?" Yannick asked her.

"To prove a point. You cannot escape. You cannot win. All you can hope to do is spare yourself as much pain as possible while you help me kill that bastard child."

"Are so desperate to see Muda dead?" Yannick asked, trying to buy time.

"He should have died a decade ago!" She snapped at him. "If that idiot maid had not failed to administer the potion properly I would have had no challenge for the throne. But you had to stop her, and then spirit the boy away."

"He was our king's only child."

"Our king was a fool! Now he is dead, and I must finish his line."

Yannick saw then that she would break him. She would torture him, and eventually he would not be able to fight anymore. He would become her tool, and betray the boy he loved.

"I will not be used by you." Yannick told her.

"You have already lost, Sikeran." She spat the final word.

Yannick smiled sadly. "It hurts me more than anything you have done in the past months to see how far you have fallen. He will come for you, and when he does I will not be here to save you." He turned, and threw himself out the window.

Muda, Sophie

"He has been there for almost three months and we have not heard a word from him. We must move towards the capital." Muda insisted.

They had had this argument a dozen times in the past few days. For all of Muda's bitterness against his former guardian, he was extremely worried.

"You know we cannot move yet. There is too much we do not know. Perhaps there is some disease we do not know about, or he has been quarantined to protect him from refugees. Perhaps he simply has not been permitted to visit the Lady-Regent." She told him.

"And perhaps he is rotting in her dungeon. You know he is not safe, you know that he would not go this long without finding a way to contact us. Something is wrong."

She sighed, then stroked his face. He reached up, and grabbed her hand, desperate.

"He is in trouble," Muda said finally, "But that is not enough for you, is it? Fine, then. He entered the city under a banner of truce. If he is not returned to us, then we appear weak. If we appear weak, they will hold all the power in any negotiations. You want Sikeran to remain free, you must assure our ability to bargain."

Sophia knew all of this already, but she did not tell him so. She was even a little proud of him. He was a warrior and politics outside of his realm of experience.

One of her messengers entered the tent. He was breathing heavy and had obviously rushed.

"Drink some water, your message can wait for a moment." She motioned towards a bowl with cups beside it. The messenger nodded appreciatively, then stepped forward and drank two glasses in quick succession. After he had caught his breath, he continued.

"My lady, the ambassador is dead." The messenger said.

Sophia looked towards Muda, but his face had become stone.

The messenger continued. "They say that he drank himself to death. He went wandering one night with a bottle of brandy and fell from one of the towers."

"Do we believe this to be accurate?" Sophia asked.

"Unlikely," the messenger answered, "No one has been permitted to inspect the body, it was burned after a short funeral following his death. Nor has any contact been allowed with his guard."

"What do we believe happened?"

"Murder is a possibility, perhaps from a competing faction. Or..." The messenger hesitated. "It has also been rumored that the Lady-Regent has a special affection for interrogations, it is possible that she was over-zealous."

Sophia looked to Muda again. His expression had not changed, except for a hint of ice within his brown eyes.

"But we have no proof?" Sophia asked.

"No, my lady. Our subterfuge is not as advanced as their own. What little we have heard is mostly rumors." The messenger replied.

"Very well. I will have a full report within the hour." Sophia said.

The messenger nodded, and backed out of the tent.

There was silence for a moment, before Muda finally spoke. "We move. Tomorrow."

Sophia nodded, and they began to plan their attack.

Debra, Ibalize

Debra returned daily to the tower where Yannick had leaped to his death. He should not have jumped. He had ruined everything! She was to have broken him, and then they would see how powerful she was. He was to have divulged all of their secrets and then she could weaken their position. They would have been willing to sacrifice the princeling and would have joined her. She could have turned against her masters, and gained control of her country again. The world was to have been hers, but Yannick had ruined everything!

She turned away from the window and walked towards the stairs. Suddenly a gust of wind blew in from behind her.

"You have failed me yet again." That voice...it had been so long since she heard that voice...

"Great one," she stammered, "I did not think that he would jump. He..."

"You could not have guessed that one of your victims would free himself from you? Perhaps it is time you were the one being interrogated."

Debra's face twisted with fear.

"My lord, that would be unwise. Your armies, word tells that they have weakened. You will need Yaloran to defeat the Sikeran."

Ibalize laughed. "Much has changed since I saw you last, little cowardling. I am not what I once was. My powers have grown."

He grabbed her in one giant, clawed hand, and began to squeeze.

"You let him die. He was useful to me. You have let your kingdom fall into ruins. Your soldiers were to have joined my army, and we could have challenged the goddess herself. Instead, they are untrained and undisciplined." He squeezed tighter, and Debra let out a scream. Two guards charged into the room and Ibalize incinerated them.

"For all your bluster, you have done nothing but fail me." He continued. "Tell me, tiny mortal, why I should spare your life."

Debra struggled within his hand but could not move. Ibalize loosened his grip and she gasped for air, then spit up blood.

"I...have many...spies...my...lord." She said finally.

Ibalize stared at her with disgust.

