DarkShell


Introduction

In the ancient times, preceding those of man's rule, it was chosen that two great peoples should be set against one another. That their lives might be spawned to oppose the other, that their wars would weave a great tale, intricate, complex, beautiful. But a divine touch was given to both peoples, a string in the tapestry set out of place, to fix itself one day, perhaps.

Though all men were given being, breathed, and yet faded away, it was chosen that this would be altered. Two beings were therefore granted to the earth, immortal beings, called the Azla. They were Tivar, and his nemesis Kaiid. The pair was placed in the great land called Felneath, to choose for themselves a great possession: a kingdom to rule.

Tivar first chose, as it was willed. He gazed to the North, saw the vast Bay of Seefrea. He saw great plains, valleys, towering mountains. Though the land was dark, and colder, more frigid than the South, he also saw the Men that had yet been placed there. He saw an iron will, a great stature, and an honorable heart within these people. These would serve him well, and, given his immortal life, in time he would see the people of the North rally to his banner, and help him seek out Kaiid and subdue him. Yes, the rock of this terrain would furnish him with a kingdom unlike that of the South.


But Kaiid observed Tivar's eye in hatred. This being would require cunning to master, and this he possessed.

The North'�He thought. A small people, few and far between, scattered across vast steppes. While in the South dwelled great hosts of men, swarming about the earth as a great storm cloud ready to pour down its mighty wrath, a dam waiting to be riven. Kaiid would be the one to rule it.

It was chosen.

The two Immortals descended to Felneath, and guided their people with infallible wisdom to wreak strife upon the other. Thus the Second Great Tale of Earth was woven.

In the fires of the great southern deserts, great warrior clans developed, and Kaiid brought them under his sway. Some of his vast peoples he enslaved, creating a caste system. Kaiid ordered that his realm would be called Finnith. He created a ruling caste, putting himself at its head, and ordering subservient Finnitians at his will. Slaves of Kaiid erected great citadels and vast barracks at Kaiid's command. His defense of Finnith was completed at the end of a thousand years. His greatest task done, he at once hurled warriors into the North.

Tivar's task was great, but so he foresaw when he chose his realm. Descending into a tribe camped at the ocean's shore, he earned the respect of the Northerners by display of wisdom and courage. He sent word out at once across the North that a great ruler was come. A small band he at first established and founded the first great city of the North, the Tillbourg. Seeing his command secure, he at once set out across the steppes to the East to seek out additional tribes. Hundreds of years he spent, travelling about the face of Felneath, seeking those that might assist him, for he saw an imminent war. Time was in deficit, the anvil would strike soon.

At last the cup overflowed: war erupted. Kaiid swept the western coast of Felneath, driving his forces against the Nerallians and overwhelming all before him. Weeks preceded Tivar's response, and both immortals at last met in combat. A great war lasted a century, until Tivar withdrew his forces. Both sides ceased battle for a time, but it was not long until Felneath once again erupted in war. Off and on they slaughtered, a age of strife, followed by a time of peace. And so it was, even to the tenth age'�



















Prologue

It was midday. The great walls of Tpha stood yet. Tpha: The Citadel of the Delta, richest of Finnitian realms. Therefore, it was Adrian's next target. The city of Tpha was no ordinary city, though. It was an immensely important city to the Finnitians of the South, its walls were great and it supported a massive garrison of men. As well as being a great bastion of defense to the western flanks of the Finnitian empire, the great citadel also guarded some of the richest delta soil on the continent. Siege analysts suggested that the resulting collapse in food economy would severely damage morale. Three more cities would be abandoned due to starvation.

Adrian had taken a fortress across the river Antarr to be his base of operations, a day's march from Tpha. All Finnitian forces had gathered within their mighty walls, preparing for siege, and therefore surrendering the river to their foes.
It was the sixth day of Nerrallian occupation.

Zephell and Tagra sat perched on the great wall, gazing intently on the plain below. It was comforting to call such a place as Tpha home, to see great mountains to the East, a great ocean to the West. Cradled by nature, Tpha was surely a great city, but the Nerrallian invasion shadowed mountains and sea alike. A darkness crept over their minds.

It was a month since news of the pillage of Siph reached them; a victory so complete that all forces were withdrawn. Rumor flooded the peasants, of a great phalanx of armored elephants crushing the once great fortress of Siph under foot, and of the great juggernaut, the immortal Adrian Neral, who smote great champions to the dust. It would be a battle hard-fought, but the two watchment had faith in Adrik, their great champion-general.

Thus they sat in their thoughts, parallel to the thoughts of the city's inhabitants.

The battle horn sounded.

Zephell pulled the spyglass from his bag, looking north across the plain. Tagra stood for a moment, gazing toward the blast, then ran down the steps of the wall, sounding the alarm. Warriors streamed from the barracks, ready for the call of war. Adrik gathered his company and saddled his horse. He looked back at his men, knowing they were ready, and nodded to them. Wheeling his horse about, he hastened to the portcullis. As he neared the gate, he saw ten thousand archers gathering on the wall. They bore no armor, and wielded but small bows, but hatred guides arrows to the mark!

Eighteen thousand infantry, armed with the scimitar and great pikes, readied themselves inside the outer wall. Fifteen thousand knights donned their armor and hefted their great axes. Cavalry unnumbered prepared to fight. Adrik's company of desert assassins numbered fifty.

This is surely enough to repel them, he thought, In the name of Kaiid, I will repel them!

'Open the gates,'� he commanded, 'let us see our great foe.'�

Clink, chink, chink, clink. The great iron wall slowly rose, hefted by a hundred slaves. Adrik rode slowly out as the Nerallians came into view. A long line could be seen approaching slowly, broken by tall war elephants marching at the head of the ranks. Snatching up a spyglass from his attendant, he looked closer at the Northerners. Twenty elephants he saw, iron clad beasts with great tusks of ivory-ore, a selected mutation among the northern elephants. Each elephant was more than fifteen feet high from foot to back. And not an inch of leathery skin shown beneath that steel.

The great host approached ponderously for another hour, then halted.

'They are constructing catapults,'� alerted Zephell, eye to the spyglass.

'Then greet them with the mountain worm,'� cried Adrik, 'Andel! Command Elessel to release her pet!'�


'Halt!'� commanded Adrian from atop his elephant, 'The catapults are in range.'�

Ten thousand paladins of Nerallia slowed to a stop. Elephant riders, called Edraa, reigned in their mounts. Great siege carts halted and siege engineers scrambled from cart to cart at their sergeants command to construct towering trebuchets. Adrian rode his elephant on several paces before the army, then turned about to address them.

'Paladins of Nerallia,'� he cried, 'ready your swords for blood! Edraas! Ready your mounts, for they will crush stone today! Siph we have already crushed by our might. In the same way shall Tpha meet its doom! Too long has Kaiid ravaged Felneath with hatred and enslavement. Too many of our sons and daughters have they kidnapped! May the walls of Tpha crumble this day!'�

'We will crush them,'� roared the mighty men of the North.
Adrian, having finished his address, rode back to the lines.

A tremor shook the earth.

'What in the name of the gods'�'�

The shaking increased, and in seconds the earth was riven. A great worm burst from the earth, ins immense mouth swallowing siege equipment and men in a single thrust of its mighty head. The mountain-worm of Finnith rose high above the earth, and then dove once more, swallowing a second trebuchet.

'Pull back the paladins,'� thundered Adrian, 'Edraas! Advance!'�

Adrian spurred his mount forward, preparing to spear the monstrous creature with the war elephant's mighty tusks. Men streamed the other way, away from the elephants as the Edraas followed Adrian.

The worm disappeared into the ground where a trebuchet once was, leaving a massive hole behind. The earth shook once more as it emerged again, its attention wholly focused on the third and last trebuchet. It ignored the mighty thunder of the war elephants until they came within bowshot. It was then that the monster rotated its vast eyeless face towards them. It seemed that the face was made only of a single great mouth, filled with thousands of teeth, lined in hundreds of rows, each of which rotated in a different direction. The body of the worm was plated in chitinous shells of a dark blue color.

