 
Brankin Huoh

Prophecy of the Amber Eye: Book One

By N.T. Bergeron

Copyright 2013 NT Bergeron

Published at Smashwords

### Chapter 1

Lozan stood silent and still; his slender hands clenching the marble railing in front of him, back and neck tense, as his eyes washed over Brankin Huoh. He liked to start each day by looking down at the city. Even before eating, Lozan would don one of his dark robes and watch the city as it came to life. It was his policies that drove the city's engine. His policies that shaped every citizen's life, right down to the smallest detail and this made him feel good. Good wasn't the right word. It made him feel downright godlike and he reveled in the feeling. Standing outside of his personal quarters, Lozan's brooding intensity was so fierce, any citizen looking toward the Citadel would mistake him for another of the many statues lining the veranda that served as his perch. For many minutes, oftentimes longer, Lozan lingered and drank in the negative energy that pervaded the city. He soaked up the anger and frustration and misery that his rule forced on the people like desert sand wicking away much needed rain. He used that negativity as inspiration when devising further policies that would squeeze his people even more. Squeeze any thoughts of freedom right out of their bodies; squeeze any ideas of change right out of their heads. Now, closing his eyes, Lozan smiled, almost laughed.

"Begging your pardon sir."

Lozan twitched at the interruption. He closed his eyes in frustration, then turned slowly and fixed a cruel stare on Olkuu. Olkuu Sald was his servant. One of many, but Olkuu was the one who attended personally to Lozan and only to Lozan. It was Olkuu who ensured that Lozan's other servants remained on task and, more importantly, did not bother him. Time must have slipped away from Lozan because Olkuu knew better than to interrupt his morning ritual. "What is it Olkuu?"

"Your morning meal is ready, your excellence." Olkuu swept his left arm toward the grand table that had been laid out.

Lozan glanced at the table, expressionless and dour, then back at Olkuu. "I will dine in a moment. Fetch me my slippers."

Olkuu bowed his head, turned and stumped toward Lozan's dressing room, equal measures of trepidation and hatred roiling through his veins.

While he waited, Lozan returned his gaze to Brankin Huoh. Smoke had started to rise in black clouds as the forge fires were stoked. The low din of people and horses had all the hallmarks of a beehive, its worker bees prepping to fatten the queen. The city was wakening for another day of commerce and trade. Lozan smiled thinking of the revenue all that work would create. Most of which would end up in the Citadel's coffers through taxation.

Olkuu had returned with the slippers and after his earlier rebuke, stood waiting patiently.

At long last Lozan took notice of Olkuu and turned to face him, watching Olkuu's crouching form slide the slippers onto his feet. It amazed Lozan how Olkuu could move like a ghost around the Citadel if he chose and he wondered if perhaps a bell wasn't in order.

His feet now appropriately shod, Lozan strolled along the veranda to the table that had been prepared for him, Olkuu silent in his wake. Whether it was the white marble that the veranda and table had been constructed from or the bronze statues that surrounded him, opulence and luxury were on display wherever one cared to look. No expense was spared in the construction of the Citadel. A stark contrast to the rest of Brankin Huoh, where most of the citizenry lived in near poverty, scratching out a meager living from what the Citadel decreed they could. It was not by accident. This contrast was a reminder of what was important in Brankin Huoh. The Citadel was above everything and Lozan, as its ruler, was included in that sentiment.

When Lozan arrived at the table he stopped and waited for Olkuu to pull out his chair for him and waited again as Olkuu placed a beautiful silk napkin in Lozan's lap and pushed the chair in. Olkuu then stepped back. As usual, he would stand behind Lozan for the duration of the meal.

Lozan ate at a leisurely pace. He wasn't hungry but pecked at the edges of his meal before demanding that Olkuu throw it all out. Not because it didn't taste good; on the contrary, it was quite exquisite. Lozan was, after all, the Citadel's ruler and he demanded excellence in everything. He threw it out because it pleased him to do so. He found throwing out such a great meal, knowing full well that people below were going hungry, was more satisfying than the meal itself.

"What of last week?" Lozan asked Olkuu as his servant busied himself returning the breakfast dishes to the cart he had brought them up on.

"Of course, your excellence."

Olkuu put away the last of the dishes, then took a scroll from the top of the cart and handed it to Lozan. Lozan snatched the scroll from Olkuu's hand and eyed it end to end as he rolled it over and back in his hands looking for any signs of tampering. The wax seal, a depiction of the Citadel itself beneath a blazing sun that looked eerily similar to an eye, remained unbroken.

Lozan traced a finger over the seal before grasping it between thumb and finger and snapping it with a flick of his wrist. He unrolled the scroll to its full length between his hands and began to read. The usual amounts of gold, silver and bronze pieces had been collected and added to the Citadel's already bulging vaults. There were some deaths: a few from disease and others who had been executed for disobeying one of the Citadel's many rules. A few births were recorded as well. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Lozan sighed as he reached the end of the report. The reports had been the same for the last several months and it was time to shake things up.

"Increase the number of inspections next week." Lozan rolled the scroll shut and put it down on the table. Yes, that would be good; another reminder for the subjects of Brankin Huoh that he was in charge.

"As you wish, your excellence." Olkuu had long ago learned to keep the emotion out of his voice, which was good since he knew what increased inspections meant. They meant more beatings and looting at the hands of the Citadel Guard. And that was if you were lucky. The collectors weren't above anything, with many guilty of rape and some even of murder. The Citadel guards were much like Lozan; they relished other people's pain and misery and applied enough force to feed their hunger. If that meant a few people died, then so be it. It was of little concern to them.

Lozan's gaze returned to the city beyond the rim of the deck. Yes so be it. If increased inspections kept the people in line he was fine with that. So was Kyriu. Kyriu was the one who gave Lozan his running orders. He was the one who held everything in place and would reward Lozan for a job well done or punish him if he failed.

"Is everything set for Kyriu's arrival?"

"The usual preparations have been arranged, your excellence. The chamber should be ready shortly."

"Good, good. That will be all then. And don't forget about the extra inspections."

With Olkuu dismissed, Lozan arose, took one more lingering look at Brankin Huoh, and then returned to his dressing room to prepare for Kyriu's arrival.

It had been exactly six months since Kyriu's last visit and his schedule never varied. He would not tolerate any deviance from ritual. Everything had to be meticulously arranged and prepared. Lozan had been so pre-occupied reviewing Kyriu's stringent requirements that it was with surprise he found himself standing in front of the open doorway that led to the burial chamber; the journey from his dressing room, through his quarters and down the long hall having been completed out of habit.

Another check of his robes and then Lozan stepped into the stairwell and slowly descended to the burial chamber. It wasn't fear of falling on the steep stairs or even of what was about to happen at the bottom that slowed his gait. Lozan loved this time. He could think of nothing he would rather do than greet Kyriu and he wanted to relish every second. Lozan had worked hard the last six months, taking the necessary steps to implement the directives Kyriu had laid out during his last check-in and now he wanted his moment in the sun. He was sure Kyriu would approve of his efforts and reward him accordingly.

Lozan's robes rustled as he descended and the soft slap of his shoes echoed in the darkened stairwell. His throat was tight, his stomach knotting like a boy going on a first date but he steadied himself and kept moving forward. The stairwell spiraled down to the left and Lozan could see light flickering ahead of him at the bottom. Once there, he stopped at the tomb's threshold and took in every detail like he was drawing in a deep breath.

The chamber was round and high, its top disappearing into the darkness far above. The stone had been polished smooth over millennia by an underground river that once ran across it, its shiny surface reflecting and refracting the light in eerie ways, adding a layer of foreboding that made him shiver. After the river was redirected to form the falls, this area was converted into a tomb and now housed the remains of every Citadel chancellor who had come after. Their graves were hollowed out from the wall itself, their remains sealed in with metal coverings. Each cover was unique to the chancellor entombed within; engraved with their likeness, the time of their reign and ringed with pictograms of their accomplishments.

This was Lozan's favorite place in the entire Citadel. In between Kyriu's visits, when time allowed, he would lay on the cold floor and gaze up at all the great rulers who came before him and be moved to tears with the honor of being laid to rest among such great men. His visits to the burial chamber reinvigorated him though; gave him a new lease on life. He would emerge from these sessions and work even harder, be even more ruthless.

Olkuu had been right about the preparations. To Lozan the chamber looked to be primed and ready but a few adepts were bustling about anyway, pouring their nervous energy into final touches, looking to ensure that everything was perfect. The tomb already provided the darkness that Kyriu preferred but there were details of ritual that needed to be adhered to. The marble altar was adorned with black candles, their flickering flames making shadows dance on the walls. The dais in front of the altar was shrouded with black cloth, silver and gold thread embroidered in an intricate pattern on its shimmering surface. The cloth was long and formed a rich skirt around the dais making it look like night was crawling into the chamber. It was here the adepts would kneel and chant in prayer, manifesting Kyriu's arrival. While Lozan knelt directly across from the altar, the nine of them would form a semi-circle around the dais and recant the words that invoked the magic the ceremony was built around.

Lozan's adepts were getting in position and he moved to do the same. He took a deep, steadying breath as he knelt on the edge of the black carpet. He exhaled quietly and his eyes drifted shut as he painted a detailed picture of Kyriu in his mind. The adepts began to chant. Low and steady they murmured the words in rhythmic unison. Lozan listened intently to the words as they drifted to his ears, waiting for his cue. The chanting increased in volume then grew in intensity as the adepts wove the spell. Three stanzas in all, each repeated three times. Lozan remained silent for the first two, drawing the pulsating energy into himself with each breath, focusing his intention on bringing Kyriu into being. The second stanza incantation cycle was almost complete. Lozan's acuity to the now had no rival as he listened, parsing the words with expectant precision. He was exhilarated, intoxicated by the spell but somehow he had to bridle that passion, had to keep his adrenaline from spiking and ruining everything. If he let his emotions overwhelm him he might blurt out the words or put them in the wrong order and ruin the entire spell.

The third and final stanza commenced. Lozan and the adepts joined hands and the power of the spell multiplied exponentially. The chanting was hypnotic, encompassing; the energy in the room electric.

The stanza came to its end and as one; the chant stopped like someone slammed a door. Lozan and the adepts raised their joined hands toward the dais, their gold rings glistening in the candlelight "One lord and ruler," Lozan boomed out in the absence of chanting.

A repeat of the final stanza began. Lozan swayed to the words as if pushed by a gentle breeze, taking each one in and savoring its meaning. No longer could you tell one voice from another. There was only tone, pulsating and throbbing. Lozan's entire body vibrated with it. It felt as though he was being consumed by energy. It surged around him, through him; penetrating skin, blood and bone with the ease of wind, forcing him to match its intensity. He focused his intention even harder now as the second repeat drew to a close.

"One land, one law," Lozan intoned, his voice quivering under the housed energy.

The final iteration began. Words were inseparable now. Swallowed into tone, they formed a single note that ached with heady anticipation; a wall of sound that threatened to crush them with its intensity, stretch them to their physical limit and tear them apart. Now was the time.

"We are yours to rule, lord. Come forth and command us," Lozan bellowed, throaty and guttural as he and the adepts thrust their joined hands toward the dais a final time, falling silent as they bowed their heads.

The tone they had created continued to vibrate; rolling around the chamber like it was looking for a release point, a way to escape the confines of singularity. A second passed; then another. Lozan felt like he was lost in a void but he dared not move. Then the tone was consumed, sucked into a central point a few feet above the dais as matter formed out of nothingness. Lozan and his adepts had to brace themselves from falling forward as the energy in the room disappeared. Gone. Like something had vacuumed it from existence. Lozan waited, head still bowed, squeezing the adepts hands in his so hard he was sure their fingers were going to break.

"Arise, Lozan," a raspy voice growled. Kyriu had arrived.

### Chapter 2

Lozan's gaze drifted from the floor in slow motion, Kyriu sliding into his field of vision inches at a time and relief washed over him, filling the spaces vacated by anxiety. There was no reason for this. Never in all the summoning's had there been a failure, but Lozan knew that if something went wrong, he would bear the blame. What sort of punishment would be meted out he did not know but whatever it was, he was certain it would be very unpleasant.

Lozan and the adepts released hands. The adepts tucked their hands in their robes and remained kneeling with their heads bowed while Lozan climbed to his feet and met Kyriu's gaze.

Kyriu's yellow eyes burned with an intensity that paralyzed Lozan. Only for a moment though. Kyriu was volatile and could lash out over the slightest deviation from ritual and ceremony and Lozan knew he had to keep the proceedings moving forward. He bowed his head slightly. "My lord, you have come."

"As scheduled." Kyriu scanned the room, pressing his lips together in a fierce scowl, eyes narrowed with suspicion, looking.

"I am sure you will find everything to your liking..." Lozan trailed off as he noticed Kyriu had stopped his appraisal of the chamber and was focused on one corner of the black cloth draped over the dais. Unlike the other three corners that lay perfectly flat, this corner was folded back on itself in a haphazard way. Lozan swallowed hard. He should have come earlier and checked everything himself.

"Who laid this cloth?" Kyriu thrust a scaly hand toward the offending corner. His voice was raw and throaty.

"I..I..it was Crylir, I believe." Lozan was glad that he was able to direct Kyriu's anger at someone else.

Crylir was the newest of his adepts and had been promoted after the last time routine hadn't been followed to the letter. Lozan shuddered as the memories of that occasion surfaced. He forced them back down and regained control over himself. If he weren't careful, Kyriu's wrath would fall on him anyway. Though Lozan was highly ranked with Kyriu he knew if he didn't perform as expected he would be replaced with nary a thought. Kyriu had never said as much, but he didn't need to. His actions made it clear.

"Crylir!" Kyriu whipped his reptilian face around, his gaze falling exactly on Crylir.

Crylir flinched under his robes but remained looking down, resisting the urge to run.

"Fix this blemish immediately."

Crylir rose at once and scurried over to the offending corner He knelt and flipped it into its proper position, then flattened it with the palms of hand as if he were ironing his robes. When he was done he remained kneeling, awaiting further instruction.

"Do you wish forgiveness?"

"I do my lord." Crylir's voice was barely a whisper.

"Then come and beg for it."

Crylir rose and strode so fast to Kyriu it was like he was in two places at once. He dropped to his knees in front of him, but kept his eyes locked to the floor at all times.

Kyriu regarded Crylir's crouched form before extending his hand and the mood flipped from anger to malice like a switch had been thrown.

Crylir snatched the offered hand at once, like a drowning man would grab a rope, and began pledging his allegiance to Kyriu, to the rule that he maintained over Brankin Huoh and to anything else he hoped would appease him. With a final kiss of Kyriu's glittering ring, Crylir let go of the hand and waited in his prone position.

"You may return to your spot."

Crylir exhaled softly, a weight lifting from him, and then rose to rejoin the line of adepts. As he turned to step away, Kyriu screeched violently and his scaly hand shot out with deadly accuracy.

Startled by the scream, Crylir turned to his head to Kyriu and saw a spray of blood that splattered the adepts' robes. It was his blood, spurting from the gash in his neck. He stumbled forward a step and fell to his knees, clutching his neck, trying to staunch the flow. He looked to his fellow adepts for help but none met his eye. Crylir flopped chest-first into the growing pool of red, and he smiled to himself as his essence left the flesh behind. He was proud that he had died in Kyriu's service.

Kyriu licked the blood from his claw as he watched Crylir die. He resisted jumping on the dying body and savagely attacking it; ripping it to shreds and devouring its raw flesh and blood. The urge was almost overwhelming but he managed to quell it. He knew it would only satiate him physically for a short while. There was another, more attractive meal in the room at the moment. Fear. The assembled adepts and Lozan were slathered with it. It was seeping from their pores, emanating from their psyches in waves. The sight of their colleague dying had brought it on out of their control. They quivered under their robes involuntarily as each of them silently prayed he wouldn't be next. Kyriu could feel this all. His pointy tongue flicked out seeking a taste. He threw his head back and inhaled deeply. He could feel the energy fill his lungs. His head swam as if he were drunk. This was what the Mrüg lived for and thrived on; where they gained their power. The energy released by fear was both intoxicating and sustaining. It inflamed Kyriu's desire for blood and he toyed with the idea of slaughtering every single person in the room. But he knew that wouldn't serve his purpose either. Such a selfish act would set their agenda back months, maybe years. Even he, as highly ranked as he was, had someone to report to. Plus there were bigger things on his mind at the moment. Reminded of why he was here, he took another luxurious slow breath, and then turned his attention to Lozan.

"Come Lozan, there is much we need to discuss." He turned and sauntered toward the spiral staircase at the side of the chamber as if nothing had happened.

Lozan drew his pale face away from the bloody remains of Crylir on the ground, managed a stiff nod in Kyriu's direction and then fell in step behind him. At the top of the stairs, he passed Olkuu and ordered him to have the body disposed of and the room cleaned. Olkuu only nodded.

Kyriu marched ahead, listening, keenly aware of every detail. He heard Lozan relay the order to dispose of the body and made a mental note to have Olkuu take the body somewhere where he could have his way with it unseen.

Though Kyriu was physically spent and needed to rest and recover that would have to wait. This visit was more urgent than a normal check-in to make sure Lozan was following orders. He needed to make sure Lozan was fully informed before he could rest. He led Lozan to the closest meeting room and entered, taking a seat at the head of the long table inside. Lozan took the seat to his immediate right. He looked shaken. Kyriu had had reason to discipline before but had never done so this violently. He usually reserved that kind of savagery for his own pleasure when he was alone and could take time to enjoy every sensation. He reminded himself to keep a tighter rein on his emotions in the future. "Now, Lozan," Kyriu started.

"I am sorry for the offence my lord. It won't happen again," Lozan blurted out before he could help himself.

"I am certain there will be no repeats." Kyriu remembered fondly the depths of fear he felt in the chamber after slaying Crylir. Lozan was still rife with it.

"We have collected much gold and silver my lord, as you bid."

"There will be time to go over that later." Kyriu felt weary and impatient. He usually admired Lozan's attention to detail with the orders he was given but in his current state he was starting to get annoyed. "Am I correct that the annual induction ceremony is set to take place in a few days' time?"

"Yes my lord."

"Good. My stay this time will be longer than usual. Make the necessary arrangements."

"Of course my lord. It would be an honor to have you with us as long as you wish." Lozan wondered why this visit was going to be longer than usual but decided it didn't matter. He was delighted to have more time to make amends for the gaffe in the burial chamber.

"There is a boy among this year's eligible that will require 'special attention'," Kyriu said, almost as if he could read Lozan's mind.

The induction ceremony was Kyriu's brainchild. The directive Kyriu gave all the human rulers under his command was the same; to oppress their people as much as possible. Keep squeezing and squeezing as a means to retain control and remind them of their place in the world.

Lozan took this directive very seriously and didn't merely follow it - he dreamed of ways to expand it, to make life as degrading and dehumanizing as he could for the citizens of Brankin Huoh. This was why he was one of Kyriu's favorites.

Through his observations of human interaction Kyriu came to realize they had an especially strong bond with their offspring. He found this curious and wondered if he could find a way to break that bond, separate children from parents, would the adults would more readily accept domination. Based on this idea Kyriu developed a scheme where each year there would be an induction ceremony. The ceremony was used to choose from the children that were to come of age that year, which occurred at fifteen in Brankin Huoh. Those selected would take up residence in the Citadel to be trained. It worked masterfully, even better than Kyriu had expected. As an unforeseen benefit, the drama and angst created by separating children from their parents was intoxicating.

At first the people resisted the idea of their children leaving home to become part of the Citadel but over time they came to accept it. In fact they began to look forward to it, as it became filled with prestige and honor to have their child inducted. The chosen family or families were given a few more rewards than the rest of the townsfolk in return for their child being chosen. A marginally lower taxation, repairs to their farm or shop, a little bit of notoriety. Nominal things, but those few rewards were enough to get people to buy into it. The children who were chosen were usually of lower intelligence, the types that had shown a tendency toward violent and sadistic behavior. These were Kyriu's favorites. They could be easily trained to enforce the Citadel's rules, even turning on their parents in efforts to gain favor with higher ups.

The most ingenious part of the induction ceremony was that it also allowed the Citadel to take children that were of above average intelligence, though there were fewer and fewer of those types these days. These were the ones who 'could open their eyes one day' as Kyriu referred to it. The smarter kids were the types who could one day present real problems for the Citadel. They could see more than the regular people. They could connect the dots and realize that they didn't have to live this way. That there was a better way, a better future for all of them; they only had to believe in it and work together to make it happen. If they were really smart, they would eventually figure out that the Citadel had no real power, only the power the people gave up when they bought into its systems.

The chosen ones would be brought to live in the Citadel and their behavior would be rewarded or curtailed, whatever was needed. The mean kids would usually end up in the Citadel's personal guard. Or they would work in collections or policing. The really nasty ones would become adepts, serving the ruler of the Citadel, hoping to one day become leader. The potential trouble makers would be shuffled into un important roles around the Citadel. They would be made to do just enough to keep them busy, keep their minds occupied with the drudgery of daily work routines and away from any ideas of rebellion. The inductions had worked so well that Kyriu had implemented the same plan in other towns he ruled.

"My lord?" Lozan was confused.

Kyriu fixed his yellow eyes on Lozan. "The boy named Tagan must be inducted."

Lozan scanned his mental records of all the hopefuls for the name Tagan. He remembered reading the name on one of his registers but it was not associated with the regular attitudes they looked for and Tagan definitely was not on Lozan's list of inductee's. Tagan might as well not have even existed, such was his notoriety. "There have been no reports of ill or of good about Tagan my lord. Are you certain that he is the one we need?"

"I am certain it is he. He doesn't know it yet, but Tagan can ruin everything."

### Chapter 3

Braulor tilted his head to the side and listened. The monotone drumming of rain against his tent was easing to a mere pitter-patter. This was a good sign. It would be much easier to pack up camp without rain to hinder them. They had been encamped here far longer than he would have liked and it was time to move on. Truth be told, as much of a hassle as it was, Braulor was glad to be moving. Their proximity to Brankin Huoh had started to unnerve him. The roving police bands didn't usually come this far out but if they had reason too, like the capture of the Greejon clan, they wouldn't hesitate. Plus there were other groups of mercenaries and criminals that lived on the fringes of authority who they had to keep an eye out for.

Such was the life when you were an enemy of the state. Of course Braulor and the others of the Greejon clan didn't see themselves as enemies of the state, rather as free spirits, mavericks, people who had decided not to live in the confines of the city. People who wanted to live free of harassment and of the abundance of petty rules born of a desire to control rather than as a mechanism to keep the peace.

The Greejon clan lived off the land. They did what they wanted, when they wanted and nobody could tell them otherwise. They worked and lived in harmony with nature, taking only what was needed and trying to give back as much as they could.

The Greejon clan would return to their favored location along the Jaswulder River. It was at the foot of the mountains where the river left the valley. Perhaps a little earlier than usual to return from their foraging but supplies were dwindling, almost as fast as morale. By returning now they could continue to hunt while the supplies they had already collected could be transported to Vjeinka Rise for storage. Vjeinka Rise was where they spent the majority of the winter months living off of what they had foraged, grown or bartered for during the warmer season.

Vjeinka Rise started out as a single cave to store their goods and the clan would live outside of the cave mouth. Over time, more caves were found and tunnels hollowed out to connect them. Now it was a network of storage areas and living space that housed the entire clan and could accommodate more if it was needed. Each of the three entrance ways was guarded at all times. Even now a skeleton crew remained to guard their stores and keep trespassers out.

Movement outside his tent caught Braulor's attention, a rustling noise that seemed out of place among the drips. Hand on the hilt of the short sword strapped to his waist, Braulor pushed aside the tent flap and stepped into the dripping rain. Nothing out of the ordinary caught his eye. He nodded to the posted guard but maintained the grip on his sword and stepped around the tent with the pretence of a stalking cat. It was darker back here and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. When they did Braulor saw a large black raven on the lowest branch of a nearby tree. Its head bobbed up and down like a cork but it remained silent. Braulor gulped and looked over his shoulder to make sure the guard hadn't followed him. What could he possibly need right now? Braulor let go of the pommel to his sword, marched over to the now relaxed bird and took the parchment that was secured to its leg. Not waiting for a reply the crow flapped off through the trees and away into the sky. Braulor watched it go, then read the note and frowned. A cryptic 'We need to meet' was all it said. Braulor pocketed the note and sighed, then left the clearing, walking past his tent and the guard toward the main camp. He needed to meet with the Greejon clan council.

Braulor sat in the tent designated for official council chambers and pondered his predicament as he awaited the arrival of the other council members. He didn't need this complication right now. Why couldn't he have received the note when they were back at Vjeinka Rise? Then he could have slipped away without anyone being the wiser. Braulor often went hunting by himself so there would be no questions asked and he could have met Alrei Yqu without fear of discovery. There was no way he would ever betray the men and women of the Greejon clan but he also had interests outside of the group that were for him and him alone. He was certain many of the others did as well.

The tent flap opened, announcing the arrival of the other council members. Cortane was first, followed by Tyran, Quuvin, Hutre, Khoaux and Jolon. The grumbling that accompanied them testified that none were pleased with having to attend an impromptu meeting at this important juncture but it was part of the job and they accepted it. They took seats at the table and fell silent, turning their stern faces to Braulor.

Quuvin was first to speak. "What is so important, Braulor, that you felt it necessary to take us away from more pressing duties? You know what preparing to move camp entails."

Braulor cleared his throat before he spoke. "Fellow council members, I'm sorry to interrupt the important work each of you was no doubt involved with but a matter has come up that requires my attention and I will be leaving camp immediately." Braulor hoped his directness would diffuse a lot of the resistance he expected and shorten the whole process.

The table of assembled council members grew so quiet the sound of their breathing rose up like the rush of a gale force wind through the trees.

Braulor shifted in his chair, growing tense as he saw faces painted with disbelief staring back at him. It was about what he had expected.

"And what business would that be?" growled the always gruff Hutre, breaking the crushing silence.

"Suffice it to say that I am needed elsewhere. I will catch up with the clan at Vjeinka Rise."

"This is not the best time Braulor." Quuvin's gentle voice brought the anxiety level in the tent down a little. "We will be breaking camp in a few days' time. Couldn't this wait?"

"I understand your concerns Quuvin but I cannot delay in this." Braulor couldn't waffle under the weight of guilt that was plaguing him. "We have moved camps many times before. It will happen whether I am here or not."

Although there was no formal leader appointed, often it was Braulor who had the final say in matters. It was Braulor that people sought when there was need to settle a dispute. Not that he was any more intelligent than the other councillors but he had taken the Greejon clan from a disorganized bunch of misfits and waywards and began to form the roots of the cohesive group they had become.

"Does this matter affect the clan's safety in any way?" Jolon asked out of courtesy as it seemed the other council members would be interested in the answer. As far as he was concerned the Greejon clan would do just fine without Braulor's presence and he couldn't wait for him to be off. Jolon had always been jealous of Braulor and the easy manner in which he dealt with people and situations. Braulor was like a big brother to everyone. Affable and decisive, what Braulor said was law and this irked Jolon. With any luck Braulor would meet an unsavory end on his secretive mission and the way would be clear for Jolon to assert his rule over the clan.

"I would never put the safety of the clan behind anyone's interests, especially mine. I think my service would speak to that." Braulor glared at Jolon. He knew what Jolon was up to and normally wouldn't fall for his bait, but Alrei Yqu's summons had left him short tempered.

"Then I for one will not restrain you. May your journey be safe and your return swift." Jolon bowed his head in Braulor's direction, then rose and left the tent.

The remaining councillors one by one nodded their consent and filed from the tent without further questions, several echoing Jolon's sentiment of a swift return, although they really meant it. They could tell that Braulor wasn't going to divulge his reason for leaving and each of them had tasks that commanded their attention.

Only Tyran remained behind, rocking on his heels as he waited for the tent to clear out. He was the youngest of the councillors at eighteen but had grown up in the shadow of Braulor and shared many of his traits. That was why he was nominated to the council at such a young age.

"What is it, Tyran?" Braulor's anger from the altercation with Jolon was subsiding.

"I don't like you leaving at this critical time." Tyran was straight to the point as usual.

"Come now, Tyran," Braulor said, dismissively waving his hand. "I have gone off alone many times before. I will be fine."

"Your going off alone isn't what concerns me." Tyran had travelled with Braulor many times into the woods and knew Braulor was at ease in that environment.

"What concerns you then?"

"It is no secret that Jolon has long desired to usurp your power. I feel that his patience is waning and he may try to take matters into his own hands in your absence."

"I can handle Jolon or whatever tricks he may have up his sleeve. He does not worry me. This summons however has me concerned. Why would Alrei Yqu contact me after such prolonged silence?"

"So this is about Alrei Yqu." Tyran nodded his head as his suspicions were confirmed. "I had a feeling it would take someone like that to drag you from camp at such an important time."

"He wishes to meet with me," Braulor confirmed. Tyran was the only one that Braulor had ever told about the mysterious Alrei Yqu. Braulor had first encountered Alrei Yqu when the Greejon clan was in its infancy; a small group that came together if only to provide safety for one another. Braulor was still pursuing many of his own ends then and had gone off from the others. It was early spring and he was traversing a high mountain pass when the snow pack let go beneath his feet and dragged him along with it. He was trapped under the snow and though he strained every muscle to try and get free, he couldn't move an inch. His breathing became labored and with every exhale the wet snow pressed down on him harder and harder. Like a huge white constrictor it squeezed and squeezed. Braulor was sure this was the end and gave up trying to escape. He said a word of goodbye to those he loved and closed his eyes to wait for death's arrival.

How long he had been unconscious, Braulor didn't know. All he did know was that when he came too, he was wrapped tightly in blankets, a fire blazing beside him. For days he remained this way while he healed, his savior never fully revealing himself. Alrei Yqu stayed on the fringes of the fire light at night. During the day he remained hidden under boughs of trees and bushes. But always they talked while Braulor was awake. Braulor shared much of his past with Alrei Yqu, even though he felt that Alrei Yqu knew much that he didn't let on.

When questioned as to why he was there, Alrei Yqu said that he happened along shortly after the avalanche and dug Braulor out from the snow. That he brought Braulor to the clearing and tended his wounds, then left him, wrapped in blankets, maintaining the fire as he slept.

Was Alrei Yqu following him? How did he know where to find him under all that snow? When Braulor asked about this point, Alrei Yqu would only say that Braulor would know everything in due time.

Alrei Yqu was keenly interested in Braulor's heritage and told Braulor that he was very important. For what, Braulor wasn't told. It was Alrei Yqu who instilled in Braulor the first thoughts of organizing other free peoples into a clan.

When Braulor awoke on the fourth day, the fire blazed as usual but Alrei Yqu had gone. After calling out several times, Braulor wriggled free of the blankets and tested his limbs. Everything seemed to be in working order so he bundled up the blankets, tying them to his nearby pack and doused the fire. With a last look around he left the area, unsure if everything was real or if he had dreamt it all.

It was several months later that the first raven had appeared. Braulor at first ignored it. The bird was persistent though and finally after much harassment forced Braulor to remove the note tied to his leg. The first note had instructions to meet Alrei Yqu in the same mountain pass where he had rescued Braulor. Subsequent notes contained the same instructions and a sentence or two about what Braulor could expect to learn from their meeting. Each meeting was the same. It didn't matter if Braulor showed up early in the day or late, Alrei Yqu did not make an appearance until dusk the next day. Food and drink were left in a nearby cache and Braulor would make a fire and wait. When Alrei Yqu did arrive the conversations were short and to the point. Alrei Yqu would foretell events that were yet to pass that he felt would be useful to Braulor. He was amazingly accurate, leaving Braulor to wonder if Alrei Yqu was some sort of shaman or seer. Braulor used this information to the benefit of the Greejon clan. They had evaded the long arms of the Citadel so far and Alrei Yqu's information always kept them one step ahead of the mercenaries and police bands. This was how Braulor had gained such importance among the Greejon clan.

"And now brother, I must go," Braulor said to Tyran, getting to his feet.

They looked one another in the eye for a moment and embraced.

"Be safe brother." Tyran left the tent without another word.

### Chapter 4

It didn't matter how softly he tried to walk, the dirt crunched under his feet as he went. Jolon stopped for a moment and listened to see if anyone was following him. Nothing sounded out of the ordinary so he resumed his march, finding a strip of grass to tread upon that softened his footfalls.

It was late now, perhaps close to midnight Jolon decided as he glanced at the moon; a while yet before dawn would break. Then the Greejon camp would come to life and begin the trek to Vjeinka Rise. Jolon picked up his pace realizing that he needed to be back at camp before that happened, before anyone noticed his absence and questioned where he was. Getting out of camp had been easy. The perimeter guard that night was his cousin and he didn't question why Jolon wanted to leave camp after dark. To him it didn't matter. Jolon was a respected member of the clan and served on the council so no explanation was needed. He was also sympathetic to Jolon's vision and hoped that a look the other way here and there would be rewarded accordingly.

The confrontation with Braulor earlier was still fresh in Jolon's mind as he stalked through the thick brush. The meeting lit a fire in Jolon and provoked him into action. The time had come for Jolon to take care of Braulor once and for all. There was no way he would be able to assume rule of the camp while Braulor walked among the living. It was time to make Braulor go away.

Jolon smiled, harnessing his resentment. How the camp would be thrown into disarray when they found out that Braulor would never be coming back. How they would come crawling to him, begging that he do something before things got out of hand. The other councillors were old men, beyond their time, only securing places on the council at Braulor's behest for the breadth and depth of their knowledge and experience. With Braulor out of the picture they wouldn't be far behind; either naturally or with a little help. One way or another they would be leaving the council. Jolon already had their replacements lined up; men who were faithful to him and who would carry out his orders without question. Men who would help Jolon rule the camp and build the lifestyle he envisioned for himself. But first there was Braulor to deal with.

Jolon had a few secrets of his own and he was on his way to visit one of them now. He had hidden while Braulor left camp on his mysterious quest and breathed a sigh of relief when Braulor headed in a northwest direction.

Jolon was heading in the opposite direction at the moment, to meet the small group of mercenaries he had befriended at one of the black markets the clan frequented.

The mercenaries had descended on the market like a storm. They burst from the bush in a blur of muscle and armor, reeking of cheap alcohol, bullying and harassing everyone they encountered. They descended on the Greejon clan's display, pawing at the goods like children who couldn't resist a toy. A fight broke out when one of the mercenaries tried to help himself to some of the wares without paying. The hubbub of the market died as if time had frozen when swords were drawn and men from the Greejon clan and the mercenaries squared off. It was then that Braulor showed up. Arriving swiftly on the scene from brokering a deal for seed, he intervened and convinced everyone to sheath their weapons. Braulor and the mercenary leader stepped aside and talked peace. Apparently the mercenaries had encountered Braulor before and while not befriending him, they shared a mutual respect. He convinced them to leave the market, which they did, but not willingly and not before terrorizing a few more vendors on their way out. They set up camp on a field a little ways removed and proceeded to drink more and more, becoming louder and louder, though they left the marketers alone. Most of the sellers had packed up and left after the first encounter. The Greejon clan stayed long enough to sell all their goods but then packed up swiftly and left, wanting to avoid a rematch with a possible deadlier outcome.

Jolon volunteered to stay behind and conduct a few more trades for goods the clan was dangerously low on. As soon as the Greejon clan's vanguard was out of eyesight he marched over to the mercenaries and met with their leader himself. They were a formidable group but Jolon knew how to deal with them. Men of power were always the same. They wanted more power. And Jolon was ready to offer it. Although nothing formal was decided upon, the mercenary leader, Draax, showed interest in Jolon's plan. That was the great thing about mercenaries; they were loyal to no one but themselves and were a perfect fit for the coup he was planning.

During the last few days Jolon had kept his eyes and ears open when out on clan business. There were a number of subtle signs that had alerted him to Draax's mercenary group's presence in the area and now he was making for the sliver of firelight he could see dancing in the forest ahead. As Jolon got closer he heard gregarious laughter, men enjoying the spirits.

Jolon didn't attempt to sneak in. Instead, he headed for the fire, hoping that a sentry would spot him and take him to Draax. It would expedite things and then he could return to the clan before anyone questioned his absence.

It didn't take long. A short distance from the mercenary camp, still shrouded in darkness, Jolon was tackled, the cold edge of a knife pressing into his throat, making him question his decision making process.

"What are you doing?" a rough voice asked.

The strong hands holding him trembled with excitement and adrenaline and Jolon struggled to break free. One hand let go and delivered a punch to the back of his head, then grabbed hold of his hair while the other pressed the knife even harder into his neck.

"I said, what do you think you're doing way up here?" the rough voice repeated through gritted teeth. The vice-like hands stopped trembling, as if teetering on the edge of choice, waiting for an answer.

Jolon knew if he didn't respond he wouldn't be going any farther or anywhere ever again for that matter. He stopped resisting immediately. "Draax." Jolon groaned, the knee pressing into his back making it difficult to talk. "I need to see Draax."

"What's your name?" The hands shoved Jolon's face harder into the dirt as their grip grew tighter anew.

"Jolon." It came out like a cough, dirt forcing its way into his open mouth.

"Ask Draax if he knows this Jolon," the voice said in a different direction.

A pair of feet trotted away.

Jolon shifted under the sentry's weight, trying to get into a position where he could draw more breath.

"Stop yer squirming or it ain't gonna matter if you know Draax or not."

Jolon stopped moving and instead tried to concentrate on not blacking out from the punch to the back of the head and his labored breathing. Jolon focussed on the only thing he could think of to keep him going, Braulor's death and his ascension to leader of the Greejon clan. Even with this image to feed his spirits it seemed like days passed before the pair of feet returned.

"Draax wants to see him," a deep voice said, slow with a hint of drawl.

"You're certain?"

"That's what the man said."

There was a pause and then the hands pushed off Jolon as his assailant stood up. This was followed by a sharp kick to Jolon's ribs.

"That's for disturbing my watch."

Jolon rolled to one side, sputtering as he tried to breathe and spit out dirt at the same time. With the guards weight removed he was free to inhale deeply but he had to clutch at his ribs with each pain producing gasp.

"Take him to Draax before I cut his stupid head off," the first voice spat.

A new pair of hands yanked Jolon roughly to his feet. He stood coughing and then dropped to his knees and threw up. That made his ribs worse and his head pounded like it was being crushed.

Once more the hands pulled him up. This time they didn't let go and Jolon swayed in their grip. He opened his eyes a crack. He wanted to glimpse his assailant and have a memory for when he could exact some measure of revenge. All he could see was a large man with shoulder length hair, chopping at the brush as he stormed off to resume his watch.

"Move," the deep voiced man said and shoved Jolon painfully in the direction of the fire.

Jolon felt like he was on the verge of blacking out and it took a huge effort to get one foot in front of the other without falling. He walked like he was stuck in fog, moving his head at odd angles, trying to bring the path into focus. Another shove and he picked up the pace.

They walked a short distance along a narrow path then turned left as they entered the main encampment. Jolon used every ounce of mental acuity he could muster to stay focussed on the trail under his feet. How would he find his way back to the Greejon clan camp in this condition?

The fire grew brighter as they passed between a row of tents and Jolon had to squint from its intensity. This didn't help his already throbbing skull. When his eyes adjusted, he spotted Draax at once. Draax was seated at a makeshift table, one hand gripping a large mug of ale, the other resting on the pommel of his sword. A few others were at the table with him, laughing at a pair of men wrestling on the ground nearby.

Draax didn't acknowledge his presence until Jolon was right beside him. "Enough." And the men wrestling stopped at once and collected the clothes they had ripped off one another. They slouched off in search of more ale, eyeing each other warily. There were still scores to be settled.

Draax looked Jolon up and down. Whether Draax remembered him or not Jolon couldn't tell. His dark eyes were bleary and bloodshot from drink; eyelids drooping. His mouth closed in a frown made it seem Draax was angry that Jolon had come along and ruined his fun.

"I see you met Lyrell." Draax finally slurred, his eyes resting on the red line across Jolon's neck.

The men at the table with him guffawed at Draax's quip, banging the table loudly and spilling their ale.

Jolon's face reddened as he wiped at his neck and then looked at the streak of blood on his hand. "Yes. He seemed quite... capable." Jolon's jaw ached as he spoke.

Draax laughed a big booming laugh that made everyone else in the immediate area turn and look in their direction. The mirth seemed to clear his head a little and he spoke more clearly. "Did you expect better treatment approaching our camp in the dead of night? You're lucky Emik was out there with him or Lyrell would have killed you and been done with it."

"Perhaps it was an ill-advised time to seek your council Draax, but one must take advantage of opportunities when they present themselves, even if it means a bit of rough handling." Jolon rubbed the growing knot on the back of his head.

His words grabbed Draax's attention as Jolon had intended and the other man straightened up in his chair. "Leave us," he commanded to nobody in particular.

Emik, Jolon's escort, let go of his arm and backtracked in the direction they had come without saying a word. He stopped a little ways away and turned, taking up a post out of earshot but still close enough to defend Draax if necessary.

The men at the table grabbed their mugs and wandered off without even a backward glance.

"Have a seat." Draax motioned to a now vacant chair at the table.

Jolon slid into the offered seat, wincing as pain shot through his ribs.

"Care for a drink?" Draax drained his mug in one long gulp and slammed it back on the table. Not waiting for an answer he grabbed a nearby mug and filled it and his own from a small cask he produced from beside his chair. He shoved one mug in Jolon's direction before stoppering the cask and returning it to the ground at his feet. Another long drink from his own mug and then Draax fixed his eyes on Jolon while wiping his stubbly chin with the back of his hand. "What's your business Jolon?"

"Braulor."

Draax bristled at the name but kept his unsteady gaze on Jolon.

"Braulor has left our camp. Gone on another of his lone treks to who knows where."

"And why does this concern me?"

"We are planning to shift camp back to Vjeinka Rise before the cold weather comes in. If he were not to return for some reason then I could assume control of the council."

"Where do I fit in all this?" Draax was following Jolon's tack easily enough. He was sure Jolon wanted him to make Braulor disappear but Draax wanted to make sure all the terms and expectations were fully disclosed now so there could be no reneging later due to vague details. One of the lessons he had learned the hard way as a mercenary was to make sure everything is clear and agreed upon up front.

"Once I have control of the council, I will bring you on as my personal envoy. After you have been there for a few months it's an easy transition to full council member."

"Bah. Your council would never allow it." Draax shook his head.

"They are old and indecisive. Without Braulor around to guide them they wouldn't know what to do. If any of them give us problems...well, we will deal with them accordingly," Jolon said as he fingered the welt on his neck once more.

Draax sat back in his chair, his jaw set, staring at Jolon. He was amazed sometimes at his good fortune. Being a mercenary had its finer points. You didn't answer to anybody and generally you were feared enough that you didn't have to flex too much muscle to get what you wanted.

However Draax knew he wasn't getting any younger and found he was growing weary of the constant movement and drifting. Somewhere to settle down and enjoy the fruits of other's labor without the constant fighting for survival appealed to him. Let the younger men fight for a daily living. Draax wanted out and here was his ticket, falling right in his lap. "What do you have in mind?"

"Braulor headed northeast. Send one of your best trackers to kill him." Jolon didn't shift his gaze from Draax's, showing his commitment to the plan.

"I'll send two, just to make sure the job is done properly," Draax said after a moment's thought. His words were still a bit slurred but he was in full command of the situation. He had been doing this for so long now that he wanted to get out; to get away from it. He couldn't help but be in tune with the process, no matter what his state of sobriety was.

"An excellent idea." Jolon nodded his approval.

"And how will I know when you have taken over the council?"

"I will send a messenger asking you to join me when the time is right."

They looked one another in the eye and then clasped hands, Draax's grip almost crushing Jolon's slender fingers.

"You better not double cross me, Jolon," Draax said over their handshake, his once bleary eyes burning with fierce intention, driving his point home. Then he let go and called to Emik, to escort Jolon out of camp.

Jolon stood, took a sip from his mug, grimacing as he swallowed the harsh, bitter contents, and then followed Emik away from the table, leaving Draax to his drink. He would not double cross Draax. Instead he planned to kill him.

### Chapter 5

After leaving the meeting with his fellow council members, Braulor went directly to his tent and packed a small travel bag with some clothes and provisions of food and water. He would only be gone four days, five at the most. The rest of his belongings he stowed in a large chest at the end of his bed. He locked the chest with a silver key and attached the key to a heavy chain that he wore around his neck, tucking it under his leather armor. His bow and quiver of arrows slung across his shoulders, Braulor strapped his sword to his belt before donning a helm. He looked around the room and was satisfied that his most treasured possessions were locked in his trunk. The blanket he was wrapped in as a baby and a delicate necklace with a purple crystal pendulum on it that belonged to his mother. The rest someone would pack for him. Braulor didn't worry about his tent; the other clansmen would take it down and move it for him. He hated to leave the work for someone else to do but there was no choice now. He had to meet with Alrei Yqu.

Braulor left his tent and chose a lesser used path that headed in the right direction. He stopped for a moment to chat with the posted guards at the outskirts of camp. They relayed their concern that he would not be present when they broke camp but wished him well and urged him to hurry back. He assured them he would be back as soon as he could and continued along the trail.

Once he was inside the forest, Braulor felt better. A sense of peace stole over him as the energy from the plants and trees resonated with him. As much as he loved the security of the camp, this was where he belonged. There was nothing he liked more than being out in the wild, exploring, surviving, all on his own. He stopped where the path was swallowed by trees and looked back. The day was complete and long shadows from the mountains crept over the camp. A lone figure emerged from the darkness and walked back toward camp. The figure's gait seemed familiar but in the dusk he couldn't identify who it was for sure. Probably one of the guards doing rounds Braulor decided as he turned and walked into the trees with nimble strides.

Braulor was headed toward the Lyrwan pass. If he had left in the morning and really pushed himself he could probably make it to the pass in a day but he was in no real hurry as dusk was settling in and full darkness wasn't far off. Braulor wanted to make it to somewhere he could establish camp for the night. It didn't matter when he got there anyway, Alrei Yqu wouldn't arrive until the next evening. Braulor had decided to take a less direct route and enjoy some of the sights along the way. He had been cooped up in camp for far too long and he wanted to enjoy this trip as much as he could. He followed the winding path at a decent pace until he came to a fork. One way would lead him toward Brankin Huoh and the Citadel. The other was where he wanted to go, toward Lyrwan pass.

Braulor continued his trek until darkness had settled, then laid out his bedroll in a nice dry area under the boughs of a cluster of tall evergreen trees. He made a small fire and enjoyed a meal of dried meat and fruit. He drank his fill of water without concern as there was a small creek nearby where he could refill his canteen. Then lay back on his bedroll and stared up at the stars and the bright waxing moon that dominated the view. His eyes grew heavier and heavier.

Braulor awoke with start, the snap of a branch penetrating his doze. His fire had burnt itself out, but the wisp of grey smoke issuing from it indicated that it hadn't been out for long. The moon was low on the western horizon, its bright light casting an eerie glow on the small clearing. Another snap of a twig not far off and Braulor slowed his breathing, straining his ears, reaching out with every sense to ascertain who or what was approaching while one hand drifted to the hilt of his sword that lay beside him.

It was not an animal. An animal would be far less concerned with the noise it made and by the way the forest went still and quiet after the last twig broke, it seemed more likely someone was trying to sneak up on him. But who would be way out here?

A rustle of branches nearby and Braulor rolled from under his sheet and stepped behind the nearest tree and peered toward the source of the noise. From here he would have a clear view of whatever was out there if they came into the clearing. He gripped his sword, eyes straining, ears straining. Another crack. Braulor was having trouble focussing his senses. Whoever it was was closing in on his location. Braulor tensed, ready to attack.

A lone figure emerged from the darkness across the clearing and stopped, draped in shadow. The figure looked around, sweeping the area in a slow arc, taking in the details. Braulor noted that he didn't seem to have a weapon drawn.

The figure started moving again, straight toward Braulor's makeshift fire pit, and crouched down near Braulor's bedroll.

"Braulor," the figure called out, a hair above a whisper. Braulor eased the grip on his sword. He recognized that voice.

"Braulor," the man called again, this time a bit louder, as his head swung side to side searching the darkness beyond the clearing.

"Tyran, is that you?" Braulor asked, though he was certain it was.

"Yes, it is I."

Braulor stepped from behind the tree, his arm shaking as he lowered his sword. "You scared the wits out of me Tyran. What are you doing out here?" Braulor clapped Tyran on the shoulder, not bothering to hide the delight of seeing him.

"It's Jolon. He is up to something just as I feared."

"Sit down, sit down." Braulor indicated a spot near his bed roll and then piled some of the kindling he had chopped earlier into the fire pit. As Tyran laid out his own bedroll, Braulor got down on his knees and blew gently on the embers. They flared like tiny sunbursts with each gentle puff and then flames sprang up and crackled and snapped, happy to resume consuming the wood. Braulor sat down on his bedroll. "So what happened that was urgent enough to make you track me down all the way out here?"

Tyran took his canteen out as he started talking. "With so much going on in preparation to move camp I couldn't sleep, my mind was too busy. I decided to take a walk around camp, you know, think about things. I thought a little exercise would help me relax so I could fall asleep." He paused and took a long sip of water before continuing. "I stopped walking and was taking in the night sky when Jolon left his tent. He went straight out of camp, in pretty much the opposite direction you had gone."

"And he didn't see you?"

"I don't think so. He looked around a little but by then I was pressed tight behind one of the supply tents."

"What did the guards do?" Braulor tried to remember which guards were posted on the other side of the camp.

"Jolon talked to them for a bit and then continued on his way."

"Did you talk to them?"

"Yes. I asked them where Jolon was going. They said Jolon didn't tell them and because he was a councillor they didn't feel the need to ask."

"Hmmm. That's odd." Braulor thought for a moment. "Maybe Jolon couldn't sleep either and wanted to stretch his legs." But as soon as he suggested it, Braulor knew it couldn't be true. It was unlike Jolon to leave the safety of camp without an escort, especially after nightfall.

"Possibly, but the guards were very evasive. I think they knew more than they let on."

"I agree. It is suspicious. They didn't do their job very well if they didn't know where he was going. What direction did you say he went?"

"Up into the hills, on the west side of camp. I waited for some time and he didn't return. I don't know how to explain it but I got a bad feeling about the whole thing. That's when I decided to come and find you."

Braulor and Tyran sat for a while in silence and watched the fire, each of them lost in his own thoughts. Although he didn't let on to Tyran, it disturbed Braulor that Jolon had left camp in such a secretive manner. He couldn't think of any reason Jolon would have for leaving camp and agreed with Tyran's assessment. As much as Braulor wanted to turn straight back and get to the bottom of this, he had to get to this meeting with Alrei Yqu first. Then he could go back and deal with Jolon. The bigger question at the moment was what to do with Tyran. Braulor had always met with Alrei Yqu alone. He didn't know how the other man would react if Tyran was with him. He didn't know how Tyran would react to Alrei Yqu either. Alrei Yqu could be quite abrasive at times. "We should get some rest while we can," Braulor finally said. "We can figure out what to do in the morning." As he rolled into his blanket, Braulor could hear Tyran doing the same. In light of all this news, sleep wasn't easy to come. Braulor lay awake for a long time watching the fire burn itself out, trying to put a finger on what Jolon was up to.

When Braulor awoke it was still dark but dawn wasn't far off. The first shafts of light were reaching over the mountain, painting the sky a magnificent tangerine hue. Tyran was already awake, putting his bedroll into his pack. "Ready to go I see." Braulor climbed out from his own blankets. He stood and stretched, yawned, and then he began to roll up his bed.

"I'm ready. If we leave now we can be back at camp by midday," Tyran said without looking up.

Braulor sighed. He wasn't going back yet but he didn't want Tyran to go back by himself and have some sort of confrontation with Jolon when he wasn't there to protect him. "Tyran, I can't go back yet."

Tyran stopped his packing and his head whipped up to look at Braulor. "But what about Jolon? You agree that he is up to something."

"I do agree. But whatever Jolon has planned, it's against me and it won't happen until I return."

"I came all this way for you," Tyran's voice was quivering with anger and disappointment. Loyalty was above everything else for Tyran; loyalty to Braulor, loyalty to the clan and every clansman in it. It was the way he was. He put everybody and everything before his own needs so it was hard for him to understand why Braulor wouldn't go back immediately to deal with Jolon. He would have done so.

"Tyran, I need to meet with Alrei Yqu. He knows many things and this could be why he wants to meet, to warn me about Jolon." Braulor wasn't sure if he believed it himself, but he needed to tell Tyran something to placate him.

After a long pause Tyran shook his head. "I suppose you're right but I don't like the idea of Jolon back there sabotaging things when you're out here. How will I contain myself?"

"You don't have to. I want you to come with me to the meeting."

Tyran was stunned into silence. Although Braulor had told him about Alrei-Yqu, he knew very little of the actual proceedings and he always wondered what happened at them. "Are you sure you're allowed to bring another person? You've always gone alone."

"He's never told me to not bring someone. I think as long as you hang back a little, out of sight, it won't be a problem."