"You cannot sense the change in me, can you? I have slain my brethren and stolen their powers. I have become more powerful than even the goddess herself. I have no need for your petty subterfuge." Ibalize told her, then he slowly began to tighten his grip. "You will die here tonight because you are weak and you are stupid. And when you fly to whatever realm my father has prepared for you, I want you to remember that weakness." With these final words he crushed the life out of her, then tossed her to the ground in her twisted and broken armor.

Muda, Sophia

They approached the capital slowly, trying to give the impression of nonchalance. They gave food to any refugees they encountered, and these would often join in behind. A quasi-city formed every time they stopped for camp. The people were mostly peaceful, too desperate to risk losing the help of the Sikeran army. What little crime they saw would be answered with force from the Sikeran soldiers.

When they were two days out from the capital they stopped and for almost a week. They had prepared more than enough supplies, and so Sophia and Muda allowed the soldiers time to rest and repair their gear. Muda spent some small time practicing tactics with his officers, but never revealed anything that could be used against them.

It came time to march for Yaloran. Sophia and Muda's plan was simple. If they were not met with outright hostility, then they would be allowed an honor-guard to enter the city. They had prepared several powerful spells which Yaloran would not be able to counteract. If they were attacked immediately after passing the city walls, they would use these, then hold the gate as their own soldiers entered. If not they would wait two days. During this time they would hide soldiers amongst the refugees, though these would be unarmed and unarmored. At high-moon on the second day the honor-guard and the spies would converge at the western gate. They would force it open, and allow the Sikeran forces to enter.

If they were met with outright hostility, or at any time felt unsafe, then it would become a siege. The Sikeran would be able to bring in fresh supplies, while blocking any from entering Yaloran. Debra would be forced to surrender, or see her people dead.

The Sikeran soldiers were openly anxious about this option. They were used to more subtle tactics, attacking and retreating. Muda was afraid that his soldiers would grow bored. A direct attack was highly preferable.

On the day they were to arrive Muda sharpened his sword and polished his armor. Together with Sophia and their honor guard of two hundred and fifty soldiers he headed towards Yaloran. They were surprised to see droves of refugees heading away from the city.

When they arrived at the gate, there was no one to greet them, nor were there any soldiers to be seen. They entered cautiously, wary of traps, but still did not see any guards. There were occasional citizens, but they were frightened and fled as soon as they saw the Sikeran. The city smelled of rot and ash, and the soldiers were forced to cover their faces with pieces of cloth.

Muda ordered the rest of the army to begin peaceful exploration of the city. They were told to do as they had done with the other refugees – give food to those to needed it, maintain stability by whatever means necessary.

Muda and Sophia continued on with their honor guard. They eventually made their way to the castle proper. Here the gates were sealed, but soldiers could be seen standing atop the walls. Sophia told her mages to prepare a spell that would allow them to open the gate with minimal damage, but Muda stopped her.

"Let me speak with them."

He did not stay long enough to hear her argue.

"Bring out the Lady-Regent, Debra. She has many crimes to answer for." He called up.

"The Lady-Regent is dead. Who are you and what do you want?"

"We come with peaceful intentions. Bring out your commander, for what I have to say, I will say only once."

He stood, and waited. There was no movement for a few moments, but eventually, a gruff looking soldier with one eye signaled down. There was some shuffling behind the wall, and a gray-haired, pudgy-faced soldier appeared.

Muda stood motionless the entire time he waited. Even as Sophia's mages prepared their spell he stared up at the ragged and weary guards. When the Yaloran commander appeared, he stood for a moment longer. Then, without speaking a word, he drew his sword and held it up for them to see.

"Those of you who have served Yaloran for more than a decade may remember this sword. Those who never saw my father have undoubtedly heard of it. Within my hand I hold the weapon that has been passed down for generations. The sword that has defended Yaloran from her enemies, that has fought to for her glory. I hold the sword of kings."

He lowered the blade, then returned it to its scabbard.

"I hold this sword, because I am your king. I stand before you, soldiers of Yaloran, as the lost prince, come to return my country to its former prosperity. The city is in shambles. Its people loot and murder. An army more terrible than you can imagine comes for us, led by a creature that can summon death greater than you can imagine. You cannot hide within these walls and hope to survive."

The soldiers standing upon the wall shuffled awkwardly. Finally, the commander called down.

"You have his look, but what does that mean? How do we know you are him?"

"You saw Yannick, when he came. You know that he represented Sikeran, and you know that we are Sikeran's army. Yannick...was like a father to me. After the king, my true father, died Yannick was tasked with raising me. He had hoped that I would come, and reclaim the rule. He did not know, early on, that magic that had consumed me."

"I hated that man for a very long time, but in the end, it was he who saved me. He came to Yaloran, knowing that it would lead to his death. He came knowing he would have to face Debra, who had gone insane."

"Yannick raised me and vouched for me to the Lady-Regent. You know you can trust me, because you trusted Yannick."

There were no more arguments. The commander signaled for them to enter the gate, and Muda was of Yaloran once again.

* * *

They spent the next weeks restoring order to the city. They rebuilt defenses and shelter, gave food to the starving, and helped those that could be helped. The Yaloran soldiers were integrated into Sikeran ranks, merchants once again began to set up shops, and the city began to settle once again into a normal routine.

