CHRONICLES OF DAR'RYN

The Complete Series

Sam Whittaker

Copyright © 2023 Sam Whittaker

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Cover design by: Bill Wicks

Printed in the United States of America

EXILES OF DAR'RYN

BOOK 1

PROLOGUE

1. Belem

Fatigue set in even as the ocean crashed against him, choking him with its icy death grip. Life had always been a matter of fighting to survive. Nothing had been given freely to Belem, or so he reckoned it. And his many hard years of a scraped-together existence had forged him into a hard man – a killer. That was why he had been on the prison barge in the first place. When the Citadel authorities had at last subdued him – with considerable effort – the bloodied guard captain spat in his face and informed him he’d slaughtered his last man.

Belem had nearly slipped the hold the guardsmen had on him, lunging at the man with crimson intent. If he had been successful in the attempt, Belem would have added one more life to the list of those whose lives he’d extinguished. All he had to do was get his hands on the man. Then it would have been the easiest thing in the world to snap his neck. If he had done so, the remaining guards would have likely responded in kind, killing him. No investigation, no trial, no one to care. Later, in chains, as he reflected on that moment, he wondered if there were a secret recess of himself that wanted the authorities to apply deadly force to him and end it all.

All that faded into the background now. Now, making it out of this current state of affairs alive was all he cared about. To make matters worse, his mind refused to piece together how he had gotten there in the first place. One of the last things he remembered was nodding off on the prison barge as it skimmed above the ocean, on its way to deliver him and the other convicts to the shores of Void Island and the prison colony there known simply as The Obelisk. He hadn’t slept in days, as taking rest in the holding station was deemed by many to be unwise. He’d been told by the guards that going to sleep was chancing waking up to gang assault over clothes or possible contraband…or as likely not waking up at all.

There was a little over fifty individual holding cells onboard the barge, and he took advantage of finally being alone to get some rest. The cells were small and claustrophobic, but that mattered little to a man so tired, and he used the three-foot-wide by four-foot long by five-foot-high space to stretch out to the best of his ability. He was no small man by any stretch of the imagination; therefore his positioning was awkward, yet he was able to find sleep in relatively short order. His brief slumber was troubled by violent and bloody dreams, though he could not recall them now that he was devoting every ounce of strength he could muster to surviving the crashing and cold waves.

He had awoken underwater and was short of breath…disoriented. Even his recollection of clawing his way to the surface of the ocean after coming to consciousness was piecemeal. All that mattered to Belem now was that he find a way out of the water and keep on breathing. He would take care of thinking later.

He felt his body lift as the wave surged carelessly, plunging him beneath the surface yet again when he came back down. His body screamed at him for air, but his mouth and nose sucked only water, causing him to convulse.

Panic instantly took hold of every nerve in his body. Fighting against the wracking convulsions threatening to overtake control of his body, he began to claw his way up…or at least what he hoped was up.

Two simple thoughts, unbidden yet insistent, became his sole focus. The first was, I must reach the surface. This was followed closely by, I must live. His instinct to survive was all there was. It became more real to him than the very ocean in which he was drowning.

He began to concentrate, to tamp down the panic to a manageable level. Focused, at last, he stroked with his arms, swimming with purpose. There was no telling how far under the water he was, so when he breached the surface it came as a welcome but short-lived surprise.

Another wave crashed down upon him with titanic force. He felt his body tumble end over end as he plunged downward yet again. All sense of direction was lost. The icy grip of the water threatened to sap away all power to move, to even care to try. A sudden urge to give up, to sink into despair and let himself drown crashed down on him the way the wave had. The idea occurred to him that maybe he should just inhale with the rest of his might, simply fill his lungs with ocean and let himself die. Yes, it would be so simple, and over so quickly.

After the split second it took for him to entertain this notion, something caught his attention. In the blackest depths of the storm-tossed ocean, he thought he saw a faint blue glow. He was about to dismiss this as a trick of his mind when a bright pulse of light flashed and instinct closed his eyes against it. His first thought was that must be the direction of the surface, and he had witnessed a bright flash of lightning filtered through the watery distance. But no, something told him the light had come from beneath, not above.

What…? That was all his mind could form in response to the appearance of the light. The next thing he felt was a surge of warmth and pressure. He was traveling upward at speed.

He broke the surface again, sputtering and coughing. He found himself briefly airborne, then he splashed back into the ocean. This time he was back at the surface again.

Even though his eyes were open, there was still only dark. It wouldn’t have mattered much whether he was underwater or above, he realized. The storm was so black that only the rare streak of lightning arcing across the sky gave any hint of definition to his surroundings. Not that this was much help. All there was to see was roiling waves, flotsam from the prison barge wreckage, and an ugly heartless sky.

Wait, he told himself. Out ahead of him he thought he discerned a large dark shape rising out of the ocean.

A moment later lightning pierced the dark and illumined a rocky promontory jutting out of the water. Had it been there before? He didn’t think so. He shook off the foolishness of this thought. Of course, it had been there. He had been turned and tossed about in the storm and his surroundings were so enveloped in the night that he had simply not noticed it.

Without further hesitation Belem began swimming toward the outcropping, knowing it would be his only chance to live.

More waves lifted and lowered him, falling on him, obscuring his sight, and promising to drag him under for the last time. His renewed sense of purpose propelled him toward survival and gave him the strength he required to push past the aches and dulling chill which had begun to settle in his muscles.

The closer he drew to it, the more he wanted – needed – to reach it.

It was bigger in his sight now and his heart raced with excitement. The closer he drew, the more it felt like the ocean worked against him, trying to push him away from the rock so it could selfishly keep him for itself. But his renewed motivation to live was too great, feeding him with power and motion.

His left hand landed hard on the rock, gripping so strongly his knuckles whitened. Soon his other hand emerged from the roil to find purchase among the rocky salvation. He pulled himself forward until his chest came out of the ocean, followed by his torso. His arms flailed one at a time, groping in the dark, searching for new handholds. Soon his entire frame was out of the churning maelstrom, held vertically against the outcropping. Rain pelted him, stinging his hands and face.

I cannot stay like this, he warned himself. He would grow tired, perhaps even pass out and fall right back into the deep. No, that would not do.

Fighting exhaustion, he worked himself slowly up the side of the rock. There was still no telling just how big it was, or how high he would have to climb until he reached a place he could rest. At least he hoped there would be such a place. Something told him there would be. Not one given to unfounded fanciful assurances, Belem nevertheless continued his searching climb.

Fingers that were drenched and chilled to the bone searched for purchase on the cracked and unforgiving rock while he seemed to be deluged from all sides by rain and upsurges from the ocean. Desperation mixed with the cold made his hands tremble as they scrambled along the stony surface, and once he found a handhold, he latched onto it with everything he had and hoisted himself up a little farther to put as much distance between him and the churning waters below.

The sound of the wind and rain and waves was almost too much for his hearing to cut through, but the explosion behind him was large enough that he would have had to have been completely deaf not to have heard it. The first he knew of it was the yellow flash of light which he mistook to be yet another stab of lightning, but the nature of the sound which accompanied it told him it was otherwise.

He chanced a look over his shoulder without daring to let go of the rock outcropping with either hand. Through the dark curtains of the storm, he saw the result of the explosion: a large mushroom cloud of smoke and fire pushed its way upward, reaching as if to touch the shelf of blackened clouds. He was unable to judge the distance between him and the explosion, though he quickly turned his face away as bits of debris were undoubtedly on their way. The last thing he needed was to lose an eye to a burning piece of shrapnel. Sure enough a bare moment or two later he felt his back being pelted by hot little objects which had doubtless originated from the explosion.

His body shook uncontrollably as he clung to the outcropping of rock that jutted up from the roiling waters below. There was another flash of lightning and he let out a primal scream of surprise. In the momentary illumination, he saw a sizable cleft in the rock to his right. He worked his way toward this. The time it took him to reach the cleft felt endless, but he realized was probably no more than five minutes.

He slowly crept around the corner and discovered a shelf of rock with his foot. In the blind dark, he cautiously explored the shelf with the same foot, then when he felt secure, he moved his entire weight onto it. He expected it to be narrow, maybe not even large enough for him to stand upon for very long but discovered to his delight that it was larger than he anticipated. Much larger.

Belem was eight paces onto the rock shelf before he came to a wall. And though he was not entirely sheltered from the wind and rain of the storm, he was relieved to discover his new perch was almost a cave, with a rocky ceiling perhaps ten feet above the stone floor.

He collapsed and wept. He could not remember the last time tears coursed a path down his cheeks, but it was many a year. He was glad there was no one around to see him and think him weak.

A handful of minutes passed and he raised onto his knees. He looked back the way he had come, back into the raging storm.

Lightning split the sky with angry purple, jagged energy, and almost immediately a deafening peal of thunder crashed against him.

Belem raised a fist and shook it at the sky.

“I live! Do you hear me, storm? I LIVE!” he shouted. Then he collapsed again, this time sinking into exhausted unconsciousness.

2. Ariam

The din from the other side of the wall would have been distracting to any other person who was trying to think, but Ariam was able to overcome the noise easily. He was used to it because he had to be.

He had chosen to make his home outside such places for the last five years. Such was the life of a beggar. Ariam was no ordinary beggar, however; he was one by choice. Forsaking a different life, he had chosen rags over fine clothing, calloused hands over ones bejeweled with rings, ridicule over reverence. There was some fuss stirred up within the Citadel over his disappearance when he left, but he was able to avoid being found because he was a beggar, and beggars are often overlooked, avoided even at all possible costs. So it was that Ariam, a man of some wealth, prestige, and even fame slipped off purposefully into anonymity.

Complex thoughts swam at peculiar angles through his head as a raucous party raged on in the room on the other side of the wall. Music from beautifully crafted instruments produced by the finest professionally hired artist floated through the open windows high on the wall and the open door ten feet away. Ariam could remember the days when he would have been one of the many honored guests at such a party.

From inside, one could hear the sounds of uproarious laughter, no doubt from some telling of a crude joke or something like that. Large drinking tankards were being slammed on tables and no doubt refilled with wine and ale.

People danced to the merry music made by the various instruments of a string choir. Husbands were dancing with their wives, other men’s wives, or sometimes with strangers. Wives were flirting with servers and other wives’ husbands. This all happened next to people who were unconscious from too much drink.

Servers would set trays full of steaming hot meat down on tables, pretending to serve passed-out patrons and stealthily go through their pockets searching for loose money or other valuables. Victims of such thievery usually suspected nothing the next morning, figuring they had spent all of their money on food, wine, or prostitutes. In this part of the sprawling human Citadel on the planet Dar’ryn, such excesses were not uncommon. Not uncommon, and not unglorified.

This was the life Ariam had willingly exchanged for the life of a homeless man. He suffered no regret over his decision. He only felt sorrow for those who still clung to that former life. Many would think that because Ariam spent much of his time outside of grand party halls and ballrooms that he felt some loss and he regretted his inability to join in such celebrations. Those who believed such things were entirely mistaken. Not once in his few years as a beggar had any such thought entered his mind. One may wonder, then, at the purpose of this man sitting quietly outside of roaring parties. Did he wait to beg off of the wealthy patrons? No. He desired no monetary compensation for his condition. His state of affairs was of his own making. What then?

If one were to ask and was able to extract a straight answer from him he might say something to the effect of the exercise being something of a reminder for him. It served to remind him of the foolish excesses of his old way of living. But it was becoming harder to get any sort of straight answer out of Ariam.

It was not because he was losing his mind or because he was intentionally trying to be elusive or cryptic, but because he was becoming something of a mystic, and mystics are often deeper in thought than others and consequently harder to understand. Ariam was discovering many things through simple observation and contemplation, things that had eluded him in the first thirty years of his life and he had only discovered in the past five. He guessed they were things that many never discovered in the entire course of their lives.

Two men and two women, presumably lovers, stepped out into the starry night, laughing and hanging all over each other. Ariam was in a friendly mood so he decided to speak to them.

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” At this, the entire group stepped back and startlement. They had been so absorbed in each other that they had not noticed he was there. Ariam could forgive them for overlooking him; after all, it was night and his dark green cloak probably blended him in with the darkness.

“Who’s that then?” one of the men asked stepping forward, squinting to see better in the dark.

“Sorry, very rude of me. Forgot to introduce myself again, didn’t I? Call me Ariam if you wish, although everyone else calls me Arry. It’s up to you.”

“What’s he doing down there?” one of the ladies squeaked. Now the whole group was squinting to make out the face attached to the new voice. The women looked worried while the men only looked minorly irritated.

“Ma’am, you don’t need to address me in the third person. I’m sitting right here. As to what I’m doing, well, there’s no secret to that: I’m only sitting here and thinking.” There was nothing particularly confrontational in his tone but both of the women shrank back anyway.

“Look, we don’t want any trouble from beggars so move along and let us alone.” This was from the other man whose tone was particularly confrontational.

“Beggar?” Ariam asked as he arched an eyebrow. “Have I begged you for anything except your opinion on the weather? I’m quite content with what I have as of late and I’m not looking for any handouts. Beggar? No. Homeless, well, now that is a different tale altogether. Not that I have any desire for a home, mind you. No, I’m perfectly pleased to sit out here and think all day.” Ariam stated all of this in a very matter-of-fact manner with no defensiveness at all in his voice. The group was taken aback by this. The ladies looked no less worried, however, and the men looked slightly more confused.

“Look here, garbage rat, I don’t know what you’re going on about but we came here for the party, not so we could be troubled by the likes of you. So why don’t you get out of here before I call the Citadel security force?” This was from the first man again.

Ariam sighed and shook his head. “Very well. I was only trying to be amiable, but I suppose the prophets of excess have spoken, so I will seek friendlier alleyways. Good night then.” With this Ariam stood up, brushed the dust off his cloak, and started moving in the opposite direction of the partygoers.

As he walked he hummed along with the tune being played inside the walls of the party hall. It was a lively tune relying heavily upon some kind of dulcimer. Behind him, Ariam could hear the second man laugh, apparently finding amusement in the brief exchange. Soon they were all laughing again. Laughing at him.

Although Ariam had been insulted, it didn’t affect him at all. Over time he had concluded that it truly did not matter what other people thought or said about him unless it was true. If he were to dwell upon all of the things said about him or all of the unwholesome looks directed at him then he would likely fall into a pattern of believing that those things were true or deserved. In the end, he decided that taking such things into the inventory of his thoughts would clutter his mind as all of his possessions had at one time cluttered his home before he had left it all behind. Clutter is the enemy of simplicity, he remembered.

He often repeated that thought to himself when he was reminded of his former life. Ariam had spent the last five years developing such maxims as part of his new philosophy. A new life required a new way of thinking.

Ariam walked through the streets until he happened across a familiar park. He had spent many nights camped here under the stars when the night was clear, and under the trees when the night was rainy. It was a clear and warm evening in the gigantic walled Citadel of the humans. All was quiet in the park for it was getting late.

Because of the lateness of the hour, most of the choicest resting spots would be taken. Ariam did not allow it to enter his mind to care. There were many beautiful places in the park to sleep, and he was not altogether tired enough to sleep yet anyway. For now, he would walk some of the paths and admire the silence and solitude of this place.

Small nocturnal insects chirped and buzzed around him as he strolled along a cracked paved path with roots occasionally poking through it. One insect landed on his hand and immediately began drawing blood for its late-night supper. He brought the hand up close to his face so he could see it in the moonlight. Its head sported two large compound eyes and two smaller ones that met above its long needle-like proboscis. On its back flitted six wings of varying size. After a few moments, it withdrew its stinger-like mouth and buzzed away, full.

“Good night, little brother. I hope you had your fill. I’ve plenty left so tell your family.” He smiled at a comical thought: ten more insects carrying knives and forks with napkins tied around their necks. It was ridiculous of course, but since it brought a hint of humor to him he entertained the mental picture for a few moments longer.

The path he was on soon brought him around to a pond. At evenly spaced intervals around the pond with benches crafted with wood and iron. One of them was empty. Pleased with his good fortune he lightly trotted over to the bench and sat down.

A gentle, warm breeze rustled through the tall grass beside the path and caressed Ariam’s face. He was thankful for it and enjoyed its brevity. Two of the planet’s four moons reflected its yellow face in the pond. The other two had not crested above the towering protective Citadel wall. That would come late into the night. Ariam smiled at the luminescent beauty of the moons’ dual reflections. He was finally prepared to rest.

Laying himself down on the bench he allowed himself to steady his breathing. He slowly closed his eyes getting ready to let the sounds of nature put him to sleep.

He lay contented, though he possessed almost nothing. To his mind, life’s joys were not in grasping at the world’s treasures, but in the admiration of all things. To own a thing, he told himself, I must hold it in my mind, not my hand. This was getting easier to believe of late. He was long in training his heart thus, but at last, it yielded the fruit of peace.

Stars blinked slowly awake in the darkening dome of the sky and a fleeting warm breeze rolled across his face. It moved on to rustle the leaves on the branches of a nearby tree. A small bird took flight from one of those branches and flew off into the evening, perhaps to find some insect or discarded morsel for its supper, or maybe to fall victim itself to some trapper’s snare.

He wondered at the connectedness of all these tiny happenings and the larger world around him. He could feel the same traveling air that moved the tree, that caused the bird to take flight, that might be trapped and sold as a minor sacrifice, that would ease the conscience of some troubled soul. He was connected with all of it. Ariam closed his eyes and savored the sensations and ponderances. He’d been learning to appreciate little moments like this lately.

Still, there was a nagging dissatisfaction.

Without warning, images sharply flashed through his mind. He sat bolt up. That had never happened before. He waited for a moment and lay slowly back down again.

Again, more quick images came and went through his mind’s eye. What were the images of? He could not tell for they were too unclear and too fast. He had only impressions. What did he feel? Pain and fear were the most prominent emotions. But there was something else… What? He could not say.

Bracing himself he closed his eyes again and waited. Nothing. Very odd, he thought. What were these strange and sudden mental images? Could they be a vision of some kind? Maybe, but they felt almost more like a warning than anything else. But a warning from who or what? And concerning what?

For the first time in five years, Ariam experienced two things he had thought he had forsaken long ago: uncertainty and fear.

3. Gael’jic

Gael’jic’s wrists were bound by tight iron shackles. A stout chain ran from the bonds to an iron plate bolted to the floor. He gazed around the room, taking in the familiar wide environment of the court. He had spent many days there of late. He had quickly tired of the proceedings and had taken to spending his hours observing the fine stone and woodcraft employed in the construction of the ancient place.

His eye was drawn – as it had been many times before – to the great tree at the back of the space. Its thick trunk rose from behind the platform of judgment and stretched upwards to the vaulted ceiling and then out beyond it through a grand circular hole. The Great Raka Tree had long ago been designated the symbol of the Dar’rynakai civilization. It was strong and proud and withstood untold ages of the elements. There were other trees of the same species comprising the surrounding forest, but this one was the only one like it in size and majesty. It was vastly taller and wider than all others and was believed to be the first creation of their chief god, Ramady’ac, and the source of the rest of the trees.

His kind, the Dar’rynakai, were a proud reptilian people. For the most part, Gael’jic was a common specimen of the race. He was tall compared to most humans – about seven feet in height – with thin but toned muscular limbs. His head had a long, narrow snout. A prominent, spined fin ran from his brow to the middle of his back. It currently lay back, indicating his relaxed state. A dewlap hung from the underside of his chin from halfway down the snout to his breastbone. The scaly flesh of the dewlap was loose and folded on itself as his chin was presently dipped low.

Next, he looked off to one of the other walls of the vast chamber. Another symbol was etched and painted large for all to see. At the center of it was a circle, representing a sun. From it sprang four triangular shapes portraying rays of light. The image in its entirety was a pictographic symbol imaging Rama’dy’ac himself. The rays of light emanating from the circle of the sun indicated Rama’dy’ac’s rule by light and truth.

Light and truth are two things very much absent from this sham of a trial, he thought ruefully.

He stood disinterested before the simmering court, even though he knew death could be the only sentence for his crime. Was it worth it, he wondered? He quickly banished the question from his mind, knowing the answer. Of course, it had been. Nothing else could have been more important. If it ever got out what happened this triumvirate in front of him would be called into questioning. But that would not likely happen, at least not any time soon.

“Every argument has been heard,” hissed Jobash, one of the three leaders serving as judges seated on the raised dais before him. Gael’jic disagreed, but kept it to himself. To speak out now about the matter might endanger everything. No, now was not the time for such brashness.

“You have uttered not one word in your defense. This is your final opportunity.” This came from another of the judges, the newest one and the one Gael’jic could not for the life of himself at the moment recall his name. Not that he cared. It might be that this one remained free of the maleficence present in the other two, but given time this one too would suffer the fate of one bestowed much power: corruption.

And that is what broke the restraint that had until now served Gael’jic so well during the trial. The change in himself was so instantaneous that even Gael’jic barely realized it before the words snapped out of his mouth.

“If I were you, I would not bother with the defense of one such as myself. I would rather focus my attention on your defense were I in your robes.” The insolence of his tone was not lost on the triumvirate. But now Gael’jic did not care. He had stopped worrying about such things a year earlier when he committed the crime for which he now stood trial.

The members of the triumvirate snarled and hissed at this show of contempt. Their head fins stood up, fanning out in a show of agitation. Gael’jic smirked to himself, knowing that the rulers were not used to words of insubordination aimed at them, not even by hardened criminals, not even by ones condemned to death. A moment later all but one of the Dar’rynakai judges regained their composure in the face of such an insult.

Standing on his powerful reptilian legs the third member of the triumvirate issued a derisive hiss. “Contempt! Contempt for your leaders!” he snarled.

Gael’jic shot the third member a dark look. “You are no leader of mine,” he replied defiantly.

“Then contempt for your betters.” This from the new member who leaned forward in his seat, his hands folded in his lap. His tone was stern but not angry like Jobash or the other one.

Gael’jic shifted his gaze to him and arched a scaly eyebrow. “That I would also debate.”

The newcomer cocked his head to one side and said, “You have debated not a single word stated against you during this entire trial. Other than your opening oaths, you have said nothing. Why?”

Gael’jic shrugged a shoulder. “I have my reasons.”

“And what are those reasons?” the newcomer pressed.

Another wave of anger washed through the defendant who snarled and bit out, “They are the same reasons I refused the services of an advocate at this trial: it is a waste of time arguing against corrupt judges when my sentence was already written before the trial began!”

From the stunned expressions on the faces of the judges, he knew that he had said too much this time. He had not known for a fact that the verdict had already been decided before the trial, nor had he known precisely what that verdict might be. But he had strong suspicions on both counts.

Now he had given at least two of the judges confirmation about what he knew about them. Perhaps that was an ill-advised move, but there was no helping it now. Like so many other things it was simply too late. No other concept described Gael’jic’s position better than that. Everything had happened too late. Well, not everything exactly.

At least Gael’jic would die with the satisfaction of knowing he had killed one of the original corrupt ones responsible for this whole mockery of society. But it was a satisfaction mixed with sorrow. The one he had killed had, once upon a time, been a good friend. But he did not like to think of that.

That was the reason, of course, one of the three before him was new; he had murdered the predecessor. He winced at the memory of the purple blood running over the polished ke’ef blade as the wretched thing coughed its last curses in this world and slipped away into the next…if there even was such a thing.

“Is something more worthy of your attention than these proceedings, defendant?” Jobash asked scowling.

Gael’jic lifted his gaze to encompass all three members of the court. “I was just thinking about my delight on the coming day in which I may greet you when you are all ushered into the pit.” At this statement there followed a great silence. For a full twenty seconds, no one in the place of judgment uttered anything more than a surprised gasp. Since the dawn of Dar’rynakai society, none had dared to openly speak so clearly and decisively against the ruling triumvirate. In the back of his mind, Gael’jic thought that one must take note of such public events, for they mark points in history where great changes occur.

After the imperious silence, Jobash, the senior member of the triumvirate, leaned over to his left and consulted with the next senior-most member of the council and muttered a few sentences the defendant could not hear. Then he turned to the other side and did the same with the newcomer. When he finished he reached into the folds of his robes and withdrew a piece of parchment. His other hand took hold of a quill and dipped it in an ink bottle resting on the wide desk before them and scrawled a few lines. He then directed his gaze to Gael’jic, held him there, then slowly stood to read the verdict.

“We the leaders of the noble Dar’rynakai people have reached a decision in the case of Gael’jic Du’lamic who has been charged with murder of the highest offense and conspiracy towards sedition. We find the accused to be truly guilty of all charges. In such an unprecedented situation involving one who has murdered a member of the ruling Dar’rynakai triumvirate a new punishment has been devised.”

This came as a shock to Gael’jic and left him blinking and speechless. New laws concerning judgment had not been decreed in almost two hundred years. No doubt this was another crafty move by a corrupt government as a means to its selfish ends. But something did not fit reason. Why not have him executed according to existing laws and be done with it? And what new punishment could be worse than straightforward execution?

As if in answer to the question in his mind, the conclusion of the verdict was read.

“The guilty shall be given up to the wilds. He shall take nothing with him for provision. The only conclusion the counsel of the triumvirate can summon from the crime is that only a wild beast might commit such a barbarous act as the murder of a reasonably appointed member of the ruling triumvirate. You have shown an utter lack of respect, care, thought for consequences, and overall reason. Since these are such things as separate Dar’rynakai from wild beasts you shall be treated as such. Therefore, Gael’jic Du’lamic, you will be cast away from Dar’rynakai society and will be remembered henceforth as one who has lost his Ber’desh. Official edicts shall be sent to the other enclaves of our people so you may not beguile them with false tales. The counsel of the Dar’rynakai triumvirate has spoken.”

Just then Jobash and the other two members puffed out the oil lamps in front of each of them, signifying that the divine light of justice had finished shining upon this case.

So that was it. Gael’jic was to be prevented from becoming a martyr and symbol to future generations. Since he was to be sent outside the protection of his society his ultimate fate would be uncertain. Gael’jic snorted derisively at the idea. While it might appear as though he had been spared from the executioner’s furnaces he was as good as dead in the wilds. It was in his estimation a fairly intelligent move on the part of the triumvirate: it appeared as though his blood was kept from staining their hands. That was not true, of course. It was a diversionary tactic, and of the kind which ought to be expected from ones such as these.

Although Gael’jic did have to give them credit for the part about legally banning the idea that he possessed a Ber’desh. That was something they could not touch. His living soul, his mind, the source of his ability to discern good from evil was intact and no demented legal surgery these fools attempted could ever extract that from him.

Although the verdict caught him by surprise, it did not altogether upset him. He knew that he was still going to die. Only the mode of that end had changed; not the end itself.

Four sentry guards, armed and wary, stepped into the room and began the process of extracting him from his chains. Because he was no longer considered to be a Dar’rynakai by the law, the ones in charge of him were allowed to treat him as they might an unruly beast of burden, and so they did. On his way out of the Dar’rynakai capitol city, Gael’jic was whipped, beaten, and kicked. He suffered these things for three hours which was one hour longer than it should have taken to get out of the city from the justice center.

Once outside the city walls, finally abandoned to his fate, he stood on a hill in a vast field surrounded by dense rainforest. From the hill, this solitary figure stared back at the city and wondered for the last time if it had all been worth it. Questions such as this faded and finally ceased from his mind. There was no getting around his principles.

It was better for him to die alone in the wilds than to go on living a lie under the protection of the so-called nobility. Whatever foul machinations the triumvirate had produced, his exile was truly to his benefit. Death was far better than corruption. Had he detected fraudulence leaking into his heart he would rather have cut it out himself with a dull stone than allow it to spread. Ultimately the taint of the governing body had been severed from him. There was nothing more he could do about it. There was no way back into the people who had cast him aside as it would do with burning refuse. The problem was up to others now. Was there still hope for them he wondered?

Yes, hope existed, but only as the smallest of sparks. There was not much chance for that spark to catch the old tree on fire. The wood of the tree was now thick and saturated with the dampness of a great lie. It was hard to know where the dry spots were. Perhaps that spark of truth was hotter than he hoped. It had reached himself, after all. And then there were the others.

There were not many others, but there were always only a small number of revolutionaries at the beginning of a revolution, weren’t there? Such a small force of opposition might be crushed before it had the opportunity to even begin to purge the taint.

The only satisfaction Gael’jic could allow to blossom in his heart was the knowledge that anything which suffered such decay would eventually collapse in on itself.  The trouble was knowing when. A mature Raka tree could take hundreds of years to decay before it toppled. It may likewise require a very long time for an ancient civilization to decay to the point where it could be knocked down. Beyond that was the uncertainty of what would stand in its place.

Was there any promise to be made about a good seed to be planted in the stead of its fallen predecessor? That ultimately could not be any concern of his. His job had been the fore planning of demolition, not construction. His secret friends could not even claim that responsibility. They needed to lay in wait in the tall grasses for their time, especially in light of what had only now happened to himself.

The triumvirate would be sensitive to any kind of activity which might precipitate problems for them. Now was not the time for them to do anything and they were all aware of that.

The time would come for the tide of insurrection to roll in. He would more than likely be dead when that tide came in. He suspected it could easily take years if not decades. That was perfectly acceptable to Gael’jic. The more years which passed the greater the decay. The greater the decay, the easier it would be to put an ax to the root of the tree and cut it down. Insurrection and revolution were only a matter of time.

It was indeed coming. But not even Gael’jic could guess how soon. Some seeds take root faster than others.

4. Cecil

No matter how blazing hot it was nor how stifling it was to wear the armor of the Royal Guardians, Cecil stood at full attention for he was in the presence of the king. All others were required to bow in the presence of the king but the Royal Guardians were required to stand and to always be at full attention for it was their solemn duty to protect the divine family. If any desired to get at the king or his immediate kin, he would first have to pass through the sheer hell of the Royal Guardians. It was a feat that was considered to be the closest thing to impossible to make an attack on the king and survive let alone survive unbutchered. The Royal Guardians were simply the best human combatants in existence, and Cecil was their Captain.

King Beirand liked his climate-controlled greenhouse at the top of the tallest spire of the Palace to be extraordinarily hot for his favorite rainforest and tropical plant life to flourish. Since it was the duty of the Captain of the Royal Guardians to act as the chief personal bodyguard to the king he did not think it was his place to complain about the temperature. Discomfort could be ignored.

There could be no doubt that Cecil cut an imposing figure, even without the armor. When the armor was added to the mix, it only multiplied the effect. He wore the rich purple and black armor trimmed with gold the way a serpent wears scales: flawlessly. The black and gold half cape hung from his left shoulder perfectly. At his left thigh was sheathed a razor-sharp long knife. Several smaller throwing knives rested on a utility belt. At his right hip was his preferred weapon: a compact energy pistol. Just as deadly were his hands which rested in a deceptively unrelaxed manner at both sides. Years of training made his senses and reflexes sharper than any blade and more precise than any energy blast. Any idiot who attempted the king’s life would never live long enough to realize the mistake he had made.

Despite the ultimately intimidating presence of the Captain the king did not seem to notice. His Majesty had spent countless hours in the company of his guards and had long since grown accustomed to their presence as they had grown accustomed to his.

The Guardians were replaced every seven years and a new Captain was chosen from the old guard, but that had happened only at every other change. So it was that a new Captain was chosen every thirteenth year by the existing Captain. The king had no say. And he was trained personally by his predecessor for one year until the time for the changing of the Captain of the Royal Guardians had come. Cecil was still in his first year as captain at this time. He was thirty-five years old.

All Guardians trained intensively since the time they were pulled screaming from their mothers’ wombs…mothers they were never allowed to meet. They were bred as one breeds livestock and they knew no family, save each other. Their formal education was chiefly in problem-solving, strategy, attack, defense, and endurance. The only arts they became acquainted with were martial. The only philosophy they learned was loyalty to the king. The only life that they counted worthy was his. To their very core, they were coiled killers.

In the entire history of the Royal Guardians, there were none as efficient and dedicated as Cecil. Nothing seemed to escape the watchful gaze of his sharp emerald-green eyes. There was also none intelligent and nimble enough to get close to the king nearly undetected when Cecil was his Majesty’s protector save one man.

Stepping stealthily into the open light of the giant greenhouse from the shadow of one of the rainforest’s great fruit trees, Lord Advisor Lycas Ryth announced his presence by clearing his throat. The middle-aged king turned suddenly at the noise. Until then he had been quite intent on examining some strange breed of budding lotus he could not recall seeing.

Ryth was a tall and lean man with shoulder-length jet-black hair and angular facial features that looked sharp enough to cut glass. Stretching from mid-brow over his left eye down to just below his cheekbone on the same side of his face was the Darkflame tattoo. It was a solid black shape with the outline of a six-pointed flame – three points above the eye, and three below on the cheek. It marked out all those dedicated to lifelong service to aristocracy and royalty through dispensing sage advice.

“Ah! Lord Ryth, you startled me! I did not hear you come in,” said the king. Cecil neglected to add that he also had not heard him enter the private space either, but he would not let it show. The Lord Advisor’s ability to slip in and out of the presence of the king undetected was a trait that disturbed all of the Royal Guardians, especially their Captain.

Cecil would question the other Guardians later about the matter but he was certain the four men on the other side of the greenhouse entrance were unaware that Lycas Ryth was in the greenhouse at the moment. He must have known some secret way that only himself and the king knew.

Ryth bowed deeply at the waist. “I apologize, your Majesty, I merely…”

“No need to apologize, Lycas,” the king interrupted with a wave of his hand. “What is it you can do for me now?” King Beirand was still too surprised by his Lord Advisor’s sudden appearance to convey his agitation at being disturbed during his most prized time. For the king, attending to the luxurious respite provided by his garden was a time of the day near unto sacred.

Ryth smiled broadly and spread his arms out wide as he intoned, “I am here to give your reminder, my Liege.”

The king wrinkled his brow in thought for a moment, then replied, “What reminder is that?”

“You ordered that a reminder be given to you at the one-hour mark before your birthday celebration, your Majesty. That was decided one week ago today.”

There was a brief pause as realization dawned on the king’s face. “Is that today? I’d completely forgotten! I haven’t even written my address…”

This time it was Ryth’s turn to interrupt. “Don’t worry, your Majesty. I’ve had one prepared for days. I thought you might become too involved with your duties and forget, so I hired the finest wordsmith in the kingdom, gave him some guidelines, and set him loose. I assure you it will be the finest address you have ever given.” Self-satisfaction was evident in Lycas Ryth. It was as if he had taken a large tankard, filled it with himself, and having swallowed the entire thing found nothing sweeter or more delicious. He was full of himself for he drank of himself often.

Relief washed over Beirand’s features. “I praise you, Lycas: you’ve pulled my hide out of the fire again! Expect a reward for this.”

“No reward necessary, my King; I’m only grateful to have served you.” There was a slight pause, and then Ryth seemed to recall something. “Ah, yes your Highness, I almost have forgotten something myself. If you will turn around you will find my birthday gift to you. I selected and saw to their collection personally.”

“What, you mean the strange lotus buds that I’ve never…” The king trailed off as he turned to discover the buds he had been examining only moments earlier were now fully in bloom. It almost appeared as if the bright violet lotus blossoms glowed.

Ryth stepped beside the king and in a professorial tone explained, “You will notice their bioluminescence almost instantly, no doubt. They are a breed found only in the deep jungle near the savage Dar’rynakai peoples. I’m told they are called Illuminoc plants and are a good source of light in the dark of the deep jungle at night. This is, I am informed, a tame variation. Immature, as it were.”

“They are magnificent, Lycas,” Beirand said in an awed tone. He reached out a hand and lightly brushed one of the petals. The internal glow brightened at the contact and dimmed when he withdrew his fingers.

“I’m happy that you are pleased, Your Highness.”

“Pleased? I’m speechless.”

The Lord Advisor took a purposeful step forward until he stood next to the king. He looked down upon the King’s bent-over form as the ruler observed the strange new flower more closely.

“There is no arguing that its luxurious appearance is quite the magnificent vision, but that is only half the reason I selected it for you. If his Majesty would be so kind as to bend closer so that he might smell its fragrance.”

The ruler turned his head slightly to take in his Lord Advisor under an arched eyebrow. He beheld the man for a few moments, then turned back to the curious new blossom. He bent closer forward and slowly and deeply drew in a breath. The monarch’s nose was very nearly touching the plant as he inhaled.

Cecil felt a sudden wave of concern surge up within him, yet he could identify no explanation. He remained standing motionless, taking in the scene. Though inside him a cauldron of apprehension roiled.

The king suddenly stood bolt upright and turned a surprised expression on his Lord Advisor. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung agape. Cecil could see flecks of light blue pollen around the exterior of his nostrils.

“Lycas! I’ve never experienced anything like it. It’s more than a smell, it’s…” the king stammered as his mind swirled as he attempted to apprehend a description. Nothing fitting came to him, however.

“Yes,” Lycas Ryth supplied. “It is almost as if your senses were clouded by a vast stormfront that was suddenly blown away and left cleared and pure. The effect is sadly short-lived, though certainly, it is pleasant.”

“I should say it is,” the king replied as he swiveled back to look at the Illuminoc plant anew. He bent over and took another long whiff of the exotic flower. He stood back up straight once more, slowly this time, and his eyelids fluttered closed as he savored the experience. “One could get used to this,” he muttered to himself.

The Lord Advisor suddenly pivoted from the king to his bodyguard. “Perhaps your Captain of the Royal Guardians would care to share the experience with his Majesty?” Ryth lifted a teasing eyebrow as he peered at Cecil.

“Perhaps he would not,” Cecil replied flatly after a heartbeat.

The Captain narrowed his eyes in suspicion as he met Ryth’s gaze. It was quite odd indeed for the Lord Advisor to directly address one of the Royal Guardians unless it had to do with the business of protecting the king. It did not sit well with Cecil that Ryth addressed him on such a seemingly mundane matter. It made him suspect something might be up. What game could he be playing? Cecil wondered.

Ryth shook his head in dismay as he chortled quietly. “Ever the consummate statue, eh Guardsman? I truly wonder if you fear you would be breaking the laws of the galaxy to have a little fun every once in a while.”

Cecil simply returned a blank stare at the man and said nothing.

King Beirand waved the conversation away. “If you’re trying to get a rise out of my bodyguard, Lycas, I doubt you will be successful. They are not prone to flights of fancy or quick and undisciplined tempers.”

“Indeed,” Ryth replied while keeping his gaze fixed on Cecil. “Very well, your Majesty. But, as I came to remind you, the time for your birthday celebration draws near. We ought to depart at once. If you will follow me, your Majesty,” Ryth said and then turned and headed toward the exit from the greenhouse. The king was immediately beside him and Cecil detached himself from his position to bring up the rear.

His eyes were ever watchful, darting here and there all around the environment, but frequently now returning to Lycas Ryth. Whenever the man was around he was watched closely by the guardians.

They passed through the doorway into a hallway that was guarded by four other Royal Guardians. When Lycas Ryth and the king emerged all four men briefly displayed flickers of astonishment on their faces. This was not lost on Cecil who had suspected this would happen. The Captain of the Royal Guardians made a further mental note to question them on it later but continued following the king and his Lord Advisor down the corridor. Two of the Guardians remained stationed at the entrance to the king’s gardens, but the other two fell in behind Cecil. With them in place, Cecil worked around the group and took up the point position.

The king and his Lord Advisor bantered about business regarding the upcoming birthday celebration to which Cecil paid very little attention. He was mainly busy watching their surroundings for trouble. After a few minutes, Lycas Ryth dismissed himself from the king’s presence and hurried forward to make certain all preparations were in place. Cecil waited until the Lord Advisor was well out of sight before he spoke.

“Permission to speak freely, your Majesty,” he said.

The king half turned his face and raised expectant eyebrows at his bodyguard. “Permission granted, of course,” he said with drawn-out suspicion.

“I wish to caution you about Lycas Ryth,” Cecil said after a moment.

“Oh really?” Beirand said. “Regarding what, exactly?”

“I do not believe he is an altogether trustworthy person. I would simply caution your Majesty to be wary around the man. I get the sense, as do several of the other Guardians, that there is something amiss about your Lord Advisor.”

The king was silent for a handful of pregnant heartbeats, then said, “Amiss in what way?”

“It is difficult to qualify, your Majesty,” Cecil replied. “But he is a slippery one. And slippery men are dangerous. Especially when they stand in the shadow of power. It stands to reason that sooner or later such men decide it ought to be themselves casting the shadow rather than standing in it.”

“I appreciate your concerns, and I’ll take them into account,” the king began, but then continued, “but know this: I believe Lycas Ryth to be essentially harmless. He has been invaluable in the many long years I have known him. He has served faithfully.”

“Yes, your Majesty, I will endeavor to keep his previous service in mind,” Cecil replied evenly, though not meaning a word of it. He did not intend to trust Lycas Ryth at any point in the future. He intended only to remain quiet on the matter and bide his time until such a point as he could present any evidence against the man to his Majesty. Cecil would not tell the king that he had Guardsmen watching Ryth regularly. The Captain had the man followed several times but the trouble was that Ryth was often able to slip away from those set to track him. That was something no one should have been able to do. But Ryth always managed. Always. In truth, slippery didn’t begin to cover it.

Cecil resigned himself to be patient and to wait. Everyone made mistakes eventually. Everyone revealed their purpose. All he had to do was wait and apply pressure at just the right time. Then Ryth would be dragged out of the shadow and into the light.

CHAPTER 1. A MAN ADRIFT

He dreamed of drowning.

There was no telling how long Belem had been unconscious and laying upon the rock outcropping. But the constant thrashing of waves and the piercing light of the sun directly above him brought him out of it. He judged it to have been several hours since he’d managed to drag himself out of the churning sea following the destruction of the prison barge.

His sleep was troubled by dreams and memory fragments from the tumultuous events leading to his being marooned on the lifeless outcropping surrounded by the treacherous sea. Flashes of images featuring rioting prisoners who had somehow broken loose and the rapidly overwhelmed security personnel danced through the haze of his drowsy thoughts. It was all a jumble and none of the pieces seemed to want to fit together.

The mental noise of the shattered and scattered thoughts was so great and so terrible that all of his concentration was consumed by grasping with all of his might onto sanity like he had the night before manically gripped the singular, rough, jutting rock formation which poked out of the storm-tossed sea like a spear.

He sat up with a grunt of effort against the soreness which touched every part of his body. He opened his eyes and immediately squeezed them shut again to keep out the invasive light of the clear day. He slowly opened his eyes again, blinking and rubbing them often until he felt ready to take in his surroundings and situation. Stabs of pain shot through his palms when he rubbed his eyes so he looked down at them. The sharp edges of the rock had cut into his tense hands while each wave that battered him had carried away tiny rivulets of his blood. His palms were bruised, cut, and retained dried brownish traces of that blood.

These marks were of no concern to him. He had acquired a bevy of scars through his many years of hard living. Some were small, but many were sizeable and obvious. He had decided to sport them proudly long ago. He preferred shirts with no sleeves so that the flesh of his arms sent a message to any who considered crossing him. The message was: Look what I have lived through. Are you sure you want to try me? His face sported a few significant ones as well. These made potential opponents look and think twice before attacking.

Belem lifted his face and drank in his setting. How long could he last out here? He didn’t know, other than to think, Not very long. He was quite strong, but so was nature. In the end, he knew that the preservation of his life would come down to a mere contest of his will versus the strength of the stone upon which he sat and the sea that barred his path to freedom. The other conflict he had in mind – the need for revenge against the one who had thrust him out here – would have to wait. For now, there was only himself and the sea.

Belem achingly pushed himself to his feet and surveyed the friendly shelf of rock that had saved his life. There wasn’t much to see. The little stony alcove was about eight or nine paces deep and five paces broad at the widest. Sunlight poured into the space for now, but in a few more hours the alcove would be in shadow again. It was a serviceable shelter from last night’s storm, but he had to get out and find a shoreline.

He ambled over to the edge and looked down.

He was surprised to discover that where the rock and the hungry sea met was a good five meters or so below him. But what fixated his interest was a section of fastened-together wooden planks wedged in a large cleft of the rock. It was big. Big enough to carry him at the least were it to be used as a raft. A raft would do him no good unless he could free it, however. He would just have to hope that the planks weren’t too tightly wedged in place. He was still feeling rather drained at the moment and the prospect of climbing down the face of the outcropping and dislodging the planks was daunting. He sighed as he came to grips with the truth that this represented his only likely path of escape from the situation.

Another great gust of frigid air crashed into him. It sent an unpleasant chill coursing through his body. It was just one more reminder that his stony haven could only ever be temporary. Belem shivered and he cursed at his circumstance. When the wind passed he growled at the sensation and rubbed a bare amount of heat into his upper arms. The rest of his body would have to wait until he could make it back to dry land and build a fire.

He shook his head. What chance did he have of actually making it out of this alive? A storm of self-doubt clouded his thoughts and dampened his belief that survival was even possible. He dropped down to a sitting position on the rock shelf, gripped his head in his hands, and uttered a guttural growl. A tidal wave of despair arose in his heart and he considered merely diving into the sea and inhaling as much water as he could. Let the drowning do the job and have done with it all.

He shook his head to drive away the despairing thought. He recalled thinking similarly the previous night. He could not end it in such a cowardly fashion. He forced himself to take several slow breaths.

After a long time of this Belem could feel the intensity of the internal storm begin to lessen. At last, after a seeming eternity, the fury of his self-destructive thoughts was slowly dying. Soon the harsh waves gentled and became only tiny ripples that lapped against the large saving rock which this time was Belem’s obstinate mind. He stubbornly clutched his need for life as a small fearful child clutches his father when an angry dog come barking.

Tearing its way through the dark and heavy clouds of his heart, hope shone like bright rays of the sun which sparkled and danced with the ebb and flow of the great sea that was his unquiet soul.

The gust of frigid air which had forced its way from the South now steadily pushed northward. The sun’s warming rays gradually replaced the icy tempestuous winds of the retreating gale. Belem found that with the warmth of the sun came a flicker, be it ever so small, of further hope: hope that perhaps he would not die upon this rock or even in the waters of this sea. No, he resolved to do all within his power to live. He even hoped to make it back to land, almost any kind of land as long as it wasn’t Void Island where he’s been headed as a prisoner.

Hope was an odd sensation for Belem. He never felt any compulsion toward it before, at least not since his ill-spent childhood. By all accounts, he was a hardened man.

His rough exterior merely reflected the frosty, stony interior of his soul. Long had it been since he cared for much of anything save himself. For a while, he had even lost the desire to preserve his own life. Bitterness consumed him. When he walked, he did not care where he was going or from whence he came. When he ate he did not care what it was, nor how it tasted to him, nor even if his body could draw nourishment from it. When he breathed he did not care if it was pure, clean air, or toxic fumes. He simply had not cared. But strangely he did care now.

It was difficult to pinpoint exactly what it was that brought the desire to live back to Belem. It might have been many numbers of things; the sudden realization that he may lose his life and that not of his design; a renewed interest in seeing justice accomplished; outright anger… Perhaps it was all of those things combined into one raw emotion that he could not identify. Who could say? None. Not even Belem himself.

CHAPTER 2. A CASTAWAY’S HOPE

Finally, his strength was coming back to him. His fatigue was still great from the energy he expended surviving the dreadful explosion of the prison barge and his subsequent survival of the storm, but at last, he was ready to loosen his hold on the stony savior.

Belem inched toward the edge of the rock shelf and dropped his legs over the edge. He allowed them to dangle there for a few moments as he drew a steadying breath. At last, he lowered his body over the ledge as he swung himself around to face the outcropping. With a slightly renewed vigor, he started his descent.

It didn’t take long for every muscle in his body to protest this course of action, but he did his best to ignore this. He let go with one hand to give it a stretch and was immediately rewarded with shooting pain in his arm. But it was a good pain in that he was alive to experience it. He swiveled his head to survey the sea.

The waters were much calmer now that the winds had died to a dull whisper. A gentler breeze blew across his damp form and he shivered at the cold. So focused had he been on hanging onto the rock that he had briefly forgotten the frigidness of the wind. He surely felt it now. He was chilled to his marrow and his body was only now beginning to realize it. The cold would quickly drain what energy he had left in him if he did not get onto the raft and rest. Even then he could not be certain he would survive.

He did not know where he was and therefore he did not know how close the next livable landmass was. The best he could hope for was to get the wood planks free from the cleft of rock below him and navigate by the stars when they began to appear toward evening. At least there were hardly any clouds to obscure them as of yet.

He looked below to find the wood still in place. For this revelation, he was very grateful. The trick was going to be getting it free from its place and using it to escape. If the harsh winds and waves of the storm failed to knock it loose from its home, then Belem would certainly have no easy time of it. He knew that he must act sooner rather than later if he were to get anywhere at all with the project. The longer he stayed on the rock, the less energy he would have to escape.

He oriented himself toward the planks and resumed climbing down intent on freeing the wood. The going was slow and his stiff muscles made the downward journey even more difficult than it normally should have been for an activity such as this. When he was about halfway to the wood both feet slipped simultaneously. Instinctively his hands gripped tightly onto some holds and he instantly wished he almost had not, for his arms and hands felt the stabs of a thousand blades. The shout he gave was more one of surprise than it was of pain, but the pain did have some role to play in the event. His feet found places on the rock again and his embarrassment quickly faded. Back to work.

Resuming his descent yet again, resolve and focus returned to his heart. It was only two more meters until he could reach the wedged pieces of wood with one of his arms. He powered through the complaints of his muscles until he finally perched close to the makeshift raft.

Stretching out an arm he pushed at the planks. Nothing. Not an inch could he budge it. He pushed at it again, a little harder this time. Still nothing. This could be more difficult than it first appeared. Despair threatened to creep back in and cast a gray shadow over Belem’s newfound hope. But he was not ready to give up just yet. If Belem was anything at all, he was stubborn.

He decided to attempt a different strategy. This time he kicked one leg out against the narrow side of the fastened wood planks. This time he was pleased to discover that the wood had moved somewhat. It was a small victory because the object of his force moved perhaps two centimeters at the most. In Belem’s mind, it was still a victory. Nevertheless, he had a long way to go before he could rest. If he could rest.

Again he kicked at the boards, harder this time and he felt them give a little more. He kicked a third time, and a fourth, and a fifth and sixth until the wood was finally loosened enough for Belem to use his foot to push it out of its wedged spot. The freed planks dropped to the watery surface, narrow end first so that it disappeared beneath for a moment and sprung up again splashing displaced water to the sides. At this Belem allowed himself a small shout of satisfaction. He quickened his pace going down because he didn’t want the makeshift raft to float very far away before he could get to it. He also didn’t want to drop straight into the water. There might be some more rocks beneath the surface which he could not see.

He gradually inched into the frigid water. He had to swim about a meter and a half before he was able to reach the planks.

Splashing onto the boards Belem began coughing from having swallowed some seawater as well as the overall coldness of the whole affair. For a while, he just laid there and allowed the current to carry him out to sea. Nothing other than an overwhelming sense of relief entered his mind for a time.

The sun had burned away almost all of the clouds which were left by the previous night’s retreated storm. Sitting up, Belem began stripping his drenched clothes so his body could be warmed by the sun’s light. He rang as much water out of his clothes as he could and laid them on either side of himself to dry. He kept on only his under breeches because it felt awkward to be entirely naked in open daylight, even if there were none around to see him.

Laying himself back down and closing his eyes, his tired mind began to think again at last. Eventually, his mind dragged up its nets from its surrounding sea of drowsiness. In those nets of ponderance was one name only: Lycas Ryth. At the recollection of this name, something dark stirred inside Belem’s heart, something angry. His eyes sprang open.

From deep inside himself his fiery anger forged an inhuman growl. Closing his eyes once more he calmed himself. A fit of rage on the open sea would do him no good. Instead, he began to channel his thought and emotion toward his will to survive. Any plans he could make for revenge would not be carried out unless he lived. So it was that Belem began a journey in his mind which would take him to his first of many goals: survival. He had already progressed farther on that journey than most people could have even dared to hope.

Belem knew that he would be a long time floating on the water. It might be days before he reached any kind of land; hospitable or otherwise. Until then he would rest his body and exercise his mind. He began going through the possibilities of how he might reach home. There were many possibilities, but all of them were highly unlikely.

Tiredness began to take over his mind and all other thoughts were chased away. The last thing to cross Belem’s consideration before sleep took him brought a feeling of satisfaction to his soul and a smile to his face.

Images of the one responsible for his current condition entered his last drowsy thoughts. The smile on his face faded as unconsciousness took his mind and all thoughts of Belem holding a blade to the throat of Lord Advisor Lycas Ryth became the stuff of dreams. Nothing but the realization of those dreams could have been sweeter.

CHAPTER 3. A VISION OF VIOLENCE

Ariam was running. Running fast. He couldn’t remember why he raced as he did, he only knew that he must or there would be dire consequences.

Sweat beaded upon his brow and his lungs burned. Distantly, he noted that the bundle in his arms stirred. He did not spare a glance down at it, only pushed forward knowing he must preserve what he carried at all cost. He heard an absent-minded shushing noise escape his lips as he pressed on with desperation. He came to a darkened corner of the nighttime Citadel streets and halted. He pressed against the wall of a building and gazed around his environment. He saw no one stalking about searching for him. He refused to indulge in a sense of relief at this as he was well aware that meant nothing. They were certainly still after him.

They, he wondered to himself? Who is ‘they’?

He took a brief opportunity to spare a glance at the bundle in his arms. It was wrapped tightly in a white blanket and barely moved but a quiet cooing noise drifted up to him from it. He gently reached a hand forward and pulled aside one flap of the blanket to reveal the sleeping and peaceful face of an infant.

Who are you, I wonder? Ariam thought to himself. And why am I carrying you about thus, in the dark? “I have never had any children,” he mused out loud to himself. Yet the words seemed not to be audible in the environment around him. It almost was as if they were merely floating in his mind. Odd.

Distant shouts caught his attention and he lifted his gaze away from the sleeping infant in his arms. A flush of worried energy burst through his body and he felt every muscle in his body tense. He had to get out of there now.

Someone was after him, or rather several someones. Maybe even some things. He couldn’t remember what was even happening, let alone why he should be on the run from it. All he knew was that he had to move or else all was lost.

Regardless of all of that, he knew where he was supposed to go. He deftly followed a path through the darkened city streets as stealthily as he could manage, and finally came to what he thought of as the first part of his destination. It appeared to be nothing more than the dead-end of an alley. Yet Ariam knew it was more. How did he know, he wondered? It didn’t matter.

Reaching out with a hand he felt along the seams of a corner until he heard a satisfying click. The next thing he knew a portion of the wall split apart and slid aside for him. Beyond the newly created doorway, there was only darkness. He took a few tentative steps into that darkness and waited. Several paces ahead of him lights slowly came on of their own accord. They provided a dim yellow glow that was barely enough to illuminate the path and reveal any obstacles that might be in his way. Of those, there were none save the distance he must travel.

He stepped into the corridor and followed it cautiously. Occasionally he threw glances over his shoulder to make certain he was not being followed. He judged by the growing volume of their noise that the distance between himself and his pursuers was closing. He thought once more that he ought to hurry things up. If they were getting closer, then so was death.

Ariam had always heard there were passageways and tunnels through the Citadel’s protective wall but had never witnessed them himself. He wondered how he had known how to find them? He supposed that did not matter either and so he simply discarded these ruminations and followed the pathway. There were many branching corridors off to the sides, but he took none of these until he had passed more than he could count. Suddenly he darted to the right and continued to follow a different pathway through the Citadel wall. From behind he could hear the pursuers had entered the labyrinthine passageway themselves. Their shouts were drawing closer and had an echoing quality. Their indistinct cries were now bouncing through the variety of tunnels he had traveled. Faster, he chided himself. Get moving!

This thought almost seemed not to be his own and he wondered at that. Nevertheless, he obeyed it.

The wash of urgency through his frame caused him not to take note of the amount of time he had traveled and so he had no clue how long he had been at this. It felt simultaneously a long time and very quick. It was so hard to understand and he could not seem to get a hold of his thoughts. One pressing emotion however seemed to rise above all others. Terror. If he was caught it would certainly be the end of him and perhaps the precious life he protected.

He came at last to what at first appeared to be yet another dead end. But as his eyes adjusted further to the darkness he understood that it was in truth another doorway. Beside the doorway was an electronic panel with a variety of glowing, multi-colored buttons. His hand jabbed forward and inserted the proper sequence for the code. With a hiss the doorway sprang open for him and without another thought he darted beyond.

As he moved forward he was suddenly struck by a wall of fragrance. It was the jungle beyond the Citadel wall. What in the world was he doing out here? Why would he ever chance the wilds in favor of the Citadel? For some reason, this did not seem to matter to him at all. He only needed to run.

So he did.

Previously the pathway was sure and well known to him. But now that he had entered the forest this was entirely different. Everything about his surroundings was uncertain and the only direction he followed was away from the Citadel.

Now trees and a variety of shrubs obstructed his path. He banged into and brushed against all manner of things he could not tell in the dark. From behind him, he heard a noise that made his blood run cold. It was the electronic baying of a Mekhound. The only ones who commanded the service of those mechanical creatures were the Royal Guardians. This was serious. He wished he could remember why he fled from the Royal Guardians and what he might have done to incur their pursuit in the first place.

Everything was a confused jumble of conflicting images and fears. He hoped he could get far enough away for them to give up and break off pursuit. He chided himself, knowing that the Royal Guardians never gave up once they were dedicated to a task. Whatever he must have done to link them to his trail must have been truly egregious. That was, of course, very odd since he was not the type to do anything so terrible as to come under such swift and strict condemnation from such a high-up authority.

He pushed his way through the forest, his eyes adjusting to the new level of darkness at last. Sadly, this did not prevent him from constantly running into and tripping over roots sticking out of the ground and fallen branches, nor the shrubs and bushes that rose from the forest floor.

The shouts and electronic baying of his pursuers grew louder and he knew it would only be a matter of time until they caught up with him. The poor child, he thought to himself. What will become of it? Will they truly tear him apart as they will me? There was no way to know. Not until it happened anyway.

The shouts were very close now; so close that he feverishly worried they were nearly upon him. He dared not turn and look but kept pressing forward. Suddenly two of the Mekhounds burst out in front of him and quickly turned to cut off his path. Mechanical growls of warning issued from the constructed beasts. Ariam skidded to a halt so as not to collide with the mechanical terrors. He heard several guardsmen come to a halt behind him and he whipped around to face them. There were seven of them. What on earth could I have done to earn this kind of attention, he wondered? Two of the seven commanded two more of the Mekhounds.

There came an interminable pause where no one moved nor said anything. Ariam simply stared them down and they returned the favor.

All seven of the men sported weapons at the ready. Some had short-bladed swords that sparkled with white luminous arcs of power, and others had energy pistols pointed at him. Their expressions dared him to make any sort of move, yet they did nothing to act themselves. Why weren’t they trying anything? He was certainly outnumbered and outmatched by them. What could …?

And then it came to him. The child. They didn’t want to hurt the child. They didn’t intend to tear the child apart as they meant to do so with him. The thought briefly crossed his mind that he might threaten the safety of the child himself to preserve his own life, but he quickly dismissed this. He knew that he would never hurt a child and doubted they believed he would also.

This was no stalemate. They all knew how it would end. Ariam expelled a defeated sigh and slowly bent down to lay the child on the ground. He came back up with hands raised and took a step backward.

“I surrender,” he heard his voice say out loud. The odd thing about it, though, was that it wasn’t his voice. It was another man’s words. Why was he hearing another man’s voice come out of his mouth? This was becoming more and more curious by the moment.

That pondering had no time for an answer because one of the guardsmen in the lead gave a simple nod and that’s when the violence began. All four Mekhounds sprang forward, lurching at him with lethal intent, and tore into him, spilling his blood all over the forest floor. His screams were brief and then it was all over.

***

Ariam awoke from the awful dream with a start. He sat bolt up in the darkness from his place upon the park bench. His chest was heaving and sweat poured down his face. He lifted both hands before him, inspecting himself for wounds. There was neither blood nor sign of laceration, but his limbs were shivering uncontrollably.

He worked to calm down by forcing himself to draw deep, steadying breaths. The whole affair felt dodgy at first, but eventually the shaking lessened and a semblance of calm returned. His heart continued beating rapidly, but over time he was able to arrest that, too.

He had never had a dream like this before. He had awoken from dreams many times in the past to realize they were nothing but flights of his unconscious fancy. But this was undeniably different. This had felt so real…still felt quite real. The phantoms of pain from the final moments still wracked his body momentarily but then they suddenly dissipated. But the memory of it all felt more like a true memory than it did a dream.

He swung his legs off the park bench and sat up, staring into the deep stillness of the night. There were no Royal Guardsmen or Mekhounds here to threaten him. There was no small child to protect or steal away into the jungle.

Nevertheless, a haunting conviction hung in the back of his mind. It was one of the thoughts that danced in his mind throughout the dream. I must get out of this Citadel. Was it simply a remnant of the nighttime vision, he wondered? Or was it meant for him to follow the vision’s path? The more he denied it to himself, the more certain he became that he must leave the Citadel.

But not yet. It could at least wait until tomorrow. Maybe the light of day would drive away the insanity of such ideas. He had to admit that he hoped it would be so.

He lay back down upon the bench and closed his eyes but had trouble getting back to sleep.

CHAPTER 4. A LONGING & A DISTRACTION

No matter what precautions could be taken regarding the impending event, Cecil would never be pleased until everything was over and done with. He was trained to operate on the assumption that nothing but disaster would result from the slightest laxity in his efforts to preserve the life of his charge. Every moment the king stood in the view of the public was treated as crisis-level for the Royal Guardians. For Cecil, Captain of the Royal Guardians, there could be no greater failure than to allow King Beirand to fall prey to even the most highly proficient assassin.

Standing in one of the many ante-rooms to the Great Hall of the Palace, the middle-aged king reviewed the speech for the seventeenth time, making certain that he had the entire thing memorized. Cecil and Lord Advisor Lycas Ryth watched him as he paced, inaudibly speaking to himself. Cecil kept his other senses alert to anything out of the ordinary which might indicate a threat to the king. Everything seemed as it should be. That did not keep him from being poised to strike, however, for the most probable moments for danger raced ever closer. Lord Ryth, on the other hand, appeared entirely calm, almost bored.

“Are you ready, your Majesty? The moment approaches rapidly.” Ryth spoke not in worried tones but with an air of formal announcement and authority commanded by few men.

Beirand’s only response was a noncommittal grunt. Ryth blinked as he waited for something more. When nothing further came, he pressed, “Are you pleased with the composition of your birthday address?” The tenor and self-pleasure in the Lord Advisor’s voice seemed to suggest the answer to his question. And that was one of Ryth’s most powerful aspects: the art of persuasion. Ryth’s ability to convince was rivaled only by another of his mind’s slipperiest arts: subtle charm. Cecil spared the man a withering glance, assuming the Lord Advisor employed both skills at the moment.

The king looked up from the pages and said, “Time already?” His shoulders shrugged in acquiescence and he added, “Yes, I suppose so.” He lifted his face and stared off into nothingness. His eyes were unfocused, blank. He was distracted.

Lycas Ryth cleared his throat. “Is something troubling your Majesty?” he asked.

The king stood unmoving for three or four seconds, blinked a few times, then turned his gaze to his Lord Advisor. “Trouble? What trouble?” He seemed genuinely confused.

“Your Majesty misunderstands,” Ryth explained with a smirk. “I meant to ask if you were feeling troubled. You seem like your mind is elsewhere. What is the matter? Is there something I can do to assist you?”

The king sighed and his shoulders sagged. “No, I don’t suppose there is,” he admitted. “I was merely thinking about that exquisite new flower you provided for my garden sanctuary. It was quite the experience to inhale its aroma. Enlivening, I would say. I was thinking about how nice it would be if I could do so one more time at this moment.” He turned his head and looked in the direction of the doorway through which they had entered the room. It was the path they had taken to come from his garden sanctuary. His eyes were wistful as he beheld the doorway and considered returning to that place. He added, “I just wish I could clear my mind as I had at the first scent of it. One more whiff is all it would take…”

“Perfectly understandable, your Majesty,” Ryth said in response. “I do not believe we have time to travel back to your gardens at the moment, however. And I think it’s probably not the wisest course to become…” He trailed off as he squinted his eyes ever so slightly, then finished, “…too familiar with the effects of that flower.”

The king arched an eyebrow. “Oh, how so?” he inquired. “What does that mean? Is there…” he leaned forward and in a lower voice continued, “is there a danger to it? I surely hope you did not bring something dangerous into my presence.”

Cecil stiffened and stared daggers at the Lord Advisor. The Lord Advisor flicked his attention briefly to the Royal Guardian Captain and then quickly returned it to the king, apparently unconcerned about the presence of the king’s bodyguard.

“Of course not, your Majesty,” he replied. “I merely meant to suggest that the more one experiences a thing, the less special it becomes. The Illuminoc plant is surely a rare thing indeed. My recommendation to your Majesty is that you keep it so.” Another smirk appeared on Ryth’s face and he added, “I think perhaps you have had enough of the experience of that exquisite plant for the time being. Why not set all such thoughts aside and focus on the matter before us? Then after you have completed the formality of the party you may return in the evening to your garden sanctuary and enjoy more time with your special new present. What do you say?”

The king stared at him blankly for a few moments, then slowly nodded. “Yes, I suppose that would be acceptable. And probably ideal. I suppose you are right about overindulging in something exquisite.” A smile appeared on his face and he said, “I must, after all, frequently remind my children not to overindulge in the sweets readily available to them at any time of day. In fact…”

“Yes, your Majesty,” Ryth interrupted. “I believe now is probably the best time for us to enter the party. The guests have been seated for some time and eagerly await your presence and to hear your magnificent birthday address.”

The king blinked away the interruption and nodded. “Yes, of course, that is the right thing to do at present.”

He moved forward from his place over to the entrance to the main hall. He stood there and waited for Ryth to come up beside him. He allowed a generous space in front of them both for Cecil to take up the point position as was customary. The Royal Guardian Captain deftly maneuvered forward and took up his place. He was on complete alert, presenting a stony expression that invited no foolishness.

The king gave him the signal and Cecil reached forward and pressed a button beside the door. The large steel door slid to the one side and the Captain took the first step out of the anteroom and halted to briefly take in the scenery before him, assessing for potential signs of danger.

CHAPTER 5. A SHATTERED CELEBRATION

The assessment took no longer than the amount of time it took for Cecil to sweep the room with his eyes. It was about seven seconds. Then he moved forward toward the podium and took up his place a few feet away from it. Next came King Beirand. He lifted his face and smiled brightly at the audience of three hundred assembled aristocrats and socialites who all responded with applause and polite cheers. He moved slowly as he waved to them until he arrived at his place behind the podium. Lycas Ryth also entered the stage and moved beyond the king and took up his position on the other far end toward the stage’s rear.

The king waited for the noise of the tumult to die down before he began his speech. When at last the final vestiges of sound quieted he looked over the crowd for a few seconds in silence, sharing a conspiratorial smile. The anticipation for what he would say built over those bare moments to a high peak. Cecil mostly ignored the excitement of the crowd and kept watch for trouble. His gaze slowly swept back and forth over the gathering, taking in every detail and cataloging it in his mind.

At last, the king opened his mouth to deliver the speech. The first part of his birthday address was always the same and therefore not part of the prepared speech written by the man hired by Lycas Ryth. It was always recited from the king’s memory according to tradition laid down by previous monarchs. It was always a rehearsal of human history on the planet of Dar’ryn.

“Two hundred years ago our forebears landed their great starship on this planet to colonize it. They were explorers, adventurers. They were followers of destiny. That spirit of discovery brought them to this strange world. As you all know, this Palace was once their spacefaring ship. Like a giant magnificent thorn descending from the sky, its front end by design plowed into the skin of the planet creating a foundation for the Palace and the beginnings of what is now our great Citadel which grew outward ever passionately and purposefully from those humble beginnings.” He paused and lowered his brow slightly, leveling a serious gaze at the audience before going on.

“Upon setting foot on the planet for the first time our forebears were met with many challenges and troubles. They faced savage wilding creatures. The Dar’rynakai who are even still an uncivilized people unschooled in the ways of culture attacked the first settlers and tried to drive them off the new world they were destined to colonize. We came from across the stars in search of a peaceful life only to be confronted with violence and savagery. But our ancestors were no slack people. They returned in kind and were able to drive back the ferocious Dar’rynakai people. We established the great outer wall of the Citadel, which now houses almost four million human beings in safety and security. It protects our micro-farms and city streets. It holds the wild at bay while we bring forth the light and goodness of society.” There were nods all around the great hall. They were eating out of his hand.

He shook his head, then, and continued, “But after two hundred years we are still only a very small drop in a wide sea that is the planet Dar’ryn. We have come far from our original home, a place we no longer recall, lost to time and lost to the vast reaches of space in another faraway star system we could never hope to reach again if we wanted to. But we do not want to, do we?”

He shook his head slowly again and looked soberly at the audience. There were murmurs of agreement from the assembled aristocrats.

“No,” he continued. “We are here. This is our home. And we will continue to push outward and spread the influence and light of our way. Perhaps in time the wild Dar’rynakai people themselves will be tamed by culture and society and have a civilization of their own. We hope and pray for that day. The future is full of variegated and splendorous possibilities. But for now, we live in today. And today is a fine day. For today is my birthday!” He raised his arms triumphantly as he raised his voice at the last word.

An eruption of cheers arose from the assembled aristocrats. The king smiled as he drank in the adoration. Cecil remained calm and aware of all that was happening in the room. He did not indicate via a change in his demeanor but there was a subtle shift in the Captain’s awareness of the room. He couldn’t quite understand it himself, but a spike of alarm thrust forward in his mind.

When the applause died down once more the king continued. “Today I am fifty years old.” He drew in another breath to speak, but then coughed in surprise. It was a peculiar noise, strained and wheezing. So much so that it even drew the attention of the Captain of the Royal Guardians.

Cecil shot his king a questioning look and saw that he was bent over the podium as if struggling with pain in his abdomen. Cecil’s first thought was that he had somehow missed an assassin who sent a dart or other projectile of some kind that landed in the king’s belly. He took a step forward and shot angry eyes out at the crowd trying to see if there was someone who would flinch in reaction and give themselves away. But then the king made another pained groan, this time much louder and more miserable. Cecil turned once more to look upon his king and saw that Beirand had stumbled several steps backward and cradled his midsection with his arms. His eyes came up and stared helplessly into Cecil’s face. And for the briefest of moments, Cecil thought he saw something strange in the king’s face. It was almost as if his eyes glowed faintly blue for just a brief flash of time. Then it happened.

Cecil took an involuntary step back at the strange thing he had witnessed on his king’s face. That was perhaps what saved his life. For in the next instant there was a blinding flash of light that emanated from the place where King Beirand stood as an explosion rocked the stage. The shockwave of it collided with Cecil and threw him backward off the stage and into the crowd. He landed upon a handful of surprised aristocrats whom he bowled over. His head swam from the shock of the blow and his eyes went completely blurry for a handful of heartbeats.

When he gathered himself he pushed away from the aristocrats and darted toward the stage. He vaulted up from the floor with all his might and landed on the platform. His eyes first went to the location where the king had been standing but he was not there. He next flicked his attention to his right and saw Lycas Ryth laying on his belly and groggily pushing himself up on his elbows and shaking his head, trying to clear his confusion and shock.

But then his eyes flicked further to the right and he saw something which brought on a wave of unimaginable revulsion. He saw the king’s lower body from the waist down laying discarded like a piece of refuse. Blood and viscera poured out of one ragged end. He then turned his attention to the left and saw the king’s upper half starting from the shredded middle of his belly. Curiously, the king’s head was bent upward as he looked down upon his dying form. His eyes were wide in surprise as he looked at only a little less than half of himself.

Cecil heard him mumble incredulously.

“Where’s the rest of me?” the king asked in a curious tone and then his eyes rolled back into his head and his head fell backward and slumped against the floor. He was dead.

CHAPTER 6. A LOCKDOWN

Suddenly Lycas Ryth ran and knelt by the upper half of the king’s decimated body. He dropped his hands to the king’s shoulders and began gently shaking him as if he were trying to wake him from a nap.

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty!” he cried out, terror etching his face.

Cecil lurched his hand forward, powerfully gripped Ryth’s shoulder, and ripped the Lord Advisor away from the upper half of the king’s corpse. “Get off him!” Cecil shouted at Ryth. Ryth fell backward and threw a stunned expression at the Captain. The two of them stared each other down until Ryth finally looked away.

Cecil turned his eyes to stare in disbelief down at his murdered king. He first gazed at Beirand’s face, which was slack and his mouth open and his tongue lolled out to one side. Then his eyes traveled down along the course to the ragged wound of his midsection. He knelt closer to the corpse and examined the place where the king had been blown in half. A brief analysis was all it took for Cecil to understand that the explosion had come from inside the king’s own body. Somehow someone had planted a bomb in his middle. He could not begin to imagine how such a thing was possible.

His head reeled and he almost toppled over but caught himself. The man he was charged to personally protect had been brutally slaughtered in front of a crowd. How was it possible that his most sacred charge had been brought to utter failure? He could barely think. The combination of having been close up to the blast coupled with the sheer incredulity of the outcome made it impossible.

Doors all over the room were slamming and he quickly whipped around to see the other Royal Guardians barring the exits so that no one present could get away. The assassin could very well be in this room. And if the killer was here Cecil vowed they would not escape.

Suddenly Lycas Ryth was at the podium, shouting for everyone to quiet down. It had barely registered in Cecil’s awareness that screams erupted all over the chamber as it was thrown into chaotic tumult.

“Everyone silence!” Ryth shouted. His voice seemed unnaturally loud and the crowd soon obeyed and started to calm its noise. “No one will be leaving this room for the foreseeable future,” he ground out. There was a look of sheer rage pasted across his features. He lifted a hand to indicate Cecil. “The Royal Guardians will begin an investigation at once. Everyone in this room will be interviewed.”

There was a murmur from the crowd at this. “Silence!” Ryth shouted again. The growing noise died down at once. “Our king has been murdered! This is no time for argument. All communications will be cut off from this room save that of the Royal Guardsmen who will coordinate with their corps.” He looked to Cecil and nodded.

Cecil stared back at him for a handful of seconds and gave his nod of acknowledgment.

Ryth detached himself from the podium and strode up to Cecil. They stared hard at one another for several moments and then Ryth spoke. “Probably better start with me. Set an example.”

Cecil glowered back at Ryth. His only response was a slow nod. He then turned to sweep his gaze over the room once more. His face came to a sudden halt as his eyes landed upon the Queen. She stood close to the front of the stage shocked and stock-still. Flecks of the king’s blood and gore covered her face. Then Cecil’s eyes dropped to the one standing by her side.

It was the young Prince, Therin, who was barely thirteen. He was the oldest of their three children and this was the first year he was old enough to attend this particular celebration. His father’s blood splattered his face as well, but tears streamed down his face cutting little paths through the crimson stains. Cecil felt something inside him break as he beheld the distraught boy.

***

Ten hours later the investigation and interviews were not even close to concluded. No one in the room revealed anything of value as of yet. Cecil could barely sort out the sequence of events but notes had of course been taken throughout the whole process. There were yet many people to be interviewed from the room, but they were to be quartered within the Palace. It would take days to investigate with no guarantees of finding out anything.

Cecil had been relieved from duty at the command of Lycas Ryth to get some rest. The Captain protested but several of his men from the Royal Guardian corps insisted as well and he relented. He had trudged the space between the scene of the disaster to his quarters in a daze. Whenever someone spoke to him it was mere muffled noise at the periphery of his awareness and he ignored it. He collapsed onto the singular chair in his quarters, bone tired. The rest of the guardsmen each bunked with at least two others of their kind but the Captain was afforded his own space. That is good, he thought. He required that what he was going to do next be private.

He made certain the door into his room was locked securely so that only very few who had access to the highest security protocols would be able to enter. It was unlikely that he would be checked on in the next five to seven hours anyway. Therefore that was how long he decided he had to do this next part. He removed the purple and black armor with gold trim and deposited it where he normally did. In its place, he put on the clothes of a commoner.

Cecil reached for the belt that was an essential part of his armor and opened a compartment. He retrieved a handful of small steel vials, dropping four of them into a pocket and keeping on out. With his thumb, he swiped across the top of the vial and unscrewed the lid. He tipped the contents of the container into his mouth. Within seconds he felt a surge of energy course through his body and drive out any sense of tiredness. The effect would last for approximately four hours. One vial might not be enough, hence the extras, but there would be an increasing side effect of the crash at the end with each successive vial he imbibed.

He checked himself in the mirror and made certain that he did not forget to leave behind anything that would mark him out as belonging within the Palace. His face might be recognized, but there wasn’t much to be done about that. He lifted the hood of his cloak the obscure his chiseled facial features and blond hair.

After he was satisfied with his assessment he moved over to the place on his wall where his predecessor had informed him there was the secret exit. He’d not bothered to engage with it until now and hoped he could remember all the right steps to get it open. He slid aside the secret panel and entered in the code only he and the king knew. No, he corrected himself. Now only I know it. The knowledge would die with him if something happened to him on this mission. Well, he thought to himself, I’ll just have to make sure nothing happens to me.

He was confident he would be just fine. It was others who needed to be afraid. The hidden door slid aside and he entered the passageway beyond. As soon as he was inside the door slid closed behind him. Before long he was working his way through the interior passageways of the Citadel wall. Soon he would find himself descending into the seedy lower levels of the Citadel. As distasteful as he considered it his next move was to make contact within the criminal underworld.

CHAPTER 7. A RELUCTANT FAREWELL

The carved mountain city of his people was behind him, along with all that meant. Part of him wished to turn around and go back though he could not, having been exiled. Another part of him refused to even look back. So he trudged forward, walking across the great plains between the towering spike of the mountainous city and the forest before him. The tall grasses hissed at his legs as he pressed on. His tail whipped around behind him in an agitated manner. His green reptilian skin felt stretched with stress. He drew in a deep breath and the dewlap hanging from his chin shuttered. His head fin rose straight and a tremor shook through it.

A breeze blew across the prairie moving the grasses and chilling his flesh. He had been stripped of everything, even his clothes, save for a loincloth that hung from a thin leather belt at his waist. The breeze was thankfully warm. Had it presently been the winter he might have been in danger of exposure. As it was, he sought first to find a stone to lay upon and sun himself.

A short distance ahead of him a midsized game bird exploded from the tall grasses before him and took flight cawing its annoyance at his approach. Gael’jic froze in place and watched it ascend into the heavens tracking its movement with his sharp intelligent reptilian eyes. He watched it a while and then muttered to himself, “Between the two of us, brother bird, you have nothing to complain about. I have lost all. My home, my warm bed, and my study and library.” He hung his head and shook it disappointedly.

He had been a scholar and not accustomed to life outside of civilization. He intellectually understood many of the things it would take to survive, but he had never performed any of them. Being unpracticed at survival arts is not a good way to begin an exile to the wilds, he thought in a self-mocking tone. He supposed he might be able to scrape together an existence for a time, but he was not sure how long he could last without the aid of others. He was alone and hated it. That of course was the whole idea. He was meant to die miserable and alone. This was how the unfaithful ones exacted their revenge against him for his murderous act.

Far up ahead a hill arose from the plain and beyond it was the beginning of the jungle. He lifted his head and looked continually forward as he approached. The wilds were no place to lose awareness of one’s surroundings. The great plains surrounding the Dar’rynakai city would not be particularly troublesome. It was once he reached the jungle that the danger would begin. There was all manner of beasts reputed to inhabit the wilds and many of them were quite deadly. There were too many to count. So much so, that he surmised several of them were mere legends and didn’t truly exist. A great number of his people still clung to the old myths.

He wondered at the first real beasts he would encounter and which, if any of them, would be his demise. It could be that he would manage to stay away from such dangers, but there were others besides hungry predators. Starvation, dehydration, exposure. He might ingest something poisonous while seeking to sate his hunger. Who could say? He hoped he would find some way to live to the end of long years but that looked doubtful.

Despairing thoughts consumed Gael’jic. He could not stay out on the plains because hunting parties regularly came out this way. If he was found it was promised that he would be killed by them. Since he was legally stripped even of his Ber’desh he was counted among the animals. No, he was expected to venture far out into the deepest part of the jungle. He was hated by many of the denizens of the city behind him. While he did not need their love he certainly would have appreciated the security of staying within the city, even if it meant staying in a prison cell. But his people did not favor such fates for those who committed capital crimes.

He remembered sullenly that he had expected to be executed. In some sense, he almost wished he had been. That way at least it would all be over and he would not have to deal with this long slow process of uncertainty regarding his impending death. But the leaders of his people could not allow it. Gael’jic’s secret allies would use execution to leverage interest among the rest of the populace to suggest the corruption that Gael’jic had failingly acted to thwart.

The terrain beneath his feet began to rise as he climbed the hill he had finally reached. When he arrived at the top he halted and stared forward into the jungle. It was still some distance ahead. He drew a breath and released it in a defeated sigh. He slowly then turned and looked back upon the city he had called home for the last time.

Once he had truly believed in the nobility of his people and their destiny. Once he had been certain his work contributed to the progress of the goodness of the Dar’rynakai tribes. But now no more.

Off to his right stood a tall, proud Raka tree. He leaned one hand on it for support as he stared in dismay at the city. It had once been a single solitary mountain amid the plain. But over eons, it had been inhabited and carved and carefully crafted by the Dar’rynakai people so that now it was not one single promontory amid the prairie, but it was a multi-peaked city carved and crafted out of the stone of the mountain.

His people were not like the humans who had invaded this planet. The Dar’rynakai lived in harmony with the nature around them whereas the strange human creatures came and inserted their cruel technology forcefully into the ways of nature. When they had come so long ago in their bizarre steel sky ship they had driven part of it deep into the ground. Such was considered rapacious and an affront to the Dar’rynakai and their sense of propriety regarding nature. To humans, the world around them was merely a resource to be used. To the Dar’rynakai it was so much more. It was the source and sustenance of their life. It was meant to be shared, cherished, cultivated, preserved, and helped and adored.

The Dar’rynakai had their versions of technology and tools but they were quite distinct from that of the humans. Whereas human technology twisted and forced and mined and brought strange devices from deep inside the earth with metals, the Dar’rynakai gently and lovingly formed and manipulated trees and mountains to generate their kinds of technology. The Dar’rynakai respected their environment and world. The humans had no such concept.

Gael’jic shook his head once more. He supposed that was one more danger he would have to avoid. The barbaric human element.

He spared one last glance at the Dar’rynakai city then turned mournfully and hung his head as he marched into the jungle.

CHAPTER 8. A DANGER UNNOTICED

Now that he was surrounded by trees and the strange noises of the jungle he became quieter and more conscious of his surroundings. He heard many bird calls and the trilling of insects he recognized but there were also sounds he did not know. There suddenly came one loud piercing animalistic roar but it came from far ahead in the distance. Gael’jic hoped he would never run into whatever had originated that sound.

Up ahead there was a large rock formation that rose from the forest floor. Trees circled it like a crown and felt drawn in that direction. If he could climb up to the pinnacle of it he could stop and sun himself there for some time. The trees were not particularly close together in this part of the jungle and much sunlight came through the canopy. There appeared to be only one smallish tree on the outcropping which meant the rest of it would provide good exposure to the sunlight.

As he approached the rock outcropping he considered that he would soon need to search for and find water if he was going to survive. But one thing at a time. He reached the rock outcropping, looked up only momentarily, and then began to ascend. There were plenty of handholds available, and so the going was fairly easy for him. He had never been a particularly physical being compared to the rest of the Dar’rynakai, but like the rest of his people, he was still well-muscled and very nimble and able to do what most humans wouldn’t.

In very short order he had reached the top edge of the rock outcropping which was perhaps twenty feet off the ground. It was a mostly flat area and in the middle, there was that one tree curiously growing out of it. He did not yet require shade so he decided to lay down for a while on the expanse of rock just beyond the edge and warm himself in the noonday sunlight. He lay there a long time soaking in the bright warmth but also wallowing in the sense of despair regarding his situation. Soon he found himself napping and realized only later that he had been this way for several hours.

He was now sufficiently warmed. Almost too much, he thought. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and turned and looked at the tree behind him. Perhaps that would be a good place for him for the next short while. Probably even overnight. He slowly rose to his feet and ambled over to the tree and sat beside it. He leaned his back against the trunk feeling the spines of the lower back part of his head fin push against it and fold beneath his weight.

As he looked around the forest he felt a fresh stab of hatred for his circumstance and those who thrust it upon him. Did he even want to live any longer, he wondered? He wasn’t sure he did. This whole situation was absurd beyond reason. And he prized reason and intellect above all else. Was he only fooling himself by thinking that he might be able to scrape an existence by himself in the wilds? He briefly entertained the premise that he wasn’t. If so, then what? What would it change in the grand scheme? Perhaps he ought to just sit here and let his body starve and dehydrate and eventually shrivel up and die. It wouldn’t matter to anyone else what happened to him now. Should it matter to him? Perhaps it should not.

A strange creaking filled his ears and he lazily wondered what it might be. He realized it was probably the branches of the tree at his back, twisting in the wind…but then he realized there was no wind. Curious, he turned around to see what had caused the noise. His heart stopped as he beheld a strange and terrifying vision. The tree was reaching for him. One large branch swept down from the trunk and swiped at him like a hand. Wooden clawed fingers greedily snatched for him. He barely dodged out of the way in time to be missed by the attack. He rolled onto his knees and faced the strange sight. His head fin now standing straight up in alarm. In the center of the trunk two black eyes appeared. Then suddenly below them, a large horrifying maw cracked open and he saw rows upon rows of nightmarish jagged wooden teeth.

The tree twisted in the middle and swiped at him again with another branch, this one longer. He dodged backward once again, once more barely missing getting clobbered by the thing. An explosive earsplitting roar burst out of the horrifying tree creature as it lunged at him in fury.

Gael’jic’s tail stiffened, then whipped back and forth agitated and fearfully. Once upon a time, his people had used their tails in combat, though it was uncommon now. It was known to happen every once in a while if a brawl took place and they reverted to their more primitive nature still buried deep down within them. Gael’jic could now understand how such things could occur. He felt like using his tail to whip at his opponent now, though he doubted it would do much good.

Staring across the rock shelf it came to him in a rush of understanding what creature was before him. It was a beast he had believed only existed in fables, though the reality of it now incontrovertibly stared him down. This was what the fairytales of his people called a Demon Tree. Sometimes hunting parties swore to have caught glimpses of the strange monsters in the jungle, but no one believed it was true, except maybe for children. But now Gael’jic believed it. For one was attempting to kill him.

What he had at first taken to be the great roots of the tree now dislodged themselves from the stony place and began moving spiderlike toward him. Eight powerful root legs propelled the thing forward at an alarming speed. And it was coming for him.

Gael’jic quickly spun around and began descending the rock outcropping. Soon he reached the ground and immediately raced away from the approaching menace. He could hear the thing crashing down the rocky surface and pushing through the forest behind him, shoving trees aside and even snapping small trunks in the process.

Gael’jic threw a glance over his shoulder and saw that he was making some progress in getting away from the thing. It might have been fast but it was also large and had a harder time maneuvering through the jungle than he did.

As he continued to run an epiphany struck somewhere in the back of his intellect. It turned out he wanted to live after all. This was more than mere survival instinct. He had decided somewhere deep inside himself that there was still justice that needed to happen and it could not be done without his help. But first, he had to get away from the beast pursuing him ravenously intent on consuming his flesh. Hopefully, he thought with his attention divided between his ruminations and fleeing for his life, there are no other demon trees close by that might join the pursuit or even cut off my escape.

He simply had to keep running. He was certainly much faster than the demon tree and he could outpace it given enough time. The sounds of the thing tearing through the jungle behind him were motivation enough for him to press on without looking back.

It was not much longer until the frustrated growls and cries of the strange beast grew distant and he felt a wave of relief wash through him. He would not stop for the time being, however. His only other concern was that he might run headlong into something else dangerous in the process. Thus he focused his attention forward.

CHAPTER 9. A LIGHT FOR THE WAY

His endurance eventually terminated after several minutes and he had to halt to catch his breath. He realized when he stopped that it had been a little while since he heard the sounds of the creature pursuing him and he hoped that meant it had broken off pursuit in favor of hunting something else. He turned around to stare in the direction from which he had come and saw nothing stirring in the jungle. Despite the little adventure he noted it was still daytime, albeit late in the day, and he knew the jungle would become far more dangerous when the Sun fell. Many predatory beasts were nocturnal and so he would have to find some sort of shelter in which to protect himself through the course of the night. The last thing he wanted was to wake up with some creature or other gnawing on him.

The next order of business, however, was for him to locate a source of water. That was also going to present several problems. For where ever there was water there would be other things using that same source of hydration to keep themselves alive. That also probably meant predatory things. He would have to become wary to survive.

He waited until he caught his breath then he set about slowly stalking through the jungle searching for food and water. Along the way, he kept his attention set to notice anything that might provide shelter whether it be a cave or a tall tree he might climb and in which he might rest. His people had not always lived in the mountains. Many of them had been tree-dwelling. The long prehensile tales of the Dar’rynakai people were once thought to have been used to grip branches to maintain balance and not fall from the treetop dwellings. It had been a long time since his people lived in the trees, however, and so they were no longer accustomed to using their tails in that fashion. But he supposed he could relearn it.

He set off in search of the elements that would help him survive. It was two weary hours of trekking before he came across a small babbling stream. He knelt beside the water and dipped his hands into it and drew them up cupping water in them and drank. He was not as satisfied with this action as he hoped. He thus threw all propriety aside and plunged his narrow snout into the running water and lapped up the hydration. He kept his ears attentive for the sounds of approaching creatures but none presented themselves. When he had his fill he decided to follow the course of the stream through the jungle hoping to stay close to it and at the same time searching for something he might consider shelter.

He eventually came upon a great Raka tree beside the stream and noted its wide trunk and sturdy branches high above the ground. He began to climb the tree knowing that this was probably going to be his safest respite for at least this first night. He found a large, robust branch high off the ground and sat upon it leaning his back against the tree and looking out over the jungle from his new elevated position. It was at last growing dark but he found that he was not yet tired. Now that he had settled down, he began to mentally work again on his situation. He did not want only to survive but he wanted more. Yet he could not seem to wrap his head around what his life should be in this state of exile.

When the sun had set at last he sat back and stared blankly into the darkening jungle. Then something caught his attention. A light blue luminescence blossomed near the jungle floor close to the tree trunk. He blinked and sat up. He paused and then leaned forward. He was too high off the ground to be sure, but… “Could it be?” He wondered out loud.

He sat perched upon the branch staring down at the faint light and considered whether or not he ought to go investigate. He supposed it would still be there in the morning, but the effect would probably not be the same as at this hour. That decided it for him. He slowly descended the tree trunk and then came to a halt by the base. Gael’jic found the source of the light and sure enough, it was as he believed.

It was an Illuminoc plant. The beautiful and rare lotus blossom glowed blue and seemed to intensify the closer he came to it. He got down on both knees beside it and looked closer. He had only ever seen dead specimens that had been harvested from long ago. The living version was far more exquisite. He reached out a hand and gently brushed one of the petals of the lotus and it glowed even brighter at his touch. He drew in a sharp breath of surprise and delight. All thoughts of the desperation of his circumstance vanished in the light of the Illuminoc plant. How strange that in his exile he should come upon one. But then another stranger thing happened.

Off to his left, he saw another flourish of blue light. He turned his head in disbelief and witnessed that some distance away was another of the Illuminoc plants beginning to glow in the dark. He could hardly believe his fortune and stood on shaky legs then ambled over to it to inspect the second one. It was an even more beautiful specimen than the first. He beheld it in awe as it gave its strange bioluminescent light into the dark pushing the night back.

After a transfixed moment he lifted his attention away from the second plant and gasped as he beheld out ahead in the distance at least three more of the Illuminoc plants spaced roughly equally apart from one another, lighting up and seemingly creating a path through the jungle. Gael’jic was struck with an overwhelming sense and urge to follow this path. All thoughts of questionable survival washed away in the light of the Illuminoc and he gleefully trudged through the jungle to see each specimen. The closer he came to each one the more of them he saw.

A conviction quickly grew in his heart that this had nothing to do with mere happenstance. This had a touch of fate about it. It was as if an unseen force were lighting his path for him, urging him to follow it. It only took Gael’jic a fraction of a second to commit to obeying the summons.

Perhaps I am not alone after all, he thought as he pursued the Illuminoc trail.

CHAPTER 10. A PRINCE’S GRIEF

Two statuesque Royal Guardians barred his path, but he was not concerned. He looked to one man, then the other, and they stepped aside for Lycas Ryth, formerly the Lord Advisor to the dead king. Now he would become Lord Advisor to Prince Therin whose room these men guarded. Once the guards were out of the way he stepped forward and pressed the button beside the door. The steel barrier slid into the wall and he stepped through.

The Prince’s quarters were quite spacious and filled with a variety of trinkets, toys, and books. It was said the young Prince prized reading above all other activities. But he also had a special place in his heart for another interest. In part that was what Ryth came regarding, though another pressing matter required addressing first.

A large four-post canopy bed sat against the middle of the far wall. Resting forlornly on the bed was the Prince who sat with his head hung low and his hands clasped between his knees. He was thirteen years old and the oldest child of King Beirand and his wife, Queen Rivess. He also had two siblings, a pair of twins, who were five years old. As of yet, the twins remained unaware of their father’s death, but they would learn soon enough.

Therin had been present for the assassination and was Rivess’s priority for her consoling attention.

The Queen Mother was ten years younger than the King. She had been only sixteen and naïve when the king had selected her from one of the noble families of the realm. It was not until eleven years into their marriage that she had finally produced an heir, and it was whispered the king had sought pleasurable companionship elsewhere out of frustration.

But at last, the day came when Queen Rivess had produced a child, the Prince, Therin. The kingdom sighed in collective relief, or so the king was told. But several among the nobility noted to themselves an ongoing coldness between the king and his Queen. It was the topic of many speculative backroom conversations, but very few were brave enough to discuss it in public.

Despite her initial naivete, over time the Queen had developed a bit of a reputation as a hardliner when it came to matters of the Royal Family’s reputation.

She sat beside her son with an arm around his shoulder whispering comforting words into his ear. The boy would not be comforted, however. Tears streamed down his face and Ryth heard distinct sobbing noises from the boy. At the Lord Advisor’s appearance in the room, the Queen Mother lifted her head to take him in but shot him a warning glance. The young Prince kept his head bowed and faced the floor.

Lycas Ryth stood in the doorway and folded his hands before him, waiting for the Queen Mother to permit him to enter the rest of the way. The woman stared at him for a handful of heartbeats. Ryth could see the frustration in the woman’s eyes at his interrupting her consolation of her son. At last, she gave him a slow reluctant nod. Lycas Ryth detached himself from his place in the doorway and paced methodically into the room.

In a gentle voice he said, “Your Majesties, I have come to check in on you both. I cannot begin to express the depth of my sorrow over what has happened. This tragedy is barbaric and senseless and I promise we will get to the bottom of it soon. You have my word on that.” The Queen stared back blankly at him and her son continued his anguished weeping.

Ryth continued walking forward as he spoke until he, at last, came to stand before the grieving monarchial family. His gaze rested first on the Queen who returned it. He then moved his eyes to the dejected form of the Prince. His attention briefly flicked to the Queen Mother once more, then returned to the main target of his speech.

“But I have come,” he continued, “to discuss other things.”

The Queen Mother arched an eyebrow. “What other things?” she said in a wintery tone.

“Pressing matters of state, your Majesty,” Ryth replied in a tone that was gentle yet insistent.

The Queen huffed a brief and frustrated breath. “I do not believe this is an appropriate time to discuss anything. Especially not matters of state.” Her eyes stared icy daggers at the Lord Advisor but he would not budge. He simply returned her glower with a long-suffering look of his own and stood undaunted.

“Be that as it may,” the Lord Advisor replied, “there are important matters of state, which require your Majesty’s attention.” He shifted his face to look upon the young Prince once again to clear up any confusion as to whom he addressed.

The Prince looked up at last with a question in his tear-stricken eyes. “What do you mean? Are you speaking to me, Lord Advisor?”

“I am indeed, your Majesty. You are the next in line for the throne. The responsibility for overseeing the kingdom will soon come to your shoulders, your Majesty. Anyone would be remiss if they did not inform you of this truth and prepare you for the road ahead.” He flicked his eyes meaningfully to the Queen Mother who continued to stare icily back at him. He looked away from her once more unconcerned with her opinion and continued to address Prince Therin.

“Your Majesty, you have to understand that this is the way of our great kingdom. For instance, my search of the archives has yielded the fact that you are not the youngest boy who has ever ascended the throne and reigned over our noble people. We have had one who began his rule at the age of eleven.”

“Eleven?” the Prince said, incredulous. “Can it be true?”

“It can, and it is,” Ryth replied brightly. “Although someone of your age should have a Vice Regent at his side. Naturally,” and here he turned to face the Queen Mother, “that duty would fall to your mother.”

The young Prince looked up at his mother in shock and she returned a weak smile.

“Pay this no mind for the moment, son,” she said. She then turned her face stonily back upon the Lord Advisor and added, “Now is not the moment for talk of succession. It will come soon enough, but not yet.”

“I understand your concerns to protect your son from the woes of politics, your Majesty,” Ryth replied. “Be that as it may, this is the way of our kingdom. Not even a Queen can change that.”

The Queen Mother narrowed her eyes as she stared back at Ryth. “May I speak with you privately outside, Lord Advisor?” she growled. The Prince looked at her with questioning eyes, wondering what exactly was going on between the two of them.

Ryth bowed deeply at the waist and said, “Of course, your Majesty. Whatever you wish.” Then he straightened again and added, “Within reason and the bounds of the law, of course.”

The Queen Mother shot up from beside her son and strode angrily out of the Prince’s quarters. Lycas Ryth obediently trailed after her, tranquility remained fixed on his face. Very few people stood in the presence of the royals and maintained an intact sense of calm for very long, but Lycas Ryth always seemed to manage it.

CHAPTER 11. A QUEEN’S SUSPICION

The Queen Mother coursed like a dark thunderhead out into the hallway. As he followed her he momentarily allowed a faint smile to touch one corner of his lips. She stopped a short distance away but still within earshot of the two guards stationed outside her son’s door and whipped around to face him.

“What exactly are you playing at, Lord Advisor?” she snapped. Her face was all fire and ice. Her eyes looked as though they could have melted steel but Lycas Ryth stood unflinching before them.

“I play at nothing, your Majesty,” he supplied as if it were obvious. “I simply seek to preserve the order of our kingdom. You know as well as I do that if vacuums of power are left unattended for too long, someone to whom the duty does not belong will seek to step into it. I simply endeavor to prevent this from happening.”

“The boy just lost his father,” she nearly shouted at him.

“And you just lost your husband,” Ryth added. “Curiously, you do not seem to be as troubled as perhaps one would expect.”

The Queen Mother gritted her teeth and her face constricted in a show of restrained rage. She took a slow step in his direction and seethed, “What exactly are you implying, Lord Advisor?” Her tone and face dared him to make one wrong maneuver in the conversation. She was not above shows of meting out martial punishment if she deemed it necessary. She had done so on more than one occasion and it earned her a sometimes-fearful reputation.

Once, a representative over one of the twelve districts of the Citadel had dared to question her husband’s understanding of a matter when he was in the process of making a decision. There was a clear edge of disrespect in the man’s tone but King Beirand had played it nice and tried to placate the man. When the Queen Mother saw that was not working, she stepped in and took care of it more decisively. The representative had received twenty lashes and was summarily stripped of his position and replaced by someone else. After that, hardly anyone dared question the King in her presence again, and none exercised insolence when they did so.

In contrast, Lycas Ryth stood unperturbed and immune in the face of her fury. “I mean to imply nothing, your Majesty. I simply point out a curious detail. You seem a bit jumpy about it, though. One wonders what that might portend.” Next, he narrowed his own eyes, leaned forward, and in a conspiratorial whisper added, “Especially so suddenly upon the heels of your husband’s assassination.” He waited for a few heartbeats to let the oblique accusation sink in and then straightened his back once more. In a calmer voice, he continued, “Politics are such a strange animal. Even I cannot seem to keep track of them at times. Monarchies are a dangerous business. Especially from within themselves. Just read any kingdom or empire’s history, my dear Queen.”

The Queen blinked in astonishment as she stared back at the Lord Advisor. She soaked in all of the implications of his words and then shook her head frustratedly. “You are deranged,” she uttered in a whispered hiss.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “That may not be up to you to decide. It may be up to say, I don’t know, the courts to decide.” His face suddenly lost all its cool composure and flashed a hard-edged glare back at the Queen. She took an involuntary step back from him and gasped. In the next instant, his countenance was calm again, almost disinterested.  He said, “But I think that is unnecessary. This matter does not have to go in such a twisted and treacherous fashion.”

“I don’t know that I’ve ever met anyone more twisted and treacherous than you,” the Queen accused in a hissing voice. Her anger had returned to her face, but now Ryth saw it was more mask than wrath. She looked as if she wanted to leap at the man and wrap her hands around his throat and strangle him. Yet she remained firmly planted where she was. There were fresh hints of worry behind her eyes, Ryth noted.

“Be that as it may,” The Lord Advisor continued, “if you are not feeling up to the discharge of your duty as Queen Mother, perhaps a suitable replacement for Vice Regent may be found. I’m sure there is someone capable and willing to perform the duty. At least until you feel ready to return to your position, that is. After all, you have suffered a terrible loss just now. It would not be thought improper of you to temporarily lay aside such a heavy burden in favor of recuperation.”

She shook her head slowly as she beheld him in astonished disbelief. “I see what you are doing, Ryth. You’re not going to get away with this, Lord Advisor.” She emphasized the last words acidly. She narrowed her eyes and added, “You are not as smart as you think you are.”

A look of consideration dawned on Lycas Ryth’s face. “Do you think so?” he asked with genuine curiosity. “I wonder. Nevertheless, that doesn’t matter at the moment. For the present, I recommend you sequester yourself in your rooms until you are called upon to perform your queenly duty. Until that time I suggest a suitable replacement be found. I have someone in mind.”

“I’m sure you do,” the Queen ground out.

“Now if your Majesty will excuse me, I have business to attend to with the young Prince.”

Queen Rivess took a step forward and lifted a finger of warning into his face. “Don’t you dare embroil my son in your twisted schemes, Ryth.”

The Lord Advisor stood staring back stonily but said nothing in reply. He simply beheld the Queen and waited for her to speak or move.

“I will not have my son used as a pawn in your sick games,” she barked at last.

Lycas Ryth remained stationary with an implacable face. He then said, “I think that will be all, your Majesty. You may go.”

She looked as though she wanted to protest, to argue against this man’s demented plans, whatever they were. But she said nothing further. She turned away like a bottle filled with rage but with nowhere to pour its contents out, and stormed off in the direction of her rooms.

Lycas Ryth stood silently in the hall and watched her go. When she had disappeared he then turned around and looked at the two guards standing outside the Prince’s room. They no doubt had heard much of the exchange, but he was not concerned about them any more than he was the Queen. They would do their duty which was to protect their charge, the Prince. And he made no show of threat against the boy. He strode over to them and said, “I am entering the young Prince’s room again. Feel free to accompany me to discharge your duty to the fullest.” Without another word, he strode into the open door once again.

Upon entering the room. The Prince beheld his approach and stood from his place at the bed. He lifted a hand and wiped both cheeks with it and then put on a semi-brave face. It was of course a mask and Lycas Ryth saw past all masks.

He strode forward and shared a confident smile with the boy. The boy returned it. He looked down at the young Prince and said, “Your Majesty, there are many difficult things that we have ahead of us. So, to soften the blow, I thought I would bring you a surprise and hopefully help lighten your heart in the slightest if I may.”

“A surprise?” the young Prince asked. Skepticism sketched itself across the boy’s face as he looked up into the visage of the Lord Advisor. “I do not know that I am in the mood for any more surprises today, Lord Advisor.”

“I understand your concern,” Ryth said, bowing his head ever so slightly. “However, I believe this is one you might appreciate. If you would be so kind as to follow me? The guards of course will accompany us and see to your protection.”

The Prince stood unmoving for a moment as he stared up with sudden bitterness into the Lord Advisor’s face. He quietly said, “The way they saw to my father’s protection?”

For the first time in a long time during a conversation, Lycas Ryth was caught off guard. He blinked in surprise at the boy’s candor and keen mind. He had not anticipated this level of pushback from one so young and vulnerable. Curious, he thought. But then he surmised he could overcome even that.

“Even better, now that we know a threat is present,” Ryth said, quickly overcoming his astonishment at the Prince’s lash of wit. He smiled broadly at the boy and said, “Follow me, please. I think you’re going to like this.”

CHAPTER 12. A GIFT IN SORROW

“This is my father’s garden sanctuary, is it not?” Prince Therin asked. He had seldom spent time up this way and it had been quite a while since the last visit.

“Indeed it is,” Ryth replied. “Each king has made this space their own in some way or other. Your father enjoyed the presence of growing things; plants, flowers, and the like. I understand the king previous to your father built model starships and kept them displayed throughout this place. There were hundreds of them.”

“Truly?” The Prince asked in genuine curiosity. “Whatever became of them?”

Lycas Ryth shrugged. “I’m certain they are stored somewhere safely away in the Palace archives but that is neither here nor there. What I mean to communicate to you is that this is your place now. This is your sanctuary where you may come and seek respite from all of the struggles and all of the duties and heavy responsibility of ruling your kingdom.”

The Prince turned his head and took in the spacious room filled with a variety of jungle plants and flowers. His eyes briefly landed upon the Illuminoc plant that Lycas Ryth had given the king as his birthday present. His attention lingered there for only a few seconds and then he turned away.

“I do not have much interest in plants,” the Prince said with evident disappointment.

The Lord Advisor smirked and replied, “I am aware of that, your Majesty. While I would never presume to tell you what you ought to do with this place to make it suitable for yourself and a place where you may find distraction and rest, I do have a suggestion. If I may?”

The Prince examined Lycas Ryth for a few seconds and then nodded. “Of course, Lord Advisor. I am willing to hear you out, though I repeat that I don’t know that I’m in the mood for much in the way of entertainment at present.”

A mischievous smirk appeared on Ryth’s face as he gazed back at the Prince. “You may change your mind,” he said. Lycas Ryth walked over to a door and rapped on it three times. He stepped away from the door and folded his hands and stared back with a self-satisfied smile. The Prince looked back at him with questioning eyes but said nothing. Lycas Ryth responded with a further broadening of his grin.

A moment later the doors opened and two large cages were pushed through on a hover cart. The Prince’s eyes went wide as he beheld the inhabitants of the cages and delight danced unbidden there.

He took a step forward and said, in a hushed tone, “Are they real?”

“Yes, they are quite real,” Ryth responded, “and freshly caught hours ago.”

Each cage was approximately seven feet tall and four feet in circumference at the base. They were composed of transparent steel to adequately provide a look at the inhabitants of the cage without allowing them any chance of escape.

Each cage contained a man-sized reptilian figure.

“Are those what I think they are?” the Prince said in a hushed tone.

“They are, indeed, your Majesty,” Ryth replied bearing a satisfied expression. “These are Dar’rynakai savages native to this planet. I know you have some interest in them and other animal life here. I thought it would be genuinely interesting for you to own a pair of them. I understand one is a male and one is a female. Perhaps you might even consider breeding them.”

“Breeding them?” Prince Therin asked. “What for?”

“A variety of reasons, I suppose. Studying them and sport hunting come to mind, but the chief point is that they are here for whatever you wish, your Majesty.”

The Prince cocked his head to one side and said, “I suspected they looked a little different than this. He squinted his eyes and took a step closer to the cage so that he could get a better look at them.” What the Prince did not understand was that he was not looking upon examples of the Dar’rynakai. He instead looked upon a separate species quite similar to them, though these two were natives of the planet Dar’ryn. These were specimens of the Dar’ryneel.

The common Dar’ryneel was approximately a foot shorter than the average Dar’rynakai and they sported no dewlap underneath their chins. Their snouts were also significantly shorter and more rounded on the end and their head fins were also much smaller. Whereas the Dar’rynakai lived congregated in more civilized cities that they had built for themselves out of mountainous regions the Dar’ryneel was more of a tribal people who typically lived out in the plains or along the seashore. This would have mattered little to the Prince, however, who was transfixed by his new present.

He came closer yet to the transparent steel of the cage and placed a hand on its smooth surface. The inhabitant of the cage, the male one, turned his attention towards the boy and snarled. Suddenly it leaped forward and snapped its jaws at the boy as it slammed into the transparent steel and then bounced off. Prince Therin jumped nearly out of his skin and staggered backward laughing.

“Fascinating,” he said. He looked to Lycas Ryth and a broad smile stretched across his face. “How utterly fascinating,” the Prince said again.

“I take it that your Majesty is pleased with his gift?”

“I am beyond pleased, Lord Ryth,” Therin responded. “I don’t know that I have words to describe the sensation.”

The Prince turned his face back to stare at the Dar’ryneel with awe and admiration.

Lord Advisor Lycas Ryth watched the boy for a long time, knowing that he now held the child in his hand. He shouldn’t be too difficult to manipulate now, Ryth thought. His smile broadened as he mentally added, Just like his father. Just like all of them.

CHAPTER 13. A SIGHTING OF LAND

The wood planks creaked beneath his groggy half-asleep form. The sound of it was what brought him awake. His eyes fluttered open and he witnessed a bright clear sky. The next thing he heard was the nearby call of a bird. Somewhere deep in the recesses of Belem’s mind, awareness blossomed and insisted he take note.

He pushed his aching frame up to a sitting position and looked around. He suddenly froze in place at what his eyes beheld. He was no longer surrounded by only the sea but ahead he beheld a vast stretch of beach, and beyond that a jungle, and then mountains sketched themselves across the horizon in the far distance. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. He was surprised to find he was so close to the land. It would take some time yet to reach it but if he threw himself into it he thought he could make it there.

He was drifting that way already but he would not leave it to chance to get him ashore. So he leaned over one side of the makeshift raft and plunged his arm beneath the surface of the water and began to paddle. He was already tired as it was so this activity did not last long before he took a rest. He took brief turns paddling and resting and alternating between the two. It was slower going than he expected.

Not long into the process, he sat and then slumped over onto his back breathing raggedly. He wondered momentarily why he even bothered. He growled and sat up again. He bothered because he had made it this far and he was not about to give up. He was no quitter. So he stopped and thought about the problem and how he might get to land more efficiently.

Paddling on one side was not doing very much good at all. It moved him more laterally than forward. If there had been another person to take the opposite side of the raft that might have made somewhat of a difference, but probably not even that much he realized. What could he do instead?

He turned around and faced the back of the raft. Then it came to him. He crawled on his hands and knees until he reached the rear portion of the raft. He then turned around and faced forward again. This time he stretched backward with his legs and plunged the lower half of his body into the water. Next, he began kicking steadily and felt the first hints of progress. It was better certainly than when he paddled, though it was still slow and strenuous work. Nevertheless, the land grew in his sight and with each passing moment, his heart was encouraged. This was going to work. He was going to make it.

It was still another hour before he came close to the land. He had to take breaks and sit upon the raft to regain his strength, but at least he advanced at last. But now the shore was tantalizingly within reach. He was not there yet, but he would be soon.

“One last time,” he said to himself. He plunged the lower half of his body into the sea once more and kicked, propelling his small raft forward. Twenty minutes later he was exhausted but close enough to the shore that he could see the sand through the water. The sea was crystal clear and he guessed there was probably yet a depth of eight feet beneath the raft. He pressed on ever harder and finally came to a point where his legs could touch the bottom and he walked the raft the rest of the way.

He grunted heavily as he dragged the raft out of the surf and onto the beach. He did not want the tide to come in later and steal away the raft. He thought he might find a use for it later, perhaps in constructing a shelter. So he hauled planks far up onto the beach to where he guessed the tide would not reach.

He collapsed to the sand and breathed raggedly as he lay there. He’d made it. He could hardly believe it, but not only had he survived an exploding prison barge, and overcame drowning in a storm-tossed sea, but now he had finally made it back to land. If he could make it this far, he reasoned, then perhaps there was hope that he could make it the rest of the way. At this point, he had no idea how he was going to make it back into the Citadel. And even assuming he made it that much farther, there was another major obstacle to deal with. The wall around the human Citadel was designed specifically to keep out things that the rulers of the place did not want coming in. That would certainly include him. But if there was a way out then there was a way in. He just had to devise it.

His body was wracked with exhaustion and so he closed his eyes, intending only to rest for a while but sank quickly into a deep sleep. He had no way of knowing how long he slept but by the time he roused he guessed it had to have been at least a handful of hours.

He sat up and felt a variety of aches in every joint and nook and cranny of his body. His legs now seemed especially sore after the work he had put them through to get back to shore. He sat up and surveyed his environment. He took in a vast stretch of sandy beach. Behind him was a jungle.

He knew he would eventually have to venture into the jungle to find food and of course, cut his path back to the Citadel. That was going to be the hardest part of all. He did not know the way his captors had followed to bring him out to the ocean nor what the relationship of his current situation was to that. He was going to have to search carefully before he found his way back home…if he ever did.

“One step at a time,” he growled to himself. “First things first: have to find food and water.” That meant foraging. He was not much of an outdoorsman. No one in the Citadel was. But he had lived his entire life scraping an existence out of practically nothing. He could find food if he put his mind to it. And locating fresh water would be a matter of finding a stream or a river.

The sleep he had gotten had not precisely erased the exhaustion he felt, but at least he was somewhat more energized for the task ahead. He pushed himself to a standing position and felt the protestation of all of the muscles in his body. He ignored this to the best of his ability and turned around to head into the jungle.

He decided that during this first trip he would not venture too terribly far from the beach. He remembered that he intended to keep his makeshift raft and use it in building a shelter for himself and he did not want to lose track of that. Neither did he want to drag it through the jungle. He planned to head in as straight of a line as he possibly could into the jungle, and unless he saw something that caught his attention worthy of eating or drinking he would not veer from his path. Even if he strayed somewhat and was unable to retrace his steps at least he could have a general sense of direction to get back to the beach. It wouldn’t be too hard to find his raft after that.

He set forth into the jungle. His steps were slow and cautious as he gazed about keeping a wary eye out for anything that might be dangerous. He considered himself to be an apex predator, but there would be many creatures in the jungles of Dar’ryn he knew nothing about. There were of course the reptilian Dar’rynakai people reputed to live in the wilds. He did not know much about them save their savage reputation and he had seen a few visual representations – drawings and digital images he had encountered throughout his life. Hardly anyone in the Citadel had ever seen a live specimen, however. He had known one or two men who claimed to have, but they were perpetual liars and he automatically disregarded whatever they told him. They had many fantastic tales to tell, most of which turned out to be false.

An hour or so into his trek he was ready to give up and head back to the beach and settle down for the day. He knew it was unwise to overly tire himself after an already exhausting last several days. He came to a halt and planted his fists on his hips as he slowly moved his head and drank in his surroundings. He was breathing heavily once again from the trek and decided to take a few moments to rest his body. He might not be able to hear the sound of rushing water over the noise of his respiration and so he took moment to pause. And then he heard something. But it didn’t sound like water.

He squinted as he looked about trying to catch a glimpse of some kind of movement. Where is it coming from, he wondered? He thought he could tell from which direction the sound came after a few moments and slowly crept that way. After a few minutes, he stopped and listened then realized he could hear nothing. Maybe had gone the wrong way. He slowly backtracked to approximately where he started but then continued going off in another direction. He kept moving for another few minutes before he stopped and listened once again. Sure enough, this time he could hear the sound better. It sounded like…

It was voices. It was someone talking, but he could not make out any words. There was something else strange about the quality of the speech he could not quite put his finger on. But it was not the way he was used to hearing people talk. He continued to creep closer so he might investigate.

CHAPTER 14. A HIDDEN VILLAGE

His mind raced through the possibilities until it landed on a particularly troublesome one. It might be a patrol seeking to investigate what had become of the prison barge. If that was the case he could be discovered by the authorities and apprehended again and probably stuck right back on another barge. Then he’d be carted out to the Obelisk on Void Island where he would never be heard from again. But he also considered that if he happened upon a group of patrolling soldiers from the Citadel he might be able to get something useful out of them. Perhaps he could steal some food rations or drag a guard into the jungle, kill him, and take his clothes or other useful items. It was a risk, but it could be worth it.

Soon, through the trees, he discerned strange shapes that appeared to be some kind of structures. But they did not appear to be like those he ever saw in the human Citadel. He could barely make out the shapes, but to his mind, they appeared to be domelike. He had to get closer.

As he stalked forward he swept his gaze from left to right to make sure there were no other people around watching. Could there be some kind of other settlement beside the Citadel? Were there people who had been cast out and had made villages for themselves perhaps long ago and no one ever knew about them? It struck him as strange but he supposed it was possible. As he drew closer the words became clearer. At the same time, they became more confusing. The sounds were speech, but the language was one he did not know. Yet it was more than that. There was an odd quality to the speech he could not identify.

The closer he drew to the source of the talking the slower he moved. He did not want to give away his approach and so he moved carefully, quietly. He took great care not to step on any fallen branches or crush anything that seemed brittle or might make a sound and alert the people whom he approached.

As he came closer he saw the structures more clearly through the trees. They were indeed domelike, but they were not like anything he had seen before. They appeared to be made of the bowed branches of trees and thatched with long grasses to prevent rain from coming in. There was also an application of clay and mud mixture spread throughout to seal off inhabitants from the environment.

He cautiously pushed forward and hid behind the trunk of a large tree. He leaned around and peered beyond it. Then to his astonishment, he suddenly understood why the speech seemed so strange. It was because it was not human.

The voices he heard belonged to an upright-standing reptilian race. As Belem gazed upon them he was struck by the curious thought that they were both familiar and foreign to him. He assumed within the first moments that he looked upon the Dar’rynakai people. But the longer he stared at them the more he realized they were not as he expected them to be.

First of all, their snouts were much shorter than the images and drawings he had seen of them before. These were short and blunt, whereas the Dar’rynakai people were long and narrow-snouted. Likewise, the Dar’rynakai were reputed to have large head fins that protruded from the brow down to the small of their back; these had head fins, but they were much smaller. Additionally, the Dar’rynakai sported dewlaps that hung loosely from their chins. These had no such feature.

The creature that he looked upon had its back to him and he sat on the ground. Sitting in a semi-circle before him, were six others who were all much smaller in stature. This was an adult who was teaching children. Next to the adult was a woven basket. As the mature specimen continued prattling on about whatever the lesson entailed, it reached into the basket beside him. A few moments later he pulled his hand out and showed the students what he was talking about.

It was some kind of red fruit. It was large enough not to fit easily into the palm of his hand. The adult creature pulled the fruit to its mouth and bit a large chunk out of it and chewed and then swallowed. It then extended the fruit to the closest student who took it with both hands. The teacher rattled on a few lines that were incoherent to Belem’s ears, and the student watched his teacher attentively. When the adult finished speaking the juvenile plunged his face into the fruit and tore off a sizable bite. As it chewed the fruit it handed the remains of it to the next student. The next student took the bite and handed it to the next one and so on until it reached the last of them. The final student gobbled up the remains of the fruit.

Belem’s mouth watered as he watched this scene. His eyes tracked back to the basket and he wondered if there were more of the fruit inside. Perhaps if he was patient enough when the lesson was over the adult might walk away with his students and leave the basket behind. If he did so Belem did not think he had enough self-will to not walk up and investigate the basket. And if there was more fruit inside he would certainly take some of it. He was massively hungry. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten anything but it was some time before he had boarded the prison barge. That meant it was at least two days.

Just two days? he thought grumpily. I’ve gone longer than that without food. Why am I so famished now? But then again he had also expended a great deal of energy just to survive the storm and paddle back to shore. If he ever hoped to replenish his energy he needed something to eat. He judged the basket to be a good fifteen yards out from his current position. He lifted his attention from it and investigated the strange little village. There were perhaps two dozen of the domelike structures. That meant there were certainly more of the creatures around than he could handle in a straight-out fight. He looked beyond the small cohort of students and observed other adults walking around the village. A few of them carried spears. No, he decided, it is better not to chance that kind of confrontation. This was going to be a delicate operation.

Belem was going to have to wait. And so wait he did. When at last the lesson appeared to be over he watched with anticipation as the adult stood up and addressed his students with a few parting remarks. The students stood up as well and dashed away from their teacher. Belem watched the adult for a while longer waiting for him to saunter away from his basket.

Belem took a readying step and then stopped.

The adult watched his students go away and at the same time reached down and snatched up the basket and began to slowly walk away himself. Belem grunted in disappointment. This was going to be harder than he thought.

CHAPTER 15. A THIEF IN THE NIGHT

Belem waited far back in the forest until nightfall. He had spent hours perched behind the tree and spying out the village as it went about its daily business. He also spent a great deal of the time peering back into the forest to make certain there were no hunting parties from the village that might return and stumble upon him. Luckily he encountered nothing of the kind.

By the time the sun had set and darkness settled upon the jungle, Belem was starving.

He worked his way silently toward one of the huts peering about the whole time to make sure no one was wandering the village that might see him. Thus far he had been fortunate enough, but there was no telling if that luck might change at any unforeseen time.

The village was in a bit of a clearing which meant that he would run out of trees to hide behind the closer he came to it. There was a good distance between the last of the trees and the first of the dwellings. If it had still been daylight he would easily have been spotted by someone in the village. As it was, he still ran a great risk. He had no idea of the capability of these lizard people. If they had a strong enough sense of smell, for example, they might be able to tell he approached without seeing him. That was a chance he had to take, however. He needed food.

He arrived behind one of the dwellings and counted to ten before he peered around the edge. There were a few campfires within the village with meat cooking over them. His mouth began to water once again and he longed to eat something, anything at all. He knew there was no way he could make it to the meat and take some and leave without being caught. He would have to settle for fruit if he could find one of the baskets. He gazed around his surroundings and saw a collection of baskets on the far side. He would have to work his way around the village and come in from another direction. He sighed in exasperation and shook his head. Why is nothing ever easy, he thought to himself? He spent the next half hour quietly and slowly circling the village from the outside until he judged he had gone far enough and then worked his way toward it again.

He came upon a set of the baskets like he had seen earlier. They were just forward a few feet from one of the dwellings. He looked around and saw none of the lizard-people walking about and so knew this was his chance. Now all he had to do was balance quiet and speed.

He gently crept forward on the tips of his feet and cautiously looked all around the entire time to be sure he was not seen. He arrived at the baskets and removed the lid that was over the top of one of them. Inside he saw a small pile of the fruit he had witnessed the others eating earlier in the day. He reached down into the basket slowly and withdrew one. Then he reached his other arm in and took another. He was going to make it he realized. He was going to…

And that’s when he saw the child.

Standing off to one side of a dwelling there stood a very young one of the creatures staring at him. Belem’s heart sank. All it would take was for this child to scream and raise the alarm and he would be caught. Probably killed. He stood frozen in place staring back at the young creature. A seeming eternity stretched on and on as he and the curious reptilian child gazed at one another. Neither of them moved nor made a sound.

He decided to try his luck. Belem took a cautious step backward and then halted as he continued to stare at the child. The little creature cocked its head to one side in curiosity. Belem took the opportunity to take another slow, methodical step backward. The little reptilian child made no further move but continued only to watch him. Emboldened by the child’s silent curiosity Belem started walking backward slowly until he judged he had disappeared well into the darkness beyond the child’s sight. He had no way of knowing how well these creatures could see in the dark, but he hoped they were anything like humans in that regard, and by now Belem would not be visible to it. He spared one more looked back into the little village of the reptile people and saw the child was still staring in his direction.

Belem decided this was his best opportunity to get away with his skin intact. He turned and darted into the darkness of the jungle.

CHAPTER 16. A WHISPER IN THE SHADOWS

Ariam discovered early on that begging took a certain amount of precision. He was surprised by this as he assumed anyone else from his former life would be. It was far more than a matter of simply sitting down in a location and holding out one’s hand. The location itself mattered greatly. Footpath intersections were preferred to simple straight roads. High traffic was preferred to low traffic: no surprise there, he supposed. Certain districts were more beneficial than others. Likewise, certain areas within those districts were more profitable.

It took Ariam a long time to come to grips with the best ways and places in which to do his begging. It had been a lot more work upfront than he had anticipated. But once he got the hang of the process, it became fairly straightforward. In that regard, it was much like any other work.

There were of course multiple hazards associated with the activity as well. There were always those who took exception to the presence of vagabonds in their preferred places of commerce or where they dwelt. Such persons were variously confrontive at the least or violent at the worst. Additionally, the Citadel’s authorities often shooed one away from certain places when they received a higher volume of complaints. Also depending on where in the Citadel one chose to haunt, the authorities could be more or less forceful. Ariam had been shooed away from certain places and had come away with no more than a harsh reprimand. That of course was because he was generally acquiescent to the demands of the authorities. Other beggars he had known were sometimes belligerent. These received more aggressive responses and thus more bruises or sometimes even broken limbs.

Additionally, there were potential conflicts with other beggars. They could sometimes be territorial. For almost all of them, it truly was a matter of survival. And so this did not come as a great shock once he thought about it. A few days into his experience as a beggar Ariam had a few unpleasant run-ins with fellow scroungers. He, therefore, decided to hold back and spend time observing. There were many shocking realities to which he soon became acquainted and accustomed. But he decided to accept the reality as it was, considering this was a life he had chosen for himself. Poverty had not been thrust upon Ariam. No, he had taken it upon himself willingly. That seemed like it had been another lifetime ago.

This particular day had not been very profitable on the begging front, however. He of course could understand why. The Citadel had been rocked by a shocking tragedy. King Beirand had been assassinated during his birthday celebration. Before the end of the day, the appalling footage of the explosion had been transmitted all over the city and there was not a soul who had not witnessed the demise of their king. It was as if a great blanket of despair had settled over the entire populace of the human Citadel.

King Beirand had been generally loved by the public. Ariam had once upon a time known many people in the upper echelons of society and culture that did not always appreciate the king. But the common people loved him. He had been reputed to be a kind if somewhat absentminded ruler. Certainly, there were always dissidents who opposed any form of authority. But even these kept their political views to themselves after the assassination.

People wept openly in the streets. Merchants, restaurants, government offices, and the like all shut down for the day and likely for the shortly foreseeable future. An official decree of the mourning had not yet been enacted, though one was certainly soon to follow.

Ariam himself sat reflective and dazed by the news. His normally busy street corner was fairly vacant. All of the money he had received that day came early in the morning before the tragedy had occurred. It was now several hours later. Since word broke of the assassination he had received nothing, yet that did not dismay him. He fully understood. No one was in a mood to give. He was perhaps not even in a mood to receive. A great weight of sorrow settled over him as it did many others.

His eyes flicked to the small wooden bowl and the few coins in it. He lifted the bowl and set it in his lap. The coins rattled along the bottom as they shifted. He stared down blankly at the handful of coins and his mind could not form coherent thoughts. He drew a deep breath and slowly expelled it feeling a bizarre detachment between his thoughts and his body. He felt… displaced somehow.

At the far edges of his attention, he discerned a whispering voice but paid it no mind. While the area had diminished traffic at the moment, there still were handfuls of people talking quietly with one another. He was not able to overhear what any of them said and so ignored this whispering voice.

Ariam kept his dazed focus on the bowl of coins in his lap. He lifted a hand and poked at one of them and then moved it around the bowl with his fingertip, absently listening to the small scraping noise it made. He inattentively considered the amount before him. It wasn’t much, hardly anything at all. He might not even be able to afford the smallest morsel of food with it. But at the moment he didn’t care about that. He was too consumed with grief along with the rest of the city to be hungry.

The whispering voice returned and there was a strange quality about it that caught his attention this time. He lifted his chin and peered around to see from whence it came. His brow furrowed in thought. No one was near enough to generate the whispers that he’d heard. He set the bowl on the ground beside him then stood and craned his neck to get a better look at his surroundings. The closest people were fifteen or so paces away. It certainly couldn’t be them. Who had spoken then, he wondered? He turned around and looked at the building at his back and allowed his gaze to drift upward to see if there might be an open window. There was no window.

The whisper returned. His head dropped quickly and his head darted about from side to side in an attempt to see who had spoken. Whoever it was remained out of sight. Yet, the whispers seemed as if they were coming from almost right up to his head this time. He had not discerned the words themselves, but someone had certainly tried to communicate with him.

“Hello?” he asked out loud and waited. When no response came he continued, “Did someone say something to me just now?” The heads of a few people turned in his direction and when they saw his bedraggled form they turned away again with no answer. Curious, he thought. He stood in place and waited again. A few moments later the whisper returned. This time he did hear what it had said.

“Follow me.”

Ariam blinked and looked around again. No one else appeared to have heard the words and there was no one moving to follow. He worried for a moment that he might be going insane. No doubt several people who daily passed by his begging form believed so already. But he had refused to think that might be the case…regardless of what he had given up to take on this life. Was this evidence that he indeed was going crazy? He certainly hoped not but there was always the possibility, he admitted.

As his gaze swept his environment his eyes lighted upon a lone figure standing across the street and staring his way. The figure’s manner of dress indicated this was yet another beggar. He could not tell if it was either a man or a woman, as it kept a cloak wrapped around itself, and its hood was drawn up. The cloak was white but soiled, ragged, and frayed at its edges with trails of strings and torn fabric visible in many places. It lifted a gloved hand and beckoned once then disappeared into the mouth of the alleyway at which it stood.

Curious indeed, he thought. His heart leaped with concern and a sense of awe mixed with dread. The thought arose within him that he ought to follow. In fact, it almost compelled him to do so. He felt his legs itch to move in that direction, yet he halted himself. Another thought occurred to him contrary to the first and begged him not to go at all. It might be dangerous. Strange cloaked figures who beckoned one into dark alleyways ought to be suspect, this other voice chided. He supposed that made sense but at the same time, there remained a great and inexplicable internal drive to follow.

Ariam elected to obey the call.

The figure disappeared completely into the alleyway. Yet the voice came whispering as loud as it had ever been, saying, “Follow me.” That was when Ariam understood that he heard the voice within his mind and not in the organ of his ears.

Ariam gazed across the street at the mouth of the alley and stood motionless, debating internally what he ought to do. Could this be some sort of trap? Might other people be lying in wait in the alleyway to rob him? He didn’t have much in the way of possessions, and he guessed other beggars probably would know this. That of course did not stop them from robbing each other from time to time for even small valuables. Even the tiny handful of coins he had earned could be a prized target for some.

He drew a deep breath and sharply expelled it. At last, he decided he would indeed follow the voice. If it turned out people were waiting to rob him he decided he would liberally give whatever he had. He did not feel possessed by the things he owned any longer. He considered himself merely a temporary steward over his resources. If someone else needed them more badly than he, then he vowed to give them.

Ariam collected his few meager belongings and set across the street towards the alley.

CHAPTER 17. A SECRET PASSAGE

As he reached the mouth of the alley he beheld the cloaked figure standing waiting at the far end, which opened onto a separate street. It lifted a gloved hand once more and beckoned. Then it stepped away and disappeared around the corner.

Ariam shifted his gaze left then right to make certain no people were hiding and waiting to pounce on him. There were no apparent places in this particular alley to hide and so he set to walk down the length of it. When he came to the end of the alley and the opening onto the next street he looked in the direction the cloaked figure had disappeared. He saw another few collections of people standing around in small groups speaking in hushed, dejected whispers to one another. It took him a few moments to locate the mysterious figure.

The raggedly cloaked form stood several blocks down the street. This one moves fast, Ariam thought in a startling flash of thought. It lifted its hand and beckoned to him yet again, then turned around and began walking away. If Ariam wanted to catch up to the figure he would have to run. Yet something deep inside him told him he did not need to do this. He was simply required to go where he saw the figure and continue to the next position and so on.

Ariam warily set forward, walking slowly and cautiously in the figure’s wake. He watched the mysterious person saunter away. Ariam lifted his eyes and noticed they were approaching the protective wall of the Citadel. It would be a short while yet until they arrived at it, but he had the sense that the wall itself was their destination. That caused him to think of the strange dream he had the night before. The memory of that re-brought to his attention the conviction he had about exiting the city.

Has it come so soon? he pondered. He needed no one to answer that question. He decided this was the course set before him, and fate was taking him along it. Best not to fight fate, he decided. He continued walking after the figure, now with a new sense of purpose.

Up ahead the figure crossed the street and continued moving. Ariam did not wait until he arrived at the same location where the strange cloaked figure had crossed and traversed to the other side ahead of time.

Before they reached the wall the cloaked form turned down another alley. Ariam quickened his pace to arrive at the same spot. When at last he came to the mouth of the same alley he turned and stopped, staring down that way. The cloaked figure was nowhere in sight. Ariam took a cautious step forward but then halted again. A growing sense of unease rose within him. It was the contrary voice speaking once again. Do not proceed forward, it said to him. It is too dangerous.

He stepped forward anyway and continued his trek down the throat of the alley, this time much slower and more cautious. He came to the junction of four buildings and peered in each direction. The cloaked figure was not to the left and so he looked straight ahead. He did not see the figure there either and then looked to the right. Standing facing him was the person he’d been pursuing. Ariam stared it down but the form merely returned his gaze silently.

“Where are you taking me?” Ariam asked. He held his breath as he awaited a response. No words came. The cloaked form simply stood and watched him.

Ariam hesitated, but then took a hesitant step toward the figure, then another, then another, and another and another. Each step became more confident. The person in the ragged cloak – whoever or whatever it was – stood motionless like a statue. It simply waited for him.

When Ariam crossed half to the distance between the junction and the cloaked figure he halted once again. “Tell me,” he said, “who are you? And what do you want of me?”

The odd cloaked person only stood and stared at him for a handful of moments. Ariam’s heartbeat sped up and every breath he drew felt overly cold. At last, the whisper came once again, “Follow me.”

“But where are we going?” Ariam asked.

The hooded figure cocked its head as it gazed at him. It then turned and walked slowly away. Ariam grunted in frustration and followed.

The figure kept walking straight until suddenly it came to another junction and rounded the corner. Ariam jogged forward to reach the corner and stopped. He cast his sight beyond the new junction and saw that it led to yet another alleyway. He bolted down it intent to catch up to the cloaked figure which he realized only after a few seconds that he did not see. He soon came to another intersection that only led straight ahead to the next street or down to the left closer to the wall. He darted away from the street when he saw the figure was not standing that way.

Once he turned that corner, however, he saw the figure also did not appear in this new direction. Instead, it led straight to a dead-end at the protective Citadel wall. He could not explain the sense of compulsion that had overtaken him, but he knew he must move forward to the wall. He jogged until he arrived there.

He reached a hand up and absently scratched his scraggly beard. “Congratulations, fool, you’ve now arrived at a dead-end,” he said with no small amount of consternation. Or was it a dead-end?

There was something familiar about this. Had he seen this place before? The answer crashed upon him with sudden force and he staggered backward a step. He had seen it in his dream. This was the place where he had entered a secret entrance.

A chill raced across his flesh.

Ariam scoured his memory as to what the figure had done to open up the entrance.

He reached forth with a trembling hand and gently glided the tips of his fingers along the seam of the corner just like he’d done in the dream. Well, not himself exactly, but the man through whose eyes he’d watched. Next came the clicking sound. With a hiss of disturbed air, the wall split apart and a large portion slid away before him. A gaping mouth of the darkest blackness stood before him and he gazed into it with both wonder and fear.

He took a deep breath and plunged into the entrance. As soon as he was on the other side the door slid closed behind him. “This is it,” he said to himself out loud and the words echoed in the hidden corridor. He added, “I guess there’s no turning back now.”

As if to punctuate this statement the lights came on before him and lit his path.

CHAPTER 18. A WORLD BELOW

Cecil gave his surroundings a poisonous look. He marveled at how a bare two centuries could have produced this much grime and societal decay on just the other side of such a thriving civilization. The underground portions of the Human Citadel – which were once the front end of the great colonial starship which had brought the ancestors of the current kingdom to this strange planet – had certainly changed much over the intervening years.

Many of the walls of the ship’s corridors had been engineered to be removed to create walkways and streets. In the colonist’s earliest days on the planet, the portions beneath the surface were mainly populated by the ship’s support crew, engineers, and the like. This eventually led to a stratification of the populace where the most hands-on workers migrated below while a growing aristocracy and affluent element rose upward. It did not take long for more than just an ‘above vs. below’ location difference to set the two basic groups apart from one another.

The levels that were open to the sky basked in the light. What had been the aft end of the colonist ship was transformed over many years into great spired buildings, including the Palace at the center. The ship’s hull and massive thrusters had been engineered to convert into the outer protective wall. The wilds had been therefore kept at bay and allowed the nascent civilization to grow and expand. Micro-sized but highly efficient farmlands were immediately established and worked by colonists, though they were overseen by the administrative caste of the colony. The most successful and productive of these farms became well-known and respected among the populace. Eventually, some of them became the beginnings of the aristocratic families within the kingdom.

That was Cecil’s world. Yet he had previously ventured underground when he was in preparation to be elevated from the rank and file of the regular Royal Guardians to become their Captain. His predecessor had arranged and led those secretive journeys but Cecil had detested every moment of every one of them.

The levels of the Citadel beneath the surface were strikingly different from those above. As above, so below, the various decks had become levels of civilization and the farther down one traveled, the more unruly and lawless it all became. A strong contingent of criminal elements thrived there. These frequently reached beyond their realm to that above, but their power was as roots – thrust into the dirt and darkness to sustain itself. That was why Cecil had presently ventured below – to seek a criminal connection to King Beirand’s assassination. He believed there were answers in the dark regarding such a lightless act.

Still, Cecil marveled with a kind of fascinated disgust at how dirty and anarchic it was down where he currently stood, waiting for his contact.

He was not at the bottom level, but close to it. Many of the stratifying decks of the original ship had vanished over time, leaving only seven remaining strata, each with great vaulted ceilings – the Under-Citadel version of a sky, he supposed. Each of the seven decks sported a large fusion-powered light source that traveled slowly along a track to simulate the passage of daylight. This had been the original colonists’ design all along, or so the fragmented historical records reported.

Cecil twitched his gaze upward to look off to one side of the traveling light source and sniffed at it. A miserable facsimile for sunlight, he thought. I’ll take the real thing any time. And fresh air. The air down here – though constantly ran through high-efficiency filtration – was just not right somehow. Cecil considered that some things could simply not be replicated or replaced. He then wondered why this whole deranged place wasn’t better off abandoned in its entirety.

The Captain of the Royal Guardians wrinkled his nose derisively at his surroundings. The chaos and decay surrounding him made him grateful for the order and cleanliness he knew in the world above. How can people live like this? he wondered to himself. He then drew in a deep breath and expelled it in frustration.

What was taking his contact so long? He had been standing around on the street corner for about half an hour, and surely he must have been noticed by now. They were allegedly watching certain locations constantly for just such meetings. Perhaps this was Vellin’s way of making him sweat. He decidedly would not gratify such a maneuver by complying. It would take far more than standing out in the open in the crime-ridden Under-Citadel to intimidate him. He suspected there was nothing this region could throw at him that ever would.

He vowed to himself that if he was not approached in the next five minutes he would simply move forward to where he roughly knew he ought to go. That would have been considered a breach on his part, but given the circumstances, he did not care. The highest crime imaginable had just been committed and he had no patience for such tomfoolery as making him wait this long.

Just then from behind him he heard someone clear their throat. A tide of surprise rolled through him at the noise as he had not discerned anyone’s approach. He chided himself on letting his thoughts be so clouded as to allow a potentially dangerous subject to approach him from behind without his notice. He would not permit surprise to register on his features, however, and give the one who had snuck up on him the satisfaction of knowing they’d almost gotten the better of him. Instead, he slowly turned to display an impatiently arched eyebrow.

“What took you so bloody long?” Cecil demanded with a growl.

He glared into the pretty but petulant face of a young woman. Semi-long hair drifted down creating angular points at her cheeks. Her arms were folded and she leaned against the corner of the building by which he stood. His attention drifted briefly to her right arm, which was bionic from the elbow down, but then snapped his attention to her face once again and found a smug look shooting back at him.

“Don’t think things are exactly normal down here,” she replied tightly. “Do you want to see him or not?”

“Of course, I want to see him,” Cecil replied. “I would not have sullied myself by coming here if I did not.”

She ignored the verbal jab but held him in a steady gaze. After a handful of heartbeats, she finally said, “I suppose you ought to follow me then.” Without another word she turned on her heels and strode away. He paused for only the briefest of moments but then soon fell in behind her.

He kept his wary eyes sweeping the environment as they traveled. There was no telling what kind of trouble might come given the circumstances above the surface. After a few moments, he noted with curiosity that the streets seemed significantly more deserted than they had on his previous visits. When the prior Captain of the Guard had brought him to the underground the streets had been bustling with activity. Now they were practically deserted with only a few shifty-looking figures lurking about on doubtless nefarious business. “Seems a little quiet around here,” he opined.

The girl did not turn but kept her face fixed forward as she answered. “Looks can be deceiving,” she said. “Plenty is going on down here.”

“I’ll bet there is,” he murmured.

If she heard his last comment she did not dignify it with a reply, but simply kept her stride. They wound their way through a labyrinth of back alleys he would not have known to follow. Eventually, they arrived at the place he had expected. However, they were on the alleyway side of the building. Ten feet away was another building just as dirty and grim as this one.

The route had not been chosen to keep him from knowing how to get to the destination in the future. They knew he’d already known. That meant they were avoiding being seen. But by whom, Cecil wondered?

The girl reached forward and placed her hand on a door handle. She left it sitting there and a series of mechanical clicks followed by a few electronic beeps followed until a mechanism within the door replied with a resonant unlocking sound. The woman pulled the door open and turned to look at Cecil.

“After you,” she said.

Cecil stood staring and motionless, not intending to enter the building and leave anyone, let alone this girl, at his back. He had no idea who she was, but the presence of a bionic arm suggested she was one who likely had found herself entrenched in violence previously and was potentially ready to enter it again should the occasion arise.

She rolled her eyes and said, “Fine.” She walked into the building and kept her hand outstretched to hold the door open as he approached it. She released it when he came near and was able to hold it open himself. Once inside, he found himself in a wide hallway populated with fifteen men. All of them wore body armor which would not only protect them but would enhance their speed and strength. The armor was not as sophisticated as that worn by the Royal Guardians, but it would nevertheless make these men formidable opponents in a fight.

They also sported weapons. A quick mental assessment of the situation told him there was a variety of armaments present. There were energy pistols, flame spitters, and blades. He realized there was probably a greater variety than this present, though most of it was likely concealed… and illegal.

He waited for the girl to lead the way.

Though he kept his eyes fixed on the back of the girl as she traveled forward, he was nevertheless constantly aware of the eyes of the armed men as they gazed upon him with the promise of vicious action should he do something they didn’t like. He was not worried by any of this as he immediately began calculating ways to fight the large group of people. He was confident he would be able to get out of such a conflict alive. He could not promise the same for them.

A small moment of surprise occurred when she took a different route than he expected through the building. He had been here before and at that time they had gone upwards in the building to an office on the top floor. Instead, she took a stairway that led down into the basement. At the bottom of the stairs, a vast open room lay sprawled before them. There was a desk situated in the center of the room surrounded by a variety of monitors and other displays. There was a man seated at the desk surrounded by six armed guards. The man – Vellin, Cecil’s underworld contact – glanced up at their approach. He returned his attention briefly to whatever he had been working on and tapped a few notes into his handheld device. He set the thin device down when they came to a halt before him and lifted weary eyes to Cecil.

Vellin was an extremely thin man with angular features. Dark intelligent eyes stared out from beneath a brow knitted with a gamemaster’s implacability. He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of him.

CHAPTER 19. A PIECE OF THE PUZZLE

“I suppose I don’t have to ask,” Vellin said in a falsely disinterested tone.

Cecil merely stared back at the man. Part of him wanted to lunge across the desk, rip him from his seat, and throttle him until the answers he sought fell out of the man. He elected to stand statue-still and only glower at him.

Vellin snorted and shook his head. “Silly question, I know. You seek answers because you’re investigating your king’s assassination.”

Your king, Cecil noted. Not the king, or our king. Instead of arguing semantics Cecil merely nodded. “I have no time for wordplay or tricks,” he said. “If you have anything at all then get to it.”

“The direct approach,” Vellin replied. “Not a tremendous surprise.” He cleared his throat and slowly stood from the desk. “Can I offer you anything to drink, Captain?”

Cecil stared back at him defiantly. “Talk,” he said simply.

“Very well,” Vellin replied. He reached down once again to the personal device he had been using and lifted it from the desk. He grunted in satisfaction as he made the device perform as he intended, and then he flipped it to show it to Cecil. “Any idea who this man is?” he asked.

Cecil glanced down at the image and beheld it for a few moments before he turned his face back up to Vellin. “No idea. Why? Is he our assassin?”

“No, I shouldn’t say so,” Vellin said as he turned the screen to look at himself again. “But he may be involved.”

“May be?” Cecil said, impatiently emphasizing the first word. “That’s not the kind of certainty I’m looking for.”

“Well, you’re just going to have to make do with what I have to offer,” Vellin said. “We don’t often deal in nice, neat, tidy little categories down here. I’m sure your predecessor let you know that. What we have are only a few pieces to a puzzle. This man is but one of them. Until this morning we had no idea that these pieces even fit into the same puzzle. Before this morning’s unfortunate event, they were nothing but disparate pieces of information floating out in the ether. But at least now we have some clearer indications that these things belong together. We can’t say exactly how, mind you, but it is something after all.”

Cecil suppressed a sigh. “I’ll take whatever you have.”

“Not so fast,” Vellin said. “Your predecessor and I had an arrangement.”

“I’m not my predecessor,” Cecil growled.

“That much is clear,” Vellin replied equally stonily. “He and I had common respect for one another. You are acting like an arrogant twerp.”

Cecil clenched his jaw and leaned toward the man. “I could take you apart right here and right now,” he seethed. In the periphery of Cecil’s vision, he witnessed the armed guards go suddenly tense and begin to shift their weapons readying them to point toward him. In an almost whispering voice, he added, “And you know there’s nothing these men could do to stop me. After that, I will dismantle your entire operation piece by piece until I find what I’m looking for.”

“How will you know, I wonder?” Vellin said, unconcerned. “We’ve had the puzzle pieces for weeks, wondering if they even meant anything. How long will it take you to find them and even realize that they are the pieces I’m talking about? I’ve shown you only one image.”

“We are pretty smart,” Cecil said.

“You’re pretty conceited,” Vellin sneered. “I’ve just told you we have a handful of information. What do you people have? Nothing is my guess.”

Cecil felt his back straighten as his eyelids narrowed. He did not like to admit the man had a point.

“Now may we start over. Please?” Vellin asked. “And this time let’s try a little mutual respect.”

Cecil just barely prevented a sneer from stretching his face, but the grumble could not help but escape his throat. “Very well,” he said. “What do you want?”

“Not much really,” Vellin replied. “Let us say we merely require the promise of a few favors.”

“Favors?” Cecil replied. “I don’t like the vagueness of that reply.”

“I don’t care,” Vellin said. “Do you want the information or not?”

“I do,” Cecil said. “What kind of favors?”

Vellin shrugged. “Not much really, just the promise of an exchange of information should the time come.”

“What kind of information?” Cecil said through gritted teeth.

“Whatever kind I deem helpful at the moment,” Vellin said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Cecil folded his arms as he glowered at the man. “You must understand there are certain things I simply refuse to compromise.”

Vellin waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, principles and all of that. I understand. I promise to try my best not to violate them. Is that good enough for you?”

Cecil drew in a heavy breath and blew it out again. “You aren’t leaving me much choice, are you?” the Captain of the Royal Guardians said after a few moments. “What do you have?”

“The first part is this man’s name,” Vellin said pointing once more to the image on the screen of his device. “He is called Belem. Real bruiser sort of guy.”

Cecil reached forward and took the personal data device from the man and looked at it again. “Yes, I can see that,” he said. The subject in question in the image bore a sleeveless shirt and his arms were crisscrossed in a variety of scars. He was a man accustomed to physical conflict. His head also bore a few scars which were clear on his nearly shaven scalp. His face wore a scowl. “Looks like a real winner,” Cecil said.

“Indeed,” Vellin replied. “But there’s a problem with him.”

Cecil lifted his eyes from the image to stare at Vellin. “That being?”

For the first time since Cecil entered his presence, Vellin appeared genuinely at a loss. He said, “We have no idea where he is.”

“What do you mean?” Cecil asked, incredulous. “I thought you were the one with your finger constantly on the pulse of this place and in possession of all the information on this scuzzy underworld of yours.”

“Normally that is the case,” Vellin said, ignoring the insult. “But this one seems to have completely disappeared. Fell off the map so to speak.

“Did someone stick him in a hole and fill it with dirt?” Cecil asked thoughtfully.

“Maybe,” Vellin said thoughtfully. “Naturally, that occurred to me already. But I tend to know where all of the holes are so you’d think I would have heard something. Not with this one though. After this morning I thought I had better keep an eye on him. So I sent eyes to his last known whereabouts and he’s not there.”

“That’s not so odd is it?”

“Not necessarily. But he’s also not at any of the other places he is reputed to usually haunt. What’s more, no one seems to know anything. And trust me, we’ve asked.”

Cecil beheld the man for a few moments, then slowly nodded. “And when you ask you get answers.”

“You’re damn right I do,” Vellin said angrily. “No one is holding out on me.”

“So what precisely makes you believe this man had something to do with the king’s assassination?” Cecil asked.

“It’s that he was involved in acquiring and delivering a strange shipment which made it to the palace.”

“Shipment?” Cecil asked. A prickly sensation ran down his back. “Of what?”

“That’s just it,” he said in reply. “At first it appeared completely harmless.”

It was almost like a premonition, Cecil reflected later, but he knew the answer before he even asked. In a cold whisper, he prodded, “Tell me.”

“Some sort of deep forest flower,” Vellin answered with a shrug.

Cecil froze and stared in shock at the man. “Flowers?”

“Yes, something exotic. That was my first hint that something was amiss. It’s why I think it might have something to do with the assassination. That dead king of yours kept his private life, fairly private. Of course, there are rumors, however, and that’s part of my realm of expertise. One of those rumors is that he did tend to enjoy exotic plants. It appears that he even has some sort of special garden all to himself. Am I correct in that assumption?”

Cecil stared back at the man and did not reply.

“That’s what I thought,” Vellin said. “At any rate, that is one of the pieces. But when you combine it with yet another piece of information that I have acquired, that’s when things start to get truly interesting.”

“I’m all ears,” Cecil replied.

“I hope you appreciate this one, as I very nearly missed it. And that’s not something that I normally do.” He halted and stared at Cecil to underscore his words. Then he continued, “I don’t suppose you have any idea what exactly killed your king, do you?” Vellin said.

Cecil rather disliked riddles and so pressed forward to get past them. “No, we don’t. The best we can determine is some sort of incendiary device was somehow planted inside the king. We have no idea how that would be possible. The king has not had any major surgeries or any such procedure and his food and drink are all inspected.”

“And his private garden?” Vellin asked.

Cecil blinked in astonishment as he stared back at the criminal. “What do you mean?”

Vellin leveled an admonishing look at the Captain. “These flowers that your king appreciates…does he smell them? Say, inhale their fragrance?”

“Of course he does,” Cecil said quietly.

“Well, then that’s the answer to that question. Over the last several weeks we’ve traced the sale of several micro-explosive components. It’s something new and nasty. Hard to come by, too. There are precisely twenty-four separate components required to make just such a micro-explosive that can assemble itself through nano smart technology inside a target. The components were all purchased separately by separate individuals. As I said, we nearly did not catch this bit. The only thing that tipped us off was that the avenue of delivery was all the same.”

“The avenue of delivery?” Cecil asked. “Meaning?”

Vellin pointed toward the data pad Cecil now held and the image of the man upon it. “There’s your courier,” Vellin said. “I very much doubt he knew what was he was delivering. Smarter to keep someone like that in the dark. We had traced the sales and the movement of all of the components over time and assumed that there was some sort of assassination attempt on the horizon but we never would’ve imagined in our wildest dreams that the king himself would be the target. We figured it was merely some underworld scuffle. Needless to say, I’ve been having my environment checked very regularly since we discovered the movement of these components. That’s why I’m down here. Harder to get to and all of that. I highly doubted that I was the target, but one never knows.”

“You’re veering off track,” Cecil said.

“True enough,” Vellin replied nonchalantly. “At any rate, all of the components eventually ended up with Mr. Belem, there. They were smuggled in with the same shipment as the exotic plant life that he brought to the Palace. So if I were you I would start looking at anyone who has access to that secret garden your king cherished.”

Cecil did not have to think about it. He knew precisely who was responsible. And he suspected Vellin did as well. He leveled a reproachful gaze at the criminal mastermind and the man simply shrugged in response.

The only people who had access to the king’s garden were himself, other Royal Guardsmen, the Queen – although she never went in there to his knowledge, and of that Cecil was certain – and of course Lycas Ryth.

All of the suspicions that himself and several of his other companions among the Royal Guardians had directed toward Lycas Ryth seemed now to crystallize. Now the only question was should he go and arrest the man or simply kill him on the spot?

CHAPTER 20. AN AMBUSH

His mood did not improve as he drew closer to his quarters via the secret passageway. Indeed, his rage grew hotter and his ruminations darkened with each step. Despite a cloying urge to spill copious amounts of the treacherous Lord Advisor’s blood, his better judgment had decided a different course. He would gather a contingent of Royal Guardians and arrest the man. Doubtless, public execution was in the cards for Lycas Ryth anyway. The very thought etched a grin on Cecil’s face.

The urgency to complete his task flooded his body and Cecil’s legs propelled him up the stairway. As his body worked feverishly to thrust him forward into the right path his mind worked at all of the details that needed attending to make certain it was all done properly. So much so that his mind was almost absent regarding his surroundings as he arrived at the top and the doorway leading into his quarters. Were he not so distracted, he might have noticed a few moments earlier that something was amiss as he stepped into his room. Not that this would have changed anything that fell out immediately following.

By the time he had taken his third step into the room, he became aware of the presence of others. His head came up and he snapped alert to the danger. In the next moment, he registered with confusion the identity of other Royal Guardians. There were four of them. And then there was the fifth man. Lycas Ryth stood flanked by two armor-clad men on each side.

Cecil did not need a clear mind to tell him something was drastically wrong. Instead, he acted on instinct and lurched to action. His hand fell to the weapon he carried at his side: an energy pistol. At the same moment, he pounced toward Lycas Ryth. The energy pistol was only halfway out of its holster when three out of the four stun sticks wielded in the fists of the Royal Guardians all reached him simultaneously.

Waves of electricity jolted through his body rendering him unable to complete his intended action. Every muscle in him spasmed and a jagged cry of pain tore itself from his mouth. In the next moment, he crumpled unceremoniously at the feet of Lycas Ryth. The residual pain of the stun attack made itself known as aches clawed at every inch of him. His mind was only dimly aware of the string of drool now coming out of his mouth as he slowly raised his head. Agony prodded a thousand points of his body as he stared up in shock at the Lord Advisor who glared smugly back down at him.

“Secure him,” Ryth said in a growl.

With no hint of hesitation, the four Royal Guardians rushed to lay hands on Cecil and dragged him to his feet. His body was still unresponsive to his commands due to the attack and so they had to hold him up. He managed to keep his head upright and stared daggers at Lycas Ryth, however.

Ryth spoke. “Cecil, Captain of the Royal Guardians, you are under arrest for treason and the assassination of our King Beirand.”

“What…?” Cecil began in a rasping croak. The word was far less audible than he hoped as his vocal cords were still stunned. His body suddenly spasmed and he was seized by a coughing fit. When he settled once again and felt a modicum of strength coming back to his body he placed his feet more stably on the floor and held himself up a little. He used the strength to also continue his thoughts out loud. “What is this deranged madness you spew? You are the…”

Lycas Ryth slashed forward with a backhanded slap and caught him powerfully across one cheek. Even though Cecil was still weak from the effects of the stun attack, it registered in his mind that Lycas Ryth seemed exceptionally strong. The slap was powerful indeed, and he felt as if this were no sniveling politician but one who was well-versed in the arts of delivering violence.

“Gag him,” Ryth hissed as he turned his face to one of the Guardians. “There's no telling what lying filth he might spew to get himself out of this.” He turned his attention back to Cecil and leaned forward. A sneer stretched across his face and in a low tone he said, “Your trial is where you may speak. If I deign to allow you one, that is. Until then, keep silent.”

Cecil's mouth opened to warn his brothers they were serving the true assassin but before he could get even the first word out one of them forcefully shoved a gag into his mouth. It was secured with no gentleness on his head and he could only growl around it.

The next thing he knew he was being dragged away to a cell. He struggled against his brothers’ grips to no avail.

CHAPTER 21. A GURAG ENCOUNTER

The sensation of something creeping along his reptilian skin brought him awake. One eye flashed open and located the source of the sensation. A multi-legged insect almost as large as one of his fingers meandered along his forearm, questing for something.

His alarm immediately dissipated when he realized what it was. He had seen countless examples of these ant-like creatures before and knew them to be harmless. But a rumbling hunger deep inside him reminded Gael’jic that he was not. He slowly lifted his arm toward his face and then darted his long snout toward the insect. In moments the crawly creature was crunching in his mouth, filling it with an odd flavor. It was not the most pleasant taste he’d experienced, but considering how hungry he was he did not much care.

Moments after he swallowed the insect a deep rumbling began in his belly. That single bug was not going to be nearly enough for him. It had been a long time since he had eaten anything and he had merely awakened his hunger by ingesting the critter. He groggily leaned forward in his perch and rolled his shoulders. Soreness seized his muscles as he did so, and a groan of protest escaped him. He turned his head slowly from left to right to take in his surroundings, trying to remember what exactly had transpired the night before.

He nestled in a valley between limbs high up in a Raka tree. He had found almost the largest tree he had ever seen in his life and climbed it to make certain he could not roll out of it in his sleep. He had found the perfect spot in which to repose the previous night. He’d curled up and quickly slipped into unconsciousness. But the surface of the tree was unforgiving and not desirable for permanent bedding. If he was to continue like this he was going to have to devise a better shelter. Resting high up in the treetops provided a fair amount of safety given the ravenous predators that traipsed about the forest floors, but it did not provide much in the way of comfort. Not that that was his top priority.

He shuffled around and then crawled forward on his hands and knees out onto a large limb of the tree and looked down. Murky shadows still cast all about the forest floor since the early light of dawn had merely cracked through the canopy. He noted the absence of light from Illuminoc plants. That, he remembered, was why he had stopped in the first place.

The Illuminoc trail had gone dead. One moment the trail was lit brightly before him, and suddenly it faded in the distance. He slowed his gait when he noticed this and stared curiously at the phenomena. He then turned and looked behind him and noted that the lights he had followed had also gone dark. Soon he only stood amid a small island of light provided by a bear few Illuminoc plants. He soon realized his journey for the night had come to an end. He had been silently grateful for this since he was tired and the hour had grown late.

That was when he spotted the tree in which he currently reposed. He had climbed its trunk and navigated its many limbs until he found by feel the most desirable spot he could.

Now he stared down at the forest floor and began to wonder if following the Illuminoc trail by night had been nothing but coincidence and fantasy. Perhaps it was only his mind struggling to find some pattern, some sense of hope and purpose. Maybe you were just fooling yourself, he thought.

His stomach grumbled deeply again and he moaned. He moved his tired frame into position and then climbed down. When he reached the final limb he dropped down the remaining seven feet or so. Now that he was closer to the ground he could see its features more clearly. There was not much light as of yet, but his keen eyes penetrated the darkness better up close.

He turned and examined the rough surface of the Raka tree. He hoped to find more of the crawling insect creatures so that he might take sustenance from them. He saw none and his shoulders drooped. That meant he was going to have to dig for food.

Before that, he would have to find plants he knew supported the right kind of root system. He dropped into a low crouch and methodically scoured the forest floor searching for the right kind of flora. He tried his best to keep his insistent hunger from distracting him from his task though was only marginally successful.

His long reptilian fingers combed through the brush pushing bushes aside as he searched. He was some distance out from the tree when he came upon his first likely candidate. Just on the other side of a large bush, he found a small patch of large-leafed plants sprouting up from the forest floor. A sigh of relief escaped him as he slowly dug with his fingers around the base of the plant. The large soft leaves themselves would provide some protein, but the roots of the plant were what he was after first. The roots housed sweetly flavored liquid inside a hard bulbous exterior.

Gael’jic moved handfuls of dirt out of the way until he was a good eight inches into the ground. He liberated a large bulbous root from its home. He slowly lifted and examined it, then brushed the remaining dirt away with his other hand until only the root and the plant above it remained. He laid this aside and went to work on another of the leafy plants nearby.

He ceased this activity when he had extracted four of them. Several more sprouted about but these he knew would have to be saved for later. If he greedily consumed them all at once he would have to search for more of them in another location. What was more, he wanted to save some of the seeds to cultivate into a meager garden.

He reached down and plucked up the largest rounded root and thrust it into his mouth. The bulbous root was tough and he attacked it with his teeth and pressure from his jaws until finally it cracked and poured its watery insides down his gullet. He sucked as much of the moisture from the root as he could manage, and then chewed harder at the tough flesh. A few minutes later when he had finally softened it up enough he chewed it to completion and swallowed. Then he went to work on the leafy exterior. He soon finished off the remnants of this plant and went to work on a second one. He was still greatly hungry but hoped that the remainder of his gardening adventure would satisfy him enough that he would not be distracted any longer by his hunger pangs. A few minutes later when he finished the second plant he reached for a third.

His hand froze hovering centimeters above the next root when he heard a resounding noise echo through the trees.

His eyes flicked about, being the only part of himself he allowed to move. He heard the noise again, though this time realized it came from somewhere behind him. He was not going to see it if he remained in his current position and only moved his eyes. He slowly turned his head and began to drink in the scene. He caught a bare glimpse of movement through distant trees, but the object in question was big enough to raise his head fin straight up.

The thing was moving away from his field of vision and so he needed to reposition himself. He carefully twisted his body until he came to a crouching stance, facing the creature. Though it was still far away he could now clearly make out its shape.

It was a Gurag. Even from this distance, he could tell it was at least half again as tall as he was. The beast stalked about on four thick legs. It was mottled brown and green. Its fat carapace-covered body existed in three sections. The foremost was its large head. Though he could not see in detail from where he stood, he imagined its two large dripping mandibles on the front of its insectile head moving about, searching and hungry. Its thick body ambled noisily through the forest.

Gurag did not much care about the noise they made. They were fairly stupid, but also ill-tempered. As this specimen, which he noted was probably a small and more juvenile one, stalked about its heavy footfalls made a thunderous noise. That was what had attracted his attention in the first place.

He only hoped the thing would not spot him and come charging. If it did, he would have to climb the tree again, but he did not know if he could wait the thing out. They were reputed to be exceptionally stubborn creatures and unless something else came along to attract its attention it might well fixate on him and wait until he died of starvation. Or gave himself up.