Tyran was confused. His loyalties to Braulor and to the Greejon Clan were being pulled in different directions. He sat there perplexed over the choice while Braulor stared at him.

"Once the meeting is over we can double-time it back to camp. We'll be back before Jolon can do anything."

"Okay," Tyran agreed, not sounding entirely confident in his choice., "We should get moving then."

"Now you're talking." Braulor clapped Tyran on the shoulder.

After a hasty meal and a refill of their canteens, they set out. They went at a fair pace but Braulor was careful not to go too fast. They needed to conserve energy for the return trip. At any rate, Alrei Yqu wouldn't show up until the following evening so he wasn't in any real rush. They talked off and on about camp and what Jolon might be attempting to do. They also walked for periods of time in silence, each of them in his own thoughts. Braulor was focused on the meeting with Alrei Yqu. Alrei Yqu always had good information for him but Braulor liked to be careful not to reveal much. This took a lot of mental preparation. Alrei Yqu could talk in circles, probe you with many questions. He would attack the same issue from many directions until you weren't even certain what question you were answering. Or he would ask many small questions, each seemingly independent from the other, but if you put all the answers together it would form the big picture he was seeking. At times it seemed like Alrei Yqu could see right into Braulor's mind, which was a terrifying thought. Braulor didn't know how much to tell Tyran. He felt he should warn him but didn't want to scare him either. It was just something Tyran would have to deal with when it came up Braulor supposed.

It was late afternoon when Braulor and Tyran stopped at the apex of Lyrwan Pass. They had walked all day, stopping only briefly at the foot of the mountains where they had a short rest and a quick meal augmented with berries they found growing wild. The path up to the pass had been harder to traverse than Braulor remembered. It didn't get much use and was overgrown in some spots, washed out in others. The going had been slow but now here they were. They set up camp, lit a fire and stretched out on their bedrolls.

It was beautiful up high in the pass. With all the subjects of conversation exhausted during the day's walk, Braulor and Tyran lay on their beds and enjoyed the silence. Birds flitted from tree to tree. The sky was a deep, hypnotic blue. Sleep crept slowly over each of them. They fought it at first with long yawns but it was too much; both of them succumbed to the urge.

Tyran awoke first, his eyes sliding open. He sat up slowly and looked around. He was disoriented and confused. When he had fallen asleep it was still light out. Now dusk was setting in. The sun was gone from the sky, the last rays of light illuminating the western edge of the mountains. Long fingers of shadow stole across the mountains and canyons, grabbing as much real estate as they could.

Braulor snorted in his sleep. It was probably that sound that had woken him. Tyran leaned back and nudged Braulor with his foot. Braulor turned onto his side and continued snoring. Tyran reached for his pack and retrieved his cloak. Wrapping it around his shoulders he delivered another, stronger nudge, to Braulor's backside.

Braulor rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. "What was that for?"

"You were snoring like a bear."

"So what?" Braulor sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"It's getting dark out. Didn't you notice?"

Braulor stopped rubbing his eyes and looked around. "So it is."

"What about your meeting?"

"Alrei Yqu won't arrive until tomorrow."

"Why? You're here now."

"I don't know why. It's the way it's always been. We should get the fire going again."

Braulor got up and loaded more wood into the fire pit. He tried to get the fire going by blowing on the embers but they were too cold and didn't respond to his attempts. He retrieved his tinder box from his pack and crouched near the wood, loading a fair amount of wood shavings into the pit. He struck the flint to the fire steel. Sparks jumped into the fire pit and exploded into a giant flare of green fire. Braulor and Tyran were thrown back by the force. Shielding their eyes they both stared as the flame slowly died down to a nice crackling fire.

"You have come," a low, whispery voice said.

Braulor looked at Tyran.

Tyran had clambered to his feet and was approaching the fire with caution. If he heard the voice he didn't show it.

"Who is the outsider?" the voice asked.

Everything was wrong. It sounded like Alrei Yqu but Braulor wasn't hearing him with his ears. It was more like the voice was manifested right in his head. It felt strange, as if Alrei Yqu was inside of his body, asking questions from within.

"That is Tyran. He is from my clan," Braulor said out loud making Tyran jump.

"Who are you talking to?" Tyran's head swiveled side to side.

Braulor waved his hands and shook his head indicating to Tyran to be quiet.

"Never before has someone joined us. Why now I wonder."

"Tyran followed me from camp to warn me about..."

"Ah yes. Jolon," Alrei Yqu interrupted. "You needn't be concerned with him for now."

Braulor was mildly surprised that Alrei Yqu knew about Jolon but at the same time he wasn't surprised at all. Alrei Yqu had proven time and time again that he had a fore knowledge of things to come. How he knew, Braulor couldn't say. He had been the beneficiary of that knowledge on several occasions so he chose not to question the why.

Braulor scanned the bush at the edge of the clearing but couldn't see anything. "You arrived early, Alrei Yqu. I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow's eve."

Tyran stood still, looking from Braulor to the trees and back. He couldn't hear anything and wondered if Braulor was making it all up as some kind of prank to scare him.

"We have an important matter to discuss." Without another word Alrei Yqu emerged from the tree line.

Braulor gasped.

Tyran reached for his sword but stopped midway, his hand suspended in midair as if frozen in place. He struggled but couldn't move his arm no matter how hard he tried.

"Braulor, what's going on?" Tyran backed away from Alrei Yqu as if he were a rabid dog, his heart pounding so hard he thought it was going to break his ribs.

Braulor sat with his mouth open. He had never seen Alrei Yqu clearly before and had pictured him as a wizened, older man, bent a little with age but vigorous and spry. Alrei Yqu was tall, a full head and half taller than Braulor, who was not short by any measure. Muscular and powerful, he strode to Braulor and Tyran and stopped, looking at each of them in turn. His sharp eyes revealed nothing. He was like a predator sizing up prey. With a wave of his hand Tyran was released from his unseen bonds and retrieved his sword.

"You won't need that, Tyran. I am not here to cause you harm. If that were my wish I would have done so already." Alrei Yqu's voice was commanding and soothing all at once and Tyran's stance softened as he lowered his guard.

"Let's sit, shall we." Alrei Yqu sat on the ground on the other side of the fire, legs crossed, hands resting neatly in his lap.

Reluctantly Tyran sat down but not too far from his pack and his sword.

"This night is full of surprises." Braulor was still taking in Alrei Yqu's sudden dramatic appearance. "Why do you reveal yourself to me now after all of our meetings?"

"If a man is lucky he gets to live in changing times," Alrei Yqu said taking on a thoughtful tone. "If one is really lucky he gets to be a part of that change."

"Cryptic. As usual," Braulor remarked

"Let me explain further then," Alrei Yqu said. Then he sat for a moment, staring alternately at each of them, gathering his thoughts. "You know of the city, Brankin Huoh?"

"Yes."

"Then you would also know that every year they conduct the induction ceremony, where they draft boys with questionable morals and train them to be part of the Citadel's official guard."

"We've encountered some of the graduates of the Citadel's program," Tyran interjected.

Alrei Yqu admonished the interruption with a stern stare before continuing. "The truly evil among the inductees are promoted straight to the private guard. Once there, their dark sides are nurtured and trained so they can be set loose to maintain tight control over the rest of the citizens."

Braulor certainly knew of the inductions. He set his jaw, remembering men lost at the hands of those trained in the Citadel. "How does that affect us? We keep well out of the city's way."

"There is one among them that will be inducted under false pretense. He is not evil, nor dangerous. They see it otherwise, I would suppose."

"So why are they inducting him?"

"Because a prophecy will be revealed to him that will shake all of this land; a prophecy that he is to have a hand in bringing about."

Braulor was somewhat taken aback. They had never touched on such esoteric subjects in their previous meetings. "How do you know all this?"

Alrei Yqu didn't elaborate.

"But what does this have to do with me? I can't go into the city and I wouldn't want to even if I could."

"He is being inducted only as a means to shut him up, too keep him away from the people. If the Citadel has him under lock and key, they can keep everyone but themselves from knowing the true prophecy and can control its outcome to their advantage."

Braulor didn't know what to say. It all sounded ludicrous. Prophecy was the stuff of legend. It was folklore, woven into stories they told children. Prophecy wasn't real. Even considering Alrei Yqu's uncanny knowledge of events to happen, a prophecy that could alter the future seemed a bit grand. And how would he go about getting into the city? He was sure that he was high on any list of people to capture and put to death. He had had many run-ins with the law of the city before the clan was formed and the city was the last place he wanted to be.

"Why not intercept the boy before the induction?" This seemed a more sensible approach to Braulor. Get to him before the Citadel does.

"That would set off a large manhunt and we would have nowhere to run with him, nowhere to hide. They would turn out every barn, every farm, every house looking for him and they would put to death anybody who got in their way."

"Wouldn't breaking this person out of the Citadel cause a manhunt as well? I mean, if this prophecy is that important, they won't give up on it easily."

"You're right, Braulor. They won't give up on it that easy. You will have to get him out from under their noses."

"And how am I supposed to do that?" Braulor asked, more to himself than anyone else.

"That I do not know. But I do know the prophecy will change this world for everybody in it." Alrei Yqu set his jaw and eyed them both sternly, as if he was about to deliver the worst news possible. "The world as you know it is changing right before your eyes and the prophecy can lead humans in the right direction. Without it, humans will continue to grow weaker, forever stalled in a purgatorial existence, doing the bidding of whoever happens to be the Citadel's leader. Do you value your freedom? Are you not tired of always being on the move, always on edge? Every twig you hear break makes you wonder if some bounty hunter or mercenary is going to turn you in to the authorities or kill you for what you have in your pocket."

Braulor saw his point. His life was a prime example of what Alrei Yqu just spoke of. "What is this prophecy about? Do you know?"

"I only know that the prophecy has to do with the Amber Eye."

The naming of the Amber Eye caused even Tyran's jaw to drop. "Are you certain of this?" he asked, once more forgetting Braulor's advice to remain silent.

"One can never be certain as information like this is tenuous and changing but it is the one thing that the people of this land would rally around. Go to war for. Would give their lives to obtain." Alrei Yqu trailed off into his own thoughts.

The Amber Eye was all those things and more according to legend. It was many moons in the past when the Amber Eye was lost. Stolen, some would say. The stone itself was a perfect replica of a human eye cut from a single piece of flawless amber. Who made it and how was information also lost to the ages but the legend lived on. Grave robbers and treasure seekers have been searching for the Amber Eye as long as there has been recorded history. In all likelihood, even longer. Legend claimed that the holder of the eye would gain potent magic power, power that would let them invoke whatever they saw fit into this world. The weak would use it to make themselves wealthy but for those who craved power, they could use the power of the Amber Eye to build and shape the world into an image of their choosing. And that would explain why the Citadel was going to such great lengths to curtail word of it getting out. But a power like that of the Amber Eye always had a duality. Where the Amber Eye had the power to create and enhance a world of unmatched beauty and synchronicity, that same power in the wrong hands would lead to a world of devastation and ruin. The Amber Eye was said to bestow on its bearer only power. Not good or bad, only neutral power that would amplify what it is given to work with. If evil intent was used with it, the power the eye brought forth would be of unimaginable horror.

Braulor understood the urgency of this meeting now. Understood why Alrei Yqu had broken a protocol he had adhered to for many meetings and arrived early to tell him what he knew. Why he had revealed himself to Braulor for the first time ever. The possibility of the Amber Eye's reappearance and knowing what could happen if it were to come into the possession of the Citadel and its rulers pushed everything else aside.

"I can see the importance of getting this kid out of the clutches of the Citadel, but why me? There must be someone better suited for this task," Braulor said. Possibly an army.

"There is a reason I chose to seek you for this quest." Alrei Yqu's tone became ominous.

Braulor looked Alrei Yqu square in the eye, bracing himself. It felt like he was frozen in time, waiting for the blow.

"Tagan is your brother."

### Chapter 6

The world swayed back and forth in front of Tagan's eyes in concert with the wagon's lurching movement. He sat silently as his father, Kenok, kept a watchful gaze over the pair of horses pulling their carriage through the deep mud. Tagan watched with fascination as the horses' muscle-bound legs flexed and strained in powerful cadence, steam rising from their backs as they toiled. Above, the sky was still full of the low, dark clouds that had brought the rain that had been falling for the last several days, as if God were trying the wash the land clean of man and beast alike. Rain landed on his face in icy drops and Tagan closed his eyes to savor the connection with nature. He was relishing the purity and majesty when the familiar feeling slunk across his senses as if someone were pulling back a blind. As usual it started with his muscles going rigid; his eyes open wide like he was trying to see the entirety of the world all at once. Deep inside his brain a tingling started. It was faint at first, like an annoying itch, but it quickly ratcheted up in intensity to where it felt as if his whole brain was vibrating like a beehive; as if someone had rung a gong and his brain was trying to synchronize to the frequency. Then he would hear a crackling noise, like a piece of paper being crumpled into a ball. When that happened, the visions would start.

Akin to the curtains being drawn during a theatre production, a fantastic world would appear overlaid on top of the real world, geographically meshing with where he was. Sometimes if Tagan were inside, the other world was outside and vice versa but most of the time this other world overlaid perfectly the real world he lived in. There were beings in this other world as well but they didn't take any notice of him and went about their business. They weren't frightening beings. Rather they were grand and majestic and inspired reverence. Their clothes shimmered in the golden light that seemed to radiate from the land itself and would change hue as they turned and strode about. They were tall and graceful and walked with a lightness that belied their size, as if they were trying to be as delicate as they could of the land on which they trod. The men were lean but powerful in appearance, their hair worn shoulder length, curtaining oval faces with high cheekbones, pointy noses and slanting eyes. The women wore long flowing robes, waist length hair held in long ponytails or curling around them, bouncy and alive as they walked. Where the men were strong and commanding the women were beautiful. They had a radiance about them that made it hard to pull your eyes away. You wanted to curl up in their laps while they sang sweet soft melodies to you. It was raining in this world as well as in his, Tagan noticed, unsure if he had ever stopped to consider the weather in this world before. The rain there was different, though. It was light and cheery, the trees and plants reaching up broad and wide to grab every bit of it they could. The rain didn't stop the people there from their tasks and they went merrily about their way seeming to enjoy it as another perk of living here.

This land was exactly opposite of Brankin Huoh, where Tagan lived. Everything here was beautiful and proportionally balanced with colors so vivid they almost hurt his eyes. Calm and serene, everything seemed to radiate with peace and Tagan longed to stay there as long as he could.

These visions were nothing new to Tagan. They had been part of his life as far back as he could remember. So much so that Tagan assumed that everybody had them, that they were quite natural. That was until he mentioned the visions to his mother, Sequil. She had come in from the garden and found Tagan seemingly paralyzed, staring vacantly into space. When she grabbed and shook him, Tagan came back to his senses. When Sequil asked him what he had been doing, he asked if she thought it was as beautiful as he did.

"Is what as beautiful?" Sequil asked, her head whipping back and forth trying to spot what Tagan was referring to.

"The other world and the other people. It's so fantastic, don't you think?" Tagan's voice was soft and lilting as if he were speaking to Sequil from the other world. "How come it's so different from where we live?"

"Tagan, what are you talking about?" Sequil's voice rose sharply. "What other world? There is only our world where we live here in Brankin Huoh."

"But I can see it sometimes, the other world. Don't you?" Tagan was confused at his mother's reaction.

"Are you sick?" Sequil asked, dropping the carrots she had picked in the garden on the floor and launching them to Tagan's forehead to check his temperature.

"No mom, I feel fine. I don't understand why you can't see it."

Sequil scooped him up, carrying him toward his bed and screaming, "Kenok, Kenok, come quickly. Something is wrong with Tagan."

Tagan lay still in his mother's arms trying to figure out what the problem was. As Sequil placed him in bed and was pulling the covers over him, his dad, Kenok, raced in from where he had been chopping wood, the axe still in his hand, sweat rolling down his face.

"What's wrong?" he demanded in his booming voice.

"It's Tagan. He's seeing things. Things that aren't there." Tears streamed down Sequil's pale cheeks. She wrung her delicate hands as she stepped from foot to foot.

Kenok looked at Tagan and leaned his axe against the end of the bed. He sat down next to his son and felt his head with one of his big, meaty hands. "What's going on, boy?" he asked gruffly. "What are you seeing?"

Tagan didn't see what all the fuss was about and so he described what he could see in detail. The people, the vivid colors and the way everything, even the land itself, was infused with an unexplainable, vibrant energy.

"You see!" Sequil screeched as she paced back and forth next to them. "We need to get the healer, Kenok."

At this point Kenok got up and gently steered a hysterical Sequil into the other room. Tagan heard faint snippets of their conversation and he understood they feared he had either contracted the Trelyai virus or that he was possessed. He didn't know what either of those things meant but it sounded serious. In the end, Kenok rode into town to fetch the healer.

Tagan spent the next three days in bed as the healer had him drink strange medicinal brews that made him sleepy or shaky or both at once. As he suffered through the effects of the medicine, the healer and his assistant said many prayers over him, finally pronouncing him cured on the afternoon of the third day.

Sequil was overjoyed and hugged him and squeezed him and kissed him for several minutes. Kenok only looked at him sternly and went outside to tend to chores. Tagan wasn't sure, but he thought he could hear his dad say a small prayer of thanks as he left the room.

The visions never stopped though. Tagan tried to suppress them but they would force their way into his mind anyway. He tried to ignore them, but that just made them more intense, like something was trying to get his attention and he would see what they wanted to show him whether he liked it or not. Over time Tagan learned that the best way to deal with the visions was to access them when and where he chose to and try and gain control over them. That way he could make sure he was out of his parent's eyesight when they occurred and he could get through them and move on. He also discovered that he could control the duration and intensity of the visions to a small degree and that made them easier to cope with. He couldn't get over the feeling of being different though; the feeling that something was wrong with him. That, more than anything, haunted him. To feel that what he was seeing was so real, but to know that nobody else could see it made him an outcast as far as he was concerned. He didn't want a repeat of his first experience with the healer so he kept this abnormality as his little secret.

This time, as Tagan watched the beings go about their business, he noticed that one among them was walking towards him. This had happened before, persons had walked toward him but never with the intent that this one displayed. Past occurrences ended as close encounters as the person walking toward him would turn away at the last second or walk right by him altogether as if Tagan were invisible. This time it seemed clear that whoever was walking toward him knew that Tagan was there and wanted to engage him.

Tagan looked to either side of him in the hopes that there was something there that was garnering this person's attention but found nothing. He was uncomfortable in this other world for the first time, wishing he could go back to his world. He willed this with all his might, squirming with the strain as he tried to let go, to break the connection to the vision.

As the male got to within about twenty feet of him, he stopped and stared right in Tagan's direction. This had never happened before. Tagan felt nervous, like he was guilty of something. He cringed, waiting for the worst to come. The man smiled, wide and friendly, his white teeth gleaming as he opened his mouth as if to speak.

Tagan was trembling. He didn't know what to do, where to go. He had never ventured around this world before, preferring to stay put where he had incarnated and take it all in. Now the urge to run was screaming at him from some part of his brain. He wanted to try but he wasn't sure if his legs would listen or not. And, where would he run even if his legs did work?

"Tagan," Kenok barked.

Tagan started, like he had been splashed with ice cold water, and the vision died as if the plug had been pulled. He was back in his world once again, chugging along with Kenok in their carriage as they headed home. Tagan spun his head around and found his father's watchful gaze now scrutinizing him.

"Is there something wrong, boy?" Kenok's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I called your name three times."

Tagan felt drained and transparent like part of him was still in the other world. He was still trembling but he pushed the memory aside and tried to calm down. Several deep breaths in and out as silent as he could make them helped his racing heart slow to a near normal pulse. He couldn't let his guard down now and allow Kenok to find out he was having the visions still.

"Sorry, Father. I was just looking at the clouds, thinking about the rain," he replied, managing a feeble smile. "I didn't hear you over the noise of the carriage."

Kenok eyed Tagan, his already narrowed eyes crinkled even more at the corners making it seem as if he looked with enough intensity he could see what was going in Tagan's mind. He had the feeling that there was more to the story than Tagan was letting on but decided to let it slide. It wasn't the first time of late that Tagan's attention had seemed to be off in another place and he made a mental note to talk to him about it when they were back home. He had larger concerns at the moment. Kenok was a farmer, like his father and his father before, going back for generations. It was all he knew. It was all he was allowed to know. He was powerfully built, with thick arms and legs, hands calloused from years of hard labor. This was the first time that Tagan had come along on one of his trips to sell the surplus harvest. Kenok's concern was with the year's small harvest. He had not made as much gold as in years past. After paying the taxes and road tolls he would have little left to buy other supplies needed around the house, let alone the seed he would need for the next harvest. He would need to make another trip to the black market. He tried hard to not to think about what might happen if he were to be raided before he arrived back to the city. Last he heard was that the Citadel's law enforcers were keeping the roads safe, but that didn't mean a few of the nastier lawmen weren't above a little shakedown of their own. Kenok tightened his grip on the reins as these thoughts swirled like a dust storm around his brain. They were close to home now.

The carriage rattled and creaked as it crested the hill. Kenok pulled back hard on the reins and the horses came to stop and stood patiently chomping their bits. Kenok and Tagan both scanned the road ahead as the sounds of the forest reached their ears, a pleasant change from the ruckus of the cart. In front of them the hill sloped gently into a shallow valley. Across the valley tall, jagged mountains ran along the horizon, craggy and sharp, pointing high into the sky. A waterfall issued from between two peaks, draining from an unseen alpine lake, forming a cloud of mist as it plummeted into the Jaswulder River. The waters surged from the basin and drifted through the valley, like a giant snake, flowing in long turns and curves.

Beside the waterfall, about halfway up the mountain slope, stood the Citadel of Lozan, named after its current sitting ruler. Even in the daylight it shone brilliantly white, like a jewel set against the grey backdrop of Brankin Huoh. Roads from the Citadel ran in complex switchbacks through three separate walled defensive rings hewn from mountain rock, making the Citadel an imposing and near impenetrable fortress.

Tagan's eyes followed a fourth wall. This one ran for miles, surrounding the city proper of Brankin Huoh. The wall had been built over many years by prisoners under the command of the Citadel, supposedly 'for the citizen's protection' but its size and breadth made it seem like the entire city was being imprisoned.

Even from here Tagan and Kenok could see the city was alive with activity. People moved in steady streams through the streets To Tagan and Kenok it looked like a beehive, mad with activity.

Kenok shifted on the carriage's bench, snapped the reins and readied himself for the final hurdle necessary whenever one was returning to Brankin Huoh. The horses resumed pulling, the carriage lurched forward and they eased down the hill and trundled along the road.

Tagan savored the sights and smells as they rolled through farm country. He wished they could go straight home but he knew they had to enter the city and pick up more supplies. Of course there was also the issue of expected taxes to be paid on their sale. If they went to the city first they could avoid the extra fines and likely jail time for not paying punctually. His dad was quiet and focused as they approached the gate to the city. Tagan knew this was a difficult part of the trip and left his dad alone with his thoughts.

The guardhouse door opened as they approached the gates to the city and a large man emerged and swaggered toward them, hailing them with an arm in air. A second man, smaller and more businesslike, trailed behind the first.

Kenok groaned and rolled his eyes once he noticed who it was. Will my luck change any time soon?

"Stop it there, Kenok." Yeldan walked toward them, stiff and rigid. It was if there was a board down the back of his uniform. He looked over the carriage with the scrutiny of a jeweler, eyeing Kenok, Tagan, the horses and everything else he could set his cruel eyes on from beneath the brim of his hat. His official lawman garb, which consisted of a red tunic with a large black L on the front, stretched tightly over his muscled body. Pants were tucked into knee-high leather boots, held up by a belt, on which his sword hung.

"Where are you coming from?" Yeldan knew full well where Kenok had been. It was Yeldan who had inspected Kenok's carriage when they left the city several days ago, making sure to inventory every item on board, right down to the clothes Kenok and Tagan had been wearing.

"I was selling surplus wheat at Sliryal Bend." Kenok made sure to keep his voice as even as possible. The lawmen were professional for the most part but some of them, like Yeldan, looked for any excuse to step outside the established rules. He would jump on anything; a muscle twitch or a voice fluctuation would lead to extra hassle, which really meant extra money going to the Citadel in the form of taxation.

"Hmmmm." Yeldan scowled at Kenok, one eyebrow raised, waiting. "Then you have your taxes ready?"

"I have the fifty percent that Lozan demands." Kenok handed over a jingling bag.

Yeldan took the bag, weighing it momentarily in his hand as if his arm was able to measure the amount of coins within, and then handed it to his backup to take to the guardhouse and add to the rest of the taxes collected that day.

"I noticed your wheel is gouging up the road a bit there Kenok." Yeldan's voice was had risen a bit and a small smile played at the corners of his mouth as he gestured at the unblemished cobblestone road behind the carriage. "You know that type of thing isn't tolerated in Brankin Huoh. We have an image to maintain, you know. Can't have your cheap carriage wheels chewing up the road now, can we?"

Kenok knew where this was going and already had a second smaller bag of gold and silver coins ready at his side.

"I didn't notice Yeldan. I apologize for the transgression." Kenok leaned out of the carriage and looked back over the road like he was assessing what Yeldan was referring to and offered the second bag. He made sure to keep his hand closed firmly around it so that nobody else could see. Not that any of the other guards watching were above taking bribes. It was so that Yeldan wouldn't have to share the wealth with anybody else. That would make Yeldan very unhappy and he would be absolutely ruthless to deal with next time.

Yeldan leaned in closer, like he was trying to listen to what Kenok was saying, then took the bag and slid it into his waist belt without inspection.

"Okay then, try and have those wheels fixed up or it's jail next time." Yeldan stepped back from the carriage. "Let them through," he bellowed at the guard house.

The gates slowly swung apart revealing the city proper. Kenok snapped the reins and the horses marched in. Tagan looked back at Yeldan to see him staring as the carriage passed, his eyes hard and cruel. Noticing Tagan looking at him, his face slid into a wicked smile and Tagan quickly looked away.

### Chapter 7

Tagan stood as still as he could. Sequil was fussing with the hem of his robe, trying to get it just right for the induction ceremony. Citadel guards had arrived at their farm within days after their return from Sliryal Bend to deliver the ceremonial robes that he was required to wear. The robe was a shade of bright green meant to signify growth yet to come. Since the robes were only made in one size, Tagan's mother was tasked with making sure it fit properly for the ceremony. Anything out of the ordinary could lead to a candidate not even being considered for induction.

"Stop fidgeting Tagan. This has to be perfect." Sequil's frustration was beginning to show.

"I know mother. You've had me here since breakfast and my legs are sore. I don't how much longer I can stand." Tagan's stomach rumbled right on cue, punctuating the fact that lunchtime was rapidly approaching.

"A few more minutes and we'll be done." Sequil, intent on what her hands were doing, didn't look up. "Please try not to move."

With quick, precise movements Sequil put the remaining pins in place and sat back on her heels admiring her work. "It looks even, so you can take it off now. Carefully." she added seeing Tagan's elation at being released from standing still and not wanting his haste to ruin her handiwork.

Tagan's shoulders sank as he relaxed and he pulled the robe with great care over his head and handed it to Sequil with a sigh of relief. Stepping down from the stool that was serving as his platform, Tagan went to his room and put on his regular clothes, returning in time to see Sequil gingerly laying the robe on a blanket on the kitchen table. "I'll finish this later. Go and tell your father it's time for lunch," she said, "and then wash your hands," she called after him as Tagan ran out the door to find Kenok.

Kenok was at the far end of the field checking on the progress of his crops and Tagan ran at high speed towards him, glad to be able to burn off some of his pent up energy.

Kenok glanced as Tagan came to a noisy stop beside him, then returned his gaze to the row of corn he had planted, appearing to study it very closely.

As the day of the induction ceremony grew closer, Tagan had noticed his dad become more and more reserved. Kenok wasn't his usual stern self and seemed pre-occupied most of the time.

"Mom said it is almost time for lunch sir."

"Mmmmm. Thank you son." Kenok didn't glance up.

Tagan stood and watched for a moment. If Kenok's change of mood had occurred for the first time this year Tagan would have thought his concern was over robes arriving for his only son, but it happened every year prior to the ceremony. Tagan wished he knew why but also knew that whatever it was, his dad would not tell him. When it came to personal feelings, Kenok was so deeply stoic that Tagan wondered if his mom even knew what was troubling him. Kenok looked up and seemed surprised to find Tagan still there. "Lunch. Right. I'll be along in a bit, okay son. I left my jacket up yonder where I was chopping wood earlier." He gestured toward the trees. "Fetch it for me and bring it back to the house if you would."

Tagan nodded, then left his father's side and made toward the forest.

Kenok, still focused on his planting, didn't notice Tagan walk away. He had been staring at one particular plant for some time now, gently holding it between his fingers as he stroked it with his thick thumb. It was growing fine, anyone could see that. It was the induction ceremony that pre-occupied him. Even though he felt safe that Tagan wouldn't be chosen, he didn't like the idea of losing his son to the Citadel. It was more than Tagan's possible induction that was bothering him, though. Every time the ceremony came around he was reminded of a transgression he had tried hard to forget, tried to shove down into the dark recesses of his mind where it couldn't taunt him for his weak self-control, but the memory fought back. It always did and with gut-wrenching agony.

It was after he and Sequil had been married and he had taken over the family farm. He and Sequil got into an argument. It was so silly that Kenok had to think hard to remember now what it was about. Their food stores were running low but they couldn't afford the market in Brankin Huoh and Kenok wanted to go to the black market to get what they needed. Sequil didn't want Kenok to go. They had just begun their life together and she had seen too many men pay for such transgressions with the tiny bit of freedom they had.

Kenok had gone anyway. He was, after all, the man of the family and he didn't need her to tell him how to run things. He remembered vividly the crushed look on her beautiful face as he climbed on to his horse and rode off without even saying goodbye. Kenok didn't have the heart to tell her but he had been to the black market on several occasions and was quite comfortable going again. He had made many friends on these excursions and that day Kenok rode straight to a family he had known for a long time. It was here, as he enjoyed several mugs of ale with his buddy Pwelik, that Kenok's emotions got the best of him. His anger grew and festered, fuelled by sip after sip, guzzle after guzzle, of Pwelik's cheap homemade brew. When the time came to leave for the market, Kenok was in no shape to go and Pwelik encouraged him to go to bed to sleep off the effects of the ale but he wouldn't be denied. He mocked Pwelik for even suggesting something so ludicrous. Kenok was so intoxicated that it was difficult for him to even sit on his horse's saddle. He fell flat on his face on several attempts. It was all Pwelik could do to make sure that Kenok made it to the market in one piece.

Kenok wished once more that he could go back in time and listen to his friend.

Kenok didn't remember if Pwelik ditched him or if he wandered off on his own in search of more ale but he didn't put any blame on Pwelik if his friend had abandoned him. Kenok's anger at Sequil had reached the boiling point and he wanted to lash out, to vent his rage, to hurt somebody as badly as he felt hurt and in that moment he sank, finding what he was looking for in the arms of another woman.

Whether it was from the alcohol or his brain blocking the event he wasn't sure, but to this day Kenok couldn't recall a single memory of that night. He did recall awaking in a strange room the morning after. Through his blurry eyes and pounding head he could make out the form of a woman getting dressed nearby. He lifted the sheets, revealing his own nudity, and gulped, wishing it weren't so. He slammed the sheet back over his body, an arm on each side holding it tight across his stomach, and slumped back against the bed, his infidelity making his stomach lurch as if it were imploding, making him feel hollow inside.

The woman heard Kenok and turned and smiled, her shirt not all the way done up, firm breasts threatening to reveal themselves in full.

Kenok forced himself to look away, his shame deepening.

"Well, that's not the greeting I expected after last night," she said, a coy grin playing at the edges of her mouth.

Kenok looked back at her, careful to maintain strict eye contact. "Who are you?" His mouth felt like it was full of glue and it was hard to make it work properly.

"Oh Kenok. I'm hurt. You don't remember my name?" she cooed. "I guess I can't blame you. You had quite a bit to drink before you whisked me up here and had your way." She lay across the bed, her face inches from his.

Kenok could smell the stale alcohol on her breath and he resisted the urge to vomit. Up close he could see she wasn't young but she wasn't quite old either. Her round, pale face housed dark eyes, set close on either side of a small, wide nose. Her shoulder-length brown hair was unkempt and moved in rigid rhythm as her face bobbed back and forth in front of his like it was balancing on the end of a stick.

"I said, who are you?" he asked again, this time more aggressively.

"Short on conversation, eh?" She ran her fingers down his bare chest, her long nails teasing faint red lines onto his skin.

Kenok pushed her hand away and pulled the sheet up around his chest.

She narrowed her eyes, angered that he had the nerve to push her away, before answering. "Well, you helped me out last night, Kenok, so I'll help you out. I'm Uldarra." She stood and finished doing up her shirt.

Uldarra. It couldn't be. Kenok had heard the name before, whispered here and there in his travels. It was synonymous for witchcraft and the occult, but he never believed Uldarra even existed. Or if she did she was just some crazy old lady that a rumour had grown out of control about, but here she was, if she was telling the truth.

Uldarra saw the look on Kenok's face. It was one of mingled horror and confusion and it made her laugh. It was a look she recognized easily, for it was cast in her direction any time she mentioned her name, sometimes even if she didn't, her appearance enough to elicit it. "I see you've heard of me," she said with a lilting giggle. "I am deeply honored."

Kenok stared at her, not sure what to do now. His shame spiralled deeper and the fact that he had helped her in some unknown way added a layer disbelief. He was in no shape to help anyone last night.

"Not to worry, Kenok. Everything you've heard about me is completely true." Uldarra's eyes took on a fiery, crazed look.

Kenok didn't answer but continued to stare as his alcohol stewed brain tried to make sense of what was happening. The situation couldn't possibly get any worse.

"Believe it or not, I've heard of you Kenok. And I've been waiting for this encounter for a long time." Uldarra' eyes opening wide as she sighed and then paused. "Actually, waiting isn't the right word. Dreaming of would be a better way to put it. Yes, dreaming of this time, angling with all my power to make it come to pass."

Uldarra didn't wait for a response. She looked around the room for more of her belongings, then turned to Kenok. "Well, your job is done. I have no further use for you so I bid you goodbye Kenok. But I must warn you," she said, her voice taking on a dangerous edge, "no matter what happens, what you hear, don't try to find me. It would not end well for you and I would hate to have to harm you after our night of passion." Then she laughed, hard and shrill as she opened the door to leave.

Kenok finally managed to engage his brain and tongue long enough to ask Uldarra a single question. "But how did I help you?" his voice flat and devoid of emotion, its tone scarcely above that of a gentle summer breeze. That Uldarra heard him at all was a miracle but it would take another miracle to undo her reply.

Uldarra stopped on the threshold of the doorway and looked back at him. A sinister smile crept across her rubbery lips. "You fertilized my seed, silly." She gently caressed her stomach. Then with a dull thud of the door that matched Kenok's heart, sinking, Uldarra was gone.

In her wake, Kenok's life was forever altered. When he returned home Sequil welcomed him back without question, leaping into his arms and hugging him tightly, relieved that he had returned safely and wanting to put all the ugliness of their fight behind them. Kenok managed a smile and promised that he would never leave her like that again but his affair always haunted him. He was fearful he might even reveal something as he dreamed. He could barely look Sequil in the eye and when he did his shame formed hard knots in stomach that he knew would never go away until the day he died. It felt like there was a wall between them now that he would have to maintain if he wanted to keep Sequil in his life.

Kenok heeded Uldarra's warning and never tried to track her down. He had good reason to find her but he really wanted to forget about the whole nasty event. He went about his life business as usual and worked as hard as he could to never think about it. It wasn't as easy as he had hoped and in a year's time rumors started to circulate around the black market community that Uldarra had conceived a son. There was much debate and discussion over who could have impregnated such a woman and Kenok's guilt deepened ever more. To have a son out there that he would never get to see, never get to hold and raise as his own, never get to pass along what his father had passed to him damaged Kenok to his soul and the induction ceremony always refreshed his memory of the affair like someone wrenching the bandage from a wound. Tears slid down Kenok's cheeks as he stared at the plant stalk between his fingers.

Tagan walked slowly through the trees, marveling at their beauty. He stopped every once in a while to caress the bark of an elm or a cedar. He loved getting out into the woods, out into nature. Something about the energy from the mountains and trees and flowers made him feel complete. When he was among them he could feel a connection to them. He could feel their joy at a bright sunny day and feel their pain when after a fire had raged through. When he wasn't busy with chores, Tagan would often climb some of the smaller hills and sit, staring out at the vast expanse of peaks and valleys and enjoy being in the moment.

Tagan strolled into a clearing and noticed his dad's jacket hanging from a tree branch. After a brief hesitation, he kept on going. Today was a beautiful day and he wanted to enjoy a little of it while he could. He didn't know if he would be chosen or not in the induction ceremony. If he were, he may not have a chance to return here for quite a while. He could spare a few minutes.

The trail continued through the little clearing and began to climb uphill. It was quite steep at first and Tagan's legs burned from the strain, streaks of sweat rolling down his forehead. He was working harder than normal because he knew his time was limited. After a few minutes, the trail leveled off somewhat but maintained an uphill angle that wove through trees and small patches of meadows. He was the only one that used this trail so it wasn't as smooth as others. This made the going a little more difficult, but he had been on it so many times he could probably walk it at night.

The trail ended on a rocky bluff overlooking the Jaswulder valley. Tagan sat down and sighed. This was his favorite spot to visit. He spent much of his free time up here. It was so peaceful and serene. He took a deep breath of the fresh mountain air and exhaled. As he took another slow breath in, he closed his eyes, savoring every particle air that passed through his nostrils and, filled his lungs.

There was a crackling sound, louder than usual, but Tagan didn't need to spin around. He knew it wasn't an animal or tree. He was mad at himself for letting his guard down. Slowly the other world slid into view, like it had been there all the time. The valley changed before his eyes. The small trees that filled the valley floor were much larger. Vibrant and alive they waved gently in the breeze. In the distance the grey lake became a deep azure blue; the same blue as the sky, reflecting back. The dull edges of the snow-capped mountains in the distance were sharp and distinct. There were houses along the river. Not clunky ones made of wood but ones that seemed to be part of the ground, as though they grew from it according to some master design. As if someone had directed the earth how to form magnificent structures.

Another crackle behind him. This time it wasn't announcing his crossing over to the other world and Tagan turned.

The man who had come toward him when he had slipped into the other world during his ride into town was approaching him once again.

Tagan wasn't afraid. He never felt fear in this place, only peace and harmony, yet the approach of the man, as before, raised an amount of alarm inside him.

The man approached and sat down beside Tagan, assuming the same cross-legged position. He looked out onto the valley and smiled. "It's beautiful up here. I can see why you enjoy it so."

The man's voice was melodious, almost musical to his ears. Tagan stared at him blankly, as if he were stuck in some dream. He had never talked to someone from this world before and didn't know how to react.

"My name is Meyu Kwi. I have been looking forward to meeting you for some time, Tagan."

Tagan was shocked when Meyu Kwi addressed him by name. "How do you know my name?"

"I know much about you Tagan."

"But how? You are from this...place." Tagan indicated the valley below. "Not my world."

"This 'place' as you call it is Quanna Eresse. This is my home; the home of my people." Meyu Kwi closed his eyes, raised his hands to the sky and inhaled deeply, filling his lungs, making his stomach bulge out. As he said the name of his home, Meyu Kwi's voice had taken on a reverent tone, and Tagan could feel the man's love of this world pour out of his being and join the land around them. In return, Tagan felt the love reciprocated from the land back to Meyu Kwi as if the land was alive and was trying to let him know that his efforts were appreciated and that everything would be all right.

The same feeling washed over Tagan as well and he was intoxicated by it. He had never felt anything like it in Brankin Huoh. He didn't want to say or do anything and let go of that wondrous sensation but his curiosity got the better of him. "What is this place? Is it some sort of magic? Is this heaven?" Tagan rolled his eyes as he said it, embarrassed he asked such a thing.

"The history of Quanna Eresse would take much explaining. Even now your father has noticed that you have been gone a little too long and is about to come looking for you. We don't have much time."

"Kenok is looking for me?" Tagan looked around out of habit, though he knew he would not see anything.

"Yes, he is. And your ability to control how you stay in this world is not strong yet. I must relay something to you before you go."

Tagan stared at Meyu Kwi, wondering what on earth he had to say.

"You are special, Tagan. For the first time in a long time one of your kind can bridge the gap, can come through the divide and see this world. This you know." Meyu Kwi trailed off, gathering his thoughts. "What if I told you that this world, this magical world as you call it, is meant for all your kind to see? Not only to see but to live in and experience all the time. Humans are destined to be a part of it and for it to be a part of you."

"But we can't. I don't know of anyone else who has the ability to see this world. "Tagan remembered with discomfort the time he had spent at the hands of the healer.

"I know and it is unfortunate, but your parents and others in your world are raised to disbelieve in anything that they can't see or touch or smell. The idea that things exist outside of their five senses is witchcraft to them. It frightens them so they ignore it and try to pretend it doesn't exist at all. That way they don't have to face the truth."

"If we are all supposed to be a part of this world, why aren't we?"

"You ask many complex questions for a young man and we have not the time to answer them now, but we will. The reason I came to you today is because there is a way to correct this. To merge these worlds together the way they are meant to be and once were."

A shadow drifted along the ridge, right across where they were sitting, shrouding them in darkness for a moment as it passed, as if night had blinked on them.

Tagan's vision blurred and the magical world of Quanna Eresse began to fade. His head throbbed with a sudden pain.

Meyu Kwi jumped to his feet and scanned the sky, a concerned look on his face. "You must go Tagan," he said, and as he turned to leave, Tagan found himself back in his own world, his head still humming painfully. He got to his feet and found his legs were wobbly. He forced them to listen to his commands and made his way back down the trail, remembering to grab Kenok's jacket as he passed through the small clearing. Moments later he ran into Kenok at the beginning of the trail, on his way up to find Tagan. Kenok didn't ask what had happened to delay Tagan and took his jacket from him. "Let's go eat lunch."

Tagan returned the favor and didn't ask Kenok about the faint tear tracks that ran through the dirt on his face. Neither of them spoke as they walked back to the house.

### Chapter 8

Braulor and Tyran descended from the heights of the Lyrwan Pass, absorbed in silence, their gait slow and easy. With all that was happening back at the Greejon camp, there should have been more urgency in their stride and Braulor shook his head. Everything was turned upside down. Alrei Yqu was nothing like he expected. He was more ethereal and mysterious. The way he had appeared at their meeting early, seemingly out of thin air. It was like someone had pulled back the veil of truth and in that instant Braulor's world was gone, replaced with a mix of history and myth that he was having difficulty processing. Freeing a young man from the Citadel? The Citadel; the one place that no free person aspired to go and now he had to figure out a way not only to get in, but to get back out with this other person. And do it in a way that Citadel authorities wouldn't notice was a tall order to say the least. It was going to be extremely difficult, bordering on impossible and Braulor had no idea how to pull it off without really dying. He was wasting lots of energy trying to think of a plan while the rest of his world was in chaos. Braulor was consumed by the objective Alrei Yqu had given him, it was just how he was, and by the fact that that this 'other person' was, according to Alrei Yqu, his brother. A brother he didn't know he had.

Braulor didn't doubt Alrei Yqu's assertion; he had proven accurate on so many predictions before that there was no reason to doubt him now. Tyran's family had taken Braulor in as an infant and raised him as best they could. He knew that he had real family out there somewhere but Tyran's adopted parents never told him anything about them. They didn't have anything to tell, Braulor supposed. They were approached by an ailing woman who begged they take Braulor as she could no longer care for him. Their hearts went out to the tiny boy, so they took him and then had Tyran later. Tyran and Braulor had grown up essentially as brothers but Braulor had always known the story of how he came to be a part of their family. To know he had a family member this close for all these years made him angry and sad at the same time. He wondered how Tyran was dealing with this new information.

Right now he needed to figure out how to split with Tyran. He knew Tyran wanted to get back to the clan as soon as possible but since Alrei Yqu had revealed that Braulor needed to free Tagan, he was sure Tyran would be thinking about going with him to help. He wasn't certain but knew the induction ceremony was coming up, so Braulor had little time to work with. He didn't have time to go back to camp and get extra supplies . He would have to accomplish this task with whatever he had on his back.

Braulor, his thoughts anywhere but on the path in front of him, stumbled and slipped on some loose rock, falling to one knee. Behind him Tyran screamed out in pain. Braulor spun his head to see Tyran stepping slowly backward on shaking legs before falling, his face contorted in pain as he looked at the arrow protruding from his right shoulder.

Braulor whipped his sword out, crawled to where Tyran was and motioned for him to be quiet.

Tyran eyes were wide, his face draining of color, but he managed a curt nod as he clamped his mouth shut.

Braulor stood, grabbed Tyran by the hood of his cloak and dragged him to his feet as Tyran writhed in pain. He forced Tyran back up the path toward some large rocks that would provide cover. Another arrow whistled by his ear as he and Tyran collapsed behind the boulders. Braulor poked his head around the edge of his shield of rock and swept the bushes ahead, head whipping back and forth, looking for some sign of their attacker.

Lying beside him, Tyran moaned in obvious pain, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts. Braulor took a quick look at the arrow in Tyran's shoulder, noting only that it was buried quite deep. He didn't recognize the shaft markings.

Braulor poked his head out from behind the rock once again and still could see no one. "They must be trying to get around for a better shot."

Tyran didn't respond.

"Tyran." Braulor gripped Tyran's good shoulder and gave him a little shake.

Tyran snapped his head up, his eyes filled with pain and fear.

"I think he's trying to get around us for a better shot," Braulor repeated, "I'm going to see if I can cut him off."

Tyran only nodded and pulled out his mace and held it tightly, knuckles white from the effort.

Braulor kept low, darting from rock to rock, back up the trail they had been descending, for several yards. He then plunged into the bushes on his left. He assumed that whoever was shooting at them would be coming up that way as it provided the most cover and the clearest shot at he and Tyran's hiding spot behind the rock. He hoped he was right. All he knew was that it was what he would do if he were ambushing someone.

Braulor paused for a second and slowed his breathing so he could listen. He closed his eyes and reached out with his mind, straining to hone in on the energy around him. It was a skill he had discovered by accident while hunting. One night he was watching his fire, not really thinking anything. Tired from the days hunt, he lay back on his blankets, enjoying the moment, when suddenly he felt something strange. If he had to describe the sensation to another, he wouldn't be able to. It was like he tuned into some other dimension where everything was alive. It startled him so deeply that he jumped up and looked around to make sure that he was still in his little clearing; that nothing was trying to sneak up on him. There wasn't. It took some time for him to calm down enough to fall asleep after that, his eyes popping open every few minutes to make sure everything was ok. Over the next few days he concluded that it wasn't a figment of his imagination and he decided to try and recreate the event. It took a lot of trial and error but after a while he found that he could tune in to the usually inanimate objects around him and 'feel' them, for lack of a better term. He could sense a field of energy coming from them. Only for seconds at a time but it was unbelievable and exhilarating. He never told anyone about it, preferring to keep it to himself in case he really was crazy. Braulor worked with it, practicing and trying to make it more powerful but it was still hit and miss at best, with miss dominating the outcomes.

At the moment he was trying to override his nerves. He succeeded a tiny amount and he could feel a whisper of energy emanating from the trees and the rocks before he lost his connection. Braulor opened his eyes cursed to himself at his inability. He shouldn't be surprised with his current state of mind. Feeling such energy was hard enough when he was calm and collected. Braulor was going to have to do this the old fashioned way and he eased slowly forward, in a squat position, hoping to head anyone off before they could finish off he and Tyran. With wary actions, he picked his way through the dense brush and eased to the right while keeping a sharp eye to the left. He stopped once more feeling out with the fiber of every sense he owned. He could hear them, moving through the brush, stealthy and sly. These were no amateurs he decided. Braulor was able to confirm their direction when one of them whispered to the other, with a hint of drawl. "I thought he was supposed to be alone."

"Quiet, Emik," the other said.

Braulor was confident they would come right past him. He looked back and could only barely glimpse Tyran through the trees. Tyran lay still against the rock. He was still holding his mace in his hand but he slumped badly to one side and looked close to passing out. Braulor hoped he was all right but he would have time enough to help him when he dealt with the two men approaching him. He took off his cloak, then undid his belt and let it slip to the ground, making sure not to drop it. He gripped his sword again and waited.

Tense moments passed where time seemed to stand still as Braulor waited for his foes. Up against two unknown assailants, Braulor knew his strikes would have to be quick and precise. He breathed deeply, steadying his nerves, trying to calm his racing heart.

A man came into view, stepping slow and deliberate, head swivelling from side to side. Braulor didn't recognize him and his garb didn't reveal who he may be either. The men must have been working on their own he concluded.

They were so close now. Adrenaline surged into Braulor's veins like gas on a fire and he leapt from his hiding spot unable to control himself any longer.

The man was quick and whipped his own sword up as protection, the attack not really surprising him, but Braulor's speed was his best weapon and his sword crashed right through the man's guard and buried itself deep in his arm. The man shrieked and Braulor felt his opponent's arm go limp as he landed full force on top of him as they fell to the ground. Braulor rolled off to the right and had to wrench his sword free from bone. The man rolled the opposite way, groaning, but stood to face Braulor. Blood was pulsing in red gushes down his arm like waves lapping on the beach but he was still game for a fight as he brandished a long knife in his good hand.

They stalked each other in a slow circle, darting in and out in an attempt to feint one another. Where was the other man? Braulor parried his attacker's knife thrust, then quickly stepped to the man other side and delivered a solid punch to his jaw. Pain shot through his wrist as he connected and he dropped his sword, gripping his wrist with his hand. The man wobbled, his legs scrabbling beneath him from the effect of the blow and slickness of blood he was treading on. He took a feeble swipe at Braulor as he fell to his knees and lurched forward. Braulor's left knee came up to meet the man's skull with a dull thud. The man fell on his face, out cold as Braulor stepped back breathing heavily.

A thick arm locked around Braulor's neck. "You're going to pay now," a cold voice hissed into his ear and the arm squeezed harder. Braulor clawed frantically at the second man's muscular arm but it was like a vice. He tried to spin around, throw the man off balance, but the man's base was solid. He continued to compress Braulor's neck with brutish strength, unfazed with his attempts to break free. "Didn't think we would both walk into that trap did you?" the cold voice said, taunting Braulor as he squeezed the life out of him.

Braulor gasped, in desperate need of oxygen. It felt like his eyes were going to pop out of their sockets, his tongue flapping around like a confused lizard as he tried anything to take a breath. He flailed his arms, trying to grab any part of his attacker he could but found only air. He was close to passing out now. It was only a matter of time. In desperation he moved his right leg in between his assailant's legs and kicked up as hard as he could with his heel.

A low groan escaped the man and his grip on Braulor's neck loosened ever so slightly. Sensing an opportunity Braulor kicked again and again. The man shifted his leg to stop the kicks but the damage had been done. His grip loosened more and Braulor grabbed a quick breath. Then he felt the cold steel of a knife against his neck and he stopped moving. "Time to end this," the man said in an icy drawl.

The knife moved with honed precision and Braulor felt the tip right under his left ear. It pushed in, biting at his skin with a sharp pinch. Braulor stiffened, waiting for the end to come. It wasn't how he had envisioned dying but there were worse ways to meet your maker he supposed.

A sickening crunch met Braulor's ears. The arm around his neck loosened and then let go altogether. Braulor fell to the ground, sucking air hard through his compressed neck muscles. He looked up in time to see Tyran over the second man's body, delivering another savage blow with his mace. Then he passed out.

Braulor awoke coughing. His head throbbed and each cough wrenched his neck, sending bolts of agony into his brain. The sun was setting and darkness was building, indicating he had been out for a while. He sat up and rubbed his neck discovering that it was sore to the touch. No real surprise there.

Tyran was seated on a rock nearby, tending to a fire. He looked over when he heard Braulor. "Good. You're awake."

"Thank you, brother," Braulor said with difficulty, his voice hoarse and croaky.

"You would have done the same." Tyran shrugged and then turned back to the fire.

Braulor thought for a moment. "What happened to them?"

Tyran pointed and Braulor looked over to see a body in the dirt. He grimaced and looked away when he spotted the blood covered scalp, one side of the skull completely crushed in, giving the grey face a horrific, twisted look. After he composed himself, he looked back and saw a second body, bound and lying face down close to the first.

"He hasn't woken yet," Tyran said before Braulor asked.

Braulor spun onto his knees and attempted to stand up. A bad idea. The world swirled around him and he sank back down.

Tyran hurried to his side to assist. "Let me give you a hand," he said, extending his left arm.

Braulor noticed a tiny piece of arrow shaft still protruding from Tyran's right shoulder, like a finger pointing at him. Braulor took Tyran's hand and Tyran hefted him to his feet, then steered him to a log near the fire and helped him sit down. He handed Braulor a full canteen as he resumed his own seat.