The creature turned back to the catapult and engulfed it. Siege engineers fled screaming like madmen. Adrian continued to advance as the worm disappeared into the ground. The thunder faded, then went silent. The screaming ceased, men stopped fleeing and looked back to the war elephants.

Adrian slowed his mount as it neared the hole, and all the Edraas slowed as well.

'It must have escaped'�'� said Adrian, gazing into the chasm. His voice trailed at the end in wonder, 'Its damage done, it has escaped,'� he finished.

But the earth rumbled again, and in the midst of the elephants it emerged once more. The mighty teeth sunk into the flesh of an elephant, elevating it high into the air and flinging its rider to the dust. The teeth of the worm wrenched the armor apart and shredded the elephant's flank before dropping it to the earth on top of another Edraa.

'Now he is surrounded,'� Adrian commanded, 'kill it now!'�

The mighty tusks of Adrian's mount sunk into chitinous exoskeleton, rending its flesh. A great unearthly scream bellowed out of the giant. It twisted and leapt, hurling the elephant aside. More tusks dug into its bloodless flesh.


Adrik saw the mountain worm's plight through his spyglass, an old woman stood at his side.

'Elessel. The war elephants appear to be too much for our beast,'� Adrik said calmly, 'call him back.'�

'Yes, Adrik,'� responded Elessel, the old woman, 'I will summon its return.
Its job is done, thought Adrik, the catapults are destroyed.


The sun had set, the tall towers of Tpha cast long shadows across the level farmland before the city. Adrian sat with Nezal by a fire. Quite a large fellow, Nezal was not one fit for battle, but laid down brilliant maneuvers and strategies. Nezal was Adrian's chief advisor, and after the worm's raid, he needed advice now most of all.

'Well, I can say for sure that the monster was a mountain worm,'� said Nezal in his low scratchy voice, 'sea worms, desert worms, hill worms'� they're all weak and soft, difficult to control. But the mountain worm is ferocious, able to kill anything. If you ask me though, they sent their creature merely to destroy our siege equipment.'�

'This cripples us quite severely,'� replied Adrian.

'Not exactly. The tusks of the elephants may be just as effective as the trebuchets. The plain slopes slightly as one approaches Tpha, which would give the elephants a great speed, and, if they manage to reach the walls, will shatter them severely.'�

'This has not been done before. Will not the impact destroy an elephant's tusks?'�
'The walls of Tpha are stone, nothing more. Ivory-ore will withstand it, or so the Edraas say.'�

'Well then! This is good news indeed. Will Tpha bee humbled by war elephants? We shall see! Ha ha,'� Adrian exclaimed, 'But Nezal, my friend, our beasts of war must first reach the wall. Of course, the horses of Finnith cannot stand before them, but pikemen will be a great danger. Shall the elephants advance first, and hope to sweep away the pikemen?'�

'Surely the pikemen will be at front ranks, for the Finnitians have seen our elephants by now. Mount archers on the beasts, and order them to send the soldiers into disarray with large volleys. Then the elephants can charge the citadel with few casualties.'�

'Then it shall be done. We will flank them with mounted knights, and sweep what is left with paladins. It sounds so easy!'�

Both men chuckled as they rose.

'I will explain our plan to the Edraas and my sergeants,'� said Nezal, 'We bring Tpha to its knees tomorrow!'�


'They are advancing,'� cried Zephell, sounding the alarm for the second time.

Adrik hastened out of his tent, his silver armor reflecting the sunrise.

'Arafa! Azek! Tezir! Arm your divisions,'� he cried to his sergeants as they emerged from the tent, 'Form up pikemen! The Nerallians are advancing!'� So doom approached his great city: with thundering hoof beats and stomping metal feet. The enemy was far outnumbered! His worms, his beasts, his men could bring them down. And if all else failed, the enemy would at least fail to crush the walls, for they are very great.

The portcullis rose slowly. Adrik strode out, followed by desert-garbed assassins. He held a scimitar at his side, a bow on his back as he challenged the Northerners with his gaze.

Tpha had never been taken.

Thousands of pikemen swarmed out of the gates, their tall weapons held high and their desert shrouds blowing in the wind as they rushed into position. About a bowshot from the walls they stopped. Ten sergeants, after the pikemen had amassed into formation, strode to the front of the files.

'Plant halberds,'� they bellowed as they drew their swords.

Each soldier planted their spear into the grassy soil at an angle, pointed them forward. Each spear measured eight feet in length, enough to spear a war elephant in the face.


The elephants were lumbering once again, each marching abreast of the other. Their great armored backs swayed to the left and right with each step.

Twenty of the great iron-clad beasts approached Tpha. In the tradition of Nerrallian warfare, each was covered entirely by shining steel armor. Only flesh at the joints and eyes emerged from metal.

Atop each monstrous beast rode the Edraa, along with five Nerrallian crossbowman, who bore the Kazak-dra, the Nerrallian repeating crossbow.


'Send them a volley,'� ordered Adrik to the archers atop the walls.

Fifteen thousand arrows took flight from the mighty walls, a cloud surging to the Nerallians. Arrows were bent and mangled on the armor of the paladins; few brought death. Commands of the Nerrallian sergeants echoed faintly across the plain as shields were raised and swords were unsheathed. The elephant riders leveled their Kazak-dra.

The elephants charged first, their thunderous hooves beating the green grass to the ground.

Another volley of arrows soared toward the besiegers.


'Prepare to fire,'� ordered Jex, an Edraa, to his crossbowmen. The archers tensed, searching the veiled Finnitian faces for a target.

'Fire!'�

Darts spewed like angry hornets, sinking into flesh. Blood sprayed as projectiles speared vulnerable necks. The first row of pikes clattered to the red grass.

'Reload, and give them hell!'�


The tide of elephants was all but unstoppable. Few were brought down that day, as the defending ranks were slaughtered by stomping feet and screaming darts. Adrik lead the assault, his mighty elephant crushing foes beneath his feet as his great spear picked off men as he charged. No horse or man or beast could withstand Aranok, his mighty elephant.