He debated internally whether he should creep back to the tree and climb to avoid notice, or if it was best for him simply to remain still. If he made for the tree he chanced being noticed. There was also a possibility the thing might climb after him. Gurag were rotund and heavy, but they were also persistent. The large claws on its insectile feet enabled them to climb sometimes.

A cold ball of fear formed in his chest as he watched the creature stalk about searching for prey. Gael’jic was defenseless, but it suddenly occurred to him he did not need to be. Though he was a scholar and spent most of his time in libraries and with books, he knew the basic elements of making armor and weapons. It was not overly difficult, though he would certainly be no master at it. Not even if he spent the rest of his life dedicated to it would he reach the artistry of those crafters in the Dar’rynakai city.

He decided that if he made it out of this situation he was going to devote some attention to forming at least minimal armor and a defensive spear or two.

Suddenly the Gurag’s head snapped towards him. The creature reared up on its back legs and emitted an earsplitting roar that echoed all about him. It dropped to its fore legs with a heavy thud and menacingly bounded toward him.

CHAPTER 22. A DEMON IN THE FOREST

Gael’jic was momentarily paralyzed with terror as he realized it would only be a matter of moments until the Gurag lurched into a full-tilt charge and would be upon him. He had to get out of this.

Gael’jic whipped around and darted back toward the Raka tree. He had not realized how much ground he had covered searching for the rooted plants and cursed that he had done so.

The galloping noise of the Gurag was drawing closer to his ears but he feared to turn his head and look.

Soon he came within jumping distance and leaped from the ground and caught the lowest hanging limb with both hands. He hauled himself up on top of it and steadied himself. He turned to jump to the next highest branch and was shocked to see the Gurag come to a skidding halt. The giant creature repeatedly and desperately jammed its forefeet down to stop itself. It then whipped its head to one side, spread its mandibles, opened its mouth wide, and roared in that direction. The next thing Gael’jic witnessed was the creature scrambled to turn, briefly losing control of its footing, and charged out of the area with amazing speed for something that large.

What could have caused that thing to turn and run in fear like that? he wondered. He realized that the terror in his chest had been replaced by relief and curiosity. But then those turned sour once again when he came to consider that whatever had scared the Gurag probably should scare him too.

He had discerned no other noise over the monstrous trampling of the Gurag and wondered why the thing had bolted as it did. What could have instilled such fear in it? It had to have seen something.

Gael’jic whipped his head around to stare in the direction that the giant insectile monstrosity had roared, but saw nothing. He waited upon the lowest limb of the tree, holding position, staring, and hoping to catch some glimpse of whatever it had been. Surely it had not been a sound. He doubted even the Gurag could hear anything over the noise of its trampling and roaring.

After a few more moments of utter silence, he leaned forward and placed both hands on the limb beneath him, and swung his legs over the edge. He continued to hold onto the limb dangling inches above the forest floor for a few moments, then released and landed in a crouch. He waited in place a handful of heartbeats then slowly put one foot forward and cautiously followed it with the other. He kept his attention fixed on the general area where he’d seen the creature facing. There was still nothing there. That was when he heard it.

A faint sound like a whisper of a voice carried into his ears and he stopped.

He wasn’t even certain he had heard anything at first. But something told him he had. A few moments later it came again. There were no discernible words to make out, but it was a voice.

He looked around desperately searching for the source. He drew a deep, shuddering breath and expelled it. An overwhelming sense of cold crept all over his flesh and an indescribable and palpable sense of fear encroached on every inch of his person. He could not explain it but he both knew and did not know what had made the sound. Deep in the recesses of his psyche, a cry of recognition and fear wailed out into his mind warning him. You must run, his thoughts demanded. You must get away.

Nevertheless, he stood frozen in place searching for whoever had spoken.

He took another tentative step in the general direction he believed the voice had come.

That was when he saw it and his heart seized. The first thing he apprehended were two small points of yellowish light. The eyes, he realized. Those are his eyes. A brief fleeting thought flickered through his mind, causing him to wonder how he had been sure it was a ‘him’ and not a ‘her.’ But this curiosity quickly melted away in the face of the danger his instinct told him was present. Soon the rest of the form was revealed to his attention.

The two menacing points of yellow light serving as the things’ eyes were housed in a darkly clad and cloaked figure. The person stood far back into the forest though it felt as if he were standing right in front of Gael’jic. The terror, the fear, the danger seemed nearly tangible to him. It was as if the thing could reach out at any moment and seize him by the throat and steal his very life essence.

The whisper drifted his way yet again. This time, however, he could make out a single word.

“Alone.” The word was weighted with menace and threat. And accusation, he realized.

The single word threatened to unravel the fabric of his body and leave him in a quivering unrecognizable pile on the forest floor that some scavenging predator might come and feast upon later.

Get away from here, you fool! an internal voice told him.

Gael’jic remained in place, seemingly incapable of movement. The desire to run away grew within him, yet he could not obey it. His body twitched away but appeared to be held in place by some exterior force.

The dark hooded figure stood motionless, staring at him with its yellow eyes boring into him. Gael’jic managed to move his attention away from the creature’s eyes and take in the sight of the rest of him. The cloak and hood were jet black but trimmed in bright red. The figure was covered head to toe in garments that were fine and clean and of the same black and red material as the hooded cloak. Even from far away, Gael’jic discerned that the person was tall and lean. The basic shape was that of one of the humans, but something told him that this was no human.

He wondered if it was perhaps some demon that had accompanied the humans from wherever world they had come from centuries earlier.

The hooded figure slowly raised its right arm and held out a hand toward him palm up, fingers spread. He bent his fingers inward in a gesture of command. He intended for Gael’jic to come to him. That was all it took. Whatever spell had fixed him in place was now broken and he bolted away.

Not away, his conscience told him, but up!

His instinct was to simply run along the forest floor in the opposite direction of the demonic creature, but the voice told him that would be of no help. He needed to climb, not to run. He was uncertain how this could help him, but the suggestion was so strong in his mind that he obeyed it.

Once again he leaped upward and clambered his way up the trunk of the tree grasping vines and limbs and branches all along the way. He soon arrived at the perch where he had slept the night before and cowered in the crevice.

He crouched, huddled with his arms wrapped around his knees which were drawn up close to his chest as his body trembled. His eyes squeezed shut and the only avenue into his mind now was that of his ears. He waited for the whispering to continue but it didn’t. When he realized this a few minutes later, he calmed himself marginally and cautiously leaned forward to peer over the edge of the largest limb of the tree toward the forest floor once more. His eyes tracked back along the way where he had seen the demonic figure lurking in the forest. It was no longer there. Could this be a trick? He did not think so.

Even though a reassuring sense rose within him that he was once again alone, he waited another half hour up in the tree to be safe.

Confidence that the figure was gone came to him during that time, though there were vestiges of the fearfulness that had seized him and driven him back up the Raka tree.

He scoured the forest floor with his attention searching for any sign of the demonic danger. There was nothing.

But something else did catch his attention. A faint glow. Blue light in the brush in another direction. Could it be? he wondered.

He climbed down to the lowest limb of the tree and searched. Sure enough, he saw the blue glow once again. It was an Illuminoc. And another. And others yet. The trail had returned. Now another sensation appeared inside him. It was safe and calm. It was the opposite of what he felt as he had looked upon the strange cloaked figure.

Sudden surety came to him that the reappearance of the Illuminoc trail was of a different source than the demonic figure. It occurred to him then that he was being fought over by opposing forces. But why should he be the prize in any contest? He was a killer. An outcast.

He tilted his head curiously as he stared at more of the glowing plants coming to life, lighting the path once again.

He knew the only way he was to get answers to his questions was to follow. He stepped forward hesitantly, filled with misgivings and doubt.

CHAPTER 23. AN EMERGENCY CONVENTION

The noise of conversation was unusually subdued in the Council chamber given the shocking nature of recent events. About a third of the representatives sat in silence, still reeling from the unprecedented and heinous crime. The rest conversed in hushed tones, trading decrees of disbelief as one might expect.

This was not a great surprise to anyone, especially not to Racine. He’d spent most of his time since arriving in the room seated at the large table with his hands folded before him. His eyes drifted about the chamber, taking in the scene of worried representatives murmuring about the situation.

The tabletop was an expansive oval with room enough for all thirteen sector representatives as well as a place at the head of the table reserved for the king and one spot reserved for his Lord Advisor. For the moment both seats remained empty. He thought ruefully that the king’s seat would remain vacant for some time. Prince Therin was not of age and had several years to go before he would be old enough to take his father’s place.

He would join the Council soon enough in an obligatory but mainly ceremonial fashion. By law, he would possess no real decision-making power except in very small matters, and even then the Council would work together to guide him. But before then he must be afforded time to grieve his father’s untimely death.

The Queen would accompany her son when he was ready and act as vice-regent. She would wield significant but limited power to ensure the stability of the kingdom. She might not own the same level of authority as the king had, but she would still outpace everyone else’s power on the Council.

Racine was relieved when he thought about that. While King Beirand had been a good man and had often executed his office with distinction, he had at times been both indecisive and pliable. Rivess did not suffer from either malady.

Racine’s gaze moved to the other vacant seat. He did not look forward to the Lord Advisor arriving to take up his position. Racine never sat easily in the other man’s presence. Ryth struck him as…slippery. But that opinion was not shared by very many others at the table, so he kept his mouth closed on the matter unless he was with only certain other Council members.

Mostly the sector representatives jockeyed for position and power. Not all sectors were of the same size and influence. That meant some of them had to push it a lot harder to be noticed and heard. That was not how it was supposed to work, yet it did. Thus several were not shy about playing the sycophant where Lycas Ryth was concerned.

Racine occupied a middle-sized sector in the Citadel. He was generally respected around the table, though he was known to voice disagreements from time to time, and that caused others to regularly position themselves in opposition to him along the way. Others, however, sided with him more often than not.

Across the table sat Gillam, a close friend of Racine’s who administrated a small sector of the Human Citadel. Gillam was a meek and mousy sort of man who rarely stood up for himself and therefore seldom made gains for his sector. He also perched quietly at the table and his fearful eyes flitted about the room. Evident nervousness etched his features.

Not all of the sector representatives currently occupied their chairs. A few of them, broken off in pairs, stood in secluded corners of the room conversing quietly but animatedly with one another. He had no doubt the topic of conversation was how the business of the kingdom was to proceed. That would be their main point of discussion this day. He did not look forward to arguing against the variety of poor and petty ideas he was certain would spring forth during the Council discussion. The assassination of their monarch was bad enough as it was, and the turmoil that would fall out from it throughout the Human Citadel would be difficult indeed to rein in. They did not need to fight among themselves and complicate matters but he was sure that would be the result.

Another of the sector representatives, Zain, took his seat next to Gillam and leaned toward the smaller man. He began to whisper a few things and Gillam darted worried eyes back at the man. Racine wondered what that was about.

Zain represented one of the larger sectors in the Citadel and was among the most influential of the lot. For the most part, he seemed the levelheaded sort, but Racine did not like how much time he spent with Lycas Ryth.

At least he was not averse to disagreeing publicly with Ryth when he thought the man was headed out of bounds. Zain had on occasion voiced strenuous opposition to some of Ryth’s proposals to the king. He had even reminded the man on one occasion during a particularly heated Council meeting that the Lord Advisor was not a policymaker, but simply a counselor to the king. Ryth had snapped his mouth shut at that point and stared daggers back at the man. But soon thereafter their relationship seemed to have mended as they were seen walking about and conversing in a friendly manner. Sometimes Racine didn’t quite know what to make of the man.

The door to the Council chamber burst inward and Lycas Ryth strolled in with his long dark robes swirling about his frame as he did so. His face was an implacable mask of confidence as he walked up to his place beside the king’s seat. But he did not sit: he simply stood behind his chair and raised his hand for attention. A few moments later the scattered conversations around the room died out and all eyes drew to him.

“Ladies and gentlemen please take your seats. Urgent business demands our attention and we cannot delay.” The Lord Advisor lowered his hand slowly and the remainder of the sector representatives shuffled to their places around the table and took their seats. Ryth remained standing behind his own. His face was grim but tinged with sorrow.

A long uncomfortable silence settled upon the room. The Lord Advisor swept his gaze slowly from one side of the table to the other, making eye contact with every one of the sector representatives as he did so. When he completed this sweep he drew in a breath and spoke.

“We face an unprecedented crisis,” he said in a sharp-edged tone. “Yet we have always known the potential of danger to the life of our beloved monarch. For many years it has hovered like a dark and frightening cloud over all that is good and orderly in our realm.” He drew in a deep breath, darted his eyes away, and adopted a pensive look for a moment. Then he returned his focus to the seated Council members and sighed.

He continued, “I have greatly disconcerting news to share with you regarding the investigation of the assassination. We have apprehended the primary culprit in the murder of our beloved king. It turns out that Cecil, the king’s bodyguard, and Captain of the Royal Guardians plotted the assassination himself and saw to it that it was carried out. We have apprehended him and he awaits the public execution due to such a crime.” Ryth snapped his mouth closed and set his jaw rigidly as he stared at the table of sector representatives under a dark brow.

Astonished murmuring and whispers broke out all across the room. Racine discovered his jaw had dropped open and quickly closed his mouth again. He had met Cecil and had even spoken on amicable terms with him briefly a handful of times. He placed his hands on the table and leaned forward. All eyes drew to Racine. “Can we be sure so soon that this is true?” he asked.

“The evidence is incontrovertible,” Ryth responded evenly.

“Nevertheless,” Racine pressed, “should we not launch a more thorough investigation into Cecil before we accept that he is the main culprit? He might have been framed, for example. We should be careful and not be over-hasty in our…”

Ryth slammed his fist on the table surface and everyone jumped in startlement. “There are things you do not know,” he hissed icily. “Chief among them is that we have been keeping our eye on the Captain for quite some time due to suspicious activity and other evidence picked up along the way.”

Racine drew in a steadying breath then expelled it and said, “Other evidence? Such as?”

“That shall be made available in due time,” Ryth replied. “But for now, know this: it has come to our attention over the last several months, even from accounts of other Royal Guardians, that Cecil has been traveling and speaking with seedy elements in the underground of the Human Citadel, even well-known criminal elements. It appears that he and the Captain previous to him were both involved in this for a long time. There will be dossiers given to you by tomorrow morning detailing the evidence and the chain of events leading to the assassination. Once you have thoroughly studied all of it I trust it will be sufficiently convincing.”

“And what about the previous Captain?” asked Shahleen, a woman two seats to Racine’s left. “Has he been apprehended as well?”

A hint of chagrin ghosted across Ryth’s face. “Sadly, no. He seems to have disappeared. But we suspect Cecil may have killed him and hidden or destroyed his body.”

Gillam coughed in disbelief. “I doubt it,” he said. Those Guardians are tough and smart. More likely he fled to the underground and is hiding, or biding his time.” He turned a suddenly worried look to Ryth. “Should we be worried that he will reappear, or maybe come after some of us now that the king is out of the way?”

“Unlikely,” the Lord Advisor said flatly. Gillam, however, did not appear reassured by this.

Further discussions broke out around the table, but Ryth cleared his throat noisily and all voices stopped once again. “I am not finished,” he said. “The next part is even more disturbing and you must steel yourselves for it. I regret to inform you that Cecil may have even entangled the Queen into this chaos.”

CHAPTER 24. A CHANGE OF WAYS

Racine rocketed from his seat and slammed his fist on the table. “Impossible,” he shouted.

Lycas Ryth leveled venomous eyes at the man. “Nothing is impossible,” he retorted. “The dossiers you will all receive tomorrow morning will include the known extent of Queen Rivess’ involvement in all of this. The investigation thus far seems to yield that she was only an unwitting participant, but we are not yet sure of that. That leads us to our next development.”

“Next development?” Racine asked with suspicious eyebrows arched.

Ryth nodded. “That’s right,” he said. “Because the Queen is implicated in the plot to assassinate the king, her role as the natural vice-regent to the under-aged prince Therin is necessarily paused. Until she may be completely cleared of willful participation in her husband’s death, she will have to be replaced with another as vice-regent.”

Unhappy murmurs and groans rolled around the Council chamber like an ocean wave. Racine kept his eyes fixed on Ryth. He was sure he knew where this was headed and he did not like it.

The Lord Advisor straightened in his position behind his chair and took a deliberate step to his left to stand behind the king’s chair. “I will take it upon myself the role of vice-regent. Of course, this is only a temporary situation. Until Rivess can be divested of all suspicion I will fill in this role.”

Racine mentally noted Lycas Ryth’s omission of her title as Queen. He narrowed his eyes as he gazed across the table at the Lord Advisor. An accusation of sedition threatened to escape his mouth but died behind his teeth. Unless evidence supporting such a claim might be presented making such an accusation was useless at best and counter-productive at worst.

Another sector representative cleared his throat and said, “You don’t have the authority to do that.”

Ryth shot him a long-suffering look and said, “The situation is unprecedented. We have no written law on how to proceed in such an eventuality. But this makes the most sense if you think about it.”

“Explain that,” the representative said dubiously.

Ryth shrugged and said, “I am the most qualified. I am the one who’s been closest to the seat of authority in the Human Citadel for a long time. I’ve witnessed how the government runs and even contributed to it via my advisory role. It is my job to advise the king on how to make the best possible decisions. I am therefore perfectly suited for the role.”

A few groans of disagreement and muttering complaints flitted about the room and Ryth raised a hand to bring them to a halt once more. They all obeyed. He continued, “Look, no one is claiming this is ideal. I am not trying to become the king of the Human Citadel. That’s the last thing I want. Prince Therin is the rightful heir to the throne and it is my job to make sure that it is still intact when he comes to it. But he is not of age. He does not know all the intricacies as I do. He has a long way to go, and many things to learn before he can ascend the throne and take rule. And besides,” he said, squaring his shoulders and shooting stern looks around the room, “what other choice do we have? Is one of you capable of stepping forward into the role?” He shook his head in answer to his question.

The Council room sat in stunned silence. As Racine glanced around the room he beheld consternation on the faces of many while others seemed to be nodding in agreement with the Lord Advisor. He stole a glance across the table at Gillam who looked more worried than he ever had been in his life, which was saying something.

Racine knew none of the sector representatives would dare step forward and claim the position of vice-regent. For one thing, the rest of them would argue down anyone bold enough to do so. They all knew it would not be appropriate for any one sector representative to hold that much sway and influence over the Human Citadel. They were all conditioned to think of their sector first and scrape together whatever influence they could in favor of it. If any one of them had taken that much power for themselves the rest knew that the advantage it would gain to their sector would be considered unseemly by the rest. He guessed many of them secretly would desire such a position, but none of them were stupid enough to say anything out loud.

“I didn’t think so,” Ryth said.

“This is outrageous,” the objecting sector representative said with acid dripping from his words. “There has to be another solution.”

“I’m all ears,” Ryth said challengingly. “If you have a better suggestion I’m open to it. But if you don’t then please cease impeding the progress we need to make today. This kingdom is on the brink. The assassination of our beloved King has thrown this fragile society into deep turmoil. If we do not seize the opportunity to instill order, then chaos will arise and take over. The criminal elements of the underground will break through and wreak untold havoc. Is that what you want?”

“Well of course not,” the representative spat back, but his earlier surety had been eroded.

“What if we nominated a triumvirate?” Zain interjected thoughtfully. The room fell into shocked silence at the suggestion. All eyes turned to the representative who sat with a contemplative expression on his face.

“Care to explain that?” Ryth asked.

Zain looked around the room cautiously, then leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. “All of us agree that the rightful rule belongs to Prince Therin and no one else. The concern is that one man or woman from this room acting as vice-regent will have too much power. But what if we don’t leave it up to just one person? If we all take stock of our number and put it to a secret ballot, I believe we can set up a sufficient temporary ruling triumvirate.”

“He may be onto something,” Shahleen said. Her thoughtful and soft feminine voice floated in the Council chamber’s tumultuous emotional state like a simple, beautiful song, soothing a savage beast. A few more heads now nodded along.

“So,” Gillam said slowly as he mentally worked through the implications of Zain’s suggestion, “we elect three from our number to function as a temporary ruling triumvirate. This would be to keep the others in check and make certain that no one sector is overrepresented or gains too much influence. Do I have it right?”

“Almost right,” Zain answered. “We would elect two from our number. The third member of the triumvirate would be Lycas Ryth. He’s right about the fact that he – being as close to the king as he has been – does understand the government best out of anyone in this room.”

Racine leaned back in his chair as he stared at Zain with dissecting eyes. He had been greatly uncomfortable when Ryth announced his intention to serve as the vice-regent for Prince Therin. While he still did not like the idea of him remaining that close to power, he was ready to concede that if he was balanced out by the presence of two other thoughtful sector representatives, the Lord Advisor might be kept in check well enough for the concerns he had to be allayed. Still, something about the situation made him uneasy.

Ryth looked thoughtful. “That…may be an acceptable alternative.”

It was soon agreed upon that this would be the best course of action. However, it took another four hours of debate and wrangling to decide upon who would be the best candidates for the positions of the triumvirate. All thirteen members decided the best way forward would be to cycle through three separate secret votes. After each successive vote, those highest on the list were discussed and debated as to whether or not they would be best for the position. The hours seemed to drag on. While there was much heat there was little light generated by the proceedings in Racine’s estimation.

In the end, the two triumvirate roles were allocated. The first went to Shahleen. She was a considerate and wizened middle-aged woman who had been a sector representative for twelve years. She was generally respected in the group and certainly esteemed within her sector.

The other went to Zain. Racine had been hesitant about this, but in the end, had been outvoted.

The Council session was dismissed for the afternoon, but they were all scheduled to return in the evening to begin preparing a formal announcement for the Citadel to be released the following morning. All of them were sworn to secrecy and not allowed to discuss with any of their aides or other trusted friends in the government or aristocracy. They all knew their vows and agreed to this.

As all of them filed out of the chamber Racine found himself walking down a hallway beside Gillam.

“Strange days,” Gillam muttered, shaking his head. “Don’t you think?”

“Indeed,” Racine responded.

In a hushed tone, Gillam leaned over to his friend and said, “I must admit, I was very nervous about this meeting. More so when the Lord Advisor arrived and announced his intention to be vice-regent. But when Zain spoke up with his suggestion, I was quite relieved.”

Racine walked on and made a noncommittal grunt. “Do you disagree?” Gillam asked.

“Not necessarily,” Racine replied. “It’s just that all of it is happening so fast.”

“It has to though, doesn’t it?” Gillam said. “Ryth is right: We cannot stall on this. The government needs to run, doesn’t it?”

“That it does,” Racine said. “I just want to make sure it doesn’t run off a cliff.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out in a defeated sigh. “While I would certainly prefer a triumvirate over one single man assuming the role of vice-regent – especially when it is not his place to do so – it all still feels a little suspicious to me.”

“How so?” Gillam asked after a thoughtful pause.

Racine shook his head. “Just Ryth being Ryth again.”

“You don’t like him. Do you?” Gillam said.

“It has nothing to do with whether or not I like the man,” Racine replied. “The problem is I don’t trust him.”

“What about Zain?” Gillam asked. “Do you distrust him as well?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” the other man responded. “It simply seemed odd to me how quickly Ryth agreed to Zain’s suggestion when he was so adamant about his own, to begin with. The look in his eye when he announced he would be vice-regent said to me that he was not going to budge on the idea. Suddenly he turned about completely the other way with almost no argument. It just strikes me as odd. I think we had better keep a close eye on all three of them for quite some time.”

“Shouldn’t we do that anyway?” Gillam asked.

“Yes,” Racine replied, nodding his head. “I suppose we should.”

CHAPTER 25. A MANIPULATION

Soon the only two people remaining in the Council chamber were Lycas Ryth and Zain. They exchanged a series of pleasantries until they were certain the last of the sector representatives had completely vacated the area and no one else remained to overhear the conversation.

“That went about as well as can be expected,” Zain said.

“Agreed,” Ryth replied in a disinterested tone. “Still, we ought to keep tabs on a few of them. I sense distrust in the room even yet.”

“You mean Racine?” Zain said and snorted dismissively. “I wouldn’t worry about him too much. He’s nothing more than a middle manager.” Zain’s self-confident smile vanished when he saw the grimness of Ryth’s answering expression.

“He’s respected,” Ryth corrected the man. “And that posits real trouble.”

“Do we need to discredit him then, too?” Zain asked.

“This is complicated enough as it is,” Ryth replied instantly. “If we weave too many threads into this tapestry, we risk it unraveling in front of everybody.”

“Don’t tell me you’re worried?” Zain asked with a smirk.

The Lord Advisor favored him with a condescending look. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said.

“I suppose our main concern right now is Queen Rivess,” Zain said. “Are we going to have to do anything about her?”

“No,” Ryth said, unconcerned. “She’s been sufficiently intimidated. I have her well under my thumb. And if she does turn out to be too troublesome, I can easily enough fabricate evidence against her.” The Lord Advisor turned his piercing eyes on the newly appointed member of the newly fashioned triumvirate. “The kingdom is now in my grasp. I can safely guide the Prince in the ways he needs to go to become the next king and fulfill my design to the best of his ability.”

“Seems like a whole lot of work for something so simple. Are we sure we needed to do all of this?”

“Don’t question me,” Ryth spat with razors in his voice.

Zain lifted surrendering hands. “Look, I was just asking a question. I didn’t think to insult or undermine you by it.”

“Leave the thinking to me,” Ryth said snidely.

“As you wish,” Zain acquiesced with a bow of his head.

CHAPTER 26. AN OUTSIDER WATCHES

Never before had he been so intrigued by a basket of fruit. It wasn’t even a particularly sizeable basket. Nor was the fruit inside plentiful. But that didn’t matter. He was famished. Yet even his gnawing hunger couldn’t prevent him from staring at the basket with great curiosity.

For one thing, he hadn’t put the basket where it currently sat, and he didn’t know how it had gotten there. It wasn’t the fruit he’d already stolen.

For another thing, it was sitting in the middle of the forest.

He lifted his eyes and gazed into the dense trees and foliage. He was still some distance away from the village of the reptile people. He knew this was their doing, but he couldn’t fathom why they should do it. Was it a sacrifice to some reptile god they worshipped? Was it accidentally dropped and left unnoticed? Or, was it left for him?

Maybe it was part of a trap. If he got too close and his foot hit the right spot he could tumble into a deadfall or maybe his leg would get caught in a snare and leave him dangling upside down from a tree branch. Belem planted his fists on his hips and turned his head, taking in the area. His keen eyes detected no hidden ropes or other indications that a trap was present.

He knelt a few paces away from the basket and reached his hand forward. He gently swept away a patch of dead leaves and forest floor detritus. There was only dirt beneath. Not satisfied, he shifted position and cleared away another section beside the basket. When he found nothing there he proceeded to clear away a foot-wide patch of ground encircling the basket of fruit.

He sat back on his haunches and stared with confusion into the forest. Could one or more of the reptilian villagers be waiting, hidden a short distance away with spears or arrows? If so, they were exceptionally disguised. He plucked a stone from the ground and stood. He found what appeared to be a decent candidate for a hiding place and chucked the rock at it with full force. The stone sailed through the air and crashed through the brush. No response came. He considered repeating this process with a few other similar places but then decided it would be fruitless. This was no trap.

His eyes drifted back to the basket. Three large reddish fruits rested inside. They were of the same variety he’d stolen from the village two days ago. He surmised they must be a staple of the lizard people. He’d enjoyed the ones he’d taken and searched the forest for more, but to no avail. That was what had brought him back toward the village again. He’d hoped to wait until nightfall so that he could risk slipping into the village and steal more.

Now, it appeared, he did not have to. But why? He wondered again.

His grumbling belly overruled his curiosity. He needed to eat. He tore his attention away from the vacant trees and returned it to the basket where the fruit lay. They sat there, silently inviting him, tempting him to just take them. He shrugged whether they were a gift by accident or intent, who was he to argue against it?

He bent over and scooped up one of the fruits. He straightened again and held it before himself, supported on his fingertips. There appeared to be nothing wrong with it. Without further hesitation, he reached his other hand up and dug his fingernails into the reddish peel, and pulled back a piece. He dropped the peel into a pocket for later.

The lizard men had eaten the peel and the flesh of the fruit alike, but that was not Belem’s way. He ate the inside and when hunger struck later he would chew on scraps of the peel. The fruit was some variety of citrus native to Dar’ryn but Belem had never seen or heard of it before. He doubted any human had. He guessed if anyone ever uncovered the secret of locating the delicious treasure they might do very well by selling it in the Citadel.

He dug out a section of pink fruit flesh and plunged it greedily into his mouth. Juice ran down his fingers and face. He wiped it away from his chin with the back of his hand and extracted another piece. Soon the entire fruit was gone and his pocket was full of peels. He sucked the juices from his fingers giving no mind to the grime and dirt they’d accumulated over the last several days.

Though he was still hungry, he elected to hold off on eating the others since he could not be certain future meals were in the cards. He took the remaining fruits and pocketed them. He briefly considered taking the basket, but an intriguing thought occurred to him. If the fruit had been placed there for him, then more might be deposited in the basket later if he left it behind. It was worth a try.

He turned and looked back at the remainder of the raft that had helped save his life. The wooden planks were all that remained of probably some piece of furniture, like a desk, that had been stowed aboard the prison barge that once had intended to transport him to the Obelisk prison on Void Island. He imagined it was the remnant of a desk belonging to the ship’s warden. The thought struck him as minorly poetic that something belonging to such an authority figure that held him captive had been used to ensure his survival whereas the other man drowned. Belem continued to make use of it, too.

At night he used it as the outer wall of a lean-to. It wasn’t much in the way of shelter, but better than nothing.  Thinking about that caused him to remember the village again.

An impulse to go back there flashed through him. Before he realized what he was doing he took three steps in the direction of the village, then stopped himself. “What are you doing, idiot?” he asked himself.

He gave no reply to himself. He waited for his mind to concoct either a reason for him to go observe the village of the lizard people or to stay away. He only stood there breathing. No rational justification for either decision appeared. But something else did.

A recognizable increase in the desire to go there made itself known. He drew a deep breath, blew it out, and shook his head. “What are you doing?” he asked. He then set out for the village again.

As he ambled among the trees and undergrowth his ears filled with the noises of travel. He’d slow down and quiet his approach when he came nearer to his destination but for now, his mind was too consumed with generating an excuse to turn around and walk away. He was never the kind of man who had to convince himself of his action before. Something was different this time. Something indiscernible.

He pressed ahead, unable to understand why he did so. Along the way, he murmured in a complaint to whatever part of him compelled him to embark on this errand.

The first glimpses of the village huts appeared through the densely wooded area. Next came the sounds of children at play. He slowed and then came to a halt. He was now close enough that if he was not careful he might be spotted by one of the village’s denizens. He maneuvered to a tree and hid behind its trunk, then leaned out to gaze ahead.

There were still too many trees in the way for his eyes to discern the scene. He was about to move to a closer tree when he saw a flash of movement. He pulled back behind the trunk and waited. Then after counting out a few seconds he slowly leaned out to one side again. He beheld two of the lizard men walking side by side around the perimeter of the village. Each of them carried a long spear which they currently used like walking staffs.

Odd, he thought. It wasn’t that way when he had been there the last time. He wondered if perhaps the child had told his parents about seeing him the other night. That would explain the patrolling sentries and perhaps even the kindness of the offered fruit basket. He was reasonably certain now that was in fact what the fruit basket represented. Kindness. Thankfulness was a foreign sensation to Belem, but he surmised that was what he felt at this moment.

At the same time, he did not want to test the generosity of the villagers. They might be happy to leave him a scrap of food out in the jungle, but they might not be inclined to tolerate his presence much closer than that. Years of experience had taught him nothing but distrust for others and the absolute necessity of self-reliance. Why should things be any different now?

And yet… And yet. He shook his head as his face adopted a disappointed sneer. He pushed away from the tree and intended to vacate the area as soon as the two patrolling lizard men were well enough out of visual range. He turned his back, ready to take the first step when a piercing cry shattered the idyllic calm of the scene.

Belem whipped around and stared back toward the village with wide eyes just in time to see the two lizard men burst into a dead run. They disappeared among the huts, hefting their spears at the ready.

CHAPTER 27. AN OUTSIDER INTERVENES

Belem took two quick purposeful steps forward then stopped.  “What are you doing?” he asked himself again. “This is no business of yours.” He lifted a hand to plant a defiant fist on one hip and felt the bulge of one of the fruits the lizard people had left for him in his pockets. A contesting thought came to him. Isn’t it, though?

Whatever had precipitated the shriek was trouble. He knew it in his bones. And something deep in the far buried caverns of his inner self told him that it was his kind of trouble. Whatever that means, he snidely thought to himself.

Yet as much as he tried, he could not convince himself to abandon these people to whatever danger was afoot. He grunted in frustration and jogged toward the collection of huts. When he came to the edge of the village he froze.

“Oh, blazes,” he grumbled.

In the center of the village there crouched a large predatory cat. Its snarling face was pointed at two cowering forms: a female from the village and what was presumably her child. Belem did not know how to tell the members of the species apart with anything like certainty, but he was fairly certain this was the same child who had witnessed him skulking about the village the other night.

Off to one side lay a wounded figure. One of the lizard men he had seen patrolling the perimeter of the village lay sprawled and bleeding. His spear sat uselessly to one side. A quick assessment told Belem the creature still lived for the moment as his chest raggedly rose and fell with breath. The other guard stood close by, brandishing his spear, but hesitating to do anything. Uncertainty clouded his face. Then a split-second decision drove the clouds away.

The lizard man lifted the spear above his head with both hands, screamed a shapeless cry of rage, and leaped toward the cat.

Belem’s eyes flicked back to the menacing predator. From the way it crouched he could tell it was ready to pounce and that would be the end of the mother and her child. The monstrous thing heard the cry of the warrior and spun toward him with incredible speed. It wasted no time in its attack. It swatted at the threat with a massive clawed paw. The counterattack connected with the reptilian assailant and sent him flying off course with a grunt.

Before the disabled form of the reptilian guard crashed into the side of one of the huts, damaging its outer wall, Belem beheld three big angry red diagonal slashes appear on his chest from the cat’s defensive strike. His spear fell to the ground before it could reach its mark.

Belem was already running toward the dangerous beast at the moment the cat struck the lizard man out of the air. He didn’t remember deciding when and how to act. He simply flowed into action like a flood that had burst a dam.

As he coursed by the first downed guard he snatched the fallen spear from the ground. In the next moment, he hurled it with all his might at the back of the beast. As the spear soared through the air at its target Belem continued running. He doubted the single spear would take down the thing and he needed to press the advantage of the element of surprise.

As the large cat was spinning to face its intended victims once more the spear sank into its hide. The beast arched it back and released an ear-splitting roar to the sky. Cries of astonishment arose from the watching villages from this unexpected turn. Belem shut all of this out. He was intent on ending the threat while he still had the chance. And he knew he only had seconds at most.

He was leaping into the air at the same time the snarling menace was turning to ascertain what had struck it. Belem had put all the strength he could into the jump and was directly above the cat as it completed its spin to face the spot where he’d just been.

As Belem landed in a crouch he snatched up the spear from the second fallen warrior. He whipped around, bringing the spear up at what he hoped would be the right angle at the right time. He was just able to see the snarling monstrosity turn back around with amazing speed and agility. The two of them locked eyes and it was on.

The cat’s terrifying maw opened to reveal three rows of blade-like teeth and fangs, all dripping with saliva. Fetid breath washed over Belem as the ominous beast lurched forward, intent on killing him. But Belem was a man well practiced at violence and possessed a powerful will to survive.

At just the right moment Belem thrust the spear forward. The business end of the weapon disappeared into the monster’s mouth just as Belem planted the butt end against the ground. He lifted and steadied the weapon with everything he had and felt it jerk as the sharp end pierced the cat’s upper palate. The cat’s momentum caused the spear to drive into its brain.

The beast spasmed involuntarily as its central nervous system experienced massive trauma and the most awful death sound Belem had ever heard gargled out of the perishing creature. Belem stayed fixed in place in the event that it lashed out in its final death throes, but it merely went slack and the spear shaft was wrenched out of Belem’s hands as the dead thing topped over, taking the weapon with it. The threat was at an end.

Belem stared at the monstrosity for many moments, a look of hate plastered on his face. His chest heaved as he brought his attention up to stare into the stunned faces of the reptilian villagers.

Time seemed to stand still as the different species gazed upon each other, Belem in the obvious and awkward minority. Then someone remembered the injured members of the village and a handful of the curious reptilian men moved into action to attend to them, all the while keeping a wary eye on Belem.

He resisted an urge to step back, concerned that it might be taken as a show of weakness. He could not guess how these villagers would treat what they perceived as a vulnerability in outsiders. His mind would not accept that they could never think of him as such since it was he – not them – who had saved the village from the predator.

As the two injured guards were carried away by hand another villager stepped forward, eyes held steady on Belem. The lizard-man’s demeanor was filled with trepidation. Belem did his best to stand his ground and project stony confidence.

The reptilian man slowly raised an outstretched hand, palm up, and gestured to Belem with a come here motion. He then half-turned away and with his other hand made a slow sweeping gesture meant to encompass the village. Belem instantly grasped the nature of the motion. He was being invited to join the village, at least temporarily.

Belem only blinked in response. He looked away to the surrounding forest. The village offered a settled life. That was something he’d not experienced in a long time. Work. Food. Sleep. Purpose. It could be easy to stay, he considered. But only for the briefest of moments.

He realized the nagging sense that he needed to be close to the village had vanished. In its place, there was only indifference… and the old-standing thirst for revenge against Lycas Ryth. He refused to reflect on the origin of the impulse to come back to the village that had caused him to interject himself against the deadly beast now lying dead.

Belem turned his gaze back to the expectant villager. He raised both hands in front of his chest and pressed his palms against one another then bowed slightly at the waist. It was a gesture of thanks he hoped they understood. When he came up from the bow he slowly shook his head from side to side, delivering the rest of his answer.

He held the gaze of the other for a few moments to be certain his message was understood. When he perceived that it had sunk in, he walked away. All at once, the villagers started murmuring to one another. He did his best to ignore this and kept walking.

When he reached the edge of the village he heard the sound of one of the villagers jogging after him. He stopped, turned, and arched a curious eyebrow. It was the same one who had extended the offer for him to stay. At least he thought it was. He didn’t exactly have an easy time telling them apart.

The villager had a lengthy woven basket slung over one shoulder and over the other a bulging and sloshing leather bag filled with what Belem assumed was water. Belem looked at these for a moment before he shot a questioning look back to its bearer. He hoped this did not mean the reptilian man intended to join him in his travels. If so, he would refuse vehemently.

Instead, the strange creature lifted the basket and bag off his shoulders and proffered them toward Belem. Yellow eyes gazed expectantly. Belem reached forward and cautiously took the items. He could see red through the semi-loose weave of the basket. It was more of the fruit. A thank-you gift from the village, he supposed.

“Fair enough,” he said to himself. Then he dipped his head in acknowledgment to the villager.

The villager took two slow steps backward, keeping his attention fixed on Belem, then he quickly turned and ran back to the village. Belem stood and watched him go until he was out of sight.

He hefted the strap of the basket over his shoulder, took the strap of the water bag in his other hand, turned, and headed back into the forest.

CHAPTER 28. A STEEL MAZE AND A RAT

Utter blackness thicker and more suffocating than a burial shroud enveloped him. He turned his head to see if he could perceive any detail of his surroundings, but it did no good. The ambient light from outside had splashed against the far wall of the corridor just before he stepped into the well of darkness within the city wall. When the door closed behind him the light had been cut off and he was left in the void. He took a few steps further into the impenetrable shadow and held out both hands. His fingertips brushed against the steel of the corridor wall.

Within moments of his contact with the wall small amounts of illumination from ancient fixtures embedded in the ceiling weakly winked to life. He thought that he almost had imagined it at first until his eyes insisted to his mind that there were discernible shapes surrounding him. His ears also detected a faint noise, but he could not tell from which direction it originated. Neither could he discern the nature of it.

He pursed his lips as he glanced down one direction of the corridor and then turned his head to look the other way. There was no discernible difference between one direction and the other and therefore he could not figure out which way he ought to go. Any elation at finding the hidden door leading into the Citadel wall vanished because he was now doubly as lost as he had been before.

“Standing around is not going to get you anywhere,” he commented to himself. “Just pick a way and get on with it.” He nodded at his own advice and set off in the direction immediately to his left. As he started walking he realized that the lights had only come on within his general vicinity. Deep pools of darkness resided yet far ahead of him. As he went farther along he occasionally threw looks over his shoulders. He soon realized the corridor was also darkening behind him as he moved.

“So the light is moving with me,” he muttered. “Likely just enough for me to maintain a steady walking pace.” He wondered if he ran whether or not the lights would keep up. He elected not to test it.

During the first few minutes of his travel, he perceived a junction up ahead. Another hallway jogged off from the spot up ahead to the right. The wall remained solid to the left. Probably, he realized, because that was still the barrier of the interior part of the Citadel wall. He wondered briefly if he ought to delve deeper into the wall at this time, but he did not feel compelled to do so. Thus, he kept moving forward and passed the junction without turning.

He kept waiting for some sort of sense to come upon him and direct him where he ought to go. His mind however remained silent on the matter. A concern that this was naught but foolishness and that he would get lost and die inside the city walls grew steadily within him. It was only small and nagging at first, but it did not take long to become a noticeable threatening interior voice.

Before long he came upon yet another junction also running off to the right. This time as he came to it he halted and stared down the new passageway.

“All right,” he said aloud to whatever forces might be listening, particularly the ones that had brought him this far, “what now? Am I to direct myself at will, or should I wait and listen for instructions?” He paused and waited for an answer, but there was only silence and darkness. Even the small noise he had heard before had faded and ceased. He silently chided himself that it must only have been his imagination at work.

But then it reappeared, disturbing the quiet. This time it was a little louder and more distinct. It sounded like a minor mechanical whir. He could tell it was coming down from the new corridor at the junction.

He stared down that way for a few moments longer and considered that though he could not see whatever had caused the sound, perhaps whatever it was could see him. It might be best to get out of the way and hide. He moved to the opposite side of the junction and pressed his back up against the wall closest to the opening of the new corridor. As he stood frozen in place his mind began to parse out the noise. It was not continuous but periodic and rhythmic. There was a brief whir, then a click, then a pause, and then it started all over and repeated itself in this same manner. In the next few seconds, he realized that the sound was retreating down the corridor away from him.

“Should I get a closer look?” he asked himself.

He detached himself from the wall and turned to face down the corridor. He paused in the entryway and pondered going down the new way. Then he took a step forward, but another noise brought him up short. This one was a whispered voice.

It was so quiet and still, that he nearly dismissed it as a fancy of his imagination. He could not discern specific words and so halted again and waited. After a few heartbeats, the whisper returned. This time he could make out words.

“No. Not that way.”

The hairs on the back of Ariam’s neck went rigid and a cold sensation washed over his flesh.

After a few seconds, Ariam backed up a step but continued to stare down the corridor. He then turned away and continued a few more steps down the original direction he’d been moving but then stopped once more. He waited again, listening for more instruction. But none came.

Apparently, the voice was only going to correct him if he went down the wrong path. He drew a deep breath and then let it out in a frustrated sigh. He shook his head and then commenced walking once again.

As he pressed forward something brushed past his ankle and nearly made him jump out of his skin. His eyes dropped to the metallic plating of the floor and he beheld a rat scurry by him down the hallway. It continued its bouncing gait a short way further, then came to a stop and raised up on its hind legs. It held some morsel between its front paws and nibbled at it.

“Hello, brother rat,” Ariam said with a smirk. “Glad to see I am not the only one lost in these strange environs. What brings you in here?”

The rat turned its head and cocked it to one side as it beheld him. The furry rodent stared at him for a few moments, then returned to chewing at its little prize.

Ariam stared at the little creature favorably. Once upon a time, he would have been revolted by the thing’s presence. But now he saw it was simply a small life, part of a larger system of life on the planet. He would not approach it, knowing it possibly carried some disease or other, but he didn’t mind standing and appreciating it from afar.

When the rodent completed its meal it bounded away down the corridor even further. Ariam kept pace with it so that it remained in the light at the edge ahead of him.

They soon arrived at another junction and the rat turned down it. When Ariam came to the same junction he thoughtlessly turned down also. After a few steps in, the whispering voice returned.

“Careful,” it said. It registered in the back of Ariam’s mind that the voice did not prohibit him from going down this way. It only warned him to be wary.

Soon his ears registered the mechanical whir-click-pause again. The rat must have noticed as well because it halted its progress immediately. Ariam did the same.

This time, however, the noise neither grew closer nor weakened at a withdrawal. Whatever was making the noise must have been staying put.

The rat raised up on its hind legs once again and craned its neck as if to stare into the darkness.

“Better eyes than me, brother rat?” Ariam whispered, nervousness tinging his words. Then it occurred to him that it might not be wise to make noise. Suddenly the rat darted to one of the walls and began slowly moving forward once again. Not wanting to lose sight of the rodent Ariam crept forward as quietly as possible. He also pressed himself up against the same wall as the rat. He realized how silly a move this was. Whatever the rat was trying to avoid would surely spot Ariam before it caught sight of the rodent. It didn’t matter how closely he pressed himself against the wall. A man was a man and a rat was a rat.

Ariam kept pace with the rat, which required his movement now to be much slower. The rat was being cautious, or so Ariam imagined.

CHAPTER 29. A MECHANICAL MAN

The noise grew steadily louder. Soon out of the darkness Ariam discerned what appeared to be the shape of a man. His heart seized within him as he stood in place quietly, not daring to budge, not wanting to attract attention.

Something about this figure felt wrong, out of place. He was so… thin.

But why should his thinness matter to him, Ariam wondered? Then his mind put it together. It was no man. His eyes beheld an invention of legend. It was an android. The robotic servants of the original ship that now comprised various aspects of the human Citadel were long believed to have fallen out of use and eventually out of existence. Yet here was one of them.

Completely fascinated, Ariam crept another few feet forward. Soon the light ahead reached its form and spilled over the android’s robotic details. It was roughly the same height as a man and of approximately the same shape. There was a torso, two arms, two legs, and what approximated a short head. The head was the most peculiar part. It was as if the designer of the android had somehow never seen a man and had confused the head and the neck and merely split the difference between the two.

Ariam saw nothing approximating eyes or sensors upon the head and assumed that must mean it had its back turned to him. Though he could not be sure that was how such inventions worked, having never encountered one. However, a further examination indicated that the thing was indeed facing the other way.

Ariam took another step toward the mechanical wonder then halted. He remembered the whispered voices warning him of coming down this way. Was this what was meant to concern him? If it was, then so be it, but if the thing was dangerous how was he expected to move beyond it? The robotic being stood in the middle of the corridor. He would be noticed if he was to move beyond it.

He examined the robotic creature again to discern whether or not it posed any kind of obvious threat. His gaze slithered up and down its sleek figure. He noticed one arm terminated in a set of four mechanical fingers and a thumb. His eyes darted to the other hand and noticed it ended in a dissimilar fashion. Instead of a hand, there was a long cylinder. It did not take Ariam much imagination to understand this was likely a weapon of some kind. But why would a colony ship need an armed android? Unless of course, they expected trouble.

He supposed that hundreds upon hundreds of colonists cramped together in a single environment could potentially lead to the need for forceful intervention. He shrugged at this but thought he still ought to be cautious. Even though he posed no threat to the android, nor of course to the common peace of the colony ship, the thing was very old and might not be in proper functioning order. It might perceive any movement as a threat. He certainly hoped not, but caution dictated he be careful as the voice had whispered.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he looked that way to see the rat moving again. His eyes flicked back to the android which stood in place. The thing leaned forward a little which caused the whirring sound, then halted which produced the click. The cessation of this movement was the pause. It repeated the motion, though this time it straightened his back with the whir, and stopped with the click, followed by the pause. Whereas the other noise he had heard indicated that one of these mechanical wonders had been ambulating this one stood in place. Perhaps its power cells were depleted to the point to only allow the thing this particular repetitive motion and it would not be able to do anything further. The rat gambled that this was the case and darted out in front of the android.

Ariam held his breath as he watched the android and waited for it to either explode into action or merely continue its repetitive useless motion. As the rat bounded farther down the corridor, apparently unconcerned by the robot, the android suddenly changed. It had noticed the movement. It raised its left arm which terminated in the cylinder and the sound of something powerfully coming to mechanical life followed. Ariam guessed some sort of energy projectile weapon at the end of its arm was about to incinerate the rat. Nothing happened, however.

In the next instant, the android brought the cylindrical arm up in front of its face and tilted its head as it examined itself. Apparently, the android had expected something along the same lines as Ariam had. When it realized its primary weapon was going to be of no service, it lowered the arm and then burst into a run after the rat. Soon the rat was enveloped in the darkness of the steel hallway ahead. The automatic programming of the corridor lights did not deem the lighting necessary for the rat and so did not raise them. Neither did it raise the light for the android. That meant if Ariam was going to see the scene play out he needed to follow.

He grunted and then began walking at a quick pace.

Up ahead of him the light slowly grew to illuminate the darkened corridor and it fell upon the android and rat just in time.

The mechanical wonder became a mechanical terror when it caught up with the rodent. It raised its right leg and then, as a mighty piston, brought it down upon the rat, crushing it under its mechanical foot. The rat emitted a single squeal of pain and then was dead. Horror gripped Ariam’s heart. Coming closely upon this emotion was a terror for his own safety.

He opened his mouth to scream but then quickly covered it with a hand when he realized doing so might catch the android’s attention. It may not have had the use of its projectile energy weapon, but that didn’t mean its robotic body would not be a danger to him as it had been to the rodent.

The android lifted its leg off the dead animal and then set it down so that the thing stood and stared down at its kill. The mangled rodent twitched a few times but then went entirely still. A small red blood stain pooled around it but spread no further than a few inches.

Without warning the android spun around and gazed back down the way it had come. Ariam froze, fearing movement but also wanting desperately to flee. This only increased when the android took a step in his direction, followed by another.

Everything within Ariam screamed for him to turn and run. Yet something inside him warned him not to. He remained pressed against the wall of the corridor and watched as the android slowly ambled by him. In a few heartbeats, it was beyond him and moving back to the same position it had burst from in pursuit of the rodent.

“Go now,” the whispered voice came to his ears with urgency.

As quietly as he could Ariam detached himself from the wall and began backing down the corridor, keeping his eyes on the robotic threat the entire time. Soon the darkness enveloped the robot and the thing left his perception, though he could still hear it moving. When this happened Ariam turned and ran with as much haste as he could muster away from it.

Not long into his flight away from the dreaded android his lungs burned and his legs ached from the desperate effort. So he resumed walking instead of running. His heart still pounded furiously but at least now he felt he was out of danger from the mechanical terror.

As he continued down the corridor his ears were attentive for further encounters of robotic threat. However, the next interruption in the seemingly endless dark tunnel was not another one of the androids. It was a door.

He came within reaching distance of the door and stopped. He planted his hands on his fists and stared at it.

Without preamble, the door opened of its own accord and he was flooded with a wash of fresh air like he had never experienced. It was heavy with the scents of plant life.

His eyes beheld a dazzling array of forest greenery. Accompanying the sight and the smell was a variety of sounds: birds chirping and animals moving through the brush.

He raised a hand and scratched his scraggly bearded chin.

“Well,” he said to himself, “what are you waiting for?” He dropped his hand to his side once again and took a purposeful step toward the opening, filling the doorway, but stopped once more. He leaned forward and looked to the right and then to the left to make sure nothing waited outside his field of vision for him. The episode with the android had made him instantly paranoid. He did not like that.

He took a step beyond the door and now was outside of the Citadel wall. He lifted his eyes and saw the wall towering tall toward the sky. The smooth metallic exterior appeared unclimbable. There were no handholds or any other form of purchase allowing anyone to scale it. If he was ever to get back in he would need to come through this or some other door. He turned and looked at the open doorway and stared into the darkness beyond.

The door closed abruptly.

“Well, I guess that’s that,” he said to himself. He turned his face to the forest. He remained unmoving for several moments as he thought about what he ought to do next and where he ought to go.

“Okay,” he said, “now what?”

No answer came.

CHAPTER 30. A DAY OF EXECUTION

One swollen emerald eye came partially open at the sound of the cell door creakily moving on its hinges. He instinctively turned his head toward the noise and instantly regretted it. There was just so much pain. Hours of beatings and pointless interrogation had done their work.

The only articles of clothing he wore were a ragged pair of pants and a pair of scuffed and worn prison-issue boots. His hands were bound together by bloodstained manacles. Their viselike grip dug into the flesh of his wrists. He lay huddled in a corner of the cold cell.

The cell itself was dark and smelled of human waste. They did not take time to clean the space after each inhabitant moved on. Moved on, he thought to himself sneeringly. Carried out dead is more like it. He knew the workings of such places being the Captain of the Royal Guardians – well former Captain now. While he had never been part of any interrogation himself, he had escorted numerous prisoners down to this subsurface place.

Once his eyes adjusted to the piercing invasion of light he beheld the form of Lycas Ryth standing over him, triumphant. Everything inside him wanted to explode at the man and wrap his hands around his neck and crush his windpipe. But he was too sore to do that. Not to mention he could not move but a few inches beyond his current place considering the brief length of the chains holding him to the wall.

Cecil had only been in the cell for two days, or so he gathered. The last time he had seen Ryth was when he had been escorted out of his quarters. Under interrogation, he had tried mightily to convince the inquisitors that Ryth had been the one truly behind the assassination. His protests fell on deaf ears. He could not seem to penetrate their reason. It was as if they were incapable of entertaining the notion. Now staring into the smug face of Ryth his body flooded with rage.

He jerked forward and sure enough, the chains prevented him from going very far. He was but inches away from the other man. Close – tantalizingly close. Yet frustratingly too far.

“Now, now,” Ryth chided in a patronizing tone, “that will be enough of that.”

“What do you want, filth?” Cecil hissed.

Ryth stared at him for a few moments and tilted his head to one side. “I have come to inform you,” he drawled, “that the hour of your execution is at hand. Soon my guards outside will lead you to the public square. All the important members of the kingdom and many peasants as well are gathering as we speak. They congregate for you, to view your demise. There’s quite the buzz about it, actually.”

“It should be your execution, Lord Advisor,” Cecil replied making the other man’s title sound like a curse.

“I assure you, I do not know what you are talking about,” Ryth said casually. “Oh, and I am not merely the Lord Advisor, any longer.”

Cecil’s breath caught in his throat. He was afraid to ask but was compelled to anyway. What do you mean?”

A taunting smirk sketched Ryth’s face. “I suppose the news does not readily reach the dungeons. I have been elevated, along with two of the Citadel sector representatives to a new temporary office to assist the young Prince. I am now part of a governing triumvirate.”

“You’ve seized power,” Cecil whispered breathlessly.

Ryth shrugged. “Well, I’ve received it, anyway. It still feels good either way.”

“Don’t play your twisted games with me,” Cecil spat. “If this is truly my last hour do not treat me with such foolish contempt. I have served dutifully with honor and distinction.”

“Then perhaps I shall pin a medal on your corpse,” Ryth snorted a chuckle as he shook his head. “Would that please you?”

“Giving your body to the crows would please me,” Cecil said. “But only after I have vivisected you myself.”

Lycas Ryth crouched beside him and jutted his face forward to look deep into Cecil’s swollen eyes. “Still defiant,” he said. Then to himself, he said, “these people are nothing if not intransigent.”

Cecil furrowed his brow in a question, but Ryth shook his head and brushed it aside with a flick of his hand. He stood once again and clasped his hands behind his back as he stared down at the prisoner. He seemed to consider saying something, then turned and headed once more toward the door.

“This isn’t over,” Cecil shouted at his back.

Ryth stopped and half turned back toward Cecil. A smirk appeared on his face and he said, “I know. I’m only getting started.” With that, he turned and exited the door with his robes swirling behind him. The door remained open and Cecil stared that way pondering if he could figure out a way to undo his manacles and mount an escape. A foolish dream he knew, but he suspected every prisoner felt something akin to what he longed for now.

Soon two more forms filled the doorway. He supposed these were the men stationed outside his door as guards. They did not wear the purple and black uniform armor of the Royal Guardians, however. In fact, they wore no visible armor at all. They were shrouded head to toe in simple tan fabric. He instantly recognized them as members of Lycas Ryth’s personal entourage of guards.

Ryth did not utilize the Royal Guardians but had his own stable of deadly men to protect himself. Though their entire visages were concealed behind their uniform, Cecil recognized them right away. The shorter of the two was Chadae. The much larger specimen at his back was Castin. The Royal Guardians and the bodyguards for the Lord Advisor did not get along with each other for a variety of reasons, but these two were the worst of the bunch. They hardly spoke a word, but when they did it was always laced with heavy arrogance. He did not doubt both men were deeply enjoying this moment.

“Time to get yourself ready for the ball, Princess,” Chadae said with a sneer. He strolled casually over to Cecil and knelt in front of him. He held up an empty hand and twirled his fingers. Suddenly a key appeared in his hands as if out of nowhere.

Cecil narrowed his eyes. “Save your parlor tricks for your pathetic mouth-breathing friends back at the snake’s den you call a barracks.”

“Awful petulant for a man about to die,” Chadae quipped.

“Awful mouthy for a man born without wits,” Cecil retorted.

“Quit playing with the garbage,” Castin interjected. “We’ve got work to do.”

Chadae shrugged and went to work disengaging the chain from the manacles. Cecil’s hands were still bound painfully together, but he knew his suffering would be at an end soon. Until then he would refuse to give these men the satisfaction of knowing they caused him pain.

The two men guarding him seized him by his upper arms and lifted him to his sore feet and he suppressed a grunt of discomfort. Then they unceremoniously dragged him out of the cell.

CHAPTER 31. AN ESCAPE

The public square was positively trembling with the noise of hundreds of excited conversations. As they stood a few feet back from the doorway looking out onto the platform where his execution was to be performed in the sight of the entire kingdom, Cecil refused to experience shame. He knew he had done nothing wrong. More than anything he was frustrated he would not be able to visit justice upon the one truly responsible. His only hope would be that someday someone would put the evidence together and uncover what had truly happened. On that day Ryth would be apprehended and scheduled for his own public execution. The thought made him grin ever so slightly.

A shove at his back forced him out the door. He stumbled only a little bit but soon caught himself. As he came in view of the crowd a resonant boo arose, edged with a serpentine hiss from the crowd. Regardless Cecil had his held high as he stalked toward the execution stake in the center of the platform. He sensed Chadae and Castin just behind him. They were there to prevent him from making a run for it. Not that there was anywhere to run. Every entrance and exit to the public square would be guarded heavily. Running would only cause him to be caught moments later, and then there would be an additional layer of embarrassment added to the whole scenario. He did not want that. He had his pride.

He came to a stop before the waist-high execution stake. He lifted his eyes up and to the right and saw the royal balcony. Standing in the king’s place was the Prince. The boy shot a glance at Cecil and then his eyes went away just as fast. Yet in that one momentary glance, there was discernible disgust and hatred. The boy believed Ryth’s lies. As he was sure everyone else in this arena did. Well, almost everyone.

Standing beside the Prince was Queen Rivess. Radiantly beautiful as ever, nevertheless, there was an expression on her face. To most people, it would appear impassive and stoic. But Cecil knew the woman. He knew how to read her. He could tell there was great displeasure at these proceedings. And it had nothing to do with himself. A flick of her eyes told him the entire story. He followed the icy look she had given and discovered the third person standing on the royal balcony with them. Lord Advisor Lycas Ryth.

So, he thought, she does not trust him either. Good. Then perhaps there is hope one day he will be found out. But he put all of this away from his mind and focused on his last moments. He knew in the next few seconds, one of his two guards would step forward and affix his manacles to the execution stake. The other would draw the ceremonial sword from within the platform upon which they stood and await the order from the Prince. It would soon all be over. His purpose for living was gone. And now his life was coming to an inglorious end.

That was when the explosion rocked the platform.

His legs gave out and he tumbled to the platform, crumpling and then falling back. His two guard escorts were likewise knocked down. A great billow of smoke rose from the midst of the crowd who were now all panic-stricken and running and screaming in terror with really nowhere to go.

Cecil scrambled to his hands and knees and stared out at the area before the platform and then realized there was a sizable hole in the ground. Instant understanding of what was happening flooded his mind and he exploded into action. He pushed past all the soreness from the beatings he had received during his interrogations and flowed into action.

The guards who had been placed at all of the entrances had been so focused on keeping people from exiting the square at their stations that they simply watched in astonishment as Cecil drove toward the hole in the ground.

As his legs pistoned he heard the reports of energy pistols launching volleys at him. He had no time to concern himself over this. He had either to escape or stay put and die. There was no choice. He knew he must live.

Dead and unconscious citizens lay all about ground zero of the explosion but he did his best to pay these no mind. Others would deal with them in due course.

He, at last, reached the gaping hole and did not hesitate to jump in feet first.

He heard Lycas Ryth shout from behind him, “You fools, get after him!”

Not far below the twisted opening in the ground, his feet landed upon another surface. He found himself inside a steel corridor. There was no one present and it only led one direction. Pity, he thought, that will make it easier for them to run after me. He reoriented his thought to evasion and burst into action escaping down the hallway from his pursuers who he knew would be on his trail very shortly.

He came to a junction and immediately followed the branching hallway. As soon as he rounded the corner he heard the other pursuers land in the corridor. He pressed on with all his might, hoping against all possibility that he might get out of this yet. He knew his chances were slim but he would take what he could get.

He ran with reckless abandon not looking over his shoulder and taking junctions at random in a variety of directions. He did not know where he was going and did not even have any familiarity with this area. He simply knew that eventually, it would lead to a variety of secret entrances either back into or into the underground where the criminals thrived. Or…he knew there were also doors that led out of the Citadel.

He immediately rejected the idea of leaving the Citadel. That would be utter foolishness. The many dangers of the forests of Dar’ryn were well renowned. And besides, if he had any hope of bringing down Lycas Ryth, he would have to do it from within the Citadel. But before he could reemerge in the open air of the Citadel he would first have to descend. He would have to join with the criminal element.

The very idea left a sour taste in his mouth. Yet he was out of options. That meant he would have to seek a way downward. That assumed of course he could lose his pursuers.

He spent the next several minutes surveying his surroundings as he continued his escape. He looked for anything resembling a reasonable hiding spot so that he might allow the trackers to course past him and lose him. Yet he knew everything he saw would be checked thoroughly by those coming after him. And they would not stop until they found him.

Curse it all, he thought to himself. How am I going to get out of this? He stopped to catch his breath and planted his fists on his hips as he looked around, figuring which junction he was going to take next. That was when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He looked about desperately for anything that might serve as a hiding place but found nothing. It didn’t matter. A few seconds later three Royal Guardians rounded the corner and halted as they laid their eyes on him. Wicked grins spread across all their faces. These were men he knew. Two of them were men he'd personally trained.

One stepped forward and raised an energy pistol and pointed it at him. “We’ve got you now, traitor,” he sneered. “Put those hands up and do not resist or I will end you right here.”

Cecil grudgingly but obediently lifted his hands. The trio of guardians inched closer toward him, cautiously.

CHAPTER 32. AN UNEXPECTED ALLY

The sudden report of an energy pistol pierced the scene and he expected to find a hole in his chest. He looked down at himself and found his body completely intact. He lifted a questioning glance back to the Guardians who had been approaching him and was surprised to find that the lead guard was now crumbling to the ground. Cecil’s mind also registered the fact that the upper right corner of the man’s head was now gone. The other two Guardians whirled around desperately searching for a target at which to level their weapons, but two more shots in quick succession exploded forth and dropped them both. As soon as their bodies were out of the way Cecil beheld the short feminine form of Kaelinn walking toward the scene with an energy pistol up raised in her cybernetic arm.

She kept her weapon trained on the downed figures as she passed by them and gave them each only a cursory glance to make certain they were out of commission. She then holstered the weapon at her side as she came up to stand in front of Cecil.

They stared at one another for a few heartbeats and then she reached to a pouch on her belt and produced a thin piece of metal. Without waiting for his cooperation she reached her other hand forward and forcefully grabbed his wrists by the manacles and employed the lock-picking device on them. A few seconds later there was a satisfying click and the manacles dropped to the floor.

She lifted her face to his and said, “Time to get you out of here. Follow me.” She moved past him, but he remained rooted firmly in place and watched after her, trying to puzzle out what was happening and why. She turned and looked at him and said, “More could be here at any second. Are you trying to get caught?”

Cecil spared another look at his former comrades now all dead on the floor. He turned back to her and moved to follow the young woman. As she turned once more to walk away he followed after her and said, “This was all you’re doing?”

She snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She then explained, “This is the boss’s plan.”

“Vellin?” Cecil barked in surprise.

“He said he owed your predecessor one, and that this should put him in the clear.”

They fell quiet for a moment, then Cecil asked, “So what now? I’m supposed to join you?”

She came to a halt. “Yeah,” she said hesitantly, “about that…”

The way she said it and trailed off Cecil felt a bad sensation growing in his belly. “What?” He demanded. “First, you blow a hole in the ground, killing innocent citizens, free me, lead me away from my pursuers and then just abandon me? Do you expect me to find my way through all of this? How am I supposed to take down Lycas Ryth on my own? I mean the Citadel’s a big place and all…”

He froze when she turned and gave him a grim look. “You’re not staying in the Citadel,” she replied coldly.

His mouth dropped open to issue a vehement protest then he closed it again. The implication fell upon him quickly. “You want me to get out of the Citadel? You expect me to just exile myself out in the wilds outside? Are you people mad?”

“Look, we can’t keep you with us,” Kaelinn replied harshly. “You and I both know they’re going to look at us first. And what do you think will happen to all of us if they find you hiding among our number?”

“I’m not going outside.” Cecil folded his arms and stood staring defiantly at Kaelinn.

She took a few slow steps back from him and withdrew her energy pistol once again. She let it hang at her side, but the message was clear. “You don’t have a choice,” she said.

Tension rose between them as they stared each other down.

“You know,” she said, “I could just shoot you myself right now and turn your body over to Ryth. Probably get some kind of reward for it.”

“Then why don’t you?” Cecil asked acidly.

“Because then I’d be in trouble with Vellin. And I don’t need that kind of headache. Now do you want to live or not?”

“Going outside the walls is not much of living,” he said. “How am I supposed to make it out there?”

“What do I care?” she spat back. “I’m just doing what the boss tells me. The rest is your problem, not mine. Now, are we going to have a problem?”

He stared at her a few seconds longer then shook his head once. “No. Lead the way.”

“I don’t know that I can trust you. I think I’ll be better off if you went first. I’ll direct you.”

He looked back over his shoulder as if to consider the world he was leaving behind. He considered that it had already left him behind. Perhaps he wasn’t really losing anything by going out from it. After a few heartbeats, he turned to face Kaelinn once again and said, “So be it.”

***

Soon they stood before a door at the end of a corridor. She punched a few keys beside the door on a panel and the door whooshed open.

The forest was before him. He stood in the doorway and stared forward. He shook his head.

He hefted a pack that had been set at the doorway waiting for them. Inside was a few supplies and enough food to cover a week if he rationed it out well. Hopefully, that would give him time to figure out how to forage. Likewise, there was a shirt and a cloak for him. Lastly, and most helpful was a long-bladed knife.

Most surprising, however, was an old set of Royal Guardian armor. It was beaten and scratched, clearly having seen much use. When he’d lifted the armor out of the package and examined it in disbelief, he asked her, “How did you possibly come by this?”

She shrugged. “Not my secret to tell,” she replied.

He considered pressing the matter but instead decided to leave it alone and started putting the armor on. For its apparent age and all its obvious wear and tear, it remained in relatively sturdy condition.

Nevertheless, he cast a doubtful gaze at it. It would provide some protection against certain dangers of the jungle, but he didn’t think it would be enough.

As if she read his mind, Kaelinn said, “It’s a chance.”

He shook his head as he stared out at the forest. “It’s a death sentence. I’ve escaped one only to stumble into another. This is not a great improvement.”

“It’s a chance,” Kaelinn repeated insistently. “Better than some others get. Better than you’ve given to some.”

“That doesn’t shift the odds in my favor,” he said. “Trouble waits, regardless.”

“Welcome to being a criminal,” came her terse reply.

He turned and regarded her. The smug loathing look had evaporated from her face and there was something else in its place. Could it be sympathy, he wondered? It mattered little.

He turned back to the exile before him and took his first steps.

CHAPTER 33. A FOREST OF ARMAMENTS

Gael'jic crouched close to the forest floor. His head fin lay flat as he squinted at the Illuminoc plant. Its strange supernatural glow was absent.

He lifted his chin to look around at the rest of the plants. They likewise were dim. Thus far, traveling so close to evening would have almost ensured a lit trail of the curious plants. Nothing about this day suggested things should be any different, and yet here was a disturbance in the pattern.

He gently reached forward with one reptilian finger and flicked the flower of the plant where the blue glow normally emitted. There was no response. He drew back his hand and waited.

When he grew impatient enough he stood up and rubbed the dewlap hanging beneath his jaw with one hand. He could perceive no reason why this evening would be any different. He shrugged. Whatever invisible force had been leading him via the trail of the Illuminoc plants did not intend for him to make any progress at the moment.

He slowly swept his gaze around to take in his environment. He hoped chiefly not to see the threatening figure of whatever demon had visited him previously. He had trouble pushing that episode from his mind as he traveled along.

He considered briefly that such distraction could be the reason the illumination cutting a path for him had ceased. Perhaps it required his mind to be clear and devoted to the cause of moving forward. He gave it a few more moments of thought and then threw his hands up into the air frustrated.

How was he supposed to figure this out? His scholarship was in Dar’rynakai history and mythology. Notwithstanding, being confronted by the supernatural in this fashion grated against his rational mind. Like most other Dar’rynakai he preferred a view of life simpler than one allowing for gods, goddesses, and other invisible things.

There were certainly others of his kind who deeply believed in the Dar’rynakai people's myths, but he had relegated such occurrences to a mere curiosity. Most of the well-to-do Dar’rynakai thought and felt as he did. The myths were primarily morality tales couched in mysterious and spiritual language. They were not always easy to puzzle out, but if there were truly gods they must have abandoned the world. There never had been any sign of them that he could discern.

He sauntered over to the tree where he had laid his meager collected belongings. This primarily consisted of roots, fruit he had gathered that morning, and a small basket he was weaving out of thick grasses gathered along the way. The basket was almost complete and would certainly make carrying items he collected easier once he was done. He hoped to finish with it soon. Now that the trail of Illuminoc plants had gone cold he supposed he had time to spare to finish it off.

He sat down with the basket and went to work weaving the thick-bladed grasses together. Not long into it, however, he found his heart was not in it. He set the basket back down again and drew his knees up before him. He rested his forearms on them, then placed his chin across his arms.

He was agitated. He desperately wanted to know why the strange phenomenon of the glowing trail had deserted him. Without it, he was left feeling alone and vulnerable.

Vulnerable, he thought. The word lodged in his thoughts.

That caused him to recall the encounters he had with dangerous creatures like the demon tree and the Gurag. He was vulnerable in more ways than one, he supposed. He also recalled thinking he ought to get to work forming some sort of protective gear for himself. He knew the basic premises behind how his people made armor and weapons from the wood bark.

The hardest part would be making the fire. The rest he understood well enough to carry on and at least give it a try. He put his mind now to what he would need to gather. The first thing he required was a sharp stone. Since he was lacking any real tools that would be essential.

He got up once again and searched through the brush for any such implement. It took him much longer than he would have liked. He guessed it was at least an hour before he laid his eyes on a serviceable candidate.

He had come upon a small rocky outcropping and found many stones lying about. But only one served what he suspected he required. It was a piece of volcanic glass, unlike any other variety around. It was blunt, to begin with, but when he harshly banged it against larger parts of the outcropped stone he was able to get it to chip and shatter and create a sharp edge. By the time he was finished with this he was quite tired, his hands were sore, and so sat down for a breather. At the same time, he was energized.

He did not allow himself much time for sitting around because the hour was transitioning toward evening. If he was not careful he would have to wait until the next day before he could finish the task. That was unacceptable to him. An impulse to carry on with making the protective gear overwhelmed him with a sense of urgency.

He quickly made his way back to where he had left his roots, fruit, and incomplete basket near a grove of trees and a patch of dim Illuminoc plants.

He looked around and found a Raka tree that appeared to him the best choice to produce the bark he needed. He strolled casually up to the tree and raised his left hand and pressed his palm against the bark. He slowly drew his hand down the semi-rough exterior of the tree, appreciating its every contour. His eyes searched for what would act as a good seam and found one quickly.

He raised the crudely sharpened instrument in his other hand and pressed it into the seam. He then gently sawed with the sharpened volcanic glass until he witnessed warm sap oozing out of the wound in the tree’s exterior. He wished he had something to catch the sap and to apply later, but knew he would have to collect some in a while. There would certainly be residual sap within the bark, but it would not be enough for what he required.

He carried on for a long time carefully cutting and stripping large portions of bark away from the exterior of the tree. It was tedious work and by the time he was finished, he had ten medium-sized portions of bark. He laid them on the ground with the interior side of the bark facing up, so as not to gather detritus from the forest floor in the sticky sap left inside.

Next, he returned to the tree and wounded another part of it, and gathered handfuls of sap. Once his hand was filled he hurried back to the bark pieces and applied the sap liberally on the interior side. Having finished coating the interior he set them up and leaned two pieces against one another, tenting them so that the largest portions did not lay on the forest floor. This also allowed the meager wind to pass through and help dry the sap. But he did not want it too dry.

Dusk was nearly spent by the time he had finished collecting enough sap to coat both sides of the bark. Before long it would be dark, and only a campfire would produce the light he needed to continue working. He needed to get a fire going anyway for the final essential element to finish up the pieces of armor.

He sighed as he considered what it would take to get a fire going. Again, he was aware of the basics and principles of producing fire, but he had never done so himself. He had gathered twigs and branches for this purpose, as well as shredded sapling bark and gathered grasses to make tinder. He carefully constructed the fire pit first by clearing the ground of detritus and setting up a ring of stones on the outside. Within the stone ring, he set up a sizable pile of tinder. Upon these, he laid the twigs and branches he had gathered.

At last, he brought forth small stones and began to bang them against one another sharply. These stones were small, rough, and dry and he hoped would work as flint to create sparks. It was some time before he was able to produce sparks by striking the stones together but eventually, they did come.

The trouble now was getting the tinder and other materials to catch fire. Several times he had seen smoke starting and bent low to gently blow oxygen into the fire, encouraging it to catch but it hadn't succeeded. He had nearly given up when a small orange glow caught his attention. He got down on his belly in front of the fire and blew gentle breaths sustained into the lightly burning tinder to urge it on. Small gray tendrils of smoke began to rise from the pile of twigs and branches.

At long last, a tiny orange flame appeared amid the pile. Gael'jic reached forward and gently dropped more of the dried grasses he had gathered on top of infant flame. It took a few minutes to get going, but he had created a campfire for the first time in his life. He scrambled up to kneel and stare with victorious wonder at the flames he had generated. He carefully added more branches and sticks to the fire so that he might eventually produce the hot coals he would need.

It was full dark now and the only illumination came from his campfire. He lifted concerned eyes to stare into the noisy forest around him. He hoped he would not attract the attention of some large predator. Or if he did, that the fire would keep the thing at bay. After all, he was not armored yet. That caused him to think of another item he needed.

He walked to a nearby Raka tree and reached for one of the lower-hanging branches. He lifted the makeshift knife he had created and pulled on the branch while he sawed at its base. Once the branch was freed from the trunk he used the volcanic glass tool to shear away the smaller branches springing from it. He then stripped away bark from the end and sharpened it into a fine point. He turned back to the tree and wounded another place upon it to gather more sap. This he spread all over the exterior of what would become a spear. Once he had covered the soon-to-be weapon to his satisfaction he leaned it against the trunk of the tree and returned his attention to the fire. A short time later he had a satisfactory bed of coals available.

He tossed a few more branches onto the bed of coals, not wanting the flames to die down. But he also took two other branches and used them to extract a large lump of burning coal from the heart of the blaze. He brought the first makeshift piece of armor close to the fire and set it leaning against the stones. Next, he took the hot coal and held it close to the slick sap-covered surface of the bark. Keeping it no more than an inch or two away from the surface of the bark, he slowly moved the hot lump of coal around making sure that he thoroughly heated the surface.

When he sensed the coal was losing too much heat he returned it to the heart of the fire. He set down the two branches which he used to hold onto the coal for the moment and flipped the piece of bark armor so that the outside faced up. He withdrew another coal and repeated the process on the opposite side.

A long time ago his people had discovered that applying heat, though not direct fire, to a sap-coated piece of Raka tree bark produced a very tough material. It was so hard that it nearly rivaled the refined metals that the humans used for their strange sky craft and their other technological products.

Gael'jic repeated this process throughout the night applying heat to both sides of all ten armor pieces he had carved. By the time he was finished, he had what amounted to a rudimentary but complete set of armor for himself.

Lastly, he retrieved the branch he had fashioned into a spear and brought it to the fire. Instead of drawing out a piece of blazing coal, he held one end of the spear above the now burning bed of glowing orange coals. When he was satisfied that half of the weapon had hardened sufficiently he flipped the spear around and set the hardened end on the ground, propped by the stone ring around the fire. This allowed the unhardened end to be suspended over the flames. The recently hardened half would be too hot for him to handle with bare hands for a short while and so this was the best he could do.

When he was certain the hardened end of the spear had cooled sufficiently he wrapped his hands around it and twisted the other end over the flame, turning it like a spit. Soon his weapon was completed.

CHAPTER 34. A DREAM & A TRAIL

During the times he had waited for the armor pieces to cool he fashioned thin ropes out of vines he had gathered and sliced into long strips and twisted them together. These would be used to loop through holes he had crudely drilled into the armor pieces before he hardened them. Now he took these pieces of rope he had fashioned and tied the pieces of armor together.

Late into the night, he finally completed his work. He donned all of the armor pieces and took his spear in his right hand. He wished he had some sort of looking glass in which to view himself, but settled for simply looking down the length of his body. He beheld his new wooden exterior and a phrase came to mind.

“I am now one with the forest,” he said to himself. “I am Dar’ryn come alive.”

He suddenly recalled being attacked by the gruesome demon tree not long before, and a shudder ran through his body.

He closed his eyes and dipped his chin. As he stood in his newly fashioned armor in the light of his campfire deep into the night he realized suddenly how tired he had grown. Devoting himself to the forging of his armor and weapon had allowed him to not think about how much energy he had been expending. But now that his task was complete he could not deny his body the rest it demanded. He was almost too tired to climb into the Raka tree but knew that even though he had armor, he would be a fool to remain on the forest floor, making himself easy prey for any passing predatory.

He looked around and found the incomplete basket he had been weaving and tied it to one of the makeshift straps holding his new armor together. Next, he placed the shaft of the spear in his mouth and tasted the bitter flavor of the solidified sap. Now he climbed until he found a place to perch and sleep during the night. When he reached the spot he looked back down to the ground and gazed at the fire which was now burning low. He thought he probably should have doused it, but his tired mind was too distracted to even have considered it. He was now even too exhausted to even think about climbing back down the tree to deal with it.

He closed his eyes and very soon thereafter fell to sleep.

However, his slumber was shallow and troubled by dark dreams. He dreamed that he woke in the tree in the middle of the night and looked down at the still burning fire and saw the dark, demonic figure sitting by it warming his hands. The hooded face turned and looked up at him and they gazed into each other's faces. Gael'jic could still not make out the face of the demonic figure, but a cold chill ran through the center of him threatening to turn his entire blood content to ice. He trembled.

That was when he snapped awake. It was still dark when his eyes shot open and he looked down at the remnants of the fire near the base of the tree. There was no figure sitting by the stone circle as there had been in his dream and the fire had almost entirely died down. There were but a few small glowing embers and coals in the midst of it. He found his heart still beating madly from the terror struck in him by his nighttime vision. He shook his head as if to banish the remnants of the dream and worked mightily to slow his breathing.

When he opened his eyes again another glow apart from the fire caught his attention. His gaze drifted away from the fire pit back into the deeper part of the jungle where he saw a faint blue glow coming to life. It was the Illuminoc plants again. He sat on his perch in the tree and stared at it to make sure he was seeing what he believed he was seeing.

Could this be another dream? he wondered. The vision of the figure sitting by the fire seemed quite real, almost as real as this. But not quite as real. Yes, he was convinced this was happening.

He lifted a hand and rubbed his eyes. He was not as well rested as he would have hoped, but it would have to suffice.

He descended from his perch in the tree and arrived at the forest floor once again.

Having reached the base of the tree he stared in the direction where he saw the blue glow. He remained fixed in place for a few moments, then said, “If the flowers are on the move again, then so too must I be.” He checked to make sure the straps of his armor and the basket dangling from one of them were secure before he moved on. He hefted his spear in his right hand and set out.

Though it was still quite dark and dawn’s earliest hints were only beginning to touch the sky, the glow from the Illuminoc plants was sufficient for him to see his way without fear of stumbling in the dark. He cautiously followed the glowing trail all the while shooting fugitive glances off to the sides, expecting to see the dark apparition standing in the forest watching him. More than once he thought he had seen the glowing eyes of the figure, but they turned out to be merely his imagination working against him.

The sky grew steadily brighter as he spent hours traversing the forest. The fresh light of day helped to dispel his fears of seeing the strange, threatening form. He reasoned this no doubt had to do with some primal fear of the dark his people had inherited from facing nighttime dangers of the jungle in their earliest years. There were certainly more than enough deadly predators in the forests of Dar’ryn. He had even met a few personally of late.

He found himself moving steadily upward, traversing the incline of what eventually became a hill. By the time he reached the apex of the hill morning had dawned fully and the sun was beginning to clear the horizon. He stopped at the crest of the hill and took in a breathtaking view. On the other side of the hill, there was a vast bald valley. A large treeless swath of land stretched out before him. Off in the distance, there was another tree line where the forest abruptly began once again. His eyes drifted beyond this and something odd caught his attention in the trees. It was a far way off, but there seemed to be something poking out of the treetops. That must mean whatever it was had to be quite large. Then he spotted more than one of them. There was some sort of series of structures out there. But what could it…?

He gasped in surprise as it hit him. He had not been able to tell at first because the structures were covered in vines and other vegetation but those were towers. And there were many of them. He understood after a few moments he was looking at the decrepit remnants of an old city. But how could that be?

His people had gone from a primitive existence in the forests to fashioning for themselves a city-dwelling life carved out of the mountains. And the humans certainly had not been present on the planet long enough to construct such a city. Especially not one that had aged and fallen out of use.

He stood transfixed as he gazed at what could only be described as the greatest mystery he had ever countered. He had not even noticed that the Illuminoc plants had ceased providing a path. He stood staring at the strange ancient ruins for a long time before he realized the light from the plants had quit.

He scrutinized at one of the quiet dim flowers for a few moments and then realized this was what the trail had led him to. He was meant to explore these ruins. But why?

A sudden hissing whisper came into his ears that chilled his blood.

“Do not go that way. There lies death.”

It was the voice of the demonic figure.

Gael'jic whipped around to locate the speaker. There was none but himself present. He briefly considered shouting back at the voice, arguing against it, but decided this would serve no purpose. He turned his attention back toward the ruins jutting out of the forest off in the distance. He lurched forward and began moving toward it.

Blessedly, the voice did not reappear.

CHAPTER 35. A JUNGLE MYSTERY

Trekking through the jungle with the heavy wooden planks strapped to his back was not easy. His mood was not helping things much either. He set his jaw grimly and furrowed his brow in frustration. Every once in a while Belem mumbled some complaint to himself and then shook his head as if to dispel it.

It was oppressively hot yet the sun had not yet reached its zenith in the sky. He had waited until after dawn to begin his journey again and he already regretted moving out. He did not know where he was going and had no discernible purpose or direction. What he did have, however, was a compulsion to walk. Why he felt this he could not say. He only knew that he did. And so walk he did.

He halted, puffing heavily, and looked around for a good tree to sit under for shade. He was in a jungle and surrounded by trees, but there were many spots where the sun poked through the canopy above. He selected a large tree and tiredly stumbled over to it. He tossed the planks aside and deposited himself unceremoniously between two great roots.

He tossed a casual glance at the basket he had been given back at the village of the lizard people. Belem thought briefly about getting into the fruit but then stopped himself. He did not have many left and wanted to ration them out. He was parched, though, and so reached for the water skin they had given him and took three large swallows from it before replacing the stopper. Then he set the water bag down and leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes. He sat this way for a long time and focused on his true objective.

After a while, he spoke to himself. “Why are you doing this?” he asked. “You don't even know if you're going in the right direction. For all you know, you could be walking farther away from Lycas Ryth!”

He brought his head up and opened his eyes. He looked around at his forested surroundings and made a derisive noise. “I am never finding my way out of here, am I?” he asked. An icy blade of despair slowly pierced his soul following the question. The sensation was such a surprise to him, so out of place for his normal way of being that he rocketed up from his spot and covered his heart with his left hand. A small gasp escaped him.

If he had not known any better, he would have said the sensation was not his own. It was as if he were receiving some sort of signal from outside himself. He knew that to be crazy, but that was how it felt. He could not explain it any other way.

Then as suddenly as the feeling had come it vanished. He looked around once again searching for… He didn't know what. But he expected to see another person standing there. A person who had spoken the feeling into existence inside of him. A new emotion grew within him. It was anger. This one he could identify as his own. He knew anger very well. It was more a part of him than almost any other aspect of his nature. He could almost live without food or water before he could live without rage. It was nearly always there, ready to be grasped if needed and put into action. It was like a trusty blade at his side.

A blade was something he did not currently have. Before he had been apprehended and imprisoned on the barge by the Citadel authorities, he always preferred to keep at least two blades on himself at all times: one larger one resting in a sheath on his hip for all to see and fear, and one slender-bladed knife concealed at the small of his back under his vest. He’d made good use of both. At that moment he wanted more than anything to wrap his fingers around the hilt of a knife. He felt naked without one, vulnerable.

He cursed himself and thought he should have requested a weapon from the lizard people. Not that they had very many competent examples of those lying around. If they had then maybe the large predatory cat that had attacked them would not have been as much of a problem as it had been.

From behind him, he heard something move through the brush. He leaped away from his place at the tree and spun to look in the direction of the noise. He stood poised for violence waiting for something to come at him out of the woods, but nothing did. Neither did he see anything moving. All he could see was an empty forest. He slowly stepped to the right to see if getting a different angle would reveal what had caused the sound. He moved carefully so as not to give away what he was doing. Nevertheless, this maneuver gained him nothing.

He crept back to the tree and picked up his basket of fruit, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on the area beyond the tree. He then collected up the water bag and moved over to the fastened-together planks and hefted them up. Now that he had gathered up all of his belongings he began moving again through the jungle but kept a careful watch in the general vicinity of where he had heard the noise. Until he was a good distance away he did not tear his attention away from that vicinity.

And as Belem moved along he occasionally shot glances behind him just to make sure he was not being followed. It felt as though someone was now watching him tracking his every move. He hoped this was mere paranoia, but something told him it was not.

He was so distracted he hardly noticed the structures concealed by vines and overgrowth out in the distance. When his understanding finally apprehended what was out in front of him he halted in surprise. He blinked and then rubbed his eyes to make sure he was not imagining this. Sure enough, there were abandoned buildings out in front of him.

He cautiously crept his way forward, keeping an eye on the structures to make sure nothing was home that might come charging out at him. He drew ever closer and his attention became more fixated with wonder on the dilapidated structures. As he came closer he discerned the composition of many of the buildings. They were a combination of either stone or brick and mortar and wood and sometimes even plates of steel. When he looked down at the ground he was treading upon he realized he traversed an old cobblestone street heading towards the place. He came to a halt yet a few yards out from the gathered buildings. It was a much bigger settlement than he would have imagined now that he was closer. The place seemed to be an entire city and a fairly large one at that.

Creeping vines grew over every structure. Yet they were not entirely covered. He walked up to the doorway of one of them, set down the wooden planks and basket he carried, and poked his head inside. There was a wooden door that lay flat upon the ground just inside. It had been forcefully broken inward. It had a growth of moss over much of it. But he also saw parts of the door had been charred and blackened. He crouched beside the door and reached a hand out toward it gently brushing one of the burn marks with his fingertips. He then lifted his eyes to look around. Everything within the place was in shambles.

Dust moats floated through beams of light that came in through broken portions of the wall and shattered windows. He stood up and planted one fist on a hip as he rubbed his chin with the other hand. Whatever happened there had been violent. He turned and walked out the door again.

His feet carried him almost unwittingly deeper into the ruins. He was a good five paces on his way before he realized he had decided to explore the place. As he moved slowly and purposefully down the street he swept his gaze all around. He saw that every one of the structures was in about the same state as the first with some variation. A few of the structures were completely crumbled inward upon themselves, destroyed. A few others were a little better off, but not much.

He stopped and stared at one of the domiciles. There was something about it that struck him as odd though he could not quite decide what. He gazed at the building for a few moments before it struck him. The door was significantly taller than the first place he had seen. He tilted his head and squinted his eyes as he looked at it.

Is that it? he wondered. A bit odd perhaps, but should that be a big deal, I wonder? Why am I so…? Then he turned and looked at the next building. It also had an extremely tall doorway. His eyes moved to the next one. He considered the doorway of that building to be of normal height compared to the previous ones. He glanced across the street and saw the variations of taller and shorter doorways present there, too.

“That's odd,” he said to himself. “Why would they vary the heights of their doors? Why not just make them all uniform?” He decided to walk up to one of the buildings with the taller doorway and snoop around inside. Once he passed through the doorway he casually investigated. He was soon disappointed as this place was just as much of a wreck as the first place he had entered. He did not know what evidence he hoped to find. But there was nothing that answered why the different kinds of doors between the places were dissimilar. Nor did he understand why he even cared. Yet there was something about it that nagged at him. It was much like the sense of urgency to keep walking when he did not want to. It was merely something there that Belem could not explain nevertheless it compelled him.

He screwed up his face in concentration and slowly turned back toward the doorway. Lost in thought, he took slow and absentminded steps back outside. His only warning that something was wrong was a small noise behind him and off to his left. It started low like a minor rumble but it grew steadily. An alarm rang in the far reaches of his mind cutting through the fog of concentration, forcing him to turn around quickly. He faced the threat just as it reached him.

CHAPTER 36. A BEAST AMONG THE RUINS

A snarling greenish blur of motion collided with his body sending him sprawling to the uneven stone street. He and the thing tumbled a short distance as he grappled with the thrashing monstrosity. He thrust his arms forward to keep it at bay. Snapping jaws lunged for his face but he barely managed to twist his head to one side to avoid getting caught in them. He interjected a foot between himself and the creature kicking with all his might and thus he shoved the thing away.

Now that he was free of his opponent, he scrambled to put a bit more distance between them. As soon as he was outside of arm’s reach he rolled on the ground and came up in a crouch to face his enemy. The creature scrambled to its feet and stood hunching and glowering at him. Its long reptilian snout dripped saliva as it gazed hungrily back at him. His mind registered a variety of similarities as well as dissimilarities with the lizard people he had met in the village. The chief difference was the shape and size of its head.

A tall fleshy fin protruded upward from the crest of its heavy brow. It had a longish snout with a broad lower jaw that jutted a bit farther than its upper mandible. Long rows of crooked fangs stuck out in a variety of angles from its lower jaw. It was also quite a bit taller than the lizard people of the village and had a long tail that agitatedly thrashed back and forth. Also unlike the reptilian villagers, it wore no clothes.

The creature issued another low growl as it bent low preparing to pounce. Belem steeled himself against the advent of the creature’s attack. The thing launched itself at him and he dove low beneath it. The creature shot overhead and he barely managed to avoid the attack. He tucked and rolled and came up into a standing position facing the thing once again. He turned in time to see the creature beating on the ground with both hands in a show of frustration. It shook its head and growled. It then lifted its face to behold him and opened its jaws wide and issued a horrendous hiss at him.

“Come and get me if you dare, savage,” Belem shouted at the thing. What he wouldn't have given to have one of the spears from the village at hand.

The creature leaped again and this time instead of trying to dodge Belem lanced forward to meet it.

The reptilian menace’s jaw opened wide, attempting to snap at his throat. Belem shot his right arm up palm flat and connected with the front of its snout driving the creature’s head to the side. At the same time, he drove his left hand forward and punched the thing in the throat. The monster gagged briefly and stumbled backward. It clawed at its own throat and shot Belem an astonished look.

“Not so easy prey am I, beast?” He raised his hands in a fighting stance and beckoned for the thing to come at him again. Now that the element of surprise was over Belem found himself in his element. He was ready for violence and he could give as competently as he could take. A blade at hand would have been preferred, but he was no stranger to hand-to-hand combat.

The creature took one long step toward him and stopped in the middle of the street. It then turned and pivoted thrashing its tail at him. He had not anticipated this kind of attack and the wind was knocked out of him when the powerful tail connected with his midsection, sending him flying. His back struck one of the buildings causing bits of the exterior to crumble and fall as he slid down it.

His lungs demanded air, but his mouth and nose could not seem to fulfill the request. He pounded his chest with a fist and then his lungs drew in a sharp cold breath of fresh air.

Belem dropped his hands to the ground searching for something, anything with which to defend himself. His fingers came across a slightly larger than fist-sized rock. It might not be much, but he would rather have it than nothing he supposed.

The creature charged at him. He scrambled to his feet to meet the threat. The reptilian beast stopped within arm’s length and swiped a clawed hand at him. Belem ducked underneath this strike and then shot the stone-bearing hand up and struck at the side of the creature’s head. The stone connected with the beast’s cheekbone and drove his snout to the side. A pained grunt escaped the monster. But then it turned just as fast and was back on the offensive.

The creature swiped with its other clawed hand but Belem darted closer inward and lifted his arm to prevent the attack from completing.

The reptilian thing opened its mouth wide and unleashed a rageful roar at him. Belem took the opportunity and lanced the hand bearing the stone forward shoving it deep into the creature's mouth. Once inside he deposited the large stone in its gullet and then he ripped his arm back out. Teeth snagged his flesh along the way and tore long gashes in his forearm. He stifled a cry of pain and instead lanced a foot forward to kick the enemy in its midsection. He would have a few more scars to add to his collection.

The reptilian beast stumbled backward choking on the stone that Belem lodged in its throat.

“Choke, you wretched…”

He never got the chance to finish the taunt. The thing spun once again and struck at Belem with its tail. The tail connected with Belem, this time hitting him in the face and twisting his head at a terrible angle. The back of his skull connected with the wall behind him and he heard a sickening noise before the world went blurry and he collapsed to his knees. His head spun and he felt a deep nausea rise within his guts. He began to wretch until he threw up the minimal amounts of whatever had been in his belly. He thanked himself for not getting into the fruit this morning. It would have been a waste.

When he regained his senses he directed his gaze at the creature that now lay thrashing on the ground and scraping at its neck causing gashes with its long claws. The thing flopped around like a dying fish freshly ripped from its watery home.

Belem remained on his knees and propped up by both hands as he watched with a sneer as the creature died unable to get a life-sustaining breath past the stone. When he was certain the monstrosity posed no further threat he sighed in relief and collapsed to the ground. The world went dark and he slipped out of consciousness.

He dreamed a jumble of nonsensical things he would not recall with clarity upon waking later on. There were voices and visions of strange people he had never seen and an odd tall lizard-like being, not unlike the thing he had just killed. Yet somehow it had been different. His mind could not grasp these things well as they came mostly in disconnected flashes. It made as much sense as recognizing a stranger.

He came to slowly and groggily. He was not completely convinced that he was awake. Everything still seemed a blur and jumbled. He realized after a few moments that his face was pressed against the stone path serving as a street in the dilapidated city ruins. His neck was incredibly sore and he felt slick wetness on one side of his face. His head was bleeding.

Aches and pains shot throughout his body. He was sure there were bruises aplenty covering him. His midsection in particular felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. He would not be surprised to discover if he had broken ribs.

He could not bring himself to turn over onto his back, let alone get up. He wanted nothing more than to slip back into sleep. He knew that was probably foolish. If there were one such of these creatures around, there could be others. He had no idea whether or not they traveled in packs. It had certainly seemed wild and volatile, so perhaps it was a solitary specimen. Nevertheless, perhaps he ought to crawl his way through an open doorway and try as best he could to stash himself and hide within one of the buildings. It would not do to be discovered and devoured by a hungry creature. He had always heard how there were more dangers than could be counted out in the world of Dar’ryn.

The sound of movement entered his ears and his body seized with concern.

He painfully lifted his head to ascertain what might be close by and if it was a threat. He could see nothing as of yet, but could not tell from whence the sound came. It might be from behind his position. His neck hurt too much to attempt to look back that way.

He grudgingly pushed himself up from the ground and a bevy of pained grunts escaped him involuntarily. He had to get up, he had to get out of sight.

The sounds were louder now. Something was coming.

He collapsed again and blacked out.

CHAPTER 37. A STRANGER IN NEED

Is he dead? Ariam wondered. This was closely followed by: What’s he doing out here, anyway? He sat upon the stone path cross-legged, his hands propped up his chin as his elbows rested on his knees. He stared at the human body lying face down before him. He couldn’t tell whether or not the man was breathing.

He thought about getting a stick and poking at the man but then thought that was probably rude. Besides, he had no idea how the man would take to being prodded in such a fashion. And if anything was clear from the scene before him, the man had been prepared for violence if necessary.

Ariam’s eyes flicked to the dead creature lying not far away. Even with life absent from the body, Ariam could tell the thing had been dangerous when it still lived. The claws and teeth alone indicated that much. But also the structure of the animal was impressively muscular.

He wanted a better look. Ariam stood up slowly and sauntered over to the dead thing. He stared down at it and beheld its wide-open eyes that stared into nothingness. Even though there was no mind behind those eyes Ariam read the primal terror that had flooded them moments before the creature passed away.

The mouth hung open and a large dripping tongue lolled out to one side. The scaly flesh around its long snout was darker than the rest of it. Ariam’s attention focused on the back of the open mouth where he saw what looked like something lodged in its throat. So it had choked to death.

“Curious,” Ariam commented to himself as he turned to behold the fallen man with renewed interest.

He looked away from the man and then crouched beside the fallen creature. He reached out a curious hand and stroked the scales around the snout. He was half expecting the creature to come back to life and snap at his hand. The muscles in his arm were tense and ready to recoil in such an eventuality. No such event occurred. He withdrew his hand anyway.

He almost reached his hand forward once again to close the eyelids of the dead thing but resisted the urge. He allowed his gaze to drift over the creature’s curious form. In many ways, it was built like a man, though it was quite different in many others. He suspected this was one of the famed Dar’rynakai. The savage native beings of this planet were notorious for their brutality and vicious nature. Yet something about this creature as he looked upon it told him it was even more savage than he had anticipated of such sentient animals. The shape of its brow and jaw suggested a level of primitiveness he did not expect.

There were other rumors that the beings were intelligent, perhaps as intelligent as humans. When he looked upon this poor creature he did not get that impression. But then rumors might be nothing more than fantasy or conjecture.

The thing wore no form of clothing and carried no obvious weapon. There was bloody residue on its teeth and claws. And that tail looked like a force to be taken seriously.

The man on the ground stirred and Ariam turned his attention back to him. Not wanting to impose an idea of threat, Ariam sat down on the ground so that when the other man took notice of him Ariam would not be towering over him. He folded his hands in his lap and waited.

The prone man moaned a few times and turned his head. He now faced Ariam but his eyes remained closed. The beggar cleared his throat to announce his presence. The man’s eyes shot open and stared at him.

“Hello,” Ariam said. “Don’t mind me. I was traveling when I happened upon you and wanted to see if you were unwell.”

“Is this…?” the man began but then scrunched his eyes closed and brought his hand up to the bridge of his nose and pinched it. Another pained moan escaped him.

“Take your time,” Ariam urged gently.

The man flattened his hand and rested it on the ground by his face. His eyes opened once again and he stared at Ariam with great curiosity. “Are you real?” he asked. “Is this a dream?”

A contemplative look overtook Ariam’s features and he paused. “Well,” he said, “I am real, and if this is a dream it would be mine, not yours.”

“What?” the other man croaked. He grunted again, then added, “Your talk makes about as much sense as a dream.”

A smirk tugged at one corner of Ariam’s face. “Maybe so,” he said.

The man’s eyes darted to the fallen creature laying prone beside Ariam. He looked back to the beggar and then cautioned, “Careful with that thing. It’s dangerous.”

Ariam looked over at it and shrugged. He looked back at the man and said, “I believe it’s dead. I think the danger is past. Until now I wasn’t sure whether or not you were dead. I’m glad to see you’re alive.”

“Glad?” the man croaked. “Why glad? You do not know me.”

“You are a life,” Ariam explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “All life is valuable. When life is snuffed out, even one such as this miserable creature,” he said, indicating the dead reptilian beast, “then something is subtracted from the world. An entire realm of possibilities is snuffed out.”

The man slowly pushed himself up from the ground to a sitting position. “You sure you’re not a dream?” he asked.

“As sure as anything I suppose,” Ariam replied.

The man lifted a hand and covered his eyes as he coughed. Blood caked one side of his face. He looked as if he had taken a nasty beating.

“Can I offer assistance?” Ariam asked. “I have no medicines but I can tend your wounds at a basic level.”

A hand came away from suspicious eyes. “Why would you help me?” the man asked in low gravelly tones.

“As I said, every life is valuable. You have been injured and I want to help.”

“I don’t understand,” the man replied. Ariam could see the conflict in his face. There was also a mountain of distrust behind his eyes. Here was a man conditioned to rely solely on himself. Ariam suspected the presence of unhealed trauma.

“That’s all right,” Ariam said at last. He lifted his face away from the man and stared at the ruins surrounding them. “Many things are difficult to understand. Our universe is an unfathomable place much of the time. Take for example this place and our being brought here.”

“Brought?” the other man asked dubiously.

“Certainly,” Ariam responded. “I came here because I felt drawn to this place.”

The stranger ground out a disapproving grunt. “Mystical nonsense,” the wounded man murmured.

“Are you sure?” Ariam asked in a teacherly tone. “Consider the following: all the humans on this planet are congregated in one place – the Citadel. The rest of the planet belongs to the natives and whatever wild beasts roam freely. Yet two humans, completely independent of one another venture out from the Citadel at the same time and wander in the vast unexplored reaches of a savage world only to end up at the exact same spot at the exact same time.” He lifted his hands to indicate their surroundings. “And here we are.”

“Here we are,” the stranger sneeringly repeated Ariam’s words. He sighed, pointed to the wound on his head, then said, “get on with it.”

A smile of genuine satisfaction spread across the beggar’s face. He got up and walked over to the other man and knelt before him. He stretched out a hand and gingerly touched the cheek of the stranger and looked at the wound above it.

“This isn’t that bad,” he said. “It probably doesn’t feel great, but it will heal. Although you might have gotten a concussion. I can’t quite tell that. I am no doctor ever after all.” His attention drifted down to the gouges on the man’s arm. “Those on the other hand, are a different story. How did you get them?”

“Shoved a big rock down the thing’s throat to choke it. On the way out its teeth dug into my arm.”

Ariam nodded along with the explanation. “Hmm. Best clean that right away. Do you have any water?”

“There is a water skin lying around here somewhere. Should have some water left in it.”

Ariam nodded and stood up. He paced around until he found the water skin. He retrieved it and sauntered back over to him. He pulled out the stopper and washed the arm in a gentle trickle of water. Ariam tore a strip of cloth from his shirt and dabbed at the wound.

“I don’t suppose you have any extra cloth?” Ariam asked. “This will need to be bound.”

The man shook his head.

“Neither do I,” Ariam said with a sigh. He thought for a moment and then shifted his gaze to the jungle. He recalled seeing a large-leafed plant growing nearby. He got up and sauntered over to it and collected one of the leaves. He then located some vine tendrils hanging nearby from a tree branch and pulled a few of them down. He walked back over to the man and said, “I’m going to wrap this leaf around your arm and then tie it in place with these vines. I don’t have any bandages, but this is the best I can do.”

The man only grunted.

As he went to work tying the leaf bandage on the man’s arm, Ariam asked, “Do you have a name?”

The man simply looked at him with narrowed eyes. He seemed to weigh something mentally then said, “I am called Belem.”

“Belem, I am pleased to meet you. My name is Ariam.”

Belem’s mouth dropped open and he appeared ready to issue some biting remark, but then his mouth snapped shut. Perplexity took hold of his features as he stared back at Ariam. Ariam knew what this was about and had decided long ago to avoid the topic whenever possible. But it came up anyway.

“Do I know you, Ariam?” Belem asked.

Ariam perceived the slight flicker of recognition in the other man’s face. He also could tell Belem could not quite uncover with clarity how he might know Ariam. Ariam intended to keep it that way.

“No, but I used to get that a lot. Just have one of those faces I guess.”

“Right,” Belem said drawing out the word. He remained unconvinced. Ariam internally winced. He had been led here to this city by some unseen force, and no doubt so had this other man. Yet there was already a small wedge of distrust driven between them. This was not a good start.

“How did you come to be here, Belem?”

“I can’t see how that is any business of yours,” Belem growled.

“I am merely curious,” Ariam replied. “I meant no offense.”

“It is a long unpleasant story and I do not care to share it. Especially not with a man I do not know.”

“Fair enough,” Ariam replied, holding up surrendering hands. He completed tying the leaf in place and withdrew his hands and folded them in his lap once again. He spread a broad and reassuring smile across his face in hopes of assuring the other man he was no danger. It didn’t seem to work. Belem simply turned his face away, shaking his head and mumbling.

“My coming here was of odd circumstance,” Ariam said.

“I didn’t ask,” Belem replied gruffly not looking back at Ariam.

Ariam continued as if Belem had said nothing. “I was a beggar back in the Citadel. Strange things began to happen and I was led by…something, I am not quite sure what, to exit the Citadel. I found myself traveling inside the very walls of the Citadel and then was led by a whispering voice to an outer door. I passed through it into the jungles and found my way here. Quite odd, don’t you think?”

“I don’t care,” Belem said. But Ariam detected a lie in that.

“If you say so,” the beggar replied. He lifted a hand and scratched his beard in thought. He was struck with fresh thought and turned an expectant face to Belem. He said, “I think it would be wise for us to stick together.”

Belem barked a derisive laugh. “I’m not interested in making friends,” he said. “I’ve made it this far on my own and I do not intend to take on extra baggage now.”

Ariam shrugged and replied, “Don’t think of us as ‘friends,’ then. Consider it a limited partnership.” He stood and proffered his hand to the other man.

The two of them stared at each other for a handful of heartbeats. Belem finally issued a relenting grunt and stretched out his hand to take Ariam’s. Ariam helped pull the man to his feet.

CHAPTER 38. A CONVICT & A BEGGAR

“Let’s keep something straight,” Belem said in a tone of warning. “I would just as soon kill you as converse with you. Understand?”

Unperturbed by the underlying threat, Ariam smirked and replied, “I have been called a bit of a conversationalist in my time. I will do my best to tamp down on this proclivity.”

Belem rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll come with you. I could use someone to distract hungry monsters while I escaped with my skin intact.”

“It’s a deal,” Ariam said. He helped Belem collect up his meager belongings. When they came to the remnant planks from Belem’s destroyed prison barge Ariam pointed and said, “Where in the world did you ever happen across this?”

“That’s part of the ship that I…” but he trailed off. He clammed up having caught himself about to reveal something of his past, then thrust a dismissive hand through the air and said, “You know what, never mind. Just found it to be useful. It’s a shelter and a shield from the weather. Nothing more.” He turned away from Ariam so he would not be pressed into explaining further and started walking into the ruins. Ariam was by his side a second later.

They walked on in silence, heading straight down the street for most of the way. Then both of them in unison turned right at an intersection of streets.

They carried on this way for some time, mostly in silence. Sometimes Ariam would ask a question and every time Belem would deflect it.

Then a thought occurred to Ariam as they wandered along. Belem caught the expression of curiosity on Ariam’s face and asked, “What? What is it now?”

Ariam came out of himself and shook his head.

“It’s just that…” he paused as he thought about how to explain it. “Something a little odd occurred to me just now.”

“I suppose you’re not going to be satisfied until you let me know what it is?”

“Not exactly,” Ariam replied. “But I want to test something.”

“I’m not in for games, beggar,” Belem growled.

“Not a game,” Ariam said thoughtfully. “But I wonder if you wouldn’t mind helping me out? It won’t require anything of you beyond a few answers to questions at key times. Can we do that?”

Belem shot him a withering glance, then relented and answered, “I don’t suppose it will hurt anything. Why not?”

“Very well,” Ariam replied, pleased. He motioned for them to continue and so they walked a little way farther. When they had almost come to an intersection, Ariam asked, “Which way do you think we should go next?”

“Straight,” Belem responded without a second’s hesitation.

“Straight it is,” Ariam said. They carried on a little longer past a few more intersections and then Ariam said, “What about now?”

“Turn left,” Belem said as if it were obvious.

They journeyed this way for a few more minutes before Ariam said, “All right, let’s stop for a second. I want to make a few observations.”

Belem rolled his eyes once again and stared at Ariam, waiting impatiently.

“I noticed earlier,” Ariam began, “that we both were going the same direction and taking the same turns at the same time without consulting one another. After I noticed that I decided to put a curious theory to the test. So whenever we came to an intersection where I felt a specific direction needed to be taken, I asked you what you thought. I did this to confirm my suspicion.”

Belem shrugged without understanding and said, “So?”

“Well, I turned out to be right,” he said. I wanted to be sure which direction I thought we should go before I asked you the question. In every case, your direction turned out to be precisely the same as mine.”

Belem shrugged in a ‘so what?’ gesture.

“That tells me what I have suspected for a while. It’s not just me. You and I are both being led by an unseen force to the same destination. And it’s somewhere here in this ruin.”

Belem blinked a few times, made a dismissive noise, then said, “You’re crazy.”

“Am I?” Ariam asked confidently. He could see his explanation was already working to undo Belem’s suspicions about himself. “Just think about it,” he said.

“I don’t want to,” Belem snapped back. “I’m not interested in destiny or Providence or whatever else you think this might be. I am headed somewhere else and I will not be deterred from my set path.”

“And what is that exactly?” Ariam pressed pointedly.

Belem took a menacing step toward the beggar. He stood almost nose to nose with him and glowered at the other man. “That is not your business,” he hissed, emphasizing each word.

Even though Belem was half a head taller than Ariam and well-muscled, Ariam did not back down and was not intimidated. That only seemed to frustrate Belem all the more. He wondered with detached curiosity if Belem might strike him. It seemed like he wanted to.

Ariam shrugged and turned away from the man. He took a few steps and then halted. He felt his gaze being drawn upwards. The next thing he knew Belem stood by his side and stared with the same awe as he did at the same object.

An impressive dome-topped structure stood off a little way in the distance in what Ariam assumed to be the center of the ruins. It was nearly hypnotizing to behold. Great vines grew all over the structure, but they seemed to have less of a hold on this building than with the rest of the ruins. There was something majestic about the place, something indescribably mesmerizing.

An involuntary grunt of appreciation escaped Belem.

Ariam half turned his face toward the other man and with a knowing grin said, “You think we ought to go there, don’t you?”

Belem lowered his head, shook it in defeat, and without a word started walking off toward the building.

CHAPTER 39. A PECULIAR DISCOVERY

He might have been mistaken for a statue had it not been for the rising and falling of his chest as he breathed. He stood dumbstruck and transfixed by the sight ahead of him. Everything about it was wrong.

Gael’jic had expected that as he drew closer to the place, his mind would have unraveled the mystery of why such ruins would be sitting abandoned amid the jungle. He was certain his rational mind would concoct a perfectly reasonable solution for its existence. In truth, he hoped that it had simply been a mirage, a figment of his imagination and that when he drew closer, he would discover that they were simply oddly shaped trees sticking high out of the canopy of the jungle. But that was not to be.

Now he stood upon a rough cobblestone street in a broken-down archway that he assumed once had served as a primary entrance to the city. Great chunks of debris lay all around him. No doubt it was a signal of some significant violence that had occurred here a long time in the past. But when could that possibly have been? To know that he would have to know the age of the city.

More than that, who had built it?

Gael’jic shook his head and the head fin which stood straight up from his brow to the middle of his back made a loud flapping noise. When he concluded this expression of disbelief he turned his head to stare at the structures off to one side. They were houses once upon a time. Now nothing but vegetation and other lower life forms dwelled in them.

A sudden and palpable sense of reverence settled upon him. A thought entered his mind. This place is holy beyond measure.

As he gazed around at the disheveled state of the ruins, he could not understand how the place could be described as holy. If anything, he would have thought the opposite. It was empty, disused, and not good for much beyond rubbish.

A little way down the street a pair of towering shapes caught his attention. They arose from either side of the street and were covered from top to bottom in creeping vines. He slowly ambled over to stand between them, looking from one to the other. They appeared to be statues, concealed by untold years’ worth of vine growth. A mounting sense of apprehension built in the back of his mind. He decided to investigate one of the statues more closely so he chose one and walked over to it. He came to a stop before it and stared up at its magnificent height. It was twice as tall as he was.

The statue was completely covered in vines which obscured the visage beneath. A compulsion to remove them flooded every fiber of his body. He stretched out his arms at once and took handfuls of the creeping vines and ripped them away. A short time later he had to climb the statue to get to the highest ones. Thankfully, they came off with little effort. Soon the majority of the growth had been torn away and the form of the statue was laid bare. He dropped down to the ground and backed up a few paces.

His eyes drank in the sight of a statue of one of his people. It was a Dar’rynakai. Its proud features were artfully carved in green jade. Yet there was something significantly odd about the statue also.

The figure was carved wearing strange garments. It did not appear to be the normal kind of clothing worn by his people. Instead, it appeared to be a kind of armor with which he was unfamiliar.

He continued to back away from the statue to perhaps get a better look at it from the other side of the street. When he reached the other side he backed into something hard. Gael’jic turned to look at it. It was the other statue just opposite the one he had uncovered. Like the first one, it was completely shrouded in vines. He did not want to take the time to uncover this one but instead turned back to the one he had already worked upon. Before his eyes focused on the statue, however, they peered beyond it at some of the domiciles. He noticed something odd.

He took a few steps forward to be sure it was not a matter of false perspective. He kept going until he passed beyond the statue guarding the road. Multiple paces beyond he saw that in fact, the oddness he had noticed was real. His eyes darted between two of the domiciles side-by-side. He noted that one of the doorways was much taller than the other. He walked up to the tall doorway and stood in the midst of it. He realized that it was made perfectly for the size of his people.

He lifted his hands and rested them on the door jams on either side. His eyes drew upward briefly to the lintel piece of the doorway, and then he removed his hands and backed away. Next, he turned to look at the domicile to his left. The doorway of that home was much shorter. He sauntered over to it and stood before it. If he were to go inside, he would have to duck low.

“Could it be meant for a Dar’ryneel?” He asked himself out loud. His people knew of and had rare dealings with the other intelligent reptilian natives of the planet Dar’ryn. Some scholars of his people suggested they shared a common ancestry but most disbelieved this. While there were similarities between their species, there were far too many differences to simply discount. The differences in their heights and the length of their snouts were only two examples among several.

An interesting thought occurred to him and he turned to face the statues once again. First, his gaze fell upon the statue of the Dar’rynakai warrior he had uncovered then moved beyond it to look at the other one. He mentally noted that it was shorter than the one from which he had removed the vines. A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He pulled himself away from the domiciles and headed over to the second statue. He stood before it for only a handful of heartbeats then casually went to work removing the vines from it. He was about halfway through uncovering the statue when a sinking feeling took hold of his heart. Something about this did not feel right. Certainly, the presence of the ruins was enough to throw his understanding of the history of his people into turmoil, but the statue before him, yet only half uncovered, threatened to undo him completely.

He pulled his hands away and backed up two nervous paces staring at it dubiously. His head fin stood up straight in alarm yet again. The surety he had felt moments before had abandoned him like the city around him had been abandoned by its inhabitants in ages past.

He cautiously crept forward once more and reached a hand gingerly toward the vines. He pulled another handful away, then another, then another until the last bit, covering the head of the statue finally came away.

He scurried away in surprise and his gasp of shock shattered the final piece of his calm.

He had expected to find the carved visage of a Dar’ryneel in front of him. Instead what he found was an image of a human being. It had been carved in blue and white marble and remained mostly unmarred by the passage of time and weathering.

“Impossible,” he hissed. Primal fearfulness rose within him and he hunched his shoulders and shot his face forward, opened his jaw wide, and issued an angry hiss at the statue. The human statue wore the same armor as the Dar’rynakai one.

CHAPTER 40. A DEEPENING MYSTERY

Gael’jic suddenly turned to look at the statue of the Dar’rynakai as if it had betrayed him. Then he remembered the shorter of the two doorways and realized it must’ve been sized for a human being, not a Dar’ryneel after all.

How could this be? Human beings and Dar’rynakai had never cohabitated since the humans had arrived two hundred years before. Had they? Many of his countless assumptions about his people and their relationship – or rather the lack thereof – to the human beings who had come two centuries earlier, came crashing down upon him. He began to wonder if there was some sliver of unknown, unreported history where things had been different.

He visually drank in his environment again and decided that judging by the vast size of the place and its current condition that such a period would have to be characterized as far more than a mere ‘sliver.’

“There must be answers,” he whispered to himself. He raised a hand and stroked his brow and head fin, encouraging it to lay back down. He must do this calmly, rationally. “There must be an explanation,” he said with resolve. “And I must be prepared to receive it, whatever it may be.”

He turned down the street and faced into the deeper part of the city ruins. Considering the almost destroyed state of the place, he feared the answers would be difficult to uncover. They might be buried in some pile of rubble. Was he truly willing to move untold amounts of stone and dirt to find what he needed?

He had no tools, nor expertise for archaeological work. All that he knew came from the ancient tomes and scrolls in the library back in the mountain city of his people. That was all such a long way from where he now stood. Here he would be completely on his own.

He drew a deep steadying breath and slowly expelled it. It was now or never. He set forward to get on with it.

He slowly paced down the ruinous cobblestone street looking side to side for any sign of what might be a clue or hint of interest for him. But it all looked the same. There were homes and other buildings in various states of ruin. Some were even completely collapsed and had trees growing out of the center of them.

He carried on this way for a short while, then stopped and blew out an exasperated breath. He hung his head low and closed his eyes. He forced himself to think it through. There had to be some better way of doing this. He lifted his head and opened his eyes and then blinked in surprise. His head pushed slightly forward and his eyelids narrowed as he stared to make certain he saw what he thought he did. There was a long wall off to his right covered in vines and vegetation. Yet there was also a faint blue glow on parts of the surface.

Illuminoc plants. There were about six of them.

Here he was being led again, it seemed. An infinitesimal sliver of hope came awake in him. He slowly approached the wall, observing it as he drew near. It was too covered to tell anything about it yet. Was there perhaps some sort of entrance hidden behind the vines?

He walked up to the center of it and placed his hand on the wall through the vines. He ran his hand down a section of it. It was not smooth. He felt a variety of shapes beneath his palm and fingers.

“Is it carving?” he wondered out loud. He nodded to himself in confirmation. It was time to remove more vines. He pulled at one particular. It resisted his effort, more so than had those on either of the statues. He pulled harder until it gave way and tore from the stony surface. He tossed this section of vine behind him without looking at it and went after another piece. This one came away a little easier than the first. He threw it away as well and found the first part of the carving beneath the vegetation.

It was a key Dar’rynakai symbol: that of the shining sun. A simple circle rested in the middle. From it sprang four triangular rays of light. It was commonly understood that this symbol represented the mythological Dar’rynakai figure known as Rama’dy’ac. Rama’dy’ac was the chief god of the Dar’rynakai. There were a handful of other divine beings in his coterie, but he was the strongest and wisest of all. He ruled by light and truth.

The presence of this symbol indicated that the carving before him was indeed of Dar’rynakai origin. He did not doubt that as he uncovered more parts of the relief carved in the stone wall that he would find further confirmation. But what else will I find? he wondered.

His heart raced and he threw his arms forward, feverishly tearing at more of the vines. By the time Gael’jic had a quarter of the pictograph uncovered he saw several other familiar symbols and figures. Chief among them were representations of the Dar’rynakai people, two standing with arms held high and two others kneeling low. The ones standing with their arms spread out faced the symbol for Rama’dy’ac. Those who knelt had their backs to him and bowed toward another figure.

The instant he saw this carving a shudder of cold terror ran through him. His mind immediately returned to the dark vision of the cloaked figure he had seen during his travels. The symbol before his eyes was that of a cloaked figure and was the common representation of the enemy of Rama’dy’ac. He was known by many names but the one all Dar’rynakai knew and were taught to fear as children was Uri’thind’ac. He was the Blade in the Shadow.

He shuddered again, then turned away from the troubling image and returned to his task of removing the vines. In time he had the entirety of the relief uncovered and stood back in astonishment as he stared at it.

On the opposite side of the symbol for Rama’dy’ac stood other figures. They mirrored the Dar’rynakai ones except these were clearly of another kind of people. Considering the statues Gael’jic had found in the ruins, these could only be human beings. As two Dar’rynakai figures were standing with arms wide open and facing the symbol of Rama’dy’ac, so also two human figures were doing the same on the opposite side. Likewise, there were two kneeling and facing away from Rama’dy’ac. Except these were not facing a representation of Uri’thind’ac. They simply faced a blank portion of the relief.

No, he realized a moment later, that is not quite right. He took a step closer and squinted his eyes. There were five small circles spread at random in the otherwise blank space. Among these was one slightly larger circle in the midst of them.

He took another step closer and reverently raised his hand and caressed the larger of the circles. “What could this mean?” he asked, perplexed. He stared a long time at this odd part of the stone carving and could not come up with any kind of answer. This was a symbol with which he was unfamiliar. There was nothing about this in the tomes and scrolls of the library back home.

The single remaining Illuminoc plant that he had not torn away during his frantic efforts to uncover the relief came back to life. It rested above the symbol for Rama’dy’ac. Gael’jic’s eyes turned toward it and as he did so it glowed even brighter. It was a brighter light than he had ever seen one of the plants emit.

His hand instinctively reached out to touch the plant. He wrapped his fingers around the stem and pulled it free. As soon the blossom came loose from the rest of its body it dimmed briefly, but then returned to its former brightness.

“How curious,” Gael’jic whispered. He felt compelled to take it with him. He secured it to a strap on his makeshift armor.

Off to his left deeper into the city ruins, he saw another of the plants come to life and glow brightly lighting the way for him yet again. Now he thought he understood.

The unseen force guiding him all this time had a name. But how could this be? All his life he believed that the mythology of his people was nothing more than tall tales. Could this truly be the work of Rama’dy’ac? He did not see there was any other answer. But if Rama’dy’ac was real, then the dark figure he had seen…? It could only be one thing: Uri’thind’ac.

His reptilian blood went colder than normal. That would mean he was being personally stalked by the enemy of Rama’dy’ac. He felt an enormous weight fall upon his shoulders. Darkness clouded his thoughts. He turned back toward the way he had come and expected to see the cloaked figure in all its demonic threat standing and watching him. But the way was empty. Nevertheless, he could not help but feel he was being watched. And perhaps he was being watched by more than one set of eyes.

“There have to be more answers here,” he said.

He turned toward the glow he had seen earlier and decided to go that way. He lifted his eyes and saw a domed structure off in the distance.

“There,” he said. “That is where I must go.” At that moment it was as if there was an invisible rope tied to him and pulling him in that direction. But what would he find when he arrived there? Regardless of the answer, he knew he must go.

He lifted the Illuminoc plant in his hand to stare at its mesmerizing illumination. Then he turned his face and walked toward the structure in the distance, letting the light guide him.

CHAPTER 41. A VOICE IN THE RUINS

However tough Cecil was, he had not been trained in survival skills to make it out in the wilds. He believed he could have competently grappled against a number of the many dangers of the jungle, but foraging for food was not in his mental toolkit. He dropped to his knees beside a tree and hunkered in the shade to prevent being beaten down by the sun.

His brow dripped with sweat and he swiped it with his forearm. He puffed heavy breaths and would have given almost anything for a cold drink of water. He had subsisted thus far by sucking the moisture out of plant leaves and taking tiny sips of the meager water provided by Vellin in the survival pack. While it had not been pleasant, it had allowed him to survive. He shot an unhappy look at his environment and muttered, “If you can call this surviving.”

On the first day of his expulsion from the Citadel, he had remained close to the wall. He imagined he could find some way to get back in if he searched closely enough. He instantly regretted leaving the moment the door closed behind him cutting him off from assistance and any clear way of returning within the confines of the walls. He vowed he would one day find a way back into the Citadel and exact vengeance upon Lycas Ryth. And anyone who helped him.

His mind dwelled briefly on Vellin’s image of the scarred man who had supplied Ryth with the micro-explosives. The man had gone into hiding no doubt to avoid association with the wicked deed. If Cecil ever got back into the Citadel he would not rest until he visited justice on him. Aside from Ryth, Belem was the primary person of interest in the assassination. When Cecil got his hands on him at last he would wish he’d never been born.

Cecil blew out an exhausted breath. He had not slept almost at all that first night in the jungle, nor very well ever since. The sounds of the wilds kept him on high alert. He could hear things moving through the darkened brush and his imagination worked overtime as to what might be prowling about. As he had traversed part of the perimeter of the wall he came across a long, dead tree branch and snatched it up. He had broken off the smaller twigs by hand and hefted it. He judged it serviceable to use as a defensive staff. Later he used his knife to carve one end into a spear point.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the tree trunk. When he had awoken from the fitful sleep early the morning after exiting the Citadel he felt an urge to leave the great wall behind and explore the jungle. He had not made it ten paces before he stopped and turned his head to look back at what he left behind.

“What are you doing, fool?” he asked himself. But he could supply no answer. He merely knew he had a compulsion to explore. Thus his legs carried him farther and farther away from the Citadel.

The next several days were spent tracking through the jungles, watching for signs of danger, and seeking nourishment. Vellin had provided a small supply of rations but it would not last him long. He knew supplementing was going to be an absolute necessity. Beyond that when he ran out of the rations he would be on his own to sustain himself. He did not have the first clue about foraging for berries or other edible vegetation. That meant he would be hunting animals for his sustenance.

Hunting was something he felt he could do. Starting a fire to cook his prey was another story, though. He understood the basic principles of the task but had never practiced it. His line of work had supplied tools for such tasks in the off chance that it would be required but he had none of those things with him now. Besides, life in the Citadel had given him no opportunity to be tested in that way. And besides all that the hearths in the Palace rooms were tended to by Palace staff.

It would be a long time before he again had access to that kind of benefit, if ever. A grunt of frustration at his circumstance boiled out of him. He brought his head forward again and opened his eyes. Then he blinked a few times in surprise. He beheld an odd shape through the trees a little way out. He tilted his head and squinted his eyes in curiosity. He absentmindedly stood up from his place and took hold of the staff he had acquired. He hefted the small pack of supplies over his shoulder and walked toward the object.

The closer he came the bigger he realized the object was. He saw it was not a single thing. Instead, he saw it was a part of a series of stone structures. When he was closer yet he could make out the shape of an archway. The opening was three times his height and was part of an expansive stone wall. It was hard to make out at first because it was covered in vines and other vegetation. He took several slow, cautious steps toward the archway and halted a few yards out from it.

Through the large opening, he could see a vast array of structures. Beyond the entrance, there were many different kinds of buildings and stone roads. It was clear that the place was completely abandoned, however. Nevertheless, he approached cautiously.

He stopped just inside the arch and took a slow sweeping gaze around the place. “Who could have built such a place?” he wondered out loud. “And when did it fall into disuse?”

He moved deeper into the ruins careful to remain quiet. Even though he knew the place to be abandoned, he guessed that animals of various sorts might make their home inside the buildings or even in the alleyways.

Lightheadedness flooded him and he swayed on his feet, nearly toppling over. He thrust the butt of his spear upon the ground to steady himself. A few moments later the sensation passed. He wondered if he was becoming dehydrated. It was not long enough for him to be truly malnourished. He had only been without serious meals for a few days. His body ought to have enough fat and energy reserves to keep him going for some time yet. Plus he did still have some rations at which he nibbled from time to time.

A whispered voice floated into his ear and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. His skin chilled at the sound. He took the spear in both hands and swiveled around to see who had spoken. But no one was there. He remained fixed in place, the only part of him moving were his eyes. He considered briefly that he might have imagined the sound. The setting was a little spooky after all. But then the whisper came back to him.

“Come this way,” it said.

“Who is there?” Cecil shouted. He waited for a handful of heartbeats but no response came back. His eyes tracked all around and he turned his body as he looked. He suddenly halted. He stared down a road that branched off from the one upon which he currently stood. It led even deeper into the ruins. He surprised himself by thinking, I ought to go that way.

His gaze lifted and he saw a tall domed structure rising in that direction. It was the tallest building he could see.

He glowered suspiciously at the building. Every fiber of his being wanted to get away from the place. Nevertheless, there was a nagging urgency at the back of his mind thrusting him forward. He debated with himself a few moments longer then headed slowly in the new direction.

He remained watchful as he journeyed. His hands tensely gripped the spear ready to employ it against anyone foolish enough to attack him. He resolved he would be ready for anything.

Now a good distance down the new road he perceived the grand domed building sat upon a constructed rise. A long stretch of stairs led from the base to the upper platform upon which the building resided. He arrived at the stairs and halted. He set the butt end of his weapon against the stone ground and regarded the building suspiciously.

He had only been at that spot for a handful of moments when he heard a hissing noise off to his left. His eyes jerked in that direction and he swiveled his body bringing the spear’s point around to put between himself and danger.

CHAPTER 42. A CONVERGENCE OF PATHS

He came face-to-face with a tall and lanky reptilian figure. The creature wore some kind of primitive wooden armor. Its long arms were shot out to the side and he noticed the thing carried a spear in one hand. The creature’s mouth dropped open and released a low and dangerous hissing noise.

He would not wait for the creature to bound at him and attack. Cecil opened his mouth and let loose a war cry and dashed toward the creature. He lifted his spear to one side getting ready to strike at the being. He was pleased to see the Dar’rynakai flinch in surprise. No doubt the reptilian warrior was used to being the one to strike first. He reasoned such a savage species would operate that way.

The creature took a step back and brought his spear in front of him. Cecil swung his weapon around in a sweeping arc and aimed at the Dar’rynakai’s head. The beast jerked away at the last moment and the tip of Cecil’s spear whistled past the end of his snout.

The creature hissed in anger and jabbed his spear forward attempting to stab Cecil with it. Cecil expertly turned the spear in his hands and brought it around to block the blow. The two weapons cracked against each other with a loud report. Cecil pivoted and thrust the butt end of his spear which had been near the ground up and around and struck the Dar’rynakai on the chest. The wooden armor absorbed the attack yet he was driven back a step.

Cecil pressed his advantage and twirled the spear in his hand to mesmerize the creature. It did the intended job. The creature took a step back and foolishly removed one of his hands from his spear. Cecil seized his opportunity and struck. He brought the weapon around again with lightning speed and struck the creature’s hand that still held its spear. The creature growled in pain and frustration as the spear was knocked from his grip. It spun away and clattered on the cobblestones.

The Dar’rynakai warrior retreated a handful of paces and kept wary eyes trained on Cecil. The former Captain of the Royal Guardians was not about to give up his advantage, however. He made ready to charge at the creature when the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him interrupted his concentration.

Cecil spun around quickly bringing the spear to bear and forgetting about his conflict with the Dar’rynakai warrior at his back. To his surprise, his attention landed upon two bedraggled-looking human beings. The shorter of the two men – the one who had a scraggly beard – raised his hand as if he were in a classroom.

“Pardon me, but if you gentlemen wouldn’t mind, my friend and I…”

The man at his side made an objecting noise in his throat and shot the speaker a withering glare.

“Sorry,” he said then continued, “My companion and I,” he corrected himself, “would like very much to get into that strange building. So if you two wouldn’t mind letting us pass that would be very helpful.”

Cecil’s jaw dropped open at the strangeness of this confluence of events. He was about to say something when his eyes flicked to the second man. Recognition filled him and his vision went red. This was the heavily scarred man in Vellin’s image showing the one responsible for delivering the micro-explosives to the palace. This was Belem.

Belem noticed Cecil’s face contort with rage and he took a step back in self-preservation.

“I know who you are,” Cecil growled, raising the spear and preparing to strike.

“I can’t say the same for you,” Belem said in a tone of warning. Cecil saw the man put himself into a defensive posture. He had no weapon, however. He only had a woven basket and a set of oddly fastened-together planks. Perhaps he intends to use them as a shield? Cecil pondered. From the multiplicity of scars covering the man Cecil understood he was a person acquainted with finding violence or being found by it. That mattered little. He had never met a Captain of the Royal Guardians. His life was about to change forever. It might even come to an end.

Cecil launched himself at the man and thrust his spear at his neck. Belem pivoted and maneuvered his planks to block the blow. The shaft of the spear landed upon the makeshift shield with a loud crack. Belem wasted no time and pushed forward as he pounded against the ground with his feet. The forward move threw Cecil off balance, but he quickly recovered.

The former Captain dropped low and swept his staff at Belem’s knees. Belem countered by leaping into the air and narrowly avoiding the strike. When his legs came back down he kicked at Cecil’s side which he had foolishly presented to the other man. The kick landed hard and drove him to sprawl on the ground.

The first man, the one who had spoken, jumped between the two of them and raised his hands to keep them apart and placate them. “Hold on,” he said. “Let’s just talk about this.”

But Cecil was in no mood for talking. And he very much doubted Belem would be either now that the battle had been joined. Cecil recovered his feet quickly and thrust the blunt end of his spear into the first man’s belly pushing him out of the way and knocking the wind out of him. He fell over backward with wide eyes and clutched his gut.

While Cecil was still slightly off balance from his maneuver against the first man Belem made his move. He jumped at Cecil and slammed his collection of planks into his side shoving him backward. Cecil wheeled his arms as he staggered backward and steadied himself.

Suddenly the Dar’rynakai warrior was between the two of them and hissed a warning at each. But he brought his spear point and leveled it at Cecil’s throat. “Stop,” he shouted. “That is enough.”

Cecil blinked in surprise. He had not known the Dar’rynakai were intelligent enough to speak human language. Certainly, some theorized such, but the common belief was that they were mere savages. Unintelligent and filthy.

The Dar’rynakai turned his head slightly and over his shoulder said to Belem, “Apologies for this one of your kind. He is wild and attacked me without provocation. But there are three of us against one of him. Perhaps we can tame him together.”

The first man sat up on the ground still cradling his midsection and looked in astonishment at the reptilian figure. “Did the lizard man just speak our language?” he asked.

CHAPTER 43. AN OPEN DOOR

The Dar’rynakai leveled a withering glance at the man and hissed angrily. “Your language is cheap and easy, human,” he snarled. “It is no difficult thing for Dar’rynakai to learn to speak it with our superior tongues.”

The man upon the ground held up placating hands and said, “I apologize friend. I meant no offense.” With a grunt of effort, he pressed himself up into a standing position and shambled over to the Belem. He kept a wary eye on Cecil but then turned to the Dar’rynakai and said, “If we all stop and think about what is happening here, I believe we will find that we have surprising things in common.”

“I have nothing in common with that filth,” Cecil snarled.

Belem took a step forward and leveled a hateful glance at Cecil before he said, “What filth are you talking about? Do you mean me, or the lizard man who is clearly more intelligent than you?”

“Does it matter?” Cecil retorted with a growl.

The man who had spoken first turned to Cecil and lifted a forestalling hand. “Please, will you settle yourself? There is something very odd going on here. Can you not see it? The four of us have all come to this same place at the same time.”

“Here we go again,” Belem said as he rolled his eyes. The first man ignored this and continued.

“My guess is that all of us were led here by strange forces. Am I mistaken?” He looked to each of the others and none of them objected. Cecil opened his mouth, then closed it again when he realized the man spoke the truth.

“Not just any force,” the Dar’rynakai warrior said. “It was the will of Rama’dy’ac that brought me here.”

The man with a scraggly beard turned questioning eyes on the Dar’rynakai. “I don’t know what you mean by that,” he began, “but perhaps you are right. Maybe you know more about this than we do. Nevertheless, all of us have been called to this place. Have we not all seen this building and felt drawn to this place?”

“I have,” the Dar’rynakai said at once. He shot a suspicious glance in Cecil’s direction, then returned his attention to the man who had spoken.

“My name is Ariam. This is Belem,” said the man with the scraggly beard, and lifted a hand indicating his companion.

“I am Gael’jic,” the Dar’rynakai said after a few seconds of awkward silence. He gave a slight bow but never removed his eyes from Cecil as if he waited for another attack to come.

Ariam said, “Since we were all meant to come to this place, we ought to go inside together. Is this not evident?”

Belem grunted and folded his arms. “I don’t care about strange buildings in the middle of ruins out in a forgotten section of the forest. I only care about one thing. I aim to get back to the Citadel and put an end to Lycas Ryth.”

Cecil felt his eyebrows arch in interest. “What do you know about Lycas Ryth?” he hissed.

Belem shot an angry gaze at the man. “I know that his blood belongs to me.”

Cecil took a threatening step forward. “Not if I get to them first,” he said.

“Interesting,” commented Ariam. “It turns out that we do indeed have some things in common. Well, at least some of us. I don’t know this Lycas Ryth except that he is the Lord Advisor to the king.”

“He is a fiend,” Cecil said. “He is the one responsible for the assassination of the king.” He lifted an accusing finger and pointed it at Belem. “And this man is his accomplice.”

A look of astonishment covered Belem’s face. “Me? Wait, a second. Did you say the king is dead? I had nothing to do with that,” he exclaimed.

“You transported the explosives that did the job,” Cecil snapped. “You put them right into the hands of Lycas Ryth.”

“I did no such…” Belem began to protest, then snapped his jaw closed and his eyes filled with comprehension. Then he stammered, “No! I delivered some plants to the palace. That was it…wasn’t it?”

“The components were with the shipment,” Cecil seethed.

“I knew nothing of that,” Belem replied. “I delivered the package and then the next thing I knew Lycas Ryth had me arrested. Some nonsense about being part of a conspiracy. They put me on a prison barge headed for the Obelisk. Halfway there the ship exploded. I am the only survivor.”

“No witnesses, then?” Cecil quipped. “How convenient.”

“Fascinating,” Ariam said to Belem. “That’s more than I ever expected to get out of you on the matter of how you came to be here.”

“Then you’re going to come back with me to the Citadel,” Cecil said. “And we are going to catch this rat in a trap. You get to play the bait.”

“He is mine,” Belem said in a tone of warning.

“He will be brought to justice,” Cecil replied.

Ariam cleared his throat once again. “Are we forgetting something?” Both men turned their angry faces to look at him, but he stood unperturbed by this. He continued, “We were all brought here for some undisclosed purpose. We have yet to discover what it is. And this building appears to be the key to it. We have to go inside.”

“I agree with this one,” Gael’jic interjected.

Cecil returned his attention to Belem and the other man simply shrugged. “This is just the way he is,” Belem said. “And he may have a point. Lycas Ryth isn’t going anywhere for now. Perhaps we ought to have a quick look inside.”

Cecil growled in frustration but turned his face to look at the building. He could not deny the overwhelming sense that he ought to join these men and the Dar’rynakai and look around inside.

He sighed in defeat. “I don’t suppose it will hurt anything. Unless of course, there are traps inside.”

Ariam shrugged. “Who knows what will find in there?”

“Wait,” Gael’jic said. “How closely have any of you looked around this ruined city? Have you observed anything unexplainable?”

“What do you mean?” Ariam asked.

“This place is strange beyond anything I have ever encountered. I have seen many things to indicate this city once housed both of our kinds.”

“What?” Cecil barked. “That’s not possible.”

“I know,” Gael’jic replied in a serious tone. “But the evidence is incontrovertible.”

“The different sized doorways!” Ariam said and lightly banged the heel of his hand on his forehead.

“And several other things,” Gael’jic agreed. “I have found both statues and a carving. Both indicated to me my previously stated conclusions.”

“All right, so what?” Belem asked.

The Dar’rynakai leveled a stony gaze back at him for a few seconds before replying. “It is interesting is it not? That Rama’dy’ac drew three humans and a Dar’rynakai to this place? The destinies of both our people are somehow bound up in whatever we are about to find in that place.” He pointed toward the building.

“Does anybody know what this place is?” Ariam said, staring at the building.

“I have never seen its kind before,” Gael’jic replied. The others shook their heads. Gael’jic cocked his head to one side as he stared at the structure and made a thoughtful noise. After a moment of thought, he said, “But I cannot shake the sense that this is some kind of temple.”

“Hmm,” Ariam made a curious noise and then ascended the stairs. The others watched him go for a few paces then began to climb the stairs themselves. When they reached the top they beheld a wide-open doorway in the center of the building. Ariam did not hesitate but merely continued walking toward it. The others fell in at his sides. They walked slowly, reverently, and fearfully toward their destination. Soon they passed through the wide, open doorway into the strange building.

As soon as the last of them were inside a large stone door slammed heavily down from above, closing them inside.

To Be continued in…

TRIBES OF DAR’RYN

TRIBES OF DAR'RYN

BOOK 2

CHAPTER 1. THE TEMPLE

Belem raced to the stone door that had just slammed in place and uselessly kicked at it with all the frustration he could muster. He let out a guttural scream then turned to stare daggers at Ariam. “I suppose you’re satisfied,” he seethed through gritted teeth.

Ariam strolled casually up to the door and traced a finger along one seam. “Well, I wouldn’t say I’m dissatisfied.”

Belem shot a hand forward and snatched Ariam by the thread clothes at his chest. He dragged the beggar forward until they were nose to nose. “You’ve just condemned us all to death. We’ll dehydrate and starve in this tomb.” He lowered his voice and added, “if we don’t kill each other first.”

Ariam’s composure evaporated and his eyes went wide as he stared into Belem’s snarling face. He tried to sputter a response, but nothing intelligible came to mind.

Gael’jic stepped forward and wrapped a powerful reptilian hand around Belem’s wrist. Belem shot him a glare of warning, but Gael’jic refused to back down or be intimidated. He towered over the man and returned his gaze.

“This is not his doing,” Gael’jic said. “There are other forces at work here.”

“Since I cannot throttle these forces, I am happy to settle for someone else,” Belem snapped back. He and the Dar’rynakai stared at each other a few seconds longer, then Belem released Ariam’s shirt and Gael’jic slowly unwrapped his fingers from around Belem’s wrist. Both backed up a step while Ariam stood dumbfounded.

“If we’re quite finished with the theatrics,” Cecil interjected, “then maybe we can figure out a way out of this place?”

Gael’jic and Belem continued to stare at one another until an uncomfortable amount of time passed, then Gael’jic turned his face to the other man. “Talk of escape may be premature,” he said.

Belem made a derisive noise but said nothing. Cecil stared at the Dar’rynakai with an implacable gaze. Finally, he said, “I suppose you have an alternative?” Contempt dripped from his words. He did not like conversing with this savage creature. The reptilian thing turned out to be more intelligent than he anticipated, but that did little to divest Cecil of his many assumptions regarding the creatures.

Ariam stepped forward and pointed back toward the now-closed doorway through which they had entered. “Something intends for us to remain inside for the time being. Since we were all mysteriously led here in one way or another, it would be wise for us to discern what that might be.”

“Unless it is a trap,” Cecil countered immediately.

“Trap or no,” Ariam replied, “we will not find a way out if we stand here arguing about it. I say we explore a bit. See what is what.”

“I concur,” Gael’jic added. “As far as discoveries go, this one is too important to simply flee. A little examination will hurt nothing.”

“Take this space, for instance,” Ariam said. He took a few steps away from the door until he was beyond the group. He drank in the scene with wonder-struck eyes. The others watched him and soon their attention was also fixed on their surroundings.

The space before them was circular and vast. It was perhaps thirty meters in diameter and dominated in the center by a great pit. The hole was circular like the chamber and Ariam judged it to be about ten meters in diameter. Around the pit were ten thrones carved out of stone and spaced at regular intervals. Tattered purple curtains hung on the wall behind each of the thrones. They were like the faded ghosts of a long forgotten noble past.

Encircling the opening of the pit before these thrones was an ornate marble guard rail.

Ariam wandered over to the closest throne, passed beyond it, and reached his hand out toward the purple curtain. He gently lifted it away from the wall but it was so aged that it came down bringing the shattered assembly which had held it in place for untold years. A great clatter resounded throughout the circular chamber and Ariam flinched. He gave an apologetic look to the group but returned his attention to the place where the curtain had lain.

A large regal arched window had now been revealed. The glass had been shattered out a long time past, but iron bars remained fixed in place. The spaces between the bars were quite close together. There is no escaping through one of these, Ariam thought.

With the curtain removed from the window, a shaft of light streamed into the musty semi-darkened room. There was already a little bit of light present from windowed areas just beneath the dome above their heads in the greatly vaulted ceiling.

All eyes lifted upward to view a mural painted on the underside of the dome. Long years had chipped and faded the images, but there was still some of it visible. Dominating the middle of the mural at the center of the dome was a symbol Gael’jic recognized well. He had seen it already back out in the ruins when he came across a stone relief covered in vines and Illuminoc plants. It was the symbol for Rama’dy’ac. The great circle resided in the center of the image and from it, four triangular rays of light emanated.

Gael’jic gasped. Everyone looked at him with varying levels of alarm.

“What?” Ariam asked excitedly.

“The symbol in the middle,” Gael’jic replied breathlessly.

“The circle with the triangles?” Ariam asked.

The Dar’rynakai exile nodded absentmindedly. In reverent tones, he explained, “It is Rama’dy’ac; the one whom I suspect led us all here.”

Belem scoffed and shook his head. Gael’jic ignored this and continued.

“He is the chief deity of my people. He is represented by the sun in the middle. From him spring out truth and light in four rays.”

“Oh I see it now,” Ariam commented. Then his eyes went wide and he looked back to Gael’jic. “I think I see what you mean,” he said in a hushed manner.

“What?” Cecil demanded. “What do you see?”

“Look closely at the image,” Ariam said.

Cecil squinted his eyes in concentration but wasn’t getting it. “What of it?” he asked strongly. “It’s only geometric shapes.”

Gael’jic, with a teacher’s demeanor, patiently said, “The circle is the sun, and the triangles coming out are rays of light. How many rays of light do you see, human?”

“Four,” Cecil replied, still not comprehending.

“How many of us are there?” Ariam prodded.

Cecil’s jaw dropped open to respond with the obvious number, then snapped his mouth closed again.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Belem said dismissively. “It’s just a coincidence.”

“Just as the four of us coming here together at the same time independently of one another is a coincidence?” Ariam asked. His words were gentle but with an undertone of admonition.

Belem’s eyes flashed. “Don’t patronize me, little one.”

“It may not be a coincidence,” Cecil said cautiously, “but that does not mean the design at work here is benevolent. This might still be a trap.”

Silence fell upon the group until a few moments later when Ariam said, “But it might not.”

“I’m going to assume the worst until I see evidence to the contrary,” Cecil retorted, shaking his head.

“I think we must descend into the pit,” Gael’jic said. He had walked over to the edge when no one was looking. They saw he was staring down into the depths. He turned his head and looked back at the group. “There is a staircase encircling it. We ought to go.”

“Maybe we ought to investigate the rest of this level first,” Cecil said. “I don’t want us to miss any important detail before we go down there. We might leave behind something crucial we will need down there if we are not careful.”

“Sounds good to me,” Ariam said cheerfully. He stepped away from his place beside the fallen curtain and slowly walked around the circumference of the room. Cecil turned and went in the other direction. Gael’jic continued along the innermost ring of the room around the pit looking at the ground, the guard rail, and the thrones. Belem was the last to move. He watched the three others go forth and shrugged then followed after Ariam at a distance. He only half-heartedly searched.

A few minutes later they met up again on the other side of the chamber and shared they had found nothing.

“I suppose that means we ought to descend,” Gael’jic opined. The rest of them grudgingly agreed and they headed over to the staircase following Gael’jic. He stopped when he came to the top of the stairs and gazed down into the pit. He turned and said to the others, “Be careful. There is no guard railing along the side of the stairs open to the pit. It might be treacherous.” With that, he turned back to the stairs and cautiously descended.

The farther down they went, the colder and darker it became. Cecil called a halt to their progress and everyone stopped to pay attention.

“Hold on,” he said. “It will turn too dark for us to see before long. Are we sure we want to press on? The stairs will become greatly dangerous in the dark. Especially so if we come across a damaged portion that we cannot see.”

Before anyone had a chance to answer, a small blue light came to life at Gael’jic’s side. Ariam gasped when he saw it. Belem only grunted.

Gael’jic lifted the extricated Illuminoc flower from the place he had tied it to one of the vines holding his wooden armor together. “It seems to me we have been provided for in that regard,” he said. He turned and lifted the Illuminoc plant before him and he continued to descend the stairs.

CHAPTER 2. DESCENDING LIGHT

Soon it grew dark around them and the only light available came from the Illuminoc. It was a long way down to the bottom. When Cecil reached the floor he lifted his head and looked straight up. After a few heartbeats, he lowered his gaze and looked at the Dar’rynakai.

“All right, lizard, what now?” The sharp edge of his words was unmistakable, but Gael’jic ignored this.

Instead, he turned away from the man and held forth the glowing flower. Since it had become dark none of them had noticed the change in the shape of their surroundings. While the circle of the opening was obvious above them, it soon became clear that the space in which they stood was square.

Gael’jic found himself standing in a corner of the room. He turned away from this and walked along the wall. He soon discovered a large shape carved into the wall. It was the shape of a Raka tree. He made a grunt of acknowledgment at the discovery but continued moving slowly along the wall. He came to the next corner and turned to follow the new wall. He stopped when he discovered a door. This door was a large stone circle partially recessed into the wall.

“Over here,” he said. “I have found something. It is a door.”

The large, circular door was made of the same stone as the rest of the walls. It was completely smooth and there was no clear mechanism for operating it.

“Are you sure?” Cecil asked doubtfully. “It might just be part of the wall.”

“No,” he said. “I have seen this kind of door before.”

“Then you should know how to open it,” Belem quipped.

“I should,” Gael’jic replied slowly, drawing out the word. He traced the seam of the door with the tips of his fingers until he came to the other side. “But I don’t,” he concluded, confusion clouding his face. He turned and looked at the group in the light from the Illuminoc plant. “There is no opening device that I can see,” he said.

“Well, we can’t exactly look around for one in this minimal light,” Cecil said.

As if in answer to his complaint multiple points of blue light sprang suddenly to life all around the chamber. The group collectively gasped as the various Illuminoc plants in the chamber they had not noticed until that moment started to glow. In moments the place was well lit.

Cecil turned an astonished face to Gael’jic, who merely looked back with a look of reptilian reproach. Ariam turned his grinning face to Belem. Belem looked away, shaking his head.

“It’s magnificent,” Ariam said, his face beaming like the plants as he swept his gaze around the room.

There was a long pause when no one uttered a single word, but they all took in the beauty of the blue Illuminoc light. Then Belem cleared his throat and in a disinterested voice said, “Yes, gorgeous. But it doesn’t help us get out of this room does it? The door is still closed and we have no way of opening it.”

“Don’t we though?” Ariam asked.

“What do you mean?” Belem asked suspiciously. Ariam pointed to the ground. They all dropped their attention to the floor and saw a large circle shape dominating the center. Springing from this there were four triangular shapes. These were raised from the ground an inch or so.

“Rama’dy’ac,” Gael’jic whispered.

“Great,” Belem muttered unimpressed. “More shapes.”

Ignoring his complaint, Ariam stepped over to the closest triangle and set his foot on it. He took a few breaths and then put his weight on the foot. When nothing happened. He took his other foot off the floor and stood fully upon the triangle. Another few seconds passed and everyone waited to see what the beggar was up to. Then, when it seemed nothing was going to happen, the triangular shape upon which he stood noisily sank. It stopped when the triangle was no longer raised but was level with the rest of the floor. Ariam lifted his face and a look of glee was pasted upon it. He looked to Gael’jic and said, “It’s a puzzle.”

“It’s a mechanism,” Gael’jic responded.

Ariam looked to the other two and said, “Everyone, stand on one of the triangles.”

Gael’jic immediately walked over to one of them and took his place upon it. A few seconds later it sank into the floor an inch. Cecil shrugged and walked over to another one and repeated this process. Lastly, all three men looked over at Belem who rolled his eyes and said, “This is stupid.” Nevertheless, he walked over to the remaining triangle and took his place on it.

When Belem’s triangle sank into the floor there was a loud noise from the direction of the circular stone door. The massive stone circle pushed forward into the room and then slid to one side.

Ariam turned a beaming face to Gael’jic and then left his triangle and darted toward the door. In the next moment, the rest were behind him and entering the new space.

As they passed into the new chamber Cecil looked to the side and saw the door was about a foot thick. He searched for some kind of physical mechanism that caused the door to move, but he saw none.

When all four of them were in the next space more Illuminoc plants – these suspended from the vaulted ceiling on long vines – glowed to life.

The new space was another circular chamber like the one above, though much smaller. Decorating the walls all around were shields and spears. Cecil, who had felt naked with only an old battered set of Royal Guardian armor and a simple long knife for a weapon walked immediately over to one set of the shields and spears and examined them. He nodded appreciatively at the make of the armaments. He lifted his hand out toward the spear when suddenly Gael’jic was at his side and put his hand on Cecil’s forearm, halting him.

“Don’t touch that,” he said.

Cecil looked the Dar’rynakai in the face and barked, “Why not? They are good weapons.”

“I do not know,” Gael’jic said. Worry laced his voice. “This room feels dangerous to me.”

“You’re surrounded by weapons,” Cecil said. “Of course it feels dangerous.”

“It is not the weapons,” he responded, and Cecil noticed his face appeared haunted as he gazed into the center of the room. Cecil followed his gaze and his eyes fell upon a statue dominating the center of the space.

“What is that supposed to be?” Ariam asked curiously. “He doesn’t look very friendly, does he?”

Belem casually strolled up to the statue and stretched out a hand to touch it.

“Do not do that, human,” Gael’jic warned loudly.

“It’s just a piece of stone,” Belem said over his shoulder. His voice sounded distant, almost intoxicated. Gael’jic had a distinct impression that the man didn’t quite know what he was doing. Belem swayed briefly as he continued, “What’s it going to do? Fall on me?” He continued to reach forward until his hand caressed the blank face of the statue. “What is this thing supposed to be anyway?” he asked.

“I think I have seen it before,” Gael’jic said worriedly, wanting desperately to rush forward and snatch Belem’s hand away, yet he remained rooted in place. “In my trek through the jungles before I came here I encountered something that looked like that. I believe it to be a demon.”

Belem looked back at the Dar’rynakai and said, “It’s just a statue. It can’t hurt you.”

The next thing Belem knew he heard the other three gasp in surprise and then felt something hard and unforgiving grab hold of his wrist.

He turned his abruptly sobered face in surprise at the statue and found that its stony hand had wrapped itself around his forearm.

CHAPTER 3. AN ENEMY OF STONE

The thing had been about the same height as Belem, though it had been carved into a kneeling position. It now arose to its full height and towered over the man lifting him from the ground. Pain shot through his wrist as he dangled from the statue’s grip. A stifled grunt came out of him.

The statue of the demon tilted its stony face to look upon Belem, then casually tossed him to the side. The man flew through the air until his back struck the wall knocking down a shield and spear as he crumpled to the floor.

Cecil instinctively snatched the spear and shield next to him and brandished them. The demon statue turned its head toward Cecil right away. It took a menacing step toward him and then halted. It shifted its attention to Ariam, but only for a moment, then back to Cecil.

“What good is a spear going to do?” Ariam squealed. “The thing is made of rock!”

Cecil never took his eyes off the menace but sarcastically replied, “Right. Hand-to-hand combat is a much better strategy against stone monsters. You go first.”

Chagrined, Ariam reluctantly turned to the wall and nervously took a spear and shield for himself. He fumbled with them, but eventually got the shield around his arm and held the spear in a shaky hand.

Gael’jic had slowly circled to the back of the monster and quietly took down a shield and spear for himself and adjusted them. He had the added benefit of the hardened wood armor he had fashioned for himself in the jungle, though he was not sure how much good it would do him against an apparently undefeatable foe.

Belem sat up with a grunt from his spot on the floor, his head still swimming. He shook it to clear it and then brought astonished fearful eyes to bear on the stone demon. He scrambled to his feet and scurried backward until he pressed up against the wall. When he noticed the others had armed themselves he quickly went about doing the same.

The statue monster looked from one face to the other turning so at last, he faced Gael’jic. It then slowly stalked toward the Dar’rynakai with thunderous steps. Gael’jic’s whole body tensed in anticipation of the coming attack. He looked to his right and started circling back that way, but the statue anticipated the move and marched in that direction as well. Gael’jic stopped and backtracked. The stone monstrosity tracked him and moved that way as well.

“Assistance would be appreciated,” Gael’jic hissed.

Cecil had been visually scouring the thing searching for any kind of vulnerable spot. Then he noticed it.

“Look at the thing’s belt,” he shouted.

The statue was carved to appear as if it wore a flowing hooded robe, cinched in the midsection by a belt. Sure enough, there were recessed slits along the belt. They looked just large enough for the head of a spear. There were two visible on the back. Cecil guessed that Gael’jic could see two on the front as well…making a total of four.

Cecil ran forward and thrust his spear into one of the gaps. The statue jerked away and the spear went with it. It remained in place at his stony waist and swung about. The statue arched its back and let out an unearthly roar. The sound of it seemed to come from all directions at once and they all raised hands to cover their ears.

A series of small cracks spread out from the place the spear had punctured the statue’s midsection. The breaking sound was just barely perceptible.

“There are three more slots,” Cecil yelled to the others. “Everyone has to stab the thing.”

Ariam turned an exceptionally worried and wide-eyed glance back at Cecil. “I am no warrior,” he cried. He thrust his spear shaft toward Cecil and pleaded, “Can you do it?”

Cecil shook his head. “Just like the puzzle to get in here, we all have to do our part. I think if I try, it won’t work.”

The statue turned its attention on Ariam and stalked toward him lumbering slowly but surely. Ariam withered under the monstrosity’s stony glare. He shrank back, tripped on his own feet, and fell to the ground.

With the statue distracted, Belem took the opportunity to move in. He thrust his spear forward and it slipped into the other gap at his back. The statue staggered and turned in Belem’s direction and released another roar. Even though they were prepared for this one, it did not make it any easier to bear.

Gael’jic moved in swiftly and thrust his spear forward. His aim was not as good as Belem’s or Cecil’s and it deflected off the thing’s stony hide.

The statue spun around with surprising speed this time and backhanded Gael’jic sending him sailing through the air. He collided with the wall and slid down it. The spear fell out of his hand and clattered upon the floor.

Cecil turned to Ariam and shouted, “Get in there while you have the chance!”

Ariam turned a disbelieving look on Cecil and said, “Are you crazy? After what just happened to Gael’jic?”

But it was too late. The monster, knowing Gael’jic was out of the equation for the time being, turned its attention back to Ariam. It lumbered toward him. While it was on the move Belem ran toward Gael’jic and worked at reviving him. He slapped at the Dar’rynakai’s face and urged him to wake up.

Cecil noted the monster seemed to be uninterested in anyone but Ariam and so he slowly crept away from the man. When at last he was completely out of the creature’s line of sight he removed the shield from his arm and threw it at the back of the statue’s head. It collided as intended and knocked off a few small chips of stone.

The statue turned a menacing glare on Cecil and growled an unholy sound. It stooped down and snatched up the shield the former Captain of the Royal Guardians had hurled at him and returned the favor.

Cecil dove out of the way just in time. The circular shield soared past him and embedded itself a few inches into the wall and knocked down another shield and spear.

Gael’jic was on his feet and moving in once again. He now confronted the statue to his face and thrust his spear forward once more. This time the attack found its mark and entered the crevice for which he aimed.

The demon statue thrust its arms around in a haphazard fashion as it released a third earsplitting roar. More cracks formed from the attack and now tiny shafts of light poured out of them.

Ariam gathered as much bravery as he could and dashed forward taking the opportunity afforded him by the creature’s wild distraction. He tossed aside the shield and took hold of the spear with both hands. When he came within striking distance he shoved the spear forward and it landed home. The head of the spear entered the only remaining slot on the statue’s midsection.

The statue dropped to its stony knees and released a final deafening roar. Cracks spread all over the thing’s body. Light shot out from every cracked point on the statue’s surface. It arched its back and faced up to the ceiling as it gave a final continuous scream of defeat. It suddenly pitched forward and landed faced first on the floor of the chamber.

The light emanating from the cracks became so bright that none of them could stand to look at it any longer.

The next thing any of them knew the great brilliance of the illumination of the statue monster’s death ceased. Yet there was still a strong source of light where the thing had fallen.

Everyone turned to look at the place and saw a glowing figure laying in the rubble. They stared at the strange form in awe waiting to see what would happen next.

A moment later, the figure stirred. It pushed itself up onto his hands and knees and then stood.

While the being was built like a Dar’rynakai or a human being with a torso, four limbs, and a head, it looked like neither of the species. Its skin was completely smooth and luminescent. It wore flowing white robes. Its head was bald and its face sported four glowing entirely blue eyes and that was all. There was no nose or mouth.

The odd-looking new being stared at each of the four in turn. Then it spoke.

With a voice that seemed to come from every direction, it said, “A thousand years of slavery have come to an end.” It bowed its head and added, “I thank you.”

Ariam took a tentative step toward the thing and in a trembling voice asked, “Who are you?”

Gael’jic added, “What are you?”

The bizarre figure regarded each of them in turn before it answered. “I am the messenger of Rama’dy’ac. You have been led here to free me. And to be tested by me.”

CHAPTER 4. A MESSENGER OF LIGHT

The shimmering figure stood before them with his hands folded in front of himself and his four eyes staring intently at them all. It was an odd experience when he spoke since he had no visible mouth and the voice seemed to come from all directions. “I am Vael, the messenger of Rama’dy’ac,” he said. “Each of you must undergo a test to prepare for what is to come.”

“What exactly are you testing?” Cecil asked with a hint of trepidation in his voice.

Vael turned all of his glowing eyes onto the man and stared at him a few moments before responding. Cecil fidgeted under the odd creature’s gaze and fought an urge to back away. “The test will judge your state of readiness for the work Rama’dy’ac has planned for you. You will be searched to uncover any lack of requisite nature. When found this will need to be addressed.”

‘When,’ Gael’jic noted mentally, not ‘if.’

“And if we are found to be altogether too lacking,” Cecil replied, “then what?”

The glowing figure replied, “Everyone who has undergone the test is found to be lacking. Yet none have ever been found to be irredeemable.” Belem chortled snidely, and the messenger glanced at him reproachfully.

“That does not answer my question, messenger,” Cecil said. “What if one of us or even all of us is found to be lacking beyond help? What then?”