Braulor sat with his eyes closed, his arms and legs still shaking from the effort of getting up, as he tried to center himself from the dizziness. Who were these men? Mercenaries were common in the wild lands but they usually wouldn't bother you without a reason and these two were waiting for them at a perfect ambush spot, as if they had been tracking them for some time. It had to have something to do with Jolon, but Braulor would have to wait for the first man to come around before he could find out for certain. He looked over at Tyran, also sitting quietly but wincing in slight waves as pain coursed through his shoulder. "Couldn't you get that arrow out?"

"It must be barbed. I tried to pull it out but it hurt too much." Tyran's left hand instinctively touched the area around the wound.

"We'll have to get it out of there somehow or it will get infected."

"I was hoping you would help me once you were awake. I think it's going to take both of our efforts." Tyran wasn't ecstatic.

"I will. I just need to get my feet under me." Braulor took a long sip of water from his canteen.

Braulor was starting to feel like himself again, albeit with a very sore throat. He was able to stand on his own without too much wobbling and they got down to the business of getting the arrow out of Tyran's shoulder.

Tyran sat on the ground and leaned back against a rock while Braulor stood over him, wishing he didn't have to do what he was about to. He placed one hand on Tyran's good shoulder and with his other, took a firm grip of the stub of the protruding arrow shaft. He wiggled it from side to side as gently as he could, trying to ease it out of position. Tyran winced and grimaced with every movement, his entire body tensing and releasing, trying to find a place where there was no pain. The arrow was deep and Braulor could feel it nicking against bone as he moved it. It wasn't stuck in the bone but felt like it was lodged behind. His only hope was to twist it and pull. Hopefully the barb of the arrowhead would swing around, find enough room to clear the bone and come out.

"Get ready Tyran, this is going to hurt."

Tyran looked up at him, his eyes somewhere between prepared and scared to death but he nodded anyway, closed his eyes and took a deep breath, bracing himself for the coming pain.

Braulor put his knee across Tyran's chest and sighed. There wasn't any other choice. He had to do it. As fast as he could he twisted the arrow and pulled. It didn't budge. Tyran was rigid with pain beneath his knee, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, grunting in short breaths through clenched teeth. Braulor twisted the shaft again, this time in the other direction. Tyran's good hand shot up and clutched painfully at Braulor's leg but Braulor kept twisting. He could feel the arrowhead moving more freely and twisted a tiny bit more before he gave it one good yank. The arrow came free and Braulor stumbled backwards from the force of his pull. Tyran screamed and slumped heavily back, both arms hanging limply at his sides, quivering.

Braulor lifted the arrow to his face for a closer look. It gleamed in the firelight as if were happy to have done its job. It wasn't rusty, so that was a plus, but it was designed to cause as much damage as possible to its victim. Tyran would likely have problems with his right arm for the rest of his life. Braulor tossed the arrowhead aside and set about dressing the newly opened wound. Once it was properly attended to, he helped Tyran get the arm into a sling and then sat down once again, woozy from the effort.

Tyran stayed where he was, breathing and feeling a sense of relief with the arrow removed. The cold rock felt good against his back, soothing him and helping him deal with the pain.

Braulor glanced over at the two forms on the ground. The bound one was stirring slightly and Braulor knew they had to question him. He needed more time to recover. His throated ached with the slightest movement and he wondered how he would be able to talk long enough to question anybody. Reluctantly, he got to his feet. As he neared the men, the bound man stopped fidgeting and went still. Braulor stood over him for a moment and tried to see if he could recognize any of his markings. He knew many of the mercenary groups and this man clearly belonged to one of them but Braulor couldn't identify any distinguishing features. He rolled the man over with his foot, crouched down beside him, looking into his face. He didn't recognize him. There was a large welt on the man's cheekbone that was spectacularly swollen and blooming black and purple; the swelling forcing his right eye almost shut. Dried blood was caked under his broken nose, matted with dirt and leaves from lying face down. "Who are you?" Braulor demanded, wincing as his throat scorched in pain.

Lyrell looked up at Braulor but besides pain, his face didn't betray any hint of emotion. He remained cold and impassive under Braulor's glare. Lyrell wasn't scared. Not in the slightest. He had been in worse predicaments before and survived, so he fully expected to this time. When he first came to, he had tried to move and realized he was bound. His jaw ached, possibly broken, and his nose felt like someone had hit it with a hammer. With some struggle he managed to turn his head enough to discover that Emik hadn't fared as well and was lying stiff beside him. Lyrell felt bad for him. Of all the people in the gang, Emik was the one that he got along with the best. He would miss him, but time for that later. Right now he had to find a way to escape. With his limited vantage point he was able to see the young one tending the fire. At first their target, Braulor, lay on a blanket not far from the young one. Lyrell had hoped he was dead. That would have made it easier for him to escape. That was his only option and he had tried the cords binding his wrists. They were tight but not impossibly so. He smiled at his luck. With the young one's shoulder housing an arrow, he hadn't been able to tie the rope as tight as he should have. That gave Lyrell the window of opportunity he was looking for and he had started working on the cords. When he heard Braulor wake up he had to slow what he was doing. He listened as the young one and Braulor talked briefly and then as they removed the arrow from the young one's shoulder. Lyrell had almost freed himself of the cords when he heard someone approaching and went still.

"Tell me who you are." Braulor tried to shout for added effect but his words came out as a painful squeak.

The man tried to work his mouth and emitted a gurgling sound. He worked it some more and then, "Water."

Braulor looked at him for a moment and then stomped off to get his canteen. He returned and tried to pour some in the man's mouth but it ran down his cheeks and onto the ground. He pulled the man roughly into a sitting position and attempted once more to pour some water into his mouth. More went in than landed on the ground and the man swallowed painfully. "One more time, who are you?"

"Lyrell." The man's voice sounded as mangled as his face.

Lyrell didn't like giving up his name but it didn't mean much and he was confident Braulor wouldn't be living long enough to tell anyone else anyway.

"Who do you work for?" Braulor demanded as his mind swirled around Lyrell's name, trying to place it.

"Draax."

Braulor should have known. He'd have to pay Draax a visit soon.

"Why did he send you to kill us?" Braulor asked, calming down a little now that he was getting some answers.

Lyrell shrugged as if to say he was only following orders.

Braulor looked away for a moment. He tried to put the pieces together. Maybe Jolon knew Draax and had got him to send the two men to kill him. In one lightning quick motion, Lyrell freed his hands, broke Braulor's grip, rolled onto his back, coiled his legs to his chest, and then exploded them out as hard as he could.

As he felt his grip break, Braulor spun his head around just in time to receive the full force of both Lyrell's feet against his face, sending him tumbling backward.

With both his hands free Lyrell leaned to his side, whipped a large knife from Emik's vest and sliced through the rope binding his feet with one chop. He jumped up and sprinted into the bush behind him.

Braulor stopped rolling and looked up again only to see Lyrell disappear into the darkness of the trees. He scrambled to his feet and yelled at Tyran, who was attempting to get up and chase Lyrell, to stay put as he ran toward the trees. He tore into the brush then stopped after a few feet and listened. Visibility was nonexistent and he couldn't hear a thing. He tried to tune into the energy of the area but couldn't focus his brain after the assault he had sustained earlier. After several moments Braulor realized it was pointless to try and find Lyrell in his condition and went back to Tyran.

Perhaps twenty feet away, Lyrell was pressed tightly behind a large tree, listening. He heard Braulor give chase, stop, and then return to the young one. He let his breath out in a long exhale and stole slowly away through the darkness, already trying to plot how he was going to finish the job.

### Chapter 9

Braulor made his way back to where Tyran was still leaning against the rock. Along the way he stopped and picked up his canteen, which he'd dropped when the man delivered the two-footed blow to his head. He sat down heavily on the log that was serving as his chair, took a drink of water, and then rubbed his neck. For the second time that day he had been brutally attacked. And for the second time he had been lucky to survive.

Tyran looked over at Braulor. "I'm sorry I couldn't have helped, Braulor."

"Sorry? You already saved my life once today. What more can one ask of a brother?"

"I wish I could have been of more help getting answers from that man. I want to know what they were up to just as much as you," Tyran said. Still, he felt pleased with himself at his brother's compliment.

"If I'd paid closer attention this wouldn't have happened," Braulor admitted, not wanting to use his earlier injury as an excuse.

"What should we do now? Do you think he'll be coming back?"

Braulor thought for a moment. "He was pretty injured in his own right. I would guess that he's going to find reinforcements before coming back. That's what I would do. Although you can never tell with these mercenary types, especially after you finished off his friend over there." He gestured toward the lone body at the edge of the firelight. "I really think we should move camp but I don't know if either of us is in any condition to do so."

"I think I could do it." Tyran attempted to prove his point. With his good arm he pushed himself into a standing position and was doing well until he let go of the rock. He swayed, fighting to gain proper balance and then gave up and slumped back down against the rock. "Maybe not."

"We have no choice but to stay here and get some rest," Braulor said with a sigh. "We both need it. We'll have to take turns watching for his return though. You get some sleep, Tyran. I'll wake you when it's your turn to watch."

Tyran mumbled something that sounded like agreement and then his head lolled to his shoulder and he was out.

Braulor looked at him with concern. The arrow had been pretty deep. Braulor suspected that there was more damage than he could see but there wasn't much he could do until he got Tyran to a healer. He got up, fetched a blanket from Tyran's pack and draped it over him, then gave the patch covering his wound a quick look. The bleeding had stopped. That was a good sign. Feeling slightly relieved Braulor returned to his seat on the log and scanned the treeline back and forth, wondering, worrying. When the time came he woke Tyran and then rolled into his own bed roll and slept heavily, even amid the concerns he was facing.

The sun was barely above the edge of the mountains when they reached the bottom of the trail. They had made good time, all things considered. Braulor's head pounded and his neck was so stiff he couldn't turn his head in either direction without great difficulty.

Tyran was doing much better. He looked less pale than he had and he walked quite steadily, even over the patches of loose rock they had covered.

The decision Braulor had been dreading was now at hand. It was even more complex now that Tyran had been injured so terribly. Braulor didn't want to leave Tyran to return to the Greejon clan alone, but he also knew that the induction ceremony at the Citadel was imminent and he wanted to be there. He was hoping he could get the drop on Tagan at the ceremony and free him before he was whisked into the Citadel for training.

Deep down, Braulor knew he didn't have much choice. Alrei Yqu had made it clear that Tagan had to be freed. The prophecy the boy would be privy to would change the course of man's destiny in a profound way. There was no way that the Citadel's rulers could be allowed to keep the prophecy under wraps. Brother or not, the prophecy was meant for the people. Freeing Tagan from the Citadel would ensure that the message got out the way it was intended.

Braulor and Tyran walked along the flat trail a while longer in silence. Braulor had spotted a set of tracks a ways back and was keeping his eyes trained on them as they went. The tracks were fresh and Braulor was sure that they belonged to Lyrell. He hoped that Lyrell was going in the same direction that he would be taking. His aching neck reminded him that he had a score to settle.

The trail grew less dense and widened before it finally opened onto the Dilphel road. Here they stopped and looked in both directions. The time had come to choose. Braulor started to speak but Tyran talked over him. "I know you were tasked with this quest Braulor; rescuing this boy from the Citadel, but I should come with you."

"Look, Tyran, you said it yourself, I was given this task, not you. You wouldn't be of much help with your shoulder the way it is anyway."

"I agree with you." Tyran hated to admit it but he knew he would be more of a hindrance than a help if he went with Braulor. It wasn't in his nature to abandon somebody when they needed help, especially not his brother. He was perfectly willing to go but he knew Braulor wasn't going to allow it and deep down, if he were being honest with himself, Tyran wanted Braulor to refuse his help. He longed to return to the clan.

Braulor started to argue once more and then what Tyran said registered in his mind. He had been sure that Tyran would insist on coming with him. "You agree?"

Tyran sighed. "I don't really agree but you are right, I wouldn't be much help with my shoulder the way it is. Besides, I think you will have a better chance of succeeding if you are alone and don't have me to worry about."

"I was certain this was going to be a huge argument Tyran, but you surprise me."

"Well, I also don't like Jolon being at camp, doing whatever it is he's doing, without anyone there to keep an eye on him."

"I suspect that those men that attacked us were Jolon's doing. It would be good if you were there to keep him honest." Braulor said, relief washing over him at not having to force Tyran from his side.

"Then we must part here," Tyran said. "Fare well brother and be safe."

"You too," Braulor said and they clasped hands. "Travel swiftly and safely. I'll be back before you know it."

They stood quietly, sharing an awkward moment of silence, fidgeting with their packs and weapons. Neither of them wanted to leave the other behind but both had made up their minds which path they were going to follow. With some trepidation, Tyran turned and headed east toward the rising sun and the Greejon encampment.

Braulor watched for a moment and with a sigh turned west. After a bit of searching he picked up the tracks he had been eying on his and Tyran's descent from the Lyrwan Pass once more and started off in pursuit.

The tracks followed the Dilphel road steadily. In a few instances they left the path, most likely to get water, but they would always pick up again further along. Braulor followed them at a brisk pace. He walked until the sun was high in the sky, almost at the apex of its journey, then he stopped for a hasty lunch. He found a stream nearby, refilled his canteen and took the opportunity to wash his face. The water was cold and refreshing and Braulor would have loved to stay there all day but he had to keep going. He hitched his pack over his shoulder and started after the tracks once more. He had hardly walked more than an hour when the tracks disappeared one more time into the brush. This time they never reappeared. Braulor walked several hundred yards down the road, searching intensely but didn't find a continuation of Lyrell's tracks. Backtracking up the road, he returned to where the tracks went into the brush and hesitated. He glanced from side to side, cautious of any signs of an ambush and then stepped off the road and followed the tracks to the edge of the same stream he had lunched at earlier. It was difficult going as the ground was hard and didn't display the tracks as crisply as he would have liked.

Braulor stopped at the edge of the stream and surveyed the area. He couldn't see, hear or sense any kind of activity so he assumed that Lyrell had made it across the stream and had headed off in that direction. He debated crossing the stream himself and hunting him down but decided that he needed to stick to his plan. He made his way back to the Dilphel road, disappointed but also a little relieved. Braulor didn't relish running into Lyrell again if he had caught up with more men. Still he wanted to confirm his suspicions about Jolon. Now he would never get the chance.

Lyrell walked at a steady pace, keeping a close eye on Braulor as he went. He had suspected that he was being followed and had left the road a few times trying to throw his pursuer off his trail. At first he didn't know it was Braulor and assumed it was some other mercenary or bounty hunter looking for an easy target. Lyrell had chosen not to go back to camp without having completed his objective. Draax had killed for less and Lyrell knew of another mercenary group in the area and chose to try to hook up with them. It would give him time to rest up and heal, plus he was sure he could talk a few of the lads into helping him on a quick mission. But now Braulor was walking right back into his life, making it easier to finish his job than he could have imagined. Too easy.

The final time Lyrell had left the road he made his way to the stream and climbed down the bank into the water. The water was slow moving there and he found a concealed area where the bank overhung the stream, squeezed himself under it and waited. At that point he still didn't know who was following him but he knew that if whoever it was stayed true, they would follow his tracks to the stream.

The water was cold but not painfully so. It actually felt kind of good on his aching muscles and he enjoyed the affect as he listened. It wasn't long before he heard footsteps coming toward the stream. They were slow, his pursuer must be keeping a close eye on the set of tracks he had left. Lyrell held his breath and pressed himself as hard as he could against the mucky stream bed, every muscle tense. It seemed to take forever as his hunter prowled the bank back and forth, looking for more tracks, before heading back the way he had come. Lyrell waited a few minutes longer, then moved from his hiding spot, found a low part of the bank and climbed out of the stream with tiger-like stealth and into some long grass nearby. He lay still here for some time, listening just in case the person had doubled back to trick him. When he decided it was safe he got up and made after the person to find out who he was. Lyrell picked up a few tracks mixed in amongst his own and smiled. He knew those tracks. He had been following them already for several days.

Lyrell followed as close as he dared. Braulor, as he had found out, was a formidable adversary and Lyrell knew that he would only get one chance to finish him. He didn't want to squander it being unprepared. He traced the road in his mind, trying to think of a good spot where he could ambush Braulor when Braulor stopped to take a drink from his canteen. He lowered it, looked in the opening and then gave it a shake. It must have been empty. Lyrell, anticipating what would happen next, darted into the brush and headed in an intercept course through the trees. He found a good vantage point and waited.

Sure enough, Braulor came along the trail. He was not exactly hiding his approach but he was aware enough to have his sword drawn and at his side as he went. He walked up to the stream, put his sword down and lay on the bank, dipping his canteen into the water.

When Braulor started scooping water from the stream, Lyrell attacked, launching himself toward Braulor's prone figure, hoping to catch him off guard.

Braulor heard his approach and rolled over quickly but his sword was out of reach as Lyrell landed on him. They wrestled back and forth, each trying to get the upper hand, grunting and panting with the exertion. Braulor got his feet on Lyrell's hips and pushed up as explosively as he could, attempting to throw Lyrell off. Lyrell had used this move himself and knew what to expect. He clenched tightly to Braulor's arms as he tumbled into the stream, dragging Braulor with him. Lyrell was first up from the water and jumped on Braulor's submerged back, pushing him down even farther and holding him there.

Braulor tried to stay calm. He was running out of air but he managed to get his feet underneath him and readied himself. He reached back, cupped Lyrell's heels and pushed with his whole body at the same time, tripping Lyrell backwards. Braulor gasped for breath as he broke the surface of the water and spun around, ready to attack. He could hardly see through the mud mushed into his face. Hands gripped his tunic and dragged him from the creek, slamming him onto the rocky shore. This was followed by a foot on his chest, pinning him to the ground.

Braulor struggled, wiping mud from his eyes, trying to get a clear look.

"Don't move," a rough voice said as the point of a sword jabbed his neck.

### Chapter 10

Tagan had never seen this many people in Brankin Huoh before. Looking down from their carriage as he, Kenok and Sequil rode into town for the induction ceremony, his eyes swept back and forth, trying to comprehend where all these people came from. Of course he had been to induction ceremonies in the past but from ground level you couldn't get the full scope of how many people were present. From the top of the carriage Tagan could see a mass of humanity that didn't seem real. Everywhere he looked there were more and more people, blending away into the horizon. They must have come from every corner of Brankin Huoh and then some.

Festive excitement filled the air, raw and directionless, looking for an outlet. The ceremony always culminated in a huge party, which would be that outlet. It was one of the only times during the year that the Citadel's rulers allowed there to be any type of festivity and the people took full advantage. Because it also helped fill the town's coffers from the many fines and sentences levied to lawbreakers, the Citadel made sure there was ample fuel for the fire on hand.

Tagan hoped that the rest of the day would prove to be less stressful than it had been to that point. Sequil had been up since before the break of dawn fretting over every last detail. First it was that Tagan's hair wasn't right after he bathed. Then he wasn't wearing his robes in the correct fashion. It went on and on in this direction until Kenok, took Sequil aside and urged her not to worry so, that Tagan and his robes were fine and ready for the ceremony. Sequil settled down after that but drifted into a somber mood.

Tagan, on the other hand, wasn't sure what to think. Up until a day ago he thought it would be a normal induction ceremony. Not much to worry about from his standpoint. He didn't seem to be the type of person that the Citadel had chosen over the years so he assumed once all the pomp and circumstance was done with, he would go home with Kenok and Sequil and they would all move on. All that changed when he had strayed into Quanna Eresse and met Meyu Kwi. Meyu Kwi told Tagan that the two worlds that he could see were not really two worlds, but one and the same. He told Tagan that the rift between these worlds could be fixed and the two worlds could be re-united as one. Tagan didn't even know if he should take Meyu Kwi seriously at first. The more he analyzed his experiences in Quanna Eresse though, it started to make sense.

"Are you the one, my boy?" a booming voice asked with an alcohol-induced slur.

Tagan looked around for the voice's source and picked a large man out of the crowd, whose head bore the mark of someone who had been in prison. His face was flushed from drink and he swayed on the spot. Obviously he had started celebrating early. "Do you know why they have this ceremony, son?" the man continued, his gravelly voice struggling to string the words together. "It's all about control. They want to keep the people down so they use this ceremony to find those willing to do it and train them. Like we're sheep that need tending, they find the wolves to do it."

Tagan stared at the man, wondering why he had chosen him to yell at.

"Bad things go on in that Citadel, son," the man continued, clearly enjoying his nasty diatribe. "Horrible things. I have seen them with my own eyes."

The man looked around, confused, as the crowd split apart and a half dozen of the Citadel's finest surged toward him, tackling him to the ground. It didn't deter him and he continued yelling out as the guards beat and bound him. "Don't let them turn you, boy. I see the good in you. Don't be tempted by the evil."

Finally a hand clamped over his mouth and the guards dragged him to his feet and marched him away. He turned and looked at Tagan one last time, nodding his head as blood flowed from a nasty scrape on his forehead.

Kenok steered the carriage through town and into a large field where other carriages and horses were already parked. Families with children taking part in the ceremony didn't have to join the throng of people queuing up to watch. They watched from a special spot just to the side of the ceremony stage. After Kenok, Tagan and Sequil disembarked, a Citadel guard marched in stiff fashion to them with a mage assistant and indicated a path for Kenok and Sequil to follow. Tagan was to go with the mage assistant for final preparation before the ceremony.

Sequil grabbed him and hugged him hard, trying to maintain control of her emotions but was betrayed by her body wracking with sob filled spasms. When she pulled away she wiped at the tear marks on his robe and then straightened it one last time. "Good luck, Tagan. Keep an eye for us."

"I will, Mom." Tagan looked down so she couldn't see the tears welling in his own eyes.

Kenok looked like he was about to say something but decided against it and gave Tagan a hard pat on the back instead, coupled with a somber nod. Kenok put his arm around Sequil and they walked off, leaving Tagan alone with the mage assistant.

Without a word the mage assistant started walking toward a large tent that had been erected on the far end of the site. Tagan fell in step behind him, his mind spinning. Did that old man make the same comments to all the potentials, or did he know something?

The guards on either side of the tent opening nodded at the mage assistant as he and Tagan entered. The noise inside quieted, many faces turning to look at who was coming in.

Tagan looked around and recognized a few of the other boys, but only vaguely. None acknowledged him before they returned to their preparations.

The mage assistant led Tagan to an empty chair and had him sit while he busied himself with touching up Tagan's robes and telling him what he could expect.

In a private dressing room, far away from the hubbub of the crowd, Lozan was preparing for his part in the ceremony. Olkuu had helped him get into his robes. They were a deep crimson red, with intricate embroidery across the front. It would seem to others that the embroidery was the mark of the Citadel but if one were to look closer they would find odd arrangements symbols encoded within the mark. Those who could read it properly would see that it was a narration that spoke of generations past and how man was delivered into this world as slaves, as chattel. Humans were meant to be broken and used by the elite for whatever they chose.

The speaking part of the ceremony was in an ancient language that was no longer in use by the peoples of the world. The words were devised with skill and precision to work with the symbols sewn into the robe, empowering and renewing the ideals of the ruling class. This, of course, was the real intention of the ritual. The induction and its rituals passed down from Citadel ruler to Citadel ruler. Each new ruler was instructed in the art of the ceremony by the ruling overlord of the time. The overlords may have changed but the ritual always remained the same. Every word had to be properly inflected to have the desired effect. Every hand movement had to be deliberate and precise. The Citadel rulers were instructed and drilled in the ritual until they could perform it in its entirety without mistakes. If the Citadel ruler couldn't perform the ceremony they would disappear and a new ruler would be found. So it was that Lozan was deep in thought, going over his part, when Olkuu returned with the robe's matching headpiece. It was a thick band of silver that fit snugly around the head and held a large pendant in place on the wearer's brow. The pendant itself was circular obsidian, dark and smooth. With unseen depth it seemed like a black hole had formed on the wearer's brow, thought and light swallowed by its density. Lozan took the headpiece and rubbed it lightly with his thumb, lost in its depths. The stone of Balz had been around for centuries. If only it could speak of the countless ceremonies it had witnessed, tell the tales of the souls it had faced and the fates it had decided. Lozan was honored to place it upon his brow.

Everything was ready. He was ready. The city was filled with the people of Brankin Huoh and they were ready. Olkuu left the room and Lozan looked at Kyriu, lounging on a large, soft chair to one side of Lozan's chambers.

Kyriu observed Lozan for a moment and then rose and stepped toward him. "Yes, everything is perfect," he said, admiring the stone of Balz. Its dark depths echoed Kyriu's sentiment in every way. "Remember Lozan, Tagan gets chosen no matter what happens at the induction ceremony."

"Of course, my lord." Lozan bowed his head. How could he forget? Kyriu had been drilling it into his mind every chance he got. "Won't you be at the ceremony?"

Kyriu laughed, loud and guttural. "Lozan, the people of Brankin Huoh do not know of my existence and if you wish to keep control of them you better hope they never find out."

Lozan bowed his head, ashamed. He should have known better.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Lozan. You were caught up in the moment. Besides, I will be there in my own way, watching." Kyriu gave the stone of Balz another lingering look. Then he turned and left the room, returning to his own quarters to prepare.

Lozan sighed and shook his head again at his gaffe. He had to watch his tongue if he wanted to get rewarded. He went over the ritual one more time.

There were eleven boys that had been selected for the induction ceremony. They all stood in a semi-circle along the back end of the stage facing an oval-shaped table. There was nothing on the table yet, save an indigo colored cloth draped over it, cascading to the floor in tiny folds.

Tagan looked around and wondered if any of the other boys were as nervous as he was. If they were, he couldn't tell. Backstage, the mage assistants had been kept busy making sure no fights broke out among the most aggressive of the group. A few of the boys had sneered at Tagan, menacing him with dirty looks. Tagan tried not to show that he was afraid but he was glad that his handler was there. He had never been in a fight before and figured the day of the induction ceremony was not the time to have his first.

Trumpets sounded and Tagan flinched, whipping his head around. The gates to the Citadel opened and a large contingent of people began walking from it. Citadel guards came first, followed by adepts. Halfway through the group was Lozan. He was seated on a large velvet chair borne by four of the burliest men Tagan had ever seen. Set against the black robes and uniforms of his entourage, Lozan's robes looked like a drop of blood, oozing its way along the switch- backed road that led from the Citadel. Even from where Tagan stood the stone of Balz looked like a void: nothingness captured in stone and worn as a crown. The crowd was silent as the procession made its way slowly down to the city proper and finally rolled up to the stage area.

One by one the adepts made their way onto the stage and took their places, one behind each of the boys. The bearers of Lozan's chair lowered it to the ground and Lozan stood and walked to the front of the stage, embracing the regality afforded him, and faced the people of the city. The buzz that had started when the adepts took the stage lulled to a murmur as Lozan raised his hands.

"My good people of Brankin Huoh," Lozan began. "We are blessed to have you all join us today for this induction ceremony. Thank you God for allowing us to gather as one on this momentous occasion," he said, looking skyward with outstretched arms.

The people chanted as one, "Thank you Lozan. Thank you God."

"As you know, today is the day of induction." Lozan paused here for effect while the crowd applauded loudly. "Which of these young men will become members of the Citadel, bearers of renown and glory?" he said, sweeping his hand around the semi-circle of potential inductees behind him.

Hoots and hollers rained down on the stage. The crowd jumped up and down in its frenzy, giving the appearance of a boiling pot. Standing stage side, mothers were overcome with emotion and many wailed openly, hands extended to their child. Fathers paced like roosters, chests out with pride.

"Let us begin." Lozan spun on his heels to face the boys and the fevered pitch rose another notch.

Lozan approached the oval table and an adept came forward with a golden box engraved with many sacred markings and set it down gently before him. A hush fell over the crowd like someone had muted them. Lozan opened the box and stared in its depths for a moment, his face bathed in golden light. The boys gasped as he withdrew the contents. The crowd gasped also as Lozan turned and raised the Tome of the Citadel.

Centuries old glyphs engraved on a golden tablet sparkled in the sunlight like a star on the darkest of nights. Its brilliance was unequalled in the land.

Lozan turned again to face the boys. The adept removed the box and Lozan laid the tablet on the indigo cloth, caressing it as he did so like he would his first born.

The ceremony was straightforward. Each of the boys would approach the tablet and place their right hand upon one end. Lozan would place his left on the other. The glyphs on the tablet would glow brightly as the minds of Lozan and the boy connected. It was during this shared connection that Lozan could get a sense of how domitable the boy was and if they could be bent to do the bidding of the Citadel without regard. If the boy was easily tamable the stone of Balz would flare indigo before returning to its normal state of inky, pitch black and they joined the Citadel. If not, the boy would return to his life.

Lozan beckoned the first boy forward. Even though the boy had proclaimed himself the toughest one there when they were getting ready, he hesitated now. A look came over his face like he was trying to walk toward Lozan but his feet wouldn't listen. Setting his will, the boy took a deep breath and stepped forward. The adept behind the boy was right on his heels. It was not uncommon for an inductee to faint during the event.

The boy stopped at the end of the oval table, standing squarely in front of Lozan and Lozan nodded at him. The boy placed a shaky hand on the golden tablet and gulped. He was pale. So pale, it looked like someone had drained all his blood. The adept readied himself in case the boy passed out. Lozan thrust his hand out with theatrical confidence, dropping it on the tablet and closed his eyes. A moment passed and nothing happened. Then the markings on the tablet began to glow. They were fierce and hot, flaring from a dull light to an intense luminescence that made those watching squint. The boy stiffened and shrieked. He tried to yank his hand from the tablet but it was like it was glued in place. He began to sway on the spot and behind him the adept put his arms under the boy's armpits and around his chest. The boy slumped into the adept's arms, letting out a yell as he went unconscious, his hand still stuck to the tablet. Lozan opened his eyes and took his hand from the tome as the boy's limp arm fell from the tablet to his side. The adept held the boy up and spoke softly into his ear. The boy stirred and opened his eyes, looking to Lozan and the stone of Balz for confirmation. The boy almost fainted again when he spied the indigo shade of the stone and grimaced as he smiled to his parents. His mother was wailing uncontrollably into his father's shoulders. The adept walked him back to his place in line.

Lozan motioned to the next boy, whose wide eyes made it look like he had been caught doing something illegal and he stepped forward.

Of the seven boys ahead of Tagan, five were chosen to join the Citadel. After the first boy, the next two were not chosen. Their parents were outraged and demanded Lozan try again. One boy passed out and initially couldn't be revived. There were many intense moments as the adepts worked on him, finally bringing him around. He wailed when he realized he would not be inducted and had to be forcibly removed from the stage area. The third boy resumed his place in line looking relieved. He was a small and sickly and Tagan wondered if he was relieved that he wasn't chosen or that he had survived the ritual. The next four boys all were extremely excited to be inducted and fidgeted in line as the others took their turns at the tablet as though they couldn't wait to take up residence in the Citadel.

Lozan motioned to Tagan. His turn had come. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat but he managed a wan smile in his parents' direction. They looked just as nervous as Tagan felt but he strode with confidence to the tome and placed his hand on it without waiting to be instructed to do so. Lozan studied Tagan for a moment and then placed his own hand on the other side, his eyes sliding shut. Tagan kept his eyes open, staring at the Tome. The runes started to glow around Tagan's hand as it had for the other boys and he could feel a strange sensation in his palm. It was coming from the tome. It felt like the flesh of his palm was swirling in a slow circle as if someone was stirring his skin and the feeling started to creep up his arm. It reminded him of what he would feel in his head whenever he accessed the other world only it felt like it was being forced on him. Shoved into him as opposed to just being there, ready for him to become a part of it. He didn't like it. It was unnatural but he couldn't pull his hand away. The sensation continued up his arm, through his shoulder and along his neck. He looked up at Lozan. Lozan's eyes were still closed but Tagan could see his eyeballs darting under his eyelids as he concentrated. The feeling reached up into Tagan's brain. Like a probe, it seemed to be looking for something but was unsure of its target. Tagan resisted, fighting against it with his mind, closing off the part of his brain he was sure it was searching for. The swirling feeling grew even more intense, like it was angry at being denied access to what it wanted. Lozan's eyelids screwed up even tighter, his entire body tensing like he was getting ready to attack. Tagan hadn't taken his eyes from Lozan. He watched him as they struggled and was shocked as the stone of Balz clouded over. Tagan blinked and lost his focus for a moment and the sensation in his brain zeroed in on its target. Tagan set his mind again, holding the feeling at bay, then looked at the stone of Balz once more. There was an eye looking back at him from the stone. A slit of a pupil, fiery black, set against a yellow iris. A voice sounded in Tagan's head. "You resist," the voice said. "You are stronger than I reckoned but I will not be denied."

The sensation increased tenfold and Tagan struggled to hold on to his sense of self. The center of his brain felt like an angry beehive, buzzing and humming, threatening to split his head apart. Tagan couldn't see anything of the stage or the crowd. There was only the eye in the stone of Balz glaring at him, demanding he bend to its will. The rest of the world melted away in a wash of black and it felt like he was sucked right into the stone. Everywhere was black. Tagan could see forms moving around and a sense of pure evil pervaded his senses. It was thick and oppressive and he felt like he was being squashed within it. He let go of the tenuous grip of control he had and the swirling sensation launched itself toward the spot he had been protecting. Tagan physically broke under the strain. His knees gave out and he fell, putting his other hand out to brace himself. When his left hand came into contact with the tome the swirling sensation flowed through his neck, down his left arm and back into the tome like a stream that had found a new path, and missed its mark. The world popped back into view and Tagan blinked, trying to clear the fogginess from his eyes. Lozan was slumped forward on the other side of the table, adepts rushing to his side. The eye in the stone of Balz was crimson red and Tagan felt a surge of power up his right arm, stretching across his forehead in a final push to see what, if anything, Tagan had learned of the other world. Like he was slamming a door, Tagan denied the feeling and then he fell back into the arms of the handler behind him. Before he blacked out he could see the same thing had happened to Lozan.

### Chapter 11

A cold cloth touched his face and Tagan opened his eyes and looked around, wary and unsure.

The adept applying the cloth pulled his hands away from Tagan and dunked the cloth into a stone basin at his bedside, wrung it out, and placed it back on Tagan's throbbing skull.

"What happened?" Tagan was groggy, struggling to piece together where he was and why.

"You couldn't be revived at the induction ceremony so you were brought here," the adept replied, continuing to dab at Tagan's head with the cloth.

Tagan thought for a minute. He remembered battling with some entity for control of his mind. The entity was evil and powerful. It was beyond anything Tagan had experienced before and he couldn't figure out how he had not died. He blacked out after one final struggle with the being. "Was I chosen?"

"Yes, you were chosen," the adept replied with a warm smile, "Lozan has been here many times to check on your condition. He can't wait for your training to get started."

The last thing Tagan remembered before blacking out was seeing Lozan slumped down on the other side of the tome after the struggle with the entity. "Is Lozan ok?"

The adept's pleasant demeanor disappeared, replaced with an air of testiness. "Why would he be anything but?"

"I saw him slumped over the tome before I passed out." Tagan started to second guess if his recollection was accurate.

"You must have been imagining things," the adept said sharply. "Lozan is perfectly fine."

Tagan was certain that he had seen Lozan collapse but didn't feel up to arguing about it. "But the stone of Balz didn't change like it did for the other boys."

The adept put the cloth aside and started mixing some medicinal herbs. "The stone changing color is only a small part of the ritual. The biggest part is Lozan connecting with your mind. He can determine from that if you are worthy or not."

"Well. What." Tagan's thoughts stopped and started as he tried to figure out how best to ask the question he was dying to know. "Is it Lozan's eye that appears in it?"

The adept looked at Tagan with a vacant expression. "What are talking about? There is no eye in the stone."

"But I saw an eye appear in it during the ritual." Tagan refrained from mentioning anything about the entity he felt was attached to the eye and the battle they fought for his mind. He was starting to wonder if it even was an entity he battled with or if he had some sort of hallucination brought on by the stress of the entire event.

"I think you were more shaken up than we thought. First you claimed to see Lozan injured, when he wasn't and now this with an eye appearing in the stone of Balz. I must make mention of this to Lozan. He will be most interested to know of these developments." The adept handed a glass filled with an odd colored liquid to Tagan. "Drink this. It will help you get some rest."

Tagan took the glass and forced down its bitter contents in two gulps and handed it back to the adept. The adept took the glass and put the cold cloth back on Tagan's forehead and left the room.

Tagan was sure he knew where the adept was going as he watched him walk from the room. Tagan didn't have long to think about this turn of events before the medicine took effect and he fell into a deep sleep.

"What happened, Kyriu?" Even though deep down he was frightened by what he might hear, Lozan demanded to know.

The force of the struggle between Tagan and Kyriu had been forced back on Lozan when Tagan placed his left hand on the tablet. It was as if a circuit had been completed and the battle of wills flowed into Lozan's mind as well and it needed the extra room. Lozan shuddered as he remembered it. The fierceness of Kyriu's relentless, probing attacks, trying to crush the boy's defense and take hold of his mind. But Tagan fought back with a ferocity that Lozan didn't expect, nor experience before in all the induction ceremonies he had presided over. If his mind hadn't merged into their struggle, Tagan may well have died. Lozan could sense it coming from Kyriu. He could sense that Tagan's defiance was pushing Kyriu over the edge. Kyriu was going to have his way or Tagan would die in the attempt. But Lozan's unexpected appearance had caused a break in concentration and in the confusion Tagan blacked out and the brunt of Kyriu's forceful attack had hit Lozan's unprepared mind full force. In that moment before unconsciousness Lozan felt the true breadth of Kyriu's powers and he was frightened by it. He had seen Kyriu do some awful things before but the mental image Lozan was filled with was of such frightful, terrible things that he wondered if he would ever be able to forget them.

Lozan had seen a land much like Brankin Huoh but it was desolate and dark. The sun obscured by dark clouds borne of the fire and destruction; lizard like creatures were crawling amongst the devastation, feasting on the rotting flesh of dead humans. Bodies were strewn everywhere like someone dropped them from on high. Everywhere was rot and decay. It was a vision that Lozan prayed he had imagined.

"The boy is more resilient than I thought." Kyriu lounged on a chair in his quarters feeling quite bored.

"What about the stone of Balz? That has never happened before."

"There was never anyone as important as Tagan at the induction ceremony before but the stone was designed for that purpose." Kyriu was growing angry at having to answer such questions and was toying with the idea of getting rid of Lozan altogether but decided that approach would only cause more problems than it would solve right now so he had to try and placate Lozan's fears. Kyriu had been as surprised as anyone when Lozan's consciousness came blundering into his attack on Tagan. Right when he was at his most vulnerable, his mind pre-occupied with intensifying his attack. Kyriu had been so crazed by Tagan's defiance that he let emotion get the better of him. But even he did not know what would happen when Tagan placed his other hand on the tome. It had never happened before.

"But Brankin Huoh. I saw it in ruins. Strange creatures were roaming about eating the dead like they were some sort of delicacy." Lozan's voice trailed off to a whisper, the horror too much.

"I was trying to project that image into Tagan's mind to frighten him." Kyriu used the most soothing tone he could muster. "Not to worry Lozan, Brankin Huoh is still in one piece."

Lozan shuddered, remembering the vision once more. "But why?"

"I wanted Tagan to believe that Brankin Huoh was going to come under attack. I wanted him to think that these things would come to pass if he didn't become part of the Citadel. When your mind joined us, I was generating that vision to scare Tagan."

"But what of the ritual?"

"It wasn't going to work on Tagan," Kyriu said, shaking his head. "Tagan isn't the same as the other weak minds you confront at the induction. He wasn't going to hand over his mind freely to you, he would have easily resisted, and then what? Everything would have come to a crashing halt right there on stage in front of all the citizenry. What would they have thought? That is when I stepped in and used the stone of Balz to help you. He needed to be inducted as I told you. There was no other choice." Kyriu's tone signaled he was nearing the danger zone and that was the end of that subject. "He is still in the care of the adepts is assume?"

"He hasn't woken yet." Lozan shook his head, still confused.

"I must leave today. I have already stayed longer than I wished but I am reluctant to leave now that I have felt the power that Tagan possesses." Kyriu's thoughts drifted to the battle he and Tagan had shared. How it angered him. How it enraged him. How he loved every second of it and wished he could experience it once more.

"We can handle him my lord."

Kyriu's wicked eyes narrowed at Lozan. "I will return as soon as I can to make sure that everything is going well. No need to prepare the chamber for my departure. I wish to leave as soon as possible. You can join me and three of your closest adepts. That will be enough." Kyriu waved his hand dismissing Lozan.

Lozan bowed his head and left the room

Tagan's stay with adepts was short lived. Within a day of his waking he was pronounced well and joined the other seven inductees in their daily chores and training.

Tagan did suffer a few dizzy spells when he first began training but he got past those quickly and was soon able to participate fully with the other boys. Each training day was broken into two parts. The morning part was spent learning the laws of the land. Why they were in place and how the hierarchy of enforcement operated. From Lozan on down to the lowliest gate keeper, each person had a specific role and they followed that role to a tee or else 'the machine would break down' as it was described to them and order, above all else, was paramount.

The after lunch session was physical training; sparring with swords, calisthenics and the like. Tagan was at home with the laws but was at a disadvantage when it came to the physical training. Here the other boys shone and they let Tagan know it as often as they could, applying more than one beating to him right under the noses of their trainers who turned a blind eye to Tagan's plight. If he protested to them the masters would only say that he needs to be strong and learn to stick up for himself. This approach only increased the severity of the extra attention he received so he curtailed that and went back to keeping his mouth shut. Each evening Tagan would drag himself into bed sporting gorgeous new welts and bruises.

When they weren't in training, Tagan and the other inductees were given chores around the Citadel. Most of the boys were given physical jobs like mucking out the horses stalls, chopping and stacking wood for the furnaces and maintenance of the carriages. A few, like Tagan, were given less physical jobs. Mainly work in the kitchens, scraping and cleaning the pottery from the days meals, helping the cooks prepare food.

Then there were the prisoners. Each prisoner was fed twice daily. Tagan and two other boys had to include the prison tower in their rounds when they were distributing meals. Tagan dreaded his trips through the prison. The inmates would jeer at them, calling them all sorts of vile names. They would hoot and holler as the boys worked, asking if they would be coming back later to join them in the bath. Most were not civil and they would employ all manner of actions to abuse them. This included spitting on them and throwing urine and feces at them. Although this last behavior wasn't well tolerated by the guards and more than one of the prisoners who had done it were never seen again. Tagan learned this was all part of the cycle of the prison. People would come in and out all the time so he learned not to pay much attention to whom he was handing bowls of food to.

Tagan found himself once again pushing a cart of food through the jail, stopping every few feet to distribute meals, doing his best to remove himself mentally from what was going on. He was near the end of the row of cells and only had one more prisoner left. He couldn't wait to get out of there so he could enjoy his own food.

The last cell contained the newest prisoner. Tagan had seen the guards bringing him in earlier. They were overjoyed as though the person was someone of importance and even though he didn't resist, the guards were taking liberties, punching and kicking him as they brought him to his cell.

In the earlier rounds the new prisoner had lain asleep and didn't stir as Tagan came through with food. This time the prisoner was sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. Not weeping but looking more like someone who couldn't believe where he found himself.

"Food for you." Tagan stopped the cart and readied a plate.

The man groaned as he stood and Tagan could hear him shuffle toward the bars of the cell to collect his meal. Tagan looked up as he passed the plate and stopped, staring into the man's eyes and gasped. They could have belonged to Kenok.

### Chapter 12

It took a moment for Braulor to register the boy staring at him, the plate of food he was being offered coming dangerously close to being dropped. He returned the stare as he realized that this was the boy that Alrei Yqu had charged him with finding. He matched the image that Alrei Yqu had shared with him.

"What is your name?" Braulor was breathless, heart pounding at his ribs like someone playing the drums as he waited for the answer.

Tagan came to his senses when the prisoner spoke to him. "Tagan."

Now it was Braulor's turn to gape. His body went still as if moving would ruin the moment and he would find out he was only dreaming. He was overjoyed at his luck but that quickly faded when he realized that he was in the Citadel prison. Many people that went in never came out and if they did get out, they were never the same. Braulor was someone the Citadel had wanted to get their hands on for some time and he would be lucky to live through the week, let alone get out. Here he had been so concerned with how he was going to get into the Citadel and find Tagan in the first place and now here he was, coming to him as if summoned, but there seemed to be no feasible way out.

"You look so familiar to me." Tagan was still staring. "Your eyes are just like my father's."

Braulor noticed a resemblance to Tagan but didn't know how much the boy already knew or what he should tell him but it didn't matter as a prison guard came along and broke up their meeting before they could really talk to each other.

"Move it along here Tagan. Don't you have more deliveries to make?"

Tagan hastily handed Braulor the food he had prepared and resumed pushing his cart out the door and down the hall, taking one last look back as he turned a corner out of sight.

Braulor sat down on his bed and ate. He realized it had been at least a few days' time since he had been caught during his fight with Lyrell in the river. Because he had been so eagerly following Lyrell's tracks, Braulor didn't pay attention that he was getting close to the boundaries of the Citadel patrols. Alerted to their presence by the fight and, a patrol swooped in and grabbed them both. Lyrell was well known to the captain of the patrol, having given him information in the past and garnered leeway because of it. It was Lyrell who tipped off the captain as to who they had actually captured. After a bit of all too brief deliberation the captain decided that Braulor was the only one worth keeping and they let Lyrell go free.

Lyrell made sure to give Braulor a smug smile as he walked away, even though his eyes smoldered with hatred that he would not get to finish the job he had started. They glared at each other as the assassin helped himself to Braulor's possessions and then slunk away from the patrol without so much as a backward glance. The patrol continued on to complete the sweep they had been charged with before returning to the Citadel with their prize. Braulor was bound and forced to march at the front of the vanguard while the patrol abused him. He shook his head at his foolhardiness. Now he had missed his opportunity to intercept Tagan before the induction.

Coming across Tagan in such a short time invigorated Braulor though. It was almost like it was preordained and it gave him hope while he tried to think of a way of escaping but each idea that came to mind was shortly followed by the fact that he was in the Citadel jail. There was little hope of getting out at all. Escaping with an inductee that was under close supervision was as ludicrous as it sounded. With that thought parading around his head Braulor put his dirty crockery on the floor of his cell and lay back on his cot, swinging his legs up and throwing the patchwork blanket he was given, over himself and he fell into a fit-full sleep.

Plagued with confusion, Tagan barely noticed the regular amounts of abuse he continued to receive as the days passed. He lay awake in bed long after lights out, trying to make sense of things. He and Braulor, as he found out that was the prisoners name, had several short talks as Tagan came through with food but they could never really communicate as the guards made sure to keep Tagan moving along if they noticed him loitering. He couldn't explain it but Tagan felt that Braulor had something to do with him. It wasn't anything that Braulor said directly to him but there was something about him. Braulor reminded Tagan so much of his father, Kenok, that it was downright scary. Braulor had the exact same eyes, but it was more than that. It was the way he moved his hands when he talked. The way he walked when he was up and about. Tagan wondered if there was a connection at all or if he was making it up because Braulor had befriended him. Tagan wished he could go see his mom and dad, but inductees were not permitted to leave the grounds of the Citadel and parents were not allowed to visit until after the first six months. Tagan even tried reaching into Quanna Eresse, for guidance. He had been so busy since the induction that he hadn't tried in quite some time. Even the accidental drifts into the other world he experienced from time to time had ceased. Now that he was consciously trying, he couldn't make it happen. Not being able to join Quanna Eresse scared him more than he had thought possible. Over the years he had become so used to Quanna Eresse being there when he wanted it, it had become a part of him; a place of refuge when things were going bad in the real world. Now he needed it more than ever and it wasn't there. He struggled and pushed to make it happen, breaking out in a sweat from the effort but nothing helped. Having exhausted all avenues he would drift off to sleep and before he knew it, the guards were awakening him for the start of yet another day, another turn of the cycle.

Lozan kept close tabs on Tagan's progress as Kyriu had instructed. He wanted to make sure he had all the answers Kyriu could possibly be looking for when he next returned. Lozan demanded daily reports from Tagan's trainers for anything out of the ordinary. All reports indicated that Tagan was a hardworking, intelligent boy. Yes, he was being pushed around by a few of the tougher kids but the trainers felt, and Lozan agreed, that a little tough love was something would help Tagan in the long run. Aside from the prison guards report that he had taken a liking to one of the prisoners, Tagan was another inductee struggling to make it through the first round of training. Lozan made a mental note to have that prisoner moved, better yet, killed.

Lozan was really looking for any incidences like the one that had happened on induction day, incidences that involved Tagan's use of the same energy that Kyriu used. There were none. That meant that the herbs they were putting in the inductees food and drink were doing their job. The herbs were discovered long ago to have the potent ability to block that kind of mental activity. Since then they had been putting it in the water supply for all the citizens of Brankin Huoh. It had made a huge difference in the people accepting the Citadel's rules and decrees no matter how oppressive they were.

Kyriu should be pleased with how he had been managing Tagan since the induction ceremony. Lozan had even met with Tagan on a few occasions to assess the boy himself and felt they were doing a decent job at keeping Tagan under heel. He contemplated for a moment more and then called for his servant. "Olkuu."

Olkuu materialized at his master's side. "Yes, your excellence?"

"I wish to have that prisoner executed; the one that Tagan has been spending time with."

"Braulor, my lord?"

"Is that his name?" Lozan recognized Braulor's name and he wondered why Tagan and Braulor would connect with one another as they had. They seemed so disparate. "No bother. I want him hung on the next day of execution."

"With no formal trial?" Olkuu rolled his eyes with regret. He had tried to bite his tongue but it was too late, the statement was already out there. He closed his eyes and cringed, ready for Lozan's response.

Lozan looked at him, eyes ablaze with fury. "Am I not the ruler of this Citadel?" he shouted. His face was a blotchy red and spittle flew as he raged.

"Of course, my lord. I am sorry. So sorry." Olkuu bowed and grovelled for forgiveness, wishing the moment would pass. "I will have Braulor added to the execution register at once my lord."

"I should hope so," Lozan seethed, "and if you ever question my decree again Olkuu, I will make certain that your name is on that list."

Olkuu kept bowing and scraping, saying he was sorry until Lozan dismissed him.

Lozan paced around the Citadel burial chamber, one nervous lap after the other. His adepts squeezed themselves out of his way as he passed. Why did Kyriu have to be coming back now? There couldn't possibly be a worst time. Not only were there to be prisoner executions in the week ahead but Lozan and several other local rulers were in the midst of meetings, planning and coordinating their agendas.

And then there was Tagan. Lozan cursed the name and started another loop around the chamber, stomping as he went, wishing he had never heard it. If it wasn't for Tagan, everything would be business as usual. Kyriu would not be returning for a second time so soon and Lozan would be planning Brankin Huoh's future with the assembled leaders. Lozan hadn't finished that thought when Kyriu appeared. There were no preparations, no chanting, none of the usual ritual that surrounded Kyriu's arrival. Kyriu was just there. Lozan was so startled that he forgot to bow. When he went to do so, Kyriu chided him. "It's ok Lozan."

"But the ritual. How did you get here without it?"

"There was enough energy still in the chamber from the last ritual. I was able to use it to bring myself here."

A part of Lozan's brain became uncertain of the necessity behind the ritual at all but decided against questioning Kyriu further. "Your usual chambers are ready for you."

"How are the meetings progressing? I know that you are hosting them this time around."

"As well as can be expected. We are to reconvene shortly. I called for a break so I could meet you here."

"Excellent. I will be joining the meeting. I have some insights I wish to share. Have Tagan deliver food to my chamber when he is finished in the dungeons." Kyriu marched off leaving a perplexed Lozan in his wake.

Tagan pushed the food laden cart down the hall, turning into the guardhouse area. The gate to the prison area was locked and Tagan looked around for an on duty guard. Not seeing one close at hand he entered the guard station to see if anyone was there. The room was unoccupied and Tagan stood for a second, stumped. This hadn't happened before. There was always someone there to let him in. He glanced at the parchment on the table standing aside the doorway and something caught his eye. He leaned in for a closer look and Braulor's name jumped off the page at him. Looking at the top of the page it was clear this was a list of prisoners to be executed and his heart leapt into his throat. How could this be happening? Braulor was to be killed and Tagan had come no closer to figuring out why he felt so connected to him. He made to step inside for a closer look at the parchment and a hand clamped tightly around his arm.

"What do you think you are doing?" a rough voice said.

Tagan recognized the voice as belonging to Ekblad, one of the more lenient guards, but he still thought fast for a reason to cover his actions. He knew he shouldn't be poking around. "I'm looking for you. No-one was here to let me in."

Ekblad looked around like he had something to hide. "I stepped away for a moment to take care of business. That's all. No reason to go nosing about."

"Ok but I need to deliver this food. I am behind schedule as it is." Tagan felt pressed and wanted to get out of there and warn Braulor.

Ekblad leaned into the guardhouse, snatched an iron ring filled with keys from a hook on the wall and stomped over to the gate. He unlocked it and wrenched it open, scowling at Tagan as he passed. "Make it quick."

Tagan pushed the cart through the gate and Ekblad slammed it behind him. It was so close Tagan could feel the bars pressing into his backside. Ekblad then stood watching Tagan as he started to distribute food.