At last the invasion begins. Victory shall ensue. The captive ones shall be released from the mountain. Doom will be averted before the great black ones come and bring darkness. Kaiid must not stall me!
It was late evening on the tropical island called Kinar; the sun hovered by the horizon, just three-fourths of its radiance giving light to the island. Kinar was no more than a morning's sail from the coastline, and thus on a clear day, one could see the great cliffs of the coastline jutting up out of the ocean. Kinar rarely suffered storms or hurricanes, and thus it was allowed to prosper beyond the rate of other tropical islands. Beautiful mansions and meticulously tended courtyards made the island and beautiful and inviting land, where no work districts or dirty fiefs marred its splendor.<br> Jalissah was one of the many rich men on the island, his government work providing him with plenty of wealth. Splurging on expensive coastline property, his mansion stretched across the beach and rose four stories above the ocean. He owned two great docks, one of which he rented out for great profit, the other he used for his dozens of barges and yachts. His life of pleasure seemed secure.<br> Tonight Jalissah returned from a pleasure cruise. His great yacht slid over the waves to his wooden pier, the waves splashing against the boat a creating a white spray. Dock workers scurried like ants to the yacht as ropes were tossed over the sides. When the boat was secure, the landing ramp lowered and landed on the dock with a thud. Two armored guards took position on either side of the ramp, and Jalissah descended from the boat, a scantily clad concubine clinging to either arm. Several of Jalissah's friends and business partners strode to the dock, each one accompanied by a concubine as well. The entourage disappeared into the dock building.<br> Time to die'�<br> The Nerrallian OPP had hired Gaij to silently assassinate Jalissah. The OPP, the Organization for Preserving the Peace, had just broken a ring of suspicious government officials. Each individual had many of the same law-breaking tendencies, but this Jalissah, a senator of Kinar, seemed to be particularly dangerous. In the past three months, he had slipped out of the island and headed inland, where he met with suspicious individuals at private locations. Traitorous actions seemed a good explanation, and Gaij, quite an experienced assassin, seemed a good solution.<br> These assassination assignments got tricky sometimes, especially with such a high-ranking beaurocrat. Guards could be an issue, getting a nice shot in, or maybe slitting his throat, finding the target alone; so many variables made this a tough situation. Jalissah's schedule indicated a trip across the island for a conference. Maybe if he stepped outside for a smoke'� A quick arrow through the head, and Gaij could take off back home. But the target was unpredictable. Jalissah had missed several appointments in the past, taking instead another daylong pleasure cruise among the islands. A few minutes until sunset, after which Gaij could hit the streets. <br> A small ferry glided smoothly through the calm black waters. The sun was setting, already hidden by tall cliffs jutting out of the sea. Gaij was in the captain's quarters, conversing with his coordinator. <br> 'We are docking in less than an hour. We will be dropping you off on the island's east coast, a good quarter of a mile south of the target <br>It was eleven. Gaij had scouted out the area, as well as the road to government conference building. Jalissah was late. Gaje took off straight to the mansion, hoping to discover what the beaurocrat's plans were. Pleasure cruise. I better not be too late, he thought. Two guards flanked the mansion's gate, beyond which he could se dock workers preparing a ship. Dozens of servants dragged boxes of possessions out to the yacht. The sail unfurled. <br> Gaij pulled out his crossbow from a strap on his back. A telescope was mounted to the top of the weapon a aligned with the targeting mechanism. Gaij put his eye to the scope, and let loose a bolt into the first guard's forehead. Blood rushed as the dart sunk into his head, the relatively large content of blood in the forehead poring from the wound. The guard was dead instantly and sunk to the ground. The next guard began to open the gate, but was struck by an arrow the neck. He tried to scream, but all that came out was air hissing out of his windpipe. After flailing for awhile, he flopped to the ground next to his counterpart. <br> Un-conventional, but effective. Gaij was in a hurry. The gate proved easy to scale, and the lighting around the garden inside was dim enough. A girl, aged about fifteen, walked towards the front gate along the stone path. She was most likely one of the concubines; her head sagged a bit and she looked tired. But she wouldn't spot the bodies at the gate for they were hidden in the shadows. Gaij pressed his back against a tree until she passed, after which he continued to make his way towards the beach.<br> The front door slammed open. Jalissah hustled out the door with a torch in his hand; it was dark enough now that seeing became difficult. Gaij could hear his nigh hysteric yelling from his position in the shadows. Two men came out afterwards, barely capable of carrying the large chest they held. 'Let's hurry up! Time is short, time is short! It isn't that heavy! This way, to the dock!'� It was Gaij's chance. Jalissah was rushing towards the dock, after which he would take off for who knows how long. But what about all those possessions'� he might be trying to escape Kinar. Something bad was happening. Gaij clicked off the targeting scope from his crossbow and took aim at the rear servant's shin. He let loose a bolt, crippling the servant, who subsequently dropped the chest.<br> 'You fool! What are you doing which my chest? That's expensive, costs too much! Too much for you to drop!'� The servant fell backwards, clutching at his shin. Jalissah thought he had tripped. In seconds, two bolts stuck themselves into the other guard's chest. He collapsed.<br> Jalissah didn't notice, though. He was trying to pick up the other servant, but collapsed to the ground before he was successful. He screamed in pain.<br> Crap. The whole guard is alerted, Gaij thought. This situation was perfect for a Kazak-dra. Time for some sustained firefights. <br> Dropping his conventional crossbow to the ground, he unclipped a bulky weapon from his back. Like the crossbow, a bow was stretched back and locked. At the pull of the trigger, a hook let go of the bow and shot the bolt out much faster than a bow. But the Kazak-dra was made for rapid fire. Four smaller bows were mounted on the Kazak, rather than the normal one bow. A clip of eight bolts attached at the front of the Kazak, and at the pull of the trigger, the first four bolts fired out of the gun. A lever on the top of the weapon was pulled back, reloading it. Another four shots could then be fired, after which a new clip could be installed.<br> Four shots hit Jalissah in the chest area, and his screaming was cut short. Gaij ran full sprint to the beach. Gaij heard three guards rush to blockade the front gate; he could not escape there. The key was the beach. <br> The dockworkers spun around as the alarm was raised. Panic spread. Gaij at last reached the dock as Jalissah's friends, servants and concubines rushed to the yacht. Word had spread of Jalissah's death. He seemed caught between a locked gate and an ocean; taking to either could be disastrous. But the yacht had not set sail yet'�<br> Gaij leapt headfirst into the salty ocean and swam underwater until he was beneath the dock. A guard heard the splash.<br><br> We should have been out of here by now, thought Iacon. Iacon was one of Jalissah's guards, one who had spent the last two days loading all of Jalissah's possessions into the yacht, and it was tiring. Jalissah had said they needed to leave by tonight before sunset, and sunset would come in another twenty minutes at the most. And there was more than a pleasure cruise planned for this outing. Jalissah was leaving Kinar, and in a hurry.<br> The news of Jalissah's assassination was spreading quickly, but as of yet, Iacon knew nothing specific; just that everything at the mansion had turned to chaos in just a few moments. What he did know, though, was that something big just fell into the water. Unfortunately for Jalissah's guards, they were armed with nothing more than short swords; there was only a small chance of assaults on the great isle of Kinar. But Iacon had his weapon ready. Whatever- or whoever-just leapt in the water was probably the cause of all this panic.<br> We could have been out of here hours ago, but Jalissah had to have all his toys'� never mind that. Iacon tried to expel his annoyance. Jalissah was a bit eccentric, and he would travel nowhere without is desired luxuries. Okay, now back to the task at hand. Iacon had heard the splash as he walked out of the yacht. He was halfway down the landing ramp when he heard the splash. It couldn't have been ten seconds later when Rallasena had screamed and started running down the dock towards the boat. Two guards headed to the front of the mansion, while a third followed Icara and Spindella to the dock.<br> 'Get in the boat girls,'� Iacon ordered. They needed no coaxing; they ran straight through the door to hide who knows where. 'Someone is here, Frella,'� he said to the other guard.<br><br> The Kinarrian water was as clear as one could ask for. The sun only just set, so visibility was still decent. In three powerful strokes, Gaij was in the dock's shadow. He surfaced silently.<br> The dock was neither crude nor elaborate; it was made of round wooden poles which supported the planks above. Gaij's head emerged right beneath the walkway. He heard frantic screams. A ring as a sword was drawn. <br><br> 'Iacon! Jalissah is dead,'� Frella said.