Vael regarded him gravely and closed all four eyes as he tilted his face down toward the floor. His shoulders sagged, then his head came back up and he stared back at Cecil. “If that is found to be,” he said, “then all will be lost. But also know this: when there is a lack found in you, know that what you need will not be supplied by me. You must gain it of your own accord.”

“How are we supposed to do that?” Ariam asked.

“You must find a way,” Vael responded.

“But how are we to find a way?” Cecil pressed.

“Rama’dy’ac will be with you,” Vael said offering no further explanation.

“This Rama’dy’ac is not very helpful, is he?” Belem scoffed.

Vael slowly turned his face toward the escaped convict and replied, “You are not very helpful, human. You gripe more than you act. I recommend you attend to that defect.” His tone was matter-of-fact, but Belem felt an icy wash of dread course through his body.

“The time for questions has ceased,” Vael said, addressing everyone again. “It is now time for me to test you one at a time.”

“How do you determine who is tested first?” Gael’jic asked eagerly.

Vael lifted a hand and said, “Silence, please.” Gael’jic snapped his jaw closed and waited for the messenger of Rama’dy’ac to fulfill his task. The glowing figure extended an index finger into the air and pointed in turn at each of the four. He came to a halt when he was pointing at Gael’jic. He slowly opened his eyes and took a purposeful step toward the Dar’rynakai.

“Gael’jic Du’lamic,” Vael said in a grave tone, “you are to be tested first.” Without waiting for any kind of acknowledgment, Vael took another step closer toward Gael’jic. A tendril of light emanated from his outstretched finger and snaked its way through the air. Gael’jic flinched away but held his place. The tendril of light reached him and touched his forehead and then wrapped all around his body until he was engulfed like the vine-covered statues he had encountered earlier.

Without warning, three tendrils of light sprang away from him and lanced toward the other three members of the group. Each of them gasped or cursed in surprise. But the light reached them and wrapped around the upper portion of their heads and would not let go. Belem tried to forcefully pull away but found he could not move.

A sensation like being plunged into an icy cold river flooded Gael’jic. His physical vision went dark, but his mind’s eye came awake more vividly than it ever had.

CHAPTER 5. A MEMORY OF MURDER

Gael’jic found himself suddenly back in the mountain city of his people. A comforting sensation rolled over him when he realized he was back in his old study. He drew a deep breath and inhaled all of the familiar smells of home. A small noise caught his attention and he spun around to see what it was. He was astonished to behold himself sitting at a desk and scrawling notes on parchment. He watched himself growl and then hiss at what he was writing and then unexpectedly rocket up from his place at the desk. In an instant, he recognized this moment. This was when he concluded that something drastic must be done. For some time he had been slowly unveiling a discovery that disturbed him to his core.

The ruling triumvirate in whom they had all put their trust showed signs of corruption. Undeniable signs. It had long been held that the members of the triumvirate were all of the noblest material and above reproach. Nevertheless, Gael’jic had uncovered evidence that its leading figure, Jobash, had been accepting bribes to curry favor with certain elements of interest in Dar’rynakai society. More than that, it appeared Jobash had been involved with intimidating dissenters into silence, or otherwise quieting them eternally.

The foundation of all that he held to be true and good was rocked to its core. He, along with many of the rest of his people had believed for ages that the triumvirate was worthy in its procedures and untouchable by corruption. But he had found they became increasingly isolated from the people they governed, and were grabbing power for power’s sake.

But what could he do? His influence was not great enough to call for a proper investigation at that level of authority. And yet… perhaps there was someone. If only he could reach out to him.

Once upon a time, Gael’jic had a friend named Trevi’in who was closer than a brother. They grew together and schooled together until finally, they parted ways when they came to maturity because Gael’jic went on to become a scholar, and his friend went on to join the political caste. The scholar class was chiefly consumed with the lore and laws of the Dar’rynakai people.

From time to time one would send the other a note or exchange messages during important events. Many years went by and Gael’jic was astonished by the announcement that his old friend was to be elevated to the ruling triumvirate when one of the members had fallen gravely ill with no hope of recovery. Not long after that, they completely lost contact with one another. Gael’jic later thought that probably should have been an early clue he ought to have seen. The one who had fallen ill was known to dissent from Jobash, after all.

Now that this filthy secret had been uncovered, Gael’jic judged it was time to rekindle their association. He needed a listening ear of influence, and Trevi’in was perfectly positioned to be of assistance. He needed his friend to see the crimes happening underneath his snout. It took months of work to reestablish contact with his old friend but at last, he gained a private audience with him.

He had relayed his findings and watched the horror crawl across his friend’s face. When Gael’jic had finished explaining the situation, his friend replied, “This is dreadful news. We must keep it quiet for now until we are ready to act. You must lay low until I contact you once again and we can put a thorough plan into motion to deal with this corruption.”

Gael’jic had been relieved. He went home satisfied knowing justice and order would be reestablished among his people. But then the waiting began. First, it was a week, then two. That grew into a month and then stretched into the second month of waiting. Gael’jic grew nervous that something terrible might be afoot. Then, worst of all, he received contact from Trevi’in. It was a simple letter, just a few lines. But they were so infuriating, so terrible that he wanted to rage and tear apart his study when he had read them. The note read:

This trouble is too big. You must put it aside and bury it. If you do not, then it is you who will be buried. I am sorry, my friend.

And that was all there was.

Fuming, Gael’jic stormed about his study, in the grip of restlessness, desperately trying to devise what could be done. He could not lay aside all the work he had done and the horrible things he had uncovered. The corruption’s roots were too deep and they must be pulled.

But Gael’jic had not kept quiet as Trevi’in had requested. He couldn’t have as it was too much to keep to himself knowing that others would have to be prepared when the time came. He had secretly passed along the evidence to others who were equally astonished as he. They agreed with him quietly that something must be done. Dozens had seen the truth and balked at it. But they accepted it for what it was and promised vigilance for the coming reckoning.

No, this could not be thrown away. He had stomped over to his desk and sat to write a response to his friend. He scribbled and hissed and growled all the while. When he nearly completed his response he was suddenly overcome by fury. He stopped writing in midsentence and shot upward from his seat. That was the moment Gael’jic now watched. It was the moment of decision. He was going to go confront his friend. That was the moment of his unraveling.

He sent him a different message than the original, demanding an urgent audience with his friend. Trevi’in reluctantly agreed, but only in an attempt to placate Gael’jic. They had met in his friend’s private study in the complex where the triumvirate members were housed and met for their work. Gael’jic’s flesh crawled with disgust just being in the place, knowing the treachery that was carried on there under the guise of societal order.

Trevi’in’s office was adorned with symbols of their peoples’ past. A large wood carving of the great Raka tree basking in the light of Rama’dy’ac dominated the wall behind Trevi’in’s desk. In one corner of the room, a display stand upheld an ancient and ornate example of wooden Dar’rynakai armor hardened by the application of Raka sap and heat. A bookshelf against one wall sported a few leatherbound volumes of Dar’rynakai history and an old-style ke’ef blade, propped up for all to see. A variation of that kind of weapon was still used by those charged with keeping the peace. The blade itself was a meter long and attached to a hardened Raka wood plate carved to rest upon the wearer’s forearm. Two leather straps underneath held the weapon in place.

Gael’jic would have been absorbed in the examination of such things on just about any other occasion. But this was different. His friend tried over and over to pacify him but Gael’jic only grew more agitated with each attempt. Finally, infuriated he could not quell Gael’jic, Trevi’in snarled, snapped his jaws, and denounced him for a fool.

That was his breaking moment. It became clear to the scholar that his one-time friend was not going to be the solution to the corruption because he was a part of it. In a fit of wrath, Gael’jic spun and snatched the old ke’ef blade from the shelf where it had been placed as a decorative item. He charged at his surprised friend who was stunned into stillness and rammed the blade into his chest. He released a powerful scream of rage as he pressed the blade farther in, twisting it, and killing his old friend. He then ripped it out and felt blood running all over his body. He was heaving with anger and sorrow.

Suddenly the scene went completely dark and then the only thing Gael’jic could see other than himself was the glowing form of Vael.

CHAPTER 6. A DEFICIT OF FAITH

“This is your lack,” Vael said with grim words. “You lack trust.”

“Trust?” Gael’jic snapped back at the messenger. “You saw what they did. How could I trust them?”

“I am not talking about the corrupt ones,” Vael replied calmly, shaking his head. “I am talking about the rest of your people. You did not trust them. You took matters into your own hands and acted alone. You did not gather help.”

“I tried to gather help,” Gael’jic snapped back at him. “And this is what happened.”

“You approached one too close to the corruption. One you did not know was corrupt himself. Nevertheless, even he tried to spare you. He shielded you from Jobash and the other one. He prevented them from knowing you had uncovered evidence revealing their corruption. And you killed him. He thought and acted corruptly, true, but you would not let the people hold them accountable to your laws.”

Gael’jic stood stunned and staring back at Vael. It was as if the messenger of Rama’dy’ac had surgically extracted his soul from his body and displayed its pathetic condition to him. He was right. He lacked faith in his people. And he had certainly lacked faith in Rama’dy’ac. Until recently he had believed the Dar’rynakai deity to be merely a myth.

“Now you see your lack for what it is. You must endeavor to correct this.”

“How am I to correct this?” Gael’jic asked meekly.

“You must discover this,” Vael said. “Neither I nor anyone else can hand it to you. If I did it would be of no value to you. It must be built and it must then be proven.”

Vael closed the distance between himself and Gael’jic with three slow, purposeful steps. He stopped a foot away from him and gazed into his face. “But you must hear me now on this. And mark that you take what I say to heart. Your lack must be corrected the quickest. These others have a little more time, but the task that is most at hand for all of you requires you to be made whole Gael’jic Du’lamic.”

“What do you mean?” Gael’jic asked worriedly.

Vael swept his hand out to one side indicating the three other forms standing by his side he had not noticed. Cecil, Ariam, and Belem all shared the same darkened mind space which Gael’jic inhabited. He wondered if that meant if they had seen what happened. Had they shared in the experience with him reliving the worst moment of his life? He shook his head and decided to inquire after that shortly, but for now, Vael seemed to have pressing business to which Gael’jic needed attend.

“Then what is it you require of us?” he asked.

“The time has come to unite all the disparate elements back into one. Humans, Dar’rynakai, and the Dar’ryneel must join forces to face the enemy.”

A chill ran through Gael’jic at the mention of the enemy. He thought he knew what that might be. The demon that had visited him and taunted him in the forest came to mind.

“Uri’thind’ac,” Gael’jic hissed.

“He is known by many names,” Vael replied. “He is the blade in the shadow, he is the deceiver, he is the eclipse of truth. He is many things and has many creeping tentacles and roots thrust into this world and all its peoples. And in other worlds, too.”

“Other worlds?” Gael’jic asked, taken aback. “What do you mean by ‘other worlds’?”

“There is more on that to come,” Vael said. “But first you must be made whole. You must do so to achieve the first task.”

“And what is that?” Cecil asked. Gael’jic shot him a curious glance. He would not have guessed any aside from himself would be able to speak in his own mind, nevertheless, here was evidence to the contrary.

Vael continued to stare deep into Gael’jic’s eyes when he answered. “You must go back to your people. You must call the Dar’rynakai to action. You must put down the corruption rampant among them and show them the truth. The enemy has his claws in the Dar’rynakai. The corruption you detected goes far deeper than you know.”

Gael’jic staggered back a step and said, “If I go back, they will kill me. There is no question of this.”

“You must find a way,” Vael warned sternly. “If you do not, all will fall. All will forever be under his sway. To defeat the ancient evil, you will have to unite the many.”

“Ancient evil?” Ariam asked nervously. “What is that?”

Gael’jic turned and in a hushed tone whispered, “It is part of old Dar’rynakai mythology. Even today the name is sour upon the tongue.”

“It is not a myth!” Vael thundered. All of them flinched at the deafening noise of his shout. He continued more calmly, “Uri’thind’ac, the king of demons, is the ancient evil. But you must begin with the Dar’rynakai.”

The darkened world of his mind faded out of existence and he and the others came awake once more in the circular chamber where they had freed Vael from the confines of the demonic statue. All of them were breathing heavily as if exhausted.

Gael’jic turned and said to Cecil, “Did you see all of that? All that I did?”

Cecil only nodded and looked at the floor. The others looked away from him as well, he noted. Yes, they had all seen it.

Gael’jic’s shoulders slumped and his chin dropped as he felt the weight of the lack that had been revealed in him.

A glowing finger stretched forth and lifted his chin so that he looked back into Vael’s face. “Do not diminish,” the messenger said. “Though your condition is grim, you are not irredeemable. Gael’jic Du’lamic, know that Rama’dy’ac has favored you. He has called you out from your people and set you apart for this very purpose. You must not turn aside from it. Gain faith in knowing this; you are not alone.” He lifted a hand indicating the three others again and said, “These are here to help rebuild your faith.”

The Dar’rynakai turned his head and looked at the others. Now they all looked back at him. Cecil adopted a thoughtful look and Ariam smiled. Belem looked away after a moment.

Gael’jic turned back to Vael. “So be it,” he said.

CHAPTER 7. THE BEGGAR’S MASK

Vael moved on from Gael’jic and now stood before Ariam. The beggar felt his lips quiver as he gazed into the peculiar face of the messenger of Rama’dy’ac. Those four blue glowing eyes pierced his soul. He spoke and said, “The man who calls himself Ariam is next.” He lifted his finger and pointed at Ariam’s forehead. Light still connected the beggar with the other three companions at his sides but it was now joined by an additional ray of light from the messenger’s index finger.

He winced expecting some sort of painful sensation, but his expectation was not met with reality. Instead, he was flooded with warmth and comfort. How odd, he thought but then was surprised that he heard the thought as if it were speech. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the others slightly turn appraising looks toward him. They had heard it too.

Every detail of the chamber where they had freed Vael from the confines of the statue vanished and flooded with the same darkness he had seen when Gael’jic underwent his test. But then he noticed a point of light. It was small and fuzzy initially, but it began to grow and soon took odd shapes. Suddenly it was as if lights brilliantly blazed to life and he found himself in a familiar setting.

It was a large room with a long mirror dominating one wall. A beautifully carved ornate table ran the length of the mirror and rested right up against the wall. A series of chairs lined the side of the table. There was a small window against the far wall. Through it, he could see pinpricks of starlight in the black velvet curtain of night. Electric lights hummed all around him, providing counterfeit daylight, illuminating the space for its only inhabitant. A man sat slumped in one of the chairs by the table. He shook as he quietly sobbed. Ariam felt his heart race as he beheld the miserable creature.

The man abruptly sat up. He lifted both hands before his face. There were splashes of blood on them. The blood was brown and dried. It had been hours since it was applied to those hands. The man turned to his side remaining seated in the chair and the other three companions scrutinized the face.

“Huh,” Belem said. “I had expected that to be you.”

Ariam turned to look at Belem for a moment but said nothing then looked away. He pursed his lips and felt a ball of cold dread take hold of his heart. An uncomfortable pause ensued.

“That is you, isn’t it?” Cecil said startled. Ariam remained silent, horrified.

Belem took another look at the sobbing figure and squinted as he leaned his head closer. “It can’t be you. I may not know you that well, but that doesn’t look anything like you.”

“It’s him,” Cecil said firmly. “He wears some kind of disguise. I have been trained to look beyond disguises. I see the structure beneath that resembles the man we see here,” he said lifting a hand indicating Ariam. “But even your current form is affected, isn’t it Ariam?” Cecil asked after a few seconds of consideration.

Ariam squeezed his eyes shut and turned away.

“What happened?” Cecil asked.

“I will show you,” Vael interjected. The scene before them blinked out of existence and another one replaced it.

Now before them was a theatrical stage set for a performance. Players inhabited the stage exchanging lines and actions. The one they had seen weeping at the mirrored wall was delivering a passionate address. He wore prop armor and held aloft a blunt-edged sword.

The blood drained from Cecil’s face as he took a step forward and his face opened up. “It cannot be,” he said hushed.

“What?” Belem asked.

Cecil turned to Ariam. “You are that performer who disappeared a few years ago, aren’t you? The famous one. The one they called the man of a thousand faces.”

Ariam dropped his head in shame. “Yes,” he whispered. “I was called Arthespis, but even that was a stage name. It doesn’t matter. I am not that man anymore. I left it all behind.”

“You left nothing behind,” Vael said. “You brought all of it with you. You have tried to run from it though it has followed with every step.”

Tears traced courses down Ariam’s cheeks as he brought his head up quickly and opened his eyes to watch his performance. He had never seen it from the outside. He could have watched recordings of himself, but he detested doing so. A minority voice at the far back of his thoughts informed him that he missed the stage. But there was no going back.

“This was the night,” Ariam said. “This was the night that undid me.”

“What happened?” Cecil asked again.

The images before them faded and were replaced by others once again. Anticipating the scene that would play next, Ariam began to narrate. “After the performance, there was a party in the ballroom below the theater. It was the wealthiest and most opulent party I had ever been to. And that is saying something.”

The next scene was suddenly before them. It perfectly fit what Ariam described. The four companions stood on the dance floor and were encircled by a raucous celebration. Dancers flitted about to wild music. Drink flowed freely. Off in one corner Ariam stood surrounded by women hanging off of him. He lifted a bottle of wine and poured some down his face. It ran down his front as well, staining his fine garments. The women chittered with laughter. Ariam burst forth with great guffaws. He was carefree and confident. They could all see that.

“Look at me,” Ariam said with a shaky voice. “Do I look like I’m having a good time?”

None of them answered.

“I wasn’t. I may have thought so at the time, but later I would see it differently. That babbling laughing fool was the most miserable wretch you’ve ever met in your life. I was needy and prone to addictions. Never without a pretty girl in my arm. Often, more than one.”

“Oh, right,” Belem said sarcastically as one of the beautiful women ran a hand suggestively over his wine-soaked chest. “Poor miserable wretch. Some folks have all the bad luck.” Cecil shot the man a look of reprimand, but Belem remained unmoved.

Ariam released a shuddering breath. He shook his head as he stared at his past self. “Just keep watching,” he said.

The Ariam from the past leaned over and whispered something into the ear of one of the ladies. She giggled with delight and nodded eagerly. He turned to the one on his other side and did the same and got much the same response. They vacated their spot. He led them away with his arms draped over both their shoulders. They seemed almost to be carrying his weight. He just noticeably staggered his steps and his eyes looked a touch swimmy. Yet there was enough awareness in them to say he was not fully in his cups.

The trio walked past Ariam, Cecil, Belem, and Gael’jic. The companions watched the three partygoers as they left. Ariam detached himself from his place to follow. The others fell in with him. Yet each step was a revulsion for him. He knew what was coming. He abhorred the idea of reliving it but guessed there was no way out of this vision apart from seeing it play out. Overcome with anxiety he halted and turned to face the glowing form of Vael. His eyes pleaded that they might skip what inevitably came next. Vael stood unmoving like the statue he had once been before awakened and stared back at Ariam.

A disappointed breath escaped Ariam and he turned and continued on. “I don’t want to see this,” he muttered.

They caught up with the three figures from the past after exiting the ballroom and jogging into the street. The past version of Ariam occasionally planted kisses on the cheeks of the women who accompanied him. They giggled and returned his affections. They meandered through the streets seemingly without aim. Occasionally Ariam would lightly trip on some object he could not see in the dark, but the girls caught him and kept him upright.

A new voice penetrated the scene. It made the real Ariam jump.

“What do we have here?” came a gruff voice. Both girls yelped in surprise and the past version of Ariam spun around shakily. “Who’s there?” he demanded.

“Just a lonely beggar,” said the man wrapped in shadow. Several slow steps brought the man partially into the light of an overhead street lamp. He had long greasy hair and his face was covered in several days’ worth of stubble. A big scar adorned the left side of his face. It started above his eye and bisected it downward. The eye in that socket was milky white. His clothes were stained and tattered. In his right hand, he held a long-bladed knife. He lifted it and pointed it at Ariam’s chest. He was not close enough to strike, but it would not take the man long to get there if he wished. A wicked grin split the lower half of the man’s face. He said, “You folks look like you’re living fat and sleek. Suppose you wouldn’t mind making a donation.”

“A d…d…donation?” Ariam stammered.

“Yeah, you know, money?” The thug’s face changed. The grin disappeared and a flash of confusion followed by a dawning recognition.

“Hold on a second,” the man drawled. “Don’t I know you, fella?”

The Ariam from the past sputtered a pompous noise and jutted his chest forward proudly. “Everyone knows me,” he said. “I am the greatest actor the human colony has ever seen. I perform plays with brilliant execution. I am revered.”

The thug began to chuckle, his shoulders shaking with the laughter. “Then you should have coin enough to spare! Let’s have it.” He thrust the knife a little closer to Ariam’s face. Ariam flinched back.

“Leave us be, wretch, and flee back to the gutter where you belong,” The Ariam from the past sneered.

The thug’s face changed again. This time it contorted with anger.

“Awful high and mighty for a man who ain’t got no bodyguards or a blade for himself.” The man menacingly stepped forward and brought the tip of his blade underneath Ariam’s chin.

“Maybe I’ll carve that famous face for you. Then you’ll be the man with a thousand and one faces.”

In one half-drunk fluid motion, the Ariam from the past staggered back quickly and in the process spit at the man in disgust.

The spittle collided with the man’s cheek and he blinked in surprise at the show of insult.

Ariam and the thug stared at one another, both uncomprehending the full significance of what had just transpired. Then the thug’s face clouded with violence and he lunged forward. Ariam grabbed the closest thing he could find to defend himself: one of the girls who had accompanied him. He yanked the girl off balance and brought her in front of himself to use as a human shield. The thug was already committed to violence and could not stop the plunging motion of the weapon.

The blade pierced the base of her throat and her eyes opened wide in shock. The thug did not realize what happened until a heartbeat afterward. When he comprehended it at last he ripped the knife out of the girl’s throat and watched her collapse. He turned disbelieving eyes upon Ariam. That was when Ariam noticed the other girl had already fled the scene. Now it was just he and the thug.

The two of them stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Then the thug bolted away and was swallowed by the night. Ariam stood stunned for a long time, then darted over to the fallen girl and knelt at her side. She was still coughing and sputtering. She could not speak and Ariam put his hands on her shoulders trying in vain to calm her. He found himself babbling and unable to say anything intelligible. She just stared at him with terrified eyes as her body convulsed until it no longer could. Her eyes remained open as she died. Then she stared into nothingness.

Ariam was in shock. He lifted his hands and saw they were covered with blood. He stood and looked from his blood-streaked hands to the corpse of the girl at his feet. He backed up one step, then another. Then he slowly walked backward and turned away to dazedly amble off. The trauma of the event had sobered him somewhat, but he nevertheless found himself wandering aimlessly. He did not think about where he was going and so was surprised to find himself back at the same building he and the ladies had left not long before.

He peered down at the blood on his hands and clothes. He couldn’t go in there looking like that, he decided. So instead of walking into the ballroom he went around the side of the building and ascended stairs to a secondary entrance to the theater.

He moved carefully so as not to be seen. It wasn’t difficult as everyone was downstairs. He lurked back into the dressing room and sat at the mirrored table where the performers applied makeup and prosthetics for their shows. There he sat and laid his head on the table and wept.

CHAPTER 8. THE BEGGAR REVEALED

This scene disappeared and Ariam found himself standing in the dark of his mind with the others. He did not dare look over at them. He knew the expressions on their faces would be either disappointment or contempt.

“They came looking for her,” he said in a low choked voice. “Her family, I mean. They knew she had been at the party after the performance, and witnesses told them she had been with me. The other girl, her friend, was the main one. I lied to them. Her body had been found the following day and they knew she was dead, but they wanted answers. What they didn’t know was how the other girl had fled before she was murdered. She had not been keen to reveal that. So, I was the only witness to it. But I told them I was unconscious, that the thug had knocked me out and robbed me. I said he must have killed her afterward. When the authorities asked for a description of the man I lied again. I knew the basic details the other girl would probably have told them and I added some flourishes. I didn’t want them to find the man. I didn’t want to be found out.”

Ariam choked out a sob, then recovered himself enough to go on. “Afterward, I went home and shut myself away. I canceled all my performances and stayed locked away from it all, trying to take solace in my wealth. But I was not comforted by my lavish surroundings. I saw them for what they were. They were no more real than the props I engaged with on stage. It was all fake. I ran through that night over and over again in my head for days. I realized my assumptions about myself had been false. I once believed my wealth and my fame made me a great man. But my bloated confidence kept the truth from me. I was a deplorable and cowardly fool. The only thing I was good for was pretending to be something I was not. And that is what I had done all my life.”

Ariam’s eyes were haunted as he stared into the blackness of his mind. Long uncomfortable moments passed and no one said anything.

Vael stepped closer to Ariam. “And this is what you lack,” he said. Ariam snapped out of his self-loathing and looked up at the glowing figure. His eyes were wet and fearful. He did not want to hear what the messenger had to say. For he knew it. He just did not want to hear it.

“You lack fortitude.”

“Fortitude?” Belem asked. “What’s that?”

Cecil turned his head to the other man and sneered. “It means courage, you idiot.”

Belem ignored Cecil’s insult but balked nonetheless. “Courage? Wait, that can’t be right. This man left the Citadel on his own, he wandered in the jungle alone, he approached a bloodied stranger lying in the middle of ruins, he endured my presence for a time, and he was the first to walk into this forsaken place. If he lacks fortitude, then don’t we all?”

Vael leveled a flat gaze at Belem and slowly shook his head from side to side. “All those things you relayed are not courageous. In some of those things he was led by Rama’dy’ac, in the others, he was merely careless. But in all of them, he was terrified. They were but a show of fortitude. A false front, only a performance.”

“I wear a mask,” Ariam said. “He’s right, Belem. Tell me: how have I appeared to you ever since you met me?”

Belem shrugged. “Insufferably cheerful?”

“That’s right,” Ariam said, nodding his head. “And none of it’s real. It is an affectation. I hide from myself the truth. It’s all a performance. I want it to be real, I ache for it, I even try to make it real as hard as I can! And sometimes I get there. But most of the time it is a front to hide what is really in me.”

“Why fear?” Belem asked. “You had everything.”

“I had nothing,” Ariam countered. “Nothing of true value. So I ran away from it all. I had constructed a careful persona that I showed the world. I hardly ever let anyone see my true face. I always walked around in public with some form of disguise; makeup, prosthetics, and so on. I wanted people to think of me as the man of a thousand faces. Because I didn’t want any of them to know the real me. And so I abandoned all of it. But the trouble was, I used my real face as a new kind of mask. Hardly anyone knew it. But I threw off my old garments and put on new tattered ones. I grew a thick scraggly beard to conceal my face from those who did know what I looked like. I rubbed grime on me so people would look away in disgust when they would see me coming. All of it was so that I would not be known.”

“I don’t know that I understand any of that,” Belem said.

“That is because you are exactly as you appear,” Ariam replied. “I, however, know it all too well.”

Ariam turned his face back to Vael. “It is all true,” he said. “I lack courage.”

Vael nodded his head once and replied, “You will face harrowing dangers in days to come. You must withstand and conquer, or your companions will fail along with you.”

“I don’t know that I can,” Ariam said pleadingly.

“You must,” Vael responded.

CHAPTER 9. GENETIC ENGINEERING

Cecil stood stalwart as the glowing form of Vael approached him. He had resolved not to flinch away from the messenger of Rama’dy’ac’s task. Nevertheless, he could not deny a note of apprehension floating in the back of his mind. When Vael’s four eyes peered into Cecil’s face it felt as if they bored into his very soul.

Vael lifted his hand, index finger pointing upward, and pressed it towards Cecil. The line of blue glowing light lanced outward and connected with Cecil’s forehead. Cecil expected a sensation of pain to take him at that moment, but instead, as with Ariam, he felt flooded with warmth.

As had happened when Vael had done this process with the others everything around him was absorbed in blackness. He waited patiently for what he assumed was coming next – the appearance of familiar settings and himself. Perhaps a touch younger. Cecil looked to his left and then his right and saw the others standing at his side. Their faces were forward as they awaited the arrival of the vision concerning Cecil and whatever it would be that Vael announced he lacked.

With sudden ferocity, a piercingly bright light burst upon his vision. He immediately squeezed his eyelids shut to protect himself from it.

He slowly opened his eyes again and beheld a sterile and white environment. It was a medical room of some kind. Sitting at the center of the room was an examination chair. Standing next to the chair was a person facing away from him. Cecil narrowed his eyes as he observed the subject in question. The person he saw, who he was only half-surprised to note was not himself, affected an impatient posture. But not only was the person not him, but it also was not even a ‘he.’ The person was a woman. It was not someone he had ever seen before. He was puzzled at how this could be connected to him.

She spun around and revealed her face. She was tall and slender. Toned muscular arms folded across her chest and even through the flowing medical gown Cecil could see she was tightly built. Her facial features were square-ish but she was not a homely woman by any stretch of the imagination. She might even be described as striking after a fashion.

She had a strong jawline and it currently set her face in a rigid mask. A severe look etched her brow as she waited for whatever news or procedure was coming to her. She sported shoulder-length blonde hair, which was tied back in a braid that cascaded down the back of her neck.

In the next moment, the only door leading into the room slid open with a minor whoosh, and in stepped a man wearing a long white lab coat. He was in his mid-thirties and his head was covered in thick, well-kempt jet-black hair. His clean-shaven lantern jaw would have been considered handsome by many. The precision with which the man seemed to be put together spoke of a known quantity among the wealthiest of humanity: genetic engineering.

A perfect pair of intelligent light blue eyes were a distinct addition to his many other notable features. Currently, those eyes perused a clipboard and the printed files it held. He lifted a sheet of paper to peer at another beneath it. As his hawklike gaze perused the patient’s information the woman before him stood waiting for this man to give her his attention.

After a few moments, he dropped the page back in place and grunted with satisfaction. He looked up at the blonde woman with a smirk and said, “Everything appears to be in order. Have you been made aware of all the risks, and do you understand and accept them?”

She gave a curt nod and simply said, “Yes.”

His smile broadened as he turned to a bank of drawers off to one side. He strode over to them and pulled open one of the drawers and reached inside. He extracted a gun-like injection device. He then brought his face up to look at the refrigerated cabinet in front of his face and pressed a few buttons beside it. The door to the refrigerated cabinet sprung open and he reached inside and extracted a dimly glowing green vial. He inserted this into the injection device and turned back to the woman. He held out his hand and she responded by lifting her right arm.

“Won’t you sit down?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she nearly growled in response.

His smile became a muted look of reproach. “This gene therapy can sometimes be difficult to undergo. I think it would be best if you took a seat.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated, with an even harder edge.

The doctor simply blinked at her a few times and then said, “This will not merely affect your body. As you have been told it will also begin to change the child.”

The woman subconsciously lifted her left hand and covered her belly.

For the first time, a look of concern washed away the stern expression on her face. “It won’t harm him, will it? No one said anything about it possibly harming the child.”

The doctor pursed his lips as he thought about a response. His hesitation did nothing to help the woman’s anxiety. But then he said, “It shouldn’t. It’s been a long time since we’ve had an unfavorable reaction and we’ve greatly improved the formula and process since then. Besides, your genetic makeup is quite impressive. It’s exactly the kind of thing we’re looking for in this process.”

“What could go wrong?” she said with an undertone of threat.

“He won’t be damaged,” the doctor said in a voice that failed to reassure.

“If you don’t want me to jam that thing into your eye, you better be more forthcoming than that,” she said. Cecil couldn’t help but smirk at the woman’s boldness.

The doctor continued to smile reassuringly, but it never touched his eyes which faltered when she issued her threat. He stared at her for a few more seconds before he responded in a voice that managed to sound somehow under control yet restraining fear.

“No child has ever died from the unique gene therapy,” he said. “Every one of them has been affected favorably. It’s just that…” he trailed off and for the first time, real apprehension danced across his face. He was nervous about saying the wrong thing to this woman.

“Just that what?” she prompted, a razor’s edge present in every word.

“Aside from all of the added benefits, a few of the earlier subjects had some side effects regarding their appearance which could make life a little socially difficult.”

She seemed to relax at this. “Social graces and cues are not the concern here, are they?” she said. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

“It can be hard for some mothers,” the doctor responded, clearly relieved himself.

“I am not just any mother,” she chided.

“No,” he said with a smirk. “I suppose you are not.”

She proffered her right arm to the man once again and he stepped toward her, lifting the injection device. He grabbed her wrist firmly and brought the injection needle close to the site at which it would go in: a vein that pulsed just below her inner elbow. He looked up to stare into her face and said, “This is going to sting quite a lot at first, and the discomfort will only grow. You should ready yourself.”

“I’ve been ready since before I was selected,” she said evenly.

He nodded to her and looked back down at her arm. He slid the needle into her arm and slowly depressed the trigger. The device in his hand pushed the green liquid into her bloodstream.

All of the muscles in her arm seized at once and she grunted against a cry of pain that threatened to explode from her. Cecil easily detected the great amount of discomfort on her face. In the next instant, she closed her eyes tightly. Her shoulders began to tremble and she thrust one hand behind her to find stability on the examination chair.

Cecil found his heart racing, though he couldn’t say why he should be affected in this way. He did not know this woman or the doctor. He did not understand what was happening or why it should matter to him.

The doctor pulled the injection device away and released her arm. She immediately spun around and placed both hands on the examination seat and leaned forward, hunching over the chair.

“I told you it would be a good idea to take a seat,” he said.

Suddenly she arched her back and thrust her head toward the ceiling and opened her mouth. A scream tore from her and filled the room. It made even Cecil flinch. At once the doctor was at her side, shepherding her to the chair. She crawled up on it reluctantly and lay back and convulsed. He worked to hold her down. She grunted and growled as the gene therapy material coursed violently through her frame. Her body spasmed and she began to retch.

Then after a few seconds of this, her entire body went completely slack. The doctor hurriedly pressed two fingers up under her jaw to check her pulse. He held his hand there for quite a long time then removed the fingers and smiled broadly and breathed a sigh of relief.

The woman’s eyes opened and she drew in a sharp gasping breath. Her back arched once again as her hands went to her belly. Cecil noticed a minor green glow ringed her irises momentarily then vanished.

She looked down at herself and an expression of surprise filled her face. She lifted her startled eyes to look at the doctor and said, “I feel him moving.”

The doctor simply nodded.

“How can that be?” she asked, perplexed. “I’m only five weeks along.”

“It’s the gene therapy,” the doctor said. “It’s a miracle of engineering, really. Not only has it enabled us to modify the code to produce only boys, and not only has it heightened your senses, but it also has strengthened the little one within you.”

“But he would still be too small to feel,” she said incredulously.

“Normally he would be,” the doctor replied. “But as I said, your genetics are very strong and the gene therapy enhances the child as well as you. He has grown significantly in the last few minutes alone. But don’t worry,” he added, lifting a hand as if to stave off her fearful arguments. “These initial stages will cause the child to grow somewhat quickly, but it will soon halt. He will soon slow down and return to a normal gestational cycle.”

She cast her gaze back down to her belly and rubbed it with both hands carefully. “Nothing about this feels normal.”

CHAPTER 10. BIRTH

These images were unexpectedly washed away and replaced with others. The same woman strolled about an indoor track. But now she was quite pregnant.

The track traced around the outer edge of a large gymnasium and several other women carried about a variety of activities and exercises. Other women were walking the track as well: several walked up ahead of her, and a few paced behind. None of them conversed with one another. It was forbidden. Cecil didn’t know how he knew this, but he did.

As she walked along her face was serene.

The woman lifted her hands to her midsection once again and lovingly brushed against the belly swollen with the child. All of a sudden she rocked to a halt and a look of astonishment took her face. She suddenly collapsed to her knees and issued a long and loud grunt of pain. She bent doubled over and pressed her forehead to the cool surface of the gymnasium’s walking track.

Next came the sound of several footsteps running with great speed to the woman’s side. Urgent voices reassured her that all would be well and that she must come with them. The woman lifted her eyes and saw they bore a wheeled gurney with them. Two sets of hands came under her arms and lifted her to a standing position. Her legs would not hold her and so they sustained her all of the way up and then onto the gurney. Others in lab coats stood by watching and approving. One of those was the same doctor who had administered the gene therapy.

Her eyes shot open again and Cecil flinched this time at the sight of the dimly glowing almost fully green color of her irises. Her mouth shot open and issued a cry of distress and agony.

“It’s all right,” the doctor said. “Your time has come, my dear. It’s time to meet your little one.”

Those who had lifted her onto the gurney now began to rush her forward on it. The doctor jogged alongside to keep pace with them. Soon they were out the doorway again and traveling down a hallway. They shouted to one another about stats and readouts. Others applied electrodes to monitor her vital signs. A hovering medical display unit detached itself from the wall and followed along with them now showing what information the electrodes gained from her. The doctor shot a look toward these displays and nodded satisfactorily.

“You’re doing very well,” he encouraged the woman. “It won’t be long now.”

“But it just started!” the woman said through gritted teeth. Her eyes squeezed shut once more as another wave of pain took her.

“The gene therapy and all of the follow-up therapies you have undergone over these last months ensure the process goes very swiftly.”

“It hurts!” she cried. “Never…felt…anything…like it!” Another piercing scream. Cecil got the impression this was a woman who loathed to admit pain but this was clearly overcoming her.

“I know,” reassured the doctor. “It’s only going to get worse. Sorry.”

These images blacked out and Cecil drew a better breath to argue with Vael that he had not understood nor seen nearly enough. But then more images came. In this new scene, the woman lay relaxed but exhausted, covered in sweat, and breathing heavily. But a smile stretched her face. Across her chest lay a squirming bundle. She reached up a finger and stroked the child’s cheek.

The baby’s eyes shot wide open and bright emerald green eyes stared back at her. This time, all but Gael’jic gasped in surprise and took a half step backward.

The woman continued to beam at her new son. “At last,” she said, “My little Cecil. Mother loves you.”

Then men were at her side, extracting the child from her grip. She raised both hands in protest, but she was her ankles were strapped to the bed so she could not get up to follow.

“Wait,” she said in desperation. “I’ve only just…”

Then a man appeared behind her. He wore the armor of a Royal Guardian. He reached over the top of the bed and snatched her hair and yanked her head back. He reached around the hospital bed with his other hand which wielded a knife. She gasped as the man quickly and efficiently slit her throat.

Cecil gasped and choked. He shouted, “Mother?” He reached out toward the dying woman, but then all went black once more.

“Wait!” He demanded. “Mother! I’ve only just…” Cecil turned a desperate face towards Vael. He stepped toward the glowing figure and raised both hands, intending to seize the messenger of Rama’dy’ac by his white flowing robes. “Bring her back!” he crowed.

Vael simply lifted a hand between himself and the approaching Cecil. Cecil stopped, then staggered backward as if he had run into an invisible fist that had punched him in the chest.

“We are not finished,” Vael said evenly.

Cecil stared back at the messenger stunned. He wanted to argue. He wanted to fight. But then he slowly walked back and stood in line with the others. He brought his face to stare forward as another set of images came.

There was a room full of crying and cooing infants. They all rested in clear plastic bassinets swaddled in blue blankets. Nameplates adorned the ends of each of these and Cecil quickly located his own. He stared at his younger self with awe and wonder.

“I never knew,” he said.

“You were never meant to,” Vael replied.

“I mean I knew we were taken as infants. But the engineering and…did they slaughter all of the mothers?”

“Every one of them,” Vael replied.

“That is wrong,” Cecil said in a growl after a few heartbeats.

“Yes,” Vael said. “But that is not the only wrong thing.”

Cecil turned his face to look at the strange figure and squinted his emerald eyes in a question. The scene went dark once again, but Cecil soon realized it was not darkened in the same way that the previous scenes had prior to shifting to a new one. He could still see the outline of shapes. One shape, in particular, caught his attention.

A hooded figure now stood in the room with all of the infants. It moved down one aisle and halted beside his bassinet. The cloaked figure looked from left to right, making certain it was not seen. It then reached down into the bassinet and snatched Cecil from his resting place.

Then he ran.

CHAPTER 11. THE STOLEN BABY

“Oh,” Ariam said with interest. “I think I know this.”

Cecil shot the man a questioning glance.

“Just watch,” Ariam said. “I think I know what this is. I believe I saw part of this in a dream.”

Instead of asking further queries Cecil turned and watched the scene unfold.

Now they followed the man as he ran through darkened corridors with a squirming child in his arms. Suddenly, red lights washed the entire space through which he ran and a siren began to blare. None of this disturbed the running figure who simply pressed on with all his might.

He came to a stairway that led upwards and took it without hesitation. When he reached the top of the stairs he looked around to get his bearings. He began to move one way, hesitated, then turned and ran in an opposite direction.

He coursed this way for some time until he came to a set of doors. He rapidly pressed buttons on the panel beside the doors and threw himself through the doorway and found himself in a large square room.

Inside this room was a series of tables in a ring formation with figures strapped to them and medical equipment attached to them as well. This time Gael’jic gasped along with the others when they all saw and discerned the nature of the figures. They were Dar’rynakai. The man darted back out of the room after a few seconds when he realized this was not the way he intended to go. But it was enough for Cecil and the others to ascertain what was going on in the room.

The medical equipment attached to the Dar’rynakai were drawing something from them and distilling it into a small catch-vat centered between them. The liquid that ended up in the vat was a dimly glowing green color. It was the same material as the gene therapy the doctor had injected into the woman, Cecil’s mother. It all came crashing down on him in a single thunderous instant.

“Yes,” Vael said. “Cecil, you’re coming into the world is only partly natural. You are a greatly engineered being,” he said.

Cecil shook his head in disbelief. “No. It isn’t possible.”

“Believe what you have seen,” Vael said sternly. “Your genetics have been altered to accommodate aspects of the Dar’rynakai people. You are a child of both Earth and Dar’ryn.”

“Earth?” Ariam asked. “What’s that?”

Cecil turned pleading eyes to Vael. He wanted the thing to recant. To say that it was not true, that none of it was real. He was met only with an implacable gaze. He would find no help there.

Cecil looked to Gael’jic who stared back at him with the same expression of surprise he wore, or at least a Dar’rynakai version of it.

Vael spoke up once again. “You have always known you are different. You have always known all of the Royal Guardians are of special breeding.”

“But I didn’t know we were monsters! That we were inhuman freaks.”

“You are no monster,” Vael said.

“I am no human,” Cecil countered in disgust.

A difficult silence followed as the scene before them continued to play out and the hooded figure darted through multiple passageways carrying little Cecil.

“You look human to me,” Ariam said. Cecil leveled an angry glare at the other man which shut him up right away.

“I can’t say that I know what I am,” Cecil said, shaking his head. “Not after this.”

“You are chosen,” Vael replied. “You are chosen for a radical purpose. As are these others. Nevertheless, you still have a lack.”

“Today has revealed that I lack much,” Cecil seethed. “For instance, I lack basic humanity.”

“Nonsense,” Vael replied. “You are not less than human. You are more than human.”

“I don’t want this,” Cecil growled.

“You have no choice,” Vael said sternly.

“Then tell me, Messenger of Rama’dy’ac,” Cecil said striding up to Vael and getting as close as the other being would allow him. “What is it I lack for this so-called radical purpose?”

“You lack hope.”

Cecil blinked at the man and tilted his head in curiosity. He spat back at Vael, “Hope?”

“That is correct,” Vael answered. “You have long known duty, loyalty, brotherhood. You are well equipped with strength and the ability to fight. You are a born leader. But you can do none of these things well. But because you lack hope, you have long doubted yourself. You have never believed that things could turn out sufficient.”

“That’s my training. We are told we must always assume the worst could happen at any moment. And, by the way, it turned out to be true! My king was assassinated before my very eyes and there was nothing I could do to prevent it!”

“Yes,” Vael said. “But have you been trained that the opposite is also true? Not only may things go horribly wrong, but they may also turn out exceptionally well.”

“I can’t believe that,” Cecil said. “Especially not after this.” He waved his hand at the scene of the man running through a variety of corridors and taking what appeared to be random turns.

Suddenly the man was out on the streets. It was dark outside. He began to search for a path and found it. He ran down a darkened alleyway. Ariam grunted with familiarity.

“He’s going to get there soon,” Ariam said. The sound of mekhounds baying echoed all around them.

Cecil ignored this. “How could I ever have hope after this?”

“You must find a way,” Vael said.

Cecil opened his mouth to issue another protest but then only sighed in defeat instead. He gave Vael one last look then reluctantly turned back to watch the scene play out.

The man carrying the infant version of himself darted through streets and alleyways until he came to a dead end at the Citadel wall. As in Ariam’s dream, he entered the wall through a secret passageway and then made his way to an exit out into the jungle. The bays of the mekhounds drew steadily closer.

The group watched in grim fascination as the remainder of Ariam’s dream and Cecil’s test played out. The Royal Guardians surrounded the man with their mekhounds and forced him to give up. Once he laid the child on the ground they took him down.

It was a bloody affair. In the process, the cloak he wore was torn aside and Cecil saw with surprise that the man also wore the armor of the Royal Guardians beneath it. Then all went completely dark once again.

CHAPTER 12. REFUSAL

Belem’s face was all anger and bared teeth. He shook his head in refusal the instant Vael turned his attention from Cecil to himself. He backed away, holding up his hands to stave the creature off. Vael continued to walk toward him.

“No,” Belem said firmly. “I want nothing to do with this radical purpose or whatever else you’re selling. All I want is to get out of here. Let me go.”

Vael ceased moving and folded his hands in front of him and he stared at Belem. He considered the man for a few moments longer before he spoke. “Your apprehension is understandable,” Vael began, “but it is not warranted.”

“Apprehension has nothing to do with it,” Belem spat back. “I just don’t want to do this. I have neither the interest nor the time to get swallowed up in some sort of revolution. All I care about is extracting my pound of flesh from Lycas Ryth.”

Vael replied, “That will be impossible until you leave this place. And you cannot leave this place until you are tested. The door will remain shut.” Vael lifted a hand to indicate the way they had come into the space. All four of them turned around to look back at the entrance which was now closed off once again by the giant stone circle.

“When did that happen?” Ariam asked. “We never heard it close but we would have.”

“Not if we were caught up in our trances,” Gael’jic supplied.

“You let me out of this place right now,” Belem demanded. He took a menacing step toward Vael but the Messenger of Rama’dy’ac did not react to the implicit threat. The others knew this was an empty gesture, as did Belem. Cecil had tried as much and had been easily repelled by the being.

“The way shall remain shut until you are tested,” Vael said evenly.

Belem tossed his hands up in the air. “Then it looks like we’re all going to be stuck down here for the rest of our short miserable lives!”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Ariam said.

“I will not be tested,” Belem shouted at the man. Silence fell over the room at the outburst. Ariam closed his mouth, though he looked like he wanted to say more. The others glanced at one another trying to figure out if anything else ought to be said.

Gael’jic stepped forward. “What is it you are afraid of?” he asked.

“I fear nothing,” Belem said defiantly though there was a noticeable tremor in one corner of his mouth. This did not escape Gael’jic’s notice.

“That is not true, and all of us here know it,” Gael’jic said to Belem. “There is no shame in fear. It is but a natural response to certain stimuli. Fear is one of the ways creatures survive. I believe you are a great survivor. I judge this by the scars all over you.”

Belem snarled, “The scars I bear indicate I do not run from danger. I am not a fearful man. I am a fearsome one.”

“Be that as it may,” Gael’jic said, “you have an objective you care very much about: going after this Lycas Ryth person you have mentioned. But you will never get the opportunity to do that unless you step forward to be tested by Vael.”

Belem stared back at Gael’jic with a look of boiling anger. He then stepped to the side and stormed toward Vael. “What will this accomplish?” he barked. “What do you expect me to see? Some tearful scenes from my childhood? Some great revelation of hidden depths to my character? I can tell you exactly who I am. I have everything I want except one thing. I want to get my hands on Lycas Ryth’s sorry hide and skin him. That is the only thing I lack.”

Vael stared at him for a moment before he said, “That is a lie.”

Belem blinked in astonishment at the accusation, then said, “What did you say to me?”

“You lack something else. And you know what it is, yet you loathe to admit that it could be important.”

Belem scoffed. “It turns out you don’t know so much, after all. Maybe that means you don’t know any of us and there’s no point to you.”

“If you have no fear,” Cecil said, “then why do you refuse to be tested? If you have nothing to hide, nothing that you are afraid the rest of us will see, then it makes no sense to avoid it. Why don’t you just shut your stupid mouth and get on with it?”

Belem shared a poisonous look with Cecil. Cecil simply stood motionless and unperturbed. He folded his arms in front of him and glared back at the other man with expectancy. The two of them taunted each other with their eyes, daring one another to make a move. This went on for a long time before Belem finally shook his head and uttered a contemptuous sound.

“Fine,” he said. He turned to Vael and said, “Get on with it then. Let’s see what magical things the Messenger of Rama’dy’ac has to reveal to us all about me.”

Vael regarded him for a few moments before he stepped closer to the man. He lifted his hand and outstretched his index finger which glowed brightly. A tendril of light leaped from his finger and collided with Belem’s forehead. The instant the light struck his flesh a giant clanging sound as of an enormous bell rang out all around them. All four of them gasped in surprise at the resounding noise. The ground tremored beneath their feet and all of them shot out their hands to balance themselves. In the next instant, all of it ceased and the world around them went completely dark. The next thing any of them knew they were outside.

Well, not truly outside. They were in the under-Citadel, beneath the surface of Dar’ryn. There, out on the filthy streets under facsimile sunlight, a child ran.

CHAPTER 13. VERMIN

The child was no more than six years old, fair-skinned, and he darted about grungy obstacles of the under-Citadel streets with ease. His face was etched in concentration and he clutched something in his hand. From behind him came angry shouts. All four observers turned their heads to gaze in that direction and saw a furious adult charging down the street after the child. He was waving a butcher’s knife and shouting curses.

“Get back here you little rat!” the man screamed. “I’ll turn you into a stew.”

They all turned and began to follow the boy seeing where he was going. It was difficult as he was small and able to dart around the legs of pedestrians on the street. Soon they realized they did not themselves have to dart around anyone. They could simply walk right through them as they were not really there. That made catching up with the boy significantly easier.

“That you?” Cecil asked Belem.

Belem grunted affirmatively but said nothing.

“What did you steal?” he asked.

“Food,” Belem said simply. “It’s either steal or starve down here. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, Guardsman.” Belem’s last word dripped with resentment but Cecil said nothing further in reply.

They followed the boy down a series of alleyways and watched as he expertly hid under a pile of refuse. His pursuer did not come down this alleyway but continued running down the main street shouting as if he were still on the boy’s trail. Perhaps he even thought he was. There was no telling how long it would take him to realize he had completely lost the child, but the immediate danger was over.

After a few minutes of waiting the boy grew certain the man was not going to find him so he climbed out of the pile of garbage. He clutched a small loaf of bread in his hand. He looked at it and nibbled at one end, but left the majority of it. When he was satisfied with this, he casually started in another direction. They all followed.

“I’m going home,” Belem explained. “Bringing food for my mother.” The others took this in but did not comment.

The scene changed suddenly to a musty room. A small tattered blanket lay crumpled in one corner and streaks of greasy black marks stained the walls where the paint was peeling and flaking off. Dust motes floated lazily throughout. The young Belem crawled in through a window three stories up on one of the shabby apartment buildings of the under-Citadel. He had ascended a rickety and rusty fire escape to get there. He still clutched the bread in his hand and loudly dropped with both feet to the floor.

“Belem? Is that you?” There was a tinge of worry in the feminine voice that floated from another room.

“It is me, Mama!” The young Belem shouted. “I brought bread.”

A disheveled woman appeared in the doorway to the room. A bright smile stretched across her face as she beheld her son. It was not difficult to tell that she had once upon a time been an attractive woman. A few years of scraping by in the poor sectors beneath the surface had not erased certain obvious qualities prized in the wealthier sectors above. Her teardrop face and full lips were untouched by cosmetics, yet still comely. But her eyes appeared tired, worn down.

“What a good boy,” she said.

The little Belem beamed the smile back at her and extended his handful of bread to the woman. She lovingly took it from him and tore off a few pieces which she stuffed in her mouth.

“Have you had any yet?” she asked.

The boy looked away and shrugged. “Only a few nibbles, Mama.”

“That’s all right, my love,” his mother said.

She got down on one knee in front of the boy, lifted a hand, and cupped his face in her palm. “My son,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper. “I have a tremendous surprise for you.”

“A surprise, Mama?” Belem asked.

“That’s right,” she said. She nodded her head eagerly as she looked into his face. She could hardly contain herself. “I have arranged for you to see your father.”

The young Belem screwed up his face as he tilted his head to one side. “Father? I thought father was dead?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m sorry. That is what I told you, but it is not true. I told you that because I thought there was never any hope that you would ever get to meet him. He is a very important man. But I have made arrangements for you to finally meet him. It is beyond my wildest dreams for you, my boy. Everything is going to change now.”

“Everything?” little Belem asked, his eyes widening with his young imagination.

“Why don’t I remember this?” The adult version of Belem asked. The others looked at him and tried to read the man. Cecil and Ariam saw that the perplexity on his face was genuine. Gael’jic was not well-versed in reading human expressions. They turned back to the scene and continued to observe.

“Yes,” she excitedly went on. “Some men will be coming soon. They are coming so that they might take you to see your father.”

A worried expression stole across young Belem’s face. “Are you going to come with me, Mama?”

“Of course, I am,” she replied with a little laugh. “Don’t be silly. We shall both be taken care of.”

“Who is my father?” little Belem asked.

She just shook her head. “I cannot spoil a surprise like that,” she replied. “But I am eager to watch as you come to understand.”

“I don’t remember any of this,” the grown Belem said. He turned a worried expression toward Vael. “If this has something to do with whatever I lack, then I cannot possibly know what I lack as you claim.”

“You do not need to recall this to know that which you lack. This will simply serve to illustrate it. And you must know.”

“Know what?” Belem asked.

A sudden insistent knocking at the main door of the apartment surprised them all. Belem’s mother stood up quickly and spun around. A look of astonishment covered her face. “They’ve come so quickly,” she said to herself. “How could they have gotten here so quickly?”

“Is everything all right, Mama?” the young Belem asked.

She turned her smile back to the boy and said, “Of course it is. I just need to go get the door and let them in.”

“Who is it?” the boy asked. “Who is here?” He was worried again.

“Come with me, son,” she said. With that, she turned once again to the doorway and exited. The boy followed closely upon her heels. She wound her way through the tiny apartment and came at last to a door leading out. She placed a hand on the door and leaned closer. Without opening it, she called out, “Who is there?”

“You have called us,” came a gruff voice from the other side. “Open up immediately.”

She turned her head and regarded her young son with a hint of worry. The boy returned her expression.

“All right,” she called back. “I’m opening the door.” She pressed three buttons beside the door to unlock it and it slid aside to reveal their guests.

She stepped back quickly to allow them entrance. Three armored men walked into the grungy little apartment followed by a fourth man.

The armor worn by the three men was recognizable instantly.

“Royal Guardians?” Cecil said disbelievingly. “Why did they come to your place?”

Belem shrugged. “As I said, I don’t remember this.” He attempted to appear unworried but his voice had barely perceptibly climbed in pitch and his breathing had quickened.

The fourth man was recognizable as well and both Cecil and Belem’s expressions darkened the instant they saw him.

CHAPTER 14. THE EMPTY CROWN

Lycas Ryth flowed into the room and quickly assessed the setting. His gaze fell first upon the mother. He looked her up and down briefly then his attention flicked to the young boy.

“I suppose this is our subject?” he asked.

Belem’s mother flitted to her young son’s side and knelt beside him taking his shoulders in her hands. She pressed her smiling face up beside his and proudly looked back at Lycas Ryth. “Yes,” she said. “This is my Belem.”

“Belem,” Lycas Ryth said as if testing the word in his mouth. He stared at the boy for a few seconds longer before returning his regard to the woman.

“It is quite the serious claim you have made. Can you substantiate it?”

Belem’s mother’s face went blank with concern. “Substantiate? Won’t he remember me?”

“Perhaps,” Lycas Ryth replied. “But perhaps not.”

“Oh no,” Cecil said.

“What?” Belem spat at the man. “What do you know?”

“It’s not what I know,” Cecil said. “It’s what’s obvious. Your mother made some sort of claim that your father was King Beirand. But is it true?”

Belem’s jaw dropped open as he stared back at the former Captain of the Royal Guardians. “You cannot be serious.”

“It’s the only explanation for their coming to this place,” Cecil said.

“Hush,” Ariam said. “There’s more.”

Her confidence vanished. “Can’t you test the boy and see if his genetics line up with his Majesty’s?”

Ryth arched an eyebrow. “I could do that,” he said. “But should I? You’re not the only one ever to make this claim. There are countless others. They are frauds, you know. If you try to speak up publicly about this, and we refused, you know that people would assume the same about you.”

“But I’m not a fraud,” she said desperately. “There was no one else at the time. It’s true. This boy is the King’s…”

“Stop,” Ryth said loudly. “Be very careful what you say next.”

“Mama?” young Belem said worriedly. He tugged at his mother’s leg trying to get her attention.

“Not now, son,” she said as she stared back at Ryth. “But he must take responsibility. Isn’t there anything he could do? Cannot he supply for his son’s needs? We starve every day. The boy has to scrounge for food in the streets. It’s a miracle he remains as healthy as he is.”

Ryth took a menacing step toward his mother. “Be careful,” he reiterated. “Not all miracles last forever.”

Belem’s mother took a step backward, gasped, and placed her left hand over her heart. “You wouldn’t,” she said in a hushed tone.

“I see no reason to,” Ryth replied with a shrug. “Not yet anyway. But threats to the stability of the kingdom cannot be tolerated.”

Tears now streamed down Belem’s mother’s face. “But we just want help.”

Ryth took another step toward the woman closing the distance. “And what do you offer in exchange for this help?”

She stammered, then said, “Anything. You can have anything that I have. Look around! I don’t have almost anything, but what I do have is yours. Please just help the boy. I don’t care what happens to me. I just want him taken care of.”

Lycas Ryth examined her closely for a few seconds then turned to the young Belem. He turned a broad, confident smile to him and said, “Do you understand what’s going on here, boy?”

The little Belem rapidly shook his head from side to side.

“I thought not,” he said. “Why don’t you run along to your room and play with your toys for a little while? Your mother and I need to have a little chat.”

“I don’t have any toys,” the boy said.

“Truly?” said Ryth in a false tone of surprise. He reached into his robe and withdrew a wooden figure painted to look like a Royal Guardian. “Then hold onto this for me. If you do a good job of staying in your room, I might even let you keep him.”

The young boy shot his mother a concerned look. She met it with a quivering lip but then shooed him away through the door. “Go into your room,” she said. “And close the door, please.”

He stared at her for a few moments longer before he obeyed. He reluctantly reached forward and took the toy Ryth proffered, then he walked toward the door. On his way, he tossed a few more glances over his shoulder at the adults before he left.

Suddenly the four companions all found themselves in the room with Belem. They looked toward the door, which remained closed. The boy sat in the center of the room with his knees pulled up and his arms wrapping them tightly. He clutched his dirty, tattered blanket around his shoulders. The toy Ryth had given him lay forgotten on the floor beside him. He buried his face in his knees as he rocked back and forth. No sounds came from the other room.

“This I recall,” Belem said gravely. “But…” He trailed off, and a look of confusion stole across his features.

The boy lifted his head and meekly called out, “Mama?” No answer came. He stood up and slowly padded over to the door. He pressed his ear to it and listened. No noise was forthcoming. He called out again, a little louder this time, “Mama?”

This time he was answered by a sharp thud against the door, causing it to jump in its frame. The sound jolted him and he quickly staggered away from the door. Next, he heard the sound of something sliding against the door and another thud as whatever it was collapsed to the floor. He ran forward and wrapped his hand around the handle of the hinged door and pulled it open. His mother flopped back into the room. Her eyes stared blankly up toward the ceiling and her throat was slit. Standing over her was a Royal Guardian gripping a bloodied knife.

CHAPTER 15. LOVELESS

Little Belem stared at the towering man but did not cry. The Royal Guardian stared down at Belem with a dark brow. He turned and over his shoulder said, “What about this one?”

Suddenly Lycas Ryth was at his side. He placed a hand on the Guardian’s shoulder and gently thrust the man aside. He stepped over the body of Belem’s mother and towered directly before young Belem. He kneeled before the boy and stared into his frightened face.

“Did you kill my Mama?” asked little Belem.

“No, the other man did,” Ryth waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him.”

“Why did he kill my Mama?” Belem asked. His voice trembled and tears formed at the edges of his eyes.

“The world is full of bad men who sometimes do unexplainable and awful things,” Ryth replied. “We don’t always get to know why. And sometimes…” he reached a hand out slowly and touched the side of Belem’s face. He left his fingertips in contact with the boy’s temple and closed his eyes. He continued, “And sometimes we get to forget about it.” Lycas Ryth then began to murmur something sounding like a chant. As he did so the young Belem’s eyes went blank. He swayed on his feet until at last, he began to collapse. Lycas Ryth caught him before he collided with the floor and gently laid him there.

“What did he do to me?” Belem asked acidly.

“I have no idea,” Cecil replied. I’ve been around the man more than I would like, but I’ve never witnessed him do anything like that.”

“Not that you can remember,” Ariam said pointedly.

“You want us to finish him off?” the Guardian asked as he came up beside Ryth.

The Lord Advisor stood, spun around, and snarled at the man. “Of course not, you idiot,” he said. “He won’t remember anything about us coming to this place. All he will know is that he found his mother dead.”

“Won’t the boy die anyway? Starve, or worse?” the Guardian asked.

Ryth turned to stare at the fallen form of the boy. He observed him for a few moments before he said, “No, I shouldn’t think so. He seems resourceful enough. But still,” he said, reaching into the folds of his swirling robes. He pulled out a handful of coins and tossed them on the floor by Belem. They clattered and came to a halt. He then stooped over and scooped up the toy he had given to the boy and put it back in his robes.

Ryth said, “We’re not monsters after all.” He watched the face of the Guardian for a time, then said, “Let’s get out of here.” The Royal Guardian spared one last look at the unconscious form of the boy and then turned and followed after Ryth and the other Guardians and exited the apartment. They closed the door and strode away.

The scene went completely dark and Belem was seething. He looked to Vael and said, “I did not need yet another reason to kill Lycas Ryth. Why did you show me this?”

“You needed to see your lack in stark terms.”

“And what do I lack, Messenger?” he demanded. “Do I lack a mother? Do I lack a conventional means to live? I have fared just fine without these for many years. Decades.”

“This is not that to which I refer. You lack something more fundamental.”

“What?” Belem shouted.

“You lack love. You can neither give it nor take it. From the moment you awoke to find your mother’s cold corpse lying on the floor of your apartment, you have resisted all love.”

“And I have done just fine without it,” Belem sneered.

“Have you?” Cecil asked.

“What is that supposed to mean, Guardsman? It was your kind that killed my mother?”

“I cannot deny that is so,” Cecil replied, “but it is also evident that you have not done well. How did you come to be here? Did you have an easy path? Was it filled with companionship? Could you rely on anyone?”

“I don’t need to,” he spat.

Vael said, “If you continue without it, your quest to bring justice to Lycas Ryth will fail. Justice is meaningless without love.”

“Well isn’t that cute?” Belem said with a mirthless laugh.

Suddenly Ariam was in front of Belem. “What do you want, beggar?” the convict spat at the shorter man.

“I want to give you my friendship,” Ariam said.

“Give me…?” Belem said, incredulous. “No one has ever given me anything. And I don’t need anything from anyone.”

“That’s just not true,” Ariam said patiently. “And I know that you can see that. Don’t turn away from us. We have been gathered here to become something other than just our individual selves. Not less than, ourselves, but more than just ourselves. Can you not sense it?”

“Stop your jabbering and mystical nonsense,” Belem said.

“It is not nonsense,” Vael said. “Ariam is correct. It is the reason you have been drawn here. You have been put on a path, one not of your choosing. But it will also lead you to the greatest desire you have.”

“Really?” Belem asked in a voice dripping with sarcasm. He arched an eyebrow. “It’ll take me to Ryth?”

Vael bowed at the waist. “It will take you to Ryth. And beyond.”

“Beyond? What does that mean?”

Vael’s four glowing eyes bored into him. “You have already begun to see it. But you are not yet ready to grasp it in its fullness now. You must first learn to receive and give love.”

Belem shook his head. “It’s not in me.”

“If you hope to meet and defeat Lycas Ryth, you have no choice. You must learn it.”

A long silence followed. Belem broke it.

He grunted and said, “I suppose that’s it, then. I’ve been tested. We all have. Now let us out of this prison.”

“Not yet,” replied Vael. “You all have one final secret to learn. But be warned: it will be a difficult one, indeed.”

CHAPTER 16. MENAGERIE

Prince Therin sat cross-legged on the floor of his private menagerie, staring at his two prized possessions. The reptilian figures lay upon the floor of their cages lazing about. While the Prince was endlessly fascinated with their kind, he was starting to get bored with them. When are they going to start doing something interesting, he wondered?

He had kept most of his father’s private garden intact, hoping it would help the creatures feel at home. Nevertheless, whenever he observed them they appeared to be completely docile. He wished he could figure a way to prod them into activity. Nothing came to mind, however.

Vincent, the new Captain of the Royal Guardians, stood a short distance off, keeping watch over his young charge. He did not hear the entrance of Lycas Ryth into the space behind him. Ryth was at his side before he realized it.

The Lord Advisor gently laid a hand on the man’s shoulder and began whispering into his ear before he could even react. The words he said were quiet enough to be missed by the young prince a few paces away, but certainly caught the Guardsman’s attention. As the Lord Advisor uttered his quiet words the Royal Guardian’s eyes rolled backward and went blank and unfocused as if he were daydreaming. In reality, he fell into a kind of hypnotic trance. He remained firmly standing in place when Lycas Ryth finished. The Lord Advisor stared at the man for a few seconds before he removed his hand from his shoulder and turned toward his intended target.

Ryth stepped forward and cleared his throat. The young prince jumped and scrambled to his feet, turning in the process. When his eyes fell on Lycas Ryth he blew out a breath of relief.

“You scared the life out of me,” Therin said.

Ryth bowed. “Apologies, your Majesty. I have just come from a special meeting with the newly established triumvirate. I thought it would be best to come and brief you personally.”

“Oh, that,” the young prince said in an uncomfortable tone. He turned back to face his captive beasts and nodded. “I don’t know that I’m in the mood for political business at the moment, Lord Advisor.”

“Understandable your Majesty,” Ryth replied. “The main thrust of it is to reassure you that all goes quite well in your absence.”

The Prince grunted affirmatively and then lifted a hand to indicate the two captive reptilian figures. “Look at these two,” he said. “They don’t seem to want to do anything. I’m starting to think they’re as bored as I am.”

Ryth stepped up beside the child and scratched his chin thoughtfully.

“That’s a shame,” he said. “But I understand that animals in captivity can sometimes get this way. They probably require a larger habitat.”

“I was thinking of expanding it,” Therin replied. “They need space to run around. And to be perfectly frank, I’m starting to feel that way a touch, myself.”

“Your Majesty?” Ryth asked.

“I get the feeling like I’m being kept out of things,” Therin said. “Take this triumvirate, for example.”

“What of it?”

Therin turned disappointed eyes on his Lord Advisor. “I wasn’t consulted about any of this,” he said sternly. “While I appreciate the gesture, I don’t know that I need the help.”

“We all need help, your Majesty,” Ryth replied. “Even your father did. And his father before him, and so on. That is why I am around.”

“True enough,” Therin said with a shrug. “But the responsibility is mine, is it not? You recently said that one younger than even I had been elevated to the role of king, once upon a time.”

“That is accurate,” Ryth replied slowly. “But for a long time, someone of such a young age can only hold a mostly ceremonial position. Our fine laws limit what a young king can do.”

“Yes, the law does ‘limit’ my powers,” Therin said, “But it does not arrest them altogether. I am acquainted with our laws, you know. My father taught them to me himself. I do not think it sets a good precedent for a king, even a young king, to shirk his duty. Do you, Lord advisor?

Ryth arched an eyebrow. “You surprise me, your Highness,” he said. “You are wise beyond your years. I believe it’s indeed a testament to how you were raised.”

“Speaking of that,” Therin said lifting an exclamatory finger into the air, “I must talk with you about my mother. I haven’t seen her in a few days now. I was told she is not seeing anyone. But since I am now king…”

“Not technically, my Prince.” Ryth interrupted. “We have not had a proper coronation ceremony.”

“Be that as it may,” Therin continued, mildly irritated, “I find it disturbing that I cannot meet with my mother. Perhaps you would be good enough to tell me why.”

Ryth stared at the boy for a handful of heartbeats, then said, “Your mother is not feeling well lately. It is not a surprise, considering the tragic events of recent days. She has been dealt a significant blow, as have you. Which by the way, is another reason that you need to take things slow.”

Therin puffed an agitated breath. “I get the sense that it is more than that, but no one is telling me anything. I’m starting to get a little perturbed by it if I’m being honest.”

“All in good time, your Highness.”

Therin stifled another sigh of disappointment and turned his attention back to the captive reptilian figures before him. “I see that I need to make my wishes plain. I do not want to be shut out of my duties like this, nor cut off from my mother. It is not appropriate.”

“Patience, my young Prince,” Ryth said with a broad grin. At first, Ryth had been taken aback at the Prince’s forthrightness, but now he found himself enjoying the banter.

“I have been patient enough,” Therin simmered. He shot a reproachful glance at the Lord Advisor.

Ryth folded his arms and stared at the Prince as if he were a particularly troublesome puzzle. He blew out an exasperated sigh. Then slowly extended a hand toward the young man.

“What are you…?” Therin began in great confusion but the Prince did not get a chance to finish his phrase before Ryth’s fingers touched the side of his face.

Ryth half closed his eyes and began to mutter under his breath. The Prince swayed briefly on his feet as his eyes rolled back into his head. This went on for only a few seconds when Ryth finally removed his hand from the boy’s face and snapped his fingers. The boy’s eyes shot open once again, bleary at first but then quickly cleared.

“I see what you mean, your Majesty,” Ryth said as if continuing a different conversation. “It probably is too early for you to take up your role as King. But I think we can substitute a worthy distraction to help you along.” He lifted his hand toward the captive Dar’ryneel and said, “We will immediately begin construction on a larger habitat for them.” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the male was sitting up and staring in their direction with interest. He turned toward the creature and leveled a stern gaze at him. After a few moments, the Dar’ryneel laid back down.

Ryth continued, “I think about half the menagerie could be dedicated to an environment for them. That should give them enough space to run around and get up to other interesting activities. They may even build a shelter for themselves within. Who knows?

“Huh?” the Prince asked, still a little dazed then said, “Oh, yes, of course. I suppose that is a good idea. How long do you think the project will take?”

“Could be a few weeks,” Ryth said with a shrug. “I’m no architect so I don’t know for sure. But I’m positive we can find someone competent enough to get on with it quickly.”

“Very well,” Therin said nodding absently. “I rather hope it will help them become more active.”

The Prince turned toward Ryth and added, “Are you sure the triumvirate has everything under control? I would hate to…”

“You do not need to worry, your Majesty. The triumvirate is working with all of the Sector Representatives to see to it that the business of the kingdom is properly attended to. You may rest assured in all this. And don’t worry about your mother, you will be able to see her very soon. I promise.”

“My mother? Yes,” he said to himself, a hint of the hypnotic daze remaining in his manner. He turned back to Ryth and said, “I have been thinking about her lately, you know.”

“I’m sure you have. I bid you a good day, young Prince,” Ryth said as he bowed deeply at the waist. He turned and walked back toward the Royal Guardian who ought to have been standing watch over the boy. He casually leaned over, placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, and whispered a hushed command to him. Vincent’s face cleared up immediately and he barely took any notice of Ryth, returning his watchful gaze to Therin.

The Lord Advisor silently exited the room through one of the secret passageways that only he knew about. Neither he, the Royal Guardian, nor Therin noticed the Dar’ryneel whispering to each other. And even if they had noticed they would not have been able to discern what they spoke to one another. The words of their language were completely indiscernible to humans. But their eyes were keen. They noticed much that the humans missed.

Chiefly of interest to them was the tall, robed, dark-haired man with strange dark markings on his face. He had hypnotized the other man and the boy in the room, manipulating them. Neither of the reptilian beings knew what they could do about their situation, but they both agreed the boy would be a significant key to it.

For now, they would simply have to watch and wait.

CHAPTER 17. SUSPICIONS

Racine did not try to conceal himself in any way. He didn’t want to appear suspicious to any passerby, after all. Yet, he was about secretive business.

He stopped himself from turning and looking over his shoulder for about the hundredth time. He silently cursed himself. He could not carry on this way and expect to be unnoticed. The best thing for it would be to project as if nothing were amiss and let people assume that to be true. To do that, he had to convince himself to act that way first. He doubted whether or not he could settle his soul enough for that task.

Racine resisted the urge to bring the hood of his cloak up to cover his face. He figured that would be all but a sure way to get noticed. He was in a well-trafficked space on the Palace grounds. People were generally already suspicious of one another. No need to contribute to that by acting funnily.

The open sky above his head was clear and blue. He dragged in a deep and refreshing breath and slowly blew it out. A hawk arced high above, no doubt searching for prey with its sharp eyes. These things were a reminder that they were a tiny island of civilization in a vast sea of wild and untamed life. Yet a different kind of predatory force prowled within the Citadel’s walls. That was why he was on his current errand.

He was almost to his destination and would breathe a sigh of relief once he was inside and away from potentially prying eyes. Until then he would be on edge. And he was having a monster of a time not letting that show.

A group of chattering Palace servants passed by him going the opposite direction. He averted his eyes, as was common practice. The higher up one was on the political food chain, the less one interacted with those below them. It was a barbaric and foolish practice in Racine’s view. The servants didn’t seem to notice, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone’s eyes were on him. You’re being a paranoid fool, he thought.

A few minutes later he arrived at the intended doorway and pressed the button to alert the inhabitant of his arrival. He waited breathlessly for what felt like a very long time. But in truth was a mere handful of seconds before an electronically filtered voice came through and said, “Yes?”

“It’s Racine,” he said.

“Racine?” came the pleasant reply. The door slid to the side, allowing him entrance and he stepped in. A few paces away was the smiling face of Shahleen. She waved him further into her apartment and said, “What a welcome surprise! Won’t you come in?”

He smiled weakly back at her and stepped into the residence she used when she was away from her sector. His eyes swept about as one does. Normally he would be casually interested in the surroundings as a curiosity. But this time he was searching for other occupants. He didn’t want his conversation taken in by witnesses in case he said something that would raise suspicion.

He hated thinking that way.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Shahleen asked.

He waited until he heard the door close behind him before he answered. “I’ve come to talk about the triumvirate,” he said evenly and congratulated himself on keeping his apprehension out of his voice.

She turned and lifted a hand toward a table and chairs and said, “Won’t you have a seat? Would you like me to put on some tea?”

He shook his head once and answered, “No, thank you. Just the conversation. I promise not to take up too much of your time.”

“Think nothing of it,” she said. “I have no current pressing appointments.” He was already aware of this. That was why he had chosen the present moment to approach her.

Both took chairs opposite one another at her sizable table. She could have comfortably fit at least ten people around it. His own space was a touch smaller than hers, but entertaining guests was part of the job and so he did not begrudge her. Her sector was also larger than his, after all.

“So,” she said, “what’s this about the triumvirate?”

He looked away and squinted his eyes. “Where do I begin? It’s all a little…” he trailed off gesticulating in the air with a frustrated hand.

“A little concerning?” she asked, prompting him. She smiled amiably and nodded her head. “I feel the same way. I very nearly rejected the offer when the vote came down to me as a candidate.”

He turned a curious expression to her and said, “Then why did you accept? I don’t think I could have.”

She pursed her lips in thought, then responded, “It more had to do with not wanting it to fall to someone else’s hands. You and I both know there are sector representatives who are more in it for the greed than for the gain of the people.”

“Yes,” he nodded his head. “Sadly true.”

“I prefer to view this appointment as a burden that is also a bit of a blessing,” Shahleen continued. “Both being a sector representative, and a member of this temporary triumvirate, I mean.”

“That relaxes me a little,” Racine said allowing his shoulders to show it. “However, I must confess,” he went on, leaning forward a little and speaking in a hushed tone, “I don’t altogether agree with this idea of having the triumvirate.”

“Oh?” she asked playfully. “Why not?”

“Well, it subtly subverts our chief laws, for one thing,” Racine said. “That’s a dangerous precedent to set in and of itself. I have other reasons, too,” he said and looked away sheepishly. “I don’t know that I care to share some of those at this exact moment, though.”

“Fair enough,” Shahleen said with a shrug. She looked like she might have a good guess at what those concerns might be, but she graciously allowed herself to leave them be for the present. Instead, she said, “I’ll be happy when the need for the triumvirate is over and we can return to normal business.”

“And when do you suspect that will be?” Racine asked.

She gazed at him, squinting, trying to read the man. “I can’t say that I know for sure,” she said. “Best not to rush these things.”

He nodded slowly then opened his mouth to say something else, thought better of it, and closed it again.

“No,” she said. “What is it? I can tell you have something else to say.”

He lifted his hand and rubbed his chin for a moment, then let it drop back onto the table. “It’s just that I think it would be best not to have gotten into it in the first place. Something about this disturbs me.”

“I think you’d be insane if it didn’t,” Shahleen said with a half-smile tugging at one side of her face. “What with all that has happened…”

“That’s not what I mean,” Racine said. “I’m talking about how fast this whole thing shook out. Does it not occur to you that we can never have an agreement on a matter that quickly, but we did with this?”

She casually tossed a hand into the air and said, “I merely took that as a testament to how important this is.”

“But that’s precisely what I’m talking about,” he retorted. “The more important the matter, the harder we argue with one another. But not this. Why is that?” He shook his head. He didn’t have answers to supply for his questions and doubted she did, too.

She was about to answer, but stopped and blinked as she thought about it. “I guess I hadn’t considered that,” she said. “Not that way at least. But try not to work yourself into a tizzy over it,” she added. “We agreed this would be temporary.”

They stared at one another for a few moments until he said solemnly, “Until we don’t any longer.”

She cast a quizzical glance at him and said, “Is that what is bothering you? You fear the unraveling of our entire kingdom?”

“I don’t know what I fear at this point,” Racine replied. “I just get the sense that something is amiss but we can’t see it yet. I don’t like any of this.”

She reached across the table and took his hand in both of hers. “Have faith, my friend,” she said with a smile. We have all been shaken over these last several days. But we must stand firmly together if we’re going to see it through. Be careful that you don’t introduce false doubts.”

CHAPTER 18. THE SPY

Zain lifted a hand to his ear, adjusting the small electronic bud lodged in there. The conversation between Shahleen and Racine had come across clearly on the listening device. He had seen to it the corresponding device would be planted in her quarters where no one could find it while she was away. It was a little tricky getting the bug in place, but not much. And it was already yielding positive results. So, Racine has concerns, he thought. I should have expected as much.

Ryth would probably be interested to know. It was the kind of thing he liked to keep the pulse of.

He thought about marching up to Shahleen’s door and buzzing it to interrupt them if only to throw Racine into a frantic spell. It might be fun to watch him squirm a little. But he didn’t want to devote any time to concoct a reasonable excuse to step in and insert himself into their conversation.

He was sure there would be plenty of time to throw the man off balance later. It would probably be better off if he allowed Racine some time to calm himself down before he lobbed a monkey wrench into things. That way it would have a greater effect.

He switched off the listening device and strode away. He had been nearby, so the equipment could work properly. It wouldn’t do to be caught lurking about. Besides, no doubt Racine would be leaving soon and head off to find one of his other little lackeys to press on the matter. Probably Gillam.

He would likely have to plant a listening device in all of their apartments soon enough. But he decided it would be wiser to be cautious for the time being. The more he multiplied such devices, the more the potential for their being discovered. And if that happened, it would complicate things in a way Ryth would be none too pleased about.

Now there was a man he did not want to upset. He was always acting so superior to everyone, and there was always an undertone of threat in their conversations.

Zain had resolved to play at serving the man for a while, or at least until he could dig up some dirt on him. Thus far he had been unable to find anything, and he had certainly tried. But everyone had secrets. And a man like that had more than his fair share. It was simply a matter of finding them and figuring out how to exploit them.

Ryth seemed expert at doing so with others, but no one, including Zain, was able to do so with him.

It will just take a little time, Zain thought. Until then he intended to play the subservient fool. But when he finally laid hold of whatever leverage he could find against the man, he intended to use it and use it to its fullest. Zain was tired of being treated like an inferior little rat sent to scurry about a maze on some errand or other for Lycas Ryth.

His day would come.

CHAPTER 19. ANCIENT SECRETS

Vael took two slow backward steps away from the group. He stopped and pressed both hands together. It seemed as if one of each of his four eyes focused on the four of them individually. It was unnerving.

“What is he doing?” Belem asked in a suspicious tone.

Gael’jic slowly shook his head. “I have no idea.”

The Messenger of Rama’dy’ac muttered words in a low voice. His speech was indiscernible at first but even when it came up in volume none of them knew what he was saying. He bowed his head and closed all four eyes. His shoulders began to jerk back and forth. His hands glowed. He clapped them together with resounding force. Without warning, he brought his head up and all four eyes opened at once. One at a time they each began to glow blue.

He slowly pulled his hands apart and tendrils of light were suspended between them like strings. Soon his hands spread out wide from his sides and the light stretched longer and grew in intensity. When they were as far apart as they could go his words ceased. He brought his hands straight out in front of him and intense rays of light lanced out from four of his fingers at the same moment and connected to all of their foreheads. Brilliance cast everywhere in the room illuminating and driving away all shadow. The finest details of everything were revealed in the brightness.

It was almost unbearable. They all winced away from the light but could not close their eyes against it no matter how hard they tried.

Soon everything was enveloped and all was awash. Nothing could be discerned in the piercing light. Then as suddenly as it appeared, it was gone. They were no longer in the chamber.

Now all five of them stood atop a hill in the wilderness.

“What is this place?” Cecil asked. “It looks… familiar.”

“It is the landscape of the past,” Vael replied.

“How far in the past?” Gael’jic asked.

Vael turned his unraveling gaze to the Dar’rynakai and he said, “Wait. That approaches, but it is not yet.”

“When?” Gael’jic pressed impatiently.

“Very soon. But before you hear, you must see.”

Gael’jic was about to ask what they must see when the answer came.

It began as a great rumbling from overhead. Everyone looked up and saw the great thorn shape of the human colony ship.

“It’s two hundred years ago,” Cecil said. But even as he said it, it did not feel right. He could not say why, but he and the others sat uncomfortably with the pronouncement of it.

“What’s that there?” Ariam asked pointing.

“Where?” Belem asked gruffly. Then he saw it. There was something minuscule floating beside the ship. It looked to Belem like it must be some sort of guide probe. But it was too small and far away to tell.

“Must be part of the guiding technology,” Cecil said, echoing Belem’s assumption.

“No,” Gael’jic insisted. “I can see. It is a figure. A person.” His eyes were keener than the humans and he could barely make out the shape. But it was certainly not a piece of technology. Yet they would see it soon as both person and ship were slowly coming closer.

After another minute or so, Ariam said, “Oh, I see it now. Is he wearing some kind of suit? I can’t tell. If the humans had trans-Galactic travel figured out, surely they had some sort of suit technology that would allow…”

“That is no human,” Gael’jic said. “And he wears no suit of your technology.”

“Then what is it?” Cecil asked.

“It is Rama’dy’ac,” Vael interjected. “He has taken form so that he may be seen and followed. He is guiding the colony ship to this place.”

“Rama’dy’ac brought the humans to this place?” Gael’jic asked dubiously. But then he recalled the stone wall relief he had found among the ruins. In the carved imagery both human and Dar’rynakai figures alike acknowledged Rama’dy’ac.

“Indeed he did,” Vael replied. “The humans slept hundreds of years as they traveled, and when they awoke they realized they were lost in the vast reaches of space. Somehow their calculations to get to their original intended place became garbled within their devices and they had drifted deep into space on uncharted paths. But Rama’dy’ac heard their cries. He guided them to Dar’ryn to save them lest they perish among the stars.”

They watched the scene in astonishment as the colony ship arrived planet side and buried a significant portion of itself into the ground.

The ground trembled greatly with this as dirt and stone were pushed aside like they were nothing and the ship began its transformation. The outer hull broke apart in several paneled sections. They were suspended away from the bulk of the craft by gravimetric forces and grand design. They slowly moved outward until they rotated on their sides and plunged into the surface of Dar’ryn creating the Citadel wall. The remaining bulk of the transport split apart and became buildings of varying sizes that would be integral parts of the human Citadel. But something was different.

There were vast gaps in the walls. There were four, in fact, which served as massive gates leading into and out of the Citadel. Before long, the process was complete and the Citadel stood tall and proud in the midst of a great plain sparkling in the sun like a jewel.

“Look down there,” Belem said. He lifted his chin to indicate the direction.

They all turned their attention to what he had seen. A column of figures walked slowly and proudly in an organized group out of the forest. They were tall, nimble, and reptilian. They were Dar’rynakai. Marching along with them, however, was a sizable group of the Dar’ryneel.

Belem recognized these right away, though neither of the other humans had ever seen one before.

Vael explained, “Rama’dy’ac had summoned delegations of the peoples of Dar’ryn to come and welcome the humans.”

“We’ve never heard anything about this,” Cecil said. “This is not at all what we were taught.”

“You were taught lies,” Vael replied.

The scene blurred before them and coalesced suddenly into a different location. It was a large city in the middle of the forest. Different kinds of design, both human and Dar’rynakai could be seen. This was the place they had entered shortly before. It was the place in which they now stood. It was the ruins of a great city.

“Under the guidance of Rama’dy’ac, humans, Dar’rynakai, and sometimes the Dar’ryneel forged this place together. For many long years, there was unity, harmony, and progress among the varied peoples.” Vael’s face grew dark after a few moments and he added, “But all such things do not last.”

Suddenly they found themselves inside the city. It was lively and bustling. Dar’rynakai and humans walked side-by-side, conversing and dealing with one another. Occasionally a Dar’ryneel could be seen as well. Then off in the distance emerged another figure. Gael’jic gasped when he saw it. It was the cloaked, demonic figure from his visions as he trekked through the forest.

“For all the goodness and light and truth of Rama’dy’ac that shined upon all the peoples, there was also a knife in the dark. An ancient evil long believed banished by the light of Rama’dy’ac had returned. Uri’thind’ac slithered his way in among the people and began to sow discontent among them. And distrust.”

Another flash of light changed the scene before them and they saw a group of Dar’rynakai sitting around talking with one another. Behind one of them stood the cloaked figure. It leaned forward and whispered into the ear of one of the reptilian people. The Dar’rynakai did not seem to notice the figure’s presence but nodded along with whatever had been whispered in his ear. When the hooded figure drew back the Dar’rynakai stood and addressed those with him. He talked about how humans were not trustworthy. He claimed they came and took what they wanted without thought or concern for others or the sacredness of Rama’dy’ac’s creation. The others sitting around him nodded their agreement and muttered to one another.

The scene changed suddenly again and three humans stood around a cart of fruit next to a street and casually spoke with one another. Hovering in the background was the cloaked figure. It glided across the ground and came to stand next to one of the humans. It bent forward and whispered in his ear. When it pulled back the man casually tossed out the suggestion that sometimes it was difficult to deal with the Dar’rynakai. He claimed their mindset was primitive compared to that of humans. The other men nodded and began to share their own similar frustrations.

“And so it was the ancient evil, Uri’thind’ac, enticed humans, Dar’rynakai, and even the peaceful Dar’ryneel to turn on each other.”

The scene changed yet again and there was chaos in the streets. Men, Dar’rynakai, and Dar’ryneel fought one another to the death. The sky filled with black smoke as it billowed up from fires all around the city. Cries of anguish and anger sounded from every direction.

“The unity forged by the light of Rama’dy’ac had been crushed under the heel of the shadow,” Vael said and hung his head.

They took in the pandemonium, each treasuring their own internal response. Revulsion, dismay, grim acceptance, horrified fascination. A tear rolled down Ariam’s cheek. Everyone else pretended not to notice.

“But that is not all,” Vael continued after a long pause. Humans and Dar’rynakai alike could be seen fleeing the ruined city, running back to their respective segregated enclaves. The humans went to the human Citadel, and the Dar’rynakai fled to their mountain city.

“What more besides destruction could Uri’thind’ac have accomplished?” Ariam asked befuddled. “Wasn’t this enough?” The scene changed yet again to the Human Citadel interior. A man walked the paths through the palace grounds. He was tall and proud, his hair hung white and long to his shoulders. Over his eye was the mark of the Lord Advisor to the king.

Vael continued, “For the ancient evil, it is never enough to merely destroy. He must also humiliate and seize control. To do this Uri’thind’ac always selects an intermediary: one through whom he may greatly extend his influence among the peoples. It is always one with the ear of the rulers.”

Cecil and Belem shot a look to one another. They knew each other’s minds, but it was Cecil who spoke. “Lycas Ryth,” he said, spitting out the name as if it were a lump of poison in his mouth. Belem nodded and returned his gaze to the scene as it played out.

The man strode confidently through the passageways of the Palace. Stooping, he was beginning to show his age. The long white hair showed signs of thinning. The tattoo over his eye marking him as the Lord Advisor had faded in vibrancy some years earlier.

The aged Lord Advisor walked straight past two Royal Guardians stationed outside a set of large double doors and into the chamber of the king. He spoke of the upcoming anniversary celebration of the landing of the human colony on the planet Dar’ryn. He uttered a number that came as a surprise to all three humans and to the Dar’rynakai alike.

“This marks the two-hundredth year anniversary of our arrival here, your Majesty,” he grumbled and then carried on discussing details and plans.

“Two-hundredth?” Cecil nearly exploded. “That’s not right. We just celebrated two hundred years.” But in his heart of hearts, Cecil knew his beliefs and assumptions were wrong.

Vael looked at them and said, “Your minds have been eclipsed by shadow. All people’s minds have. Dar’rynakai, human, Dar’ryneel. Uri’thind’ac sends out a strong delusion every two hundred years and obscures the cultural memories of all the people. Humans forget how long they have been on the planet. The others forget the same as well as other truths.

“How long have we been here?” Ariam asked.

“One thousand years,” Vael replied evenly. “That is how long all your peoples have all been under the spell of Uri’thind’ac. That is how long I was imprisoned in this place. But now Rama’dy’ac has drawn you four here to be the heroes and champions of truth and light. It is upon you to break the spell of the lie.”

“How are we to do this?” Gael’jic asked. “The lie is too big. It has gone on too long!”

“You have already begun to do so by freeing me,” Vael replied. “You must discover a way to push back the shadow. To do that you will have to unite the peoples against Uri’thind’ac.”

Belem scoffed. “Find a way? What else is new? You keep telling us we have to do this thing, but then you don’t tell us how. You keep telling us we must find a way. What if I’m not interested in finding a way?”

“Then both your peoples as well as the Dar’ryneel will continue to descend into darkness until they can no longer be reached by the light. Their minds will become so dim they will not be able to do anything for themselves. They will starve for lack of feeding themselves. They will cease to imagine wonders because the dark will lull their thoughts to permanent slumber. All will be lost.”

The scene before them faded out and they were back in the chamber where they had freed Vael from imprisonment in the demon statue. A great scraping sound filled the chamber and it shook beneath their feet. They all turned around to witness the circular stone door pressing out of the chamber and rolling to the side.

CHAPTER 20. COMMISSION

“You have been set free now. Your first task is to go to the people of the Dar’rynakai and gain their trust for the fight. They must join as must all the peoples. You will travel far…farther than you believe you can.”

“So let me get this straight,” Cecil said. “We get the Dar’rynakai, these other lizard people, and the humans together to fight Uri’thind’ac? Am I right?”

“There is even more than that.”

“More? Those are the only peoples of Dar’ryn,” Gael’jic said. “How can there be more?”

“You are not just going to the peoples of the world of Dar’ryn. There are other worlds in this star system. You must travel to these and gain the aide of the planets.”

“What other worlds are you talking about?” Gael’jic asked.

“Rama’dy’ac has not only saved the humans but there are other peoples on other worlds whom he has touched. These too have fallen to the shadow of Uri’thind’ac.”

“How do we get to these other worlds?” Cecil asked. “We have no starship.”

“There are gates,” Vael replied. “You must find these gates and travel.”

Astonished silence hung in the air as they soaked in this unexpected turn.

At last, Gael’jic asked, “Where are these gates?”

“You must find them,” Vael replied. “When the time is right, you will be assisted. But you must first go to the Dar’rynakai.” Vael ceased and looked to each of the four in turn before he went on. “Dar’ryn is not merely the name of this world,” Vael continued. “It is the name of this system. There are more planets of Dar’ryn.”

“I just want to kill Ryth,” Belem said. “I don’t care about planets or peoples or any of this other stuff.”

“You will never defeat the enemy this way,” Vael said shaking his head. “If you try for Ryth, you will fail.”

“This is such nonsense,” Belem said as he turned toward the exit. He stalked away and the others watched dumbfounded. Ariam broke the spell of astonishment and ran up to his side. He put a hand on the other man’s shoulder.

“Wait,” he said. “We have to stay together.”

“Not my fight,” Belem said. “Get your hand off me or you’ll have yet another fight you can’t handle.”

Ignoring the threat, Ariam said, “Vael just told you that if you do it this way you will not attain your goal. Are you willing to risk that?”

Belem stopped and stared ahead, grinding his teeth and snarling to himself. He turned his face to Ariam and said, “I don’t want this burden.”

“None of us do,” Ariam said. “But it has been laid at our feet nonetheless.”

Belem stared at the man for a few seconds before turning back. He said to Gael’jic, “Is the city of yours on the way to the human Citadel?”

Gael’jic shrugged. “Not exactly, but it is not a great deviation.”

Belem shook his head and murmured to himself, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Then louder, he said, “I’m only sticking with you all so that I have other people to fight monsters and such as I travel. Gives me a better chance of making it to Ryth alive.”

“Whatever you say, convict,” Cecil said.

“So that is it?” Ariam asked as he turned back to address Vael. “Now we’ll just leave.”

“Hold,” Vael said. “There was one more thing you must see.”

“Follow me,” the Messenger of Rama’dy’ac said. With that, he slowly glided past the four of them and exited the chamber. He then floated straight up into the air to the chamber far above their heads. They all briefly looked at one another and then rushed over to the spiraling staircase. They climbed as fast as they could while remaining careful to not fall off the unguarded edge. When they arrived at the top Vael was standing waiting for them. Beyond him, they could see the doorway they had used to enter the building was now open once again. The stone door blocking the way was nowhere to be seen.

“What must we now see?” Gael’jic asked eagerly.

Vael’s eyes drifted down to the Dar’rynakai’s side. He pointed at the specimen of the Illuminoc plant dangling there. “Take the plant,” he said. Gael’jic reached down to his side and extracted the lotus blossom and held it up before him, stretching it out to Vael.

“The Illuminoc plants are a source of great power that you will need. The tools you think of as weapons will in no way harm Uri’thind’ac. But if they are touched by the power of Dar’ryn, the power of Rama’dy’ac, then they may be effective.”

“But what does the Illuminoc have to do with power?” Gael’jic asked.

“Dig into the blossom,” Vael said. “There you will find a pit.”

Gael’jic obeyed. He soon extracted a very small blue-tinged pit from the center of the Illuminoc flower. He allowed the remainder of the plant to drop to the floor as he lifted his eyes back up to regard Vael.

“Break open the pit,” Vael said.

Gael’jic found a seam along the outer edge of the pit and worked at it with the claws on his thumbs. It took a while but he eventually found he could wedge the tip of his claw into it and he forcefully split it open.

Without warning the chamber was flooded with light. A magnificent and brilliant column of blue radiance shot upwards to the ceiling from his hands. It splashed against the underside of the dome and filled it. The sound of a mighty rushing wind filled the chamber as light lanced upward. A twisting and writhing helix of light surrounded the column dancing wildly all about it. Sparkling flares jumped out to all sides.

They all gasped in surprise at the advent of the illumination. It was almost too much to take in, yet none could bring themselves to tear their gazes away from it. They basked in its glow.

A few seconds later it ceased and the room returned to its darkened state.

“You must unlock the secrets of the Illuminoc plant,” Vael said.

“How?” Gael’jic asked, breathless.

“You must find a way.”

Belem barked a scoffing laugh and shook his head. “Why am I not surprised?”

CHAPTER 21. STRANGE COMPANY

Gael’jic felt their eyes boring into his back as he led the way to the Dar’rynakai city. He was the only one who knew the way and thus took the lead. Nevertheless, he could not shake the sense that there was yet a gulf between himself and the three human companions following close behind.

He supposed that could not be helped. It would take some time before they would truly trust him. And if he were being completely honest, that worked the other way too. He had learned over his entire life that humans were altogether not trustworthy. It was of course more complicated than that, but that was the prevailing mood among his people.

Belem walked along in silence, trying not to think of much of anything except getting to his own goal. He stood away from the others, an island unto himself. Dark musings floated about his mind as he gazed at the surroundings. He watched for any threat to come charging out of the jungle at them. He refused to be caught off guard. He doubted any of the others, perhaps, except Cecil, would do well to handle himself. Ariam was a beggar, and Gael’jic, though a powerful creature compared to most humans, was a scholar. He was no warrior. He shook his head.

Cecil and Ariam walked side-by-side, but also in silence. Ariam had tried a few times to initiate a conversation but mostly received noncommittal grunts from the other man. Therefore, it came as a surprise to him when Cecil leaned over and whispered to him.

“What do you make of this Dar’rynakai?” he asked.

When he got over his startlement at the intrusion of conversation, Ariam smiled back at the exiled captain. He whispered in return, “He is interesting, isn’t he? Not at all what I expected the Dar’rynakai to be like.”

“No argument here,” Cecil agreed. “I thought they were only savages: semi-intelligent creatures who scrounged the jungles for subsistence. But this one is… not like that at all. He acts as though he is wise. Even by human standards.”

“A scholar,” Ariam replied.

“And one with pretty good hearing,” Gael’jic said somewhat loudly, keeping his snout forward.

Cecil blinked in surprise and looked chagrined. “Sorry,” he said. “I sometimes forget you are not what I expect. In more ways than one.” Ariam was certain he saw a look of resentment steal across Cecil’s face, but the man quickly hid it.

They all fell quiet for a few more minutes. Then Cecil spoke up once more, this time addressing the entire group. “So what will be our strategy? According to you, Gael’jic, we cannot simply march back into the Dar’rynakai city.”

“No,” the Dar’rynakai replied. “If we do that, I will most likely be killed. Perhaps even on the spot. That is of course assuming I am recognized right away. It is a big city and there are many Dar’rynakai who do not know me. But I do not think it will take long, considering the company I keep.”

“Once we get there you all can figure out what you’re going to do,” Belem sneered. “I intend to carry on toward the Human Citadel. I have an appointment to keep.”

“And how will you find your way?” Ariam asked with genuine curiosity.

“I made it this far haven’t I?” Belem said.

“Having been guided by Rama’dy’ac,” Gael’jic retorted. “If you knowingly stray from his will, you cannot guarantee he will continue to do so.”

“Keep your delusions to yourself, lizard,” Belem snapped. An uncomfortable pause followed this jab. Then Belem spoke up once again changing the subject. “How many days will it take us to get there?”

“Two,” Gael’jic responded. “Maybe three. That is if I have the right sense of things.”

Belem grunted in acknowledgment and returned his stare to the jungle.

Cecil leaned over to Ariam and whispered again, “That one I definitely don’t trust.”

Ariam shrugged. “He’s a part of this,” he replied as if that were enough of an explanation.

“I won’t deny that,” Cecil answered quietly. “But a part of it in what way, I wonder? After all, Lycas Ryth is also a part of this.”

Ariam made a contemplative noise. “Yes,” he said. “The human consort of this Uri’thind’ac character. Belem seems fixed on him, and you do too. I think we have to be very careful about that man. I don’t know him, but I get the sense that there is more to him than we understand.”

“Once we take him out of the equation, I think things will simplify. Only after that will we be able to do whatever this Rama’dy’ac has for us regarding the ancient evil Vael spoke of.”

“You must be very careful about that,” Gael’jic said. “It may even be unwise to speak of these things out loud. If I can hear you, who knows what Uri’thind’ac can do? Some among my people even believe just speaking his name draws his attention.”

“Boogeyman and shadows,” Belem snorted.

“Do you deny strange things have gone on surrounding us?” Gael’jic said pointedly to Belem. “You seem more than ready to deny them, but you have not supplied a reasonable alternative. So far we have been led by unseen forces to the same place, we have encountered a demonic statue that imprisoned a celestial figure, and we have seen bizarre visions. Tell me, do you truly make nothing of these things?”

“Just because they’re strange, does not mean I have to take them seriously,” Belem retorted.

They carried on in silence the rest of their travel that day. They found a place to bed down and camp. Ariam and Cecil gathered dry branches and Gael’jic made the fire. Belem scrounged for food and found very little. He harvested a few berries each and not much more.

Gael’jic promised to teach them to find roots and hidden fruit. But that would have to wait for the next day. Until then they ought to bed down and get rest for the night. They agreed to take watches. Gael’jic took the first, while the others laid upon beds of leaves and sought what little sleep they could find.

CHAPTER 22. PUNISHMENT

While the three humans slept, they dreamt. At the same time, Gael’jic was overcome by sudden tiredness and slipped into a hypnotic trance in which he too was confronted by a vision.

In Gael’jic’s dream, he walked with great trepidation back into the Dar’rynakai mountain city. The others were with him, but they hung back at a distance. They did not want to be close to him. As they walked along the streets all activity in the city stopped and people simply stared at him. Hundreds of reptilian eyes tracked him, and he felt their hate and anger radiate toward him.

Then came the sound of many thundering feet running. A hundred guards of the city came charging, many with spears lowered. Others sported ke’ef blades. All wore the traditional Raka tree bark armor of the people. Gael’jic turned to implore help from the humans but they were too far back. He soon noticed they were even backing farther away, wanting nothing to do with him.

In an instant, he was surrounded by snarling guards. Out of the sea of enemies strode Jobash. The leader of the Dar’rynakai triumvirate looked upon him with disdain.

“Why have you come back here?” he asked angrily. “You know that it means death for you.”

“I came because I must,” Gael’jic said. “It is the will of Rama’dy’ac!”

Jobash shook his head. “You speak lies,” he said. “You must die for this insolence.”

Gael’jic jabbed an accusing finger toward the other. “You are the liar,” he shouted. “Your corruption has pervaded the people. You are the consort of Uri’thind’ac.”

At this charge, the guards around him all began to chuckle. Gael’jic looked around at them in surprise and fear. “You must listen to me!” he shouted. “This one is evil.”

“They are deaf to your lies,” Jobash said, smirking.

Over Jobash’s shoulder, Gael’jic saw a hooded figure standing and watching. He slowly glided forward and came up right into Gael’jic’s face. Those glowing eyes unraveled everything brave in Gael’jic. He wanted to break apart into a thousand pieces and crumble to the road right then and there.

It was Uri’thind’ac. The demonic figure said in a resonant and echoing voice, “Rama’dy’ac cannot help you. If you go back to your people, this is what awaits you. I will see to it. You will fail and die.”

Suddenly all of the guards lurched forward and stabbed him repeatedly with their spears and slashed him with their ke’ef blades. Gael’jic fell as he was punctured repeatedly and his purple blood flowed freely upon the street. The three humans were now far away watching it all transpire. He cried out for help, but in his dream, none of them came, and he died.

CHAPTER 23. MOTHER

Belem found himself back in the old rotten apartment in which his mother died. He knelt upon the ground at the very spot. A bloody stain marked the place where she had fallen and passed out of life. He sat there feeling like the child he had been. Completely helpless, alone, and afraid. He reached out his right hand and gingerly traced the outline of the bloodstain.

Suddenly he knew he was not alone. A wash of cold ran over all his flesh and pricked it with goosebumps.

“Belem?” came his mother’s soft feminine voice. But there was a dry rasp in it, as if she hadn’t drank water in years.

He lifted his eyes and saw her silhouetted in the doorway. A great orange light shone behind her so that he could not make out her features but only her shape.

“Mother?” he asked.

“Yes, my boy, it is I.”

“But you’ve been dead for so many years. How can this be?”

“I’ve been here waiting for you the whole time,” she said. “But you left me.”

“No…” Belem stammered. “I… didn’t, I…”

“Why would you leave me, Belem?” she said sternly. Then she relaxed her shoulders and more softly she added, “You did so because you had to. Because you survive best when you are alone.”

“I know mother,” Belem said. “I know.” He hung his head, not able to bear looking up at her silhouetted form.

“Then why are you traveling with these others?” she asked.

“Others?” Belem asked. Then he felt the presence of others in the room. He turned at the place where he knelt on the floor and saw Cecil, Ariam, and Gael’jic standing behind him, looking straight ahead blankly.

“Yes,” his mother continued. “These others. Why do you entangle yourself in the affairs of these martyrs? It is better for you if you go it alone.”

“I’m only staying with them for a little while, out of convenience. I will… I will leave them behind when it makes sense to do so.”

“Don’t lie to me, son,” she warned in a menacing rasp. “I know your heart. I know you are weak. I know what you fear.”

He rocketed up from his place and faced his mother. He growled, then said, “I fear nothing.”

“Then why do you surround yourself with others? Is it not to use them as a shield for your protection? That tells me you fear something. You fear the man who killed me. You fear that same man who put you in prison. But if you stay with these others you will never reach him. You will never be able to take your revenge. They will hold you back and direct you away from him.”

“I will do as I must,” he shouted back at her.

Suddenly she exploded forward out of the light and her face was revealed. She was gray, shriveled, and pale. Her eyes were stark white. A ragged bloody cut arched across her throat where it had been slit. She reached out and in a lightning-like motion wrapped gnarled bony fingers around his throat and squeezed.

“Do you want to end up like me?” She shouted back. “Do you want to become just another weak victim of Lycas Ryth?”

“Get off me!” he shouted and tried to pry her hands off his throat. But she would not let go. Her fingers were like an icy vice grip. He felt the breath being choked out of him. He tried to shout back at her, to warn her to get off once again but no words could come. His air was gone. He fell backward and she tumbled on top of him. She straddled him and choked him until his eyes went dark and in his dream, he died.

CHAPTER 24. HELPLESS

Ariam was back in the Human Citadel. He looked down at himself and saw that he wore the same fine party clothing he had worn that fateful night. His eyes shifted to his right, then his left and he saw the two beautiful women who had accompanied him out into the night. He turned his face forward and beheld the thug with the knife. Most of his body was lit by street lamps but his face was concealed in shadow.

“You’ve come back,” the man growled. “That was a mistake.”

Ariam was seized by a sensation of terror. He froze, unable to move.

“No,” he said. “I didn’t mean to.”

“But here you are,” the thug said, shaking his head slowly from left to right. He stepped forward and the light splashed his face at last. A wicked grin split his face. But his eyes were unsettlingly different. They were not as they had been. Instead, they were coal black like little marbles of obsidian shoved into his skull.

He felt one of the beautiful women at his side tighten her grip on his shoulder. He whipped his head around and stared into a nightmare vision. Her former beauty was gone. A wide red stain spread from where the thug had stabbed her, murdering her. Her flesh was bone white and looked desiccated. Her eyes were black like the thug’s but her mouth was filled with misshapen, pointy, razor-sharp teeth. She opened her maw wide and a rumbling growl – like that of a beast – spilled out.

Ariam tried to pull away from her, but she held him fast.

He felt the other side being tugged. He turned that way and saw the other girl. She also was no longer beautiful. Instead, she was a disheveled mess. Her eyes, too, were black like the others, but they were red-rimmed and her face was streaked with dirty tears. Her hair was a tangled black nest. Her dress was torn and covered in grime. She opened her mouth and he saw the same wicked teeth as the other one had. She hissed at him.

He turned back to the thug and said, “Let me go. I promise I won’t make any trouble. I’ll leave again. I’ll…I’ll…”

“It’s too late for that, my boy,” the thug said. The man waved the knife slowly back and forth before Ariam’s face. He planted the tip of it on Ariam’s nose and dug it in a little drawing a bead of blood. “You should not come back here,” he said. “You should run and hide. Because if you don’t, we’ll kill you.”

Ariam felt a fourth presence materialize behind him. He dared not turn to look because he was sure he knew what he would see. A towering cloaked figure staring down at him.

“Let me go,” he pleaded. “Please.”

“If we let you go, do you promise to be a good little boy?” The thug asked.

Ariam couldn’t speak so he simply nodded his head rapidly in response.

The thug drew the knife away and tapped his chin with it, feigning thought. Then he said, “No, I think it’s too late for that.” He lunged forward and slashed at Ariam with the knife cutting deep into his chest. The two girls likewise lurched forward and sank their needle-sharp teeth into his neck on both sides. Thus, Ariam died in his dream.

CHAPTER 25. ROYAL CALAMITY

Cecil found himself standing in the palace. Bodies were scattered everywhere. Palace staff, servants, and sector representatives he recognized. They were not merely lifeless but mangled and destroyed. Some of them were hardly recognizable as people any longer. He heard a creaking noise and spun about ready to meet whatever threat might lurk there. He saw it was only an unhinged window. It dangled briefly off its frame then fell and shattered upon the floor.

He felt compelled to walk up to the open window. He stopped and stared out over the Human Citadel. He towered high above it all in the palace looking down. But even at this great distance, he could see the streets of the Citadel were littered with dead.

He slowly backed away from the window, unwilling, unable to even take in the vision. He heard a door creek eerily on its hinges behind him. He slowly turned fearing what he would see. He was at the wrong angle to look into the room, but he knew it was the King’s chamber.

His heart raced and his breathing grew rapid. He took a tentative step in that direction, knowing he must look inside. He also feared what he would find. When he came around, at last, to get a clear line of sight into the room his face went ashen.

The first thing he noticed was that just inside the door flanking the path into the room were the two halves of the dead king. Blank dead eyes stared at him from the upper half and Cecil would have sworn that as he moved into the room the head slightly turned and the eyes tracked him. He lifted his face away from this in revulsion but was met by an even more horrible sight.

Two large impaling stakes were set up in the King’s chamber. Queen Rivess was pierced through upon one, and Prince Therin on the other. Their dead eyes stared accusingly at Cecil. Suddenly both of them started growling like angry dogs and snapped their mouths at him. He looked away and saw the bodies of Royal Guardians scattered all over the room. He began to back away but then collided with something. He spun around to see what it was. Lycas Ryth stood in his path. His hands were folded before him, and he had a pleasant smile pasted on his face.

“There you are, Cecil,” he said cheerily. “I thought I’d redecorate while you were away. I hope you like it.”

“You’re a monster,” Cecil said. “I know whom you serve.”

“Do you truly?” Ryth said. “Interesting. I’m not sure you do.”

“I’m going to stop you before anything like this can happen. We are coming for you, Lycas Ryth. We come for your blood. We come with justice.”

Ryth simply shook his head. “It’s already too late. Look around you. This is as good as accomplished.”

Cecil lurched forward menacingly grabbing for Lycas Ryth, but the man seized him out of midair with one hand and held him aloft. “I am far more powerful than you possibly could know,” Ryth said, smirking even more broadly. The grin was unnaturally long and sharp teeth glistened behind the peeled-back lips. “Don’t come back here unless you want all of this to happen. I will see to it that every last person here is destroyed.”

“You won’t be able to stop us, you snake,” Cecil retorted.

Ryth shrugged and then jogged forward holding Cecil aloft for another moment and then plunged him down on the same stake that held Prince Therin. He felt the wood pierce him from one side to the other and he let out a scream of pain and rage. And Cecil died in his dream.

CHAPTER 26. ARRIVALS

All four of them came awake at the same instant. They panted for breath and felt for wounds upon their bodies that were not there. When Ariam realized he was intact he broke down and started weeping. Gael’jic looked relieved, Cecil looked pensive, and Belem growled in anger. None of them slept the rest of the night. But neither did they converse much with one another beyond basic confirmation of their nightmares.

They didn’t say much to each other over the next two days of travel, either, until they came near their destination.

They exited the jungle and gazed upon the vast plain in the center of which stood a tall, carved, multi-spired mountain. It was Gael’jic’s former home and the place where many Dar’rynakai had carved their city in long ages past. Now, Gael’jic wondered truly how long it had been. Considering the revelations from Vael, there was no determining the truth of any of the histories he had learned.

“There are a few main entrances leading up into the city. We of course cannot take any of these. They will be guarded by Dar’rynakai who will know me on sight. I cannot enter that way and three humans would rouse much suspicion. We will have to climb a more treacherous route.”

“Climb?” Ariam asked in a worried voice.

“Perfect,” Belem said with a frown.

Gael’jic pretended not to notice the comment and continued. “We must be extremely careful. We probably ought to stay low and try to remain hidden in the tall grasses. The entrances will provide a good vantage point over the prairie. We will also want to wait until nightfall.”

“What’s that?” Ariam asked, pointing. They followed his finger and saw movement out on the prairie.

Gael’jic took a step forward and squinted. Then he gasped in surprise and drew his head back. He turned his face in astonishment to the others.

“What is it?” Cecil pressed.

“It is a group of other Dar’rynakai. But they are dressed in a way that tells me they are not from our city. They are of a different tribe from another mountain.”

“So what?” Belem asked.

“Our dealings with other tribes are rare,” Gael’jic responded. “This looks like an entire formal delegation. I count twenty persons.”

“There’s another group,” Ariam said. Gael’jic whipped around and located what he was talking about. Then he saw there was not simply one more, but at least two other traveling groups.

“What is going on?” he asked, perplexed. “This is beyond rare.” Gael’jic stood astonished staring down at the plains and the moving delegations of other Dar’rynakai tribes.

“Something big is happening,” he concluded in a hushed tone.

“It’s interesting,” Ariam said. “We were told to unite the Dar’rynakai. Now at the same time that we show up, other tribes show up, making your people much easier to reach all at once. I find that fascinating.”

Gael’jic simply nodded along with the thought, too transfixed on the scene to speak.

Cecil lifted a hand and rubbed his chin and thought.

Belem issued a disappointing grunt.

CHAPTER 27. THE PERILOUS CLIMB

Night encroached almost completely before they left the concealment and safety of the tree line. The tall grasses whispered against them as they crouched low to hide while they cautiously made their way closer to the solitary mountain. “There will still be guards stationed at the most vulnerable places,” Gael’jic warned. “We must be ever watchful, lest we be discovered.”

Gael’jic led the way yet again. He knew the paths best, though he had not spent much time outside the city prior to his expulsion. Most of his time was spent sequestered away from nature and with his snout buried in books, parchments, and scrolls fashioned from animal hides.

Every once in a while he would stop and motion for the others to get low. They obeyed without question. They would remain crouched in the tall grasses for a time until Gael’jic signaled them to rise once again and recommence travel.

The sounds of chirping insects surrounded them and a gentle breeze blew across the prairie rustling the grasses around them. A bird shrieked a call in the distance which echoed briefly and then died in the wind.

Belem was seized by the unexpected sensation of being watched and spun around to stare back in the direction they had come. He was sure he would see the dead figure of his mother standing by the trees, watching him with disapproval. The way was empty yet he could not shake the feeling. He briefly considered sharing this with the others, but dismissed it, not wanting to appear fearful and weak.

As they drew closer to the roots of the mountain Gael’jic stopped once again, turned, and motioned for them to come close so he could speak with them.

“We come now to a place where I think we may be able to climb,” he said. “But as I warned you before the path will not be easy going. He turned his head to look over his shoulders at the imposing mountain stretching to the sky. The last remnants of the now disappeared sun cast pale orange light on the cracks, crevices, and carved spires of the impressive mountain city. He beheld the artisan-hewn edifice for a time, then returned his gaze to his human companions.

“How hard are we talking?” Ariam asked, a note of worry evident in his voice. Even in the dim light, Cecil could see make out the great concern etched on the man’s face.

Gael’jic stroked his dewlap in thought for a moment before answering. “I do not think it will be overly difficult for me, but I know that you are not as nimble as I am. It will take you considerably more effort.

This of course did nothing to relax Ariam. He craned his neck, looking beyond Gael’jic to stare at the mountain in the fading light. “Do we have to do this in the dark?” he asked. “It’s going to be hard enough as it is and…” he trailed off and looked away from the others. Embarrassed, he finished, “…and I hate heights.”

Belem dropped his head and made a noise of hissing frustration.

“We do not have much choice, Gael’jic replied. “If we climb in the daylight, we will be more easily spotted. We do not want that. It will ruin our chances to accomplish the task given to us.”

“Cheer up,” Belem said snidely. “This should help you with your fortitude problem.” He snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Thanks,” Ariam said with an edge of sarcasm.” I wasn’t quite hoping for an opportunity to do so this soon. But it looks like I’ve got one anyway.”

Cecil remained grimly silent as he only partially took in the exchange. Most of the time he devoted his attention to the mountain itself. His eyes searched for what might be a route up the side. He wasn’t having much success. He knew he would have to rely on Gael’jic which was something he was not happy to do. But he reluctantly had to admit the lizard man was right: they had no other choice.

“Let’s not waste any more time moaning about it,” Cecil said. “Lead the way.”

Gael’jic nodded, turned, and continued his slouched and prowling gait toward the mountain through the tall grasses. The grasses eventually disappeared, however, as they came to the exposed stony roots of the place. The first little while was fairly simple for all of them, even Ariam. They mainly had to scramble over hillocks and medium-sized boulders. But soon the slope began and it grew more difficult with each step. Gael’jic searched until he found what seemed to serve as a good beginning for them. He initiated their ascent.

Cecil came next. Ariam wanted to hang back, but Belem insisted that the beggar go next.

“I better bring up the rear,” he reasoned. “You look like you’re going to struggle with this. It’s better that I am behind you in case you need help.”

Ariam looked reluctantly back up at the mountain and then nodded. “All right,” he said, though he didn’t sound all right to Belem’s ears. “But I don’t like this at all.”

“Join the club,” Belem said.

Gael’jic was a good distance up the gradually increasing slope when he looked back over his shoulder to see the humans making slower progress. He halted and waited for them. When they came closer he commenced again and quickly scrambled his way up the stony skin of the mountain to find a small outcropping jutting from the side. He perched patiently while he waited for the humans to catch up. He observed the humans struggle to make their way up.

Ariam in particular was having a hard time. Gael’jic felt a stab of sorrow for the man. Out of all of the human companions he had acquired in the ruins of the bizarre city they had found, Ariam was the one with which he felt he had the most in common. He was perhaps a bit more mystical than Gael’jic was used to, but even that was something he found changing within himself.

Long hours spent in his study and various libraries pouring over ancient tomes containing the mythology and religion of his people had not brought him much faith. It had taken the experience of exile and being mysteriously led in the wilderness to bring him to it. He had to admit it was still a struggle, however. His rational mind wanted to keep things in nice and neat categories. Nothing about this present project fit into that.

He brought his head up and stared out onto the darkened plain surrounding his former city. His mind wandered over all of his days long past and all of the beliefs he had once uncritically held. They had all been rooted solely in what he could observe and test. Now he was finding there was more. Much more.

A sharp noise below him snapped him out of his reverie and drew his gaze.

Ariam released a cry as one of the rocks he had used as a handhold had given out and he began to slide down the slope of the mountain. The noise of the shout echoed all around them and he thought it would be a wonder if they were not discovered on account of it. They were not yet close enough to find an opening by which they might enter the city, but that did not mean the sound would not travel to unfavorable ears.

Yet right now that was the least of his worries. The greatest of them was the plummeting form of Ariam whose terrified features would soon disappear from view as his body dropped back down the great distance they had climbed.

CHAPTER 28. STEALTH

Gael’jic watched with relief as Belem who had remained behind Ariam shot out a hand and snatched the man by the back of his cloak. In doing so he halted his companion’s dangerous downward movement. It took Ariam a few seconds to realize he had been saved. His eyes remained wide and his hands scrambled for purchase on the mountainside. Belem maneuvered him closer to the side of the mountain so he could get a better grip.

Ariam could not yet form coherent words but instead babbled something that sounded like a kind of thanks.

“Think nothing of it,” Belem replied acidly. “Just get a better hold on things, would you?”

Ariam nodded his head rapidly and closed his eyes. Gael’jic could see he was trembling mightily from fright. They gave the man a few minutes to calm himself and then started climbing once again. Belem kept a close eye on Ariam ever after that.

The higher up they climbed, the stronger and colder the wind blew. It chilled Gael’jic even with his tough reptilian hide. He could only imagine how the humans with their softer skin must be reacting. He shook this thought away and concentrated on the task of getting up into the city. Sympathy was fine, but it wouldn’t speed up their progress.

A while later they came to a large rock shelf and all rested. Thankfully it was big enough for all of them, and then some. Ariam pressed his back tightly against the slope of the mountain, keeping as far away from the edge of the rock shelf as possible. He was puffing heavily and his hands shook from the efforts.

“I hate heights,” he said once again.

“Interesting,” Belem said. “Turns out this Rama’dy’ac may not pick his companions well.”

“You do not know of what you speak,” Gael’jic said.

Belem shrugged. “Just an observation,” he commented. “It simply seems funny to me. If he were so wise, why would he pick someone so scared of heights to have to climb the side of a mountain in the dark?”

Gael’jic snapped his mouth closed and thought about it for a few moments before responding. “One cannot always say why or fathom the deepest things of Rama’dy’ac. But I do not doubt he has his reasons.”

“Those kind of explanations ring hollow to me,” Belem snorted.

“Then perhaps it is a good thing you are not a god,” Gael’jic said. “You would make a capricious one.”

“No argument here,” Belem replied.

Gael’jic turned away from this conversation and stared out once again over the plain stretching out before them. They had made it a good distance upward and the reprieve was both necessary and welcome. But it was interesting for him now to see the surroundings bathed in only the light of the moon and stars. He hadn’t spent much time looking outward when he lived within the mountain.

“How much farther do you think we have?” Cecil asked.

In response, Gael’jic got onto his hands and knees and clambered toward the edge of the rock shelf. Ariam gasped as he thought about getting that uncomfortably close to the edge. The Dar’rynakai peered downward and then turned his head and looked upward at the remaining distance.

He shrugged and said, “Not far, I think.”

A strong gust of wind whipped at them and Gael’jic’s head fin and dewlap flapped with it. He was thrown ever-so-slightly off balance and Ariam closed his eyes, afraid that he would witness Gael’jic swept over the edge. But no such tragedy occurred.

Cecil was well protected by his Royal Guardian armor, but Belem and Ariam shivered in the cold and rubbed their arms.

“I for one will be glad to get out of the cold wind,” Ariam said. “But more importantly, away from the drop,” he added.

They allowed themselves another five minutes of rest and then got back to it. Gael’jic turned out to be right. It was perhaps only another twenty minutes of climbing before they reached a crenelated opening on the mountain city exterior. It was a space wide enough for them to enter one at a time. Gael’jic climbed through first and made sure there was no one around to spot them. When he was certain they were alone he turned and reached down toward his companions.

He took Cecil’s hand and pulled the man up through the opening. Next came Ariam who was more than eager to get away from the precipice and the long deadly drop behind him. Belem came last and was perhaps a bit more eager than he would have otherwise let on to get away from the perilous exterior of the mountain as well.

Once inside they took stock of their surroundings. They saw that they were now in a space that was wide and open to the sky above. They stood upon a broad street. On the other side of it were buildings carved out of the mountainside. Ariam stared in wonder at it. He could not imagine how much time and craft would have been required to form such an exquisitely artistic expression as this. It was astonishing to behold, even in the dark.

“We cannot stay here,” Gael’jic looked about worriedly. “We must move on and find shelter in one of the alleyways.” Without waiting for them he darted across the street and came to a place where there was a gap between two of the buildings. He simply plunged ahead. The humans looked at one another. Belem shrugged and was the next to go. Cecil and Ariam were not far behind.

It was almost completely dark in the alleyway and they shuffled about as quietly as they could but they could not help but make noise as they moved along. Ariam wondered if they would draw attention to themselves by these sounds.

They could just barely make out the outline of Gael’jic as he moved forward. His reptilian eyes could discern the darkened objects much easier than theirs. He moved with much more confidence and grace. This was after all his home turf.

“Where are we in comparison to our destination?” Cecil asked.

Gael’jic whipped around suddenly and hissed at him to be quiet. Then in a whisper, he said, “We are at about the middle level of the city. You cannot see it well in the dark with your human eyes, but great spires stretch upward. The elite ones live at the top of everything.”

“Huh, not so unfamiliar after all,” Belem said with a sneer. Ariam gently shushed him.

Gael’jic continued. “I am not greatly familiar with this part of the city. I lived elsewhere, a bit farther up. I still have friends in this city and it is merely a matter of finding them. It will take us some time to navigate the city this way. But we cannot be spotted or else all will be lost for me.”

“Yeah, we know,” Cecil said with a hint of frustration. “We heard the spiel already. So get to it.”

Gael’jic turned around and continued pressing on deeper into the heart of the alleyway system. Soon after turning a handful of corners, there was an opening out ahead of them. There was not much light, but even the humans could see the street ahead. When they came closer, however, Gael’jic hissed for them to stop and held out his arms, preventing forward movement. They waited for a handful of seconds to see why he had done so.

Soon two Dar’rynakai in armor strolled past the opening of the alley. Gael’jic stood frozen in place a long time before he permitted them to move or make a sound. Eventually, he turned toward them and motioned them closer. They all huddled together and he began to whisper.

“There are patrols on the streets. This is not normal. I cannot guess why this would be, but I do not believe it is a good signal for us.”

“Do you think it has something to do with those other tribes we saw approaching?” Ariam asked.

“Perhaps,” Gael’jic said. “But until I know more I care not to speculate. Until we can make contact with my allies, we must exercise even greater caution than we already were.”

“I don’t know,” Belem said, “I’m stretched pretty thin as it is.” The undertone of mockery was apparent in his voice, and it earned him a reproachful look from Cecil. Belem did not care.

They were moving again but stopped when they arrived at the mouth of the alleyway. Gael’jic bent out ever so slightly and peered around the corner to look in both directions. The streets were vacant and so he darted across to the other side and signaled for them to do the same. They did so and managed to keep their clomping feet sufficiently quiet.

They spent a good long while traveling this way: avoiding patrols and moving silently through the shadowy alleys of the Dar’rynakai city and dodging any sign of patrols. After a while, Ariam said to Gael’jic, “I noticed no one else is out and about. Is that also not usual?”

Gael’jic shrugged. “We are a reptilian people,” he responded. “We prefer the warmth of the sun. I understand we were once a more nocturnal people than we are now. But those days are far behind us. Now we are not so different from you humans in that regard, I understand. We prefer to bed down for the night. Civilization does funny things to a species.”

“Ain’t that the truth?” Belem quipped quietly.

A short time later they came to the entrance of another alleyway and halted. The street was deserted and there was no patrol to be seen. Gael’jic zeroed in on a particular building carved out of a spire of rock and pointed at it.

“I have allies in that place,” he said. “I will have to go first and make myself known. Then I can come back and signal for you.”

“You’re going to leave us alone out here?” Belem said. “I don’t know that I like that.”

“The appearance of three humans so suddenly in our city may be too great for even my allies to conceal.” Gael’jic slowly shook his head from side to side. “I must warn them first and convince them.”

“Don’t be gone long,” Cecil warned.

“I will take as much time as I have to,” Gael’jic simmered back. He turned back to face the building on the opposite side of the alleyway and looked up its great length. There were several windows carved into the place and yellow light spilled out of a few of them. That was a good sign he thought. Someone was still awake.

He scampered across the street, turning his head both ways to make sure a patrol did not appear from around a corner. When he reached the other side he rapped on the door with his knuckles. He turned away and continued to watch carefully. Suddenly they heard a voice gently float through from the other side of the door. They were not close enough to make out the words, and wouldn’t have been able to anyway, considering the speaker did not use human language.

Gael’jic responded in the same hissing tones and soon the door opened. A surprised-looking Dar’rynakai poked his face through from the other side. When he ascertained it was Gael’jic he pulled the door open wider and yanked him in. The door quickly closed.

“And now we wait,” Belem said.

And wait they did. It was a good long while before Gael’jic reappeared at the door and motioned them to come across once he ascertained the street remained empty. One at a time the human companions darted across the street and went into the Dar’rynakai domicile. When the last of them were inside the door pressed closed quietly.

***

The shadows concealed much. That included the watcher. The triumvirate had dispatched him a few days previous to make certain the domicile in question had been watched closely. They were known associates of Gael’jic, who had been expelled from the city. Now, what do we have here? wondered the Dar’rynakai watcher. Gael’jic had returned. Wasn’t that interesting? But more interesting than that was his company. Three humans. This was almost too good to be true. He would have to get back this very hour and rouse the members of the triumvirate. But perhaps first a little patience was in order.

He crouched low in another alleyway close by and stared at the carved building. He had no good vantage points to look through the windows. He briefly considered climbing up the building by which he stood and reposing on top of it so that he could perhaps look inside the openings. He dismissed this idea a handful of moments later. No, he thought to himself, I must get back now. There is no telling if they will stay here very long. And the triumvirate may want to act right away. Best just to get on with it.

He waited only another handful of moments, then pulled himself back deeper into the darkness of the alley, turned, and darted away chuckling to himself.

CHAPTER 29. PLOTTING

The three humans stood against the wall near the door through which they had entered. The room was rounded much like the chambers of the temple ruins they had recently explored. The space reached upward well above their heads and terminated in a wood plank ceiling. That put Belem in mind of the section of prison barge planks he still toted around. He had left the planks back in the jungle, leaning against a tree. It would have been too difficult to manage the planks while attempting the climb up the mountainside. But he still meant to collect them later.

The building itself extended above this which meant the ceiling above their heads indicated another floor. A set of stairs reaching upward and carved out of the stone of the rounded wall confirmed this.

Gael’jic stood a few feet out from them between them and the other two Dar’rynakai in the room. They stared with great interest at the humans. One of them turned his head to the other and uttered a series of hisses and clicks that the humans had no hope of understanding.

“Speak in the language of the humans, please,” Gael’jic said. “Courtesy would dictate so.”

The one who had spoken turned his attention briefly to Gael’jic then folded his arms in front of him. “You’re coming here is very ill-advised, Gael’jic Dulamic. As if that were not bad enough, you bring three humans with you. Perhaps you should not be so brash as to make demands on us.”

Ariam stepped forward and bowed lightly at the waist. “Apologies to our hosts,” he said. “We are at a disadvantage. You know our language, but we cannot possibly learn yours. We do not mean to be any kind of imposition upon you, but we had to come here.”

“Of what does this human speak?” the other Dar’rynakai said sharply.

Gael’jic looked briefly over his shoulder toward Ariam and gave him a reproachful glance before he turned back to his kind. “Forgive my companions. They do not know our ways.”

“Maybe if you could dispense with acting all high and mighty about your lizard-man ways, we could make some progress here. We have no time to bicker like children,” Belem grumbled.

Gael’jic wheeled on the man and hissed. “If you could keep your delightful personality to yourself for a while, perhaps that would grease the wheels a bit.” He then turned and looked to his Dar’rynakai fellows and said, “Apologies.”

“Don’t apologize for me,” Belem barked. “I merely returned in kind what we received first.”

Ariam put a hand on Belem’s forearm and shook his head. “Perhaps we should not be so bold,” he whispered to the other man.

Before they knew it the three Dar’rynakai had fallen back into their own language and were hissing argumentatively amongst one another. After a few moments of watching this Ariam leaned over to Belem and said, “Curious, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Belem asked in a disgruntled tone.

Ariam lifted a hand toward the reptilian figures and said, “Curious that they know our language so well. How do you think that came to be?”

Belem shrugged. “If Vael is right about our peoples’ history together, perhaps it is a remnant of long forgotten days. Maybe they have not even thought about it. We haven’t, have we?”

Ariam made a face. “No, I suppose not,” he said. “But that doesn’t ring true. Something else is at work here.”

“Don’t overthink it,” Belem said.

“Hush, you two,” Cecil hissed.

“Why?” Belem said to the other man harshly. “It’s not like we can understand what they’re saying.”

“No,” Cecil returned with the same harsh tone Belem used. “But they can understand what we are saying. Maybe it would be best if you just shut your mouth.”

“That seems to be a popular opinion,” Belem complained. “Not that I care.”

“Not that you ever do,” Cecil added. “Perhaps you should give it a try.” The three humans realized the three Dar’rynakai had ceased arguing with one another and were now watching them. They turned their faces to gaze back at the reptilian beings and waited.

“We have agreed,” Gael’jic began, “that we require the presence of a few others. Gem’ec, here, has volunteered to leave this place and secretly draw others. We will wait until they arrive before we continue our conversation. It will be easier than retelling the story multiple times.”

The one called Gem’ec turned a withering glance toward the humans then stalked past them and out the door. They waited a good long while for him to return with three others.

“Is this all that you have?” Cecil asked disappointedly.

“No,” Gael’jic said. “This is all that is safe to gather at one time. We have a few dozen among us that know about the corruption among our leadership. But if we were to gather them all in one place it would make it too easy to be discovered.

The humans found themselves awkwardly outnumbered by Dar’rynakai and stood apprehensive huddled together. The five members of the Dar’rynakai race that they did not know stared at them in wonder and doubt. Once they were all situated Gael’jic began.

He spent a half hour or so relaying the basics of what had happened to him once he had been expelled from the city. The humans listened with as much interest as the Dar’rynakai. There was much of his story they had not heard up until this point. Even Belem found himself raptly listening as Gael’jic’s tale unfolded. When he arrived at the part where they had combated the demon statue and freed Vael, one of the Dar’rynakai interrupted.

“Wait,” she said. “You mean to tell us you have met one of the celestial beings? I thought you did not believe in such things Gael’jic?”

“I did not,” Gael’jic replied. “But these last many days have changed too much for me. I now see the situation is much direr than any of us first believed. This is not merely a matter of corruption among our leaders. The roots of all of this are deep and mystical and stretch all the way to the Human Citadel as well. And, it turns out, far beyond.”

“Beyond?” another of them asked. “What does that mean?”

Gael’jic turned and looked to the humans for support. Cecil lifted a hand signaling him to continue. “You might as well spill the rest of it,” he said. “They have to learn at some time.”

“Learn what?” the same one asked stonily.

Gael’jic drew a deep breath and blew it out before going on. “Before we left the peculiar ruins in which we freed Vael from his thousand-year imprisonment, he revealed more to us.”

“More?” another one huffed in disbelief. “Is not the supposed reality of celestial beings,  Rama’dy’ac, and Uri’thind’ac enough?”

“I am afraid not. And you are going to have to prepare yourselves to hear many bizarre and difficult things. Much of our history has been a lie. The ruins were far older than I originally thought. According to Vael, Rama’dy’ac saved the humans and shepherded them here one thousand years ago. We lived in harmony for a long time with one another in the jungle city. But it also was discovered that there are other worlds than this one.”

“Other worlds?” Gem’ec coughed.

“Yes,” Gael’jic said with a nod. “There are other planets in this system.”

“The wandering stars,” the female said in awe. Though nothing had physically changed in the room, an undeniable chill settled over everyone. The humans shot each other questioning glances. They noted that all the Dar’rynakai, save Gael’jic, had grown tense.

CHAPTER 30. UNWELCOME VISITORS

“That is what I think, too,” Gael’jic said.

“Wandering stars?” Ariam asked.

The female turned her attention to Ariam and continued, “Have you not noticed the sky?” she asked. “The stars are fixed in place in the heavens, but there are some that wander. They do not retain their place but move.”

Ariam looked to Cecil and Belem. Both of them shrugged. “I guess we don’t look up that much,” he said. He felt chagrined. He had spent some time stargazing, but not even he had noticed this phenomenon.

The female continued. “So the wandering stars are planets,” she said. “Like this one? Able to sustain life?”

“It would appear that way,” Gael’jic said.

“This is blasphemy,” Gem’ec said. “Nonsense.”

“Blasphemy according to lies,” Gael’jic shot back. “Making the things I say the truth, and the lies the true blasphemy.”

Gem’ec snarled. “How do we know that this Vael creature was not lying to you? Why should you believe him?”

“Because,” Ariam interjected. “If harm was meant for us, then we easily would have been led to it. Yet all of us found ourselves in the ruins and freeing Vael. He is not the one who led us. When we encountered the demon statue in the lower chamber of the temple in the ruins, it was clear the thing was evil. And it imprisoned a creature of light.”

“Do you not think creatures of darkness can sometimes mimic creatures of light?” Gem’ec replied.

“That is not what this was,” Gael’jic said sharply. “Nevertheless, it is obvious that wickedness is afoot in both the Dar’rynakai and the Human societies. And it appears others on different worlds are in danger. We four were called out to unite us all against it.”

“If we do not stand together,” Ariam warned, “we will fall separately.”

Gem’ec fell quiet but brooded as he stared at everyone else in the room.

Another Dar’rynakai spoke up and said, “Perhaps you are right. You could not have come at a better time if this is the case.”

“What do you mean?” Gael’jic said.

The un-named Dar’rynakai stared back at him and replied, “Did you not notice? A summit of tribes has secretly been called. They have been arriving in the city for the last two days.”

Gael’jic looked at the humans then returned his attention to the speaker. “We did notice two delegations arriving when we came. But we climbed in the dark and have not had an opportunity to get the lay of things. What is this summit about?”

“No one knows,” the female said. “The triumvirate is not saying anything. They are merely welcoming the other tribes and meeting with them behind closed doors.”

Gem’ec spoke up again. “A summit of tribes has not happened in two hundred years,” he said.

The three humans gasped. “Did you say two hundred years?” Cecil asked.

Annoyed at the interruption, Gem’ec asked, “Yes, why?”

“Because,” Gael’jic said slowly, “Vael informed us that Uri’thind’ac puts forward a strong delusion among all of the peoples approximately every two hundred years. We are arriving now at just such a time.”

“Delusion?” The female asked.

“That is correct,” Ariam answered. “Apparently, Uri’thind’ac meddles with the memories of all peoples and causes them to forget how long things have been the way they are. If you have a rare tribal gathering that only occurs two hundred years or so apart, then that will be the time that Uri’thind’ac will make his move.”

“How long do we have?” the woman asked, trembling.

“Who can say?” Cecil said. “But I’ll tell you this much. My guess is we have almost no time left.”

“Then what must we do?” Gem’ec said.

“We approach the tribal delegations and tell them what is going on,” Ariam said.

“We cannot get to them,” the female said. “They are sequestered in the Grand Hall.”

“We have to find a way,” Gael’jic insisted.

“If you try, you will immediately be captured and executed,” Gem’ec said. “That will not accomplish your purpose.”

“Maybe we better just abandon this place,” Belem said. “If they’re going to be too coward to do anything about it, we should just move on. I remind you that I have an appointment to keep with Lycas Ryth.”

“Vael told you that would not work,” Ariam said. “We have to unite the Dar’rynakai with the humans or else all will be lost.”

“Not all,” Belem said. “Not the things I care about.”

“You only care about revenge,” Cecil said. “The rest of us are not pleased to simply allow two whole societies, maybe even three or more, to crash into hell to satisfy our own petty lusts.”

“Watch it, guardsman,” Belem replied. “You spent a lot of time in the presence of that man. Keep trying to divert me from him, and I’m going to start wondering whether or not you actually might serve him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cecil spat back. “I…” But then he stopped. His eyes adopted a faraway look and he turned his head as if listening for something.

“What is it?” Ariam asked. “Did you hear something?”

“No,” Cecil said slowly. “But I just get a funny kind of sense.”

“What kind of sense?” Gael’jic asked suspiciously.

Cecil slowly shook his head and said, “I don’t know, but I do not like it. It feels like maybe danger is coming.”

“Danger?” Gem’ec asked. “What danger?”

“I think we ought to get out of here,” Cecil said.

“And go where?” the female asked. “There are patrols out on the streets. If a group this size moved about even lurking in the shadows, it would not be long before we were discovered. Daylight will come eventually.”

“Then we split up,” Cecil said. “I don’t care what it takes. I just feel like we ought to not be here.”

Belem snorted. “I thought Ariam was the one with the fortitude problem. Now who is acting the coward?”

Cecil rounded on the man and shoved an angry finger between his eyes. “You watch your tongue, convict. I have not forgotten who delivered the explosives that murdered my King.”

“Lower your voices,” Gael’jic hissed. “We do not need to draw attention. Then we truly will be in danger.”

Ariam said, “I think Cecil is right. I don’t share his sense, but I believe him. Remember we came here for a reason, and if we are seized by the authorities of this city, we will be hard-pressed to see it through.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time,” Belem said. “But let’s not just get out of this house. Let’s get out of this gods-forsaken city.”

A loud pounding at the door made everyone in the room jump. A series of hisses and clicks from the other side of the door made the faces of the Dar’rynakai inside go fearful.

“What is it?” Cecil hissed.

“It is the city guard,” Gael’jic replied. “They have come to arrest us all.”

More banging and insistent words in the Dar’rynakai language came from beyond the door.

“And they know about you humans,” Gem’ec said with a sneering voice. “It seems you have doomed us all with your presence.”

CHAPTER 31. WHISPERERS

He kept looking around, which he knew he should not do. He was going to stand out and that was the last thing he needed right now. Nevertheless, he was impatient. He nervously tapped his foot against the soft grass of the park as he reposed on the bench.

It was coming up on the time he appointed with Gillam. Racine was not usually a hurried man, but considering his business at this moment, he judged it to be understandable. More than that he was nervous because it was not only Gillam that was coming. He was to bring another sector representative with him.

Denthu was a moderately reasonable man in Racine’s estimation. Racine and Denthu had seen eye to eye more often than not, and that was the reason he wanted the man in on this conversation.

Conversation? he thought to himself. Or is it a conspiracy? He shook his head to clear it of the notion. He had gotten in the habit of thinking of his scheme that way because he knew if it was uncovered too soon by the wrong people, it would be construed that way. He feared anyone involved at that point could come into some real trouble.

He, therefore, thought it best to meet with only one or two sector representatives at a time, and then only those he was sure would give him a fair shake. He walked a careful and close line with this business. If he said the wrong thing to the wrong person, it would certainly get back to Lycas Ryth. And that was one man’s attention he could not afford to attract.

That ruled out Zain as well. While those two had their differences many times, they seemed more than usually chummy of late. Racine was not usually the type to harbor suspicions, but Zain’s recent close association with Ryth was too much to be a mere coincidence. That was why he undertook this business in the first place.

He turned his head and glanced to his left once again and saw the two men approaching. He breathed a small sigh of relief but tried not to show it. When at last they came closer Gillam sat down on the bench. Denthu remained standing, even though there was plenty of room.

“What’s this all about?” the man said bypassing the usual pleasantries.

Racine shot a careful look to Gillam then returned his gaze to Denthu. He did his best to drive away any sense of nervousness remaining in him before he plunged forward. “It’s like this,” he began, “I have some grave concerns. I don’t like how quickly this triumvirate was set up apparently without regard for the law. I estimate something underhanded is going on.”

“Surely you don’t doubt Shahleen,” Denthu replied.

“No,” he said quickly. “She is the only one in the equation that I trust thus far.”

“So,” Denthu said, nodding. “Then it’s Ryth and Zain you have a problem with. Can’t say I’m surprised.” He looked away briefly and said, “I would not be completely honest if I didn’t say that I might share some of those sentiments.”

Hope sprung up in Racine. But then the man continued.

“But,” he said, emphasizing the word firmly, “that does not mean I am ready to denounce anyone.”

“I’m not asking you to denounce anyone,” Racine hurriedly explained. “I’m just asking for caution.”

“Caution is something I can get behind,” Denthu said. “But what form is this caution supposed to take? That may be a point of concern as well.”

Racine drew a deep breath, expelled it, then pressed forward. “I am talking to members of the Council of Representatives to legally submit a petition of reconsideration of the triumvirate. The grounds for the petition are that it is not supported by the law. In fact, the law would seem to contradict it.”

Denthu made a noncommittal noise and scrunched his face. “I’m not so convinced of that,” he said. “I know where you’re going with this, and I should tell you that I am sympathetic to it. I’m just not sure that it’s the right decision.”

“What do you mean?” Racine asked. He detected hesitation in Denthu. If he played his hand right, he could at least get the man to stay open to his proposal.

Denthu answered, “My first concern is that it would be a waste of time. We have many pressing matters of state, what with Beirand’s assassination. Spending our time wrestling over this matter might be ultimately fruitless.”

The man stopped and Racine stared at him. “What else?” he said. He didn’t want to push the man, but he thought he was close to getting at the real reason for Denthu’s hesitation. “I can tell there’s something you’re not saying.”

Denthu looked away again. He seemed to be scanning the environment for something. Was he nervous they were being watched? Racine got the sense that was precisely what the man was doing. That raised Racine’s own hackles. Did the man know something he did not?

“So,” Denthu replied with a half-hearted smirk tugging one corner of his mouth, “right out with it, eh? Very well. I’m a little concerned at this point about marking myself as a member of a defacto opposition party to Lycas Ryth.”

“Why is that?” Gillam asked nervously.

“The tremble in your voice tells me you understand perfectly well why not,” Denthu said, the courteous tone he had thus far used was now gone. This was not lost on Gillam who physically drew back as if he’d been slapped.

“The man is dangerous,” Racine filled in the blanks. “That’s what your concern is. That’s my concern too. That’s the whole reason for all of this. We don’t want a dangerous man in a high position of authority.”

Denthu snorted. He said, “He has had the king’s ear for years. It doesn’t get much higher than that.”

“Unless he’s trying to make himself king,” Racine replied. “In practice if not in actual fact.”

Denthu dipped his chin and laughed without humor. He shook his head and said, “Now that is paranoid. Do you hear yourself?”

“I do,” Racine replied evenly. “But I’m not being paranoid and you bloody well know it.”

“Are you next going to tell me that you think Lycas Ryth was complicit in the king’s assassination?”

“I make no such claim,” Racine said, though he could not deny his mind had harbored such ponderances. “As far as I can see, the man is an opportunist beyond all measure. Regardless of what his involvement in this whole affair was, what he is doing now can only be described as an overreach.”

“I understand that,” Denthu said quietly. “I share your opinion and that regard, but what I don’t want to do is upset the wrong boat. Tell me you’re not nervous about attracting the scrutiny of Lycas Ryth. Can you do that? I doubt it.”

Racine shook his head. “All the more reason to oppose the man, don’t you think? If he’s bad enough to warrant that kind of concern…”

Denthu made a loud derisive noise cutting Racine off. He folded his arms in front of him as he pursed his lips and stared back at Racine. An uncomfortable pause ensued and he finally broke it by saying, “What do you want me to say?”

Gently, Racine replied, “I want you to say you’ll put your name on the petition alongside mine.”

Denthu lifted his gaze away from Racine yet again. He absentmindedly shook his head as he considered. “I’ll think about it,” he said grudgingly. “I can’t promise anything more than that.”

“Fair enough,” Racine replied. “But let’s not think too long. If we delay matters will get out of hand very quickly. In many ways, I believe they already have. Mark my words.”

He turned to Gillam and said, “What about you?”

Gillam dry washed his hands as he stared back at Racine. He flicked his attention to Denthu, then back to Racine. There was real terror in his eyes. Racine and Gillam had prearranged for Gillam to act as a catalyst for Denthu, volunteering to sign the petition. Now, Racine had a sinking feeling the man was going to back out.

Denthu cleared his throat and said, “He’s scared of Ryth. You should be too.”

Racine looked back to Denthu and said, “Right. But if we allow ‘scared’ to transform into ‘inaction,’ then we do not deserve our office.”

“Noble words,” Denthu said, shaking his head. “Just make sure they aren’t famous last words.”

“I’m trying my best,” Racine said. He turned his attention to Gillam once more and said, “Well?”

Gillam gulped and answered, “I’ll think about it too.” His eyes flicked nervously about them looking for any sign of danger, something that might justify his already shaken interior condition. Racine silently cursed the man’s perpetual fearfulness. Gillam was a good friend of Racine’s. But sometimes he wondered how the man ever became a sector representative.

“Anything else?” Denthu asked.

“That’s all,” Racine said. “Please do sign the petition. This is of tantamount import.”

Denthu replied, “I’ll do what I said I will do. I’ll think about it.” With that, the man turned and walked away. Gillam stood and stared after him.

When the man was gone, Gillam turned around toward Racine and said, “He’s right, you know. This is risky business.”

“We’re politicians,” Racine said admonishingly. “We’re always involved in risky business.”

Gillam reluctantly nodded in agreement and said a few more pleasantries, then departed. Racine watched him go, hoping that the man would get a little backbone.

He sat there on the park bench for a handful of minutes, turning over the conversation with Denthu in his mind. He also thought about Gillam, Shahleen, and the rest he needed to speak to. There were about four others that he trusted well enough to approach directly. There were a few more beyond those for whom he wanted other sector representatives by his side to back him so they might be more willing to listen. If he approached certain of them himself, he was almost certain to get a flat-out ‘no’ answer. But if he had a few signatures already…

The clearing of someone’s throat snapped him out of his thoughts.

He turned in the direction of the noise and froze. Standing only a few feet away with his hands clasped behind his back and a smirk pasted on his face was Lycas Ryth.

CHAPTER 32. IMPLICIT

“Lovely day for a sit in the park, isn’t it?” Ryth asked.

Racine just stared back at the man for a handful of heartbeats before he could muster a response. “Yes, it is,” he said simply, then closed his mouth and waited for Ryth to get at whatever he was there about. He already knew this was going to be something he did not want to hear.

Ryth lifted his eyes in the direction both Denthu and Gillam had left. “I saw you talking with them,” he said as if he were in on something with Racine.

“Not out of the ordinary,” Racine said with a shrug.

“No, of course not,” Ryth said with a wave of his hand. “But it does make one wonder. Sector representatives, out of session sitting in a park and talking. It makes one wonder what you were talking about. Care to share?”

“The same things we always talk about,” Racine supplied quickly. “The business of the kingdom.”

“That’s very vague,” Ryth said with a wide smile. “Come on, you can share with me.”

“As a matter of fact,” Racine said, “I’d rather not.”

Ryth put a hand over his heart and imitated a gasp. “Why Racine, I’m stunned. Maybe even a little hurt. You’re going to make me feel like I’m being left out.”

“I am leaving you out,” Racine said. “Not all matters of discussion are for everyone.”

“That is true,” Ryth said in a tone of mock revelation, placing a finger on his chin. A thoughtful look crawled across his face then he added, “Have you ever wondered what you might have been left out of? Regarding the discussions of the other sector representatives, I mean. How would it make you feel, for instance, to find out that others were talking about you behind your back without your even knowing about it? Would that sting to discover?”

Racine shrugged. “It’s common practice,” he said. “Sometimes people just need a sounding board.”

“A sounding board,” Ryth repeated his smile broadening. “That’s good, I like that. So Gillam and Denthu were just sounding boards for you, is that it?”

Racine shrugged, and said, “More or less.”

“Well, I do hope you are not talking about me. I would be distressed to find out if I was a topic of discussion and was being left out of it. It might even hurt my feelings a little.”

“I’m sure it would,” Racine said.

Ryth casually walked over to the bench and lifted his robes as he sat upon it. He leaned close to Racine and said, “What do you think of our little triumvirate?”

Racine was taken aback by the pointed nature of the question. Especially so, considering that had been the topic of conversation among himself, Gillam, and Denthu. Of course, it had also been the central feature of his discussion with Shahleen. Naturally, he also meant to go over it with the others.

Does he know? He wondered. “That’s an interesting question,” Racine said.

“Oh, I know,” Ryth said. “I am full of interesting questions. Among other things.”

“I’m sure you are,” Racine replied flatly.

“But you didn’t answer my question,” Ryth said. “What do you think of our triumvirate?”

“To be frank about it,” Racine said slowly, “I’m not altogether convinced it’s a good idea.”

“Why ever not?” Ryth asked.

“Chiefly because it seems like a way to circumvent our laws. That’s a bad precedent to set.” He did his best to stare evenly into Ryth’s eyes and not look away. It was taking everything in him to do so. The man’s eyes were like fire; so bright and uncomfortable to look into, he just wanted to tear his gaze away. But he resolved not to.

Ryth threw his head back and laughed.

“Something funny about circumventing the law that I don’t know about?” Racine asked a little annoyed.

“No, that’s not it at all. Apologies. I like you, Racine,” Ryth said. “I mean, take your friend, Gillam, for example,” Ryth continued. “I get the impression the man is ready to jump out of his skin at the slightest noise. I know for a fact he is quite intimidated by me. I suspect Denthu is as well. Isn’t that odd? I mean no one harm.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Racine lied.

“I can’t imagine why anyone would be intimidated by little old Lycas Ryth,” Ryth said. “Honestly, have you ever known me to harm anyone?” A wide politician’s grin stretched his face. Racine felt revolted just taking it in. He knew the man was a snake. But he wasn’t ready to tell him to his face.

So he simply said, “Not that I know of.”

Ryth chuckled again. “There it is again,” he said. “You really do know how to evade agreeing with something you don’t want to. But you’re also very subtle about it. I suppose that’s why you make such a good politician.”

Racine snorted and looked away. “Look who’s talking,” he muttered.

“What was that?” Ryth asked. Racine noted the humor was instantly gone from his voice. It was instead replaced by an icy blade’s edge.

Racine looked Ryth directly in the face. He repressed a gasp at what he saw. It was as if both the man had taken off a mask – one of pleasantness – and also that there was another mask beneath it. Except this one was grim and stony.

Racine recovered himself and much more loudly this time answered, “I said, look who’s talking.”

Just like that, the smile was back on Ryth’s face. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” he asked. The man’s tone dripped confidence. No, not confidence – it was arrogance.

Ryth drew in a long breath, slapped his knees with his hands, and stood up. “Well,” he said with finality, “I suppose it’s time for me to move along. That should be enough fresh air for one day. Back to my duties.”

“I suppose I’ll see you later,” Racine said halfheartedly.

“You can count on it,” Ryth replied. Something in the way the man said it struck a nerve in Racine. There was a hint of something – was it a threat? – in the words.

Ryth turned as if to leave, then stopped himself, and turned back towards Racine. “Oh, one more thing,” he said casually.

Racine looked up at the man and arched expectant eyebrows, waiting.

“I’m no fool, you know.” His words were absent of all of the false mirth that had been present earlier. Now it was a mere statement of fact. And, if Racine was right, there was an undertone of accusation in it.

“I never took you for a fool,” Racine said.

“Be sure that you don’t,” Ryth replied. “And be very careful where you tread. I understand that out in the jungles there are trees that are not trees. They wait for unwary travelers to draw too close and the beasts disguised as trees snatch them up right then and there and gobble them down. Fascinating isn’t it? So, perhaps you ought to be careful that you don’t step on the wrong root.”

Racine blinked a few times as he stared back at Ryth, not quite sure what to say. Eventually, he supplied, “What exactly are you getting at?”

Ryth took a menacing step toward him, slow and purposeful. He leaned down toward the man and said, “I’m being as direct with you as you are with me. Just be sure that all the people you talk to are who you think they are before you disclose too much.”

“That sounds an awful lot like a threat,” Racine said. “Not very becoming for a member of a ruling triumvirate.”

Ryth stared at him for a few seconds before straightening his back. He kept his eyes on the man the entire time, then said, “No threat. I merely wanted to supply you with an observation I thought you might find helpful.”

Racine narrowed his eyes as he glowered back at the man. A few heartbeats later, he said, “Then I thank you for your observation.”

The sudden false cheerfulness was back in Ryth’s face and demeanor. “More than happy to lend it,” he said. “I am here to serve.” With that he whipped around and strolled away, his dark robes billowing around him like thunderheads.

Racine watched the man go as a torrent of fresh thoughts cascaded through his mind. He had talked to no one, save for Gillam, Denthu, and Shahleen. He had only spoken to Denthu about these matters minutes before Ryth arrived and announced his presence. He could have told Ryth nothing, even if he wanted. And Racine refused to believe that either Gillam or Shahleen would give him away to Lycas Ryth. Gillam was too close of a friend, and Shahleen was too ethical of a person.

The more he thought about it, the more chilled he became. Apparently, Ryth had eyes and ears in places he could not imagine. He would be much more careful about his conversations in the future. He briefly considered that there might be listening devices planted in his and the others’ residences. Such devices were expressly forbidden. That of course would not stop someone like Lycas Ryth from using them to his advantage.

He sat dumbfounded on the park bench, shaking his head. “Unbelievable,” he said to himself.

CHAPTER 33. TRIAL

There was a loud crack followed immediately by pressure on his back. One of the Dar’rynakai guards forcefully planted the butt-end of his spear into the small of his back. Cecil’s armor absorbed a majority of the blow and so all he felt was a ghost of the aggression. But the move had been threatening and that got him a little riled up. Cecil, wrists bound together by abrasive rope, spun around in anger and glared at the warrior responsible.

The subject in question, startled by this move, blinked and took a step back in surprise. Apparently, he had not achieved the intended effect.

The rest of the group, prisoners and guards alike, stopped and watched with bated breath to see what would happen next. A tense silence fell over the group.

The warrior recovered himself and took a menacing step toward Cecil. “Get moving human,” he said with a snarl. Cecil remained motionless and only stared back at the reptilian guard in silent challenge.

“Have we broken any of your laws?” Cecil demanded after a few moments. He continued to glower stonily at the Dar’rynakai warrior. He waited for an answer to come, knowing more or less it would likely arrive in the form of a threat.

A look of exasperation overcame the reptilian warrior’s face. He snapped his jaws, making a cracking sound with his teeth, and huffed a breath. The guard stammered for a moment, then replied, “Keep your tongue silent, human! This is not your realm. You may not question our ways.”

A gravelly voice intruded in a series of agitated hisses and clicks. It came from up ahead in the direction they had been traveling through the nighttime streets. Everyone turned and looked to see who it was. An angry-looking Dar’rynakai came stalking their way. He wore a full complement of that curious wooden armor, more so even than the Dar’rynakai guarding them. He was muscular and bulky, quite unlike the others. He also appeared haggard and gruff looking. A few scars adorned his snout, and one eye was milky white with a scar bisecting his brow above and the cheek below. He was also a bit shorter than the others. Cecil easily judged he was not a typical example of the species.

The newcomer pushed his way through the gathered crowd of guards and inserted himself in the center of the situation.

The surprised warrior who had assaulted Cecil stammered a reply in the Dar’rynakai language. Cecil noted that while he couldn’t understand the words, the tone conveyed nervousness.

Gael’jic translated, “He says: Captain Chin’tel, we are transporting these prisoners to the courthouse. The triumvirate has already been summoned.”

The gruff Dar’rynakai looked a few moments more at the warrior then swiveled his attention to the humans and Gael’jic.

“So, Gael’jic,” he barked in the human language, “you have returned. Foolhardy. You know, this will mean your death.”

Gael’jic bowed his head and in a respectful voice replied, “Yes, I knew the risk.” He lifted his chin once again so he could stare into the eyes of the grizzled warrior and continued, “But the cost not to do so would be far greater. We have grave news to share with our people.”

“Your people?” the gruff one said. He barked a humorless laugh. “You were stripped of your Ber’desh,” he said. “These are no longer considered your people. You are an outcast, no better than an animal. Perhaps even worse.”

“Ridiculous words,” Gael’jic snapped. “A desperate pronouncement from corrupt fools. I thought you were smarter than to believe such political games.”

Chin’tel opened his mouth wide and laughed loudly. “I see you have not lost your spark,” the gruff Dar’rynakai pronounced. “All the same, you walk a dangerous line. I hope you will not be surprised if this day concludes with your execution. There is nothing I can do to stop it.”

“I know this, Uncle,” Gael’jic said. “But I was sent to try.”

“Sent?” Chin’tel asked, eyes narrowing. “By whom?”

“If you want to find out,” Gael’jic said, “you will have to accompany us to the triumvirate. You may hear it then.”

Chin’tel regarded him for a heartbeat or two, then looked back to the guards surrounding them and gave them a nod. He stepped out of the way and allowed them to continue to escort Gael’jic and his human companions to the courthouse.

They meandered their way through the dark mountainous city’s streets until they came at last to their destination. Even in the dark, the structure was impressive. The edifice was massively tall and regal in appearance. The carving made it appear as if it were a great tree. Between two of the large carved roots stood a tall stone set of double doors. Four of their guards jogged forward and worked to pull the heavy doors open. Then the prisoners were ushered inside.

Lit torches were suspended in brackets throughout the space, giving light that nevertheless seemed mostly swallowed by the shadows of the large chamber. Three Dar’rynakai sat on a raised platform in the center of the room. Behind them was a real and towering tree. It was like many of the trees they had seen in the jungles, except this one was massive. It stretched upward until it exited through a dark hole in the ceiling and then presumably stretched its limbs outward into the naked sky above.

Gael’jic looked around in dismay. The last time he had been in this place he was sentenced to exile. Now he was certain the next words pronounced over him here would seal his doom by sentencing his execution.

The Dar’rynakai seated in the center of the three stood up and raised his hand. “Gael’jic Dulamic,” he intoned with authority, “you have violated the law. You were expressly forbidden from ever returning to this place. Yet now you flout this decree and return to mock us.”

Gael’jic took a step forward and hissed with all his might at the standing one. The standing member of the Dar’rynakai ruling triumvirate drew back in surprise at the affront.

Gael’jic said, “I was sent here by a higher authority to address your corruption. You do not yet know it, but it is no longer I who am on trial. It is you. Your fraudulent reign has been witnessed by the heavens, Jobash,” he said with contempt. “And you shall be judged accordingly.”

Jobash replied in an angry voice, “There is no authority higher than the ruling triumvirate of the Dar’rynakai!”

“You would put yourself above Rama’dy’ac, then?” Gael’jic spat back. “Your blasphemy alone would earn you a place in the pit.”

One of the guards stepped forward and thwacked Gael’jic in the belly with the butt-end of his spear. Gael’jic doubled over and collapsed to one knee. He cradled his midsection with his bound hands.

Cecil whipped into action. Even with his hands bound, he was still exceptionally nimble. He snatched the spear from the surprised hands of the Dar’rynakai warrior, twirled it briefly then cracked him across the face with its butt-end and sent him staggering briefly then sprawling across the floor.

After a moment of surprise, other Dar’rynakai warriors rushed around and surrounded Cecil. More than a dozen spear-points were poised to strike. Unconcerned, he brandished the fallen warrior’s weapon against them.

“Wait,” Jobash said, raising his hands. An uneasy silence fell over the assembled Dar’rynakai and humans. Cecil’s shoulders were tense as his bound hands held tightly onto the shaft of the spear. If need be, he guessed he could take out at least a few of them with focused violence, but in the end, he knew they would get him.

The humiliated guard collected himself and strode up to Cecil. They glared at one another and the guard held out an expectant hand. He growled, “That is mine.”

“Yes,” Cecil said acidly. “I recommend you not do that again.”

“Return the weapon, human,” Jobash demanded. “If you do so, we will not harm you or your human companions.”