Tagan went about his business as normal as he could, delivering food to the prisoners with the usual dry, mechanical delivery, not wanting to give anything away. After distributing a few meals he risked a look back and Ekblad was no longer on the other side of the gate. Tagan finished the rest of his deliveries as fast as he could, rushing through them, slopping food here and there on his cart in his haste. He couldn't get to the last cell fast enough and tell Braulor what he had discovered in the guard house. He gave out the second to last serving, almost throwing it through the bars and didn't even wait for the prisoner to return the previous meals dishes before racing to Braulor's cell, stopping short as he arrived. Tagan's heart sank as low as his jaw. Braulor was gone.

Braulor sat in a chair. The same chair Ekblad had left him in hours earlier. Braulor had been in his cell, his brain working double time as he tried to think of some way to escape with Tagan when a guard opened his cell. This could be the chance he had been waiting for and he thought of ways that he could attack the guard without rousing the attention of the other prisoners. Their hooting and hollering at watching a guard getting beaten would attract more guards, exactly what Braulor needed to avoid. Whatever he was going to do, it had to be quick and quiet. Braulor steeled himself.

Ekblad stood in the cell doorway, appraising Braulor with cruel eyes. "Alrei Yqu has requested a meeting," he said, exactly as Olkuu had instructed him. He didn't know who Alrei Yqu was and he didn't care. The why was for someone else to worry about, he only was doing what he was told.

Braulor's attack was stymied even before he could launch it. Engine revving, nerves tingling in anticipation, it was like someone dumping a bucket of cold water over his head. Alrei Yqu? Here? Dozens of questions swooshed through his brain at a time but they all got clogged at the same point of confusion. Braulor didn't know what was going on but abandoned his plan of attack. Maybe Alrei Yqu heard that Braulor had been captured and had come to help him escape. He had to find out what Alrei Yqu wanted so he stowed the energy he had been building for his offensive and waited while Ekblad bound his wrists behind him, put a gag in his mouth and then covered his head with a bag. Ekblad then warned him not to try anything and led him along a circuitous route. Up many stairs and down many hallways, they padded like whispers. At long last the guard stopped him and Braulor heard the squeaky hinges of a door announce its opening. Ekblad walked him inside and sat him in a chair, removed the hood from his head and yanked the gag from his mouth. Braulor squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden brightness and opened them only a crack as Ekblad warned him to be quiet one more time, then left the room, locking the door behind him.

Braulor looked around at his surroundings. He had never been in such an opulent room before. High, vaulted ceilings, painted in muted, earthy tones. An impressive assortment of beddings and furniture filled the floor area. Tables were lavished with crockery of gold and silver that gleamed in the light of the sun which poured in from a tall, arched window. He paced around the room several times admiring the art and the view from the window but grew tired of it and returned to the chair to wait. His stomach rumbled reminding him that Tagan was on the way toward his empty cell to deliver his afternoon meal. He wondered again why Alrei Yqu wanted to see him. Here of all places. How did Alrei Yqu come to be here? Braulor shook his head. He was surprised Alrei Yqu was here in the Citadel but at the same time, it didn't surprise Braulor one bit. He had given up long ago trying to figure out how Alrei Yqu operated. His eyes grew heavy as he waited.

The door hinges squeaked and Braulor's eyes popped open. He had dozed off but didn't really sleep, his mind churning over his situation. Now he watched and waited with bated breath. The door was open only a crack and he could hear a voice. "That will be all for now Olkuu," followed by a pair of shoes clopping away, echoing as they went. The door remained ajar for a while longer, neither opening nor closing and Braulor grew antsy in his chair. What was going on? With a forceful thrust, the door opened wide, admitting Alrei Yqu.

Braulor was never so happy to see someone he knew and stood immediately, his hands still bound, a huge grin on his face.

"Well, well, well Braulor. I knew you were resourceful but I didn't foresee you getting yourself thrown in the Citadel dungeons." Alrei Yqu found the whole situation to be quite humorous and a smile stretched his mouth ear to ear.

"I found Tagan, Alrei Yqu. He delivered food to my cell the first day I was here. I couldn't believe my luck."

"Here let me help you with those."

Braulor was trying to gesture but couldn't because of his bonds. Alrei Yqu stepped toward Braulor, spun him around and flicked out a claw, severing the cords binding his wrist.

Braulor turned, rubbing his wrists, the grin from a few moments earlier replaced by a confused look. "How did you know I was here?"

"There were whisperings that you had been captured. I had to come see for myself."

"Now that you're here you can help me escape with Tagan." Braulor was hopeful that if Alrei Yqu could get into the Citadel so easily, he could get out just as easily.

"I can't help you escape Braulor but I have arranged for you to have a meeting with Tagan. Here in this very room. He should be here in moments I would guess."

Braulor stared at Alrei Yqu, amazed. Only he would go to the trouble of coming here and not help him escape. "But where am I?"

"This would be the chambers the Citadel ruler reserves for guests of high importance I would think." Alrei Yqu glanced around at the grand furnishings, looking unimpressed.

"That explains the luxuriousness." Braulor became disgusted at the splendor on display when most citizens of Brankin Huoh lived in relative squalor. "So I have to find my way through the Citadel to get out?" Braulor felt like he had jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.

"It will be a challenge but you must find a way. The future of human kind depends on it."

Braulor slumped back into the chair, despairing. He had no weapons and the layout of the Citadel's interior was not common knowledge. Even if they had weapons, there were bound to be guards at every turn. He would have to leave a trail of corpses if he tried to fight his way out.

"I have other pressing matters to which I must attend Braulor. I leave you to your task." Alrei Yqu turned and was out the door and gone before Braulor could ask any more questions.

Kyriu pulled the door firmly shut behind him, his scaly hand lingering on the door handle a moment as he regained control of his faculties. He had gotten out of there just in time. He could feel Alrei Yqu's essence slipping from his body as if he were emerging from the depths of lake. 'Did I do well master?' The words echoed in his mind. Kyriu shuddered, wondering if he would ever get used to the shivery feeling of his body returning to its natural state. Between dismissing Olkuu and entering his quarters to meet with Braulor, Kyriu ingested the potion that Alrei Yqu had taught to make. It was quite smooth, like pleasant tasting water, but it was powerful and it delivered the ability for Alrei Yqu's spirit to enter Kyriu's body and take control of his body, even changing physically to take on Alrei Yqu's look. They hadn't used it often for it exacted a toll on both of them but Alrei Yqu needed to meet with Braulor and he did not want to manifest into the Citadel, Kyriu's body had to host his spirit.

"You did well Kyriu," Alrei Yqu's voice firing somewhere deep in Kyriu's mind. "Everything is starting to come together. Soon I will be free to walk this realm once more."

And I will be there with you Kyriu thought as full control of his body was his once more. He turned and went off to join Lozan's meeting.

### Chapter 13

Tagan had never been to this part of the Citadel before. As far as he knew it was reserved for special guests and it would normally be an older boy attending to their needs. That might explain the trepidation he felt as he walked down the hall, glancing at the doors as they passed, looking for his destination. There were only a handful of rooms on this floor and he spotted the one he was searching for and approached it. Tagan felt out of place up here and tapped on the door with timid knocks. He could hear noise coming from inside. Someone was walking toward the door. Taking a deep breath, he stood himself up tall wanting to make a good impression on the person staying in the room. The door opened a crack, wide enough for one eye to look out. It was an eye that he recognized.

Braulor didn't wait for Tagan to enter the room. He flung the door open, reached out and grabbed Tagan's tunic and dragged him inside, the food cart trailing along behind in Tagan's hand. With Tagan inside the room, Braulor took a quick look up and down the hall, making sure that nobody was watching and shut the door, bolting it for good measure.

They stood looking at each other before Tagan broke the ice. "I thought you were gone. I went to your cell and it was empty."

"That guard brought me up here before the afternoon meal. I wasn't expecting it." Braulor shrugged his shoulders, still bewildered by his meeting with Alrei Yqu.

"I saw your name on the execution list so I thought maybe...you know." Tagan trailed off not wanting to voice the rest of his thoughts.

"Execution." Braulor's eyes sprang open wide. He wasn't dumb enough to think that the Citadel didn't want him out of their hair permanently but he was sure he would be given a trial of some sort, even if it was only for show. "I suppose they were getting tired of me as a houseguest."

"Why do they want to execute you? What did you do?"

"I'm a part of the Greejon clan. That's reason enough in the eyes of the Citadel." Braulor paused. "Do you know why you're here?"

"Well, I was selected at the induction ceremony for training. It seemed strange to me because I didn't seem to be the type they would choose."

"No, you don't seem the type the Citadel usually takes, but there is something more."

Tagan came up blank as he tried to reason it out.

Before Tagan could say anything further Braulor spoke up. "I was tasked with getting you out of the Citadel. It seems you have an ability that is a benefit of all the people of Brankin Huoh."

"How do you know about that?" Tagan was shocked that Braulor knew of his ability to see into Quanna Eresse. His parents were the only ones he ever told.

"I was sent by a man; at least I think he is a man. His name is Alrei Yqu. He is a shaman or seer of some sort. He knew that you were going to be inducted and it was because of your ability. The Citadel wants you here where they can keep an eye on you."

"I have never heard of Alrei Yqu."

"What is this ability that he speaks of?"

Tagan hesitated but the urge to talk about it was too strong. "Well, I can see into another world, if you can call it that."

"Another world?" Braulor was unsure exactly what that meant. "Do you mean heaven?"

"No, it is this realm," Tagan said, indicating the space around him, "but there is another level or dimension to it that people don't see. I do."

Braulor looked at Tagan while he tried to massage what he just heard into some sort of workable idea, something he could comprehend. Another world layered on top of this one that only Tagan can see? If it wasn't for his own ability to feel life force from things such as trees, there is no way he would have believed such a thing was possible. Braulor opened his mouth to ask one of the dozens of questions that were bouncing around in his brain about Tagan's ability and then he remembered their situation. "Well, you can tell me more about that later. For now we have to get out of the Citadel. How well do you know your way around?"

"I have good knowledge of the lower levels. This is the first time I have been up here."

"Hmmm. No shortcut passages or anything like that?"

"The front gates are the only way in or out that I know of."

"There must be another way." Braulor took to the chair once again, deep in thought.

"All the supplies they bring in. They must send stuff back out again. Barrels, casks, crates. That sort of thing," Braulor said, continuing his thought process out loud.

Tagan was wandering around the room taking in its splendor. "Uhhmm. Yes. You're right. They do send some things back for refills."

The base of a plan was starting to form in Braulor's mind. "And where would that be?"

"The lower levels, near the kitchen."

Braulor stood up so fast it startled Tagan. "Is it heavily guarded down there?"

"The room itself is not heavily guarded but we would have to make our way down there without being seen." Tagan came to a stop as he started to catch on to Braulor's idea.

Braulor started pacing around the room. Tagan was right. He didn't know what floor they were on but judging from the view out the window they were at one of the highest parts of the Citadel. Getting to the lower levels without being seen would be difficult, if not impossible. As this was the only working plan they had, there was no choice but go with it. Braulor stopped pacing and stood staring at the cart Tagan was using for his food deliveries and smiled. He marched over to the bed and pulled back the comforter, dragging it onto the floor. Next he took a sheet from the bed and draped it over the cart and stood back. It would be cramped for sure but he would have to tough it out until they got to the lower floor. He shared his idea with Tagan and a few moments later Braulor had stuffed himself into the underside of the chart, the sheet tucked around the cart like it was glued in place.

Tagan struggled as he wheeled the cart out the door and down the hall. Braulor was heavy, making the cart difficult to push and even harder to maneuver. It took some time but Tagan was able to master the peculiarities of the cart with its hidden payload.

Braulor hated being trapped like this. It was so quiet and dark he felt blind. His only company was Tagan's soft footfalls and the creak of the cart as they made their way down the hall.

Braulor's idea was to conceal himself under the cart and have Tagan get the cart down to the levels where stock was stored. Once there, they would have to assess the situation. He was hoping that there would be something that was being sent out that was large enough for them to hide in. Once outside the Citadel they could escape on foot out of the city. Braulor learned that Tagan had to use a dumb waiter to get his food cart up to this level. It was how linens and other supplies were moved up and down the heights of the Citadel and it was the only way Braulor could think of to get to the lower levels without being seen.

Of course, it wasn't a foolproof idea and there were concerns about using the dumb waiter as a means of escape. Braulor wasn't sure it could handle the weight of a full grown man as it was designed for light duty work. They took as many things off the cart as they could to lighten it up but had to leave some crockery on it to help with their disguise. Another problem was that once the cart was on the waiter and lowered down Tagan would have to get down to the lower level to retrieve it before anyone else did and removed the sheet that was covering Braulor. This was the part that concerned Braulor the most so they had decided they would do it in stages. Tagan would lower him down one floor then join him there to lower him down the next floor and so on until they reached the bottom. It offered the least chance of someone else intercepting the cart at the bottom.

The cart came to a stop. "I'm loading you into the dumb waiter now," Tagan whispered.

This was the crux of their whole plan. If the dumb waiter couldn't hold him then, hopefully, he would be able to get out and they could come up with something else. Braulor shuddered to think what would happen if he couldn't get out and the waiter failed. He took a deep breath and braced himself. He heard a door open and everything went pitch black as he was wheeled into the waiter and the door shut behind him.

The pulley creaked and groaned as it came to life, lowering Braulor inch by inch. So far so good anyway, it seemed to be able to handle his weight. The lift came to a halt and all was quiet. Braulor waited for what felt like an eternity before he heard another whisper. "Ok. Here we go again." And the cart started to descend once more. In this fashion they made it to the next floor and down a third floor.

"Only a few floors left," Tagan whispered encouragingly as he made to lower the waiter down a fourth time.

"What are doing there boy?" a heavy voice hollered, echoing up and down the hall.

Braulor stiffened, praying Tagan would be able to talk his way out the situation.

"I'm sending this cart down to the kitchens. It's empty." Tagan was as non-chalant as he could be.

"Well get it offa there boy. There's a meeting going on down this hall and they need their dirty dishes taken away," the voice said, closer now.

"Uhhmm. Isn't Huofril on duty here?" Tagan looked around hoping. He was on good terms with Huofril and Tagan was sure that he would allow him to continue on his way.

"I don't care who is supposed to be on duty here boy. Lozan himself is in that meeting and if he wants the dishes gone, they're gone. Now get that cart offa there and take care of it or I'll make life difficult for you."

The guard was nose to nose with Tagan at this point, his snarl showing many yellow teeth. Tagan had no choice but to obey. He opened the door to the dumb waiter, taking as long as he dared to give Braulor time to get set.

"Hey, Droinj, what are you doing? Get back here and relieve me."

Droinj turned and bellowed back. "Ok Huofril. I'm taking care of an order from Lozan. Get those dishes now boy," he demanded, whipping his head back around to glare at Tagan before stomping off to the guard station.

Tagan thought briefly about pushing the cart back on the lift and continuing on their way but abandoned that idea as Droinj leaned around a nearby corner, scowling at him like he could sense what Tagan was thinking.

"What's going on Tagan?" Braulor whispered as the door to the lift opened. Braulor had to blink at the unexpected light.

"This guard spotted me and he is making me go pick up some dishes from a room nearby," Tagan whispered back.

"This won't work Tagan. Where are you going to put the dishes?"

"I don't know. I have no choice. The guard is watching me like a hawk." Tagan's heart was pounding all the way up in ears.

The cart rolled down the hallway, Tagan dragging his feet while he tried to come up with a plan. He had to get Braulor out from the cart before he went into the room to gather the dishes as he was ordered. That much was obvious. But Droinj kept peering around the corner watching Tagan and making it difficult for him to do anything.

The room Droinj had indicated was located at the far end of the hall. Tagan could see other doors nearby and thought about ducking inside one to offload Braulor. He glanced back over his shoulder and he didn't see Droinj watching him. He must have gone back to his duties, Tagan hoped, feeling a little relieved.

Tagan started trying door handles as he walked, looking for an open one. Every handle he tried was locked and he was growing more and more anxious as the meeting room loomed ahead. He could hear the Jaswulder falls rushing outside the window at the end of the hall, water crashing into the basin far below. It was pounding almost as strong as his heart.

"Tagan, you have to get me out of here." Braulor was also becoming frantic, his voice sounding sing-songy. It felt like he was trapped in a tomb.

The door to the meeting room opened and Olkuu exited. He stopped and looked at Tagan then furrowed his brow at the cart covered with a bed cloth. Without a word he motioned for Tagan to go inside but continued staring at the cart as they passed as if he had x-ray vision.

This was it. There was no turning back. In a few moments their whole plan would be discovered. Braulor would be dragged off and killed. No waiting for the next execution day this time. Tagan would be lucky if he wasn't executed right beside him for abetting a prisoner.

Tagan gulped as he walked in the room. Nobody took any notice of him as he entered. A fire was blazing in the fireplace, adding to the heat being generated by the bodies within. There were about fifteen people gathered inside. He could tell by the robes and jewels they wore that they were dignitaries and important people. His eyes came to rest on a large, man. He was taller than the rest, muscular too but with scaly looking skin. Tagan hadn't seen anybody that looked like that before. Kyriu stared back at him so hard that Tagan had to look away to ward off the feeling that the man could see right through him and he surveyed the room, his head sweeping back and forth, looking for the dishes he was there to collect. He wanted to get on with his job and get out of there before Braulor was discovered.

Kyriu's mind was racing as Lozan blathered at him. He stared at Tagan, wishing he could see through the sheet that was over the cart.

The men were taking a break and several of them refilled their tankards with ale or mead and then clustered in a tight group, laughing and joking.

Tagan began collecting the dirty crockery from the table and placing it on the cart going as fast he could without drawing attention to himself.

As Tagan was gathering another load of dishes from the table, Olkuu appeared in the doorway. He stood still, glaring at Tagan and then walked straight to the cart and wrenched the blanket covering it away, sending the dishes that were on it crashing to the floor. The group of men stopped talking at once, startled. "Guards, guards," he screamed as Braulor wrestled himself out of his hiding spot and jumped to his feet.

Braulor could hear the guard's boots pounding down the hall toward them. There wasn't much time. He cast about trying to locate something he could use as a weapon. Anything. His eyes fell upon a sheathed broadsword hanging from the back of a nearby chair and he pounced. Braulor pulled it from its scabbard, grabbed Tagan around the neck with his free arm and started backing away from the group. He scanned the room recognizing one or two of the men as rulers of neighboring regions and clans. What are they doing here?

Droinj and Huofril came bursting in the door, weapons drawn, and assessed the situation.

"Kill the prisoner," Lozan barked at them, pointing directly at Braulor, "but do not harm the boy."

The assembled dignitaries backed off, away from the expected melee, giving the guards a wide berth to do their duty.

Droinj and Huofril each hitched a sneer in place and advanced on Braulor and Tagan. Braulor was right behind Tagan making it difficult for them to attack one but not the other. Droinj and Huofril separated and started approaching Braulor and Tagan from different angles.

Braulor's head was whipping back and forth trying to track each of their progress. Huofril, on the right, was inching closer. Droinj, on the left, was moving slower but he was also blocking the door. Braulor readied for the fight. He could feel Tagan shaking against him but could do nothing for him. Once Braulor let Tagan go, they were both on their own.

Braulor shoved Tagan down to the ground and attacked. He swung a heavy blow with the broad sword he had procured at Huofril, who blocked it with his shield. Braulor dove onto the table to avoid the retaliatory blow, Huofril's mace demolishing a chair behind him instead of his skull. Braulor was trying to get his footing on the table but kept slipping on the plates and bowls that Tagan had been sent to clean up. He started kicking them at Huofril who blocked them and moved to intercept Braulor.

Droinj had retreated a ways, caught up in watching the action, and now was trying a new path that would let him sneak up on Braulor from behind.

Tagan had rolled out of harm's way and was watching from his hands and knees as Droinj advanced on Braulor from behind. Grabbing the bed cloth Olkuu had tossed aside he jumped up and attacked. Small and quick, Tagan was on top of Droinj before he knew what hit him. He wrapped the bed cloth around Droinj's large head with malice, using the anger from their earlier encounter to spur him on, and twisted and twisted it until it was good and tight. Droinj dropped his sword and lurched backward, his hands trying to get the blanket off his head. That wasn't working very well so he locked his arms around Tagan's legs and ran backward, slamming Tagan into the wall, knocking the wind out him.

Tagan fell to the floor clutching his chest as he fought for a breath.

Droinj, still struggling with the cloth, was staggering around trying to free himself of it and Braulor saw their chance.

Huofril swung his mace in a vicious arc, trying to finish Braulor off in one blow. The table cracked and splintered under the blow but didn't break. Braulor, having jumped to one side, lunged forward burying the broadsword deep into an exposed part of Huofril's neck. Huofril fell back screaming toward the gathered magistrates, blood pulsing between his fingers as he tried to stanch its flow. They moved neatly aside like a parting sea and watched as Huofril fell the ground and went limp.

Braulor jumped down from the table and grabbed Tagan by the back of his tunic and dragged him from the room. Once in the hallway, he paused to get his bearings. He had been under the cart and didn't see from which direction they came and everything he could see was new to him.

Droinj, the cloth sheet removed from his head, came rushing from the room, hot on Braulor's heels, and crashed into him, forcing him to let go of Tagan. Braulor went tumbling across the hall, smacking into the far wall with a dull thud and fell to the floor. Braulor scrambled to his hands and knees fighting for balance, his equilibrium making it feel like he was on a ship in the middle of a storm. He forced himself to his feet to face the coming assault.

Droinj smiled, his yellow teeth and fiery eyes made it look he had come straight from hell for this. Sensing an advantage he pulled a knife from his belt and advanced on Braulor, making sure to give Tagan a good hard kick as he passed. He didn't care anymore. He was going to have the prisoner or die trying.

Tagan crawled out of their way as they circled. He had his breath back but the Droinj's kick gave him a throbbing charley horse. He stayed out of their way as Braulor and Droinj sized each other up. Men from the room were pouring out into the hall, wanting to see the end of the fight, blocking the way back to the dumb waiter. They were right behind Tagan forming into a tight semi-circle, egging the combatants on.

Droinj jabbed at Braulor with his knife, trying to gut him in one swipe.

Braulor ducked to the side, the thrust missing by inches, and then locked onto the guards forearm, wrapping his own arm around it like a constrictor. He tried to bite Droinj's bicep but it was useless through his armor.

Droinj used his free hand to punch Braulor hard in the ribs.

Braulor gripped the wrist of the arm he had locked up and twisted violently. Droinj screamed in pain and dropped the knife but his wrist was so thick there was no way Braulor could break it. Droinj pulled Braulor close with his captured arm and grabbed Braulor's hair with his free hand and drove him backward.

Braulor put his elbow out to protect himself from the impending collision and it smashed through a stained glass window, shards slicing his arm in thin lines. Droinj enjoyed what he saw and shoved Braulor into the window over and over, smashing out new glass every time. Braulor tried to protect his face, as he flailed with his legs attempting to trip Droinj up.

The men from the meeting were howling in delight, their blood lust unbridled.

Nobody was watching as Tagan gathered himself into a crouching position and launched himself at the fighting men, sprinting as fast as his injured leg would go. He crashed into them as Droinj was ramming Braulor once again into the jagged remnants of the stained glass window.

With Droinj's center of balance pushed forward, Tagan's impact was just enough. He slammed into them with a guttural yell and the force pushed all three of them out the window and into the tumbling waterfall.

### Chapter 14

Tyran stood and surveyed the chaotic scene playing out in front of him. Glad to be home, a smile played at his lips. Tyran had walked steadily after he and Braulor had separated. He didn't race but he certainly kept up the pace of someone who needed to be somewhere and he arrived back at the Greejon clan encampment with no difficulties. The perimeter guards were happy to see him but looked with alarm to his injured shoulder. Tyran told them he had fallen and wrenched his shoulder. They listened but the dried blood that he was trying to conceal gave away that something else had happened.

Tyran questioned them in turn about camp while he had been off with Braulor. The guards looked at each other and then back to Tyran. Neither had anything out of the ordinary to report and shook their heads to the questions Tyran was making in regards to Jolon.

Everywhere Tyran looked the camp was in disarray. Tents were down with people rolling up the canvas and lumber frame into convenient, manageable bundles. Animals, such as they chose to travel with, were corralled into groups. People were going about their business in the organized chaos that accompanied such a large undertaking. Tyran could tell from the level of disarray that they wouldn't be at this camp for much longer. The advanced guard had their provisions squared away and were readying to leave. It was customary for a small group of the clan's people to go on ahead of the main group. Their job was to make sure the path was safe for the rest of the clan to follow in the next day or two.

Tyran made his way to his tent, dodging people as best he could in an attempt to protect his shoulder. He ran into Quuvin and they chatted for a moment but Quuvin was one of the advanced guards and he had to go and finish a few tasks before moving out. Quuvin didn't have anything to report either and eyed Tyran's shoulder suspiciously. "Same problems as usual, nothing out of the ordinary. You would think we never did this before." he added with a chuckle before continuing on his way.

Tyran unlaced the ties holding the flap of his tent shut and went inside. He had a lot of time to ruminate about the Jolon matter after parting with Braulor but had come no closer to finding answers. Maybe he had been wrong about Jolon's motives. He threw his pack down on the bed and sat in a chair, closing his eyes. His eyes had barely pressed together when the tent flap opened once more and Jolon marched in, an unhappy look on his face. Tyran's eyes popped open and he tensed.

Jolon stopped a few feet from Tyran and stood there glaring at him, his eyes narrow and filled with hate. "Glad to see you decided to come back and help out Tyran." Jolon's voice was shaky as he spat the words venomously.

Tyran shifted uneasily in his seat under Jolon's intense stare. "I would never miss a move like this Jolon. You know that."

"Yet you leave camp in the middle of the night. Don't tell a soul where you're going and you return with what, an injured shoulder? Are you going to try and tell me you did that to yourself?" Jolon's rage was getting closer to taking control and he took a step toward Tyran.

Tyran ignored Jolon's comment about his arm. "And what of you Jolon? I saw you leaving camp the same night I left, heading up into the hills. What were you up to?" Tyran's own anger spiked in response.

Jolon's eyebrows flared for the briefest moment and then he composed himself. He hadn't been expecting that bit of information to be thrown at him and was stunned. "That is none of your concern Tyran and you'll learn, the hard way if need be, to keep your nose out of what I am doing."

"It is my concern if it affects the safety of this camp or anyone in it."

Jolon stepped forward again and leaned in close; gripping Tyran's injured shoulder, his face right in Tyran's. He was so close Tyran could smell his fetid breath; could see Jolon's bloodshot eyes ablaze with hatred. "Now you listen to me Tyran and listen well. You're not going to mess this up for me. Braulor's dominion over this clan is finished and so is he. I made sure of that. There's going to be a new man in charge." Jolon squeezed Tyran's shoulder for emphasis with each point he made. It was all Tyran could do not to scream out. He squirmed and wriggled but Jolon's grip was like a vise and the more he moved the more painful his shoulder became.

"I knew you were up to something Jolon. It won't work." Tyran's voice quivered in pain, coming out in short gasps.

"Oh but it will Tyran, it will. You see I have some associates that are going to take care of Braulor for me and when the time is right they are going to join me and rule this clan like it should have been from the start."

"You're crazy if you think you will get away with it. There is no way the council will lie down and let you take over the clan."

Jolon flashed a knife right to Tyran's throat. "The council is nothing but silly old men. They will do what their told or they will be made to disappear." Jolon's hands were shaking with anger, spittle flying out of his mouth, chest heaving, as he raged at Tyran.

Tyran stared up at Jolon, afraid to blink, fearing any movement would push him over an edge he wasn't far from. He had seen Jolon angry before but never like this. He didn't know how far Jolon was prepared to go at the moment but he decided it was best not to provoke him any further.

Jolon sheathed his knife and glared deep into Tyran's eyes. "And don't even think about alerting the council. They would never believe you anyway. I've got them all eating out of my hand at the moment." Jolon stepped back and delivered a series of vicious punches to Tyran's shoulder. Then he smoothed out his tunic, took a few deep breaths and turned on his heel to leave.

"You're wrong Jolon." Tyran grimaced as stabbing pain tore through his wounded limb.

Jolon stopped at the threshold of the door way and turned his head back a fraction in Tyran's direction, listening against his will.

"My shoulder was hurt fighting off the assassins sent to kill Braulor. He's still alive." Tyran was happy to see Jolon's jaw set in frustration before he went storming off.

Jolon was livid. His blood was boiling, throbbing in his ears as it circulated through his body in angry pulses. There was no way Braulor could have escaped those men. No way. They were the best of the best Draax had. Jolon had thought one trained assassin would be enough to take care of Braulor. He was overjoyed when Draax offered to send two. It showed how committed he was to helping Jolon take control of the Greejon clan. Now Jolon was supposed to believe Braulor survived the attack? Not only that, where was Braulor now if he survived? Jolon knew if someone had been sent to kill him and he survived he wouldn't have stayed away. He would have marched right back to camp to avenge himself. It took mounds of self-control for him not to run back into to Tyran's tent and stomp him to death right there. Tear him limb from limb with his bare hands. But now wasn't the right time. Tyran was still highly respected by the council even without Braulor around. Jolon would have to find a way to change that. There would be time to deal with him later, but first he needed to find a way to contact Draax and see if he knew what had happened to his assassins. Jolon didn't know if his threats were enough to keep Tyran from reaching out to the council but he didn't have time to wait and find out. He needed to initiate his plan now.

Tyran had to lie down after Jolon stormed off. His shoulder was in such intense pain that he couldn't think straight. He stumbled to his bed, shoving his pack off with his good arm and eased himself onto it, stretching out fully, his head back, feet dangling off to one side. For a long time he just lay there, breathing, trying to tame the searing pain. He drifted asleep and when he came to, his shoulder had stopped hurting. As long as he didn't move it, it stayed that way. Tyran continued to lay for some time thinking about his confrontation with Jolon. He was trying to think what he could do about it. As much as he hated to admit it, Jolon was right, there was little chance he could convince the council to believe him about the assassination attempt. Without Braulor there to back him up it would his word against Jolon's. On top of that he would have to skirt the whole issue of Braulor's meeting with Alrei Yqu. That would make his entire story seem like the concoction of too little sleep and a possible hunting accident. He sighed wishing Braulor was there with him. Braulor would know what to do and how to go about it. He always did.

Tyran's shoulder throbbed once more as he shifted his position, reminding him that he needed to see a healer. He forced his way off his bed and out into the daylight to find Wroan.

"I'm sorry, Draax." Lyrell's voice was raw.

"I think he's had enough Frewar." Draax was sitting, drink at hand, as he oversaw Lyrell's punishment for failing to assassinate Braulor.

Frewar looked at Draax, who nodded, then back at Lyrell. He made sure to get in another hard punch to Lyrell's ribs before he walked away flexing his aching hands.

Lyrell had returned injured to the mercenary camp and after relating the story of his assassination attempt gone wrong was bound to a tree where he had been beaten on until he divulged all the information he could. Lyrell knew it was going to happen. It was unavoidable when you failed Draax. He didn't like it but it was the way the mercenaries worked. He was getting off easy as far as he was concerned. Other mercenary groups would have killed him on the spot and been done with it. You couldn't say Draax was soft because he didn't take that route. Rather, Draax had learned over time that discipline of this type worked better for keeping control over the long term. Killing people outright might save a lot of time and energy but eventually the people that want your job figure out that to get control they only had to finish you off.

Draax got up from his chair and sauntered over to where Lyrell was tied. Lyrell looked up at him, his face puffy and bloody from the beating.

"It won't happen again Draax. I swear." Lyrell's voice was hoarse from screaming and it hurt to get that out.

Draax looked Lyrell in the eye and felt pity. I must be going soft. In reality he had not been enjoying the mercenary life for some time now. Maybe it was his age. Maybe it was the amount of carnage he witnessed pillaging and killing that was getting to him. He didn't know for sure. All he knew was that he wanted out and Jolon's offer was the olive branch he had been waiting for. A cushy job ruling over a bunch domesticated clan people sounded really good. He wouldn't have to sleep with one eye open. He wouldn't have to monitor and assess the mood of his group and find outlets for their savage natures, outlets that didn't result in his death.

Draax found he had been looking forward to leaving the mercenary life behind more than he realized and when Lyrell came back unsuccessful in his attempt to kill Braulor, it all seemed to be slipping away. Falling through his fingers like grains of sand that he couldn't grasp no matter how hard he tried. He had no choice but to order the punishment. He didn't want to do it. He didn't even enjoy it like he had in the past but it had to be done. "I know you won't Lyrell."

Draax pulled out a short knife and slashed the ropes that were binding Lyrell to the tree and turned and walked away without another word. He needed to think about what to do now. How was this going to go over with Jolon? How could he fix it? At first he thought about heading out himself to find Braulor in person and do the deed. If Lyrell was accurate however, Braulor was getting beatings of his own at the hands of the Citadel's prison guards. That offered him a glimmer of hope anyway. Braulor would never leave the prison alive. He could pass that along to Jolon. But would it be enough?

Draax made his way to where his men were lounging, having made his decision as he walked. They all looked up as he approached and sensing he was about to give orders, put their mugs down and listened.

"Everybody get their stuff packed. We're moving out." Draax got right to the point. "And somebody help Lyrell with his crap. We don't need him slowing us down."

Draax didn't wait around to answer the usual questions the men had when he announced they were leaving. Instead he stomped off toward his own tent but he could hear the groans of his men behind him as they got up to follow his order.

Good. Let them grumble. It's time for me take matters into my own hands.

### Chapter 15

He could say what he wanted about his men but once Draax told them they were leaving an area, it was all business. They were mercenaries so they generally travelled light. What they didn't have, they stole from travelers or other mercenary groups so it made packing up easy. But they had been in their current hide out for several weeks and their belongings were spread from one end of camp to the other. Regardless, camp was struck and everybody was ready to go in short order. They loitered in a loose group while the few men who had been on guard duty, and were late to hear the news, scrambled to finish packing.

Draax approached the group last. He would always walk around the camp before they left. He liked to make sure that nothing was missed. He didn't like the possibility that they were leaving anything behind for some other mercenary group to find and use against them. "Good job men. Good job."

"Where we headed Draax?" Frewar asked the question he was sure was on everyone's mind.

"The Greejon clan is shifting back to Vjeinka Rise. An opportunity for us to stock up on supplies I should think." Draax smiled grimly as he panned his men's faces.

"And a good chance to get us some of those pretty ladies." Frewar rubbed his aching hands together. Many of the men nodded in agreement.

"Didn't you make a deal to leave that clan alone?"

"Circumstances have changed, Klaine. Lyrell brings us news that Braulor has been caught by the Citadel patrols. I made the deal to leave the Greejon clan alone with him. Now that he is out of the picture, the clan is fair game as far as I am concerned."

Loud cheers followed Draax's declaration. The men had become restless and this was music to their ears. Fighting and killing meant nothing to them and now they were going to get healthy doses of those evils to satiate their hunger.

Draax waited for their revelry to die down, letting them savor the moment. "I know the Greejon clan was readying for their move and I can only assume it is underway. Therefore we will have to take the Infrey Trail to catch up to them."

A stony silence filled the area. The men's elation of a few moments ago sank like a rock.

"No way." Equal parts of shock and disbelief were clear on Frewar's face.

The Infrey Trail was a hilly, windy mess that climbed and descended hundreds of feet through the Knalb mountain range. It would cut off a few days journey from the well-travelled Dilphel Road but what it made up in time saving it gave back in danger. If the harrowing trail, only one person wide in many places and barely that in others, didn't get you by throwing you from a cliff with gusting winds, it would bury you in rockslides. Or you would get lost in the thick fog that could settle in for days at a time. It was these types of events that had led to rumors of the trail being haunted. As such, the trail was frequented only by those who didn't want to be seen or found; those that generally travelled alone because they wanted to avoid any encounters with regular folk in the first place. Stories had become more and more frequent of late that those who didn't want to be found were getting what they wanted from the Infrey Trail, entering to never be seen again.

Draax was the only one of them that had been on the trail. It was when he was a child and had escaped his parents. He had stumbled onto the trail and wandered its length, lost for days. He emerged at the other end of the trail dehydrated and clinging to life but he had made it. The experience hardened him and readied him for the life he was going to lead but nothing he remembered about the trail gave him the opinion it was haunted. To him it was a trail like any other. Traversing it gave him an aura of mystique that helped command respect from his men but that was all it meant to him. However, they didn't have any alternative. If the Greejon clan had already started moving they would have to triple time it to catch up to them using the Dilphel road leaving them exhausted and in no condition to attack a well-stocked and rested clan. Even if the clan hadn't started moving, taking the trail would give Draax and his men the chance to get out ahead of them and set a trap. "That is the way I have chosen. Anyone here care to argue?" Draax menaced his men with the dirtiest scowl he could put in place.

Some shook their heads. Others looked at the ground not venturing a response.

"Good. Then let's move out shall we. Frewar, I want you scouting ahead. Klaine, I want you bringing up the rear."

Men grumbled as they got into formation and they marched out.

Wroan was busy packing his things when Tyran arrived. The front of his tent opened and Tyran entered cradling his right arm, a pained expression on his face. Wroan looked hard at him then put down the herbs he was about to stow and came to Tyran's aid.

"What's happened here?" Wroan helped Tyran to a seat and began peeling away layers of clothes with delicate precision. If he was surprised at the wound on Tyran's shoulder he certainly didn't show it. Wroan had been the clan's healer for as long as anyone cared to remember. He had seen it all so this was nothing new to him. He went about his business not waiting to hear the particulars. After a long look at the exposed laceration, Wroan rummaged around in one of the canisters he had already packed and produced three bags of different herbs. He put them all into a heavy clay bowl and crushed them with an oblong rock pestle. As he did so a sweet aroma escaped the bowl and Tyran inhaled, pulling the refreshing scent deep into his lungs. The scent made him think of high mountain meadows in springtime and he relaxed with a long sigh.

"Looks like an arrowhead did that." Wroan cast a knowing eye on Tyran as he continued to gently work the herbs.

"Ummm. Yeah, it was a hunting accident." Tyran averted his gaze not wanting to meet Wroan's eyes.

"Doesn't look like an arrow from this camp. Who were you hunting with?"

"Braulor."

Wroan cocked an eyebrow. "Braulor doesn't use an arrow like that. If you're going to lie about how you were injured, make sure you come up with something better than that." He added drops of water and oil into the herb mixture turning into an orange paste.

"I'm sorry Wroan. I didn't mean to insult you."

"Not a worry, not a worry." Wroan waved a delicate hand. "I've heard it all before in here. Sometimes men don't want to share how they got injured, hurts their pride too much. That I can't heal." Wroan chuckled to himself, put his mixing bowl aside and came over to take another look at Tyran's shoulder. He moved Tyran's arm in different directions, looking and listening as he did so.

"We better clean this up a bit first." Wroan bustled over to his packed gear and produced a cloth. Dipping it in a pot of hot water hovering over the fire, he got it good and wet and then dabbed at Tyran's wound. Tyran grimaced with each dab as spasms of pain crested in waves over him and sagged when the cleaning stopped. Wroan then retrieved the orange past he had created and applied it liberally to the gash on Tyran's shoulder. The pain was gone in moments and a sense of relaxation washed over Tyran.

"Feeling better eh?" Wroan could see relief spreading across Tyran's face.

"That feels incredible." Tyran felt sleepy and watery all at once.

"You'll want to be careful all the same. I can take the pain away but that arm's going to need a lot of mending. That means no hunting." Wroan emphasized 'hunting' with delicate sarcasm.

"I won't be doing that for a while."

"And where is Braulor? I haven't seen him come back to camp." Wroan applied a bandage to Tyran's shoulder to cover the poultice.

"He's still out there." Tyran's hesitation said more than he wanted but he hadn't readied himself for this question.

Wroan's brow furrowed as he looked at Tyran. "Anything you want to talk about?"

Tyran sighed and his shoulders sank. "Not really."

"Not really eh? You have my word. Anything you tell me won't go past these old ears."

Tyran paused then started in on the story. How he'd a suspicion that Jolon was up to something and had seen him leave camp. That he went to find Braulor to warn him about Jolon. He told Wroan of the meeting with Alrei Yqu and his request of Braulor to get some boy out of the hands of the Citadel. Then he spoke of the assassin's attack on them as they made their way down from the pass and how one of the assassins had escaped them.

Wroan patiently listened, nodding his head here and there and throwing in an occasional 'hmmm' at some piece of information he found intriguing, while he continued to work on Tyran's injured shoulder.

"And then we parted company. Braulor went off toward the Citadel and I came back here."

"And you knew of this Alrei Yqu?" Wroan skipped over the mysterious way Alrei Yqu operated.

"Braulor had told me about him years ago. After their first meeting when Alrei Yqu saved him. I think Braulor wasn't sure if he had imagined the whole thing and he wanted to tell somebody."

"I've heard of beings like this before but only people spotting them though, not communicating with them. You say Braulor's been in regular contact with this being for some time now?" Wroan had long ago chalked those reports up to overactive imaginations and was concerned for Braulor's mental health.

"I don't know about regular but, yes, he has met with Alrei Yqu on several occasions. He sends Braulor a message by bird when he wants to meet; a big black raven."

They both descended into silence while Wroan digested what he had just been told. Tyran was feeling even better now after getting that off his chest. He felt guilt for betraying Braulor's trust when it came to Alrei Yqu but he was confident that Wroan wouldn't say anything to anyone. Besides, he was concerned about Braulor and scared he would ever see him again. Talking with Wroan lifted some of those fears.

"Well. There's nothing we can do for Braulor now. He chose his path and now he has to walk it. He is resilient Tyran. Strong. Resourceful. I have a feeling we will be seeing him again." Wroan smiled and nodded as if saying it made everything true.

"Now I must finish this packing or I'll be left behind." Wroan laughed to himself as he changed tack.

Tyran thanked Wroan for the medical attention and the old healer only shook his head, not wanting to hear of it. "It's my calling to help people Tyran. Make sure you take it easy with that arm and come see me when we settle at Vjeinka Rise. We can repack that wound."

Tyran stood up and got his clothes back in place then left to search out someone to help him pack up his belongings.

As Tyran marched toward the center of camp, Jolon peeked around the side of Wroan's tent, a wicked smile on his face. "Don't worry Tyran, Braulor's secret is safe with me."

Frewar stopped. As the forward scout he had come across the opening of Infrey trail a few moments ago and now stood, staring into its depths like he was sizing up an adversary. He didn't understand what all the fuss was about. It was a trail like any other. Sure, it would be difficult to traverse, but in the end it was only a piece of earth not unlike any other piece of earth that he had walked on. He could see from here that the trail grew increasingly overgrown as it stretched away into the distance. Thick, scrubby brush grew along the sides and was surrounded by tall trees whose branches hung down along the path like arms ready to reach out and grab anyone who came along.

Frewar shook his head. He was tougher than this. He had been in countless fights and jail cells in his time and nothing had ever scared him before. He had always been braver and stronger than everyone else. This was why he didn't understand the deep sense of foreboding that was oozing down the trail. Like a fog it wafted out of the trail and teased at his senses, mocking him, admonishing him for even having the nerve to look down the path. His stomach felt like he had eaten rocks for breakfast and his feet felt so heavy they might as well be part of the ground. He wondered how he was going to make them function and walk up the trail. Right now he wanted to turn tail and run.

How long he stood there Frewar didn't know. Time seemed to stop before Draax appeared beside him and spoke, breaking the spell. "Good. You found it." And he clapped Frewar on the back. Frewar almost jumped out of his skin but covered it up by reaching for his canteen.

Draax looked at Frewar with a scrutinising eye. Something didn't seem right. If he didn't know better he would think that Frewar was scared but he knew that Frewar was afraid of nothing. He had seen Frewar take on challenges that would make most men quiver at the mere thought of. "You all right Frewar?"

"Of course. You caught me off guard that's all." Frewar rolled his eyes at his lame excuse and looked away as he took a long drink of water.

"Well, let's hope you're more alert than that when you're on guard duty." Draax turned to the rest of the men. "Ok, were taking a break here. A short break," he noted as several men dumped their packs and looked ready to settle in. "There is a good spot to make camp about two hours into the trail. That's where we stop for the night. And somebody get back and tell the rear guard to hustle up."

The break zoomed by even faster than Frewar had thought possible. The feeling of dread that had scattered when they stopped descended on him anew as Draax called everybody to attention. He thought about pretending something was wrong with his pack as a way to stay behind and then disappear back the way they came. He didn't have to think long though because that option made him feel like a traitor. He had been with Draax and most of these guys for long years and many battles. They were the closest thing to family that he would ever have.

"Lyrell, I want you to take over the lead." Draax gave Frewar a sidelong glance.

Frewar sighed and closed his eyes feeling like he dodged an arrow.

"Frewar, you're with me. We need to keep tight. No big gaps between us. Let's move out."

Lyrell took the lead, wincing as he went, ribs still aching from his punishment. He drew his sword and carried it at his side, the muscles in his arm bulging as he squeezed the swords hilt and stepped onto the Infrey trail.

Frewar fell in step behind Draax and had to force himself over the trails threshold and a few steps in the foreboding feeling dissipated. In its place was elation. Not for him for overcoming his fear but coming from the trail, like it was happy that it had a new group of travelers to taunt, new toys to play with. He walked on; all senses alert but found the sense of doom was still there only it wasn't the same blunt instrument. Now it was like background noise. Like an orchestra of terror that played at the edges of his mind, whispering of dread and other terrible things. Frewar wasn't sure he could tolerate it but he would have to.

They walked in a quiet line.

### Chapter 16

Silence. Wet suffocating silence; surrounding him; holding him, killing him. A low rumble filled his ears but it felt like it was from another world, another place, and it didn't belong here. Or maybe it was he who didn't belong. The world was upside down, now right side up, now down again. All around him was cold. Liquid. He felt something bump into him and bounce off again into the darkness. Pain slashed through his elbow as he pulled hard with both arms and kicked his legs, guessing at which way was up, his equilibrium non-existent. His lungs burned like he was breathing fire, but it was getting lighter and lighter above him with each painful stroke.

Braulor broke through the surface of the water and gasped, bobbing up and down like an abandoned cork. The low rumble in his ears turned into a thundering roar that echoed all around. Disoriented, he shook his head and used the hand of his good arm to wipe the water and hair out of his eyes. He coughed and spluttered as he continued gasping for breath. The undertow was threatening to pull him down, drag him under again, not quite finished having fun with him yet. Water oozed from the corners of his mouth as it evacuated his lungs. What happened?

Scenes from the fight in the Citadel hallway flashed in fragmented bursts in his mind. He had been struggling with that guard, Droinj. Droinj had him pinned at the window and was using him as a battering ram, smashing him into the remnants of the stained glass window over and over again. That explained the pain in his elbow. What happened to Tagan? Braulor's stomach clenched at the thought. He used his arms and legs to propel himself in a circle, sweeping the churning surface of the water trying to see if he could spot Tagan. It was no good. The water was so choppy and froth covered there was no way he would be able to spot anything on its surface. He cast around again anyway, though he knew it was for naught. Damn. He chastised himself. He was supposed to get Tagan out of the Citadel. He had, he supposed, but now Tagan was lost to him.

In his search for Tagan, Braulor spotted shoreline ahead and swam toward it, his muscles burning with every movement. As he pulled away from the churning foam at the bottom of the waterfall, the flow of the river took him and it pulled him along, gently at first but with increasing speed. Braulor struggled to keep his head above the surface of the fast flowing water when he bumped into something once again. It wasn't solid like a rock or a log. He plunged his head under the water and through the murk he spied Tagan, face down and unmoving, drifting along in the current like some sort of underwater relic. Braulor surfaced, took as big a breath as his burning lungs would allow, and dived below the surface once more, grabbing a hold of Tagan's tunic and pulled him toward water's surface. It felt like he was dragging up a huge bucket of water. Tagan's limp body coiled and released from the point Braulor was holding him like some sort of jellyfish with each stroke. Braulor's muscles strained against the weight and the cold but he finally managed to get Tagan's head above the water. Braulor flipped on his back and cradled Tagan's head on his shoulder and tried to maintain balance as best as he could as they drifted along at the current's mercy. He couldn't tell if Tagan was dead or alive.

Braulor bobbed as waves lapped against him but he could sense that he was no longer moving. Opening his eyes he found he was wedged against the shore of the Jaswulder River, Tagan's head still on his shoulder, locked in with his arm. Braulor felt paralyzed. His muscles were rigid and difficult to move, the cold river water having sapped them of their strength. With great effort he pushed Tagan to one side. Tagan rolled off of him and flopped onto the shore, lying on his back; arms splayed out at his sides and didn't move.

Mud, thick and putrid, clung to Braulor's hair, all the way down his back. It was like he was a decoration on top of a cake, mushed into the icing, and it held him fast. It didn't want to let go of him either and Braulor was dizzy from the struggle when he finally broke free and managed to sit up. He spun over onto his knees and took a closer look at Tagan. It didn't look good. Tagan's lips were tinged with blue, the rest of his face a pale white like he was a ghost. Braulor put his fingertips on Tagan's neck and could feel a pulse, erratic but not weak. A good sign. He put his ear to Tagan's chest. Tagan's heartbeat sounded strong but his breathing was shallow and raspy. Braulor forced himself to his feet and picked up Tagan's legs and pumped them back and forth toward his chest and away again. At first nothing happened but Braulor maintained his pace and water started to dribble out Tagan's mouth, spilling down his cheeks and onto the mucky bank. When water ceased coming out Braulor stopped his pumping and had to sit down to recover from the effort. Tagan had coughed as the water exited his mouth but he remained unconscious.

Braulor knew he had to get Tagan out of the river and find somewhere to hide while he figured out what to do next. He mustered all the energy he could and stood up. He closed his eyes a moment until the dizziness passed and then looked around. First thing he spotted was the Citadel, white and glittering in the late afternoon sun. It was several miles back up the river but he was sure Lozan would be sending out a party to search for them. That gives me some time to work with.

The tree line was a few hundred yards away across the Dilphel road. That would be a bad direction to go and he looked across to the other side of the river. The trees were less dense and farther away, perhaps a mile, but it felt safer to him, and even better, it was in the direction of Vjeinka Rise. Thinking of Vjeinka Rise made dozens of thoughts flood into his mind. Had they moved yet? What was Jolon up to? Did Tyran make it back to them? Braulor's eyes welled with tears. He missed Tyran and could sure use his help.

Braulor sighed, knowing that he could do all the wishing he wanted and it wasn't going to help him. He was on his own and he had better get moving. He dragged Tagan out of the river and mud, laying him on a solid stretch of bank close to the road. He made sure Tagan was secure and then took a short walk along the river bank looking for a shallow place to cross. It wasn't far along to where the river bent to the right and after the bend it widened and ran across a washboard of rocks. That would have to do.

Braulor went back to retrieve Tagan. Tagan hadn't awoken but appeared to be breathing easier. He looked peaceful and serene, a bit of the pallid color having drained from his face, replaced with a light pink. Braulor hitched him up over his shoulder, surprised at how light he was, and made his way back to the spot he had picked and crossed the rocks. Once on the other side he found a short, steep trail that led away from the river and followed it to a small clearing. He put Tagan down on a patch of grass and clutched at the stitch in his side then froze. Looking back he could see Droinj amongst some reeds on the other side of the river.

Braulor crouched so fast it was like he was trying to avoid something that had been thrown at his head. Adrenaline was surging into veins. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure that it could be heard from a distance. He was in no shape to fight and he couldn't leave Tagan here. He craned his neck so he could have another look and noticed that Droinj wasn't moving. After several long moments of indecision and surveillance there was still no movement and he decided to get a closer look. Braulor inched down the short trail and made his way back across the rock laden river bed, stopping every few feet to make sure Droinj wasn't playing dead. Aside from the bob of the water, the guard didn't appear to be moving. Braulor was right behind Droinj now and he paused, steadying himself, before reaching out with a trembling hand. In one quick motion he flipped the guard over by the shoulder and jumped back, ready to fight.

Braulor wasn't ready for what he saw. One side of Droinj's face was collapsed in in a grotesque gash that could only have come from landing on a submerged rock. Braulor fought down the urge to throw up as coagulated blood and brains protruded from the gruesome wound. He turned Droinj back onto his stomach, glad to not have to look any longer, and dragged him feet first to the other side of the river. Here he salvaged what he could from the body. He found a short sword strapped to Droinj's waist, the other scabbard empty, and a long, jagged knife hidden underneath his armor. In one of Droinj's pockets he found gold and silver pieces and another contained a flint and steel. Droinj was bigger than Braulor but he took what he could of Droinj's clothes anyway.

Placing everything he salvaged on the bank of the river, Braulor went back to Droinj's body and dragged him over the shallow rock once more until he was up to his waist in faster moving water and then let the body go. No point leaving a marker for the Citadel guards to find. And he watched Droinj's body float down river.