Muda did his best to remain humble, but Sophia often reminded him that he would soon need to ascend the throne. He had made his claim, and the people would expect him to honor their traditions.

When he could make no more excuses, he arranged the ceremony.

He entered the throne room early, hoping to orient himself. It had been kept clean by what little staff remained, and they had removed the minor throne where Debra had once sat. All that was left were two shining seats, one for himself and one for Sophia.

He wandered, examining the tapestries on the walls and inspecting the ceremonial armor that littered the room. He tried to take one of the swords from a suit but it was welded to the hands, as was the helmet.

After a few moments he heard Sophia speak.

"You took longer than I thought you would." She said.

"We have been busy."

She gave one of her rare smiles. "Not the whole truth, but I understand."

Muda hesitated. "My father. I remember him as a great leader. I remember him being loved by his people. My mother as well. Citizens would cheer when she walked through the streets."

"It is a lot to live up to."

"They come for us, from the North. I do not know if I am able."

She moved towards him and put a hand on his arm. "I felt the same after my mother died. I have been trained my entire life for my role, but even so, when it was time for me to make my claim, I hesitated. There were many consequences for my actions. If I had not hesitated many more would have lived. But if I had not hesitated, you might still feel the sickness you once did."

She moved closer to him.

"We cannot predict all of the consequences of our actions. All we can do is hope that the goddess guides us." Muda's face twisted, but Sophia smiled and put a finger on his lips.

"When we first entered Yaloran, and you made your claim...You were brave that day, and your leadership was true. There will be consequences, and there will be death, but I believe that you proved yourself a true king." Then she kissed him.

In the throne room, the rulers of Sikeran and Yaloran lay together for the first time.

Alkorn, Yaros

Alkorn frequently spoke with Yaros. He was reticent, at first. Many soldiers had died fighting Yaros' army. He started the conversations in hopes of drawing out more information about Ibalize's plan, but as their conversations continued Alkorn began to realize that Yaros, too had been a victim. He did not relish in battle as his brother so clearly did. He would not have raised an army if it were not for his brother's fervor.

Yaros was initially under constant hold by the mages, but it soon became obvious he could offer no resistance and so they allowed him to move freely. Two mages were with him at all times, and he was restricted to a small caged off area, but he had some freedom.

Yaros felt no great need to guard his brother's secrets. He spoke of battle tactics and training, supplies and ambitions. The only places that Yaros could still attack were Sikeran and Yaloran, but Yaros had devised several strategies to draw out Sikeran and so the last true enemy was Yaloran.

They spoke of the history of the world, and of the goddess. Yaros told him about the Harp, which was used to forge the world, and how it was broken into shards after being used to defeat the dark ones, who were imprisoned within the void. Yaros did his best to describe the dark ones, but could not find the words. Instead, he told Alkorn if they were to ever escape their prison, even the goddess rising might not be enough to stop them.

After a time, they even spoke of Ibalize himself.

"His coming here, to the void, shows that his army is weak. Ibalize throws them at the enemy like water into a pool, but his river is drying up. He came here because he needs me."

"You say he already holds two shards. Will he use them? Will he find more of your kind to embolden himself?" Alkorn asked.

"I do not know. He does not know their full potential, yet, though he may discover it soon. He is not guided by logic, however. He has become blinded by his desire to crush your kind. And he has always been temperamental." Yaros looked pained. "I fear for my brother, despite his foolishness. I hope that he can be stopped, but I would not see him die."

"He has killed more innocents than any creature known to this world."

Yaros looked disgusted. "More than disease? More than famine? How many more than you yourself have killed? The goddess made all things, why is Ibalize more guilty than others?"

Yaros paused and seemed to search within himself. "He has done some terrible things, I agree, but... just as I do not understand you, you will never understand what it is to be immortal." Yaros turned towards Alkorn suddenly, speaking at barely a whisper. "To have time draw on, and you powerless to act as the world changes around you. To watch as all your efforts are forgotten, every good deed pointless and every sin, forgotten. Your world is so small, so short. You cannot imagine what we face."

Alkorn was stunned. "I... it does not absolve him of his crimes."

Yaros let out a resigned sigh. "Nor are you absolved of your own. But you persevere. We must all do the same."

The sat in silence for a while, Alkorn thinking on his own past. Finally, he asked, "What would you have done with him, then?"

"I would take him away from this world." Yaros responded immediately. He had been building up to this. "I would lock him away, as he locked away our parents. I would force him to spend an aeon contemplating his misdeeds. And when he was ready, when he could be safely released, I would help him build instead of destroy."

"And if I could promise such a thing." Alkorn asked, already knowing the answer.

"Then you would have my aid. Not just these crumbs that I have been feeding you, but my true and honest dedication." Yaros said. And then he waited. Expectantly.

"I cannot speak for any army but my own."

"Your words hold sway. I think that should be enough."

"Nor can I promise that he will give us the opportunity to capture him. If he is as mad as you claim..."

"I will intervene when the time comes. If I cannot convince him to surrender, then the blame is only my own."

"Why would you defend him? He betrayed you. He left you for dead."