Cecil looked the weaponless guard in the eye and tossed the spear to clatter upon the stone floor by his feet. He turned around and faced Jobash. He said, “Not only my human companions. You will also treat Gael’jic with deference and respect.”

“Gael’jic’s fate has been decided already,” Jobash replied firmly.

“Yes,” Cecil said. “But not by you.” Ariam was by Gael’jic’s side helping him back to his feet. Belem stood stock still and stared at the triumvirate with an icy gaze.

“You humans are a bold bunch,” Jobash said. “Always overstepping your bounds.”

Ariam stepped forward and said, “Maybe so. But Gael’jic is correct. We have been sent here by a higher authority. We were all drawn together to a place in the jungle, to the ruins of an ancient city, and were met by a Messenger of Rama’dy’ac.”

Every Dar’rynakai, except for Gael’jic, gasped in surprise.

Jobash looked from one member of the triumvirate to the other.

One of them said to him, “The human knows the name of Rama’dy’ac? How can this be?”

“Because Gael’jic told him,” Jobash responded then whipped a snarling face at Ariam. “You would do well not to speak of such things. Do not sully the good name of Rama’dy’ac with your filthy human tongue.”

“Keep your high and mighty snout shut,” Belem shouted. “Undo our bonds, and hear what Gael’jic came to say. After that, we will let you go as long as you vow to stay out of our way.”

In the next instant, a snarling Dar’rynakai warrior stood in front of Belem. He felt the tip of the sharpened wooden spear press up underneath his chin.

“Forgive our guards,” Jobash said in a condescending manner. “They are not accustomed to their triumvirate being threatened by anyone, let alone a lowly human.”

“This is no mere lowly human,” Ariam said.

Belem shifted concerned eyes to the beggar. In a low voice, he said, “Don’t do it.”

Ariam ignored him and went on. “This is a legitimate heir of the king of the human colony.”

“Is that so?” came a new voice. Cecil froze when he heard it and his back swiftly straightened. He felt all the blood drain out of his face. It can’t be, he thought. He slowly turned to behold the man with instant recognition.

An older human, quite fit, strode confidently into the courtroom. He locked eyes with Cecil and gave him a nod. “I see you are wearing my armor,” the man said.

CHAPTER 34. ADVOCATE

“Captain Midrin?” Cecil said in complete disbelief.

“I’m glad to see Vellin kept his word on that count. I thought you might need it. I never imagined I would see you here with it, though.”

“Captain,” Cecil said, stunned into disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“This is where I live,” replied the older man. “I left the Human Citadel and found my way to the Dar’rynakai city.”

“We wondered what happened to you. Your disappearance caused a great stir in the Palace. Why?”

“I’ll tell you later. Assuming this goes well. But at this point, it doesn’t look to be so.”

Cecil’s former Captain strode past the group and took a position in front of them. “Ruling triumvirate of the Dar’rynakai people,” he said in a booming voice. “I have heard the news that Gael’jic has returned to the city and that he brought with him some humans. I also heard the description of this man.” He lifted his hand to indicate Cecil. “I know him. If he has come here that can only mean something dreadful is about to happen. If I may gently and respectfully ask that you listen to what these have come to say, I’m sure it will be worth your time.”

Jobash hissed at the man. “You are welcome in our city by our graces, Midrin,” Jobash said with an undertone of threat. “Those graces are currently stretched thin. Do not ruin your hope of remaining. We could easily cast you out at the slightest provocation.”

The member of the triumvirate sitting to his right cleared his throat. Jobash shot an angry look at him and said, “What is it?”

“I have not agreed to any such thing,” he said. “I think it would be wise at the very least to hear them out. Don’t you?” he said, leaning forward and addressing the third member of the triumvirate. This one rested all the way back in his tall-backed chair, steepled his fingers, and stroked the dewlap hanging from his chin in thought.

After a moment he responded, “I do not see that it would be harmful.”

Jobash looked like he was about to lose his mind. “This is highly irregular and unacceptable.”

“You seem very interested in keeping these people silent,” Midrin carried on. “That does not exactly look good on you, Jobash.”

Chin’tel stepped forward and added, “I agree with the human. The Dar’rynakai have long considered themselves to be noble, far more so than the humans. Surely we can withstand foolish words if they come.”

Jobash lifted his lips into a snarl. He hesitated to answer for a handful of moments, then sat back down and said, “Very well. Let us hear the wild speculations and tall tales that Gael’jic has come to beguile us with.”

Gael’jic stepped forward and over the next several minutes he relayed all the things that had happened to him since he had been expelled from the Dar’rynakai city. He concluded by revealing what Vael had shown them and told them they must do. He fell silent and his entire body visibly relaxed, like a weight had been removed from his shoulders.

Cecil had been so focused on listening to Gael’jic’s story that he had not noticed many other Dar’rynakai had entered the courthouse. Among them, he saw several wearing what he guessed was ceremonial clothing. Even to his untrained eye, they seemed unlike other Dar’rynakai he had met thus far. He guessed these must represent the delegations of other tribes that had recently arrived. Good, he thought. They need to hear this anyway. Their presence also explained the nervous posture Jobash now projected.

Jobash stood to address the gathered group when one of the strangely dressed delegation members stepped forward quickly and began speaking over him. “If what this one has told us is true, it is by the wise grace of Rama’dy’ac that all the tribes have been brought here to hear it.”

“We agree,” came the voice of a member from another delegation.

“Do not listen to this gibberish,” Jobash pleaded. “This one is he who has recently been stripped of his Ber’desh and sent away from our city as we have already disclosed to you.”

“Is he?” one of them said and arched an eyebrow. “Well, that is curious. We were led to believe that the subject in question was wild and untamable. A murderous creature. This one does not match your description.”

“Please,” Jobash said loudly. His voice betrayed his fear that he was losing control. “Gael’jic Dulamic is devious. He murdered a member of the triumvirate, one who was even his friend in days gone by. He cannot be trusted.”

“But why did he kill Trevi’in?” asked Chin’tel. “Has that ever been ascertained?”

“Because he lost his Ber’desh!” Jobash bellowed.

“No,” Chin’tel said. “You officially stripped it from him after the fact. Which, by the way, is something you cannot truly do.”

“The truth of the matter,” Gael’jic said, stepping forward, “is that Jobash was found to be corrupt. I had discovered evidence and brought it to Trevi’in. Yes, he was my friend. Yes, I killed him. But I did so because he refused to see justice served and…I lost myself to rage. But I now believe he did so because he was beguiled. The Messenger of Rama’dy’ac revealed to us that Uri’thind’ac has consorts among all peoples. He tricks them, hypnotizes them, and endows them with unspeakable powers. They use these to serve Uri’thind’ac. I now believe that Jobash is such a consort among the Dar’rynakai. He can no longer be trusted. He must be removed from the triumvirate so that his influence may abate.”

Jobash jumped up onto the table in front of the triumvirate, spread his arms out wide, and unleashed a piercing roar. It was louder than Cecil or any of the other humans thought possible. And in truth, it was. It powerfully echoed all around the court chamber, filling it with supernatural loudness. His eyes suddenly glowed eerily green light. The other two members of the triumvirate stood in astonishment and backed away instinctively. The one to his left swayed and dropped to his knees. His eyes also began to glow and his expression went slack. The newest member of the triumvirate shook his head and tried to the best of his ability to maintain his thoughts. He had been under Jobash’s influence the least amount of time and so was the least affected.

The guards in the room, however, were all instantly enthralled by Jobash’s silent command. They turned as one immediately and pointed their weapons at the three humans and Gael’jic. A few of them turned outward and brandished their spears toward the members of the other tribal delegations.

“You should not have come back,” Jobash hissed. You have sped up Uri’thind’ac’s timetable. He will be greatly displeased at this.”

“Uri’thind’ac’s pleasure is not our concern,” Gael’jic retorted. “Unlike you, we do not serve him.”

Jobash issued a hissing sinister laugh and replied, “But you could. It might even save you.”

Midrin had quietly maneuvered himself to stand just in front of Cecil. His hands were clasped behind his back and he carefully pressed them toward Cecil until their hands met. He then slipped something unobtrusively into Cecil’s grip. He realized the next moment that it was the hilt of a small blade. He mentally thanked his former Captain and immediately went to work slicing his bonds. When he was free he pressed that blade back toward Midrin’s hands. The man refused it. Cecil understood. He was about to need it.

He mentally prepared himself to act quickly. Once the fighting started he had to move as fast as he could to free Ariam, Belem, and Gael’jic from their bonds before he joined the fight. He mentally revised that plan when he saw Chin’tel sidle up beside Gael’jic.

He brandished a small knife behind his back the way his old Captain had and Cecil comprehended he intended to free Gael’jic. Good, one less for him to worry about. He understood the gruff Dar’rynakai was one of Gael’jic’s secret allies. Midrin must also be, he realized.

“I tire of these inane proceedings,” Jobash said with another sinister laugh. He lifted his attention to the guards and said, “Attack!”

CHAPTER 35. FRENZY

The guards’ reaction to the command was instantaneous. Thus, Cecil was caught momentarily off guard by the ensuing strike. He almost didn’t have time to dodge the spear thrust toward him. He heard one land home somewhere behind him and an accompanying Dar’rynakai scream. It must be one of the delegates, he thought absently. It was too far to be Gael’jic. This all flashed through his mind in a fraction of a second. He returned his full attention back to the one attacking him.

With his hands now freed he was able to snatch the spear in mid-thrust and rip it out of the unsuspecting guard’s hands. Astonishment burst on the reptilian face, but Cecil paid this no mind. He swiveled the spear and thrust it home toward its original owner. The sharpened end slipped between wooden plates of armor, pierced his chest, and skewered his heart. The creature flailed its head backward and cried out a brief hiss of pain and surprise, then its knees buckled. The thing fell to the ground and as it did so Cecil ripped the weapon out of his chest again.

He expertly swiveled it just in time to block a strike from another guard. He brought the bottom half of the spear around and cracked it across the other guard’s face, sending him wheeling backward. The guard’s weapon flew out of his hand as he tumbled to the floor.

Cecil spun around now to attend to Belem’s bonds. The man was already in front of him holding them up. He used the small knife Midrin had given him and quickly sliced through the rope. He then placed the blade in Belem’s hands and gave the man a quick nod before turning away.

Nearly before he knew what was happening two more guards stepped toward him thrusting their spears forward. He dropped to his knees and bent backward so that the sharpened ends of the spears passed inches above his face. He pitched sideways and rolled until he came up into a crouching position to one side of his two attackers. They were already spinning to meet whatever strike he leveled at them. He was about to make a feint at them when he heard running footsteps coming from behind. He jumped toward the center of the room just in time to avoid being struck by another attack.

Too many of them, he thought to himself. We’re going to get crushed in no time. But then out of the corner of his eye, he saw the gruff scarred Dar’rynakai warrior, Chin’tel, holding his own against three of the enemies. He then remembered he was facing just as many opponents and forced his focus back to them. He looked just in time to see Belem leaping into the air and slashing with his small-bladed knife. He screamed with bloody rage as he did so. The sound of it caught the target by surprise. The guard froze in midstride as he watched the approaching form of Belem with confusion. The blade connected and accomplished its work. It sliced into the throat of the guard and he fell to the ground sprawling, clutching at the new spurting wound.

Cecil heard Ariam whimper with fear and spun toward the sound. He saw the beggar crouching with hands covering his head standing beside Midrin. The older man was going to work on two opponents of his own. He was blocking spear thrusts with the flattened palms of his hands and dancing around counterstrikes. The man looked utterly unconcerned as he did this. Once Cecil was sure Ariam was safe for the moment he redirected his gaze to other threats.

Belem was engaged with one of them in what appeared to be an endless dance of attack, parry, and frustration. Yet two more had zeroed in on Cecil and stalked toward him. One of them raised a spear over his shoulder and was about to hurl it at him when out of nowhere another spear flew and caught his would-be attacker in the neck. The other one whipped around as he watched his companion fall dead at his feet. He lifted his gaze and saw two more guards approaching but they were not on Jobash’s side. Their eyes did not betray the same hypnotism as the rest. And they both came at a dead run.

The new ally who still had a spear jumped and thrust his weapon toward the other hypnotized guard. His intended target was quick, however. He blocked the blow with his weapon and thrust the attacker aside. The flying friendly Dar’rynakai threat rolled across the floor and came up ready to face violence again. But two more of the hypnotized guards were close by and ready to deal with him.

They lunged both their spears into him. He let out a cry of agony as he turned and attempted to fight back. But they were already prepared with more weaponry. Both guards released their spears and produced knives from their belts. They took turns slashing at the unhypnotized guard until he was cut to ribbons and lay in a bleeding pile on the floor.

His companion had recovered a weapon and now dashed toward Cecil’s side. He gave the man a nod and then turned to face the remainders of the threat. Even counting the enemies they had depleted, they were still greatly outnumbered.

“It’ll take a miracle to get us out of this,” Cecil complained.

The other Dar’rynakai guard shrugged one shoulder and said, “You come in the name of Rama’dy’ac. Surely you have brought miracles with you.”

“If only it were that easy,” Cecil murmured. Then he stepped back and to one side as an attack from an opponent came toward his chest. He didn’t doubt the armor would have stopped the wooden spear point, but he wanted them to think he was afraid. At the fullness of his enemy’s overextension, Cecil’s new companion stepped in and swung his spear tip toward the other Dar’rynakai. The hardened tip of the weapon punctured his opponent’s upper arm. The reptilian guard let out a hiss of fury. Cecil’s new companion ripped the spear out of his opponent and had just enough time to block the strike of yet another guard who had encroached.

With his attention diverted he did not see the wounded guard make his move. A spear tip whistled through the air and struck home in Cecil’s new companion’s chest thrusting him backward. The spear tip had thankfully not penetrated the hardened Raka tree armor, but it had driven the breath from his lungs. That was enough to distract him from the pair of guards approaching from behind him. They thrust both their spears forward at the same time. Both managed to slip between pieces of the armor covering his back. He arched his back as he threw his head upward and his mouth opened wide, issuing a dying cry.

Cecil lobbed his weapon at one of the two attackers and it landed directly in the reptilian guard’s neck. He was driven back and fell to the ground. The spear protruded from his neck and Cecil ran toward it.

The downed attacker’s companion was still too surprised by the accuracy of Cecil’s throw to comprehend what happened next. In one fluid motion, Cecil placed his foot on the chest of the fallen creature and used his hand to rip the spear out of his neck. Then in the next instant, he brought it around and forced it into the exposed belly of the other guard.

Dripping with sweat and pumping with fury-fueled adrenaline Cecil turned and surveyed the scene. Every one of his companions was under threat, but Belem was the closest. He was still trading blows with one of the hypnotized Dar’rynakai guards while two more approached at his back, readying to push their spears into him.

Cecil screamed with wrath to distract them. Both turned their heads and witnessed his oncoming rush and wild glare. Even the guard Belem had been exchanging attacks with momentarily turned his head toward Cecil’s approach. Belem took the opportunity to step inward and thrust his small bladed knife at the base of the guard’s throat. He ripped it sideways through his neck, cutting a long irreparable gash and severing arteries as he did so. Now that that one had been decisively taken care of Belem whipped around to gaze with crimson intent at the two distracted guards who had been prepared to kill him.

Belem took advantage of their distraction and ran forward and plunged his blade between wooden plates of armor at one of the guardsmen’s backs. He aimed roughly where he thought kidneys ought to be. But he had no idea if Dar’rynakai anatomy was equivalent to humans. In the process, he had wrapped an arm around the guard’s neck to hold him still. The blade did not plunge nearly as deep as Belem would have liked, and he doubted he did the damage he required. The Dar’rynakai guardsman thrashed and threw Belem off his back. Belem collided with the stone floor and the breath was driven from his lungs.

CHAPTER 36. DISORDER IN THE COURT

The angry guard turned and stalked toward the downed form of Belem. Halfway to him the enemy staggered and dropped to one knee. One hand went to his back and clutched at the wound Belem had made with a small knife. Apparently, it did something after all. The creature then fell screaming to the ground and slapped at its back uselessly with one hand.

The other guard jumped over its fallen friend and charged at Belem. Cecil dodged to intercept the creature but the thing turned quickly and backhanded him, sending him spinning to fall on his back on the cold, stone-hewn floor. It towered over Belem and raised its spear in both hands with the point facing him. It began to plunge the weapon down at him.

Without warning the thing arched its back and began hissing furiously.

Belem, who remained on the ground and who had nearly caught his breath again thought he saw an arm stretched around the creature’s neck. A human arm. Must be Cecil’s friend, Belem thought. But in the next moment, he saw that was wrong. The arm was clad in a ragged sleeve. Suddenly another arm appeared sporting a knife similar to the one Cecil had given to Belem. The knife plunged where the neck and the shoulder met. The knife was ripped out again and then stabbed in roughly the same place repeatedly. The Dar’rynakai guard thrashed wildly trying to throw his attacker from his back. He turned and Belem was flabbergasted to see the attacker was Ariam.

Belem pushed himself off the floor and ran to Ariam’s aid. By the time he got there, he was not needed. The guard toppled forward, dying. Ariam firmly gripped the teetering creature as they both collapsed to the ground. After a few more seconds of desperate clinging Ariam pushed himself off the creature’s back with shaking arms. He turned a disbelieving face stained with purple blood toward Belem.

“I… I don’t know what came over me,” Ariam said in a trembling voice.

“Perhaps a touch of fortitude?” Belem asked with a smirk and an arched eyebrow.

“Perhaps so,” Ariam said with a haunted expression. He turned his face to stare down at the Dar’rynakai guard he had killed. He shook his head.

Cecil ran up beside them and knelt by Ariam’s side. He put a hand on the man’s shoulder and said, “You all right?”

“I don’t know,” Ariam replied. “I’ve never killed anyone before.” His eyes were far away.

Cecil grunted and said, “You get used to it.” Then he turned to Belem and said, “Keep an eye on him, would you?”

“Why do I have to babysit?” Belem asked perturbed. “I kill just as good as you do.”

“I bet you also defend just as well as I do, too. Why don’t you give it a try?”

Belem opened his mouth to spit out a harsh reply when an approaching angry hiss caught both their attention. A wild-eyed Dar’rynakai guard raced at them with hunched shoulders and crazed speed. The demented creature jumped at them and both parted. It passed between them swiping recklessly with its clawed hands as it did so. Ariam recovered his senses just in time to roll along the ground to get out of the thing’s way.

A heartbeat later Ariam was on his feet and backing away from the approaching threat. Cecil and Belem bolted at the same time toward the creature, raising their weapons and preparing to strike. The guard turned its head briefly and saw them coming. It spun with great agility and whipped its tail at them. The attack struck them at the same time, catching them across the midsection and tossing them effortlessly into the air and away. Both men landed hard on the ground and groaned in pain.

Belem managed to barely squeak out the phrase, “I could have done without going through that again.” Cecil looked at the other man. He arched an eyebrow, not understanding, and redirected his focus to recovering. Ariam would need help.

And he did. But neither Cecil nor Belem would be the one to give it. They were too far away. Fortunately for Ariam, Chin’tel was not.

The stout Dar’rynakai warrior leaped through the air and tackled the approaching enemy. Both went down in a hissing and clawing morass of activity. Chin’tel ended up on top of the opponent straddling him, pinning him to the ground. He threw a flurry of empty-handed strikes at the opponent pummeling him into unconsciousness.

When his enemy finally had given up and slipped away into oblivion Chin’tel relaxed momentarily breathing with ragged effort. But then a spear landed home in his back. He screamed in pain and arched his back as he stood on shaking legs to reorient himself toward his new attacker. He turned just in time to receive another spear to the gut. This one also slipped between the plates of wooden armor and punctured deep. He staggered backward from the assault. He then teetered and fell over sideways landing hard on his side.

Two more hypnotized Dar’rynakai guards rushed toward him. They meant to retrieve their weapons and finish off the old haggard warrior. But now they were unarmed and easier prey for Cecil’s former Captain. He too was unarmed but needed no weapon. He placed himself in their path and waited.

The two approaching Dar’rynakai warriors reached their hands out for the older man. He waited until just the right moment, lifted his own hands, seized their wrists, and dodged forward jerking their arms at unnatural angles backward. The environment was filled with the resounding and sickening snap of their breaking limbs. But he was not done.

He seized the opportunity of their agonized distraction and dodged behind one of them. He brought both hands around the creature’s neck. He made a fist with one and cupped that fist in the other. He drew them sharply backward while at the same time he jerked his own body around. This twisted the Dar’rynakai guard’s neck at an awkward angle. The maneuver collapsed the enemy’s airway. The man immediately released his hands and stepped away allowing the Dar’rynakai to crumple unable to breathe to the ground to die.

He swiveled his attention to the remaining guard with a broken arm. That one allowed his broken limb to hang limply at his side. Yet he leaped into the air toward the old man. His good arm was outstretched and slashing his claws at the man. His jaws were open wide and saliva dripped hungrily. The old man stood rooted in place, waiting.

When he judged the time to be just right he danced to the side, jumped up and thrust out of his foot in a snapping kick to the guard’s throat.

The reptilian figure’s eyes went wide in surprise when he realized he too could not breathe. He staggered off to the side and collapsed to the ground not far from his companion, who also was trying desperately and vainly to draw breath.

Cecil looked around and, though they had killed or incapacitated many of their opponents, too many still remained. By his count, a few more must have joined the effort in the last couple of minutes. The remaining group of survivors gathered in the middle back-to-back. Cecil counted approximately thirty opponents slowly circling inward toward them brandishing weapons and harboring lethal intent.

“Give up now, and I will order a quick death,” Jobash said.

“If you’re going to kill us anyway,” Cecil spat back at him, “then we are going to do it on our feet instead of our knees.”

Belem quipped, “Not even going to try to negotiate, huh?”

“He doesn’t seem the reasonable type,” Cecil grumbled back at the other man.

“We could try to make a break for it,” Ariam said.

“No chance,” Cecil said. “There are way too many of them and they almost certainly have even more who remain outside.”

The doors into the courtroom exploded open and more Dar’rynakai poured in. Cecil pondered the burden of being right and thought, That’s just what I feared. His shoulders sagged in resignation.

But then he noticed something. These were not wearing the same armor of the guards they’d been fighting. Instead, they sported a variety of differing styles of dress. Much of it matched with some of the delegates. They brandished weapons and wore other kinds of armor. Others wore no armor at all, but wore simple clothes. These were likely allies of Gael’jic from within this city. Cecil looked around and beheld a few of the delegates who had been slain. A few others remained and began barking orders to the newcomers.

They were about evenly matched now. That was at least something. He turned a glowering look to Jobash and saw the corrupt traitor’s face was overcome with dismay.

Gael’jic punched his fist into the air and shouted, “For Rama’dy’ac!”

The answering roar of affirmation from the newly assembled forces of the delegates and other allies of Gael’jic was deafening. Cecil’s blood began to boil again and he felt like he could take on ten more of them by himself. He dropped his jaw and screamed his addition to the battle cry. Then he, Belem, Gael’jic, and the rest flowed into action like a river of war.

CHAPTER 37. OBSTACLES

While Gael’jic was grateful that the odds had significantly evened out, the fight was far from over. The advent of the new additions to his own side allowed him to catch his breath and rest his aching arms for a moment. But he could not wait too long. Everyone had to contribute. He had even watched in amazement as the usually peaceful Ariam had taken down one of the hypnotized guards.

His eyes went to Chin’tel’s stilled, laying form on the ground. Two spears protruded from his body. Gael’jic bitterly hoped his uncle was not dead. Many had already lost friends and loved ones on account of Uri’thind’ac’s servant, Jobash. Gael’jic vowed to return the favor and put an end to the corrupt politician. If only he could get his hands on him. He spun around to locate the wretch.

Jobash remained rooted in place on the tabletop of the triumvirate. The newest member of the triumvirate had backed far away and was now nestled in an out-of-the-way corner of the chamber. He watched with terror as the pandemonium unfolded around him.

The other member of the triumvirate, Kel’vrat’ic, now stood by Jobash’s side. His eyes were blank with the semi-green glow of Uri’thind’ac’s power of hypnotism. He reached within the billowing robe’s sleeve of his left arm and jerked out a dagger. He locked eyes with Gael’jic and jumped down from the platform.

Gael’jic did not want to engage with him but knew that it was probably inevitable. If he could he would merely incapacitate him. But having witnessed the dedication of the hypnotized, he doubted that would be possible.

Kel’vrat’ic walked among the fighting, dodging combatants as he went as if they were mere nuisances, minor obstacles to be avoided. Gael’jic was his goal.

Gael’jic backed away slowly, careful not to run into another waiting opponent.

When he could go no further, when the space around him was too thick with brawling combatants, he stood his ground and waited for the inevitable conflict. It came much sooner than he wanted.

Kel’vrat’ic was now only a few paces from him and glowering with deadly intent. He arrived within striking distance. He crouched, getting ready to pounce. His dagger-wielding hand shot out to the side poising to spring into action. However, the instant before he pounced, he was tackled by someone else. It was Chin’tel.

They tumbled to the ground together as Chin’tel wrapped powerful arms around his opponent, pinning Kel’vrat’ic’s arms to his side. He grunted in anger when he realized he could no longer maneuver the dagger to strike. He thrashed against Chin’tel’s grip but to no avail. His head fin stood up straight and he opened his mouth wide and hissed wildly as if he were an animal. Chin’tel struggled visibly to maintain his hold, his eyes filled with surprise and worry. He was badly wounded and still bleeding, and he’d not be able to hold Kel’vrat’ic for long. He grunted with the effort and shot a look toward Gael’jic.

“You must knock him unconscious,” he shouted.

Gael’jic hesitated for only a moment and sprang into action. He landed upon the downed pair and began punching at Kel’vrat’ic’s face. Blow after blow landed with ferocity. His head turned with each strike. At first, he only appeared to become angrier with the pressing of this attack. But soon his rage began to fade. His eyes went out of focus and his body slackened. Chin’tel continued holding onto him in case it was a ruse. After a few more moments when he felt certain Kel’vrat’ic indeed had lost consciousness, he slowly relaxed his hold on the other Dar’rynakai. His body slumped to the ground and Chin’tel breathed heavily as he lay on his back.

Gael’jic scrambled over to his downed uncle.

“Are you well?” Gael’jic asked worriedly.

At first, the only response that came was a growling groan. His eyes were closed and his head lolled to one side briefly before he slowly brought it back to face Gael’jic. He dragged his eyes slowly open as he beheld the other. “My wounds are great,” he said in a strained tone. “I can keep pressure on this wound on my front, but the one on my back…I cannot reach.”

Gael’jic bent over and tried to lift Chin’tel onto his side. His uncle grunted with the effort but allowed this. Gael’jic located the wound and assessed it to the best of his ability. He was no doctor, but he knew the same basics as anyone did about stanching bleeding wounds.

He quickly worked to remove the plates of wooden armor on his uncle’s back and bunched up the clothes beneath it. He pressed them onto the wound and instructed Chin’tel to lay back down. The pressure of his laying still might hold the clothes in place to slow the flow of blood for a time. Chin’tel grunted in affirmation, but simply closed his eyes and lay still.

Gael’jic looked around and saw that the fighting continued unabated. Both sides had lost many participants.

His attention returned to the table where Jobash stood. He saw that the leader of the triumvirate now had his hands raised high into the air. His head was bowed low and his eyes closed. His mouth murmured something quietly to himself, perhaps an incantation. Whatever he was doing, Gael’jic had to stop him. He broke away from Chin’tel’s side and darted toward Jobash.

He dodged combatants along the way, narrowly missing getting struck by spears or other blows. He was almost to the table when a hypnotized guard darted into his path. He brandished his spear holding it in place so that Gael’jic would skewer himself on it as he ran. Gael’jic threw his weight to one side, barely avoiding getting impaled. But in the process, he also lost his footing, tripped, and crumpled to the floor.

He hurriedly got back to his feet and whipped around just in time to meet another attack from the guard. The spear jabbed toward his midsection and Gael’jic quickly dodged to one side. At the same time, he thrust his hands forward and wrapped them around the shaft of the spear. He yanked with all his might and pulled his attacker off balance. The guard stumbled forward and collapsed to his knees. Gael’jic spun in a circle and assaulted the kneeling guard with his thick muscular tail. He caught the guard across the side of the face and sent him sprawling. His opponent was dazed, but not unconscious. Unfortunately, he had also maintained hold of his spear while Gael’jic had lost it during his attack.

The guard slowly staggered to his feet and shook his head to clear it. His gaze fell on Gael’jic and he shook his head again. His eyes seemed to go in and out of focus. It was as if he did not understand who or where he was or what he was doing. Gael’jic thought perhaps he had lost the hypnotic connection with Jobash. But then his eyes glowed green once again as the hypnotic hold took over once more.

The guard ran forward, brandishing the spear high above his head with both hands. Gael’jic darted forward at the same time in order to cut short the strategy. He came in under the spear’s field of attack and buried his shoulder in the guard’s chest. The guard staggered for only a moment, then readjusted his position. He skidded to a halt and brought the spear down to his side. He then swung it at Gael’jic, intending to strike him on the head and throw him off balance. Gael’jic ducked below this maneuver and allowed the spear to pass overhead. He came up on the other side and jumped at the guard tackling him to the ground.

He scrambled to get off the guard and then pounded him repeatedly with his tail. The guard attempted to get away, but each blow of Gael’jic’s tail that landed drove him back down. Soon, he lost consciousness. Gael’jic breathed raggedly as he stared down at the fallen opponent. He then turned back to glower at Jobash.

The corrupt politician continued his strange ritual. But now his head came up and his mouth more clearly articulated the odd words. They were words Gael’jic did not know, from a language he’d never encountered. He suddenly brought his arms down to his side and an eerie orange glow encircled his hands. A shaft of orange light lanced out of his open mouth followed by a sudden high-pitched sound that permeated the chamber.

CHAPTER 38. BLOODY RESOLUTION

Gael’jic released a cry of pain. It was as if the sound had stabbed him in his ears. He raised his hands to cover them to make it stop. His upper body writhed in the agony of it. He had to get to Jobash. He had to make it stop. He staggered in his steps, and his body seemed not to want to move with any speed.

He noticed that even the hypnotized guards on Jobash’s side suffered the same malady.

His attention darted toward his human companions. Ariam had doubled over on his knees and was retching on the floor. Cecil had pinned his hands over his ears and his face looked to be in anguish. Next, his focus found Belem. He too appeared to be in great pain, but he was standing with his arms defiantly flexing at his side. His eyes too had locked on Jobash and his mouth was snarling a feral grin.

Suddenly Belem tore from his place and ran with great speed toward Jobash.

Jobash turned his head toward the oncoming threat. Though he continued to murmur the strange incantation, his eyes went wide with surprise. The bizarre words he uttered took on a tone of worry. His utterance of them sped up. He looked as if he wanted to back away but something rooted him in place. He could not move.

Belem came within striking distance and jumped with all his might. He soared into the air and collided with Jobash’s middle. The impact drove the air out of Jobash and thus ceased the words. Along with the halting of the incantation came the cessation of the painful noise. Jobash and Belem tumbled behind the table and out of view. Freed from the pain, Gael’jic quickly ran and circumnavigated the table to watch the conflict unfold.

Jobash writhed under Belem’s iron grip. Belem straddled the Dar’rynakai and pressed both his hands into Jobash’s upper arms, pinning him to the floor. Jobash swiped a clawed hand at Belem. Belem blocked the blow that hammered his fist into the side of Jobash’s face. The blow landed with ferocious force and twisted Jobash’s head to the side. Belem cocked back and unleashed another mighty strike. Then he landed four more in quick succession just for good measure.

Jobash’s eyes swam with dazed helplessness. Belem stood and grabbed the politician by the front of his robes and yanked him off the ground. He spun around and thrust him back down upon the table. He landed on the stone surface with a hard thud and a yelp of pain.

It was at that moment Gael’jic realized the fighting had ceased all around him. He turned to witness many of the guards who had been hypnotized by Uri’thind’ac’s power mediated through Jobash now standing in a daze, cradling their heads. The opposing warriors stood warily watching them waiting in case they returned to aggression. But Gael’jic knew the fight was over.

A few of the Dar’rynakai ran to the downed form of Chin’tel and began attending to his wounds. Gael’jic breathed a sigh of relief when he saw this. He wanted to slump right down to the floor and rest on his knees. But he knew there was yet more to be done. Jobash would have to be restrained. He turned back to the subdued enemy and stalked over to him. Cecil and Ariam joined him. He looked down upon the pathetic figure and shook his head.

Jobash turned hazy eyes toward Gael’jic.

“Jobash,” Gael’jic began, “leader of the triumvirate, you are under arrest.”

Jobash’s shoulders began to shake. Weak, hissing laughter came from him. “And how will you imprison me?” he asked. “Or will you send me out into the wilds as I did to you?”

Gael’jic stared down with a dagger-sharp glower at the defeated creature. He reached out and ripped off a long strip off one of Jobash’s robes. He quickly wrapped it around his snout and tied it with a tight knot, closing his mouth. “You will stand trial,” Gael’jic said. “A legitimate one, unlike the one I was subjected to. But it will also be short and I believe it will conclude in your execution.”

Jobash’s eyes darkened as he stared back at Gael’jic. He reached toward him with one hand, but Belem seized it by the wrist and with his other hand pummeled Jobash in the face again. The blow landed with merciless force driving his head to the side. His eyes went dazed again.

“Bind his hands,” Gael’jic said. “And don’t feel the need to be gentle about it.”

“Gentle?” Belem barked incredulously. “What do you take me for? If he can still feel his fingers when I’m finished, then I haven’t done it right.”

Gael’jic called for a rope to be brought and one of the guards that had up until moments earlier served Jobash came running over with the length of it. Belem snatched the rope from the Dar’rynakai and quickly went to work, binding Jobash’s hands together. True to his word he was not kind about the matter. Several pained grunts came from Jobash as Belem went about his task.

“Shut up, wretch,” Belem snarled. For good measure, he punched Jobash in the face one more time. Jobash turned poisonous eyes on Belem and growled through his makeshift muzzle.

“Feeling talkative, are we?” Belem said with a grin. He had left a good length of the rope dangling from the bonds. He snatched it up and seized Jobash’s snout with the other hand. He jerked downward and brought the rope to it. He used the remainder of the rope to reinforce the work Gael’jic had done to silence Jobash. As with his wrist bonds, Belem was sure to be rough as he went about it.

“That mouth of yours is trouble,” Belem said. “Better safe than sorry.”

Without warning, Jobash exploded into action. He heaved himself off the table and away from Belem. Though his hands were bound tightly together and his snout had but two feet of rope between it and the bindings on his wrist, that did not mean he was cowed. He flicked his wrists and suddenly a knife appeared in his hands. With a quick decisive motion, he cut the rope between his snout and wrists. Now he was standing a bare two paces away from Gael’jic with a knife in his hands.

Belem lunged across the table, but it was too late. He had no hope of reaching Jobash before Jobash reached Gael’jic.

Jobash thrust the knife toward Gael’jic’s neck. But Gael’jic responded with a speed he didn’t know he was capable of. He snatched Jobash’s bound wrists with his left hand and with his other he chopped downward onto the inner part of his elbows. At the same time, he applied force with the hand cupping Jobash’s wrists and compelled the blade backward. He forced the other Dar’rynakai to stab himself in the chest with it. Jobash’s eyes went wide with shock when he realized what had happened. But by then it was too late. His heart had been impaled by the blade.

Gael’jic stepped hastily away and watched the stunned form of Jobash sway on his feet.

Jobash gently released the hilt of the blade and brought his face up to stare in disbelief at Gael’jic. He blinked a few times then collapsed to his knees. He swayed briefly once more, then fell over onto his side. Soon, the life left his eyes and he was dead.

CHAPTER 39. CLEANUP

The dead were arranged side by side on the floor of the courtroom to be dealt with later. Proper honoring rituals were an involved affair when just one Dar’rynakai died. But here were a few dozen of them.

Kel’vrat’ic was led away in bonds and deposited in a cell to be tried later after an investigation. It would be some time before that happened, but when it did the evidence would be marshaled forth and he would not escape proper justice. The surface had only been scratched regarding his involvement with Jobash’s corruption, but there was already enough evidence to implicate him. It pointed the way for the investigators at any rate.

With Jobash dead and Kel’vrat’ic incarcerated, that left only one member of the triumvirate in place. And he was the newest member, at that. His name was Sev’aran and as far as Gael’jic deduced, he had not yet been irreparably tainted by Jobash’s corruption, nor Uri’thind’ac’s influence. That did not mean Gael’jic trusted the other Dar’rynakai, though.

When the dust settled from the battle and things seemed well enough in hand Gael’jic approached a nervous Sev’aran. The only remaining member of the triumvirate was like a lonely Raka sapling bending and trembling under the force of a great gale as the vindicated Gael’jic came near. He looked like he wanted to retreat to safer environs, but remained fixed in place. That, at least, is something, Gael’jic mused to himself. A lesser Dar’rynakai might have run.

Gael’jic stopped a few paces away and folded his arms over his chest. He would not be the first to speak. That responsibility rested on Sev’aran.

Sev’aran breathed a defeated sigh. “So, Gael’jic Dulamic; it appears a wrong must be righted.”

“More than one,” Gael’jic responded stonily.

Sev’aran narrowed his eyes. “Quite right. But first, I shall repeal the decree that stripped you of Ber’desh. It turns out the triumvirate was wrong about the state of your soul. Among other things.”

Gael’jic turned his head to take in the neat rows of bodies now draped in death blankets. Sev’aran followed his gaze and nodded. He said, “The time of mourning will be unprecedented. And not only because so many were killed, but also that Uri’thind’ac has freely walked among us and sowed a harvest of deceit and corruption.”

“Rama’dy’ac willing, we have cut short that harvest,” Gael’jic added. Despite the truth of his words, he felt no relief. The present evidence of the cost to his people notwithstanding, he knew there was yet more sorrow to come. He shuddered when he considered that the tally of the cost for the coming grief would likely be inestimable.

Sev’aran shook his head at the catastrophic loss of life as well as the shattered illusion of the peace he once believed to be in place. “Where do we go from here? Where can we go from here?”

“The tribes,” Gael’jic said simply.

Sev’aran tossed a questioning glance at Gael’jic.

Gael’jic shrugged a shoulder and explained, “Two members of other tribal delegations must be elevated to the triumvirate. The alliance of tribes must be strengthened if we are to have any hope of withstanding Uri’thind’ac. But be careful; we do not know if the blade in the shadow has insinuated himself among the other tribes as he has ours.” He paused and thought about this for a moment before adding, “He almost certainly has.”

“How are we to tell?” Sev’aran asked.

“Think back to the way Jobash dealt with those around him. There were signs. My discovery of these signs is what led to my exile. Now that you know what you are looking for, it should not be overly difficult.”

Sev’aran nodded in resignation. He fell silent for a few moments before he asked, “So, will you remain here to help us sort out this mess?”

Gael’jic turned around and his focus fell upon the three humans standing together and watching the flurry of activity around them.

“No,” Gael’jic answered. “Rama’dy’ac has other tasks for me and these humans to accomplish together. We must remain in one another’s company for the foreseeable future.”

Sev’aran slowly nodded affirmatively to this explanation. “A shame,” he responded. “There is much yet to unravel here. It would be good to have one as knowledgeable as you to facilitate the process.”

Gael’jic waved dismissively. “I have allies who possess the same information as I did. They will step forward. I’ll see to it.”

Sev’aran took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I must confess,” he said with deliberate care, “I am greatly disturbed about something. Help me understand this task Rama’dy’ac supposedly assigned to you and the three humans.”

“What of it?” Gael’jic asked, unable to keep the defensiveness out of his voice.

Sev’aran lifted a hand and pointed to the humans. “It is these humans…I don’t understand why Rama’dy’ac would risk involving humans in his plan to defeat Uri’thind’ac. It just seems so…” Sev’aran waved his hand in front of himself a few times as he struggled to find the right words to express his consternation.

“So unseemly?” Gael’jic suggested. “It troubled me at first, too, but not for long. Our task is to unite the many different peoples of Dar’ryn against Uri’thind’ac. That includes humans. But there is something more you must know.”

Sev’aran arched an eyebrow and waited for Gael’jic to go on.

Gael’jic leaned closer and in a conspiratorial whisper said, “Take special note of the human in the middle, the one wearing the armor. He is no mere human.” He waited until Sev’aran gave Ceil another look.

“He looks like any other human I have ever seen. Granted, that is not more than a handful of them, but still, I see nothing out of the ordinary.”

“You won’t see it in his flesh,” Gael’jic said. “The difference is in his blood.”

“His blood? What are you getting at?”

Gael’jic spared Cecil another glance. Cecil was conversing with Midrin. Gael’jic had known Midrin when he first came to the Dar’rynakai city about a year earlier. It was from that man that he had learned the human language. The two men conversed with one another and seemed to be discussing the armor Cecil wore.

Gael’jic shifted his gaze back to Sev’aran. “It seems Cecil has some Dar’rynakai blood in him.”

Sev’aran gasped and tossed a worried glance back to Cecil. Gael’jic urged him to calm himself.

“How can that be?” the last remaining member of the triumvirate asked in awe.

“I cannot say with certainty. I did not comprehend all of the things Vael revealed to us about it. All I know is that the humans possess some kind of technological wizardry that allows them to combine heritages.

“It is unholy,” Sev’aran whispered.

“Or,” Gael’jic hissed emphatically, “it makes Cecil the perfect bridge to unite our peoples.”

Sev’aran regarded him with a sideways glance. After a long pause, he said, “Perhaps so, but for now, we cannot let this get out. There is no telling what kind of reaction we would receive from the populace…ours, or the humans.”

“Maybe so,” Gael’jic replied. “But it is the will of Rama’dy’ac that Cecil is an essential element to his plan. The truth of it must be revealed sooner rather than later.”

CHAPTER 40. FAITH RENEWED

“At least we don’t have to leave the same way we came,” Ariam said cheerfully. “That has to count for something, doesn’t it?”

Belem grunted in disgust and rolled his eyes. “Do you have to be so cheerful about everything?” he demanded. “Doesn’t this boundless enthusiasm of yours ever get burdensome?”

“Not really,” Ariam replied. “I’m just happy to be alive. Especially after all that fiasco, we went through. We easily could have lost our lives you know.”

“Yet here we are,” Belem said. “Putting up with you.”

They walked steadily down the ramp carved from the mountainside leading down from the initial level of the Dar’rynakai city to the surrounding plain. For as much as Belem complained about Ariam’s cheerfulness, he had to admit he was indeed glad they didn’t have to descend the same way they ascended. Aside from the perilous adventure of climbing the outer face of the mountain, and being able to walk through the city streets, it was good to have daylight available so they could appreciate the views afforded by the city.

If questioned, he would have denied it, but even Belem had taken a moderate interest in the artisanal carvings of the Dar’rynakai city. There were a variety of structures. Some were towering spires. Others were squatter and boxier. And there were a variety of structural styles besides these as well. Homes and businesses alike were all crafted upon unique variations on consistent themes. It was significantly different from the Human Citadel. Everything there had been manufactured just so. It had all come essentially assembly-line style out of the colony spaceship and thus was engineered rather than built by artistic architects and craftsmen.

Ariam had wanted to linger and drink in the sights and alien culture.

Even Cecil took note.

But now all of it was behind them. Gael’jic felt a wave of fresh loss at having to leave his city once again. Though he had to admit it was much different this time. Now he truly left of his own free will and with a clearer purpose in hand.

Still, he couldn’t help but make comparisons and remember the last time he had been thrust out of the city. At least this time he got to do so wearing proper clothes. He had reacquired some of his old clothing that had been stored in the archives of the court. All of it had been slated to be destroyed after he left, but they had never gotten around to it. The clothes were plain and simple fare. A loose-fitting tan homespun shirt adorned his upper body. He wore dark brown breeches over his legs. But the makeshift armor he had fashioned for himself in the forest had been disposed of. Instead, he had been given a gift of finely crafted Dar’rynakai armor. He currently wore it with pride. Also, a traditional ke’ef blade hung loosely at his belt. He hoped not to have to use it often but suspected that was a fool’s hope. If the battle in the courtroom was any indication of what lay ahead, he would see more use from the weapon than he would like.

“You’re awful quiet, lizard,” Belem said.

“Don’t call him that,” Ariam said. “It’s rude.”

“What are you rambling about?” Belem said. “It’s a term of affection.” He turned to Gael’jic and clapped him on the shoulder, “Isn’t that right, lizard?”

“Our cultures must have very different senses of affection,” Gael’jic replied. “But if it comforts you to call me this, feel free to do so.”

“See?” Belem said, turning to Ariam. “Doesn’t bother him at all.”

Ariam shook his head. He turned to address Gael’jic. “Belem’s ignorance notwithstanding, he is right about your silence. Is something bothering you?”

Gael’jic drew a deep breath and then expelled it before answering. He remained silent a few moments longer then said, “I’m still getting used to all of this.”

“Used to being in the company of so many humans?” Ariam asked.

Gael’jic said, “Some of that is it, yes. But there are other things. When I was a child I believed in Rama’dy’ac because that was what I was told by my elders. But then I grew and studied. And in that time I came to think that all of the things the previous generations had passed on to the following ones about Rama’dy’ac, Uri’thind’ac, and the rest were all mere myths. Fables. It is going to take some time for me to adjust to thinking differently.”

“I’m happy to help if I can,” Ariam said. “I have been on a spiritual journey myself for some time.”

They halted and spent half an hour discussing and debating what their next plan of action would be. They all knew they were not meant to stay in the Dar’rynakai city, but they could not agree exactly on where they needed to go next. Belem had insisted on returning to the Human Citadel. Now that they had proven one of Uri’thind’ac’s minions could be defeated, he said that meant Lycas Ryth was likewise vulnerable to attack. But none of the others thought that was where they ought to go. Belem had threatened to part ways with them, but Ariam had persuaded him to stay with the group for a while longer.

“Guys,” Cecil’s rising voice cut in. They took note of his serious tone and looked at him. He lifted a hand and pointed off in the distance.

They followed the direction of his finger and saw Vael standing at the tree line where they had been headed. They came to a halt at the base of the ramp leading out of the Dar’rynakai city and stared for a short time.

Ariam lifted his hand in greeting and waved. Vael simply stood and stared at them.

“We are meant to go to him,” Ariam pronounced. “Perhaps he has information on the next task.”

“Next task,” Belem repeated in disgust, narrowing his eyes. “How much more dirty work does this Rama’dy’ac want us to do, do you think?” He wasn’t shy about letting the others know he was none too pleased with the prospect.

“Let’s go,” Cecil said. He started the group walking again and they all fell quiet as they gazed ahead at their intended destination and the one waiting for them there.

CHAPTER 41. DESTINATION: THE STARS

They walked across the vast plain between the Dar’rynakai mountain city and the tree line. None of them said anything further until they were nearly upon Vael. Only once did one of them halt the group’s progress. It was Gael’jic. As they drew within shouting distance of Vael he stopped walking. When the other three noticed they stopped as well and turned to look at him. They all gave him questioning looks, and he dropped his chin and shoulders in weighty contemplation.

“It almost feels like too much,” Gael’jic said before any of the humans could prompt him with a question. After a few pregnant moments, he added, “I find myself sympathizing with Belem.”

“That’s because you’re intelligent,” Belem said with a smirk.

“Or maybe it’s because you’re losing your mind,” Ariam supplied as a sarcastic alternative. He flashed a wide grin at Belem who only glowered back like a stone. Ariam ignored this and turned back to Gael’jic. “Why don’t you tell us what’s on your mind?”

Gael’jic’s head fin rested flat upon his head. He shook his head and his dewlap wavered beneath his chin. He lifted his snout and looked at Ariam and replied, “It just seems like this faith business ought to be easier by now.”

“What do you mean?” Ariam asked.

“I have seen so much, and it has completely upset many assumptions I have had. Nevertheless, I find myself struggling to trust Rama’dy’ac.”

“I don’t think that’s so unusual,” Ariam replied. “In one way, faith is a completely natural thing that we learn. But on the other hand, it can be a mighty struggle because it depends on what we can’t see. People are confronted with evidence of unseen things every day, and yet they ignore it. Why? Because it’s both hard and easy. That confuses people. Why should it be any different for one who is convinced that there is something unseen because there is evidence that he has seen?”

“Should the evidence not convince me?” Gael’jic asked.

“In a way,” Ariam said. “But at the same time, I think faith is something that must be grown into. It won’t be installed all at once. Did you learn to walk all at once?”

“No,” Gael’jic replied. “As I have heard it told, I fell many times getting my legs underneath me. But it is that way with most creatures, is it not?”

“Precisely,” Ariam said, pointing an exclamatory finger into the air. “As a small Dar’rynakai child, you saw your parents walking around and believed you could do so as well. But you couldn’t do it right away. You had to grow into it. You had to try, stumble, fall, get back up, and try it all again. Is that not right?”

“I suppose that is true,” Gael’jic said.

“Then why should faith not be any different?” Ariam asked. “You know you can believe, but you will stumble. But believe me, when I say, you will learn to walk.”

“Thank you, Ariam,” Gael’jic said. “That was actually helpful.”

“I’m glad one of us thinks so,” Belem murmured.

“Pay him no mind,” Ariam said. “That is merely his way.”

They resumed their journey and were soon upon Vael.

“Greetings in the name of Rama’dy’ac,” Vael said in a solemn tone. “You have accomplished the first of many tasks. You are to be congratulated, but do not think that you draw close to the end. Avoid complacency and overconfidence. If you succumb to these, then the following tasks will be impossible.”

“I don’t know that I like being served so many tasks without my consent,” Belem said.

Vael stared him in the face and replied, “You do not have to do these tasks.”

A look of surprise overcame Belem’s face. “Truly?” he asked. “Then what are we doing here?”

“I must clarify,” Vael replied. “You do not have to do these tasks if you do not wish to live. But if you desire to continue your lives, as well as preserve the lives of all others, then you must do these tasks.”

Belem tossed his hands up into the air with a shapeless shout of frustration. “Do you have something against forthright communication? I swear, Ariam, this thing is even worse than you are.”

“I delivered the words of Rama’dy’ac,” Vael said as if this were a satisfying answer.

“And who says Rama’dy’ac is right? How do we know he is not just some big bumbling cosmic idiot?” Belem asked.

With a brilliant flash of light and motion too quick to be detected by the naked eye, Vael was in Belem’s face, seizing him by the throat and lifting him off the ground. Belem grappled with Vael’s hand vainly trying to pry his fingers off his neck. He sputtered, choking as he did so. His legs kicked furiously landing blows against Vael. But none of them seemed to bother the celestial creature.

Vael growled, “You do not seem to understand your creaturely place before Rama’dy’ac. Perhaps you require a lesson.”

“Perhaps… you need… a reminder… of who freed you…from that…cursed statue!” Belem stammered, barely choking out the words.

Ariam was at Vael’s side in a moment, imploring, “Please, let him go. Forgive him for his crass nature.”

Vael turned angry eyes toward Ariam which made him back up an involuntary step. Vael said to the beggar, “I do not tolerate slights against my master.”

“If you bring harm to Belem,” Cecil interjected, “then isn’t Rama’dy’ac’s purpose thwarted? Is that really what he would have? Perhaps you are overstepping your bounds, Vael.”

Vael shot a withering glare at Cecil but Cecil remained unmoved. After a few moments of staring one another down, Vael returned his attention to Belem. He slowly lowered the man back to the ground and gently set him there, then released his throat. Belem staggered back a step, choking, gasping for air. When he finally righted himself he straightened and his face flashed with fury. He moved forward like a storm front and stopped inches from Vael’s face. He drew back his fist and launched a ferocious punch that landed hard on Vael’s jaw. Vael seemed not to feel or even notice it at all.

“Does this make you feel better?” Vael asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Yes,” Belem snarled. “It does. Want another?”

“You’re wasting time,” Gael’jic said to Belem. “We need to hear him out.”

“Maybe you do,” Belem snarled. “I don’t know that I do. This thing asks for our help and then attacks us.”

“You blasphemed Rama’dy’ac,” Vael said. “This will not be tolerated.”

“Perhaps we would all be better served if you just get on explaining what our next task is,” Cecil said to Vael. He folded his arms over his purple Royal Guardian armor. After the battle, he had spent some time adjusting, polishing, and getting it back up to standard usable condition. Midrin of course had helped him. The two had spent time catching up and exchanging thoughts about what had been going on.

“Very well,” Vael said. “I have come to inform you of the details of the next task. You must travel farther than you ever have to get there.”

“How long is this going to take?” Cecil asked. “And do we really have time?”

“You must make the time,” Vael replied. “And it will not take long.”

“I don’t understand,” Gael’jic said. “If it is far away, then why will it not take long? Won’t it take considerable time to travel this great distance you speak of?”

“The first part of the next phase of your journey will be the longest. But that is only to get you to the gate.”

“What’s this gate?” Cecil asked suspiciously.

“You are going to a gate,” Vael replied, “to travel to your next destination. You are going to travel among the stars themselves.”

“Stars?” Cecil said and blinked.

“Yes,” Vael bowed his head. “Your next task takes you to another planet. The gate will transport you there, but you must make it to the gate alive, first. This may be the most difficult part. I cannot say for certain.”

A chill ran down Belem’s spine, and a premonition of what was coming next thrust itself into his thoughts.

“Something bothering you?” Ariam asked, leaning close and whispering.

“I don’t know,” Belem said. “Something tells me that I’m not going to like the next part.”

“Where do we have to go to find this gate?” Cecil asked.

“You must travel to Void Island,” Vael replied.

“And there it is!” Belem shouted in frustration. “I am not going to the Obelisk. You can forget it!”

Vael turned his face toward Belem and said, “But you must, if you…”

“And why?” Belem spat back at him acidly. “I was rescued from having to go there in the first place! Wasn’t that the mystical work of this Rama’dy’ac of yours? I almost drowned in that sea. But something lifted me out of the water. I was led to a rock promontory in the middle of the ocean, one that just so happened to have a section of the prison barge I was on before it exploded. That was my raft.” He pointed to the set of wooden planks he had left in the forest before they had approached the Dar’rynakai city. “Why save me from going there if I was just going to have to go there anyway?”

“Because you needed to find these others first,” Vael said. “You had to be forged together before you went to the prison.”

“Hold on,” Cecil said. “I’m confused about something. You say we are going to Void Island to find the gate. But then you also say we have to go to the Obelisk, which is on the island. Which is it? Or if it’s both, then in what order do we deal with them?”

“You do not seem to understand,” Vael replied. “Have you ever been to Void Island?” he asked.

“No,” Cecil replied. “I’ve never been outside of the Citadel.”

“The Obelisk prison is not on Void Island. The Obelisk is on another planet; the gate to travel to the planet is on Void Island.”

“That would explain why no one’s ever returned,” Cecil said. “But I also don’t understand how we are supposed to return when we are done.”

“Rama’dy’ac will pave your path,” Vael replied.

“Rama’dy’ac is asking an awful lot of us for someone who hasn’t bothered to show up,” Belem snarled.

“Yet he also gives you much,” Vael said. “He gave you your freedom from the prison you otherwise would have gone to. He gave you life from the depths of the ocean. He gave you companions.”

“Not convinced all of those are such a good gift,” Belem said snidely. He shot a furtive glance toward Ariam then looked back to Vael.

“All of the gifts of Rama’dy’ac are good,” Vael said. “Even if you are too ignorant to comprehend them as such.”

“Or too stubborn,” Ariam muttered under his breath.

Belem shot him a look and said, “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Ariam replied brightly. He turned back to Vael and said, “All right, suppose we follow the instructions and go to Void Island. We find this gate and we travel to the Obelisk. What should we expect to find there? And what are we supposed to do once we get there?”

“There is much you will learn, and much you will do. But you must go there before you can be shown.”

“What?” Belem said. “You just want us to waltz onto a prison planet without knowing what it is we’re doing? Have you lost your celestial mind?”

“I think we are meant to take it on faith,” Gael’jic said. “Isn’t that right?”

“All shall become clear in time,” Vael said. “But be wary, for there are many dangers on the path ahead of you. Some you will encounter even before you reach Void Island.”

Belem spat a mocking laugh. “Well, that’s comforting.”

“So how do we get to Void Island?” Cecil asked. “We can’t just swim.”

“There is a boat,” Vael replied. “You must summon the boat and the boatman when you reach the correct place at the shore. He will come to your call.”

“The shore is pretty big,” Belem said. “How exactly are we supposed to know where to…?”

Before Belem knew what was happening Vael was in front of him again and raising a hand toward him. Belem’s eyes grew confused as he watched Vael reach a glowing finger toward his forehead.

“Wait a minute,” he protested, “just what the blazes do you think you’re…?”

Before he could finish Vael touched the glowing fingertip to his forehead and Belem inhaled a sharp gasp. His eyes went wide and glowed blue. A squeaked noise of surprise came out of him but was cut off as if he couldn’t draw breath to complete it.

In the next instant, Vael removed his finger from Belem’s head and Belem staggered backward. He lurched forward and placed his hands on his knees to steady himself. He caught his breath then lifted a furious face toward Vael. “What the blazes did you do just do?” he shouted at the celestial creature.

“I gave you directions,” Vael said evenly. “Now you know where you must go. The others will follow you.”

Belem turned an astonished look toward his three companions. Each of them returned equally surprised stares at him.

“Well,” Ariam said, “this isn’t exactly what I was expecting.”

CHAPTER 42. WATCHER IN THE FOREST

He traveled noiselessly through the night-dark paths of the jungle. He was able to do this not simply because he was well practiced at it, but also because it was his nature. It was almost as if the branches and forest floor detritus seemed to avoid him. The thought almost made him laugh. It was the sort of thing one of the superstitious little fools he was tracking might have thought.

He was very nearly there; he was sure of it. Such realizations would have propelled a lesser being to press forward faster. That would likely have betrayed his movement and so he kept pace. He was patient beyond all measure. That was how he had made it into this game this far without loss.

Well, not exactly without loss. There had been a trip-up here or there, but nothing he couldn’t overcome without a problem.

He allowed a self-satisfied smirk to tug at one corner of his mouth at the thought. It struck him that it had been a good long time since he had this much fun playing the game. He always relished the upcoming moment, but it had been what felt like ages since he experienced real joy at this. If nothing else kept him going, surely that did.

The first hints of the campfire could now be seen through the trees. As well, the first hints of their conversation crept into his ears. He halted and waited for a moment, simply listening. He was able to pick up the bare edges of their conversation. He was quite a way out from them still, and most would not be able to discern any shape of their speech at this distance. But, he was different. Very different. That was, after all, what this exercise of this part of the game was truly about.

He had never been caught ahead of time before. He always revealed himself when he intended to. Still, he surmised it was possible that in his self-assurance he might tip his hand early. But, he knew he was capable of holding off on his gratification for just long enough to accomplish what he needed. He would gain the satisfaction he so desired momentarily. But first, he needed to surprise them.

He started moving again, quietly gliding through the brush until he came to the outermost edge of the light cast by the fire and where he was still concealed by the trees and the dark of night. He wore the shadows like he wore his skin.

There he stood and waited, watching, listening, enjoying the game. There they were: three humans and one Dar’rynakai.

One of the humans popped a handful of small red berries into his mouth, briefly chewed, and swallowed. He made a face and a shudder seemed to run through his entire body. He said, “We better have luck hunting tomorrow. I don’t know that I can stomach another night of these berries.” The man was big and burly. He had close-cropped hair and his arms were covered in scars. The watcher knew that there were even more scars all over the man’s frame. This was Belem, the escaped convict.

The beggar at Belem’s side – Ariam – said, “I don’t think they’re so bad. Better than going hungry anyway.”

Belem gave the man an impatient glance. “Will you cut that out?” he barked at Ariam. “I can only take so much of your enthusiasm on one day, and my reserves of patience with you were depleted hours ago.”

Ariam shrugged and in a pleasant tone said, “And what vast reserves they are! My ‘enthusiasm,’ as you call it, is part of what keeps me going. I don’t suppose you’re going to terminate your perpetual pessimism, are you?”

In response, Belem murmured, “Keep this up and you won’t be going for very much longer. I’ll see to it in your sleep.”

Ariam cast a knowing look at the other human by the campfire. The man wore purple Royal Guardian armor. The watcher blinked in astonishment at the presence of the outfit. That was unexpected. He wondered how the man had gotten hold of that. He certainly hadn’t worn it when he exited the Human Citadel.

Ariam said to Cecil, “Pay him no mind. Insults and threats, I believe, are how Belem expresses affection.”

“This,” Belem said with emphasis as he extracted a long knife from a sheath at his belt, “is how I express affection.” He deftly twirled the knife between his fingers as if he were a magician slinging cards. The man gave Ariam a narrow-eyed gaze and said, “Be sure that you don’t attract too much of my affection.”

Ariam simply chuckled and waved a hand. The beggar plucked a single berry from the handful he kept cupped in his palm and popped it into his mouth. Belem turned the knife in his hands a few more times and then expertly slid it back into the sheath at his side.

“Glad to have a blade in my hands again,” the convict said. “Even if it is a wooden one.” He lifted his face to Gael’jic, the sole Dar’rynakai of the group, and said, “Your people seem to be competent at making weapons. Even if this blade is made of wood, it’s weighted nicely. Tell me again, how do they solidify the wood to make it almost as hard as steel?”

The Dar’rynakai removed a bulbous root from his mouth he had been working at to get to the life-sustaining middle. He had a long way to go with it and so was grateful for the opportunity to rest from the activity. He fisted one hand and knocked at the wooden armor covering his chest. “As with this,” he began, “so with your blade, it has to do with the application first of sap from the Raka tree and then tendering it to great heat. One must be careful not to ignite the sap, but when it is complete, then the result is…” Gael’jic froze and his eyes darted in the direction of the watcher. His back straightened and he nearly came out of his sitting position on the log by the fire.

Cecil was the first to notice the change in his companion’s demeanor. Lightning quick, he was up and brandishing his spear approximately in the watcher’s direction. With an insistent tone, Cecil said, “What do you detect out there? Is it a threat?”

Gael’jic came to standing and slowly said, “I do not know. But I can tell you we are not alone.”

Before Gael’jic had finished speaking, Belem was on his feet and had his knives out: one in each hand. Ariam was the last of them up. He sported no weapon, so he skirted around to the other side of Belem to get away from whatever he feared might come charging out of the forest.

Perfect, the watcher thought. It is time to reveal myself.

He slowly stepped forward out of the darkness and allowed the low yellow glow of the campfire to bathe him. When at last his form was visible to those around the campfire, three out of the four companions gasped in surprise, recognizing him on sight. Their astonishment was not lost on their fourth companion, Gael’jic. The watcher was sure that the Dar’rynakai would not need one of the humans to explain who he was. No doubt he could deduce it from previous conversations the four of them had.

Lycas Ryth stood glorying in their reaction to his arrival.

One of the knives twirled in Belem’s hand briefly as he cocked back and then launched it at Ryth. It tumbled end over end through the air as it approached its intended target. Ryth watched it with detached interest. At precisely the right moment he shot his hand up with unbelievable speed and snatched the twirling blade out of the air halting its trajectory. His eyes fell to the weapon examining it. He turned it over in the dim firelight and nodded appreciatively.

“This is of fine make,” he said. His eyes flicked to Gael’jic and said, “Your people do good work. I have seen better, but not much.” He returned his attention to Belem and said, “You really ought to play more nicely with your toys or you’re going to lose them. Here, I shall return it.” He wheeled back and hurled the knife back toward Belem. The hardened wood blade thunked into the log at Belem’s side and vibrated briefly before coming to a complete rest. Belem dropped his attention to the blade and his jaw fell open. He looked at it not understanding what had just happened then returned his surprised gaze to Ryth.

CHAPTER 43. CONFERENCE

“Mind if I sit down?” Ryth said. “It’s a long walk from the Citadel to such an out-of-the-way place in the middle of the forest.” He did not wait for any of them to answer but casually strolled over to the log where Belem had been seated and dropped himself down upon it. He looked at the knife still protruding from it and then back up to Belem. “Are you going to leave that there all night?” he asked.

He was only met with a blank stare. “Fine, have it your way,” he said into the stunned silence then folded his hands and dropped them into his lap. He tossed a glance to the campfire burning in front of him and smiled.

“Nothing like a good campfire, is there?” he asked. “Not only can they keep you warm at night, but they encourage those who sit around them to tell each other stories. I love a good story, don’t you all?” He looked at each of them in turn and delighted in their confused expressions. His eyes flicked a taunting look to Belem, and he added, “How’s your mother?”

Belem’s eyes flashed with murder, but he restrained himself from exploding with violence at the man.

Cecil was the first to break the spell of astonishment and returned to sitting on the log he had pulled near the fire. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

Lycas Ryth shrugged his shoulders and gave back an amiable look. “I have come for a mere sit down and chat. Is that so hard to understand? You all look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Or maybe something worse.”

Ariam was the next to sit back down. He slowly lowered himself onto part of the log Gael’jic had been using. He now looked at Lycas Ryth with something akin to curiosity instead of fear. “You don’t seem worried,” he mused out loud.

Ryth looked to Ariam and replied, “I see no reason to be.”

Belem dropped himself directly next to Ryth and leaned forward glowering at the man, and seethed, “Are you sure about that?”

“Amply sure,” Ryth said casually. “I mean, think about it. How did I get here?”

“What do you mean?” Cecil asked.

Ryth turned to the disgraced Captain of the Royal Guardians and said, “Have none of you noticed that I am by myself?”

“Of course we’ve noticed…” Belem began then stopped midsentence. Realization dawned on his face.

“There it is,” Ryth said with a smirk. “Here are you four, huddled around the campfire, casting wearied glances out to the jungle hoping nothing dark and dangerous will come charging out at you and kill you. Or perhaps something will come and consume you in your sleep. Something hungry and big. But here I am, all by myself traveling the dark passageways of the forest all by my lonesome. And not a care in the world.”

“That could just mean you’re stupid,” Ariam supplied thoughtfully.

Ryth blinked in surprise at the comment. He then threw his head back and released a boisterous gale of laughter. He slapped his knee once then pointed at Ariam and said, “I like you. I think I could make use of you.”

“You’re not making use of any of us,” Cecil said acidly. “Why don’t you just get to the point?”

“Oh, Cecil. Ever the practical one.” Ryth smirked at the man. “Fear nothing from me just now. I have come merely to see you face to face and to let you know you have no hope of winning. My advice for you is to simply lay down here in the forest and let whatever may come and kill you. I promise it will be far more pleasant than what I do with you if this goes on very much longer.”

“We’re not afraid of you, Ryth,” Cecil said in words so hard they could have been chiseled from stone.

“No?” Ryth asked. “Then you’re idiots. I see you haven’t quite figured out what’s what yet.”

“We have figured out,” Cecil said in a frigid response, “whom you serve.”

Ryth blinked. “Whom I serve?” he said patronizingly.

“Yes,” Ariam supplied. “We know that you are the human consort of the Dar’rynakai demon known as Uri’thind’ac.”

Belem cut in, “And you also should know, that we’ve just defeated one of your kind. He gave us a moderately hard time doing it, but you’ll notice all of us are unscathed, and he is dead.”

Ryth looked from one face to the other and then chuckled. Soon the chuckle became bouts of tremendous laughter. This went on uncomfortably long as the four companions looked in confusion at Ryth. After a few more moments he lifted a thumb to his eye and brushed away a tear of laughter. “You all are really too much. I thought you would be much smarter than this. I guess I’m going to have to suffer some disappointment when it comes to you lot. As usual.”

“What is he talking about?” Belem said to Ariam. The beggar simply shrugged in confusion.

With the remnants of laughter still hanging about his words, Ryth went on, “You all were so close to figuring it out. Yet you fell short. How very like Rama’dy’ac to choose insufficient champions for his work.”

“What are you talking about?” Cecil demanded. “Stop dancing around it, and say it plain.”

Ryth tilted his head and gave the man a reproachful look. He then lifted a finger and pointed at Gael’jic. “Have none of you noticed what’s happening with your friend right now?” He asked. The three humans screwed up their faces and then turned to look upon Gael’jic. The Dar’rynakai scholar remained standing. His body was stiff but trembling, his eyes were wide, and his mouth hung open in a reptilian expression of surprise.

“Oh no,” Gael’jic uttered.

Ryth looked at the Dar’rynakai with a widening smile and said, “Oh, yes!”

“What?” Belem spat at Gael’jic. “What is it?” Worry started to encroach upon his voice and he flicked his eyes between Gael’jic and Ryth.

“This is always my favorite part of the game,” Ryth said.

“This is not the human servant of Uri’thind’ac,” Gael’jic said. “This is Uri’thind’ac.”

The three humans whipped their heads around to stare at Ryth. He held out his hands at his side and said, “Ta-da! In the flesh. Pleased to meet you.”

“But,” Cecil stammered, “Vael said…”

“Vael?” Ryth exploded with laughter. “Is he out there running around again? Don’t tell me you went down into that musty old basement and freed him from that statue I put him in?” He stared at them one at a time then laughed out loud again. “I guess you did. Now don’t tell me he told you I was merely a lowly servant of Uri’thind’ac?”

“He intimated as much,” Ariam said meekly.

“No,” Gael’jic said. “He never identified Uri’thind’ac. He merely told us Uri’thind’ac has consorts among all the peoples. We assumed certain things on account of that.”

“That much is true,” Ryth said. “Humans, Dar’rynakai… and of course others.” He blinked a few times and a thoughtful look overcame his face. “You do know there are others, correct? I hope I’m not spoiling the game for you.” Ryth suddenly waved a hand quickly in front of his face as if to dispel smoke. “Never mind,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll get there shortly. Anyway, where was I? That’s right. I came to warn you about continuing this silly game of Rama’dy’ac’s. It really would be smart of you to just cry off right now. It will save you a lot of heartache in the end. And maybe even a limb or two.”

Silence fell over the campfire and the four companions exchanged looks with one another. At last, Gael’jic spoke up, and said, “We will not stop.”

Ryth nodded and his face was once again split by a wicked smile. “I hoped you would say that, and sure enough, you have. Rama’dy’ac’s champions are always a stubborn and predictable bunch. If nothing, I can always count on him to select the dumbest representatives of the races. But at the same time, you always have a tremendous heart about you. I really don’t know how you do it. You’re so fragile and fallible. Your lives are minuscule in comparison to mine or Rama’dy’ac’s. You’re hardly around for a blink. And every time I’ve played this game you always end up surprising me. But do you know what never happens?”

He waited for one of them to supply an answer. They simply sat in silence and stared back at him. As usual, he would have to fill in the blanks himself.

“No one has ever defeated me. Not even your glorious Rama’dy’ac,” he said to Gael’jic. “So, to answer your question, no, I’m not in the slightest bit worried. I have endured this game for hundreds of years. And do you know what? While I have had a mostly good time over that stretch, I have to confess something. I am getting a little bored with it. I think this will be the last turn. I have come out here tonight to announce to you my intention to finish this game. I have spent centuries besting this so-called god of yours. That’s the thing that surprises me the most. He keeps trying. What a desperate little fool he is. And you four are his final act of desperation. I would be delighted to tell you how impressed I am by your devotion to see this thing through to the end, but in truth, I’ve seen it countless times. And it never amounts to anything. It all ends up in dust and blood. But this time it will be different, and not because you have any hope of winning. This time it will be different because I’m done playing this game. I doubt you will even see Rama’dy’ac through any of this. But if you do, I’d like you to give him a message for me. Do you think you can do that?”

The four companions continued to sit in silence and stare at him dumbly.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said with a sneer. “If you ever do see Rama’dy’ac, tell him that I am coming for him. This will be the last roll of the dice he ever has. And he’s wasted it on you four incompetents. I hope you are all pleased with your recent victory over Jobash. It may be the last taste of victory you ever have. But even if you succeed in getting to wherever Rama’dy’ac is sending you next, know this: I am waiting for you at the end of this. And you can throw knives at me, you can thrust spears at me, you can try to outwit me, or you can try to smother me with kindness. Whatever you do, you are going to lose. And you’re going to lose harder than you’ve ever lost in your lives.”

He shifted his attention to Cecil and said, “You told me you’re not afraid of me. You should be. But understand this, human,” he said the word with dripping disgust, “I’m not afraid of you. And I’m far more powerful than you will ever be. I am also more powerful than that pathetic Rama’dy’ac whom this stupid Dar’rynakai bows to. So carry on with this silly little game all you want. Just know that it will come to an end and when it does, I will be standing victorious over all of your crispy burning corpses. And when all is said and done, I will have won. I always do.”

Ryth stood up and gave them all one final look of contempt apiece. Then he turned and strolled casually back into the darkened jungle.

The four companions watched him go in dumbfounded silence.

To be Continued in…

CULT OF DAR’RYN

CULT OF DAR'RYN

BOOK 3

CHAPTER 1. SHORELINE

They could smell the sea and hear it before they could see it. The forested area through which they trekked was thick but the ambient sounds of the waves crashing and the aroma of salt air drifted between the trees and made its way to them, enticing them forward. Ariam was the first to gain a spring in his step. Belem never did.

Ariam ran out a few paces ahead of the others and turned and said, “We draw close. Hurry.”

Cecil put a little extra speed into his pace but otherwise remained steady. Gael’jic trotted forward to join Ariam. Belem simply grunted and shook his head. Cecil spared the other man a look of admonishment but turned his face forward without comment. This did not escape Belem’s notice.

“Something bothering you, guardsman?” the convict asked.

“Me?” Cecil responded with faux innocence.

“Yes, you,” Belem said. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t give me that look.”

Cecil paused for a moment, then said, “For someone who claims to be so tough, you appear to be offended very easily. Perhaps your hide needs another few layers to protect your fragile inner self.”

Belem scoffed. “You’re starting to sound like those two,” he said indicating Ariam and Gael’jic with a thrust of his chin. “Don’t tell me all this mystical mumbo-jumbo is getting to you too. I thought you were more no-nonsense than that.”

“I am plenty ‘no-nonsense,’” Cecil said stonily. “It is nonsense to deny the obvious power behind all that we have seen and done. It is nonsense to quibble about what lies ahead of us. As usual, the one refusing to deal with reality is you, not me. We have been given a task and we should get to it.”

“There’s the good little soldier boy,” Belem sneered. “You’re only comfortable when you’re following someone else’s directives, aren’t you? Can’t think for yourself.”

“I think for myself just fine, thank you very much,” Cecil said. “The difference between you and me is that you are closed off to the obvious. I remain open to what is reasonable. No matter how strange it may seem on the surface.”

“In my experience,” Belem retorted, “open-mindedness leads one to be easily duped. The world is full of scam artists and hucksters looking for an easy mark. I should know, as I’ve perpetrated more than my share of that sort of thing.”

“An open mind,” Cecil replied, “is like an open trap. It’s meant to close on something. The problem here is that the trap that is your mind has rusted closed altogether and refuses to let anything in.”

Belem barked a humorless laugh. “You are starting to sound like them.”

Before Cecil could reply Ariam came bounding back toward them. Gael’jic was no longer by his side. Cecil and Belem had become so consumed with their conversation that they hadn’t noticed the other two disappear into the woods. Now Ariam had returned with a broad smile painted across his face.

“We have arrived!” he beamed. “Come and see.”

With that, the beggar turned and bounded back into the trees soon disappearing. Cecil and Belem both noted there were now bright patches of light coming through. The trees were thinning and in the near distance, both men could see tiny scraps of bright-colored sand. The beach was at hand.

Cecil and Belem put on a small burst of speed and jogged to catch up with the others. A few moments later they passed beyond the tree line and came out onto the beach. Ariam and Gael’jic stood at the shore with their ankles in the surf.

Ariam jumped out of the water and landed with a splash back in the waves. He kicked water up into the air and watched the frothy droplets shower back into the sea. He then turned and ran crouching low. He dipped his hands into the surf and pulled up handfuls of water. He giggled as the water passed through his fingers and then stooped low to repeat this. This time he plunged his hands into the sand below. They came up caked in wet packed sand. He clapped his hands together and the sand exploded everywhere. He turned a beaming face to the others who looked back perplexed at him.

“He is such a child,” Belem said.

“Take it easy,” Cecil said. “None of us has ever been to a beach before. We’ve only seen still images and video.” He swept his gaze across the landscape and in a hushed tone added, “It is more beautiful than I imagined it would be.”

“It’s not my first time at the beach,” Belem spat. He hefted the shield of wood planks on his arm and thought about his perilous journey on the sea which had terminated with his arrival at the shore. Those had been exhausting days and he did not care to remember them. The beach had been his salvation, true, but in the end, it was just one more pit stop on the way to sweet vengeance. That yet remained in his future and he savored the idea of getting back on track toward it.

Gael’jic turned back to the others and strode out of the surf, back up onto the beach, and stopped before Cecil and Belem. “We have arrived,” he said with a hint of something in his voice neither man could discern. The large fin jutting from the middle of his brow and ending in the middle of his back lifted a few inches then settled back down. He shook his head and the dewlap hanging from his chin wavered. As far as Cecil could tell this was a sign of some consternation. None of Gael’jic’s human companions had quite figured out how to read the Dar’rynakai’s expressions yet, but they were learning.

Despite the awe-inducing beauty of their surroundings, Cecil sympathized with Gael’jic’s frustration…if that was what it truly was. They had reached their intended destination, or at least the first part of it, but the next steps were still as yet unclear.

Vael had instructed them to seek out the shoreline and summon a boatman. But how were they to do so? And who or what exactly was this person? They had not been given clear instructions on those matters.

Belem took in a deep breath and blew it out. He stared out to sea. “Somewhere out there is Void Island,” he said with cold intonation. His face had a stony set to it. His brow had drawn down and a grim expression painted it. He grumbled to himself, “The one place I absolutely do not want to go.”

Ariam came laughing and running up to the group. “Isn’t it wonderful?” he said. “I never conceived of anything like it. The images just don’t do it justice.”

“This isn’t a sightseeing trip,” Belem said. “If this is supposed to get me back on my path toward Ryth, I’d rather get it over with. Anyone have any ideas?”

Ariam fell silent a moment and scratched his scraggly beard. His brow drew down in concentration, and then a moment later his eyes brightened and he turned to them to Belem. He pointed at the hard man and said, “Vael put it in your mind how to lead us here, did he not? He gave you a mental path.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So,” Ariam continued, “perhaps he also put the instructions for calling the boatman into your mind as well. Want to give it a try?”

Belem screwed up his face as he stared back at Ariam. “Quit rambling your foolishness and supply a useful suggestion.”

“It may be a useful suggestion,” Gael’jic said. “Will you not at least consider it?”

Belem turned to the Dar’rynakai scholar and shot him a withering glance. “Don’t start with me, lizard.”

“He may have a point,” Cecil interjected. “Why are you resisting it?”

Belem snapped his mouth shut and clenched his teeth. After a few moments of stewing, he said, “Because this is stupid. Ever since Ryth showed up at our campfire, I’ve been thinking.”

Everyone watched him and waited.

When he was sure of their attention he continued, “Has it occurred to none of you that Ryth showing up as he did might truly have been an act of desperation? Perhaps it was even a bluff. I’m beginning to wonder if he was simply trying to intimidate us off pursuit of him.”

“Go on,” Cecil said, his eyes looking thoughtful.

“Haven’t you ever played cards?” Belem prompted.

“I do not know what this is,” Gael’jic said.

“It’s a game,” Ariam said. “Gambling.”

“Gambling I know,” Gael’jic said in a lower voice narrowing his eyes. “It is a detestable practice.”

“Yeah forget about that part of it,” Belem said waving a dismissive hand. “My point is the game itself. Sometimes you’re holding bad cards but you want everyone else to think they’re good cards, so you do a bluff. You pretend and project like you are doing well so you can trick the others to back down.”

Cecil squinted in thought then shook his head. “An interesting consideration, but I don’t think that’s what’s going on with Ryth.”

“How do you know?” Belem spat back instantly. “We all know he’s slippery and deceptive. A bluff is exactly the kind of thing a player like him would do.”

The group fell silent. Then after a few moments, Gael’jic supplied, “How does one tell a bluff from genuine possession of power?”

“That’s the problem,” Ariam answered. “If a player is good, then no one can tell the difference.”

“So it is a risk,” Gael’jic said in response. “In this case, I do not think the risk is valuable. Too much is at stake.”

“I probably agree with Gael’jic,” Cecil said. “But,” he continued, turning to Belem, he cautiously asked, “what do you propose?”

CHAPTER 2. THE BOATMAN

“I propose that we diverge from this useless errand and head straight to the Citadel. We will take Ryth by surprise. He will never expect it.” Belem’s eyes held a level of passion none of them had seen.

“He will never expect it,” Gael’jic said, “because it is a foolish maneuver. If we go to your Human Citadel and all four of us go in, we will surely be found out before we can get close to the demon. My guess is that Uri’thind’ac has set a watch, even for something as unlikely as what you suggest.”

Belem growled. “You were pretty insistent all four of us risk life and limb to climb into your city, as I recall.”

“It was the command of Rama’dy’ac, mediated through his Messenger, Vael,” Gael’jic replied. “Otherwise I would never have dreamed to suggest it, let alone attempt it. The four of us together will attract undue attention in any situation.”

Exasperated, Belem tossed his hands into the air. “Then we’ll split up! Cecil and I will return to the Citadel. You two can get to the island and…”

“It’ll never work,” Ariam interrupted, shaking his head. “You are the one who has to summon the boatman.”

“We don’t know that,” Belem retorted. “And even if it were true, I could summon him, and then you two could take the boat.”

“I do not believe that is how it would work,” Gael’jic said. “If we do not all go, the boatman will not likely take us. I am familiar with Dar’rynakai mythology. I know a little of this boatman Vael spoke of. He is a temperamental and thorny creature. He does not take lightly having plans adjusted without his consent. If we were to summon him and inform him we were going to split up when Rama’dy’ac instructed us to travel together, he would almost certainly refuse us passage.”

“Fine,” Belem said. “Then forget this boatman. We will go to the Citadel together.”

“We again have the problem,” Gael’jic said in a tone that was losing patience, “of disobeying Rama’dy’ac in this matter. We were given a task to complete and a path to travel to get there. If we veer from this path, we will only meet with ruin.”

“This Rama’dy’ac is your god, lizard, not mine. I have no ties to him and I’m not beholden to his whims.”

“We have heard you out,” Cecil said. “I see some of the reasoning of your suggestion, but what Gael’jic and Ariam argue outweighs it vastly. We would risk too much trying to veer from this path. We should try the boatman and follow that way.”

“And if I just leave you all here standing on the shore,” he said, “what will you do then? Stand here and wait until all of time runs out?”

Cecil took a menacing step toward Belem. “You know that I can stop you.”

Belem, not backing down in the slightest inched closer until he and Cecil were standing almost nose to nose. In a harsh whisper, he replied, “You could try.”

“It wouldn’t take much trying,” Cecil said with a smirk. “It would be over before you knew it.”

“That’s enough gentlemen,” Ariam said, interposing himself between the two men. “We’re not getting anywhere bickering like this.” He turned to Belem and said, “Vael told us this was the path for you to get to Lycas Ryth. It may not be the most direct and immediate route, but the only one promised to get you where you want to go. Won’t you please reconsider trying to call the boatman yourself?”

Belem turned from Cecil and regarded Ariam for a handful of heartbeats. He simmered, seemingly teetering on the precipice of lashing out. At long last, he answered, “Vael’s promise is the only reason I haven’t walked away from this already. His guarantees that Ryth stands at the end of this path are all that keep me here.” He slowly turned his face back to Cecil and said, “It sure isn’t your charming personality, princess.”

The two men glared at one another for a few seconds longer when Gael’jic cleared his throat and spoke up. “You too can gaze longingly into each other’s eyes some other time. I think for now it would be best if Belem approached the task in front of us.”

Belem turned a smirking face on Gael’jic. “That’s the spirit, lizard.” He spared Cecil one final glare and then sauntered toward the shore circling Gael’jic who stood in the path.

He hefted the wood planks on his arm as he strode slowly down the beach. The bright white sands parted with each footfall slowing his gait minimally. He walked forward until he was calf-deep into the surf. He halted and allowed the waves to lift and withdraw around his lower legs. He stood there staring out toward the sea, thinking about the shipwreck that had marooned him in the middle of the sea not long before. He then remembered the despair that had overtaken him as he lay on the rocky promontory. He realized it was still there hidden around some dark corner of his mind. It threatened to release itself and run rampant within him. He gritted his teeth and tamped down on the sensation. He would not be mastered by some foolish emotion.

He stood thinking about what he should do and nothing came to him. He turned and shouted toward the others who had followed him partway, yet remained on the dry sands. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” His eyes flicked to Gael’jic and he said, “You’re the expert in this mythology stuff. Any ideas?”

Gael’jic shrugged and merely replied, “Try just calling out to the boatman.”

Belem turned back to the sea and scoffed. “Right,” he muttered to himself. “Just call out to him. Why didn’t I think of that?” he said mockingly.

He drew a deep breath raised one hand to the side of his face and shouted, “Boatman! We need you!”

Belem let his hand drop to his side as he stared back out at the ocean. Long moments passed and nothing happened. The only discernible sounds were the crashing of the waves and the cries of reptilian gulls farther down the beach. He turned back to Gael’jic and said, “Thanks, that was helpful. Any other bright ideas?”

Before the Dar’rynakai could respond, they all heard what sounded like the beginnings of a small rumble. Then they felt the ground itself tremble. Belem whipped around and turned concerned eyes to the waters ahead.

He thought he saw a small mound of moving water out in the distance. He squinted his eyes and lifted his hand planting it at his brow to shield his vision from the glaring light of the Sun. He leaned forward for a better look. Soon it was obvious the mound was no illusion and it drew closer to him at great speed.

He lowered his hand as he realized he could see it now clearly without squinting. The surging mound was perhaps a few feet higher than the rest of the ocean around it. Something was moving fast beneath the surface. Waves broke apart in front of the approaching object.

It occurred to Belem just in time that he was standing directly in the path of whatever it was. He hesitated only for a moment and soon dove out of the way back onto the beach. As he sailed through the air he saw the others backing away from the shoreline in astonishment. He landed on the wet sand with a thud just as water exploded close by sending gouts of giant droplets of the sea in all directions. He scrambled forward on his elbows and knees then turned onto his back so that he could get a look at what had just come out of the water.

At the spot he had stood, there now rested a long wooden boat. At the prow of the vessel, a serpent’s head, seemingly carved out of wood and yet also somehow alive, reared backward and then lurched forward. It swayed back and forth as if it were a real beast. The wooden serpent’s head turned toward Belem and released a menacing hiss.

A cloaked and hooded figure stood just beyond the serpent and stroked it with a gloved hand as if it were a beloved pet. The figure leaned forward and whispered something to the hissing serpent. The wooden serpent’s head drew back and relaxed. In the next moment, it stiffened completely appearing like nothing more than a solid wood carving.

The hooded figure turned its attention toward Belem and jumped down from the boat, splashing in the surf, and stalked steadily toward him. It halted a few feet away and drew back the hood of its cloak. When the garment was pulled all the way back it revealed the face of a creature of the same kind as Vael. However, whereas Vael’s flesh was smooth and glowed a luminescent whitish color, this creature had gray wrinkled skin that did not glow but was dull and clammy. The four eyes set in its brow glowed green. Like Vael, the creature before him had no mouth. But the set of its brow over its four eyes gave a distinct impression that it was perpetually angry. This matched Gael’jic’s description of the creature being rather prickly in temperament.

The Boatman spoke with a voice that echoed as if it resounded in a great canyon and seemed to come from many directions. It burst upon Belem’s hearing and made him flinch. “What reckless fool summons the Boatman of Dar’ryn?” the creature demanded.

Belem, chagrined pressed himself up to his feet using his planks to steady himself. He brushed some of the sand off himself and turned a stern glance back at the Boatman. He remained in place not wanting to take a step toward him and possibly give the impression of a threat. “I called you, Boatman,” Belem answered confidently. “You will take me and my companions to Void Island.”

The Boatman regarded Belem for a handful of moments then turned its piercing gaze toward the three others who yet stood a short distance off. He quickly returned his attention to Belem and said, “I will do no such thing.”

CHAPTER 3. BARTERING WITH THE BOATMAN

Gael’jic’s jaw dropped open as he gaped in disbelief at the Boatman. He stammered in confusion, then said, “What do you mean by saying you will not take us? It is the will of Rama’dy’ac!”

The Boatman turned a piercing gaze at Gael’jic and said, “You speak for Rama’dy’ac, do you? When did you last converse with him?” The accusation in his voice was unmistakable. It was unclear whether or not the Boatman believed him. But at the very least, the Dar’rynakai had the impression that the strange figure did not care one way or the other.

Gael’jic answered, “We have not met the Lord of light and truth, but his Messenger…”

“That is as I suspected,” the intimidating being interrupted and turned away from him.

“Isn’t this rich?” Belem quipped. He turned a superior gaze toward the others. “How do you feel about my plan now?”

Ignoring him Ariam stepped toward the Boatman. “Excuse me,” he began, “but is it possible that…?”

“Who addresses me?” The Boatman thundered as he rounded on the beggar. Ariam nearly jumped out of his skin and took a few steps back. He only stopped when his back collided with Cecil who stood his ground.

Cecil stepped around Ariam’s trembling form and strode slowly up to the Boatman. “We address you, Boatman,” he said firmly. “And we do so unapologetically. We have been commissioned to summon you so that we might travel to Void Island. Vael, the Messenger of Rama’dy’ac sent us.”

The Boatman grumbled for a moment as he regarded Cecil. He lifted a gloved hand to his chin and stroked it thoughtfully.

“Vael, you say? So, that meddler has been freed has he? Interesting.” He dropped his hand to his side and then set his mouthless jaw in a scowl. “Yet I do not see how that has anything to do with me. Why should I waste my time with you?”

“Why do you assume it will be a waste of time?” Cecil countered. “Would not our passage across this sea fulfill some purpose of yours?”

“My purposes are my own. Do not assume to darken them with your petty counsel.”

“Apologies if we have offended you,” Ariam said having regained himself. He scurried up to Cecil’s side and halted. He remained half a pace back in case the Boatman lashed out again. “But we have very important business and it requires that we cross the sea to Void Island. Your vessel is the only way we know of to get across it. We have no other means.”

The Boatman folded his arms and glowered at Ariam. “This does not compel me,” he said.

“Then what would compel you?” Belem snapped. “Do you seek payment? If so you will be disappointed. We have no money.”

The Boatman slowly turned his face to Belem. He skewered the convict with a glare. “What do you think you have to give me that I could ever want?”

“That would be up to you,” Cecil interjected. “Is there something you prize? Is there something we can acquire for you?”

The Boatman looked to the former Captain of the Royal Guardians and uttered a thoughtful growl. “An interesting proposition,” he replied.

Belem grumbled derisively. He waved a condescending hand toward the Boatman and then said, “Don’t bother with this one. There’s nothing he can do for us. It is clear he is incapable, or maybe just too cowardly to do anything.”

A low rumbling noise started at the back of the Boatman’s throat as he turned a somehow even angrier expression on Belem than he had previously worn. He reached into the folds of his cloak and whipped out a short staff. He darted toward Belem and raised it high intending to strike him. Belem was ready for it, however.

He pivoted on one ankle and allowed the blow to pass by him harmlessly. The Boatman turned and sought to strike him again. Belem once again danced out of the way back toward the beach. The Boatman pursued but halted without warning mid-strike. Belem looked at him in confusion for a second then understanding dawned on his features. He dropped his gaze to his feet and noticed he was now standing on the dry sandy part of the beach. The Boatman remained on the wet sand that had been recently touched by the surf. More water came in and swelled around his ankles then drew back.

“You can’t follow me, here, can you?” Belem said with a sneer.

The only response that came from the other was a scrunched face. The Boatman straightened his back and allowed the staff-wielding hand to drop to his side. “Maybe not,” he said. “But neither can you cross these waters without my help.”

“That remains to be seen,” Belem retorted. “Perhaps you cannot even do that much.”

“You ought to silence this fool’s bleating mouth,” the Boatman said turning to Cecil.

Belem took several purposes purposeful steps forward until he, at last, stood on the wet sand and within reach of his opponent. The surf came in once again and enveloped his ankles then drew away once more.

The Boatman looked down and then slowly back up to Belem’s face. He arched his right two eyebrows above the eyes. Belem held his hands out to his side as if in an invitation for the Boatman to try for him again. The otherworldly being simply shook his head slowly from side to side and turned away.

“There is one thing I desire,” the Boatman said.

Gael’jic slowly stepped up to rejoin the conversation. “And what is that?” he asked. The note of hopefulness in his voice was mixed with trepidation. He sensed that whatever this creature was about to demand would not be something they would want to seek.

“There is a pearl,” the Boatman replied. “It is beyond rare and difficult to acquire. Perhaps even impossible. I will give you partial passage to Void Island if you promise to attempt to acquire the pearl on the way.”

“And how do we acquire this pearl?” Belem asked suspiciously.

The Boatman regarded Belem once more. “It is guarded by a beast. It dwells in a cave on the way. If it can be lured forth from its abode, you might be able to acquire the pearl. If you can accomplish this, I will bring you the rest of the way to your destination. Or at least bring the survivors. If there are any.”

The four exiles shared doubtful looks. After a few tense moments, Cecil cleared his throat and said, “Very well, Boatman. We agree to your terms. Take us out.”

Belem said, “Speaking for me again, are you? I have not agreed.”

“The rogue is correct,” the Boatman replied. “The decision is not up to the rest of you. It requires him.”

“Me?” Belem asked. “Only me?” The cloaked figure nodded in affirmation. Belem pressed, “Why me?”

The Boatman looked to Belem once more and said, “You are the one who summoned me.”

“Really?” Belem said with great interest, drawing the word out. “Well isn’t that a fine flower to pick?” He slowly turned a broadly smiling face toward his companions and gave them a victorious look.

“Rama’dy’ac help us,” Gael’jic muttered, “he sees the stars revolving only around himself.” Ariam chuckled.

“Seems to me there’s no way around the fact,” Belem said. “You all need me to ask this thing for a ride. If I don’t you’re all stuck on land permanent-like. What do you think of that?”

Cecil lifted his hand to his brow and massaged it. “I think you should just get to asking for that ride so we can get this over with.”

Belem drew himself up to his full height. “How about a little acknowledgment first?” he chided. “After all, you haven’t been treating me with the proper respect.”

Cecil arched an eyebrow. “Proper respect? How’s that?”

Belem adopted a smug expression as a folded his arms over his chest. “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked. “Haven’t we learned that I am the next in line for the throne you swore to protect?”

Cecil’s mouth dropped open but no response came. He stammered for a few seconds then snapped his mouth closed again. His face grew red.

“That’s what I thought,” Belem said smirking. “Let’s have it.”

Cecil growled and adopted a furious look. In a low seething voice, he said, “Very well, your Majesty. Won’t you please use your high and royal ways to acquire us passage across the sea? We groveling masses certainly would appreciate it.”

Belem nodded as if he were solemnly taking in the request and giving it proper consideration. At last, he threw his head back and barked a mirthless laugh. He shot out an arm and clapped Cecil powerfully on the shoulder nearly knocking him off balance. “See?” he said. “That wasn’t so hard after, all was it? Your king has considered your suggestion and has approved the idea.” Smirking, he turned to the strange cloaked figure and said, “Boatman! We request passage across the sea. We accept your terms and would like to set forth immediately.”

The Boatman’s eyes darted between Belem and Cecil. He sighed in exasperation and said, “Very well. Get aboard my vessel at once.”

Cecil moved past Belem and ambled over to the boat. He deftly scaled the side and landed on the deck. Gael’jic moved forward and boarded, followed by Belem. Belem realized that Ariam hung back. He turned and appraised the man. “Is there a problem?” he said. “You’re afraid of climbing. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of boats, too?”

“It’s not that,” Ariam said. “I just have a sinking feeling about this.”

“A sinking feeling?” Belem repeated, turning back to stare at the Boatman’s ship. He returned his gaze to Ariam and replied, “Maybe you shouldn’t use that word.” He then turned back to the boat and climbed aboard.

Ariam paused again for a few heartbeats, then waded into the surf with his misgivings heavy on his mind.

CHAPTER 4. BENEATH THE SURFACE

Belem hunched forward and rested his forearms on the gunwale of the boat. His eyes were half-squinted as he stared out at some unknown point on the far horizon. There was nothing to see besides vast stretches of water. In truth, he wasn’t looking at anything in particular. He was ruminating.

His shoulders rose and fell slowly with a deep intentional breath. Gael’jic sat cross-legged on the other side of the boat watching him. The humans were quite strange in his estimation. But this one, in particular, was sometimes an even greater and more troublesome puzzle. He seemed to care for nothing and no one but himself and his obsessive desire for revenge. Gael’jic could not understand how Rama’dy’ac, the Lord of light and truth, could possibly use such a creature for his purposes. It did not seem right.

Belem straightened from his place and rested his hands on the gunwale trim. His head dropped and he closed his eyes tight. In the next heartbeat, he lifted his head once more and turned around seeing Gael’jic staring at him.

“Do you have something you want to say, lizard?” Belem said with his characteristic bluntness.

Gael’jic briefly shook his head, flapping his head fin and dewlap in a show of minor embarrassment. “Nothing to say,” Gael’jic replied. “I merely ponder your human nature. Your ways are yet strange to me.”

“Is that all?” Belem said. “I get the impression that it isn’t. What are you holding back?”

Gael’jic looked away not wanting to maintain eye contact with the convict. He thought about it but before he could answer Belem continued.

“You don’t like me very much, do you? No one does. That doesn’t bother me, in case you were wondering.”

Gael’jic returned his gaze to Belem. “I don’t understand you,” the Dar’rynakai corrected. “That is not the same as disliking. But I must confess, I am perplexed at Rama’dy’ac’s selection of you.”

“I don’t exactly seem like the holy warrior type, do I?” Belem snickered. “Have you considered that says more about Rama’dy’ac than it does me? Don’t get me wrong, I am not saying I believe any of this. Strange though all of this may be, I have very little use for the so-called spiritual world.”

“It seems to have some use for you, however,” Gael’jic retorted. “I wonder how long you can continue to resist the obvious.”

Belem shook his head and looked away. “Obvious foolishness perhaps,” he muttered to himself, turning away. Gael’jic’s sharp ears picked up on the comment, regardless of Belem’s attempt to speak it only to himself. The humans forgot his senses were often more heightened than theirs. He chose not to comment on this, though. It would do no one any good and likely would only end up causing a fight. He had no space for that right now.

The boat moved with tremendous speed for what on the surface of it appeared only to be a simple wooden vessel. It had no sails to speak of and no one rowed using oars. The ship seemed to move of its own accord or at least at the Boatman’s command. Gael’jic considered noting this peculiarity to Belem as further evidence of mystical realities but shrugged it off instead.

They had been traveling for some time now, though neither Gael’jic nor any of the others could say how long. It felt like a few hours at least. The novelty of the odd mode of travel had somewhat worn off for all of them. Now all that remained was getting to their destination. But before that, they would have to service the request of the Boatman.

Belem turned to the cloaked figure standing at the prow of the boat by the wooden serpent’s head. The head remained stationary, unlike when they had first seen it, and Belem considered it. It had directed ire at him until its master quelled it. Still, a feeling of unease settled over the convict as he looked upon it.

“How much longer, Boatman?” Belem said, raising his voice enough to be heard over the sound of the waves breaking against the prow.

The strange figure had been facing forward and silent ever since they departed. He now turned his head slightly to look over his shoulder toward Belem. His response came in that unnerving echoing voice. “Not long now,” he said. He returned his attention forward apparently with nothing further to add.

Belem’s brow drew down as he stared at the figure. He seemed to want to say something sarcastic but turned away instead.

Silence settled over the boat as they carried on. A short while later Ariam, standing on the opposite side of the boat from Belem, raised a cry for attention.

“Look!” he shouted. “There’s something in the distance.”

The other passengers slowly roused from their positions and came over to stand beside the beggar.

“What is it?” Cecil inquired.

Ariam pointed and they followed his direction. Off in the distance there now could be seen a small dark spot on the horizon.

“There, do you see it?” Ariam asked excitedly.

Gael’jic leaned forward over the gunwale and squinted. “Yes,” he replied. “It appears to be an island.”

“It is Void Island,” the Boatman said. It only took a handful of moments for all of them to realize they were not headed directly toward it. It was off to one side. The boat continued apace in a direction that would not take them to the island. The four exiles turned their attention to the Boatman who was now staring at them. The companions looked at one another and then back to their host.

“I take it we will be reaching our initial destination soon, then?” Cecil asked pointedly.

“Yes,” the Boatman replied. “Quite soon in fact.”

The four companions looked to one another again then turned their gaze outward searching for any sign of the cave. Aside from the distant dark spec representing their desired destination, however, nothing else could be seen aside from the ocean.

In a whisper, Belem said to the others, “I see no cave. Is this thing trying to trick us?”

“I do not think so,” Gael’jic replied, keeping a wary eye on their host. “But if I do not miss my guess, we must be prepared for something out of the ordinary. Perhaps something will rise out of the ocean suddenly.”

Cecil looked dubiously back at Gael’jic. “I don’t get the sense that is what will happen,” he said.

Ariam’s face suddenly brightened.

Belem noticed this, sighed, and in a defeated voice said, “Have something to share with the rest of us?”

“The cave probably is underwater,” he said. “But it won’t come up to us. Someone will have to go down to it.”

The others shared unhappy looks.

“Maybe,” Cecil said cautiously, “but depending on how far underwater it is, that might not help us very much.” He turned to Gael’jic and added, “Unless of course, you can breathe underwater?”

“He’s a lizard, not a fish,” Belem barked.

“Yes,” Gael’jic added. “I cannot do this thing you have said.”

“But perhaps you can hold your breath longer than any of us,” Ariam said hopefully.

“Perhaps so,” Gael’jic replied, “but that does not answer the problem of how we will draw this beast out of its cave in the first place.”

“Maybe we will be lucky and it won’t be home,” Ariam said, a worried expression ghosting across his features.

“Knowing our luck?” Belem scoffed. “I doubt that.”

Cecil said, “Perhaps our host will have some helpful information for us when we get there.”

As if in response to this observation the boat slowed down and came to a sudden halt. Everyone but the Boatman nearly lost their balance. They all turned to glare at him. The celestial figure raised a hand and stroked the wooden serpent head extending from the prow of the boat. It came alive and turned to face the four exiles. It simply swayed back and forth watching them. Ariam was greatly unnerved by this. The others tried their best to ignore it with varying degrees of success.

The Boatman came away from the prow and strode up to stand amid the four companions. He looked each of them in the face in turn before he spoke.

“We have arrived,” he said.

“We take it the cave is underwater?” Cecil prompted.

“That is correct,” the Boatman replied.

“So,” Cecil continued, “the plan is for us to lure this creature out of its underwater cave, and one of us swims into the cave to steal its pearl? How far down will we have to go?”

“You misunderstand,” the Boatman said shaking his head. “The pearl is not within the cave. The pearl is within the creature. It must be slain and the pearl extracted from its guts.”

Ariam took an involuntary step backward. Belem reached out a hand, grasped his raggedy clothes by the shoulder, and dragged him back to the group.

“Say again?” Cecil said.

“He said we have to kill the thing and tear it open to find his prize,” Belem sneered in answer to Cecil’s question.

“Well, that’s just fantastic,” Cecil said. “And just how are we to lure this creature to the surface so that we can kill it?”

“The creature must be summoned,” the Boatman said flatly.

“And how do we do that?” Ariam pressed with a trembling voice.

The Boatman pointed a finger at the convict and said, “Belem must summon it.”

“How?” Belem asked suspiciously. “The same way I called you?”

Almost faster than any of them could perceive the Boatman reached into the folds of his cloak and withdrew his short staff. He expertly twirled it in his hand as he launched himself at Belem. He struck at the man with a backhanded swing connecting powerfully with Belem’s chest. In the next instant, the convict was lifted off his feet and thrown over the edge of the boat.

He landed thrashing into the ocean surface splashing and shrieking curses at the Boatman.

“No,” the Boatman replied. “We need bait.”

CHAPTER 5. WATER SERPENT

Belem’s head breached the surface and rivulets of water coursed down the part of him bobbing out of the sea. Despite the biting cold of the water surrounding him, his face burned with rage. His eyes fell on the smug figure of the Boatman standing on the side of his vessel. He glowered at the figure and said, “You’re going to regret that!”

“Not soon,” the Boatman returned confidently.

Belem dropped his jaw to issue a biting retort when he quickly snapped his mouth shut again. The boat rocked hard before him followed by a noisy thud and a large mound of water appeared and swirled by him off to his left. He could see through the surface the blur of a large dark shape, long and troubling. A long line of several large jagged spined fins broke the surface, traveled a short distance, and quickly disappeared beneath. Whatever the creature was, it was exceptionally long. It was longer even than the boat itself.

All thoughts of retribution fled from Belem’s mind. They were replaced by a singular urgent need. Get back to the boat. He desperately began to paddle forward making his way to the side of the vessel. He dared not look behind knowing the creature surely was turning to come about again. He was almost there. He saw Cecil by the side of the boat reaching over the edge, holding out a hand toward him. Just a little further, he thought.

He heard the sound of water breaking somewhere behind him. It put a burst of adrenaline through him and he pressed forward all the harder. At last, he reached the side of the boat and shot his hand up toward the former Royal Guardian’s. Their hands clasped and instantly Cecil pulled upward, yanking Belem out of the water and jerking him onto the deck. The two of them tumbled to the deck together and seawater splashed around them.

Belem scrambled to his feet getting away from Cecil’s prone form. Cecil also hurried to get upright. Dripping and heaving with ragged breaths Belem spun toward the Boatman. He stomped a few paces over to the figure and came snarling into his face. “Try that again,” he said, “and I will feed you to that beast myself!”

“If you do not do something about him now, you will not get the chance,” the Boatman said evenly.

Belem opened his mouth to reply but the boat rocked powerfully again when the big creature collided with its side. All passengers struggled to retain their balance. Ariam lost the fight and fell to his knees upon the deck. Utter terror seized the man’s face.

Belem snarled and turned outward to gain a better look at the creature. From this new vantage point, even though the beast was yet just below the surface, Belem could see that it was long and serpentine. It was as broad as two of himself standing shoulder to shoulder. Its length was perhaps at least twice again the length of the boat. Probably more. Belem instinctively shot his hands to his belt and extracted the two knives he had been given at Gael’jic’s mountain city.

“Come to me, beastie,” he said icily. “I have something for you.”

Out of the corner of Belem’s eye, he noticed Cecil wielding the bushcraft spear he toted. It had been treated by the Dar’rynakai with their curious process to make it hard like steel and Belem judged it to be of potential assistance in this endeavor.

Gael’jic stood off to another side, unarmed. His tail whipped back and forth and his head and shoulders were hunched low. His head fin stood straight up and his mouth hung open. An angry hiss issued forth from his jaws.

Ariam had found a sequestered corner of the boat and used Belem’s wood plank shield to cover himself. He peaked out from beneath, watching the scene with furtive eyes.

Belem thought he would have to train the man to fight and put a little steel in his spine but the time was not now. Now they had to survive.

The creature plunged deep beneath the surface and they could no longer see it. Fugitive glances shot everywhere searching for any sign of the creature, waiting for it to reappear. Long moments passed and Ariam came a little out from underneath his makeshift shelter.

“Is it gone?” he asked hopefully. “Did it return to his cave?”

In answer to his question water exploded from off to the starboard side of the boat. The entirety of the serpentine figure shot upwards into the air and sailed over the top of the boat. All eyes watched in astonishment as the thing soared over them. Somewhere distantly in the back of Belem’s mind, it registered that this was the same creature represented on the prow of the Boatman’s vessel.

The serpent burrowed beneath the swirling surface once again on the opposite side of the boat. Cecil and Belem brandished their weapons at the ready for when the thing showed up again. They turned all about watching for any signal of its reappearance. Belem gingerly walked over to the opposite side of the boat and peered over the edge. He stared down into the depths, waiting, knowing somehow that this was where the creature would come again. And he would be ready for it when it did.

Sure enough, a few moments later the creature erupted from the waters and sailed over the boat. Fat sheets of water cascaded upon them, obscuring their view of the creature. But not Belem. No, he bounded to the side and avoided the surge of seawater that hit everyone else.

Belem cocked his arm back and then hurled one of his knives with all his might. It tumbled end over end through the air and met its intended mark in the creature’s hide. It thunked home, burying the hardened wooden blade in its flesh. Just as the creature had almost reached the water again it turned its face to stare directly at Belem, opened its mouth wide, and issued an angry piercing roar. Then in the next instant, it splashed beneath the surface again and Belem was down one weapon.

This time it did not take long for the creature to reappear. But neither did it come the entire way out of the water. It simply reared its head above the surface on the opposite side of the boat and roared mightily at the inhabitants.

Belem opened his mouth and shouted back at the thing in a challenge of his own. The serpent dove beneath the surface once more sending out a gout of water sluicing upward and splashing everyone on the vessel.

“Great,” Cecil grunted. “How are we going to kill this thing? It’s too big!”

Ariam had abandoned the wood planks and walked carefully over to the others. When he had traversed half the distance the boat lurched powerfully to one side and Ariam lost his footing. Belem, Cecil, and Gael’jic instinctively dropped to their knees to remain somewhat stable on the deck. Ariam was not so lucky.

The beggar tried desperately to keep his balance, but in the confusion of all that was happening, he backpedaled sending desperate retreating foot strikes down at the deck, and he careened toward the edge of the boat. He staggered backward and his body collided with the gunwale. Now his balance was completely lost and he tipped over the side of the boat and plummeted toward the surface of the sea.

CHAPTER 6. OVERBOARD

As the icy seawater enveloped him, an even colder and more suffocating sensation took hold of his heart. It was absolute terror. He was only below the water for a handful of moments but it felt interminable. His head appeared above the surface of the sea and his arms thrashed wildly. He reflected this was a bad time to not know how to swim.

There was only open water before him. He had gotten turned around in his fall and thrashed wildly to get himself facing the boat again. Once he located it he wondered despairingly how he had drifted so far away already.

His wild motions did him no service. He plunged beneath the surface of the sea again and clawed aimlessly to get back above into the air. The instant his face was free of the waters he drew in a gasping breath.

“Human!” Gael’jic shouted. “Still yourself!”

Still myself? Ariam thought incredulously. His brain called for – no demanded – action. Stillness was the last thing on his mind. He had to move. He had to get back to the boat.

The loud sluicing of water caught his attention. A massive dark shape moved with incredible speed through the waters off to his right. Now he ceased all motion involuntarily. He couldn’t move if he wanted to.

He slipped beneath the surface of the water again and caught murky glimpses of the large dark serpentine shape coursing at the boat. He marveled that something could move that fast through the water. At least it is not coming directly for me, Ariam thought. Not yet anyway.

His mind caught up to the fact that he could not breathe below the surface and he clawed his way upward again. Though now he put some care into his efforts. The edges of desperation were still there, sure, but his mind warned him he had to be careful. If he thrashed too wildly he would attract the beast’s attention.

He broke the surface once more and water cascaded off his head. He saw once again the boat and its inhabitants reaching out toward him, calling his name, all in futility.

“You will float if you remained still,” Gael’jic shouted. The lizard man did not add that he was also less likely to draw the attention of the creature if he remained unmoving. But that did not need to be said.

An involuntary shiver ran through his body and he wondered how sensitive the serpent was to motion in its environment. His breathing came in shallow gasps. Plaintive eyes stared toward the boat and its calling inhabitants. His own heart seized within him when he beheld the frozen terror take hold of their faces all at the same time. He knew what that meant. He was afraid to look behind himself, but could not help it. He twisted his head and looked over his shoulder. Approaching him was a massive mound of moving water. The serpent was coming straight for him.

Back in the direction of the boat he heard splashing. He whipped his head around and beheld Gael’jic leaning backward over the edge and thrashing at the water with his tail. Ariam understood at once and was grateful. The Dar’rynakai was trying to draw the thing’s attention.

The noise of sluicing water drew closer. He closed his eyes and waited for darkness to descend upon him as the beast opened its mouth and bit down, killing him. But no such thing happened. The large dark shape of the sea serpent moved just off to his side. Gael’jic had drawn its attention and diverted its course just barely enough to spare him getting rammed by the serpent.

The mass of its shape moved right by him, its body slamming him, pushing him away. Ariam moaned in pain and despair as he was forced off his intended course. The beast was completely unaffected. He doubted it even took notice.

The instant Ariam was momentarily safe from the beast Gael’jic drew his tail out of the sea and spun around to watch the approach of the serpent. The serpent’s head breached the surface just shy of the boat its mouth gaping open snapping at the place where Gael’jic’s tail had just been. Gael’jic backed up a hurried step or two, regardless of how useless this action was.

The serpent – frustrated it had gotten nothing for its efforts – dove beneath the boat. Its tail slipped out of the water and splashed sending up a column of seawater as it coursed beneath the boat.

“Swim!” Belem shouted at him. “You’ve got to get back here.”

“I can’t swim,” Ariam replied spitting seawater out of his mouth as his head bobbed beneath the surface once more and then reappeared a moment later. In his frenzied desperation considering how to survive Ariam drew in all things around him with shocking crystal clarity. He saw Belem stretching his hand out toward him. He saw Gael’jic dancing about the deck, running to the other side to watch the reappearance of the serpent. He watched Cecil shouting at the Boatman, pointing toward Ariam, and probably arguing to get the thing to direct the vessel and go to Ariam so he could be rescued.

No one was going to help him, he realized. He would have to get out of this himself. He lurched forward in an approximation of what he thought it must be to swim and made stilted progress. But the more effort he put into it, the more the sea seemed to drag him away. The frigid water worked on his muscles, causing him to develop aches all over his body. The more he fought against this, the more exhaustion took hold of him. A nagging demand of a defeatist voice in the back of his mind arose telling him he ought to just give up. He should merely thrash to draw the serpent’s attention and have it over with. But as soon as this other mental voice came, his mind immediately rejected it. He knew right away the thoughts did not originate in his mind but from elsewhere. It was foreign. In a flash, he understood it was the voice of Uri’thind’ac. He vowed not to succumb. With renewed fervor, he pushed ever more steadily toward the boat. He was determined to make it, determined to live.

At last, he made some progress. An insignificant yet undeniable blossom of hope came awake inside him. It was like a small, comforting, flickering candlelight in a vast stretch of darkness. A simple phrase arose in the back of his mind powering him like fuel powers an engine. The thought was, I am not done yet.

A minor splashing noise caught his attention as he recommenced his broken swim toward the boat. He knew this was Gael’jic thrashing at the watery surface with his tail once again to draw the attention of the serpent. Somewhere in the recesses of his consciousness, he realized this was still troublesome. Gael’jic was drawing the serpent toward the boat, but Ariam was also swimming toward the boat. They were going to meet in the same place and that could only spell trouble for Ariam. Nevertheless, he had no other option. So he pressed forward.

The vessel was still greatly out of reach and he realized the serpent would arrive there far before he would. That meant the serpent would still be in his path, and act as a barrier preventing him from reaching the vessel.

Shouts of warning echoed in his ears. He looked up from his swimming efforts for the briefest moment to see the companions scattering across the deck of the boat, some throwing themselves to the deck. In the next instant, he saw why. The serpent had leaped from the water again and sailed over the top of the vessel. Its jaw snapped downward at one of them but missed. Gael’jic barely dodged out of the way in time as he tumbled to the deck.

Ariam froze as he watched and waited for the serpent to land in the water in the next moment. He was bitterly disappointed. Instead of continuing its downward trajectory toward the sea, two large massive membranous wings shot out from its side sending showers of droplets all around it and it glided through the air and then coursed upward. He watched with a mixture of awe and growing terror. It flapped its wings and climbed on the wind upward until it was a small shape in the vast blue sea of the Dar’ryn sky.

He took the opportunity to commence his journey toward the boat once more. Desperate strokes brought him little progress and he was growing more tired by the moment. The vessel was still a significant way off. He wondered yet again how had he gotten so far away from the boat. It must’ve been the current. And apparently, Cecil had not convinced the Boatman to go after him.

But Ariam would keep trying. He was not done yet. A few seconds later more shouts of warning sounded out from the vessel ahead. Ariam realized they were shouting at him. He halted his unsuccessful swim and craned his neck to look upward into the sky. He saw the creature was now descending straight for him. It was coming quickly. Its jaws were wide open and it unleashed a piercing roar as it came.

I guess this is it, he thought. He turned his face toward the boat and saw the dismayed expressions on the faces of all those there. All but one. Cecil had backed up a few paces and had cocked his spear back in a position over his shoulder, ready to hurl it. He then darted forward and threw the weapon with all his might. It coursed through the air and landed home with ruthless efficiency in the hide of the plummeting serpent.

Another scream erupted from the beast, though this time one of pain. It convulsed a little in the air and Ariam clawed desperately to get out of the way of its moment of impact which was rapidly approaching.

The creature collided with the water and crashed below its surface sending out waves and pushing Ariam farther away. But it had pushed him toward the boat. The bright candle flame of hope grew a little within him and a smile even tugged at one corner of his mouth. He started his swim yet again, still not making great progress but at least it was something.

He looked up eagerly at the boat and saw Belem dashing across the deck in his direction. He had the hilt of his last remaining knife clenched in his jaws. When he reached the edge of the boat he leaped forward and dove with his arms outstretched and pointed together like a spear. He disappeared beneath the surface of the water and soon reemerged swimming madly toward Ariam.

I’m going to live, Ariam thought. I’m going to…

That was when his world went tight and dark.

CHAPTER 7. CONSTRICTION

Ariam was underwater and couldn’t breathe. It wouldn’t matter if he were above the surface, however. He wouldn’t have been able to breathe then, either. The serpent’s powerful body was wrapped, coiled around him, and constricting. He felt his joints and bones begin to buckle under the stress.

He wondered how long he could make it like this. He did not doubt the serpent would soon begin to swallow him but he hoped at least he would pass out before then and not be aware of being eaten. Out of anything in this mad situation, that would’ve been a blessing.

His vision grew darker. He could not tell if it was because the serpent’s body was dragging him down farther away from the surface and the light, or if his blood flow had been so cut off that his eyes could no longer see. It didn’t really matter. It was going to be over soon.

But there was one thing he didn’t understand. What was that rhythmic pounding?

He tried to twist his head to get a better look at his situation, but the tightening of the serpent’s form around him prevented this.

Suddenly the serpent released a little bit of pressure on him. He had to fight against an urge to draw a breath. All he would have gotten was lungs full of seawater. That would certainly not help his predicament. Not that he thought there was much of anything that could help. The end was still pretty close.

But the pounding continued. Now that the serpent’s hold on him had lessened he was able to turn his head somewhat and see…something. He could not quite make out what it was but there appeared to be an additional shape attached to the side of the beast. Whatever it was it was performing an odd repetitive movement.

Now that the blood flow had been slightly restored his eyes were able to make out the shape a little better in the dim underwater light. It was a person. It was Belem!

The convict had dived into the water after him pursuing the serpent as it attached itself to Ariam. He had latched onto the creature and with his one remaining knife had started to stab at the thing. He raked long gashes across the serpent’s flesh spewing its blood, making a cloudy red haze in the water.

The serpent darted its head toward Belem snapping at him. Belem dodged out of the way, pulling back in the nick of time. He in turn slashed at the serpent’s face with the knife. The water slowed his attack, but not enough to dull his deadliness. The knife sliced into the beast’s face and the creature recoiled from the strike. When Belem was sure he was safe for the moment he went right back to attacking the thing’s body.

The serpent released Ariam. He floated there for a moment not sure what to do. He was still in a daze. Sudden pressure reappeared on his back and he thought for the briefest of moments that the serpent had taken hold of him once more. But that wasn’t it. He was not being constricted.

He turned his head and beheld through the blurry water the shape of Belem holding onto something and climbing upward. Oh, that’s it, Ariam thought in an odd detached sort of way. He’s got me by the back of the shirt and is swimming toward the boat. He wondered if they would reach the surface before the serpent reached them. If they did, they might have a chance. But if the serpent took hold of Belem the way it had taken hold of him, there would be nothing for it. Ariam could not attack the creature the way Belem had. Maybe if Cecil or Gael’jic joined them in the water…?

But then they were at the surface. His lungs screamed at him for air. He opened his mouth and drew in a breath so sharp that felt as if it pierced his lungs.

Gael’jic’s hands were on his shoulders dragging him out of the water and onto the boat deck. Cecil assisted Belem in getting back onto the vessel. Both Ariam and Belem lay gasping for air and flopped onto the deck like freshly caught fish.

“Are you all right?” Gael’jic asked urgently. His fingers pressed to the side of Ariam’s face as he stared into the man’s eyes. Ariam couldn’t get words around the heavy gasps. He turned on his side and spewed seawater onto the deck. He looked over at Belem and was astonished to see the man had maintained a hold on his knife. He thought for sure in the commotion of grappling with the serpent he would have lost the object. He sometimes forgot how tenacious Belem could be.

He felt strength returning to his limbs and pushed himself off the deck a little to stare up at his companions. Relief washed over Cecil’s face as he beheld Ariam recovering.

Gael’jic helped him stand on shaky legs. Ariam had a hand on the Dar’rynakai scholar’s shoulder to brace himself. His breathing was not quite so desperate now but it had not yet returned to normal.

He looked over to Belem and watched the man push himself up to standing. He had the knife in his white-knuckled grip. Murder was in his eyes. He turned to stare back out of the ocean and he shouted a challenge at it.

“Come on you cursed fish! I will gut you myself!”

The water was eerily silent and nothing happened. The only sound was the lapping of waves against the hull of the vessel.

Gael’jic crept carefully up to the gunwale and looked over the side. He stared down straight into the water and watched.

“Do you see anything, lizard?” Belem demanded.

Gael’jic gave no answer but simply gazed downward. Then a moment later he reeled away from the edge and whipped around to face his companions.

“Find something to hold!” he shouted at them and then dove toward a railing. He wrapped his arms around it and braced himself. The others obeyed the command and did the same. Just in time, Ariam had taken hold of the railing himself when the serpent impacted the bottom of the boat.

The vessel lifted almost entirely out of the water and dropped back down again with a great crash. For a terrifying moment, it seemed the boat would tip and capsize, but it miraculously righted itself. Had the exiles not been holding onto anything they surely would have been thrown entirely off the deck and into the sea.

Ariam turned his face and searched for the Boatman. He found him standing beside the prow of the boat and the wood-carved serpent head that so resembled the creature presently attacking them. He had one hand holding onto the serpent’s neck and remained otherwise seemingly calm and balanced. Ariam guessed the only way that the celestial figure could remain fixed in place with so little effort was that some mystical power held him to the deck of the boat. Little good that did the rest of them.

An explosion of water off to the port side caught their attention. They all turned to see the head of the serpent swaying on the stalk of its body just beside the boat. Its jaw dropped and it hissed at them. It then darted its head toward Gael’jic snapping its jaws as it came. He jumped out of the way and the serpent’s head struck the deck where he had been standing.

Belem scooped up the makeshift shield of planks he’d carried since escaping the prison barge explosion and shouted at the beast. The serpent shifted its attention to the convict and darted at him. Belem danced to the side but the creature was fast. Belem lifted the shield just in time to deflect the serpent’s striking head.

There was a resounding crash from the collision of the serpent against the wooden shield. Belem stumbled back and he noted a large crack had formed in his plank shield, running nearly the entire length of it.

The serpent struck at him again and this time his shield splintered in half. He dropped the pieces to the deck and stood defenseless. Nevertheless, his face was set with grim determination.

The sound of pounding footfalls on the deck of the boat caught Ariam’s attention. He whipped his head around to see Cecil running toward the serpent. He lept from the deck onto the serpent’s back. His spear remained lodged in the side of the beast. Cecil caught the spear shaft in his hands and used it to steady himself. He wrapped his legs around the beast’s body and ripped the spearhead out of the creature’s flesh. He spun it in his hands so that the spearhead pointed where he wanted and he drove the weapon down into the flesh of the serpent once again. This time he leveraged all his might and shoved the spear deeper inside.

The creature writhed and balked. Cecil managed to maintain his position on the creature’s back but barely. His hold on the spear was a significant factor.

Belem came running to Cecil’s aid. His knife flashed as he slashed at the creature’s hide opening another long gash in the thing’s side. In response, the serpent flailed its head and knocked Belem away. He thudded flat on his back. Belem rolled to the side in time to avoid a strike from the serpent’s mouth. He used the roll to come up to a crouching position and lurched forward again.

Belem saw the place where his other knife remained embedded in the creature’s skin. He darted for this and ripped it out causing another long gash as he did so.

The creature roared in pain as it thrashed. This time Cecil was finally thrown from his back. The spear came away with him. The former Royal Guardian collided with the deck but recovered himself quickly and returned to the fight. He ran straight at the serpent who saw him coming.

The creature opened its mouth at him and Cecil lobbed the spear down the monster’s throat. The serpent jerked back as the spear punctured the soft part of its palette.

Belem was back at it too. Now with both knives in his hands, he leaped upon the serpent’s back and began stabbing at it with wild abandon opening up multiple fresh wounds. Blood now poured from countess gashes in the creature’s hide. It writhed and crashed on the deck as they pressed their attack. Gael’jic was by the thing’s head and spinning, whipping his powerful tail down upon it, clubbing the creature’s head against the deck repeatedly.

Belem had climbed his way toward the frontmost part of the beastly threat. He now straddled the thing’s neck right behind its head. The serpent, sensing the danger at hand reared backward but in doing so it gave Belem precisely the opportunity he sought.

Belem dropped off the side of the serpent and landed in front of it and slashed with all his might with one knife across the throat of the creature. For good measure he slashed with the other knife in the opposite direction, opening a second long gash. He took several steps backward to allow the beast to flop and writhe in its death throes on the surface of the Boatman’s vessel.

They all sensed the battle was essentially over though the serpent still maintained some life within. In its last moments, the exiles stood around it staring down at it.

After a few minutes, its thrashing movements abated and it went completely still. Its eyes stared glassy and blank out into nothing. It was dead.

Belem took a few breaths and stalked forward. His attention fell to the two broken halves of his wood plank shield reposing uselessly on the deck. He bent and retrieved one in each hand. He observed one, then the other. He tossed one overboard. It sailed briefly through the air and splashed into the sea. He then repeated this process with the other half. He turned to the Boatman and said, “Where is the pearl?”

The Boatman who had merely watched all of this transpire walked casually up to the serpent and kicked at a spot with his foot.

“There,” was all he said.

Belem nodded to the Boatman and knelt by the place, knife in hand. He carved a long incision and thrust his hand inside until he located what he sought. He pulled and a disgusting sucking noise accompanied the extraction of the pearl.

Belem’s hands and forearms were covered in the blood of the serpent as he turned to the Boatman and casually tossed the fist-sized pearl at him. The Boatman snatched it out of the air.

“There,” Belem said. “We have kept our part of the bargain. Now it is your turn.”

CHAPTER 8. VOID ISLAND

As they drew closer to the island they encountered long white snaking tendrils of mist floating on the surface of the sea. It put them all automatically in mind of the massive serpent they had just slain to reach their destination.

The first appearance of the mist came out of nowhere. The sky and the horizon had been clear. They were all silently waiting to get a better look at the island off in the distance. It remained a black speck far away but that speck grew larger in their sight with each passing moment. Ariam rested on the edge of the boat thinking. Suddenly he exclaimed a shapeless yelp. They all turned in alarm to see what the new problem was and found Ariam standing with his hand on his chest breathing in relief.

“What is it?” Cecil asked.

“Nothing,” he said. “Just a little startled. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I guess I’m still a little jumpy after the serpent. It’s just some fog.” He waved his hand at a long white tendril of mist that had climbed the side of the vessel and began to spill over into the deck.

The alarm that had overtaken the features of his companions now washed away like the surf.

The Boatman uttered a low phrase in a language none of them understood. They all turned their faces to him with expectant expressions.

“What does this mean?” Gael’jic asked.

“It means we draw close,” the Boatman said in his usual wintery voice. “The island will be protected from your vision the closer we get. It is not meant to be found.”

“What do you mean?” Belem asked, narrowing his eyes. “We can see it out there in the distance.”

“Yes,” the Boatman replied. “But soon you will not be able to. Were I not guiding you, you never would be able to make it there. Not even with a boat of your own.”

The exiles shared a look and then fell silent once again. There was no use arguing with the Boatman. He knew what he was talking about and they did not. This was his arena, not theirs.

Sure enough the closer they got the thicker the mists became. More tentacles of the white stuff crept over the sides of the boat and spilled in, swirling around their ankles. The sea was now covered in the opaque mist though the sky yet remained clear and visible. But also as they approached the sea became louder. Long rumbling crashes of waves could be heard all around them.

Before long there would be no way to tell if they might run aground or not. The mists grew thicker yet again. It then began to rise in mystical columns of twisting mist stretching upward to the sky. At first, these were like slowly rising spikes made of fog but then they sent out snaking tendrils across the sky. True to the Boatman’s word their vision of the island became entirely obscured. When it disappeared completely from their sight it appeared not much more than the size of one of their thumbs turned on its side on the horizon.

The fog rolled in over them and obscured their vision of closer objects like the carved serpent head at the prow. Not long after that, they could hardly see one another unless they huddled together on the deck of the boat.

“How can you be sure you won’t crash into something?” Ariam asked

The Boatman’s hazy form turned to him. Even though he was hard to see his glowing eyes pierced the fog and there was no mistaking the reproachful set of his gaze. He shook his head but said nothing.

“Best not to antagonize him,” Gael’jic offered in a low voice.

“I wasn’t,” Ariam replied innocently. “I merely wanted to know.”

“He is a mystical creature,” Gael’jic said. “His boat is also.” As each of them quietly contemplated what the next phase of their journey might look like Ariam yelped in fright once again.

“Will you cut that out?” Belem barked at him.

Ariam did not respond. He merely looked beyond the side of the boat and pointed. A large dark shape rose out of the mists. It too was obscured by the fog to tell what it was, but it was large and dark enough to be marginally discerned through the mists.

“What is that?” Cecil asked. “Is that the island?”

“It is a stony arm from the island,” the Boatman replied grimly. “It stretches out for some time before we arrive there. It is composed of razor-rock. If we were to get too close it would destroy the boat.”

“Charming,” Cecil replied. “Are there many of those razor-rock arms around?”

“Yes,” the Boatman said. “That is why it is important to take the precise route to the island. If one does not, then one does not make it to the island.”

They journeyed on for a few minutes longer until the boat slowed down. Even without visual cues, they could tell this was happening. Soon the boat came to a complete stop and the Boatman walked toward the prow of the vessel once more. He stopped by it and stroked the wooden serpent’s head there. The thing came to life once again and looked at him then turned and beheld each of the passengers in turn. It opened its jaws and issued an echoing hiss at them.

“I suppose that’s our subtle hint to leave,” Belem said.

“It is,” the Boatman said.

Belem wasted no time but stalked forward until he came to stand by the Boatman and looked over the edge. Waves gently lapped the beach below. Without another thought, Belem hopped over the side and landed with a splash in the surf. Cecil came next, followed by Gael’jic and lastly Ariam.

Cecil turned and looked up at the Boatman and said, “How does this work? Will you wait here for us once we are finished?”

The Boatman solemnly shook his head. “I do not wait. I must return to the sea.”

Belem grunted and then said, “Then do I call you again as I did before?”

The Boatman stared at him for a handful of heartbeats, then answered, “No. I will not be seeing you again on this journey.”

“Then how in the blazes do we get off this island?” Belem demanded.

“That is not my concern,” replied the Boatman.

Belem looked like he was about to explode with fury but Cecil put a hand on his shoulder. “Hold on,” he said. “We don’t know what’s next in store for us. We may not be leaving the same way we came, but we will be leaving somehow.”

“And how do you know that, guardsman?” Belem retorted, making the final word sound poisonous.

“I don’t think Vael would have led us here if we were not meant to return. Remember he promised there was a path for you to get to Lycas Ryth. Unless that man is coming here, then there is some way off this island. But to find it, we have to complete our first task.”

“Find the gate,” Gael’jic supplied. The Dar’rynakai turned and stared into the interior of the island. Everything was concealed by the unyielding mists that had encroached upon them on the sea.

“That should be fun,” Belem quipped. He turned to say something else to the Boatman and then his jaw froze open as he stared at the place where the Boatman had been. All of them turned and looked in surprise to find that the Boatman had disappeared. His boat was gone too. Now there was only a beach and surf.

“I suppose that means we march on,” Ariam said.

“Yes,” Belem said. “But can we do it without your incessant cheerfulness?”

Ariam shrugged and began walking away from the surf. They all joined him an instant later.

The fog was thick all about them obscuring their sight beyond anything farther than six feet or so. Soon they came to a large dark boulder and a line of beach grasses and other plants all around. Small purple flowers with yellow centers littered the area along with large leafing vines. Beyond the boulder was a rising trail amidst massive stones and cliffs.

They halted and looked up the trail. They could not see very far but what they could see was a steep rise.

“I suppose this is our way up,” Ariam said with a smile. He began to climb and they all fell in behind him.

The path upward was quite narrow and barely large enough for one of them to fit at a time. There were large stones along the sandy path and if one were not careful they could easily trip and injure themselves. Large rocky overhangs that they could barely see through the mist jutted out above their heads. With grunting efforts they each started to climb the trail.

Not far up Ariam halted and held up a hand.

“What is it?” Cecil asked.

Ariam hissed a shushing sound. It was so uncharacteristic of his normal communication that it brought all of them up short. The urgency of it was unmistakable.

They went completely still and listened for whatever it was that had caught Ariam’s attention.

At first, they could hear nothing. They exchanged looks of confusion but then Gael’jic began to nod.

“Yes,” he whispered. “I hear it too.” He cocked his head in thought for a moment then said, “My ears are far sharper than yours, human. I wonder why you were able to hear it first.”

“Probably because he’s farther up the trail than we are,” Cecil supplied. “Maybe the fog is so dense it is cutting out the sound as well.”

“That would make this some strange fog indeed,” Gael’jic replied. But then he nodded his assent. There was no denying the oddity of it. Everything about this journey was tinged with the unexpected. They all knew that.

“But what is it?” Ariam asked, squinting in concentration.

“Drums,” Belem replied. “The prisoners taken this way may not be on the island, but someone is.”

CHAPTER 9. A DISTANT GLEAM

The wind whipped at their backs as they climbed the steep path away from the beach. The wind was cold and biting but they soon discovered it was not the most dangerous element in the environment. Belem suddenly recoiled his hand that he had outstretched to steady himself on the rock beside the path encasing them. He looked at his hand and saw a line of blood trickle down his palm.

“What now?” Cecil asked.

“This cursed razor-rock,” Belem said snarling at the inanimate wall beside him. The rock was no mere sand-smoothed stone by the beach. It was sharp, jagged, and crystalline.

Cecil leaned closer for a better look, slowly nodded, then drew away. “I see,” he said. He turned to the others and said, “Be careful. Try not to touch the rock if you can manage it. But if you have to, be very careful about it.”

Gael’jic and Ariam took to examining the rock and gave their assent by nodding. The climb was made all the more difficult by this new restriction. Ariam found himself reaching out constantly, then recoiling his hand at the last moment not wanting to slice his flesh on the jagged path. Gael’jic maintained his balance well enough by repositioning his tail and swaying it back and forth as necessary.

Once they reached the top Ariam stood to the side so the others could file past him. When the last of them came they all stood in a line staring at the next phase of their journey. Their visibility was not much better at the crest of the path than it had been on the beach. There was still much dense fog to contend with.

Belem took a step forward, then another, then stopped and planted his fists on his hips as he surveyed the scene before them. He grunted then strode forward once again expecting the others to fall in behind him. When they didn’t he turned and raised eyebrows at them.

“Where exactly do you think you’re going?” Cecil asked.

Belem stared at the man as if the question were silly.

“We have to get to the gate, don’t we?” Belem asked.

“Yes,” Cecil replied, drawing out the word. “But none of us know the way.”

Belem’s jaw dropped open to quip back at Cecil and then he snapped it shut again. He thought about this for a second, turned, and glanced over his shoulder toward the interior of the island. He then turned once again and cast a confused look at his companions.

“I think I do know the way,” he said, befuddled. Then he looked downward and more quietly said to himself, “How could I know the way? I’ve never been here before.”

“Something else mystical for you to deny?” Gael’jic asked with a reptilian smirk. Belem leveled a baleful glance at the lizard-man. But he could come up with no response. Instead, he grunted in frustration and turned back toward the fog-shrouded country before them. “Are you going to come or not?” he barked at the others.

“Lead the way,” Cecil said cautiously.

And so he did.

The terrain beyond the crest of the steep path was not much less treacherous than the climb. Jagged spikes of crystal sprouted up at various points along the path. The path itself was hardly discernible. Part of this was due to the density of the fog, the other part was owing to the fact that there was no longer much of anything resembling a clear path. And even though they were now away from the beach, there remained a fair amount of fine sand. This pushed away from their feet with each step, minimally resisting their progress. It made them work all the harder and they all understood this would sap their energy fast.

Ariam cast his gaze wide, searching for anything resembling food that might be foraged. The vegetation was mostly green and grassy. Occasional wildflowers darted the landscape as well, but there did not appear to be any kind of berry-producing flora or other fruit that was obvious. A thought struck him and he addressed Gael’jic.

“You said before that you would teach us to forage for fruit that was normally hidden from obvious discovery. Is there any possibility we can do that now?”

The Dar’rynakai shook his head from side to side and replied, “This is not terrain with which I am familiar. I see much plant life with which I am unfamiliar. It is unlikely that we will encounter something that I know for sure to be edible and not poisonous. I would not risk it here.”

Ariam dropped a disappointed look toward the sandy expanse they trekked. The gnawing hunger would remain.

“Has anyone else noticed that those strange drumbeats have ceased?” Gael’jic asked.

Semi-surprised looks adorned the faces of his human companions.

“No, I guess I hadn’t,” Ariam answered. “I was beginning to think it might have just been my imagination, had it not been for the rest of you hearing it. What do we do if it reappears?”

Belem shrugged. “Not much we can do, is there? Until we encounter somebody, we can’t fight them or avoid them. Those by the way are our only two options. And I think the latter is the preferred choice.”

“I agree,” Cecil said. “We have enough fight ahead of us. No need to go looking for trouble now.”

After a while, Belem growled and said, “When will this bloody fog clear?”

“I doubt that it will,” Gael’jic replied. “It is apparently meant to conceal the island. I do not doubt that in the unlikely eventuality someone stumbles across this island, it is intended to hamper navigation.”

Belem only grunted in response, shook his head as he was prone to do, and carried on moving forward.

The path did not deviate much, though every once in a while Belem took an unexplained turn. They traveled this way for some time. Then, without warning, large dark shapes loomed out ahead of them through the mist and they all slowed but did not halt.

“I think those are trees,” Cecil said quietly.

They were. Gael’jic had secretly hoped to find Raka trees on the island, but these – like the rest of the vegetation – were of a variety with which he was unfamiliar. The trunks were twisted and gnarled. The bark flaked off in spiky projections. The leaves that hung down were more like large blades of grass than the leaves of a Raka tree, which were flat and wide.

Ariam reached toward a low-hanging branch and the leaves seemingly proffered by it. Moments before he touched the leaf he withdrew his hand, thinking better of it. If the spiky, protruding rocks they encountered along the path were so dangerously sharp there was no telling how hazardous were the other things on the island. The edge of the leaf looked blade-sharp and so he decided against contact.

As he pondered this Belem gasped up ahead. It broke his reverie and he returned his attention quickly to his companion. “What is it?” Ariam asked, his voice cracking a little.

“I saw something move in the mist,” he answered, his eyes fixed on a particular point ahead of them. A menacing scowl painted his brow.

Cecil came up to his side and stared pointedly in the same direction of Belem faced. “Describe it,” he hissed. “What did it look like?”

“It wasn’t very big,” Belem replied at once. “Man-sized, no larger. It was fast.”

Cecil brandished his spear at the ready. A quick assessment told him Belem already had both his knives in hand. “I think we’re being tracked,” Cecil warned. “Everyone, stay quiet and still.” Ariam found himself holding his breath as he waited for some untold horror to charge out of the fog at them. The waiting for it was intolerable, but he guessed it was better than it actually happening. Several minutes passed and they all stood poised for action but nothing happened.

“I think we better get moving again,” Belem said leaning over to Cecil. “If we have a fight ahead of us, might as well take it to them rather than wait for them to bring it to us. We’ll make more progress that way.”

Cecil thought for a moment then nodded his agreement. Thus Belem recommenced their journey.

They tread more carefully and quietly now. Their eyes grew more vigilant. Ariam disciplined himself not to see enemies that were not there, menacing shapes that were not truly present. Though he was having a hard time of it. The mists sometimes moved, creating shadows that otherwise would not be there.

Gael’jic hissed a gasp of surprise. They all whipped around to look at the Dar’rynakai scholar. Before any had a chance to ask what the matter was, he lifted a finger and pointed off in the distance. Their eyes tracked the direction of his pointing finger and soon saw what he had glimpsed.

Through the dense fog, there was a glimmer in the sky. It remained fixed in place. Though they could not discern the nature of what caused the light, it was immediately apparent to all of them that it was something reflecting the light. Something tall.

“That is where we are headed,” Belem said with finality. No one argued with him. After a few quiet moments, Belem added, “I do not think it is far off. We will reach it before long.”

Just then the drums started up again.

CHAPTER 10. THE CRYSTAL TOWER

They only allowed the beating of the drums to halt their progress for a few moments more. Then, looking at one another and shrugging, they continued their journey toward the gleaming light in the mist. Belem continued to take the lead.

All of them found their eyes drawn upward to the light in the fog. They had to force themselves to keep their gaze focused on their immediate surroundings lest they stumble into a sharp patch of crystalline stones. It was a long time before the source of the reflected light took anything approaching a shape.

When it did begin to reveal its form, it was unclear yet for a good while longer. There was a definite triangle definition to it. Gael’jic was the first to notice this and comment to the others. They all squinted as they stared in that direction then one by one confirmed his assessment.

It was not long until they noticed the fog growing thinner. More trees and outcroppings of the razor-rock could be seen with clarity around them.

The other fact they all noticed was that the closer they came to whatever the object was, the louder the drums became. It was impossible to tell how many men or whatever they were, were beating the drums but it seemed like there were several. Now in addition to the drums, there could be heard the muffled voices of people chanting something. The words were unclear but their tone was unmistakable. It was both rhythmic and guttural. There was an implicit threat in whatever was said.

“Do you think we will encounter whoever is doing this before we reach whatever that structure is?” Ariam asked. The detectable tremor in his voice notwithstanding, he managed to keep his face set in a serious mask. Gael’jic noted this silently as he tossed a glance in the beggar’s direction.

“Impossible to say,” the Dar’rynakai responded. Though his senses were keener than those of his human companions, he was still struggling to ascertain much regarding the chanting and drumming. There were too many surfaces with the trees and the crystalline stones from which the noise reverberated. The fin rising from the crest of his brow and running to the middle of his back stood straight up in agitation and concern. He gave his snout a single shake and the dewlap hanging from his chin wobbled.

Belem heard the commotion over his shoulder and said, “What worries you, lizard? If you detect trouble, better speak of it now.”

“I’m sure there’s nothing that troubles me that does not already trouble the rest of you,” Gael’jic responded.

Cecil hushed everyone and called for them to stop. He pointed up toward the ever-clarifying shape of reflected light out ahead of them. When they lifted their attention they all gasped. It was as if a giant hand had reached down and swiped away the mists and clouds to reveal the structure. What they had taken for a triangular form was only partially so. Now their eyes beheld a tall crystal tower striking up at the sky like a massive spike.

The top of it was triangular and four-sided. At the lower pyramidal termination points on each of the tower’s corners, the edges of the tower gradually descended in a sloped squared-off fashion. Its surface gleamed in the sunlight; so much so that it was nearly difficult to look upon.

The reflected light from the top of the tower, which Cecil judged to be about thirty meters above the ground, seemed to be pushing away the mists. The gray vapors were still present near the ground but well above their heads, a massive oval-shaped hole in the fog pushed away from the tower leaving a portion of the sky clear.

“In there,” Belem said with certainty. “That is where we will find the gate.”

All eyes turned to the convict. His three companions beheld him for a time without saying anything. They did not doubt him exactly but wondered at his certainty. Even more so, they wondered at his continual dismissal of all things mystical.

“How do you know?” Ariam prompted gently.

Belem shrugged. “Don’t care. I just do.” He turned his face to the beggar and then said, “That good enough for you?”

“I suppose it will have to be,” Ariam answered.

“Then let’s quit yammering and get to it.” Belem started once again moving forward.

The drums continued but they ceased growing louder as the companions traveled. Ariam wondered if that meant they were presently going to come upon the ones making the sounds. He hoped not.

A few minutes later they came to the base of the crystalline tower. The fog had now been completely driven back and they could see their surroundings perfectly. Though when they turned and looked behind them they saw a wall of mists and the dark shapes of trees and jutting crystal rocks sticking out in many directions.

“What was that?” Cecil said quickly, pointing into the mists.

“What did you see?” Gael’jic asked.

“There was movement,” Cecil replied. “Fast. But I did not hear sound accompanying it.”

“This place feels funny,” Ariam said slowly as the tremor returned to his voice.

“Don’t get your hackles up,” Belem snapped at the beggar. “You’re just going to make it worse.” Without another word, Belem stalked slowly toward the base of the crystal tower. As he drew closer he slowed down and held out his hand in almost a defensive gesture, as if he were keeping something at bay.

He ceased moving forward when his hand was but inches from the surface of the tower. He allowed his hand to drop to his side as he bent forward slightly at the waist and examined the brilliant surface more closely.

He stopped and tilted his head to one side. He lifted his hand once again and stretched it out and gently brushed his fingertips across the crystal. Upon initial contact, he quickly withdrew his hand as if expecting pain. When nothing occurred, he reached out again and this time pressed his palm against the outer surface of the tower. He held it there for a handful of heartbeats then dropped his hand to his side once more. He turned and looked at his companions and gave a disappointed look.

“Were you expecting something to happen?” Ariam asked.

“Sort of,” Belem said scowling. “I see no entrance,” he commented, “but I thought one would reveal itself.”

The group fell quiet as they too stepped forward and examined the exterior of the structure.

After a few moments, Cecil said, “Perhaps we are on the wrong side of it? We should walk around it.” After a moment’s consideration, he added, “Together. No splitting up.”

Belem grunted in acknowledgment and began circumnavigating the base of the tower. His steps were slow and careful as his eyes combed every inch of the tower from the height of his eye line down to the place where the tower pointed up from the ground. The others did likewise.

Bright shards of crystal gravel and sand crunched and moved beneath their feet as they crept along.

Suddenly into the silent search, Ariam gasped and the others quickly swiveled their heads toward him.

“Do you not hear?” He said, hushed. “The drums have stopped again. The chanting, too.”

Belem made an impatient gesture and accompanied it with a sour face. “What of it?” he said. “We have no time for observation games.”

“What if it means they know we are here? What if it means they are coming to defend this structure from us?”

“Then best to stop asking questions about it and get back to finding the door,” Belem growled.

Ariam nodded his head eagerly but then added, “Yes, but should not at least one of us stay alert to the coming of a potential threat?”

“Great idea,” Belem said as he turned away. “Why don’t you do that?”

Ariam nodded and turned outwards as he followed the group and kept his eyes on their surroundings.

They continued their slow navigation around the base of the tower and no one seemed to find anything. Ariam quietly whispered into the silence, “I saw movement. Just like Cecil did.”

Cecil turned and stared into the fog. “Are you sure? Where?”

Ariam pointed and Cecil took a few steps in that direction. He halted and stared at the general area for a succession of breathless moments. Then he shook his head in frustration. “I don’t see anything,” he said. He turned a charitable face back to Ariam and added, “But that doesn’t mean he didn’t.”

“I know,” Ariam said swallowing a cold lump in his throat. A chill ran from his shoulders down to his fingertips. He tried to shake this off, but the sense that there was danger nearby refused to flee.

Suddenly Gael’jic burst out, “Over here! I found something.” The potential threat of visitors from beyond the mists vanished from the rest of their minds as they turned their attention to what Gael’jic found. They jogged over to him and examined where he indicated. The surface of the tower was completely smooth save for one small oddity. It was about an inch tall but carved into the shape of a teardrop. It was a hole in the surface of the tower.

“What is that?” Ariam asked.

“It’s a kind of keyhole,” Belem replied grimly. “But it doesn’t exactly take a traditional key.”

Ariam shot uncertain glances to the others, then back at Belem. “Then what does it take?”

CHAPTER 11. THE BLOOD KEY

“It’s a blood key,” Cecil interjected before Belem had the chance to answer. All eyes turned to him as he stared grimly back at the little hole. His shoulders sagged as he shook his head. He turned to them and said, “And yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like. It requires someone with the right blood to enter.”

“So, not just any old kind of blood?” Ariam asked.

“What do you think?” Belem snapped. “It’s a security measure designed to keep people out. It will require a very specific genetic signature.”

“What kind of blood?” Gael’jic asked.

“There’s no way to tell,” Cecil said. “They wouldn’t exactly advertise it, would they? We had them at the palace in very sensitive areas.”

“Such as?” Ariam asked tossing an inquisitive glance at Cecil.

Cecil returned the man’s gaze. “Such as anywhere only the royal lineage was allowed to enter. Or whomever they brought with them.”

Ariam’s eyebrows shot up as he turned to Belem. “Royalty, you say?” he drawled.

Belem blinked after a second as comprehension soaked in. He growled, “I know what you’re thinking, beggar.”

“Well,” Ariam prompted. “If what Vael showed us was true and you are legitimately a child of the King, you might be our only hope of getting inside this tower.”

Belem gave a solemn nod and slowly walked over to the little hole. He slipped the tip of his forefinger into the hole and held it there. Nothing happened.

Cecil cleared his throat. “It’s a blood key, not a skin key.”

Belem shot a withering glance at the former captain of the Royal Guardians and removed his finger. He then lifted his other hand which had been sliced by the razor-rock on their journey up the trail from the beach. He observed the dried dark red stain and the clotted wound from which it had blossomed. He tightened his fist to disturb and reopen the wound a little. Fresh blood seeped from between his fingers. He pressed one bloody finger into the hole.

Instantly, a tremor reverberated through the tower at his touch. A deep rumbling could be heard from within and what had moments earlier appeared to be the completely smooth and unbroken surface of the tower exterior now showed a distinct seam. At first, it was the barest hint of a straight black vertical line. It was soon joined by a twin brother three feet to the left of the keyhole. Then a line appeared at the top connecting the two. It formed the outline of a door.

The squared-off shape of the newly appeared door retreated into the tower and slid to the side revealing a deeply darkened interior. Ariam instantly remembered the secret entrance into the Citadel wall through which he had journeyed before venturing into the jungle and meeting his current company. Here was another such door, inviting a further quest. But he did not want to be the first to step through the door. He sensed that belonged to another. And he was right.

Belem moved away from the hole for the blood key and filled the doorway with his heavily scarred and muscular frame. His back was to them but he seemed frozen in place.

He stood there for a long time staring into the black depths of the tower. The sound of tearing fabric brought him to himself. He turned around instinctively and watched as Ariam gazed at a small strip of cloth in the palm of his hand and then proffered it to Belem. He had torn it from his already ragged clothes.

“What’s that for?” Belem asked.

“Your hand,” Ariam said with a smile.

Belem grunted and snatched the cloth away from the beggar. He quickly wrapped the injured palm of his hand in the cloth and tied it tightly using his teeth and his free hand. Without a word of thanks he spun and strode into the crystal tower.

The others came in behind, single file. Ariam brought up the rear. They were several paces in when he stopped and made a thoughtful noise. The others turned to look at him and found him staring back at the still-open doorway behind them.

After a few seconds, he turned back to them and said, “I expected it to close on its own. So far that’s been my experience with this kind of thing.”

“Who cares?” Belem asked.

“Perhaps all of us should,” Gael’jic replied. “If the door does not close then it remains open for whoever may come in after us in pursuit.”

“True,” Cecil supplied. “However, it also remains a way of egress for us in case we need to get out of here quickly.”

Ariam strolled over to the open door and examined the area around it. “I see no other blood key,” he said. “If it closes we might not be able to get out again.”

“Perhaps it is concealed behind the door as it slid to the side,” Gael’jic said.

“Perhaps,” Ariam said nodding. “There’s no way for us to know. Maybe it would be safer if we just left it open.”

“Not that we know how to close it,” Gael’jic observed. Lights started to glow slowly to life all around them dimly illuminating their environment. Soon they discovered everything around them was of the same crystal substance as the tower itself. Not that there was much in the way of ornamentation to see. It was mostly empty space save for a single throne-like seat in the center of the room.

Gael’jic ambled over to it and studied it. There was no padding to speak of; only solid crystal. After a few minutes of examining it (and the others looking on as he did so), he gave up the project and went back to the others with a shrug. They turned their focus on the chamber itself.

The shape of the space was angular and squared off to match the exterior of the tower. Ariam leaned down and examined the thickness of the doorway through which they had entered. The walls appeared to be about two and a half feet deep. The minimal light – for which they could not discern a single source – concentrated mostly in the center of the room cast an orange hue around them. That put Gael’jic in mind of their battle with Jobash. His eyes had glowed orange. The fin on his head went rigid and sat up, a sure sign of his agitation.

The others silently noted this as they all felt the same nameless worry.

The ceiling was a good twenty feet above their heads. Since the tower outside was much taller than that, they knew that meant there were multiple levels they would have to traverse. It did not take them long to discover the staircase leading up to the next area.

Like the one that had descended in the Temple chamber back in the ancient city they had discovered in the jungle, this one wrapped around the room and led to the next section. Also, like the other one, there was no railing to this one. They all stared at it before Belem marched toward it. He lifted one foot and placed it on the first step then hesitated. He craned his neck as his eyes followed the spiral of the staircase around the room until it disappeared halfway across the chamber into the next section. He leaned over to the side to see if he could peer into that next area but it was all dark up there. They would have to go before the way lit itself. That seemed to be the way of things.

He took the next step and then the next and cautiously ascended the spiral staircase. Cecil came next, followed by Gael’jic, and lastly Ariam. When Ariam was halfway to the middle of the first chamber’s stairs, and Belem was at the entrance to the next area above their heads, the lights in the first chamber began to dim. Ariam’s eyes flicked nervously about as he understood he would soon be enveloped in darkness on smooth and perhaps slippery crystal stairs in a strange tower. He hurried his pace somewhat but soon ran into the back of Gael’jic. The Dar’rynakai turned and gave him an irritated look.

“Sorry,” Ariam muttered.

The lizard man stared at him for a few seconds then said, “Perhaps if there are more of these levels to go you should not bring up the rear.”

Ariam drew a shuddering breath and expelled it. “Yes,” he replied. “I think you’re right.”

They soon all entered a second chamber that was roughly the same size as the first. By the time Ariam arrived the light was already flaring to life. Though when his eyes beheld the second chamber, he almost wished it hadn’t.

A gasp escaped him as he stared in horror at his surroundings. Whereas the first chamber below remained empty, this one was furnished with several crystal cages. There were at least a dozen of them ringing the room. Inside the cages were desiccated human corpses. The inhabitants of them all seemed to be in roughly the same state of decay. They were long dead though they were not mere skeletons. Dry cracked skin stretched across bones though some of their skeletal structure was exposed. Belem stood in the midst of these with his arms folded across his chest and an unreadable look on his face.

“Looks like not everyone who is brought this way made it through the gate,” he said in a flat tone.

“But why?” Ariam asked. “Why keep captives here when there’s a prison colony on the other side of the gate?”

“Look here,” Cecil said. He knelt beside one of the cages and stared at its contents. They all shuffled over to him around some of the cages. As he crouched down beside one of the cages his forearms rested on his knees. He absently flicked a finger toward the inhabitant of the cage and said, “Next to him. What is that thing?”

They all bent forward and stared into the cage.

The dead prisoner had his wrists shackled to the side of the cage. But also extending from one wrist was a clear tube. It snaked downward into a technical contraption of some kind.

The device was old and covered in crystal dust. As Ariam examined it he noticed a glass catch basin. It had once been transparent but now was crusted with some kind of brown material. His eyebrows shot upward as he realized it was dried blood. He shifted his face back to the dead prisoner and noticed another tube running into his dry desiccated mouth. He realized this one was not meant for taking but giving. It was a feeding tube.

“They were kept alive,” he said. “At least for a time. And they drained them of blood. But why?”

Silence fell upon the group as they all considered this new development. At last, Belem growled deeply in his throat and said, “Blood key.”

They turned their attention to him and found his face furious. “They were keeping a supply of blood to use as a blood key,” he said.

Cecil’s eyes went wide as he stood and looked around the room. “Does that mean that all of these prisoners were…?”

He couldn’t finish the question.

“They were all of the royal blood,” Gael’jic finished.

The color drained from Belem’s face when he put the puzzle together. “I was on my way to this place,” he said. “And Lycas Ryth knew that I was of royal blood.”

“This could have been your fate,” Ariam said.

Belem’s face went from terrified astonishment to storming rage in the blink of an eye. “He was going to cage me and use me?” He seethed.

“Rama’dy’ac spared you this dreadful fate,” Gael’jic said.

Belem shot the Dar’rynakai a dark look. It cut off further comment from the lizard-man. They all stood not knowing what to say as Belem worked through all the implications of this new information. Finally, Ariam turned his head back to the staircase. It rose to the next level. “There’s more to go,” he said.

“I can’t wait,” Belem said after a lengthy pause.

CHAPTER 12. INVISIBLE RESISTANCE

They lingered only for a few moments more and then ascended the next part of the staircase. It was not difficult to leave this chamber behind, especially not for Belem. But in a sense, he would carry what he witnessed in that room for the rest of his life.

Now with a little more purpose pushing their steps they moved upward faster. Even Ariam abandoned his usual cautious gait and moved with speed. The lights in the next section came on just as slowly as in the previous two, but it did not take long to see there was only one structure dominating this room. At the center of the chamber was a tall crystalline arch. Belem halted in his tracks when he saw it and the others who were still moving walked into his back. He hardly noticed.

A great weight of dread fell upon him when he beheld the arch, which he immediately apprehended was the gate for which they had come. He could not say exactly why he felt this way, only that it persisted with undeniable force. The other’s eyes fell immediately upon it and all activity ceased. A hush fell over them as they all experienced the same sensation Belem did.

After a few heartbeats, Ariam blew out a sigh and said, “I guess this is it. We found the gate. But now how do we activate it?”

The four companions shared confused looks and none of them wanted to step up to examine the gate. Something in their minds forbade them from doing so. Each of them secretly hoped one of the others would be the first to move toward it so that they all could follow. But none of them would.

A frustrated grunt escaped Belem. “What are we waiting for?” he asked into the pregnant silence. Yet he would not go forward either.

At last, Ariam said, “I can’t.”

They all looked at him, examined his terrified face, and realized he felt the same thing they all did. It was oppressive but as they soon discovered, it was more than a simple emotional hindrance.

A grunt of effort came from Cecil and when they turned to look at him, they watched as he struggled physically to move forward. But, no matter how hard he tried, he could not press ahead. Belem likewise attempted to move on but could not.

“What is wrong with us?” Cecil asked.

“It must be a spell of some kind,” Gael’jic interjected. “Perhaps Uri’thind’ac has placed a curse on this chamber so that no one can carry on unless specially equipped to do so.”

“Great,” Cecil growled. “And how are we supposed to do that?”

A long pause followed which Gael’jic eventually broke. “Maybe it can be overcome by one’s strength of will after time.”

Belem issued a long and tortured grunt of effort and said, “I hear a lot of maybes and perhapses from you, Lizard. Have anything more solid?”

“I’m afraid not,” Gael’jic replied, his voice now showing equal signs of strain as the others.

They all stood there trying to will themselves to move forward but it had no positive effect. Dismay settled over all of them as their faces dropped feeling shame that they would not be able to progress to the next necessary point of their journey. All felt lost.

Ariam felt a sudden compulsion to turn around and leave. But when he tried to do so, he found that an equally strong force held him in place and prevented him from going back. He tried to lift his foot and turn his body but these would not obey his command. A desperate whimper escaped him as he tried to yank his feet from the floor. But it was all to no avail. He lifted a hand to place it on Gael’jic’s shoulder to get his attention.

When his hand landed on the Dar’rynakai’s flesh something happened. A shock went through both of them. They stiffened at the sensation, their backs going ramrod straight, and their eyes shooting wide open. But accompanying this shock there was something else. It was like a small spark of desire to do something flickered to life inside both of them. They looked at one another in surprise. Ariam quickly pulled his hand back and the spark was gone.

“You felt that too, didn’t you?” Ariam said excitedly to Gael’jic. The Dar’rynakai merely nodded slowly.

Cecil turned to address them. “What is the…?” He stopped mid-sentence when he realized he could not move as he wished. Belem swiveled his upper body to see what the commotion was about then realized he too was rooted in place. “What the blazes is happening now?” he demanded.

“It’s some kind of trap!” Belem shouted. “We’ve been caught in the spider’s web.” He lifted angry eyes toward Gael’jic. “Where is your Rama’dy’ac now?” he hissed.

The despair had returned to Gael’jic, but it had not yet overpowered the memory of the flicker of desire to move when Ariam had touched him. Ignoring Belem’s implied aspersion on his god, he turned back to the beggar and shot his hand out toward him. His fingers landed on the other man’s neck and the shock returned along with a renewed motivation. But now it was more than just a spark. It was like a single, small candlelight in the dark. He looked down at his legs and tested one of them. The foot barely came up from the floor and then slammed back down. He lifted a surprised expression to Ariam who looked down at his own legs.

The beggar tried and groaned with the effort. His leg would not move at first, but then he was able to drag it forward.

“How are you doing that?” Cecil demanded. He was a few paces away and Gael’jic realized he could not yet reach out and connect with the man. They would have to move over to him. It would be difficult, but he thought he and Ariam could do it. But they had to remain connected to one another to do so.

Gael’jic looked at Ariam and said, “It is because we are touching. We must move together to the others.”

Ariam nodded his head eagerly. “I think the more of us are connected, the easier it will be to move.”

Gael’jic nodded and then turned toward Cecil who was the closest. They both struggled to shuffle across the floor toward him. The exiled guardsman stretched out his hand, eyes desperate for them to get there faster. In response, Gael’jic stretched his hand out toward the man. They strained toward one another, though Gael’jic and Ariam at least were able to make some progress while Cecil was still completely rooted in place. Belem watched all of this over his shoulder fighting the sinking feeling of despair the room imposed upon him.

They were close to each other now. Their fingertips were centimeters apart. The instant before their hands touched, a visible blue spark jumped between them. Cecil felt electricity course through his body and then their hands closed the distance as they came into contact with one another. The spark became a powerful river-like current and he straightened with it. A cry of both pain and delight escaped him. Whatever this power was it overtook his entire form.