Braulor slogged his way back up river, collected the items he had relieved Droinj's body of and went back to where Tagan was lying. His situation hadn't changed. Tagan continued to lie on his back, eyes closed, but his color looked to have improved even more. It was of little consolation. Wherever he was going to go, Braulor knew he would have to carry Tagan.

The river flowed past Tagan smooth and lazy, its noise melodic and hypnotizing, like it was singing a beautiful tune for him. He sat on the grassy bank and stared into its crystal clear blue depths. He could see small fish darting to and fro in eddies, as if they were playing a game of some sort. He took a long breath and sighed. It was so peaceful and serene it was hard to think anything terrible ever happened here. Tagan knew this was Quanna Eresse and he wondered how it was he came to be here.

Tagan's last memory was tumbling out the window of the Citadel with Braulor and that vicious guard, Droinj, into the waterfall. That wasn't the result that he expected. When he added his being to the fray, he was only hoping to distract Droinj long enough that Braulor could mount a counterattack. At that point Droinj had been getting the better of Braulor and Tagan reacted out of some inbred instinct, flying in to them as they fought. The force of Tagan's attack had shifted their collective balance and out the window they went. Now he was here. He wondered if he had died in the fall. That would explain the feeling of completeness he felt in Quanna Eresse at the moment. In past instances he felt like a shade or a ghost that haunted Quanna Eresse but was grounded by a strong connection to Brankin Huoh. This time Tagan felt whole here, complete, like he was supposed to be a part of it. Brankin Huoh was a vivid memory that he didn't feel a part of. It felt odd to him.

"Tagan."

Tagan jumped, his reverie disturbed, and spun his head around looking for the voice's source. He wasn't scared in any way; it was a voice that he heard before.

Meyu Kwi was walking along the bank of the river toward him this time with two other people close behind, one male and one female. They each carried a bow slung over their shoulder and a carved staff in one hand. They walked with grace and purpose, each long stride, easy yet powerful. Their footfalls were so light it looked like they were floating rather than walking. Their golden hair shimmered in the glancing sunlight, as if it were reflecting from the surface of a lake; their skin smooth and supple. Tagan had never seen angels before but to his eyes this is what they should look like.

Tagan was so awestruck by the sight of them he didn't even attempt to get up and greet them. The casualness with which they approached, it seemed like they had been expecting him for some time. He wondered again if he was dead and they were coming to welcome him.

"Tagan. I am delighted to see you again." Meyu Kwi and the two others drew near, Meyu Kwi's face in a broad smile. "I knew we would meet again. I didn't think it would be so soon."

Tagan felt like he was being rude and made to stand up and properly greet Meyu Kwi.

"Please. Don't stand on my account." Meyu Kwi stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on Tagan's shoulder. "Let us sit for a while."

Relief crept over Tagan like a dawning sun at Meyu Kwi's touch and stared with wonder at the man.

Meyu Kwi looked to his travelling companions and without saying a word they bowed their heads to Meyu Kwi and separated, taking up positions not far behind them. They stood still and unmoving. Tagan assumed they had been ordered to keep watch but neither of them appeared to be watching anything. As a matter of fact Tagan was pretty sure they both had their eyes closed, like they were napping, but something told him that they were wide awake and wary, not missing a single detail.

Unslinging his bow, Meyu Kwi sat down beside Tagan on the bank and crossed his legs, putting the bow on the ground beside him; his hands coming to rest in his lap.

Tagan had never taken notice before how young Meyu Kwi looked. If Tagan were to pass him in Brankin Huoh he would have thought Meyu Kwi to be not much older than his dad. But looking into Meyu Kwi's deep blue eyes you could sense only wisdom. The type of wisdom that had come from a long life lived with many experiences both good and bad. Tagan wondered how old Meyu Kwi really was.

"I know that you were inducted into the Citadel's service." Meyu Kwi shook his head in disapproval.

"I don't know why it happened. I never thought I would be selected."

"Not to worry. It was unavoidable and in a way, it's a good thing you were inducted."

"How is it a good thing?" Tagan remembered the abuse he suffered at the hands of the other inductees and his battle with the dark entity.

"We were unsure what the powers in control of the Citadel knew about you; what their intentions were. By inducting you we realized that they were aware of your skill."

"You mean Lozan? Does he rule here too?"

Meyu Kwi chuckled. "No Tagan, Lozan does not rule here. We do have a queen in power here but the people are free. Free to live where they like. Free to roam the land as they like. Free, while we honor the land that gave birth to us and sustains us." Meyu Kwi wasn't surprised by the puzzled look on Tagan's face and elaborated. "By that I mean each person here lives in harmony, not only with one another, but with the land itself. The land, the people, we are all one in the same."

"So your queen allows everybody to do as they please? No guards around to control the people?" Tagan was trying to comprehend what freedom like that meant. Brankin Huoh was all about control and he found what Meyu Kwi was saying hard to fathom.

Meyu Kwi looked at him for a moment. "I know it is hard to understand, having grown up in a world where you are under constant scrutiny. Where who and what you become is dictated by someone else. There is no real way I can explain it but the more you experience Quanna Eresse, the easier it will be for you to understand."

They were both silent now. Tagan not knowing what to say and Meyu Kwi content to sit and be at peace. He knew the best way to present the information was to let Tagan control the flow of the conversation. Let him ask the questions he saw fit and in the order that made sense to him so his brain would put everything together in the easiest way for him to understand.

"But how can I do that? Am I going to stay here? Am I dead?" Tagan threw this out last thought even as he was unsure if he wanted to hear the answer. In his mind if he didn't acknowledge that he was dead then he would be able to go back to Brankin Huoh.

"No, you are not dead Tagan. In fact you are more alive then you have ever been."

"What do you mean, more alive?"

Meyu Kwi's blue eyes lit up like lamps springing to life and a modest smile crested his lips. This was what he wanted Tagan to understand. "This world you see, where we sit and talk, with all its beauty and magic. This is what your race, humans, was destined for. This is where all humans are supposed to be. Here with us in this realm. Here in Quanna Eresse."

"You mean no more Brankin Huoh? Everybody would come over into this world?" It sounded silly, but it was the best way Tagan could frame the question.

"You say come over into this world like they are two distinct places but as you can see, the land is the same. The sky is the same. The mountains, lakes and rivers are all in the same place. There is only one world and humans have been deprived of it, forced to live in servitude in Brankin Huoh."

Tagan recalled previous visits to Quanna Eresse and realized that Meyu Kwi was right. In every instance the land was exactly the same. There were minor variations for sure but this world was identical to Brankin Huoh. "But how? Why?"

"The Draepkos." Meyu Kwi's smile vanished as soon as the words left his mouth.

"I thought the Draepkos were fairy tales." Tagan recalled tales he had been told as a boy that involved them. He had thought the stories were convenient ways to deliver moral messages. He had no idea they were real. Tagan shook his head in disbelief, his brain reaching overload.

Meyu Kwi looked off in the distance before he began. "Long ago there were many races that inhabited this land. All of us living in peace with one another, sharing and helping each other to learn and expand our connection with the land and the sky, but an evil started to take shape. Winged serpents descended from the heavens and claimed to be of the gods. Whispers and rumor of their greatness began to abound here and there. Stories of their power flourished but anyone connected with the land could feel something else entirely. A dark change, a shift in the order of things had occurred. It was like a dark veil had been dropped over the world."

"What happened?"

"The Draepkos adored gold and jewels. They were hypnotized by such material things and coveted them above all else. Through them, the races of Quanna Eresse broke into factions and began warring with each other over things that were meaningless before. Overnight it seemed, these trinkets became desired and lusted after. Men and women killed for them." Meyu Kwi paused, a pained expression on his face, born of deep sorrow. "There were those of us that tried to stay out of the petty bickering; try to bring the world back to the order it once enjoyed but it was too late. The lust of battle and rule was upon many and the thought of going back to anything but was sacrilege. You would be killed for even speaking of it."

"What became of the other races?"

"Those that weren't hunted down for their meager possessions fled as far and wide as they could to get away from the scourge that was taking over. Some found safety underground and prospered. Others disappeared into the mountains. My people found a place out of the way of the world in the hopes that we would be left alone to strengthen our connection with the earth." Meyu Kwi raised both his hands toward the sky as if to say he was sorry.

"Are you the only people left?"

"The Draepkos were not content. They wanted more but there was less and less to take. When the gold and silver became scarce they started hoarding the land, killing off whoever was on it and dividing it into bordered provinces that were each governed by a different ruler. Over time the Draepkos found they didn't like doing their own dirty work and they created a race of loathsome creatures that would do it for them."

"They created a whole new race?"

"They called on their dark magic and blood rituals to combine the blood of prisoners they had captured with their own blood to create a twisted version of themselves that crave flesh and blood, will kill without pause but are ruled without question. The Draepkos had everything they wanted then. The Mrüg were put into positions of power in their stead while the Draepkos pulled back behind the scenes. Many battles were fought and they were reducing our numbers with horrifying efficiency. They might have finished us altogether if it weren't for humans."

"Human's weren't one of the races here all along?"

"After the Mrüg were set loose, humans appeared a short time later. We don't know where they came from or even how they got here but that is when we made our greatest mistake."

"Mistake?"

"We knew humans didn't have the connection with the heavens and earth that we have. At first they recognized the evil of the Draepkos and the Mrüg, fighting with us against them but over time they too became enamored with riches and began to withdraw from the resistance, preferring to settle into the safety of the ruled provinces of the Draepkos."

"And give up their freedom."

Meyu Kwi nodded his head in agreement. "We valued the compassion and fighting spirit of humans and in an effort to show them what they were giving up on, it was decided that we gift the human race the same ability we have to be one with Auhme. To connect and be one with the earth and everything on it at its core level is an incredible gift. We thought that if humans could see and feel the entirety of this world, of the real freedom they deserve, they would take up arms once again and aid us in our fight against the Draepkos. It was an extreme risk to take and our magic users pored over the challenge until they found a way to do it."

"But that never happened."

"No."

"Did something go wrong?"

"The ritual should have worked. It was adhered to in meticulous detail but the connection was never achieved." Meyu Kwi took a deep breath before continuing." By this time, the Draepkos were starting to realize that no matter how hard they tried they couldn't stamp freedom and liberty out of us. Many of the factions were starting to see the futility of the endless wars the Draepkos waged from behind the scenes. A rebellion, or to be more precise, a rebirth was brewing."

Tagan shifted on the ground he was sitting upon. This was all history that was unknown to him; most likely unknown to anybody in Brankin Huoh. It sounded crazy, yet on some level he couldn't explain, it felt like the truth. "What is Auhme?"

"Auhme is in all of us. Auhme is us. It is what everything you see and can't see is made from. It is everything and nothing and is around us every moment. Whether we feel it or not, it is there and every animate being has a responsibility to shape it in the best way they can for the growth of all. It emanates from deep within the heavens and is warded over by the Lefirte; a magnificent tree as old as Quanna Eresse itself. The Lefirte's roots grow deep into the earth; its branches reaching far into the heavens and it brings forth the energy this earthen realm is made from. We are connected through it and it through us. We were poised to add the human race to the Lefirte's record. This would have given humans the gift of being whole, being complete, as it should have always been. The Lefirte is sacred to all but especially to our race for we were its tender and we failed."

"The tree no longer lives?"

"When the Draepkos learned of our desire to unite humanity with the Lefirte, they decided that if they severed the connection for everybody, they would break us. With our connection lost we would give up hope and accept their domination and lay down for the slaughter."

"But wouldn't that cut them off as well?"

"We don't know if the Draepkos feel it the same way we do. Perhaps their lack of empathy limits their connection. Remember, they were not of this earth, and perhaps their connection lies with another world we do not know of. But cutting off our connection was a risk they were willing to take."

"Did the Draepkos destroy Lefirte?"

"A young mage apprentice had grown tired of the steps required in becoming a full mage. He wanted a shortcut and chose to dabble in the dark magic of the Draepkos. When the Draepkos learned of this they approached him and offered him great power if he could procure from the Lefirte, its heart."

"And that fractured the world?"

"The mage worked a spell of the Draepkos' creation that tricked the Lefirte, making it seem as if the field it draws from had gone dry and there was no reason for it to continue functioning. Thinking it was end times the tree faltered and in that moment its heart was accessible. The mage seized the opportunity and took its heart to the Draepkos. At first they tried to use it for their own evil purposes and flood our universe with their evil intent but the tree's heart was so pure and good, their evil spells were thwarted with ease. They tried many spells and incantations of the Draepkos' magic, dark and savage, but the heart of Lefirte was stronger than they realized. It wouldn't bend to their will. However, it was only a matter of time and the many attempts they were making on Lefirte's heart was draining it of its stores of energy. Their final attempt was a spell that originated in good magic but they warped it to their evil purpose. Change a word here or a verse there and the entire spell changes. But the Lefirte's heart wouldn't be swayed by their evil intentions and had seen enough. It decided the best way to protect itself would be to cut everyone off from each other. That would put an end to everything. After that day the world was fractured with each race confined to a different reality like a mother would separate her children when they were acting out."

Tagan was starting to put it together. "You are here in this reality of Quanna Eresse and we are in the Brankin Huoh, where I am from, yet they are one and the same."

"Yes. And the Draepkos are in another realm but evil never rests and they found a way for the Mrüg to enter your reality, albeit only for short periods of time but long enough to lure those that are simple of mind into their purpose and continue their evil agenda."

"Can they enter this reality?" Tagan gestured to Quanna Eresse.

"Not yet, but they keep trying. The Draepkos and Mrüg desire to rule all of us and to do that they have to conquer this reality as well. That is why they keep searching for it."

"For the heart of Lefirte?"

Meyu Kwi nodded. "It went missing when the Draepkos cast their final spell and the world separated. No one knows where it ended up. We know it did not land in this world. Our magic users have scryed every square inch and have not found it, which explains the Draepkos' interest in you."

"They're interested in me?"

"Don't you see? They want into this world and they know that you can enter and leave here, a skill they crave. They would find a way to expand your ability until they could stay here long enough to destroy us. Didn't you find it odd that you were picked at the induction ceremony?"

Tagan remembered the battle of minds he had with that unknown entity that he now realized must have been one of the Mrüg. "I didn't have time to question anything. It all happened so fast. The story they told me seemed to make sense."

"They wanted you where they could keep their eye on you. Try and learn the secret of your ability. They also suspect we seek to restore the world to its proper harmony and could use you to find Lefirte's heart. As you know they are desperate to find it, if only to keep it away from us. If they have you under their thumb they, in turn, would be able to get information from you." Then Meyu Kwi turned his piercing gaze on Tagan before he could respond in any way. "They want to find out what I am about to tell you."

Tagan's skin was tingling, his heartbeat picking up pace. He felt scared and exhilarated all at once, unsure if he wanted to hear this or not.

"Lefirte's heart is the Amber Eye."

Tagan gulped in spite of himself. Even in his sheltered world, he had heard of the Amber Eye and Meyu Kwi's story came together.

"Yes. We now know it is in your world Tagan and you must find it before they do. Find it and return it to the Lefirte. Its return will close the rift that divides our worlds and unite us once again."

"Find the Amber Eye? That's crazy. And where is the Lefirte?" Tagan's questions came out in a confused jumble.

"Lefirte resides in the land of Phemma Eilod."

"That land is haunted." Tagan remarked without hesitation.

"That is a superstition that was born of a desire to keep people away so nobody could discover the truth. It is my peoples land and the place where our spirit is the strongest, where we can come closest to your world. That's what people feel when they are there."

"But the Amber Eye is a myth in my world. A legend leftover from times long past. Nobody would be able to help me find it, even if they wanted to and I wouldn't know where to start looking."

"You must seek Rean Le. She can guide you."

"Who is Rean Le?"

"She was from this realm and she had the same ability as you, to cross in between realities. We suspected the eye was in your world and she chose to try and find it. Because she couldn't manifest in your world for long periods our magic users devised a charm that she could use once in your reality that would keep her there and she would be free to locate the eye. When she did, she would return it to Lefirte."

"How do you know she isn't dead?"

"If she were dead, her spirit would be able to return here, as yours is here now, and she hasn't.

Tagan thought about this and understood Meyu Kwi. "Right now I feel disconnected from Brankin Huoh but the other times I viewed this world I always felt that I was in both at the same time but that I could go back to Brankin Huoh and shut out this world."

"Free from its body, your soul is able to express itself here in a more complete way. That is why you feel so connected to Quanna Eresse at this time. But your body is back in Brankin Huoh and it still lives. When your body regains consciousness you will have to return to it."

Tagan thought back to his fall out of the window of the Citadel and a little bit of clarity came to him. "The waterfall." he whispered.

"You took quite a risk doing what you did."

"I had to help Braulor. Is he ok?" Tagan grew worried as the entire memory of what happened flooded back into his mind.

"Your brother is tending your body as we speak."

"My brother?" Tagan didn't think he could be shocked any further after Meyu Kwi's story. He was wrong.

"Kenok never told you that he fathered a son before Sequil became pregnant with you." Meyu Kwi realized it at the same time as Tagan.

Like fireworks, different parts of Tagan's brain were firing. It felt like he was boxing a dozen men at once, punches of knowledge hitting him from every direction. He knew now why Kenok had been so harsh with him. Why he pushed him as hard as he did and why there were those times that Kenok was solemn and unreachable. It all made perfect sense. "Why didn't Braulor tell me?"

"He has his own reasons for his actions."

Meyu Kwi was starting to fade. Tagan knew that his body must be awakening and that he didn't have much time left here before his soul rejoined it. "Where can I look for Rean Le?"

"She had set up camp on the outskirts of Dwenar Gliv, in the Knalb Mountains."

Tagan had heard of Dwenar Gliv and nodded. Meyu Kwi looked like a ghost now. Tagan could see Quanna Eresse through him. "What about the Amber Eye?"

Meyu Kwi knew what was happening as well and mouthed an answer. "Ildwe Dale." then he was gone.

### Chapter 17

Braulor was freezing from head to toe, shaking involuntarily. He rubbed his hands together to try and generate warmth but it was of little help. He could start a fire but due to his upgraded status of Citadel escapee, he thought it best if he didn't make it easier for those hunting him to track him down. He flexed his hands, back and forth like he was gripping something invisible. On top of being cold as ice, they ached from having maintained the same grip all day.

Braulor knew that he couldn't stay near the river for long and once he had dispatched Droinj's broken body down the river, he had carried Tagan into a forested area nearby and found a safe place to get some rest. They were well hidden in a patch of thick bushes and after making sure Tagan was comfortable, he lay down beside him and fell asleep.

When Braulor had woken the sun was getting long in the day. He looked beside him to see that Tagan was still unconscious and he sighed. He couldn't carry Tagan for long distances and they couldn't stay where they were. They may be safe for now but Braulor knew they had half a day, at best a full days, head start on the Citadel guards but it wasn't enough. He knew that what they lacked in time they made up for in well rested men and it wouldn't take long for patrols to catch up to them behind the noses of their hounds. They had the added benefit of food and water as well where Braulor couldn't remember the last time he ate. A low rumble issued from his abdomen as a reminder it had been a while.

Braulor stood up to survey the area, tight and aching muscles complaining as he did. Spotting some thin trees beyond the bush they were behind he made for them and used Droinj's sword to cut down five supple young trees. When the trees were all down he dragged them back to where Tagan was and hacked off all the branches and then cut two of them to the same length and laid them on the ground perpendicular to one another. Next he cut the other ones into smaller pieces of similar size and laid them across the two pieces on the ground.

Braulor looked at his handiwork and then went off in search of something to tie it all together. He chose to use the long, slender branches of a weeping willow he happened across. The branches were strong but pliable and he lashed the cross beams to the main poles. He laid Droinj's clothes on top of it and then carried Tagan over and placed him on the makeshift stretcher.

Not my best work Braulor admitted to himself but we have to move on. He hitched up the ends of the poles near Tagan's head and trudged away from their hiding spot.

Braulor avoided the main road but stayed close enough that he could use it to navigate. Without a clear idea of anywhere else to go Braulor decided to make for Vjeinka Rise. Once there he could rest and figure out his next move. Alrei Yqu didn't give him much instruction about what to do if he succeeded in freeing Tagan. He only charged Braulor with getting Tagan out of the clutches of the Citadel. What came after that was a mystery.

Darkness was deep when Braulor had decided to stop, hands aching with renewed vigor. He had gone as far as he could that day. Braulor abandoned the stretcher for the time being and carried Tagan over his shoulder, up a small rise and found a nook in the rock face to put him down. He went down and hid the stretcher closer to the river and then after dunking his head in the river, drank his fill of water. Feeling refreshed he looked around for something to eat. He managed to find a small patch of bramble berry bushes. He gorged on their ample fruit but remembered to bring some back with him to where Tagan was in case he awoke.

Tagan was still unconscious when Braulor returned so he sat down nearby, his back to the hillside and watched, wondering what tomorrow would bring.

Like he was rising from the depths of a lake, Tagan drifted awake. He knew he was waking, yet he didn't want to. He had so many questions for Meyu Kwi and he didn't know when he would get another chance to ask them. He wished he could have stayed with Meyu Kwi until his curiosity was satisfied but it wasn't meant to be. Tagan would have to figure some things out for himself.

Tagan was back at full consciousness now, his soul reanimating his body like a hand sliding into a puppet, but he didn't open his eyes. He lay there for a few minutes feeling his body, assessing if there was anything broken or cut but he seemed to be whole. He opened his eyes and blinked several times to clear the blurriness. Once he could focus properly Tagan realized he couldn't see much. It was dark, pitch black, and the stars shone brightly in the night sky; the new moon absent. A little ways away he could see Braulor's form, huddled against the wall of the cliff they were on, legs hugged tightly to his chest, head slumped on his knees, lost in slumber. Tagan stared at him. All these years and I have a brother. I owe him my life he realized. Tagan didn't know where they were but he could see lights from the Citadel, sparkling like another star, off in the distance. Braulor must have carried me here he realized and his admiration soared. Tagan wanted to wake Braulor and share everything he had learned from Meyu Kwi but decided that Braulor's rest was more important. So he let him be while he took up the watch. He pushed himself up from where he was laying and walked around as best he could on the small ledge they were occupying. His muscles were stiff and tight and his fingers found many areas that were tender to the touch. His fall from the Citadel window wasn't as easy on his body as he thought. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he could see the Jaswulder River snaking its way through the landscape, dark and mysterious. Tagan's tongue licked his lower lip, the sandpaper feeling making him realize how thirsty he was. Looking over he could see Braulor was still fast asleep. Tagan decided he could afford to make a quick trip to the river to get a drink. He made his way down the small trail from their perch and into the surrounding flat area. His muscles were warming up and he walked with less pain to the river's edge.

The water was so quenching. Tagan drank and drank like it was the finest wine and then lay back on the bank, his stomach sloshing as he rolled over. Faint traces of red were stretching across the sky from rim of the eastern mountains. A howl echoed and Tagan's senses bristled. He sat up and listened. At first he could only hear his heart beating, pounding in his ears like a war drum. A second howl pealed in the night coming from the same direction as the first.

It didn't sound like the wolf pack cries he heard back on the farm. The howl died on the light breeze and all was quiet. Then barking. Two short yips and it went quiet again as if someone had slammed a door. The image of a dog handler muzzling his charge popped into Tagan's head and he sprang to his feet. Damn it. There was a patrol nearby. Disoriented from the disruption of the howls it took a moment for Tagan to remember which way he had come and he high tailed it across the road. He looked behind him to see if he could spot anything and he ran right into something solid and fell to the ground.

"Ouch. Tagan is that you?" Braulor whispered.

Tagan looked up at his brother holding his forehead where they had collided. "It's me."

"What are you doing?"

"I woke up and was thirsty. I went to get a drink."

"I thought you fell off the cliff or something; scared the heck out of me."

"Did you hear that howling?"

"No. I woke up and you were gone. I panicked and ran down here to see if I could find you when we ran into each other. You heard howling?"

"While I was at the river side, then I heard two quick barks."

"Wolves?" Braulor's brow was furrowed, but he knew better.

"I don't think so. The way the barks ended, it was as if someone shut them up."

Tagan didn't have to say anything else. He could tell Braulor was thinking the same thing he was.

Braulor whipped his head around like he was expecting dogs to come running from behind the nearest tree. "Wait here." And he ran back up the trail, returning so fast it was as if he hadn't been gone at all. Braulor handed Tagan a knife and the berries he had collected earlier, then he shoved the sword through his belt. He disappeared once more and came back with the stretcher he had fashioned. They took the clothes Braulor had lain across it and rubbed them all over their bodies, embedding them with their scent. While Braulor ran across the road and hid them in the tallest grass he could find, Tagan ate the berries Braulor had given him. It wasn't much but his stomach was thankful all the same.

Braulor came sprinting back. "That might confuse them a little. Maybe buy us some time but not much. We're going to have to run for it."

Tagan swallowed the last of the berries he was chewing and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Lead the way."

Braulor took off, running straight to the road and then turning east. Tagan was right on his heels.

They followed the road for perhaps two miles before Braulor stopped. Tagan pulled up beside him and fell down on his knees, his chest heaving, as he gasped for breath. Braulor remained standing, doubled over with his hands on his thighs, taking long, deep breaths. When his breathing was back to normal he straightened and paced up and down the road looking for something.

"Why are we following the road?"

"We need to put as much distance between us and that patrol as we could. The road was the fastest way. But you're right; we need to get off the road." Braulor continued to search along the edge of the trees. "There is a trail around here. It's not used much so it is hard to spot but we can use it to get us high into the mountains. It'll be harder for a patrol to follow us."

Tagan got to his feet and admired his brother as he watched him walking along the side of the road. He seemed so strong to Tagan. Capable. Not afraid of anything. Tagan opened his mouth, about tell Braulor what he had learned from Meyu Kwi but Braulor interrupted him.

"Over here." Braulor motioned for Tagan to join him but he didn't look away from where he was peering.

Tagan joined him, stowing his thoughts for now, realizing it might not be the best time.

"This is the trail."

Tagan looked where Braulor was pointing and could see a thin line worn into the dirt that disappeared in broken segments into the woods. It looked like it was made by some small animals that traversed it at times to get to and from its burrow. Small trees and brush crowded it from both sides with branches reaching into the trail like skinny, pokey limbs. If Braulor hadn't told him it was a trail, he would have passed right by it.

"It's not used much, as I said, but it will get us away from here. We only use it when we need to get across the Knalb Mountains in a hurry."

"If it gets us away from the Citadel patrol then I am all for it." Tagan put his hand on Braulor's shoulder.

There was a pause where both of them wanted to say something but didn't. Braulor stepped onto the trail and took off. Tagan, after a quick look around, followed.

The first night on the trail had been quiet. Draax didn't really expect anything to happen but the legend of the Infrey Trail alone was enough to cause fitful sleep. Paranoia at every cracking branch or animal noise could tease the stoutest men into a state of fear. For his part, Draax had slept like a baby. The same couldn't be said for many of his men. For the first time ever there had been no shortage of volunteers to man the watch. Even though none would admit to it, they were afraid and staying awake on watch was much more desirable than lying there trying to sleep while your imagination ran wild. At least if you were on watch you could defend yourself. Die like a man, if that was your fate, with your sword in hand. Not wrapped up like a newborn infant, cowering in your blankets.

After much grumbling and groaning that degraded into outright threats of Draax leaving them all there to fend for themselves, they ate a hasty breakfast and were on their way again. They had been on the move for a couple of hours now and the lack of sleep was catching up to the men. Legs were getting heavy; focus waning when Draax called for a break. It was good time for a rest anyway as they had come to another of the steep inclines that the Infrey Trail was famous for. They found a suitable spot where they could lay out and relax while they had a light meal.

Glad for the break the men flopped down on the ground where they stood. Some chatted in low voices while they ate. More than a few pulled their hats down over their eyes and tried to catch up on some much needed sleep.

Draax dropped his pack and sat on top of it while he took a drink from his canteen. It was hot and humid on the trail, even if the sun couldn't penetrate the canopy of tree tops, and he was sweating like a moose in the midday sun. He made sure to put his canteen away after a few sparing sips. He didn't know when he would get the chance to fill it up again. He mopped his brow with his sleeve and scanned his mercenaries. Something wasn't right. One of them was missing. He stopped mopping his brow and stood up to get a better look thinking someone was obscured behind grass or someone's backpack. His subconscious head count wasn't wrong. Frewar was missing. "Where's Frewar?"

Activity came to an instant standstill like someone hit pause. Men stopped eating in mid chew and glanced around with wide, fearful eyes. Those who were trying to sleep were up in a flash, sword in hand, looking about.

Draax had a sinking feeling in his stomach. Frewar had been acting out of character ever since they entered the Infrey Trail. Draax could sense it. Frewar hadn't objected when Draax put him on point this morning so he thought it was only the jitters and Frewar had worked his way through them. Now he was missing. "He was on point. Rittwi, you were behind him, didn't you see anything?"

Rittwi rubbed his eyes with his sword free hand. "You called for a break and I turned around. I thought Frewar did the same."

"You didn't actually see him turn around though?"

"I'm tired Draax," Rittwi pleaded. "And this trail is spooky. It's hard to think straight."

Draax agreed. The trail did seem to be exacting a toll from them. That thought never made it to completion though as a blood curdling scream rent the air cutting the conversation short. Everybody was on their feet now, weapons drawn, feet planted squarely, bracing for anything that might come. They all watched the trail ahead, scared to blink, waiting for something to happen. Minutes passed that felt like hours and no more sounds. No nothing. The trail was dead quiet. There was nothing in the bushes around them or in the sky above. It was as if the world had stopped.

"Everybody hitch up their packs." Draax's voice was a hair above audible, even in the soundless void they were occupying. He leaned down and found his own pack without taking his eyes off the trail.

Most of his men had shown fear when they first heard the scream and seemed unsure about what was going on but they had something to focus on now. That put them back in mercenary mode and each of them shouldered their packs with the stealth of a predator and readied weapons; their tired faces grim with determination.

Draax motioned them all to come closer and they formed a tight circle around him. "We're not leaving Frewar behind. We have to go up there and find out what happened."

"Did you hear that scream? There ain't no Frewar to leave behind." Gryvir stepped from foot to foot, eyes bugging out. "I say we go back the way we came. That fool should've listened up and he wouldn't be in this mess. Serves him right."

Many of the men nodded their agreement with Gryvir's sentiment. They had had enough and it was time to get out of there.

Draax looked to each one of them in turn. It had come to this had it? "Cowards." It was all he could think of to say even though the assembled men were some of the bravest people he had ever known.

"Frewar knew the risks." Rittwi tried to assuage his own feelings of guilt.

"He wouldn't leave a single one of you behind and you know it." Draax pointed at each of them in turn with the most scathing look he could. A few of the men who were in agreement moments ago to abandon Frewar looked down at their shoes.

It was what Draax had hoped. He didn't want to go up the trail either but felt he owed it to Frewar and he wanted as many men with him as he could get.

They stood in their little circle casting sidelong glances at one another, nobody saying anything, nobody wanting to be the first. The time had come to part ways and Draax knew it. "Ok. Anybody who wants to go back, go, I won't stop you, but remember this, if our paths cross again, you will pay."

Gryvir looked around. "Who's comin' then?" Four of the men nodded while avoiding Draax's eye. Without another word Gryvir turned back down the Infrey trail toward its start, the four men falling in line behind him. None of them looked back.

Draax glared at them as they left, shaking his head. He didn't begrudge them anything for leaving. The mercenary life was tough and more often than not, it was every man for himself. He was lucky to have gone this far with them and not have them turn on him. If he was honest with himself, he glared at them because a part of him wanted to turn tail and join them, but he owed Frewar more than that. Of all the men he had commanded, Frewar had always been his go to guy. The one man he trusted above all the others. Perhaps that was why men had chosen to leave him behind; out of some petty jealousy. No matter now. Their path lay ahead.

Draax motioned to the remaining men that they were heading out. "Klaine, you take the lead. I'll be right behind you. The rest of you come behind me and keep close."

They moved ahead like praying mantises, picking their steps with extreme care to avoid any unnecessary noise. The trail steepened once they were out of the little clearing. Draax could hear the men breathing harder as they ascended but still maintained their stealth. It may be their only advantage. Draax's head shifted from side to side looking for any signs of Frewar's passage but there was little to see in the dense brush.

At the top of the rise they stopped. Draax walked forward past Klaine scoping the immediate area. The trees were thinner at this elevation and Draax could see that it was flat in all directions; moss covered mounds and boulders dotting the landscape in a haphazard way. The trail went straight ahead for perhaps a hundred feet or so and then disappeared around the edge of the mountain as it turned to the right.

Draax looked back and signaled the men to follow and resumed traversing the trail once again. His heart started to pound as they neared the turn in the trail ahead and he gripped his sword, knuckles whitening as blood flow became restricted. Flattening himself against the cold rock of the mountainside, he leaned out and looked to the right, down the trail.

"They're behind us." Gryvir erupted from the bush behind them onto the trail, screaming. Blood was streaming across his face from an ugly slash on his forehead.

Rittwi crested the hill behind Gryvir and fell forward on his face and didn't move again.

They all spun around as Gryvir closed on them and readied for an assault. Gryvir stopped running as he reached them. "Damn it Draax, they got behind us."

"Who got behind us? Where are the other men?" Draax was confused and angry at their sudden appearance.

They all listened as Gryvir told them what happened through his gasps for breath. "We didn't get far and they were on us; swarming from all sides. Rittwi and I were the only ones that got out of there."

"Who attacked you?"

"Don't know Draax. It was like they were ghosts or something. It all happened so fast." Gryvir pressed his sleeve against the cut on his head.

"Ghosts?" Draax tried not to believe such things and chalked ghosts and hauntings and the like up to an over active imagination or too much drink.

"I don't know Draax. We were following the trail and... and." Gryvir stopped talking, staring at the ground.

"And what?" Klaine was frustrated at the lack of information.

"It got dark all of a sudden. Shadows were flitting from tree to tree. I could hear laughter, like the shadows were taunting us. We stopped to get our bearings and we could see sunlight through the trees but it was like we were looking out from behind a black fog. Then they appeared."

"Who appeared?" Draax, determined to get some straight answers, was losing his temper.

"I don't know who. Like nothing I have ever seen before. Materialized right in front of us and attacked. Before we could hit them back they would disappear. Then appear again somewhere else and attack again. Three of us fell on the spot. Rittwi and me, we made a run for it. The shadows followed us, laughing as we ran. Like they were having some sport with us or something. That's it. Rittwi is dead. They are all dead. So are we Draax. So are we." Gryvir looked into Draax's eyes and then fell silent, staring off into the distance.

A dreadful silence hung in the air as each of them evaluated the situation.

"Well, we can't go back." Draax regained his focus and took charge. "Ostr, get what you can from Rittwi. He won't need it anymore."

Ostr nodded and went to Rittwi's body and searched it, taking anything useful and returned to the group. He passed around the belongings he had scavenged and gave Rittwi's weapon to Gryvir, who had lost his in his flight.

"As far as I am concerned, you're still on your own." Draax poked Gryvir in the chest with a stubby forefinger. He was considering tying him up and leaving him here to fend for himself but Gryvir was good with a blade and you could never have enough of that in a fight. Draax expected they would soon be fighting for their lives. He took a breath and squared his shoulders. Regardless of what Gryvir said, Draax felt if he could see it, he could kill it. Without waiting for his men, Draax stormed up the trail and disappeared around the bend.

The men scrambled to get organized and followed him, making sure to leave Gryvir at the back of the line. They rounded the corner and found Draax had stopped a few feet further ahead. Joining him they could see Frewar's pack lying in a pool of blood. His body was nowhere in sight. A quick bit of reconnaissance revealed a wide swath of burgundy that led away from the pool of blood that used to be Frewar and into the trees. They all looked at each other with shame as none of them were inclined to see if they could find any more of Frewar's remains. Not even Draax. They gathered around the pool of blood. Each of them lost in thought, wondering what could do something so horrific, so quickly. A few tried to say words of goodbye but it felt awkward and inappropriate so they stopped. Most had the sense that their own end was nearer than they would like and were grappling with how to meet their own death. Trying to find a way to reconcile their lives as to have some sort of meaning but each of them realized their death would mean nothing. They would die, leaving behind a pool of blood and a pile of bones that would eventually turn to dust. They took Frewar's pack, distributed its contents, and kept moving. Frewar was in a better place now.

Progress slowed after they found Frewar's blood soaked pack. Between that and Gryvir's account of the attack he had witnessed, the pace was measured. The men didn't want anything sneaking up on them and their heads were constantly swiveling from side to side, scanning for any signs of danger with wide, alert eyes.

Draax stayed in the lead as the trail hugged the side of the mountain once more, eyes locked on the path in front of him. To his left the cliff wall fell away hundreds of feet. He breathed a sigh of relief as they made it to the other side and the trail once again widened, allowing them to walk two abreast. The same mounds of earth dominated the landscape here, the path winding through them, off into the unseen.

Gryvir brought up the rear, a piece of cloth tourniqueting a bandage in place on his forehead to stop the bleeding. His pulse had come down but his eyes still bulged out like a lizard watching a fly; neck muscles tense as he swept the landscape. Back and forth, searching, waiting.

"Anyone need to take a break?"

Everyone shook their heads, too afraid to even talk.

"All right. Let's keep moving then." Draax turned down the path anew.

A blur of darkness flashed through a shaft of sunlight off to his right. By the time Draax turned his head, it was gone. If he hadn't heard Gryvir's account he would've have given it a second thought as a trick of light and shadow. Knowing that blur of darkness led to the death of four of his men gave the event a terrifying edge and piqued his attention.

Not wanting to alarm the rest of the men, Draax kept his head pointing straight forward while his eyes darted from side to side looking for more. He didn't have to wait long. Another blur to his left. Then two to his right. Faint laughter tickled at his ears. A burst of several dark blurs directly on the trail ahead. Draax stopped and Klaine walked straight into him. All around it started to dim like the light was being choked out, blotted from view. Slight at first but down four or five shades darker in the time it took for their hearts to start hammering at their ribs.

"What's going on Draax?" Klaine was so close to Draax he could see the hairs on the back of his neck stand.

"It must be what Gryvir was talking about." Draax tried to sound calm and collected, when he was anything but.

The rest of the men huddled up close in a tight bunch, watching as the darkness descended on them, feeling like children caught by their bullies.

"C'mon then." Gryvir screamed making everybody jump. "Don't tease. Let's get this over with." He took off his pack, dropped it to the ground, and ran straight toward where it was the darkest.

"Gryvir." Klaine reached out to stop him but was too late, catching only air.

Gryvir yelled like a savage man set free, swinging his sword above his head. As he brought it down the shadow in front of him disappeared, reappearing to his left so fast you could have sworn it was two separate beings. Gryvir groaned and lurched to his right, dropping his sword, blood flowing in sticky waves from an unseen wound beneath his armor. A knot of shadows descended on him, like bees attacking a threat, delivering the fatal blows that ended Gryvir's pain.

Draax watched in horror. He had never seen anything like this. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to run but his feet felt they had grown roots.

Some men panicked and tried to run back down the trail the way they had come.

Draax could only listen as the final seconds of their lives ended in horrible, gut-wrenching screams. More than one scream trailed off over the cliff edge, ending in abrupt silence.

"We have to stick together." Draax shouted at the men still with him, his voice shrill. He hoped the urgency would cut through the shock and kick-start their fighting instincts.

His men were white with fear but they nodded at him as the command penetrated into their brain.

They could only move forward now and Draax motioned to his men to follow.

A low moan broke out as they went. It was coming from all directions and it rattled each of them anew. Draax's' heart was up in his throat. For the first time in a long time he was scared. Not just scared, terrified. His men were as frightened as he was. He could feel it the air. Draax wanted to say something profound to calm them, to calm himself, but he could think of anything. He wasn't sure his mouth would work anyway.

Shadows were all around them, circling, closing the gap in measured increments like some sort of slow motion tornado of doom and they were caught in its eye. Draax stopped walking and he and his men formed a circle of their own, facing their tormentors. The shadows drifted closer and as they did the moaning turned into a long howly-wail followed by peals of laughter.

Klaine was sobbing to his left. To his right, Ostr was shaking so hard against him, Draax thought it was his own body convulsing. He wrenched the pack from his back and threw it at the closest shadow. It hit nothing but air and landed with an uninspired thud several feet away. He pulled his sword from his belt and found that having a weapon in each hand made him feel better.

Klaine and the other three took off in opposite directions, all at once; as if it was something they had planned and forgot to tell Draax.

The cluster of shadows dispersed, giving chase to each man. One shadow remained in front of Draax, firm and unmoving.

Draax steadied his nerves. He had to get out of this. Somehow he had to find a way.

The shadow began to drift toward him, slow and deliberate, like it was getting a thrill from prolonging the fear. The blackness eased toward Draax, playing with him the same way a cat would taunt a mouse, teasing the horror from him in heart pounding blips.

The urge to charge the shadow and attack grew in intensity the nearer it came but Draax resisted. He had seen what happened when Gryvir took the initiative and decided to stand fast where he was and make death wait. Make it come to him. If he was going to die it would be on his own terms.

The shadow was almost within striking distance when it began to change shape. The darkness pulled and contorted, form taking shape from dark. The form of a man clad in all black. A pronged helmet rested on his head, coming all the way down to cover where its face would be, wells of soulless, murky black for eyes.

Draax looked at the form and reassured himself that he could kill it.

A long arm, hand covered with a menacing bracer, drew back its cloak, the other hand reached across and dragged a wretched blade from its scabbard, pointing it at Draax. A moan followed as if it were making some pronouncement on Draax. Judging him and convicting him of some crime he was unaware of.

Draax steadied himself. He followed with his eyes as the shade drifted to his right. Draax slashed out toward the shade with his sword in sideways fashion, looking to slice it right in half. His blade flashed as it cut through the air, driven by a rush of adrenaline mixed with fear.

The shade disappeared as Draax's blade swung and reappeared in front of Draax as he had hoped. When he had begun his attack with his right hand, he had started a second attack with the left a split second later. He stabbed his little short sword forward and the form reappeared right in front of it and had no time to react as the blade slammed through its armor, burying itself deep in the shades chest. Pain shot through Draax's left arm and it went numb right up to the shoulder, flopping to his side. Draax staggered back, leaving the short sword where it was.

A horrible shriek erupted from the form as it fell to its knees. Even as it died it took one last swipe at Draax with its blade before falling face first to the ground. The body lay on the ground for a second or two before it disappeared for good, dissolving into the ground like rain on a parched stretch of earth, leaving a thin, black outline burned into the earth.

The shriek brought Draax to his senses and he ran, jumping over the scarred earth where the shade had died in a single leap. He didn't look back to see how the other men were doing. Draax was beyond caring what happened to them. He only knew he had to get out of there. He wouldn't get so lucky next time. The shades would make sure he died an extra painful death in revenge of their comrade. He didn't need to look back and see if the other shades were coming for him. He assumed the death knell of the slain shade had alerted the others and Draax ran as fast as he could. Trees were flying by in blur. He couldn't do anything about his left arm so it flapped around, keeping time as he fled down the trail like a rubbery metronome. He only hoped it wouldn't trip him up. Another moan reached his ears. Unlike the previous ones, this moan was full of rage and tinged with murderous intent. A longing to cause grievous harm captured in twisted harmony. Draax gulped and tried to run faster but he was already at top speed.

High peals of laughter and delight at this puny mortals attempt to flee. Where did he think he would go? Nobody ever got away from the shades. This one would be no different.

The path took a downhill turn and Draax kept running, his legs moving faster than he thought possible as he tried to navigate the slope at high speed. The laughter was getting louder in his ears. They must be getting close. The trail bottomed out and turned to the left but Draax was going too fast and couldn't navigate the turn. He tumbled off the path into the woods, smashing through brush and bramble. He rolled to a stop and scrambled to his feet, head spinning; chest heaving as his burning lungs fought to get oxygen into his system. His sword had gone flying as he tumbled and he didn't know in what direction. Shades were storming down the trail straight toward him, dark like the prow of night. Blinded with panic, Draax turned and ran, crashing through bushes and tree branches like they weren't even there. They clawed at his arms and legs as he went but couldn't slow him down.

A large mound appeared in front of him as he jumped through some low brush. He could see an opening cut out of it and ran toward it. If he could get inside, he might be safe. He sailed through the opening and went tumbling down some stairs, landing at the bottom with a crash, and looked back up the stairs, through the opening. Even though it was dark, Draax could see the shades coming toward him but they had slowed as if they were apprehensive.

Draax lurched to his feet and searched for something to use as a weapon, anything. Then he saw it. Mounted on the wall a few feet away was a staff. It shimmered as he spied it even with the absence of light inside the mound, and he lunged for it, wrenching it from the wall. Draax held in front of him with his good right hand, ready to defend himself but the shades had stopped approaching. He swallowed hard and glanced around not understanding what was happening. Why weren't they attacking? Tearing him apart as they had the others? Draax swung the staff at the closest shade and it drifted safely out of reach but no counterattack. He swung again in the other direction and once again the shades moved out of the way. The shades were wary of the staff he realized.

Draax stepped toward the shades to test his theory and they dispersed a ways but still blocked his way out. Another step, this time with more confidence, and they pulled back a little farther. Two were edging around trying to get behind him. Draax charged and hit the closer of the two with the staff. Draax moved with such agility, the shade didn't have time to get out of the way. It screamed as the staff touched it and disappeared in violent flash. The second shade rejoined the group blocking the stairs.

Encouraged with the staff destroying one shade, Draax waded in to the throng of them, swinging at anything that moved. Shades were snuffed out here and there and the group scattered to all sides of the mounds interior, trying to stay out of the staff's reach.

Draax didn't even register what was happening. Blinded by rage he stormed around the chamber, cursing at them and daring them to come closer. He found himself face to face with one particularly elusive shade and with a fierce howl he swung the staff in its direction. It eluded the blow and a blast of sunshine hit Draax in the face. He blinked at the harsh light but it cleared his head, breaking the spell of his rage, and he realized the stairway wasn't blocked any longer and he bounded up them, unable to believe his good fortune. As he crossed the threshold back into the light, the mound started to rumble. He didn't care, he just kept running. The ground all around him began to tremor and a heavy lurch knocked him off his feet. Draax rolled over onto his knees, bringing up the staff to protect himself from the expected attack but there was none. The ground around him continued to shake. It felt like he was on a carpet and someone had a hold of one end and was shaking it up and down. Draax had to balance on his three good limbs, cradling the staff, to keep himself stable. He watched, unable to do anything, as the mound caved in, falling in on itself in a dusty heap, much like a circus tent if the center beam was pulled. Then the earth opened up and swallowed the remnants of the mound like it was eating a grape. One last loud moan escaped the mound as it disappeared into the growing chasm, echoing in Draax's ears as the shades were destroyed. With a final, jarring, thud the earth closed together and went still, a circular ring devoid of vegetation, the only sign that anything had ever been there.

Draax got to his feet, unable to process what he had witnessed. He stood and stared at the circle of bare earth, astounded that he had somehow survived; that he had escaped the shades. Even more amazing was how the mound disappeared as if it no longer had reason to be here. He looked again at the staff with renewed interest and then turned to go find his pack.

### Chapter 18

The sun had risen and made its long, slow march across the sky as they went, keeping a close eye on their progress. Braulor and Tagan had alternated walking and running throughout the day, stopping only once as they tried to put as much distance as they could between them and the Citadel patrol that pursued them. They hadn't heard any more barking or howling since the first instance in the early morning. Hopefully the clothes that they had planted near the river had thrown the patrol off and it had gone in another direction.

Braulor didn't want to take any chances and he and Tagan left the trail at several points along the way and then doubled back in the hopes that if they were still being followed some false trails would hinder their pursuers.

"I think we can take a break here." Braulor stopped, hands on his waist as he looked around.

Tagan walked straight past Braulor to a log on the side of the trail and sat down, grateful for the rest. He was having a tough time keeping up the pace Braulor had set. His legs were burning from the exertion, almost as much his lungs.

Braulor was tired as well but he didn't feel comfortable sitting and he went back a ways, toward their pursuers. He stood with his ear to wind, head tilted, as he listened. Content that they were in no immediate danger he came back and joined Tagan.

They sat in silence for some time, Tagan breathing in rapid gulps as he tried to recover.

"Who was that, that, reptile looking man at the Citadel?" For some reason the man's scaly appearance popped into Tagan's head. Thinking of it made his skin crawl.

Braulor knew who Tagan was speaking of. "I'm not sure, but there are rumors of the Citadel being involved with the occult."

"I've never heard of the Citadel being involved with evil beings before."

"I'm not surprised. It's something the Citadel would be sure to keep a tight lid on. But out here, away from the Citadel, information is able to flow more freely."

"Do you believe that it was a demon?"

Braulor thought for a few moments before answering. "Whatever it was, it wasn't human."

Tagan nodded in agreement remembering what Meyu Kwi had told him about the beings the Draepkos had created, the Mrüg. He wondered if that's what he had seen.

"I'm not even sure they exist to be honest with you. But after seeing that man, I don't know. If it's not human then what is it?" Braulor went silent as he pondered.

But Braulor's mind was on Alrei Yqu's appearance in the Citadel. Why was he there? Why did he send me to rescue Tagan if he could get into the Citadel anyway? It didn't make any sense. None of this made sense.

Braulor started to speak and then stopped, unsure how much to reveal to Tagan. Alrei Yqu had told him that Tagan was his brother but now, could he even believe that? Maybe Alrei Yqu just told him that to motivate him, to coerce him into doing what he wanted.

Tagan was also struggling with what he should tell Braulor and he sat staring at the ground and reviewed what Meyu Kwi revealed to him. He weighed the situation and decided Braulor had risked his life to get Tagan out of the Citadel and continued to put his life on the line as they tried to evade capture. If he couldn't trust Braulor, who could he trust? "After we fell from the Citadel and I was unconscious, I was in the other world I told you about." Tagan was tentative, realizing how strange it sounded.

"The world your ability lets you to see into." Braulor put his own thoughts aside to listen.

"Yes, but this time I felt more connected to it than I did to Brankin Huoh. I don't' know, it's so hard to explain." Tagan's line of thought was all over the place, unsure where he wanted to go.

"I've seen a lot of things in my travels Tagan. Trust me. I am not going to judge you."

Tagan sighed and he recanted the entire story to Braulor. He started with how he found out he was different than other people when he was still young. How his parents had a healer work over him, trying to rid him of his affliction. It hadn't worked and Tagan continued to be able to see into the other world although he tried to suppress it as much as he could. Tagan admitted that he reveled in the sanctuary of the other world at times. When he needed it, Quanna Eresse was a place of solitude for him.

Braulor didn't shake his head; roll his eyes or anything of the sort that would indicate he didn't believe Tagan. Braulor listened intently to every word as if this was nothing out of the ordinary.

Encouraged, Tagan pressed on, right into what happened while he was unconscious after their escape from the Citadel. He related what Meyu Kwi had told him about the separating of the races that started after the Draepkos came into the world and poisoned the minds of people with promises of riches and power. How this had caused the degeneration of a peaceful existence into a world filled with war and destruction, as those that lusted after control did anything they could to get it.

"And this Meyu Kwi said that the world can be restored to the way it once was?"

Tagan nodded his face solemn as he thought about the task that lay ahead of him. It didn't sound so easy all of a sudden.

Living outside the walls of the Citadel Braulor knew that life should be better than how it was. It was clans like the Greejon that knew what it was like to live out from under the shadow of the Citadel's rulers and to live free. "And did he say how we are supposed to do that?"

"Find the Amber Eye. Find it and return it to the Lefirte."

Braulor's looked at Tagan with blank eyes as his thoughts drifted away. He was well aware of the myth of the Amber Eye. Braulor had invested time trying to find it himself. He had been searching for it when he was caught in the avalanche that Alrei Yqu saved him from. "The Amber Eye lives only in myth Tagan. Legends and folk tales from days of yesteryear that people relay over campfires." Braulor stood up and was pacing in front of Tagan, punctuating each point by slapping one hand into the other but there it was again, the Amber Eye. As Tagan had gone through the retelling of his experience in Quanna Eresse, something had been niggling at the bag of his brain but Braulor couldn't quite put a finger on it. When Tagan mentioned the Amber Eye, something clicked. It was the names. Meyu Kwi. Alrei Yqu. They sounded so similar Braulor was beginning to wonder if it was the same person. How could it be that these men, men that only appear to Tagan and Braulor under similar conditions and both concerned with finding the Amber Eye?

Tagan stared at Braulor, caught off guard by his tirade. "I thought the same thing. That's what I said to Meyu Kwi but he told me that when the world was first separated there was a person with the same ability I have that came into our world in search of the eye. She can help us to find the Amber Eye."

Braulor stopped his pacing and resumed his seat beside Tagan. He didn't want to get into his suspicions until he had more time to evaluate. "Where are we supposed to find this person?"

"Meyu Kwi told me she is in Dwenar Gliv."

Braulor furrowed his brow, his eyes narrowing. "Dwenar Gliv?" He had never travelled to their closest neighboring land but he didn't relish the idea either. If the rumors were to be believed, Dwenar Gliv was no better than Brankin Huoh. "Dwenar Gliv is a big place Tagan. Where are we even supposed to start looking?"