"Perhaps, but it was a fight that even he may not have been able to win. I cannot blame him too harshly for his caution. You have become a worthy opponent. I only managed to kill two of your soldiers, when I attacked."

"Even still." Alkorn replied.

"Even still." Yaros said sadly. "He is my brother."

"Very well. Then it is time to begin telling me the truth. All of it."

Muda, Sophie

Ibalize's scouting forces came, and Muda was there to face them. The battle did not last long, less than half a day, but it was bloody.

Muda took his place in the Vanguard. Sophia had cautioned him to stay behind so that he could get a better view of the battle, but he had refused. He wanted to show his soldiers that he was not some aristocrat staring down at them. He wanted to bleed with them, and if need be, die with them.

Commanding from the melee proved to be more cumbersome than he had originally anticipated, and several of his honor guard died defending him.

There had been several moments where he himself had almost fallen, but one stuck out most poignant in Sophia's memory. Muda had long-since lost his horse and was surrounded by at least of dozen of the cow-heads. He and three of his guard had their backs together, and defended themselves without much trouble, until one of the cow-head chieftains noticed Muda. The chieftain was much bigger than his companions and had struck down two of Muda's allies with his first swing, leaving the newly crowned king's back exposed. Muda dove to the ground just in time to avoid a fatal blow, and his final ally moved in to defend his king, but was cut down in the process.

It was chance that saved Muda, and could just as easily have killed him. A stray ball of fire had incinerated the nearby cow-heads, leaving the chieftain stunned. Muda quickly regained his footing and then made short work of the creature before battling his way back into the fray.

Chance, Sophia later mused, but possibly more than that. With each kill that he made, Muda seemed to grow stronger. It was as if the goddess was accepting a sacrifice and bestowing power upon him in return. Muda returned unharmed, though he claimed to have taken several wounds on the battlefield.

In the end they lost more than half the forces they had brought. They limped back to Yaloran to resupply and gather the rest of their army. Muda remained morose most of the journey. Once his initial battle-lust subsided, and he received reports from the battle he found Sophia.

"I have failed my army." He told her. "Had I not been so eager to wet my blade many of the tactics we studied could have been used. Many lives could have been spared."

She saw his doubts begin to flower, and she did not know how to help. It was not like before, where the courage sat hidden behind nausea and ignorance. Now every action was made with hesitation. He would stammer before making a decision, or change his mind at the slightest rebuttal.

She tried to encourage him, and but was met with fears that he was once again being consumed by the sickness. She tried to convince him that his choice to join the melee had bolstered the soldiers' resolve and that they fought more passionately because he was with them but Muda would not listen. He would simply mutter some excuse and leave her company.

After they returned to Yaloran he became a man possessed. He went over the battle again and again, wondering what he could have done differently, how he could have saved lives. He scoured the royal library for stories of famous battles, and studied their tactics. He compared every command his predecessors made to his own failures.

He studied the battles won by Alkorn and Debra, but he was most interested in those his father had fought. He had grown up with tales from Yannick detailing the perfection of his father's every action. Debra had managed to get rid of most of the accounts, and have them replaced with forgeries describing the previous king's ineptitude, but the librarians hid many of the originals. They were hesitant, at first, to share them with Muda but soon saw he shared their passion for truth.

The people of Yaloran began to notice the change in Muda. The man who had once confidently marched up to the gates, exposing himself to death, was slowly fading. It was with great relief that Sophia received a letter from Alkorn, detailing his intents to return to Yaloran.

Alkorn and Erik did not expect response from Yaloran. They had written to inform Debra that they were returning and that they would not be held accountable for any of the destruction during their escape. They heard rumors that leadership had changed, but they had dismissed these as wishful thinking. That almost no refugees were heading away from Yaloran they took as a sign that Debra was recruiting them into her armies, and holding families hostage.

So when the letter arrived with the royal seal of his dead friend, Alkorn did not know how to respond. His first reaction was anger, that Debra had finally dared to fully usurp the throne, but as they got closer to the capital he began to realize that it may not be Debra. The entire country seemed to have changed. There was an optimism that had not existed when he left. A frenzy to grow food had swept through the land and the farmers did so with the enthusiasm of those who might actually be paid for their work.

When they were but a few days ride from the city, an honor guard came to meet them, and escort them in. No demands were made to disarm, though it was made very clear that they were allowed passage at the guard's mercy, and that their previous mutiny would need explanation.

Alkorn was more than willing to accede to these demands. His army, while greatly diminished, had not lost any of the strange powers they gained in the void.

Yaros traveled with them, but was restricted to a cart, and given no opportunity to be seen by the people.

They were met with ceremony when they finally reached the city, and Alkorn left his army outside the city walls. By then they had heard that Muda was king, though Erik still harbored concerns that it was still Debra who was in charge.

Once they had passed through the fanfare, and the cheering of the citizens, Alkorn was led to the palace. It was there that he saw Muda for the first time since Sikeran, and the first time he truly felt fear for his people.