Gael’jic and Ariam lurched forward now able to move a little easier. Instead of a dragging shuffle, Ariam found his feet now disconnected from the ground and he could take halting steps. Now that three out of the four of them were joined their progress came quicker. They turned as one toward Belem. The convict was looking over his shoulder at them with eyes filled with defeat.

But they also could see this hopelessness was at war against the rising rage that was such a regular part of the man. He fought powerfully within himself but made no progress.

Hand in hand the three of them stumbled slowly toward him. Cecil reached his hand out toward the man. But Belem looked back at them with his arms still firmly fixed to his sides.

“Come on you fool,” Cecil shouted. “Reach out.” The war continued and Belem’s eyes. He stared back at them not wanting to stretch out.

Something like a bell rang deep in Ariam’s memory. It was something Belem had said and then repeated. No one ever gave me anything, he had said. He was a man accustomed to needing nothing from anyone. And wasn’t that what Vael had revealed about him? His lack was love. He would not connect to others. But he needed to.

Ariam shot begging eyes toward the convict. “Please,” he said quietly. “Just reach out. We can help you.”

Belem gritted his teeth as he stared over his shoulder at them. He turned his face away and stared toward the gate. Ariam feared the man would remain forever rooted in place unless they crossed the distance fully to him and touched him. But he also wondered if that would even work. If Belem refused their help, if he did not want to be a part of it, would it work? The question became moot. Belem swiveled his upper body toward them and stretched out his hand reluctantly. “Then come,” he said. “Get it over with.”

They recommenced their shambling walk toward him. Cecil stretched his hand out and Belem returned the gesture. Moments before their fingertips connected there was light. But instead of the small spark that had occurred when three were joined, this time there was a bright flash of blue light. Thick beams of the new light shot out and impacted the orange glow around them. It pierced through it. The orange light receded replaced by the blue glow.

Cecil and Belem’s hands folded around one another. Soon the orange light was completely gone and only blue remained. They all stood in place holding one another’s hands gasping for breath.

When their breathing returned normal a few moments later Ariam said, “Hold on. I want to try something.” He released his grip on Gael’jic’s hand and stood still for a moment. Then he took a step backward. A smile stretched across his face. “It’s over. We’ve beaten it.” The other exiles looked toward one another. Belem quickly dropped Cecil’s hand as if it were a poisonous thing and backed a few steps away from the man. Lastly, Cecil and Gael’jic looked toward one another and slowly released their hold on each other’s hands. They felt they could move. Relief washed over all of them.

They soon realized they yet had a great purpose in this room to deal with and turned back toward the crystal arch. They approached it slowly, reverently.

When they arrived at the nearest leg they examined it. It appeared to be nothing more than an empty crystal arch. But Belem’s eyes soon fell upon the small teardrop-shaped hole on the side of it.

He turned back to the others and said, “Blood key.” He removed the small strip of frayed fabric Ariam had given him and looked once again at the small angry red wound he had received from the razor-rock. Blood still dripped from it. He pressed his bloody finger forward into the hole. He looked toward the gate and waited for it to come to life. But nothing happened.

He shot disbelieving eyes at the teardrop shape and removed his finger to look at it. “What’s wrong with this thing?” he half-shouted. “Why won’t it work?” He lifted his eyes toward the gate once again and leveled a hateful glare at it.

Gael’jic stepped forward and looked at the teardrop-shaped hole and lifted a hand to stroke the dewlap hanging from his long snout. He made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat as he tilted his head and examined it. He looked back up towards the arching shape and slowly stalked toward the other side. When he reached the other leg of the arch he examined it and motioned them over with one hand. They all trampled up that way and their eyes beheld another shape. This hole was not teardrop-shaped, however, but instead was a small rectangular slit.

“Looks like we also need another kind of key,” Cecil said.

All thoughts of the other key vanished when the rumbling sound of boot strikes came thundering up the stairs from below. They were accompanied by the renewed beating of drums.

CHAPTER 13. GUARDIANS OF THE GATE

Four new combatants charged up the stairs and into the chamber. It registered somewhere in each of the companion’s minds that this number perfectly matched their own. Ariam thought there must be some significance to it, as did Gael’jic. Cecil and Belem were too busy strategizing to care much.

The newcomers wore armor quite similar to that of the Royal Guardians. There were a few differences, however. Mostly these were cosmetic. Whereas the armor worn by Cecil and the Royal Guardians was dominantly a regal purple trimmed in gold, these were mostly crimson, trimmed in black. The other chief difference was that these newcomers also wore helmets that completely covered their faces. Dark-colored material served as visors through which no one could see into the masks. That made every inch of their flesh completely concealed from view.

Each of the black-and-red-clad figures also sported a long staff. The major part of the shaft was smooth and glistening silver in color. However, both ends were black but crackled with arcs of red electricity. These they held at the ready pointing them towards the four companions.

The four new combatants spread out effectively cutting off any hope of escape down the stairs while at the same time poising themselves to move inward like a deadly net.

Gael’jic hunched his shoulders forward, lowered his head, and opened his mouth to hiss loudly. The fin stretching from his head to the middle of his back stood up rigid. Cecil gave the bushcraft spear that had been hardened by the Dar’rynakai people a simple twirl in his hands and then directed the sharp end toward the newcomers. Belem had both knives out of their sheathes and in his hand. He poised himself into a fighting stance ready to strike. Ariam, the only member of the group who remained completely unarmed, moved away from the Gate Guardians and looked around the room for anything that might serve as cover. Aside from the arch of the gate, there was nothing.

Tense silence settled over the chamber. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of breathing. Ariam wondered if the interminable moment would ever transform into anything else. His eyes combed the newcomers, darting between each of them. Suddenly his eyes flicked back to the one he had just looked over and widened in surprise.

“Look,” he said. He pointed at that one and the four companions chanced a brief moment to observe what Ariam had discovered. Hanging from his belt was a small object that looked like it served as the key to the other side of the gate.

“Give us the key and we will let you go,” Belem demanded.

The four crimson-and-black-clad warriors remained completely motionless as if they had not heard him. They were so still that they could have been mistaken for statues. Until one of them broke forward in a blur of motion.

The one closest to Belem launched into action thrusting the crackling end of his staff toward the convict. Belem easily dodged this and swiped at the man with one of his knives. The blade glanced off the armor doing no damage at all. The others took this as a signal to launch into the fight as well. As if a switch had been flipped the other three flowed into action, thrusting their staffs toward the other companions. And they came at a run.

Ariam was caught off guard by the move but Cecil and Gael’jic were prepared.

Gael’jic dropped into a low crouch as he spun around whipping his tail at his oncoming opponent. The thrust of the Gate Guardian’s crackling staff jabbed harmlessly overhead into the space Gael’jic’s upper torso had moments earlier occupied. At the same time, the Dar’rynakai’s tail connected powerfully with the Guardian tearing him off his feet and launching him into the air. The Guardian made an involuntary breathless noise as the air was driven from his lungs. In the next moment, he collided with another of his companions who was racing toward Ariam. The beggar breathed a temporary sigh of relief when he saw his immediate threat was averted.

Cecil leveraged his spear to block the thrust of his opponent. The energized end of his enemy’s staff was pushed off to the side. At the same time, Cecil used the momentum of his movement to bring the other end of his spear around and crack the Guardian on the side of the helmet. The Guardian staggered from the blow and Cecil seized the opportunity. He brought his spear back around and jabbed the sharpened end at one of the areas of the armor he knew would be vulnerable. The point passed between plates of armor and went into the area where the arm met the upper torso. If the spear he used had remained a simple wooden implement it probably would not have done the job. But since the Dar’rynakai had worked their craft on it, the sharpened point was hard enough to penetrate the technologically advanced weave of the material beneath the armor.

The screech that came out of Cecil’s opponent was inhuman. It was a hissing shriek that hurt Cecil’s ears. If he had been paying attention to Ariam and Belem he would have noticed they too winced in pain at the noise.

In Belem’s case, that wince was enough to give his opponent an advantage to strike. They had been trading blows ineffectively with one another; one attacking, the other blocking. But now that Belem was distracted by the sound of Cecil’s opponent’s perishing, his enemy seized the opportunity and struck. He thrust the electrified end of his staff into Belem’s midsection. Arcs of energy coursed over his body and he convulsed. Then he fell to his knees with a cry. His vision went blurry and his muscles would not obey him.

His opponent pulled his weapon back and readied it for another strike.

Cecil yanked his spear out of his dying enemy and dashed to intervene. He arrived just in time to deflect a blow. He thrust his spear forward and caught the impending strike, and pressed forward. The Gate Guardian’s staff was pushed just far enough off course to make the crackling end pass a few inches to the side of Belem’s head. Cecil and the Guardian now traded a flurry of strikes, counterstrikes, and parries.

They were a blur of motion. But Cecil was a hairsbreadth faster. He blocked a strike from the Guardian and quickly swiveled and battered the man on the side of the head with a blow of his own. Now that his opponent was dazed he thrust the sharpened end into the man’s midsection at a vulnerable spot in the armor. The point of the spear entered the Guardian’s body and another one of those piercing shrieks filled the air. This time Cecil was ready for it and did his best to endure it.

He yanked the spear out and kicked the man in the middle of his body sending him falling back and flailing his arms to the ground. The Guardian collided with the floor resulting in a thudding noise. He writhed and cradled the wound in his midsection.

Cecil turned toward the remaining two who were now just getting up from Gael’jic’s tail strike.

Gael’jic was already on top of them. He spun and whipped his tail at one of them sending the man flying toward the wall. There was a strong sudden impact and the Guardian slid down the wall and crumpled motionless to the floor. The strike was quite hard and until they could examine him there was no way to tell if he was merely unconscious or if the shock of the collision had killed him. Cecil doubted he was dead. The armor would have compensated for much of the strike. But he still guessed the man would at least be unconscious for several minutes.

But now the other Guardian had recuperated and thrust his staff toward Gael’jic. The Dar’rynakai danced out of the way of the attack but then made a mistake. He reached for the staff with his hands and tried to rip it away from the Guardian. What he did not know was that it was not merely the ends of the weapon that were electrified. The Guardians wore gloves that protected them from an additional charge present in the shaft. Energy coursed through Gael’jic’s body making him convulse and shriek. The Guardian allowed this to continue for a few seconds to be sure that Gael’jic was out of commission. He pulled his weapon back and then used it to strike Gael’jic in the chest sending him careening toward the floor.

But before the Guardian could turn his attention toward anyone else Cecil was already thrusting his spear into the man’s back. He skewered the Guardian at yet another vulnerable point and the armor-clad man arched his back and let loose with one of those horrendous screams. Cecil ripped the spear point out of the man and then brought the butt-end up and around and then clubbed him on the back of the head driving him to the ground. He stood over the man and thrust his spear into him once more for good measure. He wanted to be certain he would not get up again.

Another hissing scream issued from the Guardian. He went suddenly slack and silent. Cecil towered over the body and jabbed the point of the spear into another vulnerable spot, but no further reaction came. The man was dead.

Heaving, Cecil turned to Ariam who was the only other member of their group unscathed. He was at Gael’jic’s side and crouching next to the Dar’rynakai scholar. He worriedly slapped his companion’s cheeks and verbally encouraged him to come to.

“He’ll be all right,” Cecil said. “However, it will probably take a few minutes for him to come around.” He turned and looked to Belem and said, “Same with him.”

Belem remained in the kneeling position he’d been in since he was attacked by the Guardian. Since Cecil was familiar with the weapons the Gate Guardians used, he knew Belem would not be able to move for another minute or two. But eventually, he and Gael’jic would recuperate fully.

Cecil looked to Ariam and said, “Get the key from that one. I’ll cover you.”

Ariam glanced at Cecil, nodded, stood up, and strolled over to the Gate Guardian that Gael’jic had hammered with his tail. The man lay still crumpled on the ground. Ariam took slow, measured steps. His shoulders were tense and hunched as his wide eyes drank in the motionless subject.

Cecil shadowed him and watched, keeping his spear at the ready in case the downed Guardian was only playing at unconsciousness and sprung a trap. He inched closer to Ariam’s side to be sure he could pounce at a moment’s notice.

Ariam crouched next to the downed Guardian and removed the key from the man’s belt. He was about to stand up when an idea struck him. He tilted his head in curiosity and lifted his attention to the helmeted face of the Guardian. He tossed a curious glance over his shoulder toward Cecil then looked back to the fallen man. He set the key down on the floor and reached both hands toward the helmet.

“What are you doing?” Cecil asked.

“Just a feeling,” Ariam said slowly and absentmindedly. He felt underneath the rim of the helmet and found a strap release. He fumbled with it for a few seconds then allowed himself a smirk of victory as he successfully manipulated the device.

He slowly lifted the helmet off the Guardian’s head. He gasped when he saw the man’s face. For it was not a man’s face he saw. It was a monstrosity.

Cecil was by his side in the next instant, leveling the deadly end of his spear at the Guardian’s lifeless visage. He blinked in astonishment and then glowered down in confusion at the face that had been concealed beneath the helmet.

The thing was dead. But the most disturbing detail was the face itself. It was a nightmarish twisted combination of human and reptile. Blank eyes stared pointlessly at the ceiling. One of the eyes looked normal and human but the other was yellow and reptilian. The flesh of the face was a perverse nightmare combination of both human skin and dark green scales. Blond hair shot up from the scalp in patchy bunches from the human portions of the skin. The mouth which hung a little open was filled with both human teeth and jagged reptilian teeth sticking out in a variety of directions.

“What in the blazes kind of abomination are we looking at?” Ariam whispered.

CHAPTER 14. THE OTHER SIDE

Gael’jic recovered shortly thereafter. It was Belem who took his sweet time coming back to the world. They had gathered around his kneeling form, waiting. When he started to come to after several minutes he shot an irritated eye at his companions. “What are you waiting for?” he grumbled. “A dance routine?”

Ariam smirked and shrugged. “Nah,” he said, “you don’t have the hips for it.”

The beggar held out a hand toward Belem. The convict looked up at him, swatted the hand away then pushed himself up on his own steam.

When at last he was standing Ariam said, “Come look at what we found.” Then he cheerfully added, “it’s dreadful!” He then turned away and jogged over to one of the fallen guardians. He pointed at the man’s face then turned and shot an expectant expression at Belem.

Belem grunted and sauntered over to look. He stopped and dropped his focus on the man. He stared quietly for a few seconds, then grunted in halfhearted interest.

A disappointed look crawled across Ariam’s face. “Is that all you have to say?” he asked. “Just ‘huh’?”

Belem lifted his face and answered, “What more do you want? I’m not interested in philosophical discourse on this. It’s weird, that’s all.”

“Weird?” Ariam barked a disbelieving laugh. “Doesn’t this go beyond that?”

“Look,” Belem responded, “things have been weird since just before I met you all.” He tossed a casual hand in the direction of the fallen soldier and said, “This is just more of the same. In any case, what do you want me to do about it?”

“I just thought it was interesting, that’s all,” Ariam muttered as he turned away. “Maybe it’s a piece of the bigger mystery about what’s going on here.”

Cecil cleared his throat and said, “We retrieved the key. Can we get on with this?”

“Suits me,” Belem said. He walked away from the fallen guardsmen and came to stand before Cecil. “After you,” he added.

Cecil turned toward the gate and lifted the object that they figured must be the missing key and approached the slot for it. He inserted the device and stopped to listen. When nothing happened he turned toward Belem and nodded.

Belem strolled toward the other leg of the gate’s arch and pressed the hand that had the small wound forward. He pushed the pad of a still-bloody finger into the blood key slot and a loud humming immediately filled the room. A sudden faint pearlescent shimmer appeared between the arches. It was mostly transparent at first but as the moments passed it quickly became brilliant and opaque.

Cecil stared down at the key still inserted into the slot and said, “What about this? Do we take it with us? Perhaps we will need it on the other side if we come to another gate.”

Without waiting for a response he stretched his hand out toward the key and tried to take it but it would not budge. He yanked harder on it but it remained fixed in place.

“I guess that answers that question,” Belem said snidely.

They all assembled before the shimmering gate and paused.

“Who’s going to go first?” Cecil asked.

No one answered. They exchanged looks for a few moments then Gael’jic stepped forward at last. “I suppose I shall volunteer,” he said. Without waiting for further comment from any of them, he cautiously stepped toward the gate. He halted when he was inches from it then stretched out a hand and plunged it into the shimmering surface. He drew a gasping breath and then was jerked forward through the gate.

The three remaining companions started forward, reaching out, but then halted in the next moment. He was gone almost before they realized it.

Cecil turned to Belem and Ariam then said, “We have to go. No telling how long it’ll stay open like this.” He then lurched forward and disappeared into the shimmering pathway.

Belem and Ariam remained, staring after him and blinking. They both gazed transfixed into the shining gateway waiting for the other to go.

“Well,” Ariam said in a voice slightly higher-pitched than usual. “I suppose this is it.”

Belem lifted a hand and gently placed it on Ariam’s shoulder. He shared a warm smile with the man and Ariam, surprised, smiled back.

“Yes,” Belem said, “I suppose it is.” He then proceeded to shove with all of his might on Ariam’s back pushing him into the gateway.

He shook his head. “So gullible,” he said. He then walked slowly forward until he went into the gate too. A few seconds later the gate closed down and the key fell out of the lock and clattered alone on the floor. The room fell completely silent.

***

Belem found himself standing in a barren wasteland. He was gasping for breath as if he had just emerged out of the ocean. It was a sensation with which he had recently become acquainted. Twice. He didn’t enjoy the reminder. He found himself coughing and sputtering. He bent forward and put his hands on his knees. He felt like he was going to wretch but nothing came out. Ariam came up beside him and patted him on the back.

“It’s all right,” Ariam said, still a little breathless himself. “Relax.”

Belem shoved Ariam away and went back to sputtering. After a few concentrated moments of this, he caught his breath and stood upright once more. He looked around and found all the others present. His gaze swept beyond them to the desolate landscape everywhere. The sky was a sickly yellow color. The ground was a cracked black hardpan. Here and there could be seen columns of rocky protrusions pointing toward the sky like decrepit fingers. Out in the distance, there could be seen a squarish structure. It was small on the horizon but it was undoubtedly a constructed thing and not a natural formation.

Belem harrumphed. “So,” he said, “this is another planet? Not so grand as I would have hoped.”

“It is the planet Cairn,” Gael’jic said.

Belem shot him a questioning glance. “How do you know that?” he said.

Gael’jic turned and pointed toward the gateway through which they had come. The middle of it was now silent and completely see-through. No shimmering technological wizardry was obvious through it. But on this side of the arch, there was an inscription in lettering Belem did not recognize.

“What is that?” Belem asked.

“I can only read some of it,” Gael’jic said. “It is in a very old Dar’rynakai dialect. But there are at least two words I can pick out. The first word is ‘world.’ The second is the name of the world, ‘Cairn.’”

Ariam made a thoughtful noise. “How fascinating,” he said at last. “Ugly or not, never thought I’d stand on the skin of another planet.”

“Congratulations,” Belem mocked. He pointed out toward the horizon and the obvious structure far down that way. “That must be the Obelisk,” he said. “The prison colony.”

“And our destination,” Cecil added. “If we are all more or less ready, we should get moving.” They all agreed and followed as he started off. They walked side-by-side, slowly moving across the barren landscape. The cracked and uneven surface of the terrain was sometimes irritating to navigate. While the ground was mostly hardpan, there were often pebbles and loose sand making the ground sometimes slippery. There were also little ridges that caused the ground to be easy to trip over. Ariam lost his footing more than once and had to be caught to keep his balance. Belem grumbled about this and Ariam apologized profusely.

A low rumble caught Belem’s attention and he said, “What is that?”

“I heard it too,” Gael’jic confirmed. He looked around for a handful of heartbeats then pointed off in a particular direction. “It comes from that way,” he said. They all looked and noted the presence of a mound rising from the ground.

They stopped and stared at it until it suddenly burst open. Ugly yellow liquid rocketed out of the geyser and shot in a stream perhaps forty feet into the sky. As soon as the liquid came back down they heard a pronounced sizzling sound. Steam and smoke rose from the places where the droplets of the yellowish liquid splashed.

“Great,” Cecil said. “Acid geysers.”

“Charming,” Belem commented.

“Best keep our paths away from such places,” Gael’jic said. “We should be able to recognize the mounds before we get too close to them. That may steer us not on a precisely straight path, but at least we know where we are headed.”

They watched the geyser finish erupting and go completely silent and then continued for a little while staring at it. They all wondered if it was going to erupt again soon.

“Is anyone else feeling uneasy?” Ariam asked.

Belem scoffed as he looked at the beggar. “Are you kidding? It’s pretty easy to feel uneasy about such a landscape. Acid geysers, ugly sky, terrible ground. What’s your point?”

“It’s not that,” Ariam said. “It’s something else. Something feels very wrong about this place.”

“I think I know what he is talking about,” Gael’jic said. “The sensation of wrongness, I mean. I feel it too.”

“Look, that’s not anything new,” Cecil said shaking his head. “It may be something outside the realm of normal, but Belem is right. Regardless of how we feel, we need to press on. We have a job to do.”

“Back to being duty-bound are we?” Belem said to Cecil.

“Never stopped,” Cecil retorted.

Ariam turned and faced toward the Obelisk once more. A chill ran through him as he stared that way. He nodded and started them moving again.

CHAPTER 15. CONGREGATION

Racine fidgeted and his eye twitched. He didn’t exactly sit comfortably in his current situation. It was not the kind of place he normally liked to inhabit. He looked around the spacious room in which he and roughly one thousand other people sat paying attention to the man on the raised platform.

The man speaking before them all was the High Priest at the Temple of Far Humanity. It was a religion, of sorts. It had developed long ago, apparently before the human colonists had arrived on the planet Dar’ryn.

The High Priest wore bright crimson robes. Over his shoulders and cascading down the front of him were white tabards with symbols stitched in black thread. There was one for each of the sectors of the Citadel.

Hooded acolytes in similarly red but less ornate garb resided on the platform behind the High Priest, as well as scattered throughout the room.

Racine’s bored gaze swept across the room and took in the vast number of people present at this particular temple, which was the main one in the Human Citadel. There were at least a few such structures in each of the sectors so that any who wanted could attend.

The words of the High Priest were drowned out in a sea of Racine’s thoughts. He didn’t much go in for this kind of thing. And it wasn’t the organization of it, but the taste of superficiality. He thought of it as one part mystical, one part moralistic, and one part manipulation. It was the perfect storm to ensnare those who thought they needed something a little extra in their lives.

It was not that Racine had anything in particular against mysticism or belief in the supernatural. He had simply not encountered what he thought was a good definitive version of it. Racine liked to keep things simple. Everything around the room was elaborate and decorative.

Yet he conceded that the grandiosity of the space at least was worthy of note and appreciation from an aesthetic standpoint. The room was long and rectangular and large enough to fit more than its current occupying one thousand people. There were plenty of extra empty seats, perhaps half again as many as were presently filled. But there were multiple gatherings and services held throughout the week at this location. Some were no doubt better attended than others, but Racine didn’t care to guess which was the most desirable day and time to attend and which was the least. Save for this particular moment he would not regularly find himself in such a gathering.

Six banners hung along the sides of the room. These were not comprised of simple fabric but were more like screens filled with moving images and phrases that appeared and were replaced later with others. The scenes were of a variety of different kinds. There were simple nature scenes. A waterfall, a mountain, a vast plain filled with flowers. The phrases that appeared on the others were all inspirational. Racine allowed his eyes to linger on each of them for a brief period but then redirected his gaze to other features of the room.

His attention drew upward to the vaulted ceiling. Six great beams rose at equidistant points to form a dome above their heads shaped like the long end of a giant egg. Around the outermost rim of the dome, a ring of symbols was painted. They were the same as those on the High Priest’s tabards. They alternated locations: wall, beam, wall, beam, and so on. Just before the circle of symbols began the ceiling was painted black. The symbols themselves were painted in shining gold.

“Now, brothers and sisters,” the High Priest said pointedly. It drew Racine’s attention back to the speaker. The words were spoken in such a manner as to ensnare the attention of all present. They did their job.

“I have kept my comments shorter than usual on this fine morning. I have done so because we have a special guest with us today who thought it would be wise to share words of encouragement with you. Our human colony has been through quite a lot of difficult days lately. What with the assassination of our beloved King…” He then lifted his hand to his mouth and covered it as he squeezed his eyes shut. Racine could not tell if it was a mere show of emotion or if it was sincere. Regardless he along with the others waited for the High Priest to continue.

“But even so,” he said when he recovered himself, “we must remain strong. And strength sometimes requires strong words from strong men. That is why today I have invited someone strong to come and share with us. Please welcome the Lord Advisor Lycas Ryth.”

Racine’s skin went cold and his back rigid. A murmur rolled across the room and eyes started flitting about everywhere searching for Lycas Ryth. On the stage, Lycas Ryth flowed forward as if appearing out of nowhere. His robe swirled around him as he glided confidently to the center podium where the High Priest stood. He halted a few steps back and to one side, waiting for the High Priest to finish the pleasantries and introduction.

The High Priest turned to Ryth and said, “Lord Advisor, will you please encourage us with your message today?”

Ryth bowed his head slightly and displayed a kind smile as he did so. “It would be my great honor,” he replied. The room filled with loud applause from the assembly. Racine sat stunned and still. The High Priest moved away from the podium and Ryth took up position behind it. He lifted both hands for silence and waited for the noise to die down. He then grasped the sides of the lectern and leaned forward as if needing support. He turned his face toward one end of the chamber and slowly swept his gaze all across the room to take in every inch of the place. When he came at last to the other side he turned his face to the middle and finally spoke.

The people hung on every word.

“Great people of the Human Citadel, I greet you. As our High Priest has noted, these are difficult days.” He paused and then added, “dark days.” He then pointed a finger into the air and said, “But, there is light, and there is hope. As you know I and the other sector representatives have established a temporary triumvirate to guide us through these tumultuous times. I want to encourage you all to take heart.” He paused once again and swept his gaze across the room. The smile on his face was replaced by a grim expression. He continued, “But I must warn you all, the darkness has not abated.” There was another murmuring throughout the room. He lifted a forestalling hand and shook his head. “Please wait, I must go on.”

The noise of the assembled crowd simmered down until it ceased completely as they patiently held onto every word the man said. Racine kept himself from grumbling out loud but thought, Is nowhere free of this man’s poisonous taint?

“When tragedy struck,” Ryth went on pointedly, “I began an investigation. I uncovered terrible things. As you are all aware by now, the chief bodyguard of our beloved King was responsible in part for the assassination.” He shook his head in dismay. He went on. “What I must convey to you is that he was not alone. It was a conspiracy, vast and surprising in its depth. And I am sad to confess, we do not yet know the extent of it. Or how deep into our society it permeates. The roots surely stretch to the Under Citadel, but we also know accomplices were spread throughout our fine Upper Citadel as well. So, while I must encourage you to take heart, I also must sternly warn you: be watchful. There is no telling how far the fingers of this conspiracy reach. Nor of whom they may have seized for their nefarious ends. So be watchful brothers and sisters. Be watchful and report if you see something dim and suspicious. We cannot go forward as a human colony until we root out this wickedness.” Murmurs of agreement spread around the room and heads nodded. Racine kept still and silent.

Ryth’s address went on like this for several more minutes until he concluded with a bow and turned things back over to the High Priest. They exchanged a few pleasantries, smiling, shaking hands, and nodding to each other. A short while later it was all over, but the bad taste of it remained in Racine’s mouth.

The High Priest of the Temple of Far Humanity took to the podium to conclude the assembly. He raised his hands for silence and the people obeyed. A beaming smile stretched his face and he recited the traditional closing words of the gathering, pausing after each phrase so that the people could repeat them after him.

“We give our lives to this. We give our souls to this. We energize the universe through this.”

The High Priest dismissed the gathering and everyone stood. Some filed out quietly while others remained behind and chatted with those closest to them. Racine remained in his seat for a short time, contemplating it all. Out of the corner of his attention, he caught snippets of the conversations around him. Most of them had to do with what Ryth had said. Some expressed dismay that there might still be a problem. Others, almost outrageous, opined about how they knew it would be going for months, perhaps even years. The one thing he noted about every conversation he heard was that in the end none dissented from what Ryth said.

A shudder ran through his body. This was an unfortunate development. Lycas Ryth had just set it up so that Racine and those he sought to stand against Ryth might easily be construed as conspirators in an evil web. It would not be hard for Ryth to convince the masses that they were somehow complicit in their monarch’s assassination. It was ridiculous of course, but people easily believed much that was false.

He expelled a defeated sigh and slowly rose to his feet. He meandered his way down the row and out through the chamber so that he came into the vast anteroom which led either back into the inner sanctum or outside onto the Citadel streets. He wound his way around pockets of people stationed throughout continuing to converse about what Ryth had just shared. He saw a few people he knew fairly well. They gave a slight nod of the head in acknowledgment but continued with their conversations. He was grateful for that as he did not want to get roped into one of them. That was not why he was here.

He had come because of the secret note that had mysteriously found its way into his living quarters. He had no clue how it had gotten there nor who had put it there or whom it was from. The note made simple mention of knowing that he was arrayed against Lycas Ryth and that if he was interested in pursuing the man’s downfall that he ought to meet with the sender of the note at this particular day on this particular time in this particular place. Somewhere close by was the person he was meant to meet. He looked around and saw no one paying special attention to him or anyone that stuck out. He milled about the anteroom for some time but came up empty. He decided he had better go outside. Perhaps that’s where his mysterious note-sender waited.

He came at last through the doors leading outside and descended the vast and long set of stairs. His gaze drank in the environment all around him as he searched for whoever might be waiting for him. He froze halfway down the stairs when his eyes landed upon a cloaked and hooded figure standing on the other side of the boulevard across the way from Temple. The figure wore dark gray robes and for the briefest of moments, he feared it was Lycas Ryth himself. But a quick assessment told him this was not the case. The figure was too short and too slight in frame.

He might be unrelated to the note, he told himself but then the figure lifted one hand in acknowledgment. It then beckoned for him to come in its direction.

Racine took a deep breath and blew it out and then took a step in the direction of the figure when suddenly a voice called his name from behind.

CHAPTER 16. SECRET CONTACT

He turned and was relieved to find Shahleen standing a few paces away and smiling. He breathed a sigh of relief which she must’ve noticed. She arched an eyebrow and lifted her chin. He waved it away and paced up to her. He was still mindful of the mysterious contact waiting for him across the way but theorized the person would understand. Clearly, having broken into his apartment and left a note for him, the person did not want to be found out.

Racine only hoped that by stopping and turning to speak with Shahleen momentarily, his shadowy contact would not be spooked and run off. But he couldn’t devote attention to that just now.

“Why, Racine,” Shahleen said and shook her head before going on, “I did not expect to see you here today. I never pegged you for the Temple-going type. You’re not a religious man, are you?”

His mind quickly spun out an excuse. “Difficult times produce unexpected results, or so I am made to understand,” he said. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she stared at him and then said, “Just so. At any rate, I may be surprised but I am not displeased to see you here. Although after the unexpected guest we had in there today,” she said lifting her hand to indicate the Temple, “I thought I should approach you.” She held him in her gaze for a few moments before continuing. She wanted to make sure he caught her meaning. Good, he thought. She’s not going to come right out and say it in public. That relaxed him marginally. “I take it everything is all right?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he demurred. His mind was spinning, trying to fabricate a way to extricate himself from a conversation with her. He generally found her pleasant to be around and to converse with, but he had pressing matters to attend to. And they were close at hand. To say nothing of still being in the shadow of Lycas Ryth. There was no telling where the man might be lurking. He even half wondered if Ryth’s appearance at the Temple today was on account of some ill-gotten knowledge that Racine would turn up there. He did not know how Ryth could possibly know he was coming, but he would not put it past the man. He seems to have slippery ways of coming into bits of knowledge that he otherwise should not possess.

Racine resisted the urge to throw a glance over his shoulder to ascertain if the cloaked figure waited for him – assuming that was his contact – but knew that to do so would be foolish. He disciplined himself to do nothing that might give anything away. Shahleen could be trusted with what he had already revealed to her in private. But if she suspected he might be involved in some illicit activity, even if only peripherally so, she might think twice about participating in his cause. As things stood now, he was not certain if even he should even do anything. His concerns over Lycas Ryth’s activities had not in the slightest been alleviated of late. They had only intensified. The more he encountered and uncovered, the warier he grew.

“I would love to stay and have a chat with you,” Racine said…

“I sense a ‘but’ coming,” Shahleen interjected. A playful smile touched her lips.

He nodded and said, “But, I do have some pressing private business I must attend to. If you would excuse me?” He lifted his eyebrows as he returned the woman’s stare. Her smile only grew in response to this. He was struck by an unexpected thought. She was a beautiful woman. Also as far as he knew she was unattached – relationally speaking – to anyone. Such was also the case with himself. Part of him wished he could stay, part of him wished his attention could linger upon her and he could devote some more time to her. But…

“That’s all right,” she said. “I understand. I can appreciate that.”

She lifted a hand and gently squeezed his upper arm showing him another one of those smiles. He felt his face flush slightly and knew his cheeks probably pinked up a little. He turned away hoping to avoid her noticing it. He doubted he was successful.

She lowered her arm and gave a slight bow then turned and walked away. He watched her go for a handful of seconds, his eyes lingering over her slight form. He turned and looked across the street. He was not disappointed when he saw the figure remained in place. He shot furtive glances all around him hoping he was not being watched. He then attempted to make unobtrusive eye contact with the figure and began to cross the street. He decided not to make a direct line for the figure. That might pique the interest of anyone watching him. He despised suffering paranoia, but what else could he do? Instead, he aimed for a block away and hoped the figure would follow.

He turned down the street and walked yet another block. When he came to the next intersection he halted and casually turned around. He was relieved to see the cloaked figure was yet approaching. He waited.

When the figure came within arms’ reach it halted. The head lifted a little and he saw into the hood just barely. He detected young feminine features and waited for her to speak.

“Shall we move somewhere a little more private?” the girl said.

He nodded. “Do you have somewhere in mind?” he asked.

“Follow me,” she said and walked away. She crossed the next street and he followed. She turned left and carried on for a few blocks until she came to an alley. She turned down the alleyway and he halted at the mouth of it watching her progress.

She stopped and turned when she sensed he was no longer following. She pulled back the hood of her cloak and arched an eyebrow at him. Her face was young and beautiful but the thing that truly drew his attention was that one of her hands was mechanical. It was attached to a bionic arm. Lost it in a fight? he wondered silently to himself. She folded her arms over her chest and waited for him. He looked to his left and his right and when he was satisfied he was not being watched he entered the alleyway. She turned and continued to pace farther in.

She took several turns and kept them between the claustrophobic spaces between multiple buildings not once entering a public street again. When they came to whatever spot she was satisfied with, she turned and stared at him for a few moments.

He arched an eyebrow. “Well?” he asked. “I’m not the one who arranged this little meeting. What is it you want?”

“Not me,” she said. “One I represent. He wants an audience with you.”

“And who is it you represent?” Racine asked pointedly. The girl stared at him for a handful of heartbeats then said, “Someone who shares interests with you. Let’s leave it at that for the moment.”

“I gathered that much from the note that was left in my place. By the way, how was that little feat accomplished? The security on the grounds where my quarters are housed is fairly high.”

“Trade secret,” she replied with a shrug of her shoulder. “Not interested in divulging that.”

“But it was you, was it not?” he asked.

He saw something ghost across her face, perhaps frustration, perhaps irritation at him hitting the nail on the head with that one. He hadn’t known it was her, but he guessed that was the most likely explanation. Whoever it was that contacted him would only send someone they trusted. He clearly trusted this girl. And judging by the mechanical replacement part of her arm, she was probably valuable to him. Bionic limbs were expensive, and this girl didn’t look like she could afford one. So, she was maintained by someone wealthy and likely with criminal ties. That meant she was also probably skillful in some shady activities.

“Why don’t we pay that no mind?” she said. “I need to confirm a few things with you before this goes anywhere. The word is that you have a problem with Lycas Ryth.”

“Perhaps,” he said.

“Perhaps?” she said, issuing a single mirthless laugh. “That’s not very encouraging. The word is that you are putting together an official petition against Lycas Ryth.”

“It more has to do with the formation of the triumvirate that was recently put together. I fear it subverts our laws…”

“And who was responsible for that?” she said in reproach.

He drew up short and pulled in a slow breath. This was part of the problem. Ryth had not been the one to propose the triumvirate. That had been Zain, although the Lord Advisor had latched onto the idea rather quickly. Racine believed the whole thing had Ryth’s fingerprints all over it. He suspected that it had been planned ahead of time for Zain to be the one to float the idea to the rest of the group. Ryth knew there were a few among the sector representatives who distrusted him implicitly. The trouble was Racine could not prove any of this. The petition was there just to initiate an investigation of the matters. And even if the formation of all of this could not be pinned directly on Lycas Ryth, at least he hoped to sabotage the workings of the triumvirate as it was patently illegal. Why so many were enthused about it and ready to embrace it seemingly without question he could not understand.

“It’s complicated,” was all he replied.

“Complicated is my boss’s specialty,” the girl said.

“Then maybe your boss would like to talk to me in person rather than sending an emissary.”

“My boss,” she said emphasizing the word, “is not altogether sure he wants to. He sent me to size you up.”

“And how am I doing?” Racine asked.

“Like I would tell you,” she said rolling her eyes.

He gazed at her for a handful of heartbeats then said, “What’s your name?”

“Kaelinn,” she replied without hesitation or concern.

“Well, Kaelinn,” Racine said, “let your boss know I’m open to meeting with him. But it has to be somewhere public.”

“He wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Let me ask you something before we part ways,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows but said nothing.

“Tell me that I’m not going to regret meeting this man. I’m sticking my neck out here, perhaps far more than your boss is. Certainly, more than you are. My suspicion is I have a lot more to lose than either of you. So tell me – reassure me – this isn’t going to collapse on my head and leave me buried under a pile of guilt.”

She scoffed. “I make no promises.”

He lifted a hand and scratched his chin in thought. “I suppose that’s better than a false promise,” he muttered. “But not much.”

She rolled her eyes yet again then turned and strolled away.

CHAPTER 17. THE OBELISK

They stood huddled together on the other side of one of the black natural rock formations. It was large enough that they did not have to huddle too closely, for which all were thankful. The argument had been going on for ten minutes or so.

“It is a maximum-security prison,” Cecil repeated, for how many times he could not remember. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he shook his head. “Surely they will have sensors aimed in all directions to prevent just such a break-in.”

“Are you forgetting we’re on another planet?” Belem said.

“What does this have to do with anything?” Gael’jic interjected, confused by the statement. His head fin vibrated and his dewlap wobbled when he gave a quick left-to-right shake to his snout showing his consternation.

The convict looked over at the Dar’rynakai and screwed up his face. “It means their main concern is getting people here, not preventing them from coming. We all know that without the blood key, the gate cannot be activated. I highly doubt they even care if someone breaks out of The Obelisk itself. Doing so would only accomplish escapees simply wandering out here in the barren wilderness and dying or maybe getting picked up later on when the guards felt like it.”

“I don’t know,” Ariam said making a thoughtful noise and scratching his scraggly beard. His sense of discomfort with the place had only grown the longer they’d been there. He’d made mention of it a few more times but had been hushed the last time. He knew that mentioning again would only irritate his companions and make things worse. But the sensation of trouble close at hand was undeniable.

As if sensing these thoughts Belem flicked angry eyes toward the beggar and sneered. “Look,” he said, “if anyone here understands incarceration, it is me. You should follow my lead on this.”

Cecil scoffed. “Your lead?”

“That’s right,” Belem said affronted. “I have your king’s blood after all, don’t I?”

Cecil narrowed his eyes and glared at Belem. “You may have his blood,” he said with simmering anger, “but you are no king of mine.”

As soon the shape of The Obelisk had become more defined, they took to crouching behind the various rock pillars along the way. They took up residence behind one, waited a few minutes, then quickly moved as one group to the next one in the general direction of The Obelisk. Cecil had called them to come to a complete stop when he feared they were close enough to be detected. That was when this argument began.

Belem grunted in frustration. “Well, we have to get inside, don’t we? We can’t just wait out here all day and hope our mission will accomplish itself.”

Cecil shook his head. “No, but we have to be smart and make a plan.”

They stared at one another for a handful of heartbeats, neither willing to budge. After a few moments, Gael’jic cleared his throat. Both men and Ariam as well turned their focus to the Dar’rynakai and raised expectant eyebrows.

“I have a proposal,” he said. “Let us slightly alter our method of approach. Instead of passing as a group, we will move forward one at a time and all go to different pillars. That way the others can wait and see if there is some kind of response. Give it, what, five minutes each?”

Cecil and Belem shot each other a questioning glance. Cecil shrugged. “I guess that is the best we have, isn’t it?”

“Fine by me. But who goes first?” Belem replied.

“Since you are the one so eager to move forward,” Gael’jic began, “why don’t we appoint you?”

“Suits me,” Belem harrumphed. He took a breath, turned, selected a nearby column of stone, and walked toward it. He carefully made his way across the distance and lodged himself behind it. He turned and looked back toward the pillar he had just left and waited for the next one to make their move. After five minutes, Gael’jic was the next to go. He selected another pillar and followed suit. Ariam came third, and Cecil last.

While this new method of travel significantly slowed their progress, it at least eased their minds.

After a long time, they were at last close enough to the prison building that there were no more pillars of stone to hop between and hide behind. They could now make out the shape of the place quite clearly. It appeared to be a squat structure, sharply squared off at all its corners. It almost looked like it had been a pyramid cut off in the middle. At the four corners arose four towering spires. A single entrance could be seen seated in the middle at the base of the structure. The exterior was as black as the landscape around it.

They now all realized they were separated and could not further plan. Belem took the initiative and located where Cecil had deposited himself and darted toward his column. When he skidded to a halt next to Cecil the man merely watched him with an expectant look.

“We have to plan now to get in there, don’t we?” Belem asked.

“It would appear that way. We have to get the others over here first. Can you signal them?”

Belem turned toward the place he knew Ariam hid and watched. He saw the beggar peek around one side and Belem signaled for him to come over. Ariam nodded and took one last hesitant look at The Obelisk and ran as fast as he could away from his pillar and toward theirs. They did not need to signal Gael’jic. He had watched this and discerned what was to happen next. He too came running.

When they were all together again Cecil said, “Let’s figure out a way to get in there. But something odd occurs to me that I feel I have to say first. They should have spotted us by now. Why aren’t they coming out to defend the place, or apprehend us?”

“Maybe they’re not watching,” Ariam supplied.

“What sense does that make?” Cecil said.

“My guess is we will not understand until we are inside,” Gael’jic answered.

“Great,” Belem said, “and how do we get inside? I see a door at the base. But no other way in.”

Ariam, who now pressed his back up against the stone pillar said, “We need a closer look. Any volunteers?”

In answer to his question, Belem growled, stepped to the side, and moved out into the open. He stared at The obelisk for a few seconds before slowly walking toward it.

Cecil’s jaw dropped. “What is that fool doing?” he asked. The rest were silent as they were transfixed on Belem’s slow-moving approach.

His eyes scoured the surface of The Obelisk. They darted from spire to spire at the corners waiting to see if any movement could be detected. There were no windows of any kind on the structure and so he could not fathom how he would be seen apart from exterior sensors of which he also saw no evidence. In such a case it would be impossible for them not to be detected and so they just had to move forward. Perhaps they would even have to be captured and break out later. Yet as he continued forward there remained no sign of activity.

He lifted a hand and gently brushed the outer wall. It was smooth and shiny to the touch, like obsidian. There was no telling how long the structure had been in this place, but it seemed to somehow avoid the effects of weathering from the harsh environment. Whatever it was made of, it was tough. He smirked at that, feeling a touch of kinship in that regard.

He came to the doorway. It was slightly recessed from the angular exterior. A simple control panel rested beside the door. He lifted a hand and rubbed his chin as he contemplated it. After a few moments, he turned and looked back toward the pillar where he saw the other companions leaning out and watching him. He beckoned and waited for them to come. After a slight hesitation, Cecil walked in his direction. Then a few moments later, Gael’jic and Ariam came together. Wary eyes searched the exterior of the building as had his own but they also detected no sign of activity.

When they came near they, too, examined the door.

“I guess this is it,” Cecil said perplexed. “But I see no lock. There’s just a simple button to open and close the door. There’s not even a blood key.”

“I don’t like it,” Belem concluded. “It feels like a trap.”

“Maybe,” Cecil said tilting his head and staring at the control panel. He looked toward his companions one at a time then reached out for the panel.

Belem shot a hand forward and seized his wrist. “What do you think you’re doing?” he said.

“I’m opening the door,” Cecil replied.

“You were all caution and worry a few minutes ago, now you’re doing this? What is wrong with your head?”

“Let go of my wrist,” Cecil said with a tone of warning. They warred with each other through their eyes until Belem at last relented and let go. Cecil turned toward the panel once more and completed his action. He pressed the singular button and the door slid up into the recessed area. Without hesitation, he stepped inside. To everyone’s surprise, Ariam came next without hesitation. Gael’jic entered after him, and lastly came Belem.

They stood in a long and deserted hallway that ran left to right. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all of the same smooth black material as the building’s exterior. Overhead was a series of recessed lights spilling white illumination into the space. Everything inside seemed clean in opposition to the wild waste they had trekked across outside the door.

They looked down one way and then the other. It reminded Ariam of being in the bowels of the Citadel wall where he had run into the semi-functioning robots. He hoped they would not run into more of those.

“Follow me,” Belem said and walked away.

CHAPTER 18. OBSIDIAN MAZE

“Keep quiet!” Belem hissed as he wheeled around and stared daggers at Ariam. The beggar had tripped and gave a little cry of astonishment as he caught himself on the wall. “There might be guards roaming about anywhere,” Belem continued in a slightly lower voice.

“Sorry,” Ariam whispered, looking chagrined. Belem stared at the man for a few seconds longer then turned to continue leading their trek through the corridor. They had not made it very far and all remained silent as a tomb. It was unnerving. They crept forward listening, to some degree all hoping they would at least hear something. But all remained still.

They came to a corner where the hall jogged to the right and Belem halted pressing his back against the inside of the corner. He motioned for them to do the same. When they all were up against the wall Belem leaned slowly forward and peered around the corner. He whipped his head back around and muttered quietly to himself. He turned his head and said, “It’s empty.”

“Then why don’t we continue?” Cecil hissed.

“Just wanted to give it a second,” Belem quietly snapped back.

Ariam cleared his throat and they all looked at him. “Does it occur to anyone else that this place is not that big?”

Cecil traded uncertain looks with Belem, then asked, “What of it?”

“How many prisoners have been sent here over the years?” Ariam asked.

Cecil shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “What does it matter?”

“Well if it’s a lot, then where are they putting them all?” He looked beyond Cecil to Belem and said, “How many were on the prison barge with you?”

Belem screwed up his face as he searched his memory. “There were fifty cells,” he said.” Not all of them were occupied, but most were. Say, there were forty in all.” The wheels were now turning in his head as Ariam’s point became clear.

The beggar went on. “How often were barges sent with prisoners?” He directed this is Cecil.

“I don’t know,” he said. “That was never my area, but it couldn’t have been all that infrequent.

“More than could be stored in a place this size?” Ariam pressed.

Cecil nodded reluctantly.

Belem made a thoughtful noise and they all turned to him. “What?” Cecil asked.

“Think about the Citadel,” he said. He knew all but Gael’jic would understand his point once he made it.

The Dar’rynakai scholar flicked his gaze from one to the other. “What about it?” he asked.

Understanding dawned on Ariam’s face and he turned to Gael’jic to explain. “Our Citadel is vast,” he said. “But not just on the skin of the planet.” He turned his face back toward Belem and a smile started to form on his face. “It also extends beneath the surface. Where you’re from.”

“More space below,” Cecil confirmed with a nod. “Good thinking. But that still doesn’t explain why we haven’t encountered guards or anyone else for that matter.”

Ariam reflected on the sense of danger he’d been nursing since arriving on the planet. “I don’t think it’s deserted if that’s what you’re getting at.” He thought for a few seconds, then suggested, “Let’s continue down the path and see where it takes us.”

Belem nodded, then turned the corner and disappeared beyond it. The others followed.

A short distance down the new hallway they encountered a door on the interior-most side. As with the door entering into The Obelisk, this one sported a simple control panel with a single button. They nodded to him and Belem reached out for it and pressed the button. The door obeyed the command without hesitation and they entered.

They found themselves in an identical hallway to the one they had just vacated. But there was one difference. In this space, the lights overhead alternated white and red. Additionally, the complete silence they had experienced in their previous environment was now disturbed by a barely audible hum. Belem nodded off in one direction for them to follow and commenced walking yet again. They now moved slower than before, creeping as it were along the way. Though the space looked almost identical to the one they had just been in, they all noticed it felt inexplicably different to them. An almost palpable sense of power pervaded the space. It put them all on edge.

A little way down the corridor on the right side of it they encountered a long open window into the next space. Belem signaled for them to halt as he crept toward it and peered inside. He watched for a handful of heartbeats and was about to step forward in search of the door that would lead into the area when motion caught his eye and he pulled back pressing himself against the corridor wall and held his breath.

Accompanying the motion was the sound of approaching footsteps. He turned his head toward his companions and lifted a silencing finger to his lips. They all nodded and waited. Someone on the other side of the window was walking down the next corridor door. Belem waited a handful of moments and listened. He heard the footsteps retreating and so chanced to step forward and peered through the window. There was no glass to speak of, nor any other obstruction, and so he was able to thrust his head through to the other side. He was surprised to see the backs of two retreating figures.

They wore full-length crimson robes with hoods drawn over their heads. Their heads were bowed as they moved solemnly along the corridor. Belem turned his head and looked in the other direction to be certain no one was approaching from that way. When he saw that path was deserted he pulled his head back through the window and motioned for his companions to come closer.

“Was it guards?” Cecil whispered.

Belem shook his head confusedly. “I don’t think so,” he replied. “They looked like…” And he turned his head as he trailed off in thought.

“Like what?” Ariam pressed.

“They were dressed in red robes,” he said. “Hoods were drawn up and they were moving along slowly side-by-side.”

“Red robes?” Cecil asked. “Do you mean like those worn by the acolytes of the Temple of Far Humanity?”

“Just like,” he said. “I didn’t see the front of them so I couldn’t see if they were wearing any of those strange symbols. And the next hallway over is a little darker than this one.” They all fell quiet and contemplative.

Ariam said, “What if this isn’t a prison?”

“Explain that,” Belem said.

“What if it is a temple?” the beggar answered.

“A temple?” Gael’jic asked. “Why would they send prisoners to a temple?”

Ariam shrugged. “Perhaps for reform?”

“Then why doesn’t anyone ever come back?” Belem asked.

“Who says they don’t?” Ariam replied. “Have you spent any time talking with acolytes from the Temple of Far Humanity? I haven’t. And I’ve never seen one of their faces. They’re always concealed in hoods and wrappings.”

Cecil made a sour face. “No,” he said slowly, “that doesn’t sit right. Something else is going on here.”

“And we better find out what,” Ariam said.

Belem said, “Vael told us it was a prison, remember?”

“Perhaps it is both things then,” Gael’jic supplied.

Belem grunted. “We don’t even know what it is we’re supposed to do here. Are we supposed to destroy the place? Are we supposed to free the prisoners? What?”

“All will become clear,” Gael’jic repeated the words Vael had spoken to them at the edge of the plain outside the Dar’rynakai city.

“Then perhaps we better find a way into that next space and see if we can’t catch up with those acolytes. We’ll hold back at a distance but still follow them.”

“And if they notice us?” Ariam asked.

Belem shrugged one shoulder. “They’re subdued religious types,” he said. “What are they going to do, flap their robes at us?”

“Perhaps it would be best not to assume such things,” Gael’jic said. “There is much we do not understand about this place. Perhaps there are gaps in your knowledge about this religion.”

“The Guardians accompanied the king and his family to many Temple assemblies,” Cecil said. “I have a pretty good understanding. They’re harmless.”

“Have you ever been to this planet before?” Gael’jic asked pointedly. “You said you had never been outside of your Citadel. Things may work… differently here.”

“Granted,” Cecil said. “That doesn’t change the fact that we have to move on. Are we going to stand here yammering all day, or are we going to get on with it?”

Belem took the initiative once again and started down the corridor once more. He came to the next corner, peeked around it, and when he saw no one present, he disappeared around it. The others were right behind him. They soon came to the door which they assumed led into that next space. Belem pushed the button and the door opened. They were now inside the hallway where Belem had witnessed the acolytes walking. Another hallway jutted immediately to their left. They gazed down this for some time but it remained empty and silent. Only the hum they had noticed before disturbed the silence. And it had grown somewhat. They carried on following down the way the acolytes traversed.

They picked up a little speed but kept their footfalls as silent as possible. They did not want to alert the acolytes to their approach. When they came to the end at the next corner they peered down and noticed the acolytes just disappear around the next corner. Belem stepped forward and motioned the others to do the same. They immediately jogged after them. Halfway down the hall, they slowed their pace. As they moved forward Ariam whispered, “No cells yet.”

Cecil nodded but said nothing.

“So where is everyone else?” Ariam asked. “Is everyone down below, assuming there is another next level beneath the surface?”

“Hush,” Cecil said. “No talking for a bit. We don’t want them to hear us.”

They continued until they reached the next corner. Belem bent around and watched as the two acolytes slowly walked toward the end of the corridor. Even though they touched no controls two doors slid apart of their own accord and the robed men entered a well-lit but small space. Belem watched as the two acolytes faced one another and the two doors slid closed.

CHAPTER 19. THE SNAKE’S DEN

He sat cross-legged on a pile of black velvet pillows in his chamber. His hands rested on his knees, his back was straight, and his eyes were closed. His face was upturned toward the single light in the room. That light did not illuminate the space much, but that was the point. Black velvet curtains with a variety of symbols stitched into them hung all around the space.

The place was fairly spartan. One small bookcase rested off to one side containing a handful of leather-bound volumes. A small table and a comfortable high-backed chair were all there was by way of furnishings.

The Darkflame tattoo over his eye twitched as a sound in the back of his throat rumbled. It was an odd sort of sound, one like he hadn’t made in quite some time. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been confused about something, though he was now.

He was stripped down to his waist; his only clothing was a pair of black breeches. His skin was fair and perfect. Aside from the Darkflame tattoo over one eye, the only other marking was a long snake tattoo along his spine. His long dark hair tumbled freely to his shoulders; it swayed a little as he tilted his head in contemplation. His eyes came slowly open as he ruminated over this new development.

He had sent his thoughts and awareness out beyond his body and scoured the jungles all around. He had known the four exiles had gone to the Dar’rynakai city and triumphed over Jobash. He had then personally gone out to meet them in the dark depths of the jungle a few nights previous. That had been a fun encounter. He did so enjoy toying with Rama’dy’ac’s little errand boys. He still cherished the astonished looks on their faces when he revealed his true identity to them. The Dar’rynakai was the most delightful. The sheer terror in his reptilian eyes was something Ryth could have sustained himself on for weeks. But now there was this.

He could not detect their presence. He should have been able to find them with very little trouble, but regardless of where he looked on the planet, he could not find them. At least nowhere that they should have been able to travel in just a few days. He extended his search beyond even what he thought was reasonable given their creaturely abilities and limitations. Perhaps they had been aided in their travel by Vael or someone else. But even still he could not find them.

That was when a tiny fissure of concern opened up in his mind. An insignificant but nagging thought that perhaps they had found their way to one of the gates occurred to him.

But he had hidden the gates even from the servants of Rama’dy’ac. And that old doddering god would never violate the rules of their little game and outright tell them…would he?

Perhaps. Rama’dy’ac might be getting desperate after all these centuries. He was, after all, losing badly. Ryth – Uri’thind’ac – was just too clever for the old fool.

What was more, Ryth hadn’t even encountered Ramady’ac for some time. He supposed that since his last defeat he must have slunk away in shame and hidden in some other corner of the universe. Ryth assumed all that was left for him to do was to mop up the final round and take all for himself.

Maybe Uri’thind’ac would search for Rama’dy’ac and find him among the stars afterward, but he didn’t think that was in the cards. But if Rama’dy’ac ever showed his face again, Ryth vowed to decimate him and put an end to him at last. It was only fair.

But now there was this curious new development. They had disappeared; these players, these so-called champions of Rama’dy’ac. So Ryth had to send his consciousness out farther yet and he searched for them even more intensely than before. He thought it couldn’t be that they would find their way to the gate at Void Island. That was the closest and probably the easiest of them. And besides, Belem surely would never go there of his own choice. The others would have to force him, wouldn’t they? The man was so recalcitrant. He would assume the prison that all believed to be on Void Island should be avoided at all costs. But still…

So he had sent his consciousness out to the island. What he found was what had astonished him. He did not discover the presence of the four champions of Rama’dy’ac, but he did discover four of his Gate Guardians lying dead. The only explanation was that the exiles must have come this way and figured out how to use the gate. When he discerned which was the Gate Guardian who bore the key, he discovered the dumb creature no longer had it. Instead, it lay disposed of next to the keyed arch. That all but confirmed it.

So, the exiles traveled to Cairn. At first, he had been offended by this development. He’d felt cheated. But within moments he reassessed. Even if he had been cheated, and Rama’dy’ac had revealed to Vael the location of the gate, and Vael directed the exiles to go to Void Island to travel to the planet Cairn, what of it?

The only thing there was… No. They couldn’t possibly.

A broad smile stretched across the face of the human husk he wore. The game had just become quite interesting.

He supposed the only thing for it now was to contact Marcos and let the man know he had company approaching.

He made a satisfied sound as he slowly drew himself up from the floor. He turned and strolled to the back of the chamber and moved aside the hanging velvet curtain. Off to one side, a man hung by his wrists in chains. He was only semi-conscience and made no noise. An iron mask clamped over the lower part of his face prevented his jaw from moving. Not that he was aware enough to make sound other than the occasional involuntary groan or moan. But Ryth wasn’t interested in the man right at that moment. He wasn’t hungry. Besides, this one was near the end of its usefulness. He would find another to drain of life perhaps after this whole mess was over. Then a thought occurred to him and he smiled. Perhaps Belem would be the best candidate. Yes, he would have to do his best not to kill the convict. The royal blood coursing through his veins made him an ideal selection. Or, better yet, his body could serve as the next vessel for his power.

He cursed the rule that bound him in flesh for the duration of the game. But then again, by the same rule, Rama’dy’ac was prevented from direct intervention. Fair was fair.

He turned away from the bound man to a small communication console. He reached over to a clothes rack and took a long flowing shirt and laced up the front. He then deposited himself in the seat before the console. He keyed in the appropriate passwords and waited. It might yet be a few minutes before the man on the other side answered. He could be off anywhere in The Obelisk doing any number of tasks.

Therefore it pleased Ryth that it only took two minutes for the man to appear before him. The sharp face of a man in his thirties appeared on the screen. Predatory eyes lodged beneath his brow and above his angular nose which pointed like an arrow back at Ryth. His head was shaven though the first hints of his red hair were starting to poke through the scalp in a bristly stubble.

“Your Excellency,” the man said in an oily voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Ryth ignored the man’s affected exuberance and pressed on. “This is to be a brief call,” he said. “It mainly consists of a warning to you.”

“Warning, sire?” the man said with an arched eyebrow. A clear hint of worry washed across his features. “I hope I have done nothing to displease you.”

Ryth waved a hand and said, “No, no, nothing like that. I am not the source of your danger.”

“Then what is this danger, sire?”

“I think you’re going to be having company quite soon. If they are not there already.”

“And who is this company?” Marcos asked, leaning forward, eagerness dripping from his words.

“There are four of them,” Ryth said. “Three humans and one is a Dar’rynakai.”

“And why have they come?” Marcos asked.

“I cannot say,” Ryth said slowly drawing out the last word. “What I can tell you is that they dispatched four Gate Guardians to traverse the gate path to your planet. They are highly dangerous and should be treated with deadly force. Do whatever you can to stop them. But there is one among them I wish you to capture instead of kill.”

“And who is this one?” Marcos asked.

“Curiously, he was bound for your facility recently. But he escaped.”

“The destroyed prison barge?” Marcos asked, eyes glistening greedily.

“Yes,” Ryth confirmed. “His name is Belem. He’s a big man, with short hair, and lots of scars. He should not be hard to parse out from the rest of them. Try your absolute hardest to keep him alive. Do what you will with the others. But be careful. One among them is a former Captain of the Royal Guardians.”

Marcos’s eyebrows shot up in astonishment. “That complicates matters,” he said. “Such a man will not be easy to take down.”

“Nevertheless, you will have to do so,” Ryth replied icily. “Do not fail me in this or you will find yourself in the catch pits in that basement of yours. Do I make myself clear?”

Marcos’s visage bowed on the screen. “Of course, sire. Is there anything further?”

Ryth did not bother to answer. He simply reached forward and shut off the transmission.

He leaned back in the high-backed chair and placing his elbows on the armrest, he steepled his fingers below his chin. He closed his eyes and fell into silent meditation. Sometime later the door chime went off. Ryth’s eyes shot open. A quick mental inventory reminded him that he was awaiting an appointment. He stood up and pressed a button on the console and spoke. “I’ll be there in just a moment, please wait.”

He reached for the robes of his office and adorned himself. He exited the small space and allowed the curtain to slide back in place covering the computer and the bound prisoner in his quarters. He strolled up to the door and paused. He put on an affectation of worry and pressed the button to open the door. It slid aside to reveal the High Priest of the Temple of Far Humanity

“Your Eminence!” Ryth said. “I’m so pleased you came as quickly as you did. I have urgent news to share with you. Please come in.”

CHAPTER 20.THE HOLY MAN

The High Priest’s plastered-on smile faltered when he beheld the trouble on Ryth’s face. He looked on for a few seconds, only blinking like he did not quite know what to do. Ryth smiled inwardly.

The High Priest was a man just on the far side of his middle fifties and his age was starting to show. His hair was thinning and turning gray beyond mere salty flecks. Crow’s feet stretched from the corners of his eyes and smile lines cut deep crevices on his visage. He was growing rounder in his midsection where his hands currently rested folded on top of one another. In the space of a few heartbeats, the man recovered his smile and bowed his head to Ryth. “Thank you,” he said. “It is always a pleasure to meet with you.”

He strolled into the room and looked around at the dark furnishings. As ever, Ryth watched him closely. He enjoyed the man’s unspoken discomfort at how Ryth decorated his chambers. Holy men such as he always spoke of the virtues of the light. But whenever he visited Ryth in his chambers he found himself surrounded by blackness. Ryth knew that the man genuinely enjoyed his presence. But he also knew that whenever he came to visit he was unsettled by his surroundings. That was the way Lycas Ryth wanted it, though. He did not require people to be out of sorts to manipulate them. It was simply more fun to do it that way.

“I want to thank you for the inspiring words that you shared at Temple today,” the High Priest said. “You always seem to have an incisive perspective and it is always good for the gathered faithful to hear it. Although like the others I was surprised to hear your warnings of continued threat. Is that why you wanted to see me today?”

Ryth carried on with his act of troubled affectation. He refrained from eye contact and wrung his hands together. He turned slightly away from the holy man and cleared his throat.

“Yes,” he said then paused. “Well, yes and no. It is complicated and I do not know exactly where to begin.”

The aging priest stepped toward Ryth and lifted a hand to place on his shoulder. He stopped partway through the gesture not quite knowing why. Ryth knew why and was able to keep the smile from appearing on his outside. These lower life forms, these pathetic creatures, seemed to just have a sense about him. He did much to overcome it, including his hypnotic abilities, but there always seemed to be a sense among some of them that he was…not quite right. There was nothing for him to do about that but simply roll with it. Despite all this, they remained easily enough manipulated.

Ryth turned back to the man and lifted eyes that looked as if they were worried. “It is hard to explain,” he started again. “But I have had… an experience.” His eyes flicked off to one side. He turned away yet again and paced deeper into his chamber.

“An experience?” the High Priest said arching an eyebrow. “What kind of experience could trouble the Lord Advisor?”

Ryth slowly turned to face him again. “Much has happened of late that disturbs me,” he said gravely. “The assassination of our beloved King was enough to rock me to my core. But ever since then I have felt off-kilter. And the discovery of the conspiracy behind the assassination has further thrown me out of sorts. And now this,” he said in a lower voice.

“Why don’t you begin by telling me what has happened?” The other man said. This time he did reach his hand out and reassuringly patted Ryth’s shoulder.

Ryth nodded agreeably. “Yes,” he replied as if to himself. “I think that would be best.”

He looked at the High Priest who nodded back encouraging him to go on.

Ryth drew a deep breath and slowly let it out. He lifted his eyes to look back to the holy man and then said, “I have had a vision.”

“A vision?” the older man said after pausing for a few startled seconds. “Tell me more.”

“It happened two days ago,” Ryth said. “I have been thinking about it ever since. I cannot stop thinking about it.”

“Why did you not say something to me after our gathering at the temple?” the other enquired.

“There were so many people around,” Ryth replied. “I did not want to be overheard. I know how the vision disturbed me. I can only imagine the panic that might spread if others heard what I have to say. I thought it would be best if I got you alone and shared it privately.”

The High Priest was nodding slowly. “All right,” he said. “Let’s hear it then.”

“As I said, it all happened two days ago. I was sitting in this very spot,” he said indicating his velvet pillows on the floor. “I was meditating. My eyes were closed and I was in deep concentration when I thought I heard a strange noise. When I opened my eyes it seemed as though I was no longer in my chamber. I was outside. And not just outside of my chamber or this building, but outside of the Citadel itself. And it was night. But the funny thing was, I had been meditating at noon. Yet there was deep darkness – deeper even than these curtains – and I saw the shapes of the trees of the deep jungles therein. I became worried and confused as to how I had gotten outside of the Citadel and how so much time had passed. It would not be until after the vision was over that I realized what it was. The whole time I thought it was really happening to me.” He closed his eyes and his whole body shuddered.

“That is strange,” the High Priest said after a handful of silent moments. He waited a few moments longer then said, “Tell me, Lycas, what else did you see in your vision? There is more, isn’t there?”

Ryth’s eyes shot open again and he stared blankly toward the High Priest as if he was seeing the vision all over again. He thought it was a command performance. That made him think of Ariam out there in the jungles – or wherever they were – with the other foolish servants of Rama’dy’ac. He wondered if perhaps Ariam in his old way of life would have been jealous of his acting ability. But there was no time to concentrate on that. He had work to do.

“I saw much,” he said in a low trembling voice, “that froze my heart and cracked it wide open. First, there were the voices.”

“Voices? What did they say?” The priest asked.

Ryth shook his head. “I could not understand them. They were whispers and they seemed to come from all directions at once. But the words felt…” He squinted his eyes in concentration and at last said, “Ancient and gnarled like an old Raka tree. They sounded so angry and hissing. It made me fear for my soul. I was so unnerved that I was frozen in place, unable to move out of terror. I thought I could never feel so chilled in my life. But that all changed not long after when it was more than just voices I encountered. Then I saw them.”

“Them?” The priest asked in a hushed tone, leaning forward. “Them who?”

Ryth stared at him for a few breathless seconds and shook his head slowly from side to side. “I don’t know who they were, or even what. But I had a strong sense that they were demons. Four of them.”

“Four demons?” The High Priest said as his head drew back. “What did they look like?”

Ryth drew in a slow shaking breath. He let it out again before he answered. “I could not see them very well in the dark, and for that I am grateful,” he said, “but, I could make out their shapes and their eerily glowing eyes. Horrendous blue glowing eyes. Three of them were shaped like men but the other one was taller and slenderer. He had a long snout and head fin, plus a tail like one of the Dar’rynakai savages. But I could tell that these were only disguises. They were merely masks to cover their true demonic forms.”

Ryth fell quiet and the High Priest leaned forward waiting, eager for the man to go on. When it seemed to him that Ryth would not, he prompted him. “What else?” he said eagerly. “Did they do anything? Did they say anything to you?”

Ryth flicked his eyes away from the priest and slowly nodded his head as if haunted by the memory. “It was not they who said anything,” Ryth offered in explanation. “But it was another voice that thundered from overhead. It said, ‘These four demons are coming. They bring with them deception, division, destruction, and death.’” Here Ryth paused as if searching his memory for something else. He squinted his eyes and looked toward the ceiling. “There was something else,” he said. “It was… a title of a book I believe.”

“A book?” The High Priest asked, his eyes narrowing. “What book?”

“Yes,” Ryth replied. “The voice said, ‘Seek confirmation in the Book of Excavated Truths.’”

“The Book of Excavated Truths!” the High Priest blurted. “I know of that book. It is in our library in the Temple. But it is…”

“It is what?” Ryth asked in a hushed tone, turning his face askance.

“It is in a restricted section. Very few are allowed to view it.”

Ryth tilted his head to one side. “Oh?” he replied with an air of innocence. “Why so?”

“Some books can be dangerous, you know. It is full of many strange and hard-to-decipher things.” The priest stopped and tapped a finger to his lower lip in thought. “There is much in there that we have no idea what it means. It may be that the passage in reference is one such place. Perhaps…” He trailed off in contemplation.

After a few moments, Ryth prompted, “Yes? Perhaps what?”

“I was thinking,” the Priest drawled, “that perhaps you could accompany me and take a look at it yourself. Maybe you can shed some light on it if we can find the passage in question.”

Ryth drew back in surprise and blinked. “Me? I’m not even an acolyte.”

“But if I accompany you,” the High Priest said conspiratorially, “then you will be allowed into our private section.”

“Perhaps I could,” Ryth said as if he were uncertain.

The High Priest folded his arms in front of his chest and with a confident grin he said, “I insist.”

CHAPTER 21. HOLDING CELLS

The four companions crept toward the doors that had closed encasing the two robed acolytes. “It is a lift,” Cecil said.

“Obviously,” Belem sneered. “But how did they get in?”

“It just opened for them,” Ariam said. “There’s no button on the wall to push.”

“Great,” Belem said. “Then how do we get it open?”

“We should wait here for a few minutes to see if a solution presents itself,” Gael’jic interjected. “Do I understand correctly that this lift you speak of is a kind of traveling device?”

Ariam nodded and said, “Yes. It is like a box that contains people. It moves with machinery up or down taking them to different destinations.”

The Dar’rynakai nodded and then said, “Then if there is only one box that moves this way from this place, perhaps it is still in operation taking the people who stepped inside to the place they desire to go. If that is so then the doors will not open until the box is ready. Yes?” He glanced around at the humans, waiting for confirmation of his assessment.

“Seems logical to me,” Cecil said. “So we wait.”

And wait they did. They waited five minutes and Belem paced the whole time. As he did so he grumbled to himself but said nothing to anyone else.

“Does he seem more than usually on edge to you?” Ariam whispered to Cecil. If Belem noticed he paid this no mind.

Cecil stared at the convict who ambulated back and forth around the small area and simply nodded. After a moment he also made an affirmative noise in the back of his throat.

“I wonder what’s getting under his skin?”

“What doesn’t?” Cecil snorted. “But in this case, I think it’s pretty obvious,” he added. “It’s this place. He would’ve either ended up back in the crystal tower in a cage attached to tubes or come here as a prisoner. Neither is a desirable prospect. I can’t imagine being here does much for him. Not that his disposition is all that delightful to begin with.”

A single electronic chime came from the lift. All four whipped around to face it and waited for the doors to open.

“Did we consider that anybody might be coming back up through the lift?” Belem said suddenly into the eager silence. Looks of astonishment and self-disappointment painted all their faces. But before any of them could do anything about it, the doors slid open. They were relieved to find the inside of the lift was simply vacant space waiting for occupation.

They breathed a collective sigh and stepped into the lift one by one starting with Cecil and concluding with Gael’jic. Once they were all inside the doors slid quietly closed.

“How does this work?” Gael’jic asked looking around.

“Well…” Ariam began as he searched for a control panel. Yet there were only smooth walls all around them. Without warning the box of the lift then jolted and Gael’jic thrust his arms out to the sides in surprise. He placed his hands against adjoining walls to stabilize himself. The rest looked at him with amusement. They could all feel the lift start its journey as it plummeted into the shaft traversing toward its singular destination.

Gael’jic hissed loudly in displeasure at the sensation. After a few interminable minutes, the lift came to a stop and the doors before them opened up onto yet another hallway. This one was bathed in orange light from a series of overhead lamps. Gael’jic quickly exited the lift and spun around to stare daggers in its direction. As the others filed out of the box, Gael’jic whispered, “I think I preferred the stairs.”

Ignoring him, Belem said, “How far down do you think we are?”

Cecil made a thoughtful noise and then said, “No way to know. But if it’s like the lifts in the palace, we could be dozens of meters below the surface.”

Gael’jic turned surprised eyes toward the former Guardsman and said, “Can that be true? Did we travel so far so fast?”

Cecil shrugged. “I don’t know,” he replied. “I have never been here.”

“And I don’t want to come back,” Belem interjected. “So let’s get to finding out what our purpose here is so we can get the blazes out of here.”

“Which way do we go?” Ariam asked, shifting his focus between the options before them. Three hallways branched away from their current location. To the left, to the right, and straight ahead.

“Straight ahead,” Belem said without hesitation and then started in that direction. The three others shared looks but then followed him. They moved as before, quietly and slowly so as not to give away their presence. Up ahead and to the right, they saw a window similar to the one they had seen in a previous hallway. Like the other one, it was mostly just a large opening in the smooth black stone wall. There was no glass or any other transparent substance to speak of. They drew close to it and slowed to a halt. Belem leaned forward and looked into the room.

“What in the blackest depths are these?” he muttered to himself. The others looked at him and waited for him to explain. But he simply stared through the window.

Cecil cleared his throat and Belem came back to himself. He turned his face to look at the former Guardian Captain and nodded for them to come forward. He moved farther down to make room for them. When the others looked inside they understood his confusion. Cecil screwed up his face as he stared at the objects. They were tall and cylindrical. Running from the floor to the ceiling. They were each approximately a meter in width. There were at least a dozen of them visible from the window. But when they shifted farther down the corridor and cast their gazes inward they could see the room was larger yet. There were several more of the sizeable cylinders.

“How do we get in there?” Cecil asked.

“Let’s keep looking,” Belem said.

“Are we sure we want to go in there?” Ariam asked.

“We will not know our purpose unless we explore this place,” Gael’jic answered. “We should go inside if we can. Why do you ask?”

“That bad feeling I had before? It’s doubled since I looked into this space. Whatever it signifies, it has to do with these things.”

“Well then that’s all the more reason to check it out,” Belem said. “Follow me.” Without waiting for any of them to respond, he turned and started walking down the corridor. Belem reached the next corner, leaned around the edge, and, seeing no one, disappeared around it. They soon followed suit.

They found themselves in the next part of the hallway. There was a door almost immediately to the right. Belem casually shot his hand out and pushed the singular button next to it. The door opened up and he stepped inside, the others following him wordlessly, too absorbed with drinking in the environment to speak.

They were now in a long rectangular chamber with those strange cylindrical objects lining one wall. Belem marched several strides into the room and halted before one of the cylindrical objects. He put his fists on his hips as he stared at it. The others moved to other cylinders and examined them.

Cecil leaned forward and began running his hands along the sides of one. After a few moments, he said, “Look here. I found a control panel.” There were two buttons on the small square panel. One was red and one was green. The green one was raised and the red one was pushed in. He shot a look to his companions who all nodded to him.

He pressed the green button which caused the red button to jut outward. Accompanying this action was a loud hissing and a bright crack appeared on the side of the device. White light poured out of the straight-line crack, and Cecil bent closer to examine it. He plunged two fingers carefully into the bright crack and applied slight pressure.

What turned out to be the cover of the cylindrical object pushed forward into the room and spewed cold fog from inside. Cecil examined the gap that had opened and then noticed a hinge toward the top. He lifted on the bottom of the exposed area and the attached lid moved. He shoved it up toward the ceiling so that it now stood perpendicular to the rest of the device. The interior of the cylindrical object was now completely exposed. Inside there was a form wrapped in gauze.

“It’s a man,” Belem said.

“This thing is a stasis chamber,” Cecil said. He turned to Gael’jic, whom he realized would not understand, and explained, “It’s a device that keeps a person preserved in a constant state of dreamless sleep. While they’re in there, they need no food or water. The technology keeps them alive.”

The Dar’rynakai’s jaw dropped in astonishment. He turned his face toward the cylinder’s inhabitant and asked, “How long can one remain alive in one of these?”

Cecil shrugged. “Hundreds of years, probably. It’s how our ancestors crossed the great gulf of the stars to arrive on Dar’ryn.”

Belem’s face grew dark and he said, “He must be one of the prisoners sent this way. Are all of the prisoners stored like this?”

Ariam nodded thoughtfully. “That would explain why none of them ever returned. They’ve all been stored here, kept on ice as it were.”

They quietly stared into the cylinder at the person in suspended animation. His face was the only part of him exposed. He looked peaceful and asleep.

Ariam made a thoughtful noise and then said, “Open another one.”

“Why?” Belem asked. He sounded none-too-pleased at the prospect.

“Just a feeling,” the beggar replied. “I think we should take a look at another one.

When no one else moved to follow the suggestion, Ariam shrugged and moved a few cylinders down, and performed the same routine as Cecil had. That stasis chamber opened up as the first had and Ariam lifted the lid toward the ceiling. Inside was a similarly wrapped figure as the other one. Except this one was not human. It was a Dar’rynakai. Gael’jic gasped as his eyes beheld the figure. He said something in his language that the others did not know, but to their ears, it sounded like a curse.

Ariam moved a few more cylinders down and pressed the button beside that one as well. The cylinder opened and exposed its contents. Ariam lifted the lid of the cylinder and they stared in disbelief at a creature they’d never seen before.

“What in the blazes is going on here?” Belem barked.

Ariam whipped his head around and made a shushing noise and raised a forestalling hand.

The others looked at him and listened for what the beggar had heard.

After several tense moments, Gael’jic leaned close to Ariam’s ear and whispered, “What do you detect?”

Ariam turned to him and replied, “Someone’s coming. Quick, close the stasis chambers!”

CHAPTER 22. LAB WORK

Cecil’s brow furrowed. “I don’t hear anything,” he said as he lowered a cylinder lid back in place and latched it closed. Gael’jic was doing the same with the device that held the member of his species.

“Are you sure?” the Dar’rynakai asked. “I also heard nothing, and my ears are keener than…”

“We have to move,” Ariam insisted, interrupting. “Now.”

“Where are we going?” Belem asked. “We’re stuck in this room. There’s only one way in or out.” He lifted a hand to indicate the only door.

“Not true,” Gael’jic replied. He pointed toward the open window running along the side of the wall. They glanced at each other uncertainly, hesitated, and then scrambled over to it. They climbed through and landed on the other side just in time as the door slid aside and allowed several robed acolytes in.

The four companions held their breath and listened. Belem lifted his head above the bottom of the window and peered back through it. He saw the crimson-robed figures working the mechanics on a few of the stasis chambers. In seconds three of the stasis chambers ejected a removable capsule. The lids of the cylinders remained firmly in place while the acolytes manhandled these large person-bearing compartments onto hovering carts. There were three of these in total. Each of the carts was operated by a single acolyte and contained one capsule.

The robed figures pushed the carts toward the doorway. The door had remained open and they filed out one by one. When the last of them were out of the room the door slid closed of its own accord. Cecil looked to the others and in a hushed voice said, “Let’s follow them.” Nods from the others confirmed his suggestion and they got up and snuck around the corner. They kept at a distance moving stealthily and keeping their eyes alert for any sign of movement. They encountered no one else.

The robed figures wound their way through the maze-like underground facility. Ariam became worried that they would not be able to find their way out again. He wanted to say so to his companions, but he knew this was not the time for talk.

Belem and Cecil took the lead and followed the acolyte procession. They would halt at a corner and take turns peering around to see what was happening. A short time later Belem held out a hand and waved it, signaling for them to stop. No one dared speak as they were closer now to the acolytes. They waited for Belem to signal for them to carry on. Finally, after a few moments, he did.

He turned the corner with the others close behind. Halfway down this corridor, they came to a door fixed in the side of the wall. It looked different than all of the other ones they had encountered. Every previous door had been simple and metallic. This one was wooden and carved with ornate symbols. Belem turned and beckoned to Gael’jic. The Dar’rynakai came stepping cautiously up to the door and Belem pointed at the symbols.

“Any idea what these mean?” he asked.

Gael’jic squinted and bent his head closer to examine them. After a few seconds, he slowly shook his head. “No,” he answered. “I am unfamiliar with them.”

Belem grunted in disappointment and looked back at the door.

“We’re not gaining any knowledge by waiting out here,” Cecil said. He stepped toward the door and reached for the button beside it. He depressed it and the door clicked open and sprung ever-so-slightly forward. Cecil’s brow drew down in confusion.

This was not like any of the other doors which slid completely away into a recessed area within the wall. This door appeared to be on hinges and the button beside it was simply the door latch release. He reached forward and wrapped his fingers around the edge of the door, as there was no handle, and pulled. It swung open with a minor creek on its hinges. Cecil lowered his eyes to the floor and noticed a faint blue mist pouring out of the space in the next area. He lifted his gaze into the chamber and stepped inside.

A few paces in, he halted and looked around. He, and the rest who had followed in after him, found themselves in a wide circular space. A few paces more and they would come to the end of the platform overlooking a wide pit. Next came stairs leading down into the pit. Except, it wasn’t exactly a pit, but a laboratory rested about twenty feet below. The platform upon which they stood encircled the entirety of the room. Mists covered the floor and swirled about their ankles. It was cool in this new space.

There were a handful of computer stations interspersed throughout the upper platform. Below them, in the laboratory, there were other computer consoles as well as strange equipment. The upper platform was completely vacant save for themselves but a handful of robed acolytes walked around the lower laboratory and went about a variety of tasks.

Off to the left they watched as a wide platform that had been lowering to the bottom level completed its travel. The three robed figures and their cargo occupied it. When they arrived at the floor they exited pushing their hovering carts bearing the stasis capsules into the laboratory. Other figures came forward and helped them manage their loads. They maneuvered the cylinders to three equidistant spots around the room. They maneuvered the carts into spots on the wall and affixed the ends of the cylinders to circular ports. Then they went to work taking hoses and tubes from the wall and affixing them to the top part of the cylinders. All of this transpired wordlessly. None of the crimson-robed figures spoke one syllable to another.

Elsewhere in the laboratory people in red robes manipulated a variety of technological wizardry. Displays were checked, buttons were pushed, levers were adjusted, and so on.

The hum that they had heard which had grown louder the deeper into the facility they went now reappeared and intensified. The robed figures stood now completely still and simply watched and waited for whatever they had initiated to run its course. Displays all around the room flashed rapidly changing information. The tubes and hoses that had been attached to the stasis cylinders now began to glow with lights of their own.

In the center of the room was a raised pedestal. Sitting atop the pedestal was a glass catch basin. Tubes ran up along three sides of the pedestal and the open ends of these were poised to deposit something into the basin. Glowing liquid rose from beneath the floor and filled the tubes until they all poured into the catch basin. The glowing liquid pooled inside. It was whitish in color. This carried on for several minutes until the hum died down and one of the robed figures strolled over to a control panel and keyed in a series of commands.

The sounds and activity completely ceased. When the process was completed the acolytes went to the heads of the cylinders and removed the hoses and tubes. They knelt beside and checked displays on the sides of the cylinders.

A robed figure beside one of the cylinders stood up and pressed a button. The lid cracked open and he lowered a hand, caught the underside of the lid, and raised it the rest of the way. From where they stood on the raised platform around the edge of the laboratory they could all see inside. The thing that now remained in the cylinder was brown, dried, and appeared desiccated. It had once been a human being but now had been drained of all life. The other cylinders remained closed. Their inhabitants had not been killed in the process like this one.

A trap door opened beside the cylinder where the dead man lay. The acolyte reached in and took hold of the corpse. He drew it out and cradled it in his arms. He then walked around the end of the cylinder to stand beside the trap door. He unceremoniously dumped the corpse into the trap door which promptly slid closed afterward.

They were all transfixed by this bizarre process to the point that they had not heard the door behind them open yet again. Two robed figures walked into the chamber and strode up next to Ariam who was the last to enter the room. He gasped and stepped backward. The robed figure turned towards him.

Belem’s knives were in his hands in a flash. Cecil lowered his spear and prepared to charge and strike. Gael’jic hunched his shoulders and prepared to launch himself at the robed figures to protect Ariam who stood frozen in place in fear.

One of the robed figures began striding purposefully toward Ariam. But then the strangest thing happened. He walked right past him as if he were not even there. He then moved toward the next exile in line and stepped briskly to the side to avoid contact with Gael’jic. They all watched in surprise as the acolyte circumnavigated them all as if he were unbothered by their presence. He strode right by them and continued to the place where the lift would return in a few moments. The other robed figure simply continued to stare forward into space.

“What gives?” Belem whispered to Cecil.

Cecil could only shake his head as he watched the acolytes carry on with their work.

CHAPTER 23. SUBTERRANEAN TEMPLE

Belem pushed past the others and headed for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Cecil demanded, no longer concerned to keep his voice down. Ariam shot a fearful glance toward the acolyte standing nearby, but the robed figure made no sign of noticing or caring.

Belem spun around. An agitated expression took control of his face. “While this is all very interesting, we have work to do. This won’t show us anything we need to know. We have to get going. Are you coming?”

“We don’t know that we’re done in here,” Cecil retorted. “There may be more to…”

“Like what?” Belem nearly exploded.

“Keep it down,” Ariam cautioned.

Belem turned to the beggar. “They’re not going to respond. They’re in some kind of trance or something so stop worrying about them.”

But Ariam did not stop worrying. He couldn’t. He shot fearful glances towards the nearest acolyte and then looked back to Belem. He could not hide the trepidation in his eyes. Belem rolled his eyes.

Gael’jic stepped forward lifting a hand to indicate Belem. “Perhaps this one senses something, and we need to search elsewhere.” He turned to Belem and asked, “Is this it?”

Belem tossed his hands in the air. “I don’t know! I just want to get out of this place.”

Silence fell over the group as they stared at one another. Finally, Cecil spoke up. “Can we at least go to the other side of this room? It looks like there’s a door over there. It may take us into a section that we ought to investigate. We should at least go that way.”

Belem tossed a glance that way. He stared for a handful of seconds then turned his face back to the Guardian. “Fine,” he said. Then he turned and stalked away, traveling around the perimeter of the platform.

They came to the door and Belem jabbed his finger harshly at the button. The door sprung slightly open much like the one they had used to enter the laboratory chamber. It likewise moved on hinges and creaked as it swung slightly away. Belem slammed the flat of his hand against the door so it thrust outward and crashed to the side. He stormed through it.

“What’s gotten into him?” Ariam asked.

“What does it matter?” Cecil retorted. In moments they were all in the next space. It was not a hallway as Cecil had expected. Instead, it was a large square chamber. It was not as sizeable across as the room they had just vacated, but the room stretched three times the height of Cecil and was the same dimensions high as it was wide and also long.

The chamber was completely empty save for themselves. At the far end of the chamber was another door. Unlike the previous two that they had passed through, this door was steel and simple. They strode across the distance to it and stopped before it, examining it. As with all the others, there was a simple single-button panel beside it. Belem looked to the others for affirmation and when they nodded he pressed his thumb against the button. The door slid up into the space above and opened onto a vast auditorium.

Just beyond the door was a landing that stretched four feet forward. It then circled the massive chamber. Stairs led directly downward before them and the room was shaped like a giant funnel. Multiple rows of levels at precisely spaced points protruded from the angled wall down to the bottom.

At the bottom was a flat, level platform. A single podium stretched upward from the center. Two long banners cascaded down from the ceiling and terminated just before the floor on either side of the podium.

There were several acolytes throughout the room. Yet there were also many empty spaces across every level. Many other staircases led down the bottom and the other levels interspersed throughout the room. Acolytes could be seen slowly walking down the stairs and sometimes turning off onto one of the levels to stand on the ledge overlooking the platform.

“What is this place?” Belem asked.

“This is the heart of the temple, the inner sanctum,” Gael’jic responded.

Ariam nodded. Then he asked, “If all of the acolytes are under trances, then why bother with a temple?”

“It could be that is what keeps their trance going,” Cecil said. “Maybe it needs to be renewed every so often.”

“Do you think it’s dangerous for us to be here, then?” Ariam asked. He looked all around the funnel-shaped temple chamber and scratched at his beard with a shaky hand. “If whatever it is that renews their trance happens while we’re in here, will we get caught in it, too?”

No one had an answer. They simply shared concerned looks.

“Maybe you’re right,” Belem said warily. “Better get out of here.”

That’s when the drums started. Doors all around the upper level upon which they stood opened and inward proceeded more crimson-robed acolytes. The four companions turned around in time to see a wave of the robed men come flooding in the door they had entered minutes before.

They stepped aside to allow the river of acolytes to go about their hypnotic business. They watched and waited as the last of them trickled by. When they were finally out of the way the four exiles turned and, as one, darted toward the door. The door slid shut moments before they reached it.

Belem reached out to the button and pressed it. Nothing happened. He frowned a confused glance at the door and jabbed his finger at the button again. Again there was no response. He grunted and punched it. The door remained fixed in place and he drew his fist back shaking it in pain.

“Should we try one of the other doors?” Ariam asked. They all knew the answer to that. Those doors would be just as locked as this one. They were in for the duration of whatever was about to occur.

Cecil said, “My guess is we are going to have a problem on our hands very shortly. We stand out in this crowd and someone in this room is going to not be in a trance.”

“Do we rob some of the acolytes’ robes?” Belem asked. “It won’t be hard,” he added.

“That doesn’t feel right,” Ariam said.

“Not right?” Belem barked at him. “What’s wrong with it?”

Ariam shook his head. “Can’t say. I just know it wouldn’t be wise.”

“These acolytes are not standing directly against the wall,” Gael’jic said. “There is a few feet of space. We could hide behind them if we crouch low.”

Ariam made a doubtful noise and then said, “I don’t think so. Even if they are in trances now, there’s no guarantee they will always be.”

Belem’s face grew dark as he stared at the beggar. He looked about the erupt at the man when a detail caught his attention. He turned his face away from Ariam, forgetting all about the man’s constant stream of fearful interruptions, and pointed.

There were pillars spaced throughout the room on the uppermost level upon which they stood.

“It’s as good an idea as we’re going to get,” Cecil said. “Come on.” He jogged across the platform where he pressed himself behind the nearest pillar. The others followed suit and so they moved away from the robed figures and each took a pillar. As soon as the last of them were hidden the drums ceased.

Cecil leaned a little away from his pillar and gazed down upon the platform at the bottom. A tall hooded figure wearing black robes and red tabards draped across the back of his neck and cascading down the front of him slowly paced toward the podium. He halted behind it and stretched forward a hand and seized one side of the podium. He then lifted his other hand to his hood and drew it back. Even from that distance, Cecil could see the man had narrow and sharp hawklike features. A bristly stubble of red hair adorned his head.

Thankfully the man kept his gaze level at the crowd and did not look up. The man swept his gaze all across the room taking in the sights of the assembled acolytes. A smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth and then he closed his eyes and started to mumble something. Cecil could not make out what it was. He slid behind the pillar once again and shot a glance to his left where Gael’jic was stationed several meters away behind another pillar. He saw that the Dar’rynakai was listening intently. He waved to the lizard-man who then looked over at him. Cecil pointed to his ears and then lifted his hands in a gesture which said he didn’t understand. Gael’jic took his meaning and then shook his head slowly from left to right. The Dar’rynakai scholar did not understand either.

All of a sudden the mumbling ceased. Cecil leaned to the side once again and looked down at the platform where the man stood. He raised his hands to the ceiling and shouted a single strange word in a language none of them knew. The crowd echoed the word back in a thunderous repeat. The sound of it shook the room. The man behind the podium shouted another word. The assembled acolytes returned it a thousandfold. This carried on for about another minute or so and then the man quieted. He opened his eyes and looked at the crowd once again and then nodded in satisfaction. He then turned to his right and signaled with a hand.

“Bring me the catch basin,” he said. “It is time for the ritual.”

CHAPTER 24. RITUAL

Something bothered Marcos. But he could not say quite what. For the time being, it was small and hovered at the edge of his awareness. He decided not to give it too much thought as he was exceptionally busy at the moment and the work before him required great concentration.

He stood on the platform at the bottom of the sanctuary. His black robes hung loosely about him and his hands were upraised as he finished the repeated chant. He turned and motioned off to one side. “Bring me the catch basin. It is time for the ritual.”

Three acolytes came slowly across the platform from the side. Their heads were bowed. The one in the middle of the formation carried the glass catch basin in his hands. Within it was the glowing life-essence that had been extracted from three prisoners in the laboratory just before the assembly.

Then it was there again, nagging at the fringes of his focus. The distraction. What was it? He shook his head to dispel the problem and reasserted his concentration on the work at hand. It would not do to lose focus during this process. It could be disastrous.

The acolytes crossed the rest of the way and halted before him. With both hands, he gently took the catch basin full of glowing whitish liquid from them. He then turned and held it up before the assembled crowd. They all with one voice responded in one of the brief ancient sayings. This time it was he who repeated the words spoken by the assembled acolytes.

He turned his head toward the three hypnotized devotees who had brought him the basin. He gave them a nod, and the one who had handed Marcos the basin received it back from him. Then the three turned away and moved on to the next portion.

They crossed the stage to the far side and took up their positions. They formed the points of a small triangle facing inward toward each other. They looked down at the floor and knelt on both knees. The acolyte holding the basin carefully lowered it to the platform floor, setting it beside the closed square trapdoor. They slowly raised their hands and in unison, they chanted more ancient words in low tones. As they did this they raised their hands above their heads. Next, they started to sway their hands above their heads as the chanting increased in volume.

Marcos stood by the podium watching all of this waiting for his next moment to come. When at last they finished their chanting he reverently strolled over to them. He spoke a single word in that ancient tongue taught to him personally by Lycas Ryth. The acolytes arose from their kneeling position and moved away from the basin. He waited for them to take up their appointed places on the platform in a larger triangular pattern. They each stood over a place on the stage that had a small drain hole beneath their feet. There they would wait for what was to come next.

The square trap door beside the abandoned basin slid aside. Marcos stepped beside it and stretched both hands out over the newly revealed hole. While the trapdoor was square, the hole beneath was circular and two feet in diameter. He waved his hands which he held horizontally over the hole and commenced the next chant of the ritual.

Deep within the hole, an orange light glowed to life. He completed the chant and lowered his hands to his side. He turned and looked to the closest of the acolytes. He strolled over to him and stood behind him. He produced a razor-sharp ritual knife from the folds of his robes and with his other hand reached around the head of the acolyte. He seized the open ends of the hood of the man and scrunched them closed. With his other hand, he reached around and plunged the knife into the acolyte’s throat. The acolyte received this violence without resistance. His body jerked slightly in natural response to the attack, but he did not otherwise fight against it.

Marcos ripped the knife out of the acolyte’s throat and released him. The acolyte dropped to his knees and leaned forward over the drain hole. He slowly lowered his head to the ground and pressed his forehead there allowing the blood to pour out of the gash in his throat and into the drain.

Marcos turned to the acolyte toward the back of the stage and repeated this process. When that acolyte knelt before the drain and pressed his forehead to the ground allowing his blood to spill out, Marcos moved on to the third and final sacrifice.

When this process was finished, Marcos turned to the catch basin and strolled over to the trapdoor with the glowing orange light emanating from the hole. It had grown in intensity and now a bright shaft of orange light pierced up toward the vaulted ceiling of the temple.

Marcos casually tossed the bloody ritual knife to the side and it fell with a clatter against the platform. Flecks of acolyte blood sprayed outward and left a stain on the platform which would be cleaned up shortly afterward. For now, he concentrated on the catch basin of glowing liquid and the hole in the stage. He stooped down and took hold of the catch basin with both hands and stood over the hole; poised and ready for the final part.

“Lifeblood and life essence,” he said. Then he spoke the words that any attendee of the Temple of Far Humanity on Dar’ryn would recognize. They were the words spoken by the High Priest to conclude every service of the assembly of the temple. “We give our lives to this. We give our souls to this. We energize the universe through this.”

He then lifted the catch basin high above his head and waited. The assembled acolytes all around him repeated the phrase thunderously. His hands tilted downward to bring the basin into position to pour it into the hole beneath the trapdoor but he hesitated. There it was again. Something strange at the periphery of his understanding. Something was not right in the temple. Whatever it was he would have to deal with it after the ritual was completed. If he allowed this distraction to ruin the ritual, there would be hell to pay. And it would not simply be Lycas Ryth whom he had to fear. There was something nameless below. He did not entirely understand it but knew it posed great danger unless the ritual was properly observed.

He drew a deep breath, expelled it, and brought the catch basin to its proper position. He then tipped it the rest of the way and allowed the glowing whitish liquid – the life essence extracted from the prisoners – to pour into the hole. As always he was careful and poured slowly so as not to spill the slightest drop in the wrong direction.

Next came his favorite part, the satisfying reaction to the ritual.

The rumble started low and almost imperceptible. Then it grew. Accompanying it was the tremble he felt through the platform. It quickly worked its way through his feet, up through his legs, and then flooded his entire body. The whole chamber shook and vibrated with the power of the ritual’s result. The rumbling grew in intensity and then became a high-pitched hum. Deep guttural growls emanated from the trapdoor and through the drains into which the blood of the acolytes had flowed.

Marcos knelt where he stood and gently placed the catch basin on the platform floor. He then turned and strolled over to the podium and lifted his hands. He repeated the three-part phrase and waited after each part for the assembled congregation of acolytes to repeat them. He whipped around and smiled as the next part unfolded.

Beneath the bodies of the three acolytes resting on the stage, sections of the floor disappeared. They fell down but only about a foot. They were caught and suspended over deep pits by man-sized square-holed metal grates. The trembling of the rumble intensified until it reached its highest point. Then through the square-holed grates came three gushing geysers of acid. The acolytes’ bodies were quickly consumed by the corrosive flow. The melted substance of their bodies drained through the grates into the pits below them. Their robes remained undamaged. They were woven of unique material and treated specially to protect them from the acid. There, of course, was more than that to the robes, for they served other purposes. But he was not concerned with that at the moment. For the distraction had returned just in time for the ritual to complete its course.

He now whipped around and looked with searching eyes toward the assembled acolytes. Could it be that some among them had lost connection with the psychic link? It might be that a robe malfunctioned. If so he would have to seize upon it quickly and correct the situation before it got out of hand and Lycas Ryth got word of it. And then he recalled the earlier communication he had with Ryth. He had been so consumed with carrying out the ritual properly so as not to cause a disaster that he had nearly forgotten the warning.

He then knew instantly what the problem was.

His eyes searched the sanctum for any sign of the intruders. But all he could see was a sea of crimson. Yet he knew they were there.

A wicked smile spread across his face. He didn’t need to see them with his own eyes. All he had to do was turn his little puppets on the matter. He took both sides of the podium in his hands and leaned forward.

“Acolytes,” he said loudly. “We have guests.”

CHAPTER 25. BLOOD-RED TIDE

“You four might as well come out, I know you’re there,” the taunting voice called out from the platform.

Cecil shot alarmed eyes to Gael’jic who returned his expression. He then turned the other way and saw Belem looked much the same. Ariam was beyond his sight, but he guessed the beggar wore an equivalent expression. They certainly all shared the same thought. How on earth does he know we are here? But it didn’t matter. They had been outed and that was that.

Cecil expelled a defeated sigh and stepped out from behind the pillar. Belem, Gael’jic, and Ariam did the same at the same instant.

“So there you are,” the man said. “I was told to expect you.”

“Well here we are,” Belem said. “Not sure you’re going to like it, though,” he said lifting a knife and pointing the blade at the man for emphasis. The other knife was out and clutched in his other hand. Belem glowered death back at the man. The man in black robes did not seem perturbed by this gesture.

“Take it easy,” Cecil cautioned in a hushed tone that only Belem could hear. Or at least he hoped the person standing below them on the platform did not possess some kind of supernatural ability to discern his words. There was no telling what was going to happen anymore.

“Who told you we were coming?” Ariam asked in a voice that betrayed interested curiosity more than fear.

The man at the platform lifted a hand and waggled a finger at him. “Now, now,” he said. “That would be telling. And I’m not ready to reveal anything yet.”

“It was Ryth, wasn’t it?” Belem said acidly.

The man shifted his gaze back to Belem and his smile which seemed to stretch the entirety of his face faltered for the briefest of moments, then somehow managed to widen even further. He threw his head back and issued a laugh.

“I guess that answers that question,” Belem muttered to himself.

The man in the black robes finished his laugh and folded his arms over his chest. He shot glances at each of the four exiles and adopted a quizzical look. “Now,” he said, “what should I do with you?” He lifted a hand to his mouth and tapped his lips with a thoughtful finger. He then said, “First of all, if you are armed I suppose I should command you to lay down your weapons.”

Belem snorted, and then replied, “Not happening. You can take my blades when you pry them from my dead fingers.”

“That can be arranged,” the other man said coolly. “But before I make any decisions I think I need a better look at you. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to voluntarily come down and stand before me?”

None answered him but remained where they stood and stared daggers down at him.

“There is something not right about this one,” Gael’jic stage-whispered to Cecil. “He is not like you.”

Cecil turned to the Dar’rynakai and said, “How so?”

Gael’jic turned his face back to examine the man. “It is hard to say from this distance. He looks like you. He sounds like you. But he has a…quality about him that sets him apart. He reminds me of…”

And then the man’s eyes glowed orange.

“…Jobash,” Gael’jic finished. While they were all dismayed at this grim turn, none of them were surprised that Ryth had imbued powers on the man. But the problem was that this enemy had far more under his command than Jobash did. And they had no reinforcements of any kind this time.

If we can wake the prisoners maybe, Cecil thought, but they’re all on ice. And on the other side of the locked door. His mind frantically searched for solutions to their problem but came up empty-handed.

The man on the platform waved a dismissive hand. “I suppose that’s enough chit-chat for now. He raised his fisted right hand into the air and gave a loud shout of command. “Acolytes! Get them, and bring them to me.”

All at once the acolytes turned around and looked at the four exiles standing beside the pillars. In the next instant, they were walking up the stairs toward them.

Ariam uttered a fearful cry and darted toward the closed locked door. Instinct compelled the others to run toward the door as well though they intellectually knew they had no hope of getting it open. The acolytes would be on them in moments.

Belem arrived at the door and jammed his finger at the button repeatedly. “Open!” he shouted at the thing. When it didn’t obey, he wheeled back and kicked it as hard as he could. “I said open!” he shouted.

Wonder of wonders, this time the door did open. He staggered backward for a second with a confused look on his face and then recovered himself and darted through. Ariam came next followed by Cecil and then Gael’jic. They were several paces across the square chamber when Cecil thought to try closing the door behind them. He turned around but it was far too late. The first several acolytes now poured through the door. He cursed, wheeled around, and ran as fast as he could.

He was three-quarters of the way to the next door when the others arrived at it. Belem got there first and pressed the button. The wooden door came slightly away from the doorway and Belem reached forward and yanked it open. He was through it in moments running around the upper platform encircling the laboratory with the others at his back. He was a quarter of the way around when Cecil came through the door and yanked it closed. The instant after it closed bodies collided with it and jarred it in its frame. Cecil wasted no time and turned and followed his companions. He was only a few steps into his run when he heard the wooden door being torn off its frame and cast aside. Even over most of the thundering feet, he could hear the man on the platform thundering in fury. In the back of his mind, he thought that his voice must be amplified by some unworldly power.

He tossed a glance over his shoulder and saw that while the acolytes were not running at the same speed as he and the others, many were at least jogging and some were moving fast enough to gain on them. It appeared as though the robes hampered their movement somewhat and he was thankful for at least that much.

The floor trembled powerfully beneath them so much that Ariam lost his footing and tumbled to the ground.

Belem noticed this, turned, shot out a hand, and yanked the man back to his feet. “Come on,” he shouted. “Keep your feet under you are we will leave you behind!”

Ariam was too terrified to dignify this with any kind of response. He simply reasserted his run and followed Belem.

The next thing Cecil knew hands were grabbing at his shoulders. He jabbed the butt end of his spirit backward and connected it with the middle of one of his pursuers. He felt the hands leave his shoulders immediately but there were others now clawing at him. Stopping to try to get the man off had been a mistake. He turned his face back toward his companions and witnessed Gael’jic running in his direction. The Dar’rynakai leaped from the floor and spun in midair bringing his tail around to strike. Cecil saw the blow coming and ducked just in time for the tail to whip over his head and throw several of the acolytes falling backward into their companions.

Gael’jic took Cecil by the arm and helped him stabilize. As Cecil regained himself and Gael’jic ran by his side he looked ahead and watched as Belem and Ariam disappeared through the next door. It was only a few moments later when he and Gael’jic reached the same door. He spun around and slammed the door closed. When Gael’jic and himself completed this they turned and were dismayed to see they had lost sight of Belem and Ariam. There were two directions but they could see their friends down neither of them.

“Which way do we go?” Gael’jic snapped.

Cecil made a split-second decision and ran off to the left. Gael’jic was at his side and they ran with reckless abandon. Moments later they heard the bodies of acolytes collide with the next wooden door causing it to shudder. Insistent fists pounded on the door then a few seconds later the wooden door exploded off of its hinges and collapsed into the hallway. After that Cecil looked over his shoulder and watched as a writhing mass of red-robed acolytes poured into the hallway. Some of them turned in his direction and followed. He watched however as others went in the other direction. He had a sinking feeling that Belem and Ariam had indeed gone the other way. They were split up.

Cecil cursed under his breath but kept running for all he was worth.

“What is wrong?” Gael’jic asked.

“I think the others went the other way.”

Gael’jic tossed a glance over his shoulder and hissed something indecipherable.

“My sentiments exactly,” Cecil replied.

***

Belem and Ariam had indeed gone in the opposite direction. They had followed the path by which they had come in. They could hear the approaching thunderous footsteps of the sea of acolytes but when Ariam looked over his shoulder he noticed that Cecil and Gael’jic were nowhere to be seen.

“Do you think they were captured?” he asked Belem.

“Shut up and run,” Belem shouted. Then a few seconds later he added, “If they have been caught, there’s nothing we can do about it. We have to save ourselves first.”

Ariam grunted his affirmation. They ran on trying to follow the course in which they had entered The Obelisk but remained uncertain if they were remembering it right. Ariam occasionally tossed looks over his shoulder and at last, saw the approaching mob of acolytes.

“We’ve got trouble!” he warned.

CHAPTER 26. CORNERED

“We cannot keep on this way forever!” Gael’jic shouted to Cecil. “We will tire out before they will.”

“How do you know?” Cecil said.

“They are empowered by Uri’thind’ac,” Gael’jic retorted. “He will not let them give up.”

“Fair enough,” Cecil replied. “Then we better find a room to hold ourselves up in.”

“If you can run faster, we can outpace them long enough for them to lose sight of us. Then we can select a doorway and hide in the room.”

“Good plan,” Cecil replied. But in the back of his mind, he wasn’t sure how good of a plan it truly was. He knew there was no escaping the pursuit for long. Eventually, they would be found.

Regardless he put on a burst of speed and Gael’jic matched him effortlessly. They ran on this way for a short time. All the while Cecil checked over his shoulder periodically to see if they were out of sight of the approaching acolytes. When at last they were outside of sight he said so to Gael’jic. They ran on for a while longer until Cecil felt his leg muscles begin to tire and his lungs burn. “We have to find a place soon,” he said.

Gael’jic immediately understood. A short while later they came across a door off to one side and Cecil skidded to a halt before it. He located the button beside it and slammed his palm against it. The door slid away and Gael’jic darted inside. As Cecil came to the opening he stopped, raised the butt of his spear, and jammed it into the control panel. Sparks flew out as the panel broke apart. He then darted inside just as the door began to close. As soon as the door was firmly in place again he planted his spear on the floor, sagged with relief, and used his spear to keep steady. He expelled a heavy breath and shook his head.

“That should keep them out for now,” he said.

“What did you do?” Gael’jic asked suspiciously.

He lifted irritated eyes to his companion. “I broke the panel on the other side. No button to push that way.”

“True,” Gael’jic said, “but then you also gave them a signal as to where we were. Unless you broke other panels along the way?”

Cecil shook his head and cursed himself. “I didn’t think of that,” he growled.

“Too late to do anything about it now,” Gael’jic replied with a shrug.

Cecil strolled a few paces into the room. His legs ached with the effort of the run. Though he had been genetically enhanced with Dar’rynakai DNA, the armor counterpointed some of the extra abilities and strength he must’ve gained by it. He was still faster or stronger than most men, but he was hampered by the cumbersome armor. He shook his head again.

Gael’jic moved over to one wall and examined the cylinders there. Cecil hadn’t bothered to take in their surroundings until now. They were in a room much like the first one they had encountered. The main difference was that there was no long, open window along one wall. Instead, that wall housed many cylinders as well. At a guess, there were forty prisoners housed in this space. Gael’jic stood thoughtfully stroking the dewlap hanging from his chin as he examined the cylinder before him.

“It is quite curious, is it not?” Gael’jic said.

Cecil merely arched an eyebrow as he waited for the Dar’rynakai to go on.

“The process by which they extract the life essence, I mean. I have been thinking about it ever since we watched them do it in that room with all of the strange equipment.” He lifted a hand and ran it from the top of the cylinder to the bottom as he looked closely.

He turned his face to Cecil as a moment of inspiration struck. “Do you know anything about these…what did you call them?”

“Stasis chambers,” Cecil answered.

“Yes. Do you know anything about them?”

“Like what?” Cecil asked cautiously.

“Like how long it takes for one to recover after they are awakened from it.”

Realization dawned on Cecil. “It takes a little while,” he said. “It will be hours before somebody is entirely over the process, but they will be awake and more or less functioning in fifteen minutes or so.”

“Are you thinking what I am thinking?” Gael’jic asked. The good humor was unmistakable in his Dar’rynakai voice.

“Reinforcements,” Cecil said. He thought for a minute then added, “The trouble is I don’t know how to work these things. I’ve never used them before myself. I’ve seen them used but I’m no technician.”

A thoughtful look unfurled on Gael’jic’s face. “Can it be hard to figure out?” he asked.

Cecil sighed and said, “I guess there’s only one way to find out.” He turned and looked at the controls on the side of the stasis chamber closest to him. There was the hatch release he had found earlier. That part was not hard. But simply opening the chamber did not awaken the occupant. The stasis process itself had to be interrupted. But it couldn’t be sudden, so smashing the devices would not do. Doing so would almost certainly kill the subject. But…

He looked closer. “Don’t open any of the lids,” he said suddenly. “They need to remain closed while the stasis is terminated.”

“What about the ones we opened in the other room? Will they be harmed because of it?”

Cecil shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he answered. “They weren’t open long and we closed them again. They probably should be back in normal working order by now.”

He returned his attention to the controls on the side. He found a sequence of buttons and thought he had it figured out in short order. He looked to Gael’jic and motioned for him to come over. The lizard-man ambulated over to his side and Cecil pointed to the controls. “Watch what I do,” he said. “If this works, then we’ll do the others too.”

“The sequence is simple,” he went on. “On this panel next to the door release, push the buttons in order. But we have to push one, wait, then the next. Then repeat for each following button. Understand?”

“How long do we wait between each button?” Gael’jic asked.

“The lights above the buttons will tell us. When the light above the next button turns green,” he said, then demonstrated it, “then we push that button and wait for the next one to do the same, and so on.”

“I believe I understand,” Gael’jic said. Cecil finished the process with the cylinder before him. When he reached the last one a loud humming noise emanated from the cylinder and then the sound of it powering down filled their ears.

“We should be good to open the cylinder now,” he said. He reached down to the side and pressed the lid release. It hissed open and he lifted it to the ceiling. The lights that had come on inside the cylinder compartment flickered and went dark.

Inside the cylinder was a human man wrapped in a white shroud. He remained completely still and Cecil wondered for the briefest of moments if he was dead instead of sleeping. But at last, the man uttered a little moan and his head turned slightly to one side. The man started to cough and he lurched forward. His eyes came open and his coughing intensified. He struggled against the shroud which encased him.

“Easy friend,” Gael’jic said. “We are freeing you from your prison.”

The man’s eyes darted to Gael’jic and he froze. He stared at the Dar’rynakai for a long handful of heartbeats then turned his head toward Cecil and said, “Is this a stasis dream?”

Cecil shook his head. “Afraid not,” he answered. “Though what you are waking up to is probably as strange as one.”

The man stared at Cecil in disbelief for a few more seconds then said, “Can you get me out of this thing?”

“Sure,” Cecil replied. “Just give us a second to figure it out.” He and Gael’jic looked over the shroud and found a series of releases they initiated and straps that they loosened. A few minutes later the man was free of his shroud and stumbled out of the stasis chamber. He stood on shaky legs shivering in the room. He wore little besides undergarments over his top and thighs.

“Do you know where you are?” Cecil asked.

The man rubbed his forehead with one hand and shook it slightly.

“It’s all fuzzy,” he said. “The last thing I remember is going to sleep on the prison barge. I think I’m on Void Island, is that right? Am I at The Obelisk?”

Cecil and Gael’jic looked at one another briefly then back to the man.

“You are partly right,” Gael’jic said.

“This is The Obelisk prison colony,” Cecil explained. “But you are not on Void Island. The Obelisk is actually on a different planet.”

That brought the man up short. His eyes went wide as he stared at Cecil. “A different planet? Are you sure this isn’t a dream?”

“I wish it was,” Cecil replied. “It’s a bit of a long story and we don’t have time. We have to free the others.”

The man looked around and for the first time noticed the presence of the other stasis chambers.

“How many of us are here?”

“In this room?” Cecil asked. “Looks to be about forty. But there are many other rooms.”

“So this is, what? A prison break?”

Cecil and Gael’jic shared glances once more and then looked back to the man. Cecil said, “More or less, yes.”

The man stared back at Cecil and slowly nodded. He straightened his back and flicked a glance to Gael’jic then said, “Then I guess we better get working.”

CHAPTER 27. COLLUSION

He sat back in his seat with his head bowed low and a wide-brimmed hat obscuring his face. His patience was growing thin regarding all this cloak-and-dagger stuff and he hoped he wasn’t making a fool of himself. Or worse. Racine preferred the straightforward approach in life and wished he could employ it here too. But alas, it was not to be.

He was in a small café waiting for Vellin to arrive. He had gotten there early to scope the place out and order coffee for himself. The place was only half full of patrons who mostly minded their own business. The only time anyone had spoken to him was when he arrived at the counter for his order and when someone at a different table asked if they could use his sugar. He was so on alert that he half-wondered if the person was actually a customer, or instead if he was one of Ryth’s lackeys.

Reasons such as this caused Racine to detest going out in public anymore. He tried mightily to not allow the suspicions to get to him and drive him to become reclusive. That would certainly help Ryth paint him in a negative light…along with any of those associated with him. He didn’t want to look crazy, but he couldn’t help but feel it a little.

He lifted his face and cautiously swept his gaze around the café once more. There was still no sign of Vellin and the appointed moment rapidly approached. He feared he would be stood up. Maybe Vellin had second thoughts about this whole venture and preferred to cut his losses. Racine wouldn’t blame him if he did. After all, even he doubted the value of this risk. If he were in Vellin’s shoes, he doubted he would ever consider Racine’s aims as worthwhile.

Stop that, he reprimanded himself. No point in second-guessing something you have no idea about in the first place. It could be that Vellin had something on Ryth and it would be the magic card that Racine needed for a victorious play. He highly doubted it, but one could hope.

A little chime sounded as someone entered the establishment. He shifted his eyes to the door and saw whom he assumed must be Vellin. The man stopped in the entryway and looked around the room. When his eyes landed on Racine he gave a curt nod and headed over to the counter. He spoke briefly with the person behind it and nodded. Then he turned and walked toward Racine’s little table.

“Mind if I sit down?” he asked.

“Please do,” Racine replied. The man carefully lowered himself onto the small table’s only other seat. He locked eyes with Racine and gazed back at him like a seasoned card player.

“Charming little place,” Vellin said.

Racine shrugged, disinterested in small talk.

A ghost of a grin tugged one corner of Vellin’s mouth and he said, “What’s with the hat? Trying to let people know you’re in disguise?”

Racine’s eyes narrowed and he tried to inconspicuously remove the hat and set it on the table. He then said, “I take it you have something. You wouldn’t have made the upward journey if you didn’t. So what is it?”

Vellin lifted a forestalling hand. “Hold on,” he said. “Not so fast. We need to get to know one another first.”

Racine stared back at him blankly. Was this merely going to be a series of games? He didn’t have time for such foolishness. Racine tossed a casual hand out to the side and in an acid-tinged tone said, “What do you want to know? My hobbies or something?”

Vellin smirked as he looked away. “No, I simply want to know the kind of man I’m dealing with before I make a deal with him. I trust you understand that in my line of work trust is of utmost importance. It can make one secure, or it can undo everything in the space of a breath.” He was cool and confident. Racine was a little jealous of the man’s unperturbed composure. But he suspected at least some of it was contrived. He sensed a calculating mind behind that semi-disinterested façade.

“Very well,” Racine said with only minor irritation leaking into his voice. “So what is it you want to know about me?”

Vellin shrugged a shoulder as he continued to look around the café with a bored expression. “I already know your opinion of our mutual acquaintance,” he said slowly. Racine mentally noted he was careful not to speak Ryth’s name out loud. “What I want to know is if you have the spine, the wherewithal, to do something about it. What I came to talk about today is not going to be an easy business. I can’t have someone get into it with me and then bow out part of the way through. That would be disastrous.” He looked back to Racine and slowly shook his head from side to side. “Can you understand that?”

“I can,” Racine replied quickly. “But what about you?” Racine pressed. “I do not know you. How do I know that you will stick through it?”

Vellin gave him a patronizing look. “Oh please,” he said. “Take my presence here as a token of that truth. It is highly unusual for me to do any kind of business above the surface.”

“My point exactly,” Racine replied. “You prefer to do things in the dark. How do I know that I can trust you?” He leaned toward the other man as he quietly said, “How do I know this whole thing isn’t a trap?”

Vellin chuckled a little bit as he looked away once more. “I wouldn’t say I like to do things in the dark. I prefer to think of it as business at the fringes of things. And as for the bit about the trap, I could assure you all day, but we both know that would be meaningless to you.”

“Call it what you do whatever you want,” Racine said, “you must understand that is why it’s next to impossible for me to trust you.”

Vellin returned Racine’s gaze. He smirked and said, “Well then at least trust me when I say I’m risking far more than you are in this affair.”

“I doubt that,” Racine replied. “I’d rather think of it as being on equal footing. Don’t think for one second that I’m going to allow you to hold something over my head.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Vellin replied wryly. He stared at Racine for a handful of seconds, mentally calculating something, and then his smile widened. “Congratulations, by the way,” he said.

“On what?” Racine said, his brow furrowing.

“You passed my little test,” Vellin said.

“I’m ecstatic,” Racine flatly replied with an emotionless expression. “But I’m not interested in your little games. Either you have something to propose or something to share, or you have nothing of value to me. In which case this meeting would be over. So why don’t you just get to it already?”

CHAPTER 28. COMMON PURPOSE

Vellin cleared his throat. He leaned closer and in a quiet tone said, “I know that you have been seeking a way to bring a halt to our acquaintance’s work. Would you characterize that as true?”

Racine hesitated for a second then said, “I would. What of it?”

“What if I told you that I could be of service in that regard?

Racine dropped his attention to the forgotten cup of coffee cooling on the table, feigning a casual attitude. He sensed the two of them had entered a kind of dance wherein neither of them was allowed to clearly state what they meant. “I might find that interesting, but I certainly would need to know more, first. Could you tell me how you could be of service?”

Racine nodded and said, “I would like to. But not quite yet. I have a few loose ends to tie up first. For the sake of argument, let us say you can consider it as good as done.”

“Then why arrange a meeting with me and not just take care of it yourself?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Vellin said, shaking his head. “I can’t take care of it myself. I require aid.”

“You mean you require an accomplice,” Racine asked, arching an admonishing eyebrow.

Vellin smirked. “You don’t trust almost anyone these days do you? I don’t blame you. In fact, I don’t easily trust many people myself. It can be bad for business.”

“Then why me?” Racine replied. That was a question that had been burning in the back of Racine’s thoughts for some time. He wasn’t exactly the underworld type. Like anyone, Racine had made his share of mistakes but he was essentially on the straight and narrow. Clean so to speak. He had no dirty connections, he had no sly way about him. He was about to say as much to Vellin when the other man interrupted.

“You’re thinking that you don’t seem the type, aren’t you?” he asked with a smile. “I’d guess that probably has been bothering you since I first made contact. No problem. I can sympathize.”

“Can you?” Racine asked doubtfully.

Vellin dipped his head in acknowledgment. “I can indeed. I wasn’t born down below, you know.”

“I don’t recall asking,” Racine replied.

“No, you didn’t,” Vellin replied. “But just as I sized you up, I’m sure you would like to do the same with me. Haven’t you been wondering why I would contact someone like you? Hasn’t it eaten away at you?”

Racine sat silently and stared back at Vellin unsure what to say. Apparently, he communicated enough by saying nothing.

“That’s what I thought,” Vellin went on. “This dance does take two after all. Let me tell you a little something about myself that I don’t like to make public knowledge. You can chase down the facts yourself later if you so choose, but I want to alleviate your concerns regarding myself. Does that sound fair?”

“Go on,” Racine replied.

“It’s true,” he began, “I have been working beneath the surface for the last ten years. I have made lucrative efforts and have come out on top of a few different piles. I am by no stretch of the imagination everyone’s favorite person. But then again, I don’t care to be. That’s not what this business produces. But before that was an entirely different story. You might be interested to know that before I descended to the subsurface levels of the Under-Citadel, I was an attaché in the office of a Sector Representative.”

That brought Racine up short. He blinked with surprised eyes at the underworld crime boss sitting before him. He wondered if he could believe it or not.

“As I said,” Vellin continued, “you can check it all out later. I wasn’t able to scrub all of the files concerning myself from the system, but they may be a little difficult to obtain. You may have to grease the wheels with a bribe or two but I think you can probably locate the relevant material if you try hard enough.”

“Which sector?” He was so stunned, that was all Racine could think to ask.

“You know your friend, Shahleen?” he supplied.

“There’s no way you worked with Shahleen,” Racine said.

“You would be correct,” Vellin replied. “I worked with her predecessor. He was a bit of a doddering old fool and he wasn’t exactly what you would call clean.”

“I remember the man,” Racine said. He declined to comment either way concerning the man’s corruption or lack thereof. Before becoming a Sector Representative himself, Racine had his suspicions regarding the man, but that was ancient history in the world of Citadel politics.

“So what happened?” Racine prodded.

“It was the corruption,” Vellin answered as if it were obvious. “There I was, a starry-eyed idealistic young man serving underneath a Sector Representative. And I watched firsthand as bribes exchanged hands, sensitive information was passed on to sources that should never have gotten it, and a bevy of other illicit things. I was more than a touch disillusioned by it.”

“So why didn’t you do anything about it?” Racine asked. “Why didn’t you report him?”

“Who says I didn’t? But the trouble is he was so corrupt that he had lots of other folks in authority in his back pocket. That meant a lot of protection. I concluded nothing was going to stick against him unless it was carried out in an underhanded way.”

“Which you did not do,” Racine replied, confused. “He retired and lived fat and happy to the end of his days.”

It was Vellin’s turn to shoot an admonishing look. “How long were those days?” he asked.

Racine thought back. “Perhaps it was three years later when he died. Natural causes, though.”

“Yes, curious that, wouldn’t you say? He wasn’t elderly by any stretch of the imagination. Strange that heart failure seemed to come out of nowhere when he had no previous history of heart trouble.”

Racine’s jaw dropped. “Are you telling me that…?”

“Don’t ask,” Vellin said. “You won’t like the answer. But suffice it to say that getting to that point put the final nail in the coffin of my public service career. I had to go away after that. So I went downward. I founded an organization and it struggled for the first five years but then it grew. I made friends and enemies alike and sometimes I couldn’t tell them apart. But I managed to come out on top. More or less, anyway.”

“Fascinating.” Racine lifted a hand and rubbed his chin as he stared thoughtfully back at Vellin. “So you’re a good guy turned into a philanthropic bad guy? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Say whatever you will,” Vellin said unperturbed. “I have come to offer assistance.”

“I’m not going to end up like your former boss am I?” Racine asked.

“That’s entirely up to you,” Vellin said. “But the point I need to establish which I already know you agree with is that our mutual acquaintance needs to go.”

“No argument here,” Racine said. It only marginally registered in the back of Racine’s mind that he and this criminal were casually discussing the potential death and disappearance of a political opponent. “But I don’t see how we’re going to accomplish that. Everything I’ve tried so far has met with frustration.”

“That’s because you’ve been trying to play by your political rules,” Vellin said. “I don’t.”

“That’s all well and good,” Racine interjected, “but as far as I can tell our mutual acquaintance as you call him probably plays by the rules far less than even you do.”

Vellin shook his head slowly from side to side as he gazed back at Racine. “Friend, you have no idea.”

“Well that all makes me wonder whether or not I should continue with this. If our mutual acquaintance is so bad, and so hard to nail down, why should I bother? And, what’s more, why should I endanger my head by helping you?”

“As for me, you have to understand that man is bad for my business.”

“Why? Is it because he’s a chief competitor?”

“That’s certainly part of it,” Vellin said without hesitation. “But believe it or not, I truly want to help you, Racine.”

“And why would you want to do that?”

“Because our mutual acquaintance is not just bad for my business, he’s bad for everything.”

Racine blinked, feeling like he’d nearly missed something that had just transpired. He couldn’t identify precisely what it was, but something in the way Vellin had just spoken struck Racine. Had it been a crack in the man’s collected composure? Had Racine glimpsed a hint of desperation behind that mask? He thought that might be it. Racine, now genuinely interested, leaned forward and placed his elbow on the table. He said, “How so? What do you know?”

Vellin tossed it furtive glance over his shoulder to see if anyone nearby might be eavesdropping. When he was satisfied they were not he leaned in closer and replied, “I know for a fact he can make the best of us look like the worst of us. There are two examples that I could give you but I’m sure you know both of them already.”

Racine was sure he did. But to confirm he asked, “Is one of the examples currently locked in their royal chambers, and the other one recently escaped a public execution?”

Vellin simply nodded in response. He let his unspoken answer sit between the two of them before he went on. He then said, “You might be interested to know that I met with the execution escapee hours before he was arrested.”

Racine blinked in surprise. That was interesting.

“All right,” Racine said. “I’m listening.”

CHAPTER 29. THE ROBE

Ariam’s heart thundered in his chest as they raced side by side. Well, not exactly side-by-side. Belem was the more athletic of the two of them and he was always out ahead a few paces. He tended to look over his shoulder and grunt in frustration when he saw Ariam slipping behind. Therefore he periodically slowed his pace so that he didn’t lose the man.

Despite his threats of leaving Ariam behind if he couldn’t keep up, Belem didn’t seem ready to fulfill that vow.

Ariam’s lungs screamed at him to stop and catch his breath but the sound of the acolytes far down the way behind them kept him moving. He threw yet another glance over his shoulder to see if they were in sight and he thanked Rama’dy’ac that they were not. He turned his head around and the blood drained from his face as he beheld the scarlet motion up ahead. Several acolytes now blocked their way.

Belem skidded to a halt and Ariam followed suit. Belem yanked the knives out of their sheaths at his belt once again. He had returned them to his waist because he did not want to accidentally stab himself if he tripped while running. But now that they faced a threat, he knew an escape without violence was hopeless.

Ariam wished he had some sort of protection aside from his companion. He was going to have to rely on Belem to defend both of them. Considering the number of acolytes in the corridor ahead of them and the countless others coming up from behind who would soon arrive, he knew that fighting to free themselves was a fool’s errand.

His eyes searched desperately for any means of escape. Sadly, the corridor was unbroken by doorways. It was simply a continuous obsidian maze.

“Better go back,” Belem said. He turned to run back the way they had come but halted once again as he saw the corridor behind them flood with acolytes. They were surrounded.

He positioned himself with his back against the corridor wall and lifted the knives; one in each hand in a fighting stance. He motioned for Ariam to get away from him and the other man backed himself toward the opposite wall.

“Good thing these fellas are already wearing red,” he growled. “This way nobody will be able to tell I got blood all over them.”

Ariam moaned a little despairing noise as he moved away from Belem, giving him room to maneuver.

Down either way of the corridor, the acolytes now closed inward slowly like an encroaching crimson wall.

“Who wants it first?” Belem said loudly.

“I don’t think they can understand,” Ariam said. “Taunting them won’t get you anywhere.”

“Maybe not,” Belem said, “but it sure does make me feel better.”

“Fair enough,” Ariam relented. “Carry on.”

But there was no point in carrying on, nor the time to do so. Both groups of acolytes reached roughly an equal distance away from them and suddenly surged forward.

Ariam yelped in surprise as acolyte’s hands laid hold of him. He watched in horror as Belem slashed into several red-robed figures, but they kept coming. He was able to take down six of them before they finally overpowered him and pinned his arms to his sides and pried the knives from his fingers. He struggled, powerfully thrashing and writhing, forcing them to work increasingly harder to keep hold of him. He even bit at a few of them sinking his teeth into their hands and forcing a few to retreat. But there were far too many of them.

“Hold him steady,” came a commanding voice.

Both Belem and Ariam snapped their attention in the direction of the voice. It was the man who had been dressed in black robes on the platform taunting them. He pushed his way through the crowd, a black specter in an ocean of red robes until he came, at last, to stand before them. In one hand, he held up another red robe.

“Dress up time,” he said to Belem.

“What are you talking about?” Belem growled at the man.

The man lifted the robe in his hand and shook it as if it was answer enough. He tossed it over Belem’s head and one of the acolytes behind the convict caught it.

“Do you notice how well these acolytes obey me? There’s a reason: and the reason is that robe. We call them trance robes. They activate immediately upon adornment and put the subject in a completely suggestible state. It’s pretty amazing really.”

“Keep that thing away from me,” Belem hissed. “I’ll rip you apart with my bare hands if you try.”

“You won’t do anything that I don’t tell you to do.”

“No,” Ariam said, “please. Put it on me instead.”

The man in the black robe turned his smirking face to the beggar. “Ah, the touching bonds of friendship,” he said. “Thanks for the offer, but he’s the dangerous one of the two of you. Besides, I want you two for different purposes. But don’t worry I have a different outfit for you.” He lifted his hand and motioned for someone. In the next instant, an acolyte came forward. Held in his hands was the white garment of a stasis chamber shroud. “Dress them up,” he commanded.

Belem grunted and growled and thrashed but it did no good. Acolytes were all over his arms and his legs holding him in place. They parted out of the way behind him while maintaining their hold. The acolyte who caught the robe thrown by the man in black came up behind Belem and held it forward to put on him.

“Don’t you dare…” he warned. But it didn’t matter. The acolytes obeyed the man in black. In the next instant, the hood of the robe was tossed over Belem’s head and he froze in place. The acolytes held onto him for a few moments and then released his arms and legs. Belem’s arms fell to his sides and he stood ramrod straight beneath the robe. The acolytes wrapped the robes around the rest of his body. It was mainly a cloak with a hood. The rest of the robes would undoubtedly come later. Ariam watched all of this in despair.

Something inside him snapped. He turned dangerous eyes onto the man in black and lunged forward. The acolytes – not expecting this – nearly lost their grip on him. The man in the black robes was surprised as well and took an involuntary step backward. But when the acolytes quickly reasserted their hold on Ariam the man began to laugh.

“Such tenacity!” he said. “Perhaps you are slightly more dangerous after all. But no matter.” He nodded to the acolyte holding the white stasis chamber shroud and he and two others went to work encasing him in it.

“Belem!” Ariam shouted. “Snap out of it! I know you can hear me. Help me, please!”

But Belem simply gazed blankly ahead.

“He can’t help you,” the man in black robes said. “He can’t even help himself. Now he can only do as I command. For example,” he turned to Belem and said, “Raise your left arm.”

Belem’s left arm shot upward and pointed toward the ceiling.

“And raise your right arm,” the black-clad man said. Belem responded with immediate obedience.

“Very good. Lower them both, you look like an idiot.” Belem’s arms now fell to their sides. He awaited further instruction.

The man turned to Ariam and said, “You see? Your fight is at an end. But don’t worry; you have a purpose yet to serve.”

He heard the acolytes behind him parting and someone coming forward. He looked over his shoulder and saw a stasis chamber being pushed on a hover cart. The acolytes who had been assigned to wrap him in the shroud finished their work and lifted him off his feet.

He struggled as hard as he could against this but it was completely ineffective. They carried him and gently laid him in the stasis chamber. The man in the black robes came and stood over him staring down into the chamber at him. He smiled one last smile as he closed the lid of the chamber.

It immediately became very cold inside the stasis chamber. As with the other cylinders, there was a clear glass viewing port. Through it, he could see the man who imprisoned him in it. Ariam watched with deepening horror as the man knocked on the lid and nodded in the direction they had come.

In a muffled voice through the lid, Ariam heard him say, “Take him back to the laboratory. We’re going to drain him.”

The man in black robes leaned over the cart as it was carried onward. He walked beside it. He knocked on it again and said, “Can you hear me?”

Ariam gazed at him with venomous eyes. “I’ll take that as a yes. I just had to let you know something before all of this is over. Lycas Ryth warned me you were coming. He told me that I could do whatever I wanted to all of you except that one in the robe. The Lord Advisor wants him alive.”

Ariam ceased struggling against the shroud and stared disbelievingly at the man through the clear port. “What does he want with him?”

The other man simply shrugged. “Who can say what Ryth wants? But I can tell you what I’m going to do with you. I’m going to leave you awake as I drain the life force out of your body all at once. I’ve never actually gotten to see what it’s like when that happens. I’ve gotten bored watching them drain in their sleep. I want to listen to you scream.”

CHAPTER 30. THE PLAN

They were surrounded by recovering stasis chamber victims. The little room was filled with groggy moans and the sounds of people encouraging and comforting one another.

The first man they had released – his name was Dirk – came up to Cecil and Gael’jic. He still had a hard time believing a Dar’rynakai was present and helping them but went on anyway. “That’s the last of them,” he said. “Some of us aren’t in such great shape though. I’m not sure what’s wrong with them.”

“They’ve probably been partially drained,” Cecil responded.

“Drained?” Dirk asked.

“It’s a long story,” Cecil replied. “We can cover that later if we make it through this. For now, we need to get out of here and release more prisoners. There are a lot of acolytes out there in the hallway and we’re going to have to fight our way through them.”

Dirk looked over his shoulder at the bedraggled collection of recently freed stasis chamber prisoners. “You’re probably going to want to give us a few extra minutes then,” he said.

“They can have a few extra minutes, but nothing more,” Gael’jic said.

Cecil looked around the room. It struck him as curious that every inhabitant of the stasis chambers in this particular location had been human. They had found a Dar’rynakai in one of the cylinders in the other room, as well as one being of a race neither he nor Gael’jic knew. But this room had not housed anyone besides human beings. He wondered if there were rooms dedicated solely to Dar’rynakai or the other race. Perhaps they had just happened upon one particular room that was mixed for some unknown reason. He shrugged it off. It didn’t matter now.

Gael’jic turned to stare at the door. “Are we so sure they are out there? No one is pounding on the door.”

Cecil favored him with a curious glance. “I can’t say,” he said, holding back his exasperation at having few answers. “There’s no way of knowing what’s going on outside the door. Not without opening it anyway. I’m not ready to do that until they’re ready to fight.” He nodded toward the freed prisoners.

Once they had gotten several of the prisoners free, Cecil devoted his attention to a computer console against one of the walls. He hoped to figure out more of the system and to see if others in other rooms could be released remotely. Thus far he had no success. But he did think he came to understand the system a little better. If he could get inside another room and find a similar console, he could release all that room’s prisoners at once. He had pulled a few of the prisoners aside and conscripted them for duplicating this task. He showed them what to do and after demonstrating they nodded their understanding and vowed to see it through. But first, they were going to have to get out of this room and get into other rooms. That was going to be the trick.

Cecil turned to Gael’jic and Dirk. “We’re not to be able to wait much longer. Belem and Ariam are out there somewhere. We have to make sure they’re safe.”

Dirk shot a doubtful eye at the recovering prisoners again.” I don’t know,” he said. “I think if we tried it now most of these people would end up captured again. Or worse.”

“We don’t have the time to mess around,” Cecil said.

Gael’jic put a hand on Cecil’s shoulder. “Patience,” he said. “Perhaps Rama’dy’ac will buy us some time.”

Cecil shot a doubtful eye at Gael’jic. “And just how is Rama’dy’ac going to do that?”

“Who?” Dirk asked.

Cecil turned to the man and said, “That’s also a long story. Ask us another time.” He turned back to Gael’jic and continued. “They are out there in they are in danger. We have got to help them.”

“We don’t know that,” Gael’jic replied. “We were able to make it safely inside this room and lock ourselves away. Perhaps they have done so, too.”

“I wish I could believe that,” Cecil said. “But I’ve got a real bad feeling.”

He turned away from them and found a place to sit and think. He lowered his head and held his spear between his knees. He rested his forehead on the shaft of the spear as he contemplated their situation.

“Are you a Royal Guardian?” a young man’s voice asked.

Cecil turned to look at the owner of the voice. He saw a teenager. Fearful eyes stared at him from beneath the dark mop of curly hair.

“Yes,” Cecil said. “Well, I was. That’s…”

“A long story?” the boy asked.

Cecil smirked. “Yeah. A long story. Why are you here? What crime did you do?”

The boy shook his head. “I didn’t do any crime. I don’t know how I got here. The last thing I remember was going to sleep in my bed at home. Then you woke me up. I don’t even know where I am.”

“That’s a hard question to answer. We’ll tell you when there’s time.” Cecil furrowed his brow as he stared at the boy. There was something familiar about his features. Had he seen the child before? He didn’t think he had. But he reminded him of someone he knew. Then it crashed onto him like a thousand bricks falling from the sky. He reminded him of Prince Therin. He blinked in astonishment at the realization. He lifted his eyes and looked around the room. Many of the people present in the chamber had hints of familiar features. It looked like a family reunion. It suddenly struck him that the other person he was reminded of was Belem. His shoulders went rigid at the realization. He stood and darted over to Gael’jic. “Can I talk to you?”

“Of course,” Gael’jic replied. “What is it?”

Cecil nodded his head to a corner of the room and shooed a few people away from there so they could have a semi-private conversation. He informed Gael’jic of his realization and the Dar’rynakai looked around the room.

“I do not know how best to distinguish among your kind so I can only take your word for it.” Cecil looked around the room and considered that he was looking upon a variety of strands of royal blood. He remembered the blood key to initiate the gate to arrive at this planet. “Why is Ryth obsessed with the Royals’ blood?” he asked out loud.

“I think that is a mystery for another day,” Gael’jic replied. “For now, I am thinking you are right and we should get moving.”

Cecil nodded and turned to the room. He raised a hand and lifted his voice. “I want everyone to pay attention,” he said. “I know some of you are still very tired. But we don’t have any more time. We are going to have to fight our way through that door. On the other side, we are bound to find countless acolytes for the Temple of Far Humanity. They will try to subdue you and place you back in stasis.”

Confused mumbles rumbled through the room as people whispered disbelief to one another. “You’re going to have to trust me on this,” Cecil said loudly and firmly to cut through the din. He then began to explain the plan. They were going to go and spread throughout The Obelisk and find every room they could that housed stasis chamber cylinders. They were going to free every last prisoner and then they were going to march on the man in charge and put a stop to him.

There was general agreement throughout the room, but there were also several who were hesitant. Cecil came to realize very few people in the room should have been prisoners in the first place. They were not violent offenders or criminals. They likewise were not trained to fight. Like the boy, they’d simply been taken and transported here without explanation. He doubted very much that every room was going to be like that, but he suspected they probably were going to come across a few more strands of royal blood along the way.

When he finished explaining the plan and persuading the rest of them to at least assist in whatever way they could, he moved to the door and brandished his spear at the ready. He shot a glance to Gael’jic and nodded for the Dar’rynakai to press the button.

When the door slid out of the way Cecil bellowed a war cry and darted forward ready to stab the first acolyte he came to. His spear met empty air. He found himself in a silent and deserted corridor, confused. He looked in one direction, then the other. There was nothing. He turned around and stared into the perplexed face of Gael’jic.

CHAPTER 31. NO ADMITTANCE

Cecil and Gael’jic led the ragtag group of prisoners-turned-army down the corridor toward the temple sanctuary. That was where they had encountered the man in black robes who had been directing the acolytes. He was the one they wanted. If they did not find him there, they vowed to continue the search. Since the sanctuary was the last place he had been seen, it was the logical starting point.

They marched down the hallway with grim intent. They moved with only moderate speed. Cecil did not want to wear them out before they arrived at their destination.

They had spent an hour already seeking other rooms and releasing more prisoners. Now they were up to about a hundred and fifty in addition to the forty they had released from the first room. Under two hundred, Cecil thought ruefully. Not quite the numbers I would like but there it is.

There had to have been over a thousand acolytes in the Temple chamber. Maybe half again that number. But he knew they had dispersed from that point and sought himself and his companions in the corridors. He hoped at least that meant that the number of acolytes that might be left guarding their leader would be significantly reduced. It would give his group a fighting chance if nothing else.

Very few of them had acquired anything remotely resembling a weapon along the way. A few of them managed to liberate some steel bars to use as bludgeoning instruments. But aside from that, there were no energy blasters, projectile weapons, or blades to speak of. He supposed that made sense. This was the kind of prison that would not normally suffer a riot or even a single unruly inhabitant. They were all meant to be on ice and cause no trouble at all. Well, he thought, that’s about to change. If nothing else there would be a shift in guard policy at The Obelisk after this. But he hoped there would be no more use of the prison at all.

He shook his head to rid it of such thoughts. They drew close now to the laboratory through which they would have to travel and shortly thereafter arrive at the temple sanctuary. Up ahead Cecil saw the doorway leading into the laboratory. He slowed their approach and stopped many paces away and then turned to address the assembled group.

It had occurred to him that passing through the laboratory, they might come across acolytes draining prisoners of life. There was certainly no way they had been to every room in the facility to release all of the prisoners. They had acquired a decent number, but Cecil reluctantly decided to be satisfied after conferring with Gael’jic on the matter. They concluded that they had exhausted enough of their store of time and now needed to concentrate on at least finding Belem and Ariam. If they could.

But if they went into the laboratory and without warning stumbled across a draining, it might undo the nerve of some of the prisoners. Cecil elected to give them a basic rundown of what was happening at The Obelisk. He and Gael’jic spent the next several minutes explaining the situation as carefully and gently as they could. All were shocked. A few were overcome with grief. Several were hardened by rage for the purpose they had joined. That was good enough for Cecil.

He turned and strode the rest of the way to the once-vacant doorway. It turned out the wooden door that had been forcefully removed by the acolytes in their pursuit of himself and his companions was mostly decorative. A steel door had waited in reserve and slid into place. He pressed the button to get inside. It didn’t respond to his action. He tried again. Nothing happened. That’s when a crackling sound followed by the taunting voice of the man dressed in black robes came over speakers above their heads.

“Greetings unwelcome invaders,” the voice mocked. “I see that you are trying to get into the laboratory. I regret to inform you that you will not be entering today. I have locked you out. Note also that I have locked the doors going out of The Obelisk. You are completely trapped and at my mercy.”

Gael’jic leaned toward Cecil and worriedly said, “Can he see us through some witchcraft?”

“I can see you,” the voice answered. “And I can hear you, Dar’rynakai. So watch what you say if you are trying to keep something from me. Not that it will help.”

Gael’jic looked chagrined and folded his arms as he turned his snout in every direction looking for someone to address.

“Sadly, you will not be able to see me at the moment,” the voice went on.

“Don’t bother looking for him,” Cecil said to his companion. “He will have a device that shows us to him. But we will not be able to see him unless we find him.”

“Oh, you are not at all far from me,” the voice interrupted. “Just on the other side of the door, in fact. I am busy at the moment, however, getting ready to drain your friend of his life force. Would you like to say hello before he dies?”

His voice was followed by the sound of pounding and the muffled voice of Ariam yelling for help. Gael’jic dropped his arms to his side and hissed an angry sound. He darted toward the door and pounded on it with the flat of his hand. “Open up now!” he shouted.

Unafraid chuckling laughter resounded from the speakers. “I’ve got a better proposal,” the voice said. “Why don’t you just sit down and wait until I’m finished with your friend and then you can surrender and come inside and I promise to give you a painless death? Unlike your friend here, I will let you sleep through the draining.”

“Not going to happen,” Cecil said. “We’re getting into that room and putting an end to you.”

“I’m afraid any threat you lob at me is empty. You don’t have time to stop me from killing your friend. All I have to do is push a few buttons and it’s lights out for him.”

“What have you done with Belem?” Cecil growled. Despite his distaste for the man, his great fear was that Belem was already dead. He dreaded the idea of hearing so, but he needed to keep the man talking so he could think up a way to get into the room.

“I take it that is your other friend? He’s right here with me. He’s become a good little helper. He’s not very talkative at the moment but that is because he is under my power. I think he looks great in one of my little red robes. I wish you could see him all dressed up like an acolyte. But I’m sure you will in a short time.”

Gael’jic hissed again as he and Cecil shared an astonished and defeated look. Cecil remembered Ariam’s warning not to don the robes of the acolytes, though he didn’t seem to know why. Had it been a moment of supernatural intuition?

Cecil thunderously pounded his fist on the door and yelled, “When you see me next, I will feed your heart every inch of my spear.”

“You won’t get the chance,” the man said snidely. “But I think I’m done talking to you for right now. Have a good day.” There was a clicking sound and Cecil knew that meant the transmission had been cut off.

***

In the laboratory, Marcos leaned over the stasis cylinder which imprisoned Ariam. He knocked on the glass and smiled wickedly down at the man. He delighted in the terror he witnessed in the poor soul’s eyes.

“Now you know how close your friends are. And now you know they will not be able to help you anyway. You are all alone and your time is up. I don’t often get to preside over the death of an aware person. They’re always asleep when I watch their life drain away for the last time. I just want you to know how much I am savoring this moment. I look forward to hearing your shrieks as you die.”

The smile vanished from Marcos’s face as he stared down into the eyes of Ariam. The man who had been so terrified moments earlier had gone completely peaceful. He looked back with…what was it? Was it sadness? Yes, perhaps a hint of that, but that was not the main thing he saw on Ariam’s face. It was something else.

“What are you looking at me that way for?” Marcos demanded.

“I pity you,” Ariam replied. “I’m not the one who is alone. You are. You’re out here on another planet and surrounded by servants who will obey your every whim. There are thousands at your command. But you are so alone. What a pathetic wretch you are.”

Marcos blinked. “What did you just call me?” he said in an acid tone. He felt his face flush with blood and anger. His fingers curled into claws, nails scraping the surface of the cylinder lid.

“You heard me,” Ariam said. “Ryth probably stuck you all the way out here because he couldn’t stand being around you. You realize that, don’t you?” Ariam said and shook his head slowly from side to side like an unhappy parent.

Marcos felt his lips curl away from his teeth in a snarl. “You will keep a civil tongue with me,” he said in a low tone of threat.

And then the man inside the stasis chamber did something Marcos would never have expected. He laughed at Marcos.

Marcos slammed the palm of his hand down on the lid of the cylinder and Ariam jumped visibly only a little. “Stop that!” Marcos snapped, but Ariam continued. “What are you laughing at?” Marcos demanded.

“A weak and lonely fool,” Ariam replied smiling broadly. “You think you have power because you command many. But these acolytes don’t obey you. They don’t even fear you. They don’t even think of you. They’re mentally blank, even when it comes to you, aren’t they? As far as enemies go, you’re a great disappointment.”

Marcos glowered down at Ariam through the glass of the cylinder. His breathing had become ragged and his face was hot with rage. He leaned down until his nose almost touched the glass so that Ariam could stare into his furious eyes.

Through gritted teeth, he said, “Time to die.”

CHAPTER 32. FATE

Marcos jerked away from the display of the cylinder and then knelt beside it to finish the sequence. His finger froze over the last button and he pulled his hand away. No, he told himself, I can’t do this in anger. I must relish it. He took a deep calming breath and spent a few moments centering himself. He pushed the final button in the sequence on the side of the cylinder. But he had a few more controls on a console to operate before the process would begin.

He stood, turned quickly, and stalked rigidly toward the console, unable to completely shake the anger that the man in the cylinder had roused in him. He stood before the controls and glowered down at the buttons and levers. He tried again to clear his mind (with not much more success) so he could recall the process. He breathed and keyed in the first three of the four commands he would need. He stopped and hovered his hand in the air ready to throw the final switch.

He took another deep breath but before his hand could descend to the console something powerful seized his wrist and yanked him away. He staggered then stumbled across the room careening out of control. He collided with a bank of equipment and felt pain blossom in the side of his face and chest which had met the unforgiving steel and he tumbled to the floor.

Marcos hurriedly scrambled to his feet and spun around to see what had happened. His jaw dropped in astonishment as he beheld the cloaked form of Belem standing between himself and his friend in the cylinder. His hands reached up and pulled the hood back from his head. He then removed the entire cloak and casually tossed it aside.

“Thanks for letting me into your little playroom,” Belem said with a wink.

“How can it be?” Marcos asked. “You were in the Trance Robe!”

Belem shrugged a shoulder casually and said, “Beats me. But I’ve been myself the whole time. I just played along.”

Marcos reached into the folds of his black robe and produced the ritual knife with which he had slain three acolytes during the ritual not long before. It had been cleaned and put away after the four intruders had left the sanctuary. But now he meant to employ it once again. Ryth wanted this man alive but had spoken of it in terms of possibilities. It looked like the contingency for that had just run out. No matter, Marcos thought without caring. He’d killed men in combat before; he was comfortable doing so again.

Besides, Belem was unarmed. When the acolytes had seized him in the hallway they had pried the knives from his hands and left them no doubt where they’d fallen. He would have Acolytes go back and retrieve them later. But first, he had to deal with this fool.

Marcos reached up to his fastener and undid the cloak. He tossed it aside and then allowed the robes to slide off as well. He was bare-chested and muscular beneath. Over his thighs and legs, he wore skintight black breaches. Supple black leather boots adorned his feet. He posed himself in a professional fighter’s stance. He had been trained in combat skills and intended to teach this scar-covered idiot everything he knew.

Belem just chuckled to himself and shook his head. “What’s with the pose? Are we going to dance?” Belem asked.

“To the music of your dying screams,” Marcos retorted.

Belem shot out his scarred bare arms to his sides, smiled widely, and bowed at the waist. “By all means,” he said. “Come for a spin.”

Marcos launched himself at Belem slicing a wide arc with the knife. Belem easily ducked out of the way and allowed the blade to pass through empty space. But Marcos was fast. He pressed, pivoted, and spun, slashing in a different direction. The blade caught the bare edge of Belem’s shirt but gouged no skin. Marcos quickly pressed his advantage and came in slashing, again and again, each stroke missing Belem. Suddenly Belem launched himself forward and snagged the knife-bearing wrist in midair.

Marcos’s eyes widened in surprise. Belem’s grip was like iron. The convict jerked Marcos forward throwing his opponent off balance. He simultaneously brought his knee up and connected it with his midsection.

Marcos’s breath was involuntarily driven out of him. But it wasn’t over. Oh, gods, it wasn’t over. Belem twisted his arm and a sickening snapping noise resulted. A sudden burst of blinding pain exploded through Marcos’s body. He was screaming before he realized it. But he didn’t have time to finish the scream before Belem stood him upright again and picked him up off the floor. He heard his knife clatter to the ground somewhere distantly in the back of his mind as his vision lurched and his mind tried to make sense of his change in position in the room.

In the next instant, he sailed through the air. He landed hard upon the stairs going up the other side of the room toward the temple sanctuary. The pain that racked his body was too great to calculate. His head swam with it.

When his vision focused again a few seconds later he noticed Belem had not moved from his position. He simply stood with his arms folded over his chest and a superior look was pasted on his face. Marcos stood shakily upon his legs and growled at Belem like an animal.

“I think you dropped something,” Belem said. Marcos’s eyes dropped to the floor at Belem’s feet and he saw the knife there. His eyes flicked back towards Belem. They were full of greed for the blade. Belem obliged.

The convict kicked at the knife and sent it skidding across the floor. It stopped at Marcos’s feet. He shot a questioning glance back toward the convict. Belem simply nodded toward the blade. He intended for Marcos to pick it up again. The fool, he thought. He’s giving me the advantage. It never crossed his mind that Belem had already been at just such a “disadvantage” and it worked in his favor anyway.

Broken as he was, Marcos was now even more disadvantaged than before. Nevertheless, he stooped, and with his good hand, he procured the weapon once again. He cradled the broken arm while raising the other in his best approximation of a threat. He dashed forward.

When he came within striking distance, he brought the knife up, intending to penetrate Belem just below the ribcage and stab into his heart, ending him. But Belem was beyond ready for it. He easily grabbed Marcos’s wrist in one meaty hand and took hold of his elbow with the other. Marcos went cold when he realized what was coming next.

Belem twisted his arm and another snapping noise reverberated around the room. Awash with unbearable agony, Marcos crumpled to his knees. His once-confident face now turned up in terror to stare at Belem.

“I’m not usually one to offer a chance to surrender,” Belem said, “but I’m feeling magnanimous today. Besides, I think we could use some answers about what you’re up to here.”

No, he thought. Ryth would never forgive him. If the Lord Advisor discerned that Marcos had let slip the slightest secret of this place, he could only expect to suffer a fate far worse than death. Using only his legs Marcos pushed himself back up to his feet. His brow creased in suffering as he stared back at Belem. He opened his mouth but instead of offering surrender, he turned and ran as fast as he could hoping to get away.

Distantly it registered in his mind as his feet pounded on the stairs to get to the sanctuary that he heard the scrape of his blade against the floor as Belem picked it up. This was followed by the whistling of the blade tumbling end over end as the other man hurled it through the air at him. It landed firmly in his lower back severing his spinal cord. His legs stopped working altogether. He crumpled on the stairs and collapsed. He crashed down them, unable to control his fall.

He landed on the floor of the laboratory with his neck contorted and his face twisted away from Belem. But he heard the man’s footsteps as he plodded close. He felt his lower body jolt as Belem ripped the blade out of his back. But there was no pain in this. All feeling down there was now gone. What he did feel was Belem lifting him and turning him so that he was held aloft and faced the convict.

“What was that you said to my friend in the cylinder there?” Belem asked. He let the question hang for a handful of heartbeats before he finished. “That’s right,” he said. “Time to die.” Then, without further hesitation or mercy, Belem rammed the blade of the ritual knife up through his chin and into his brain. There was no death cry but only a sudden contraction of his muscles and a small strained grunt. And that was all. Belem continued to hold the dead man up for a few seconds more and then simply dropped him.

He turned and strode over to the cylinder and initiated the opening sequence.

When the lid was completely lifted away Ariam scrambled to get out of the device. He froze solid when his eyes fell upon the dead and broken form of the man who had been in the black robe.

Ariam then turned sharp disbelieving eyes toward Belem. “How did you do that?” he asked.

“What do you mean, roughing up a man and then killing him? That’s never been a problem for me.”

“No,” Ariam replied, “I mean getting free of the robe. How did you do it?”

“As I told him, I have no idea. It just never worked on me. I was faking the whole time. I figured it would give me the advantage when the moment came.”

“It seems to have worked,” Ariam said gravely.

CHAPTER 33. THE NEXT GATE

After a short allowance of time to confer about their situation, the group went about releasing the rest of the prisoners. The process took several hours. By the end, they tallied about one thousand two hundred prisoners.

Most were human, a good number were Dar’rynakai, but a small minority were of the race they had briefly glimpsed earlier but had not before seen. Gael’jic had expected there to be a language barrier but surprisingly there was not. Of the five specimens of the new race, all of them spoke the human language. Gael’jic and the others marveled at this.

The aliens were on average slightly shorter than humans with dry and cracked slate-gray flesh. They were completely hairless and their eyes were a piercing yellow. Their frames were exceptionally thin, almost cadaverous and Ariam wondered if that was due to having been partially drained in the laboratory. When he gently asked about this, he was assured the condition was normal. Though there was some confusion about what he meant by ‘drained.’

The first of them freed was named Qorovu. Once allowed to recover he was open enough to share a few spare details about his people. Gael’jic in particular was fascinated to learn. There was nothing in the ancient Dar’rynakai records of a race of beings aside from the humans from beyond the planet Dar’ryn. Neither had they found evidence in the secret city they’d discovered in the jungles of Dar’ryn.

“Where are you from?” Gael’jic asked.

“I am a Remmite,” he answered in a deep basso voice. When they explained they did not know what that meant, he looked at them with a startled expression. He then went on to explain he was from a different planet called Remmice. He then intimated that they ought to know this.

The four companions all shared confused looks and revealed they’d never heard of his planet. When they told him they were only familiar with the planet Dar’ryn, and that their current presence on Cairn was an unfamiliar experience, he was gobsmacked. He looked between each of them in turn and then said, “But I know of both your kinds. There are many in my world.”

“I need to speak with you all,” Belem said, turning his back to Qorovu. He nodded off to the side and they excused themselves from the discussion and followed him. When they were a good distance away, Belem continued, “Are we sure we can trust this one? Perhaps he is a plant by our enemy.”

“Highly unlikely,” Gael’jic protested. “He was imprisoned just like the others.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Belem countered. “We already know Ryth is an exceptionally slippery fish. He could have planned this as a contingency.”

“As easy as it is to suspect Ryth,” Cecil interjected, “we ought to be careful not to see his hand behind every surprise. I don’t think this one is part of his scheme.”

“He seems harmless enough to me,” Ariam supplied. “My sense of danger has dissipated.”

Belem rolled his eyes. “Your hunches don’t carry currency with me,” he said. “I only trade in what I can verify.”

Ariam turned to appraise Qorovu again. He stared that way for a handful of heartbeats while the others continued to bicker about the matter. He turned back to them and said, “Wait a second. Has anyone thought to check his stasis chamber?”

They shot questioning glances at him.

“What for?” Cecil asked.

“Call it one of my unfounded hunches,” he said directing a challenging glare at Belem. The convict stared back unflinching.

Cecil looked briefly at the others then trotted over to the console. He stopped at the cylinder that had housed Qorovu to check its serial number. He then completed his journey to the console and began to investigate.

“What am I looking for?” he asked.

“Just about anything,” Ariam replied. “I have a feeling you’ll know it when you see it.”

Cecil cast a dubious glance at Ariam then turned and began keying in commands. He gave only halfhearted attention to the information scrolling across the screen and then his heart skipped a beat.

“What in the name of…?” he said trailing off as he leaned closer to the screen.

“What is it?” Gael’jic asked.

Cecil turned a slack-jawed expression on the others. “You’re not going to believe this,” he said. “Take a look at how long he’s been in stasis.”

They crowded around the console. Belem squinted his eyes as he absorbed the information. A moment later they widened in surprise and he turned his face to Cecil. “You mean to tell me he’s been here for seven hundred years?”

“Give or take,” Cecil confirmed.

They all looked at each other again then turned as one to stare at Qorovu.

“He has no idea, does he?” Ariam asked.

Qorovu who had been watching them developed a worried expression. “What is it?” he asked.

Before any of them could answer a new voice intervened. “Perhaps I can be of assistance in answering that,” it said in otherworldly tones.

All eyes turned to him and the four companions were startled to find Vael in their midst.

“Where the blazes have you been?” Belem demanded. “We could have used your help.”

“That is not my role,” Vael replied evenly. “I am a messenger, not a warrior.”

“Could have fooled me the way you tossed me around in the past,” said Belem. Vael stared at the convict for a few seconds then simply turned and addressed Qorovu.

“Qorovu the Remmite,” he said, “Stand forth and be addressed by the Messenger of Rama’dy’ac.”

The Remmite quickly shot to his feet and bowed his head. He pressed the palms of his hands together in a prayer-like gesture as he did so.

He muttered something quietly to himself and none of the others, not even Gael’jic with his superior hearing, could make out his words.

“What is he doing?” Belem asked.

“He prays to Rama’dy’ac,” Vael replied.

“You said something about answering the question about his imprisonment,” Gael’jic offered.

“Yes,” Vael said. Then, turning toward Qorovu again, he said, “Listen to me, child of Rama’dy’ac. I have much to tell you.”

Qorovu straightened and his gray skin seemed to go even more ashen. “Thank you, Celestial Messenger,” he said. “I am humbled and grateful for the visitation.”

Vael lifted his hands to indicate the four companions. “These first have something to share with you. It will be difficult to hear, but you must receive it.”

Qorovu turned to look at Cecil and the others. “What does he speak of?” he said with a worry-tinged voice.

“It seems you’ve been imprisoned here for a very long time,” Cecil replied. “According to the computers, you’ve been here nearly seven hundred years.”

Qorovu staggered backward and gasped. He shot his hands out to seek stability but found nothing. He nearly collapsed.

“Seven hundred…? No!”

“Yes,” Vael said. “Your world is greatly changed and everything you left behind is dust. What is more, your work has been stolen and corrupted.”

Qorovu seemed to have lost his voice. He stammered and whimpered, but nothing coherent made its way out of him.

“His work?” Cecil interjected. “What’s this about?”

Vael turned to Qorovu and nodded.

Ariam stepped toward Vael and demanded, “Give the poor creature some time to mourn! He has just…” but Qorovu stepped beside him and placed a hand on Ariam’s shoulder. Ariam turned to look at the sober features of the strange alien.

Qorovu gave the man a single shake of his head and Ariam could only blink. The alien turned to the four companions and explained, “My work has to do with energy. Particularly in harnessing, transference, and storage. But I do not understand how it could have been corrupted. What application could possibly…?”

“I think I know,” Ariam said. “We’ve all seen it firsthand.”

“Yes,” Vael confirmed. “At this very facility, the technology you developed has been turned against life. It has been used to draw the life essence out of healthy people and twisted into a perverted application.”

This time Qorovu did collapse. His legs gave out and he landed hard on the floor. Tears coursed down his gray cheeks as he slowly shook his head in denial.

“No,” he said. “Let it not be true. My work has become…abomination?”

Ariam came and crouched beside him. “It is true. I’m so sorry. It was almost used on me. But at the last moment, my friend rescued me.” He turned a half-smile toward Belem. Belem remained stoic and statuesque.

“The time has come for you to redeem your work,” Vael said. “Rise Qorovu of Remmice. You will travel with these four to your home world. There you will seize back your work and bring it into service for Rama’dy’ac.” He turned then and addressed the others.

“But beware, all of you,” he went on. “Danger not only lies yet ahead, but it will also follow you. I will show you the way to the next gate. From there you will travel to Remmice. I will then lead these others you have freed to another gate leading to Dar’ryn. But we must hurry. Time is running short and great danger is on its way to this planet.”

“Ryth?” Belem said.

Vael nodded.