"She was supposed to have set up camp on the edges of Dwenar Gliv, in the Knalb mountains." Tagan was beginning to feel defeated.

Braulor was buoyed by this news. Vjeinka Rise had an entrance that they could use as a launching point. "That's a long journey from here and we still have to shake the Citadel patrol. And who even knows for sure if the Amber Eye is real? I still have my doubts." Braulor trailed off. The Greejon clan had crept into his mind. Braulor remembered the situation with Jolon and wondered how Tyran was making out.

"There was one more thing that Meyu Kwi told me."

"What would that be?"

"My dad fathered a child before me." Looking Braulor in the face, Tagan could really see a resemblance now.

"What does that have to with anything?"

"It's you. You're my brother."

Braulor didn't say anything. He returned Tagan's stare for a moment and looked away. Alrei Yqu had told him the same thing and with everything that had happened since he found out, that bit of information had been pushed to the back of his memory. Not forgotten, just overlooked, and now here it was again from this boy he had saved. Braulor didn't know if he had really believed Alrei Yqu when he had told him Tagan was his brother. Perhaps that was why it had been shoved into the dark depths of his memory. Maybe a part of Braulor didn't want to believe it because of what that would mean. How it would change his life but it seemed there was no way to avoid it. "Alrei Yqu told me the same thing. That was what convinced me to get you out of the Citadel."

A bark echoed up the valley and Tagan and Braulor both jumped to their feet and took off down the trail.

Draax leaned on the staff and looked up at the waxing moon. It wasn't quite half full yet but it lent an eerie glow to the valley below nonetheless. He was almost through the Infrey trail but he was sure he didn't need to worry about it anymore. After his escape from the mound and the destruction of the shades, Draax went back up the trail, retracing the way he fled as best he could. He recovered the pack that he had thrown in frustration at one of the shades. Inside his pack Draax found a large, square piece of cloth and used it to brace his left arm in a sling. He hadn't regained any use of the arm and wondered if he ever would. Try as hard as he could, he couldn't make the arm move or budge in any way. It was like it didn't belong to him anymore. With his arm secure Draax took a look around the immediate area but didn't hold out any hope. It didn't take long to discover the remains of some of his men. Each of them had been killed in a gruesome way.

Draax shook his head and frowned. He wasn't sad. He felt alone. Abandoned. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in long time and another reminder of his growing sentiment to leave this type of life behind. Most of Draax's adult life had been spent raiding and plundering as a member of one gang or another. He had assembled a group of mercenaries that, maybe he didn't trust in the full sense of the word, but knew that when push came to shove, his men would have his back and he would have theirs. It was as close as many of them came to having a family and now it was all gone. He stood and reflected on the loss of his men and then salvaged what he could. He took the best weapon he could find, latched it to his belt and after a look back at the carnage, turned and marched down the trail leaving the broken, mangled bodies of his men behind for the carrion. It was the mercenary way, every man for himself. They would have done the same thing and he would've expected no less.

Draax had been walking nonstop since he had destroyed the shadow people, as he called them, buried in the very mound where Draax had made his last stand. Where he had found this mysterious staff he was now leaning upon. He stood up straight and lifted the staff to eye level so he could get a closer look. It was the first time he had done so since he found it. There had been no time before as he focused on getting off the Infrey trail and away from whatever those shadow people had been.

The staff was symmetrical from top to bottom with strange glyphs and runes etched along its length; rounded off at each end in a dome shape. It shimmered in the moonlight as if it housed some sort of sentience that longed to be free. Draax stared it for long minutes, his gaze roving from top to bottom and back again, his attention rapt by its extraordinary beauty. Draax found it hard to stop staring at it. Regaining his focus, Draax looked down the trail again and started the descent to its end, glad to have the staff to keep him company.

The day was still very young when Draax awoke. He took a long drink of water, casting a wary eye around as he did so. He had walked through the previous day and part of the night, not wanting to spend another minute on the trail if he could help it. Once he was clear of the trail he had forced himself to march another mile or so before he found a place he felt would be safe. It was a little ways off the trail, in a patch of thick bush that he hoped would shield him from being spotted by any passersby. Draax settled down for the night and had a fitful sleep as he tried to find a position that didn't feel uncomfortable because of his arm. When he did sleep, his dreams were filled with dark tidings and images of terrible events. Birds had awoken him as they chattered at one another in the early morning sun.

Draax sat for a bit, enjoying the solitude, and tried working his injured arm. He found he was getting some mobility back as he was able to rotate it a tiny amount one way and then the other. Still very stiff but the pain seemed to be lessening. A good sign.

With Infrey trail behind him, Draax turned his thoughts to what he was going to do now. His men were all dead so there was no way he could mount an attack on the Greejon clan. He could try and piece together a new group of men but it would take too much time to find enough men that he trusted. Time he didn't have to spare.

Jolon had said he was going to take over the council of the Greejon clan. If he had succeeded then Draax could approach Jolon and try to force him to honor the deal they had struck. Draax recalled Lyrell had told him that Braulor had been captured by a Citadel patrol. Braulor would never be seen alive again outside the Citadel walls, which worked in Draax's favor. Jolon may not know that the assassination attempt on Braulor had failed and gone ahead with his next move.

Draax's glimmer of hope faded when he remembered that Lyrell said that a second man had been with Braulor when they attacked. Nobody knew who the other man was and he had not been there when the Citadel patrol captured Braulor. Draax could only surmise that the mysterious unknown was from the Greejon clan and would have returned there by now. The only remaining question was whether or not the mystery man would inform Jolon of what happened. If Jolon was planning a coup on the Greejon council, he probably didn't trust too many people. Would Jolon trust information from the man that had been with Braulor? Draax sighed and got to his feet. Trying to wrap his brain around all these variables was making his head hurt. He leaned down, picked up his pack and managed to hitch it over his good shoulder. He had been so tired when he stopped last night; he hadn't even bothered to get out his bedroll or anything else. He flopped on the ground, exhausted. Stooping once more, Draax picked up the staff and used it to help him stand upright. He was just going to have to wing it. Approach Jolon and see what happens.

Jolon strolled through camp, a group of men trailing him taking note as Jolon pointed out issues that required attention. It was the same mundane things that they always had to attend to after every move. Tents needed to be properly pegged down, pens for livestock needed to be sturdy and secure, water needed to be fetched, things along those lines. But as vigilant as he appeared to be Jolon's mind was nowhere near the boring task at hand. There was one thought that had been pre-occupying his mind for days now. It was always there, like a fly, buzzing around looking for a place to land. When he was busy, it sat at the back of his mind waiting for show time. When he retired in the evening or at other quiet times during the day, the thought took center stage, keeping him awake at night. He pondered about it, turning it over and over in his mind, trying to develop a way to use it to his advantage.

It was Alrei Yqu. This person Jolon learned that had befriended Braulor; the same person that Braulor had left camp to meet, never to return. On a personal level, Jolon was quite happy about that part and would be quite content if he never set eyes on Braulor again but something told him he wouldn't be that lucky.

What Jolon couldn't stop thinking about was the power Alrei Yqu must wield. Even more important, how could he come to share in that power, use it for his gain, for his aspirations. He had tried everything he could think of. He would lie on his bed, thinking the name over and over again, trying to project that one thought out into to world and see if there were a response. There was nothing, although Jolon wasn't sure what he should be looking for anyway. Tyran's description had been so vague that he didn't have much to go on. Consumed with the thought, Jolon had taken to watching for black birds that were in the nearby area, hoping that one had been sent to Braulor that he could intercept. That yielded nothing either.

It seemed that Tyran had kept the details of Jolon's threats to himself, so that was a plus. Tyran wasn't as simple as he thought though and he caught Tyran dogging his steps on more than one occasion. This made Jolon very suspicious. Not just of Tyran, but the whole lot of them. The mood of the council and the rest of the clan had taken a prickly demeanor toward him. Nobody was outright rude but there was a pervading black cloud that seemed to hover around Jolon in all his dealings. It was hampering his attempt to get control of the council for himself. The council seemed to hold on to the hope that Braulor would be coming back.

In a surprise move, Tyran requested a special meeting of the Greejon council and had told them as much as he dared about the whole business. That he had gone after Braulor on a gut feeling that he was in danger. How they had been attacked by unknown assailants and escaped. Tyran couldn't answer where Braulor was though or when they could expect him to return and he wouldn't answer as to why Braulor had left camp in the first place. He stonewalled on these points and refused to divulge any more than he had already told them and would only reiterate that Braulor would explain everything upon his return.

At this point Jolon was sure the aged men of the council would turn to him to manage things but it had the exact opposite effect. It seemed to galvanize them, pull them together and work as a proper council should instead of deferring to Braulor. Perhaps his feelings toward Braulor weren't as hidden as he tried to keep them.

Jolon's one bright spot, the thing he clung to get him through the recent events had been Draax and the bargain they had struck to take over control of the Greejon clan. But with the council feeling frosty toward him, Jolon didn't think it would be a good time to try and slip away to contact Draax. All Jolon's plans were in ruins and he was in a funk, lashing out at whoever he could. What else could go wrong?

"Jolon."

Jolon stopped walking and spun his head around, spotting one of the perimeter guards approaching. He rolled his eyes and waited for the guard to get right up to him before he bothered answering. "What is it Dwoek?"

"We caught someone approaching the camp. You told me to bring any such news to your attention immediately."

Jolon's face went slack for a moment as his thoughts raced over several hopeful possibilities. "Ok." Jolon was trying hard to keep his voice even, though he could feel adrenaline surging into his veins. "Stay here for a moment."

Jolon turned to the group of men following him and dismissed them, citing that they had enough work to keep them busy for now and they would resume their inspection another time. When the men had dispersed he turned back to Dwoek. "Lead the way." Jolon gestured in the direction from which Dwoek had come.

Dwoek nodded curtly, turned and marched off at a rapid pace toward where the prisoner was being held. Behind him Jolon was overjoyed as he walked. He didn't want to get his hopes up but even if the prisoner turned out to be someone of little importance, the break in his monotonous routine was welcome. In the back of his mind though, he could feel that things were about to change.

Draax cursed himself. He had been so absorbed with his thoughts he hadn't been paying close enough attention to his surroundings. A squad of men emerged from the bush that lined the road and surrounded him. They had moved so fast he didn't have time to draw a weapon of his own. He thought about trying to fight his way out but a twinge of pain in his shoulder reminded him that he was in no condition to fight off five attackers. He surrendered without resistance and they took his pack and weapons. They had taken his staff as well but in a cunning display, he fell as they started to walk away, wailing about how he needed his staff for support. He wasn't proud of his actions but it had the desired affect and they returned the staff to him, along with many threats of how they would carve him up if he tried anything with it. He didn't. He knew when it was time to fight and when it was time to take your lumps. Right now he would take his lumps but he made sure to get a good look at each of the guard's faces in case he got a chance for revenge.

They marched him up the road and stopped a few hundred yards from their encampment. Draax could tell this was the Greejon clan that he had been in pursuit of. They had moved quicker than anticipated. The guards forced him into a small cell they had reserved for people they caught wandering about their camp. It was just high enough for him to stand at his full height; which wasn't saying much as he was shorter than most men. There was a stool in one corner and when he entered the cage a sentry wrenched the staff from his hand. "You won't need this in here." And shut the door to the cage as he left. He lashed a rope around the cage door and the bar next to it, knotting it tightly, then disappeared into a nearby tent. When the sentry returned he no longer had Draax's staff and took up vigil near the cage. Draax made a mental note of the tents location and approximate distance from where he was for future reference.

Draax didn't try to escape. He didn't really want to. First, he was exhausted from his experiences along the Infrey Trail. Second, if he did get out of the cage, which wouldn't really be that hard, he would have to fight off heavily armed men. The five that that he knew about that is. No telling how many more were out there lurking in the bushes. Maybe in his younger days when he had been more brash he would have gave escape a try but today he was glad to be rid of the trail and, for the time being, he was safe. There weren't many stories of a clan such as Greejon torturing their prisoners. Of course he knew that could all change in an instant. Draax dropped down onto the stool in his cell and folded his arm across his stomach, underneath his sling. He let himself lean back against the bars of the cage and tried to relax.

It took a moment for Draax to identify the new voice in his immediate area. It was a voice he recognized. Without lifting his head, he opened his eyes to slits big enough for him to see who the new person was and there was Jolon. He was standing near the tent where the sentry had put his staff, talking to one of the guards that had captured him. Draax smiled. He couldn't believe his luck. Of all the people they could have fetched from the main camp, they got the one person that Draax didn't mind seeing.

Draax snapped his eyes shut again as Jolon finished his conversation with the guard and stormed toward the makeshift jail.

"Get up you." Jolon barked out the order to show who was in charge.

Draax didn't move as Jolon addressed him.

"Let's go. Get a move on." Jolon nudged Draax with his foot through the bars.

Draax lifted his head, opened his eyes and met Jolon's fierce gaze with a groggy, confused look as if he didn't recognize who was talking to him.

"I'm not buying your act so let's go." Jolon was tiring of Draax's feigned sleep. Draax was, after all, a mercenary and had been for most of his life. There was no way he would sleep away his incarceration. Draax would be busy planning an escape or at the very least, which guard he was going to kill first before he himself was finished.

Jolon gave a nod to the sentry that was standing guard. The sentry undid the knotted rope that was holding the cell door shut and Jolon stomped inside, pulling his sword in the process and pointing it at Draax.

"Alright already." Draax pushed himself to his feet with his good arm. A twinge of anger shot through him as he spied Jolon holding the staff he had recovered from the mound. It faded as quick as it arose but it caught Draax off guard that Jolon holding the staff angered him so.

"Come with me." Jolon turned and left the cell.

"Thanks for your hospitality boys." Draax was jovial to the guards as he walked from the cage, catching up to Jolon.

Jolon shot Draax a dark look over his shoulder but didn't say anything as he made his way back toward the main camp. They were about halfway there when Jolon turned from the main path to his left and made his way through low grass and scrubby brush, skirting around the camp, until they came to a stop at the back of a large, white tent. He fiddled with the side of the tent and a section came away revealing an opening and he motioned Draax inside.

Draax obliged and took a seat at a table nearby as Jolon leaned the staff against the wall and busied himself closing the flap to the tent, sealing the discreet entranceway.

That isn't standard issue. Jolon must have spent a lot of time building that into his tent. Draax nodded his silent approval at Jolon's deceptiveness.

"What happened?" Jolon demanded, getting right to the point, as he slid into another table side chair.

"What do you mean what happened? I got caught by your guards."

"You know damn well that's not what I mean." Jolon's face turned red and blotchy. "I'm talking about your assassins. They failed."

Draax laughed to himself knowing that his insolence had the desired effect. "I know that. Only one returned and he filled me in about what happened. Where did this other person come from? You said Braulor would be alone."

"That shouldn't have mattered. Your men are supposed to be trained killers."

"Sometimes things go sideways." Draax shrugged his shoulders. "It's something I've learned over the years. Something you could take a lesson in."

Jolon stared at him, his face reddening to a deeper shade as rage boiled in his blood. "My plans are ruined." He slammed a hand down on the table and got up.

Draax watched Jolon get up and pace back and forth, hands clenching. "Well, I'm here now. We can take care of things just the two of us. That's if you don't mind getting your hands a little dirty." He made a menacing motion with his finger dragging across his neck.

Jolon stopped pacing and was staring at the staff leaning against the wall of the tent. In his rage, he had forgotten it was there. He suddenly found it fascinating. It captivated him and drew his attention to it as if it were the most precious thing he had ever seen. Jolon's hand extended out, his fingers caressing the side of the staff in a loving fashion. Runes glistened along the length of its dark shaft. "Braulor still lives you fool." Jolon regained a measure of his composure.

"What difference does that make? He's in the Citadel jail. There's no way he'll be getting out of there. He's probably already swinging from a rope." Draax watched Jolon intently now, his eyes locked on him.

Jolon might as well have been made of stone. He stood staring at the staff; mesmerized by it. It was commanding his attention and he found he couldn't look away from it. Everything else in the room became irrelevant. It may have been a trick of the light but Jolon was certain that the runes flared ever so slight as his anger stirred at the thought of Braulor.

"How about it Jolon? Are you game to go for control of this clan just the two of us?" Draax shifted in his seat trying to wrest Jolon's attention from the staff, anger of his own percolating at having to watch Jolon coveting it.

"I have no problem with that Draax. Killing a few people here or there makes no difference to me as long as I get what I want in the end." There it was again. Jolon hadn't been seeing things. The runes had pulsed again at the mere thought of violence and the corresponding rise in anger he felt.

Draax was beginning to feel uncomfortable and fidgeted in his seat. The room took on a dark edge, the feeling of anger palpable and looking for release. "Then let's make some plans Jolon. Iron out the details. We can take over this place in a couple of days I'm sure."

Jolon was still caressing the wooden staff and didn't respond. It was as if he was in a different world.

"You name it Jolon. Your wish..."

Jolon interrupted him. "My wish, Draax, is for you to pay for your mistake. Making an example of you would go a long way toward my ruling this clan."

"I paid my dues. All my men are dead on that accursed trail. I almost died getting out myself." Draax's anger was coming to a rapid boil. The hostile energy in the tent intensified like it was an entity unto itself, feeding on the barbs being exchanged.

Jolon spun around, swinging the staff as he did so, right at Draax's skull, like he was trying to smack his head clean off his shoulders in one blow.

Draax was ready for the attack. He had been anticipating something as Jolon had stood staring at the staff and he had readied himself as best he could. He jumped up and caught the staff in the armpit of his good arm. He tried to retaliate but his other arm was still numb and didn't respond to the commands his brain was sending.

Jolon tugged hard on the staff but Draax was holding it firm and it didn't budge. Jolon stopped pulling on it and thrust the staff forward.

Draax didn't expect that move and the staff slipped through his armpit as Jolon delivered a hard kick to Draax's sternum which sent him tumbling.

Draax made to get up but Jolon arrived over him and brought the staff down hard across his back with a loud crack.

Draax crashed to the floor, gasping as the wind was knocked out of him. From the pain searing across his back as he labored for breath, he was sure several of his ribs were broken. He looked up and Jolon was winding up for another blow.

Behind Jolon, Draax could see another form. It was dark like night but ethereal at the same time as if it were made of cloud. It seemed to be urging Jolon on through some unseen connection and Draax frowned as his brain tried to comprehend what he was seeing. It reminded him of the shades from the Infrey Trail, only its raw power was unrestrained and savage.

Jolon swung the staff down like a hammer and Draax slumped to the floor unmoving, blood running down his fractured skull and pooling under his head.

Jolon stood and stared at Draax's body. For all his tough talk trying to impress Draax he had never attacked anyone before so brutally. It didn't seem like he had done it. It was like somebody else had taken over and directed his limbs as if were a marionette. He stepped back and fought down the urge to vomit. Sweat was dripping from his forehead, rolling down his face in scalding rivulets. He looked at the staff; its runes were blazing bright, like it was happy at what it had accomplished. A hand grasped his shoulder from behind. It was cold like ice and had the grip of several men. Shaking, Jolon turned to look at who it was. A faceless black shade was all he saw but it filled him with a terror he didn't think possible for a human being to feel. He wanted to call out, scream for help but he knew it would be useless. He would be dead before a single sound escaped his lips and he stood there, trembling like he had been pulled from freezing water.

The form looked past him to the heap on the floor that was Draax and looked back to Jolon. "You do good work."

Jolon's knees buckled and everything went dark.

### Chapter 19

Karuuk'ul watched as Jolon slipped away from the tent. Jolon was slow, unsure on his feet, not wanting to faint again. It had taken Karuuk'ul many minutes to wake Jolon the first time. When Jolon did come too he was in no condition to be of any use, almost fainting again when he opened his eyes to see Karuuk'ul looking over him. Then he started sobbing, whimpering about how sorry he was for everything while he curled himself into the fetal position and begged for mercy as if he thought he was dying and was trying to repent for his sins. It took several more minutes of persuading before Jolon was calm enough to take instruction and even when Karuuk'ul had convinced Jolon that he wasn't dying; he stared at Karuuk'ul with wide fearful eyes and flinched every time Karuuk'ul looked directly at him. Karuuk'ul remained in his preferred ethereal state. He could have fully formed into this reality but didn't as he felt trapped and confined when he was in human form, which was horrifying to even the most hardened humans he had encountered.

Even as Karuuk'ul watched Jolon walk back toward the main Greejon encampment, he still wasn't sure if he had reached him or if Jolon was going to return with a squad of armed men. It would be foolish for him to do so. It would only result in all their deaths and Karuuk'ul had bigger plans right now.

When Jolon was no longer in sight, Karuuk'ul let the flap to the tent close and he turned back to the interior. There he was, the human that destroyed his prison. The pitiful human that had somehow defeated all the shadow guardians that had been left behind to ensure Karuuk'ul's incarceration remained intact. How long he had been stuck behind the barrier he did not know. The dress of the time was different from when he had last walked this earth but everything else seemed similar. That was all he needed to know. The rest he didn't care about. Karuuk'ul had grown even more powerful during his imprisonment and had a long time to think about whom and how he wanted to exact revenge. It was a consequence of trying to house so much evil in one place. One could only become more evil and his hatred had had long to fester and darken his already black soul. Those that had been sent to join him, he ruled. They would be at his command and when he called them, they would do his bidding. They would obey him for they were his now and every bit as dark and evil as he was. He would enjoy letting them out of Tâ Oandimn, the realm they had been confined to and they would help him conquer this one.

There was one that Karuuk'ul singled out though; one that he savored getting his hands upon more than anybody else. It was the one that had sealed him in that filthy realm for eternity. He would be making sure to avenge himself upon him to the fullest.

First Karuuk'ul had to set the stage properly so revenge would have to wait. As much as he hated to do it, Karuuk'ul knew that he would need a disguise to travel this earth, his own human form too horrific to be able to move about. Again he regarded the body lying on the ground. The pool of blood had stopped growing but Karuuk'ul didn't need to see that to know that Draax lived. He could feel the steady beat of his heart. He could see the trace of Draax's aura, streaked with black, still clinging to his body.

Karuuk'ul knew Draax. Karuuk'ul was familiar with all the evil doers of this earthly realm through their actions. Every time they committed atrocities, no matter how slight, it was felt in Tâ Oandimn and he had come to know every sin they committed. Most sins he would just savor in the moment they existed, like a child with candy. Other acts were so exquisitely evil that Karuuk'ul would draw from them their delicious dark energy to add to his own being.

Even though all sinful acts were different, when they were perpetrated by the same person they had the same signature to them. They would have the same feel and emotional intensity behind them. Karuuk'ul had grown to know the different perpetrators by their signature.

Of course there were the 'one offs' as he liked to call them; the people who went too far when they couldn't control their anger, the people who acted out of noble cause that were just trying to feed their family or protect a loved one. They were of little concern to Karuuk'ul. Their acts harbored very little of the dark energy he craved. It was those who were truly evil, acting out of some insatiable lust to dominate that would repeatedly commit the horrible deeds that Karuuk'ul paid attention to. It was he who tainted their aura with black. For when they committed hedonistic acts, their souls were accessible to him for a fraction of time. With a swipe like a painter at an easel he added the darkness to their souls; a little piece of himself as a souvenir. The black never faded or came off, no matter how hard they tried to make things right. The black always stayed with them no matter what, like a marker of how nasty they were and Draax was near the top of the list.

Karuuk'ul drifted over to Draax and touched a shadowy hand to his back and held it there until Draax began to stir, then removed his hand. Draax rolled over with a long, painful groan.

Karuuk'ul waited as Draax rolled onto his back. He wanted Draax to see who he was. He wanted to see the fear in Draax's eyes when he realized the end had come for him. The party was over and it was time to pay.

Draax's eyes locked on Karuuk'ul and he stopped groaning with the abruptness of someone wrenching the needle from a record. His eyes grew wide with terror but he couldn't look away; couldn't scream out as the impact of was about to happen hit him with crushing force. He could only lay there and wait for the end like some domesticated pet that needed to be put down.

"Yes Draax, you remember me don't you?" Karuuk'ul chided, making sure to assume the dreadful form that Draax would recognize.

Draax did nothing to acknowledge him, his eyes vacant and waiting, trying to send his mind somewhere else and away from the devouring horror.

"Well, well. I must say, I'm disappointed. And after all the fun times we enjoyed together. Tsk, tsk Draax. Not to worry though. We can fix that." Karuuk'ul relished the dread he could feel emanating from Draax's body. "I certainly remember you. You had to know that sooner or later we would meet. There's no way you weren't going to pay for your 'sins'." Karuuk'ul waved an ethereal hand in a slow, teasing circle over Draax's chest.

Draax still did nothing. He was paralyzed with fear, thoughts and images pouring through his mind. The murders, the rapes, the stealing; their totality crushing him like a bug. He could feel a swirling in his chest like his skin was spinning under Karuuk'ul's hand. He forced his eyes to look down and could see a green vortex, like a cloudy tornado, turning under Karuuk'ul's deliberate orchestration. The vortex was spinning up, reaching toward Karuuk'ul's hand like a flower reached toward the spring sun, spiking and then withdrawing at Karuuk'ul's whim. Draax tried to look away but the best he could do was look at the ceiling of the tent, hoping that it would be over quickly.

"Yes, I think we are going to get to know each other very well in a moment Draax." Karuuk'ul's already dry voice laced with a wicked tone.

The green vortex spinning on Draax's chest reached up and encompassed Karuuk'ul's hand and Draax stiffened. He could feel something as the two entities connected. It wasn't painful but it sent an evil tingling sensation in a slow ripple around his entire body. Draax knew it wasn't good and tried again to do something but his limbs wouldn't respond.

The protruding vortex started to recede, sinking back to its original position on his chest. To Draax's horror, Karuuk'ul's hand followed, like they were connected now; bonded forever in some twisted nightmare. Draax realized the vortex was pulling Karuuk'ul into his body, which reacted with violent spasms.

Karuuk'ul looked Draax directly in the eye. This was his favorite part of the ritual. The moment when his victim realized what was happening and knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was taking over their body. It was inevitable.

Karuuk'ul's hand continued to disappear into the green vortex; past the wrist and continuing up the arm. As more of Karuuk'ul entered the vortex, more of whatever made Draax was pushed aside; squashed to the sides of the body, pushed outward from the heart and the brain toward the skin as Karuuk'ul's energy forced its way inside.

"You're not going to need this body where you're going anyway Draax so just let go." Karuuk'ul was gleeful as his being continued conquering Draax's flesh. "It'll be easier that way."

As Karuuk'ul said that, Draax could feel the last vestiges of his spirit forced out from the beneath the skin of his body like beads of sweat. His soul set free from the mortal flesh and sent along a dark strand of energy toward a blackness he could not fathom. A dark so complete he had no words to describe it. For a brief moment Draax was of two worlds; the earthly world of humanity and whatever the darkness was that he was hurtling toward. Nobody had to tell him that the darkness was pure evil. More evil than any of the deeds he had committed and Draax realized that he would never leave. He would live an eternity of pain and suffering, atoning for his life.

Outside of his body now Draax realized he was free to move and move he did. He fought with everything he could muster to claw his way back along the dark strand connecting his mortal body with the pit of evil that lay ahead. Inch by inch, amid the increasing appearance of beings along the energy strand that were clawing and pulling at him, Draax was able to slow his descent toward the darkness that was eagerly awaiting him. Time had no meaning now so Draax didn't know how long he struggled but he managed to get back to his body. He pushed and shoved and barged his way along the strand of energy hand over hand and was able to gain temporary purchase of his body. He could see the tent now through one bleary eye and buoyed with renewed hope, he struggled for more.

Karuuk'ul had seen it before. They all tried to fight their way back in once they saw what was waiting for them. They should have thought about that when they were still alive he would snidely remind himself. They had every opportunity to choose a different path but they still chose the path of evil and that path exacts a heavy toll. Not right away of course. You get to enjoy the spoils of your ways for a mortal life but when that had run its course, you were Karuuk'ul's forever. Normally he wouldn't even allow them the small amount of hope he had given Draax but he had been caught off guard. Of all the souls he had claimed, he was sure Draax would accept his fate like the hardened man he had been in life and he was surprised to see Draax fighting so hard to get back in to his body. Karuuk'ul had seen enough however. No point in getting Draax's hopes up too much. "You have to go now Draax. Your time is up and I have use for this body."

Draax was shoved out of his body for a second time with the finality of a slamming door and he knew it was over. He had done all he could. As he returned to the dark energy strand he looked back and could see his body pushing itself up from the floor and lurching to a steady stance like a baby learning how to walk. A single tear rolled from the eye he had reanimated.

Braulor looked over his shoulder. "We're getting close now."

Tagan was relieved. It'd been starting to feel like they would never stop running. Braulor had set a heavy pace trying to distance themselves from the pursuing Citadel guards. Even from the heights they had been, they hadn't seen anyone trailing them and didn't hear anymore barking. Tagan assumed that the patrol they were trying to elude had fallen behind. With any hope they had given up altogether but Braulor wasn't confident that the patrol had given up and he kept them moving at a brisk pace.

The visible path they started out on was no more and Tagan wondered if there was even a path to begin with. Braulor seemed to be taking them through a mishmash of clear land that never followed any logical direction. They walked hurriedly along trails and through ravines. Along high cliff passes and through dense forest, running where they could, and had the energy to, grabbing short rests along the way. At several points Braulor had to stop and climb a tree to get a better look and assess where the sun was in the sky in relation to where they were heading. The result was often another change in direction.

Tagan had never covered this much distance before and was amazed that he had pulled it off. He had no choice really. If he had become separated from Braulor for some reason, there was no way he would've found his way out. He would have been caught by the patrol they were trying to escape or he would have collapsed and died out in the middle of nowhere. Both were good motivators to keep up no matter how much his body complained.

Braulor was gazing ahead through the trees, eyes squinting, as he tried to focus on some unseen target. Tagan eased up beside him. "What do you see?"

"Nothing." Braulor sounded concerned but did not take his gaze away from where he was looking.

"That's good isn't it?"

"We're close enough to the Greejon camp, there should be guards posted but I don't see anything. It's strange."

Tagan traced Braulor's gaze out into the forest but could see nothing but trees.

Braulor put his hand to his face, cupping them around his mouth, and issued a series of yips and yelps, then waited.

Tagan shifted his gaze from Braulor to the forest and back again. They were both as still as the trees they were among, waiting for a reply. He listened so hard, the forest seemed to come alive with sound. Tagan could hear flies and bees buzzing around their heads mixed together with birds chirping, leaves rustling nervously, but no answering call came.

"This isn't right Tagan. There should be posted guards to answer that call." Braulor looked at Tagan, his face grave.

"Maybe they didn't post guards this time."

"We always post guards. It's standard security."

"Well, maybe they didn't hear it. Why don't you try again?"

Braulor raised his eyebrows at Tagan, frowning, but he cupped his hands around his mouth anyway and issued the same series of noises, this time an octave louder.

Again they waited. Tagan was listening so hard he could hear the thud of his own heartbeat and the swoosh of blood as it circulated his body.

Still no reply came.

Braulor's look of concern deepened and his lips compressed into a tight line while he thought. "We need to find out what's going on."

Tagan nodded.

"Stay close to me. The guards may have been instructed to maintain silence for some reason and they could surround us at any time." Braulor moved ahead, picking a careful path.

Tagan nodded again and followed but he could hear the doubt in Braulor's voice.

Their path merged with another trail and following it back with his eyes Tagan could see this new trail originated from perilous looking heights. Braulor glanced uneasily back up this new trail but didn't elaborate.

The path widened little by little as they walked, becoming easier to navigate and allowing them to pick up the pace once again. Braulor was tense as he walked and Tagan followed suit even though he was feeling more relaxed to be out of the deep woods.

Braulor kept slowing and looking at the ground, nodding to himself as he did so like he was ticking off a mental checklist.

They emerged from the forest into a large clearing that fronted itself on the river edge. There were paths worn in intricate detail around small plots of land, indicating that something used to occupy those spaces.

"Is this the camp?" Tagan was losing hope of having a comfortable place to rest ever again.

Braulor stood, gaping at the scene, trying to comprehend what was happening. He only nodded in response, mouth open, eyes screwed up like if he squinted the right way everything would come into view.

Tagan swept the area again. It seemed like there had been people recently but they had vacated.

"I don't understand." Braulor stepped forward a few yards and stopped.

Tagan didn't know what to say and continued looking at the abandoned camp. He had been looking forward to a nice warm meal and a safe place to get some rest. Now he didn't know what was happening and he dreaded the thought of more running.

Braulor walked like he was in a trance around the closest of the trails looking for any sort of clues.

"Something must have made them pack up early." Tagan didn't know what could've caused that to happen and wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Braulor didn't answer right away and made his way back to Tagan "Yes, but what?"

Tagan opened his mouth to try and formulate some sort of answer when a groan caught their attention. They spun in the direction it came from, nerves jangling, but could see nothing.

Another groan, this time a little louder, drifted to their ears.

They looked at one another and Braulor put his finger to lips indicating to be quiet and walked as stealthy as a cat in the direction the noise came from with Tagan falling in step behind him.

The ground was flat, with no obstacles to cause concern and they came to the edge of the tree line where there was a little path leading beyond, deeper into the forest. They stopped and listened once more.

A third groan, this one louder than the others.

The trail led them to a small clearing, perhaps big enough for one tent. The clearing was surrounded by trees except for another path that led out the back and into the bush.

"Help me." The ragged voice was coming from beyond the clearing.

Braulor and Tagan went toward the voice with caution, aware of the possibility they were walking into a trap. They stopped inside the treeline, pausing so their eyes could adjust to the darkness, before continuing on.

Several yards inside the forest they found the source. A man was lying on his side, arms and legs askew as if someone threw him there like a piece of garbage.

Braulor ran to the man and rolled him onto his back.

Tagan joined him; knife held out in front of him and was almost sick. The man's face was caked in blood and dirt. His skull was misshapen like someone had taken a hammer to it in spots. Tagan wanted to look away but found he couldn't.

"Water." The man's voice was raspy and hoarse. Without opening his eyes he fumbled around with his hands and grasped Braulor's arm with surprising strength and said again. "Water."

"Tagan, your flask." Braulor leaned in to get a closer look at the man's mangled face.

Tagan sheathed his knife and knelt beside Braulor. He opened his flask and poured a generous amount of water in the man's mouth.

The man gulped at the liquid, his tongue lolling out, lapping in blood and dirt at the same time. Then slumped the ground as if he had expended all his energy taking the drink.

"What happened here?"

The man opened his eyes and rolled his head toward them, looking at Tagan and then Braulor. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy. "I'm not sure. I was following a trail down from the mountain pass when I was ambushed by some guards. They captured me and brought me back to this camp."

"It looks like camp was abandoned in a hurry. Why?" Braulor glanced back at the vacant site.

"The beady eyed one, he was interrogating me in his tent when a guard came running in saying the camp was under attack."

"Jolon." Braulor didn't need more description as he envisioned Jolon's most recognizable feature. He was beginning to regret sending Tyran back alone and he wondered what had become of his brother.

"Yes. That was his name, Jolon. He left with the guard, ran right out of the tent and left me there. I could hear lots of fighting and then everything got quiet. Jolon came barging back in, dragged me out of the tent and left me here. Not before he vented some of his anger on me." The man indicated the welts and bruises on his body. "I lay here and watched as everything was packed up and they all left." With that, the man let his head roll back to the ground and closed his eyes.

Braulor stared at the man. He didn't know what to believe. It certainly appeared that there had been a hasty bug out from camp but he was finding this all too hard to digest. For all the time they had been returning here there had never been a problem before. Why now? Who was it that attacked them? They were on friendly terms with other clans in the area. It could have been some group of mercenaries that banded together for an attack to grab supplies Braulor surmised. That seemed more feasible than anything else but shouldn't have been enough to make everybody pack up and leave. They were more than well-equipped and trained enough to deal with a mercenary gang.

Braulor looked back to the man lying on the ground in front of him. Tagan was delivering more water to him and Braulor took the opportunity to scrutinize him. His wounds were consistent with being interrogated, albeit, not in any manner that he had trained anyone from the Greejon clan. The blood that covered most of the man's face looked like its source was somewhere in his hairline. The bruising on his cheeks and around his eyes looked like he had been punched or kicked more than once. Even through all the dirt and blood and swelling, there was something about the man that Braulor found familiar. He didn't know where or when but he had a feeling that they knew each other.

The man stopped drinking and lay still once more.

"What was your name again?" Braulor knew full well that the man hadn't offered his name.

The man seemed startled by the question, flinching as if he thought he was alone and was surprised that someone was there. "Oh. My name is... uhh." Karuuk'ul hadn't been ready for this question. In fact he had found his way into this spot as Braulor and Tagan came the edge of the abandoned camp. Only moments before, he had been putting the finishing touches to his face. He wanted to make sure he was convincing as a tortured prisoner so he had to apply a few marks to his face to play the part properly. Smacking his face on a nearby rock did the trick and it only took a couple of blows. It didn't hurt him. He could sense pain coming from the body but it wasn't his body so the pain was easily ignored and shunted aside. "My name is Grawton. Yes Grawton." It was the only name that sprang to mind when he was casting about for an answer to Braulor's question.

Grawton was one of the first souls Karuuk'ul encountered after he had been banished to Tâ Oandimn. He had tortured Grawton for what seemed like forever and Grawton never broke. Never once begged for mercy or pleaded for leniency. In his mortal life Grawton had been a grotesque murderer and fiend of the rarest kind. There were others that Karuuk'ul encountered that had been just as cruel and vicious but Grawton had that extra element that made him truly evil; that certain something that made him feared by all others. He had been so impressed with Grawton that as the souls had begun to accumulate and he discovered that he needed assistance with them all; it was Grawton he turned to. As Karuuk'ul had grown to rule his realm, Grawton had grown alongside him. But Grawton didn't want power; he only wanted to continue to hurt others for his own enjoyment so it was no big step for him to appoint Grawton as his second in command. Sometimes he wondered how Grawton had become the way he was but Grawton would never divulge the deed that had created him so he let it be.

"Grawton, huh." Braulor was hesitant to believe. "What clan are you from?"

Grawton tried to sit up but couldn't manage it and lay there rubbing his arms and legs, trying to promote circulation. "I'm not from any clans around here. I came from the other side of the mountains." He was proud of his quick bit of thinking. His recollection of the area was that there were other tribes and towns beyond the mountain ridges that he could see. He only had to hope that Braulor would stop asking him questions and be content with his answers.

Braulor looked at Grawton. He had dealt with clans from the other territories before and it was always a small group of representatives or a lone man from the respective tribe that had come on to the Greejon to facilitate barter and trade. In that respect Grawton's story seemed plausible. As a matter of protocol, the trades always stuck to business and little to no other information was exchanged leaving Braulor unfamiliar with groups outside of Brankin Huoh's territory. Grawton could have told him any name and Braulor wouldn't know if he was lying or not. He wanted to keep probing Grawton with more questions but he didn't want to hang around the deserted camp any longer than he had to. There was still a Citadel patrol out there looking for them. "Can you walk Grawton?"

"I think so." After a couple of feeble attempts to get up, Grawton managed to rise on a wobbly pair of legs. A few moments of swaying and then he looked at Braulor and nodded.

Braulor and Tagan both stood. "Good. We have a long way to go and we can't be carrying you. Try to keep up."

"I'll do my best." Grawton tried to veil the contempt he was feeling for both of them.

They wandered back to where the main encampment was and scoured the area for any supplies they could find.

Tagan found a large hide they could use for a shelter.

Braulor, familiar with camp details, found a stash of food and water, already in packs along with some warmer clothes. There was enough for everybody and Grawton accepted what was offered without thanks.

Braulor led Grawton down to the river bank so he could clean up and tend to his wounds while he and Tagan hung back, chatting as they watched Grawton clean himself.

"What do you think?" Tagan motioned in Grawton's direction with a nod of his head.

"I don't know what to make of his story. If he had told me the same story a few weeks ago I would never have believed it possible but with everything that's happened since then, I can't say he's lying. It feels like everything I thought I knew is upside down."

"Do you know people from other territories?"

"Very few and when I met them they didn't share a lot of details. We would go about our business and then go our separate ways. So it makes sense from that angle. Grawton could have been coming to organize a trade."

"But?"

"But, I'm not sold on the idea." Braulor paused as he shook his head. "There is something about him that seems familiar to me, like I have met him somewhere. I'm pretty good at remembering people I have dealt with before but I can't quite place Grawton."

Grawton was returning from the river side. He was rubbing his face with a small piece of cloth but not in the way one would when it was bruised. It was like he was scrubbing a copper pot.

Braulor and Tagan watched with big eyes then turned to face each other in shared revulsion.

Grawton stopped in front of them, his lumpy face in a twisted, bruised smile. "Well, that feels better."

As Grawton looked up, for the briefest of moments, he changed. Not change as much as it looked like something detached from his body, like a shadow that came loose. It was a flash of darkness and then he was normal again but Braulor caught sight of it.

Braulor stared at Grawton in amazement, too shocked to say anything. He wasn't even sure he saw what he thought. It didn't seem possible.

### Chapter 20

Lozan fidgeted in his chair, unable to find comfort in any position. He was restless and nervous but nervous appeared to be getting the upper hand at the moment. Many sleepless nights had passed since Braulor and Tagan's dramatic escape and despite the best efforts of his soldiers, they had not been found. One by one his patrols had returned empty handed and now there was only one patrol left out there searching. The other patrols hadn't been fruitless. They found Droinj's body downriver. It had washed ashore, curiously relieved of clothes and weapons. Lozan supposed that Droinj's possessions could have come off as a consequence of bouncing around the Jaswulder River for several miles but didn't believe that to be the case. That could only mean that someone had removed Droinj's possessions from his body. Lozan's wanted to believe the 'someone' who had taken the items had been Tagan. Part of him threw out a reminder that the 'someone' could have been the prisoner, Braulor, and Tagan was dead. Lozan was praying to any god that would listen to not let that be the case. He didn't know if he could face Kyriu with that kind of news.

Another distressing fact was that Tagan could've taken Droinj's equipment, sent his body on its way and left the river in any number of possible directions. That was assuming of course that Tagan had survived the plunge out the window. It could have been Braulor that survived and it was only a matter of time before Tagan's body turned up even farther down river. Or not turn up at all, who knows. There was always a chance that Tagan's body was stuck under some log at the bottom of the river and bits and pieces of him would only be revealed as the flesh rotted enough for limbs to break away. But, Lozan had to hold out hope that wasn't the case. It was all he had to cling to.

Lozan puzzled even deeper over Braulor. He was familiar with the name of course. Braulor was one of the Citadels most wanted for crimes against the state but Lozan didn't really know anything about him beyond that. Lozan even had the head magistrate to his quarters to brief him on the exact nature of Braulor's crimes. It hadn't helped.

Braulor was the typical rabble rouser that the Citadel tried to quell before they got too powerful and became a real nuisance. Braulor had been caught breaking into Citadel encampments and stealing supplies. That sort of thing was common, and by itself punishable by death, but Braulor had also excelled at the black market trade which the Citadel wanted to put an end to. Anything that took power away from the Citadel, or more importantly, took money out of the Citadel's vaults, was forbidden and for this flouting of Citadel authority, Braulor had escalated up the ranks of the most wanted. Now of course Braulor had the distinct honor of being the most sought after man in the land. If he was a ghost before he really needed to be invisible now.

A search of the Citadel records however had not revealed any person named Braulor born within Brankin Huoh's borders. This was unheard of. Since the enactment of the one child per family decree, meticulous records had been kept and it was unfathomable that any one person would not end up on a list somewhere. Only two conclusions could be drawn. Either Braulor was from another territory, which would be time consuming to discover, or someone under Citadel rule had an illegitimate child. This seemed the most likely scenario and it was on this thought that he was pondering.

If Braulor was an illegal offspring, to whom was he born and how did it go undetected? A pregnant woman close to full term is difficult to hide after all. And where would they have gone to deliver? Far from coming to a conclusion this thought was spinning out of control in his mind, like an overzealous weed, with sprouts shooting off in every direction. Could there be more offspring such as Braulor? Most certainly if there was one, there had to be others. How many were there? How did these people escape the exhaustive scrutiny of his guards? Lozan wondered if the iron grip of control he exercised over Brankin Huoh was as tenuous as it felt of late.

Tired of questions without answers, Lozan shoved these topics aside for reviewing another day. He had larger concerns.

Kyriu had returned and was outraged that Tagan had escaped. Lozan was still in shock at the violence Kyriu displayed when he found out. The scene was still vivid in his memory.

Kyriu lashed out immediately at the nearest adept and slashed his face from one side to the other, a second slash severing his vocal chords, cutting the poor man's screaming short. The adept fell to his knees and pleaded for help to anyone who had the courage to look him in the eyes, even as his blood drained across his hands in waves of crimson, splattering onto the floor. Nobody helped of course. They knew if they did, they would be next.

Kyriu grabbed another adept by the neck and choked the life out of him with one hand, his face contorted in a mix of rage and pleasure as the life-force drained from the adept's body. He dropped the lifeless form to the ground and snarled at Lozan that is what he could expect if Tagan was not found and then he swept from the chamber without another word; his demonstration of evil speaking volumes.

The door to his chamber burst open and Lozan jumped, his hands grasping the arms of his chair. He was relieved to see that it was only one of the Citadel messengers and not Kyriu barging in to satiate his blood lust. It wasn't protocol for messengers to barge in in such a fashion but given the gravity of the current situation Lozan had instructed them to notify him immediately of any updates; even if they had to wake him.

The messenger was panting as though he had run full tilt across the entire Citadel and stood before Lozan with his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath.

"What is it?" Lozan snapped, perturbed at the disturbance even though he had authorized it. "Has the patrol returned?"

"They sent a runner back." The messenger managed to get this out in between grabbing lungful's of air.

"And what news did he bring?"

"He will only speak to you, my lord." Catching his breath, the messenger remembered the proper protocol when addressing Lozan.

"Lead me to him then."

"Yes, my lord." The messenger stood up straight, turned on his heel and headed out the door into the hallway.

Lozan arose from his chair and followed the messenger, not bothering to close the door behind him. One of his staff would to it for him and besides, he was anxious to hear what the runner had to report. His life depended on it.

"Let's hope this is good news." Kyriu's controlled his voice. He had let his rage get the better of him earlier and he regretted it.

Lozan didn't even flinch. A part of him expected Kyriu to already be abreast of what was happening but this was like he had been waiting out in the hall the entire time. Planning his death perhaps? It sent a chill down his spine.

Lozan turned and nodded his head in Kyriu's direction. "I was just going to send for you."

"I know you were but I couldn't wait any longer. You're scared Lozan. I can feel it. It emanates from you like a smell and clings to you."

Lozan shuddered as the visage of Kyriu's rage induced carnage sprang to life in his mind once more like some play that had been on a break and resumed their gruesome act now that they had his attention. "You know much, my lord." And he nodded his head once more toward Kyriu.

"Since our little encounter at the induction ceremony, I know more than you care for me to Lozan."

Lozan stiffened at mention of when he and Kyriu crossed minds. Lozan had skeletons of his own and he preferred to keep that knowledge to himself.

Kyriu chuckled. It was a guttural gurgling that came up from deep in his chest like a phlegmy cough. "Don't worry Lozan. There wasn't anything too terrible in there. Your bigger concern should be this runner's report."

Lozan swallowed but remained silent as they continued down the hall.

The messenger made a turn to the right, followed by a left that took Lozan and Kyriu down a flight of stairs, across a wide hallway, stopping at set of large doors.

Lozan stepped through the door the messenger was holding open for them, stopping just inside the room. He didn't wait for Kyriu. Lozan knew he was there, right at heels and he heard Kyriu shuffle inside the room and the door close behind them with a whispering thud. The messenger stayed outside.

They were in a small room, flooded with light streaming in through a window on one side, the suns brilliance reflecting from the high shine the few pieces of furniture in the room bore. The runner was seated on a chair near a high arching window. Beside him, Lozan's head of security detail, Fiborn, was standing, one hand on the back of the chair, as he faced the runner, locked in deep conversation.

Lozan studied the runner. He recognized him at once having seen him doing drills with the main company, though he did not know his name. He was a young man, perhaps a few months above the minimum age for joining the guard. The young ones were often chosen to be the runners. Not only because they had lots of energy but because they had something to prove and would give that extra effort to make sure that the message they were trusted with made it to the ears of those it was intended for.

Fiborn stood up straight and nodded a few more cursory times at the runner then turned and approached Lozan.

Kyriu melted into the shadows.

"My lord." Fiborn bowed his head.

"What news is there on the escapees?" Lozan wanted to get to the heart of the matter right away.

"He would only give me a few details. He wanted to relay the full message directly to you as he was charged."

"What is his name?"

"Praet. He is third generation security detail. His grandfather was Paralt."

"Paralt?"

Everybody knew Paralt. He was a hero for saving the Citadel's leader of his day. His name was celebrated each year on the first day of spring along with other heroes of the land. Another show of the Citadel's might.

Lozan composed his thoughts and then approached Praet. "Your grandfather was a great man Praet." He used his most comforting voice as a way to break the ice.

Praet was shaking but didn't answer, only nodding to Lozan.

"I understand you have some news for me son. Did your patrol find the escapees?"

Praet took a deep breath before speaking. "My Lord." He inclined his head toward Lozan. "We crossed the river a ways back from where Droinj was found and picked up a set of tracks."

"Only one set?" Lozan interrupted, wanting to make sure he understood.

"Yes, one set, two or three days old, but it looks like there was a second person that was injured and was being carried on a stretcher or something because there were lines that were on either side of the tracks we found."

Lozan thought to himself for a moment. Three men went out the window. They found Droinj and now there was one person at least that was still alive. Lozan prayed to himself that it was Tagan. "So you followed the tracks and then what?"

"Yes sir, we started tracking them. The single set carried on for a ways to the base of the mountains. Hilly terrain but we found the stretcher hidden. From there the drag marks stopped and there were two sets of prints."

Lozan brightened when he heard that. That meant that Tagan was still alive, perhaps not in the best condition, but alive. "Where did the tracks lead to Praet?"

"They mostly stuck close to the road."

"And?" Lozan was growing impatient and wanted to get to the good news he hoped was at the end of this story.

"Well. Something must have spooked them because they kept up an intense pace. The tracks finally left the road, up into the mountains on an unmarked trail."

"They haven't been caught then? Or even spotted?" Lozan burst out, his hope fading to anger and rage. Then he got hold of himself and calmed down. Getting angry wasn't going to solve anything. Tagan was alive and that was something to work on. "And you were sent back to the Citadel at this point?"

"Yes, my lord. Captain sent me back. They were preparing to follow them up the trail. I ran almost non-stop to get back here."

"You did well Praet." Lozan patted him on the shoulder.

Lozan called for the messenger. The messenger entered the room and Lozan instructed him to take Praet back to the barracks for some well-deserved rest and extra rations.

"Thank you, my lord. That is most kind of you." Praet bowed to Lozan and then followed the messenger from the room, his chest out with pride.

Lozan walked over to the window and leaned on the sill, looking out over the land. Sweeping the horizon he could see the mountains that concealed his prize and he scowled.

Kyriu appeared at his side. "What now Lozan? Tagan has escaped your guards and we may never find him. This is not acceptable." And he turned and left Lozan alone.

Lozan listened as he heard Kyriu pad across the room and out the door.

"My lord."

"Leave me, Fiborn."

"As you wish, my lord." Fiborn exited the room like a ghost, leaving Lozan to himself.

Alone at last, Lozan felt like a huge weight was pressing down on him, threatening to crush him. He was losing control. A few weeks ago everything was going to plan. Tagan was under Citadel control and Kyriu was happy. Now he knew his life depended on finding Tagan and fast but he was at a loss as to how to proceed. The mountain paths could lead anywhere. There was enough food and water in there to keep Tagan and Braulor going at least until winter. The other side of the mountains belonged to a different ruler but he couldn't ask him for help. If he were to capture Tagan, Kyriu could turn his favor to him. Lozan couldn't have that. Not after all the work and sacrifice he had put in to get where he was. Once again his thoughts drifted to Braulor. The way out of this mess seemed to point to him. If he could only find out more about him then he might be able to formulate some sort of plan. He continued to gaze out the window, not really thinking of anything in particular and letting his mind wander when it came to him. The small glimmer of hope he had been waiting for. A flash of memory back to just before Braulor and Tagan went out the window. They were standing in the meeting room, Braulor was holding Tagan around the neck and Lozan noticed how alike they looked. He was stunned and he chided himself for not remembering the resemblance before but he could be forgiven with all that happened after that. His flagging spirit found one last rung to hang on to, one last strand of hope of which to cling. He hoped it was strong enough to pull him from the abyss he could feel himself sinking into.

Lozan stood up straight and looked in the direction of the mountain range one last time and delivered it a menacing look, then turned and left.