* * *

Sophia was the first to meet with Alkorn. She waited for him at the palace gates, and made sure to participate in all the pleasantries that were required for a returning general. Alkorn had little patience for these events, but he understood that the people were watching. He bowed, and flattered, and made sure that all who were in earshot, peasant and noble alike, knew he had not come to conquer.

He was beginning to believe that it was the throne itself that was poisoning the minds of its rulers. The previous king had always been a bit too zestful in his quest for combat, and Debra had quite obviously gone insane. He wondered if this king would also succumb to madness.

Finally, when the people were sated, he was allowed to enter and meet the king. To Alkorn's relief Muda smiled graciously, and bade him sit at the king's table, ignoring the pomp that was necessary in front of the people. After introductions Alkorn immediately went into detail about his journey through the void. He told of the twists in time and the eternal twilight, then he spoke of the battle that ensued. He told Muda of the shard, but did not go into detail about its powers, instead reassuring Muda and Sophia that it was being contained by his own mages. Sophia was not entirely satisfied, but Muda seemed delighted that he would not have to handle the weapon.

Alkorn also kept Yaros a secret. He would not be able to feign ignorance if the truth came out later, but he felt the young king and queen had more pressing issues.

When Alkorn had told his tale, Muda and Sophia also told theirs. They would bounce back and forth, each filling in details they felt necessary, then picking up with the parts of the story they were more familiar. They spoke of the worm-like creature that had attacked in Sikeran, and of Debra's calls for peace. They spoke of Yannick's death, and of the battle against the enemy's scouting forces that had just been won. Alkorn finally understood what troubled Muda. It was a hard thing to send soldiers to battle, and most commanders did not have to handle such pressure for their first battle. Perhaps he would eventually pass through this trial, but that was not the most pressing matter. Now they needed to speak of the upcoming battle.

"They approach from the north. We do not believe that the scouting force came against us intentionally, none tried to retreat and give report to the larger army. We believe they may have been trying to escape." Sophia said.

"I have heard that retreat is not an option for them. Those that have been captured were all half-mad, and would rather die than return as prisoners." Alkorn responded.

"That would explain their ferocity." Said Muda quietly.

"It seems that the main force is staying in one group, but we suspect this may be a trick. It's too obvious an attack."

Alkorn let a rogue-like smile creep onto his face. "I have some reports of their past efforts. It does not seem like their commander is overly creative."

Sophia nodded at this comment. "Smaller scouting parties are more likely to run than to fight, they likely do not know much about the surrounding area." Sophia said.

"They have a type of dog that they use for general scouting. Most likely it brings kills back to the camp, where the enemy can assess the threat." Alkorn responded.

Muda perked for a moment. "We could use that to our advantage... get the mages to tamper with one of the corpses, cause it to spread some disease. Could serve to make some of their soldiers sick, or at the very least make them think we are."

Alkorn thought he saw a hint of a smile on Sophia's face. "Not a bad idea. A bit grisly..." Muda looked downwards. "But I suspect the enemy would hold no qualms about doing the same to us."

Muda perked up again at this.

Sophia did not give Muda time to abandon this encouragement. "There is no doubt that your experience would be greatly appreciated, General Alkorn. We will need you to help us with the planning."

"I am ever at the kingdom's service." He replied. Perhaps they had a chance after all.

Alkorn, Sophie, Muda

It was just as Alkorn said, the enemy came straight for the capital. They briefly considered a siege, allowing Ibalize the opportunity to waste units on attacks against the walls, but decided a field battle was the only way they could win. There were creatures they had never seen before, and they did not know what to expect from the attack.

They had decided to keep Alkorn's troops separate from the rest. They had not lost their strength from the void, and it was too dangerous to place them with regular troops. They would be more effective if they could remain mobile.

Some of the gryphons had been trained to carry soldiers and would be used for tactical strikes. Alkorn's mages would help the untrained gryphons with anything that attacked from the sky, while the remaining mages would be necessary to counteract any spells the enemy forces may have prepared, as well as to heal injured soldiers. While mages could often decide the fate of a battle, Yaros believed that Ibalize would likely be unable to use his own efficiently.

They had managed to trick a few of the dogs into carrying poisoned corpses back to camp. Muda and Sophia weren't sure if this had had the desired effect, but the dog scouts had shown up much less often afterward. Whether many had died or they were now locked up, Muda and Sophia did not know.

The two armies arrived within a day of one another, the Yaloran forces arriving earlier. Defenses were sparse, only a few trenches and some make-shift stakes, but the soldiers were well-rested and well-fed. They had attempted to muster the troops in time to make an attack, but the enemy had known they were coming and marched in ranks.

They faced each other at dawn. Dew clung to the knee-high grass that covered the field, but the sun shone brightly from the east. It would not have time to drink it up the moisture before it was replaced with blood.

Ibalize was not creative, but he was practical. Units were divided so that it would be nearly impossible to make a push for their own mages and archers, but infantry was still far enough apart that they would be able to maintain mobility for much of the battle.