***

The gate to Remmice resided within the bowels of The Obelisk facility. Ariam was grateful they did not have to travel the dangerous Cairn landscape once again. As with the previous gate, this one was operated by a blood key. But unlike before there was no secondary key required.

“How will my world be different?” Qorovu asked Vael.

“I cannot tell you that. You shall have to see for yourself. But be warned, it will come as a terrible shock.”

Vael turned to Gael’jic and summoned him. The Dar’rynakai padded up to him and waited. Vael reached within the folds of his robe and produced a cloth sack and held it out to him.

Gael’jic stretched out his hand and received the sack. “May I look inside?” he asked.

Vael dipped his head in affirmation.

Gael’jic opened the sack and peered inside. He lifted his eyes in a questioning glance and said, “Illuminoc plants?”

“Yes,” Vael answered. “There are three blossoms within.”

“What are these for?” Ariam asked.

Vael shook his head. “You must discover this for yourself.”

Belem rolled his eyes. “There’s a new development. Why can’t you give us any straight answers?”

“These are the rules of the game,” Vael said.

“I don’t much care for your game.”

Ignoring this, Vael addressed the five of them. “You must go through the gate now and I must hurry back to assist the others. Danger approaches.”

They all shared a concerned look then turned toward the gate and one by one went through it. Gael’jic was the first to step through, followed by Cecil. Ariam stood before it, hesitating for a few seconds. He lowered his head, shook it, and stepped in.

Belem was the last. He stared at the gate then turned to look around the chamber, giving one final look at The Obelisk. “This place was to have been my fate.”

“It was,” Vael replied.

“But no longer,” Belem added.

“For that to be true, you must carry on and stay with the others. You are tempted to turn aside now and seek a solitary path. You cannot do this. Your lack has only begun to be healed. But you are not whole yet.”

Belem snorted at the celestial figure, turned to stare at the shimmering gate, and stepped toward another world.

CHAPTER 34. THE LORD ADVISOR ARRIVES

Lycas Ryth stepped out of the shimmering gateway onto the decimated landscape of the planet Cairn. He stopped for a moment to drink in the wild waste of it all. The planet had not always been this way. He was partially responsible for its current state. That made him smile.

He set off walking in the direction of The Obelisk. The little satisfaction he gained from gazing upon the barren wilderness of the planet dissipated quickly. He had not planned this visit. He suspected he would have had to come soon but he had not anticipated having to do so now. His attempts to contact Marcos failed and a thorn of concern lodged in his mind.

He had been prepared to receive a favorable report from his man at The Obelisk. Surely someone as devious as Marcos with a few thousand acolytes at his disposal could handle four measly servants of Rama’dy’ac. Nevertheless, a nagging concern chewed away at his thoughts. The trouble only grew when he spied something strange on the horizon. It would have been easy for a human to miss but his superior eyes – while of human flesh but enhanced by genetic engineering and his celestial power – picked it out right away. Among the magma flats, acid geysers, and dark stone pillars a small black cloud of smoke billowed up. He halted in his steps and stared at it.

A thoughtful noise arose unbidden from the back of his throat. He crossed his arms over his chest as he considered this. “What have we here?” he wondered out loud. After a few more moments of considering this strange new development, he started walking again.

***

He knew it could not have been The Obelisk structure itself on fire. It was obsidian through and through. Only a great explosion could have caused that structure to billow smoke in that way. Additionally, even from across the distance he could tell that the column of smoke was not exceptionally large. When he arrived closer he discerned the nature and cause of the smoke. It was a pile of a few thousand discarded acolyte robes dragged outside and set on fire. He stared at it in disbelief, hate etching his features.

Marcos had failed him. If the man was still alive, he would not be for much longer. But he doubted he would find him whole. If he was smart, he would have fought to the end. But then again, humans weren’t always smart. Their instinct for self-preservation sometimes led them to idiotic moves. Abandoning his duty at The Obelisk and his service to Ryth would be tantamount to suicide. It would earn him a painful demise.

He turned from the smoldering pile of acolyte robes and stalked toward the obsidian structure. He entered the building and immediately followed a course to the most interior point. He stopped at one of the rooms containing the stasis cylinders and glowered at the door for a moment. He reached out and pressed the button then stepped inside.

As he suspected every one of the stasis cylinders was open and empty. He thought momentarily about ducking into other rooms and checking them but decided this would be a waste of time. He knew he would find much the same condition elsewhere. He decided to make for the laboratory instead.

The halls were completely silent, which was not unusual. But he would have run into an acolyte or two under normal circumstances. Given the size of the pile of robes burning outside, he guessed he would meet none of them. They had all been freed. Along with the prisoners. In truth, many of them had been prisoners themselves. Not all of them, but most. There should have been a few loyal to him mixed in with the general population of acolytes. He wondered if any infiltrated the group that left the place. But where had they gone? There were other gates on the planet, but could they have found them? And if so, which ones were taken? He vowed to have an answer to that question soon. And when he did, there would be hell to pay. He did not like having his schemes interrupted like this. And no measly army of freed prisoners was going to stop him.

But he did not have time to chase these down himself. He had another contingency in his back pocket for that. But first, he had to investigate.

When he arrived at the lift going down into the bowels of The Obelisk he reached out his hand to press the button and then froze. His keen senses told him he was not alone. He whipped around and faced the empty hallways and shouted, “Reveal yourself! The Lord Advisor demands it.”

A few tentative moments passed when suddenly a door in the hallway off to his right opened up and two men stepped out. They wore the simple black underclothes of the acolytes.

They exchanged a glance with one another that Ryth read as relief and then came trotting up to him. They halted before him and both knelt, their heads tilted toward the floor.

“My Lord Advisor,” one of them said.

“Rise,” Ryth commanded impatiently. “Report.”

The one who had already spoken continued. “The Obelisk has been attacked, my lord,” he said, spilling the words as he would have with a pot of soup after having tripped and stumbled. “Bishop Marcos has been slain and all of the prisoners have been freed.”

“Including those hypnotically pressed into service with Trance Robes,” the other one added.

“What happened?” Ryth asked.

The first one hurriedly unfolded a basic summary of the events starting from the arrival of the four exiles and continuing to the assembly where Marcos had outed them and ordered the acolytes to arrest them. He proceeded to their hasty retreat, to Marcos’s single combat with one of them and failure, to the freeing of the prisoners and acolytes, to the arrival of a strange creature they called Vael, completing the narrative with their leaving through a gate.

Ryth drank all this in with increasing rage. He could tell by the worried expressions on the faces of the two remaining acolytes that he was not hiding his emotions well.

After a long uncomfortable pause, the second one asked, “What shall we do, my lord?”

Ryth flicked his eyes between the two of them and then said, “Come with me.” He spun around and flowed like a storm front into the lift. They followed in his wake and then the doors closed and the lift box descended to the lower levels.

When the lift door opened upon the next level, Ryth barged into the hallway and the other two came up behind him struggling to keep pace.

“There were other acolytes with you,” he said. “Those who were not under the trance and who were faithful. What happened to them?”

“They live my Lord,” one of them answered. “There are five others. They infiltrated the group and traveled with them.”

At least there’s that, Ryth thought. They wound their way through the lower level until they came to the discarded wooden door leading into the laboratory. The doorway was open because the metal door remained tucked away in the wall. Ryth entered and stopped, looking down upon the destroyed laboratory. His eyes fell upon the dead form of Bishop Marcos discarded and left like so much refuse. He stared at the man’s twisted corpse for a handful of seconds then followed the circular upper platform around to the other side. He passed through the next door and entered the temple sanctuary.

He descended the stairs without hesitation and the two acolytes followed. He could sense their growing concern but concentrated on what had to come next. He arrived at the base of the stairs and walked up onto the stage. He stopped in front of the podium and pointed toward it.

“Remove that,” he ordered. Two acolytes rushed forward and each took a side of the heavy wooden podium. They carried it a few feet away and then turned to wait for their next instruction.

Ryth stretched out his hand over the place the podium had stood and closed his eyes. He murmured the ancient chant while slowly moving his horizontally held hand in a clockwise motion. A few moments later the trapdoor that had been concealed underneath the podium slid aside revealing a staircase going down. The two acolytes exchanged a surprised look. Ryth motioned for them and pointed down the stairway. They nodded and both hurried to it.

The stairway was narrow allowing only one at a time. When both of them were on the stairs and quickly descending Ryth brought up the rear. The passageway and the stairs were all carved out of the same dark stone that served as the skin of the planet. It was rough and cracked and black. A few hundred feet down was a dim orange glow. When they reached it they entered a wide chamber. The floor was made of the same rough black stone as the stairs. But the high vaulted domed ceiling was the same obsidian material as The Obelisk’s walls. It was smooth and reflected the orange light which emanated from a large crack in the floor. The crack traveled from left to right in the center of the chamber.

The acolytes looked around the space with awe. They had never seen it before. They hadn’t even known it was there. Not even Marcos had been cognizant of it. He had been made aware there was something beneath the surface his rituals served to keep at bay, but he did not know he could have descended and seen the ritual chamber itself. This was the true sanctuary. This was the real point of the rituals performed in the auditorium above.

Both acolytes turned expectant faces to Ryth and waited. “My lord?” one of them said in a tentative voice, “What is this place?”

In answer Ryth casually reached into the folds of his flowing dark robes and extracted a ritual knife.

He glided to stand directly before them. He flicked his eyes between the two acolytes, savoring the fear that blossomed on their faces. “Let me show you,” he said.

CHAPTER 35. DEMONS

In one deft motion, Lycas Ryth lashed out and sliced the throats of both acolytes. He watched with delight as their facial muscles opened up with surprise at the attack. Both of them stood there dumbly not knowing what to do and just staring back at him. One of them raised a hand pleadingly out to him but he batted it away. The other one staggered toward him, a useless threat on his face. Ryth turned menacing eyes to the man which halted him in his tracks. In the next instant, both men collapsed to the floor.

Ryth glanced down at them and waited for them to cease struggling. He then casually tossed the ritual knife aside, leaned down, grabbed both of them, and dragged their bodies over to the crevice. He tossed them into the crack one at a time. Their bodies disappeared into the expanse and he waited.

A few moments later a deep rumbling moan echoed around the chamber. He lifted his hands above him and his eyes began to glow with orange light. His lips moved, silently at first, and then chanting returned to them.

He carried on this way for some time, his voice gradually becoming louder. Accompanying this was a rising tremble within the structure around him.

Suddenly he shot his arms down, pointed his outstretched fingers toward the crack, and began to shout his chant. But now it was only composed of a single repeated ancient word. “Shedi’im. Shedi’im. Shedi’im.”

Now the ground shook with great force. The crack opened wider and the chamber was filled with the sound of shattering rock.

A large mottled gray and brown clawed hand shot up through the crack and slapped its palm down on the surface. The claws attached to five long, thin fingers dug into the dark rock and cut gouges in it. More of the creature to which the clawed hand belonged now appeared out of the crack. The arm was long and lanky. The flesh on it was taught and dry. At several places, there were spider-webbing cracks through which thin streams of orange light pierced.

Another clawed hand came out of the crack, but this one gripped the mangled corpse of one of the acolytes Ryth had tossed into the depths. The desiccated hand thudded on the floor and the limbs of the body jostled about, limp and powerless.

Next, a nightmare face appeared above the lip of the crack. A large head with black obsidian protrusions on the chin, cheeks, and brow arose from the pit. Dual ridges of the jagged stony protrusions ran from the outer points of the brow up along a hairless scalp and converged in a downward pointing arrow on the other side at the base of the skull. Black, empty skull sockets gazed about the room until the creature’s eyeless sight landed on Ryth.

Once the monstrosity took in Lycas Ryth, that was it. The thing pulled itself the rest of the way out of the crevice with amazing speed for something so large. When it got its feet underneath it, it stood and towered over Ryth, even though its back was hunched forward.

The great thing had a primal air about it. Just looking at it one easily got the idea it was older than civilization. Its great sloping brow and forehead suggested limited intelligence. It seemed a thing half-formed.

It loped forward until it came close to Ryth. It got down on its knees and bowed its head to him. It mewled an oddly affectionate noise. One of its great hands reached forward and slid across the cracked black surface of the stone floor. It gently caressed one finger over Ryth’s boot top. It then lifted its face and opened its jaw. A long pink snaking tongue unfurled and it licked the boot.

“No, stop that,” Ryth said in mock annoyance, but he was unable to hide his grin. From deep within its craggy recesses a guttural gurgling sound came forth. It was an approximation of a purr, a beastly show of affection.

“Yes, yes,” Ryth said impatiently. “I know. I missed you, too. Where are your brothers?”

The creature turned its face up to look at Ryth and it displayed a hideous grin. A series of shapeless resonant noises issued forth from the creature’s mouth. It turned and lifted a hand to indicate the crevice.

Ryth lifted his eyes to the crevice and waited. Four more sets of hands came up and more of the creatures clawed their way out of the crack. One of them carried an acolyte arm in its bloody claw. Another had a lower leg including the foot sticking out of its jaws. Housed in all of their vacant eye sockets was a sickly orange glow as if they were lit from inside their skulls with independent flames.

This next wave of the creatures eagerly clawed their way out of the crack and came crawling to bow alongside the other one. A chorus of mewling and guttering noises came from them. Then from behind them, further down in the crevice came even more.

“Welcome back to life, my Shedi’im,” Ryth said. “Your slumber has been long and so your feast will therefore be much deserved.”

A series of happy barking sounds came from the assembled demonic forms. One of them pushed itself up on its hands so that it could nuzzle its head against Ryth’s leg. The Lord Advisor allowed this for a few moments but then stepped away.

“No time for that now,” he said. “We can play later when you have obeyed my commands.”

More pleased sounds came from the creatures.

“Let us ascend to the surface, my children,” Ryth said. “For I have work for you. Bloody work. I have been wronged by the servants of Rama’dy’ac and you will mediate my vengeance.”

The creatures rose and hopped up and down. They slapped their clawed hands on the floor. Excited and eager sounds spilled from their gnarled jaws. Ryth watched as even more of the twisted creatures swarmed out of the crack. He beheld this for a while with approval, then turned and strode proudly back up the stairway. The big creatures followed single file up the stairs behind him.

He permitted a self-satisfied grin to stretch his face. There, he thought as he ascended the stairs, let’s see how Rama’dy’ac’s pets deal with this. Behind him, there arose a deafening cacophony of barking and whooping as the demonic monstrosities filled the chamber and jockeyed for position to come up the stairs behind their master.

They swarmed up from the abyss, greedily hungry after hundreds of years of hibernation. The rituals of the cult kept them fed and sedated. The extracted and distilled life essence from the prisoners, administered as it was in a pure and essential form, kept the Shedi’im essentially sated. However, at the same time, the sacrificial blood of the slaughtered acolytes was applied during the ritual to keep them partially conscious and to maintain a marginally aroused appetite. Thus they were perpetually kept in a state of semi-consciousness. But now they were fully awake and hungry. Now they had a taste of blood and would be eager for more.

To be continued in…

DEMONS OF DAR’RYN

DEMONS OF DAR'RYN

BOOK 4

CHAPTER 1. REMMICE

Ariam pitched forward, losing his footing. Everything was brilliant and bathed in light, undecipherable. The shape of the world resolved around him from the shimmering luminance of the gate to a new alien planet. Or at least a room somewhere on that planet. Normally he would have been highly curious about all this. He had just come from another world he had never expected to visit, nor even had known about for very long. That had been enough of an ordeal for one lifetime. But now there was so much more. But how could he tell the others?

Ariam regained his balance just in time to keep from sprawling all over the flagstone floor. When he was at last steady on his feet, he whipped around and stared worriedly at the gate. The brilliant pearlescent shimmer rippled like an upright pool. Sweat broke out over his brow as he stared.

Was something going to come charging out after him? He half believed it would. What he had seen on the journey…what he had encountered…

“Something wrong, beggar?” Cecil asked.

Ariam spun to face him. concern covered his face. What could he say?

“Something does trouble him,” Gael’jic opined.

Ariam realized he was hunching his shoulders so he straightened himself. He smoothed the worry creases on his face and let his arms drop to his sides as casually as he could. “No,” he lied. “It’s just…”

He turned to stare back at the gate. He said, “I just don’t like traveling like that. It feels wrong.”

Cecil and Gael’jic shared looks.

“Wrong?” Cecil asked. “Was it different than the first time? It felt much the same to me. Perhaps a little awkward at first, but not altogether difficult or unpleasant.”

Ariam shook his head as he continued to stare at the shimmering gate. Belem had not yet come through. He worried about that. Especially considering what he had seen.

Ariam turned to address the others. His eyes landed on three figures. Cecil and Gael’jic were there. But there was also the newest member of their group, Qorovu the Remmite.

The newcomer’s gleaming yellow eyes locked onto him. There appeared to be a question in them. Did he sense something? Did he know?

Ariam shook his head. “No,” he said at last. “It just unnerves me, that is all.” He turned away once more and hoped they did not detect the falsehood in his face or voice. Now he had to but wait for Belem to arrive. And when he did, would he be safe?

“What’s taking him so long?” Ariam asked.

“Maybe he had words for Vael,” Cecil said.

“They do not seem to get along well,” Gael’jic said. “I cannot imagine Belem wanted to converse with him if he did not need to.”

“Maybe he had a question then,” Cecil asked.

“Perhaps so,” Gael’jic said folding his arms over his chest. An instant later a dark form appeared in the brilliant pool of the gate’s light. Ariam caught his breath and held it. In the next instant, the form resolved into Belem. Immediately Ariam’s eyes traced the length of him. When he saw the multiple scars and frowning visage of the other man he breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank whatever gods there may be,” he muttered.

Belem shot him a curious glance. He arched an eyebrow and said, “What was that?”

Ariam shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, shifting his gaze away.

Belem spared him one last look then turned away and surveyed their environment. After a few moments he said, “So what is this place?”

For the first time, Ariam also took notice of their surroundings. He had expected to find themselves outside. Instead, they were in some kind of chamber. There were large square floor stones, precisely quarried to fit perfectly together. The chamber itself was circular. The roof was domed.

The light in the room came from two sources. One was the shimmering glow of the gate. This began to fade leaving them in near darkness. However, the second source of light provided only a bare definition of their surroundings in the diminishment of the first. The light came down a stairway several feet straight out from the gate. The stairway was perhaps wide enough for three of them to walk side-by-side up it. Belem was the first to approach it and to trace his focus up the length of it. A grunt of assessment came from the man. He planted his fists on his hips and turned his head to address the others over his shoulder.

“Let’s get moving,” he said. He did not wait. He simply started ascending the stairs. There was no question from anyone else regarding their course so they followed.

The chamber had been deep in the skin of the planet. They spent a good five minutes walking up the stairs. By the time they reached the top, Ariam was puffing for breath. When he caught his breath he looked around. He was pleased to see a blue sky streaked with white clouds. It was a nice change from the sickly yellow sky that hung suspended over the planet Cairn. But aside from that, there was still trouble.

They stood in the midst of a vast forest, or at least what had once been. There were many trees but they were all lifeless stony petrified skeletons.

Qorovu gasped.

“What have they done to my world?” he asked breathlessly.

The others surveyed the decimated landscape all around them. After a few moments, Ariam asked, “What was it like before?”

Qorovu shook his head slowly as a tear streaked down one gray-skinned cheek. “Green and good,” he replied. Then he said, “It was alive and lush. There was vibrant life. Trees, plants, animals. But now look at it.” He raised a hand and indicated the ruin around them. He shook his head and said, “How long has it been this way?”

There was no way for any of them to know. But the devastation around them was complete and undeniable.

It caused Ariam to remember what he had seen in his journey through the gate. He shuddered and thrust the memory aside. He could not dwell on it, not now. The others would have to know eventually, but he could not bring himself to say anything to them now. They would not understand. Plus they had work ahead of them. They could not be diverted from their purpose because he had…what? A dream? A vision? He didn’t know.

Qorovu was counting on them, as was the entire civilized planetary system to which they belonged.

Ariam did not know how many planets there were. He had only just discovered this and the previous one. All his life he had only known Dar’ryn. Now two more planets had been added to his understanding. How many more could there be? Unless Vael told them, he guessed there would be no way to find out.

Qorovu turned away from them and walked slowly and reverently up to one of the petrified trees. He stretched out a hand toward it and halted before his skin made contact with the rigid, dead bark.

Just then Ariam remembered the dark rocky pillars on the surface of Cairn. He wondered if Cairn had once been a fertile world as well and if something had occurred to ruin it. Were those rocky pillars the remnants of a forest long forgotten? Something told him that was the truth.

Immediately he remembered his experience coming through the last gate. Could it have been a vision of things to come? He had at first assumed it was something that had already happened, but… He looked over at Belem. The man seemed himself. He was as gruff and grumpy as ever.

The convict turned as if he felt Ariam’s eyes on him. He arched an eyebrow, expectant. “Well?” he said. “Have something to say?”

Ariam shook his head. “No,” he replied. “It’s just all this. It makes me think of Cairn and the black stone pillars we hid behind as we approached The Obelisk. I wonder if those had been trees once upon a time just like these.

“Yes,” Qorovu answered. They all turned to look at him. His head was hung low and his hand now lay propped against the petrified tree. His eyes were squeezed shut as his face pointed to the ground.

“How do you know?” Cecil asked.

“I have been to Cairn before I was imprisoned there,” Qorovu responded. “It did not look like what we left behind. It too was once a living planet, sustaining life. But it has been corrupted, tainted.”

He lifted his face and opened his yellow eyes to stare at the four exiles. “It too was ruined like my world. Now I cannot say if we will find anything of value here.”

They fell quiet. After a few moments, Gael’jic said, “The Messenger of Rama’dy’ac said that we have work to do here. Therefore, our coming here was not in vain. We must carry on.”

Qorovu stared at Gael’jic for a few heartbeats then nodded sadly.

“Perhaps it is so,” he said quietly.

“Do you know where we are?” Cecil asked. “And how to get where we need to go?”

Qorovu’s eyes fell on the former Captain of the Royal Guardians.

“Yes,” he said at last. “It will take us some time to get there on foot.”

“Better lead the way then,” Belem suggested sternly.

Ariam glanced at Belem. A deep sense of foreboding overcame him. He looked away before Belem could notice.

Qorovu merely nodded his head solemnly. “Very well,” he replied. He then turned and began to walk away.

CHAPTER 2. SCARS

None of them thought it possible, but Qorovu seemed to grow wearier and more dismayed with each step. The devastation of his home world was sinking in one heartbeat at a time. Ariam could not imagine what that would do to a person. He and the other humans had always thought of themselves as colonists on Dar’ryn. That – as he considered it further – had driven a bit of a wedge between themselves and the planet which they called home. But it wasn’t home. It was a haven. Their real home world was somewhere far across the stars and in the distant past. It wasn’t even any longer remembered what the place was called. Nor did anyone know why they had fled.

Many answers had been supplied over the years, but none ever struck Ariam as satisfactory. Most of them involved some kind of calamity. Perhaps that part was true, Ariam relented, but what was it precisely? And had others gone in different directions? Had humanity searched for a home among other stars? And if so, what had happened to them?

He shook these thoughts away as flights of fancy. There was no way to ever really know unless contact could ever be re-established. But if they had gone in opposite directions from other humans, the gulf between them must now be unpassable. There would be no crossing the ocean of stars.

Now they had but to deal with what was before them. And weren’t three planets enough? Dar’ryn, Cairn, and now Remmice. Two of the worlds had suffered some sort of cataclysm. And if Ariam did not miss his guess, Dar’ryn might be slated next.

He had an unshakable sense of impending doom that would not let him consider otherwise. If Ryth got his way…No, he reprimanded himself, Not Ryth: Uri’thind’ac. Yes, if Uri’thind’ac got his way, he did not doubt widescale devastation was in the cards. That is what they sought to prevent. They had one last planet to save from Uri’thind’ac’s clutches: Dar’ryn. Gael’jic’s home world.

And if they were victorious? It seemed unlikely to him, but if they came out victorious on the other side, he wondered if something could be done to repair and heal the devastated worlds left behind. He hoped there would.

But first, they had to win the war.

Yet Ariam was no warrior. He was an actor who had abandoned his privileged life and chosen exile for himself. He was no fighter. He had no training. The small bits of stagecraft he had learned with false swords certainly did not count. They were but choreographed mockeries of true war.

He turned his face to Belem once more. Belem, apparently sensing this, turned to regard him.

“What is it, beggar?” he asked gruffly.

“You know how to fight,” Ariam said.

“Thank you for stating the obvious,” Belem replied. “Do you have a point?”

“I do,” Ariam said. “Perhaps I should learn. But to do so, I require a good teacher.”

Belem regarded him quietly for a moment then slowly nodded. “Perhaps so,” he said. “Is that a request?”

“I think it is,” Ariam said. “Vael promised danger ahead and behind. The longer I go unprepared to face it, the worse off I will be.”

Belem turned his face forward as they continued walking. “True enough,” he said. “And since you have no weapon of any kind, I suppose you must learn to fight with your hands and your feet.”

“Can that be taught under these circumstances?” Ariam asked.

Belem barked a mirthless laugh. He showed a grim smile to his companion and said, “Of course, it can. The question is, can you learn? Do you have the stomach for it?”

He hadn’t even considered that. He had always supposed it took a certain kind of man to learn to fight. He had also assumed he never was that kind of man. Nevertheless, here he was, on a quest that would require violence. Mostly, he dreaded the idea. But he could not deny there was a small part of him, an insistent little thorn in his mind, that wanted to fight. He supposed it was that way with many men. But could it be drawn out of him and nurtured? He certainly hoped so.

He turned to Belem and said, “Let’s say that I can.” He hoped the confidence he mustered and poured into his voice was convincing enough.

Belem held him in his stare for a few seconds longer then gave a little nod. “Very well,” he said. He then turned to Qorovu and asked, “How much longer until we reach our destination?”

Qorovu stopped and lifted his eyes to the sky shielding them with his hand. He stood gazing that way for a handful of breathless moments then turned and looked at Belem. “We have many hours to go,” he said. “I do not think we will reach there today. We will have to camp for the night.”

Belem grunted his understanding. He then turned to Ariam and said, “When we stop for the night, you and I can talk. I’ll show you a few things to get you started.”

“I’d like that,” Ariam said.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Belem said with a snort. “By the end of it, I doubt you’ll like it very much.”

“If we are going to camp for the night,” Cecil interjected, “we better start thinking about how we’re going to manage tonight before we get there. There doesn’t appear to be anything to forage. And we don’t have much in the way of supplies with us.”

“What if there is still something living beneath the surface?” Gael’jic supplied. “Maybe some kind of root survives.”

“That could be,” Qorovu replied. “But such things lie outside my realm of knowledge.”

“We’ll investigate when we stop,” Cecil stated.

“What’s that up ahead?” Ariam interrupted suddenly. He had turned his attention away from the others and saw an odd shape out in the distance. It was stationary and not tall and narrow like one of the trees. The others turned their focus to it and stared for a while. They all shook their heads in the end and none of them could tell what it was.

“It is on the way,” Qorovu said. “We can take a look when we get closer.”

They walked on in silence for some time until at last, they began to discern the outline of the object Ariam had spotted. It was a large and hulking thing. But it was no rock formation, and as Ariam had guessed, it was also no tree. Instead, it appeared to be some kind of tank.

They were still a good distance off when Gael’jic asked about it. “What is a tank?” he asked.

Cecil had been the one to identify it as such, so he supplied the answer.

“It is a weapon of war, a kind of vehicle. They are big and they move slowly, but they have powerful weapons.” He lifted a hand and pointed at the thing. “Do you see the long protrusion coming from the top?”

Gael’jic squinted in that direction then nodded.

“That is the chief weapon of the tank,” Cecil said. “It has been a long time since humanity used such things. Before even we came to this star system, I suspect. A colony ship has no use for such weapons of war. I’m surprised to see one here.”

Belem turned to Qorovu. “Do you recognize its make?” he asked.

Qorovu stared at the defunct vehicle and slowly shook his head. “I do not,” he replied. “My people were peaceful.”

Belem harrumphed. “At least they were when you left seven hundred years ago. Who knows what happened in the intervening centuries?”

The Remmite turned an affronted look at Belem. “Remmite society is noble,” he countered. “We left such barbaric ways long in the past.”

“Sometimes the past has a way of sneaking up on us,” Cecil said. “We don’t mean to push you, Qorovu,” he said. “However, there is no telling what happened since you were put on ice. But let’s not jump to any conclusions just yet. Whoever built that weapon may have brought it from off-world.”

Cecil left unspoken that he doubted whether tanks would be required to subdue an essentially peaceful society. But there was much left to uncover before any further understanding could be reached on the matter.

A short while later they arrived at the tank and stopped to examine it. In the end, they elected not to spend much time doing so as their journey was far more important than examining ancient relics of a forgotten war.

But as they progressed on their travel, they encountered more abandoned tanks and other vehicles and weapons. But, the one thing they did not encounter, was bodies. Not even discarded bones from a decayed skeleton.

Gael’jic mentioned this.

Cecil made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. “Yeah, I see your point.”

“What does this mean?” Qorovu asked.

“It means,” Cecil began, “that after whatever happened here – unless they gathered their dead in the wake of it – we might expect to find the remains of the beings who fought this war left scattered around with the rest of the equipment. If nobody bothered to salvage the weapons, I doubt that they would have bothered to take their corpses. But there’s too much that we don’t know.”

Qorovu nodded a little then looked again in revulsion at the devastation all around them. They had come upon what had once been a great battlefield. There was much debris indicating the scale of the war that had been fought was massive. And not all of it appeared destroyed. Some of the vehicles had battle damage, to be sure, but much of it appeared as if it might have been in decent working order if it had been maintained.

Qorovu shook his head. He said, “We have a long way yet to go.”

CHAPTER 3. ILL MET

His mind was as unclouded by doubt as ever. There was only one place he believed the servants of Rama’dy’ac would go. There was only one logical place Rama’dy’ac would send them.  He first went to the gate in the bowels of The Obelisk but found it had been disabled. But he knew of another. Only, that one required him and his creatures to travel some distance by foot. And so he led an army of howling and snarling Shedi’im to the other gate to the planet Remmice.

The beasts had grown rowdy since they exited the chamber where he had kept them imprisoned for centuries. He couldn’t blame them for their behavior. He could only imagine how hungry they were. The ritual that Marcos had observed, and many others before him, did not truly feed them well. The life force drained from the occupants of the stasis chambers served to sate their hunger only marginally. It was barely enough to keep them subdued. But when he had awoken the creatures, their guts would soon be roiling with appetite.

That was as he wanted it. That made them all the more vicious. And a vicious Shedi’im was a useful Shedi’im. His vengeance required it thus.

He still could hardly fathom how the servants of Rama’dy’ac had come out victorious at The Obelisk. With all of the resources at Marcos’s disposal, he should easily have been able to handle them. But he was defeated and left not just dead but broken.

All the better for him, Ryth ruminated. If the man had simply given up, Ryth would have put no end to his torments. As it was, the Lord Advisor felt he needed to vent his wrath somehow.

While he would get some pleasure from unleashing his Shedi’im on the four exiles, it would not satisfy his sense of vengeance. He was going to have to find someone to take out his frustrations on when he returned to Dar’ryn. Thankfully, there were abundant candidates.

There were a few troublesome Sector Representatives he would love to personally get his hands on. But he would refrain from doing that. If he simply started taking prisoners and killing public figures, it would shorten the fun of the rest of the game.

No, he would have to find another kind of candidate. Maybe someone in the criminal underworld. There was that fellow Cecil had met with. What was his name again? Ryth thought as he stalked toward the gate. That’s right, he remembered. Vellin. Surely the world could use one less criminal. And if he made a proper show of it, he could probably gain some favor among the more pliable Sector Representatives and hold off the others’ simmering rebellion.

He would have to think about it. He was not ready to make a decision quite yet. But one thing was for sure: someone was going to die. And they were going to suffer tremendously in the process.

He could now see the gate to Remmice in the distance. When his eyes at last arrested the sight of the gate he lost a step. The Shedi’im accompanying him noticed this and they halted as well. They turned expectant faces at him and made mewling sounds.

He waved them away with an irritated gesture and they quieted.

Someone stood by the gate. Could it be that one of the fools remained behind? He could not imagine the gall it would take for one of them to wait for him.

He started walking again. But the closer he came, the more he understood this was not one of the four exiles waiting for him. This was someone else.

A smile slowly stretched its way across his face as he understood whom it was standing beside the gate.

It was Vael. The realization that one of his old nemeses was present at his destination put some speed into his step. He eagerly closed the distance.

When he was close enough to address the Celestial Messenger of Rama’dy’ac he came to a halt.

Vael’s four glowing blue eyes bored into him. There was an unmistakable rage in that stare. Ryth relished it and he glowered back at the Messenger, giving as good as he got.

“Well, well, well, look who it is,” Ryth said with a drawl. “How long has it been, Vael? I must confess, I’m surprised to see Rama’dy’ac saw fit to send his little pets to free you.”

“I have not come to idly pass the time jabbering with the likes of you, Uri’thind’ac,” Vael sneered. The voice of the Messenger of Rama’dy’ac echoed from all directions. It was something Ryth had known well. Had he been in his true form, it would have been characteristic of his voice, too, only greater. How he hated being confined to human flesh. But no matter, he was close to freeing himself from the corporeal prison. All he had to do was win this last round of the game. And then all flesh would suffer under his wrath.

“That’s a shame,” Ryth said casually. “I do so miss our little chats.”

“I have come to deliver a message,” Vael said ignoring the comment.

“I’m not surprised,” Ryth said. “You are, after all just a little messenger boy, aren’t you? So tell me, what has Rama’dy’ac’s good little dog come to bark at me about this time?”

Vael stared stonily at Ryth, then said, “Rama’dy’ac wishes to extend an offer to you. You may surrender and walk away from this intact.”

Ryth’s jaw dropped open in astonishment. For once, he was at a loss for words. Over the next several heartbeats, the only sound that came from him was a coughed laugh of disbelief.

When he regained himself he closed his mouth and shook his head. “How very generous,” he said mockingly. “Especially for someone who has lost the last many rounds of this game so badly.”

“He has not lost every round of the game,” Vael corrected.

“No of course not,” Ryth answered with a roll of his eyes. “Just all of the ones that have counted for anything.”

He took a menacing step toward Vael. He went on, “And when I complete this round, not only will I smash his foolish little pets, I will grind him into the fabric of the universe so that there is nothing of him recognizable left. I will bathe the stars with his energy. He will be scattered and forgotten.”

Vael stood, unperturbed by the threat. He simply remained stolid and waiting for Ryth to finish his diatribe.

Truculently, Vael replied, “I take this to mean you do not accept the offer of Rama’dy’ac.”

“Of course, I do not accept it,” Ryth spat. “I reject it with the full force of my power.” He took another step toward Vael. He was now within arm’s reach of the Celestial Messenger.

“And how about you, Messenger? What part will you play in all this? Will you cheat? Will you step outside the bounds of your role again? I’ll remind you, that didn’t work out so well for you the last time.”

“I am no longer like you,” Vael replied. “I do not require underhanded tactics. Some of us do not need to compensate for incompetence.”

For the first time in a long time, Ryth nearly lost his cool. He felt the rage boil deep within him. The inner being that was Uri’thind’ac nearly burst the bonds of the flesh encasing him. If he was not careful, he would burn the body up and have to be confined to another. Remembering he did not want to have to reestablish a new identity this late in the game, he calmed himself.

In a simmering voice, Ryth said, “Do you miss your stone prison? You know I could easily put you right back there. I could just seize you by the throat and drag you back through the gate to Dar’ryn and haul you down to that murky forgotten chamber and put you back in the statue. How would you like that?”

“I’m sure you will do whatever it is you want to do,” Vael answered evenly. “It makes little difference to me.”

“If I did,” Ryth said in a cautioning tone, “then you wouldn’t be able to help Rama’dy’ac’s little errand boys, would you?”

“There are others,” Vael said with a shrug.

“Oh yes, I know,” Ryth replied. “But at least your arrogant little self would be shut away as you deserve.”

Towering at Ryth’s side was one of his Shedi’im. The grotesque demonic creature bent low and growled at Vael.

“Keep that dog on a leash, lest I teach him a lesson,” Vael snarled at Ryth.

Ryth turned toward the Shedi’im ready to command the thing to back down when it suddenly lashed out at Vael. A massive hand with sharp obsidian claws swiped at the Messenger. He remained in place waiting for the assault to complete its arc. At the last moment, he casually tossed a hand up and caught the creature by the wrist. The thing yelped in astonishment and pain as Vael bore down on the thing’s arm. The monster’s bones began to crack under the power of his grip.

Soon the creature was on its knees making pleading sounds. But Vael would not cease.

Suddenly he shot his other hand forward and grabbed the creature by the throat. The thing was now gasping for air and choking under Vael’s grip. With a sudden twist of his wrist, Vael broke the neck of the monstrosity then he let it drop limply to the ground, dead.

He turned his face to Ryth and said, “Do not forget, there are others more powerful than you in this game. Be sure to keep your disrespectful little monsters in check. If you do not, the penalties will be severe.”

Ryth had enough. He thrust his hand out toward Vael ready to take hold of him and drag him back to the gate to Dar’ryn. But first, he would force Vael to watch as he released his Shedi’im through the gate to Remmice. But by the time his hand reached where Vael had stood, the Messenger of Rama’dy’ac was gone. His hand met only empty air.

Ryth set his jaw in a growl and then shouted in anger at the place Vael had vacated.

“Coward! Come back and I will finish you!”

His cries reverberated across the barren landscape of Cairn.

A few moments later he composed himself once more. He turned to the collection of Shedi’im gathered behind him. A few of them were fawning over their dead companion, licking at him, trying to revive him. It was no use. The beast was dead. Ryth stared pitilessly down at the thing. He then turned his eyes to the others and snapped his fingers for their attention.

They stopped what they were doing and came away from their fallen companion.

“It is time to hunt our enemies,” he snarled. The Shedi’im whooped and hollered at this pronouncement.

He turned toward the gate and activated it with a wave of his hand. The arch blazed to life, filling with a shimmering pearlescent glow.

He pointed toward the gate and shouted at the Shedi’im. “Go! Find my enemies and rip them apart. Feast on their flesh, gorge on their blood. But there is one you must spare. He is bigger than the others. His flesh is covered in scars and he will be more aggressive than his companions. I want him alive. Bring him back to me in one piece.” He then put an image in all their minds through the psychic link he shared with them and used to control them.

The writhing mass of Shedi’im lurched forward and dashed madly toward the gate. They clambered over one another pushing each other out of the way for the privilege of being the first to run through and pursue their quarry.

CHAPTER 4. QOROVU’S TALE

The devastation to the planet Remmice seemed endless. No matter how far they traveled from the gate, everything was barren and destroyed. Ariam despaired of looking at all of it. He could not imagine what Qorovu must have felt.

He decided to try his best to get the Remmite’s mind off the stark and depressive reality about them. He cleared his throat and said, “Can you tell us about yourself, Qorovu?”

The Remmite regarded him briefly with a yellow eye but then turned his face forward once again. “What do you wish to know?”

“Tell us about your life here,” Ariam said. “Tell us why you were imprisoned at The Obelisk.”

Qorovu was quiet for a few moments then said, “My life was unremarkable, at least as far as I consider it. I’m sure you would not find it interesting.”

“Why don’t you let us judge that?” Ariam’s said.

A defeated sigh escaped Qorovu. “Very well,” he said. “I will tell you about my service to Rama’dy’ac.”

“To Rama’dy’ac?” Ariam asked. “I thought you were a scientist.”

“Can scientists not serve a great god?” Qorovu asked with an arched eyebrow.

Ariam looked to Cecil and Belem then back to the Remmite. He said, “It is just that among our kind, science and faith are often separated. They are understood as different realms that do not interact with one another.”

“Foolishness,” Qorovu said. “Does not science seek to understand the universe? Was not the universe the work of the gods? Why should these things be separated?”

Ariam looked forward, astonished. “I never thought of it in those terms before.”

“Then perhaps you should try thinking a different way,” Qorovu suggested tartly. Belem snorted. The Remmite turned an appraising eye on him. “Do you disagree?” he asked.

“I never had much need for faith,” Belem said. “Couldn’t see the use of it.”

“The ‘use’?” Qorovu asked. There was evident reproach in his tone. That got Belem’s hackles up.

“That’s right,” he said gruffly. “If I can’t use it, I don’t need it.”

“Interesting,” Qorovu said shaking his head. “Do you also think that the universe revolves around you? Are you the center and the galaxy spirals around you? Have you stopped to consider it is not about you using the world? There are bigger and more important things than your use.”

Belem snorted his displeasure. “Well, I haven’t seen them.”

“Then perhaps you have not looked,” Qorovu reprimanded. “Or perhaps you have refused to.”

Belem rolled his eyes and looked away at the barren landscape. “Faith doesn’t seem to have done this place much good,” he commented. “Where was your Rama’dy’ac when this place was decimated? It doesn’t seem to me like he’s done a whole lot of good.”

Qorovu said something in what must have been the Remmite language as he growled and shook his head.

“What was that?” Belem demanded. Then in a superior tone, he added, “I didn’t catch it.”

Qorovu turned to him. “It is an old saying among my people. It does not translate well in your tongue, but the essence of it is this: it is a foolish creature that denies the gods with the very breath the gods have given to him.”

There was a pause then Belem said, “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

“Figure it out, if you are so wise,” Qorovu quipped.

Ariam cleared his throat. “Perhaps if we could get back to my question,” he said. “Can you tell us about yourself, Qorovu?”

The Remmite spared Belem one last yellow-eyed look then nodded. “As I was saying,” he began, “I served Rama’dy’ac with my science. My work was in energy. I studied its forms and its many applications. I dedicated my life to understanding the workings of the universe’s varied energies so that the purposes of Rama’dy’ac could be served. As with any other species, my kind went through many shifts in understanding the use and workings of such things. We began through simple understandings of motion, burning fuel, combustion, electricity, and the various other forms and modes of easily observable energy. Along the way, our people, like any other, used power for good and evil. But then Rama’dy’ac came and showed us the way. He guided us. And for hundreds of years, we prospered under his tutelage. I was a student of the teachings of Rama’dy’ac. I grew in understanding and ability. I learned and innovated new ways to harness power. I rejoiced and so did my people at the wonders that we all discovered. I also found new ways to store power and pull it directly out of one source and put it into another.” He stopped and pursed his thin gray lips.

He inhaled deeply and expelled the breath, shuddering at the memory. “All was well. And then came a man.”

“What man?” Ariam prompted.

“We had dealings with humans, Dar’rynakai, and even the Dar’ryneel for many centuries. So we did not think it strange when we were approached by one so close to the highest human authority. One day a Lord Advisor to the human governor within the combined city arrived. He came desiring to know about our discoveries and to rejoice with us. Or so we thought.”

The exiles all listened with hushed attentiveness.

“This man,” Cecil said slowly, feeling the flesh on the back of his neck prickle with recognition. “What was he like?”

“You know what he was like,” Qorovu chided. “You know him. He was the demon in disguise.”

“The knife in the dark,” Gael’jic whispered. Then louder he said, “Uri’thind’ac.”

Qorovu simply nodded.

“He wanted to learn the technologies I had devised. Particularly, he was interested in the methods and devices of drawing and transference of energy. I never knew what he intended to do with it.” He shook his head in dismay. “How could I have been so easily fooled?”

“Because he is a deceiver,” Gael’jic said. “It is what he does. It is his very nature. Do not be so hard on yourself.”

“But maybe try not to be so gullible next time,” Belem said.

The others turned disbelieving expressions at Belem.

“What?” he nearly shouted back at them. “If it weren’t for this creature’s technology, there’s no telling how many people might have been spared. I mean look at this place,” he said sweeping his arm to indicate the ruined landscape around them. “Do you not understand that all of this is because Ryth gained this fool’s technology? And again I ask, where was your Rama’dy’ac in all of this? I’ll tell you where. He was sitting back and watching, doing nothing. Letting people suffer and die.”

“That is not true,” Qorovu said.

“It looks that way to me,” Belem spat back at the Remmite.

“Not all is as it looks on the surface of things,” Gael’jic interjected.

“That sounds an awful lot like a weak excuse to me,” Belem said.

“Then what happened?” Ariam, ignoring Belem, asked Qorovu.

“Some time after the Lord Advisor to the human governor came and sought understanding, I woke one night in my bed chamber. I knew right away something was wrong. When my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw four figures standing in my room. They were dressed in dark garb, covered from head to toe. I tried to reason with them, but they pounced. They fell upon me and beat me. My people are peaceful, I did not know how to fight back. So I fell beneath their blows. I slipped into unconsciousness, assuming I was going to die.”

Ariam nodded, then said, “But clearly, you did not.”

“Then I awoke. You woke me up.” He paused and looked around. It has been seven hundred years since I was put into the stasis chamber. And in those seven hundred years war came to my world and ravaged it. Uri’thind’ac ravaged it.”

“We mean to put a stop to him,” Cecil said after a few long silent moments. “I know that is probably small comfort for all that you have lost and for all that your world has been through. But we aim to bring Ryth to justice.”

“Then I pray by the hand of Rama’dy’ac you will be successful,” Qorovu said.

Belem scoffed. “After all of this, you’re still going to flee back to the skirts of Rama’dy’ac?”

Qorovu stopped and turned toward the convict. He stared hard at him for a handful of heartbeats then very calmly said, “Yes. If my faith is only intact when things are going well, then it is false. The true test of faith is suffering. It will either drive us to greater trust, or it will make us faithless. Like you.”

Belem blinked in astonishment at Qorovu’s frank words. He looked at the others. Ariam said, “Don’t look at me. You’re the one who picked this fight.”

CHAPTER 5. TRAINING

Ariam’s body collided hard with the ground, sending up a plume of ash and dust. He rolled a few feet and then grunted in pain. He now lay flat on his belly. He pressed his palms to the ground and pushed himself up with a grunt. He turned his head toward Belem who smirked down at him.

“That’s not the way to do it,” Belem quipped.

“Oh really?” Ariam replied. He squinted his eyes against the fresh pain in his side where he landed. Pushing himself up to a standing position, he said, “I really thought I had you that time.” His body ached with the practice they had begun only twenty minutes earlier. He arched his back to stretch his aching muscles. A series of popping sounds accompanied this and he straightened once again and stared at Belem.

“Do you want to know what you did wrong?” Belem asked.

“Of course, I do,” Ariam said.

“You overextended your punch. And you telegraphed it pretty badly.”

“Everybody telegraphs their moves,” Cecil said from the fallen tree upon which he perched.

“Yes,” Belem said turning his face to the former Captain of the Royal Guardians. “But not everyone makes a whole manifesto of it.” He turned back to Ariam. “You’re slow. You’re going to have to work on that.”

“I’m new at this,” Ariam complained.

Belem leveled a reproachful glance at Ariam. “That excuse will only get you so far. And if you keep leaning on it, you won’t get the chance to improve. Excuses are the way of cowards and weaklings.”

“Take it easy,” Cecil interjected standing up from the log. “This is his first time and it will be a while before he shows any change.”

Belem whipped around to face the Guardian. “Taking it easy is what gets you scars like mine, or worse. If you want him to live, you’ll lean on him too.”

Cecil regarded Belem for a few heartbeats then turned to Ariam. “Ignore his attitude but keep practicing as he advises. Skill will come in time.”

“Unless he doesn’t have time,” Belem muttered.

“None of us know what time we have,” Gael’jic interjected. “And skill comes slowly, not through being berated.”

“I don’t recall asking you, lizard,” Belem snapped.

“It’s all right,” Ariam said. “I asked him to train me, so I will do what I must.” He shifted his gaze to Belem and added, “including taking the lumps I require.”

Belem lifted a hand victoriously toward Ariam and said, “See? He understands. Now let’s try it again.”

A little whimper escaped Ariam when he realized he was probably in for another pounding. He stepped slowly forward until he came in front of Belem as he had been shown earlier.

“Now raise your right hand,” Belem said. Ariam obliged. Belem continued, “Now I’m going to punch it. I want you to watch as I do so. Pay special attention to everything that comes before the strike.”

Belem got into position, pulled his fist backward, then thrust it forward. The knuckles of his fist landed with ferocious force on the palm of Ariam’s upraised hand.

Ariam withdrew the hand and shook it and said, “Ouch. Do you have to hit so hard?”

“It’s a punch, not a kiss,” Belem said firmly. “Now, did you notice what I was doing?”

“I think so,” Ariam said, rubbing the palm of his hand with his thumb.

“Did you see the punch coming before it came? That’s the main thing.”

Ariam nodded. “I did,” he said. “But it came so fast that I couldn’t have done anything about it if I wanted to.”

“Again,” Belem said, “it is a punch. It must come fast. If it doesn’t it won’t accomplish its purpose. Now let’s try it again. Raise your hand.”

Ariam raised his hand once more and watched carefully as Belem drew back to strike. The convict threw another strike and it landed with equal force on his palm. But suddenly and almost before Ariam realized what was happening, Belem continued. With his opposite hand, he came around and landed a solid punch in the center of Ariam’s chest.

The beggar felt the wind leave him forcefully. He staggered backward and then collapsed on his rear end in the dust. His left hand shot to the place on his chest where he had been hit and his eyes were wide with shock. He felt the throbbing of the attack. He shot betrayed eyes toward Belem. When he caught his breath again a few seconds later he said, “What was that for?”

“What?” Belem asked innocently. “The extra strike?”

“You never said you were going to throw another punch!”

“An enemy never tells you what he’s going to do before he does it. He just does it. Did you see it coming?”

“A little,” Ariam said in a breathless, irritated voice. “But too late.”

“Another important lesson,” Belem said shaking a finger at him. “A fight isn’t just what you’re doing at the moment. A fight includes what you plan to do in the next moments and what your enemy plans to do in the next after that. You must learn to sense this, to see it, to anticipate it. And only then will you be able to counter it. To defeat an enemy, you must rob him of his strength. To do that, you must deflect or block his attack.”

Belem walked slowly toward Ariam as he said this. He then extended a hand toward the beggar. Ariam stared up at him for a few seconds then reached forward and took hold of Belem’s hand.

The instant their hands locked Ariam kicked forward and landed the bottom of his foot unexpectedly on Belem’s shin.

Belem barked in pain and as he dropped to the ground going to one knee. Ariam used his hold on Belem’s hand to pull himself forward launching toward Belem. At the last moment, he tucked his head low and thrust his shoulder forward. He connected with Belem’s chest sending the man tumbling backward. Air escaped his lungs as his surprised face fell backward from the attack.

The next thing Belem knew Ariam was on top of him straddling him and thrusting both his hands up toward the sky in a victory pose.

Ariam looked down at Belem with a smirk and said, “Didn’t see that one coming, did you?”

Belem stared up at him with an astonished look pasted on his face. An instant later he recovered. He shot his hand forward and took hold of the ragged clothes over the beggar’s chest. He sat up and lifted Belem off of him holding him aloft into the air for a few seconds then he set him down forcefully on the ground. The impact ran through Ariam and he looked worriedly back at his companion.

Belem stared at him with gritted teeth and a darkened brow for a few seconds then a smile broke his face. He lifted a meaty hand and gently slapped the side of Ariam’s face.

“That is what I’m talking about,” he said. “Bravo. An unexpected attack is the best kind. It has the most chance of undoing your enemy before he has an opportunity to even think about countering it.”

Ariam smiled sheepishly back at Belem. He shrugged his shoulders and lifted one hand tossing it casually into the air and said, “What can I say? I learned from the best.”

“And this is just your first lesson,” Belem said. “Now that I know you’ve got a little deviousness in you, I know that I can work with you. Now I don’t have to be so gentle.”

As a big toothy smile splayed across Belem’s face, the victorious smile disappeared from Ariam’s at this news. “Wait, what?” he said.

Belem simply laughed once and turned away. He said, “Lesson complete for today. Now get some rest. We’re going to need it for our work ahead.”

Ariam turned a worried expression on Cecil. The former guardsman simply shrugged and hid his grin in the palm of his hand.

“He’s actually not that bad of a teacher, is he?” Cecil commented to Gael’jic.

“I have seen better,” Gael’jic said in a dubious tone. “But, what he lacks in elegance, he makes up for in brutality and tenacity. There is something to be said about it.”

Ariam went back to rubbing the place on his chest where Belem had landed a strike. That was going to smart for a while and he knew it. He turned toward Gael’jic and said, “Any progress with foraging?”

The Dar’rynakai shook his head. “No,” he said. “The devastation runs deep on the skin of this world. If there is any living root system beneath, I cannot find it.”

“That’s a shame,” Ariam said, disappointed. “Maybe tomorrow we can…”

He ceased speaking when Gael’jic shot up, alarm overtaking his face. He spun around and hunched his shoulders staring into the darkened petrified forest behind them.

Cecil was up in an instant, spear in hand, and standing at Gael’jic’s side. “What is it, lizard? What do you sense?”

Gael’jic took a long careful sniff. “We are not alone,” he simmered. “But whatever is out there is not…regular.”

“What does that mean?” Belem said coming up beside Gael’jic brandishing his knives.

“I cannot say,” Gael’jic replied. “It is something I have not encountered before. But it smells wrong. Almost putrefied.”

Before any of them had a chance to inquire further, a deep and guttural growling sound came out directly in front of them from the darkened dead forest.

CHAPTER 6. DEMON IN THE DARK

Petrified branches snapped and shattered as something large and lumbering came pushing through the dark and decimated woods. Ariam backed away from his three companions. At least they were armed. He had nothing but half an hour of training which he’d spent most of being tossed around like a rag doll. It would not be enough. He backed up and stood next to Qorovu. The Remmite was likewise weaponless and so they watched in terror as whatever it was came exploding out of the darkened forest toward the other companions. It sailed through the air in a mighty leap, arms upraised and clawed fingers splayed out.

It was a nightmare vision. Its angular features were cast into sharp relief by the flickering orange light of their campfire. A long and sinuous pink tongue lolled out of the creature’s jagged mouth. It unleashed a hellish roar that permeated the environment.

A flash of guilty recognition rippled through Ariam as he understood what he was looking at. The others surely wouldn’t know what it was, but how could he explain it to them? He shook away all thoughts in favor of concentrating on surviving the encounter. If it were even possible.

The three companions who had remained close together now broke apart and scattered. The thing shook the ground when it landed. It swept its greedy gaze around as if taking the measure of each of its potential victims. When the beast’s eyeless gaze came at last to Belem it stopped. An approximation of a smile split its face and it took a menacing step toward the convict.

Belem, whose muscular scarred arms were already raised in a fighting stance, gave each of them a brief shake and rolled his shoulders, showing his readiness. Nevertheless, for each step the creature took toward him, he took one backward. Ariam couldn’t blame him. Armed or not, no one would want to be close to that thing.

Cecil took advantage of the creature’s distraction and darted forward. After just a few steps he was within striking distance. He shoved the spear toward his target and it landed home in the side of the beast. While the thrust was forceful, the spearhead barely penetrated the hide of the thing.

The hideous beast turned its head toward Cecil, dropped its jagged jaw open, and unleashed an unearthly howl at him. It then whipped its hand out for the former guardsmen. Cecil released the spear and danced backward just in time to avoid getting struck by the creature’s massive muscular hand.

Now that he was out of immediate striking distance the thing looked down at the spear still protruding from its side. He reached down and gingerly plucked it out as if it were simply a sliver. He held the pointed end up to his eyes briefly, turning it in the firelight. Then it casually tossed the weapon aside. An unholy grin split its face and deep cavernous laughter began to cackle out from it. It turned away from Cecil and refocused its attention on Belem once more. It slammed one hand down on the ground sending up a plume of ash and dust. It then lurched forward and slowly crawled toward the convict.

Belem held his two knives up in a fighting stance but slowly backed away from the approaching menace. He had seen how Cecil’s spear had mostly not affected the thing and was now recalculating what he could do.

The sound of rapid foot strikes on the ground filled Ariam’s ears and he turned to see Gael’jic running at full speed toward the distracted monster. Gael’jic leaped into the air and landed on the creature’s back. He took hold of its shoulders and twisted his head opening his mouth fully. He shot his face forward and bit at the creature’s neck twisting as much as he could.

The monstrosity took only marginal notice of this. It twisted its head around as if trying to look for what was pestering its back. It reached a hand up and swatted at its neck. The clawed hand connected with Gael’jic and wrapped around his back. He plucked the Dar’rynakai off him as if he were nothing but an annoying insect and tossed him to the side as he had done with Cecil’s spear.

Suddenly the creature yelped as if it had been hurt. It brought the hand it had used to throw Gael’jic in front of its face and examined it. Had the Dar’rynakai done something in the process of being grappled that injured the monster, Ariam wondered?

The monster dangled its nasty tongue out of its mouth and then licked its hand. An angry growl emitted from deep within its throat as it turned its head once again to locate Gael’jic.

Gael’jic had recovered himself quickly and scrambled to his feet.

“You hurt the thing,” Cecil said. “What did you do?”

“I have no idea,” Gael’jic replied. “I did nothing to its hand.”

“We better figure it out quick,” Belem interjected. “This thing is going to rip us apart.”

“Qorovu,” Ariam said. “What is that thing?”

Qorovu simply shook his head in disbelief. “I have no clue what it is. I have never seen one before. It is not native to my world.”

“Ryth,” Belem seethed.

The monster turned its face suddenly toward Belem and it snarled at him.

“That settles the question of who sent it,” the convict said.

Cecil had recovered his spear and now ran toward the thing’s back. He jumped into the air and raised the weapon above his head in both hands. On the downward arc of his fall, he thrust the spear tip forward with all his might. The spear’s tip penetrated the target’s hide, going in a little farther than the first attempt. But not much.

The creature bellowed in fury and pain. He turned around to face Cecil. The spear came out of the guardian’s hands once again so he stood weaponless before the creature.

The hideous thing slashed with its claws bringing its hand in a deadly arc from low to the ground up toward Cecil.

Cecil knowing he would not be able to get out of the way in time instead thrust his chest forward hoping the armor would do the job of protecting him. The creature’s obsidian claws connected with Cecil’s purple Royal Guardian armor and gouged it deeply. At the same time, he was lifted off his feet and thrown several paces backward. He landed on his back with a thud driving the air from him.

Not willing to be outdone by Cecil, Belem ran forward and used this opportunity to attack. He sliced low at the creature’s ankles hoping to cut the tendons. The hardened wooden knives given to him by the Dar’rynakai made only marginal cuts in the creature’s thick hide. But dark black blood oozed from its wounds.

The creature hissed and wheeled around to face him.

“Uh-oh,” he said. He danced back as fast as he could to avoid being struck by the monster. He had no armor to protect his vulnerable flesh.

At the same moment, Gael’jic came running forward and when in striking distance pivoted on one ankle and whipped his tail around, and connected with the creature’s side throwing it off balance. The monstrosity teetered to one side and fell to one knee. It was back up on its feet in the next instant and it glowered hatred at Gael’jic. It made to move after him then halted and backed up an involuntary step. It lowered its head, clenched its jaw, as it hissed angrily at him.

“Is it afraid of you?” Ariam asked without thinking. The creature shifted its eyes toward Ariam and grinned. It came charging in the next second and raised a hand to strike him down.

Ariam felt something push against his side thrusting him off balance and out of the way of the creature’s strike. He knew it must have been Qorovu who shoved him out of the way but his sight was forced elsewhere. Twirling out of control he landed on the ground yet again and scrambled to get away from the creature.

Gael’jic came running hoping that he could intimidate the thing back. The monster hissed at him when he saw the Dar’rynakai coming. It took two hurried strides away. It pounded both the ground with both hands and then unleashed a howl at him.

Ariam twisted to get a better look at what was happening. That is when he saw the small faint blue glow in the sack at Ariam’s belt.

“It’s the Illuminoc plants,” Ariam said.

Gael’jic chanced a glance at the sack of flowers at his side and noticed they were glowing. He snatched the sack up from his belt and thrust it toward the creature. The thing again bellowed in rage and then turned and darted back into the darkness.

They heard the thing haphazardly retreat, knocking down petrified trees and snapping branches as it went. It made no attempt to be stealthy about its getaway. They heard the dwindling sound for some time yet, indicating the creature simply continued to run with reckless abandon.

When they were sure the beast would not return, at least for now, they turned toward one another and assessed.

A small moan from the ground caught their attention. As one, they turned and their eyes fell in dismay on Qorovu laying on the ground not far from the fire. Four ragged gashes arced diagonally across his chest.

The four companions stood stunned for just a moment then all rushed forward to his side at once.

“Put pressure on the wounds,” Gael’jic commanded. “We must wrap and treat this right away.”

“It looks bad,” Cecil muttered to Belem. Belem only grunted in response.

Ariam did what he could to assist Gael’jic in attending to the Remmite’s wounds. But he had to admit it looked fairly hopeless.

When they had treated him as well as they could for the night, they encouraged him to rest. Not that he could do anything else, Ariam thought wryly. They laid him close to the fire to keep him warm. They had barely scavenged enough wood that was not petrified to keep it going for most of the night, but even that Ariam knew would not be enough.

Gael’jic was staring into the now dormant bag of Illuminoc plants. The glow had faded and the flowers rested again.

“What was that thing?” Cecil asked.

No one of course offered an answer. Ariam warred within himself whether he ought to say something, but in the end, he kept his peace. It wasn’t the right time yet, he reasoned.

After a long silence, Belem offered, “Ryth sent it. Did you see it react when I said his name?”

Cecil nodded, pensive. The others merely looked on.

Belem turned toward Gael’jic and said, “But it sure didn’t like your flowers.”

“Yes,” he said. “Vael must have known they would come in useful.”

“It would’ve been nice if he’d warned us,” Belem snarled.

CHAPTER 7. TENUOUS ALLIANCE

Racine cleared his throat and the tense but muttered conversation in his apartment died down. The four other men in the room turned their attention to him, expectant. He looked at those he’d gathered each, in turn, locking eyes with them briefly before moving to the next. Immediately to his left was his close friend Gillam. The mousy and nervous man sat waiting with the typical fearful expression on his face. Racine smiled at him reassuringly but it did little.

Next was Denthu. He had expressed no forthright interest in joining Racine or anyone else in signing a formal petition. But he remained marginally open at least. He sat back in his chair with his hands folded in front of him on the table. An unreadable expression was on his face as he waited for Racine to get the presentation going in earnest.

The two others present in the room had been the fruit of recent conversations. After Vellin had shown him what solidified Racine’s involvement, he had pursued these two knowing that once they saw the evidence, they would be much more likely to sign their names to the petition.

The first of the newcomers was a middle-aged man named Francisco. He had a sharp way about him. Piercing blue eyes darted to Racine and seemed to penetrate his mind. A squarish face, often sporting a stern look, topped with a thinning field of hair gave people the impression that he was not easy to get along with. In truth, he was an ever-reasonable fellow in Racine’s estimation. That was why he had been approached.

The other man, Evander, was a mostly jovial sort of chap. There was nearly always a smile on his face and he frequently joked in conversation. But behind that Racine knew there was a calculating mind. The man harbored ambitions though he did not always make them known. Racine was not sure he should be trusted but didn’t have many options and thus decided to err in favor of trying.

“All right, Racine,” Denthu said. “What’s this all about? Are you going to continue with this petition fiasco? If you are, I sure hope you have something solid to support it.”

Racine leveled patient eyes at the man and smiled. “I do plan to carry through with it,” he said. “And I do have something supportive. We will come to that shortly but I want you all to know I would not have called you here if I did not believe the situation was dire.”

Denthu waved a hand. “Yes, yes,” he said. “We understand your feelings on the matter. But that does not verify them.”

“I know that it doesn’t,” Racine said. “But I also know I am not alone in them. Yet some are too fearful to stand up unless another does. Believe me, I can sympathize. I have been there myself. But I have come to see that if someone is going to stand up, it probably is going to be me. And that is what I am doing tonight.”

Denthu stared at him as if he were a puzzle he did not quite understand. Racine knew that if this was going to work, he had to stand his ground and do so with both conviction and evidence.

“I, for one, am willing to hear you out,” Francisco said throwing an accusative glance at Denthu. “If the legality of this Triumvirate is truly questionable, something must be done about it.”

Evander leaned forward supported by his elbows on the table. He stared at Gillam for a few seconds then said, “And what is your place in this Gillam? How do you read the situation?” A smile adorned his face the whole time but Racine saw the calculation in his eyes. He was waiting to see where others fell on the matter.

Gillam cleared his throat and shot a nervous glance once again to Racine before turning wide weary eyes to Evander once again to answer. He cleared his throat again and said, “I side with Racine.” While there was a touch more conviction in his voice than normal, Racine had hoped for something a little more forceful.

Denthu rolled his eyes. “Well, that inspires confidence.”

“Maybe you should decide because of the rightness of the situation, and not whether those involved inspire confidence,” Francisco jabbed.

Denthu turned a condescending look at the man. “I will not inhabit a house of cards that would collapse under the slightest provocation,” he returned. He then looked to Gillam and said, “No offense, but you don’t exactly have the strongest spine.”

Gillam seemed to shrink in his chair. His mouth dropped open and he looked like he was about to apologize. Racine knew he had to interrupt before it came out.

“That’s enough,” he said sternly. “You will find no one more resolved on the matter than me. So before you go accusing others of fearfulness, why don’t you take a look at yourself? Are you hesitant because you sense danger in it?”

“Call it pragmatism,” Denthu retorted.

“Call it what you like,” Racine countered immediately, acid dripping into his words. “Cowardice is cowardice. At least Gillam has spine enough to stand for what is lawful.”

He regretted the words the instant they left his tongue. A little, anyway. Part of him was glad to have said it. But he knew that such accusations were not often conducive to productive conversation. But now that it was out, he knew he could not back down. He turned away from Denthu to look at the others. “It is true. We have quite a legal mess on our hands if we pursue this course of action. But pursue it we must. The rule of law has been subverted and it must be restored.”

He fell silent and waited for his words to sink in before he proceeded. He allowed the tension to sit on the table, then he continued. “I propose that we proceed with a formal suit against the formation of the Triumvirate. Prince Theron must be coronated and installed, and Queen Rivess must function as vice-regent.”

“On what grounds?” Denthu demanded.

“On the grounds that it is the normal lawful course and the Triumvirate was formed out of expediency and not out of legality,” Racine retorted. “The governing documents of our kingdom are clear. We are ruled by the Royals. This is subverted by the formation of the Triumvirate.”

“Is it only that?” Denthu pressed. Racine was grateful that there was no accusation in his voice but mere curiosity. He was now fishing for something. Perhaps he was hoping for a firmer foundation than the mere legality of it.

“You are wondering what else there is, yes?” Racine asked

“I am,” Denthu said. “The legal documentation of the kingdom has been amended before. It could be amended again to allow for this. In which case the Triumvirate would become legal.”

“I know,” Racine said. “It is my fear that is what has been planned all along.”

“But why fear it and not just accept it? What is wrong with there being a Triumvirate to temporarily assist in this situation?”

“Because it allows for unsavory elements to take power,” Racine blurted out. He neglected to add his concern over whether or not the arrangement would remain a temporary one. If Ryth got his claws into the governing power of the kingdom, he doubted the man would ever let it go.

“Are you accusing those elected to the Triumvirate of being unsavory?” Denthu asked in disbelief. “What about your friend Shahleen?”

Francisco adopted a thoughtful expression. “Yes,” he said. “Where is she? I would’ve assumed she would be here tonight. You told me you have had conversations with her and had all but invited her to be a part of this process. Why is she not here?”

“I have had talks with Shahleen,” Racine replied. “Many talks. She knows where I stand on this matter. I have made no secret of it with her. I am not hiding anything from her if that is what you are getting at.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that,” Francisco said. “But I find it odd that she is not present when you told me that you have looped her into this process. Aren’t you afraid that as an elected member of the Triumvirate she will have…”

Racine shook his head vehemently and interrupted, “No, I don’t think she will oppose this.”

“Francisco raises a fair point,” Denthu said. “Why is she not present?”

“Because I did not invite her,” Racine said.

“And why is that?” Evander asked. “I must confess I too find her absence curious.”

“The only reason I did not invite her tonight is that it is not time for her to be brought in yet. Yes, I have intimated to her that I will seek her support. But I wanted to gather more backing for this formal petition before I brought it to her. I want her to see that there is enough support for her to consider it strongly.”

“She will be an invaluable asset to the suit,” Gillam said. Racine noted that, for a wonder, the fearfulness seemed to have evaporated from his friend’s disposition. Now there was mere thoughtfulness.

“Very well,” Denthu said. “But if I’m being honest, Shahleen is not the one I’m concerned about in this process. And I think you all know that.”

Racine leveled a stoic gaze at the man and nodded slowly. “I hear what you are saying. The real trouble is going to be Ryth.”

And there it was. He had laid it out on the table. Ryth was the unspoken problem. He was the reason that so few people would be willing to sign their name to the cause. But, Racine had a card up his sleeve. And now it was time to play it.

CHAPTER 8. THE CHOICE

“There it is,” Denthu said. “Lycas Ryth. Tell me that he is not going to be a problem in this.”

“I can tell you no such thing,” Racine replied. “He will no doubt be the chief obstacle that must be overcome as we file this suit.”

Evander sat back in his chair with a nervous expression on his face. He shook his head slowly and said, “I don’t know. He may be dangerous. Too dangerous to cross. How do you propose we get around that particular problem?”

“First,” Racine said carefully, “let me be clear on this. I understand your trepidation surrounding Lycas Ryth. Believe me.” He pursed his lips as he considered whether or not to proceed with the next thing he intended to say. At last, he decided it would not be fair of him to hold back that particular piece of information.

He looked down at the table and closed his eyes. A moment later he opened them and brought his face back up to stare at the group. “I agree Lycas Ryth is dangerous. Perhaps far more dangerous than any of us realize. My initial concern of getting a formal complaint against the formation of the Triumvirate notwithstanding, Ryth is going to be more than just an obstacle to overcome. I believe he is the chief architect of this problem.”

The room was quiet. Everyone at the table had been present during the meeting when Zain had proposed the Triumvirate. Racine could see on their faces their recall of the situation was clear.

“Hold on a minute,” Denthu said waving frustrated hands. “I do not recall Ryth being the one to propose the Triumvirate. Why do you say he was the one who architected it?”

“Because Zain is his lackey. And every one of us at this table knows it. We’re just too afraid to say it. But I no longer will hesitate. I must come forward and be clear about it.”

“Clarity is not the problem,” Denthu said. “A lack of evidence is the problem.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Racine said. “That is why I have brought this.”

He reached beneath the table and took out a data tablet. He held it up for all of them to see and then gently placed the small rectangular device on the table.

The four other men stared at it for a handful of moments then turned expectant faces up to Racine.

“And what is this supposed to be?” Denthu asked.

“Evidence,” Racine replied evenly. He reached forward and tapped on the device bringing it to life and then inserted a series of commands.

Suddenly there appeared on the screen an image of Lycas Ryth standing in a hallway with the Queen Mother Rivess. Everyone at the table immediately realized this was the first frame of video footage captured by palace security cameras.

“What is this?” Denthu asked suspiciously

“I think you know exactly what this is,” Racine said. “Do you want me to play it or not?”

“I don’t know that I do,” Denthu said. “And I’m beginning to wonder how you laid hold of this. This is security footage, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Racine said unperturbed. Then without waiting for affirmation from anyone in the room he reached forward and tapped the place on the screen that initiated the footage. Denthu looked about to protest, then simply gave up and turned his face toward the device.

The image came to life and the Queen Mother’s face was filled with anger. Clearly, she and Ryth were arguing about something.

“What exactly are you playing at, Lord Advisor?” the Queen said icily.

Ryth replied, “I play at nothing, your Majesty. I simply seek to preserve the order of our kingdom. You know as well as I do that if vacuums of power are left unattended for too long, someone to whom the duty does not belong will seek to step into it. I simply endeavored to prevent this from happening.”

“The boy just lost his father,” she almost shouted at Ryth.

“And you just lost your husband,” Ryth replied. “Curiously, you do not seem to be as troubled as perhaps one would expect.”

The Queen Mother clearly did not like the insinuation. “What exactly are you implying, Lord Advisor?” Her voice could have melted steel, Racine thought. He had watched the footage before and had shuddered at the idea of being at the receiving end of her wrath.

Ryth was unperturbed by this, however. He casually offered, “I mean to imply nothing, your Majesty. I simply point out a curious detail. You seem to be a bit jumpy about it, though. One wonders what that might portend.” He paused and narrowed his eyes and leaned toward Rivess. He then added, “Especially so suddenly upon the heels of your husband’s assassination.”

“Did he just accuse her of…?” Denthu began but was interrupted by a sharp shushing sound from Evander.

“There’s more,” the other man said. “Hush.”

On the device, Ryth continued. “Politics are such a strange animal. Even I cannot seem to keep track of them at times. Monarchies are a dangerous business. Especially from within themselves. Just read any kingdom or Empire’s history, my dear Queen.”

The image on the screen portrayed Rivess as severely surprised by the riposte. “You are deranged,” she said in a whispered hiss.

Ryth, continuing his nonchalant posture replied, “That may not be up to you to decide. It may be up to, say I don’t know, the courts to decide.”

“He just threatened her again,” Evander said dubiously. The camera which had captured the footage was mainly pointed at Queen Rivess’s face. Ryth had his back to it but the edges of his countenance still appeared in the video. But her reaction was what told the story.

The image of Ryth on the screen continued. “But I think that is unnecessary. This matter does not have to go in such a twisted and treacherous fashion.”

The Queen grew angry once again. “I don’t know that I’ve ever met anyone more twisted and treacherous than you,” she said.

“Be that has it may,” the Lord Advisor continued, “if you are not feeling up to the discharge of your duty as Queen Mother, perhaps a suitable replacement for vice-regent may be found. I’m sure there is someone capable and willing to perform the duty. At least until you feel ready to return to your position, that is. After all, you have suffered a terrible loss just now. It would not be thought improper of you to temporarily lay aside such a heavy burden in favor of recuperation.”

“He is leading her,” Denthu said in disbelief.

“And she knows it,” Racine commented.

On the tablet screen, the image of the Queen Mother replied, “I see what you are doing, Ryth. You’re not going to get away with this, Lord Advisor. You are not as smart as you think you are.”

“Do you think so?” Ryth asked. “I wonder. Nevertheless, that doesn’t matter at the moment. For the present, I recommend you sequester yourself in your rooms until you are called upon to perform your queenly duty. Until that time I suggest a suitable replacement be found. I have someone in mind.”

“I’m sure you do,” the Queen said knowingly.

Ryth said, “Now if your Majesty will excuse me, I have business to attend to with the young prince.”

The image of Queen Rivess took a threatening step toward Ryth. She lifted a finger of warning into his face. “Don’t you dare embroil my son in your twisted schemes, Ryth,” she spat out.

Lycas Ryth had no response for this. He simply stood and stared at Rivess. After a few moments, Rivess continued, “I will not have my son used as a pawn in your sick games.”

This time Ryth did have something to say. “I think that will be all, your Majesty. You may go.”

The video footage stopped and the screen went dark.

Racine lifted his eyes and stared at the faces around the table. Every one of them was astonished or horrified.

“The way he talked to her,” Gillam said. “I would never dream anyone could…”

Denthu interrupted. He jabbed a finger at the device laying in the middle of the table. His finger stopped short of actually touching it as if it were a poisonous snake. Accusing eyes lifted toward Racine and he said, “Where did you get this? Such footage is stored in protected areas. You can’t just walk in and obtain it. And besides, you’d have to know what you were looking for, even if you did have ready access. How could you possibly have come by it?”

“I’m afraid I cannot reveal that,” Racine replied. “It would not be expedient.”

“You play a dangerous game,” Denthu said.

“I play the only game that might have a chance of saving us from Lycas Ryth,” he said. He turned his attention to face every around the table again. They were in various states of disbelief. Evander looked completely away as his mind tried to piece together what he had just seen.

Racine knew he had to be patient. He did not know how many times he had watched the footage after receiving it from Vellin. It had taken him a good long while to digest it. He could not force the others. They had to arrive at their conclusions on their own. But now that they had been exposed to the footage, he was confident they would decide on the correct course of action.

After several tense and silent moments, Racine offered in a gentle voice, “Look, we all have a choice. Are we going to cower before this unlawful rule, or are we going to do what is right?”

***

Zain sat in his own chambers some distance away from where the conspirators were meeting. His listening device delivered every word spoken in the room with crystal clarity. Including those from the security recording that Racine had shared with the rest of them. He too wondered how Racine had come by the footage. He decided it only could have been through illegal means. Isn’t that interesting? he thought to himself. Squeaky clean Racine is getting himself dirty. Lycas Ryth will be very interested to learn this.

But then he stopped and thought about it. He realized that in the game that was being played by everyone, he possessed all of the truly important cards. He had been looking for a means to overcome Ryth’s shadow for some time. Perhaps he had just stumbled into it. Maybe he would tell Ryth, or maybe he wouldn’t. It was possible that Zain now had something to use against Ryth to Zain’s own advantage.

How interesting, he thought to himself again. This would require a lot more consideration. Thankfully, Ryth was away from the Palace. He had time to consider. But he knew he should not take too long.

Ryth would soon be back, and he would demand to know what Zain had learned. He probably would even demand to listen to the recording of the meeting himself. There was no way for him to fool Ryth into believing he did not keep the recording or that it had been corrupted. The man just seemed to know too much.

So if he was going to do something to undermine Ryth, he would have to do it sooner rather than later.

Yes, this would require some thinking. He better get to it.

CHAPTER 9. ARIAM’S TROUBLE

After they had treated Qorovu’s wounds in the limited fashion available to them, they went to work on assembling a litter to carry him. This had proven harder than they hoped. In the end, they had to use Cecil’s spear for one of the poles and find a roughly straight petrified branch for the other. Cecil had then also removed his tattered cape to use as the canvas to stretch between the two poles. They lifted Qorovu’s injured form and gently laid him on the stretcher so that when it was time for them to move on, they would do so without trouble.

But they would not move out until the morning. Traveling through a treacherous petrified forest at night with that creature lurking out there was beyond foolish. What was more, they had no idea if the beast was alone, or if there were more of them.

Instead, they decided to take watches through the night. Whoever was on watch would keep Gael’jic’s sack of Illuminoc flowers close at hand. Aside from raising the alarm of an attack if one occurred, they would be able to hopefully employ the strange defense against the monstrosity at least long enough to rouse the others.

Regardless, none of them slept well through the night. Ariam, least of all. For he continued to harbor a secret from the others. He knew the time to reveal it was drawing very close. He dreaded the idea. There would be consternation at his concealing of it. He could not fault them for this, but he loathed the idea of having to come clean about it.

Ariam had taken the final watch. He was alone with his thoughts for the last several hours of the dwindling night. Those thoughts ate away at him. His tired mind coupled with his guilt over harboring the secret was no doubt what tipped him off to the others.

Even Gael’jic who did not understand very well how to read human expressions could tell there was something wrong with Ariam. Belem did not much care and so he kept quiet. But Gael’jic and Cecil both conversed in whispers as they packed up camp and made ready to move out.

“What do we do about it?” Gael’jic asked in a low voice. He shot one reptilian eye at Ariam who was on the other side of the campfire gathering supplies.

“I will talk to him,” Cecil said after some consideration. “But let’s wait until we get underway. I want to see if he will say whatever is bothering him without being prompted.”

Gael’jic considered this. He then said, “Whatever it is has been bothering him since we arrived on this side of the gate. Do you think it has something to do with what almost happened to him at The Obelisk? The draining?”

“There’s no way to know unless he says,” Cecil said a mild hint of irritation in his voice. “Let’s not talk about it anymore. I don’t want to tip him off. It might…”

Ariam came strolling up to them and Cecil ceased speaking right away.

“Are we ready?” Ariam said.

“We are,” Cecil answered. “We’re going to take shifts carrying the litter. I want you on the foot end of it on the first shift.” He motioned toward the bottom end of the litter which carried Qorovu’s injured body. Ariam nodded and trotted over to it. He bent low and took hold of the pole ends in his hands.

Belem was already positioned at the front. Facing forward, he stooped down and took hold of the front poles. They counted to three then they lifted the litter.

Ariam was thankful that Qorovu did not weigh very much. His slight frame and cadaverously thin body made him relatively easy cargo.

They vacated the camp and had been on what they hoped was the right path for about half an hour when Cecil finally decided to say something. He walked up beside Ariam and tossed a glance in his direction

“Something on your mind?” Ariam asked.

“There is,” Cecil replied. “Both I and Gael’jic have noticed something is bothering you. I think it’s time to spit it out.”

A brief look of terror ghosted across Ariam’s face.

He stammered for a few seconds then said, “I don’t… I mean I’m not…”

“It’s no use,” Cecil interjected. “It’s just going to have to come out. Might as well be now. Do we need to stop for it?”

Ariam halted as did Belem who was irritated with the cessation of their progress. Ariam looked as though he wanted to argue the point but ultimately relented.

He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head. “Yes,” he said. “I’m afraid that’s probably the best idea.”

“What are we doing?” Belem asked in an annoyed tone. “I thought we needed to keep going?”

“We need to stop,” Cecil said.

“We have not been going for very long. Ariam can’t be tired already, is he?” The tone of irritation in Belem’s voice suggested that Ariam had better not be tired.

“It’s not that,” Ariam said. “I have a confession I need to make.”

Belem grunted in exasperation, muttered something about not being a priest, and then lightly lowered his end of the litter to the ground. Ariam did likewise.

Belem turned toward Ariam with a frustrated expression and said, “Well, get on with it.”

Ariam looked at each of them in turn and then guiltily shifted his gaze away. “I have been keeping a secret from all of you since we arrived on Remmice.”

Belem looked unimpressed. “Every man has secrets,” he said. “I have my own. As I’m sure these two do also. I don’t know why we should begrudge you yours.”

Ariam turned to stare at him for a handful of heartbeats then replied, “Because it involves all of you. But especially you, Belem.”

Belem blinked in surprise. “Me? What’d I do?”

“It’s not what you’ve done,” Ariam said pleadingly. “It’s what you… No, wait.” he said, shaking his head in frustration. “I’m getting ahead of myself.”

“Then you ought to back up and start from the appropriate point,” Gael’jic suggested.

Ariam looked at him and nodded. “Yes,” he said. He drew a deep breath and expelled it noisily. “It started when we went through the last gate. When we went through… When I went through…” He struggled for words. He repeatedly motioned with one hand trying to get out what he needed to say.

“Take your time,” Cecil said.

“But not too much,” Belem growled. “We do have a job to do and that thing is still out there.” He then pointed toward Qorovu on the stretcher who was currently unconscious and moaning in pain. “And this one may not have very much longer.”

Ariam dropped his eyes to Qorovu and nodded. He lifted his attention back to Belem and said, “Then I had better just say it. When I went through the gate, I had a bit of a detour.”

“A detour?” Cecil asked. “What does that mean? You came out right away after Gael’jic and I did.”

Ariam shook his head. “It means when I came out on the other side of the gate, I did not come out here.”

“Yes, you did,” Gael’jic said, confused. “You are here now and talking to us.”

“I know that,” Ariam said frustrated. “But this is not the first place I came out.”

“What do you mean?” Belem asked.

Ariam answered, “I stepped out of the gate onto a different world.”

They all blinked in astonishment as they stared at him. Cecil’s jaw dropped open as he searched for something to say but could not find it.

“Do you mean to say you went to another new planet?” Gael’jic asked perplexed.

“Not a new world,” Ariam said. “I went back to Dar’ryn. But it was different.”

“Different how?” Gael’jic asked suspiciously. An unexplainable icy chill ran over his flesh, a premonition to whatever Ariam was about to tell them.

Ariam squeezed his eyes shut at the memory as he searched inward, thinking of how to say it. “It was,” he began, “scorched and destroyed. At first, I thought I had simply come out the other side of the same gate and remained on the planet Cairn. But there were too many blackened trees instead of those stone-like pillars. It took me a while to figure out where I was. And as I looked around I did not see any of you. Yet some of you had gone through before me. I could tell right away something was wrong.”

“Did you not try to go back through the gate?” Gael’jic asked.

“I turned around because I intended to do precisely that. But the gate was silent and dead. I tried to reactivate it, but it simply would not come to life. There was a blood key slot and I guess I just didn’t have the right kind. I was desperate. And I searched my surroundings and that’s when I realized the trees that were all burned and charred beyond life were Raka trees. I knew then that I was back on Dar’ryn.”

“So what did you do?” Cecil asked.

“It was strange,” Ariam answered. “But I felt pulled, just as I did before I met any of you. I went in the direction that I felt I must go and very soon I crested a rise and I saw the Human Citadel sitting in its vast plain, or rather what was left of it. Everything around it for miles and miles was dead. And there were great scorch marks on the wall. There was even a great ruinous crevice opening up the wall so that I could walk right through back into the Citadel. I knew that was where I had to go. But I did not want to. I could not stand the thought of entering the ravaged Human Citadel knowing that I would only find destruction within.”

He stopped, took a shuddering breath, and a few moments later pressed on. “By that time, I think I understood a little bit of what was happening. I realized that because I was without any of you, I was not seeing things as they presently are. But what I was looking upon was the potential future. It was what will happen if we fail.”

They were all quiet and stared at him with mixed wonder and concern.

At last, after a while, Belem asked, “So you went inside?”

“I did,” Ariam replied. “And that is where it got really bad.”

CHAPTER 10. ARIAM’S REVELATION

Ariam shuddered once again as he recounted his terrible vision.

He walked drawing ragged breaths toward the Citadel. He was sickened by the sound of the scorched ground beneath his feet. It crunched dead noises beneath his steps. But the worst of it was what he saw.

He headed straight for the terrible rend in the wall. It was shaped like a gigantic letter V. The sides of it were scorched black. The closer he came the more detail he discerned on the remaining wall. When he came just a few paces away he stopped and stared at the damaged surface. Some kind of massive energy blast must have occurred to create that big of a crevice. But those were not the only signs of damage he detected.

As he stared at the exterior of the Citadel wall he saw great gouges that looked like they had been made by some large creatures scratching, desperate for entrance. There were hundreds if not thousands of such marks on the wall. At the time he had no clue what could have caused such marks. But having been attacked in the night on the planet Remmice, he now understood.

Overcoming his revulsion at what he saw, he, at last, braved passing through the great tear in the wall and entered the Citadel.

Even though when he had begun this adventure, he had passed through the mazelike corridors of the Citadel wall to get to the outside, he truly had no concept of exactly how deep the wall was until he passed through the damaged portion of it. Of course, he did not stop to measure, but he estimated the wall had to be approximately twenty meters thick. He could see down corridors in each direction. These were surrounded by slagged and melted metal walls and ceilings.

Eventually, he passed beyond the wall and entered the proper interior of the Human Citadel. What his eyes beheld was devastating.

There were countless collapsed buildings everywhere. Great piles of rubble marked the places where both homes and businesses alike once stood. Black clouds of smoke even yet lifted from some of the rubble piles.

His mouth hung open and his head shook trying to deny what he saw. But nothing his mind could concoct provided an alternative to what his eyes plainly told him. It was even worse on the inside than it was on the outside.

Aside from the occasional crackling flame, it was eerily silent within the Citadel. There were no sounds of people talking. There was not even anyone screaming or whimpering. It was as if no living person resided within his former home. He walked aimlessly through the streets, being pulled along by some kind of force of destiny he could not describe or understand. He recalled wondering if it had been the will of Rama’dy’ac that moved his feet along the deserted and destroyed city streets. But as he looked around at the devastation he could not imagine Rama’dy’ac had anything to do with what he beheld.

He could not remember exactly how long he had walked battered by the evidence of devastation but guessed it was hours. It had to have been that long before he detected the first signs of movement other than himself.

The first thing he noticed was the sound of scraping. He whipped around to locate it, hoping to find someone, anyone, alive.

Hope bloomed in his heart and he dashed toward the direction he believed he had heard the sound. He came to an alleyway and turned to look down it. A wide smile stretched across his face as he expected to see someone huddled in the alleyway. The smile soon disappeared when he beheld the nightmare vision of the creature.

The thing’s back was to him, which probably saved him from being seen. Its flesh was gray and cracked. The cracks glowed with orange light as if the thing carried a fire within its frame.

The large beast was hunched over, tearing away at a small pile of human bodies. It looked like it must be a family. The creature lifted a young man who, below a ragged wound at his shoulder, was missing an arm. The unholy thing shot its hideous face at the body and sank its teeth into the dead boy’s side. There came a sickening crunch as bone shattered and flesh was rent.

Ariam stood staring in horror down the throat of the alleyway at the feasting creature for some time before he realized he was out in the open and vulnerable. One look at the creature was enough to tell him the thing was not safe. He quietly stepped away and pressed his back against the wall. He knew he had to get away from the thing. He gingerly shuffled away again praying he did not signal his presence to the creature. When he got a little farther away he chanced to move quicker. Soon he broke into a dead run.

He ran and ran and ran.

Before he realized it he looked up and saw that the center of the Citadel, the Royal Palace loomed before him. He had not meant to come this way. He simply ended up here. Fate, it seemed, had drawn him to this place.

He skidded to a halt and stared up at the Palace. Of any structure in the Citadel, it was the one that had received the least damage.

But it had not been free of it entirely. Several windows had broken out and were billowing black smoke into the sky. Here and there great portions of the Palace’s façade had been torn away or blown outward by explosions from within. But aside from that, the Palace seemed to be intact.

He felt compelled to continue. So he walked forward, marching toward destiny.

The great gate that had guarded the Palace against the rest of the Citadel grounds was completely demolished. The walls that housed the gates on either side were severely ruined as well, torn down to rubble.

He picked his way carefully over the debris, cautious not to lose his footing and break an ankle in his attempt to get where he knew he needed to go.

When he got past that initial pile of rubble, there was still much destruction on the Palace grounds.

The largest building that had housed many of the Citadel’s important personages and politicians was a complete ruin. Nothing but a few crooked fingers representing narrow portions of the outer walls of the apartment complexes stood pointing at the sky, perhaps accusing Rama’dy’ac of not saving them.

He stared at these for a good long while before continuing to the Palace itself.

The main doorways into the Palace were open but otherwise seemingly untouched by the violence that had so decimated the rest of the Human Citadel.

Ariam had been inside the Palace a handful of times when he was still a noted performer within Human society. But he hadn’t spent much time there. Nevertheless, he knew that what he initially saw upon entering indicated a change.

What had once been a vast hall leading to countless other places within the Palace was interrupted by a massive new structure in the center.

There was a great dais built in the center of the vast space and upon it sat a throne. And upon the throne sat someone that chilled Ariam to his core.

He had expected to see Lycas Ryth sitting on the throne. But that was not the visage he beheld. Instead, he saw Belem.

But at the same time, he knew it was not Belem. There were key differences.

The first he noted was that his body was free of any scars. The Belem he knew had been covered in them.

Likewise, the man he beheld on the throne was dressed in the finest clothes, rather than the rags of the prison-issue clothes Ariam had only ever seen him wear.

Ariam could not stop himself from walking up to the dais but he did cease at its base. He stared up at the figure on the throne in disbelief.

Upon the dais to either side stood wooden torture frames, each suspending a dead body. To Belem’s left Cecil’s corpse was suspended upright. His head was lolled to one side. His eyes were open and blank. On the other side of Belem’s throne, Gael’jic’s dead body was upheld by the torture frame. The fin on his head hung limply to one side. Blood pooled beneath both Cecil and Gael’jic.

The Belem that sat upon the throne stared down at him with a broad grin.

“It’s about time you got here,” he said. “And I’m so happy to show you your future.”

The instant the Belem on the throne had opened his mouth, Ariam understood. It was not Belem he was seeing, but it was Uri’thind’ac hijacking Belem’s body.

Aside from the absence of scars, his eyes were completely different. They were piercingly green, like Cecil’s. And over one eye was the dark flame tattoo sported by all the Lord Advisors through history.

Ariam said, “This cannot be.”

“It will be,” Ryth-Belem answered. “There is nothing you can do to stop it. Not you, not your pathetic friends.” The wicked figure lifted both hands to indicate the corpses suspended beside his throne.

Also on either side of the throne were more of the creatures like the one Ariam had seen in the alleyway. But now he got his first real look at them. They were hideous and nightmarish.

Ryth-Belem reached a hand down and affectionately patted the head of one of the creatures. “Do you like my Shedi’im?” he asked with a wicked grin. “They are remarkable creatures. They do so love to tear human flesh and drink the blood. You should have seen them rip the citizens of this Citadel apart. They feasted and gorged on them. It was such a fascinating sight to watch. Perhaps I shall show you the footage later if you so choose.”

“This is not happening,” Ariam answered.

“Perhaps not,” Ryth-Belem replied casually. “But it will.”

That was when Ariam knew he needed to run. He had to get back to the gate. He had no idea how he could activate it, how he could get it to work again, but he had to leave this place at once. He had seen everything he required.

So he turned and ran as fast as he could.

Behind him, Ryth-Belem cackled with delight. Soon the sounds of his laughter were joined by the howls of the unholy creatures at his sides.

He did not care to turn and look, but he sensed they had left their places at Ryth-Belem’s sides and now chased him.

He ran with all his might. He coursed his way through the Citadel and found the great crevice in the wall and did not stop.

He had no idea how he could outrun the creatures. He attributed it to the fact that this was not truly happening. But it sure felt real. He did not want to chance getting captured by them, though, so he ran with everything ounce of strength he had.

After a short time, he came again to the gate. It was shimmering and alive and waiting for him.

Relief washed over him. He heard the creatures at his back. They sounded as if they were almost upon him, that they would tear into him at any moment and rip him to shreds.

And then he was at the shimmering pearlescence of the gate. And then he was through. And then he was on the planet Remmice with his companions. He had wheeled around and stared with terror at the gate through which he had just passed onto a new world. The others were watching him with confusion. He breathed a sigh of relief when his mind confirmed his earlier hope: that none of what he had seen had truly happened. He had not truly gone back to Dar’ryn. He had simply been caught up in some sort of mystical vision during his passage through the gate.

And now, he had told them all of it.

The others simply stood and stared agape at him.

At long last Belem asked, “Is that how the thing got here? Through the gate?”

Ariam shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. As I said it wasn’t real. It was a vision of what will happen though if we fail.”

“Then how did it get here?” Belem pressed.

“I don’t know!” Ariam shouted at the man.

Belem blinked, startled at the beggar’s explosive reply. He was not used to such naked a display of rage coming from Ariam. He realized he needed to back down. Though that was not his way, he managed it.

Ariam dropped to his knees and wept.

CHAPTER 11. OUT OF REACH

The laboratory doors parted allowing Lycas Ryth to sweep into the room. His face was calm but beneath the façade, a roiling storm boiled ready to spill over at the slightest provocation. Whoever was in the way when that happened could suffer serious harm.

The only other person in the room was Doctor Givens.

The geneticist barely noticed his arrival. His focus was attentive on the clipboard in his hand. He was reviewing important information and could not be deterred.

Ryth cleared his throat. Givens raised a hand in acknowledgment and twitched a finger but otherwise kept his focus on the information before his eyes.

While Ryth appreciated the man’s devotion to his work, he was annoyed that he was ignoring the Lord Advisor. If the man did not tread carefully, there would be no denying his presence.

Instead of lashing out, Ryth elected to wait patiently. He clasped his hands in front of him and stared at the back of Doctor Givens. A few moments later the doctor turned around and raised his eyes from the clipboard. His eyebrows shot up when he realized who it was that had come.

“Lord Advisor!” The doctor said. “I was not expecting you today. To what do I owe the…?”

“Never mind that,” Ryth interrupted. “I’m here to talk business, not partake in idle chit-chat.”

The doctor looked around the room and then brought his attention back to the Lord Advisor. “Well,” he said, “I am a little busy at the moment. Perhaps if you could…”

“Are you about to suggest I wait? Or perhaps come back another time?” The steely edge of his voice would brook no foolishness. The doctor noticed this and his jaw dropped open as he stammered searching for an answer.

“No, no, of course not,” he said. “I merely wanted to show you that I am busy doing the work you have given to me.”

He turned around and plucked something up from the counter. He spun back to face Ryth and held aloft a small vial of blood. “I have continued to run tests and the results are remarkable.”

“But not duplicatable,” Ryth said with an arched eyebrow.

The doctor gave a sorrowful look. “No,” he said. “I’m afraid not. At least not yet. I simply cannot crack the code on why the subject in question excels where others do not.”

Ryth took a step toward the man. He towered over him and looked down his nose at the doctor. “Then perhaps you lack the proper motivation.”

The words hung in the air like a chill cloud. Perspiration broke out on the doctor’s forehead as he took a step back.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” he said.

Ryth took another step forward, closing the distance between himself and the geneticist. “I mean that time is of the essence, good doctor. If we do not make good on these plans, there is much that will be lost. That is not an acceptable result. You need to work harder.”

“I…I will. I mean, I am!” the doctor stammered. “But understand this represents a lifetime of my work. I oversaw the subject from before he was even born.”

“I know that,” Ryth snarled. “And yet here we are.”

The doctor nodded disappointedly and half turned away. “Yes,” he said. “How unfortunate that one who was such a great success in the advancement of genetic engineering should also be such a great failure in other areas. If only Cecil’s body had been retained…”

Ryth swirled in front of him and seized him by the throat. The doctor’s eyes shot wide and his mouth worked but no words would come out. Ryth squeezed.

“I told you not to speak his name.” His eyes were all fury as he stared at the doctor.

A moment later he released his grip on the man’s throat and the doctor staggered backward. A hand shot up to his neck and rubbed it.

“Apologies,” the doctor rasped. “I meant no offense. I simply forgot myself.”

“See that you remember yourself from now on. I would hate to have to replace you.”

The doctor straightened and a haughty look overcame his face. “Replace me? And how are you going to do that? No one has my experience and no one has any knowledge of the work that I do.”

Ryth arched an eyebrow as he stared at the doctor. Ryth could replace him, though not easily. It would take a couple of decades, as Ryth possessed all the information he needed. He had a better grasp of it than the doctor did, but he lacked the desire to engage with the technical side of things. He hated the machines these humans used. They were so antiquated and foolish. Yes, they had their uses but whatever his advancements were, he could not bring himself to sully himself by messing around with the filthy tech. He put up with enough of it as it was living in this human shell among the primitive wretches. But he could certainly select and train another. Yet he did not feel up to the task of taking the requisite years to do so. He backed off.

“Just make sure that you stay on task and accomplish what I have commanded,” he said in a calmer tone.

“I will,” the doctor said recovering himself. He continued to rub his throat until something occurred to him. “I don’t suppose you have brought…er…the new subject?” He almost spoke Belem’s name out loud but caught himself. A flash in Ryth’s eyes saw to that.

“No, I have not,” Ryth said with a sneer. “The subject remains out of reach for the time being. But rest assured I will lay hold of him and bring him to you when the time is right.”

“I should hope so,” Givens replied. “As important as the work is on the initial subject, this new one has far more to yield. That is what you have told me, at any rate.”

“Do not trouble yourself about the second subject,” Ryth said. “I have agents presently working to bring that one to me in short order. It will only be days until he has been brought here. Then you can run whatever tests you want on him. Just remember, I want him to live. Nothing that will kill him is allowed.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” the doctor said, a hint of offense in his voice.

“Now to other business,” Ryth said. “The main reason I have come is that I want to view the other subjects.”

Something flashed across Givens’s face. Was it guilt or fear? Perhaps a combination of both.

“What is it?” Ryth said in a tone of warning.

“Ah,” Givens said cautiously. “That is going to be a bit of a problem.”

“Why?” Ryth said stonily.

There was hesitation etched on Givens’s face. He did not want to say what he needed to. But there was nothing for it and so he had to come forward.

“Most of them are dead,” he said.

“Dead?” Ryth barked. “When?”

“Yesterday and this morning,” Givens said.

“How?” Ryth demanded.

“They killed each other,” Givens answered flatly.

“They killed each other when it started happening?” Ryth repeated in disbelief. “Did you not separate them?”

“I tried, but I was too late,” Givens answered. “The dominant one went after the others. Tore some of them to shreds in moments. I don’t think one of them knew what was even happening before he was dead. Two of them tried to gang up on him, but he was too fast and too strong. Thankfully I was able to sequester one of them who was at a different end of the observation chamber. But the dominant one killed the others. So we only have two now.”

“Two,” Ryth said in disbelief. “This is outrageous.”

“There’s nothing I could do about it,” Givens complained. “The psychological results have always been unpredictable. Except for Ce–” he began to say Cecil’s name but caught himself. He corrected, “Except for the successful subject, the others have been twisted. Most of them were salvageable for your other purposes on Void Island, but we always seem to have a few that go crazy.”

“This is too much,” Ryth said shaking his head. “Why can’t you figure this out?”

“I’m trying,” Givens protested.

“You better take me to look at the survivors. I want to know.”

“Very well,” Givens said. “Follow me.”

CHAPTER 12. SUBJECT ANALYSIS

Givens trudged down the hallway ever aware of Ryth towering at his side. The man was like a great black thunderhead, promising deadly flashes of power for those unfortunate to be caught in its menacing shadow. His robes swirled around him and his face was set in a grim frown. Givens stole a look at him then quickly redirected his gaze ahead.

Ryth delighted in the fearfulness others felt around him when he displayed one of these moods. He cherished it deep within, but he would never allow the enjoyment to leak onto his face. At least not most of the time.

They wound their way through a variety of subterranean corridors in the underground laboratory beneath the Palace. Occasionally they would come across a white-coated doctor or lab technician who when they saw Ryth coming stepped to the side to make way for him.

Soon they came to a door and the doctor keyed in a code on a small square pad. The two doors slid away and he entered the room. Ryth was immediately at his side.

They found themselves in a wide observation chamber. Dominating the center of the vast room was a massive clear enclosure. An oval track ran around it. Inside the enclosure were a variety of terrain types. On the far end, there was a desert. The next closest one was forested. The third type was open water. The final one was simple concrete with a few pillars as obstacles. Each of the sections was walled off. The walls separating them were removable at the command of a keypad. Presently the walls remained in place separating the two surviving subjects.

In the false jungle terrain, one of the subjects sat against a tree. Its legs were propped up and its shoulders were hunched forward. Its arms were folded over its upturned knees and it was looking about, bored. Ryth beheld this poor specimen for a handful of moments.

It was a hideously twisted creature. The thing was the product of genetic engineering; splicing different species together into a new kind of thing. Combined within the genetic makeup of this and the other creature was both human and Dar’rynakai DNA. Both sets of DNA evidenced themselves in a variety of ways over the creature’s body. It had an essentially human shape averaging six feet in height. Two arms, two legs, and a head. But the flesh covering this body was a twisted morass of a nightmare. Some of the skin was tan human flesh but swirled in with it was stripes of green scaly Dar’rynakai flesh.

The creature lifted its head and stared at Ryth for a moment before looking back away. One eye had been human, brown, and the other had been Dar’rynakai yellow. The mouth was lipless. And it was filled with rows of jagged angular teeth.

Ryth made a harrumphing noise and then turned his attention to the other subject.

The second specimen, the dominant one as Givens referred to him, was currently housed in the concrete terrain on the opposite end. He stood at the transparent side and stared menacingly out at Ryth. Ryth locked eyes with the creature and walked casually over to stand eye-to-eye with him. They stared at each other and the creature behind the transparent surface tilted its head as it observed him. It was obvious the thing wanted to get at him, to tear into him, to kill him.

Ryth smirked. He’d like to see the thing try. If he went into that space and grappled with the creature, he knew he could make short work of it. But he never wanted to do so. He so hated fleshly contests such as that. Doing so was an inelegant endeavor. He preferred to dominate with his mind and manipulation. He could do that just fine from outside the observation chamber. He leaned forward and widened his eyes as he stared back at the creature.

The thing took an involuntary step back. It had sensed something in him when he moved forward like that. Ryth had unleashed a slight wave of hypnotic energy. It had disconcerted the creature. It now looked at him in a new light.

Ryth raised a hand and pressed it to the glass. His smile broadened as he stared greedily back at the creature.

The twisted thing turned its head to the side a little and looked at him askance. He was trying to figure out what it was he looked upon.

Though the subjects of the observation chamber were essentially human and Dar’rynakai, both intelligent species, they had not been trained or educated in any way. They were essentially savages. They were what most people in the Citadel believed the Dar’rynakai to be. Ryth was of course happy to keep it that way. Why spoil a good thing by arousing the interest of the cattle?

But Ryth was not done playing with this particular toy. He split his lips and bared his teeth at the thing in a show of dominance.

The creature, now having taken more than he was willing to, darted toward Ryth. His teeth glistened and dripped with saliva. It collided with the transparent surface. The material was too tough for anything to break and so the beast bounced off it. It would take a powerful energy blast from a particularly strong weapon to penetrate. But the stupid creature would not know this.

It staggered backward from the collision and looked confusedly back at Ryth. It dropped its jaw wide open. Its mouth opened far wider than any human’s ever could. In that regard it was more like one of the Dar’rynakai. Through the transparent surface of the container, Ryth heard the sharp hiss issued by the creature.

Ryth slowly shook his head. “Now, now,” he said. “That’s no way to treat your master.”

From behind him, Doctor Givens cleared his throat.

Ryth turned his face toward the doctor. “Yes?” he said impatiently.

“What do you think?” Givens asked.

Ryth turned to regard the creature once more. He stared at it thoughtfully for a few seconds longer before turning back to the doctor. “It’s progress,” he said. “But not enough.”

“Do you want me to destroy them and start over again?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Ryth said. “I rather like this one,” he said pointing toward the dominant of the two creatures.

A look of surprise ghosted Givens’s face. “You…you like him?”

“Yes,” Ryth said. “He’s ferocious. I appreciate that. He is not encumbered by social graces or the veneer of society. That thing in there is raw power. I tend to take a liking to untamed power.”

Givens gulped. “Yes, Lord Advisor. I will keep them alive.”

“See that you do. You may continue to run your tests on them, but I want you to make sure that they are kept in good health. I may find a use for one or both of them later.”

Givens blinked in astonishment. “You’re not thinking of sending them to Void Island, are you?”

“No, no, nothing like that. This one anyway is too unruly for that. The first one maybe, but I haven’t had much chance to observe him.”

“As you command, Lord Advisor,” Givens said bowing his head.

Ryth turned back to stare at the unruly dominant creature. He reminded Ryth of the Shedi’im. Those marvelous beasts had come about through similar engineering centuries earlier. But the template had been lost. That had been one of Rama’dy’ac’s last victories. But no matter. He would not win any further. They were in the last of it now, the final run. And when all was finished, the remainders of the foolish inhabitants of this world were all destined to become like these poor creatures in the observation chamber…or they would become food for the new race and the Shedi’im. Ryth would twist the strongest, mold them into his desired forms. They would treat him as a god. He deserved it far more than that fool Rama’dy’ac did.

A wicked smile crept to one corner of Ryth’s mouth.

“Sir?” Givens asked.

“Never mind,” Ryth said. “I will have more subjects brought to you for further experimentation in gene alteration. I have recently had a couple of other natives of the planet brought to the Palace for the Prince’s entertainment.

“Dar’rynakai?” Givens asked astonished.

“No,” Ryth said. “They are called Dar’ryneel.”

“Dar’ryneel? I have never heard of them. Are you sure this is not simply some variation on the Dar’rynakai?”

Ryth turned a long-suffering look on the doctor. “Don’t be an idiot,” he said. “There is much you don’t know. Regardless, I will obtain some of their genetic material for you. Perhaps you can put it into the mix and create something new.”

“Something new,” Givens said in an odd tone under his breath. “Yes. I think I might like that.”

“I’m sure you would,” Ryth replied.

CHAPTER 13. DESERTED STREETS

Daylight dwindled as they crested the rise that afforded them the first view of Qorovu’s city. They halted at the top and set the litter bearing the Remmite down. Qorovu had come back to consciousness a few hours earlier and – though he spent most of the time moaning – turned his head and beheld his former home.

What first was delight at seeing his home quickly transformed into despair. He gasped at the vision before him.

What was once a sprawling and thriving city now lay dark and dormant on the decimated plain before them.

“Has no one survived?” he pleaded in a raspy voice. He squeezed his eyes closed and turned his face away.

“Let us not lose hope yet,” Gael’jic said. “No doubt your home has endured much and been brought low, but that does not mean the place has been abandoned entirely.” He stared that way and Ariam thought there was a ghost of uncertainty in his eyes.

Belem muttered something and then spoke up. “If the place has been deserted, that may be for the best.”

“What do you mean?” Ariam asked.

“In my experience,” Belem said, “places that look like that if they harbor any life at all harbor the worst kind. The most dangerous. If there’s anyone left in the city, they will be feral.”

Qorovu moaned in despair.

“Don’t be so hasty,” Gael’jic chided. “That is where we must go regardless of its state. We may yet be encouraged by what we find.”

“Doubtful,” Belem said with a shake of his head.

With that, the conversation ceased. Cecil and Gael’jic took up the litter and recommenced the journey toward Qorovu’s city.

Ariam was on alert for a reappearance of the beast that had attacked them the night before. He was all but certain they would encounter it once again. And not just that one, but he suspected there would be more. Many more.

Belem had offered Ariam more combat training when they had stopped for a break in their travel, but he was not up to it. When Belem pressed him on the matter Ariam got short with the convict and snapped at him. Belem who normally would have arisen to a challenge retreated from conflict with the beggar instead. He could tell something was wrong. The others marked this as well, but no one said anything.

It was apparent to all, especially Ariam, that something was wrong with him. Ariam had hoped after confessing what he had seen in his travel through the gateway that it would have relieved him of his guilt and anxiety. But ever since he unfolded the tale for them, it only increased. He could not say why. Nevertheless, a growing sense of trepidation took hold of his heart like an icy hand.

It took another hour of navigation after they crested the rise to get to the outskirts of Qorovu’s city.

“Stop,” Qorovu said from the litter. “Please halt!”

They stopped and gently laid the litter down on the ground. Gael’jic came and knelt by his side.

“What is wrong?” the Dar’rynakai asked. “Is something bothering you? Can we make you more comfortable?”

“I do not want to be brought into the city in this way,” Qorovu answered. “I was carried out. I want to walk back in.”

Gael’jic looked at him with a tilt of his head and hesitated then explained, “I do not think that would be wise. In your condition…”

“In my condition, I will die soon,” Qorovu finished the rest of it for him. “I know. But I want to walk in on my own feet. Please.”

Gael’jic turned his face to Cecil. The guardsman shrugged and said, “It’s up to him.”

“Help me up,” Qorovu said.

Gael’jic sighed with defeat, then offered a hand to his injured companion.

The thin Remmite lifted a gray sickly hand and took hold of Gael’jic’s. In the next moment, Ariam was at his other side taking his other hand and helping him slowly come to his feet.

There was a lot of grunting in pain throughout the process. But at last, Qorovu managed to balance himself on his own feet. He slowly brought his head up and looked down the boulevard leading into the city.

“This is Rem’Tal,” he explained. “The chief habitation of the Remmites on the planet Remmice. Once a glorious gem of civilization now only a stained piece of refuse, crumpled and discarded.” He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

Gael’jic and Ariam maintained a hold on him as he took his first step toward the city. Unlike the Human Citadel on Dar’ryn, there was no protective wall here. Ariam made mention of this.

“Why is this?” he asked.

“We do not require protection as you thought you did,” Qorovu answered. “Our world was at peace.”

“But what about beasts or other dangerous animals?” Cecil asked.

Qorovu shook his head. “Nothing like that ever came close to the city. They prefer the wilds and not the noise and bustle of civilization. It scares them away.”

Ariam and Gael’jic locked eyes across Qorovu’s stooped form. Something passed between them. Ariam felt yet another wave of guilt, though this one was for the posture of his people toward Gael’jic’s. The humans had thought of the Dar’rynakai as savages, dangerous creatures to be kept at bay. But upon meeting Gael’jic and then seeing his society, Ariam, Belem, and Cecil learned how wrong they had been. The Dar’rynakai were intelligent and thoughtful people, even if they, too, had been deceived as the humans had been. Perhaps there was something to learn on Remmice.

Along the boulevard leading into the city, there was a variety of destroyed war machines. There were more tanks and other, smaller vehicles. Some appeared to have been flying craft that crashed and carved large gouges into the ground as they did so.

“War came even here,” Qorovu said. “Unbelievable.”

The streets were quiet in the darkening day. There was no signal that any life remained in the city. Every window was black and every doorway was vacant. No one walked the streets, no one inhabited shops, no one carried about business.

“Is this what is in store for us?” Cecil asked. He turned his face to Ariam as if the beggar had an answer. He supposed after a fashion he did. Ariam was the one who had seen the vision of the defunct Citadel. Cecil continued, “Is this what it was like in your vision?”

Ariam kept his lips tightly closed but he nodded his head. He could not bring himself to say a word.

Suddenly Ariam felt Gael’jic tapping furiously on his shoulder. He turned and looked over Qorovu’s semi-slumped form to see the Dar’rynakai staring at him urgently. He squinted his face and tilted his head in a question.

The Dar’rynakai brought his hand up to his mouth in a shushing gesture. Ariam nodded in understanding. Gael’jic had heard something.

Gael’jic turned and made a short and sharp hissing noise to Cecil. When the guardsman turned his attention to the Dar’rynakai, Gael’jic and Ariam halted. Cecil took the meaning right away.

Cecil snapped his fingers to get Belem’s attention. Belem, who was carrying the remains of the litter whipped his face around to look at Cecil. He also understood without a problem. He extracted Cecil’s spear from the folds of the litter and tossed it to him. At the same time, he let the rest of the litter drop to the ground. He then dropped his hands to both his hips and extracted hardened wooden knives.

They stood frozen in the middle of the boulevard that way for an interminable amount of time or so it felt to Ariam.

At last, he dared to ask in a whisper, “What is it? Has that thing come back?”

Gael’jic shook his head firmly and quickly and then went back to observing the environment around them. So it wasn’t the creature, Ariam concluded. Then what was it? A few moments later Cecil turned his attention to Gael’jic and tossed the Dar’rynakai a questioning glance.

In answer, Gael’jic said, “We are being watched. From more than one place. I hear them moving in the shadows. And I think I caught a glimpse of something in one of the darkened windows.”

That was good enough for Cecil. He readied himself for an onslaught of violence. They all stared at the buildings around them searching for any signal of movement when suddenly Belem cleared his throat they all turned their focus to him and he nodded down the road with his chin.

They all looked that way and to their astonishment saw a lone figure walking toward them.

CHAPTER 14. OUTNUMBERED

With a growing sense of wariness, they watched the lone figure approach. He was a haggard-looking Remmite. He wore homespun clothes and over those he sported makeshift armor made from scavenged steel plates. He sported a long metal pole in his hand as a staff. His yellow eyes glimmered with danger and his mouth was set in a frown.

He stopped a good ten paces away and thrust the butt end of his staff upon the ground. The resounding metallic thunk-noise it made reverberated all around the empty city street. The figure stared at them hard.

He opened his mouth and spoke something in what must have been the Remmite language.

Qorovu drew his head back a little in surprise.

“What’s wrong?” Cecil asked. “Don’t you understand him?”

“I do,” Qorovu said. “Mostly. The words are strange in my ears. And not just because I have not heard them spoken in a long time. To me, it seems as only days ago. The language must have changed over the years.”

“Makes sense,” Ariam said thoughtfully.

“He doesn’t look too happy,” Belem said. “You better answer whatever he said.”

“He demands to know who we are and why we are trespassing in this territory.” Qorovu then began to answer the other Remmite in their language. The bedraggled figure tilted his head and adopted a squinting expression as he listened to Qorovu.

When he finished Cecil leaned forward and said, “What did you tell him?”

Qorovu turned his face toward the guardsman and replied, “I told him who I am and how long it has been since I had been on the planet.”

The newcomer lifted an accusing finger and jabbed it toward Qorovu. He then issued an angry stream of words.

Qorovu’s eyes widened as he listened to the man and issued a minor groan of disappointment.

“What is it?” Belem demanded. “What is he saying now?”

“He does not believe me. He demands we leave his territory at once,” Qorovu answered.

“That’s not happening,” Belem said with a sneer. He took a menacing step toward the figure who then quickly responded by pulling his staff up into a defensive position.

Suddenly more Remmites appeared in doorways, windows, and around corners. They all wore similar homespun clothes and cobbled-together armor. Some carried staffs or clubs while others held only chunks of stone. Cecil assessed the situation quickly and counted twenty in total.

“Easy,” Cecil cautioned Belem.

“You’re right,” Belem replied with a snort of derision. “It would be easy.” He didn’t look like he was about to back down.

“Belem,” Cecil said warningly.

“What? Are you afraid of this rabble?” Belem scoffed.

The one who came out to speak with them issued another string of threatening words.

“He demands to know who you are,” Qorovu translated, “and why you would dare to threaten him when you are outnumbered.”

Belem made a show of slowly drawing one of the knives from the sheath at his belt and lifted it. He waggled it at the other Remmite and smiled. He said, “Tell him I’m not so worried about his numbers. Tell him we are trained warriors and seasoned combatants. And if they so wish, we will gladly spill their blood today.” Belem waited but Qorovu did not translate. The convict turned a frustrated expression to Qorovu and saw he was taken aback. “Well?” Belem said. “Tell him.”

“That might not be such a good idea,” Gael’jic said.

Belem gave the Dar’rynakai a confident grin. “Don’t be worried, lizard. We can take them.”

“Pay attention,” Cecil warned. “I count twenty of them.”

“Oh please,” Belem replied. “Look at the state of them. You and I could take them ourselves.”

“We could take the ones we can see, yes,” Cecil replied looking carefully around them. “But I think there are more of them. A lot more.”

Sidestepping Belem’s brashness, Qorovu began to speak with the other one. When he had finished his plea in the Remmite language, he said to his companions, “I told them who I am: that I was once a respected scientist in this world, and that I was taken in the middle of the night to another.”

The other Remmite laughed and then issued another torrent of words.

Qorovu translated, “He says he does not believe this. He says no Remmite can live that long and he does not believe there are other worlds.”

He then began to answer the other one and further explain what had happened.

The other one retorted something else.

“This is useless,” Belem said, tightening his grip on the knife. This did not escape the Remmite’s notice. The haggard creature fixed a stony glare on the convict.

Qorovu said, “He does not understand the stasis chamber technology. He has never heard of it.”

“No kidding,” Belem replied. “Look at him. I doubt there’s much technology he is familiar with.” Belem growled then he said, “They’re not going for this and I’m getting tired of their lip.” He took another few menacing steps toward the lead Remmite. Then he halted when approximately thirty more of his companions announced their presence by stepping out of hiding and uttering cries of anger.

“How do you feel about the odds now?” Cecil said snidely.

Belem froze in place as he swept his gaze around the place. “Maybe not so good.”

Ariam stepped forward. “Qorovu, tell them you understand the machinery that they do not. Surely they have seen things in their city they do not comprehend. Tell them that you do and that you can help them learn it. Tell them it will help them to protect their territory.”

Qorovu favored Ariam with an appraising look. He opened his mouth to say something then winced in pain. He hung his head and grunted against the advent of it. He started to fall forward but Ariam and Gael’jic caught and steadied him. When he got control of himself he lifted his face once more and nodded to Ariam. He turned his focus to the other Remmite and then began to explain.

When he finished, the other one beheld him thoughtfully for the first time. One of the others off to the side shouted something at him. He turned and replied.

“What was that about?” Cecil asked.

“The one in the crowd thinks it is a trick,” Qorovu answered. “This one is not so sure. I think we may have piqued his interest.”

There was another exchange between the leader of the rabble and the other one in the crowd.

“What’s happening now?” Ariam asked.

“They are arguing,” Qorovu answered. “The one who speaks with us seems to be in favor of leading us into their territory. He wants us to be presented to their chief. The other one does not.” He fell silent as he continued to listen to the banter. When the one in front of them had made his decision Qorovu translated. “He says because they have never before seen humankind or the Dar’rynakai nor even heard of them they should be brought to the chief. Plus, instead of allowing the potential for advancement to fall into the hands of a rival clan, it would be unwise to eject you from the territory.”

“Tell him we will only accompany them if they will treat you medically,” Cecil said firmly.

Qorovu translated. The other one listened and then replied sharply. Qorovu said, “He says we will be coming regardless of what they offer. We have no choice now.”

“At least it gets us inside,” Ariam said.

The one in charge issued another string of commands to Qorovu. Qorovu said, “He demands we turn over our weapons.”

Belem looked about to explode.

“Listen to them,” Cecil cautioned. “At least you, me, and Gael’jic can get by without weapons if we have to. And we can get them back later.”

“And don’t forget the training you’ve given to me,” Ariam suggested wryly. Belem turned his face to the beggar and sneered.

He said, “If this doesn’t go well, you won’t get another lesson because we will be dead.”

Ariam’s face went ashen and he gulped. “Oh,” was all he could think to say.

CHAPTER 15. ANOTHER TASK

“At least they didn’t bind our hands,” Ariam offered helpfully.

“Not that it would’ve done them much good,” Belem said. “They don’t look strong enough to tie a legitimate knot.”

The one ahead of them leading the group shouted something. Qorovu translated, “He says we are to cease talking. We are traveling through territory shared with other clans, but that does not mean we will not be attacked. The leader says that if another rival clan sees the valuable prizes we carry, it may be too great a temptation.”

“Best not draw attention to ourselves because we’re potentially valuable is what I’m hearing,” Ariam said smiling.

The lead Remmite turned a baleful glance on Ariam. Ariam sheepishly said, “Sorry.”

They carried on in silence, which Ariam suppose was just as well. It allowed him to take in their surroundings. The part of the city they traveled through looked just as beat up and desolate as the area they had entered. He supposed the rest of it would be similar.

It was evident the war had come to the innermost parts of the city. Many of the buildings sported scorch marks from energy blasts. Some structures were reduced entirely to piles of rubble. As they traveled along, a question started to grow in his mind. It occurred to him there was no kind of visible plant growth. No vegetation had come and retaken the decimated land. It wasn’t much of a surprise given what they had seen in the forest outside the city but that raised other questions.

How did the survivors live? What did they eat? He hoped the answer was not that they killed and consumed rivals or, worse in their situation, outsiders.

It took a good long while to arrive at their destination at the center of the city. He estimated it was an hour or more of travel.

The central structure of the city towered before them. It stretched hundreds of meters into the sky and thrust supporting wings out to the sides on the ground.

The lead Remmite turned and barked a command. Qorovu said, “He instructs us to wait here.” Then the leading Remmite turned and ascended the broad stairs going up to the building. He passed through the wide doorway at the top. Ariam was reminded of the temple in the forgotten ancient city on Dar’ryn. A stone door had dropped behind them, blocking them inside until they properly progressed forward and performed the right tasks.

The wait outside the building felt interminable. In truth, Ariam realized it was probably no more than three-quarters of an hour. The initial twenty Remmites that had appeared to aid their leader had been their escort into the city. They now stood surrounding the exiles and Qorovu. They all bore grim faces that promised to endure no trouble.

The Remmite returned at last. As he descended the stairs he stopped a few steps from the bottom and raised his hand in a signal for their attention. He shouted a simple word and then turned and ascended the stairs once more.

“He means for us to follow,” Qorovu said. The group started moving.

When they entered the building, they saw that the entry area was wide and with a high vaulted ceiling. The only lighting came from either torches or shafts of dusty light that penetrated in through windows high on the exterior wall.

Dominating the center of the area was what the humans would have called a receptionist area. A large fancy stone kiosk that could have accommodated half a dozen people guarded a wide set of stairs leading up to the next level and many more above. At the top of the stairs on the first landing was a large chair that had been put into service as a kind of throne. Seated on the throne was a very old-looking Remmite. He wore long flowing dirty gold and dark green robes. Resting over his brow as a headdress was a large skull of some kind of beast. Strings of beads hung down all around his shoulders from it.

“I’m guessing he’s the one in charge,” Belem said, unimpressed. “How quaint.”

No one favored the comment with a reply.

They stepped around the desk but came to a halt at the base of the stairs. The leading Remmite walked up seven steps and then ceased. He stretched his arms out to the side and began to speak in what sounded to all of the companion’s ears like some manner of formal address. When he finished, the chief sitting on the throne rubbed his chin in thought. He then replied with his own string of words in the Remmite language.

“Do you understand what’s going on?” Cecil asked Qorovu.

“Yes,” Qorovu answered. “Their words sound more like what I am familiar with as the language of my people.”

“Good,” Gael’jic interjected. “If you address this chief in that manner, it may be taken as a sign of respect. That could help us.”

The Remmite that had led them through the city turned and spoke to Qorovu. Qorovu nodded and then told his companions, “I am allowed to address the chief.” He stepped forward and came up beside the other one, grunting in pain with each step. He cradled his wounded front, and Ariam feared his strength would leave him and he’d end up tumbling down the stairs.

Instead, he bowed his head and then began to speak. Qorovu issued a long explanation as to why they had come. The companions switched their attention between Qorovu and the chief. Ariam wished he understood how to read their expressions. The best he could tell was that the chief simply took in Qorovu’s words. He otherwise did not indicate what he thought. When at last Qorovu finished the chief nodded thoughtfully.

There was a long pause and then finally the chief spoke again. His answer was equally as long as Qorovu’s introduction. When he finished Qorovu sighed with relief.

He turned to the companions and said, “The chief has agreed to offer what medical help they have in exchange for the secrets of the machines that have long been quiet. He says he has heard many strange tales of what had been done with them in the past, but it has been many a century since anyone has known how to wake them or even their true use.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Belem said. “Tell them to get on with it then.”

Qorovu shook his head. “There is more,” he said. “I must speak with the chief about how to get the power back. Without it, we have nothing to offer.” He turned and rattled off more words in the Remmite language.

The chief’s aged features became alarmed in a flash – the companions had no trouble discerning that reaction – and shot a look to the other Remmite beside Qorovu. He spoke harshly and the other one then bowed and issued an apologetic-sounding phrase.

“This doesn’t sound good,” Cecil said.

“It is not,” Qorovu confirmed. “I explained to the chief that to work the secrets of the technology, power must be restored. When I told him the location of the power station he became irritated. He said it resides in the territory of a rival clan. It will not be easy to negotiate our way inside. It might not even be possible.”

“What will we have to do?” Gael’jic asked.

“That is the problem,” Qorovu answered, and then winced at a fresh blossom of pain in his abdomen. When he recovered a few moments later, he said, “We do not know. He says the other clans can be unpredictable. They may have demands we cannot accommodate.”

“We have to try,” Gael’jic said. “There is no choice. For us, or for you.”

“I agree,” Qorovu said. “But the problem is I cannot accompany you like this. That means whoever goes will not have a translator.”

“I can volunteer,” Gael’jic said. “I may not know your language, but at least I am a scholar. I may be able to figure out a way to communicate…”

The chief barked a loud string of commands, interrupting Gael’jic’s offer.

Qorovu turned his astonished face to the chief and listened with ever-widening eyes. When the chief finished Qorovu sighed in defeat. He turned his face back to the others and translated.

“He has selected who will go. There will be no changing this. I am sorry Gael’jic, but you must remain behind.”

“Who is going to go?” Cecil asked.

“Belem and Ariam will go,” Qorovu answered. “They will be accompanied by four members of this clan.”

Belem huffed. “Well, that’s just perfect.”

“Have faith,” Ariam said.

“Have brains,” Belem quipped. “We won’t be able to talk with them. How are we supposed to negotiate? How will we even know what might be offered on our behalf without our consent?”

“We have to go,” Ariam said. “I don’t like it any better than you do.”

“Mark my words,” Belem said, “we are not going to like the outcome of this.” He grunted and then muttered, “I should’ve stayed on Dar’ryn.”

Qorovu said, “You need to understand how to turn the system back on. I cannot be there with you and so I will have to instruct you. Can you learn this?”

“I think I can,” Ariam answered. He swallowed a bitter ball of fear, hoping he was right.

CHAPTER 16. CHALLENGE BY COMBAT

Ariam, Belem, and four Remmite clan members set out from the city center to find the power station. Qorovu had given basic instructions on how to turn the power back on once they had found it. They were surprisingly simple if Ariam understood them correctly. The trouble was going to be getting through the other clan’s territory first.

There was some discussion about trying to sneak in, but this was quickly shot down. If they were caught, it might cause serious trouble between the two clans. That was something the chief was not willing to risk.

They had no way to communicate with their escort so Ariam focused on Belem. Most of his attempts were met by simple grunts or shrugs of the other man’s shoulders. He was not in much of a talkative mood. Not that he ever is, Ariam thought.

Ariam fell silent and resorted to taking in the scenery. It all looked the same to him. No part of the city had been spared from the conflict. Many of the buildings sported ragged holes and scorch marks. Some looked like they should have collapsed ages ago. He watched these with a wary eye, fearing one might crumble at any time. Belem did not share his concern.

When Ariam pointed out such structures, the convict spared but a single glance toward them and looked away. “Doesn’t matter much,” he said. “We won’t be around long enough for it to be a problem.”

“But what about these poor people?” Ariam pleaded.

“What about them?” Belem asked genuinely perplexed.

“They have to live in this,” Ariam said. “Isn’t it dangerous for them?”

“I don’t see how that’s my problem,” Belem retorted. “If they choose to live in dangerous situations, that is for them to deal with. We can’t go rescuing every idiot.”

“An interesting remark, coming from someone covered in scars,” Ariam noted.

Belem turned a smirk on him and answered, “Yes, I have a few, don’t I? You’ll note I am not dead, however. I don’t get into a fight unless I’m sure I can win it.”

“How can you be sure?” Ariam asked. “Don’t opponents sometimes surprise you with skills you never would’ve guessed?”

Belem snorted. “I can read it on them,” he said. “A few seconds of looking at a man is usually all it takes.”

“It seems foolhardy,” Ariam said. “What if you read a man wrong?”

“It’s all in how they carry themselves,” Belem said. “You can tell if a man is soft or hard, or if they’re rightly confident or foolishly cocky just by the way they look.”

“I don’t think you can make snap judgments like that,” Ariam said.

“Oh really?” Belem retorted. “Take me for example. You noted all my scars; what did those tell you about me the first time you saw me? Did they tell you I was a gentle person? No, of course not. They told you I was a man accustomed to violence.”

Ariam stammered, groping for some kind of defense that would not come. Belem simply continued to smirk.

A shouted voice from up ahead ceased their exchange. Both men looked up and saw two Remmites holding staffs and wearing cobbled-together armor much like those escorting them.

Behind them loomed a tall wall blocking their path. It had been assembled from pieces of scrap. A set of large wooden double doors rested at the center of the wall.

The Remmite escort closest to them lifted a hand and indicated for them to stop. They did. Another one walked forward, cautious not to make any show of threat. He raised one hand and began to speak to them.

There was a back-and-forth exchange that lasted about thirty seconds.

“I wish Qorovu could have come,” Ariam muttered. But the Remmite needed urgent medical attention. Ariam feared he might die even with it. His wounds were grave.

Belem shot him a reproachful look. “Relax,” he said. “Maybe now’s a good time to work on that fortitude problem Vael said you have.”

The Remmite escort that had gone to speak out with the one from the opposing clan turned around and strode quickly toward them again. He shifted his focus to those closest to Ariam and began rattling off something in a hurried tone. There was a brief exchange between them and they shot worried looks toward Ariam at Belem.

“Any idea what’s going on?” Belem asked.

Ariam shook his head, and said, “No idea. But I don’t like the look of it.”

Another one of the escorts with them asked some question or other and the one who had spoken to the rival clan member answered. The one who asked the question drew in a hissing breath through clenched teeth.

Finally, the one who had spoken to the guard from the other clan looked to Belem and Ariam and began motioning at them. He lifted both hands toward them and then pointed at the members of the rival clan.

“Yes, we go that way. What of it?” Belem asked, lifting both hands, palm up in a gesture he hoped they would understand as confusion.

The lead Remmite of their escort party lifted both hands in front of him. One palm faced the other hand which he made into a fist. He then slammed the fist into his palm. There was a slapping noise that reverberated briefly and then died down.

Belem shook his head and furrowed his brow. “I don’t get it,” he said. He turned his frustrated expression to Ariam and added, “Do you?”

Ariam squinted at their escort trying to discern the meaning of his motions. The Remmite did it again more insistently. He then performed it three more times in quick succession, punching repeatedly into his palm.

A sinking feeling in Ariam’s gut told him he did in fact understand what was happening. It took his head a few seconds to catch up to the reality, though.

He said to Belem, “I think there has to be some sort of fight.”

“Fight?” Belem asked. He looked to the lead Remmite escort and mimicked his motion. He slammed his palm into his fist and said, “Fight?” And then he pointed at the other Remmites.

The lead Remmite nodded his head vigorously. He slammed his fist into his palm a few more times as if in confirmation.

“Trial by combat,” Belem commented to Ariam. “Primitive tradition, but one I’m not unfamiliar with. I guess if that’s what it has to be, then I will volunteer.”

“Are you sure about this?” Ariam asked.

“Haven’t you seen them?” Belem said and coughed a disbelieving laugh. “They’re small and wimpy. I should not have much trouble defeating one in single combat.”

Ariam looked down at the others. They were indeed all slight in frame, much like Qorovu and every other one he had seen. But still, there was something wrong. He could feel it.

Belem waved away his concerns then turned to the lead escort and smiled, then nodded at him. He lifted his hand toward the others and nodded his head again. A look of relief washed over the face of the lead Remmite from his escort party and he turned around and jogged back toward the rival clan members. He began speaking with them excitedly and pointed toward Belem. Belem lifted a hand and waved in minor acknowledgment.

“Again, I have to ask, are you so sure about this?” Ariam said to Belem. “What if they make you fight a handful of them?”

“I can take on a good many of them,” Belem snorted. “Trust me. Even if I have to do it without weapons, they should not pose much trouble for me. We’ll get through this in no time.”

“I’m not quite…”

“Look, what do you want?” Belem snapped at Ariam. “We need to get in and this is how we’re going to get in. Relax and let me handle this. Breaking heads is my specialty.”

“If you say so,” Ariam said, not meaning a word of it. “Something about this just feels very wrong to me. I can’t put my finger on it, but...”

Belem scoffed and turned away before Ariam could finish. He strolled down the street after his escort, putting a hint of swagger into his step. He puffed out his chest a little and raised his chin in a haughty expression. Ariam rolled his eyes.

Belem came to a halt beside his escort, towering over all of them, and glowered at the opposing clan members. They tossed narrow-eyed glances at him then looked back to the lead member of the escort group and continued conversing with him.

A few moments later it was all concluded and they nodded agreeably to one another.

“Great, so when do we start?” Belem asked.

One of the rival clan members grinned, turned around, and strolled up to the great wall and gate behind them. He pounded three times on the gate with his fist. Hinges moaned loudly in vain protest as the gate began to slowly swing open.

The broad smirk on Belem’s face slowly disappeared as he beheld the Remmite waiting on the other side of the door…the one he needed to fight for him and Ariam to gain entrance to the rival territory.

There was only one of them, but he was plenty. He was as tall as Belem and perhaps twice as well-muscled. Two large diagonal scars formed an X across his chest. A series of smaller x scars ran the length of both his thick arms. He slowly lumbered forward and the ground reverberated with each of his bare foot strikes.

He wore nothing over his top thus displaying his thick gray torso. He wore torn black breaches over his lower half. A permanent sneer was etched on his face. Keen eyes glowered from beneath his heavy brow and locked immediately on Belem. A deep rumbling growl issued from the hulking Remmite as he strode toward his opponent.

From a few paces away, Ariam said, “Tell me, now that you’ve had a few seconds, do you think you can beat him?”

Belem just stared in slack-jawed surprise, then cursed under his breath.

CHAPTER 17. A TEST OF METTLE

The giant Remmite came to a stop two paces away from Belem. The Remmite that stood beside Belem made a small despairing squeak. He turned to Belem and pointed toward his belt. Belem dropped his eyes to the knives sheathed at his sides. The Remmite shook his head vehemently.

“No weapons,” Belem said ruefully. “Great. Got it.” He undid his belt and without looking tossed it to Ariam who fumblingly caught it.

On top of the wall, a dozen more members of the rival clan appeared. A few of them hooted and hollered in anticipation of the show.

Belem lifted his face back to the hulking Remmite before him. He tossed a hand casually in the air and said, “All right big boy, how do we get this dance started?”

In answer to this interrogative, the large Remmite swiped at him without warning. His meaty palm struck Belem in the face and spun him away.

The members of the rival clan laughed and cheered with delight.

Belem regained himself a moment later then spun around growling as he stared back at the one who had struck him. “That one’s free,” he said. “The rest will cost you dearly.” Then he launched himself directly back at his assailant and tucked his head down and thrust his shoulder forward. He jumped at the last moment and collided with the opponent’s chest knocking him off balance.

Belem stood triumphantly watching the Remmite stagger backward. But his opponent quickly recovered and hunched forward as he stalked toward Belem.

His enemy threw a lightning-fast punch right at Belem’s face. Belem dodged out of the way just in time and the fist sailed through the place where his face had been. But that was not all he had in store. Ariam watched as the Remmite yanked his fist back with alarming speed and pivoted to thrust his other toward Belem’s middle. The punch connected with Belem’s belly and the air was driven from him. He doubled over cradling his middle as he took three involuntary steps back.

A few seconds later Belem straightened and danced forward, jumped, and thrust out a kick catching the Remmite in the side of his face. The Remmite spun from the blow and retreated momentarily. He cradled his face for just a moment, then turned back to the fight.

Soon they darted toward each other. They met with raised hands grappling with one another. The Remmite had his hands on Belem’s shoulders squeezing. Belem thrust both fists upward between his opponent’s arms and pushed outward, forcing the big gray beast’s hands off of him. He immediately tossed a punch, aiming for the center of the Remmite’s face.

The Remmite shot a hand up and caught this strike in midair. He then pivoted and used Belem’s momentum to throw the convict off balance. Belem staggered away and stumbled to the street collapsing to his knees. Before he was able to push himself up again the Remmite was on top of him hugging him from behind. He lifted Belem off the ground and squeezed.

Belem grunted against this onslaught and writhed trying to break free.

When he comprehended this was not to happen, he thrust his head backward and connected it with the Remmite’s face. His enemy grunted in pain from the surprise blow but maintained a hold on Belem. Belem repeated this attack and hit his enemy’s face three more times with the back of his head.

At last, the Remmite released him, dropping him to the ground. Belem spun around and kicked at the Remmite’s middle. He sent his enemy staggering backward and he chased him.

He thrust another punch toward his enemy’s face, connecting this time, and sending a tooth flying from his mouth followed by a thin trail of blood.

But his enemy was not to be undone so easily. At the next attack, he shot a hand up and blocked it, then stepped inside Belem’s reach and grabbed him by his clothes at his chest. He lifted Belem off the ground once again and threw him backward through the air. Belem’s arms wheeled uselessly in the air searching in vain for anything upon which his hands might purchase. An instant later his feet hit the ground and he struggled to maintain balance as he continued to move backward against his will. His back, at last, slammed against a wall halting his backward progress.

He shook his head to clear it. His vision reoriented just in time to see the Remmite charging at him. The bulky form came rushing forward and his arms were up seeking to lay hold of Belem once again.

The convict darted forward, shoving a fist at the Remmite. His opponent had not anticipated this and so Belem reached him before his enemy was ready. Unfortunately, he did not have a chance to land another punch. While the Remmite had been surprised at the maneuver, he was ready enough to block.

Next came a flurry of strikes, blocks, and counterstrikes from both opponents. Some hits landed, some did not. But in both cases, Remmite and human combatants took a beating.

Blood dripped from the Remmite’s chin and one of Belem’s eyes was starting to swell shut. Nevertheless, both continued unabated as if nothing were wrong.

They fought on ferociously. Belem managed to push the Remmite away from him long enough to position himself for another kick. He leaped into the air and hammered his foot forward toward the Remmite’s head. The kick landed on the side of his face spinning him around.

The Remmite continued the spin all the way to bring him back facing Belem. He lurched forward and knifed his hand across Belem’s neck.

Belem was driven back. His hands shot up to his throat clutching as he gasped for breath that did not want to come. The Remmite pursued him.

Seizing his advantage the large gray hulking figure jacked Belem in the face with a punch. It landed heavily on his jaw and drove him to the ground so that he was now on one knee. Not satisfied with this, the Remmite lifted his knee and shot it toward Belem’s face. He intended to finish him right there, Ariam saw.

But Belem was fast. He thrust a horizontal forearm in front of him and pushed the knee strike aside. That imbalanced the Remmite and so Belem pressed his advantage. He rocketed up to standing and maneuvered himself behind the large opponent. He thrust one arm out and wrapped it around the Remmite’s neck. He then crooked his other hand around the opposite forearm and locked the enemy’s head in place in a viselike grip. He then squeezed with all his strength cutting off his opponent’s air and blood flow. The Remmite writhed against this. But he could not break free.

The fight seemed to be going out of the large opponent when he stepped backward and bent suddenly forward throwing Belem over him and landing on his back. Before the human could scramble to his feet the Remmite was on top of him straddling him. He thrust his hands toward Belem’s throat. He meant to strangle him. Belem’s hands shot up and seized the wrists of his combatant. The fingers nevertheless wrapped around his neck and began to squeeze. Belem worked mightily to pry them off but with little success.

Belem’s face became a mask of unvarnished rage. His lips thinned and split away from his teeth as he grimaced angrily up at his opponent. His jaw dropped open and he bellowed a shapeless wrathful noise. With newfound strength, he pried the Remmite’s hands away from his neck. He held them out to the side and then shot his legs up and around the Remmite’s upper body. He thrust his legs back and forced the Remmite away. His opponent had not anticipated anything of the sort. He was forced back to the ground where his head smacked against the stone of the street with a sickening sound.

In the next instant, Belem disentangled himself from his enemy who now moaned and rolled back and forth on the ground, holding his head. Belem sat on his midsection and threw a flurry of punches at his opponent. The big Remmite slapped at Belem trying to ward off the attacks but with no success whatsoever. Strike after strike landed on his face and with each blow, his eyes went more and more out of focus.

Ariam came running up to Belem and shouted, “That’s enough! He’s down.”

Exhausted from the fight, Belem sat back on his enemy’s torso and breathed raggedly as he continued to stare angrily at the defeated Remmite.

Ariam reached out tentatively and touched Belem’s shoulder. Belem immediately slapped the hand away. He simply continued to sit there regaining himself. When he had finally caught his breath he slowly pushed himself up from the semi-conscious opponent. He continued to stare down at him for a few more heartbeats then stepped away from him and lifted his face to look upon the astonished faces of all Remmites gathered around him. Even those who had escorted him there had jaws dropped in bewilderment.

“I don’t think they’ve seen anything like that before,” Ariam muttered.

Belem had nothing to say. Ariam stared at him for a few moments then turned and walked toward the lead escort and said, “Well?”

The escort looked toward the rival clan member and gave what Ariam assumed was an expectant look.

The rival clan member blinked a few times then bowed his head in acknowledgment. He beckoned for them to follow.

CHAPTER 18. CLANDESTINE AND COVERT

Vellin insisted the location for the meeting could not be chosen until almost the last minute. Thus, they had all scrambled to get there on time. But they had all made it and had not drawn attention to themselves. For that, Racine was grateful.

Even Denthu had come. The video evidence Racine had displayed for the group had been enough to at least keep the other man from closing the door on the matter. He was not yet convinced Denthu would sign his name to a formal suit against the formation of the Triumvirate, but at least it was progress.

Gillam’s quarters were smaller than Racine’s. He represented a smaller sector than almost any other representative, but that did not mean he should have lived in a place like this. It was not as elegant a building as Racine lived in, nor as spacious, nor as well furnished. Not to say that it was substandard compared to much of the Human Citadel’s population. Gillam was a sector representative after all. And that afforded some luxuries.

The space was big enough to fit the entire group and a few others. At least there was that.

Nevertheless, just about everyone in the room aside from Racine was unsettled by the two newcomers. Vellin wanted to be certain that the men Racine had gathered were trustworthy enough not to blab about the meeting to an underling. While he had displayed wariness regarding Racine himself, he was much more skittish about the others. Racine supposed that was sensible. The man did not know them, after all. Plus, Racine thought, Vellin’s background as an attaché to a sector representative might have something to do with it.

Yet, he did not advertise his wariness as the rest of those present did. Instead, he sat back in his seat, hands folded in his lap, and looked around the room with a pleasant expression on his face. Racine knew this was a mask, and that beneath it was a fair amount of concern. He couldn’t blame the man. He harbored much tension himself.

There was a lot at stake here and no guarantee of any of it working in their favor. Quite to the contrary, their risk was played out in the face of odds stacked against them with potentially catastrophic results.

Standing next to Vellin was his assistant. Or was she a bodyguard? Or was she an assassin? Or perhaps more? Regardless, Kaelinn cut an imposing figure. She wore simple clothes but that belied the coiled power within her. Counterpointing Vellin’s pleasant disposition, she bore a rigid posture and a stony look. She wore a vest over a short-sleeved tunic. Her arms were otherwise bare and so folded across her chest. Her gray steel mechanical arm was bared for all to see. More than one sector representative stole glances at it questioning in their minds why such a woman was present.

Absent from the gathering was Shahleen. Again, Racine had not invited her. He was biding his time, hoping that a decision made that night could be presented to her and sway her to their cause. He was having trouble reading her of late. In many ways, she seemed sympathetic. But in other ways, she continued within the Triumvirate carrying about business as usual. Or business as usual as it could be since the assassination of King Beirand.

He sighed. He feared nothing would be normal again.

Racine lifted his hand and cleared his throat to gain everyone’s attention. “All right,” he said. “Let’s come to order.” He felt the weight of all their expectant attention shift to him. That weight was all the heavier considering the decision before the group. But before they could get to that, he had to introduce Vellin. He knew they were beyond curious about the man and his bionic-armed companion. He guessed several of them had figured out Vellin was the source of the video content they had seen earlier.

“I should begin by introducing our guests.” He lifted a hand toward Vellin and Kaelinn. Vellin offered a small, polite smile in response. Kaelinn remained stony and stoic. Implacable. As expected every eye shifted to Vellin. He smiled back at them casually.

Vellin stood slowly from the chair and clasped his hands in front of him.

“Good evening, everyone,” he began. “Where to begin?”

“How about we start with your name?” Denthu said.

Vellin locked eyes with him. Though the smile never vanished from his face, there was a rigidity in his eyes that made Denthu flinch just noticeably.

A heavy silence continued for a handful of seconds then Vellin nodded.

“Of course,” he demurred. “My name is Vellin. Before any of you can ask what I do for a living, let me assure you: you don’t want to know. For now, let us just say that I am a private businessman.”

Denthu snorted. “Makeup on a swine,” he commented. “That sounds like an awful generous way to say: criminal.”

Racine’s jaw dropped. He stammered for a second and then said, “Denthu! This man is our guest. He can…”

Vellin gently lifted a hand to silence him.

“No that’s all right,” Vellin said. “I expected such a reception.” He turned back to Denthu and said, “I am a criminal.” He let the statement hang in the air for a few moments before he pointedly added, “Not all of us can be as wholesome or trustworthy as a politician, sadly.”

Denthu’s cheeks burned. The two of them continued to stare each other down until at last Denthu turned his face aside.

“Now, where was I?” Vellin asked cheerily. “That’s right,” he said. “As you may have guessed, I am the source of the difficult-to-obtain video content all of you have viewed. And unless you have reported that little event, I would like to tell you that makes you criminals, too.” There was a collective gasp. The smile, at last, vanished from his face and he swiveled his head to take in everyone.

“Now that we have that out of the way, we can begin in earnest.”

***

Zain sat on the balcony opposite Gillam’s apartment. He wore a black cloak to conceal himself in the shadows of night. His hand tapped the listening device lodged in his ear.

He cursed yet again that he had to be so close to listen to them this time. It was really a stroke of luck that he was able to find the location of the meeting place at all. He had run into a few problems in his efforts to keep tabs on the conspirators.

The first trouble was that he almost hadn’t noticed his long-range transmitter wasn’t working as it ought. Initially, he assumed it was a fault of the device. But he quickly became suspicious and investigated.

Everything on his end was in working order. And there should be nothing wrong with the listening device he had planted in Racine’s chambers. That meant something else was at work. He concluded his long-range transmission was being jammed. The only thing that could accomplish that was an illegal device. When he considered what Racine had recently gotten himself into, he did the math and came up with the answer that this new underworld ally, whoever that was, had lent him a device that would make certain he wasn’t being listened in on from a long distance away.

Luckily, Zain had backups in the form of a different kind of listening device for just such an eventuality. He had one planted in not only Racine’s quarters, but also Denthu’s, Francisco’s, Evander’s, and Gillam’s. Since the last meeting, he had worked fast to get them installed. One of them had yielded the meeting location. The frustrating trade-off of the other device was he had to be close to access it. Very close. He was at the farthest range of it now, which was not far at all.

The other problem was that it had cost him a small fortune to set this up. He had to bribe the owner of the apartment on whose balcony he now crouched, along with places adjacent to each of the other representatives he spied on in case the meeting ended up at one of those spots. At least it had been worth it.

He never did any of this covert activity directly of course. He needed to remain in the shadows, as it were. Now literally as well as figuratively. He had used a set of intermediaries to set up the sting. He would have hired someone to do the listening too if he trusted anybody for it. Of course, he did not. He could not allow the information he was now receiving to fall into anyone’s hands but his.

Thirdly, there was the problem of Lycas Ryth himself. He had agonized for a long time about whether or not he should keep this information from the Lord Advisor and use it against him. In the end, he decided to share it with Lycas Ryth. But that didn’t mean he could not also keep the information for himself in his back pocket, as it were, for just the right occasion should it arise.

It was a lot of trouble to go through, but now he was quite glad he did. He had finally learned the name of the man responsible for getting the security video to Racine. He was sure Ryth would be exceptionally interested to learn that tidbit.

Now all he had to do was sit tight and record the entirety of the meeting.

Sitting tight was not exactly his forte, however. He had been in the same position for two hours waiting for this thing to come together. He had disguised himself in the dark cloak but also surrounded himself with potted plants to make sure he would not be seen. He was getting uncomfortable.

The thing that did him in was a sudden leg cramp. It struck without warning and in his desperation to avoid the pain he shot his leg forward to straighten the muscles and tendons and hopefully circumvent the cramp. But in the process, he kicked over a large potted plant. The thing took the kick just fine but it noisily shattered when it landed hard on the balcony. His heart seized within him. He did not think anyone within the apartment would hear. They were well-insulated buildings and were engineered not to be spied on.

His devices were just as illegal as those Racine evidently employed to block them. It would be bad if he was caught with one. He turned his face to stare through the window. He hoped they would not be able to see him.

On his listening device, the conversation in the apartment had ceased. He found himself staring into the eyes of the man who must’ve been the criminal. Vellin. He knew the man could not see Zain sitting enshrouded and concealed as he was on the balcony. Nevertheless, the man stared right at him. He then turned his head and muttered the girl’s name. The next thing he knew the girl was charging toward the window. Toward him.

That was it. He had been made.

CHAPTER 19. CONUNDRUM

Zain cast aside the folds of the inky cloak which had heretofore hidden him and sprang up. He tried to dart away before the cloak was clear of his feet and he stepped on a corner of it, seriously skewing his balance. He careened toward the edge of the balcony and nearly stumbled over it. He caught himself just in time and puffed out a terrified breath. He lifted his face back toward the window and saw the girl with the bionic arm still charging.

Something zipped by his head and he tried to track it in the dark but he could not. He cursed himself when he realized what had happened. The thing that had just nearly hit him was a drone of some kind. The criminal must have employed it to survey the area taking in both visual and audio. He otherwise would not have been noticed.

He wrapped his hand around the handle of the door leading into the apartment. He barged through and slammed the door quickly then locked it before rushing away. He knew this would not stop his pursuer for very long. Most of the door was made of a single pane of glass. He charged through the apartment dodging furniture in the dark to the best of his ability. Nevertheless, he hit his shins several times as he stumbled his way through the blackness. He grunted and cursed each time.

He was halfway across the room before he heard the glass of the door to the balcony shatter. The girl was now in the room. He dared not look over his shoulder knowing she gained on him.

He mustered every ounce of strength he could find and pressed toward the door leading out of the apartment and into the spacious hallway. When he rushed through he did not bother to close the door. He could not lock this one and he knew it was a waste of time anyway. In the hallway, blood pounded in his ears as he rushed forward. The only other sound at first was those of his footfalls as he ran with reckless abandon. But soon her footfalls joined. They were much faster than his. He knew it would be a matter of moments before she gained him.

But he had one last play.

Hidden in the folds of his cloak was an energy pistol. If he turned now and fired at her, he might get lucky and hit her.

The sound of her rapidly approaching footfalls decided it for him.

He spun on his heels while at the same time reaching into the folds of his robe. He brought the energy weapon out just in time as he completed the turn. He lifted it and aimed the weapon at her. It barely registered in his mind the set and determination of her face. It was going to be close.

He was squeezing the trigger waiting for the accompanying flash and the recoil of the weapon. She was yet a few paces away. This is going to work, he thought. I’ve got her. I’ve…

The weapon went off. A deadly pulse sprang from the nozzle toward his oncoming assailant. He felt a minor wave of relaxation and relief wash through his body when he understood he was going to be free.

All of this evaporated as he watched her respond with lightning speed. She must have read what he was doing in a fraction of a second before he accomplished it. Her silvery bionic arm lifted. With amazing speed she had it raised horizontally before her to intercept the energy blast. The bright pulse of energy connected with her limb and dissipated. It did not affect her.

A minor grunt came from her, and that was it. He wasn’t sure if it was in response to his attack, or merely a result of the energy she expended on what she did next. The girl launched herself at him. He was too surprised and too slow to respond. So he stood there and simply received what she dealt.

She performed a sharp kick and knocked the energy weapon out of his hand. An explosion of pain appeared there accompanied by a cracking noise. She had broken his hand. He yelped accordingly.

But she was not finished.

She shot her fleshly arm forward in a knife edge and swept it around. It landed on his throat. The pained sounds he had been making ceased immediately as his throat closed up. His eyes went wide when he tried to draw a breath and could not. He lifted his single good hand to his neck and patted at it encouraging it to work once again. She then swung her other arm around, the metallic one, and cracked him across the face. He spun as hot agony radiated through his cheek. He was tossed sideways and collided with the wall then collapsed to the floor of the hallway.

His world went suddenly dark.

***

The assembled Sector Representatives gathered at the door to the balcony of Gillam’s apartment. They watched as Kaelinn pursued their spy with catlike grace and lethal enthusiasm. Whomever it was had been concealed on the opposite balcony and was doubtless listening to their conversation. Everyone was too nervous to talk about it. They simply watched in amazement as the girl went after him.

They stood in shock at the door waiting to see what the outcome of this would be. It did not take long for the girl to return. And she was dragging a still form with her. She reached the opposite balcony and heaved the unconscious form of their spy across the distance. The limp body sailed through the air and collided with the floor of Gillam’s balcony. A grunt escaped the figure but he remained otherwise silent and unconscious.

Next, the girl backed up a few paces then ran forward and leaped across the distance. She landed on the balcony not far from the unfortunate fellow she had thrown. She stooped down and seized a handful of the man’s cloak and continued to drag him toward the door. The Sector Representatives scurried away making room for her. She continued stone-faced as if nothing big were going on. She dragged the cloaked form to the center of Gillam’s apartment drawing room and deposited him there unceremoniously. She then knelt beside him and turned him onto his back then she shoved back the hood and all saw his face.

There was a gasp from all except for Vellin.

“Zain,” Racine said.

Hands clasped behind his back Vellin strolled up to stand beside him. He peered down at the unconscious form and made a thoughtful grunt. “Yes,” he said after a few moments. “Ryth’s errand boy. This changes a few things.”

“What do we do?” Gillam asked looking like he was a volcano about to erupt with worry.

Vellin turned his face to the man and said, “First, we are going to remain calm.” There was no mistaking the tone of command nor the ice that underlined it. In response, Gillam shut his mouth quickly and pressed his lips together tight. Nevertheless, his chin quivered slightly.

“This is too much,” Denthu said shaking his head. What more evidence do you need that Ryth is too dangerous to be dealt with?”

“Or too dangerous to be left to run amok?” Racine countered with an arched eyebrow.

“Those questions are important,” Vellin said, “but not the most pressing at the moment. The most germane question is what did this man learn and did he transmit the information?”

“How can we know?” Racine asked. Impatience had leaked into his voice and he distantly thought he was starting to sound like Gillam. He cleared his throat and in a calmer voice said, “We have to be able to find out somehow, don’t we?”

“We can find out,” Vellin said unperturbed. “I can do it right now,” he said kneeling beside the prone form of Zain, “as long as I find…” He rifled through Zain’s cloak searching. A few moments later he pulled a small device from a pocket and held it up. It had an accompanying earpiece. He smiled and concluded, “This!” He stood and examined the device showing it to Kaelinn. She took steps toward him and trained her attention on it. The two of them put their heads together and whispered until a few moments later he smiled and shook the device in front of all their eyes.

“Good news everyone,” he said. “This particular device is made by a competitor of mine. I know its capabilities and one thing I can tell you is that given a few measures I have already put in place; it cannot transmit information across great distances. It was able to penetrate the shielding that is in place at close range but only for listening and recording purposes. Everything we have said is stored on this unit and has gone no farther.”

“So destroy it,” Denthu said.

Vellin nodded and handed the device to Kaelinn who took it in her bionic arm. She squeezed it and little sparks flew as the metal and plastic crumpled in her grip.

“Now,” Vellin said, “what do we do about this one?”

No one wanted to say what was on their minds. Racine least of all. They all avoided eye contact with Vellin and each other.

Vellin looked to Kaelinn and said, “A real think tank we’ve got here.”

Evander cleared his throat and said, “We have to kill him, don’t we? And hide the body.”

“A bold suggestion,” Vellin responded before anyone else even had the chance to gasp at the suggestion. “But the flat-out murder of a Sector Representative, especially one so close to Lycas Ryth, is not exactly something I’m willing to participate in at the moment. We have to try something else.”

“We can’t just let him go,” Evander protested.

“No,” Vellin said. “I didn’t say we were going to do that either.”

“Then what?” Denthu asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I don’t suppose any of you have a place to stow him and keep an eye on him?” Vellin asked.

None of them did, of course. Vellin took in a deep breath and let out a sigh. “Very well,” he said. “I shall hold onto him. But none of you can know where. And needless to say, none of you can breathe a word of this to anyone outside this room. If you do, and I find out, I’ll have to take punitive measures.”

Everyone was reluctantly agreeable to this. Racine wondered just how true to their word they would remain under pressure. Lycas Ryth was not going to take lightly his underling going missing. He would start asking questions and who knew how he would go about it or where he would start? No doubt since Zain was a Sector Representative those would be the kinds of people he would interview first.

“This is going to be sheer hell,” Racine said.

CHAPTER 20. TRACKING

A big cracked gray hand with obsidian claws slapped the desiccated ground. Ash and dust flew up from the impact as the Shedi’im leaned forward sniffing at the ground, tracking the master’s enemies. In the depths of its primitive mind, it harbored a hint of shame at having been driven away by them. But they had hurt it.

It had never been hurt like that before. The strange burning flower now scared him at some level.

So he had fled and sought his brothers. That was never hard to accomplish. They had a kind of magnetism, a draw toward one another. They could not communicate in clear thought through this, but images, impressions, and sensations could be shared. The others had not understood at first what had happened to him, not even after he had rejoined them and in his primitive way tried to get across the events that had pained him and scared him. But while they did not understand, they grasped one meager truth. Their brother had been injured. It was a minor injury, true, but it had not happened before. Certainly not by a group of poorly armed prey.

But the Shedi’im had caught their scent once again. It was faint and hard to read on the dead surface of this world. But it was there. The others had picked up on it too and now they followed together.

They concentrated to the best of their abilities on chasing down the targets. But for the Shedi’im, being in the presence of one another was often a bit of a distraction. Sometimes they would get too close to one another, and being hungry and irritable, would start to fight with one another. None ever got truly hurt doing this, but they did it as an exercise in dominance.

There was no true leader of their number, except for the master of course. They loved Lycas Ryth. They all greatly desired to be at his side and fawn over him. They loved to stroke his robes and lick his boots and purr for him.

Ryth was not only their master but also their provider. He was the one who saw to it they would be fed. But first, they must be obedient. Disobedience was punished by prolonged hunger.

The one who had failed to apprehend the exiles feared such a punishment might be in store for him if the master found out. He vowed not to let it happen again. He promised himself he would find the exiles and capture the scarred one. The one the master greatly desired.

He crawled across the broken landscape and found himself on an incline going upward. They had come this way, and not too long before. He rose to the top of a hill and found himself staring across a great distance. His eyes landed on something strange. The landscape all around them had been all the same. It was dry and cracked and burned. There were trees but they were all dead. Yet now he looked upon a different thing. Out across the way were strange shapes. Something told him he knew what those shapes were though he was not yet comprehending it. It looked like a collection of trees arranged with the tallest in the middle. But they were too big to be trees. They were…something. He knew it as a familiar but forgotten detail and couldn’t take hold of it.

He turned his giant lanky form around and barked for his brothers to come. A writhing mass of Shedi’im stopped what they were doing, lifted their faces from the ground, and looked upon him with a question in their empty but glowing eye sockets.

He barked for them again and they came. Hundreds of Shedi’im poured across the landscape like a sickly tidal wave and moved up to the ridge line to stare at what he had seen.

They stood there silent like an array of twisted deformed statues looking upon the strange shapes across the distance.

One close to him growled deep in its throat. It then barked a series of sounds.

Yes, that was it. He now remembered what the shapes were. They were buildings. But that was not the right word for a collection of them. It was…

Further barking from the one who had supplied the answer now filled in the rest.

A city.

But it looked dead like the rest of everything around them. Would their prey have gone to a dead place such as that? It did not make sense to the Shedi’im, but it supposed that it could be so.

Just then something curious happened and the odd shapes of the buildings and the city changed somehow. It started slow with a single twinkling light coming to life on one of the towers. Then more lights on that same tower. It then rapidly spread to the other buildings. Soon almost the entire city was alive with light.

They knew what that meant. Something deep and primal in their understanding kicked in.

There was power there. Yet there was also more.

An intuitive connection to the idea of power awakened something inside them. It was a lust for destruction and blood. Because where there was power, there was flesh and there was life. They were so hungry. And they had a feast before them. Had not the master promised them a feast?

And here it was. It was ready and waiting for them, beckoning them with its light.

The one who had first discovered the strange shapes in the distance stood up on its hind legs and bellowed toward the sky. It was a rallying cry. It was a shout of hungry lust.

The other Shedi’im around him went berserk answering his call. Many whooped and howled. Some jumped up and down and slapped the ground with their big meaty hands.

The first one charged forward, signaling the others to follow with great shouts of command.

It was only a moment later that the others obeyed. They all broke into a run and made for the city ahead.

In the rage and the fury, their quarry was nearly forgotten. But the first one had not forgotten. He recalled because he had failed. The enemies were still out there. He would be the one to capture the man covered in scars. He would be the one to present him to Lycas Ryth. He would receive the adoration of their master.