### Chapter 21

Lozan stopped outside the door and looked left down the hallway, then right, ensuring that he was indeed alone. He didn't expect anything else. He had bidden Fiborn to leave him and being as they were in the Citadel, Fiborn had no reason to stay within range of Lozan and protect him. Lozan didn't expect to see Kyriu waiting for him out here either. Kyriu's displeasure with this turn of events was plain even before the runner relayed his news. Lozan was sure Kyriu was in his room planning the most painful and gruesome way he could to punish him for Tagan's escape. He shuddered, remembering instances of punishment that Kyriu felt necessary to mete out and they were all equally horrific.

With the hallway clear of personnel, Lozan made his way up the stairs and back, not to his sitting room, but to his private quarters. Once there he didn't hesitate and went to a large picture hanging on the wall.

The picture was a larger version of the original that had hung here. It depicted Brankin Huoh from ages long past. Lozan had commissioned the recreation after he had been made ruler of the Citadel. It captured Brankin Huoh in the time of Gofyer, a poignant moment in Brankin Huoh's history. Under Gofyer's control Brankin Huoh was thriving and so were the people. The city was vibrant and alluring, drawing people from all corners. It was during Gofyer's rule that everything changed.

Gofyer began his tenure with much fanfare, taking the torch as ruler while vowing to be humble and just. He was the people's favorite to assume the job as well as those of the Citadel. Gofyer had that certain something that the people loved; a charisma that seduced the people of Brankin Huoh. He made everybody feel like they were his best friend, and at first, everybody was.

That changed when Kyriu came along. Kyriu convinced Gofyer to let him be his aide, someone he could turn to for visionary help. Some said convinced, others would say coerced. It was a cover of course. Kyriu had no intention of taking the peaceful version of Brankin Huoh any further and while under Gofyer's wing, Kyriu began the process of undermining everything that made Brankin Huoh great. Lured by the power that Kyriu dangled, Gofyer changed. Decrees began pouring out of the Citadel that curtailed or outright banned freedoms that the citizens had started to take for granted, feeling that they would always be there. At first the people took it in stride, justifying what was happening by thinking that things couldn't get worse and they were still free after all. It was the price they had to pay for security.

Things continued to get worse though, as rule after rule and decree after decree continued to be enacted and enforced, clamping down on Brankin Huoh. When Gofyer announced a plan to construct a wall around the city, the people had had enough and started to revolt. The revolt started peacefully but under the might of the newly trained Citadel guard, the mood soured. Citizens were strong-armed in an attempt to quell the uprising; hauled off to the work yards or the stockade for even the most minor of offences. Things seemed to calm down as more and more of the citizenry began to disappear, some to never be seen again, but the final nail was yet to come. Gofyer began to repent as he got older, realizing he had been duped by Kyriu. Nothing Kyriu had promised him had come to pass and he was weary, watching as his once flourishing city degraded into something no better than prison and in some cases, worse. His last official act was a tour of the city. Gofyer walked through the city streets, his eyes filled with tears, as he witnessed firsthand the end result of the decrees that bore his name. Meager crowds had gathered to see their once loved ruler. Tears filled their eyes as well at the man they saw lurching through the city streets, body broken and frail, spirit all but gone from his eyes, crushed by the plight of his city. Gofyer had stopped to talk to those gathered, offering a meek apology, when a hooded man emerged from the crowd. Enraged by the death of his brother in prison, he attacked Gofyer, stabbing him multiple times. Gofyer had chosen not to bring a security detail with him, wanting to be as close to the people as he could one last time. Gofyer died in the street, the small group of people he had stopped to chat with coming to his rescue and subduing his attacker. If any of them had paid attention, they would have seen a dark figure shrink back into the shadows of a nearby alley.

Since that time, each successive Citadel ruler had become more and more oppressive; all under the watchful eye and tutelage of Kyriu.

Lozan looked at the picture and smiled. It looked peaceful and serene and he thought of why he had it painted in the first place. Lozan wanted to remind himself every day that he ruled Brankin Huoh. He made the laws that enforced peace; made the laws that filled the prisons and work yards. Lozan ruled with an iron fist and he wanted this peaceful, gentle reminder visible to him every day to remind him of what it was that he was crushing. Without hesitating further he stepped toward the picture and slid his hand along the top of the frame. His fingers found the release he was looking for and he pushed it. The picture eased away from the wall on silent hinges. Lozan pulled it wide enough to admit himself and stepped into the tunnel it concealed.

The tunnel was his second commission as Citadel ruler. It took his craftsmen long to bore out the tunnel but Lozan demanded it under the guise of needing an escape route should the Citadel ever fall. There was some resistance to the tunnel's creation at first. There were arguments that if the tunnel led out, it also led in; a definite security risk. People also found it hard to believe such a tunnel necessary as Brankin Huoh hadn't been attacked in recorded history. Lozan fixed that quick enough. All it took was a few well designed but harmless attacks on the Citadel and the resistors forgot all about the tunnel not being needed.

As he pulled the picture closed behind him, Lozan was swallowed in darkness. He hadn't bothered bringing a torch. He had walked the steps often enough and he knew them well, even in the dark. Besides, the smell of smoke may have attracted unwanted attention to his quarters looking to make sure everything was alright. He counted the steps as he walked, one hand trailing gently along the wall beside him. The cold rock face felt good on his hand and soothed his anger for the moment but Lozan was already thinking about the other end of the tunnel. It was there that the real reason he had commissioned the tunnel dwelt. Lozan wondered if he would be there. In past times Lozan would send a signal that he desired to meet but as this had been a spur of the moment decision, there had been no time to send one.

The rock wall began to feel moist under his fingertips and Lozan knew he was close to the end of the tunnel. The water was a consequence of the tunnel being bored in close proximity to the falls. The churning water seeped its way into the tunnel, making the stairs slick and dangerous. Lozan slowed his pace to compensate and took the last section of stairs with tiny, deliberate steps and came face to face with a rock wall. He fumbled around the wall on his right hand side and felt the lever that would release this hidden door and pulled it. The rock face in front of him rolled open accompanied by a rumbling and grating of stone. It felt like he was coming out of a sarcophagus. Lozan winced at the light as it lanced into the darkness making him see spots as his eyes adjusted.

The cool air drifted in and Lozan took a deep breath and stepped forward, casting a wary eye out the opening first to make sure the coast was clear. As expected there was nothing out of the ordinary and Lozan strode into the light of day. He stopped and wondered if he should close the door behind him but decided against it. Lozan wasn't going to be long and besides there were many guard stations that were watching for unwanted visitors. That reminded him that he needed to take care not to be spotted himself. The Citadel ruler wandering alone at the top of the waterfall would bring a full squad to his side in moments and for this meeting Lozan required secrecy.

Leaving the door ajar for his return, Lozan scurried to his left following a narrow path. It sloped down toward the river and then swooped to the right, continuing along the side of the cliff wall that the river had long ago carved from the stone. The river beside him was flowing fast as it rolled off the edge of the cliff and plunged down, past the Citadel, and thundered into the pool at the bottom. He couldn't help but think about Tagan's escape via that same waterfall and he shook his head.

The trees started to thicken along the path and the sound of the waterfall faded as Lozan went. The path had leveled off and was drifting away from the river and into the trees. Lozan had never come up here without signaling first and he didn't know how Tyhreb would react.

It had been a day very similar to this, long ago when Lozan had discovered Tyhreb. It was the only name for him that Lozan knew and he wasn't even sure if it was his name. Lozan only knew it was the sound the man made when he had asked him his name. Lozan had become an adept in training. Things were so much different in the Citadel back then. The adepts were full of curiosity, seeking only to further their knowledge. The thought of who would rule the Citadel when the current ruler passed was never spoken of. But Lozan was different. He always had been. His plans for seizing Citadel ruler ship were only a seed then, germinating in his mind, but the seed was there and he nurtured it every chance he could. Lozan never spoke of his plans to rule the Citadel but his teachers were smart and they had a feel for things that was uncanny. Lozan was sure they knew of his aspirations and that was why he and Urthaj had been sent up into the mountains above the Citadel. They were supposed to search for herbs and such, for use in the kitchen but Lozan knew they wanted him away from the Citadel as much as possible. Limit his time to politic and network. No matter, he would do what he was commanded in good faith if it would keep the teachers off of his back.

Lozan and Urthaj had left the Citadel at first light, cresting the peak of the rise before noon. They would only have a few hours to find the herbs they were looking for before they had to head back. They were both hot and sweaty by the time they reached the top and decided to take lunch near the river. They ate and took off their robes, enjoying a dip in the chilly water. Deciding they better get to work they donned their robes once more and followed the trail along the river's edge. It was less direct but it would still take them to the meadow where most of the herbs they needed grew. As they came around a corner they stopped. Lying close to the river's edge was a large form. It was covered in dirt and twigs, tufts of hair poking out where there was no muck. They stared at it for a second, worried they had stumbled across a bear or something, but the form didn't move. Looking closer they could see that it was no bear but it didn't look like a man either. Even lying there he looked more muscular than any man Lozan had seen.

"We should go back and report this Urthaj." Lozan was eyeing the prone form. So far it hadn't moved at all.

"Why?" Urthaj screwed up his face in disbelief. "It ain't doing anything. Besides, I think it's dead."

"You know the rules. Nobody is allowed to be up here but adepts and the Citadel ruler."

"I didn't peg you for such a rule follower Lozan. I thought you were smarter than that." Urthaj mocked and then started toward the form before Lozan could stop him.

"Urthaj, don't." Lozan was frozen to the spot. He was stinging from Urthaj's comment but deep down he was also curious and stood there to see what would happen.

Urthaj stooped and picked up a long stick as he approached the form. He got close, but not too close, and looked back at Lozan. He took a deep breath and prodded the form in the back.

Lozan held his breath and time seemed to stand still.

Nothing happened.

Urthaj poked the body once more. No response. "You see Lozan, dead." He cast away his stick.

Lozan still didn't move. He didn't know why. Some part of him was telling him to stay back.

Urthaj walked around the form in baby steps, tip-toing with great care, to where he could see the front and crouched down to get a better look.

"Urthaj, get back here." Lozan hissed, terrified, but Urthaj didn't hear him. Two powerful, hairy arms shot out and grabbed Urthaj by the head and pulled him close. Lozan couldn't see his face but could hear Urthaj screaming as he struggled to free himself.

Able to break through the fear that was holding him in a trance, Lozan raced to help Urthaj. Lozan ran around the form but by the time he got there, it was all over. Urthaj lay curled up on the grass like a little baby, whimpering to himself, but seemed otherwise unharmed. Lozan grabbed him and dragged him away from the form. Urthaj didn't flinch and lay on the grass still moaning to himself. Lozan looked back at the form. Its eyes were open and they transfixed Lozan, appealing to him. Lozan could feel a dark strength pervading the man and it made him feel as if the two of them were kindred spirits.

Lozan never understood why he did what he did but he approached the form, staying out of arms reach. Up close Lozan could see he was more like a man but not unlike a beast. Lozan had never seen anything like it before in his life. It communicated with hand motions and head movements and a guttural voice that only made sound; nothing intelligible. Lozan could see the man was hurt and his adept training took over. He assisted the man with a large gash he had across his chest and stomach, then fetched him some water. It was while the man was drinking that Lozan tried to question him and the name Tyhreb came from his mouth. Once Tyhreb was comfortable, Lozan was able to get Urthaj to his feet and they ran around the meadow like rabbits, grabbing all the herbs they could and went back to the Citadel. Urthaj never spoke of what happened but it changed him. He stopped his belligerent ways and conformed to the Citadel standard, even becoming a model adept.

The opposite was true for Lozan and a darkness settled over him as he solidified plans and started take the first steps on a different life path.

After their first encounter Lozan made many solo trips up to Tyhreb over the years and they forged a friendship, if you could call it that. It was more of a working relationship. At first it was so Lozan could help Tyhreb heal but Lozan was also able to teach Tyhreb how to communicate. Lozan did his best to ensure that Tyhreb was left alone. Even now as ruler, this area was off limits. Nobody was allowed to enter without his consent but since nobody asked to go there, he never had to give it.

For his part, Tyhreb stayed out of sight of the guards and did the odd job that Lozan had for him, jobs of the nefarious type. Lozan didn't want any blood on his hands and he discovered that Tyhreb had a penchant for violence and he was exceedingly good at it. It was a relationship that worked for them both.

It was quiet now, the trees and brush dampening sound and letting light through in intermittent bursts, making it difficult for Lozan's eyes to adjust to the hazy dimness. There were no birds chirping, no bugs buzzing around. It was hot and oppressive and Lozan was regretting wearing his full robe when he heard a snap and stopped in midstride holding his breath, afraid to move. It seemed like forever but the noise didn't repeat and Lozan assumed he had imagined it and he started walking again. He took perhaps ten steps and then heard a swish of branches. He spun around to see where the noise was coming from and a hand clamped over his mouth, another on the back of his head. Lozan panicked and grabbed at the hands. He wrenched at them as he was lifted and carried into the bush as if he were lighter than air. Lozan struggled for a moment but tried to calm himself. It had to be Tyhreb.

They didn't go far and Lozan was thrown to the ground. He made to get up but a large boot stomped onto his chest, pinning him to the ground. Lozan's gaze followed the leg, continuing up the chest and found Tyhreb staring down at him a menacing snarl on his face as he drew his sword.

"Tyhreb, it's me." Lozan struggled to speak under the weight of Tyhreb's boot, his voice coming out in a squeak.

"No signal." Tyhreb continued to push his boot down on Lozan's chest.

Lozan looked at him in disbelief. He knew that Tyhreb was big on following established protocol but this was taking it too far. Tyhreb had done many dirty deeds for Lozan over the years. The non-signal shouldn't be an issue.

"I didn't have time to send a signal but I need your services."

Tyhreb stared down at Lozan for a moment that felt like twenty, sword twitching in his hand, as if he were deciding if he wanted to hear what Lozan had to say or not. Lozan wouldn't put it past Tyhreb to kill him. It would make no difference to him.

Tyhreb conceded and removed his large boot from Lozan's chest and stepped back but did not sheath his sword. "What?"

Lozan scrambled to his feet and wiped the leaves from his robe as well as the dirt that Tyhreb's boot had left. An outline remained however but Lozan ignored it and got down to business. He didn't have much time. "I need to you find someone and bring them to me."

"Dead?" Tyhreb was hopeful.

"Not this time. I need him alive." Lozan knew of Tyhreb's love of violence. It was what made him so useful to Lozan. Tyhreb could wade through a platoon of men, killing them in the most gruesome ways imaginable as he went, then stop for lunch like he had been tilling the field. Life was of little concern to him. Lozan didn't know what was of concern to Tyhreb and he didn't care. Lozan would use him for what he needed, as he did anybody else.

"Who?"

"The farmer, Kenok. I need to question him on some..." Lozan noticed Tyhreb, eyes closed shaking his head and waving his non sword hand around in front of him as if were trying to ward off wasps. Too much information Lozan realized. Tyhreb only needed to know who or what. Anything else caused him to overload. "You know who Kenok is then?"

"Yes." Tyhreb's large face was impassive.

Tyhreb was always a short on words so Lozan had no idea how well he knew Kenok or if he only knew of him. For all Lozan knew, Kenok and Tyhreb were old buddies. Not that it would matter, Tyhreb had a job to do and he would deliver. Tyhreb would probably deliver his own mother as long as he was getting paid.

"Usual fee." Tyhreb extended his hand.

Lozan produced a small leather pouch and dropped it into Tyhreb's large hand with a slight jingle. "I'll pay you again when you bring Kenok to me alive."

Tyhreb's eyes glowed at mention of a double payment and he shoved the pouch into his breast pocket. "Four days."

Lozan knew this was when he could expect to have Kenok in his possession and nodded.

"Next time, signal." Tyhreb made a slashing gesture across his throat with his sword, then sheathed it. Without another word he stalked off and disappeared into the brush like he was a breeze that blew through.

Lozan exhaled like he had been holding his breath the entire time and when he was sure Tyhreb was gone, made his way back to the tunnel entrance as fast as his legs would go.

### Chapter 22

They should have been there by now. Braulor knew it but he was the only one that did. Grawton and Tagan had no idea where they were going and followed Braulor without question. Why wouldn't they? Braulor was the one among them that knew where Vjeinka Rise was and how to get there so they were reliant on him. They didn't suspect for a second that they were taking the long way to get there. Braulor led them away from the direct route; back into the tree line of the mountains and from there followed a hodgepodge of trails that he knew; none of which led directly to Vjeinka Rise but he knew the right combination of trails that would take them there in due time. Not that Braulor wanted to go this way. He knew supplies would start running low but they would be able to scavenge along the way and Braulor wanted to buy some time. He needed the time to try and figure a few things out. Ever since he had seen Grawton's little separation trick, or whatever you wanted to call it at the river's edge, he had grown suspicious. He still wasn't even sure that he seen what he thought. It had all happened so fast. In a fraction of second it seemed there was shade around Grawton; a black spectral veil that somehow came loose and separated from the physical body before rejoining it. Braulor had seen many things during his travels but he hadn't seen anything like that before. He chided himself for not paying closer attention. When it happened, Braulor had turned his head toward Tagan and saw the veil from the corner of his eye. By the time he turned his head back, Grawton was back to normal.

And what of how they found Grawton; untied as he was and away from the camp. Braulor acknowledged that Grawton had been back from where Jolon's tent would be, so that part of his story seemed plausible. But Braulor was having trouble with Grawton's story of being a traveler that happened along the wrong path, captured and then tortured. Braulor couldn't deny that Jolon's recent behavior had deviated from what he knew. Jolon had become a different person. He had gotten himself wrapped up with mercenaries, which could only end badly. Mercenaries were loyal to money and themselves, so whatever deal Jolon had brokered with them would mean little. They would take what they wanted in the end.

Braulor looked back over his shoulder and could see Tagan and Grawton trailing behind him, engaged in conversation. Braulor had done this several times, sneaking a quick look back in the hopes that he would catch sight of the same thing he had seen back on the beach but it never happened. They were getting closer to Vjeinka Rise and Braulor still had no answers. Grawton remained an enigma, but he couldn't delay any longer. They would be there tomorrow.

"Yes. Oh yes." Grawton nodded in reply to Tagan's latest question. He was only half listening as the young Tagan peppered him with questions about everything imaginable. Grawton sighed to himself. They had been journeying for far too long now but Braulor kept promising that they were getting closer to Vjeinka Rise and that they would be there soon.

Grawton had long since dismissed this as truth. He had learned from Jolon the approximate location of Vjeinka Rise and how long it would take to get there. Even walking at a moderate pace they should have arrived there by now. Grawton was growing suspicious and sensed that Braulor had glimpsed the brief second he'd become detached from this accursed body.

Grawton grimaced as he slipped on a rock and fought to keep his balance. The reminders of why he hated inhabiting these sacks of flesh were bombarding him. Physically, the body was hot and sweaty, with a putrid smell that he couldn't quite place. The walking was making his feet throb and each step jarred all the way up his legs and into his back. He was giving serious consideration to abandoning Draax's body, gutting Braulor and Tagan where they were to be free of it. Since he had been freed from Tâ Oandimn, Karuuk'ul had revenge on the mind and so far, with a little luck, he had encountered the right souls that he could abuse to further his ends. They may not know it but he could sense from them the extraordinary ability they each possessed. Abilities that Karuuk'ul was hoping to exploit for his own purposes. Killing these two now would throw all that out the window and he would have to start again; which would mean even more time in this accursed body. He did need to get out this body though so he could communicate with... "What?"

"Braulor is my brother." Tagan repeated his statement with a nod of his head in Braulor's direction.

"Your brother. You don't say." This gem of information snapped Grawton back to his senses. He had thought so when he first met them because their aura's had similarities that couldn't be explained any other way but he had forgotten. He gave full attention now to the conversation.

"I didn't even know I had a brother until, well, until I was told." Tagan tried to skirt around the whole Meyu Kwi issue. Telling Braulor had been a big step and he was ok with that for now.

"How could you not know you had a brother?" Grawton probed, sensing this could be leading somewhere he could use to his advantage.

Tagan broke into the whole story of how he had been chosen at the induction ceremony and taken up residence in the Citadel and had met Braulor on his regular rounds through the prison. How he and Braulor had escaped the Citadel and had been on the run ever since, right up until they had found him and ended his story by saying Braulor had told him they were brothers and he had come to free him from the Citadel. Tagan hoped it wasn't as lame as it sounded.

"We'll stop here for night." Braulor stopped and nodded as he surveyed the area.

Tagan and Grawton joined him and dropped onto the ground. Grawton lay on his back, sprawled out with his eyes closed; his heaving breaths making his chest appear to be bellows.

Tagan sat on the ground and rubbed his sore legs.

"Tagan, help me round up some firewood would you."

Tagan groaned as he rose to join his brother.

Braulor motioned in the direction of the deeper woods and then walked off with Tagan following.

Grawton opened one eye; a tiny little slit and watched the two of them disappear into the trees. Then he closed his eye again and exhaled.

Rid of those two for the time being, Grawton allowed himself to relax, dropping his facade enough to taste the world beyond the boundaries of his fleshy cell. He forced the urge to completely abandon Draax's body down but so longed to be free of it. The clumsy action of the heartbeat, the rickety work of the lungs, it all seemed so hodgepodge. Thrown together into a bowl of primordial leftovers and out came a human body. As much as he despised its frailty, he couldn't deny its strength.

Grawton breathed deeply a few times, in and out, and then reached out with all his senses to the world beyond the physical; the world where he was from, and savored it. He was careful to keep himself centered in Draax's body and he wondered how humans did it. How did they live their lives trapped in this casing? Bound by it rules, governed by its limitations and blinded to the larger reality that they were part of. It seemed ludicrous to him.

He pushed the curiosity from his mind and focused on Braulor and Tagan. He found them, sensed them to be more precise, retreated a fair distance from him, squatting down, heads close together as they talked. No doubt they were talking about him but he didn't let that deter him. Based on their proximity to him and the fact that neither of them had gathered any wood yet, he deduced that he had some time to himself, so he better use it wisely.

He closed his mind off to Braulor and Tagan and focused instead on Tâ Oandimn. Through the myriad of energy swirling around him, Karuuk'ul found what he desired; the black stream of energy leading to the dark world that was his. He pulled himself toward the stream and immersed himself in it and let it pull him along. Like a leaf on a babbling brook, he let himself drift along, letting the stream dictate pace and direction and then he felt himself slow and then stop. He was home. It felt good to see it. To see the souls trapped there, suffering in open torment, made him feel complete but he wasn't there to enjoy this either. He focused on Grawton, the real Grawton, and his focus shifted to where Grawton was and in an instant, joined him.

"My lord." Grawton was un-phased by Karuuk'ul's sudden appearance.

"Grawton. I have little time to spare." Karuuk'ul pondered the concept of time. He knew that time didn't exist outside of humans, that it was their construct, but he was bound by its rules as he was occupying a body. "How are the preparations coming?"

"Everything is going according to plan."

"Good. Good." Karuuk'ul thought about returning to the human plane but stopped on a whim. "Bring me the one called Draax." Karuuk'ul occupied Draax's body but that was all. He didn't have access to his memories. When the body died, its memories and experiences are bound to the soul and they stay with the energy that generated them. It was standing practice for him when taking over a body, before the soul was gone, he would glean what he needed from it, but it had been a long time since he had been in such a position and failed to do so with Draax. He needed to see those memories. Something in the way that Braulor looked at him made him feel like there was a connection. Some sort of meeting of the two had occurred before and he wanted to find out all he could about it.

Grawton dis-appeared the instant he was charged to and reappeared so fast that you would have thought he never left. With him was the shapeless form that was Draax.

Karuuk'ul stared at Draax, sizing him up. He was in better shape than most Karuuk'ul had the pleasure of tormenting. Draax had been here long enough. By this time the damned were groveling and begging for mercy. Pleading for any way to get out of Tâ Oandimn, making promises they could never hope to keep in any amount of lifetimes. Karuuk'ul never wavered though. Never gave any leniency and would only provide a glimmer of hope because it made him feel good to toy with them. To him, they had their fun and now they had to pay the price. It was as simple as that. If they didn't want to ride out eternity in this place, they should have heeded the warnings they were given while they still inhabited a body. Once they were here, they were his to do with as he pleased.

But Draax seemed different. Calm and cool, his form was there, occupying space. Resigned to his fate and accepting of the punishment that came with it but he was not broken. Draax had not yet succumbed to the eternal horror that came with his damnation. He would. Over time he would break like they all did. Then Draax would be willing to do anything that Karuuk'ul bid him to do.

"To what do I owe this honor?" Draax shot the words at Karuuk'ul with venomous hatred. He hadn't lost his defiant spirit and the memory of being shoved out of his body was still fresh.

Karuuk'ul bristled at the address but remained neutral. He would have plenty of time to have his way with Draax later. "I wanted you to know that I have been enjoying your body so very much. For a change it's being useful for something."

Draax grunted in reply, uncaring.

"But there is something missing Draax. Something you still possess that I need to complete the illusion of who I am."

"What could that be? Everything I was is in that body."

Karuuk'ul's long arms reached out and pulled Draax in closer. "Your memories, dear Draax, stay with the soul and I need them."

Draax thought his situation couldn't get any worse. That he had hit rock bottom and could sink no lower but he was mistaken. A long howl of agony escaped Draax as Karuuk'ul probed deep into his soul, searching without regard for the memories he craved. With reckless abandon Karuuk'ul sifted through a lifetime of memories, wrenching them from Draax with force. Not that he needed to but Karuuk'ul enjoyed hurting people so he did it anyway. Karuuk'ul took memory after memory, stopping just short of Draax's childhood experiences. He wanted to leave those for later as they were exquisite and delightful to remove from the soul. Karuuk'ul wanted to save them for another time when he could savor them like one would a fine wine.

Karuuk'ul pulled his hands back and Draax's dropped to the ground, his soul even darker. It was as if someone had painted another shade of grey overtop of the grey that was there. The memories weren't permanently gone for his energy created them and they would always be a part of his soul but they were diminished in acuity. If Draax tried to reflect on them they were vague and fuzzy. He was a part of them but didn't feel connected to them. They didn't have any emotional impact on him and they could easily belong to someone else.

"Get him out of here." Karuuk'ul had no further use for Draax.

Grawton, who had been enjoying the moment as he always did, snapped out of his reverie at Karuuk'ul's command, and removed Draax. Taking people's memories like that was one skill that Karuuk'ul hadn't taught him yet. He supposed it was so enjoyable that Karuuk'ul wanted to keep it for himself but Grawton desired to know. As he had mastered every other conceivable way of torture when he was alive, Grawton needed to know. Even in death his lust for causing pain to other beings had not been diminished. It had served him well so far. Gaining Karuuk'ul's trust had provided him the endless means to carry out his heart's desire and it had been wonderful, but his thirst for more never ceased and he wanted to know how to do that as well. He would know.

### Chapter 23

The curtain slid across its rod accompanied by a faint scraping. As it went the swath of sunlight that was beaming in through the window grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared, choked off by the thick drapes, plunging the room into darkness. Kyriu smiled, if you could call it that. It was more a spasm of relief as drawing the curtain shut rendered his room into the dark conditions he preferred. He was still prickling from the news that the runner had delivered to Lozan. The gist was that Tagan had escaped into the Knalb mountain range and they didn't have any idea if he would be recaptured.

It was bad enough that he had returned to Brankin Huoh to find out that Tagan had escaped but to now learn that Tagan had gone beyond the reaches of the Citadel infuriated him. Such incompetence. Hadn't he impressed upon Lozan how important Tagan was? He would have to ensure that future commands were explicit in every facet.

Kyriu had returned to his room, brooding ever since, trying to think of a way out of this mess. The easier the better but no answers seemed to be coming to him. He had mulled over the idea of going to find Tagan on his own. After all, he could manifest into this world at will. The ritual that he had Lozan perform was not necessary; it only served to surrender their power to him. The rituals had nothing to do with him coming into this world. Kyriu could come and go as he pleased but when he did so without the spell work surrounding it, he would be weak and only able to stay for brief periods. Even with all the resources he had at his disposal, it could very well take a long time to find Tagan. And if was able to locate them, there would be little he could do to apprehend him or stop him from fleeing in a weakened state.

Deep down Kyriu knew what he needed to do. He needed to contact the leaders of his race, the people that he reported to. They should be able to give him the guidance he needed. Only they knew the factors that were in play so it was logical to assume that they would be able to show him the way.

It was for this reason that he had drawn the blinds to his room. Darkness was necessary for casting the spell that would allow him to reach into his realm and get the clarity he was seeking.

With the curtains closed tight, Kyriu set to work. He cleared a large space on the floor of his room, shoving tables and chairs and the like to the sides of his room. Then he put a large stone bowl on the floor in the middle of the clearing he had made. Next he went to the table in the corner of his room and took the large black candle that was on it, placed it in the bowl and lit it with a quick spell. Then he sat in front of it with his legs crossed making sure that he faced south. He took a moment to clear his thoughts and put aside the anger he felt with Lozan. He closed his eyes and focused his mind on the bowl and candle burning inside it. In his mind he started the incantation that he needed to open a connection to the Draepkos world. Deeper and deeper his mind sank as the words of the spell formed in his mind and rattled from his forked tongue in a monotonous tone. The words were coarse and difficult to master but he had used this spell many times and was aware of the toll they would extract from him. He made sure the key words of the spell were flicked out with force as if he was spitting them from his mouth. After several repeats of the incantation was complete Kyriu could feel his being press up against the barrier that kept this world separated from his. As he did the flame of the candle flared in a bright plume, so bright Kyriu could see its light through the seam of his closed eyes and he squeezed them tighter, not wanting to let in a single bit of it. The light from the candle continued to grow in intensity, like it was about to explode. When it seemed the plume could take no more, could not field another molecule of restraint, the flare snuffed itself out and the room was plunged into darkness once more.

Kyriu opened his eyes and could see the candle had melted, forming a black pool in the bowl. It was darker than shadow, darker than pitch. A black so complete it seemed it could swallow everything into its endless depths and still have room for more.

The pool writhed and slithered like it was teeming with snakes just below the surface. Kyriu could feel the energy coming from the bowl and felt relieved. It was always a comfort to get to this place. The dark energy consoled him, reassured him.

Kyriu intensified his gaze on the bowl. His eyelids drifted to almost shut once again while the wax pool continued to teem then went still as if it had died. Kyriu was deep in trance now. His slatted eyes were locked, a red gleam seeping out from them looking for the darkness of the bowl. He needn't look too hard as the energy from the bowl was drawing him in like a magnet. He could feel his essence drifting from the physical toward the blackness. As it connected with the wax, he could feel a biting cold. The wax was not liquid or solid anymore but as light as air, ethereal. His essence sank into it, into the nothingness that the bowl housed. Once he was immersed, they joined him. From the fringes of this space he could hear them moving about in clicks and clacks; communicating in whispered hisses in the darkness.

"Tagan has escaped." Kyriu addressed no-one, yet everyone.

A powerful being moved toward Kyriu. "We know this."

"What am I to do? I don't know if the humans can capture him again."

"It is unimportant now for we know their intention." The Draepkos king was emotionless when he delivered this news yet it was something the Draepkos and the Mrüg had long desired to know.

Kyriu perked up when he heard this. He had been busy attending to his assigned duties and had not been to his realm long enough to have heard any new news. "Our spy has been successful then?"

"A hurried message."

Kyriu couldn't believe his ears. How long had they worked to get that spy in position? How long had they bided their time, lurking in the shadows and periphery of existence, waiting for their time, time when they could reveal themselves in full once again and take open control of all the realms. "What is their objective?"

"They are seeking the stone."

Kyriu was aghast. The stone. He knew which stone the king was talking about without it being named. It made sense but the Amber Eye was fraught with danger for anyone to use. It was hated in this world and was only spoken of if it was accompanied by the foulest of language. If the humans were to find it they could shut the Draepkos realm out forever. No more access to the humans and their fragile, frightened minds that generated the dark energy they so craved. "But nobody knows where the stone is. It was lost."

"There was one that was sent to find and recover it."

"Rean Le." It was the Mrüg that had made her journey so impossible that she had to abandon it altogether. Doing everything in their power to trip her up, confound her and above all else, make sure she never found the stone. Going so far as to try and kill her but they were no match to her skill with blade and bow and failed. When Rean Le had given up hope of finding the Amber Eye, she disappeared altogether. Kyriu thought she had died.

"Yes, Rean Le. Our source discovered Tagan was told to find her."

"No information on where Rean Le is?" Kyriu was hopeful they could get to her first.

"Dwenar Gliv is all we know."

"So what do I need to do?" Kyriu asked.

"Let Tagan find Rean Le and be there when he does. Capturing her would be more than we could have ever hoped for. With her in our possession we could force our way into the other realms. Meyu Kwi would give much to have Rean Le back, unharmed."

"I will not let you down."

"I know you won't." The Draepkos king dismissed him.

Kyriu felt his being drift away from this realm. He could see it shrinking away as he pulled back into his earthly body. With a jolt he opened his eyes to full. Everything was blurry for a few moments while his eyes adjusted. He reached out to the bowl in front of him and felt the wax had returned to solid form. His fingers caressed the top of the wax the way one would touch their spouse and he longed for all this to end. No more having to drift in and out of this realm, herding these pathetic humans. He wanted be done with it all.

Kyriu put his room back in order and then opened the curtains. The sun was still out but had moved across the sky a fair distance, telling him a large amount of time had gone by while he had been in trance. He turned and went to find Lozan. Preparations needed to be made.

### Chapter 24

"What do you mean a black veil?" Tagan was confused and he shifted from foot to foot. They had been squatting for some time now and his legs were getting tired.

"I don't know how to explain it." Braulor shook his head, then looked away and sighed. He had revealed to Tagan what he saw on the river's edge after they had found Grawton. How a black shade had appeared to slip away from Grawton's body.

"Maybe it was a shadow playing tricks on your eyes."

Braulor looked at Tagan with one eyebrow raised, unconvinced by his argument. He had been over and over it in his mind and he was certain this was no shadow.

"Well, if a cloud drifted by at the right time or a bird or the shadow of a tree shifted. It may have caught your eye and that is what you saw."

"Your right, I suppose it could have been." Braulor nodded his head but deep down he didn't want to let go of what he saw. He was positive that it wasn't a shadow or anything else for that matter. Something about Grawton wasn't right and one way or another he was going to find out what it was.

"We've been gone a while. We should get to collecting wood for a fire." Tagan looked around, unsure what to make of the information Braulor had shared with him.

They both stood up and hurried about, collecting as much dry wood as they could find until their arms could carry no more and headed back to where they had left Grawton.

"What were you two talking about so much anyway?" Braulor referred to the lengthy discussions that Grawton and Tagan shared.

"So many things. It's tough to remember it all.' Tagan screwed up face trying to think of where to start.

"Did you find anything out about him?"

"Like what?"

"Like maybe a little more information about where he is from or how he got to be over here on this side of the mountains."

"You know, I asked but now that I think of it, he never really answered. He would always kind of turn the questions around so I was doing the talking."

"He did?"

"Yeah, like I tried to ask him if he had any family back home but I ended up telling him about my family."

"What exactly did you tell him?" Braulor knit his brows. This was getting his interest in Grawton piqued once more.

"Well, he was interested in my mom and dad." Tagan stumbled over the words, remembering Kenok was Braulor's dad too. "He enjoyed our escape from the Citadel. He asked me many questions about the Citadel and the ruler and how all the laws work."

Braulor looked at Tagan with a look parents reserve for their children when they don't listen but pushed aside his desire to point out how suspicious it all sounded. Tagan didn't bite on his ideas about Grawton earlier so no point in trying to sell it anymore.

When Tagan mentioned his dad, Braulor realized that in this whole mess he hadn't had the time to find out more about him. He and Tagan had shared a few brief discussions about his parents but up to now, they had been so busy running and trying to stay alive, the idea his father was not who he thought and was still alive didn't have time to register. It felt like ice had dropped in his stomach.

"Tagan, we haven't talked about dad. Can you tell me..." Braulor glanced over at Tagan and his voice trailed off.

Tagan had stopped walking and was staring ahead with a confused look on his face.

Braulor followed the path of Tagan's gaze and spotted the same thing. Grawton was lying in the clearing where they had left him, on his back, facing up toward the sky. But something was wrong. Grawton's skin was a mottled grey color and he wasn't moving.

Braulor dropped the wood he was carrying and ran toward Grawton. He heard Tagan's wood land on the ground with a thud behind him as Tagan followed suit and they both fell to their knees at Grawton's side.

Tagan was aghast as he looked at Grawton's still form and began shaking his shoulders and calling his name.

Braulor looked Grawton's body up and down for any sign of attack. An arrow, a sword slash, a stab wound but there was no blood anywhere. He switched his gaze to the nearby woods, wondering if there was someone hiding in there, getting poisoned darts ready for himself and Tagan. He couldn't see anything overt. Braulor looked at Grawton's face once more and gasped. He did recognize Grawton. Only it wasn't Grawton, it was Draax's face he could see; as plain as day. Draax. He hadn't seen Draax for a long time but he never forgot a face. He had been right along and this time there was no shadow to obscure anything. No quick flip from one thing to another. Whoever Grawton was, this wasn't him.

"Tagan, look at his face." Braulor felt vindication.

Tagan stopped shaking the body and looked into its face. The eyes flicked open but were black and vacant. Tagan's lips peeled back in horror as he realized this wasn't Grawton and let go of the shoulders. The body flopped back to the ground with a smack and lay still.

"Get some rope." Braulor grabbed Grawton's arms, pinning him to the ground.

Tagan snapped out of his shock and ran to his pack. He yanked everything out piece by piece looking for his rope, tossing aside anything that wasn't. His rope was at the bottom. He grabbed it and ran, his pack flipping in the air as he sprang away. With rope in hand, he scurried back to Braulor who was still the holding Grawton's arms.

"Tie the legs first."

Tagan grabbed both legs and started to wind the rope around each ankle and finished it off with a slick knot that tightens the more you pulled on it.

"Ok, his hands now."

Grawton's body started to quiver, a slight tremor at first that was building in intensity.

Braulor and Tagan both stopped and stared.

"Hurry. There isn't much time." Braulor screamed.

Tagan pulled the rope to where Braulor held Grawton's hands and started to wind it around the wrists.

The body was convulsing now, almost bucking them off like a Brahma bull. The legs were kicking as it tried to sit up.

Tagan worked as fast as he could and produced the same knot as he had for the feet and then he and Braulor fell back and watched in terror.

Grawton's body was flailing around, bouncing up and down from the ground, but the knots Tagan made held tight and then Grawton went still.

Tagan looked at Braulor with eyes like saucers.

Braulor only shook his head and looked back at Grawton.

Grawton sat straight up and his head panned from Braulor to Tagan and back again. "You got these on in nick of time I would say." He lifted his arms in reference to the rope now binding his wrists. His voice was deep and raw. It seemed like it wasn't even coming from his mouth but echoing from some unseen depth.

Once again Grawton flailed and wrenched on the ropes. His muscles were flexing and pulling hard and he groaned a horrible sound as he strained. With a nauseating crack one leg broke at the shin but the rope didn't slacken. Grawton seemed unaffected by this development and his face bore a curious look. He glanced down at the floppy foot dangling from the end of his leg with a childlike smile on his face and then frowned. He wiggled his leg making the foot loll around in a sickening motion.

Tagan felt like he was going to throw up.

Braulor drew his sword and inched farther away.

"No matter. I wasn't going to need this body much longer anyway." Grawton shrugged.

"Who are you?" Braulor was determined to have his answers.

"My true name is unspeakable in your language. But you may know me as Karuuk'ul, the shadow keeper."

Braulor didn't recognize the name. "What did you do with Draax?"

Grawton laughed; a low chuckle that was filled with mirth as if he were remembering something with great fondness. "You needn't worry about him Braulor. Draax is right where he deserves to be; serving penance for all the fun he had with this body. Pity I wasn't around to help him. We could have ruled this realm he and I."

Now it made sense to Braulor. The shadow keeper was an old legend that referred to the one who presided over those souls that committed evil deeds during their lives. He had heard the tales but never took them seriously. He never had need to. Braulor had seen many men die and never had they done anything more than drop where they were. Their bodies left looking like a marionette whose strings had been cut; crumpled and withered as if the master had removed his hand from the puppet. For that reason he had never feared dying; the finality that came with it and all your worries and concerns with it. "How did you get here?"

"That is a story we don't have time for right now my dear boy. Our paths will cross again soon enough but I would like to leave you both with a little souvenir, something for you to remember me by." Then he closed his eyes and lay back flat on the ground. He didn't fight or tug at the ropes; he lay there, still as any other piece of ground. But you could feel energy building. Tagan and Braulor didn't know what it was but it was emanating from his body and pulsated like a heartbeat. Faster and faster it went. A scream escaped his lips and Grawton's body exploded outward, cracking right down the middle from chin to groin, spewing heart, lungs and intestines in a gruesome pattern around the body. A black form shot out from the chest cavity at the same time and hovered in the air above Draax's destroyed body, red eyes twinkling in the daylight. It looked at both of them. "Yes, we will meet again soon enough." And it disappeared into itself, shrinking down to a tiny dot and was gone.

### Chapter 25

A tremor rippled across the frame of the picture and Kyriu snapped to attention. With a gentle thrust the picture drifted away from the wall. Lozan's head popped out from behind it, eyeing the room before the rest of him emerged and pushed the picture closed behind him. Lozan looked weary, his face red and hair matted down with sweat. His robes were soiled in a few spots, notably on his chest, where there was centered a large, heavy, mud imprint that looked like it was made by a boot. But Lozan wore a satisfied expression and he wandered off without stopping in the direction of his bed room.

Kyriu eased out from the shadow in which he had concealed himself and looked in the direction of Lozan's bed chamber. He wasn't angry with Lozan. In fact Kyriu had known about the tunnel since it was constructed. He had even walked it once to see for himself where it came out. He lost interest when he found out that it ended at the top of the rise that the Citadel was built on. It had a great view of the valley below and Kyriu concluded that Lozan used it as a way to escape the demands of being Citadel ruler; a place where he could go to get some peace and quiet to reflect on his duties. Kyriu had learned over the years that peace and quiet, or alone time, was something that humans craved from time to time so he decided to let Lozan have his little secret. It made no difference to him and if it made Lozan be that much more receptive to his leadership then so be it. He could live with that. But he was puzzled over the look on Lozan's face when he came back. When Kyriu had left Lozan after the meeting with the runner and the bad news the runner had delivered, Lozan had looked defeated. Like a man that was in over his head and had realized that he was going to drown unless something drastic happened that changed the course of events he was caught in.

However, when Lozan had returned from the tunnel, he looked much relieved. Kyriu would even go so far as to so he was elated. That's quite a swing in emotion. Possibly more than could be achieved with some me time. As a being that thrived on fear, Kyriu was sensitive to changes in the emotional state of humans. He wondered to himself if he should take another trip up the stairs and have a more detailed look around, perhaps there was more going on up there than a little escape for Lozan.

"My lord?" Lozan had emerged from his bed chambers and was standing there staring at Kyriu with a quizzical look on his face. Lozan had donned new robes and his face was no longer red and streaked with sweat stains. Having washed up, he looked back to his normal self.

Kyriu debated if he should confront Lozan about what he had been doing up at the top of the mountain but opted not to. "Have you decided what you are going to do about finding Tagan?"

"Well, I uhh." Lozan struggled for something to say. "The patrol is still out there. I was planning on sending out additional personnel."

"Send out a small additional troop but I have learned other news that changes our approach."

Lozan's pleasant demeanor was threatening to sink once more. He wasn't sure he could take any more bad news. So far he felt like he had handled things as miserably as he could.

"Braulor and Tagan won't be staying in the high mountains for long."

"Are you sure of this?"

"Quite sure." Kyriu's tone was neutral even though he felt annoyed at being questioned. But he knew that Lozan was aware of his failures and didn't want to continue making things worse. He was trying to think things through and make sure that everything would work out in his favor.

"Why would they come out? They must know that they are being pursued and will look to keep going across the mountains."

"They will come out and then we will recapture them." Kyriu's tone had a ring of finality to it.

"Where will they come out, my lord?" Lozan ran over the lay of the land in his mind, trying to think ahead.

"Where, is not important right now but there is a person they seek. They think this person can help them and are going to leave the safety of the mountains to find them, but they will find us instead." Kyriu kept mum about Rean Le. Lozan could learn of her later, for now he only needed to know they would have their chance to recapture Tagan and Braulor. Getting back in Kyriu's good books should be enough to placate him. "Right now we need to make haste. Time is already slipping away from us and we have many miles to cross to catch our prize."

"We, my lord?"

"Yes, we, Lozan. This is too important to let some troops deal with and possibly make things worse. You and I are going to be there to make sure that Tagan is captured alive. The other one can be killed if necessary, he is unimportant to our plans."

"Yes my lord. I will tell the stable master to ready the horses." Lozan stood up straight. He was sounding stronger now. Even though he had not been out of Brankin Huoh for quite some time, and the thought of it scared him, he was glad to have something to do; something to focus on and take his thoughts away from what would happen to him if Tagan was not recaptured. He followed Kyriu out of his private quarters, calling for servants as he went to make everything ready.

Tyhreb slowed his pace as Kenok's farmhouse came into view. He found a good vantage point with no trees or other obstructions from which to assess the situation and sat down on the cold ground and surveyed the scene below. He didn't blink for long minutes as his head swiveled slowly from side to side taking everything in. Nothing escaped his attention. He was like an eagle looking for a mouse in a field. From where he was he could see the whole valley spread out before him. Each farm had a different color and texture depending on what was growing. There was the yellow of wheat, the green of peas and barley. Other plots of land showed only the brown of dirt. It looked like a giant puzzle.

Kenok's house stood near to the mountain but not snug against it and Tyhreb estimated there to be perhaps a few hundred yards where he would have no cover to hide behind until he was at the house. Tyhreb could tell from the chill that was setting in, the sun was getting ready to set for the night. He could hear the sounds of night creatures as they began to stir, readying for the approaching night. They wouldn't bother him though. They never did. The waxing moon was hanging like a tiny sliver in the clear sky. A few stars were popping out to keep it company but it would be a dark night. Tyhreb nodded to himself with one less thing to worry about. It would be a good night to complete this task and get back to his home. He missed it already. As much as he enjoyed taking care of these little jobs for Lozan, Tyhreb preferred to stay close to his home.

Lozan. Thinking of him made Tyhreb growl to himself, low and treacherous. He was still fuming from not receiving their agreed upon signal before their meeting but he had to focus on the task that Lozan had given him. What he would have done if Lozan had made it all the way to where he lived Tyhreb didn't want to think about. Nobody had ever made it that close before and he wanted to keep it that way. He was certain that he had put enough fear into Lozan that he would never try to approach without signaling first ever again.

Tyhreb looked down at the quiet farmhouse again to get his bearings one last time and then retreated into the bush to wait for nightfall. He went through his pack, organizing as he went. He didn't bring much with him for this job as he figured he would only need two or three nights to grab Kenok and get back to the meeting place to hand him over to Lozan.

He stuffed a burlap sack in his large pocket. He wondered if he should have brought one big enough to shove Kenok into, lock, stock and barrel but it was too late now and he wasn't fond of the idea of having to carry this man across the high passes he would be going through on the way back. Better to make him walk under his own power. His sword was strapped to his thigh. A knife hung, pommel down, from its sheath on his chest. If he was going to take a person or two out he'd have brought more weapons. The people that Lozan sent him to take care of were either well-armed or had security that was well armed. Tyhreb was certain that he wouldn't even need to use his weapons to grab one civilian. His plan was to sneak down there, gain entrance to the house and snatch Kenok right out of his bed before he even knew what was going on. Lozan had specified that he wanted Kenok alive so he hoped there would be no struggle. He could control himself in most cases but he didn't want to let down his guard with Kenok and do something foolish like kill him.

Tyhreb took two pieces of rope from his pack. One he stuffed in his pocket, near the burlap sack. The other, he knotted around the top of his pack, taking the loose end and throwing it over a branch of the tree he was under and pulled his pack up out of the reach of animals, then tied the rope off to the bottom of the tree. He would be back later to get it.

With everything ready, all there was to do was sit and wait. Tyhreb leaned back against the tree and listened to the sound of the woods. It calmed him. His breathing slowed and eyelids began to droop.

### Chapter 26

"What was that?" Tagan's eyes were still wide with shock looking at the empty space that had housed the corporeal form animating Grawton's body. Or Draax as Braulor had referred to him.

Braulor had stopped recoiling and moved closer to the tied body, looking at it in disgust.

"What was that?" Tagan repeated himself, this time with more urgency as he whipped his head around, letting his gaze fall on Braulor.

"This is Draax." Braulor, pointing, studied the twisted visage that was once Draax's body. It was split from shoulder to pelvis, right down the middle. Innards exploded outward like something had forced its way out with great violence. But for all its gruesomeness there was not the amount of blood one would expect to see from a wound this invasive. What little blood there was had already stopped flowing and coagulated along the skin where it tore apart. Braulor had seen many wounds in his day but nothing to compare to this. It was so sterile and clean to the point that it almost didn't seem real.

"That, that, shade or whatever it was that came out of the body then was Grawton? Was that his soul?" Tagan was still confused, struggling to try and make sense of what he had witnessed.

"I'm not sure. He called himself the shadow keeper"

"Who is that?"

Braulor looked at the body a little longer and then stood up and walked away, motioning for Tagan to join him.

"The shadow keeper is an old tale. It says when people die, they move from this world to the afterlife. If they led a good life and worked hard, they would enjoy an eternity of ease and luxury for the toil they endured during their lives here."

Tagan had never heard anything like this before. Everybody in Brankin Huoh was taught that the Citadel was everything. You worked for the Citadel. You did what the Citadel commanded and you never questioned it. You worshipped the Citadel and its ruler and everything you had in life was thanks to the Citadel. And when you died, that was it. There was nothing more after that. If you worked hard during your life and served the Citadel well, that was your only comfort when you died, and it died with you; nothing after that. "Where does this shadow keeper come in then?"

"That's the other side of the myth. If you didn't work hard during your time here and you did bad or evil things, when you died, you went to another place to serve out eternity doing penance. That is the land of the shadow keeper. He rules there and is the one who dishes out the punishment to those damned to be there."

Tagan wasn't sure what to think. Before all this started he would never have believed anything like that to be possible but he had learned so much since then. That Quanna Eresse wasn't a figment of his imagination and now this whole episode with Grawton or Draax or whatever it was. If he hadn't seen these things with his own eyes he would have thought they were made up.

"What did the shadow keeper mean 'we will meet again soon enough'?" Tagan was suddenly afraid that is where he would be going when he died.

Braulor looked at him, his face stern. "That's what concerns me. The whole way we found him. Alone and having been tortured at the hands of Jolon. It didn't make much sense at the time but now it all seems to make sense."

"How so?"

"Well, the way the camp was deserted. We chose that place for a camp because it is difficult to be ambushed there and easy to defend. Grawton said there was an ambush but thinking back I didn't see any signs of a struggle or a fight. There should have been something. Bodies, armor, and things you would expect to see after a battle but there wasn't any of it."

"What do you think happened?"

"It all keeps coming back to Grawton. It's hard to tell what really happened but if he is the shadow keeper then something drew him from his world to this one. The Greejon camp being abandoned had something to do with him." Braulor looked back to Draax's vacated body and a bunch of pieces fell into place and he started to grasp what the shadow keepers ominous warning meant.

"But he was unarmed and untied when we found him. And what about his injuries?"

Braulor didn't acknowledge Tagan and stood like a tree, staring at the body, not blinking, not moving in any way. It was like he wasn't even there.

"Braulor?" Tagan looked from Braulor to the body and then back again.

Thoughts were flying around Braulor's brain like moths around a flame as he reasoned everything out. "You're right, he wasn't tied or anything and it makes sense. It was because of him that camp was abandoned."

Tagan didn't know what to say and let Braulor continue.

"Don't you see? I think part of his story was true. He did interact with Jolon but somehow he convinced Jolon to get the camp to pack up and leave."

"Do you really think?"

"Jolon could have said anything. Told them they were threatened with an attack or something and they would have listened to him; especially if he managed to convince the council."

Tagan wasn't familiar with life in a clan so he had to agree with what Braulor was saying.

Braulor was pacing back and forth now, ideas racing in his mind, making connections. "Before I came to the Citadel, Tyran came to me and told me that Jolon was acting strange and had left camp. He had gone to meet Draax." Braulor stopped as he said it, like he hit a brick wall, nodding as the final piece fell into place. "C'mon we have to go." And he darted to where his pack was and started shoving his stuff back into to it.

It was Tagan's turn to stand still and he didn't move until Braulor hollered at him over his shoulder. "Move it Tagan, we can't waste any more time here."

Tagan followed suit and ran to his pack and scooped up the contents he had strewn while he was getting his rope out and crammed them back into his pack in a jumbled mess. His hands were shaking as he closed the clasps and hoisted his pack over his shoulder. He didn't know what was going on but he could tell from the urgency in Braulor's voice that it was something serious.

Braulor spun around then went to the body, pulled out his knife and cut the rope near its feet. He sheathed his knife and worked the rope undone and coiled it up, returned to his pack and stuffed it inside and closed it. He whipped his pack over his shoulders and with a quick nod to Tagan took off toward the mountains.