Alkorn studied the enemy from the distance. They were organized by species, more or less. The undead, which Ibalize did not have the good fortune to bury like his brother had, were in the front ranks. They were good protection for the rest of the troops, and were easily replaced should the enemy be victorious. Behind them were the cow-heads, who were big enough and dumb enough to take the brunt of any attack that passed the undead. After that the ranks began to blur. There were creatures that looked as if they might be part fish but walked on two legs, creatures shrouded in darkness, bird creatures, cat creatures, creatures of fire and lightning and ice, creatures that looked as if they could not be alive, some with a dozen slithering tentacles, and others that appeared to fade in and out of existence. There were even some small groups of humans, frenzied almost beyond recognition, that shoved their way through the ranks, eager for the chance to finally die. Ibalize had gathered every twisted creature he could find, and thrust them together into a mismatched engine of death.

Fights broke out occasionally amongst the many creatures, but these quickly ended in a loud and painful death, executed by one of the minor gods that Ibalize had enlisted to help him.

The dog-creatures were nowhere to be found, meaning the poisoned meat had probably worked. Alkorn once again felt a glimmer of hope for the young king.

It was just before Alkorn launched their attack that the true challenge appeared. It was a creature that neither Alkorn nor Erik could hope to name. It floated through the air, held up by what they both assumed to be magic. Its body was a fleshy blob, cover in spikes and spines that jutted out in every direction, and in the middle of the flesh was a single red eye that never blinked. Half a dozen thick, slimy tentacles hung down from its body, darting out every direction. It would randomly pick up one of the surrounding creatures and thrust the screaming victim towards its underside. The screaming would end with a crunch and a splash of red that fell towards the earth.

"The Yaloran soldiers will be massacred if they try to attack that thing." Erik said bluntly.

Alkorn knew he spoke the truth.

"Then we will deal with that...whatever it is. The young king will have to command again, at least until we get back." Alkorn said.

"Do you believe him ready?" Erik asked.

Alkorn had constantly been with Muda, strategizing with him and Sophia. The man had a tactical mind, Yannick had trained him well before giving into despair, and willingness to experiment that would be key in the upcoming battle. Sophia was more practical, with a knowledge of people and infrastructure that far surpassed Muda's.

"She will be strong when he cannot, and he will do what he must." Alkorn said finally.

"I will send a messenger." Erik replied.

"No," Alkorn stopped him, "I should tell them myself. The boy-king had been hoping to have me nearby. He will not be happy."

Muda was not delighted by the news, but he understood the necessity. He had begun to formulate strategies on how they might deal with the creature, and was excited to share his ideas with Alkorn and Sophia.

"Its weakness lies either in its eye or its underside. It likely has some sort of magical protection, but the mages should be able to deal with that. Once they have figured out how to bypass the wards the gryphons you have brought with you can attack from multiple angles. The Sikeran soldiers will provide cover fire, and our mages will do what they can to shield them." He told them, proud to be able to contribute.

"It is a solid plan." Alkorn told him. "Except for one small detail. I will need to participate in the assault."

Both Sophia and Muda balked.

"You are needed here." Sophia told him. "Muda has never dealt with such a large army before."

Muda hastily agreed. "One enemy cannot take from us our greatest asset. The gryphons will be enough."

Alkorn looked between each of them calmly. "They will not. You have both seen what the creature can do, grasping soldiers from the earth as if they were playthings." He stood up, and let the full weight of his transformation flow over them. "I was changed in the void. I was given the power to combat creatures such as this, and that's what I must do."

He pointed towards the map that lay in front of them. "We have worked for many weeks on this attack, and it is solid. Do as we planned, adjust when necessary. Our enemy is a fool, and his armies badly trained."

Muda looked up at him. "But...I am not ready."

Alkorn shook his head. "Then we are lost. Today you prove yourself a king and a general, or we die."

Muda and Sophia looked at each other, then they clasped hands and stood up.

"May the goddess bring you victory." Sophia said.

"We will be here." Muda followed.

Alkorn bowed, and left for battle.

* * *

The Yaloran troops struck first, raining arrows and magic on the enemy forces. The cow-head mages mustered what defenses they could, but their troops were tired. After three barrages Muda signaled his forces to stop. The Yaloran mages stood poised, waiting to see how the enemy would retaliate. When they did nothing, Muda ordered another barrage.

The attacks were mostly useless, killing only a few hundred, but Muda wanted to give them reason to attack, so that they could take advantage of the few defenses they had. After one more attack, Ibalize finally took the bait, and ordered his forces forward. The undead shambled mindlessly towards the Yaloran soldiers. It took almost a quarter of a bell for them to finally cross the field. When they reached the spikes those at the front were forced forward by those behind, and many found themselves impaled upon spikes, writhing and grasping for the flesh of the soldiers ahead of them. Eventually, the pure mass of enemies became too much, and the spikes began to break. The Yaloran soldiers struck at any enemy that came too close, but they were soon mixed in amongst the dead. Suddenly the cow-heads and remaining dogs joined the fray, using the undead as shields and slicing away at the Yaloran infantry.

The enemy used the confusion to launch their own distance attacks, killing undead and Yaloran alike with gigantic barbed spears. Ibalize held back his giant one-eyed creature. They had launched spell after spell at it during the initial attacks, and it didn't even notice.