<br> Iacon grunted. Jalissah was scum, and all but he and his partners knew it. He would not be missed. But Iacon's job was still important, and there was an assassin in the water.<br> It had been one minute since the splash.<br> 'Frella'� something fell in the water over there- just off the shore,'� Iacon said, a bit unnerved. If it was an assassin, he should have surfaced by now.<br> 'Forget him! Let's get in the boat before it's too late,'� said Frella as he started up the ramp, 'C'mon.'�<br> 'Too late,'� said Iacon, staring at the water, 'Too late for what? Why is Jalissah leaving?'�<br> 'The invasion! It's already begun!'�<br><br> Iksawr was feeling good. Wind was with the great Finnitian fleet, and light had all but faded in the late evening sky. All eleven of the battleships were intact and ready for an invasion. Kinar was on the horizon.<br> Sailing up the coastline by dead reckoning had been easy; with an inside agent's help, he had avoided all confrontation. Clearance papers were presented to any who stopped them, and no one questioned clearance papers.<br> Iksawr was no great admiral or general; he was merely a captain, though a fanatical one. Having been born in a clerical family, he looked up to his father and two older brothers. They were stationed at Tpha's cloister. Everyday, they made sacrifices- human ones- to Kaiid, the great god of war. All of their devotion was given to the god, and by the screams and blood of the Finnitians was Kaiid appeased and Finnith preserved. But Iksawr was not allowed to live up to his father's legacy; war raged on the northern borders. His nation needed soldiers, not priests. And a soldier he would be, and he could still offer sacrifices to his god through battle. Thus Iksawr was a fanatical captain, willing to execute the most suicidal of missions. Iksawr would do and risk anything for Finnith. The mission he was now executing was perfect for him.<br> It would not be long before the fleet would land, and some messenger would flee for the coast. But the island would be blockaded. Kinar had no standing army or fortresses; it was so far north that an invasion was utterly unexpected. Everyone on the island, all the politicians and guards and civilians, would be killed or enslaved. He would load up his ships with booty and be gone within two days.<br><br> <br><br> The door shut and the landing ramp withdrew. Gaij turned as he heard the slam. He had been 'doggy paddling'� beneath the dock, listening as the two guards discussed the assassin and his splash.<br> An invasion'� This had to have been the worst job he had ever had. It should have been so simple. Jalissah should have gone to the meeting, Jalissah should have stepped outside for a smoke (being the heavy smoker that he was), and should have died swiftly and cleanly with an arrow through his skull. Gaij could then have sunk back into the shadows and then return to Nerallia to get paid. But he was forced to kill Jalissah inefficiently; he managed to set off the alarm and get the whole mansion into chaos before Jalissah died. Now Gaij had a choice: to stay at the mansion with who knows how many guards, or to take off with the yacht.<br> Gaij chose the yacht. He breaststroked to the boat, which was already moving, and jammed his knife into the hull so he could hold on. After the first knife was secure, he used another knife to climb hand over hand up the side of the boat. Wow, this is desperate'� <br><br> <br> Dear Kurthar Anyad,<br> My colleagues and I have seen your ongoing detraction of the war against Finnith. We <br> Believe that this enemy poses a real threat against the security of Nerallia and its states <br> And people. Adrian, mysterious a figure as he is, has done an efficient job of defeating <br> Finnitians in battle, and the Industrial Guild provides our support to this loyal defender.<br> We believe that in not supporting Adrian, the OPP is endangering our great nation.<br><br> 'Kurthar! We have another letter from the IG,'� Kurthar's secretary called out.<br> 'All right. Put it in the folder with the rest,'� he replied from the other room.<br> Kurthar, Executive Director of the now-infamous OPP, did not even have to read the letter to know what it was about. More petitions from the Nerallian Guilds telling him that 'we support Adrian. Why don't you?'� It was idiotic, at least to Kurthar. Over the past nineteen years, Adrian had cost the nation of Nerallia over two billion Akars in his invasions. Inflation was spiking, yearly-spending average per capita was down over two hundred Akars, and at least nine corporations shut down due to the worsening economy. Before the mass invasions, things ran smoothly. Adrian, ever war-minded, tended constantly to the defense of Nerallia. There was a little too much spending there, but it did not affect anything. But now Adrian pushed for more and more troops, as well as all the siege equipment that Nerallia could possibly produce.<br> The worst part was that every guild in the nation supported the character. Over 85 percent of peasants and middle-class citizens supported Adrian. To them, he was a hero, a sort of diversion from their boring lives. For a thousand years, there had been peace. There had been no major invasions or conflicts. But now the peasants wanted something else; everyday life was too boring. So Adrian took the opportunity and amassed his army. Everything, with the single exception of the OPP, supported the war-hero. <br> There was little the organization could do. They had tried everything, from a ban of support in parliament (which was vetoed) to violent threats to certain individuals (which was responded to with defiance and determination on all fronts). Kurthar's fight was a hopeless one. It seemed the only thing left to try was to find some sort of weakness; perhaps a ill he had done in the past, or a un-sanctioned murder or assassination. This would take some research.<br> Kurthar got up from his desk, after leaving a memo with his secretary regarding the research to be done. Two histocrats would be on that task by the following evening. For now, Kurthar had a meeting to attend.<br><br>Memory was fading. Memory of the summoning, of the Bridge and its destruction, and Man's dawn. The greater ones were trapped, trapped. And little was left of the city of ancients. Darkness ruled everything. Darkness and evil. Tall shadows lurked'�<br> <br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br>Chapter 2<br><br> It was two o'clock the next morning. A small yacht floated freely in the calm waters. The sun had set hours ago and only the light from a waning moon shone on the black water. A peaceful night it was, but it was not so peaceful behind the ship. Not two miles away, Kinar burned. Flames leapt into the sky and smoke curled above the city. <br> Onboard the ship, the two guards, Frella and Iacon, had just fallen to sleep. Their unwelcome visitor decided that it was time. An almost silent thud as the knife sunk into the wood. A dark shape slowly rose over the side of the boat. Two broad shoulders and a head wrapped in black synthetic fibers came into the view, and a gloved hand easily pulled the man over a ledge and onto the deck. From head to toe, with the exception of his fingers, Gaij was clothed in black. A crossbow with the Kazak attachment was strapped to his back, and a sword was next to it. A small pack hung by his waist, containing food and supplies for a week's time.<br> Gaij shot swiftly to the rear of the boat and hid in the shadow of the second deck. The moonlight was not bright, but it was enough to make him visible. He kneeled there for a couple of seconds, allowing his eyes to adjust and scan the deck for guards. There were none. He moved silently but swiftly to the shadow of the mast, and then to the door towards the bow of the boat. Gaij opened the door silently and descended into the yacht. <br> <br> 'The news from Tpha is good, at least,'� said Kurthar, 'Adrian is gaining a major foothold in Finnith. But, as before, the political and economic effects of the war are appalling. The Smith guild has lost at least three corporations since the war's onset, and the Commerce and Mercantile Guilds have suffered losses as well. The only identifiable good news is the increase in employment.'�<br>The OPP Directorate Chiefs were together once again for a monthly conference. All nine chiefs were present first and foremost to discuss the ninth Finnitian wars. Discussion of the wars were always the same, and it was becoming routine for the executives. Bankrupt businesses and rising inflation were always chief effects. To Kurthar, it seemed as though discussion of the war was useless to its monotony.<br>'Once again, we will be making presentations to the major guilds regarding the adverse affects of the war,'� Kurthar continued, 'With any luck, we will at least minimize the downsides of the war.'�<br>'On the topic of our friend Jalissah, his assassination has not yet been confirmed, but the unit contracted for the job is experienced enough that we believe he can do it. Two other units are en route to cities in the north to eradicate other shady officials. By eliminating these targets, we believe that less funds will be wasted on extra-political gains as well as reducing the danger of treason, signs of which these officials have shown.'�<br>Kurthar finished his speech and sat back down. The OPP was doing its job well, he thought. Some research, though, needed to be done on the topic of Adrian.