Tagan didn't question and fell in step behind him.

### Chapter 27

Tagan stopped where they were going; confident Braulor knew this land and was taking them in the right direction. He no longer wondered about where; now he was wondering when they would stop. They had started off at a sprint but unable to keep that pace up had slowed to a light jog. They hadn't stopped however and Tagan ached everywhere. From the soles of his feet to the top of his head, every step was becoming a painful experience. An experience he didn't want to feel any more. His throat hurt from gasping for air. His lungs burned with that same air and the stitch he had was no longer content to stay in his side and was spreading out around his whole abdomen. Braulor hadn't said anything. He kept them moving, the land undulating beneath their feet in waves. Up, down, up down. But they were continually sloping upward. Tagan could tell that much. Through the few breaks the trees provided he could see the valley floor getting farther and farther away, the Jaswulder slimming from raging river to line of blue that cut through the land.

Cresting another hill Tagan saw a blur to his right and Braulor went down in a tangle. Before Tagan could even yell out he felt a pair of arms wrapped around him and down he went too. He struggled to reach his weapon but the arms were like rope and held him tight. He couldn't budge. "Get off me." He could hear Braulor struggling somewhere nearby but couldn't see anything and tried to crane his head around to locate him.

"Crenoah. It's me. Get off."

The struggling stopped. The pair of arms around Tagan slackened a little but didn't let go.

"Braulor?" an unbelieving voice exclaimed.

"Yes. It's me. Now will you get off."

Tagan still couldn't see anything but heard a sigh of relief and the scraping of ground as Crenoah got to his feet.

"What's going on?"

"We didn't know it was you Braulor."

"That's my brother. Let him go." Braulor commanded and the muscular arms holding Tagan pulled away like they discovered they were holding something dangerous.

Tagan rolled over onto all fours and then bounded to his feet, adrenaline pumping through his veins now that he was free, and cast around, taking in the scene. Braulor was dusting himself off while a burly man stood nearby watching him closely. Two more men stood looking from Braulor to Tagan.

"Your brother?" a tall, wiry man said; a confused look on his face.

"Yes, Stonjsin, my brother. It's difficult to explain." Braulor could see the men look at one another.

"Who are these guys?" Tagan hadn't moved from where he was and eyed the group with blatant suspicion.

"These are men from my clan."

Tagan relaxed a little and moved closer to Braulor as he brushed twigs and leave from himself.

"But why are you guy's way down here?" A confused look of his own set in across Braulor's face. "Why aren't you at Vjeinka Rise?"

The men looked at one another again and a somber mood infected the area, chilling the air and forcing dread in Tagan's stomach.

"What happened?" Braulor asked when none of the men offered any news.

"We're not sure what happened, Braulor."

"What do you mean you're not sure, Drebos?"

"He means we don't know what happened." Stonjsin assumed control for the sheepish Drebos.

Braulor just looked at them incredulously, not knowing which of the dozen questions he should ask first. "Explain it as best you can then."

"It was a normal day. Everybody was going about their business. Right around lunch though, everything changed. We were attacked."

This, Braulor could understand and nodded "Ok. You were attacked. By who?"

"That's what we don't know Braulor. It was like nothing I have ever seen before. Dark... things were popping up here and there and everywhere. Out of thin air they would appear right beside one of us and they would attack, killing with one or two strokes before disappearing again." Stonjsin was working hard to keep his quivering voice from breaking.

Braulor and Tagan looked at each other as ice set in their veins. Both of them knew what Stonjsin was talking about.

"We didn't know what to do. Men were dropping dead left and right. Pools of blood were everywhere. Men were going crazy slashing at the air around them with their swords; shooting arrows at nothing. Then the slashes and arrows started hitting each other and things got really awful. I tried to rally the men as best I could but there was too much panic and confusion; people running mad in every direction trying to defend themselves. I made the decision to get the women and children into the rear tunnel and dropped the Crazzank."

Braulor was stunned.

The Crazzank was rock and rubble that was set up as a last resort if they were under attack. They could retreat into the rear most tunnels and release the Crazzank, sealing off the tunnel. It would take weeks for attackers to dig through the rubble and pursue them .By then the clan would be long gone. Braulor was sure that it would never be used; certainly not in his lifetime. That Stonjsin felt compelled to go to such an extreme as to drop the Crazzank spoke volumes about the horrific nature of the situation.

"Where were Jolon and the council during all this?" Braulor found it hard to believe that nobody from the council had taken control.

"I don't know, Braulor. I saw Jolon at one point but there was too much mayhem, the council didn't have time to do anything. I had to make a decision."

Braulor moved to Stonjsin and patted him on the shoulder. "You did what you had to do Stonjsin. Don't forget that. You saved the women and children."

Emotion overwhelmed Stonjsin and he broke down, his body wracking with sobs.

The rest of the men looked away, their own eyes filled with tears, faces contorted, as they tried to hold back emotions.

Braulor stopped patting Stonjsin and surveyed the rest of the men. "So how did you come to be here?"

"I was back to back with Crenoah trying to keep from getting stabbed or shot in the melee. When the Crazzank dropped, dust was everywhere. We couldn't hear anything. It looked like fog had rolled in. Stonjsin came running out of the dust and grabbed us and we all ran for it, right out the front of the cave." Drebos trailed off, feeling like he had abandoned everybody.

"We came down here and decided to wait and see if anyone else got out so we could mount a counterattack." Crenoah added.

Stonjsin only nodded in agreement, still trying to gather himself.

Braulor sighed, pondering, before asked. "What about Tyran? Did anybody see him?"

The men looked at one another and each of them shook their heads.

### Chapter 28

It took time to get everything organized to Kyriu's liking before they could leave. They were going by horse and Lozan had assumed, or rather hoped, that meant a carriage but found out there was no way. He had gone ahead and had the official carriage of the Citadel brought out, complete with regal tassels and colors. The staff had finished preparing it when Kyriu arrived to the ready area and pointed out his objection to Lozan. He had remained calm but Lozan could sense the anger that lurked below the surface. Having the carriage unhooked and rolled away took a deal longer than Lozan would have liked and he couldn't believe that he had disappointed Kyriu once again. To say he was frustrated was an understatement. Further frustration was caused by the fact that they were going to be riding horse-back. Lozan hadn't ridden in such a fashion for many years and was not looking forward to travelling without the comforts afforded by his official carriage.

It was of small solace that Kyriu didn't appear worried about the time that was slipping away from them while the staff servants fussed with the carriage. Kyriu paced back and forth, a dark look on his face, as he fingered a large roll he had tucked under one arm. It looked like a bed roll but stiffer and everything about it was black.

With his official Citadel carriage now put away, Lozan called for the horses to be readied. Staff disappeared and returned with saddles and blankets to start preparing the horses for travel when Kyriu stopped his relentless pacing and commanded them to stop. The staff looked at one another and then to Lozan for direction. Lozan nodded his assurance and they backed away from the horses, all eyes on Kyriu.

Kyriu stepped forward and pulled the roll from under his arm and placed it on the ground in front of him and rolled it out.

Lozan could now see that they were blankets that had been rolled up but they weren't blankets that he recognized from the Citadel. Rolled out, they maintained their otherworldly darkness, filled with relentless and unceasing emptiness. Lozan shivered in spite of himself.

Kyriu got down on his knees at the edge of the blankets and closed his eyes.

Lozan could hear a low chant coming from Kyriu's mouth. Kyriu raised his hands from his side until they formed a triangular shape and then pulled them in close to his chest. Lozan couldn't see what was happening now, Kyriu's hands were too close to his chest, but he could see Kyriu's body vibrating. Not violently like he was shaking, but in small waves. Kyriu's body wriggled and swayed, almost imperceptible, but it was happening. The vibrating stopped and Kyriu's body went still. He moved his hands away from his chest and broke the shape they formed and placed them on the top of the pile of blankets that he was kneeling in front of and held them there.

Lozan and the Citadel staff stood frozen in place with bated breath, waiting for something to happen; anything. A flame; a wave; but nothing happened. Kyriu stayed on his knees a while longer and then stood up and turned to Lozan. "These are to go on the horses first, beneath any other blankets and saddle." Kyriu moved out of the way of the staff and back into the nearby shadows.

"You heard him." Lozan shouted at the staff. "Get to work."

The servants moved toward the stack of blankets that Kyriu had left lying in a pile, looking at one another sidelong, afraid to touch them. One by one they each picked one from the heap, six of them in total, and took them to the horses that stood nearby. With great care they put them on the horses, afraid to move the blankets too much in case they awoke the magic Kyriu had infused them with. Nothing untoward happened and they picked up the pace and put more blankets and padding over the black blanket and lastly, the saddles. If there was some sort of enchantment in the black blankets, the horses didn't seem affected by it and stood awaiting a rider.

With the horses ready, Kyriu wandered out from the shadows once more and mounted the sturdiest of the horses, not bothering to wait for direction or assistance. Once in the saddle he had the horse maneuver around the small courtyard they were in, getting a feel for the horse and its behavior.

Lozan was surprised at how adept Kyriu was with the horse. They had never ridden together or even spoke of horses before and Lozan assumed that Kyriu stayed away from them. Lozan felt ashamed when he tried to mount his steed and servants had to rush to his side to assist him. If they hadn't, he would have fallen on his face.

With Lozan safely on his steed the other men mounted their horses, checking to make sure they had all their equipment properly stowed. Lozan hadn't even bothered to look at his pack. He was used to all those minor details being attended to by one of his servants. He thought about checking his supplies now but resisted, deciding that if everything wasn't satisfactory there would be some retribution when he returned from this trip.

Lozan's thoughts turned to the trip. From his reckoning Tagan and Braulor were somewhere in the Vjeinka mountains, leagues ahead of them. As fate would have it, they were also closer to the land of Dwenar Gliv, as Kyriu had divulged that's where they were headed. They would have to ride night and day to even hope to catch up to them. Being unfamiliar with Dwenar Gliv, Lozan figured Tagan and Braulor could go in any multitude of directions and couldn't see how they were going to find them. Once they were out of the borders of Brankin Huoh, Lozan would have no ears on the ground. No troops to feed him intelligence. They would be blind. He wanted to talk to Kyriu about this apparent oversight but decided against it once he ran down the list of ways he had failed Kyriu of late. Lozan felt like he was on thin ice and he didn't want to agitate Kyriu any further. He hoped Kyriu had a plan that would have him back to his servants and fine linens in no time at all.

Kyriu still seemed unconcerned with time. He almost seemed patient as he waited for everybody to mount their horse. Once they were ready he took charge and led the small group out of the courtyard and through the Citadel main gates, into the early evening. The sun had set and dusk was coming on quick. At Lozan's insistence they took a small road that led from the main. It was a more circuitous route but it also provided more secrecy. Lozan didn't want the people to think that he was abandoning them. The few times he had reason to leave Brankin Huoh in the past he turned it into a regal affair. Lozan made sure that everyone was made aware so that there would be a grand turnout to see him off, a chance to stroke his ego, but it also helped cement the idea that he was the ruler. He didn't need anybody getting any ideas in his absence. There had been no time to plan for any of that on this occasion and Lozan was certain that Kyriu wouldn't have allowed it anyway.

The small group clip clopped down the dimly lit road; Kyriu at the lead, Lozan behind him. Flanking Lozan was two of his personal body guards and bringing up the rear were two regular infantry men. Kyriu didn't want to bring a large contingent of men. He had assured Lozan that it would be unnecessary.

The road led them to the main gate of the city. The large gates were drawn shut in accordance with curfew rules and there was a small group of guards manning it. They snapped to attention as the group approached. Two drew swords while another darted into a nearby open door. Lozan was impressed with their efficiency.

One of the guards commanded them to stop as more guards issued from the doorway and formed a line facing the group.

Lozan dispatched one of his personal body guards to speak to them. After some hushed conversation and gesticulating the guards stood down and opened a small access door beside the main gate to let them out. They eyed Kyriu, but not too closely, as he rode by and bowed their heads to Lozan as he passed, then shut and secured the door behind them.

It was dark outside the wall and Lozan fidgeted in his saddle. He was already getting sore from it. Looking around he couldn't remember a time when he had been beyond the gate at night. It made him nervous.

Kyriu didn't stop and kept riding away from the gate. He followed the main road over the bridge but veered off it once they were on the other side and led them around a bend, out of eyeshot of those at the gate before stopping. The others pulled up behind him looking at one another wondering what was going on.

Kyriu turned to them, his eyes gleaming in the dark. "Whatever happens, trust in your horse. Don't try to stop him. Don't steer him. Hold on and you'll be fine." Without any further elaboration he turned his back on them.

Lozan could see the men grow tense and grip the reins in their hands as they looked at one another, frightened at what that could mean.

Kyriu started chanting again, as he had over the blankets. Slow and steady he hissed a steady stream of words that drifted into the dark. The night deepened around them and the horses started to paw at the ground underneath their hooves. The air grew still and there was no noise coming from anywhere. The silence was so deep it felt like it was squashing them. Even the stars seemed to be blocked out.

Lozan became aware of a presence. More than one presence, there were hundreds, maybe thousands of them. Perhaps even more, it was impossible to tell, but their presence was pervasive and all encompassing; everywhere all at once, blotting out the real world. It was like ghosts were gathering around them to see what was going on. It made his skin crawl and he shivered as they drifted all around him.

The chanting stopped but the presences still remained. Kyriu lurched forward and looked back at them. "Ride."

The men didn't have to do anything as the command was meant for the horses and one by one they started forward, following Kyriu.

Lozan wrapped the reins around his hand and sunk low over the neck of his horse. It felt like the beings that were present were pawing at him, jeering at him and somehow he knew if he fell off they would drag him into the darkness to never be seen again. Underneath his legs he could feel the blanket Kyriu had enchanted, vibrating in slow pulses. Lozan closed his eyes and held on. Just as he thought it would never end, the beings began to recede back to wherever they came from and then disappeared altogether. The vibrating coming from the blanket slowed and slowed, then stopped.

Lozan sat up straight and opened his eyes when his horse came to a stop. It was still night but even through the dark Lozan could tell that the land had changed.

"The land of Dwenar Gliv," Kyriu announced.

### Chapter 29

A scuffling sound to his right and Tyhreb snapped his eyes open. In one smooth, speedy motion he spun onto his knees, freed his knife from its scabbard and stabbed toward the source of the noise. A painful howl rent the still night air. Tyhreb focused and could see his knife plunged deep into the belly of a skinny coyote. Fear filled its eyes as it labored and writhed, trying to escape the knife and get away from the source of pain. Another howl escaped its muzzle and Tyhreb wrenched his knife free then put the coyote out of its misery. He stayed on his knees and cast about his immediate area, looking if there was anything else. The coyote was the only thing he could see and he sat back against the tree and breathed a long sigh. He didn't like to kill animals if he could help it but knew that this was accidental and it couldn't have been avoided.

With the shock of being startled awake fading from his system, he realized that the coyote's howls could have given him away. That's if anyone was paying attention he reminded himself and then got to his feet. Being in the line of business he was, Tyhreb had learned a few things about people. One of them was that they didn't pay attention to many things. They figured as long as it didn't affect them they didn't need to bother. How silly of them. He paid attention to everything he could; every sound, every noise. They all told a story; a story that could be the difference between life and death. Tyhreb edged himself toward the viewpoint on the cliff overlooking Kenok's farmhouse and looked down at his target. The house was dark. Everything was still. He nodded his approval and began the final stage of his descent.

Tyhreb chastised himself all the way down for falling asleep on a mission. He couldn't remember a time it had ever happened before and he wondered if he was getting too comfortable with this occupation. Something he would have to ponder about later he decided. He had reached the flats and it was time to focus on his mission. From the vantage point he had used earlier, Tyhreb had calculated the best route from the end of the trail to Kenok's house. He wanted to avoid the fences if he could but use the outbuilding as a means to provide cover. There were a few smaller buildings closer to the house as well that he could use. Probably some sort of storage, maybe a chicken or rabbit coop. It didn't matter really. All Tyhreb cared was that it gave him quick, unencumbered, access to the house. Tyhreb chuckled to himself. In his younger days he wouldn't even have cared about any of that or even if it was night or not. He would have barged his way across the field and kicked the front door in, taking care of anyone who got in the way of his objective. He had grown since then and realized that the stealthier he was the less chance there was of him ending up with a knife through his chest or his head detached from his body. Tyhreb had liked the fight back then. It was where he got his kicks from but now he wanted to get the job done as fast and clean as possible so he could get back to his camp and enjoy the solitude it afforded him.

Tyhreb was behind the last building, closest to the house. Up close he could see that indeed there were no sources of light from either fire or candles; the house was nice and dark inside. He was glad. That would just make things easier. On a whim, he decided to take a quick reconnaissance around the house. He hadn't seen any signs of concern but there was always a chance that there was something that had gone unseen that could give away his presence. He wandered around the house taking in every detail. Where the windows were and how many of them there were; the same with the doors. The house seemed pretty standard for this area as they had all been built to Citadel standards.

The moon cast little light and Tyhreb walked with purpose right up to the front door like he was an expected guest. He placed his hand on the doorknob and took a breath. The doorknob turned in his meaty hand and he eased the door open. It spun on its hinges without creak or squeal and he stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him. Tyhreb let his breath out as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. When they did he could see the layout of the house. The room he was in was open; some shabby looking furniture along the wall, the kitchen lay to the right. At the far end of the house, across from him, there were two rooms. The doors to both lay open.

Tyhreb decided the one on the left looked larger and was the logical choice for where to find Kenok. He stepped toward the rooms. Each footfall was deliberate and precise not wanting to trip on anything unseen or make the floorboards creak. He stopped at the smaller room and looked in anyway to be sure. It looked unused. The bed was made and there were no other indications that concerned him so he continued to the larger room, stopping astride of the open door. Tyhreb leaned around; easing his head past the line of the doorway and the room inside revealed itself in slow relief.

The bed was under the window at the far end of the room and he could see the lumpy mounds of its two inhabitants. There was table on each side of the bed and dresser off to the left. A coat rack was on the right, holding a bulging assortment of clothes.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary and Tyhreb could feel his heart start to beat faster. He loved this feeling; the moment right before the action would begin. He never felt so alive. He took a few deep breaths to get control of his racing heart and flexed his hands. Tyhreb wondered what he should do with Kenok's wife. Tyhreb hadn't given much thought to her. Women were inconsequential to him, and he didn't factor Kenok's wife into his equations. He knew he didn't want to bring her along. Dragging one person along was enough without having to worry about a second. But he also didn't want to harm her if he could at all avoid it. Tyhreb had been charged with obtaining Kenok. The wife was immaterial to him. Hopefully he could get Kenok out of the house without alerting her. He had completed similar jobs before so he wasn't too worried. He would deal with that situation if it arose. He stepped around the door frame and into the room.

On padded feet he made his way to the end of the bed. Deciding that the bigger of the two lumps belonged to Kenok, he inched his way to the right side of the bed. He was at the head of the bed when the other form moved and Tyhreb froze. He waited for a ten count after she stopped moving and decided she must have shifted in her sleep. He reached out with trembling hands toward Kenok. He was going to drag Kenok outside, gag him then put the sack over his head and be on his way. Simple, yet effective.

Kenok's wife moved again, this time whipping down the blankets with a scream, and flung something at him from a cup. It was a cold liquid but it burned as it hit his eyes. Tyhreb hollered in pain and turned away from Kenok's wife as she screamed again. Kenok erupted from amongst the clothes on the coat rack brandishing an iron bar, swinging with the fury of a madman.

The first blow hit Tyhreb flush on the forehead and he staggered back. The second blow on the left ear and he staggered back once more. The bed cut his legs out from underneath him and fell flat on his back. He hadn't lost all his senses and he reached for his knife even though his eyes still burned and he couldn't see. A third blow to the ribs followed. The world went dark as a raft of blankets came down over his head. More blows rained down upon him. He could hear Kenok screaming in savage rage as his wife alternated between screaming and hysterical sobbing.

Tyhreb's arms went limp as he lost consciousness.

### Chapter 30

They were crouched behind a cluster of rocks not far from the opening of Vjeinka Rise. Tagan, Crenoah, Stonjsin and Drebos sat on the ground, backs to the rock, trying to catch their breath. Braulor seemed unaffected by the rigorous run and peered out from their hiding spot, taking in the scene.

Tagan looked at him with a mixture of sadness and admiration. Upon hearing that Tyran hadn't been seen, Braulor broke down and cried. Tagan had only seen Braulor strong and capable and didn't think it possible that he could ever be brought to tears. It didn't last long though as Braulor realized that he needed to get himself together so they could get to the cave and see if Tyran could be found. Just because nobody had seen him didn't mean that something terrible had befallen him. Braulor found his confidence once more and got to his feet, taking command of the situation. He had everybody gather their gear and make sure it was secured. Then they took off.

As they went, Tagan tried to get information from Braulor about who Tyran was. Braulor would only say that he was his brother. Tagan hadn't thought about it much after he found out that Kenok was Braulor's father as well but he realized that Braulor had been raised by another family. Tagan only knew that he had gained a brother but in the process, Braulor had lost his family. Braulor had grown up with his world built by whoever raised him and Tagan's insertion into his life turned everything upside down. Tagan's eyes watered as he thought about what Braulor must be going through and he pushed himself to run even faster; go harder so they could get there and see what's what.

"I can't see anything going on in there." Braulor ducked down behind the boulders they were using to shield themselves from view.

Crenoah popped up, took a look and sat back down." I agree. It looks quiet. No guards posted or anything. It doesn't bode well."

Nobody said anything but they all knew the situation was grim.

"What are we going to do then, Braulor?"

Braulor looked down at the ground and stayed silent.

Tagan looked at all of them and could see the angst written on their faces as they worried about loved ones and what they might find once they were back in the cave. It made him feel sad.

"We all have family and friends that we're concerned about in there. We don't have a choice."

"We have to go in there."

"We have to go in there. It's the only way." Braulor nodded his agreement with Stonjsin's assessment.

Nobody needed to say anything more and they set about getting prepared. The packs were to be left here. They would only take weapons for now. If they lived they could come back for the packs. When everyone was ready they huddled together and said a prayer for themselves and for the people they were concerned for.

The line of rocks was one of the first lines of defense that the clan had set up to slow down any possible attackers and it ran for quite a ways around the open area in front of the opening to the cave.

Braulor led them along the line of boulders, popping up every once in a while to make sure there was no change in the immediate situation.

When the wall came to an end, Braulor stopped. They all followed suit behind him and waited for Braulor's command. They were a long way to the right of the cave opening and still didn't see any motion around the cave entrance. Braulor looked back over his shoulder and nodded to the group. Everyone nodded in return except for Tagan who didn't really know what the nod meant. He figured it out when Braulor went around the boulder and took off at a sprint, keeping low as he went. Tagan was almost left behind as the rest of the men followed but he got his wits about him and managed to keep up.

They made it to a thin trail that skirted along the side of the mountain and followed it back toward the cave opening, drawing their weapons as they went. This was the moment of truth. They were right next to the opening. They all strained their ears, listening for anything that would give them a clue as to what they could expect inside.

Silence.

Braulor motioned to them that they were going in and then turned and slipped into the opening. Tagan took a breath as Stonjsin, Drebos and Crenoah crept inside the opening behind Braulor and then followed.

It was dark inside but Tagan would always remember the coppery smell. They waited for any signs of activity and then filed down the passageway. It was a short go before they made it to the cave proper.

It looked like night had set inside the cave. You couldn't see more than a few feet in front of your face but there were a few torches that hadn't been snuffed. They flickered in the darkness like distant stars.

Braulor motioned for them to stay put and went ahead, swallowed by darkness after only three steps. He wasn't gone long and returned bearing unlit torches. They all took one and lit them.

Gasps of dismay followed as light sprung up and chased the shadows back. The floor was thick with blood and bodies lay everywhere. Tagan felt weak in the knees and his stomach lurched. He probably would have thrown up but he had eaten very little of late and there was nothing there. He still gagged as he took in the carnage.

"It looks like whoever attacked is gone." Drebos said after a prolonged silence.

Braulor nodded. "Let's look around. Stay alert and we will meet back here."

The men dispersed, each of them having a different idea of where they wanted to investigate first.

Tagan stayed with Braulor and they marched through the grisly scene. Tagan didn't talk, preferring to keep his mouth shut as they went in case his stomach decided to empty what contents it could.

Braulor walked with slow steps, head turning side to side. Every once in a while he would stop and look closer at a body and then sigh before they continued. They made it across the main area and Braulor didn't see Tyran's body anywhere.

They came to a huge mound of rocks that blocked their way forward. Looking up and to each side you couldn't see where rocks ended. This had to be the Crazzank. Braulor started walking along its length, Tagan right behind him. Tagan was impressed with the forethought of such an idea. It had worked as intended, although now they were cut off from the rest of the Greejon clan. He bumped into Braulor who had crouched down to get a closer look at something. Tagan looked over Braulor's shoulder and could see a body buried half under the rock.

Braulor picked up the hand that was accessible and looked at the ring on its finger. "Jolon. Now we will never get any answers from you." And he let the hand fall to the floor but remained crouching. "What's this?"

Tagan raised his torch and looked past Braulor and could see him wrench a long staff from the rubbles edge. It was blacker than black. As black as the darkness around then and it glittered under the light of his torch.

Braulor stood up admiring the staff as he wiped the dust from it. "I've never seen this before. Where did it come from?"

"Perhaps it was a weapon of whoever attacked."

Braulor only shrugged. "We should get back to meet up with the others and see if they've found anything."

It was easy to get back to the cave opening. From where they were it looked like the sun and they went toward it without bothering to hide their presence. It was obvious the attackers were no longer there. Crenoah and Drebos were waiting for them when they arrived. Their eyes were red and puffy but they reported that no women or children were found among the dead. Their tears were for fallen comrades.

Braulor reported the same and then Drebos emerged from the darkness. He had the same report but found his father had been killed and he wept openly.

After they had offered their condolences to Drebos, they took turns recanting a more complete story of what each of them had discovered in their reconnaissance.

Crenoah was an only child and his father had died years ago so he didn't have the misfortune of finding him among the dead. He was certain that his mother had made it through the other side before they had dropped the Crazzank. He did find numerous men he had laughed and drank with but he was glad they had died fighting. He was proud of every one of them as there could be no better way to die in his eyes.

Stonjsin had family as well but no sign of them was found. He chose to take it as a good sign that they too had made it through before the Crazzank was dropped.

Drebos didn't have any more to offer and sat, hugging his knees, rocking back and forth in despair.

Braulor related what he and Tagan had seen, glad that he hadn't found Tyran among the dead. His happiness was tempered however because there wasn't time to perform a more thorough search and he knew that Tyran's body could still be out there. The news of Jolon buried under the Crazzank brought little reaction. Braulor then held up the staff that he had discovered. "Does anyone know where this came from?"

"I saw Jolon walking around with that." Stonjsin furrowed his brow in recollection.

"I saw him with it here as well but I never got a good look at it until now." Crenoah stared at the staff. It glistened up and down its length as if in response.

"I found it near Jolon's body, or at least the half of it that stuck out from under the rocks." Braulor moved the staff away from Crenoah's curious hand.

"Looks like Jolon was trying to get out with the women and children." Stonjsin's voice was filled with disgust.

"Jolon never was much for fighting. I wonder where he came across it." Braulor looked down at the staff he was cradling in his hands. "I don't recognize the wood it is made of." And fell silent as he examined it.

"What are we going to do now?" Tagan had been quiet during this whole process but they had lingered in the cave far longer than they should have as far as he was concerned. The sun was sitting low in the evening sky, disappearing out of sight from the cave opening. Their best source of light was fading fast in the face of the approaching night. Tagan supposed none of them wanted to abandon the cave altogether. It served as their home and safeguard for so many years. It must be difficult for them to accept that it had been decimated so easily but there were decisions to be made.

Braulor looked up from the staff and realized Tagan was right. They needed to get moving, if only to get their minds off of the loss of their home and friends. "Follow me."

With heavy hearts they all got to their feet and followed Braulor into the cave once more. They didn't go straight in this time. They went along the near wall for several hundred yards and then turned into a guardroom. It was large enough for a dozen or so guards and also had holes bored out that looked out over the valley below.

The other men recognized where they were and moved off, putting torches into brackets on the wall and the whole room came into relief.

Crenoah set about making a fire while Braulor and Stonjsin closed the large door behind them and secured it with a big, square beam of wood.

"We'll be safe here for the night. We can get some rest and figure out what we're going to do in the morning."

"I'll take first watch." Drebos pulled a chair over to a low hole in the wall and sat down, staring out into the night.

The rest of them picked a bed and rolled into its sheets.

Tagan's last image before his eyes closed was Braulor lying on his side, staring at the staff that lay beside him.

### Chapter 31

Tagan wondered how much longer it would take to find this Rean Le person, the mysterious person from Quanna Eresse who would be able to help him find the Amber Eye. He wished they would hurry up already.

They had been trudging through the dreary morning mist for what seemed like forever. It didn't matter how far they walked, the fog didn't dissipate. His feet hurt from walking and his stomach wasn't far behind from the lone meager meal they had enjoyed after waking. His stomach grumbled and he remembered with fondness the last good meal he had enjoyed. It had been in the guardhouse the morning after he, Braulor, Stonjsin, Drebos and Crenoah re-entered the cave at Vjeinka Rise. Tagan awoke to the smell of bacon sizzling and popping in a cast iron pan over the fire. Everybody else was already up and around. Tagan rolled out of the comfort of his bed with all the vigor of a turtle. The first bed he had slept in since he was a member of the Citadel. Crenoah handed him a plate laden with bacon, cheese and a half a loaf of bread. The bread was going stale but Tagan didn't care. It had been so long since he had such a hearty breakfast, everything tasted great. Even the water he washed it all down with was delicious. His stomach full, Tagan looked around, noticing for the first time that Braulor wasn't there. "Where is Braulor?" He yawned as the rich breakfast settled in his belly making him feel tired anew.

"He went to do some scouting around." Drebos looked like he hadn't slept a wink during the night.

Tagan took another sip of water feeling out of place without Braulor around. The other men were going about their business in a matter of fact manner and Tagan didn't know what he should be doing, if anything. He was inclined to go back to bed now that his stomach was satisfied but knew that would not impress the others.

The door to the guardhouse opened and everybody stiffened, reaching for their weapons. They relaxed when Braulor came bounding in and shut the door behind him. "You're up Tagan, good." And came over to where they were lounging and took a seat.

Crenoah leaned over and passed Braulor a plate, the same as the one he had given Tagan.

Braulor put the black staff down beside him and devoured the food. He had gone off scouting before breakfast and was famished.

Tagan couldn't help but notice that Braulor kept looking to the staff as he ate, like he was afraid it would disappear if he didn't keep constant tabs on it. When Braulor was done, he handed the empty plate back to Crenoah and took hold of the staff once more.

"Did you find anything, Braulor?"

Braulor shook his head. "No, Stonjsin. Everywhere I looked just more and more bodies."

Stonjsin, Drebos and Crenoah hung their heads.

Braulor had been thinking of what they should do now. He was desperate to find out how the Greejon clan members on the other side of the Crazzank had fared. From Stonjsin's account, it seemed to Braulor that the safety offered by the Crazzank didn't apply here. The attackers could appear and disappear anywhere they wanted at will. A pile of rocks wouldn't be able to stop them. For all they knew there was an equally grisly scene awaiting them on the other side of the Crazzank. He shuddered to think such thoughts. They had to be alive. He could almost feel it.

"So what now?"

"I'm not sure, Tagan. I think everybody needs to make up their own mind about where they want to go from here."

Stonjsin, Drebos and Crenoah lifted their heads, looked at Braulor and then at one another, none of them sure what to say.

"I want to find who did this and make them pay." Drebos felt motivated to avenge his father's death.

Crenoah couldn't believe his ears. "Did you see those... those... things? I don't even know what to call them. There's no way we can catch them and even if we did, how would we kill them?"

"What about the rest of the clan?" Stonjsin threw out.

Everybody fell silent, lost in their own thoughts.

Braulor broke the silence. "Tagan, I think we have to tell them what we know."

Tagan's sleepiness was cured as if someone had doused him with cold water. He sat up straight, the fork from his plate clattering onto the floor. "Are you sure? I don't know if we should."

"You can trust them to keep what we tell them between us. If they are going to make a decision on what they want to do, they need to know everything."

The other three men were all ears, watching Braulor and Tagan's exchange like it was a tennis rally, wondering what in the world they were talking about.

"If you think it's the right thing to do." Tagan was unsure but trusted Braulor. "Where do we start?"

"I'll start with what I know and you can jump in when you're ready."

The room went dead quiet as the men listened. Braulor went all the way back to when he first found out that he had come to Tyran's family by way of an unknown woman who could no longer care for him. That Tyran's parents had taken him and raised him as their own. He spoke of how he went in search of the Amber Eye and that is where he met Alrei Yqu, the strange man that had saved his life and continued to give Braulor knowledge of things that hadn't yet come to pass. When he reached the point of the meeting with Alrei Yqu where Braulor had been told that he had to rescue Tagan from the Citadel, Tagan piped up and helped fill in holes in the story where he could.

Tagan told them of his ability to see into another world and how the Citadel had inducted him to keep him away from people. They feared Tagan would use his power to discover how life in this world should be and what would happen if he were allowed to share that knowledge. Braulor and Tagan both talked of how they met in the Citadel prison and their high profile escape. Braulor took over the story line again and told of how they got to where camp should be and it was gone. How they had found Grawton and Grawton told a tale of torture and ambush and the clan packed up and left after an attack.

Crenoah, Stonjsin and Drebos sat quiet as children in church, their eyes swiveling back and forth from narrator to narrator. They had the look of people who were having trouble believing what they were hearing, especially the part about Grawton escaping Draax's body.

"And then you guys tackled us. The rest you know." Braulor exhaled with a shrug.

Tagan didn't have anything more to say and lapsed into silence.

"So you say this Grawton person busted his way out of Draax's body?" Stonjsin couldn't envision what this would entail.

"That's the best way to describe it." Braulor had difficulty explaining the full impact of what it looked like when it happened.

"What happened after that again?" Drebos was lost as well.

Tagan answered this time and described how Grawton was trying to break free from the rope he and Braulor had bound him with. He focused on Grawton's contorted face and how his voice sounded otherworldly. "And then the body split apart and a form ascended from it."

"What did this form look like?" Crenoah thought it sounded like those that had attacked the cave.

"Well, it was black. I don't know how else to describe it really." Braulor tried to verbalize the image. "It looked like a nasty storm cloud or something like that."

"That sounds like the things that attacked us in the cave. They would pop up, kill and be gone before you could react."

"After Grawton, or the shadow keeper as he called himself, left Draax's body he said he would see us again very soon and then disappeared. I didn't know what he meant at the time but I guess this was it." Braulor pointed to the door and the carnage that lay beyond.

"The 'shadow keeper'?" Crenoah wanted to make sure he'd heard correctly. He was familiar with the myth.

"That's what he said."

"So Jolon was torturing the shadow keeper? He is supposed to be really powerful." Crenoah was starting to feel doubtful.

"The shadow keeper only inhabited Draax's body. Jolon was doing something with Draax and somehow the shadow keeper got involved."

"And you think that caused the shadow keeper to attack us at the cave?"

"I don't know what happened exactly but the similarities between how the things that attacked you here and the shadow keeper, are too hard to dismiss. There has to be a connection."

Silence set in as they each turned the information over in their minds trying to find a way to piece it all together but nothing fit into a context any of them had. It was all too new, to strange.

"You mentioned the Amber Eye. How does that come in to all this?" Stonjsin wanted to ferret out every detail he could.

Tagan reiterated how all humans are supposed to be a part of Quanna Eresse and by obtaining the Amber Eye and returning it to the Lefirte will restore their connection with that world.

"And you didn't see any of these dark creatures in this other world?"

"No. Everything there is beautiful and magical. I don't think anything dark could live there."

"Am I the only one who finds it strange that these dark creatures start showing up right around the same time that Tagan is told to find the Amber Eye?" Crenoah looked around at everyone.

"I was thinking the same thing Crenoah." Braulor said.

"Thinking what?" Drebos didn't follow.

"I don't think that it is a coincidence that all this started happening around the same time but I also don't think there is a connection between the two."

"What does that mean? It makes no sense." Stonjsin was growing confused once more.

"We can all agree, after the things we have seen, that there is more to this world that what we see. Am I right?"

Everybody nodded.

"I think this world as we know it is about to change, whether we like it not. Our only choice now is what we can do to make sure it changes in the direction that is good for us, good for humans."

"How do we make sure of something like that? Whatever is going to happen is going to happen. We don't have any control over it."

"But we have one option, Stonjsin. The Amber Eye."

The silence disappeared in a flash as Stonjsin, Drebos and Crenoah all chimed in with their thoughts about the Amber Eye. They were all aware of the legend and voiced strong opinions.

"What about the rest of the clan? Do we just abandon them?"

"We don't abandon them, Drebos but you saw those things that attacked. If they come back again, what are we going to be able to do against them? It will be another slaughter and this time they will wipe all of us out. If we can find the Amber Eye and return it, maybe we gain a way to beat them."

"Braulor, the Amber eye is... well, it's crazy. Even if it is real, it hasn't been seen in countless ages. You're going to follow some boy you hardly know to find it?" Stonjsin pointed a long finger at Tagan.

Braulor sighed. "Look, Alrei Yqu told me to get Tagan out of the Citadel. Get him out so the information he was going to learn could be used for the good of all mankind. Alrei Yqu has never been wrong about anything he told me; I can't think that he is wrong here. Tagan was told to find the eye and I was told to get Tagan. I am going with him to find it. I think it is our only hope to protect the clan."

Stonjsin looked at Crenoah who looked at Drebos.

"I got no family here to worry about and if there is a way to protect the clan, then I am all for it. I'll go with you." Stonjsin sat back, glad to have his mind made up.

"I agree. I want to do what's right for the clan. It's all I have," Crenoah said.

Drebos looked at both of them, and then shrugged his shoulders like he didn't have a choice in the matter. "Count me in, Braulor."

"Where do we start? We have a long way to go to find Rean Le."

"I've been thinking about that. This part of the cave is like a staging area or storage area. It's where we first congregate when we come back here in the winter months. The living quarters and main stores are actually farther in. The Crazzank's job was to keep attackers stuck here and not be able to get into the main area. The idea was that if the Crazzank came down, any attackers would just cut their losses rather than make the journey all the way around to the others entrances."

Stonjsin was nodding his head in agreement. "It looks like the Crazzank worked like it was supposed to."

"Do you mean we have to go all the way around to the other entrance?"

"When the Crazzank was built, it was decided that there needed to be an escape route for anybody who survived an attack but was trapped behind it. A tunnel was made that would bring you out on the east side of the mountains, way north of that entrance. It's a rough go and it may not even be passable but it's our only choice."

"And that would bring us out in Dwenar Gliv." Stonjsin worked out the geography.

"It's there that we can find Rean Le," Braulor said.

With a plan cobbled together they got to work. They went around the cavern, sealing off what they could and gathering what supplies they might need. They would be going on foot so they had to be choosy about what they took. Once they were set Braulor led Stonjsin, Drebos and Crenoah in a tearful goodbye to the cave that had done so much for them over the years, consigned to the fact they may never see it again, and they set out. Braulor took them across the cave to the north side. He trailed along the north wall looking for the entrance to the tunnel. As it was meant only for people of the clan to use, it had been hidden and wasn't even on ground level. Braulor stopped when found the first of the handholds that had been carved into the wall. If you didn't know what they were, you would think they were just fissures that had formed in the rock. The handholds were slight and laid out in a haphazard way so only those who knew the proper progression would be able to scale them.

"This is it. We go up about thirty feet and then there will be a ledge. Make our way along the ledge to the tunnel entrance, hidden in that abutment." Braulor pointed up in to the darkness.

Having never used the handholds before, it took Braulor a while to remember how to traverse it. With some trial and error he figured it out and they made their way to the ledge, if you could call it that. It was a line of rock less than a foot width wide. This was the most harrowing part of the climb as they shimmied along this tiny lip. Each of them had a moment where they thought they would fall but in the end, hands and toes aching from the climb, they made it to the abutment.

At the front of the line, Braulor had stopped and was feeling around in the darkness.

Tagan was desperately trying not to look down as sweat dripped from his face into the darkness below. A grinding noise followed by an echoing thud that shook the line of them.

"What was that?" Stonjsin's fingernails were the only thing keeping him from falling to the ground and find out first hand.

"The door to the tunnel. I found the entrance."

"Let's move it then." Drebos' tone warned he was about to fall.

A few seconds later and a torch flared to life revealing Braulor crouched in a low tunnel. "C'mon." He motioned for them to join him.

One by one they inched their way along the lip, Braulor dragging them into the tunnel where they each collapsed, certain their fingers would never be able to grip anything ever again.

Drebos came last and was reaching for Braulor's outstretched hand when he slipped. Braulor caught his hand but the force of Drebos falling dragged him to his knees. "Stonjsin." Braulor's free hand was scrabbling for a hold on the smooth rock face of the tunnel. Stonjsin sprang from where he was and grabbed Braulor's belt and fell back, pulling Braulor with him.

Drebos screamed as something in his elbow popped.

Crenoah dropped the torch he was holding and flopped down at the tunnel entrance, grabbing Drebos' sleeve, heaving with all his might.

Drebos came out of the murky darkness like a fish out of a lake, landing on top of Braulor and Stonjsin then rolled to the floor, still screaming, cradling his arm.

Stonjsin and Braulor scrambled up and tended to Drebos, putting his arm in a sling.

Drebos had stopped yelling but you could see the agony etched in lines on his face and he spoke through gritted teeth. "What made that thud? That's what loosened my grip."

"It was the door to the tunnel. It was supposed to fall inward when it's released. I guess the rumbling from the Crazzank affected it and it fell out."

"We might as well get moving," Crenoah was sympathetic to Drebos but he didn't like creeping around in this tunnel any longer than he had to.

They got organized, each of them taking some of Drebos' belongings and followed Braulor into the tunnel.

Braulor hadn't been kidding when he said it would be a rough go. It was treacherous and narrow and had many points where they had to crawl under stone or climb a rock wall. Drebos' injured arm added an extra level of effort as they had to help him through all of these obstacles.

Tagan had never been so happy when the sun hit his face at the other end, stopping to inhale deeply and rid his lungs of the stale, dank air of the tunnel.

It all seemed so long ago now.

Tagan turned to share this thought with Crenoah when the group froze. Tagan had to stop short to keep from walking right into Drebos. Everybody stared in the same direction and Tagan could tell from the amazed gasps that Rean Le must have revealed herself to them. Standing on his tiptoes to get a look over Drebos' broad shoulders Tagan's' breath was taken away.

Rean Le stood as still as the trees she had sprang forth from, her expression neutral as she surveyed the party. Her sparkling blue eyes were all that moved as she gazed at one, then another of the group, looking only for a second a two before shifting her gaze, hand clenching the hilt of her sword.

Tagan's heart pounded into his throat as she looked at him. Back home he spent so much time on the farm helping his dad that he had never given girls a second thought. But Rean Le was different. He didn't know what he had expected from Meyu Kwi's description but this was not it. She was beautiful and her demeanor was commanding, yet feminine. He thought he was going to pass out and briefly thought about throwing himself on the ground behind Drebos so she couldn't see him anymore. Those few seconds felt like an eternity and when Rean Le's gaze shifted to Crenoah, Tagan felt relieved she was no longer looking at him.

"I have been watching you approach for some time now." Rean Le declared, satisfied with her examination of the group. Her voice was sweet and melodic and set everybody at ease.

"And we have been searching for you, lady." Stonjsin bowed his head.

Rean Le's melodic voice was enough to quell Tagan's discomfort and he stepped out from behind Drebos. Rean Le tensed for a moment, her hand squeezed the hilt of her sword, relaxing when she saw it was Tagan.

Tagan's feelings only intensified now that he could fully see Rean Le. She was wearing a forest green tunic that came down over her waist, covering a portion of the green leggings she wore. Her strong right hand clung to her sword. A bow was slung over her shoulder, along with a quiver of arrows. Blond hair, as fine as silk and shiny as gold, hung straight to her shoulders, kept out of her face with a woven headband.

"Why is it that you are seeking me?"

"We seek your guidance for a journey." Braulor changed his stance to project a stoic confidence.

Rean Le bristled at the mention of a journey but said nothing.

"We were told that you have explored the Ildwe Dale."

Rean Le winced as if something painful had struck her. "That was many years ago. Much has changed since then and I'm afraid that I would be of no use to you."

"You are the only person that has returned from the Ildwe Dale, the only one that can help us."

Rean Le stared at Braulor but her eyes seemed vacant and distant, as if she were reliving some long suppressed memory. "You seek the Amber Eye." She said it as fact and not question.

"Yes, we seek it." Braulor knew that deceiving Rean Le would serve only to anger her and ruin any hope of her helping them.

"You are wasting your time." Rean Le turned and started to walk back into the forest.

They stood there in stunned silence.

"Rean Le." a voice called out.

Everybody spun around. A large man with sallow skin was walking toward them. He had no weapon drawn but he was followed by a group of armed men that were ready for an attack.

Rean Le stopped dead in her tracks and turned around like she was on a rotisserie. "Kyriu." Her tone dripped with disbelief.

"All hail, Rean Le. You remember me. I'm honored." Kyriu bowed his head in mock respect.

"What brings you out of your hidey hole?" Rean Le's voice hadn't changed, she didn't even seem surprised by his sudden appearance, but her eyes were cold with malice.

"Well, at first we came for the boy." Kyriu gestured with a scaly, clawed hand at Tagan.

Tagan wished he could disappear as everybody's gaze fell on him. He recognized Kyriu from the night he and Braulor escaped from the Citadel. How was he involved in this and how did he know Rean Le?

Braulor stepped in front of Tagan a defiant look on his face.

"But once I learned that he was coming to find you, well, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to see an old friend."

"The honor is all mine." It was hard to ignore Rean Le's raw sarcasm and she stared at Tagan with renewed interest.

"Who are you?" Braulor demanded. He recognized Kyriu as well.

Kyriu eyed Braulor with disdain. "My name is irrelevant to you but I suppose I should thank you. If you hadn't escaped the Citadel with Tagan here, I would have never looked any deeper and I wouldn't have found Rean Le. So, my thanks for your help but now you are going to die."

"Not by your hand." Braulor whipped the staff from under his cloak with a flourish. He had been practicing with it as they journeyed, deciding that it would be his preferred weapon.

Kyriu actually gasped as he froze, staring at the staff, his eyes wide and a shocked looked.

Rean Le was equally stunned but realized that this was her chance. Seizing the moment she sheathed her sword and whipped around her bow, fitting an arrow as she did. As she loosed the arrow, a black cloud formed beside her, a pair of red eyes glistening from within it, causing her aim to shift. Rean Le's arrow missed Kyriu and buried itself deep in Lozan's stomach.

Lozan, who had been trying to stay out of everybody's way was as surprised as anyone when the arrow hit him. He stood stunned for a moment looking at Rean Le. His hand drifted slowly up and found the shaft of the arrow and then his eyes drifted down to find the same thing. He fell forward on his knees, eyes wide with panic and fear, gasping for a breath. Then he lurched forward, his body twitching as he slumped onto his side.

For a second or two the whole scene came to a complete stop. Nobody moved or did anything. Nobody knew what to do. Heads turned this way and that looking for some sort of direction.

One of Lozan's guards jumped over his prone body and ran screaming at Rean Le, a mace held high over his head, ready to avenge Lozan's death. His scream broke the spell and everybody came to their senses, reacting all at once.

Crenoah, Stonjsin and Drebos drew their swords and rushed the remainder of Lozan's guard. With the one guard attacking Rean Le that left three others. An even match and they were equal to the challenge, showing no fear as the men of the Greejon clan collapsed in on them.

Rean Le hit the guard charging her with an arrow. It sunk into his leg and he staggered but his momentum carried him into her and they tumbled to the ground. She could feel his full weight on her as they rolled and she timed it so that as she rolled onto her back she kicked hard with her legs, forcing him off as the roll continued and he flipped a couple more times as he tumbled away. Rean Le sprung to her feet and yanked out her sword and charged the guard as he stood up. Out of sheer instinct he parried her sword and punched her hard in the temple. She staggered back from the blow, her legs wobbling. She was disoriented and couldn't focus. Everything was a blur. She held her sword out in front of her as her head swam, trying to shake the cobwebs out. Where was he?

The guard circled Rean Le as quiet as a cat sneaking up on a bird, forcing the pain shooting from his leg aside. She had her back to him, shoulders heaving with her breaths, and he stepped toward her, coiling up to attack. He was almost on top of her when Tagan tackled him and dragged him to the ground. Tagan hadn't even drawn a weapon in his fervor to defend Rean Le and he and the guard wrestled, each trying to best the other. Tagan was swinging his fists with everything he could muster, trying to hit any part of the guard that he could. His punches were mostly ineffective but it was all he could think to do. He had never been in real fight before in his life. He was operating on pure adrenalin.

The guard had his legs around Tagan's ribs and squeezed, blood oozing from around the shaft of the arrow sticking from his leg, while he hammer fisted Tagan's head.

Tagan felt like his head was going to split open and he flailed around with his hands trying to protect himself from the rain of blows. His hand landed on the shaft of the arrow. Seizing the arrow, he wrenched on it as hard as he could making the guard stop his punches as he screamed in agony. The legs squeezing Tagan went limp for a brief second but it was all the time Tagan needed and he escaped the man's legs and rolled to the side. His hands fell on something metal and grabbed it with both hands and jumped up. The guard was trying to get to his own feet but was woozy, blood loss starting to take its toll. Tagan brought the shield he had picked up down hard on the guards head and with a loud gong the man collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Kyriu had darted aside to avoid Crenoah, Stonjsin and Drebos. He could hear the grunts and clanging of swords as they and Lozan's remaining forces fought hand to hand somewhere behind him. Kyriu was exhilarated. He loved every minute of this. He could taste the fear in the air. He could smell it oozing from the bodies around him and it excited him. He wanted to allow himself to go crazy with it and bathe in the blood he could smell. But he had to calm down.

The staff. Where did the staff come from? How did Braulor come to have it? He didn't know but he would get it and find out. His wish was answered almost immediately as Braulor brought the staff down on Kyriu's head with a great crack. Braulor had noticed Kyriu hesitate and he attacked.

Kyriu staggered but the truth was he wasn't hurt at all. An idea formed in his head and he went with it, falling to one knee and letting his head droop like he had been dazed.

Braulor fell for it and closed the distance between them, swinging the staff again; a sidelong strike with both hands like he was swinging an axe at a tree trunk. With casual ease Kyriu caught the staff in his muscular hand and stood up, pulling Braulor closer. And closer still, until they were close enough to look into each other's eyes; smell each other's stale breath.

Braulor didn't want to give the staff up and he gave Kyriu no quarter. Even if it meant his death, he would not give up the staff. Braulor tugged and yanked on it, spitting in Kyriu's face, trying anything to make him let go.

Kyriu stood as still as a statue. This human was strong, but no match for his strength. He stared into Braulor's eyes and reached out with his mind. Sinews of malice thought traced their way along the staff and up Braulor's arm, seeking a foothold in his brain.

Braulor had no defense for this mind attack and stopped trying to free the staff and stood there, hypnotized. He had never felt anything like this before. It felt like his brain was being tickled at first then stabbing pain shot through him but he still did not relinquish the staff.

Deeper and deeper Kyriu probed and Braulor's pain grew more and more intense. Images were popping up here and there but not what Kyriu was looking for and he cast them aside even as the same images were long repressed memories that Braulor longed to see.

The black cloud descended on the two of them.

Braulor started as its eyes fixed on him. "I told you we would meet again Braulor. Did you enjoy the little scene I left for you at the cave?"

It was the shadow keeper.

"You!" For the first time in a long time, Kyriu felt genuine fear.

"I thought you would be happy to see me Kyriu." The runes on the staff lit up; blazing to life in a white glow that you could see over the light of the sun. It didn't burn but felt more like it was attaching to them, gluing their hands to the staff.

The shadow keeper was forcing his way into both of their minds with glee. It had been long since he had enjoyed himself like this.

Kyriu was trying desperately to let go of the staff, to break the connection but he couldn't. His hand felt like it had become part of the staff. He shut his eyes and tried to close down his mind but like the shadow that he was, the shadow keeper seeped in anyway. Going anywhere he wanted at will, sifting through the horrible memories that resided there.

In a last ditch effort to get away Kyriu called up the first words that came to mind and cast a blasting spell, hoping to break the connection to the staff.

Tagan and Rean Le stood watching the events unfold. Sounds of battle carried on around them but they didn't pay any attention. They were so rapt with the struggle between Braulor and Kyriu and now the black cloud that had descended on them both, enveloping them, that everything else was inconsequential. They watched in shock as the runes of the staff flared to life. Their shock turned to horror seconds later as Braulor, Kyriu and the cloud disappeared without a sound, as if they had never been there at all.