With the Yaloran defenses all but destroyed, Muda signaled his own troops forward, hoping to give the mages better access to those who needed to be healed. Suddenly he saw a troop of gryphons take to the air.

Alkorn had gotten tired of waiting.

* * *

The giant-eyed creature ignored Alkorn and the gryphon riders as they approached.

His plan was simple enough. They would draw its attention with small attacks, and lead it away from the main battle. If it pursued them, they would find a place where the creature could not call upon the aid of its allies, nor do any harm to the Yaloran troops. Once they were far enough away they would test for its weaknesses.

They managed to avoid most of the attacks from below as they passed over, losing only one of the fifty gryphons. When they reached the eye-thing, they began to strike, shooting arrows and casting spells. One soldier tried jumping directly onto the creature, but found himself trapped in a thick goo. It took three other gryphons, as well as his own, to pull him free. The creature ignored them.

Alkorn drew his sword, and flew towards the creature's giant eye. He struck, cutting a long slice along the white. The creature began to flail, killing dozens of its own troops. It took a swipe at Alkorn, but he was too fast, and flew out of reach. The creature began to chase after him, killing more and more of its allies.

They continued to lead it long after both armies were out of sight. Whenever the eye-thing got distracted Alkorn would fly in again and cut another chunk out of its eye. A silver liquid bearing little resemblance to blood dripped down in gigantic drops, crushing those unlucky enough to be caught beneath.

Once Alkorn deemed them sufficiently distant he signaled, and the other gryphons and riders directed their attacks to the giant eye as Alkorn had. Arrows remained useless, and magic was ignored, but claw and sword had enough strength behind them to cause minor wounds.

Alkorn grew impatient, and flew too long beside the creature, attacking multiple times. Suddenly the earth was rushing towards him, his gryphon flying away from him. Another gryphon saw him falling and tried to fly towards him, but was struck away.

Alkorn hit the ground with a thunderous thud. He lay, unable to breathe for a moment, the creature spinning in front of him. A gigantic tentacle crashed towards him, and he managed to rouse himself just in time. He reached for his sword, which had fallen nearby, and struck just as the creature's tentacle came.

The slime-covered tip flew away with a rush of the silver liquid.

Alkorn screamed. He tried to rise, but immediately fell to all fours. The armor on his back began to rise away from his body. The straps snapped, and it fell to the ground, useless. His back began to bubble, heaving pustules that cascaded outwards. Two crystal buds burst out. They slowly began to expand, doubling in size, then doubling again and again. Finally, when the pain subsided, Alkorn stood and flexed.

One of the other soldiers landed beside him. "My lord...you...you have wings."

Alkorn looked back and grimaced, knelt to grasp his sword, then leaped into the air. He flew awkwardly, know but not knowing how to use his newly-gained appendages. Like a bird falling from the nest for the first time he found comfort. When he was ready, he flew straight for the creature's giant eye. He struck it a dozen times before a tentacle came for him. When it did, he cut the slimy flesh, and continued his vicious attack.

He dug a hole deep enough for him to crawl into, and then cut deeper. He pierced the eye, and a torrent of purple gushed towards him, knocking him once again to the earth. He wiped the muck away, then flew up high into the air. He clasped his wings against himself, then fell into a dive, piercing into the creature's gaping wound.

The soldiers watched in horror and when he had not returned they began to lose hope. Finally, the creature shuddered, and fell to the earth. The gryphons began to claw at the dead monstrosity's eye, widening the gap. They almost gave up hope when Alkorn crawled through, gasping for air.

* * *

"They're beautiful." Muda told him.

Alkorn had returned to the main camp. The battle raged on, and so he ignored the question, and got a report from Erik.

"You have done well." He told Muda as soon as Erik finished.

"It was the plans we made together." Muda replied.

"In part, but your decisions and adaptability are what have brought us this far."

Sophia smiled for a moment, proud, but her smile quickly faded. Behind Alkorn a dark spot plummeted towards the earth.

"Archers!" She screamed. "Above us!"

Within moments a hundred bows were strung and drawn.

"Loose!" Sophia cried out.

And hundreds of arrows flew through the air, bouncing useless off the hardened body of the descending god. Alkorn dove in front of Sophia and Muda to protect them. The black spot soon became a recognizable as human-like, and gracefully landed on the ground.

"You must be Ibalize." Alkorn said.

Ibalize smiled. "You are the one who slew my brother. You did not have wings before."

"A gift from the goddess." Alkorn replied.

"Unlikely." Ibalize grasped the shards in his hands. "You stole his power. Now I will take it from you." Ibalize launched forward, but Alkorn was just as fast. He raised his sword to block the shards, and the two struggled in combat. Ibalize struck high and low in quick succession, trying to find Alkorn's weaknesses, but Alkorn answered in turn. Neither landed a single blow.

Alkorn was still clumsy with his wings, and so Ibalize took to the air. Alkorn hesitated a moment, then followed after. The tow darted back and forth, Ibalize making sudden strikes at Muda and Sophia, but Alkorn intercepting and pushing the enraged god back.

It could have gone on like this for days, if Gloria had not appeared with Yaros and his parents. Ibalize saw them and charged towards the ground, landing with a shard to Gloria's throat.