<br>Something told Kurthar that Adrian was up to more than it seemed. He, or someone like him, had been around, in legend or truth, for over two hundred years. His historians had even recovered references to a war hero like him from the fifth age, over nine thousand years ago. Of course, this was not the same Adrian. The longest recorded life span of a human was three-hundred and fifty eight years. This Adrian character appeared in no censuses or records. He had no identifiable family. Who was he and what are his motives? Kurthar had no idea. Simply invading an enemy land had no purpose but to'� defeat the enemy. And that was no thing to devote your life to. Spending every hour, every thought on war. He has never been married, never seen with a woman. His spent no time for pleasure, and had no close friends, except for Nezal, his advisor. There was something going on, and Kurthar wanted to find out what it was.<br>Suspicious characters had no place in Nerallia; the OPP had made it a single goal to eradicate these people. <br>The meeting soon drew to a close. It had only taken a half-hour to discuss budgets, wars and assassins. Kurthar rose from his wooden chair and walked towards the door. It was a nice day out; the sun had just risen, and he had a family to spend the rest of the day with. A carriage awaited him at the front door. It was nice not to have to call them anymore. The taxi company was notified by the OPP when their chief operatives needed a ride. A single horse pulled the carriage down the street and away from the business districts. With in a half-hour, it arrived at one of the richest neighborhoods in Nerallia. Working for the government had its perks.<br><br>Aranok threw his head in the air a bellowed. The mighty elephant rose into the air on its rear hooves, then landed on the ground again, crushing all beneath him in a bloody mess. His tusks swung back and forth as he trumpeted over and over again. Finnitians fell by the thousands.<br> Time and time again, Adrian thrust downward with his long pike, spearing a desert warrior with each stab. Adrian pulled Aranok's rains to the right, beckoning him towards the gates. <br>Adrian and two other Edraas were at the forefront of the battle, and all was going well. <br>After the elephant's charge, the Paladins, armored and majestic, had charged across the battlefield to clean up what the elephants left behind. The Paladins and their long swords easily crushed the enemy; the Finnitian spear and knife could not parry a skilled attack from the northerners. All went well. <br> Soon, the mighty elephants reached the walls, and within five minutes, the iron-ore tusks smote the stone. Elephants rampaged through the once-mighty city. It was almost over, but Adrik had not given up yet. With his dying breath, be bade Elessel to release her worms, lest the city be destroyed. But after his message was given, he was trampled by a wrathful elephant. No one dared to carry away his bloody corpse; the battlefield was lost.<br>Three mighty worms rose among the paladins. The first slid along the ground as men lost hope and fled; hundreds were swallowed. The second thrust straight through the earth, hurling the armored infantry into the air. They fell back down and were crushed. A great and fearless champion challenged the third. Atanar fought bravely, and their duel raged as all others fled. The monster struck repeatedly at the man, but Atanar dodged out of the monster's path to strike it with his sword. But there were none who could single-handedly destroy the beasts. It took many pikes and many lives to bring them at last to the dirt. <br>It was at last finished, and Tpha was brought to its knees.<br><br>Gaij turned the corner, peeked into the room. He could hear deep breathing. A woman lay asleep in the corner. The assassin moved on past the doorway. <br>The yacht was a nice one. Jalissah apparently had a few dollars to spend. Unfortunately, they were probably not his. In some way or another, the official had funneled funds into his accounts and used them to purchase private goods, and now he had paid. And trapped Gaij. Apparently, Jalissah had also been setting up an invasion. Gaij had seen the flames as the boat left Kinar and heard the screams as the innocent civilians were mercilessly slaughtered. All these thoughts banished any regrets he could have about the assassination.<br>Now Gaij wanted to know where the boat was going. To the coast? Dangerous, but possible. Silare, an abandoned island in the middle of the ocean, was too far north. Kylee, though, was a strong possibility. It was a large continent, roughly the size of Felneath, and lay a week's sail east of Nerallia. Kylee was largely un-explored. There were no kingdoms there, save a small Finnitian settlement. Of course! They were fleeing to Kylee.<br><br>Silare was a large, almost barren island. It had risen, legend tells, before the ages of men were measured. The mountains made up most of the island, stretching from the North to the South and West to East. They are relatively small at first, but towards the middle of the island, they grow and rise swiftly to the peak of Zellbaleck, the mightiest of the planet's mountains. There, tales tell, the mighty gods once dwelt, but no god or divine entity has visited Felneath for as long as men have had knowledge. But the mountain still stands, and down its face, a lone man limped along.<br>Balasc didn't know his name. He didn't know who he was, where he was, or what shown so bright in his face as he stumbled along. The trail was steep, and Balasc felt drunk. His foot slipped off a rock and he tumbled down the road for a few feet. Something tingled in his head, then his legs. It slowly grew more intense until it started hurting. Balasc didn't know that his nerves were severely damaged. He could not feel pain until several seconds after he was hurt. His eyes perceived light, but his optical nerves could not handle a bright light, such as the sky or fire. His head hurt because he had suffered severely from brain damage.<br>Something urged him to go forward, some impulse from his brain, a strand of intellect left. Something he could understand. Certainly nothing else made sense. Or maybe he couldn't make sense of it. Either way, he didn't want to think about it. It just hurt. <br>The man was twenty-five, at the most. His hair was short and black, he was a bit sturdy, and wore an old cotton shirt and leather pants. He had no cuts or bruises, except for those he gave himself. There were bags under his eyes; he hadn't slept in three days. Something about the darkness kept him awake. Something about the darkness reminded him of something'� something he did not want to remember, that made him panic whenever the sun set. <br>He arrived at the base of the mountain. It was flat here, something unfamiliar. Through his squinted eyes, he saw some large mountains ahead, and beneath them upside down mountains. It would have seemed strange to anyone else. You cannot look ahead and just see an object and then that same object upside down below it. To Balasc, though, it was just something new. Even though he had never seen anything like it in the past three days, he didn't remember seeing the mountains, the sun, the rocks, he didn't even remember ever existing either. Then the upside-down mountains wavered. Little hills, one after the other ran through the mountain, distorting the image he saw. He moved closer, and reached out to touch them. As he put his hand into the mountain, little ripples started moving around his hand; they kept moving, and got smaller and smaller until they finally disappeared. He felt pressure around his hand, and when he pulled his hand out, they felt'� wet. He put his face into the water, not knowing why it felt good going down his throat. But he couldn't get enough. <br>A few minutes later he was moving again. The path he took was the only one that led through the mountains. It had been built ages ago, but still lasted in a somewhat decrepit state. It led from south from Zellbaleck for three miles and then forked into two separate paths, one heading more or less west, the other more directly to the East. Many years ago, they may have connected a mine to the coastal colonies. Now, the passes were completely abandoned. Transportation from Felneath to Silare was too dangerous for regular supply shipments, so the corporations owning the mountains abandoned them and left Silare, leaving employees with no money on the island to live whatever life they could on the colony. Of course, no effort at all was made to preserve the path. <br>By some luck or chance, or perhaps the choice of the Fates, Balasc turned onto the eastern pass. Luck because it led to the colony. The average human can last seven days without any food, one without water. He found enough of the delightful liquid along the trail, but food was lacking. The high elevation discouraged any wildlife besides mountain goats and other elusive creatures. It had been three days since he started his trek, and in that time, memory was slowly restoring itself. Whatever had driven his mind from him had not totally eradicated it. The light in the sky was the sun, he somehow recalled. The strange substance he had found the other day was water, and the emptiness in his stomach was hunger. He still had no name, at least to his recalling, and he was still nowhere. What drove him from the mountain was fear. Fear kept him awake in the darkness. Fear of... a mouth. Then it was too much. The memory, a red mouth, with a deep blackness inside'� no tongue, no teeth, no face, no body'� just the mouth, was horrible. His mind throbbed, his eyes burned at the very thought. He could remember nothing else. Nothing else. <br><br>'Let's talk.'� The words were unnecessary, but Gaij said them anyway. Frella lay dead beside his bound counterpart. Gaij had slit the guard's throat as he lay blissfully asleep. Frella had made a perfect stimulation for information. Iacon would not resist. <br>'Wha'� What do you'�you want? Don't kill me! Please don'�'� Iacon was panicked. But all Gaij had to do was squeeze a little tighter.<br>'I want answers. A clear answer says 'I want to live,' begging for life says 'Kill me,'� Gaij said, his forearm cutting off almost all air from the guard's lungs. 