He reveled in these thoughts. His big mouth full of jagged teeth split wide in a grin of greed. This was to be a day of triumph for him. Perhaps the master would love him more and dote on him because of it. He would love to please Lycas Ryth in this way.

But there was also great hunger within him. He needed to feast as well. The master would not begrudge him his meal. Perhaps even one of the other exiles would serve him in this way. The master did not seem to care about them much. He merely wanted them done away with. It was the one with scars he desired to keep alive. Perhaps if he was lucky he would feast on one of them as well as be the one to capture the one the master desired.

Oh, what a glorious day. What ripe opportunities lay before him. He simply had to reach out with his claws and plucked them.

He galloped with his brothers across the barren wastes of Remmice. He was urged on by a swirling and roiling combination of desires and needs. He could almost taste it. He could almost feel the blood running down his face. He could almost sense the adulation of his master upon him.

Yes, he thought. This would be good.

CHAPTER 21. TECHNOLOGICAL WONDERS

They had taken his spear, but not his armor. Even though it was damaged, Cecil was grateful for this at least. He did not know if the creature that had attacked them would dare try pursuing them in the city. But if it did, he wanted to be as ready as he could.

He stood leaning against one wall arms folded over his chest as he gazed around the laboratory. According to Qorovu, this was the place he had done his work.

“That’s fortunate,” Cecil said as they were paraded into the room and Qorovu explained. The Remmite favored him with an admonishing look. He understood right away what the problem was.

He was meant to understand it was no mere coincidence that had led them this far and suddenly dumped them in the precise place they needed. This was the hand of Rama’dy’ac. He was still getting used to the idea of being guided by some divine unseen force. His life had been about order and strict discipline and duty for as long as he could remember. There had been nothing of spirituality in his training or upbringing.

He had of course accompanied the king numerous times to gatherings at the Temple for Far Humanity even before he was promoted to Captain. But even that system was only somewhat religious in his understanding. There was no apparent god in the middle of it all. Only a universe that sometimes was benevolent, and sometimes not. The thinking had been that the universe was kind in leading them to the planet they now called home.

Now Cecil was rethinking everything. That was not something he was accustomed to. He preferred the clear-cut lines and logic of his old worldview. It was easier.

Gael’jic however seemed to be much more at home with the idea. The Dar’rynakai wandered slowly about the lab looking at all of the technology. That was what was new for the reptilian man. He had come from a people that while civilized lived a much simpler life. They had not known technology in the way the humans had.

Gael’jic turned away from a device on a pedestal. He had no clue as to its use and so looked to Qorovu for answers. The Remmite lay on a table in the middle of the room. There were other Remmites around him tending to his wounds. The Remmites too had once been a highly technologically savvy people. But now they had been reduced to much of what the Dar’rynakai had been. Except they harbored some sense that their past had once been different.

As a result, the medical attention afforded to Qorovu was not what it could have been. He groaned in a semi-conscious state on the table. They had given him some form of drug to help with the pain. It had not knocked him out entirely, though it made his thinking fuzzy and disconnected.

The Remmite held conversation with them but it was broken. And it didn’t always make sense.

“What is this one for?” Gael’jic asked.

Qorovu slowly turned his head toward the Dar’rynakai and his eyes fluttered open to observe him. Those yellow eyes seemed only partially focused. His head twitched as he stared at the reptilian man. “What?” Qorovu said in a drugged stupor.

Gael’jic pointed to the device beside him and repeated, “What is this?”

Qorovu flicked his eyes beyond Gael’jic to stare at the device. He beheld it for quite some time and his eyelids fell heavily. When Gael’jic was about to ask again, Qorovu’s eyes opened once more and his mouth dropped open to issue an answer.

“Transference amplifier,” he said.

“And what does it do?” Gael’jic asked.

“Maybe give him a little time to heal,” Cecil interrupted. “He’s not exactly in a state to answer questions about this stuff right now.”

The Dar’rynakai looked at Cecil and stared at him for a few moments and said, “I get the sense this is important. I feel I must ask it now.”

Cecil shrugged and just gestured for him to carry on.

The Dar’rynakai turned his head to look at Qorovu once more. “Well?” he asked.

“It has two purposes,” Qorovu said slowly and a little slurred. “The first is to act as a conduit for the power that has been taken from one source. It secondarily concentrates it and stores it in the next…” His eyes started to flutter and go heavy once more then opened and he finished. “Stored in the next device.”

Gael’jic turned back to it and beheld it in wonder. “I cannot comprehend the level of mechanical wizardry that it requires. How does one store energy?”

“You’ve seen it,” Cecil said. “Back on Cairn in the laboratory. Remember? It was stored in a simple glass basin.”

Gael’jic turned away from the device and looked at Cecil. His eyes went wide with understanding. He said, “I see.”

“It turns the energy into a semisolid state,” Qorovu explained further.

“It makes it a liquid?” Gael’jic asked.

“Yes,” Qorovu answered. “And no. It is still energy. It is simply concentrated…we call it…liquid-like. We…” And then his eyes finally closed and he fell asleep.

Gael’jic cursed under his breath.

“What’s the rush?” Cecil asked. “He needs his rest to recuperate.”

Gael’jic looked to Cecil. “But what if we do not have the time to waste?” the Dar’rynakai asked. “I fear that we do not.”

Cecil turned his face toward the sleeping form of Qorovu. “It doesn’t look like we have much choice,” he said.

“I suppose not,” Gael’jic said in a defeated tone. His shoulders sagged as he turned back to the device. He stared at it for several long moments then snapped his fingers. “This is the middle of the process,” Gael’jic said. “But where is the first part?” He turned to his left and looked at another device a little way off to his side on another pedestal. “It must be here.”

On this pedestal sat a plate. The plate had four spiky protrusions that sprang up from four equidistant spots and then arched and pointed back toward the center. He reached a hand out to touch it.

“Maybe you shouldn’t mess with that,” Cecil said.

Gael’jic quickly withdrew his hand like he was about to be bitten by the object and turned to look at Cecil. “Perhaps you are right,” he said. “Maybe if…”

Suddenly the whole room burst to life and displays and lights began to blink. A humming noise started low but quickly turned loud. Gael’jic barked in surprise and backpedaled away from the device nearly tripping on his own feet. He balanced himself with his tail and then stopped, looked to Cecil, chagrined, and shook his head. His head fin was standing straight up in agitation.

“See?” Cecil said with a smirk. “Better not touch anything.”

“I did nothing,” Gael’jic retorted.

“I know,” Cecil said. “It must be that Belem and Ariam were successful in their mission. The power is back on.”

“Yes, it would seem so,” Gael’jic said shaking his head again. The dewlap hanging from his chin flapped.

He turned back to the plate with the four protrusions and observed it. He felt drawn to it and that he must go to it.

He walked slowly toward the pedestal again. He stopped as he stood over it and he bent low, his snout almost touching one of the protrusions. He was careful not to come into contact with it, not understanding how it worked, or if maybe simply touching it would drain him of his life essence. He did not want to experience what had happened to the prisoners on Cairn.

As he stared at the device a thought occurred to him. It was sudden and fresh like a wave of cold water cascading upon him from a waterfall. His head shot backward as his mouth dropped open and he drew in a sharp breath. He turned to Cecil.

“What is it, lizard?” Cecil asked. Instead of answering him, Gael’jic looked down to his side where the sack of Illuminoc plants hung patiently. He slowly lowered his hand and retrieved the sack removing it from his belt. He opened the bag and reached inside, carefully extracting one of the flowers. He held it up and showed it to Cecil.

Cecil’s jaw dropped open in understanding. “Oh,” he said. “Do you think that is why Vael…?”

He trailed off leaving unsaid what had occurred to both of them.

“I think so,” Gael’jic answered. He turned away from Cecil and held the flower over the plate. It was suspended there by his fingers for a few seconds. He feared what would happen if he wasted one of the gifts of Rama’dy’ac on a foolish whim. But something pushed at his mind. He had to do it. He could not stop himself.

His fingers released the blossom and it dropped to the plate. It landed gently at the center of the plate and they waited for something to happen.

They were disappointed.

Gael’jic shot a frustrated look at Cecil. The guardsman simply shrugged his shoulders.

“You must initiate the device,” Qorovu said in a swimmy voice.

Gael’jic turned to him and asked, “How?”

The medics tending to him tried to shush their patient and said something to him in the Remmite language. He responded with a growling tone. They simply shook their heads and continued about their business.

He turned his face to Gael’jic and said, “There is a button on the pedestal. A red one. You must push it.”

Gael’jic turned back to the pedestal and knelt examining it. He saw the red button was the first in a series of four different colored buttons. The others were blue, green, and yellow. He reached a trembling finger forward and depressed the red button. He quickly stood up and stared at the plate. At first, it seemed as if nothing was going to happen. But then the four spiky protrusions began to arc with power. It was slow and mere sparks at first but then a jagged line of electricity shot from one of the protrusions down to the flower. This was followed by a second, and then the other two almost immediately thereafter. Four dancing arcs of glowing blue power shot down and hit the center point of the plate where the flower rested. The arcs of power enveloped the flower, writhing around it like a hundred snakes made of jagged light.

Gael’jic’s glassy eyes reflected the flashes of illumination as his face grew wide in astonishment.

CHAPTER 22. PREMONITION

The bruises were already starting to show on Belem but the injuries he’d received from his fight with the big Remmite were thankfully minor. He absentmindedly lifted a hand and gently touched one of them on the opposite arm. He pushed at it, testing it, and wrinkled his nose at the ghost of pain but otherwise made no indication of the hurt.

Ariam watched this out of the side of his vision with interest. They were on their way back from the power station having reignited the city’s lifeline. As a consequence, the streets they traveled down, though they were on the same path as before, were quite changed. The geography hadn’t transformed in any way, but there were lights on everywhere. Also, several Remmites were running around exclaiming with glee and wonder. A small grin crept to his face. We did this, he thought. We helped these people.

“Learn anything?” Belem asked.

Ariam snapped out of his reverie and turned to face the conflict. “Sorry, what?” he asked.

“I asked if you learned anything from the fight,” Belem said. “I hope you were paying attention.”

“I saw how to take a pummeling, if that’s what you’re asking,” Ariam said with a wry grin.

Belem turned a longsuffering look back on the beggar. “I hope you learned more than that. I won after all.”

Ariam looked at his growing collection of bruises and commented, “Yes it was a real coup.”

“Don’t get smart with me, beggar,” Belem said. “If it weren’t for me we wouldn’t be in the improved position we are now.” He lifted a hand and counted on his fingers. “First, we got the power back on. Second, we secured medical help for Qorovu. Third, we have ingratiated ourselves with these people. More allies are definitely a good thing in this fight against Ryth.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Ariam said smiling.

“All I’m saying,” Belem continued, “is that a little gratitude is in order. And respect.”

“Do you think I do not respect you?” Ariam asked genuinely curious. “Belem, I have great admiration for you. You are strong. You know how to do many things I cannot. But most of all you are brave. I could never achieve that level of fortitude.”

As soon as the word escaped his mouth he wished it had not. But his defenses had been down. The mask had come off again. Belem shot out a hand and put it on Ariam’s chest, stopping them both.

“Look at me,” Belem said.

Ariam reluctantly turned. He stared into the stony haggard face of the convict. But now there was something else there, something he had not noticed before. His mind tried to classify it but failed him. As he groped in the recesses of his thoughts for a definition of what he beheld in the convict, Belem spoke.

“I thought you bought wholesale into this project. You and the others have been ripping me all along the way because I lack the faith that you allegedly possess. But what do I find now? I find you, Ariam, who has been told what his lack is. Vael said that you lack fortitude. And you have just confessed the truth of that. But you also were told you must gain it. So why are you not doing so? You have been through so much already. You have experienced and done things you never would have imagined you could. You have faced death on many occasions. But you still hold back in seeing the bravery that has been built up. Why?”

And then Ariam understood what he had seen in Belem’s face. It was the affection of a friend. He was being called out by not simply a companion, but a true friend. And that was what Belem had lacked. Connection. But now he displayed it. He had overcome his hurdle. And now he demanded to know why Ariam could not do so with his own.

So Ariam confessed. “I am afraid,” he said in a trembling voice.

“What are you afraid of that the rest of us are not?” Belem asked in an iron-hard tone.

“I am afraid of you,” he said without thinking.

Belem blinked and drew his head back sharply. “Me?” he asked, incredulous. That was not the answer he had expected.

“Yes,” Ariam said. “Ever since that vision I had in the gate, I have been afraid of you. I saw what you are capable of becoming in the very near future.”

“Not me,” Belem said angrily. “You said it was Ryth. He just used me.”

“Yes,” Ariam pleaded, “but at the same time, it was still you. It was not as if it was just your shell that he filled. What I’ve not said yet was that it was also you. I sensed part of you active in that mix. I knew it the instant my eyes fell upon you and your scars were absent. I don’t know how I knew, but I did. Ryth had not merely hijacked your body against your will. He could only do so if you willingly surrendered. And I know that what I saw was a very possible future.”

“Impossible,” Belem whispered in protest. But there was no conviction in that whisper. Which told Ariam what he needed to know. He could be swayed. Or at least he was afraid it was possible.

Ariam shook his head. “No,” he said. “I wish it were. You must listen to me, Belem. I believe he will approach you soon. He will seek a deal with you. You must not listen. You must reject it whatever it is. He is a deceiver. Whatever is offered will be a lie.”

“I know that,” Belem said, affronted. “I would never take a deal from him. I want to destroy him. More than anything I want to put an end to that snake.”

“But you won’t,” Ariam said. “Not if my vision plays out.”

“It will not,” Belem shouted. “I will not listen to this,” he said and turned sharply away.

“You asked what I was afraid of,” Ariam said. “This is it. But also know, that I don’t believe it is a foregone conclusion that you will betray us. I think you can overcome. When it happens, and I know that it will happen, the temptation is going to be very great but you must resist. You must not give in to him.”

Belem was silent as he turned back to stare astonished back at Ariam. After a long pause, he answered, “I will never give in to him. I hate him. That is final.”

“I hope so,” Ariam said. But the nagging fear in the back of his mind told him his dark vision might yet come to pass.

“Listen…” Belem said.

But before he could go on Ariam whipped around and stared off in a different direction, his face filled with alarm. “Hush,” he snapped. He continued to stare in that direction for several uncomfortable moments. He squinted his eyes leaning forward.

“What is it?” Belem asked after a while.

“Hush,” Ariam said louder. He stared, wondering if he would catch a glimpse. But then he knew it was not yet close enough. The trouble he felt on the periphery of his awareness was on its way, however.

“We have to get back to the others,” Ariam said hurriedly. He turned and began to run. The clan members accompanying them started to jog to catch up. Belem came last.

Belem caught up with Ariam and said, “What is happening? Tell me now.”

“The creature that attacked us is on its way. We have to get out of here now.”

Belem screwed up his face as he kept pace with the beggar. He said, “The same creature? How can you be sure? And even if you’re right, why be worried about it? This time we’ve got a whole city on our side.”

“It’s not alone,” Ariam said. “I think there are hundreds of them.”

“Hundreds?” Belem barked in disbelief. “We can’t take down that many. The whole city will be torn apart.”

“Shut up and run,” Ariam said.

CHAPTER 23. ANOTHER SURPRISE

Prince Therin sat cross-legged on the floor of his private menagerie. For once, however, he was not staring into the enclosure that kept his fascinating beasts. Instead, he was gazing with wonder at an interesting glowing blue flower. He was transfixed by its luminescence. He reached out a hand and gently stroked one of the petals. A small plume of luminescent blue pollen puffed up from the middle. It floated briefly in the air before settling to the floor. An involuntary smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

He was so preoccupied with the plant that he did not notice the entrance of Lycas Ryth. This time Ryth used the regular door rather than the secret entrance he preferred. He didn’t see the point in sneaking about anymore. The labyrinthine secret passages would doubtless come in useful yet, but for now, he could walk freely wherever he wished.

He cleared his throat and said, “Your Majesty?”

Startled, the boy turned his head and his eyes fell upon the Lord Advisor. Therin’s heart skipped a beat at the unexpected interruption. Ryth smiled inwardly.

He towered over the boy. His hands were clasped in front of him and he looked down at the young Prince.

“Yes?” Therin said, his voice hitching moderately. He cleared his throat and pushed himself up from the floor. “What is it, Lord Advisor?” he asked in a more controlled voice.

Therin’s eyes flicked to Ryth’s right and then to his left. Accompanying him were two of his personal guards. Therin had seen them before, even remembering their names. One was Chadae and the other Castin. No part of their flesh was visible. From head to toe, they were covered in the tan wrappings of their profession. Not even their eyes were visible. Instead, there was a strip of black cloth that covered their eyes. He presumed they could see through these, even though he could not see in. It disturbed him to look at them. He supposed that was part of the point of these people. They were not meant to appear approachable. They were there for the purpose of intimidation. Such was the way of guards he supposed.

Ryth’s eyes flicked to where Therin had been sitting. He beheld the Illuminoc flower sprouting from the place he had planted it. He recalled applying the micro explosives which the king had inhaled and which were the method of assassination. He had no concern there was any of the microscopic explosive residue left. He had examined the flower afterward to make sure all of it had been inhaled by the king. It had. Now it was simply a stupid flower. It posed no threat to anyone.

His eyes flicked back to the Prince. “I see you found the birthday present I left for your father on that terrible day.” He paused as if overcome with emotion at the memory. Then he put on a wistful expression and said, “I’d all but forgotten about it. He’d been very pleased by it. He even wanted to turn aside from his party and come back to it, if you can believe that.”

“The flower?” the Prince asked. He turned and looked down at it. “Yes, father did love his plants. I can see why he would have appreciated it.” He turned back to Ryth and said, “Why do you come? Is there something wrong?”

Instead of answering, Ryth turned away from the Prince and faced the enclosure that kept the Dar’ryneel. The expansion chamber was still being built but would be completed soon.

“Have you already grown bored with my gift to you?” Ryth asked affecting a hint of sadness.

“The creatures?” the Prince asked his eyebrows going up. “No of course not. There are still as fascinating as ever. They don’t do much of course but once the cage’s enlargement is finished, perhaps they will feel up to moving around some more.”

“That was my hope as well,” Ryth agreed.

“Is that why you have come?” the Prince inquired. “Did you want to check on the progress of the cage?”

Ryth turned a face to the boy smiling at last. “No,” he said. “Of course not. I have another surprise, however. I think it is one you will appreciate.”

The Prince adopted a skeptical expression. Cautiously he asked, “What surprise?”

“I think it is time for us to go see your mother.”

All suspicion vanished from the boy. Also, all hints of his mask of propriety evaporated as well.

“Mother?” he asked in a high-pitched voice. “It has been weeks. I have so wanted to see her.”

“I believe she is ready,” Ryth said. “She has had some time to mourn and I think she would enjoy spending some time with you as well.” He withdrew the smile from his face and adopted a concerned look. “But, I must confess…” he began but then he trailed off.

“Confess what?” the Prince pressed now growing worried himself.

“I fear greatly for your mother’s well-being,” Ryth said. “Grief can sometimes change a person. Especially if it is powerful. Your mother’s grief is great. I fear she may try to harm herself.”

“Harm herself?” the Prince exploded. “My mother would never!”

“I did not mean to upset you, your Majesty,” Ryth said. “I merely mean it as a caution. But I promise I will do everything within my power to be sure that she is safe and healthy.”

“What will you do?” the Prince asked, his skepticism aroused once again.

“We can discuss that,” Ryth said, “but first I want to take you to see her now. It will no doubt do her heart much good.”

“Mine as well,” the Prince said gravely.

“And why are they here?” Therin asked lifting his hand to indicate Chadae and Castin.

Ryth turned a false questioning look to his side as if to discern what the Prince indicated. “Do you mean my loyal guards?” Ryth asked. “Your Majesty, it is their job to guard me.”

“Then why do I see you so seldom with them?” the Prince asked at once.

Ryth smiled at the boy’s candor. “Truth be told,” Ryth answered, “I seldom need them. They only accompany me for certain errands. Today I have need of their services.”

“They are very loyal?” the Prince asked, shifting his focus to Chadae, the bigger of the two guards.

“They are as loyal as the Royal Guardians,” Ryth answered.

“Do you fear my mother that greatly?” the Prince asked pointedly.

Ryth blinked. “Your Majesty?”

“You said you only have them accompany you when there is true danger, yes? You have said we are going to see my mother now. That implies you think my mother is dangerous.”

Ryth threw his head back and laughed loudly and then he shook his head and said, “No, your Majesty. You misunderstand. I do not have them with me for my protection at this moment. I bring them so that I may leave them with your mother.”

“My mother?” the Prince asked, the hackles on the back of his neck raising.

“That’s right,” Ryth said. “I told you I feared for her safety, did I not?”

“Yes, but why not simply have the Royal Guardians do the job? That is what they are for.”

Ryth’s eyes flicked to the new Captain of the Royal Guardians stationed with the young Prince in his menagerie. He stared only for a few seconds before returning his focus to the Prince.

“These are dangerous days,” Ryth said. “Need I remind your Majesty that it was a Captain of the Royal Guardians that perpetrated the assassination of your father?”

“I still have trouble believing that,” Therin countered.

“Nevertheless, I will be sure of the safety of your mother in my own way. The Triumvirate has decided.”

“The Triumvirate,” Therin said. “Yes. How goes the running of the kingdom?”

Ryth narrowed his eyes as he stared at the Prince noting the change in topic. Had this boy just maneuvered him into a place he desired? Crafty little bugger. He could not help the smile from stretching his face this time.

“Governance goes well, your Majesty. We are seeing to it.”

“I’m sure you are,” Therin replied. There was no detectable slight in the Prince’s words. Not even anything subtle. But Ryth did not doubt there was an unspoken hesitancy behind it all.

“How long until my coronation?” the Prince asked.

“Your Majesty,” Ryth said placatingly, “don’t be over eager to receive undue responsibility before the time is right. You are yet a child, and you should be free in that.”

“I am the next in line for the crown,” the Prince said. “I must learn the governance of the kingdom. I cannot do that if I am stuck in my rooms or my menagerie all day.”

“Patience your Majesty,” Ryth said.

“That is not an answer to my question,” Therin said. “It’s an evasion. I asked a simple question, Lord Advisor, and I expect a straightforward answer.”

Ryth pursed his lips at the Prince’s directness. His mother shined through him, just then. Where was this coming from? A flash of intuition struck and his eyes flicked to the clear enclosure of the Dar’ryneel. Surely the savages had not learned the human language and begun speaking to the Prince in secret. And even if they had, what could they possibly know? They had been stolen from their home and deposited in a cage. They had not been briefed on Lycas Ryth’s schemes. They would know nothing. He dismissed the idea as an utter fantasy. No, perhaps someone else was speaking to the Prince somehow. Maybe one of the Royal Guardians. They had never liked Ryth. It could even be that the Queen Mother had found some way to secretly communicate with her son. If that were the case, he would have to find out and put a stop to it.

He smiled broadly at the Prince and said, “Let us go see your mother. I think that visit will cure some of your anxiety over matters of statecraft.”

The Prince glowered at him for a handful of moments then replied, “Then let us go.”

CHAPTER 24. BETRAYAL

Not long after they left the menagerie, Ryth, his guards, Therin, and the Captain of the Royal Guardians, navigated to the hallway leading up to Queen Rivess’s quarters. They arrived at the door and the two Royal Guardians stationed outside crossed their pikes in front of it.

Ryth stepped forward and addressed them. “The young Prince will see his mother. Step aside.” The Royal Guardians remained firmly fixed in place.

One of them answered, “We do not obey the commands of the Lord Advisor.”

Ryth opened his mouth to reply when Prince Therin stepped forward. “You will obey me,” he said firmly. “Stand aside.” The two Royal Guardians looked briefly at one another before returning their gaze to the Prince.

“As you wish, your Majesty,” the second one said. They removed their pikes and stood away from the door. As soon as they were out of the way the Prince strode forward and pushed the button to open the door. It was locked. He lowered his finger an inch to the button beneath it. He pressed it and spoke into the intercom device. “Mother? It’s Therin. Let me in.”

There was no answer. Prince turned a worried look to Ryth. “Is she sleeping?”

“It’s the middle of the day your Majesty,” Ryth said.

“Her grief?” the Prince said in a rising tone of concern.

“Grief or no grief, we need to get in there right away” he answered the boy in his own mimicked voice of worry, then turned to the Guardians. “Open this door now.” The Guardians wasted no time. They keyed in the appropriate sequence and unlocked the door. It slid aside and the two Guardians rushed into the room pushing past the Prince and Lycas Ryth. Their bodies blocked the Prince’s view for just a handful of moments until they defensively positioned themselves. That’s when he saw with horrified eyes his mother struggling against an assassin with a knife.

She lay on her back on the bed. The assassin straddled her. He held a knife in an upraised arm. The Queen had one hand clamped on the wrist of his dagger-wielding hand trying to push it away. She struggled mightily to keep it from reaching her delicate flesh. Her other hand was around his throat. Her arm was straight trying her best to keep him away from her. But he was bigger than she and stronger. It would not be long before he overpowered her and plunged the knife into her.

The assassin’s eyes flashed to the encroaching Royal Guardians. He leaped off of the Queen immediately and backed away.

The Prince’s eyes shot past the assassin and noted that the secret entrance into the Queen’s chamber was standing open. That was how the assassin had gotten in. It was also how he meant to escape. He backed toward the doorway keeping his attention fixed on the two Royal Guardians.

The assassin was dressed in tight-fitting black garments, trimmed in crimson. His lean but muscular figure was in evidence. His head was entirely covered with some kind of dark shroud so that his face could not be seen.

“Take him,” Ryth shouted but he needn’t have done that. The Royal Guardians were already rushing forward to apprehend the killer. The closest one swung his pike at the man. The killer danced out of the way and easily dodged the strike. When the weapon had moved past he darted forward and thrust his knife into the face of the Guardian. The blade slipped in just beneath his chin and severed his windpipe. The killer ripped the weapon out again and swiveled to meet the oncoming attack from the second opponent.

The first Guardian collapsed to one knee, his hands clasping his irreparably damaged throat.

The second Royal Guardian thrust the sharp end of his pike toward the assassin. With unparalleled speed and grace the killer pivoted out of the way, twirling in as if in a dance, and suddenly came up behind the Royal Guardian. He drew back his hand and thrust the knife forward. The thin blade slipped between plates of armor at a vulnerable spot and sliced into vital organs. The Royal Guardian arched his back and gasped. The assassin drew the blade out and found another vulnerable spot and inserted his dagger with ruthless efficiency. He repeated this two more times and then pushed the dying Guardian forward to topple onto his injured companion. He spun around to meet any further threat.

That was when Ryth’s guards launched into action. The assassin poised himself to meet the attack. But they were as fast as he was.

Therin had not seen any weapons hanging from their belts, but suddenly knives appeared in both hands of both guards. Chadae and Castin flowed toward the assailant. Chadae performed a feint to capture the assassin’s attention. The killer shifted his focus to the big guard which was when Castin made his move. He deftly hurled one of his knives at the attacker. The assassin saw the move out of the corner of his eye and shifted to block the approaching weapon, but was too late. The knife made a brief whoosh sound as it coursed through the air and then thudded into its target. The blade sank into the assassin’s knife-wielding hand. He cried out in pain as he dropped his weapon. His other hand snaked up to seize the wrist of his injured hand.

Chadae rushed forward and thrust both his knives into the midsection of the attacker. The blades punctured vital spots. He ripped them out sideways, creating terrible gashes. He proceeded to unleash a flurry of slicing attacks against the man. Within a space of only seconds, the man was too wounded to survive for long. He would bleed out quickly.

The injured assassin staggered backward and tripped over one of the fallen Guardian’s bodies and crumpled to the floor. He writhed and moaned on the ground for a few seconds before going nearly still. His body trembled for the last few minutes of his life. But he was done.

Castin raced past the dying assassin and darted into the doorway of the secret passage. He investigated briefly then stuck his head back through. He said, “There’s another dead Royal Guardian in here.”

“There should be two,” Chadae noted.

Ryth strode forward and knelt beside the bleeding dying assassin. He reached down and ripped the shroud off his face. “That’s because the other Guardian is the assassin,” he said. “He must’ve killed his fellow Guardian on the other side of the door and come in to finish the Queen.”

Ryth lifted his face from the assassin to stare at the Queen who sat up quaking on the bed. “Are you injured, your Majesty?” Ryth asked.

The Queen refused to make eye contact but vigorously shook her head.

The Prince raced forward and threw his arms around his mother. She responded by wrapping hers around him and hugging him tightly.

“That makes two Royal Guardian traitors turned assassins,” Ryth snarled. He stepped away to a corner of the room, took out a communication device, and began barking sharp commands into it.

The Prince pulled away from his mother and said, “Show me that you are whole.” He looked her up and down to ascertain whether or not she had been wounded. He did not want to take her word for it. He had to see for himself. He had already lost his father and he refused to lose his mother as well.

“I am well,” she insisted. Her voice was shaky as were her arms. She stared at him for a few moments, drinking in the sight of her son whom she had not seen in weeks. She smiled weakly at him. His presence was a balm for her wounded soul. The reverse was true for him as well. Seeing her well and knowing that she would certainly have been killed had they not shown up when they did, filled him with relief. He had not realized just how deeply he had missed seeing her. But then the woman’s eyes went stony and cold. They flicked to Ryth standing in the corner. She shot up from the bed and stormed halfway across the room stopping a few paces from him.

“You,” she thundered. Ryth spun around with surprised eyes and looked at her.

“Your Majesty? Do you need assistance?”

In a seething voice she said, “This is your doing, isn’t it?”

“Mother?” Therin said still sitting on her bed. “If it were not for Ryth, you would be dead. His guards were the ones who saved us.”

She spun to stare icy daggers at her son. “Yes,” she said. “And just at the instant that it was needed. How very convenient.”

“I would like to point out it was one of your Royal Guardians who tried to kill you,” Ryth said, dropping all show of decorum. “It is no secret that they do not like me. Why would they work with me to have you killed? It makes no sense. You’re hysterical.”

“My thinking is clearer than ever,” she shouted.

“Mother, please calm yourself,” the Prince pleaded standing from the bed and striding up to her side. “You are full of grief. You are not thinking straight.”

She blinked uncomprehendingly at her son. Then she slowly turned an ever-reddening face toward Ryth again.

She took several slow steps until she came right up to his face. She stared up into it not blinking. Her face was total rage.

In an instant, a knife was in her hand falling out of her sleeve at the trained flick of her wrist. Her knuckles were white on the hilt as she raised it to strike at Ryth. But then another hand appeared, seizing her wrist and halting its progress. It was Chadae. Therin had almost not realized the Lord Advisor’s guard was beside her. He moved inhumanly fast. With his other hand, he plucked the knife easily from her grip.

She screamed and spun toward Chadae. She slapped him hard across the face with her free hand. He simply took the strike. He didn’t even grunt. He only stared back at her.

“I’m sorry to see that your mental state is not improved,” Ryth said. He turned his face to Castin. “Search the Queen’s quarters for any weapons. Remove them at once.” His guard went about the orders immediately.

“Tell your fiend to let me go,” she hissed at him.

“I’m afraid I have no choice but to leave my guards with you today. Likewise, the Royal Guardians cannot be trusted at this time. I will speak to the Triumvirate and we will suspend their activities immediately. They will be confined to their quarters. I will supply my own guards to serve as your protection.”

She pressed her lips together and looked like she was about to explode. She drew in a deep shaking breath and then blew it out noisily. “You do not want to go to war with me,” she whispered to him.

He arched an eyebrow. “I am doing this for your protection,” he said. “And for your son’s.” He allowed a glimmer of glee to show in his eyes, taunting her. The Prince did not see because he was frantically looking around the room for something else.

“Where’s the Captain?” Therin asked suddenly into the tension.

Ryth blinked and looked away from the Queen’s seething face. The boy was right. The Captain of the Royal Guardians was nowhere to be seen. Interesting, he thought. He had not expected that development. But he didn’t care. It helped the appearance that the Royal Guardians were the real problem. It made it look even more as if he had not coordinated this whole thing. Which of course, he had.

Ryth turned to Therin and said, “We’ll find the traitor. A complement of my guards is on the way. I will assign two of them to protect you personally. Chadae and Castin here will stay with your mother to watch over her. Others will search for the Captain. I will station a few more outside the door and barricade that secret entrance so that no one can get in.” He shifted his attention to the Queen and quietly but menacingly added, “Or out.”

CHAPTER 25. IMPENDING DOOM

Gael’jic had been at the third pedestal for some time now, admiring the distilled essence of the Illuminoc flower. Unlike the essence of life extracted from the human prisoner back on Cairn, the resulting distilled energy glowed brightly blue. What was more the catch basin was nearly full. The basin that had been used to catch the prisoner’s essence was roughly the same size, but it had not been half as full as this. He conjectured that this meant the Illuminoc flower contained more potency than even a human body. Astonishing.

Even Cecil had come away from his place leaning against the wall and stood at Gael’jic’s side staring down at it. “Do you suppose this means it can be weaponized?” he suggested.

Gael’jic turned his long snout toward the guardsman. “Weaponized? What is that?” he asked.

“Made into a weapon to use against one of those creatures that attacked us. It hated those flowers. The plant hurt the thing. If this distilled energy from an Illuminoc could be put into, say, an energy pistol, could we not use it against one of those creatures? Maybe we could even kill one.”

Gael’jic squinted his eyes. “I do not understand what you mean by energy pistol.”

“It’s a weapon,” Cecil replied. “You hold it in your hand. There’s a trigger that when you pull it, sends out a concentrated pulse of energy as a projectile.”

“Is it deadly?” Gael’jic asked grimly fascinated.

“It can be very deadly,” Cecil said.

Gael’jic turned his face back to the basin and regarded it anew. “Then I suppose so,” he said. “But how does one store energy in this weapon?”

“It has a replaceable energy cartridge. It’s good for only so many shots. Then it has to be replaced and the old cartridge can be recharged.”

“Astounding,” the Dar’rynakai whispered. He cocked his head in thought, then said, “We would have to find a way to bring this technology back to Dar’ryn. But I would not hazard to guess I could figure out how to make the two technologies marry.”

“We might have people that can do that back on Dar’ryn. I’m sure Vellin could figure it out with his people and resources.”

“Who is Vellin?”

“Long story,” Cecil said waving a dismissive hand.

A disturbance at the other end of the room caught their attention and they turned away from the glowing basin. The four Remmite guards who were stationed outside of the laboratory were in a flurry of motion and indecipherable words. Beyond them, Cecil and Gael’jic caught glimpses of Belem and Ariam having returned. The members of their Remmite escort were talking excitedly with the guards outside the door. After of brief exchange, the guards parted and allowed Ariam and Belem to rush into the laboratory.

Ariam stopped briefly to look upon Qorovu’s prone form as he slept on the table. The doctors had finished their work to the best of their ability and left. His midsection was wrapped in heavy bandages and he smelled of old herbs and spices. Since nothing grew wild out in the forests outside the city, he guessed some sort of protected garden must exist somewhere within the city.

He shoved all thoughts of this aside and addressed his companions.

“They are coming,” he said.

“Who is coming?” Gael’jic asked.

Puffing for breath, Ariam answered, “That thing that attacked us out in the dead forest. It’s coming and it’s got a lot more of them with it.”

“Did you see them?” Cecil asked alarmed.

Ariam shook his head violently and said, “No, but I felt it. They’re going to be here soon.”

Gael’jic and Cecil turned to Belem.

“Don’t look at me,” he said raising surrendering hands. “We were walking back when all of the sudden he went crazy.”

“I’m not crazy,” Ariam insisted. “They’re almost here.”

Qorovu stirred and moaned on the table. His eyes fluttered open and he turned his head back and forth until his eyes focused and fell upon Ariam. “What is going on?” he asked in a groggy voice.

“Monsters are coming,” Ariam said worriedly. “We have to get out of here.”

Qorovu shook his head. “No, we cannot leave until we have what we need.”

“It is all here,” Gael’jic said lifting a hand to indicate the devices and the full basin of the essence of the Illuminoc plant.

“There is no time to flee,” Qorovu said. “Ariam is right. I too sense their coming. I dreamed of it just now.”

“He is hysterical,” Belem said.

“I’m not so sure,” Cecil retorted. “What if they’re right?”

“There won’t be much we can do about it,” Belem countered. “If Ariam is right and there are hundreds of them coming, what chance do you think we have? The four of us had trouble with just one of them. And I don’t get the sense that they will just give up and go away if we manage to barricade ourselves in this room where they can’t get in.”

“They will get in,” Qorovu said. “You cannot stop them. I have seen it in my dream.”

“Yeah, great,” Belem said ignoring him. “If they’re right, then our best bet is to make a run for it.”

“Maybe not,” Gael’jic said thoughtfully. He had turned away from the others and was staring at the basin full of glowing Illuminoc essence. He walked casually over to it and circled the pedestal so that he stood on the other side. He lifted one hand and pointed down at it.

“What is that?” Belem asked.

“It is the essence distilled from the Illuminoc flower,” Gael’jic answered. “All of this came from just one.”

“Okay,” Belem said. “Then how do we use it against them?”

Gael’jic shook his head. “That, I do not know.”

“Thanks, very helpful,” Belem said, rolling his eyes.

Off in the distance, a loud bell began to peal. The noise was resounding and insistent. They all lifted their heads and looked off in the direction that the sound came from. A broad window against one wall gave a commanding view of the city. They were high up in the building and so they could see the expanse of the city sprawled out before them. Soon another bell joined, then several more.

The guards and the escorts in the room were speaking excitedly to one another.

Qorovu said, “They say those are alarm bells. Something big is coming.”

“Something big?” Cecil asked.

“Yes,” Qorovu answered. “They say that usually if an alarm sounds, it is only one bell, or maybe two of them. Usually when one clan goes against another in battle. The bells rally the warriors. All bells ringing means all warriors have been summoned. Whatever is happening is big. The monsters are coming.”

Belem ran over to the window and looked out. He surveyed the city streets and saw several Remmites running, clutching staffs and clubs, and other primitive weapons in their hands. He lifted his attention farther out and saw with great dismay a charging wall of those creatures rushing into the city. He shouted a colorful curse. He turned away from the window and strode back to the others. “Ariam was right,” he said. “They’re here. And there are a lot of them.”

“No getting out of here now,” Cecil said. “Not even if we try to go the other way. Besides, where would we go? The monsters are in the way of the only gate we know about.”

“We’re not going back to Cairn anyway,” Ariam said.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Belem retorted. “Unless we can figure out how to use that glowing soup against those monsters, we’ll be hacked to pieces in no time. As it is those Remmites running to meet them are going to get butchered.”

Qorovu moaned in despair on the table. “My world is twice dead,” he said. “This is its last breath.”

“Bet you wish your city had a wall now, don’t you?” Belem snarled at Qorovu.

“It wouldn’t have done any good anyway,” Ariam said. “I know that from my vision in the gate.”

“Looks like you don’t have to worry about me anymore,” Belem said to Ariam.

The beggar stared at him regretfully. He wished he could undo what he had said to his friend. But it was too late. And they were all going to die before he could even apologize properly.

The first distant howls and roars of the monsters reached their ears. These were met by the shrieks of Remmite warriors who came up against them and fell to their rending fury.

Gael’jic strode around the pedestal and darted to Qorovu’s side. He laid a hand gently on the Remmite’s shoulder. Qorovu turned his sad face to the Dar’rynakai.

“The flowers hurt the monsters. We have distilled the essence of a flower into the basin. Do you know of any way to use it against them?”

Qorovu squeezed his eyes shut and slowly shook his head. “Not that we have time for it. But perhaps we can try. The next step of the process is to put the energy from the basin into applicators.”

“How long does it take?” Cecil asked.

“Fifteen minutes,” Qorovu answered.

“Those things will be here in less than ten,” Belem warned. “Maybe even five,”

“Let us get started anyway,” Gael’jic said. “We would be fools not to try.”

Qorovu explained to the best of his ability how to do it. They listened and went right to work.

CHAPTER 26. DEATH AT THE DOOR

The sound of their charge was a thunderous cacophony. The ground shook with it. If they had been mindful, they might have noticed the dust rising behind them or even pebbles dancing on the ground ahead. But they were not mindful. They were not much more than beasts.

His tongue hung from his mouth and he salivated. He could almost smell the prey ahead of him. Not the exiles, but others. There were yet things living in this place. But there would not be for much longer. He and his brothers were hungry. They would feast.

There were barks and roars all around him. He sent up an answering howl of his own. Somewhere off to the side, another one answered him. And then farther down, more. They were just now coming onto the street leading into the city. It was wide and multi-laned. They had no concept of separate lanes but they understood a wide, clear path. Regardless, most of them would not fit side-by-side on the road. Therefore many of them ignored it. They surged ahead not caring about roads or lanes or order.

The main thing they cared about was the gnawing sensation of hunger deep in their bellies. But it also saturated beyond just the physical. For they were not merely creatures of material, but also of power. If they did not feed soon upon something living and draw not only its physical blood into their guts but also the life essence into their bodies, they would go wild with rage, and shortly thereafter they would sink into a coma. The deep sleep. They all instinctively knew this danger and avoided it viciously.

Up ahead he saw the first sign of life. It was some kind of upright figure. Small and gray-fleshed with yellow eyes. It did not look like it would make much of a meal. He or one of his brothers would take it down quickly and need to move on, not being anywhere close to satisfied by its meager offering. But then he began to see more of them.

There soon appeared a great collection of gray-skinned beings. They rattled their steel pipes and metal plates of makeshift armor taunting the oncoming creatures. The monsters would be happy to rise to the challenge. The Shedi’im were more than ready.

He grunted at the effort as they closed the distance, galloping forward in a mad stampede. Several of his brothers broke forward increasing their speed, putting distance between themselves and their brothers so that they could be the first to reach the collective prey. There was only a slight hint of jealousy within himself at this. But he would be patient. He knew there were more of the beings within the city. He and his brothers would eventually tear through every door and find every last one of them; man, woman, and child. The glut would be tremendous.

His brothers would reach the gathered gray people in seconds. They began to send up loud shouts of victory. Whoops, hollers, grunts, and every imaginable noise they could make came forth like a wall of sound. He could see the terror-filled yellow eyes of their prey. The sound alone was enough to paralyze them. He opened his jaw wider anticipating feasting on the flesh and the blood of the gray ones.

The first of his brothers tackled one of them to the ground and tore at his flesh with merciless ferocity. The gray thing’s scream was high-pitched but short-lived. Several of the small being’s companions pounced on his brother and began beating at him with their pathetic weapons. His brother paid this no mind but continued to feast and drink. When he had finished this he lifted his blood-smeared head and smiled at one of the attackers. The little gray thing froze when it realized its life was almost at an end. Then his brother swiped a massive clawed hand at the thing and tore its head clean off. There was no scream from that one.

The others who had been attacking his brother now broke away and ran for their lives. But the other brothers had reached them and chased them down with ease. They pounced and tore into the retreating backs of the cowardly things.

But some stood and fought, receiving their deaths with honor. Weapons were swung, shields were raised, blood was spilled. And none of the blood was from his brothers. They were not invulnerable to such attacks, but they were very tough with thick hides. He recalled one of the exiles slicing open a small gash on his legs. The scarred one had done it. The one the master wanted. He briefly thought about taking minor revenge on that one, but not killing him. The master would be excessively unhappy if he killed the master’s prize.

Now the air was filled with the pained shrieks and the dying screams of the gray people. He relished in it. His brothers surged forward seeking more of them. He stopped and looked around. He took several quick sniffs. There was another one close by. He could smell him. He turned his face slowly to take in the scene. There.

Hiding behind a large piece of debris from one of the destroyed buildings there was one peeking around the side.

He charged at the defenseless gray thing. It saw him coming and tried to run. But he was too fast. He pounced and caught the thing by its ankle and threw it up into the air. The little gray person screamed and flailed his arms to no avail. The Shedi’im positioned his face at just the right point, opened his jaws wide, and then snatched the falling being out of the air. He bit down hard and felt its ribs crunch and shatter under his teeth. The little gray man died in his mouth.

***

“Get inside,” Belem shouted at the four guards stationed outside the door of the laboratory. He knew they could not understand him but he shouted at them anyway, motioning them inward with his hand.

The four Remmite guards shared looks and then glanced hesitantly back at Belem. “Get in here you idiots,” Belem exclaimed.

The four of them looked at one another again and then ran away.

“Fools,” Belem said and pushed the button to close the door. Two metal plates slid toward one another and sealed shut.

“They are running to assist their chief,” Qorovu said. “They must defend him with their lives.”

“For all the good it will do them,” Belem muttered. “Is there any way we can seal this door any better?”

Qorovu looked on the verge of falling asleep again, then his eyes sprang open. He lifted a weak hand to point and said, “The third button down on the panel locks it from the inside.”

Belem turned and jabbed his thumb at the button. It lit up yellow and there was a mechanical clank within the door. The door itself had been four inches of steel. He hoped that would keep the creatures at bay at least long enough for whatever technological process Qorovu and Gael’jic were trying to cobble together.

“How much longer?” Cecil asked, keeping his voice even.

“Maybe ten minutes,” Gael’jic answered. He did not lift his attention away from the work Qorovu had set him to. He knew it was vital to accomplish the tasks if they were to have any hope of fighting the creatures with an energy blast from the Illuminoc plants.

He turned to Qorovu and said, “Once the applicator is finished, how do we use it?”

“The nozzle will have to be in contact with the flesh of the creature,” he said groggily.

“What?” exclaimed Belem. “You never said we had to touch one of the things. I thought we could do it from across the room.”

“It is not a gun,” Qorovu chided. “It is a scientific instrument.”

“And there’s no way you can adjust that?” Cecil asked.

Qorovu shook his head. “No, I am sorry. This is how it must be. Whoever is going to use it on the creature, must be right up to it.”

Cecil looked to Belem. “Probably best if it’s you were me,” he said.

“I’m not standing in line for the job,” Belem said. “I’ll fight if I have to, but if I don’t have to get close, I won’t.”

Cecil looked about to argue, but instead, he just nodded. He said, “I guess it’s me then.”

“What should I do?” Ariam asked.

“Qorovu’s table has wheels,” Gael’jic said. “Move him out of the center of the room. Put him up against one of the walls at the far side.”

“I can do that,” Ariam said. He scurried over to the table and put his hands on the side. He gave it a little shake, testing it. It moved a little at this and so he started to pull it out of the center of the room. When he had it up against the wall he breathed a sigh of relief. Then he thought, This is stupid. An extra ten feet isn’t going to make any difference. But he wouldn’t say anything to the Qorovu. His sense of hope was dwindling. He did not want to acknowledge it out loud, but he believed they were all about to die.

Muffled shouts followed by screams came from the other side of the door.

“They’re almost here,” Belem said. “Anyone care to guess how long that door will hold?”

“I wouldn’t think they’d be able to get through at all,” Cecil said. “But who knows what they are capable of? Especially if Ryth is really behind their appearance.”

“They are capable of a lot,” Ariam answered. He recalled his vision. He remembered the destroyed Citadel wall. He remembered the thousands of horrible gouges and scratches on the side. Before the wall had been destroyed by some sort of great powerful blast, the monsters had climbed up the side to get into the Citadel.

Next came the pounding at the door. They had arrived. Rough, beastly barking and growling sounds from beyond the doors permeated through. Next came the sound of obsidian claws scratching the doors as they tried to tear them down.

CHAPTER 27. UNWELCOME GUESTS

“How much longer?” Cecil asked keeping his attention trained on the door. He wished he had his spear with him, but the Remmites had not returned it to him. He figured it must be stowed away in some other room within this building. He occasionally shot his eyes elsewhere in the room, searching for anything that might be used as a weapon. It didn’t need to be fancy, it just needed to be blunt or sharp.

“Six more minutes,” Gael’jic said.

The door shuddered with a resounding hit. The sounds of the creatures on the other side tearing at it reverberated in the room. The intensity of the noise seemed only to increase with every passing second.

“That door is not going to hold for six minutes,” Belem said. He at least had his knives back. They had been given to him as they traveled to find the power station. He had one in each hand. “I’d say we have three minutes at the most,” he added.

“Qorovu,” Ariam said gently. He looked down at the half-conscious form of the Remmite who had accompanied them to his city. Qorovu stirred and opened his eyes. Ariam asked, “Is there anything you can think of that will help us?” He knew it was beyond a long shot. The Remmite’s mind was cloudy with drugs. And besides, he was not trained to think in terms of combat. He’d said his people were peaceful.

Qorovu only groaned in response anyway. He kept fading in and out of awareness.

Then something occurred to Ariam. He slapped gently at Qorovu’s cheek with one hand. The gray man’s face came partially open. The eyes looked hazy but semi-aware.

“What?” Qorovu asked.

“I have a question,” Ariam hurriedly whispered. “The applicator. Does it have to be full to be used?”

Qorovu seemed to digest this question for a long time. He moaned lightly as his head lolled slowly from one side to the other. Then it came back again. At last, he answered, “No. But if it is not full, you will only get one concentrated use out of it.”

“How many if we fill it all the way?” Cecil asked.

“Five,” Qorovu said.

Ariam’s face dropped with disappointment. He turned a defeated expression to the others who returned it.

“There’s a lot more than five of those things,” Belem said and cursed. The silence fell on them like a suffocating blanket but was interrupted a few moments later by Cecil.

“Hold on,” he said. “We may not need to kill all of them. Maybe we only need to make an example out of one or a few of them.”

“That’s all we can hope for,” Gael’jic said in response.

A loud pounding at the door drew all eyes that way briefly. It was louder than before. The door shook mightily with it. And then Ariam noticed the top corner of one of the doors bent inward. A black claw poked through. Ariam pointed at it and said, “They’re breaking through!”

Struck by sudden inspiration, Cecil asked, “Gael’jic, where are those other flowers?” They had been so focused on getting the applicator ready they had forgotten about the two remaining Illuminoc flowers.

Gael’jic diverted for a hurried moment from what he was doing, reached down to his belt, extracted the sack of the two remaining Illuminoc flowers, and tossed it to Cecil.

Cecil snatched the bag out of the air and thrust his hand into it. He extracted one of the flowers and then threw the sack to Belem. Belem caught it and pulled the other flower out, discarding the bag.

That was all of them. Ariam felt a pang of jealousy.

Belem shook his head and said, “I can’t believe we’re going to defend this place with flowers.”

“You’ll get over it,” Cecil said sternly.

Gael’jic issued a series of urgent-sounding words in the Dar’rynakai language. Ariam guessed he was trying to coax the machine to work faster. But of course, it only plodded along at the speed at which it was able.

The sole applicator lay on the third pedestal in the room. It was only a little smaller than the standard issue energy pistols Cecil was used to. The basin on the second pedestal was more than three-quarters empty now. Transparent tubes ran through the base of the pedestal down into the floor and up into the third pedestal. These were the pathway for the Illuminoc power to transfer to the applicator. Ariam silently prayed that this would work.

The top corner of the door bent further inward and now two monstrous fingers poked through.

Feverish grunts and growls rang out clear from the other side of the door, the creatures encouraged by their progress. They tried all the harder. The other corner of the other door began to fold inward under the strength of their efforts.

“They’re making progress,” Belem said in a tone of warning.

“This thing is going only as fast as it can,” Gael’jic replied. “Do your best to defend us.”

Belem shook his head. “Right. Me, a Royal Guardian, and a couple of flowers should get the job done.”

Now one of the creature’s entire hands was through the hole created by the buckling door. The hand pulled back through the hole and now beat on the lower parts of the door. The metal began to malform under the pressure. Now the sound of tortured metal was added to the grunts and roars of the monsters. It was almost too much for Ariam to take.

Ariam dropped his face and looked into the wide and aware eyes of Qorovu. It was as if the drugs had worn entirely off and his mind cleared like a bright day. No more clouds of drug-addled obscurity.

“Is this the end?” Qorovu asked.

“I think it might be,” Ariam said. “I’m so sorry. But I think it will all be over soon.”

Qorovu skewered Ariam with his tight stare. Ariam almost drew away from the Remmite. But he felt he must remain close.

“It is almost over for me,” Qorovu said. “But not for you.”

“What?” Ariam asked, perplexed.

Qorovu lifted a hand and put it on the back of his neck. He drew Ariam down so that he could speak quietly into his ear. Ariam listened. His eyes grew wider with each word the Remmite spoke. After a while, Qorovu released Ariam’s neck and allowed his arm to drop back to his side.

As Ariam stared down at the Remmite he saw that he was still alive, but exhausted. He did not know what to say. He did not notice one of the tortured folds of the door push farther inward and now one of the creatures shoved his large upper body through it.

Cecil and Belem were shouting at one another, but Ariam did not listen to what they said. He was too busy ruminating over what the Remmite had told him. It was so simple, yet it seemed so out of reach. And could it be true? Was that all it would take?

The creature came all the way through the hole in the door now. Others were right behind it trying to squeeze through all at once. But they were too big and the hole was too small for more than one of them.

Ariam’s eyes flicked to Gael’jic who stood by the energy applicator. He shifted his focus then to Belem, and then to Cecil. Both held up their Illuminoc flowers and pressed forward slowly toward the creature. It bellowed a roar at them so loud it was painful to hear. It swiped at the air not daring to contact the flowers held up before it.

“It’s working,” Belem said and laughed.

“Shut up and just do it,” Cecil shouted at the man.

“Come here, beastie,” Belem said and he darted forward shoving the Illuminoc flower toward the creature. The monster was surprised by this move and quickly backed away until its back connected with the ruined door. It had nowhere to go. Therefore it had only one option. It desperately swiped at its attacker.

The problem was it bent low and swiped at Belem’s legs. Belem held the flower high.

Its big clawed hands connected with Belem’s thighs and knocked him backward. Ariam watched in horror as he sailed through the air and dropped the Illuminoc flower in the process.

Part of Ariam wanted to dive after the flower and take it for himself. But another part of him cautioned not to. These opposing voices immediately went to war with one another paralyzing him. Meanwhile, Belem collided with a wall and toppled onto his side. The creature’s obsidian claws had not raked his flesh but the impact of the paw was enough to knock him almost unconscious.

Cecil used the opportunity to press forward, though more slowly than Belem. He shouted at the thing to distract it. He waved the flower at it.

The monster turned toward Cecil and issued a low grumbling hiss. Its empty eye sockets blazed with orange light. Little beams of similarly colored light emanated from tiny cracks all over its arid skin. It looked around for anything to defend itself. Its focus landed on an empty pedestal immediately to its right. The thing thrust a hand that way and snatched the pedestal up then he heaved it at Cecil.

The pedestal connected with Cecil’s middle and drove him back until he fell over and lay on the floor. His armor had dispersed some of the energy of the impact, but not enough to keep him upright and in the fight.

The hole in the door behind the monstrosity continued to enlarge.

The creature watched Cecil’s prone form for a handful of moments. He saw that the flower now lay a few paces away from his limp hand. He then turned and saw Belem was still out of commission, and probably would be for a little while yet. He then turned his ugly face to look upon Gael’jic who continued to coax the applicator to finish.

A broad grin split its face as it slowly stalked toward the Dar’rynakai.

CHAPTER 28. DAR’RYNEEL

This time he did use the secret entrance. Lycas Ryth stood in the doorway at the back of the menagerie looking in at the darkened cultivated indoor jungle. With a simple voice command, the lights came up to half power. He didn’t need them; it was just a habit he developed since being forced to take on human flesh. As he strode forward the planted underbrush reached for his legs and robe. They whispered against him as he moved through it.

He headed for the Dar’ryneel enclosure. It would be a few more days yet until the expansion was finished. So they lay on the floor of the smaller one, lazing restfully. He gazed upon them with contempt, but he was there for them. He had promised Doctor Givens a DNA sample. And so he would collect it.

He had come at the time he knew the Prince would not be around. After the purposefully failed assassination attempt he had orchestrated on the Queen Mother, he conveniently had the Prince temporarily confined to his quarters and put under guard by his men. He would not be allowed to leave for a few days. It was ample time for him to accomplish this errand.

He exited the trees and the ferns and he stepped toward the enclosure but stopped when something caught his eye. He turned and looked at the glowing blue flower. He found himself lost in thought as he stared at it. Just looking at the thing disrupted him. He could not fathom why it would be so. It was just a stupid flower. He did not understand the humans’ fascination with such things. They were life but they were not intelligent. He considered human intelligence to be far beneath him. But as for a plant…? Not even worthy of notice.

But this one had snagged his attention. He felt both drawn to the thing and unsettled by it. His brow furrowed as he stared at the thing. An urge to seize hold of it and rip it out of the soil and to crush the thing with his hands rose in him. But he was no slave to urge.

He merely sniffed and turned away from it. His attention came back to the enclosure housing the Dar’ryneel. One of them now sat up and was looking at him. It cocked its head in curiosity. Ryth walked slowly toward the enclosure and stopped inches from it. They stared at each other for a long time. The creature seemed fascinated with him. Could it sense he was more than human? If it did, what did it matter to him?

He lifted a hand slowly and pushed a series of buttons on the little control panel. The transparent door unlocked and he took the edge of it and slowly swung it open. He mounted the steps in front of it and then walked into the enclosure. Keeping his eyes trained on the resting Dar’ryneel he reached behind himself and closed the door. He did not lock it. But even if he had, it would not keep him from getting out.

He stood by the door for a long time glaring down at the Dar’ryneel staring up at him. Soon the creature gently reached toward its lazing companion and tapped it on the shoulder. The other one made a small moan and its eyes sprang open. It turned its head and beheld Ryth standing in the cage with them. It carefully sat up and maneuvered beside its companion. The reptilian creatures stared at him, perhaps wondering what he was doing in there with them. Did they fear he would attack? Were they considering doing so to him?

Ryth slowly reached into the folds of his robes and produced a syringe gun to extract blood from one of them. He held it up and showed them.

Their eyes moved toward the device, lingered there for a moment, then returned to Ryth’s face.

“I’m not interested in any trouble,” Ryth drawled. He beamed a confident smirk toward them. “I’m only here to take a little sample. If you do well, perhaps I can see that a treat is arranged for you.”

The two Dar’ryneel looked at one another. Then they turned their dumb reptilian faces back to him. He doubted they understood a word he said. The main thing was to speak with an approximation of calm. He took a step toward them, then another, both slow and measured.

Both sat still, not budging. Interesting, he thought. This looked to be easier than he had anticipated. He had expected to have to subdue one or both of them. It would not have been hard; he just didn’t prefer that.

After a few more paces he stood at their feet. He knelt in front of them. Still a little suspicious, he wondered how easy this would transpire. He lifted his empty palm and held it out to the one that had been awakened when he first came in. With the hand holding the syringe gun he pointed at the creature’s arm. He thought that would be clear enough. He was asking for the beast to offer its arm.

The Dar’ryneel simply sat still, unmoving, and watching.

Ryth felt a pang of impatience crawl to the edge of his awareness. He let the smile slip away and now showed a grim and hard expression.

“Give me your arm,” he said firmly.

The one to whom he had spoken turned his face to his companion. The other one, the female looked back at him. Ryth guessed they did not understand. So he shot his hand forward and seized the wrist of the creature and pulled him forward.

The Dar’ryneel gasped in surprise at the strength of the man holding onto him, squeezing. Pain must have washed through his arm at that moment and debilitated him. He gasped and hissed but otherwise did not attempt to put an end to it. He must have sensed doing so would have been foolhardy.

Ryth flicked his eyes to the female. Her reptilian lips curled back and she bared her teeth at him. But otherwise, she made no move.

Good, he thought. This is going to be easy after all.

He maneuvered his other hand forward and plunged the needle of the syringe into the Dar’ryneel’s upturned arm. The creature hissed in response but did not resist.

“There,” Ryth said. “This isn’t so bad, is it? All we have to do…”

But then a blinding flash of pain ripped through the right half of Ryth’s face. He instinctively jumped away pulling the half-full syringe with him. He lifted his unoccupied hand to the side of his face and felt slickness there. And ragged torn flesh. In the next instant, he realized he could not see out of that eye.

He gritted his teeth against the bodily pain.

His good eye searched and saw the other Dar’ryneel standing on her feet and blood dripped from one of her clawed hands. She had swiped at him when he had been preoccupied with her companion. Now she charged at him. He straightened, turned slightly, and waited for her.

She swung an upraised claw at him. He deftly caught her by the wrist and yanked her off balance. He then applied force and shoved her to one side forcing her to collide with the side of the enclosure. The transparent material, which was as tough as steel, did not budge. But Ryth thought he heard a minor cracking sound. Probably one of her bones.

She slid down the wall of the enclosure in an unconscious heap.

Her mate now jumped at Ryth. Ryth merely stepped out of the way and avoided collision with the creature. On its way past he reached out and took hold of the thing by its neck. He pivoted and shoved it toward the back of the enclosure. The thing skidded along the floor and rolled but came back up in a fighting stance. It ran at him again then at the last moment diverted to the side, jumped, and angled in the air. He tucked his legs up toward his body and then kicked outward. His feet connected with the wall and propelled him at an angle toward Ryth.

Impressive, Ryth thought in a nanosecond. But in the next moment, he received and countered the attack with ease.

Ryth ducked low and punched with his free hand upward. It connected with the Dar’ryneel’s midsection and it let out an oof. The creature carried forward on its altered projection and crashed writhing to the floor.

Ryth casually strolled over to it and towered over its trembling form. He planted a boot on the creature’s neck and shook his head in dismay as he stared down at the beast.

“When will you inferior creatures learn that I cannot be beaten?” Ryth asked.

The Dar’ryneel turned his head and glowered up at Ryth with its reptilian eyes. It bared its sharp teeth at him and hissed.

“Yes, yes, I know. Anger, hatred, and all that.” He shook his head one last time, removed his boot from the Dar’ryneel’s neck, and then turned and walked toward the door. He lifted a hand and pushed the door to the enclosure open. But before he could step out, something unexpected happened.

“We know who you are, Uri’thind’ac,” the male Dar’ryneel said.

CHAPTER 29. PRIVATE CONVERSATION

Ryth whipped around and stared at the Dar’ryneel who had spoken. The creature was pushing itself up from the floor cradling its middle. It turned an angry face at him and hissed again.

“So you speak, after all,” Ryth said. “How long have you been able to do that?”

“Your Prince has been training us,” he said.

“Has he, now?” Ryth considered this. “You speak very well for someone who has only heard the human language for a few weeks.”

“We are very smart,” the Dar’ryneel replied.

Ryth stared at him for a few moments then turned and tossed the syringe gun out of the cage to land on the dirt where it would be safe. He turned back to the cage and strode back inside.

“How very curious,” Ryth said. The pain in the right side of his slashed face throbbed but he ignored this. Likewise, he put out of his mind the blood pouring from the wound and onto his fine clothing. He could have that all taken care of later. And it was not bad enough to be life-threatening to the body which he inhabited. He briefly considered denying his identity to these creatures, but decided to do so was useless. They would know eventually anyway. And by then what could they do? Nothing. To that point, they could do nothing now. He was too powerful for an army of them. His treatment of them just moments earlier could be considered gentle considering his abilities. If he had wanted to he could have drained them of their life essence. He needed no machinery as the now-dead Marcos had at the Obelisk.

“So,” he said. “You know who I am. Congratulations are in order. Not many figure it out.”

“I’m afraid congratulations are not in order for you,” the Dar’ryneel countered. “For you will lose this war.”

Ryth blinked his one good eye as he stared at the creature. “Is that so?” he asked. “And how do you know this?”

“We serve Rama’dy’ac,” the Dar’ryneel said. “He will defeat you.”

“I’m hearing that a lot these days,” Ryth said. “But I see no evidence to back it up.” He strode slowly forward, exuding confidence. “In all that has unfolded, I see that only I can win. This god of yours is a doddering old fool. I doubt he’s even still around.”

“Your time is growing short,” the Dar’ryneel said. “You stink of desperation. You would be wise to surrender.”

Genuine laughter spilled out of Ryth. He threw his head back and erupted with it. When he had finished he shook his head mirthfully and replied, “I really don’t think you understand. I have already as good as won.”

“The champions of Rama’dy’ac will defeat you,” the female Dar’ryneel said.

He looked at her and asked, “Do you know about them?” Ryth made a harrumphing noise, then said, “How very curious indeed. Mind telling me how?”

“We have seen them in a dream,” the male answered. “They walk upon the skin of a distant world. A broken and barren one.”

Ryth reached up and rubbed his chin. “That’s true,” he said. “Two so far, actually. They are on Remmice. And you claim to have seen this in dreams? Maybe that old fool, Rama’dy’ac is still messing around after all. But these so-called champions will not be alive for long. I have released my Shedi’im on them. Do you know what those are?”

The male Dar’ryneel blinked in astonishment and withdrew a step. He turned and looked to his companion. She was just pushing herself up now and lifted her head in surprise and stared back at him. “So our dreams are true,” she whispered nervously.

“I see that you do know of them,” Ryth went on. “Probably through a fragment of some legend, if I don’t miss my guess. Well, let me tell you how this will play out. I have roused all of the Shedi’im this time. There are hundreds of them. And they are all converging on the champions of Rama’dy’ac. Rama’dy’ac’s playthings have no hope of surviving. But I also think you should know something else. One of the champions belongs to me. I hold him in my hand. The Shedi’im will not kill him. No, instead, they will capture him, and bring him back to me. I will make him watch as I lay waste to this backwater world. And when I am finished with this world, I will inhabit his body. I will absorb him. I will fix all that is broken and mortal in him. And then, one of the very champions Rama’dy’ac has chosen to defend him will defeat him. That is what I think of your little god.” He stared at the male for a moment, flicked his eyes to the female and smirked, then turned away and began to stride toward the exit.

“They have already sent one of your pets fleeing.”

Ryth stopped cold in his tracks. He whipped around and demanded, “What did you just say?”

The female Dar’ryneel now stood upright. “One of your beloved Shedi’im attacked them in the dark. They defeated it and sent it crying into the night. It was terrified of them.”

“Not possible,” Ryth seethed.

The male said, “We have seen it. Maybe your little pets are not as powerful as you think.”

“Even if that were true,” Ryth said, “engaging only one of them is not the same as facing hundreds of them. They have no hope of overcoming that many. They will be crushed in a heartbeat.”

The male walked over to the female and helped her to her feet.

“That remains to be seen,” he said. “But I wonder what you will do if they all fail? What will happen to your precious plans then?”

Ryth took a menacing step toward the Dar’ryneel. They did not move. Irritated at their bravery, he said, “It will never happen. By the end of this day, three of them will be dead, and one of them will be in my hands. I will go to retrieve him personally.”

“If that is the case,” the male Dar’ryneel said, “perhaps you better get going soon. But I should not be surprised if I were disappointed when I got there if I were you.”

Ryth glowered at the creature for a moment. Hatred boiled up in him, and an urge to rip the thing apart with his bare hands shot through his entire body. But he schooled himself again. He would not care to explain to the Prince what had happened. He had already put a lot of work into the brat getting him to follow along.

Ryth waggled a single reprimanding finger at them. “Best watch that reptilian tongue of yours,” he said. “Especially around the human brat. It would be a shame if someone ripped it out and burned it in front of your eyes.”

Both Dar’ryneel were unmoved by the threat. They only stood and stared at him. He’d finally had enough of their insolence. He now channeled his hypnotic power toward them. He felt it burn within every fiber of his human body. He knew that his eyes glowed with orange light. In an unearthly voice, he shouted the command, “Kneel before me.”

He lifted his hand and pointed its splayed fingers toward them. A beam of orange light shot from each fingertip and washed over them. They arched their backs and cried out in pain. They then dropped to their knees and bent forward, stretched out their hands, and bowed worshipfully. They gasped for air and groaned against the agony that ripped through their bodies.

“There’s a proper show of respect to your superior,” he sneered. He ceased the flow of energy and allowed his hand to drop to his side. The two Dar’ryneel expelled sighs of relief.

Ryth took another few steps toward them but remained a few paces away. “Congratulations really are in order now,” he said. “You are some of the first among this generation to bow before me. But rest assured, you will not be the last. All will fall before me and lavish me with praise.”

The male Dar’ryneel stood up, straightened its back, and stared daggers at him. In the next moment, the female joined in his defiance. She opened her mouth and said, “Even if it is so, it will not be true. Just as with what you have forced us to do now, it will be empty. Like you will be emptied of everything.”

“It won’t matter,” Ryth replied. “I will mold you all like clay in my hands. I will twist you into whatever shape I so desire. I have already done so with the Shedi’im. They were once proud people, like you. But now they can think of nothing but pleasing me. So will be the fate of all creatures.”

They had nothing to say to that. They only stared at him. He glowered back, turned on his heels, and strode out of the enclosure angrily. He slammed the door behind him and locked it. He went and found the syringe he had tossed into the dirt, stooped, and picked it up. Then he stormed toward the secret entrance.

He would go to Doctor Givens soon with the Dar’ryneel DNA sample. But first, he would seek medical attention. He couldn’t walk around with his face wrecked like it was. He could have healed it himself, but he had another idea about that.

As he slipped through the secret door, he decided to instruct the physicians to allow the scarring of the wound to remain. It would be one more element to his appearance to unsettle those who looked at him.

CHAPTER 30. SHRINKING ODDS

An insistent beeping from the pedestal drew his attention away from the encroaching monstrosity. Gael’jic dropped his eyes to the applicator and saw the beeping light indicator on the side. It was full. He snatched it from the pedestal and brought his attention back to the approaching creature.

The thing had never taken its eyes off Gael’jic. It had no understanding of what was about to happen.

“How does this work?” Gael’jic asked.

“Press the nozzle against the creature,” Qorovu began. “Then pull the trigger once.” Ariam had to remind himself Gael’jic was not familiar with the concept of a gun. His culture did not have the same technological advances as that of the humans. They continued to rely on spears and other blades for weapons.

Gael’jic backed away from the pedestal and the creature continued to stalk slowly forward. When it came to the pedestal it backhanded it and sent it careening through the air to crash against the wall. Unless it could be repaired, there would be no recharging the applicator with one of the other flowers. Not that they had time.

Ariam shifted his sights toward the door. Another of the creatures was halfway through the hole. Its collection of jagged teeth showed in an unholy grin. Though there were empty sockets where there should have been eyes, they still conveyed the bottomless ravenousness of the thing. It desperately wanted to get inside and feast.

He returned his eyes to Gael’jic. He looked just in time to see the Dar’rynakai charge the creature. The monstrosity blinked in surprise and drew back a little. It struggled to comprehend the maneuver.

It swiped a clawed hand at the approaching threat. But Gael’jic was fast. He dropped low and thrust his legs forward. He slid across the floor while the swiping hand of the monster passed harmlessly above his head. Gael’jic suddenly stood inside the reach of the monster. He shoved the nozzle of the applicator forward until it hit the thing’s chest. A spring-loaded portion of the nozzle pushed back and terminated its movement with a click, telling Gael’jic it was ready. He pulled the trigger.

Even though the nozzle was buried in the creature’s chest, there was a brilliant flash of light. Followed by a brief but loud zapping sound. The hulking creature froze, then an enormous tremor ran through its entire body. It staggered away from Gael’jic and looked down at its chest. There was a large gaping hole in the center, ringed in charred flesh. It stared uncomprehendingly at the wound. It lifted a hand to touch it then froze once again. It then collapsed to its knees and fell forward, its face mashing against the floor.

The creature that had just now come through the door saw the whole thing. It bellowed with rage at Gael’jic and charged.

Only four more shots, Ariam thought as he watched the monstrosity run at his companion. Make them count, Gael’jic.

Gael’jic repositioned the weapon and held it at the ready. At the last moment, he jumped forward and pressed the applicator at his opponent.

Primitive though it was, it seemed to understand what had just happened to its brother. The creature jerked back at the last moment and dodged contact with the applicator. It lurched to one side while swiping with its right arm. It knocked the weapon right out of Gael’jic’s hand. The applicator flew through the air and crashed against the wall close to Belem. It shattered into a hundred pieces.

A brilliant flash of light accompanied the implement’s destruction. Long viscous strings of glowing essence fell from the destroyed device and pooled on the floor close to Belem.

Belem just regained his senses in time to witness the destruction of their only weapon against the hoard of demonic creatures. His mouth fell open in despair and he swiveled his head to look at the monster.

The monster’s jaw lowered and it issued a roar at him.

Ariam saw another of the creatures forcing its way through the door. This one was bigger and had a harder time making it through the hole than the others. It howled several times in frustration with the effort.

Ariam turned his face back to the creature that had destroyed the applicator. It returned its attention back to Gael’jic. The Dar’rynakai jumped in the air and spun lashing out with its tail. His thick muscular appendage whipped through the air and cracked the monster on the side of the face. The monster’s head twisted to the side but it brought its attention back around and growled at Gael’jic. It lurched forward and thrust a hand out grasping for Gael’jic. The Dar’rynakai saw it coming and dodged out of the way, somersaulting across the floor. He spun around to keep his focus on the enemy. But the creature was also fast. By the time Gael’jic had located it, the monster had already turned and was charging again. It lunged at him with its jaws open wide.

By this time Belem had rejoined the fight. He darted forward and snatched up the Illuminoc plant he had dropped earlier. He was at Gael’jic’s side quickly. He gently tossed the flower into the air at the place he suspected would be the most effective. He was right. It seemed to float in the space before them for just a handful of seconds as the creature’s open mouth closed around it. The thing realized at just the last second what was about to happen, but had no time to do anything different.

The flower alighted upon the creature’s snaking tongue. Its eye sockets went wide forming a grotesque surprised expression. Gael’jic and Belem darted out of the way and the hulking monstrosity passed between them. It thrust its hands forward and skidded to a halt, turning around to look in disbelief at them. By then the Illuminoc was working its power.

The cracks in its dry skin that had once shown with tiny rays of orange light darkened. Likewise, the orange light in its cavernous eye sockets dimmed and then vanished as well. Starting at its lips and then working back along its head and stopping at its shoulders the flesh of the creature blackened and cracked. It toppled forward and when its head collided with the floor it shattered into an irreparable puzzle. The pieces were like brittle charcoal and scattered outward.

Sitting unharmed in the midst of the mess that had once been the monster’s head was a glowing blue flower. Belem danced forward and plucked it from the ground. He whipped around and stared at the big creature that had just made its way through the door. Its feet thundered on the floor as it charged a few paces inside then halted, cautious.

Belem raised the flower and showed it to the monster. “Not so confident are you now, are you beastie?”

Gael’jic ran to Cecil’s prone form and worked to revive him. The former Royal Guardian moaned and his head rolled to one side. Gael’jic saw his hair on that side was matted with blood.

Another creature pushed its way through the door and came to its companion’s side. A third entered and came up on the other side. The trio of monsters bellowed a chorus of roars at Belem. He darted his hand from side to side, showing the flower to each of them.

“Which of you wants it?” he snarled. “I’ve already slain one of you, I’m ready for more.”

The three of them spread out from one another.

Belem backtracked a step, warily watching each of them in turn. To Gael’jic he said, “Better think of something fast, scholar. This isn’t looking good.”

At the same moment, two of the monsters rushed Belem. Ariam figured the convict’s possession of the flower was probably the only thing that saved him. There were too many of the targets for him to handle at once, but he shoved the flower toward one of them and did his best to dodge the other. He managed to shove the flower into the groping palm of one of the creatures. An immediate smoking and sizzling sound resulted. The creature howled and jumped back. That was when the other one arrived.

The second monster hammered the palm of its big hand into Belem’s chest throwing him backward. He maintained a hold of the flower this time but the air was driven from his lungs and the impact sent him sailing away from the threat. His back collided with the wall and he crumpled to his knees. He was gasping and out of the fight for the second time in a row.

Ariam had no time to devote to further watching this unfold. The third monster that had entered the room had laid its attention on him and Qorovu. He had no flower to defend them. The monster seemed to understand this.

A broad wicked grin stretched its face and a burst of inhuman laughter, low and growling tumbled out of the thing.

It began to stalk toward them.

CHAPTER 31. DEMISE

Ariam stood over the helpless form of Qorovu stretched out on the medical table. The Remmite was propped up on one elbow. His mind seemed to have returned fully from the medical fog, for all the good it would do. He was still gravely wounded and unable to defend himself. Not that he knew how to fight to begin with. Not, for that matter, that Ariam knew much more.

Even though the thing had no eyes, Ariam felt its attention shift rapidly between himself and Qorovu. It was choosing its target. Ariam read the greedy hunger on the monster’s face. A line of milky blood-tinged drool dripped long and stringy from one corner of the creature’s mouth. The crack of its mouth widened and Ariam stared into the hellish maw. Its long pink tongue shot out and licked its face, reaching even to the uppermost edge of its brow.

Finally, its attention seemed to lock onto Qorovu. It stepped forward lumbering toward him.

Ariam realized he had to do something. He needed to keep the thing away from the injured Remmite. He waved his hands above his head and shouted, “Hey! Over here you useless wretch.” He stepped to the side and continued waving his hands and shouting at it.

The monster hesitated and its brow furrowed in confusion as it watched him.

“Chasing after easy prey?” he accused the thing. “I guess it makes sense. Your master is a coward, why shouldn’t you be one, also?”

The monster’s eye sockets reshaped, widening in surprise then its brow rippled in anger. A low guttural growl issued from it. The corners of its lips twisted into a snarl and showed its long, jagged teeth. It hunched its shoulders as it readied to pounce at him.

“That’s right, you big coward,” Ariam continued. “Come and get me.”

The monster reared back and then he thought, Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

He watched the beast leap and sail through the air at him, stretching its arms out to grasp him. Instinctively he dropped to the ground and rolled beneath the approaching creature. The thing soared above him as he escaped beneath.

The empty, glowing sockets of the monster’s skull tracked him as he rolled away. Since it wasn’t paying attention it hadn’t noticed how close it was to the wall. Its head rammed into the unforgiving wall with great force. An ugly cracking sound accompanied this. It crashed in a heap on the floor. It went still for a few moments but then as Ariam came up from his roll he watched in dismay as the thing pushed itself up on shaky arms and legs. It stood, turned, and nearly fell over again. It looked dazed, but he knew it would not remain so for long.

It shook its head in rapid succession and then laid its attention on him once more. It snarled in anger and roared at him. It thrust both arms out to the side as it pushed its face forward, letting loose a piercing howl. It took a few menacing steps toward him and then suddenly it was struck in the face by something glass which shattered. It tilted its head in confusion and searched for what had dared hit it.

Ariam, also confused about what had happened, whipped his head around and saw Qorovu had pushed himself off the medical table. He had collected an arm full of scientific instruments, mostly glass vials. He held the bundle in his left arm while extracting one with his right hand, and then drew back and hurled it at the creature.

Ariam watched the implement fly across the room and crash against the creature’s face. It shattered and the beast shook its head and pawed at its face.

“I am not defenseless,” Qorovu said in a gravelly and exhausted voice. Ariam’s eyes dropped to his bandaged middle and saw copious amounts of blood seeping through. The Remmite reached for another glass vial in his collection and readied to throw it.

Ariam turned back to the monster. The creature had forgotten about him entirely and was now focused only on the Remmite. It gazed at Qorovu with a desperate lust-filled hunger. It sniffed the air. Ariam understood it smelled his blood. It slowly loped toward its intended victim.

Ariam, helpless, backed out of the way. Shifting his gaze between the two of them.

He watched as Qorovu backed toward the great window revealing the expanse of the city beneath the great height of the building. They were many stories up. He thought he understood what Qorovu was doing. He despaired of it.

Qorovu launched another glass item at the creature. It shattered against its shoulder. The thing kept coming, its tongue now hung out and salivated from its mouth. A long trail of drool fell out.

“No,” Ariam shouted. “Qorovu, don’t!”

“This is my fate, Ariam,” he said keeping his attention fixed on the beast. He continued to back up slowly until his body pressed up against the window. The great window was completely free of glass. It was just a vacant expanse in the wall.

“Come on, you mindless animal,” Qorovu taunted the thing. “Are you too afraid? Are you like your sniveling master?”

The monster didn’t like that. A deep threatening growl came forth from it.

Qorovu climbed up onto the window ledge and stood waiting for the monster to come at him.

“I’m here, you pathetic wretch!” he shouted. “Come and get me.”

Still growling, the monster hunched low and prepared to pounce. Ariam watched in horror as it transpired.

Qorovu had two more vials left. He held one in each hand. He threw one, then the other at the monster. Both met their mark. Both shattered into a spray of tinkling glass. Qorovu put his hands up stretching them out to his sides. He contorted his face in a show of rage and bellowed a shapeless challenge at the beast.

The monster took the bait.

It charged at him at full speed. It crossed the distance in three mighty gallops. When it landed from the last one, it jumped with all its might toward the Remmite. The beast’s hulking form collided with the helpless wounded Qorovu. Both were carried out into the space beyond the window and then plummeted the thirty stories below.

The creature screamed with rage and terror when it realized it had been tricked. The noise of it lasted the entire drop. Then it and Qorovu collided with the ground below killing both of them.

Ariam rushed to the window and stared down in despair and disbelief.

“No,” he whispered as he looked upon the minuscule malformed bodies of both Qorovu and the creature below. An icy claw of failure gripped his heart.

He suddenly remembered the battle was not over. He spun around to stare into the room. Everyone – exiles and monsters alike – had stopped what they were doing and witnessed Qorovu’s successful ploy to lure one of the demonic creatures to its demise. Belem had just regained his senses as had Cecil. They stared, trying to come to grips with it. Gael’jic’s jaw dropped open in astonishment. After a few heartbeats, everyone seemed to remember what had been going on. Belem and Cecil scrambled to their feet.

The sound of twisting and tearing metal filled the room as the door came the rest of the way apart and the pieces were tossed to the sides by the tenacious beasts who had worked so desperately to get in. A few more of them slowly entered the room, eyeless sockets searching for victims.

CHAPTER 32. FORTITUDE

He sniffed the air in the large room, searching for the one the master wanted alive. The room was full of a mix of rank scents, all tinged with fear. In the morass of it all, he easily picked out the man’s scent and turned his face to stare at him. The man glared back defiantly and said something in his human language that the creature did not understand. But he did not care to understand. He cared only to obey the master.

He would let the others dispatch the companions. They deserved to feast as much as he did. He would have his turn soon. There were others in the city running around and hiding. But first, he must capture the scarred one.

One of his brothers growled low and barked toward the target the master wanted alive. But he was not about to allow one of his brothers to encroach on his prize. He snapped back at him angrily. He pounded his fist on the floor three times in a show of dominance. His brother snarled at him but backed down.

The three humans and their other companion, the different one, spoke to one another. He did not doubt they were devising some scheme to get out of their predicament. Even with his primitive mind, he understood that much. They had survived remarkably well thus far. They had even managed to kill some of his brothers. Two bodies were laying in a smoking ruin on the floor. It enraged him to see them that way. If the master had not commanded the scarred one to be saved in reserve for himself, he would gladly have torn the master’s prize to shreds.

But they still had those flowers. That was what had hurt him when he first encountered the enemies. The Shedi’im had never seen anything like them. He did not understand how a simple flower could cause pain, even kill one of his brothers. The scarred one held one of the flowers. He would have to be very careful about it. He thought he might even coax one of his brothers to attack first and distract him so that he could move in. But would the scarred one fall for it?

The tactic had already been attempted once. And it had been successful, but what if the man had learned from it? Humans were smart. Maybe even smarter than Shedi’im, he considered. One thing was certain: his chief priority was capturing the scarred one. All other considerations had to submit to this one.

***

“I don’t like the way this thing is looking at me,” Belem warned. He continued to hold the Illuminoc flower forward threatening the creature with it. He had gotten over how stupid it felt to do so. The flowers had proved their worth.

The enormous creature stalked slowly, cautiously toward him. Though its size was gargantuan, it moved with a kind of grace. Its two vacant sockets locked onto him and he detected an intelligence behind those cavernous holes. It was primitive yes, but calculating nonetheless. He would underestimate it at his peril.

“The rest of us have the same problem,” Cecil remarked. One of the newcomer creatures had focused on him and slowly stalked toward him. Cecil had retrieved the flower he had lost. He held it between him and the encroaching beast. Even though the monstrosity had no eyes, he felt its attention dart between the flower and his own face. It took three long sniffs as it continued its slow approach.

The third of the newly arrived creatures locked its gaze on Gael’jic. The Dar’rynakai had no flower to protect himself so he inched closer to Cecil.

The beast that approached him crawled over the corpses of its two fallen brothers. It seemed to take no notice of their presence but was solely focused on its target.

Gael’jic dropped his mouth open and issued a challenging hiss at the approaching monster. The fin on top of his head stood straight up in a show of aggression. He hunched forward and swished his tail threateningly back and forth. He was much more agile than his human companions. If the creature charged him, he had a better chance of getting out of the way. But he could not keep it up forever. Eventually, he would tire and the thing would catch up with him.

Ariam’s back pressed against a wall. He looked at the door through which the three most recent creatures had come. Roars and bellowed howls came from down the hall. More were coming. It would be a matter of seconds until the room was filled with the demonic things. Then it really would all be over.

He looked helplessly between each of his companions who faced off against one of the monsters. Belem was the closest to him, but Ariam assumed he was also the one least likely in need of help. Not that he knew how he could possibly help any of them. But then something caught his eye.

His gaze drifted to the spot where the energy applicator had shattered and fallen. The ruined pieces of the instrument sat in a pool of glowing Illuminoc essence on the floor. But something else resided in the center of the pool. It was one of Belem’s knives. It must’ve come free and slid across the floor when Belem had been struck by the creature. The edge of the blade shimmered with the blue light of the essence. Then the words of Qorovu had returned to him. The Remmite had pulled him close minutes earlier and whispered into his ear.

He had said, “My time is at an end. But not so with you and the others. What you have lacked will now be filled. Soon, the blade of your salvation will be at hand. You must take it up and strike bravely at the heart of darkness. Only you will save the others.”

It sounded like delirium when Qorovu said it. Except there was that part about his lack being filled. That and the specific bit about bravery. Was that not what Vael had told him? He lacked fortitude. But he must overcome this if they were to succeed. Now that Ariam saw the knife in the glowing pool of distilled energy, Qorovu’s words rang with the true tone of prophecy.

He looked up from the blade and watched as the creature came closer to Belem. It chuckled demonic laughter as it came nearer. Belem held the flower up and shouted curses at the thing.

He looked over to Cecil. Cecil held his flower up before him. He used it to keep the monstrosity nearest him at bay. But then he looked and saw Gael’jic press up against the wall. He had no defense. And one of the creatures drew close to him. It would pounce at any moment. He knew the Dar’rynakai would die if he did not act.

This was his moment.

He took two rapid steps forward until he came to the pooled essence. He dropped kneeling beside it and shot forward his hand and snatched up the handle of Belem’s knife. A single string of glowing Illuminoc essence dripped from the edge. His eyes traced its course back to the pooled luminescence. Instinctively, he shot his other hand forward and pressed it into the glowing semi-liquid energy. He pulled in a noisy gasp and a shudder ran through him. His hand tingled at the contact, feeling the pulsing power. It was an unparalleled sensation. It felt a mix of both absolute pain and sheer pleasure.

He had long considered himself powerless. He could never accomplish great feats. But when he made contact with the pool of Illuminoc essence that all changed. A surge of confidence raged through him. It decimated the defense of every excuse he ever thought to make. He lifted his hand from the pool and turned it over to stare at his palm. It was covered in the blue glowing energy. He closed his eyes and thrust the palm at his face. He smeared the strange glowing material all over his face and neck.

He stood up and locked his attention on the creature stalking toward Gael’jic. His face contorted with rage, and his mouth opened as he shouted a cry of battle. He then ran toward the menacing creature.

The monster, hearing the noise, turned its head to see what was happening. Ariam was on it before it could do anything. He jumped onto the creature’s back and plunged the glowing edge of the knife into its flesh. A geyser of steam shot out of the wound and Ariam likewise felt the creature’s flesh sizzling and burning beneath his essence-covered hand covered. He ripped the knife out and jumped off the thing’s back. He watched it arch its back and throw its face toward the ceiling howling in rage and confused agony. It fell to its knees and started gasping for air. Soon it could not breathe. One of his hands clutched its suddenly grotesquely bulging throat and its mouth hung open desperate to draw in air. But it could not.

Patches of black cracked flesh spread from where it had been stabbed with a knife and he had touched it with his hand covered in the distilled Illuminoc essence. It fell face-first toward the floor and convulsed a few times then went completely still.

The other two monstrosities turned and stared at him in surprise. He gave his full attention to the one that had moved toward Cecil. He looked briefly at the knife he clutched in his fist and then reared back and then hurled the blade at the creature. It tumbled end over end through the air and sank into one of the hideous beast’s eyeless sockets. The thing’s head jerked back and its mouth fell open. It shrieked an unearthly sound which was cut short partway through. Soon the entirety of the creature’s head blackened and it fell over. The head shattered.

Ariam strode up to it and scooped the knife out of the ruined skull of the monster.

When he stood up again he turned toward the doorway and saw a collection of even more monsters staring agape at him. He gazed back at them for a handful of heartbeats then casually walked in their direction. They watched him come with confused trepidation. He reached up to his face where he had smeared more of the essence and scraped his face with his hand, gathering the glowing material on his fingers.

When he judged he had come within distance he flung the handful of the essence at them. It splashed against all five of them crowding just inside the doorway. They all gasped and in the next instant began to sizzle. They screeched and scraped feverishly trying to get the stuff off of them, but it was no use. Soon their flesh began to crackle and split and steam ejected from the newly formed cracks. The orange light that emanated from their eye sockets and the normal cracks in their skin went dark and they fell one by one dead to the floor of the laboratory.

Ariam turned toward the one creature left in the room. It stood between himself and Belem. It had all but forgotten Belem and now gaped at Ariam with what he assumed was terror. Ariam lifted the knife with the glowing material on it still and pointed it at the creature.

“Just you now,” Ariam said in a wintery tone of threat. He pursed his lips and stared at the thing. He didn’t know if it could understand him but he would try. “Go,” he said sternly. “Tell Ryth what you see. Take your brothers with you and trouble this city no more. I will let you go if you obey me.”

The dumb creature stared at him for several long seconds then spared Belem one final glance and turned and charged toward the door, keeping a wary eye on Ariam as he did so. As soon as he was beyond Ariam he howled loudly.

The thing darted through the doorway and soon vanished.

***

The Shedi’im did not know how he understood the words of the man, but he did with crystal clarity. Maybe it had something to do with the strange glow on his face. Maybe it was some kind of magic. But ultimately, the Shedi’im did not care. It only wanted to get away.

It called loudly for all its brothers. Many answering calls came, confused at the commands he gave. He demanded they leave at once. He demanded they stop what they were doing. They could not feast here. It would be their death.

In the end, they all listened. His brothers all converged on him and they raced away as fast as they could. Through the psychic link they shared, he replayed images of what had happened in the room. He shared how the deaths of their brothers had transpired. He shared the threat against every one of them if they did not leave.

They understood. So they ran.

CHAPTER 33. AFTERMATH

They surveyed the aftermath of the attack. It was vast and disheartening. The cost of lives had been so significant over such a small expanse of time that it was staggering.

Their initial priority was to take care of the remains of Qorovu. As they traveled down the many flights of stairs to reach the ground floor, the state of his body from such a great fall worried Ariam. He did not want to find the Remmite’s body crushed and mashed beyond recognition.

When they reached the bottom, however, and came outside it turned out that the body of the wicked creature that had driven them both out the window had broken the fall. The shock of the impact had surely killed him, but he was in much better shape than the monster.

The few of the demonic creatures that had been killed were left to be dealt with later. The first order of business for the denizens of the city was honoring their dead. The work of collecting the deceased erased the boundaries between the clans. They had all lost members. They mourned together. Therefore, they worked together to care for the dead.

It was long work. It took a day to get them all collected and brought to the same place. No matter the clan, they all were carried to the base of the building at the center of the city. None of the exiles knew how this decision came about. They did not speak the language and were unable to ask questions or communicate with any besides themselves.

The deceased Remmites were in various states of mutilation. Sometimes there was not much left but a few limbs. Ariam guessed there would be some missing entirely. The creatures that attacked had been ravenous and had eaten a few of their victims whole.

The gathered bodies were all laid side-by-side in front of the building. Their arms were crossed over their chests and their eyes were closed. A strip of cloth was laid over their faces. Those who were too mutilated to look upon were covered up with homespun sheets or blankets. There were many of those.

Ariam was startled and disheartened to see the chief of the clan that had taken them in among the dead. He had three terrible diagonal gashes on his chest and he was missing one arm. The death mask of his face was contorted in pain. His gray skin had gone pale. Many of the Remmites from the clan came and knelt before his body weeping and wailing throughout the course of the day.

Ariam hung his head in shame.

“What’s wrong?” Belem asked.

“Had we not come here, this carnage would not have happened. This world has already seen immeasurable destruction. It did not need this.”

Belem looked at him for a long time then said, “We were told to come here. Remember? We had to.”

“I know,” Ariam said impatiently. “But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Think about it this way,” Belem said. “If it weren’t for you and what you did, all of the Remmites would be dead.”

Ariam looked up at him. “Small comfort,” he said in a tiny voice.

Belem shrugged and went back to work.

After the corpses of the Remmites had been taken care of, it was time to deal with the monsters. They were loaded onto a cart none too gently and headed off for a destination outside the city. Belem volunteered to go with the other workers to dispose of the bodies. When he came back a long time later he was covered in soot.

He reported that the monsters were hoisted on poles outside the city. Then they were set afire. The poles were metal and so they did not burn. But the bodies were a long time being consumed. And even then, there were discernible remains. “My guess is, they are left there as examples if any of those things come back.”

“They won’t be coming back,” Ariam said. “Not unless we fail.”

Belem stared evenly at him and replied, “We won’t fail. Ryth will.”

Ariam returned his gaze and then looked away. “I hope you’re right,” he said. He couldn’t help remembering the vision he had of Belem overtaken by Uri’thind’ac and reigning from a dead Citadel. But he would not bring it up again.

At nightfall, there was a great communal funeral. All of the clans gathered around the central building and listened to words spoken by clan elders and others. They sang low, moaning funeral dirges. This was all punctuated by long periods of moaning and weeping.

The exiles all looked on as foreigners, wishing they could understand and even participate, but instead they were only able to stand by and watch. Every once in a while one of the Remmites would come and say something to one of them, but none of them could understand. Many of those who came and spoke appeared drunk and not understanding what they were doing. Most often Belem shoed them away in a gruff manner. They got the message and left.

After about the third time this happened, Belem leaned over to Cecil and said, “Why don’t we just get out of here? Our job here is finished.”

“Is it?” Cecil asked. “Aside from decimating the population and learning very little about how to combat the creatures responsible, what have we accomplished?”

Belem pointed toward the central building and said, “The technology is in there. We just need to take it and go.”

“Do we have any idea how to fix and operate it?” Cecil asked.

“No,” Belem replied, “but surely someone back on Dar’ryn will be able to figure it out.”

“Maybe,” Cecil answered, “but I just don’t feel like we’re done here yet.” He flicked his eyes toward Ariam and then looked back at Belem. Belem had followed his glance and nodded.

“But what more can we do about him?” he asked in a voice low enough so Ariam wouldn’t hear.

“I’ll talk with him tonight,” Cecil replied.

***

When the funeral was over, the four companions went back up to the laboratory and made camp there. Gael’jic had agreed with Belem that they ought to take elements of the technology that they could and bring it back to Dar’ryn. They would have to spend much of the night figuring out how to dismantle it. He lacked confidence that they would not ruin it in the process. But he understood that bringing it before somebody in the human Citadel was their only hope of duplicating it.

The others agreed with him. While Gael’jic and Belem worked at figuring out pulling apart the pedestals without damaging them as well as collecting all of the pieces of the applicator they could find, Cecil approached Ariam and pulled him aside.

“Checking in on me?” Ariam said. His normal cheery disposition had vanished and it seemed unlikely to ever return. Even he worried about that.

Cecil nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I want to debrief with you about what happened. I know a thing or two about working through trauma. And you, my friend, experienced severe trauma.”

“So have the rest of you,” he replied.

“The rest of us are coping,” Cecil countered. “You are not.”

“I guess so,” Ariam said looking away.

“First, let me just say you handled yourself amazingly. I was sure we were all dead. I’m positive that if you asked Gael’jic and Belem they would say the same thing.”

“Me too,” Ariam said.

“So what changed? What came over you? It was like watching a different man carrying about in your skin,” Cecil prodded.

Ariam brought his face back to Cecil. “It was just something that Qorovu said.” He opened his mouth to continue, thought better of it, then closed it again.

“What did he say?” Cecil asked gently.

Ariam gave his head a little shake. “I’m still sorting it all out,” he said. “But it was very odd. Amid the attack, he pulled me close and whispered something into my ear. It felt almost… Prophetic.”

“Prophetic. Can you help me understand what you mean by that?” Cecil asked.

“He told me he knew that it was his time to die. But he also said it was not our time. Then he said something about bravery. You know, as in fortitude?” He shot his eyebrows up, asking if Cecil understood.

Cecil had been in the chamber of the secret city back on Dar’ryn when Vael had revealed something about each of them. He had shown each of them a lack they had. Ariam’s had been fortitude.

“Really?” Cecil said with great interest. “What else?”

“He told me the blade of our salvation was at hand. That was when I looked down and saw Belem’s knife in the pool of Illuminoc essence. Then something in my head just…clicked. When I picked up the knife with one hand, I put the other hand into the pool. I cannot describe the sensation. But it was like I was physically injected with concentrated bravery and confidence. And then…” He trailed off. He looked away once more squinting his eyes at the memory.

After a few heartbeats, Cecil pressed, “And then what?”

“And then I couldn’t not do something,” Ariam replied. He looked back to Cecil and said, “So I did.” And then he shrugged.

“You did at that,” Cecil said. “You know that both Belem and myself are accustomed to violence. I have Royal Guardian training and he has his own brand of street experience. Both of us were quite impressed with what we saw.”

“Impressed?” Ariam nearly exploded. Gael’jic and Belem looked briefly up from their task, then turned away, not wanting to intrude. Ariam shook his head. “I don’t want anyone to be impressed with what I did. I don’t even know how I did it. I just attacked.” A tremor ran through his body at the memory.

Cecil said, “And you’re having trouble making sense of it all. We all see it, Ariam.”

“Yes,” Ariam said his voice squeaking a bit. “It is not my way to… to do that sort of thing.”

“Yet you asked Belem to teach you to fight,” Cecil observed.

Ariam turned haunted eyes to Cecil. “Yes. But a part of me thought I would never actually…” He couldn’t finish.

Cecil turned toward Gael’jic and Belem who were disassembling one of the pedestals. After a moment he said, “All of us are having to do things that are not our way.”

Ariam sighed. “True enough,” he said.

CHAPTER 34. THE THRONE OF THE GODS

Ariam stirred under his blankets and lay on the steel floor of the laboratory. His body ached from the activity of the last few days. Trekking through desolate landscapes, fighting horrendous beasts, and honoring the many dead had taken its toll on all of them. And that said nothing about sleeping on a cold metal floor with nothing but a few blankets and thin pillows.

He slowly sat up and noted the presence of dim morning light in the room. He rubbed at his eyes with one hand, blinked away the remnants of poor sleep, and looked around. Off to his right, Belem lay motionless on the floor, snoring. Cecil likewise lay beyond him also sleeping. Only Gael’jic was up.

He had volunteered for the final watch. All of them were reasonably sure the beasts would not return, but they still felt the need to keep their nightly watch system intact. There would be no repairing the ruined door of the laboratory and anyone could creep in without their notice if they all slept. And so, Gael’jic had been awake for the last few hours, roused by Cecil who had the watch before him.

He must have detected Ariam rousing and sitting up, but he stared beyond the beggar. Something in the Dar’rynakai’s posture caught his attention and alerted him that they were not alone. He quickly turned his head and immediately regretted doing so. His muscles were sore and his neck protested the movement.

He winced in pain and shot a hand up to his neck rubbing at the sore tendons. But when his eyes came open he understood what had caused Gael’jic’s rigid bearing.

Standing in the ruined doorway of the laboratory was Vael. Ariam turned back to Gael’jic. “How long has he been there?”

“Not long,” Gael’jic replied. “I only just noticed him moments before you awoke. I kept my watch on the door for the longest time, then turned away and was looking elsewhere for one moment, Then I looked back, and there he was.”

Ariam swiveled back to Vael. He said To Gael’jic over his shoulder, “Has he said anything?”

“No,” Gael’jic answered, hushed.

Ariam reached over and shook Belem’s shoulder to rouse him. “Wake up,” Ariam hissed. “Belem, wake up right now.”

The big man ground out an angry-sounding noise. “What is it?” he asked, his eyes still closed.

“Vael is here,” he said.

Belem’s eyes sprang open. He stared at Ariam, with a question on his face. “Did you just say…?” And then he propped himself up on an elbow, turned, and looked where Ariam was looking. He blinked a few times then slowly pushed himself up from the floor.

“Showing up after all of the action is over again, I see,” he said acidly. “I’m getting a little tired of your nonparticipation in these matters.”

Cecil moaned from his place on the floor as he awoke slowly hearing the exchange. “What’s going on?” he asked groggily.

“Vael has arrived,” Gael’jic answered.

Cecil quickly came the rest of the way awake. He was on his feet in no time staring at the figure in the doorway.

Answering Belem, Vael said, “My participation in that way is forbidden. It is against the rules.”

“Rules?” Belem barked. “Whose rules?”

“The rules of the counsel of the gods,” Vael responded.

Belem blinked then said, “Thanks. That clears it up.” He shook his head.

Cecil said, “I take it from your coming here, that it is time for us to move on? Do we head back to Dar’ryn now?”

“You have accomplished much and come quite a long way,” Vael said. Then he slowly shook his head from side to side and added, “But you are not done yet.”

Belem scoffed. “Will we ever be done? How many more errands does Rama’dy’ac need us to do? Do we need to go pick up his groceries for him? Maybe do his laundry? I bet he’s got some dishes that need washing.”

Vael’s four eyes darkened with a threat as he looked at Belem. “You continue to vex me with your blasphemous talk,” he said.

“And you continue to vex me by being supremely useless,” Belem shot back. “Looks like we’re about even.”

The celestial figure glowered at the man, looking like he wanted to teach him yet another lesson.

Ariam stepped forward and said, “I have something I want to say.”

Vael shifted his attention to the beggar and nodded. “Speak,” he said.

“Those things that attacked us. They were sent by Ryth, weren’t they?”

Vael nodded. “They were.”

Ariam clasped his hands behind his back and started pacing as he spoke. He looked like a trial lawyer. “What were they? Also, why does Ryth get an army of monsters, and Rama’dy’ac gets only the four of us?”

“The creatures you refer to are called Shedi’im,” Vael said. “They are twisted demons of Uri’thind’ac’s own making. He wrought them centuries ago on the planet Cairn. He awakened them after you left the planet and sent them through the gate after you. As for the privilege of Uri’thind’ac possessing an army at his beck and call, did you not route them? Did you not cause them to flee? Did you not win the day?”

Ariam blinked, looked at his companions, then back to Vael. “Yes, we did. But at a heavy cost.”

Ignoring his last remark, Vael said, “The four of you are then superior to the army of Shedi’im.” Vael stared at Ariam, a challenge carved on his face.

“All right,” Ariam said not sounding all right. “Then let me ask you this,” Ariam lifted a singular finger into the air. “You gave Gael’jic those flowers because you knew those things were coming. Right?”

Vael dipped his chin. “It is so,” he said.

“Okay,” Ariam said, clearly gearing up for something. The others looked at him quizzically, not knowing where he was going. “The first time that thing showed up at our campfire I noticed, as I’m sure my companions did, that it was lit from within by an orange light. That was true of Jobash back in the Dar’rynakai city as well. It was also true of the warden at The Obelisk. Their eyes glowed orange also. That was because they were powered by Ryth, right?”

“Also correct,” Vael replied dispassionately.

“Okay,” Ariam said, sounding a little excited. “Now we get to it. The power of the Illuminoc hurt the Shedi’im. And the Shedi’im are powered by Ryth. Does that mean that the Illuminoc plant will also hurt Ryth?”

Vael folded his arms over his chest and stared at Ariam for a long time. The other companions surprised by Ariam’s series of deductions stared expectantly at Vael as well. But he maintained his gaze at Ariam.

After a long time, he finally said, “I do not know.”

“Do you not know, or are you too cowardly to tell us?” Belem asked.

Vael turned all four eyes narrowed to slits on Belem. “I do not deceive as does Uri’thind’ac. When I say I do not know a thing, that means I do not know that thing. But I have forgotten more things than you have ever known. You would be wise to cease the flapping of your tongue.”

Ariam cleared his throat. “Then tell us what you do know,” he said.

Vael looked at him again. “What I do know,” he began, “is that you must travel now to one final planet.”

“We’re not going back to Dar’ryn yet?” Cecil asked, surprised.

“It is not yet time,” Vael answered. “Three of the four of you have been tested and have come through successfully.”

“What?” Belem said. “What do you mean?”

Vael answered, “On Dar’ryn, you went to the Dar’rynakai city and Gael’jic’s lack of faith was filled. Then you traveled to The Obelisk on the planet Cairn. There your lack of love was filled, Belem. Now you have come to this world. And in the thick of mortal danger, Ariam has discovered his fortitude.” He turned his face suddenly to look at Cecil. “Now only you stand with a deficit,” he said. “Your lack of hope remains steady. It must be addressed. From here you will all travel to the Throne of the Gods.”

Gael’jic gasped.

“What?” Cecil asked nervously. “What is that?”

“The Throne of the Gods is the place in the heavens where Rama’dy’ac held his council.” He continued, “Other gods participated in the council, though they were lesser than Rama’dy’ac. There also, the celestial beings, Like Vael and the Boatman, attended and served the gods. But there was a great schism. The gods went to war one against the other.”

“This is the way of it,” Vael affirmed. “I will show you the way to the next gate and you will travel to the Throne of the Gods for the final test.”

“What about the technology we have discovered here?” Gael’jic asked. “Is it not part of what we must bring with us to Dar’ryn?”

“It is,” Vael said. “Be sure to collect it and bring it with you. But understand that it is not the key to your victory.”

“Then what is?” Belem demanded.

“That is only discoverable at the Throne of the Gods,” Vael replied.

Belem rolled his eyes. “Of course, it is.”

CHAPTER 35. THE WRATH OF RYTH

One of the greatest drawbacks to being confined to mortal flesh was that he moved so slowly. His wounded eye was a testament to that. If he had been able to retain his old form, he could have moved easily from world to world. It would have taken so little effort and time. It wouldn’t quite have been instantaneous, but close enough. He still moved faster than any normal mortal being, but to him, it seemed egregiously slow.

It had taken hours to depart the human Citadel by the secret passages, then to go to the gate on Dar’ryn on Void Island, then to travel from there to The Obelisk and the gate beyond. Now that he stood before it, ready to pass through onto the world of Remmice, he found himself hesitating. He could not say what it was, only that a disturbance arose in the back of his mind. The best he could tell was that it had something to do with the psychic link he shared with the Shedi’im.

The first hints of the trouble arrived when he was still on Dar’ryn. At that time it had seemed the smallest sliver of a hint of trouble. It was not worth contemplating. But when he had passed through the gate and stepped onto Cairn, it grew. Now that he stood only a few paces away from the gate to the next planet, it had grown to a roiling yet indefinable burn in his mind. He folded his arms over his chest and stared at the gate. He had not yet activated it. Something told him he would not like it when he did so. But why?

When he had set out on this journey, he was confident his Shedi’im had accomplished the task that he set for them. Three of the four champions of Rama’dy’ac should be dead. The fourth, Belem, should be in the custody of the Shedi’im and ready to be delivered to Ryth.

He blew out an impatient breath and took the last few strides forward and activated the gate. The pearlescent shimmer appeared and he was struck with a wall of emotion. The psychic link between himself and his pets intensified and battered him unexpectedly. Something had drastically gone wrong. He gritted his teeth and stepped through the gate, intending to find out exactly what it was.

His transposition from one world to the next took moments only. When he stepped onto the barren surface of the planet Remmice he was confronted by a pathetic sight. The powerful and ravenous creatures he had set loose on the champions of Rama’dy’ac now gathered around the gate, awaiting him, cowering and whimpering.

He planted his fists on his hips as he stared at them. Whenever his gaze came near to one of them, the creature turned its head away, refusing to look him in the eye. His glower grew darker the longer he looked at them.

Through the force of habit of speaking with his mouth instead of just his mind to communicate, he asked the question out loud. However, he also hammered them with it through the pathway of his mind. “What happened?”

The Shedi’im cowered before him, none wanting to come forward and explain. “I’m not going to wait all day,” he threatened. “Do you want me to banish you again into the crevices below? Do you want me to leave you there and not feed you until you starve to death eons from now? I will do it! Unless one of you tells me this very moment what happened.”

After a few heartbeats, one of them crawled forward slowly. He kept his face to the ground not daring to lift his empty eye sockets to look upon his beloved master.

There was a great psychic stench about the beast. It reeked of wretched failure. Ryth saw in its mind’s eye its greatest desire to apprehend and deliver Belem to him. It apparently had great designs of being the most beloved of the master. Ryth was revolted just looking upon the thing. But seeing what was in its mind was a thousand times worse. An involuntary snarl tugged at one corner of Ryth’s lips.

The creature barked a series of unintelligible sounds, an approximation of speech it had once known. The gibberish was the remnant of a bygone age. Before Ryth had gotten his hands on it, before he had twisted it and its brothers to his purposes, they had been the original inhabitants of the planet Cairn. Now it was just a mewling, whimpering wretch.

Accompanying the stream of noises from its mouth were mental images. Ryth sifted through them like a bargain hunter at a market. He sought the ones of value and dismissed all the rest. There was not much worthy of note in the creature’s mind, but what little there was boasted significance.

The Lord Advisor gasped and physically drew back a step. He viewed the memories of the beast in his mind with disbelief. He saw his enemies arrayed before him in a laboratory within the central building of the city. He saw two dead Shedi’im on the floor. One had a great smoking hole right through the middle of it. Another’s head was missing entirely. He saw the Shedi’im’s great thirst for Ryth’s approval when he laid his attention on Belem. And then he saw…

“Can it be?” Ryth asked himself. “Or does this creature remember wrong?”

He replayed the images over and over again, but they never changed. They had been etched in the craggy stone of the Shedi’im’s mind. The meekest of his enemies, Ariam, the former actor-turned-beggar, took up a blade and attacked one of the Shedi’im. He buried the blade in the thing’s back and it died almost instantly.

That can’t be right, he thought. The Shedi’im are tougher than that. How could Ariam, let alone anyone, kill one of them so easily? What trick is this? But then it got worse.

He watched as Ariam extracted the knife from the thing’s back and hopped off. He turned and hurled the blade at another of the Shedi’im. The weapon buried itself in the thing’s head and the beast convulsed and fell over dying.

“Not possible,” he said out loud.

Then he watched as Ariam spoke to the beast. To his surprise, the beast understood his words. It should not have been possible. Ryth had dumbed them down to understand and obey only him. But now Ariam displayed mastery.

The beggar issued a demand that the Shedi’im turn and run and take the others with him. And to Ryth’s great dismay, the Shedi’im obeyed the beggar. It ran away in terror, calling for its brothers to join him and leave their task unfulfilled.

Then he watched as they all exited the city, and this Shedi’im shared with its brothers all that it had seen and experienced. They all grew terrified, they all feared. They all would be of no use against the exiles now.

Ryth cut the psychic link with a growl and gritted his teeth as he stared in fury at the prostrate Shedi’im.

The pathetic wretch turned its face to peak at Ryth. Ryth snarled back at it. “Rise!” he shouted at it.

The thing was slow to obey but did eventually stand before him. It trembled as it looked at its master. Ryth could not keep his rage with the Shedi’im from contaminating the psychic link. It was too great. This specimen and all the others understood at once what was coming, though they were powerless to stop it.

He took several slow paces toward the creature until he came up against it. He shot his hand up and seized the creature by its jaw and yanked it downward. It yelped in pain but could not resist. Ryth was far too much for it.

Ryth kicked one of its legs out so that it knelt before him. Even kneeling it was taller than he. But that didn’t matter.

Ryth shot his other hand forward and took hold of the creature’s upper mandible. With a shout of rage, he pried the Shedi’im’s mouth open. Ryth’s eyes glowed bright orange and his mortal body trembled under the power he poured through it. The beast whined and cried out and writhed under his attack but could do nothing to stop him.

Ryth shot his face forward and opened his mouth. He thrust his face into the thing’s open maw and inhaled deeply, drawing back into himself the power he had once upon a time bestowed deep within the creature. The monster vibrated at the sudden fearful invasion. It shook violently as the power in its body was ripped out. The light in its cavernous eye sockets dimmed and then disappeared entirely. Once Ryth had withdrawn all the power from it he shoved the Shedi’im’s husk of a corpse away. The lifeless body collided with the ground and shattered into dust.

Ryth heaved ragged breaths from the effort and stared at the remaining Shedi’im. Through both the psychic link and through the use of his mortal tongue he said, “I do not tolerate failure.”

The gathered Shedi’im wailed in fear.

“Silence,” Ryth shouted at them. They obeyed at once though there were still minor whimpers that could be heard.

He stopped and considered, turning away from the Shedi’im. He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. It was a habit he had learned in his long years of mortal confinement. How could this have happened? No, he realized that was not the thing he ought to concentrate on now. What he needed to know now was where they were going next. He thought and thought until he froze in his tracks.

No, he thought. He’s got them going to the Throne of the Gods. The pattern was clear. Four champions to stand for four worlds. Dar’ryn, Cairn, Remmice, and the Throne of the Gods.

He spun around and shouted at the Shedi’im, “You will obey me. And you will not fail this time. I send you now to the planet Dar’ryn. You will wait for me there. Stay in the forest, and eat whatever you find. But, do not wander off or I will destroy you as I did your brother.”

Yes, that was all he could do about them for the time being. He would lead the Shedi’im to Dar’ryn so that they could prepare to tear down the Citadel wall and feast to their hearts’ content on the citizens. He would open a great rend in the wall so that they could pour through. And he would reign over the dead city and over all that Rama’dy’ac had claimed as his own. But first, he needed one thing. He needed Belem. He would have to go and collect the convict himself. It would be tricky, but he believed he could do it.

First, he would accompany the Shedi’im to the gate to Dar’ryn. Then he would go himself to the Throne of the Gods. It had been so long since he had been back there. There had been no reason for him to return. He was not sentimental or foolish enough to want to return. It was a dead place anyway; he could not understand why they should go there. There was nothing for them there.

Or was there?

Had Rama’dy’ac hidden something? If that were the case, he could not imagine what it was.

Regardless he would go there himself. And when he did, he would finally put Rama’dy’ac’s schemes to rest. The old fool had sent everything he needed to one place.

Very well, he thought. Time to get serious.

To be Continued in

GODS OF DAR’RYN

GODS OF DAR'RYN

BOOK 5

CHAPTER 1. DEADLY PUZZLE

Cecil stared, his brow set, his arms folded over his chest. This gate was a long way away from the city. They had set out shortly after Vael arrived, and it took them almost another day to reach it.

They had passed through the dead forest surrounding the city and come to a vast, desolate plain. Sitting in the midst of the plain like an island in a dried sea was a hill. At the apex of the hill was the remains of an ancient stone structure. A wide square stone platform with four crumbling pillars at the corners lay before them. There was no roof to speak of, but plenty of debris testified that once upon a time there had been.

Sitting in the center of the platform was an empty arch.

It looked just like the other gates, but for some reason, Cecil felt an unexplainable sense of dread take hold of his heart as he looked at it. He puzzled at this for a time then shook his head driving it away. Whatever it was, if it represented anything real, it would make itself known soon. That seemed to be the way of things.

Vael lifted a hand and the shimmering light of the gate sprang to life, filling the arch.

The former Captain of the Royal Guardians turned toward Vael. The celestial being – his arm still outstretched – stared back at him with all four of his eyes aglow and concealing centuries of untold mysteries. Did he know something about what was bothering Cecil? If he did, he didn’t say anything about it.

“I suppose this is it,” Cecil said. “Until the next time that you bother to show up anyway.”

He lifted a finger and absentmindedly stroked at the gashes the Shedi’im had torn in his armor. Four long diagonal gouges cut their way through it. The armor had saved his life, so he worked the best he could to repair it. He did not have much in the way of tools and materials at hand, just what was lying around the building at the decrepit city center. Mainly his patch job consisted of tinkering with the twisted edges of the gashes to get them back in place as best he could. To do this, he found a softer metal to which he applied heat and then molded it to fit within the gashes. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

Belem cleared his throat. He stepped forward and addressed Vael. “I don’t suppose you’d like to be a bit more forthcoming about what we’re going to find on the other side of this arch?”

Vael slowly turned his four eyes onto the convict. He was silent for a long time to the point Belem was ready to press the question again. But at last, the celestial messenger replied in that odd echoing voice of his.

“Beyond this gate, you will enter a chamber. It will be similar to the one you came into when you first stepped onto Remmice. But that is where the similarities end. You will find no immediate exit onto the skin of the planet.”

“So we will be underground once again?” Ariam asked.

“That is correct,” Vael replied. “But you will have to traverse the pilgrimage trail to make it to the next phase of the journey.”

“Pilgrimage trail?” Gael’jic asked. “What is that?”

“I cannot tell you this,” Vael said. “But know that it will present obstacles and difficulties you must overcome. Once the first phase is complete, you will be met by the Guide.”

“And how are we to know this Guide?” Cecil asked.

“He is the only being apart from the gods themselves who know the path out of the pilgrimage trail. He will be the only one you will encounter. You must listen to him, and follow. To not do so would be to endanger your fate.”

“All right,” Belem said impatiently. “Let’s get on with this. The sooner we’re finished, the sooner we can get to Ryth and I can put an end to him.”

“You will not find that to be so easy,” Vael said gravely. “Even though you have begun to overcome your lack, he will still be impossible for you to defeat alone.”

“We will see about that,” Belem muttered. He walked slowly toward the bright pearlescent shimmer of the gate. He halted inches before it, drew in a quick breath, then stepped through.

Gael’jic came next, followed by Ariam. When the beggar was through, Cecil turned to Vael.

“This is where my lack is to be addressed, correct?” he asked.

Vael merely bowed his head in acknowledgment.

“What can I expect to happen to me on the other side of the gate?” he asked.

Vael simply lifted his hand toward the gate gesturing for him to go.

Cecil shook his head in frustration, turned, and walked up to the gate. He halted and drew in a deep steadying breath. He restrained himself from looking over his shoulder at Vael one last time and stepped into the gate.

He was awash in light that his gaze could not pierce. It overwhelmed him, taking away all sense of direction. He had the sensation of being both blinded and lost. But then it dimmed and started to resolve into a different scene.

The next thing he knew he was in a darkened chamber similar to the one they had come into when they arrived on Remmice. There was a brief feeling of disorientation that quickly righted itself. The first face he saw was Ariam’s. He noted the beggar looked relieved.

He guessed that was because the beggar had not encountered another vision as he had when he had passed through the previous gate.

Cecil turned and beheld his other two companions who were standing and looking around at their environment. He followed suit.

The best he could tell they were in a wide circular chamber. As before it was in a domed structure and the walls and floor were made of flagstones. He quickly grew concerned when he perceived there was no clear exit from the chamber. It was entirely enclosed.

He lifted his face to look at the domed ceiling. At the center of the dome was a circular hole and a tunnel beyond, stretching upward. He stood directly beneath this and stared up. There was a tiny circular patch of sky at the other end of it. He couldn’t quite judge the distance, but it looked to be a long way to the opposite end.

He lifted a hand and rubbed his chin. There was no way to reach the hole and climb through; not even if they balanced on top of the gate arch. He suspected the shaft was simply there to keep the chamber supplied with breathable atmosphere. He dropped his attention away from the overhead shaft and started to look for other means to escape the chamber.

He saw Gael’jic knelt near the gate. He was bent low examining something on the floor. Cecil came to stand next to him and looked down.

“What did you find, lizard?”

“There appears to be some kind of pictograph on the floor,” the Dar’rynakai responded.

Cecil crouched to get a better look at it. He saw that it was circular and about a meter in diameter. The pictograph was filled with curving lines, some of which intersected one another, some of which were completely free from contact with others.

“It’s a maze,” he said to himself more than anyone else.

Gael’jic grunted in agreement and nodded. “That was my thought as well,” he said.

“If that’s what it is,” Cecil said, “then it could represent what stands beyond this chamber. We may need to know it to get out of this place. Do you think you can work it out?”

Gael’jic shrugged. “Perhaps,” he said. To Cecil, the Dar’rynakai didn’t sound convinced.

“Why don’t you try?” Cecil said pushing himself up to stand again.

In the next instant, there was a sudden and loud sound of stone scraping against stone, All four companions spun around and beheld the gate arch lowering into a slot on the floor.

“There goes our ride back,” Belem said.

“It must be part of this whole thing,” Ariam said. “Part of the pilgrimage trail, I mean. I’d guess it’s designed to test the faithful. It wouldn’t do much for the faith of some to have an escape hatch.”

“Great,” Belem said with a snide edge.

“Let’s not worry about that,” Cecil said frowning at the descending gate. “Let’s see if we can figure out another way out of here.”

The gate descended entirely into the floor and a stone cover slid quickly in place. It caught them by surprise how fast it moved. But their alarm at this quickly vanished when the next trouble arrived.

It started as a deep rumbling sound in the walls. Then the chamber was filled with the noisy sounds of more stone scraping against stone as the walls pushed inward.

The walls slowly pressed in about another foot then halted.

The exiles looked at one another in alarm.

“Well, that’s just perfect,” Belem said.

“Stop complaining and help me figure out how to get out of here,” Cecil said. He strode up to the wall and examined it, scouring its surface for any clue.

CHAPTER 2. WALLS CLOSING IN

Cecil, Ariam, and Belem scoured the walls as Gael’jic examined the pictograph on the floor intently. Even after a few minutes into the process none of them had turned up anything. But at least the walls were stationary once again. Cecil had a growing sense of certainty that this was not to remain. It would change at any moment.

“Anyone find anything yet?” he tossed over his shoulder.

He was met by a chorus of noncommittal grunts. He had suspected as much. He hadn’t turned up anything either.

Gael’jic hissed in frustration. Cecil looked over his shoulder and saw the Dar’rynakai’s head fin stood straight up in agitation. His yellow reptilian eyes darted back and forth as he sought to understand the design. But now there was something new in his expression that unsettled Cecil.

“What is it?” Cecil asked urgently.

“It has changed,” Gael’jic said worriedly.

“Changed?” Ariam said befuddled turning to face the Dar’rynakai. “Changed how?”

Gael’jic pointed toward the pictograph and replied, “The center has shrunk.”

Cecil turned away from the wall and jogged over to the Dar’rynakai kneeling in front of him. He stared down at the pictograph and said, “Show me.”

Gael’jic pointed at the center of the pictograph. “This line,” he said. “Do you see it?” He traced a small circle in the middle.

Cecil nodded vigorously. “Yes, what about it?”

“It was out here,” he said. Gael’jic traced the tip of his finger back a centimeter.

Cecil looked up at Gael’jic. “You watched it happen?”

The Dar’rynakai only nodded. He looked beyond Cecil with an anxious expression toward the wall. The rumbling sound returned and Belem and Ariam instinctively backed away. A few seconds later the scraping stone sound returned and the walls moved inward about another foot, making the circular chamber a little smaller.

Copious amounts of dust fell from the walls revealing details that had not been visible before.

“Over here,” Ariam said and jogged toward a spot at the wall. He prodded at the wall insistently with a finger and turned an excited face to the others. “Come and see.”

Gael’jic remained where he was, but Cecil and Belem trotted over to the beggar. They looked where he pointed and to their amazement saw something that had not been there before, or at least not to their recollection.

There was a circular stone plate visible on the wall about a hand’s breadth in diameter. A carving dominated the center though it was not yet visible.

“What is that?” Cecil asked. He stooped closer and rubbed it with his fingertips. More dust fell away as well as tiny fragments of dried mud. After a moment he growled in frustration and cursed under his breath. He then drew in a sharp breath and blew it out in an attempt to remove more of the debris from the carving.

The shape of the carving became a bit clearer, though they yet had trouble discerning what it was or what it might signify. Cecil squinted at it and said, “What is that?”

There were four shapes on the carving. The lowermost shape had a flat top and a triangular bottom with a rectangular protrusion out from the right side. Above it was suspended three circles.

“Let me see,” Ariam said pushing his way closer to the image. He squinted his eyes, and recognition stirred in his mind. He said, “I feel like I know it. But I don’t know it.”

Cecil leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. Then he said, “Maybe we ought to look for more of them. Maybe if there are others they will make this one clearer.”

“I feel some attachment to this one,” Ariam said quietly. Then, more insistent, he added, “I want to stay and look at this one a bit longer but you go ahead.”

Cecil and Belem exchanged glances then trotted off and scoured the walls searching for other carvings. Only a few seconds later, Belem shouted for their attention. “Over here,” he said. “I found another one.”

Ariam stayed put, but Cecil trotted over to see it. Belem had already worked to rub away the debris concealing it and by the time Cecil arrived, it was mostly uncovered. Cecil tilted his head as he analyzed the image. He said, “It looks like a scroll.”

“That’s what I thought too,” Belem said.

No doubt existed in their minds that the carving on the plate before them represented an unfurled scroll. Cecil’s eyes shot instinctively to the crouching form of Gael’jic in the center of the chamber and lingered momentarily upon him. Then he returned his attention to the image and puzzled at it.

They both gazed at the image a few moments longer then Cecil said, “Come on. Let’s see if there are others.”

Shortly thereafter the Dar’rynakai crouched in the middle of the chamber exclaimed in surprise again.

“It has changed once more,” he said. As soon as he spoke the room rumbled with noise once again and the chamber trembled. Ariam, Cecil, and Belem all backed away from the walls watching them, waiting for them to grind inward yet again. This time when the wall moved, however, it came in another three feet. Ariam had not backed far enough away and so had to retreat a few more steps as he exclaimed in startlement.

When the wall ceased moving, Cecil said, “Over here. I found another.” He brushed at it feverishly until the symbol emblazoned on the circular stone plate was revealed. It resembled a clenched fist. Belem was at his shoulder glowering down at the image and grunting thoughtfully. A sudden change came over the man and his face opened up with something like awe. He reverently approached it and slowly placed his hand on it.

“What are you doing?” Cecil said.

Belem’s eyes narrowed and he continued to stare at the image beyond his fingertips for a few more moments before answering. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I think…” He paused and screwed up his face even further. He turned a confused expression to Cecil and then finished, “I think it is like Ariam said. I feel connected to this.”

Cecil blinked as something occurred to him. “There’s probably one for each of us,” he said.

“There are only three,” Belem corrected. “Unless you think the maze Gael’jic watches is the fourth.”

Cecil shook his head. “I don’t believe so. I think there’s one more plate somewhere. We should stop dithering and find it.” He turned and looked about the shrunken chamber. He blinked when he suddenly understood the placement of the images.

“They’re set apart at equal distances,” he said. “Look.” He pointed to where Ariam stood, which sat directly opposite the last one they had found. The one he and Belem stood in front of rested equally between the two. “That must mean,” he said, “the other one is straight that way.” He pointed to the far opposite side of the room and trotted over to it. When he arrived at the wall it only took him a few moments to locate the fourth and final circle. He feverishly brushed at it, getting all of the debris and dust off. The image was a sword in a vertical position. As he stared at it something awoke inside him. A recognition, a longing. His eyes were transfixed on the symbol and he did not want to look away.

The rumbling brought him out of his reverie. He snapped out of it as a man awakened suddenly and rudely by a bucket of cold water splashed on him.

“The walls are about to move again,” he shouted. He backed up several paces and watched as Ariam and Belem did the same. The rumbling was even louder this time. Trailers of dust fell from the ceiling dome. To the surprise and terror of them all, the walls moved swiftly inward. Cecil was fearful momentarily that they were not going to stop this time. But when they did, he breathed a sigh of relief. However, he realized that the next time they might not be so fortunate. This time the walls had encroached more than ten feet. He was not able to reach out and touch Gael’jic or any of the others, but if things continued at this pace, he soon would have to.

“Okay,” Belem said with a note of worry sounding in his voice, “we found these symbols. But now what?”

CHAPTER 3. PRESSED

Gael’jic rocketed up from his place beside the mazelike pictograph in the center of the chamber and strode toward the circular plate no one stood next to. He bent low and examined it.

“It is a scroll as you have said,” he said thoughtfully. A few long seconds passed and he said, “It makes me feel something familiar to look upon it. What about the rest of you? In regard to the other plates, I mean.”

They all nodded affirmatively. Belem simply grunted. Gael’jic dipped his snout in understanding. He continued, “But then when you looked at one of the others, you did not feel this. Correct?” He directed this statement to Cecil.

“I suppose so,” Cecil said waiting for Gael’jic to make his point.

“Then each of them represents one of us. The scroll, for example, represents me,” he explained. “I am a scholar, and the scroll represents something like knowledge.”

“What about mine?” Ariam said a hint of worry in his voice. “I don’t know what mine is.”

Gael’jic briskly trotted over to him and looked at it. He touched a finger to the lowest of the four symbols. “This is a hand,” he said. He then moved his finger up and touched the three remaining circles. “These are coins.”

“Beggar!” Ariam announced, understanding at last filling his face with glee.

“Mine is a fist,” Belem said. “I suppose it’s because I am a fighter.”

“Mine is a sword,” Cecil said. “But I am no longer a guardian. Why should it correspond to me?”

“Does it matter?” Belem half shouted at the former Captain. “We know it’s yours just like we know this one is mine and those two have their own. The question we need to answer is, what we do with these?”

Gael’jic dashed back to the scroll image and took a closer look at it. He said, “The circle plate is not of the same piece as the brick to which it is attached. Perhaps they are buttons or pieces in a puzzle?”

“All right,” Cecil said. “Let’s try to push them in.”

He turned toward his, put the palms of both hands on it, and shoved with all of his might. It did not budge. Ariam tried next, then Gael’jic. Neither of theirs moved as well.

“That didn’t work so well,” Belem said snidely.

“You try yours,” Cecil said.

Belem shook his head. “Does it matter if I do? None of the others worked.”

“Maybe they have to be done in a certain order,” Gael’jic suggested. “What if yours is the first in the sequence?”

Belem rolled his eyes, turned toward the circular plate on the wall, and pressed at it with one hand. It immediately sank into the wall. He drew his hand back as if he had been bitten. He shook it and yelped in pain.

“What happened?” Cecil asked.

“It worked for me, but when I pushed it, my hand received a powerful shock.” He stared daggers at the now sunken plate and growled at it.

“Everyone else, try yours,” Cecil said. He paused in thought for a moment, then added, “But let me go first.” He turned toward his plate once again and pushed at it, this time with one hand only. Once again, it refused to move. After a few moments, he stopped trying, shook his head, and turned toward the others. “No luck here. Someone else go.”

Before any of them could respond the rumbling started again.

“Everyone, back toward the center of the chamber,” Cecil shouted at once and backed up quickly. The others obeyed right away. Rumbling and trembling grew once again in intensity. The walls encroached quickly once more, this time, however, they only came about another five feet.

“That’s odd,” Gael’jic opined. “The walls came forward a lesser distance than the previous time.”

“Maybe it has something to do with one of the buttons being pushed,” Ariam observed. “The better we do at this, the better chance we have to survive it.” Without waiting for another response he turned toward his plate and pushed at it. It sank into the wall. He immediately yelped and jumped back. “Ouch!” he shouted. He turned to Belem shaking his hand and said, “I see what you mean.”

“It doesn’t always pay to be right, does it?” Belem grunted.

Suddenly the rumbling reappeared and the chamber trembled. Everyone moved inward before the walls did. They all sensed that at any moment the walls might come crushing inward on their last journey and completely fill the room. If that happened, the life would be smashed out of all four of them at once. The walls moved yet again, once more only encroaching about five more feet. They ground to a halt and this time there was also an awful metallic screeching noise.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Cecil said. He turned to his plate and tried once again. For the third time, it disappointed him.

Gael’jic spun to the plate with the scroll on it and pushed it. It sank into the wall and an accompanying painful jolt coursed down his arm. He howled and danced away from the wall, hissing at it. The rumbling started up once again and they all gathered together, pressing their backs against one another’s back on the stone pictograph in the center of the chamber. The walls quickly shot forward another five feet. The tortured sound of the machinery responsible for the wall’s movement rang out in their ears.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and the machine will stop working,” Ariam observed. Though his voice lacked conviction.

“It is up to you now,” Gael’jic said to Cecil. “You have the last one.”

They were huddled together shoulder to shoulder. The walls had closed in so close that Cecil did not have to stretch his arm all the way out to push the button. This time when he applied pressure, his circular plate sank into the wall. A surge of power like nothing he had ever felt coursed up his arm and permeated every fiber of his being. He threw his head back and roared in pain. He tried to pull his hand away from the plate, but it did not come. The pain continued.

Suddenly the hands of all of his companions wrapped around his arm and jerked his hand away from the plate.

The immediate relief from the agony of touching the plate was glorious. But it was soon replaced by a sense of foreboding as the sound of the chamber rumbling filled his ears once more.

“What?” Ariam exclaimed in disbelief. “But we solved the puzzle.”

“It sounds like we have failed,” Gael’jic said.

“Well,” Belem began, “I would say it was nice knowing all of you, but that would be a lie. I have basically hated every minute of it. Farewell.”

The walls moved once again. This time, however, they moved back outward. They carried on until they had reached their original position.

After several long, relieved seconds, they all breathed heavily and continued to lean onto one another.

Ariam turned a smiling face to Belem and said, “Sorry. Looks like you have to put up with us for a while longer.”

The convict rolled his eyes and said, “Some guys have all the luck.”

“Look,” Gael’jic said lifting his arm and pointing. They followed his direction and saw one of the walls now supported an open doorway. They all stared in wonder at it for a good long time not saying anything.

After a seeming eternity, Gael’jic said, “We should probably get going. There is no telling if this chamber’s puzzle will reset itself after a time and we will have to endure the walls once more.”

“Good point,” Cecil said. He did not wait for the others, but peeled away from them and strode toward the door.

CHAPTER 4. MISSING PERSON

Racine drummed his fingers on the tabletop then realized the action displayed his nervousness so he forced himself to stop. It was about the third time he had done so. They had been called to a special meeting of the Sector Representatives and he had a pretty good idea why. His companions in the proposed suit against the Triumvirate had met quickly before it. They hastily planned responses to a variety of eventualities. The chief concern would be the announcement regarding Zain’s disappearance that was doubtless forthcoming. The rest of the Sector Representatives were sure to take this as a surprise. Especially considering Zain was one of the appointed members of the new Triumvirate.

They lived in a time of high tension, not the least reason for which was the king’s recent assassination. Suspicions had only increased since that time. Trust was a dwindling commodity. They had to play this game very carefully if they were to have any chance to succeed.

When they had finished their impromptu debrief ahead of time, they arranged to arrive at the meeting separately. They did not want to appear as if they were in on something together. Which of course they were. But they didn’t want it to look that way.

Gillam had been appointed first of the group to arrive. A few minutes later Francisco came. Then it was Denthu, followed by Evander. Between these, others who were not part of their endeavor arrived and took their places. Racine came last. He tallied the number of his companions over and over in his mind. Five out of the thirteen Sector Representatives were on their side. It was not a majority, but the number was a significant portion. Surely whatever they had to say when they finally proposed the suit would carry weight.

He worked to keep himself from looking at his companions. Instead, he distracted himself by reading through documents on his tablet. Though he was already quite familiar with the legal documentation of the kingdom, he wanted it to be fresh in his mind when he presented the suit during this meeting.

Occasionally he looked up and was dismayed to see that though the time for the meeting drew close, neither Ryth nor Shahleen had arrived yet.

He wondered if that signaled something out of the ordinary. There was so much that fit that description already, he could not imagine what else it might be. Nevertheless, an annoying sensation of concern sat strongly within.

The hour for the meeting struck and still there was no sign of Ryth or Shahleen.

Several minutes passed and the banter around the table swelled.

He finally risked shooting a glance across the table to Gillam. He was glad to see a question on the man’s face instead of the usual fear.

At last, Shahleen strolled through the doorway and began uttering apologies. “Sorry, everyone, sorry,” she said flustered. “There’s just so much going on right now, it is hard to keep track of the time.”

A chorus of muttered dismissals echoed about the room.

She carried a large stack of books and electronic devices which she gingerly set on the tabletop in front of her seat. Three chairs had been arranged at the head of the table, one for each member of the Triumvirate. She stopped and looked at the two vacant seats for a handful of seconds and Racine got the impression that she was staging for the dramatic announcement of Zain’s disappearance. He was not wrong.

She turned sad eyes toward the gathered Sector Representatives and blew out a defeated sigh. “I know we have all been through so much already,” Shahleen began, “and I hate to do this to you, but I’m afraid I have some very bad news.”

Murmurs of curiosity broke out around the table and she held up a forestalling hand. The voices quieted and she continued. “I regret to inform you that one of the members of our newly appointed Triumvirate has gone missing.”

The murmurs returned, much more intense this time. Whispers of Zain and Ryth’s names bandied about the room, the representatives wondering which one it would be.

Speaking up, she nearly shouted to be heard over the tumult, “I don’t want you to sit around and guess at it, so I’m going to come right out and tell you. It is Zain that has gone missing.”

Someone cleared their throat. It was Denthu.

Shahleen arched her eyebrows as she looked at him and said, “Yes? What is it?”

“This is dreadful news,” he said looking at all of the other representatives for reassurance. Several nodded their heads. He continued, turning back to Shahleen. “I’m sure you’re about to tell us all that you know concerning his disappearance, but I have another question; this one concerning Lycas Ryth. Why is he not present if such a terrible thing has occurred? I would expect him to be here in such dire straits.”

Shahleen stared back at him with an unreadable expression. After a few uncomfortable heartbeats she responded, “Sadly, the Lord Advisor is away from the Palace on business from which he cannot extract himself. He will rejoin us shortly. But for the time being, I am the only member of the Triumvirate able to be here.”

Evander raised his hand. “Forgive me,” he began, “but isn’t the point of a Triumvirate that the power and responsibility are spread out and not located in a single person? Does not Ryth’s absence subvert that whole purpose?”

“Please,” Shahleen said. “I beg your patience and understanding. These are difficult times.”

“So we have heard,” Denthu replied darkly.

She ignored this and went on. “This is hard enough as it is. We have lost a king, and now one of our very own has gone missing. Let us be cautious so that we do not fall into bickering and divisions.”

Shahleen’s eyes suddenly darted to Racine. He saw in those eyes a pleading for his help. He was torn. He hated to see her flounder like this, but on the other hand, this all fed perfectly into the point he was about to bring up.

He decided he was going to help her, just not in the way she wanted. This tumultuous chaos was the perfect opportunity. There would be no better opportunity than this to propose the suit against the Triumvirate’s formation. He opened his mouth and was ready to say so when Shahleen raised her hand once again.

“Please,” she said. “I have even more important business to share. But I need you all to calm down and listen.”

Something in her demeanor changed at that moment. Racine couldn’t quite identify what it was, but he didn’t like it. There was an expression on her face he didn’t believe he had seen before. It did not seem at all like her.

A sudden sinking feeling took hold of him. He could not say how he knew, but he seemed to intuit that some truly bad news was about to drop on them all.

From the look Gillam and Francisco shot him in the same moment, he guessed they felt it too.

CHAPTER 5. ANNOUNCEMENT

“Please,” she said again, though much sterner this time. She continued, “This is not the time to fall into factions that cannot work together. Regardless of Ryth’s absence, he and I have met privately and I have something to present to all of you that he and I devised jointly.” She drew in a shuddering breath as if caught unawares by a wave of emotion. When she regained herself, she added, “It is something Zain worked on with us before his disappearance as well. Therefore, regardless of my being the only one to present it, it does represent the will of the Triumvirate. I feel I have to make that very clear.”

“Very well,” Denthu said, “you have piqued our interest. Why don’t you just get on with it?”

Shahleen stared hard at the man. Racine suppressed a gasp. Zain’s disappearance was truly a significant event, but he could not imagine it having galvanized her so. She had always been such an even-keeled and gentle person. The woman that stood before them now seemed different. She looked like Shahleen, and she sounded like Shahleen, but she was not acting like his friend.

He suddenly grew worried about the conversations he had with her over the last several weeks. He wondered if she had been influenced by Ryth against him. He prayed that was not the case.

Yet, something in the set of her jaw and the razor edge of her stare told him she had not merely been influenced, but in truth, she had been changed somehow, and not for the better.

She looked away from Denthu and refocused on the rest of the room. She withdrew a tablet from the stack of devices and papers she had set before her place at the table. She tapped it bringing it to life and scrolled until she came to the document she wanted. She tapped it a few more times and then began to read.

She said, “By decree of the ruling Triumvirate of the Human Citadel on the planet of Dar’ryn, we the members of the ruling Triumvirate reluctantly but resolutely take for ourselves the burden of emergency powers. We do this not to take undue strength for ourselves, but for the good of the kingdom.”

“No!” The word resounded around the chamber and all eyes, including Shahleen’s, shot to the speaker. Racine realized only after the fact that it was he who had said it. He found himself standing at the table his knuckles pressed into the surface of the tabletop as he leaned forward having shouted the word. He was almost as surprised as anyone that he had said it. His attention tracked around the table and saw the astonished expressions on all of their faces. Gillam’s jaw hung open in shock. Denthu sported a wide-eyed look of surprise mixed with horror. Evander and Francisco shared concerned glances. The rest gaped at him.

The worst of it came from Shahleen. She looked devastated. But he had come this far, so he had to go the rest of the way.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but this is not appropriate. Neither is it legal.”

Shahleen blinked a few times then recovered. “It is an emergency,” she countered. “The desperation of the hour requires unprecedented action. Believe me when I say I know and understand your concerns, Racine. But also know that I cannot see it any other way.”

“Then you’re not trying hard enough,” Racine replied. He could not believe the acid in his tone and prayed she could forgive him in time. But this was indeed a desperate moment. If he and the others did not stand up now, there would be no time to stand later.

“These are dark days indeed,” Racine said looking around the table. “But we will only make them darker if we allow this. The rule of law has been subverted left and right because of this Triumvirate. It is an illegal body that should never have been formed. It is clear from this move that our ways are being trampled. I, therefore, propose we move straight into a discussion of new business. I find that fitting since this proposition of emergency powers is a point of new business that has already been proposed out of order.”

“You misunderstand,” Shahleen said, her voice icy. “This is not a proposition. We are not going to be voting on this. This is simply a pronouncement. The Triumvirate is merely informing you what we are doing. We are not asking you.”

“Then the Triumvirate has misunderstood its place in the rule of law,” Racine said, his voice rising.

Francisco stood. “I agree with Racine. This is altogether out of order. I propose we hear Racine’s new business.”

Shahleen cleared her throat. “That is actually part of the pronouncement I have yet to read. I request you silence yourselves and listen to the rest of the pronouncement.” She looked down at the tablet and found her place and continued, not waiting for anyone to interrupt.

“The Council of the Sector Representatives is temporarily disbanded. All new business from the Sector Representatives is therefore suspended pending a special investigation.”

Racine’s jaw dropped this time. “Special investigation?” he said. “Investigation of what?”

“It has come to our attention, that there are likely some within the Sector Representatives that are fomenting conspiracy against the kingdom.”

“This is egregious,” Francisco shouted at her. “Sit down or recuse yourself immediately from the Triumvirate,” he demanded.

She stood resolute. “I shall do no such thing, Sector Representative.” The last phrase came out sounding like a curse on her tongue. It sounded unnatural coming from her.

“Tell us more about the special investigation,” Denthu said, his fingers steepled in front of him as he rested his elbows on the table. “What does it seek to accomplish?”

Shahleen shifted darkened eyes to him and replied, “As I have already stated, there are evidences of conspiracy among the Sector Representatives.”

“Nonsense,” Francisco muttered.

Shahleen ignored the comment and continued. “The special investigation seeks to identify the personages involved in the conspiracy. It has become clear to the Triumvirate that roots of corruption have reached all the way to the very offices of the Sector Representatives. We possess evidence that the assassination of King Beirand is directly linked to this corruption.”

“Oh really?” Francisco said dubiously. “Why should we believe you? First, it was unnamed dissidents within the kingdom. Then it was one of his very own bodyguards. Now you’re telling us it reaches this very chamber. You can’t seem to make up your mind. Which is it?”

“Why does it only have to be one of those?” Shahleen said arching an eyebrow. “A conspiracy, after all, requires many.”

“There is corruption,” Francisco snarled at her. “But it is not in us. It is in your precious Triumvirate.”

“Watch your tongue,” Shahleen seethed.

“Watch yours!” he roared in response. An uncomfortable silence ensued. Then, Francisco pressed, ignoring her implied threat. “How do we know Zain’s disappearance doesn’t have to do with the Triumvirate’s own corruption? Maybe you and Ryth are the ones who made him disappear? Maybe he disappeared because he was terrified of being found out himself? Have any of you thought of that?”

“You walk a dangerous line,” she said icily.

Racine slowly sank back in his seat. He wished Francisco would sit down and be quiet, too, but he did not dare say anything out loud for fear of others thinking they might be tied together in some corrupt conspiracy. They were of course tied together in an attempt to fight corruption rather than succumb to it.

Shahleen slapped her palm down on the table. The report of it resounded around the Council chamber. “This is not up for discussion,” she said firmly. “When Lycas Ryth returns, we would be happy to meet with you together.”

Francisco laughed. “Lycas Ryth!” he sneered. “If you desire to find a source of corruption, look no further than that man.”

Shahleen arched an eyebrow again. “Is that so? And what do you have to support that? Do you have any kind of evidence?”

Francisco smiled and leaned forward on the table then caught himself. Racine’s heart froze when he realized his companion in the web to take down the Triumvirate had very nearly spilled their identities as well as their possession of illegally obtained video content of Ryth intimidating the Queen into silence.

He was grateful when Francisco closed his mouth and leaned back remaining silent.

“No?” Shahleen pressed. “I didn’t think so. Perhaps you ought to be more careful about your accusations in the future. It might turn suspicion back on yourself.”

She skewered him in a stare for a good six seconds before turning an angry face at the rest of the table. “As for the rest of you, you are to return to your quarters. You are not to leave. You are not to meet with one another or contact one another. You are to wait until the investigative teams come and interview each of you individually about recent events.”

“This is preposterous overreach,” Francisco seethed as he sat back in his seat.

Shahleen leveled a withering glare at the man before she continued. “This kingdom stands upon the edge of a precipice. We do not need hotheaded outbursts or fanatics to ruin it. The wrong move could push us over the edge and plunge us all into darkness. I trust you will all obey these instructions to the letter. If you do not, expect to find yourself garnering special attention from the investigative teams. And believe me when I say that will be a very unpleasant experience indeed. Good day.”

With that, she spun around on her heels and strode out of the room leaving her belongings on the table.

CHAPTER 6. PINNACLE

The cold bit his human face but he ignored this. He had just stepped out of a gate and into the cold wastes of the frozen mountaintops of the Throne of the Gods. He stood in the open colonnade rotunda of the uppermost pinnacle of the once-grand temple.

It had been ages since he had been there. He sniffed at it derisively as he looked around. Hundreds of years had passed and he had not needed to come back here in person. During previous rounds of the contest, some of Rama’dy’ac’s champions had made it quite far in their journeys. But none had ever come this far. It bothered him greatly, though he would not admit this out loud, that all four of Rama’dy’ac’s current champions had lived to this point. Something was afoot. And he intended to put a stop to it.

He would also not admit that he sensed hints of desperation within himself. It had driven him to a level of frustration he loathed to consider.

He strode forward to the edge of the platform of the pinnacle rotunda and gazed down. The temple stood at the highest mountain point on the Throne of the Gods. The planet itself was not called the Throne of the Gods. But the place in which he now stood bore that name. The planet itself had a name but it was long forgotten. And besides, he did not care for it in the first place. Names were only for things of value, and he saw no worth in this place. In fact, it would be the first thing he would tear down when this final round of the game was complete.

The wind whipped around him at high speeds. Long strings of his black hair were thrown about in a multiplicity of directions. Likewise, the long dark folds of his robes and his cloak flapped haphazardly about as well. A lesser being would have to be careful. They might get pushed by the force of the gales over the edge and tumble down the mountainside. It would surely break them into pieces if that happened. But he was no mere mortal being.

He was a god himself, or so he considered it. Others called him a demon. Little did they know.

His attention dropped down beyond the lip of the platform of the rotunda. Situated on the highest point as he was, he had a spectacular view of the surrounding region.

The mountaintop on which the temple was built overlooked a vast plain far below frozen under a gnawing wintery environment. The day was cloudless and so no fresh snow fell at the moment. But there was plenty of it gathered on the mountain and the plain around it.

His eyes carefully scoured the deserted tundra of the plain surrounding the mountain upon which he stood. There was no sign of movement.

He would be surprised if the champions of Rama’dy’ac ever made it out of the labyrinth. But then again, he had been surprised any of them had made it as far as they did.

His gaze traced beyond to the plain’s edge. The plain itself was encompassed by an unpassable range of mountains. This mountain range encircled the plain and the singular mountain within and upon which the temple had been constructed. The only way into the expanse of frozen land and thereafter into the shelter of the temple was through the labyrinth.

His eyes scoured the mountain range edge. Somewhere down there was the singular entrance out onto the frozen drifts. No mere mortal would be able to locate it from the place he stood. But his keen eyes were able to penetrate the distance. At least, the one good eye that remained. The left side of his face had been attacked and scarred by the captive Dar’ryneel the Prince had kept in the Palace in the Human Citadel on Dar’ryn. He could have had the wound treated, but elected not to. He could even have healed the scar under his own power without consulting any physician. But he preferred to keep the scar. It would unnerve those who looked on him. He might heal the eye later, but he had not decided definitively whether or not to do that.

For now, he simply stared down the expanse of the mountainside and across the plain, taking in the four tiny shelters along the way, until he located the exit from the labyrinth. There it was. So small and insignificant. Just like those who currently were lost in its guts.

He vowed to remain on the planet until he could be sure he would not be bothered by the champions any longer.

His servants, Jobash and Marcos, had failed him. Even his implacable Shedi’im had failed him. He still reeled from that last one. Jobash and Marcos had been slain in the process. A small handful of his Shedi’im had even been killed by the champions of Rama’dy’ac. He still hadn’t figured that out precisely. He knew it had something to do with that odd glowing flower. Yet he could not puzzle out why that had worked. Nevertheless, some of them died. The rest were now cowering and waiting for him to return. They had been sent through one of his gates to the planet Dar’ryn. He still had use for them. They would be the primary implement of his wrath to destroy the Human Citadel when the time came. It was not far off. But he had other things to accomplish first. Namely foiling the four exiles.

He beheld the place where the exiles were to emerge eventually if they ever made it out of the labyrinth. As he thought about it, a fresh plan began to form. A wicked smile stretched one corner of his mouth as he contemplated what he would do.

Yes, he thought. That would be delightful.

At this point in the game, he was forbidden from directly attacking the so-called champions of Rama’dy’ac. He never had. It was annoying, but he was willing enough to obey the rules. He didn’t want to foul things up by not doing so. If he transgressed the rules, he would incur penalties; penalties which might grieve his schemes, or even prevent their full fruition. Therefore, he would not do so, at least not until he had gained enough power that it was irrelevant whether he followed the rules or not.

But he did not have to attack them directly to subvert them. No, he had a better idea than that.

That meant he wasn’t simply going to wait around for them to show up in the temple. He had work to do.

He slowly raised his hands, chanting ancient dead words under his breath. His remaining eye glowed orange – pale at first, then brilliantly. Out in the distance clouds coalesced. They were small and wispy white things at first, then as they multiplied, they darkened and cast sharp shadows onto the plain. Soon snow poured forth from them and the land was obscured by the gathered cloud cover.

He ceased.

A dark shelf of clouds stretched out before him, obscuring the view of the plain and enveloping it in a raging snowstorm that would be hell to navigate once the exiles exited the labyrinth.

He turned and looked at the stairs leading down out of the open colonnaded rotunda and into the chamber below. Down there was the true Throne of the Gods. He strode over to the stairs and descended until he was immersed in the chamber.

He halted halfway down the stairs and looked around in confusion. Something was not right.

The chamber was empty, save the thrones.

There were four thrones in the circular chamber. The four were positioned equally around the exterior most points of the circle. They faced toward the vacant center of the circle. It was one throne in particular that caught his attention. He was not surprised the others were vacant. One of them had after all belonged to himself once upon a time. Until he had been cast out, that was.

The others had gone vacant over the intervening centuries. One by one, as Uri’thind’ac defeated Rama’dy’ac and the other gods in the game, as he decimated their worlds, he had overthrown the ones responsible for governing those worlds.

After his victories at Remmice and Cairn, he had unseated and killed those gods. Now, only he and Rama’dy’ac remained. But where was the old fool? He should be here.

Was he up to something? That was the only explanation for why his champions were succeeding now where they had always failed before.

He considered this a while, then dismissed it. It didn’t matter. He was so close to winning that he would not concern himself over it. Whatever desperate attempt the old fool was trying for, it wouldn’t work.

Getting consumed in trivialities such as this was useless. He had work to do and he had a plan to implement. He needed to get to it.

It was time to have a little fun.

CHAPTER 7. LABYRINTH

They found themselves in complete darkness. It was cold and the only sensation aside from that was the sound of their heavy breathing. But that swiftly changed when a faint blue glow started to illuminate the environment. It emanated from the sack at Gael’jic’s hip. He snatched it up and opened it. He reached in and extracted a glowing Illuminoc flower. He held it up and its light pierced the darkness. The four of them now stood in a brilliant bubble of light a few meters wide.

The light was sharp and cast angular shadows in all directions.

“How big do you think this place is?” Belem asked.

No one had an answer. The best anyone had was a growing sense of fear they might never get out of the place. If they had been right, and the pictograph on the floor of the chamber they had just vacated truly did represent the mazelike nature of the place, this could spell trouble. It had been complex, and even for Gael’jic’s scholastic mind, it presented a difficult path to navigate.

“Now that we are past that first part,” Gael’jic said, “we ought to stop and think for a few minutes.”

“Are we so sure that’s a good idea?” Ariam asked. “Could it be that every turn will present a new and deadly puzzle that must be overcome? If we linger here, something might happen that otherwise would not if we move on.”

No one else had thought of that. Everyone briefly shared looks of concern and then started peeking around their environment. They started to consider that they might be in for more trouble than they realized. They watched and waited almost expecting something to happen. After a few tense moments when nothing did, everyone relaxed a little. But not all the way.

“I think Gael’jic is right,” Cecil said. “Let’s take a few minutes and put some thought into this. But we must be wary. We do not know what hazards this maze holds.”

In truth, Cecil wanted time to do more than just think. He needed to recuperate. As well, he needed time to think about what Vael had said – or rather had not said – before Cecil crossed the gate into the deadly puzzle chamber they had just escaped. Cecil knew this place held some kind of test for him. But it would be more than just solving dangerous puzzles. It would address something within him.

Vael had revealed that something was lacking in each of them and it must be addressed before they could ever hope to have success and victory against Lycas Ryth. In some way, the other three had already had their lack addressed. Or at least the beginnings of it.

They had been so consumed with surviving the many dangers they had faced that Cecil had assumed they had all but forgotten about his lack. Vael had revealed his area of deficit was hope. Despite all they had seen and overcome, Cecil still felt that void. A gnawing part of him warned that it never could be fixed. He would always lack hope. And it wasn’t that he did not want them to overcome and defeat Ryth. He wanted it so desperately. The trouble was he didn’t think it was possible.

He had failed in the most egregious way possible. He had been made to stand by and watch as his primary charge in life, maintaining the life and well-being of the king of the Human Citadel, was brought to an inglorious end. His king had been assassinated before his helpless eyes, and he keenly felt his heart’s demand to see Beirand’s demise as his responsibility. But it was a failure that could not be rectified. There was no repairing the ruin. So too he also believed there was no repairing that which was broken within him. He intended to continue pressing on, but he did not think they would come out victorious. He kept this quiet from the others knowing that to say it would bring him under a barrage of attempts at persuading him otherwise.

“So where is this Guide Vael promised?” Belem harrumphed.

Cecil snapped out of his distracted thoughts and looked at Belem. He blinked a few times as he assimilated the convict’s words. Yes, the Guide. Vael had said something about them being met by a Guide in the labyrinth. He looked around to see if there might be any sign of someone they had not yet noticed. The passageway was occupied by only them. There was no sign anyone had been down this way in a long time.

“Maybe he’s lost too,” Ariam said cheerfully. He turned his smiling face toward Belem. Belem looked at the man for a few seconds, rolled his eyes, and turned to face Cecil.

“Are we supposed to just wait here for him, do you think?” Belem asked.

“I have no idea,” Cecil replied. “But something tells me we ought to push on from here.”

“That’s great,” Belem said snidely, “but where do we go? If this place is a maze, we are more likely to get lost if we try to move out from here.”

“We could just stay here, shrivel up, and die,” Cecil snapped. “Would you prefer that?”

“I would prefer to not be here at all,” Belem grumbled.

Gael’jic cleared his throat and all turned their attention to him. “I think I can be of service,” he said. “Do not forget that I spent time studying the maze pictograph. If you trust me, I can get us some distance into solving this maze. We will at least be closer to the exit that way.”

“Are we sure that’s what this was?” Belem pressed. “It might only have looked like a maze. It could have been nothing more than an artistic design for all we know.”

Cecil shook his head. “No,” he said, “don’t forget: the pictograph changed right when the chamber changed. I believe Gael’jic is right. It represents the layout of this labyrinth.”

“I’m all for it,” Ariam said. “But should we take a vote or something?”

“No,” Cecil said firmly. “Gael’jic is right. We ought to try his way. And since he’s the one with the glowing flowers, anyone who doesn’t want to be left in the dark should follow him.”

Belem grunted. “I guess it’s not like I have anything better to do,” he said. “Lead the way, lizard.”

CHAPTER 8. THE WALLS HAVE MORE THAN JUST EARS

They meandered forever in the darkness. Their only Guide was Gael’jic’s memory of the pictograph. Cecil began to worry he’d been foolish to stand so strongly behind the assertion that it truly had been a map of the maze. He might have doomed them all if he was wrong on that point. At least that way his lack of hope would have been a null point, he thought wryly.

“Can’t we move a little faster at least?” Belem asked. “There’s no telling how long that flower will last.”

“Why do you say that?” Ariam asked.

Belem shrugged. “It’s been cut from a larger plant, hasn’t it? Such things die eventually. We can’t expect it to last forever.”

“I had not thought of that,” Gael’jic said in frustration. He held the flower up and looked at the cut stem. The vine had once been vibrant and green, but now he saw the edges where it had been removed from the larger plant now started to brown and dry. He sighed and said, “He may be right.”

“It’s lasted this long,” Cecil said, trying to reassure the group with a confidence he did not feel. “Standing here worrying about it will not make the plant last longer. We should keep moving.”

Gael’jic nodded and continued apace. They were a long time traveling without conversation after that point. The farther they went the more Gael’jic hesitated when they came to a junction. No one said anything but this raised their anxiety all around. Once, he turned down a particular corner, halted a few paces then turned around and headed in the other direction.

“We’re not lost, are we?” Belem asked in a testy tone breaking the silence at last.

“We are obviously lost,” Gael’jic retorted. “But my memory holds. We will find our way out of this place.”

Belem squinted in the dark and opened his mouth to say something but then a noise intruded and he shut his mouth quickly.

“What was that?” Ariam asked in a hushed and nervous whisper.

No one answered. Instead, they all fell quiet trying to listen to see if the sound would return, clearer this time.

Ariam recalled his travels through the Citadel wall. This felt to him much like that. Except, in that case, he had to worry about ancient robotic figures programmed to attack intruders. So far in the present case, a chamber had tried to crush them to death. He couldn’t figure out if one was worse than the other. Regardless, he was starting to miss being in the open air. In the labyrinth, the walls felt like they were closing in on them. And not just because they actually had been in the previous chamber.

They continued a little farther after no sound came back to them. They carried on this way until at last, the sound returned. This time it was clearer. It sounded like distant tapping as if someone was hitting a stone repeatedly on one of the walls. There were five taps followed by prolonged silence.

Eventually, Cecil shouted, “Who is there? Reveal yourself!”

The only answer that came back was silence.

After a few more tense moments, Gael’jic resumed leading them into the depths of the labyrinth. They turned a few more corners and came to what appeared to be a dead end. Gael’jic halted and made a thoughtful noise.

“What now?” Belem demanded. He stared ahead and saw the wall blocking their way in the distance. He growled and then said, “You really have gotten us lost, haven’t you? Thanks a lot, lizard.”

“No,” Gael’jic said. “I have not led us astray. This wall ought not to be here.”

He adopted a contemplative posture as he stared at the wall. After a few moments, he strode slowly toward it. He halted a few paces away from the wall as he examined the structure. Everyone had followed him not wanting to be left alone in the dark.

“So, what? You think that the walls changed and it’s not your memory of the pictograph?” There was an obvious challenge and Belem’s voice. Gael’jic ignored this as he continued to stare at the wall. He moved over to one of the corners and ran a finger along the seam where the walls met.

Finally, he said, “Yes, that is precisely what I think. It appears that there is a slight gap in the wall here.” He bent low and examined the floor. “Look here,” he said pointing. “Do you notice the signs of scraping against the floor? This wall has indeed moved.”

“How do we get past it?” Cecil asked. “Is there some mechanism to move it again?”

Gael’jic spun around and looked at the walls of the hallway. “There could be,” he said. “Please search.”

“You remain in the middle of us,” Cecil said. “That way we will all have the light to show us the walls.” The Dar’rynakai nodded and remained stationary. Ariam went immediately to one wall and Cecil to the other. Belem stood where he was watching them. He shook his head.

“This is ridiculous,” he said.

Cecil spun and stared at the man hard. “You think everything is ridiculous.”

“That’s because so far everything has been ridiculous,” Belem retorted. “Have you ever encountered so many odd things so close together?”

“What of it?” Cecil replied. “Regardless of how strange things have been, we need to press on!”

“Why?” Belem shouted back. “To what end?”

“I don’t know!” Cecil shouted thoughtlessly back at him.

Belem blinked in surprise. That was not the answer he had expected from the former Royal Guardian.

“I don’t know,” Cecil repeated quieter. “This whole thing beggars my understanding as much as anything ever has. I have been at a loss for weeks. I don’t understand strange sea monsters or demonic creatures or hypnotized servants of some ancient god. None of this makes sense to me.”

Belem stared back at him. Then the convict said, “Then why do you press on as you have been?”

“Because it’s the only thing I know how to do.” The two men stared at each other for a good long while. Ariam clearing his throat is what broke their nonverbal engagement.

They turned their eyes to the beggar and Belem loudly said, “What?”

“I think I found the device to open the wall,” he said.