"You!" Ibalize screamed at Gloria. "I killed you."

He turned to his brother. "And I saw you die." He stuttered.

"Left me to die would be more accurate, brother." Yaros spat. "You always were too hasty."

"Shards are for bards, it's in the cards!" Gloria danced away, giggling to herself. Everyone watched her for a moment, then Solaris spoke.

"The shards do not kill, at least not by themselves. They are a gateway for power, giving and taking at the will of the bearer. We used our own shard to revive Gloria after your coward's attack." She looked truly disappointed.

"Enough!" Ibalize cried out, and dove towards Gloria, shards raised.

Yaros snatched the shard from his mother's hand and stepped in front of her, his own weapon bared, and blocked the attack.

"Brother!" Ibalize pleaded. "Together we can still win this."

Yaros smiled, his brightness twisting. "Together?" He asked. "It was never supposed to be together." He twisted, and rammed the shard into his brother's throat.

The power came like a torrent, slamming into Yaros and almost knocking him from his feet. As it rushed into him his body began to twist. The bright light that he once held disappeared and his body turned black. His flesh bubbled and spikes burst through the skin.

Ibalize was powerless to fight him off, but Muda charged in, sword drawn. He jumped and drove his sword into the Ibalize's back. Muda gritted his teeth and plunged the sword in again and again, each time he was hit with a burst of the power. Ibalize tried to throw Muda away, but found the young king grown powerful. Muda made one final thrust and Ibalize's power also flowed into him and he began to grow stronger.

Sophia screamed, and tried to rush towards him, but she was thrown away. Finally, Yaros himself reached out, and threw Muda down to the ground, forcing the sword out of his screaming brother. Yaros stepped back, withdrawing the shard, and watched as his brother fell to the ground. He stared down at Ibalize for a moment, then grabbed him with two massive claws, and ripped him in half.

Diablos and Solaris screamed in terror as their favored son threw down the broken pieces of his brother.

"What have you done!?" Diablos begged of him.

Yaros smiled. "What I always intended to do. Did you think I would let that simpleton command me?"

He turned towards Alkorn. "I will spare you, but your king must die."

Sophia turned towards her husband, and watched his body continue to shudder, trying to deal with the energies that it had just absorbed. She pulled herself to him

Sophia did not hesitate, she grasped the necklace given to her by her mother, and channeled fire into it. The fire twisted, and changed into an infinity of colors, then struck Yaros hard in the chest.

Muda saw his wife attacking this new enemy. He picked up his sword once again, and charged forward, striking with his newly gained strength. Energy began to creep towards him again, but Muda turned it back, and forced it into Yaros with all the force he could muster. Alkorn saw Muda's efforts and lurched forward to help. He thrust in his own shard, then doubled back the energy.

Yaros screamed as the power streamed through him. What had previously been ecstasy turned into agony. His body raged, and he let loose a final scream, and then was consumed.

With his final breath he shrieked. "This is not the end." Then slumped to the ground and faded away in a burst of ash and cinder.

Epilogue

Diablos waited behind with Solaris. They watched the last of the smoke that had been their son evaporated.

"What do we do now?" Diablos asked her.

Solaris had no answer. She turned to her husband, and grasped him.

"The mortals have two of the shards." Diablos said.

"They have proven worthy guardians thus far." She responded. "They will rebuild, and then we can speak with them of the fate of the harp."

"And the dark ones?"

"That is a worry for another day."

They held each other for a moment longer, then left to once again hide the shards.

* * *

Muda tightened his hold on Sophia as they lay in the dark. It had been several months since the confrontation with Yaros and Ibalize, and life had begun to return to normal. Sophia would soon have to return to Sikeran, and see to her own country, but for now they had each other.

Muda knew the war was not over. They would need to learn more about the shards, and what they could do. They would need to share this knowledge with what remnants of humanity remained. But for now they would rebuild, and when they were ready they would speak with the gods as equals.

* * *

Alkorn stayed with his king and queen for a while, but felt ever anxious. Yaros' final words stuck with him. Finally, he chose to journey again through the tear, to see what more he could learn. Erik and they gryphon riders went with him.

* * *

Gloria looked into the entrance of her cave. "Well, at least that's over." She said to herself. "I wonder if there are any chickens left...."

About the Authors

Ayesha Huggins

Ayesha Huggins writes novels and short stories for individuals and businesses that wishes to capture entertaining and captivating content for their publishing companies or businesses. Her ghost written novels have left satisfied employers in her wake. She is currently working on a fantasy novel- the rising to be published under the same name.

A fantasy and romance author, she combines her storytelling skills with her overactive imagination to produce a captivating read.

Matthew Ariss

Matthew grew up in Alberta, Canada where he studied English literature at the University of Calgary. He then made his way through a good chunk of Asia, writing as he went. He is currently working on his first solo novel, as well as a graphic novel with his old friend Garett Marks. He enjoys video game design, running and craft beers.
Connect with Us

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Ayesha Huggins

Twitter: @chiomaosifo1

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Twitter: @MatthewWonder_

Website: matthewwonder.weebly.com

Email: matthewwonderblog@gmail.com