'Now, did Jalissah set up the invasion?'�<br>'He'� He must have. Frella knew before'� he told me, you probably heard him!'� <br>'Good enough. Now, where are we going?'�<br>'I think we must be heading west, to Kylee'� that's what'� what the nav said!'�<br>'What for?'�<br>'Jalissah, he must have wanted'� I don't know! He'� must have wanted to hide!'�<br>'You know enough. Now, what will your employer say when you get there without Jalissah? Do you think he will be happy? You are going to have some explaining to do. Do you have anything else to say?'� A grunt. ' Good. It's bedtime.'�<br>A sharp thud on the head put the man to sleep. Gaij used some spare rope from the cargo hold to bind Iacon, and subsequently threw him in the lower deck. The concubines were treated less harshly. They were locked in the room where they slept- it had no windows or metal objects- and left there for the rest of the journey.<br>It was the second millenium of mankind's existence in Felneath. Civilizations rose and fell, as well as religions. But never had man encountered the magnet, for though ions and lightning were all caused by positive and negative charges, no rock held the specific power of magnetism. Thus, the people of Felneath lacked the power of the compass, as well as the ability to generate electricity. The lack of a compass severely crippled mankind's ability to navigate. The crude system of north, south, west, and east had developed, but there was no way, excepting the sun and stars to determine one's direction. Thus, the only way to navigate open ocean was through the marine gyroscope system, developed by Machine System Technologies several centuries ago. The hull of the ship contained a large gearbox, full of delicate systems. Weights, gears and pulleys all operated to alter the sail's position. When the wind changed, the gear system sensed the change, and a weight somewhere in the system was thrown off. When the weight moved, gears turned one way or the other to account for the directional changes by turning the jib sail so many degrees. It was fully automatic, but only the wealthy could afford it, and even it could make errors. In severe storms, the gear could be thrown off completely, and as the gears attempted to correct the change, the boat could be turned around so completely that it was lost forever. <br>In the captain's room all the data from the system was recorded by an automatic print system. The natural calm surrounding Kinar had ensured the system's smooth operation, so the course was holding a steady north-northeast direction. An arm with a pen on the end of it traced the ships course, calculating wind speed and yacht velocity. They were heading directly for Askubad. Kylee indeed.<br><br>The Fist of Kaiid pulled up next to an old dock on the south side of Kinar. Almost all of Iksawr's job was done now. The Bridge of Fate and its squadron of four galleons had swept to the North of the island, the Adrian's Bane and Dark Bone had flanked the island from the East and West. OPP commissioning posts were the chief worry, and these were destroyed first. Local guardsman put up a disorganized resistance. These were duly wiped out with little loss. Without commissioners, the units were leaderless and therefore worthless. The burning of several major areas was troubling. Some peasant might manage to see the smoke from the mainland, but the psychological effects of fire were indubitable. The government officials were all killed along with their families. <br>It was time to head to Kylee. Word would spread before a day passed, and a return south would be impossible. The inside agent, Iksawr's briefing said, had departed for Askubad. They were to retrieve the defector, who would be duly rewarded. His ship was to be burned and its crew destroyed. The fleet would catch up with them before they left the Kinar Calm. <br>With any luck, his mission would earn him a promotion and a raise, plus the medals and respect. <br>'Order the men to withdraw. We must depart before word of our little party spreads,'� Iksawr commanded from the dock. Word spread quickly. <br><br>The clatter of glass mugs was the signature sound of a tavern. Jird set a couple of beers on the bar table, which were accepted by the happy denizens of Alladan. <br>''Nother hard day at the general store, Gafar,'� Jird asked, making small talk with his usual customers.<br>'Not hard, no, not hard at all. Slow like always. Things are always winding down. You know, Jird, that last voyage fer the mainland left. Missed it again. Not enough money, as usual,'� Gafar responded.<br>The colonists were not trying to escape anyone or anything but Silare. Alladan was situated on Silare's eastern coast between to long peninsulas. The town, with a population of five thousand, was carved from a green mountainside. The earth was flourishing with palm trees and tall jungle grasses, and a decrepit old wooden shack poked its head above the lush plants here and there. Many of the colony's denizens were once employees of Dirck Mining Corp. who were abandoned when shipping prices skyrocketed. Dirck could barely afford to export its equipment to Felneath, much less its employees. A rare sailor, seeking adventure more than money, would venture to the colony to fill his vessel with eager Alladanites with enough cash to pay their way, or enough cunning to sneak aboard. <br>'Tough luck buddy. I wanted that trip as much as anyone.'� Jird really felt for the man, but he was just one among many. Everyone wanted out.<br>'The old store is makin' nothin. I can't keep the shelves stocked either. All my supplies is runnin' low. I'm gonna have to abandon ship before I know it. Why won't the cursed Nerallians get us out of here? Can't they do nothin'?'�<br>'Don't know. We aren't worth crap up here, so they don't even try to give us a hand. You know that, Gafar. Now quit whining and drink your booze.'�<br>'Yeah, yeah.'� Gafar grunted. He needed to get drunk, needed to forget his troubles. The old man grabbed his beers, which he had been staring at thoughtfully before, and sat down with a thud in a booth. <br>Jird turned around and started wiping down the tables and cleaning up old mugs. Life droned on despite his hopelessness. The store needed running, and business was always dropping. Who knew how much longer the colony would last? Would some hopeful sailor arrive at the bay, only to find an abandoned colony? It could happen, and everyone knew it.<br>The door creaked as it was opened. Its old hinges groaned loudly enough that Jird didn't need the old rusty bell he used to use. He peeked up from beneath the counter. A keg had been leaking, which he used some caulk to fix. The face he saw was an unfamiliar one. In a place like Alladan, you knew every face. This was strange.<br>The face Jird saw was a sad one. The eyes sagged severely and the wrinkles were almost cartoonish. His hair was scraggly and balding, and his clothes were like none he had ever seen. Jird's eyes met with the man, and somehow Jird seemed to recognize him. The strange man halted for a second, then approached the bartender.<br>'Hel..Hello. What do the people call you?'� He asked haltingly.<br>A strange greeting, Jird thought. ' Name's Jird. This is my tavern, and you're welcome here any time. What can I do for you sir?'�<br>At this, the man's eyes looked to the left. He turned his head and scanned the lobby like he was looking for something. His eyes locked onto one of the tables.<br>'You ever hear the song that goes like this'�'� Something strange happened then. The man started humming a famous tune from a symphony writer. 'Red and Black, Red and Black Bluuuuue Bird, Blue Bird where have you been? Three nights, no four, sleeping without out you, singing outside my room'�'�<br>That wasn't exactly it, but it was somewhat recognizable. Something weird was happening, but Jird figured the guy was just a little bit out-of-it. It happened, especially under Alladan's stressful circumstances.<br>'Umm'� Yes, that's a very good'� good song,'� Jird said. At this, the man seemed satisfied. After staring behind Jird for a moment, the man started talking again.<br>'You don't, well, I don't think that it would, would be good,'� The man had trouble getting his thoughts together, 'Could I order a'� a, um, I'd like a pretzel.'�<br>Jird cleared his throat. 'No sir, I'm sorry. We don't have pretzels. But we do have some crescent rolls, if you'd like to try one.'�<br>'You don't suppose'� you couldn't make one?'�<br>'No, I don't think we can.'�<br>At this, the man wasn't exactly disappointed, but he wasn't happy. It was'� strange. The old fellow turned around and walked across the bar without another word, and approached Gafar. As the man got closer, Gafar looked up and watched the man as he sat down across the table from him. Gafar looked at Jird from across the bar. Jird shrugged and motioned that it was okay. Gafar frowned. <br>'Hello sir. What is'� Is that coffee any good,'� the man asked.<br>'Hmmm? Oh! This here, it ain't coffee. It's Jird's best brew.'�<br>'Okay.'�<br>The man started staring at the ground again, just looking at his feet. A thought seemed to enter his mind. His face contorted into a thoughtful expression. He looked up, but instead of talking, his eyes locked onto Gafar's face. Gafar was about to take a bite of a crescent roll, but as he watched the old man, the man's face contorted suddenly. His eyes bulged. His mouth twisted, and he vomited on the table before doubling over and collapsing on the ground. When the vomit stopped pouring and the man could breath again, he started screaming uncontrollably. <br><br>Contact must have been made. Those who imprisoned us must seek our creation, and destroy it, they will. Something must be done, but nothing can be done. The only ones left are the ones who were Sent, and one is lost already.<br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br>Chapter 3<br><br><br> It had been the most troubling part of invasions since they began on a massive scale. As Adrian progressed through enemy territory, he was forced to leave men behind to guard conquered land. Leaving a government and local army was complex, and managing the former occupants was troubling. Enslavement was popular among the Nerallian barons, but that would only help him lose support, much less gain any. So they either allowed themselves to be assimilated into the new state, or given several days to evacuate the area. Of course, many were very unwilling. Riots started, but with an entire invasion force already present, these were crushed before they got anywhere. So Adrian chose a couple of captains to take command of the city. Messengers notified the TC (Tax Committee) that they had a new source of revenue, as well as calling for a local police initiative from the OPP. Before two years passed, the city of Tpha and its farmland would be a part of Nerallia. But until then, Adrian was forced to leave a small force behind, just in case Finnith did something clever and attacked the city.<br> Repairs started immediately, for the walls were already present. Local mining industries supplied equipment while executive decisions were being made. Soon they could move on.<br> 'Nezal, I want Hrakon and Adinjar in charge this time. Let them choose who they want on the council.'� Adrian and Nezal were looking on their prize from the temple's balcony. Most of the city, at least the government buildings, were scoured, and Adrian wanted to inspect the temple himself.<br> 'Hmmm. You suppose they will retaliate?'� Nezal responded to Adrian's order with his usual attitude. Always something Adrian hadn't considered. 'The Vendrenar garrison is reported to be very large. If they were mobilized'�'�<br> 'I know about Vendrenar, Nezal. But if we pull out now, we lose the element of surprise. They will be ready, and we will never be able to hurt them. I think if we keep spearheading this coast, we can destroy enough. If they show signs of an attack, we can always pull out! Besides, our holdings are secure enough, I think, in Finnith. They will not be so eager to counter-strike.'�<br> 'But we cannot be too sure. We've taken their last major citadel this far north. I think we should call off this large of an invasion, and use our resources to take out Vendrenar.'�<br> 'Hmm. This is the last point they would be desperate to defend for many miles. Perhaps you are right. If they are not trying to defend the east coast, they will not mobilize men. But for now, let's inspect this temple and see how the religion of Finnith is coming along.'�<br> It was the chief part of Tpha. The Fortress-Monastery rose two hundred feet at least above the busy streets. It was built of solid marble, shining brightly in the morning light. It was new and beautiful; every surface was polished to perfection. The lower levels had been searched and documented by histocrats. Two new altars had been found, a variation from the normal Finnitian monastery. The histocrats were still determining what they were used for. <br> Very little was known of Finnitian religious practices. Peasants would not speak of it when interrogated. What little they could get out of them was mumbo-jumbo about their god of war, who's name they would not unfold. Praying and ferocity in war was how the Finnitians paid homage to their god, but details were slim. Any monastery was stripped of all documents, and the priests and religious figures were evacuated as soon as the smallest hints of war were seen. A priest or two would be very helpful'� <br> It is easily understandable that the Nerallians knew little of the Finnitian cult, or religion at all, for that matter. Little was spoken of any deity, nor had any legend regarding the Creation surfaced for untold ages. Life droned on for the average Nerallian soul, with little to be desired besides prosperity. The after-life was an abandoned theory. There couldn't be a blissful place in which to continue one's existence, nor a place of punishment. There was life. And that was enough. Besides, if you didn't have anything to earn, there wasn't anything you had to do or believe. And that made things so much simpler.<br> 'Those arches there, they seem to have some sort of significance,'� Adrian said, pointing to three magnificent doorways down the passage. <br> 'Those are the Arches of Kaiid,'� Nezal replied, 'They are of some significance. Every major fortress-monastery has them. A place of prayer, a memory of some lost war, or reminder of a prophecy. We don't really know what they are. The inscriptions are still being translated, but most of them refer only to Kaiid and his power.'�<br> 'Fascinating,'� Adrian responded. And it really was. Apparently the god-worship of the Finnitians had turned their emperor into an omnipotent god. After all, they were mere desert primitives, and their technology was not advanced enough to see that there was no god, or gods. They just weren't. <br> Passing under the arches, the two generals entered another wide dome. Two round windows on the roof allowed sunlight to enter the chamber. Ancient murals covered the lofty ceiling, many of them cryptic and meaningless. Great champions rode their horses into battle, the slain lying around their feet. A frowning face looked down upon the sun, as the sun looked down upon Felneath. Great battleships sailed the ocean through towering waves and pounding rain.<br> Primitives.<br> All around the room were histocrats, the Nerallian's historical documenting officials. Small hammers tapped at the walls, chisels scraped away dirt and depository rocks. Scribes unraveled whatever they could, and recorded that which they could not understand. It was a long process. Little was known of the Finnitian dialect. Nearly all peasants had a loyalty rooted in fear to Kaiid, and it was not easily broken. There were the few that could be persuaded to abandon their culture, but these were used more for their skills in battle than their knowledge of Finnith. <br> One of the histocrat supervisors rose to inspect the opposite wall, but then saw Adrian. <br> 'Adrian! Sempal has run across something new on the second floor. He wanted to speak to you as soon as possible,'� the histocrat said. <br> 'Thank you, sir. Where is he right now?'�<br> 'Down in the conversion chamber. Take the ramp outside this room and to the left. It's past the catacomb map and down the hall. There's a small room they uncovered down there, and they're making a lot of commotion about it.'�<br> 'Thank you once again.'�<br><br> It had been good for Balasc. To see another man, and be recognized by him. There was something in the meeting of the eyes that encouraged him and told him that he really existed. Things had come back to him before he met'� Jird, was it? The old shacks, the run down houses. They all faintly recalled memories of'� something before'�. He didn't know what. But the streets were deserted, and he had no choice but to wander on for awhile. And then there was the building. He wanted to go in there. There were other people in there. He didn't know what to say or do, but words came to him. Even a song. <br> But something made him think of'� Agh! It hurt! The mouth'� it came back. He had talked to the old man, even struck up what seemed to be a lively conversation. When Balasc asked the man about coffee'� The man responded. Something about recognition made him feel free again, like he actually existed! And then the man told him about the best beer he'd ever heard of. It made him pause and look down, and then something else. Something else.<br><br> 'What's going on?'� Jird dashed around the bar and into the dining area, knocking over a barstool in the process. Gafar had leapt from his seat, the vomit all over his shirt. 'What in Felneath happened?'�<br> Eventually the seizure calmed down. But it had lasted for what seemed like an eternity. The other customers leapt from their seats. Some stared, some left and headed home. There were no authorities or medical emergency help to be contacted. The Alladanites were on their own.<br> 'Wake up! Wake up,'� Jird had stripped off the man's dirty shirt and was shaking him. Balasc's eyes sagged a little bit as they slowly opened. He groaned. <br> <br> It was a sad day for Tpha. The walls had crumbled beneath him. He felt the thunderous impacts of the elephants from the monastery. The other priests had fulfilled their obligation; they scooped all the scrolls and records and either burned them, or fled down the steps of the monastery. But Izadril stood motionless. He had worked so long to purify the masses. And it all came crumbling down now.<br> What he felt was not despair, though. It was merely'�. Disappointment. Kaiid could not be defeated, so he must be giving up the city as'� a strategic withdrawal. He did not need the western coast. Perhaps he was drawing the Nerallians away from something else.<br> Or perhaps his sacrifices were not pleasing.<br> No matter. He did all that he could to appease Kaiid, and that was all he could do. But he would not abandon his position now. Even though the city would fall, the sacrifices must still be attended to. Izadril turned away from the balcony and into the Dome of Victory. The light shown brightly through the circular window around the roof. All the other monks and priests had fled, all of them but a small fat one. Was it'� Rufin? Yes, he would make a good sacrifice.<br> Rufin was distracted by the pile of scrolls he had dropped. The holy writ had to be saved, or destroyed if there was no alternative. He managed to scoop up three of the scrolls, but one was rolling away. <br> 'Agh! Come back here,'� he muttered to himself, unaware of his peril. Rufin blundered on a couple of feet, then tried to bend over. But all the other scrolls tumbled out of his arms again. 'Ah! Screw i'�'� His words were cut short.<br> Izadril thrust his knee sharply into the man's spinal cord, snapping it below his torso. He Rufin was paralyzed from the waist down. He tried to scream, but a powerful forearm cut off his breath. Another arm held his wrist, threatening to snap it off. He was lifted off the ground and down several levels. His eyes started to shut, but he willed them to stay open. He could taste blood as it rushed into his mouth. He tried to cough, but couldn't.<br> Kept going down'�the map chamber, all the blurred lines'�<br> His eyes shut again. His brain didn't have enough oxygen.<br> Grinding stone'� the secret passage'� Sacrifice?<br> His mind rung with the question. Wasn't he supposed to be leaving? Were they going to'� going to'� kill him?<br> The candles, the altars'� The knife.<br> Adrian walked through the crumbling passage. A door had been pried open under Sempal's direction. <br> 'Adrian, we don't know what this is. It's older than everything else. And the niches in the walls'� we've never seen anything like it,'� Sempal said as he guided Adrian down the passage. Sempal held a torch.<br> 'Very strange. Has the entire area been scoured?'�<br> 'Yes, sir, but all we found was a dead end and some used candles. Something gives me a bad feeling about this. It seems more occultic than anything we've seen before. There's some skulls strewn here and there on the floor.'�<br> 'A variant Finnitian cult? That's possible. Religions beg for shoot-offs.'�<br> 'But a sadistic cult like this?'�<br> They walked on in silence until the dead end. There was one rack on the wall, anchored to the ancient stone. It was probably used for a torch.<br> 'May I see the torch, Sempal,'� Adrian asked. Sempal nodded and gave him the torch.<br> Adrian examined the walls closely. They were ribbed with iron supports, rusty old sheets that probably did little to support the crumbling stone blocks. <br> 'What is this?'� A lever was hidden behind one of the ribs. 'Clever.'� Adrian pulled it to the left, its rusty hinge grinding as it rotated. Pneumatic pipes spewed steam through cracks in the stone and hissed loudly.<br> <br> 'Wha'�Wha'� What are you'�'� Rufin was finding it almost impossible to talk. His arms were being placed very forcefully into iron restraints. He saw a dark face lean over him, heard chants as Izadril lifted a knife above his head. Pain started fading. He was slipping'�<br> Something started seeping onto his shirt, under his back, under his head'� was it'� his own blood? His neck burned. He lasted a while longer, but it was ending soon'�<br> Then something hissed. He heard a grinding noise.<br><br> 'This is all we've been able to recover,'� the histocrat, Menofar, explained as he set the files down on Kurthar's desk. 'We have mainly his war records, relations with the different guilds.'�<br> 'Good, good.'� Kurthar had been waiting for awhile. Histocrat work was lengthy. He had submitted his request a couple of weeks previously, but hadn't expected it to take this long. But, it was reasonable. Sifting through records was downright boring, in Kurthar's eyes, but Menofar probably enjoyed it. To each his own'�<br> Kurthar started sifting through the piles. Several papers regarded financial support from the guilds. The smith guild, the construction guild, the culinary guild'� The list went on and on. Next in the pile were some documents of his war activity. The Vendrenar siege, the Defense of Tillbourg, and his most recent Tpha siege. They all referred to his maneuvers. Brilliant, but they didn't help Kurthar. <br> 'Birth records? Family expenditures? Don't you have anything personal like that,'� Kurthar asked, looking up from the stacks.<br> Menofar hesitated. 'Well'�. No. Unfortunately, we don't,'� he said.<br> 'You've scoured city records?'�<br> 'Yes. Sir.'�<br> 'Hmm. Something is very wrong. No birth record, no family'� What kind of man is this? I know the people don't care, but that's only because they want to see the Finnitians wiped out. I want to know his motives. I want to know where he came from and why he fights. Try talking to Nezal. He would know.'�<br> 'Do you think he has a'� ulterior motive?'� the histocrat asked, following Kurthar's train of thought.<br> 'I don't know.'� Kurthar paused, thinking. Was he'� what the Racand spoke of? No'� it couldn't be'�. 'I need to think, Menofar. Thank you for the information. Keep looking.'�<br> The histocrat turned and left. His crew would be up all night again'�. Oh, well.<br> Kurthar placed the files in his desk, labeled for future reference. What did Nezal know? He was the only person Adrian talked to confidentially. No one really knew if they were best friends, or if Nezal was just an advisor. Did Adrian really confide in Nezal? He would have to find out. Perhaps Adrian's war commission could be penetrated. How awkward would that be! The OPP infiltrating a friendly organization! But if it had to be done, it had to be done. Kurthar would not allow a suspicious character like Adrian to do whatever evil he had planned. <br> But making plans didn't comfort him very much. Thoughts still ran about his head. Nerallia had a very efficient census system. They rarely missed a birth, and recorded all of a family's financial records. If they existed, the OPP had access to them. But Adrian's records didn't seem to exist. A most disturbing thought indeed.<br> But there was other business to attend to. He searched through his message files. Things were going excellently. Hdawn had successfully identified his target, a rotten tax manager from Hidangel. Elimination was going according to schedule. He had identified the manager's household guards, tracked him on his daily routines, and intercepted an outgoing message or too. He had even spotted the man meeting secretly with a mysterious stranger, and thus confirmed the OPP's suspicions of traitorous behavior. Allakor and Benago successfully eliminated their targets without complication, and Bniafus would soon do so as well. But Gaij, on the other hand, must have been having trouble. He hadn't reported his progress. Oh, well. Gaij always had liked operating independently, to the dismay of operations directors. <br> So black ops were going successfully. It had only taken a month for the operatives to get in position. But what's this?<br>The next message was red. <br> 'What'�,'� Kurthar muttered to himself.<br> 167/9292<br> Kurthar Anyad<br> Emergency Reporting<br> Kinar was attacked two days ago. Shipments were reported as 'blockaded by hostile forces'� Nine ships at least were laying siege. Damage estimates are in the billions. Over nine hundred dead officials. Besiegers have escaped successfully. No attempt of tracking them has been successful.<br> End.<br><br> Kinar'� Kurthar rose and headed out of his office. This begged for investigation'�.<br><br> <br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br>Chapter 4<br><br> 'Andokron! Wake up! Now!'�<br> The little boy groaned. He lay on a mat, covered with a couple of thin blankets. He was only nine, his black hair cut short. His eyes were a deep green; large eyes that looked at everything thoughtfully. But right now, they didn't want to open.<br> He had been dreaming again, dreaming about the vast blue space above him, and below it, an endless horizon to explore. Well, almost endless. It was time to get up. His young hands pulled the sheets off his body and he placed his feet on the dirty floor. After blinking a couple of times he could see okay. It wasn't light yet, but he couldn't remember ever sleeping that late. But there was no time for complaining. There was his mother in the doorway.<br> 'Time to get up,'� she grunted as she lifted him to his feet. 'Did you sleep well?'�<br> The boy muttered in response.<br> 'Now, get dressed. The water needs harvesting,'� his mother said as she left the room.<br> It was just another workday. The Salaast Feasts were over, and his free time had declined back to its normal bend. He pulled on a long-sleeved shirt and some pants and walked to the door. Outside, the hot desert stretched for miles before the village longhouse.<br> An hour's walk from his house was the oasis. It was a little pond, no bigger than his small room. Andokron stumbled down the path, still only half awake, to refresh himself in the cold water. When he reached the oasis, he saw the Revered, the elders of his kindred. The three old men were splashing their faces with fresh water and muttering softly about who knows what. Andokron sat down by the water, dipping his feet while the pond was still cold; he could see the sunrise on the horizon. When the sun came out, nothing was cold.<br> He crouched down, balancing on the balls of his feet as he leaned over the water. Small ripples gently flowed across the surface of the water, and in its reflection, he saw a boy. He saw a boy that endured starvation, war, and whatever else came to trouble him and his village. He was a Finnitian, a fighter, a warrior. He had killed at least a dozen raiders in this year alone as his kindred struggled in this wasteland. He saw the anger in his eyes; the anger that allowed him to kill without regret; the anger he felt when his oldest sister was beaten and carried away to the horizon. The horizon that he sought always.<br> <br> Gaij opened his eyes; not sharply, but slowly. At one time, the abruptness of waking, the sudden bewilderment at one's location, had been an emotion for Gaij. But he had taught himself to comprehend things slowly and steadily, and thus he rose from the deck of the gently swaying ship. Rain pattered lightly on the ship, the rain that seems to flow from a clear sky. The sun was bright and the deck was already warm. Gaij walked slowly to the bow of the ship and gazed at the horizon. The <br><br><br><br><br> <br><br> <br> <br> <br> <br><br>

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