He pointed to a lever on the wall that was buried within the stone and flush with it. “See here?” he said, pointing.

Cecil broke away from Belem and strode over to it. He squinted his eyes as he leaned closer. “By all means,” Cecil said lifting his hand to indicate the lever. Ariam nodded and reached for it.

Over his shoulder, Cecil heard Belem lean forward and whisper, “We’re not done.”

Ariam pulled the lever and immediately the corridor trembled. Plumes and trailers of dust fell from the ceiling and they all turned toward the wall waiting for it to move aside. But the wall remained in place.

“It’s rumbling, so why isn’t it working?” Ariam asked.

They all stared at the wall for another few seconds until Belem said, “I think I understand. That noise isn’t coming from the wall. It’s coming from behind us.”

The four companions slowly turned and stared down the corridor to where the light from the Illuminoc flower penetrated.

There they saw movement.

Bits of the corridor wall behind them pushed out. A brick came away from the wall and jutted out. This was followed by another connected to the first. Then a third. The first brick swiveled at the end of the second and five protrusions shot out from it. It looked like a hand.

On the opposite wall, much the same was happening. The walls were coming to life.

Ariam immediately thought of the deadly robotic creatures he encountered in the Citadel wall yet again.

“Oh no,” he said. “Not again.” The others turned confused expressions to the beggar.

CHAPTER 9. CLOSER THAN YOU’D LIKE

One of the brick hands that freed itself from the wall slapped the stony surface and began to push. Soon stone shoulders emerged from the wall. Dried mud and dust fell in copious amounts away from the thing’s emergence. On the opposite wall, another creature presented itself. In the brilliant light of the Illuminoc flower, they saw the joints between stone portions of the creatures were reflective metallic surfaces.

“What are they?” Gael’jic asked in a worried hiss.

“I think they’re robots,” Ariam said.

“I do not know this word,” Gael’jic said sounding frustrated. “What is a robot?”

“It is not a living thing,” Cecil said quickly. “But it looks and acts like one. It is a creature of technology. It has no will of its own but carries out the instructions of programs imprinted on its technological mind.”

“Abomination,” Gael’jic said with a snarl. “Who would ever make such a thing?”

“That doesn’t matter right now,” Belem said. “Right now, we have to figure out how to protect ourselves from these two things.”

“Four,” Gael’jic corrected.

“What?” Ariam said.

“There are two more beyond those you can see,” Gael’jic answered. “I can see them in the dark.”

Ariam squinted and leaned forward. He could not make them out but he believed the Dar’rynakai.

“Well,” Belem said, “at least this won’t be the first time we fought something stone.” They all remembered freeing Vael from the statue in the subterranean chamber of the forgotten city. That had been an immense chore for them to accomplish. And there had only been one of them. Now they faced four stone opponents.

The first of the things freed itself from the wall completely. With one last push, it extracted itself from the stone corridor wall. It landed with a heavy thud on the floor. It slowly turned to face the four companions but made no move to approach.

“Maybe they’re not going to fight us,” Ariam said with a note of hope in his voice.” Maybe these things are our Guides?”

Gael’jic shook his head. “No,” he said. “Vael told us there would be one Guide. I do not have a good feeling about these things. I do not believe they will try to help us.”

“So far they’re not trying to stop us,” Belem offered skeptically.

The newly freed creature turned to its companion and helped pull it out of the wall. The second creature, now freed, landed noisily on the floor. Soon the two others that had been beyond the light and beyond the vision of the humans came into the glow of the Illuminoc flower. Then they started moving slowly toward the companions.

“Get ready,” Cecil said.

“Get ready for what, exactly?” Ariam said.

“A fight,” Belem said. “The lizard is right. These things are not here to help us. I see that now.”

There was not a lot of space in the corridor to maneuver. Cecil strode forward to distance himself from the others. He hefted his spear at the ready and leaned forward preparing to strike.

“Stop right there,” he shouted. The stone creatures continued plodding forward as if they had not heard him.

“There are four of them,” Gael’jic whispered.

“What of it?” Belem said.

“There are four of us,” Gael’jic replied. “One for each of us. Do you not think this is by design?”

“What about it?” Belem said getting more and more impatient. He had his knives in hand now and he was itching for violence.

Gael’jic grunted and said, “Remember the stone statue which imprisoned Vael? Each of us had to insert the spear into a different spot on its belt. Do you recall?”

“Yes,” Belem said, growing interested. Then after a few seconds, he realized where the Dar’rynakai was going. “We each have one to defeat, don’t we?”

“I believe so,” Gael’jic said. “And if I do not miss my guess, none of us can help the others.”

“What?” Ariam nearly exploded with worry. “You mean I’m supposed to handle one of these things by myself?”

“Looks that way,” Belem said. “Good luck beggar.”

“Can I at least have one of your knives?” Ariam pleaded.

Belem flipped the weapon so that he held the blade in his hand and offered the handle to Ariam without looking at him. He said, “Not sure how much good it’s going to do, but here you go.”

Ariam sighed, reached out, and accepted the weapon.

“I don’t see any slots like the statue had,” Cecil observed from up ahead of them.

“I don’t think these are the same,” Gael’jic replied. “I am not convinced weapons will do anything against them.”

“Then how are we supposed to defeat them?” Ariam said, his eyes darting between his companions and the approaching stone menace. He backed up a step watching the one that seemed to place its focus on him.

“Sorry, can’t help you,” Cecil said. One of the stone monstrosities had arrived and swung a fist at him. He dodged out of the way and then thrust his spear back at the creature. The sharp hardened end of the weapon connected with the creature’s thigh but bounced off. The thing wasn’t phased in the slightest. The other stone creatures marched beyond Cecil paying him no mind. At least the rest of them are ignoring me, he thought. Maybe that will give us an advantage.

The stone creature before him struck again, this time with amazing speed. It thrust its fist forward and landed the punch on his upper right chest. His armor did a fair job of absorbing the blow, but he was still driven back and felt pain at the strike.

He examined the thing as it drew its arm back. He saw a circular plate in the center of its chest much like the ones they had seen in the chamber in which they had arrived. He caught a glimpse of the design. It was the vertical sword he had seen on the plate he had been required to push in the previous chamber.

“Look at their chests,” Cecil shouted over his shoulder while keeping a wary eye on his opponent. “They have circle plates just like back in the chamber,” he explained.

It dawned on him that meant the spear would do him no good. He would have to put his hand on the plate and push. As would the others with theirs. But how was he going to get by the thing’s defenses? It surely would not allow him to come in close and do what he needed to do.

Gael’jic rushed forward and went into a crouch. He pushed against the floor with his feet and somersaulted forward. He rolled past the stone creature headed for Ariam. In the process, he whipped at the thing with its tail so it would be thrown off balance. His thick muscular tail struck the creature in the side shoving it to the wall. It lifted its arms to balance itself and Ariam took his opportunity. He knew it was probably the only one he would get.

Ariam darted forward and thrust his hand at the stone creature’s chest. His hand landed on the plate with the image of a hand and three coins. Just like back in the chamber. The plate sank into the chest of the creature and Ariam felt a jolt of power come out of the thing. This time it was stronger than back in the chamber. He was thrown off his feet back toward the wall that was not supposed to have been there. His back collided with the wall and he slid down. His head swam from the impact. He tipped over and collapsed onto his side. A little moan escaped him and he struggled to recover.

At the same time, Gael’jic came in within the reach of the creature angling for him. With rapid movements, he thrust his arm upward and connected his hand with the circular plate on the stone robot’s chest. The monster’s arms came down trying to bat his hand away. But it was too late. The plate sank into the thing’s chest and then Gael’jic was thrown backward as Ariam had been. The surge of power from the creature was immense.

By the time Gael’jic collided with the wall and slid down next to Ariam, Belem was grappling with his own monster. The stone-armored robotic thing tried to wrap Belem in a deadly hug. Belem shot his hands up and grabbed the thing’s arms struggling mightily to keep them from enveloping him. He pulled back and maneuvered his leg up so his foot rested on the circular plate. He then pulled back with his arms and thrust forward with his foot. He forced the plate back into the creature’s chest. Power suddenly surged up his leg and threw him backward. He skidded a few paces away from Ariam and Gael’jic. His body was wracked with pain and he felt unable to move. He grunted against the sensation but it was no good.

Meanwhile, Cecil was blocking strikes from the creature before him with his spear, shoving the blows aside. For something made of stone, it moved quite fast.

After he thrust one such strike away he moved inward and shoved the palm of his hand toward the thing’s midsection. But the creature was fast and easily batted the blow away. The stone monster punched him in the chest again forcing him backward.

Cecil staggered several paces and then established himself once more. He threw a chance look over his shoulder and beheld his companions lying helplessly on the ground. They had defeated their opponents, but in doing so were incapacitated from helping him in any way. He was on his own.

An idea struck. He hunched his shoulders forward and then darted toward the stone beast. When he came within striking distance he dropped to the floor of the hallway and allowed the momentum of his movement to carry him forward. He slid between the creature’s legs and came up behind it. He wrapped his arms around it and found the stone plate with both hands. He pulled backward until he felt the plate sink into the creature’s chest.

Power arced through both his hands and ejected him off the monstrosity.

He collided painfully with the unforgiving stone floor of the hallway. But he landed at such an angle that he could watch as the creature fell apart. He then noticed the other three creatures had disassembled as well. Now all four of them were piles of stone. But each glowed with yellow light. The circular plates of their chests emanated the light.

He felt the pain and incapacity that had taken hold of him subside. He pushed himself up from the floor and beheld his companions do the same.

The corridor all around them began to tremble and a loud noise permeated the space.

CHAPTER 10. SURPRISE VISIT

The first indication that he was not alone was when the other man cleared his throat. Racine nearly jumped out of his skin. He did jump out of his chair and spun to lay eyes on the one who had made the noise. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief when he saw it was Vellin.

“Don’t do that!” Racine growled.

“Sorry,” Vellin said, though he didn’t sound at all sorry. “It’s not exactly as if I can announce myself these days. Plus, your main entrance is being guarded. I take it that means your last meeting didn’t go very well.” He raised his eyebrows in expectation of a confirming answer.

Still coming down off the jump scare, Racine shook his head. “No,” he breathed. “It did not go well at all. I suppose you can tell by the fact that my door is being guarded. I can’t leave.”

Vellin swept his gaze around the apartment. “I suppose there are worse prisons one could find himself in. I’m sure Zain could testify to that by now.”

Racine blinked at Vellin, surprised to hear the captive Sector Representative’s name spoken out loud, even in his private apartment. Since they had located the listening devices the devious man had planted, it didn’t feel particularly private anymore. “It might not be a good idea to say that name out loud,” Racine said in a hushed voice.

“I wouldn’t worry,” Vellin responded. “I’ve got enough equipment on me right now working to befuddle anyone trying to listen in. They won’t even realize their tech isn’t working. Or at least not in enough time to do anything. I don’t intend to stay long.”

“That would probably be wise,” Racine said. “If you get caught in here…”

“I won’t,” Vellin said firmly. “And even if I do, Kaelinn is close by. She can do a fair job of extracting me out of most dangers.”

Racine leaned in and arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that? Do you realize who is guarding my door?”

Vellin nodded and said, “I do. Those are members of the Lord Advisor’s private cachet of guards if I don’t miss my guess.”

“Then you know the rumors about them,” Racine returned.

“I am well aware of the things whispered in the dark about such men. I don’t exactly put a lot of stock in all of it. I may even be responsible for some of it.”

Racine slowly shook his head. “We know Lycas Ryth is a dangerous man. Can you imagine the kind of people he surrounds himself with? They’re not exactly going to be kind if they apprehend you. Or, worse; me.”

“Neither will Kaelinn be gentle if she has to come to my rescue,” Vellin retorted, the nonchalant affection had vanished from his disposition. “Why don’t you tell me what happened at the meeting?”

Racine drew in a steadying breath and then unfolded a play-by-play of the meeting. Vellin listened with intent, never betraying what was going on behind his implacable mask of a face. He only nodded at the appropriate places and made an occasional thoughtful noise.

When Racine had finished his tale, Vellin stood quiet and unmoving for a long time then said, “I take it this sort of maneuver is highly unusual for this Shahleen woman?”

“Beyond unusual,” Racine retorted, a little louder than he intended. Then, quieter, he added, “She did not seem herself. It was disconcerting.”

“Have you considered Ryth has done something to her?”

Racine tilted his head. “Done something? Such as?”

“I don’t know,” Vellin said. “I merely point out that what you encountered may be suggestive. A change in personality and behavior indicates something out of the ordinary, does it not?”

“Of course it does, but I cannot fathom what it might be,” Racine said. He was feeling at his wit’s end and had been for a while. He didn’t need Vellin stirring him up like this. He continued, “Whatever it is, it is bad. We have enough trouble as it is with Ryth. We don’t need good people like Shahleen being twisted or manipulated.”

Vellin made another thoughtful sound. Then he said, “Does Shahleen seem like the type of person who would be easily manipulated?”

“Not in the slightest,” Racine said. “That’s what troubles me so deeply about this.”

“Then do your best to keep an eye on her and watch for anything else out of the ordinary,” Vellin said. “I know you can’t exactly do that well while confined to your place here, but do what you can. The temptation to let the chips fall as they may will be great.”

“I don’t plan on giving up if that’s what you’re intimating,” Racine said. Though the thought had crossed his mind more than once. And he was sure it would make further appearances. He pursed his lips as he stared at the crime lord for a handful of heartbeats. Then he said, “And what about the other one in confinement?” He yet did not want to say Zain’s name out loud.

A smirk tugged at one corner of Vellin’s mouth. “Oh, he’s tucked safely away. Don’t worry about him. No one will find him until we set him loose.”

“I’m growing more and more concerned about that,” Racine replied. “Letting him go won’t be such a good idea.”

“It’s not like I can hold him indefinitely,” Vellin countered with a tone of warning. “And the alternatives are not precisely desirable, as I’ve already stipulated.”

“If he gets out, we’re done for,” Racine said. “Including you.”

Vellin snorted. “Don’t count on it.”

Racine glowered at the man. Was Vellin thinking about selling him and the others out? And if so, what could he do about it? Could he turn the tables on the criminal in some way? He couldn’t think of a way.

As if Vellin were reading his mind, the other man said, “I won’t let that happen.” Racine was jealous of the man’s confidence… if it was real. Who could tell? But Racine thought he might have detected a crack in that mask of confidence.

“So what are we going to do about him?” Racine asked.

“Undecided,” Vellin replied casually. “He’s good to stay put for the time being. He is not precisely comfortable, but he’s not in any danger.”

“I should hope not,” Racine said. “But then again there are many things I should hope for, which do not look to be in the offing.” He turned thoughtful for a moment then asked, “Have you gotten anything out of him?”

“No,” Vellin said making a frustrated face. “He is pretty tight-lipped, I should say.”

“Don’t you people have ways of making unwilling subjects talk?” Racine asked.

“Don’t you think I would have already employed them?” He paused for a moment then shrugged and said, “To be honest, we have. It doesn’t seem to help much. He’s not especially forthcoming, particularly regarding his associate.” Vellin did not need to say the man’s name out loud. Ryth continued to be a bundle of trouble. But it did not escape Racine’s notice that even Vellin did not want to say his name out loud.

“So what are we going to do?” Racine prompted. “The longer we wait to do anything, the worse-off all of us are going to be in the end.”

“I’m open to suggestions,” Vellin said tartly. “Sadly our options seem to be pretty nil. The only thing we can do is hold the pattern in place. Until any helpful new information makes itself known, that’s all the choice we have.”

“That’s discouraging,” Racine said.

“That’s business,” Vellin replied shrugging one shoulder. “Not every venture can go your way.”

“Not every venture can land you in a charge of treason against the kingdom,” Racine replied.

“You could always change your identity and come work for me,” Vellin said with a false smile.

Racine rolled his eyes. “Let’s call that Plan B,” he said. “But I suppose we should at least be thankful that things aren’t worse than they are.”

It would only be a few seconds later, that he regretted that comment. Because after that, things got a lot worse.

CHAPTER 11. MORE BAD NEWS

An insistent beep from Racine’s pocket caught both their attention. Racine reached for it and Vellin held up a hand.

“Hold on,” he said. “That won’t work until I shut off the devices on me. Can you just ignore it?”

Racine pulled the device out and looked at it. He lifted his eyes to Vellin and said, “It is a priority message. And if it ends up being related to this fiasco, it’s not like I can pretend I’m not home or unavailable.”

“Fair enough,” Vellin said. “I’ll turn these off quickly and remain silent until you finish. Without waiting for a response Vellin quickly extracted a few devices out of two pockets and thumbed toggles on them. Then he nodded to Racine.

Racine lifted his device to his mouth and flipped the switch to allow the conversation to begin.

“Yes, this is Racine.”

Brief static at the other end was interrupted by the sound of quick jerky breathing. Racine flashed his eyes to Vellin who returned with an uncertain expression.

“Hello?” Racine pressed. “Who is this?”

There was an audible gasp on the other end followed by a voice. “It’s me,” came the shaky voice.

“Gillam?” Racine asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve got bad news,” he said. His voice trembled and he sucked in a sharp breath before continuing. He paused and then added, “Very bad.”

“What is it?” Racine asked. A cold pit formed in his middle. “What happened?”

“It’s Francisco,” Gillam replied. “He’s dead.”

Racine blinked and looked in shock toward Vellin. Vellin turned a supremely disappointed look, shaking his head.

“Dead?” Racine repeated. “How?” A thousand scenarios ran through his mind. But all of them amounted to the same thing. It was murder. Even if it had looked like suicide or an accident, Racine would not believe for one moment that it was. The question that remained was, who was responsible?

It couldn’t be Shahleen, could it? He refused to accept that. Even if she had been twisted in some way, manipulated by Ryth or even Zain before he’d been captured, she would never do anything like that. He assured himself of it. But then the slightest icy wedge of doubt entered unwelcome into his thoughts. There were so many other things going on he never would have thought possible.

His mind immediately cast an unassailable wall around the idea. He could not entertain it. Shahleen could only be a victim in this. She was one of the good ones. He’d always known that.

Then why did he have a sinking feeling about this? And why was she at the center of it?

“He was just found,” Gillam said. “But…” he hesitated and Racine had a mental picture of the man, shaking all over, ready to come apart at the slightest provocation. Gillam said, “But he had been beaten.”

“Beaten?” Racine replied, screwing up his face. “In his apartment?”

“No,” Gillam said. “That’s just it. He was found in the middle of the street far away from his place. They don’t know how he slipped away from the Lord Advisor’s guards unnoticed.”

“How did you find out?” Racine asked. He shifted his attention back to Vellin. The man was listening intently, scouring Gillam’s every word for anything clue. He wondered if the other man was recording the conversation with one of his little toys as well. He wouldn’t be surprised to find out it was so.

“Evander called and told me,” Gillam replied.

“How does he know?” Racine asked.

“He said Shahleen told him in person.”

“In person?” Racine asked. His back went rigid at the thought. What was Shahleen doing in person with Evander? He didn’t like the feel of it. Was she going to each of them individually? Did she have some ulterior motive? She had not said anything about herself being present when they were interviewed. She only intimated it would be someone else. Some sort of investigative team.

When the private guards of the Lord Advisor arrived to guard his door to prevent him from going anywhere, he expected they would be involved. They probably still would be. The Royal Guardians had been suspended from their activities. He supposed the Lord Advisor’s guards or the Citadel authorities were the most logical choices. But he doubted Ryth would entrust the task to the Citadel authorities. He would want to control it more closely than that.

“Racine, what is going on?” Gillam stammered. “Do you think he was killed because of…?” He trailed off not wanting to finish the thought over an open line. Racine sighed and silently thanked him for that. The last thing he needed was Gillam blubbering all of this out on an open line and risking Ryth getting the ammunition against them he needed. He did not doubt the slippery Lord Advisor had his way of getting what he wanted to accomplish his nefarious ends. But Racine would be damned if he allowed him to do it easily. He was going to have to work for it.

“Don’t think about that,” Racine replied to Gillam. “Has Shahleen been to see you, too?”

“No,” Gillam replied. “But I wondered about that too. Maybe she will be in time?” Racine could tell from the other man’s voice just the idea unnerved him terribly. He was afraid Gillam would crack if exposed to prolonged questioning.

“Maybe,” Racine said almost more to himself than to Gillam.

“This is bad business,” Gillam said. “It makes me nervous.”

Racine did not suppress the mirthless laugh that came out in response to that. “Everything makes you nervous,” he chided.

There was a harrumphing noise on the other end of the transmission.

“Why don’t you go make yourself some tea? You need to calm yourself,” Racine said.

“I don’t know that there will be any calming myself after this,” Gillam retorted.

“You better try anyway,” Racine said.

There was a pause then Gillam said, “Okay,” in a defeated manner. “I just thought you should know about Francisco.”

“Thanks,” Racine said. “And Gillam, I’m so sorry.”

Another pause. Then Gillam said, “So am I.”

Gillam terminated the transmission. Racine stuffed his device back in his pocket after he thumbed it off. A massive weight settled onto his shoulders, threatening to crush him right to the floor.

Vellin quickly went about enabling his anti-surveillance devices and placed them all in his pockets again. “I think you know Ryth is behind this,” he said without preamble.

“Obviously, he is,” Racine growled. “Who else would it be? Do you think this is retaliation for Zain?”

“How could he even know about Zain?” Vellin asked. “According to this Shahleen friend of yours, Ryth isn’t even around right now. He’s away on business, whatever that means.”

“But he communicates with Zain, I know it. If he realized something happened with his little toady, he’s probably smart enough to figure out who is responsible.”

“Not necessarily,” Vellin said. “I mean, would you peg yourself as the kind of person to make a political opponent disappear? You seemed pretty taken aback when I told you about my little adventure in that as I was coming up.”

“I suppose so,” Racine replied uncertainly. He sighed and shook his head. “This is dreadful,” he whispered to himself.

“I know,” Vellin said. “But we always knew it was going to get worse.”

“But murder?” Racine said. “And a Sector Representative no less.”

Vellin leveled a long-suffering look at Racine. He said, “Oh, please. If we are right, Ryth assassinated the king. What’s to stop him from wiping out the whole lot of you?”

“I suppose you are right,” Racine said shaking his head and then looking away.

CHAPTER 12. PASSAGE

His whole body ached. He tried pushing himself up only to be overtaken by agony. He fell back to the ground and grunted. He lay there for a few moments only looking at his companions. They had the same trouble.

Once he regathered himself he made the effort to get up once more. He made it farther this time. He propped himself up on one elbow. When he finished this much of the task he paused. He was panting already. Whatever that surge of power was that had come from the enemy he’d defeated had been debilitating. And it had a lasting effect.

It had been five minutes since he and his companions toppled their enemies. Now they were nothing but four piles of rubble. Cecil mused that he and his companions were not faring much better than those they defeated. He caught his breath and was able to sit up, though with considerable effort. He beat Belem to it, but just barely. The convict gritted his teeth as he also pushed himself up to a seated position.

In the glow of the Illuminoc plant, they locked eyes. “I’ve said it once before,” Belem said with a grimace, “and I’ll say it again: I should have remained on Dar’ryn.”

Cecil only nodded in response. He felt that sentiment deeply but not just because of the pain they’d all just experienced. In part, he felt the weight of hopelessness return to his shoulders. The only thing carrying him as of yet was duty.

He managed to get his knees beneath him and pushed up to stand. The effort dragged a long and noisy groan from him.

Ariam looked at him helplessly. Cecil could almost read his mind. If the trained warrior who could endure much struggled so greatly to just stand, what hope did the beggar have? But Cecil knew the man had vaster stores of reserve than he understood. Not long before this, he had witnessed the beggar rescue them all. The often-cowardly man viciously and efficiently attacked several monsters that threatened them. Ryth’s Shedi’im had been driven away by his efforts. In some regard, he still could not fathom it.

Having stood for a few moments he felt the pain dissipate. He stretched his arms before him and arched his back. He grunted at the effort but was happy to see movement become easier.

“Try to get up,” he advised. “It will be hard at first, but the more you move the easier it becomes.” He mainly directed this at Ariam.

Gael’jic was the next to push himself to his feet. Then Belem did so. Ariam came last. Each of them struggled visibly with the effort, grunting and groaning and enduring the pain.

On legs that were yet sore, he shambled over to the pile of rubble representing the stone robot he had defeated. The glowing stone disc he had pressed to defeat the sentinel rested in the rubble. Several crumbling bricks covered portions of it. He stooped over and shoved these aside. He extracted the disc and stood up holding it in front of the others.

“I think we’re going to need these,” he said.

“Yes,” Gael’jic replied. “They will help us pass beyond the wall, I believe.”

Cecil lifted his eyes and noticed four circular recesses had appeared on the wall. He cocked an eyebrow. They had not been there before. He watched as the others moved over to the piles that were once the enemies each of them had defeated. All went about the work of extracting the glowing circular plates.

When all four were in hand the exiles turned toward the wall as one.

“Remember the order,” Gael’jic said.

“Right,” Belem responded. “We want to do this proper. If we don’t, we may risk having to face these things all over again.”

One by one they inserted their circular plates into the recesses. They followed the same order that they had used to escape the initial chamber. Cecil came last.

When the other three plates had been inserted, he reverently paced up to the wall, holding the glowing plate in his hands. He stared at the recess corresponding to it for a handful of heartbeats.

“What are you waiting for, a voice from on high?” Belem asked. Cecil ignored the question. He stared transfixed at the place in the wall waiting for his disc. What waited beyond the wall, he wondered? They had come through so much in a short time already. There was no reason to assume the next steps would be easier.

At last, he said, “If I put this in that place, who knows what danger I commit us to in the next five minutes or beyond?”

His companions exchanged looks.

“We are already committed,” Ariam said gently. “There is no going back. The gate by which we came here slid into the floor and the only way is forward. You know this.”

Cecil’s shoulders sag. He nodded weakly. “Yes,” he whispered. “I know this. It is the only way.”

He extended the plate forward and gently laid it into the recess. As soon as the plate was in place it, along with the other three discs, glowed brighter. Suddenly they dimmed then throbbed back to brilliance once again. This repeated three more times, quicker with each succession of the sequence.

Within the wall, a great grinding sound rumbled forth.

Moments later the wall before their eyes grudgingly slid to the left. It plodded slowly away scraping loudly along the ancient track. They all waited until the wall was completely out of sight. Gael’jic was the first to step forward. He moved beyond the place the wall had occupied and turned an expectant expression on the others. Ariam came next. Cecil and Belem stepped forward at the same time. They were now all beyond the place the wall had stood.

Stretching out on the other side was a corridor of purest darkness.

“Lizard,” Belem said, “can you remember the way from here?”

“Yes,” Gael’jic said though there was a troubling hint of uncertainty in his answer. It escaped no one’s notice.

“You don’t sound sure,” Belem said. “I think…”

He ceased speech midsentence. A look of alarm ghosted his features. He did not have to explain why. They all heard it. A noise of something approaching in the dark drifted their way, echoing menacingly.

“What was that?” Gael’jic asked.

“I don’t know,” Belem whispered in reply. “But it sounded like…”

He stopped again. The sound had reemerged. This time it was clear. Footsteps approached.

CHAPTER 13. THE GUIDE

They waited in the gloom of the corridor anxiously. The footsteps drew closer. Cecil brandished his spear at the ready, pointing the sharpened end at the shapeless dark. Belem had his knives in hand and Gael’jic crouched forward. Ariam hung back a little.

“Who’s there?” Belem called into the impenetrable blackness. “Answer me now!”

There was silence for a few heartbeats and then playful laughter came in response.

“That wasn’t the answer I was looking for,” Belem muttered to Ariam.

“Show yourself,” Cecil shouted. “We are armed and we have defeated many troubles.”

“So you have,” came the response. “Impressive.” The voice was high and reedy. It cracked occasionally on a word. It sounded as if it came from one who was aged. The voice continued, “But I do not come bringing trouble. There is only assistance in my heart and old bones.”

The speaker was not yet visible. Ariam leaned toward Belem and said, “Could this be our Guide?”

“If it is, he’s late and has earned a piece of my mind,” Belem said with a snarl. He had spoken quietly back to the beggar, meaning the comment for only his companions to hear.

“One would think people in your position would be more grateful,” the voice called out of the darkness. There was an unmistakable edge of irritation to it. Ariam and Belem had not spoken loudly, yet the speaker obviously heard them. “Perhaps you would be pleased to stay a while in the dark pilgrimage path without my assistance? There are many dangers in the labyrinth. I do not think you can overcome all of them, resourceful though you may be.”

Belem and Ariam looked to one another, chagrined.

“No, that is all right,” Ariam said. “We would be pleased for your help.”

“I should hope so,” the voice said yet sounding a touch affronted.

Now the beginnings of a shape coalesced in the darkened corridor. The first hints were of a stooped figure lurching slowly forward. He carried a cane in his hand which tapped on the stone floor. The cane was a twisted, knotted piece of wood that seemed to fit perfectly with the one who carried it. Cecil recalled the tapping noise they had heard before the stone sentinels had attacked them and before the wall slid away. He reasoned this must have been the cause of it.

“We expected you sooner,” Gael’jic said trying not to sound offensive. “What caused your delay?”

“Yes,” the stooped speaker said and issued a little laugh. “I do apologize. I meant to meet you sooner and help you navigate your troubles. Indeed, I could have saved you some of it. All but with the first challenge, that is. That you needed to solve on your own. But this labyrinth has been my home for many centuries. Nevertheless, it vexes even me sometimes. Such was the case with my tardiness.”

“Well,” Cecil said, “we are glad you have at least found us now.”

More of the figure was visible now. He was shrouded from head to toe in raggedy gray cloth. Not an inch of his flesh was visible. He wore gloves on his hands and his feet were concealed by his robes and boots. The boots poked out from beneath the robes briefly every time he took a step. But most noticeable of all was the obsidian black mask he wore.

At first, Cecil had mistaken it for his face. The mask sported four opaque red eyes and there was no mouth to speak of. He instantly thought of Vael. He was clearly of the same people as the Messenger of Rama’dy’ac and the Boatman. His voice had the same echoing quality though it also was slightly muffled. Cecil comprehended that the visage before him was a mask only when he drew much closer.

The Guide stopped a few paces away, planted the tip of his cane on the floor, and folded both hands on the top of it. He stared at each of the companions in turn coming last of all to Cecil. His attention lingered on the former Captain of the Royal Guardians the longest. He then addressed the whole group.

“So,” he said, “you are Rama’dy’ac’s chosen champions? Curious. None have ever made it this far.”

“Yeah, great,” Belem said impatiently. “Can you show us the way out of this place or not?”

The Guide flicked his focus to the convict. He beheld him for a few seconds then looked back to Cecil. “Impetuous, isn’t he?” he asked in a conspiratorial tone. “He does not want to stop and smell the flowers, I suppose.”

“Not really,” Cecil answered. “But I share his impatience. We have come here to perform a task. We really ought to get on with it.”

“And so you shall,” the Guide replied. He leaned toward Cecil and in a grave voice added, “But keep in mind that it is not merely the doing that is called for, but the heart behind it must be right. I wonder if you truly possess all that you need, or if there be some lack in you that will foil you.”

Cecil went cold.

Suddenly the Guide flicked his face to Gael’jic. He stared at the Dar’rynakai for some time and then said, “What troubles you, my son? You seem unsettled.”

Gael’jic remained quiet.

Eventually, Belem prodded, “What’s wrong, lizard? Spit it out.”

“Something is amiss,” Gael’jic said staring at the Guide with squinted eyes. “I do not know what, though. Am I the only one who senses this?”

The other companions glanced at one another. There were shrugs all around.

“It seems you are alone in this,” Belem said.

“Wait,” Ariam said, following Gael’jic’s gaze and turning his focus upon the Guide. “Is it him?”

Gael’jic grunted in frustration. “I cannot say. Whatever it is, it eludes me.”

“It may become clear in time,” the Guide said thoughtfully. “The labyrinth obscures much truth. It is after all a puzzle, isn’t it? Did you not see the stone relief on the floor of the first chamber depicting it? I assume that is how you navigated to this point once you freed yourself of that chamber.”

“Yes,” Gael’jic said slowly. “Even so, my heart carries a warning.”

“We were told to expect a Guide,” Cecil said. “Now one has appeared. Maybe the trouble you sense is elsewhere. Ahead of us somewhere?”

“That is possible,” Gael’jic said noncommittally. He shook his head and the fin on his head and the dewlap hanging from his jaw flapped. “If this journey has taught us anything, it is that trouble always waits ahead.”

“Splendid,” the Guide said. “Then let us carry on.”

“But,” Gael’jic interjected. “I would feel a lot more comfortable if you could remove that mask.”

The Guide stared at him. He shook his head slowly. “I regret to tell you that I cannot do that.”

“Why not?” Belem asked, suspicion tinging his voice.

“Because if it is removed, I will die. The mask is enchanted and my only protection from death. Once upon a time, I could have survived without it. But I have been injured too greatly over the centuries. Now even one breath without it will undo me.”

“You don’t seem like a very good selection to watch after this place then,” Belem accused.

“It was not always so,” the Guide said in a huff. “As I said, my injuries accumulated over many centuries.”

“We seem to be at an impasse,” Gael’jic said.

“I could just leave you here if you desire,” the Guide retorted. “No one else is coming for you. I am the one appointed. But know this: the thing which troubles you may correspond to the closeness of your enemy. He is far closer than he has ever been.”

“What do you mean?” Cecil demanded.

“Uri’thind’ac walks the skin of this planet. He seeks to destroy you before you can accomplish your work.”

“When will he come?” Ariam asked in a shaky voice.

“There is no telling when you will encounter him,” the Guide said.

“Then maybe we better get moving,” Belem grunted.

Cecil turned to Gael’jic. “What do you think, lizard?”

Gael’jic sighed. “I think we better go with him. But at the same time, I think we must be on our guard, even with him.”

“That is fair enough,” the Guide said. “I require nothing but for you to follow my steps.” He favored Gael’jic with one last glance, then turned and slowly started to amble away. His cane tapped loudly with each step.

CHAPTER 14. BITTER COLD

They were all pensive and quiet as they followed their Guide through the remainder of the labyrinth. Cecil watched the back of the stooped figure with a mixture of suspicion and reluctance. Gael’jic’s reservations about the figure would not leave his mind. However, he led them through a series of turns that were beyond Gael’jic’s remembrance of the map-like pictograph. Or so the Guide claimed.

Since the time the Guide met them, they had spent several hours meandering through the endless and perplexing corridors of the labyrinth. Cecil began to wonder if they ought to have trusted him in the first place. What if he had not been their Guide, but instead was an imposter? What if he was not leading them out, but rather deeper into the labyrinth to lodge them forever in a lost state?

The Guide had not done anything to alleviate these concerns. He mostly kept quiet as he led them on. Every once in a while Cecil caught him muttering something to himself. But for the most part, the strange figure said nothing.

After a long time, Cecil finally had enough.

“How much longer until we can quit this place?” Cecil asked.

The Guide halted and slowly turned to face him. He tapped three times on the stone floor with the tip of his cane. Each tap resounded and echoed about them.

“Apologies, apologies,” the Guide said in that thin but echoing voice of his. “These ancient wounded bones of mine are not as fast as they once were. If you had caught me only but a hundred years ago, we probably would be out of this place by now. Alas, my once fleet steps seem to have been exchanged for slower ones these days.”

Belem harrumphed. He mumbled, “As long as we’re making progress out of this dingy tomb…” But then he trailed off, leaving unfinished what he had in mind.

The Guide leaned to the side to look beyond Cecil. Though his face was covered in a mask, Cecil got the distinct impression the odd figure was grinning. In support of this impression, reedy laughter bubbled up from the figure.

“The goal is indeed closer,” the Guide said. “Your patience will be rewarded. Or perhaps impatience in your case,” he said.

Belem grumbled something indecipherable but said no more.

They carried on for another hour or so until they came to what appeared to be a dead-end. The stooped figure slowly plodded forward as if there were no wall before him. When he came right up to it he halted and tapped his cane four times.

“Yes,” he said, “this is the place. We have come to the end of the labyrinth.”

Belem harrumphed again. “We’ve come to an end all right,” he said. “A dead end.”

The Guide tilted his head as he stared at Belem. He made a thoughtful noise and then said, “Have you not yet learned one of the chief principles of the pilgrimage? Not everything is as it seems. Especially not in this place.”

“Then I hope you intend to make it start seeming like something else other than a mistaken turn.”

The Guide turned from Belem to Cecil and said, “Tell me what you see.”

Cecil looked beyond the stooped figure and said, “I see nothing but a wall.”

“Look closer,” the Guide prodded.

Cecil expelled an impatient breath and took a step toward the wall. He now stood parallel with the Guide. He gazed at the wall but saw nothing other than a collection of rectangular bricks arranged to make up an end to the corridor. But then he remembered the initial chamber they had entered had not shown all its details right away. It only yielded them after the walls began to close in. He hoped that would not happen here. They did not have much space as it was. If the walls closed in anymore they would soon be crushed.

He took another step closer and brushed at the wall with his hand. Dust and dried caked mud fell away. But instead of revealing anything helpful, he only saw the smooth timeworn surface of the wall. He turned to the Guide and shrugged. “There is nothing,” he said.

“Indeed?” The Guide asked mischievously. He turned to the other exiles and said, “What about the rest of you? Do you notice anything?”

The remaining three companions stepped forward gazing at the wall. Belem at first grumbled something about useless games. Then they all turned quiet as they observed, scouring with their eyes for any detail. Cecil turned away from the wall to look at his companions, waiting, hoping one of them would locate whatever solution the Guide intended for them to discover.

It went on for an uncomfortably long time in Cecil’s estimation. But at last, Gael’jic sucked in a surprised breath.

“What?” Cecil demanded. “What have you found?”

Gael’jic took another step toward the wall. He lifted a hand and gently brushed his fingers against it. He then turned to the wall immediately to his left. He pressed his hand toward that wall and caressed it with his fingers tips. He nodded now.

“Well?” Cecil asked. “What do you see?”

Gael’jic spun to face them. He looked Cecil in the eye and nodded once more. “It is a different stone than the rest of this place. It is hard to tell in the dim light of the Illuminoc, but it is not the same substance.”

Cecil blinked as he stared at the Dar’rynakai. He turned an uncertain look toward the wall before them. He could not tell any difference. “How do you know?” he asked, unconvinced.

“The color difference is subtle,” Gael’jic said. “My eyes can see it better than yours, no doubt. Also, it feels different. The texture. The walls to our sides are rougher. The wall before us is smoother. I believe it is like the wall we encountered before we met the Guide. It is not a wall. It is a door.”

“A door,” Cecil repeated. He turned to the Guide and said, “Is this right?”

The Guide dipped his head in acknowledgment.

“How do we open it?” Belem asked.

Without a word, the Guide turned to the wall and pressed his gloved hand against it. He bent his head low and muttered words in another language. Suddenly there came the sound of a great release of air around all the sides of the wall and dust plumed all around them. A deep rumbling resounded and the wall slid to the side with grating slowness.

Their first glimpse of the other side was a piercingly bright sliver of white light. This was accompanied by the sound of howling wind. The sliver of light expanded as the door opened. They squinted against the invasion of the light. As much illumination as the Illuminoc plant had provided, it was nothing compared to the beaming natural light of the day outside. They lifted their hands and arms to shield themselves from the onslaught of it.

When their eyes adjusted to the brilliance, they noticed snowflakes whipping in at them. A blast of frigid air swallowed them and they all shivered. The more their vision adjusted to the new light, the more they distinguished the path ahead. There was not much to distinguish, however.

Laid out before them was a bleak and snowy landscape mostly concealed from sight by a raging blizzard.

The Guide had to raise his echoing voice to be heard over the sound of the wind. “Behold,” he announced, “The throne of the Gods is at hand. But your journey is not over. You still have a long way to go before you arrive at the Pinnacle.”

Cecil could barely see a dark shape far beyond them through the blowing snow. At first, he thought it might be some kind of fortress, but then realized it was a singular large mountain.

“How long will it take us to get there?” Cecil shouted.

“It depends,” the Guide replied.

“Depends on what?” Ariam shouted.

“The path ahead is bitter and treacherous,” the Guide responded. “Several shelters must be reached first. If we do not aim for these, we will die frozen on the plains surrounding the mountain before we ever could hope to reach even the base of the Throne of the Gods. It will take as much time as it takes.”

“How far until we reach the first of these shelters?” Belem inquired.

“Come,” the Guide said. “I will lead you.” He turned away from them and set out into the blizzard.

CHAPTER 15. ICE AND STONE

While they had still been in the labyrinth, Cecil had often been frustrated at the slow pace set by the Guide. Now he was grateful for it. After a fashion, anyway. The snow blasted all around them, and the wind whipped hard making it difficult to hear one another if any of them spoke. That was bad enough as it was. What was worse, however, was the bitterness of the cold.

Cecil at least had his armor to protect him. He was not precisely warm within it, but he certainly must’ve been warmer than any of the others. Belem, Ariam, and Gael’jic all wore thin clothes. The climate on Dar’ryn had been almost tropical. This weather must be terrorizing them, he thought. He knew they would have to make it to the shelter soon or they would risk freezing to death out on the plains. These conditions were no place for anyone dressed such as themselves. Even his armor would not hold up long against it. They stayed close to one another. If they didn’t, it would be too easy to lose sight and get lost in the blinding conditions of the blizzard. None of them had ever encountered weather like it before. They had known about snow and ice but never had experienced it.

The snowdrifts were up to their thighs. They had a hard time pressing through it and cutting the path. Cecil wondered how the Guide knew where he was going in the impenetrable chaos that was the storm. But then again, this was his realm. Perhaps Rama’dy’ac had somehow put it into his mind to know where to go. It didn’t matter. Trudging through the stuff made it harder to even understand whether or not progress was being made. It didn’t seem to bother or even slow their Guide, however. While he moved at a measured and slow pace, the snow didn’t prevent him at all.

The cry of distress sounded from behind him. He spun around to see what was the matter. Gael’jic had stumbled and fallen into the snowdrift. The only parts of him visible at the moment was his head fin, which stuck straight out and trembled in the wind, and his flapping agitated tail. Ariam danced out of the way so as not to be struck by it.

Belem came up to the Dar’rynakai’s side and reached into the snowdrift until he found the companion’s arm and he yanked him up again. Out of any of them, Gael’jic seemed to be having the hardest time. His reptilian kind was not made for colder climates.

Cecil turned and made certain not to lose sight of the Guide. The Guide had turned and was waiting for them. When he saw they were ready to move again, he tapped his cane three times into the snow, turned, and recommenced their journey.

Up ahead a shape loomed in the blizzard. Cecil could not quite make out what it was but saw that it was tall and narrow. He lifted his voice above the wind and shouted to the Guide. “What is that shape? Is that the first sign of our shelter?”

“No,” the Guide answered in a grave voice.

“Then what is it?” Cecil pressed.

The Guide turned his face slightly to the side to behold Cecil and he shook his head. He turned forward and continued walking. But he said, “It is a kind of warning. It reminds those on the pilgrimage to be wary lest they fall prey to the elements. When we come close enough to it, it will teach us what misfortune looks like on the plain before the Throne of the Gods.”

Cecil didn’t like the sound of that. He tossed a glance over his shoulder and saw much the same was true for his companions by the expressions on their faces.

They continued their trudging efforts to make it to the first shelter. The pillar-like shape darkened in their sights as they drew closer. The Guide was leading them to it, perhaps to show them what he meant. Cecil was immediately reminded of the stone pillars they had seen on the planet Cairn and the dead and petrified trees from ages and events passed on the planet Remmice. He wondered if this was something similar. Was it a sign of life that had once been? Was it a proud but dead trunk of some enormous tree? It towered above them.

His questions were soon answered as they came close to it. When they were near it, Cecil discerned that its bulk was made out of dark ice. But he discerned certain details on it that froze him more than even the weather could have. On the outer surface of the ice pillar, he saw a face contorted in agony. At first, he mistook this for a carving. Soon when they came closer he examined it and saw that it was a real person’s face.

The person was neither human, nor Dar’rynakai, nor even Remmite. It was the same kind of being as Vael, the Boatman, and presumably this Guide of theirs. The main difference was this one had a mouth. The four eyes were squeezed shut in a mask of pain while the mouth was torn open and twisted. Spiky protrusions of ice jutted out from the open mouth. The unfortunate being’s arms were raised and its hands formed icy claws. It looked to have been captured and frozen mid-run.

“This is the fate of those who lose their way on the surface of this world,” the Guide said. “But if one stays firmly rooted upon the path, then the danger of this is not present. But otherwise, one risks being caught in the spray of a rupture from the ground. It is even said that footsteps draw the ruptures.”

Cecil immediately remembered the acid geysers they had seen on the planet Cairn. Something similar appeared to be at work here. But by the look of the dark center of the pillar, he did not think it was acid.

“What are these ruptures?” Gael’jic asked. “What do they consist of?”

“We must not linger,” the Guide insisted. “Further questions may be answered when we reach the shelter. Not before. We must move or we risk icy death regardless of being on the path.”

There were nods of agreement all around.

The Guide started them walking again. It was not long before Cecil saw another shape along the trajectory of their path. But this was different. It wasn’t one of the icy pillars with one of the unfortunates caught in its freezing explosion. It was broader, squatter, and rounded. He knew this must be their first shelter. Relief gave him an extra burst of energy and he pressed forward.

CHAPTER 16. GIVE ME SHELTER

A violent shiver ran through his body. The armor was no longer of any help. He looked around and could see nothing except blowing snow. Even the Guide was a bare shape only a few paces in front of him. He dared not turn around to see the others for fear of losing sight of their Guide.

Each step became harder to take. The cold had stabbed into his bones. It felt as if ice were forming in his veins slowing his progress. He could not imagine what his companions felt.

In all this, the Guide moved on unperturbed. The servants specially appointed by Rama’dy’ac to act as attendants for his so-called champions always appeared to be immune to many hardships. He wondered what their limits were. Or if they even had any.

He shook his head. His vision now was going dark. Is the day already waning? he wondered despairingly. There was no telling what time it was. Another few paces later and he realized it was not his vision going dark. They were closer to the shelter. It was merely that his mind struggled to interpret the shape of the structure. How long had they been out there?

It didn’t matter. They were close now. Soon they would be inside. The idea warmed him a little.

“Come on!” he shouted without looking back. “We’re almost there.” He didn’t even know if they could hear him any longer. The wind had picked up and was so loud in his ears that he barely heard his own voice.

A glance downward at his body revealed ice forming on his armor. He smacked it away hoping even that little movement would keep him going. Keep his blood pumping. Keep it from freezing into an immobile sludge in his veins.

Now the shape of the shelter was more obvious. Its edges could be discerned through the blustery storm. It was a big squat building made of gray stone. He halted in his tracks as he looked at it. Something seemed wrong about it. His mind could not place it at first. But then he understood.

No snow had accumulated on its roof or any of its surfaces. It was somehow untouched by the weather. Shelter indeed, he thought, impressed.

“How do we get inside?” he shouted to the Guide at the top of his lungs.

The odd stooped figure slowly turned toward him and his implacable mask was unreadable. He was quiet for a handful of heartbeats then responded.

“This you must discover yourselves,” he said.

Heat bloomed in Cecil’s chest, but it was emotional, not physical. It was anger. “What?” he exploded at the Guide. “We are going to die if we stay out here any longer. You have to let us in.”

The Guide shook his head slowly. “No,” he replied. “You have to let yourselves in. It is forbidden for me to do it.”

There was no use arguing. Doing so would only waste time and valuable body heat. They had to do it themselves. There was no question now.

He turned to the others and bellowed, “You heard the man. If we can’t get in there soon we will all freeze to death. So let’s figure this out.”

The other exiles trudged forward trembling. Snow and ice had accumulated in Ariam’s scraggly beard. His thin frame shivered relentlessly. He vigorously rubbed both arms with his hands. This seemed to do him very little good.

Even Belem who normally seemed so resilient was succumbing to the ill weather. He looked miserable. But instead of complaining, they all walked up to the structure and examined it.

Gael’jic stumbled and went to one knee sinking waist-deep into the snow. Ariam darted to his side and knelt next to him. He wrapped an arm around the Dar’rynakai’s shoulder and hugged him close. He was trying to share body heat with the reptilian man. His once vibrant green scaly flesh was turning brown. Ariam lifted his face to Cecil and hollered, “We have to get in there now!”

“Then find a way!” Cecil shouted back. He turned away from Ariam not waiting for further argument. He was anxious to help. He scoured the wall before him but found nothing. He moved off to one side searching diligently. The desperation in his chest grew, clawing at him. The promise of failure was at hand. He wanted nothing more than to sink to his knees in the snow and just die. There was no hope in him.

A shout of victory from off to one side caught his attention and snapped him out of his self-loathing. He turned his face and saw Belem bounce upward with an upraised fist. He motioned for Cecil to come over. Cecil pulled slowly away from his spot and grudgingly plodded through the deep snow.

Cecil shouted, “What did you find?”

“Blood key,” Belem yelled back with a wide grin. Cecil turned to Ariam and nodded for him to come forth.

Ariam came slowly to his feet and helped Gael’jic do the same. The Dar’rynakai struggled to get up and fell to his knees once again. Ariam urged him to stand. He made another attempt and this time was successful. But only barely.

Cecil turned back to Belem and shouted, “Get on with it!”

Belem nodded and extracted one of his knives from its sheath. He pressed the ever-sharp tip to the side of his thumb and drew blood. He thrust the bloody thumb into the divot for the blood key before the oozing crimson liquid could freeze on his thumb. The sound of a great bell clanging issued forth from the structure. It was terrible and loud to the point of overpowering the howling winds. A door split open in front of Belem. He darted forward then halted in the doorway and turned and waved to the others.

Cecil dashed to the other side of Gael’jic and helped Ariam assist the Dar’rynakai in the structure. Their progress was stumbling and weak.

Immediately inside the door, they were greeted by friendly warmth. The doors closed behind them and the room was filled only with the sound of their heavy breathing.

“This is the first shelter,” the Guide said. “You may take time and rest for a while. This will be important before we travel to the next shelter.” He lifted his hands and indicated four pegs jutting from the wall. From these pegs hung four long and heavy coats.

Cecil had never been so relieved in his life to look upon garments. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that those would be essential for their survival.

Gael’jic collapsed to the floor and began to convulse. Ariam dropped to his side and with a terrified look on his face urged the Dar’rynakai to rest and be well.

Belem and Cecil shared concerned looks. Cecil turned his eyes toward the Guide. The Guide simply stood leaning on his cane and returned his gaze.

CHAPTER 17. COLD-BLOODED

Gael’jic continued to convulse and the rest rushed to his side. Ariam had both of the Dar’rynakai’s shoulders in his hands and gently shook him urging him to respond. “Please,” he said. “Please, you have to be okay.”

Cecil gently tugged the man out of the way and knelt in his place. He looked down at the Dar’rynakai and did his best to assess. He didn’t know much about the reptilian race’s anatomy, so he was limited to guesswork.

“What’s wrong with him?” Belem asked.

“Not sure,” Cecil replied. “My best guess is he’s going into shock.”

“He is dying,” the Guide said nonchalantly. Cecil, Belem, and Ariam lifted their eyes to the Guide and stared in disbelief. They waited, hoping for a further pronouncement, one that was not so grim. None was coming.

“Dying?” Cecil said. “Are you sure?”

“I am certain,” the Guide said. “He is a reptile, and therefore cold-blooded. This climate is not doing him any favors.”

“But he’s warm again!” Ariam protested. “This will fix the problem, won’t it?”

“I fear the damage has already been accomplished,” the Guide said ruefully.

“Is there nothing we can do about it?” Ariam asked mournfully. He was biting the nails of one of his hands as he stared wide-eyed at the stooped form of the celestial figure.

“All that can be done here is being done,” the Guide responded. “The warmth of the shelter is doing what good it can. But it will not be enough.”

“Then what else can we do?” Cecil pleaded. “There has to be something. We’re not going to just let him die.”

“Very well,” the Guide said. “That is as it should be. There is a special elixir that must be applied to him. But it is not in this shelter.”

“Then where is it?” Belem demanded.

“It is close,” the Guide said. “It is in the next shelter. But, know that it will take some time to reach it, and then likewise time to return. You may not have long enough.”

“We’re going to try anyway,” Belem said. He stood and stared down at Gael’jic’s convulsing form. “One of us should stay here with him, though.”

“I’ll stay,” Ariam said. “The rest of you should go.”

“It will not take many people to go there,” the Guide said. “Only one may go.”

“Fine,” Cecil said abruptly. “Then it will be me.”

The Guide shook his head slowly from side to side. “I am afraid that will not work,” he said.

“Not work?” Cecil asked, his face a mask of incredulity. “And why not?”

“Each shelter is like this one. They will only permit entrance with one specific person’s effort. This shelter required the blood of Belem. The next requires something different. And it is not something you possess.”

“Then who?” Belem asked. “Not Gael’jic, I hope.”

The Guide dipped his head. “I am permitted to say no more. I have said perhaps too much already. You must figure this out.”

Belem gritted his teeth and then said, “You Celestials are all alike, aren’t you? You couldn’t give a straight answer if your life depended on it.”

“There will be time for complaints later,” Cecil interjected. “Now we have to figure out whom to send.”

“Okay,” Belem said frustrated, “but how are we to do that? Flip a coin?”

Silence fell over the group as they mulled over their situation. No clear answer was forthcoming.

After several uncomfortable moments, Ariam snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it,” he said loudly. “So far every puzzle we’ve solved has followed the same order. Belem first, me second, Gael’jic third, and Cecil last of all. That means I have to go.”

Cecil and Belem shared a look. “Sounds reasonable enough to me,” Belem said. Then he turned to Ariam and said, “I don’t like the idea of you going alone.”

“He will not be alone,” the Guide said. “I will go with him. That is my purpose.”

“Are we sure about this?” Cecil asked.

“Can we be sure about anything?” Belem retorted. “This looks like our best opportunity. If we waste it, Gael’jic dies. You want that on your head?”

“No of course not,” Cecil said sharply. “But neither do I want to lose both Gael’jic and Ariam. We need them both, you know. What if we send Ariam out and he loses his way and dies just like that frozen fellow we saw out on the plains? What then?”

“That’s a risk we have to take,” Belem said.

“It’s my choice,” Ariam said softly. Belem and Cecil turned their attention to him. “I appreciate your concern over me, guardsman. But the choice is mine. And I choose to try.”

“You’re willing to accept the risk?” Cecil pressed.

“Of course, I am,” Ariam said. “He’s my friend. I would do the same for you if I had to.”

Cecil blinked at him. He had not considered Ariam or any of the other companions to be his friends. They were companions to be sure, co-laborers…but friends? He had never had true friends. He had something he once thought was more: his brothers in the Royal Guardians. But once he had been framed for the assassination of the king that all went away. No one stepped forward in his defense. He had been quickly and efficiently cut off from his brothers without a second thought. It was true that Ryth had orchestrated the whole thing, but could he have completely fooled all of them? Was there none that would have stood by him? He might never know.

Now, Ariam stood before him willing and ready to risk it all for one he called ‘friend.’ Cecil struggled to comprehend how the other man had come to such an attachment so quickly. They had all been through quite a lot together, but not over very long of a time. Cecil was particularly perplexed over how close he had grown to Belem. The big scarred convict certainly did not seem to show appreciation for Ariam. Yet Ariam had a soft spot for the man. He couldn’t imagine why.

Cecil turned to the Guide. “How long will it take to get to the shelter?”

The Guide stared at him for several silent seconds. “The longer you delay, the longer it will take. That is all I can say for sure. My bones have slowed and so I do not know how to judge the time.”

Cecil grunted and turned away. A curse threatened to explode from his mouth but it died before it reached his lips. He folded his arms over his chest and stewed. Finally, he turned around and said to Ariam, “Better get going.”

Ariam nodded once and walked over to the four pegs holding the coats. He selected one for himself and took it down. The beggar made a surprised grunt when he lifted it off the peg. It was heavier than he anticipated. He struggled to get it on, but when he was at last enveloped in it, he looked as ready for the weather as he could be. It was big on him, almost comically so. But there was nothing otherwise funny about the situation so no one smiled.

Ariam turned to the Guide and said, “I’m ready when you are.”

CHAPTER 18. BREACHED

Racine paced alone in his apartment. He covered just about every square foot of the place a few times over. But he hardly noticed. His mind was occupied with the seemingly impossible situation in which he found himself. And what about the others? They were likewise just as in trouble as he was.

Except for Francisco, of course. Francisco was dead. Racine could hardly believe it. Part of his mind rebelled against the thought. It was a trick, it had to be. None of them had seen evidence of a body. Perhaps it was some crafty political maneuver on the part of Ryth. Ever since Racine found out Francisco had been killed, he wondered if the man had talked. That could be by design. In that way, it made the most sense to tell Gillam. He would worry about it and be sure to spread the news. It was the surest way to terrify the rest of them. Then no doubt all of the conspirators would start wondering if Francisco had talked. What if he had been captured and tortured? They could have extracted anything from him. Including all the names of the conspirators.

He shook his head. He had to stop thinking of himself as a conspirator. That was precisely what Ryth would want. The truth of the matter was that if a conspiracy was afoot, Ryth was at the head of it. As far as Racine considered it, the man was an absolute snake. He could not be trusted. This had his stinking fingerprints all over it.

But what about Shahleen? How could she figure into this? She had changed in some way, and it made him deeply uncomfortable. He also had a hard time believing that. She acted so unlike herself during the last meeting. So authoritarian. That was more of Ryth’s style.

Racine found himself in the kitchen, not remembering walking into it. While he was there, he decided to make himself a cup of tea. He needed to calm down. Something warm and soothing was just what the situation called for. He filled the kettle with water and put it on the burner. He turned away and waited for the water to heat up. He then selected a packet of tea and fiddled with it absently in his fingers.

His mind wandered as his hands turned the teabag over and over. He harbored growing anxiety ever since he heard about Francisco. It felt like something was coming, something sinister. But how close was it, and when would it arrive? He glanced down at the teabag in his fingers.

“This is not going to work,” he said. At first, he meant the soothing purpose of the tea, but then his mind expanded it to the entirety of the circumstance. He and the others were in far too deep. And there was no extracting them from it; not now, probably not ever.

They had apprehended Zain and stowed him away somewhere with Vellin. But what about when this whole situation was over? What would they do with Zain then? He shuddered to think about it.

An insistent and jarring beeping from his pocket snapped him out of his reverie. He gasped and his heart lept at the intrusion of the sound. But it was just the communicator device in his pocket. He jammed his hand down into the pocket and drew the thing out lifting it to his lips. He thumbed it on and said, “Yes?”

He was met with a cacophony of terrified babbling. At first, he thought the transmission was garbled and he was not receiving it properly, but then the sounds of a human voice in distress uttering shapeless noises came through loud and clear.

“Gillam?” Racine asked. “Is that you?”

“Please help!” the terrified voice called back. It was indeed Gillam. But there was something else, too. Pounding, as if someone were angrily knocking at a door.

“Gillam, what’s wrong?” Racine asked dropping the teabag on the floor as his sense of concern mounted to peak levels. “What’s going on?”

The pounding intensified. Now, muffled voices could be heard.

“They’re h-h-here,” he said whispered shakily. “They’re pounding at the d-d-door. They’re trying to get in.”

“Who?” Racine asked loudly. “What’s happening?”

“My time is short,” Gillam said, poorly suppressing a sob.

“Where are you?” Racine demanded.

“In my bedroom,” Gillam replied. “They’re breaking down the door!”

“Who is?” Racine shouted.

“The questioners,” Gillam replied in a voice that sounded ready to break apart at the seams. “They’re almost through!” The pounding was loud, angry.

“Slow down. What is happening?” Racine demanded to know.

“They came and started asking me questions,” Gillam said. “There were so many q-q-questions, I couldn’t keep track of them all. It was so confusing. They weren’t kind about it, either. They were right in my face, sh-sh-shouting. I said I had to go to the bathroom but I went to my room instead. I locked myself in. I t-t-tried to get away. They heard me. And my w-w-window won’t open. I’m stuck!”

“Gillam, what have you done?” Racine whispered.

In a broken voice wracked with horror, Gillam replied, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry Racine. Get away while you still can.” The pounding was louder, more insistent. Then all suddenly went quiet.

“Gillam?”

There was a pause, long and tense, and then came the sound of an explosion. He imagined the door to Gillam’s bedroom blown off its hinges by a breaching device and the pieces flying into the bedroom. Gillam screamed. Angry voices shouted over him, demanding he lay down with his hands on the back of his head. Next came the sound of something thumping against the floor. He imagined it was Gillam falling to his knees and then lying down. He was screaming the whole time.

“Shut up!” one of the angry voices demanded. “Or we’ll make it a whole lot worse, traitor.”

“I’m sorry,” Gillam shouted at whoever owned the angry voice, “I’m so sorry!”

“Hey, he’s talking to somebody,” another voice said. “Give me that!” The next thing Racine knew there was a crunching sound and the communication cut off.

Racine stood in his kitchen dumbly looking at his communicator. He willed it to come back to life, for Gillam to come back on and say it was all a prank, it wasn’t real. He was just having a little fun. But that was not Gillam’s way. He was too terrified of offending people or making someone angry with him. And one of the last things Gillam had said to them was ‘get away while you still can.’

Great. But how am I supposed to do that? he wondered.

He stared at the small communication device and an idea occurred to him. But first, he had to activate the signal-blocking technology Vellin had left with him. This felt like a really bad idea. But he was out of options.

CHAPTER 19. ADVISEMENT

When he got everything set up and in proper working order he went back and checked it all again. Then he checked again. Then he checked it a third time, in case he missed anything. He hated being this paranoid, but he also hated the idea of succumbing to the situation and not making it out alive.

Vellin had given him three separate devices that worked best when they were linked to one another. Neglecting one, or setting it up incorrectly could have dire consequences. But when they were all in proper working order, they would allow him to communicate via yet another device directly with Vellin. His normal communication device would be put out of use during that time, which meant he risked not receiving a transmission that way. That could spell trouble if those investigating the Sector Representatives attempted to contact him. It would look bad if he ignored such calls.

But he had to risk it. He had to talk to Vellin. It had been five minutes since the call with Gillam had ended abruptly. It had taken him that long to set everything up. It shouldn’t have, but he was too nervous. His shaking hands caused him to fumble with some aspects of the technology. Besides, all the extra system checks had added time.

He took several steadying breaths as he reached for the final switch. He flipped it and waited for Vellin to answer. There was no telling how long it would take for the man to notice he was being hailed. But he promised he would keep his device near him at all times. He said it might be switched to silent so that he might not hear it but…

“Yes?” Vellin’s voice came through calm and smooth. “What is it?”

“You’ve got to get me out of here,” Racine blurted out.

“Hold on,” Vellin said. “Slow down. Back up and tell me what’s happening.”

His mind raced as he cobbled together the best and most efficient response to get the other man’s attention. “It’s Gillam. He’s been taken I think.”

There was a brief hint of a pause, then Vellin said, “Taken? Was it the questioners?”

“I’m pretty sure,” Racine said. “He called me, hysterical and babbling about a lot of different things. But from what I am able to piece together, he was being questioned and attempted to escape.”

Vellin’s sigh of frustration came through crystal clear from the other end of the line. “That’s an unwelcome complication,” he said.

“You’re telling me,” Racine snapped back. “How do you think Gillam feels? He locked himself in his bedroom and they had to break down the door to get them.”

“That certainly changes a few things,” Vellin responded. “How likely do you think he is to talk? Will he divulge anything…sensitive?”

“You’ve met him,” Racine said and barked a mirthless laugh. “Does he strike you as the kind of person who can hold tight under pressure?”

“Point taken,” Vellin said ruefully. He paused for a few moments as he thought. It felt like an eternity to Racine. At last, his voice came back through the device. It was measured and calm, but regardless, Racine didn’t like the direction the other man was going.

“Listen,” Vellin said, “I don’t know that I can come to get you right now. Your place is too heavily guarded. It’s an unnecessary risk.”

“It’s an even greater unnecessary risk for me to stay here,” Racine seethed. “I thought we were in this together.”

“We are,” Vellin said calmly, “but I can only do so much. You have to do some of the heavy lifting yourself.”

“Easy to say in your little underground fortress,” Racine replied in a simmering tone.

“Sorry that I don’t have a magic wand to wave to help you in this,” Vellin retorted, “but that is the way things are.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” Racine asked. “Do you expect me to let them just waltz in here and take me away? If so, you can forget it.”

“How many guards do you have outside your door?” Vellin asked.

“I don’t know,” Racine said exasperated. “Two…or four. I have no idea.”

“Which is it; two or four?” Vellin’s tone indicated the man was starting to regret answering his call. Racine didn’t care. His own tolerance for the situation had evaporated already.

“What does it matter?” Racine said. “It could just be one of them and I wouldn’t be able to make it past him. I have no training of any kind for that.”

“I’m not talking about you fighting your way through them,” Vellin chided. His voice remained mostly calm but now an edge of irritation was present in it. He was losing his patience with Racine. He continued, “I mean if you had to outrun them in an escape attempt. Do you think you can get away from all of them if you have a head start?”

“I don’t know,” Racine replied. “I doubt it. Unless they don’t notice me missing for a good long time.”

“What are the odds of that, do you think?” Vellin’s voice was thoughtful. He was genuinely curious about the possibility of Racine escaping some other way than walking out the front door.

Racine said, “I’m pretty sure they are monitoring my apartment. They know my location at all times.”

“Do you have some sort of tracking device on you?” Vellin asked.

“Not to my knowledge,” Racine answered. “But I think they’ve set something up that monitors my movement. I’m not quite sure what or how.”

“I see,” Vellin said. He fell quiet for a few moments then said, “It’s going to be up to you, then. You have to decide what’s best. But I would advise you to get out of there if you can.”

“Okay, let’s say I do that. Assuming I make it more than a few meters away from the building, where do I go from there?”

“If you can manage, I recommend you make your way down below. I can send you coordinates to a place where Kaelinn can meet you. She can lead you back to me and I will do what I can to give you temporary shelter. This isn’t over, not by a long shot. I still think you have a part to play in all this.”

“If I live through it,” Racine mumbled.

“That will be up to you,” Vellin said.

Racine looked around his apartment. “Any recommendations on how to get out of here?”

“You have a balcony like Gillam’s, correct?”

Racine swallowed. “Yes,” he said slowly, not liking where this was going.

“Is there anyone stationed on it? Or maybe across from the other building close by? Remember, that’s how we discovered your other little friend.”

“Not that I know of,” Racine said. “But they aren’t exactly informing me of their surveillance strategy. Are you suggesting I go out the window and climbed down the outside of the building?”

“Unless you can fly,” Vellin said sardonically.

Racine ground his teeth as he reluctantly toyed with the idea. This was utter madness. What hope did he have of getting away? But that was what they wanted him to feel, wasn’t it? They wanted him debilitated and demoralized. Well, it had worked.

“Are you still with me?” Vellin asked.

Racine realized he had fallen silent for a long time. “Yes,” he answered firmly. “I’m still here. Just thinking.”

“Don’t think too long,” Vellin said. “If they came for Gillam, you are not far from the next on the list. They could be on their way right now. I’m surprised they didn’t come for you first.”

Racine drew in a deep breath and expelled it. “Great,” he said.

“Don’t forget to wear something of a disguise,” Vellin added. “And don’t go all gaudy and ridiculous like the first time you and I met. That will draw attention quicker than anything. Dress simple. Keep your head down and try not to look anyone in the eye. Keep the worry off your face and if you can manage, try to look bored. A bored person is boring to look at. Wherever you go just act as if you belong there. Pretend like you know where you’re going. Don’t look around constantly just keep your face forward and move. Understand?”

“I think so,” Racine said. But there was a lot of advice to digest on short notice and there could be no sense of being ready for this.

Just then his kettle went off whistling a high-pitched tone that made him jump.

“What was that?” Vellin asked.

“Just my water kettle,” Racine grunted in frustration. “Just making some tea to soothe my nerves.”

Vellin snorted laughter and said, “Good luck with that.”

Racine rolled his eyes. He said, “Thanks, that helps a lot.”

“Forget the tea,” Vellin said. “In all seriousness, you had better work on getting out of there right away. Don’t linger.”

“I don’t plan to,” Vellin Racine said.

Vellin ended his side of the transmission and Racine stuffed the secret communication device into his pocket. He then proceeded to turn off all of the surveillance interference devices. He stared at the collection of them for half a moment. It wouldn’t be wise to leave these lying around his apartment. If the questioners came and found him missing and at the same time discovered a collection of illegal surveillance blocking devices, it would not look good for him. But what could he do with them?

He decided to take them with him and dispose of them on the way. Vellin might not be too happy about it, but it was his best gambit. He collected all the devices in a sack and set them on his kitchen counter. Then he turned and headed toward his bedroom to change for his departure.

CHAPTER 20. WINTERY HELLSCAPE

The cutting power and oppressive bite of the cold were no more diminished by the time Ariam and the Guide stepped beyond the threshold of the shelter. If anything it had intensified. Ariam gazed into the storm with dismay before stepping outside. This was not going to be pleasant.

At least, he thought, I’ve got my new coat. He could already tell the benefit of the garment. He had never seen anything like it. But then, he had never been in a climate that would require such attire. Its long and bulky form prevented him from moving as quickly as he might otherwise have done, but that was all right. The Guide was not exactly speedy.

The bent form of the Guide trudged into a waist-high drift of snow and pressed forward as if it were not there. He was only a few paces into the journey before he lost sight of the Guide in the frigid blizzard. An icy hand of fear took hold of his heart and he dashed forward. He had to catch up to the celestial figure or else this could be a short and dangerous trip indeed.

“Wait!” Ariam shouted. “I’m coming!” Even though the beginnings of a path had been carved by the Guide’s progress, even more snow tumbled in from the sides to fill in much of the path. Ariam pushed through it with no small amount of effort

The first hint of the Guide’s back showed itself again through the blustery snowstorm. Ariam pushed forward all the more vigorously until he could discern the strange being’s shape more clearly. He was still more than an arm’s length away from Ariam but barely visible. He plodded forward steadily through the deep drifts. Ariam thought, Anyone who takes this one for granted would regret it. He is no slouch. Nor a weakling.

“Slow down!” Ariam shouted. The Guide did not take notice but merely kept slogging forward. Ariam put on an extra burst of speed so that he could reach out and touch the Guide’s shoulder. He tapped at him insistently.

The Guide halted in his steps and slowly turned. In that unsettling echoing voice, he said, “We do not have time to waste. If you truly desire to save your friend, we must move quickly.”

“I know,” Ariam shouted to be heard. “But I can’t get the elixir if I’m lost. I almost lost sight of you for a moment there.”

“We have just begun,” the Guide chided. “We still have a long way to go before we arrive at the next shelter.” He did not wait for a response but he tapped his cane once into the snow then carried on.

Ariam scowled at the chastisement but understood the Guide was correct. They did need to move or else Gael’jic would be lost. The attempt would mean little, however, if Ariam became lost and froze to death. With a grunt of effort, he pushed himself into the Guide’s semi-cut path.

He was grateful for the warmth of the coat. No doubt, it would save his life and that of the rest of his companions once they rescued Gael’jic and moved on to the rest of the journey. He only wished they had the coats before they had set out from the labyrinth. It would have saved them a lot of trouble regarding Gael’jic.

All of his senses were assaulted by the storm. At times he felt as if he were losing all control of his reasoning faculties. The constant barrage of foul weather was maddening. The blizzard had battered him almost into submission, but he would not give up. Gael’jic needed his help. He had to soldier through this.

After a time, he could not tell how long they had been out in the chaotic storm, but it felt like ages. Surely, he thought, we have to be close. But there was no sign of the next shelter as there had been with the first when they had gotten near enough. He was starting to despair of ever reaching it.

A rumbling noise off to his left caught his attention and he instinctively spun toward it. “What was…?” But before he could finish the sentence a flash of red light pierced the blizzard. It was immediately followed by the report of an explosion. He rocked back on his heels and instinct pleaded with him to run. But there would be no running in these snowdrifts. And besides, where would he go?

His mind had been so dazed by the jarring experience that he could not at first piece together what he’d witnessed. Then, slowly, it came to him. What he’d just seen was an eruption of some kind. It was the same sort of thing that had flash-frozen the unfortunate soul that they had come across on their trek to the first shelter. The explosion had been close and it wedged a sharp splinter of worry into his awareness. The Guide told them as long as they stayed on the path they would be safe from such things, but that provided little comfort having witnessed one of the sudden explosions…even at a distance.

He wondered how far away it truly had been. The storm did no favors in judging that. He stood rooted in the snow, transfixed by his ruminations over it when he realized he had fallen behind the Guide’s continuous pace. He worriedly swiveled around and stared in the direction the celestial being had been traveling. There was no sign of him.

His heart sank when he comprehended his foolishness in stopping and thinking about the dangerous natural phenomenon. The Guide had carried on without him and now he could not see the being.

“Hey!” Ariam shouted at the top of his lungs. “I’m lost! Come back for me.” Only the sound of the howling winds responded to his pleas.

“Guide!” Ariam called out again. Disappointment chewed at him like a ravenous beast. “You idiot!” He shouted at himself. “Now you and Gael’jic will both die because you had to stop and look.”

But another voice arose within him. It seemed to say, No. You are not to be counted out yet. You can still find the way if you are wise. But fortitude must be your Guide now.

Yes. A tinge of calm returned. It was small, yet undeniable. Standing and worrying was pointless and would kill him.

Ariam closed his eyes and took several steadying breaths. He opened his eyes again, looked around, and his focus fell upon the marginal path the Guide had cut through the snow.

That’s it, Ariam thought. I just have to make sure I follow the path before it fills in again.

A heartbeat later he plunged ahead racing as best he could into the divot cut in the snow by the Guide. It was hard to see at first, but now that he was looking specifically for it, he was able to discern it and keep his course. I’m coming, he thought. Wait for me or not, I’m not done yet.

CHAPTER 21. ABANDONED

Ariam refused to call for help again as it did him no good. Besides, the only answer he ever received was from the wind. He decided it would be better to save his breath. Each time he inhaled to shout it was like being stabbed in the lungs with an icicle.

There was still no sight of the Guide. What was more: the path the strange figure had made through the snow was beginning to lose its definition. It didn’t seem possible, but the wind had picked up even more. His fortitude was waning yet again. His legs ached and the cold was starting to penetrate the coat. He was beginning to wonder if he was ever going to make it through this.

His face, the only exposed part of his body, was frigid. He lifted a hand, cupped it, and held it to his mouth. He blew warm air into it so that it spread over his face. He repeated this a few times just to take off the icy edge of the pain. Any relief he got from this was short-lived. But it was better than nothing, or so he reasoned.

Everything blended in his vision. He briefly considered he might have gone blind in the blizzard. But then he held his hand before his eyes and discerned his fingers. He couldn’t see them very well, which was concerning. If he did make it out of this, he vowed never to take his vision for granted. Likewise, he swore never to complain about the heat again.

His legs grew leaden with each step. It was as if a great weight had been tied to each of his feet. Each time he pulled one up to take a step it sapped his precious reserves of strength. It also sapped his will to carry on.

He was so cold. He was also dreadfully exhausted. Part of him wanted to halt and simply drop into the snow and let the weather take him. It would be easier that way. Maybe not for anyone else, but surely for him.

When these thoughts encroached, he shook his head to clear them away. They were insidious and wily. This was the voice of defeat. He must not heed it, he knew.

Another explosion rocked the very air off to his right. He gasped and turned toward it. A great plume of red light appeared through the blizzard and then vanished. This time he heard several objects thud on the ground. It must be closer this time, he reasoned. Hopefully not close enough to send debris my way, he thought.

As far as he could tell, he remained on the Guide’s path. The divot in the snow was harder and harder to read, but it was still present. He could make it out for the time being but he wouldn’t be able to if he stopped and stared in the direction of the explosion for much longer.

He shook his head and turned back to the path. There it was. So he carried on.

Just a few trudging paces later another explosion happened close by, this one on his left. He yelped in surprise this time. It had been much louder than the previous two. And the thuds of whatever had been ejected from the ground had landed closer as well. He thought he heard one land just a few paces away.

He put on a burst of speed, trying as hard as he could to make it to wherever the Guide had made it. If Ariam could just catch up with him and see the barest hint of the back of him, the beggar would feel much better. It would give him the assurance he needed to complete this task. As things stood it did not appear that he was going to be successful. But he pressed on nevertheless. Gael’jic was counting on him. Cecil and Belem were, too.

He recalled Cecil’s words about both he and Belem being impressed with the way Ariam attacked the Shedi’im back on Remmice. At the time Ariam had been caught in a haze of self-loathing. He had felt quite out of sorts within himself. But now those words returned and encouraged him to move on.

Yet another explosion happened off to his left. This one was farther away, but no less startling. Regardless he hunkered down and pressed ahead.

A while later his breathing was labored. His lungs burned with the effort of just breathing. He imagined ice crystals forming in them preventing them from doing what they were supposed to. He doubted that was actually the case, but he could not shake the image. If he failed, it might not be too far off.

Then he saw something and hope sprang in his heart. Just a little bit ahead of him there was a dark shape. An infinitesimal tidal wave of hope lapped at his conscience and warmed him. A burst of energy coursed through his body and he jumped and shouted with glee. He fixed his eyes on the shape and pushed forward with renewed speed. With each step, he felt warmth coming into his legs and resolve taking hold of his heart.

I’m going to make it, he thought. I found my Guide at last. Giggling laughter tumbled out of his mouth as he trudged his way through the waist-deep snow. It did not occur to him that he was no longer plodding through the path already cut by the Guide. It wasn’t until he came upon the dark shape that he realized too late what was really happening.

He had veered from the path. He understood that as he looked upon the icy pillar with a person frozen in it contorted in agony. He went rigid as he looked upon the tormented features of the preserved being caught in the ice. He backed away a singular step and halted. His feet seemed frozen in place. The delight and relief that had washed over him only moments earlier now receded and he doubted they would ever return.

The rumbling is what broke his transfixed self-pitying state. It began as a low sound but soon grew physical. He felt trembling under his feet. The ground shook more violently. He suddenly realized what was about to happen. He dove backward away from the spot just in time. The place where he had just stood erupted into a spray of glowing red liquid. But it was mingled with the white spray of steam from vaporized snow.

He backed away as best he could but knew it would not be enough. He flipped over onto his belly and tried to army crawl forward. Moments later he heard objects crashing on the ground all around him. Something hot collided with his back and he cried out. A big black chunk of rock landed right in front of his face. It melted through the snow and steam rose from its sizzling form. His jaw dropped as he stared in horror at what had almost struck him on the head. It certainly would’ve crushed his head and killed him.

He pushed himself up to his hands and knees and then managed to stand at last. He pressed forward until he found the place where he had left the path. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the path cut through the snow by the Guide was still present, though barely visible.

With renewed desperation, he followed the trail.

CHAPTER 22. AGITATION

There were no chairs or other furniture in the shelter, so Belem sat on the floor with his back to Cecil and Gael’jic. He stared at the wall, his chin propped in one hand and a bored expression painting his features. Cecil looked at him for a few moments then returned his attention to the fallen Dar’rynakai. He knelt by the reptilian man’s side and observed him.

His breathing was slow and shallow. Some of the color had returned to his scaly flesh, though there was still too much brown to it for Cecil’s liking. His gaze drifted over Gael’jic’s body, slowly observing every aspect of his being.

The Dar’rynakai were quite similar to the humans in many ways. There were differences, to be sure, but there was much they had in common. They shared the same basic shape and they were reasonable creatures. They required the same atmosphere and if necessary could subsist on the same kinds of food. He guessed he should probably consider it a marvel that the planet the Dar’rynakai called home could sustain his people. It was a miracle, really. But what was more than that, was that there were other planets within the same system that could support life. Or at least once upon a time could have before they were ruined by some calamity or other. No doubt at Uri’thind’ac’s hands.

He glanced around the shelter thoughtfully and took in what little there was to see. There was not much in the way of detail to appreciate. It was mainly a circular room but otherwise nondescript. There were no carvings of any kind on the walls or ceiling. Everything was flat and smooth. After scouring the environment for just a few moments he returned his attention to Gael’jic.

He carefully pushed one of his hands forward and pressed two fingers on the underside of the Dar’rynakai’s jaw. There was a weak pulse there. There was yet another similarity. Human and Dar’rynakai anatomies shared not dissimilar circulatory systems. A carotid artery in the neck was one of the best places to check for a pulse. He heard Belem rouse behind him. He did not turn to look at the other man but kept his gaze on the unconscious companion. The next thing he knew Belem sat beside Cecil.

“Ariam’s been gone a long time,” Belem said. “Should one of us go after him?”

“No,” Cecil said. “He’s with the Guide.”

“We sure we trust that guy?” Belem asked.

Cecil shrugged. “Vael told us to expect a Guide. Then he showed up.”

“He showed up late and not where we expected him,” Belem countered.

“Look,” Cecil said turning his face to the other man at last. “I get it. You’re crawling out of your skin because you need something to do. Trust me, I sympathize. I don’t like being cooped up in here with no further directive any more than you do.”

“No further directive?” Belem chuckled. “I don’t need any directives. I just need a purpose. And I don’t need it to come from outside of myself.”

Cecil turned his face away. “And yet here you are. With us.”

Belem fell quiet as he stared at Cecil. At last, after a while, he said, “Maybe we should talk about why you are here instead of me.”

Cecil was silent for a few moments. Then he said, “I’m here because it’s the right thing to do.”

“No,” Belem said shaking his head. “You’re here because you need someone to tell you what the right thing to do is. You lost that when your precious king was assassinated and you’ve been in flux ever since.”

“Watch it, convict,” Cecil said in a tone of warning. Belem ignored this.

“Hit a nerve, did I? See, here is what I think. After the king died, you were floundering. But you were still semi-steady. Because there was someone who told you what to do. They told you that you needed to be in chains, so you took the chains. They told you that you needed to stand for execution, so you went to the block. But all the while in your head you knew it was wrong. You wanted out. So when an exit opened up unexpectedly you took it. And lucky for you, there was someone else to tell you what to do. Someone told you to leave the Citadel and wander in the forest. And then you wound up in the same place the rest of us did. Because someone told you to go there. And when you got there and we freed Vael from that statue, he could tell you what to do. Have you not noticed how your life has been one long string of one person after another telling you where to go, what to eat, where to sleep, and when to die?”

“You’re out of your mind,” Cecil said. But he was shaken by the convict’s words. Was the man right? He was afraid he might be. Cecil grew discomforted. He turned to Belem and said, “So what of it?”

“I’m getting to that,” Belem retorted. “Gael’jic and Ariam have bought into this whole thing; hook, line, and sinker. They’ve both gone native as it were. And me?” Belem looked away and shook his head. “Well, I don’t get it. Most of the time I don’t like it. I hate the idea that there is some sort of external force commanding my destiny and moving me like a piece on some cosmic game board. But,” and he lifted a finger here in exclamation, “somewhere deep down inside, I know it’s right. Well, it’s at least true. Now, I’m sure that if I had a sit down with Rama’dy’ac he and I would disagree about a lot of things. But that doesn’t mean he’s not there, pulling strings. I’m sure if I ever get to meet him face-to-face, I’ll have more than just a few choice words for him. I doubt that will be a pleasant meeting for either of us. But then there’s you.”

Cecil stared at the man with resolve unblinking. “What about me?” he asked defiantly.

“You are in this because you need someone to boss you around. You require a boss. And you’ve got one in this mysterious Rama’dy’ac figure. But as I see it, you are not doing a very good job following your new boss’s directions.”

Cecil blinked. “What is that supposed to mean?” he demanded.

The convict’s face was grim as he stared into Cecil’s eyes. “The rest of us were told we had a lack to take care of. And we have. All of us, except for you that is. You are leaving your lack unaddressed.”

Cecil turned his face away. “I don’t think I care to talk about this anymore.”

“That’s too bad,” Belem suddenly shouted at him. “Because we are going to talk about it. I told you back in the labyrinth we were not done talking about this. Now we have a chance and we are going to dig out this root whether you want to or not.”

Cecil found himself on his feet staring down at Belem. His face was a mask of rage and his fists were balled at his sides. He had leaned his spear against the wall several paces away but if he had it presently at hand he would be pointing the business end of it at Belem.

The next thing he knew Belem was on his feet glaring back at him. “Sit down guardsmen, we’re not done talking.”

Without thinking about it, Cecil punched Belem dead in the face. As soon as he had unleashed the assault he regretted it. But by then it was far too late.

Belem slowly brought his face back to stare first in surprise, then in anger back at Cecil.

“Very well,” Belem said. “It’s the hard way then.”

CHAPTER 23. ALTERCATION

Belem lurched at Cecil. Cecil, still surprised by his own attack, did not anticipate it. So when the convict collided with him he was driven completely off his feet and thrown backward.

Belem’s arms were wrapped around the guardsmen as they tumbled to the ground together in the tackle. By the time they landed on the floor, Cecil had reoriented himself and was in the fight. He struggled against Belem’s powerful grip and thrashed about. His armor had protected him from the initial attack as well as the abrupt collision with the floor but getting out of the other man’s death grip was going to be a challenge.

Belem was on top of him and they were face to face. Cecil drew his head back and then shot it forward headbutting the other man. A pained grunt escaped Belem at the strike but he maintained his hold on Cecil. Belem was a bigger man than Cecil was, and probably stronger. But that did not mean Cecil was about to lose this fight. He drew his head back yet again and thrust it toward his opponent. The top of his head connected with Belem’s mouth more powerfully this time and his opponent yelled in pain. In the next instant, Cecil felt the pressure removed from around him as Belem shot his hands up to cradle his face.

Cecil writhed out from under the bigger man and shoved him off. Cecil then rolled to the other side and got up into a fighting stance quickly. But Belem had recovered and was standing the moment after Cecil was up.

Blood dripped from his mouth and Belem grinned.

“Don’t try that again,” Cecil warned.

The smile on Belem’s face only widened as he wiped blood away with the back of her hand. “Me?” he said in mock innocence. “You threw the first punch. But it won’t be the last. That is reserved for me.” The big man charged at him.

Cecil backed up a step and repositioned. Belem came within striking distance and threw an inhumanly fast punch at Cecil. Cecil pulled his face just out of reach and shot an arm up to guide the strike away from him. But Belem was fast and had another blow ready. This one was aimed at Cecil’s midsection. It landed with a crunch. Cecil’s armor protected his solar plexus but he still felt the shock of the blow. Belem no doubt hurt his hand doing so, but he didn’t show it. He simply pressed his attack.

Belem pushed in close and planted both his palms on Cecil’s chest and shoved. Cecil was thrown backward and tripped over Gael’jic’s unconscious body landing on the ground. But he used the momentum of the fall and tumbled into a backward roll then came right back up to standing.

“Come on, guardsman, show me what you’ve got,” Belem snarled.

Cecil obliged. He danced over the prone form of Gael’jic and leaped into the air. He performed a flying kick at Belem. The bottom of his foot landed hard on Belem’s chest. The convict expelled an oof as he was thrown back and tumbled to the floor. Cecil pursued him. Before Belem could get up again, Cecil was at his side and landed a powerful kick to his ribs. He drew back and launched another one at the convict. This time, however, Belem caught his foot and twisted him. Cecil did his best to roll with the maneuver that Belem levied against him. In the process he jumped into the air, spun, and used his other foot to kick the convict in the face.

Belem instantly let go of Cecil’s leg as he fell away.

Cecil landed flat on his belly and quickly pushed himself back up once more. Belem had scrambled away and cradled his face with one hand where the kick had landed. Cecil saw the other man’s cheek started to swell.

“That’s enough,” Cecil said.

“Maybe for you,” Belem grinned crazily. “I’m not finished yet. I haven’t gotten my satisfaction out of you.” Then the man unleashed a roar and charged at Cecil once more.

Cecil backed up a few paces then rooted himself and waited for Belem to arrive. He readied a punch and threw it when Belem came within striking distance. But Belem saw it coming and dodged the attack. While Cecil’s body continued the motion of the punch Belem took advantage of it. He pivoted on one foot and brought his other leg up in a kick. He landed it in the center of Cecil’s belly.

Cecil had already been halfway doubled over from the punch but now went the rest of the way. The armor worked as it should, but still, Belem’s kick drove the wind out of him a little.

While Cecil was turning back Belem landed a hard punch on his cheek. His head rolled with the hit but it was still massively painful. As he was coming back around Belem used his other hand and punched him on the other cheek.

Belem backed up a step and tapped one side of his face, then the other. “There,” he said. “Two on my face, to on your face. Now we’re even.”

Cecil’s lips peeled away from his bloody teeth in a snarl. “I don’t do even,” he retorted. “I do victory.”

Belem smiled wickedly back at the guardsmen and pounded a fist into the palm of his other hand. “Now we’re talking,” he said with a growl. “Come on!”

They launched at one another and met in the center of the room. They traded strikes and blocked blows. They were a flurry of punches and kicks. Both men took a battering.

Belem struck Cecil twice with punches and pushed him away. Cecil backpedaled and was careful not to step on Gael’jic. His back slammed against the wall and his eyes darted just to his right. Resting against the wall nearby was his spear. Without thinking he snatched it up and spun it in his hands and pointed the sharp end at Belem.

Belem yanked one knife, then the other out of their sheaths. “So you want to make it interesting?” Belem said. “Happy to accommodate.” He tossed both knives into the air, they spun, and he snatched them up again by their handles. He darted at Cecil and jumped over Gael’jic’s body, twisting in the air, and sliced with one of the knives at Cecil’s chest.

Shocked by the move, Cecil watched in surprise as the tip of the blade raked across the armor cutting a small gouge in the purple coating. As Belem was completing this arc Cecil came to himself and brought the butt end of the spear around and cracked Belem on the back of the head sending him sprawling.

When Belem recovered he turned around and gave Cecil a lopsided grin. “Afraid to use the sharp end?” Belem asked. “Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of scars. One more won’t kill me.”

“Stop!” Cecil shouted at Belem.

“Why? Do you yield?”

“I never yield,” Cecil bellowed at the convict.

With a shake of his head, Belem calmly retorted, “Neither do I.”

“So are we going to just kill each other?” Cecil asked.

“Not necessary,” Belem replied. He held the knives out to his sides in a casual gesture and added, “You just have to admit that I’m right. Despite your falsely noble duty-bound persona, you are fleeing from your task.”

Cecil stared hard at the man. His chest heaved and his hands tightened around the shaft of his spear. He gritted his teeth and snarled once more at Belem. But part of him knew the man was right. He was evading the fulfillment of his lack.

Something inside him broke and his shoulders sagged. He let go of the spear with one of his hands. With the other, he tossed it to the side and it clattered on the ground before coming to rest. “Fine,” he said, “you win.”

A look of surprise adorned Belem’s face. “I do? That was a little easier than I thought it was going to be.”

“Your mouth is bleeding,” Cecil said. “You’ve got swelling on your face. Doesn’t look like it was so easy to me.”

Belem issued a single laugh. “I’ve had worse from a woman,” he said.

Belem plunged both knives back into their sheathes. He lifted a hand and tenderly poked at the swelling on his face. He then wiped more blood away from his mouth and flung it off to the side. “I guess they’re not training nursery workers in the Palace. I suppose that’s good,” Belem said.

Cecil shook his head. He looked away and expelled a defeated breath.

It was tense and silent for several heartbeats. Finally, Belem spoke again. “It’s not over you know,” he said. “For all of us, I mean.”

Cecil turned back to him. “I know it isn’t, but I don’t think that I can push through. I don’t see us winning this thing.”

Belem shrugged. “Maybe not,” he said. “But if I can give Ryth a fight he won’t soon forget, I will feel like I’ve accomplished something before I die.”

Cecil snorted and shook his head again. The guardsman dropped to a sitting position on the floor next to Gael’jic. “I don’t know that I can do this,” he said.

“I don’t know if you can either,” Belem said. “But for my sake and for his and for Ariam’s, I’m telling you, you need to try. Don’t let us down.”

CHAPTER 24. INTRUSION

Racine was only just into packing his small getaway bag when the door notification chimed. His heart leaped into his throat and he straightened, turning toward the door of his bed chamber. Five interminable seconds passed as he stood rooted in place wondering what to do.

His first instinct was to simply run and get through the glass door leading to his balcony. From there he would descend the side of the building using the fire escape ladder. That had been his plan of exit anyway, but he did not enjoy the thought. He’d struggled with it even without the added pressure of people pounding at his door.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he decided. The only thing to do would be to answer the door and pretend like there was nothing wrong. He drew in and expelled a shaky breath. He darted out into the hallway and then paused. “Don’t run, idiot,” he said quietly to himself. “If they hear you running they will get suspicious.” He started again, this time at a steady walking pace. He crossed his apartment and came to the main door. He pressed a button beside it.

“Yes?” he said.

“Open the door, Racine,” came Shahleen’s businesslike voice. There was no trace of the friendly relationship they had shared in it. It was all cold and hard-edged.

He wasted no time unlocking the door from his side and keying in the sequence to open it for her. When the door slid aside he beheld her unsettling appearance. The first thing he noticed was her eyes. They didn’t just look tired; they were sunken and encircled by darkness. Nevertheless, there was a flame present in those eyes, keen and consuming.

She also dressed differently than he’d ever seen. Normally, she preferred light colors and a stylish but refined and well-tailored design. Now she sported drab and dark loose-fitting robes. She looked like a raincloud that promised lightning strikes to any who annoyed her. What has happened to my friend? he wondered sadly.

But she was not alone. She was flanked by two of the Lord Advisor’s guards. They were wrapped head to toe in tan, militaristic garments. The only other color to their uniform was a black strip of cloth that covered their eyes. Racine wondered briefly how they saw through the dark material. But he quickly dismissed this thought as Shahleen pushed forward into his apartment followed by the two guards. Two other guards who had been stationed outside his door remained in place and she reached for the keypad inside the door and closed it behind her. He also noted that she locked it.

She did not look him in the eye as she strode into his place. Instead, she quickly swept the area with her gaze as if searching for something. Her brow was creased in concentration and a dark look danced on her face.

She turned to Racine and arched an expectant eyebrow. “Well?” she demanded.

Wary, he asked, “Well what? I wasn’t expecting you.”

She directed a frustrated glance his way then turned her face back to the apartment and stormed forward. She began opening drawers and cupboards and looked in them, then slamming them closed. She turned and headed toward the couch and lifted the cushions looking beneath them.

She went on this way for a while then turned sharply to him. “Where is it?”

“Where is what?” Racine asked. He had a pretty good guess as to what she meant. She knew about the device he used to block their surveillance of him. Vellin told him they would not be able to figure it out quickly. But he supposed that he had been cooped up for a while and here they were.

“You were interfering with our surveillance,” she said abruptly. “This could only have been performed by illegal devices. Produce them at once.”

His heart beat a thousand miles an hour as he stared at her. He hoped he kept it off his face. He felt his jaw tremble but did his best to steady it before he replied.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. There, he thought. That wasn’t so bad. I believe that I actually sounded pretty calm.

But it didn’t matter. She shot a reprimanding look at him and turned away continuing her search. She pointed in the direction of the hall and said to the Lord Advisor’s guard, “Go. Search the rest of the place.” His heart raced a little faster as he watched them head toward his bed chamber. This was deteriorating quickly.

Thankfully, he had the presence of mind to eject the sack of illegal devices out the window before he went to pack his bag. They now rested at the bottom of the alley. Hopefully, they would not be in working order anymore as the drop was significant. They would surely be able to pin him with possession of them, but it might take some time.

After a few frustrating moments, Shahleen whipped around and glared at him. “Gillam has talked, you know,” she said smugly.

“Oh really?” he said maintaining a façade of calm. “Well, he is a nervous little man. He will talk just to fill uncomfortable silences. He might say any wild thing so I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at.”

“Don’t play stupid with me,” Shahleen shot back. “We know that you are the chief organizer of a conspiracy against the Triumvirate.”

“That’s a little dramatic, wouldn’t you say?” Racine replied. Where is this reserve of calm coming from? he wondered. But he dismissed the errant question and carried on.

“It is common knowledge that I am spearheading a movement protesting the formation of the Triumvirate,” he said. “I came and talked with you about this myself, don’t you remember? I hold that the formation of the Triumvirate subverts the law. I am well within the bounds of the law to organize in this way. You know this.”

She took several slow and measured steps toward him until she came within the span of a single pace. She narrowed her eyes and leaned in close until they were almost nose to nose. “That is not what I am talking about,” she seethed. In a near growl, she added, “And you know it.”

He didn’t budge or flinch. “I confess that I don’t. Perhaps then you would be so kind as to explain it to me.”

“We know that you are involved in Zain’s disappearance,” she replied tartly.

He affected a surprised expression. “Is that so?” he said. “Your knowledge of that is quite the feat considering I had nothing to do with it,” he continued, maintaining his calm. Did she truly have any evidence of it, or was this a bluff? Had she gotten Gillam to talk? He reasoned it was quite likely she had. He had always known Gillam was going to be the weakest link in the chain regarding the secretive parts of their plan.

She slowly shook her head from side to side. “Oh, Racine, what happened to you?”

He folded his arms across his chest and said, “What happened to you? This is not at all like the Shahleen I know. Who’s responsible for this abhorrent change in my friend?”

The two tan-shrouded guards stormed into the main part of the apartment. One held aloft Racine’s travel bag. “Look what we found,” he said.

Shahleen turned and beheld the travel bag, smirked, and turned her face back to Racine. “Going somewhere?” she asked.

“Just organizing my laundry,” Racine replied.

“In a travel bag?” she pressed.

He shrugged sheepishly.

Shahleen backed away a pace from him and regarded him coolly. “Racine, I am disappointed in you.” She turned to the guards and said, “Arrest him.”

So this is it? he thought. The end of the road. All of his efforts along with the efforts of the others in his little group, as well as Vellin, were about to come to naught. But he didn’t regret it. He would do it all over again if he had to. He might have done things a little differently, but that did not mean he regretted anything he’d done.

The guard holding his travel bag casually tossed it to the side and both moved toward him ready to lay his hands on him.

That was when the glass door to Racine’s balcony shattered.

CHAPTER 25. RESCUE

Everyone spun to ascertain the nature of the invasive noise. They beheld a crouched form amidst a field of shattered glass. It was slight of frame and bent over. But then it stood and revealed itself. It was Kaelinn. She was the calm eye in the center of the storm that was the tense apartment. Her eyes quickly sought out Racine to ascertain his condition then flicked to Shahleen. She stared at the woman for a few moments but quickly moved her attention elsewhere. Now she looked at the two guards that had accompanied Shahleen into the apartment.

“Get her,” Shahleen shouted. Ryth’s guards exploded into action. They moved with lightning speed. But Kaelinn was fast, too.

Racine had not noticed the baton she held in her hand. It was not long, perhaps a foot and a half in length, and appeared to be solid steel. She gave a flick of her wrist and suddenly the baton extended from both ends into a full-length staff. She spun it as she pivoted into a fighting stance. The guards halted when they saw this. They spread out from one another so that they flanked her. She kept her eyes mostly on the one chiefly in front of her but shot a glance or two at the other one to keep his whereabouts known.

She did not wait for them to swoop in and strike at her. Instead, she jumped backward and at the same time maneuvered her staff to strike at the second guard.

The staff swooshed in the air overhead just as the guard ducked beneath its violent approach. But she was not finished. She spun herself and brought the twirling steel staff around again, this time she swept the guard’s legs out from under him.

The man grunted at the blow as he fell to the ground.

The other guard rushed in when her attention was distracted. He ducked low and performed a leg sweep. She turned just in time to witness this and lifted her own leg to avoid getting thrown off balance.

She redirected her staff, bringing it up and around to hit the guard.

The guard shot an arm out and deflected the blow sending the end of the staff careening away from him. His other hand snaked out and seized the staff. He pulled on it as he stood up, attempting to rip her off balance.

She danced forward and sent a kick toward the man.

With both his hands occupied, he could not deflect this strike. Her foot landed on his side and he cried out at the same time he released her staff.

By this time the other one was on his feet again charging at her. Kaelinn didn’t even turn to meet the threat. She simply spun the staff above her head and ducked low. The tip of the staff whistled through the air and then collided with the guard’s face spinning him away from her.

The guard before her shot a hand out and grabbed hold of her bionic arm. She smirked and gave her shoulder a little twitch.

Blue arcs of energy danced upon her metallic arm and then traveled out and surrounded the guard’s entire body. His back arched and he cried out in agony. Kaelinn ripped her bionic arm from his grip and then thrust her open palm into his chest. The guard tumbled over and collided with the ground. He convulsed once and then went still.

She spun around to face the other guard. He had recovered and held his face with one hand. He glowered at her and punched low. She spun her staff in front of her like a fan. Suddenly she halted its movement and held it out in front of her horizontally. She pressed a button on the side and half of it retracted into the baton-like handle. Another section of the staff slid toward the opposite end revealing a steel wire between the two parts. The wire was a few feet long and she spun the transformed weapon as she charged at the guard. She rotated her arm and snapped it outward causing the steel rod at the end of the wire to whip out at the guard.

The steel rod whistled through the air as it came but the guard snatched it mid-flight in an impressive display and pulled, yanking her off balance. When she was close enough he planted a powerful punch in her belly. Kaelinn doubled over. The guard brought his other hand up and was about to bring down in a chop on the back of her neck when Kaelinn dropped low and hammered her bionic fist into his foot. There was a horrendous crunching sound as bones broke beneath the assault.

The guard threw his face toward the ceiling and issued an inhuman shriek accompanied by a hissing sound.

Kaelinn stood up and punched his chest with her bionic hand. It landed in the center of his chest and there was another crunching sound as ribs gave way. The guard collapsed to the ground and was silent.

Kaelinn spun around to face Shahleen ready for whatever she might try. Or so she thought.

Shahleen stood ramrod straight with her hands stretched out to her sides. Her mouth moved as she muttered something that neither Racine nor Kaelinn could make out. But there was an unsettling orange glow in her eyes.

Kaelinn’s brow wrinkled in confusion as she stared at the other woman. She took a few steps toward her intending to knock her down but then halted. She lifted a hand to her head and shook it.

Racine looked between Kaelinn and Shahleen. What is happening? he wondered.

Shahleen was doing something bizarre that was affecting Kaelinn without even touching her. His entire body shivered. He recognized right away that he was in the presence of something otherworldly and sinister.

Kaelinn dropped to her knees, now holding her head in both hands. Shahleen’s attention was fixed solely on Kaelinn. If anything was to be done for her, Racine saw he would have to do it right then, or not at all.

He ran toward Shahleen and tucked his head down as he angled his shoulder at her. She turned her face to him just as he collided with her. The woman expelled a surprised oof as she was forced into the wall. Her head smacked the wall and her eyes went fuzzy. She slid down and her head bobbed in a daze. Racine stared down at her, hardly believing what he had just done.

Suddenly he was being yanked away from her. He turned his head and saw Kaelinn had recovered and was now dragging him toward the broken balcony door.

“Time to go,” she said.

He couldn’t agree more.

CHAPTER 26. THE SECOND SHELTER

At long last, the second shelter loomed before Ariam barely visible through the blowing snow. He could barely make it out but it was definitely not one of the ice pillars. He breathed a labored sigh of relief when he discerned that. But then a question arose in his mind. How was he going to get in? The previous shelter had allowed Belem to enter via blood key. But none of the blood key slots had ever worked for any besides Belem. There had to be another way in, he surmised. But he couldn’t fathom what it could be.

As he came closer and the shelter grew clearer in his sight, he saw the Guide standing in front of it waiting for him.

“Thanks for waiting for me,” Ariam called out snidely.

“You have arrived, have you not?” the Guide said in his high and echoing voice.

“I almost didn’t,” Ariam retorted.

“Let us not speak of almosts and maybes,” the Guide responded. “Now is the time to go to work.” He lifted a hand and indicated the smooth exterior surface of the shelter. It was the same gray stony material as the previous one. It looked identical in fact.

“How do I get in?” he asked, doubting the Guide would be forthcoming.

“You must find the way,” the Guide said.

“Yeah, yeah, I figured,” Ariam replied, flapping his hand dismissively before the celestial being finished. He stepped closer to the structure and bent forward examining its surface. He pressed a cold hand toward it. His fingertips brushed the smooth surface and he jerked them back. The material was warm…almost hot, in fact. It felt strange to his almost numb fingers.

Like the previous shelter, this one was free of any accumulated snow. It simply stood, squat, and unaffected by the terrible weather. He moved off to one side continuing to look over the surface for any indication of a device or a lever, or anything, that would let him into the building. A few paces away he found what appeared to be a small rectangular slot. Is it a keyhole? he wondered. His fingers traced the hole as he thought about what might go in. He had no key that he knew of.

He turned his face to the Guide and said, “I think I found it. But I have no idea what to do with it.”

“As with the previous shelter, something must be sacrificed to gain admittance.”

“But I have nothing,” the beggar said. “I have had nothing for almost five years except the clothes that I wear.”

The Guide beheld him for a few moments then cocked his head. “Is that so?” he asked. “Do you have nothing that you carry as a token of your former life?”

Ariam blinked and his head drew back within the oversized hood. He turned to face the tiny slot as he considered. There is something, he thought. It was something he never let show. He kept it on a leather thong around his neck that he wore beneath his clothes. Not even his other companions on this journey had ever seen it. He reached up a hand absently and felt at the place of his chest where the item rested.

“I do,” he said quietly to himself. The wind was so loud the Guide should not have heard him. Yet he nodded to him as if he’d missed nothing.

Ariam reached inside the coat and felt his old timeworn shirt. He then slipped his freezing hand under the surface of the shirt and gasped as the warm flesh of his chest came into contact with the overly cold skin of his fingers. His fingers slipped down his chest until he found the item. He wrapped his hand around it and held it strongly there, tightly for just a few moments. With his other hand, he reached around his neck and grabbed the leather thong, and pulled it over his head. He then withdrew his hand from his shirt and held his fist before him. He stared at his closed fingers knowing the item beneath them was about to depart from him, probably forever.

He promised himself he would never grow attached to another thing in his life. He didn’t want to let go of this. It was a reminder of what he had been. He shook his head and expelled a reluctant sigh. His fingers peeled away from the item and he looked at it gleaming in his hand. It was a gold coin. At least, it was meant to approximate gold. It was nothing more than a stage prop he had kept from a show that he had performed years ago.

The last show.

In reality, it was worthless. In reality, it was merely a small metallic disc printed with the face of a man in profile, probably a king, and painted a false gold color.

Ariam worked at the leather strap to untie it and slipped the thin piece of leather out of the small hole he had punched in the coin. He cast the strap into the snow and gave it no further thought. But the coin held his attention.

He held it up and showed the Guide. The Guide nodded again. Ariam turned toward the slot and pushed the coin at it. But he paused before allowing it to slip inside. An arguing voice arose in his thoughts.

Are you sure you want to do this? it said.

It’s not a real coin, Ariam thought in response.

The arguing voice replied, It is to you. And that’s all that matters, isn’t it?

But my friend will die, Ariam argued back.

He’ll probably die anyway, the voice contended.

“No,” Ariam said firmly out loud. He pressed the coin into the slot and let go. It tumbled inside of the wall out of sight. The distinct outline of a door appeared on the smooth flat gray surface of the wall and opened for him. He pushed forward and entered a large empty room.

The warmth was almost oppressive. Ariam pulled the hood of the heavy coat aside and breathed deeply of the hot air. He almost choked on it, coughing at first. His lungs were not used to it. It was almost as if he had sucked in a nose full of water.

His hands immediately went to undo the fasteners of the coat and he cast the heavy garment aside a moment later. The heat washed over him and his flesh tingled everywhere. It was uncomfortable at first. Yet it was welcome.

He heard the sound of the door closing and turned and saw the Guide standing inside with him.

“Welcome to the second shelter,” the Guide announced. He lifted a hand and indicated the circular chamber. Ariam turned and beheld it again. It was different than when he had first looked upon it. It had been bare and empty at first, but it was not so any longer. There were four small tables circular and filled to spilling over with food and drink. Ariam felt his mouth water in response.

He ran to one of the tables and immediately started pulling fruit and plunging it into his mouth. He bit down and felt the spray of juice inside and he moaned with delight.

There was a steaming cup of dark liquid on the table that smelled like coffee. His hand lanced toward the mug and he took it up and held it beneath his nose. He took a long sniff and a smile spread across his face. He tipped the cup to his lips and took a sip. It was piping hot all right, and it was coffee.

He and his companions had not eaten anything of substance in days. They had mainly subsisted on foraged berries and roots they had found on Dar’ryn before they departed. None of it had been left for at least a day and so he was quite hungry. He thought of the others and how hungry they must be.

Then he remembered Gael’jic. He spun to the Guide and said, “Where is the elixir?”

The Guide pointed toward one rounded portion of the circular wall. A small table sat against the wall and the only object on it was a glass vial about three inches tall. Inside was glowing yellow liquid that swirled and sparkled with curious luminescence. Ariam circumnavigated the table and headed right for it. He snatched it off the table and held it close to his chest nodding to himself. He turned to the Guide again and said, “Let’s get back.”

“Do you not need to rest for a time?” the Guide asked.

“Gael’jic doesn’t have the time for me to rest.”

The Guide tapped his cane loudly against the floor. “You would be wise to reconsider and at least warm yourself before you leave again. You could imperil your journey otherwise.”

Ariam stared at the Guide for a moment then nodded. “Yes,” he relented. “You’re probably right.” His eyes drifted back to the other tables full of good food and drink and a grin tugged at one corner of his mouth.

“It couldn’t hurt to stay for a few minutes, I guess.”

CHAPTER 27. AN AWKWARD WELCOME

The door to the first shelter opened without Ariam having to do anything. He’d been wondering how he would get back inside since it was Belem who opened the door originally. Ariam could not use the blood key as the convict had and so he puzzled over the problem for most of his journey back to the shelter. He hypothesized that now that he had already been there once and since his companions occupied the shelter, there was no need for rigmarole.

He quickly pushed his way through the entrance and into the shelter. He was glad for the warmth once again. The reverse journey to the first shelter was nowhere near as eventful as traveling to the second had been, but he was grateful to get out of the blizzard which still raged unabated. The trip seemed to pass quicker this time, perhaps because now he had a sense of the distance and knew it could be done after the previous harrowing journey.

There were no close encounters with explosions on the reverse journey, for which he was grateful. Neither had he gotten separated from the Guide on the way back. He had learned the steep cost of that lesson and vowed never to repeat that mistake again.

The wash of heat from the shelter invigorated him after the quest across the frigid plain and the exposure to the horrendous weather battering him. He pulled the hood away and shook his head. Snow and ice flew from his scraggly beard and he started unbuttoning his coat. But then he stopped. Something was wrong.

He looked first to Belem, then to Cecil. He would have looked next to Gael’jic, but the two human companions provided enough fuel to ignite his curiosity and stoke the flame of his attention.

Both men looked like they had been through a meat grinder. There were bruises and swelling on both their faces. They sat somewhat apart from each other, both staring at Ariam. Neither seemed to want to look at the other.

Ariam flicked his eyes suspiciously between the two of them for a few seconds then said, “What happened to you guys?”

Cecil sat a little straighter and half turned to Belem before looking away again almost guiltily.

Belem simply maintained his gaze on Ariam.

The convict squinted thoughtfully and said, “We…don’t want to talk about it.”

“Were you attacked? Did some kind of beast breach the shelter?” Ariam pressed, worry growing in his mind. He instinctively understood there had been no attack from outside. Something had occurred between Cecil and Belem which resulted in them coming to blows.

“Forget about it,” Cecil said firmly. “Were you able to find the elixir?”

Ariam didn’t answer, he was too transfixed on both of their battered states.

“Is this something we need to discuss?” Ariam asked.

“No,” Belem said sharply. “As you can see it’s already been taken care of. Now, will you answer the man’s question?”

Ariam narrowed his eyes as he stared at Belem. He wanted to press the matter further, but he saw from the look in Belem’s eyes it would not be smart to do so. Over the little time he had known the man, he became able to read him fairly well.

Ariam reached inside his coat and withdrew the vial of glowing golden elixir. He held it up for both to see and then headed over to Gael’jic. He knelt by the Dar’rynakai’s side and looked up at the Guide. “What do I do?” he asked.

“You must pour it down his throat,” the Guide replied.

Ariam observed Gael’jic’s face. His long snout was closed. Without looking at Belem or Cecil he said, “I’m going to need help opening his mouth so I can pour this in it.”

Cecil came forward and pried Gael’jic’s mouth open. It took no small effort to do this.

Ariam removed the stopper from the vial and tipped it over Gael’jic’s open mouth. The sparkling liquid splashed on his long and sinuous tongue and then seeped down into his gullet.

He looked up at the Guide and said, “How long is this supposed to…?”

But before he could finish the question Gael’jic gasped and sat bolt upright. Ariam uttered a cry of surprise and threw himself back to get out of the Dar’rynakai’s way. It was so sudden Belem uttered a curse.

Gael’jic looked quickly about ascertaining their surroundings. He looked confused and frightened. After a few breathless moments, he asked, “Where are we?”

“We’re at the first shelter,” Ariam supplied. “You fell suddenly ill once we arrived. I had to go and get an elixir to save your life.”

Gael’jic turned a questioning glance at the beggar. He stared at him for a handful of heartbeats, then said, “I had a terrible dream. Or at least I think it was a dream.”

He turned haunted eyes away from all of them and stared blankly at a wall. He remained quiet for a long time, then at last continued, “I was in the great pit of the dead. The dark and gloom were pierced only by glowing red coals and the occasional flaming spurt from fissures in the ground. All around me were forbidding openings. Caverns. And out of them echoed the cries of the damned. It was terrifying. But then it became worse.”

“How did it become worse?” Ariam whispered, leaning forward once more.

Gael’jic continued in a hissing, trembling voice, “I turned because I felt eyes on me. I saw the glowing eyes of the great demon, the blade in the dark. Uri’thind’ac. It was the same hooded demon I saw in my early journey in the wilderness before I met any of you.” Gael’jic lifted a hand and covered his eyes as if he were a child trying not to see something frightening.

“Did he say anything?” Ariam asked.

“Yes,” Gael’jic said and shuddered. He pulled his hand away from his eyes and turned to stare gravely at Ariam. “He promised our journey was soon to be at an end. That we would all fail because one does not fulfill his lack.” Gael’jic glanced briefly at Cecil then looked away ashamedly. This escaped no one’s notice.

“He is a deceiver,” Ariam replied. “Don’t believe anything he has said.”

“It was just a dream,” Belem interjected. “No need to pay it any mind.” But the convict shot a brief look of disapproval at Cecil.

Ariam turned a reprimanding face at the convict. “You sure about that?” he whispered pointedly.

Belem harrumphed and folded his arms over his chest. He glowered back at Ariam, but Ariam turned away and looked to Gael’jic once more.

“How do you feel?” Ariam asked.

“Weak,” Gael’jic replied. He shook his head and added, “And very hungry.”

A broad smile split Ariam’s face. He put a hand on Gael’jic’s shoulder and said, “Well then my friend, you’re in luck.”

Gael’jic turned a questioning glance to Ariam and arched an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Ariam continued to beam at him and said, “There is food in the next shelter.”

“Food?” Belem said, perking up. “What kind of food?”

Ariam turned a mischievous grin on him and said, “Good food.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Belem replied.

CHAPTER 28. FOREBODING

“You weren’t kidding!” Belem said in an awed tone. The four of them stood assembled in the second shelter gaping in disbelief in at the various tables filled with plentiful rich foods.

“What are you waiting for?” Ariam said with a little chuckle, intentionally repeating Belem’s words from the previous shelter. “Go ahead and eat.”

“Hold on a second,” Cecil said. “Are we sure it is safe? This seems a little too convenient.”

“What do you think is wrong with it?” Ariam asked. “This is a shelter, isn’t it? Is it not for the preservation of people on the pilgrimage to the Throne of the Gods?”

Cecil made an uncertain noise in the back of his throat. He hemmed and hawed for a few seconds then said, “I don’t know. Where did all of this food come from?”

“It is provided,” the Guide interjected. “The shelters are meant to give you strength, sustenance, and rest after each leg of your pilgrimage to the Throne of the Gods as this one has said,” he said, lifting his hand toward Ariam. “You would not spurn the gift of the gods, would you?”

“I’m not sure what to think anymore,” Cecil retorted.

“I ate plenty,” Ariam said. “And I’m fine. And that was hours ago. I think if there were anything wrong with the food, I would have felt its effects by now.”

Cecil gazed at the man for a few heartbeats. He then turned away and stared back intently at the tables. He walked slowly up to one of them and plucked a large purple grape. He held it between his thumb and forefinger, lifting it close to one eye, and studied it. This went on for a good long while.

“Will you just eat the stupid thing?” Belem said.

Cecil turned and tossed the grape to him. The convict caught it out of the air.

“You first,” Cecil said.

Belem did not hesitate but immediately popped the grape into his mouth. He chewed briefly and then swallowed. “Tastes find me,” he said. “No poison that I can detect.”

Gael’jic removed his arm from around Ariam’s shoulder and walked slowly up to one of the tables.

Ariam had to assist Gael’jic at several points along the journey. He was still weakened from the arduous trek and prolonged exposure to the cold that had nearly killed him. But now he looked energized as he approached the table. He reached out a hand and seized a big red fruit. He tore a chunk off with his clawed fingers and gently set the piece into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed. He released a moan of delight. He then shoved the rest of the fruit into his mouth and began to voraciously chew at it.

Belem shrugged, then went about collecting food for himself.

Cecil sighed and reached out to a nearby table and picked up a wedge of cheese. He gingerly nibbled at a small tip and rolled the infinitesimal bite around on his tongue. He instantly found his mouth filled with saliva. He almost hadn’t realized quite how hungry he was. He took a much larger bite of the cheese and savored it.

An hour later they had finished their meal and allowed Ariam a short time to rest.

“It is time for us to leave,” the Guide soon announced.

When they had readied themselves they filed up behind the Guide. The Guide waved a hand in front of the door and it opened. He tapped his cane four times on the floor and strode out into the blizzard once again. Gael’jic was next in line. If they had been right about the order in which all of the puzzles had to be solved, they reasoned that the Dar’rynakai was meant to find the entrance into the third shelter. The others waited close at his back in case he would need assistance.

But he had taken the nourishment and rest he needed and appeared enervated and ready to travel once again. He was back to his old self as far as any of them could tell. Cecil was glad to see that much.

An hour later they were still trudging through the blizzard conditions at a slow pace. They were doing an adequate job keeping up with the Guide, and none of them got distracted. They had all learned the lesson of life or death out on the plains of the frozen wasteland.

However, Cecil was starting to suffer from snow blindness and he rubbed at his eyes trying to urge them to work better. He also blinked rapidly then shook his head trying to force the vision to return.

The report of an explosion off to their right caught all their attention. They turned their focus that way and saw the red plume of light through the blizzard. It was small and so they all understood it to be a good way off.

Ariam had explained to them about the explosions and described his harrowing encounters with them. That meant they were all informed enough to not get distracted by staring at it but quickly returned their attention to the Guide lest they get lost in the blizzard.

Cecil wondered how much longer they could go on like this. The journey between the second shelter and the one ahead felt much longer than from the first to the second shelter. A growing sense of foreboding ate away at his consciousness. He again started to question whether or not the Guide was leading them true.

That deeply uneasy sense welled up within him. He did his best to keep his eyes fixed on the back of their Guide. But when he did so the questions about the strange celestial creature only grew. Trusting him became harder and harder. What if he was not the Guide they were supposed to meet? Perhaps he was an associate of Ryth. Maybe he was like one of the servants of Ryth they had encountered in other settings. Something told him that was not the case. Jobash and the warden at the Obelisk had been different. They had commanded a host of others and directed them to attack the companions. This creature was alone.

Cecil shook his head. Why did he think this way? Thus far, the Guide had led them out of the labyrinth and to a series of shelters that had protected them. He told himself he was being foolish. He realized it probably had more to do with his lack that was not being filled than anything else. The problem was not outside of himself, but within.

That didn’t change the fact that the sense of foreboding not only persisted but increased with each step.

“Up ahead!” someone shouted.

Cecil snapped out of his conflicting thoughts and stared as best he could through the driving snow. It was Ariam who had shouted. He searched for the man through the whipping winds and snow and saw him standing close to Gael’jic. They had stopped moving, as had their Guide. At first, he could not see what caused them to halt, but then he trudged forward a few more steps and saw the beginnings of a large dark shape through the blizzard.

They were almost upon the next shelter.

CHAPTER 29. WATCHLESS SLEEP

The shelter loomed large in their sight despite the obscuring effect of the blizzard. They wasted no time crossing the remaining distance to it. This shelter was completely free of accumulated snow just as the others that came before it. Ariam stretched his hand forward and rested it on the surface. He smiled and turned to the others.

“Touch it,” he shouted

Gael’jic came hesitatingly forward and did the same, followed by Belem. Cecil remained back and folded his arms over his chest watching the others. He beheld as his three companions shared looks of astonishment with one another. Ariam turned to him and motioned him forward.

“Come!” the beggar shouted. “It’s warm to the touch.”

Cecil grudgingly came forward and rested his hand on the surface. Sure enough, it was warm. But why did it excite the others and not himself?

He turned to Ariam and said, “Were the others this way? We never checked.”

Ariam nodded vigorously. “Yes,” he said.

Gael’jic removed his arm from Ariam’s shoulders and strode slowly toward the shelter. He searched the outer wall, looking for whatever mechanism would allow them entrance. It did not take long until he found an oddity. He motioned the others forward and they came trotting up to him.

“What is it?” Ariam asked excitedly. They all laid eyes on a floral symbol carved into the surface of the shelter.

Without a word, Gael’jic reached inside his coat and felt for his belt. When he located that for which he searched he lifted it out: it was the sack with the two remaining Illuminoc plants Vael had given to him. He thrust his hand into the sack and removed one of the flowers. He held it up before the others. It glowed bright blue, piercing even through the blizzard.

The Dar’rynakai nodded to them, then turned to the floral symbol cut in the side of the shelter. He slowly and reverently pressed the plant toward it. When the flower was not quite an inch away from the surface it jumped from Gael’jic’s hand and stuck to the side of the shelter. Gael’jic drew his hand back and hissed in surprise.

The glow of the flower intensified and the companions had to shield their eyes. The outline of a door in the same brilliant blue light as the flower appeared around the design. A handful of moments later the flower turned gray and crumbled to ash which the wind quickly stole away.

The door opened of its own accord and Gael’jic stepped inside. Ariam came next, followed by Belem and then Cecil. Bringing up the rear was the Guide. The door closed behind them once they were all inside the circular chamber.

There were no tables of food spread out before them, which was just as good. They were all still full from the feast they had at the previous shelter.

Instead, there were four comfortable-looking beds with large pillows and heavy blankets arrayed around the room. In the center of the chamber was a fireplace encasing a glowing orange flame. It danced and crackled hypnotically in the cylindrical fireplace. The rest of the room was significantly darker than the previous shelters had been, with the fire as the only source of light.

The Guide strolled up before them and turned to face them again when he reached the fireplace. He lifted his hands and said, “Now is the time for rest. Each of you must take a bed and sleep now.”

The companions looked at one another uncertainly. Cecil spoke up.

“So far we have heard nothing but how urgent this journey is. It does not make sense for us to stop and sleep now when we are so close.”

The Guide came one pace forward until he came face-to-face with Cecil. He tapped the tip of his cane once loudly on the floor, cocked his head, and replied, “Your journey to this point has been greatly difficult, has it not?”

“Yes,” Cecil answered flatly.

“The journey ahead will be no less so,” the Guide said. “You do not even understand how exhausted you truly are. Nor can you appreciate the sacrifices that lay beyond this point. You would be foolish to refuse rest.”

Ariam came up beside Cecil. He put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Maybe we should sleep. We are all very tired and…”

Cecil spun and revealed a dark look to the beggar, cutting him off. “I don’t like it,” he said through gritted teeth.

Belem walked past them and pulled back the heavy blankets on one of the beds. He sat on it, testing it, and then stared at them. “It’s comfortable,” he said. “And the Guide is right. We have gone far too long without proper sleep.”

Cecil glared at the convict for a handful of moments then said, “All right then. But we should set watches.”

The Guide was shaking his head before he could finish. “That will not be necessary,” he said. “I will watch over you. But even if I did not, there would be no need.”

“We don’t know you,” Cecil said sharply. “We have taken turns doing watch shifts since we have been together.”

“There will be no watches,” the Guide said firmly.

Cecil turned to the others and said, “I do not like the idea of watchless sleep.”

“Relax,” Belem chided the guardsmen. “The Guide has not led us astray yet. If he wanted to kill us, he could have easily abandoned us out in the blizzard or left us in the labyrinth to die. And besides, nothing can get in here. Not without an Illuminoc flower anyway,” he added looking at Gael’jic.

“This still does not sit well with me,” Cecil warned.

“Suit yourself,” Belem said. He lay down on his bed and pulled the blanket over him, turning away from them.

Ariam looked to Cecil, shrugged, and moved forward to one of the beds. He likewise got beneath the covers and settled into it.

Cecil looked to Gael’jic. “What about you? You have already had a slumber.”

Gael’jic slowly shook his head. “Despite that,” he said, “I still feel a little weak. I could use the sleep. I think you could, too. Do not fight this.”

Gael’jic turned away from Cecil and headed for a third bed. He got into it and covered himself up.

Cecil was left alone standing, staring a challenge at the Guide.

“You are very tired,” the Guide said. “You should rest.”

Cecil could not deny the exhaustion he dragged around like an anchor. He was bone tired. He grunted, shook his head, and reluctantly turned and headed for the last empty bed. He stopped before it, stared down at it, then pulled back the covers. He examined the bed as if he were searching for some sort of trick. There was none. It was just a bed.

He thought momentarily about removing his armor and setting it aside. However, he did not feel that was wise. He kept it on as he lay down in the bed. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but he was familiar with the armor. Therefore it did not bother him overly much to wear it in bed. He pulled the covers over himself as he lay his head down on the luxurious pillow.

Sleep took him almost before he had the chance to realize what was happening.

And then he dreamed.

CHAPTER 30. ESCAPE HATCH

He had never been to the Under-Citadel before, nor had he wanted to. But now it was a matter of survival. He did his best to keep pace with Kaelinn, but she moved quickly. More than once he had almost lost her. She had to stop, turn, and wait for him. When he caught up, she gave him a reprimanding look and then continued.

“Don’t you suppose we have lost them yet?” Racine asked.

Kaelinn halted their progress once more and spun on him. “Are you really that foolish?” she asked. “We may never lose them at the rate we’re going. Don’t you know who these people are?”

“Of course, I do,” Racine retorted.

“Then perhaps you don’t truly appreciate what they are capable of,” she replied.

He figured she was probably right about that. He’d been proved wrong more than once recently regarding their capabilities and the lengths to which they would go to accomplish their ends. Most of all he’d been surprised by their character.

And then there was Shahleen. He’d been disappointed by her especially. He thought he’d known her, but that turned out to be gravely wrong. Since she had been elevated to a role within the Triumvirate, her character had been revealed to be completely otherwise than he thought.

But he remained unconvinced that everything was as it seemed. Something was amiss. When Kaelinn had come to rescue him, something odd happened to Shahleen. Her eyes. They had… What? Could he admit what he thought he saw? No, not thought. Just plain saw. Her eyes had glowed orange. He could not fathom what that portended but knew that it was not good. It gave him hope that what she had been doing lately was not truly in line with who she was as a person. Instead, she was being acted upon by some kind of outside force. Something beyond his understanding. His initial reaction was that it was a display of the supernatural. But that would mean…

“Come on,” Kaelinn said jarring him from his thoughts. “We have to keep moving.”

He shook his head and said, “All right. Lead the way.”

They were still only two levels deep into the subterranean portion beneath the Citadel proper. He was aware there were many levels yet to go before they reached the bottom. He didn’t even know if they were headed down that far. In truth, he doubted it. The farther down one went, the worse it was reputed to be in terms of criminal activity. Even a man like Vellin would restrict himself above the worst of it.

“Where are we going?” Racine asked as he struggled to keep up with Kaelinn.

She kept her face forward as they jogged along and replied, “Best you don’t know the details.”

“I see,” he said. “Can we at least slow down a little bit?”

“No can do,” she said. “We don’t want to give them a chance to catch up to us. It will be hard enough as it is.”

As if to punctuate this an energy blast shot past them and expended its power against a nearby wall. It left a black scorch mark and sent chunks of the wall sailing away.

Kaelinn spun around pulling a firearm from within her coat. She held it forth in her natural hand. The cybernetic arm hung limply at her side waiting to be employed in case an enemy drew too close.

She squeezed off three shots. Racine wheeled around to witness where they landed. As of yet, he could only see one pursuer: the one who had fired the shot at them.

The first shot she returned went wide and struck several paces away from their assailant. The second one landed home in his thigh and the third pierced his upper chest. It was one of the Lord Advisor’s guards. They wore no armor that he could tell. Unless of course, it was concealed beneath their loose-fitting tan uniforms. He supposed that was possible, but the way the man crumpled upon receiving the blasts, he didn’t think so.

Kaelinn jammed her weapon into its holster and grabbed hold of him at the same time with her cybernetic hand. She yanked him from his rooted position and they ran once more. This time, she did not let go of him. Instead, she kept hold of him to force him to keep pace with her. It was an even greater struggle than before. She moved so fast.

He kept expecting her to direct them to a lift of some kind that would take them deeper into the place, but she never did. Instead, after a while, she turned down an alleyway and came to a halt when they reached its dead end.

“What are you doing?” he asked, flustered. “You’ve trapped us!”

She gave him a patronizing look and then knelt. The floor of the alley was covered in refuse, which she cleared away to reveal the outline of a hatch. It was completely flush with the rest of the ground and no one would find it unless they were looking for it. He hardly noticed it at first. Only when she placed her cybernetic hand flat against the surface and pulled up a handle that was not initially obvious did he understand what was happening. It took him a brief moment to ascertain that the handle was magnetic and required her cybernetic hand to lift it from its place that was otherwise flush with the rest of the hatch.

She lifted the hatch and pointed at it expecting him to go first. He came around to look down into it and saw a dark and foreboding hole that smelled of ages’ worth of rank refuse. The rungs of the ladder built into the side were evident and so he stepped toward it and then stopped. He lifted his face to look at her despairingly but she pointed back into the hole once more. The message was clear. Go down, or I’ll throw you down.

He crouched beside the hole and swung his legs over it. He felt with his feet until he located the rungs and then lurched forward and took the ones closest to the top in his hands. He slithered into the hole and started climbing down. He looked up and saw Kaelinn staring toward the mouth of the alley, not paying attention to him. She was watching for their pursuers.

When she judged he had enough time to climb down, she entered quickly and allowed the hatch to close.

When the hatch rested back in its place they were enveloped in total darkness.

“How far down does this go?” he asked nervously. His voice echoed all around them in the enclosed vertical tunnel.

There was a clicking sound and a light came on at her waist. It was brilliant and created a bubble of luminescence that reached down to him. He stared up at her and saw that she looked back at him. Her expression was irritated.

“It’s a long way to the bottom,” she said. “Whatever you do, don’t lose your grip. I don’t want to have to scrape you off the bottom.”

He swallowed.

“That’s not what I was hoping to hear,” he muttered to himself. He then climbed down.

CHAPTER 31. SHUT UP AND FOLLOW ME

After long and breathless travel they stopped descending after countless levels. He had no way to judge how far down exactly they went, but she seemed to understand. They exited the vertical tunnel via another hatch, this one vertically set in the rounded wall of their tunnel. They came out onto another level deep in the guts of the Under-Citadel.

“Are we almost home sweet home?” Racine asked.

“Not exactly,” she replied. “Since this morning, a few things have changed. Including our location and base of operations. We’ve had to move. No thanks to you of course.”

“What did I do?” he asked.

“Chiefly?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “You got caught. If it were up to me, I would have left you in their hands. But Vellin insisted.”

“Glad to be appreciated,” Racine replied rolling his eyes.

“You very well should be glad,” Kaelinn snorted. “Who knows what they would have done to you?” Then in a lower voice and with narrowed eyes, she said, “Who knows what they’ve done to your friends by now?”

Racine felt his face go cold. He thought about Gillam and the others. Francisco had been killed already, or so they had been told. None of them had seen a body of course. They had been confined to their apartments and cut off even from news bulletins. But he surmised there was no reason to doubt the report.

And he had been communicating with Gillam when they broke into his place and arrested him. Or at least, he hoped they had arrested him and not killed him. He was afraid to find out what had really happened, but at the same time desperately wanted to know the state of his friend. Maybe Vellin would know.

“Normally,” Kaelinn said, “breaking into his thoughts, I would blindfold you before I lead you where we are going. There’s no need for too many people to understand the location, you understand.”

“I probably won’t remember the way anyways,” Racine said. “I’m not that good with directions. And I doubt I’ll be leaving any time soon.”

“Nevertheless,” Kaelinn said, “sometimes it’s best to take the precaution. However, this time we don’t have the luxury of that. So whatever happens, do your best not to notice the way. Understand?” There was an implicit threat in the instruction. He wasn’t stupid. He understood that much.

He gave a curt nod. But that was all he offered.

“All right then,” she said. “Follow me.” She turned and strolled away from the hatch. He lifted his eyes to take in the scenery. It was surprising how much it resembled the world above. Except it was significantly dirtier. And of course, the ceiling far above their heads was no sky. It did have a tracking source of artificial light to emulate the hours of the day, but it was no substitute for the real thing in his estimation.

He followed her on a winding path through the wide underground streets. As above, so below. People wandered the streets, many of them seemingly aimlessly. A few of these looked to be homeless. One man sat on the curb of the street. His feet were in the street and his arms rested folded upon his knees. His head was down facing his lap. Racine quickly looked away when the man raised his head.

They were no longer running. Now they walked at a casual pace. Kaelinn turned down an alleyway and he followed her. They traveled far away from the street until she knelt beside a series of garbage cans. Beside these was a duffel bag. She unzipped it and rummaged inside. She turned and offered him a different set of clothes.

“Here,” she said. “You need to change.”

“Change?” he said looking around. “Right here?”

“I’m sorry your Majesty,” she said snidely. “The dressing room is occupied at the moment. Yes, right here.”

“Can you turn around at least?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes and turned away from him. “It’s not like I’m going to get excited,” she said. “Make it quick.”

He disrobed everything except his undergarments as fast as he could and replaced them with the articles of clothing she had given him. They were exactly the kind of thing he never would wear. They were old and threadbare, and if he did not miss his guess, dirty.

When he finished he said, “Okay.” She turned around and assessed him briefly.

“Is this the latest fashion in the Under-Citadel?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes yet again and turned and walked away. He immediately followed her. They exited the alleyway and back out onto the street winding their course through the maze of buildings.

This neighborhood all looked quite mechanical and industrial. Racine sometimes forgot their entire society was modeled around an old starship that had traveled from far away. The colony ship had been converted into the present Citadel. That was part of its design, after all. Evidence of the Citadel’s former life was apparent down here more so than above.

In the Citadel proper, care had been taken to make the structures appear more welcoming. Down here, they remained just old parts of the ship that were used for homes and businesses.

After a long time, they finally came to another alleyway. Kaelinn turned down it without stopping and Racine was immediately at her back. She came to a doorway and pounded five times with her bionic hand.

A slot in the door slid aside and a man’s haggard eyes looked through it.

“Let us in,” she said.

The eyes on the other side of the door flicked to Racine then tried to look beyond him. When whoever it was on the other side discerned they were alone, the door noisily unlocked and slid aside for them.

They were in a narrow hallway. Many other people crowded the space. These were dangerous-looking men who sported a variety of weapons. Kaelinn moved around and through them unconcerned as if they were not there. Racine shot each of them nervous looks as they passed by, but nearly none of them spared him a glance.

When they were out of the hallway and into another door, they found themselves at a set of stairs leading upward. Kaelinn began to climb. Racine followed after her and halted when he was halfway up the first set of stairs. He craned his neck and looked upward. The stairs traveled several levels far upward and disappeared almost out of sight.

“How far do we have to go?” he asked.

“Shut up and follow me,” she said without stopping.

He sighed in exasperation, shook his head, then continued after her.

CHAPTER 32. CONFIRMATION

Racine was out of breath by the time they reached the level Kaelinn intended them to stop. He did not know how far up inside the building they had traveled but lost count after about twenty levels. That had yet been a while before.

Kaelinn strode up to a door on the landing of their present level and punched in an elaborate code in the keypad beside it. An unlocking sound resounded from within the door, then it swooshed aside. Kaelinn motioned for him to go first. Breathing heavily, he cautiously stepped through the door and looked around to take in his surroundings. He doubted the effort would be put into laying a trap for him after all that had taken to get him out of his apartment and away from Shahleen and the Lord Advisor’s guards. But, he couldn’t be too careful. He wondered if he would ever be able to trust anyone again after this.

“All the way down the hall,” Kaelinn said. “Get moving.”

Racine turned to briefly look at her and she nodded for him to go on.

“Aren’t you coming too?” he asked.

“I am,” she said, “but I want to keep an eye on you.”

“Me?” he asked dubiously. “Why?”

“Save your questions for Vellin,” she snapped and prodded him with her cybernetic hand. The push was forceful and he stumbled a little bit. When he caught himself he spared her one last hurt look, then turned and strode ahead. The door stood at the end of a long hallway. The beating of his heart grew more rapid with each step he took. He hoped it was Vellin waiting for him at the end, and not some prison cell… or worse.

He reached the door and turned to Kaelinn waiting for her to open it.

She reached past him and keyed in the code. He made an effort not to look to memorize the code.

The door slid upward revealing a spacious room with what appeared to be an impressive command center situated in the center of it. Several large crates were scattered throughout the room. Many of these were opened and protective packing material spilled everywhere. A handful of workers scurried about setting up a variety of implements and instruments. Standing still among it all with his hands clasped behind his back was Vellin. His back was to them though he certainly knew of their presence.

“Welcome,” he said. “Glad you made it.”

“You’re not alone in that,” Racine said. “I wasn’t sure I was going to make it at all.” He meant that in more ways than one. After what happened to Francisco…

Vellin turned and shared a grim look with him.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news,” he said.

“That’s standard for the course lately. How bad?” Racine said, bile rising in his throat.

“Just about as bad as it gets,” Vellin retorted in false casualness. He shook his head and reached for a tablet on a table nearby. He scooped it up and tapped in a series of commands. While he did this he lifted his eyes and spoke to Racine.

“I am afraid Zain has escaped.”

Racine’s jaw dropped but nothing came out. His skin chilled and prickled with goose flesh. His mouth worked as his brain tried to find the right words to spill out of it. At last, he said, “Escaped? How? You assured us he’d be secure.”

Vellin shrugged. “We have no idea. We had him under heavy lock and guard. Evidently, the man is much wilier than we expected.”

“Evidently, your efforts and resources weren’t enough,” Racine replied his voice taking a bitter tone.

“It’s never been a problem before,” Vellin said arching an eyebrow. “There was one cell with one exit and four guards stationed outside. I personally saw to it that he was deposited in the cell. We checked on him regularly. For the most part, he did nothing, not even move. He spent almost all his time hunkered down in a corner of the cell. He sat on the floor instead of the bed. His knees were drawn up and he hugged them to himself. He hardly touched the food we left for him. When we checked on him this morning, he was not in his cell.”

“And the guards?” Racine asked. “Were they dead or incapacitated?”

“No,” Vellin said, shaking his head and adopting a confused look. “That’s just the thing. They were stationed outside as they had always been. A meal was brought to him and the cell was just… empty.”

“The guards had to have let him out,” Racine said. “It’s the only explanation.”

“Not quite so simple,” Vellin said. “Trust me when I say I don’t hire the kind of people who will turn against me.”

“Not even for the right price?” Racine asked.

“No,” Vellin said curtly. “Not even for the right price. I have taken care to make sure that I’ve made some clear… examples of people who have betrayed me in the past. In fact, it’s part of our recruitment process. Recruits are exposed to recorded evidence of what happens to people who turn against the organization and me. And believe me when I tell you what they see is exceedingly unpleasant to behold. If they still want to join after that, then they’ve passed the first phase of recruitment.”

“The first phase?” Racine said, inexplicable.

“That’s right,” Vellin said with a half-grin on his face. “I don’t leave anything to chance. Including the monitoring of our prison cells. Take a look at this and tell me what you think.” He flipped around the tablet and showed him the screen.

When Racine’s eyes were locked onto the display, Vellin tapped a button and a video recording played. It featured a door guarded by four men: presumably, it was Zain’s prison cell. The guards were all stationary, two of whom were facing the door. Two of them faced the opposite way to keep watch for anyone who approached. The video recording captured the sound of a powerful thud. It sounded as if someone had slammed into the door. One of the guards stepped forward and manipulated a keypad on the wall beside the door. There was a video monitor on the wall beside the door that he bent to examine. Racine could not see what played on the screen, but the guard grew alarmed, or so Racine believed by the man’s change in posture. He spun and shouted to the other man beside him to open the door.

Without questioning what was happening, the other guard facing the door complied. He punched in a code and the door slid aside. The first man was raising a weapon. The weapon never came the full way up. There was a blinding flash of orange light and the two guards facing the prison cell’s open door went slack. They remained on their feet but their arms hung limply at their sides and they stooped forward. They looked like oversized marionettes that were abandoned and left to hang. The other two guards spun around to see what had happened. Another orange flash emanated from the cell and they adopted the same posture as their companions.

A moment later Zain’s form filled the doorway. He stepped forward and stopped between the two closest guards. He leaned over to one and put his hand on the man’s shoulder and whispered something into his ear. He finished a moment later then turned to the other man and did likewise. He then stepped forward and repeated this with the other two guards.

After that, he casually strolled out of range of the camera. The footage continued until the guard closest to the keypad stood upright and shook his head. As if in a daze he sluggishly reached forward and keyed in a code that closed the cell door. He turned to his companion and nodded to the man. They both stood upright and faced the doorway. The other two guards stood up straight and turned around to face away.

Racine lifted his eyes from the tablet screen to stare confounded into Vellin’s face.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Vellin replied shaking his head.

Racine remembered Shahleen’s glowing eyes. He turned briefly to Kaelinn and nodded to her. He turned back to Vellin and said, “It’s not an explanation, but we experienced something strange ourselves. And it was not dissimilar to that recording.”

Vellin’s eyes flicked to Kaelinn briefly then back to Racine. “Out with it,” he practically barked.

Racine unfolded the tale of their escape and what had happened shortly before they got away.

“I see,” Vellin said, his eyes narrowing in thought. “The puzzle is starting to come together.”

He looked away thoughtfully and rubbed his chin with a finger. A moment later he turned back to Racine and said, “I’m afraid that’s not all. There’s more.”

“More?” Racine asked, his jaw dropped as he leaned forward. “What more could there be?”

Vellin turned the tablet back to face himself and struck it a few times with his fingertip. He spun it around again to show it to him. Now adorning the screen was an image of Shahleen. There were scrolling tickers along the top and bottom indicating it was a news bulletin. Standing beside Shahleen was a haggard-looking Zain. But Shahleen stood tall and proud as she addressed the camera and whoever was in the room.

Vellin tapped a button to play the recording.

“Citizens of the great Human Citadel,” She intoned ominously, “I come to you with disturbing tidings. The investigation into the king’s assassination has yielded surprising and devastating results. A conspiracy with deep roots in the highest levels of the government of our Citadel has been uncovered. Sadly, it turns out several Sector Representatives are even involved in this conspiracy. But take heart citizens. Many of them have been apprehended and are confined. To maintain full transparency in this process, we are now going to release the names and specific crimes of those who have been discovered participating in this heinous crime ring.”

An image of each of Racine’s fellow conspirators flashed on the screen along with their names and a list of bogus crimes. His image came last of all.

She went on and said, “What is more, one of them had to be killed during an attempt to escape, He violently resisted arrest and jeopardized innocent lives.” The news bulletin cut to an image of a street in the Citadel proper. Suddenly Francisco appeared running down the street and throwing worried looks over his shoulder. He was clearly terrified. He stopped, spun, and aimed an energy pistol at something outside of the range of the camera. He fired five shots and turned and ran once more.

Suddenly something fast raced into the shot but it was a blur at first. Racine’s heart sank when it slowed to attack Francisco. It was a Mekhound. Soon another appeared. Both jumped and landed on Francisco pushing him to the ground. He fought against them, but they tore him apart.

Racine closed his eyes and turned his face away from the screen. Vellin spun the tablet back to himself and stopped the recording.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” he said.

“I’m sorry about everything,” Racine said and hung his head and wept.

CHAPTER 33. SNOW BEAST

The wind and cold were abusive. That was the best he could describe the experience in his mind. He felt battered by the bitterness of it all and knew the others felt much the same. Cecil hugged himself yet tighter, for all the good it did him. Which was none.

Even with the heavy coats that they acquired at the first shelter, the cold penetrated to their very souls. And it didn’t help that with each successive shelter, the distances between them appeared to be longer. It might have been a trick of the mind, but he didn’t think so. They had been traveling for about two hours if he had kept track appropriately. He had to admit he might not have. Being out in the blustery frozen hellscape was doing a number on his understanding of things.

And yet he had to admit the frigid environment was not the worst of it. That at least was outside of himself. He could shut his mind off in some small measure against its onslaught. But what was happening inside him was another story altogether.

He wrestled with the growing sense that all would not turn out well. As much as he tried to shove aside such thoughts, they remained and refused to budge. He had tried everything he could think of to assuage such insistent and self-defeating protestations. None of it worked.

The growing sense that all would turn out poorly continually slashed at his sanity. He managed to keep his exterior calm and collected. But the defenses of his innermost self were wearing thin. Soon, he knew, it would leak to the outside. His companions would discover what had been happening within and then everything would fall apart.

But what could he do about it? Nothing. That was what. The only thing for it was simply to let it occur and deal with the fallout later.

He did not notice the rumbling at first. He had been too consumed in his corrosive thoughts. But Ariam’s astonished cry – muffled as it was by the shrieking wind – caught his attention. It was only a moment later that he understood what caused it.

This time the rumbling was close. It was far closer even than any that Ariam had experienced.

Though it was close, it was not easy to judge its precise location. But, they were on the path. The Guide promised them they would be safe if they did so. He looked up ahead, and could barely see the Guide’s dark form ahead of them. There was something strange about him. What was it, he wondered? Then it hit him. The Guide remained stationary. He had stopped their little caravan from progressing. As per Ariam’s unfolding of what happened before, he knew this to be an oddity.

Cecil shouted, “What is going on?”

Before he could be answered, the explosion came. And it was indeed close.

It was right next to the path. A big spray of boiling red liquid shot up from the ground. But there was also a dark shape within it. His eyes instinctively traced the course of the shape as it arced upward then back down to land on the path between the Guide and the companions.

It landed with a thunderous noise. Before his eyes could ascertain the nature of the object, he was hit by a wave of sound. It was a monstrous roar. The thing was some kind of beast.

And it was big.

The creature straightened its back. When it had landed, it had been hunched over and was approximately the same height as one of the men. But now that it stood upright, it was twice again the size. It was also wide and thickly muscled. Its large body was covered in long gray fur that was whipped about in the fierce wind.

The skin of its face was white like the snow and two huge round red eyes stared out at them. It was not difficult to read the lustful hunger in them. The creature had come to do one thing only. Eat.

Cecil charged forward, his spear in hand, and he brandished it at the creature. At the same time, he shot a hand out and pulled Ariam back away from the looming beast. He did this just in time as the monster swiped a large three-fingered clawed hand at him.

The tips of the claws whistled through the air as they passed unobstructed through the space where Ariam had just stood.

The next thing Cecil knew Belem stood beside him. The points of his hardened Raka wood knives barely poked out of the sleeves of his heavy coat. The convict poised himself to strike.

Cecil forgot all about the doubts and the self-loathing and concentrated on the creature. Cecil clutched the spear in both hands and pressed forward jabbing the sharpened end at the threatening thing.

The monster swiped at the spear trying to defend itself. Cecil once yanked the weapon back just in time to avoid it getting knocked out of his hand. When the big meaty hand that struck at it passed by Cecil lunged forward and stabbed at the creature’s middle with the spear. The point penetrated an inch or so and halted. The weapon struck bone and would go no further.

The monster howled and danced away. Cecil was concerned momentarily that the monster would collide with his Guide and hurt him. Maybe even crush him. But then Cecil recalled Vael and his uncanny strength in dealing with Belem. If the Guide was anything like Vael, the creature would not have so easy a time dealing with him.

But it didn’t matter since the Guide was nowhere to be seen.

The monster slapped at the snow and ice on the ground and then issued an angry shriek.

Gael’jic was next to Cecil now on the other side, opposite Belem. He thrust the hood of his heavy coat back so that his head fin could stand straight up in a show of threat. He opened his mouth to display his razor-sharp teeth and issued a hiss of warning. He was hunched forward and ready to strike. His tail poked out of the heavy coat and swished back and forth in an agitated manner.

The creature looked from one to the next seemingly incapable of deciding whom to attack. It came slowly forward and then lunged at Cecil. Cecil darted forward, shoving the spear at the creature’s face. The tip of the spear gouged a long cut in the snowy white flesh of the creature’s cheek. The monster pulled back and slapped a big hand against the wound shrieking in agony.

It beheld them darkly, trying to decide what to do. It then spun around and ran off into the blizzard. They watched its dark shape disappear into the blustering snow but held their position for a few moments in case it returned. But it did not.

The companions spent a few more minutes gathering themselves and catching their breath. At last, Cecil asked, “Where did the Guide go?”

Ariam and the others looked around as if realizing for the first time he was missing.

“I am here,” the Guide said. Cecil, surprised, spun and looked behind them. Sure enough, there the Guide stood waist-deep in the snow with his cane in hand.

“How did you get there?” Belem asked.

“Does it matter?” the Guide asked curiously, tilting his masked head.

“A better question is why didn’t you help us with that thing?” Cecil said.

“I am a Guide, not a warrior,” came the reply. “And what does it matter? You all handled yourselves quite ably.”

Cecil opened his mouth to argue further when he was cut off by a cry of surprise from Ariam. He spun hoisting his spear in case the creature had returned. Instead, he found Ariam standing and pointing ahead of them.

He looked beyond the beggar and saw the first hints of a large dark shape in the snow. But it was not approaching. And it was too big to be the monster. They had arrived at the fourth and final shelter.

He lowered his spear and drew in a shaking breath. He knew this was his turn. The dread and foreboding returned.

He sensed they were at the breaking point. They were on the precipice of calamity.

CHAPTER 34. THE LAST SHELTER

They all noticed immediately this shelter was different. It was roughly the same shape and same size as the others but unlike the previous shelters, it was practically covered in snow.

He didn’t like it, but this laid additional weight onto Cecil’s already burdened mental state.

Nevertheless, he trudged forward and examined the surface searching for the way in. He did not have to look far. Directly ahead of them was a small circular hole.

He stared at it. He wondered, What does it want?

The question was silly of course. The shelter was merely a structure. It wanted nothing. It was inanimate. But whoever had designed it for their coming had wanted something and designed it accordingly.

He set the butt of his spear down in the snow and leaned on the shaft as he thought. He narrowed his eyes as he stared in concentration. But nothing came. His mind was a flurry, much like the blizzard surrounding them. There would be no penetrating its dense obscurity.

He grunted in frustration and kicked at the snow sending up a spray of the stuff.

“What is the matter?” Gael’jic asked.

“It’s this stupid shelter,” Cecil said. “I can’t figure out what it needs.”

They were all silent for a few moments as they contemplated the problem.

At last, Ariam said, “It will be something precious to you. Something you feel you need.”

Cecil stared at the beggar for a handful of heartbeats. He then nodded but could not fathom what it could be. He had nothing.

Ariam cleared his throat and pointed to the spear in his hand. “It looks to be about the same width as your weapon,” he suggested helpfully.

Cecil blinked in surprise. He then turned his attention to the spear in his hand. He hefted it and stared at it.

He slowly turned toward the shelter and aimed the sharpened end of the spear at the small circular hole. He halted when the point was about an inch away from the hole. A small voice arose in his mind telling him he would need the weapon and it would be foolish to rid himself of it. He had nothing else to defend himself or the others.

Another voice, one of reason, spoke up within and said that it was true he had nothing else. Not only in terms of weaponry, but also in terms of possessions. That was precisely why the shelter required it of him. It had to be a sacrifice. This was, after all, a pilgrimage.

With resolve in his heart, he fed the end of the spear into the hole. The weapon met no resistance as he continued to push it inward. Soon he had only a handful of the end of the spear left. He paused once again staring down at it. Could he go through with this? He wasn’t so sure. A sudden urge to yank the weapon back out and preserve it arose and battered his conscience.

They had faced countless opponents along the way. The spear had come in exceptionally handy and had saved them several times. What would he use once they encountered something worse?

Then he remembered the warning of the Guide. Their true enemy was close. Would the spear even work against Ryth? He doubted it. Then why keep it around?

He supposed there would be lesser enemies to deal with, and it might work for those.

He stood silently battling with himself over the matter.

“Cecil?” Ariam said gently. It was amazing how the low and soft voice carried over the sound of the blowing wind, he thought. Nevertheless, it pierced his concentration. Ariam continued, “Just let it go. It’s time.”

Cecil turned his face to look over his shoulder at the beggar. The two beheld each other for a few moments then, finally, Cecil nodded once and turned back to the task before him. He shoved the spear the rest of the way into the hole and let go.

He stepped back two paces and rooted his feet in place as he waited for the entrance to appear.

But nothing happened. He waited a bit longer then turned his face to the Guide and said, “What gives?”

The Guide only stared silently at him offering no explanation.

Cecil returned his focus to the shelter before them and strode forward. He placed his hands on the surface of the wall and pushed. Straight cracks suddenly appeared in the shape of a door. It pushed inward and allowed them entrance.

In the back of his mind, he thought, This isn’t right.

He pressed ahead until he was well into the shelter. He heard the others file in behind him.

It was dark. Dark and cold. The snow-magnified daylight from beyond the door poured inward, minimally illuminating the interior of the shelter. It was also empty.

Cecil turned and located the Guide. “What is going on?” he demanded.

The Guide came slowly forward then halted. He tapped his cane four times on the floor and looked from one face to the other before returning his attention to Cecil.

At last, he said, “You are not provided for here.”

Cecil blinked in astonishment. “What? Why not?”

The Guide lifted the tip of his cane from the floor and poked it at the center of Cecil’s chest. “Because of you,” the Guide said. “You still lack what you need most. Because of that, none of you are provided for on this final leg of the journey. Nothing, that is, beyond the cover of the shelter to keep you out of the wind and to keep the heavy snow off of you for a brief time. That is what your hopelessness purchases for you.”

CHAPTER 35. DEPARTURE

They didn’t stay long. What would have been the point? None besides waiting a little while and staying out of the sharpest part of the cold. That is what they did for a time but departed soon thereafter.

All in all, Cecil guessed they spent maybe half an hour in the shelter. It had not provided much in the way of warmth since the shelter itself was almost as cold as the outside. There was no source of mystical heat as there had been in the others. There was no roaring fire in the center of the room. No beds, no food. It was just an empty space. And so it was not a great loss to leave it behind.

Colder still were his ruminations. None of the others said anything about his failure, but he knew it weighed heavily in their minds. Belem was the worst. That man knew how to hide absolutely nothing. There was no filter to keep his opinion from reaching his face.

The others were kinder but he still felt the burden of failing them. Gael’jic had been matter-of-fact about it and moved on. Ariam at least tried to offer a consoling word. Nothing helped, however.

Their time in the final shelter had been the quietest half hour of his life. The quietest and the tensest… except the time immediately following the assassination of the king, that is. Now at last outside the shelter trudging toward their final destination on this planet, the wind howled loudly and drowned out some of his deepest inner conflicts. It was all still there and he knew it, but he was partially distracted by the bitterness of the cold and the bite of the wind.

Cecil kept his face downcast only watching the trodden path of the others in the snow ahead of him. He brought up the rear. He had insisted on it. There had been concerned looks from the others at this. He knew they were afraid he would be tempted to fall behind on purpose and be consumed by the weather, frozen to death out on the plains. He had to admit the thought crossed his mind more than once. But he would not do that. His sense of duty was too strong. Even if he believed they were doomed to failure in their efforts, he would still try. Ryth was still out there and needed addressing.

According to the Guide, Ryth was closer than ever. Was he stalking them in the storm? Could he see them? That might explain his growing sense of foreboding. He started to believe that was the correct explanation.

A call from up ahead brought his face forward. He saw one of the heavily coated figures standing waving his arms and facing him. He had trouble making out which of them it was. In the coats, they were sometimes hard to differentiate. But soon he discerned that it was the shortest of them, Ariam.

“Now what?” he complained to himself out loud. He pushed forward and came closer to the rest of his companions. They had distanced themselves from him, or had it been he from them? What did it matter?

“What is it?” Cecil shouted over the wind.

“We’re starting to get close!” Ariam yelled in reply. He pointed up ahead. Cecil’s gaze followed and his eyes confirmed that now the outline of the mountain could be more clearly seen. Not just the outline, but even some detail could be made out. The fact that he could see any detail at all caused him to blink, rub his eyes, and look again. He understood that it wasn’t so simply because they were closer.

“The storm is starting to lift!” Cecil said forgetting his troubles for the moment.

“I know!” Ariam replied excitedly. He turned to Belem and shook the man’s shoulder. The convict glowered back and lifted one corner of his lips in a snarl at the beggar but did nothing else.

Cecil became transfixed by the mountain. Something about it called to him, drew him almost. His arms that had been hugging his chest fell to his sides thoughtlessly. His brow furrowed in concentration as he stared at the mountain. He took a step and then halted. His head cocked to one side. What was it about the mountain that so demanded his focus?

The pull became suddenly stronger. If the coat was not so heavy and cumbersome he might have broken into a run. As it was he began striding forward with purpose.

He reached the Guide and then passed beyond him without giving the celestial being a second look. The Guide simply stood and watched him go.

As he drew closer the sense of foreboding returned. Much more powerful this time. It was almost as if it struck him.

And then, something did strike him.

Cecil was lifted off his feet into the air and thrown back several paces. He landed on his back in the snow and was almost buried in it. The middle of his chest hurt from the impact. But the trouble was he saw nothing that could have struck him. He sat up and looked around.

There was no monster, no stone Guardian, no rabble army of a dispossessed people…. There was nothing.

The other companions rushed to his side and helped him back to his feet.

“What was that?” Belem said.

Cecil shook his head. “I have no idea. One moment I was standing there, then the next something hit me hard in the chest. And then I was back here.”

“I did not see anything,” Gael’jic said.

Cecil shook his head again. “There was nothing.” They shared nervous glances. Then as one, they turned their faces expectantly to the Guide. He strolled up to them and stopped. He tapped his cane four times in the snow.

“What was that?” Belem demanded. “What attacked him?”

“It was a warning,” the Guide said.

Silence fell upon them. The only sound that could be heard was the howling wind. Though even that began to die down. Regardless, it remained the ever-present reality.

“What do you mean by a ‘warning’?” Ariam asked.

“It is part of the power of this place,” the Guide answered. “It is a warning against approaching the Throne of the Gods in an unworthy manner.” He said this as he stared into Cecil.

“Unworthy,” Ariam repeated in a hushed tone. He turned to look at Cecil nervously then back to the Guide. “What does that mean? Is it because he has not fulfilled his lack?”

The Guide remained silent.

“What do we do?” Gael’jic asked.

“We carry forward,” Cecil said. “We have no choice.”

Then, at last, the Guide did speak. “You have no hope.”

CHAPTER 36. STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

The closer they came to the mountain the more the storm lessened in its intensity. It was as if there were some kind of field around the mountain protecting it from the weather. After a long time the winds died down completely, the clouds parted, and they found themselves trudging through the snow and sunshine in the bright light of day. They could now all see the mountain with clarity.

Cecil stopped and turned to look behind them. That way, the storm still raged. He could see nothing of the path they had traversed to arrive at this place. He gazed upon this wonder for a short time then returned his focus to the mountain and his companions ahead of him. He slogged forward through the deep snow. Even that was not as harsh as it had been. Instead of being waist deep it now came only to their knees as they pressed forward.

Ever slowly the mountain grew in their sight. It stood as a tall dark exclamation point amid a blindingly white field of snow. It reminded Cecil of the mountain where the Dar’rynakai had carved their city on Dar’ryn in ages past. He wondered briefly if Gael’jic was thinking of this also.

As they kept pushing forward, more details emerged. Now they could see a line going up the slope of the mountain in switchbacks across the face of it. It was some kind of path. He guessed this could only be the final part of the pilgrimage. They would ascend the mountain and at the top find…? What? He didn’t bother shouting to the Guide to ask. He was sure they would be told soon enough. He kept his peace.

Next, he saw two pillars out in the distance. No, wait. There were four. Of course, there were four. They appeared small and meager in the distance, but he knew once they arrived they would tower above him and his companions. They no doubt formed the entrance to the final leg of the pilgrimage.

After a long time, they finally arrived at the base of the mountain. Sure enough, before them towered the four pillars he had seen in the distance. They had slowly grown in his sight as had the rest of the mountain.

Beyond the pillars, there were the beginnings of a carved stairway leading up to the side of the mountain. It was indeed the start of the switchback trail he had seen from far away.

They halted before the pillars, and he craned his neck as he looked up the side of the mountain.

When his eyes reached the peak of it, he saw something. It appeared as if there were some kind of structure at the pinnacle of the mountain. That must be the Throne of the Gods, he thought.

He expected to feel something, anything at all, while gazing upon their destination. They were now so close to the end of their journey. Instead, there was only a hollow emptiness within himself.

His eyes traced back down the slope of the mountain to the pillars before them. Atop each of the pillars stood a statue of a regal and robed figure. They were depictions of a species he’d never seen before. They were thin, similar to the Remmites but tall like the Dar’rynakai. Their heads sported longish snouts also a bit like the Dar’rynakai, but more truncated. They also had four eyes like the celestial beings they’d encountered along the way. But they also had four arms.

When his eyes came all the way down to the ground once more, he found his companions staring back at him.

He met their gazes and held it for a brief time then flicked it to the Guide. He took a step forward and said, “What now?”

“Now you must ascend to the top,” the Guide said.

“And what will we find when we reach it?” Cecil asked.

“I cannot tell you this,” the Guide answered. “It is a discovery you yourselves must make.”

Belem grunted and said, “Typical.”

“What is the Throne of the Gods?” Ariam asked.

The Guide turned to face him, held his gaze for a time, but then looked away.

Instead of answering Ariam’s question, he said, “Remember, your enemy is closer than ever.”

“You have said this,” Gael’jic interjected. “But we have not seen any sign of Uri’thind’ac.”

“Nevertheless, he has always been close since your coming here,” the Guide said. “But for now, you must put that out of your minds and ascend the stairway to the Throne of the Gods. Be careful though. It is a treacherous climb.”

Ariam tilted his chin upward to trace the line of the path. “That’s what I was afraid of,” he said with a hint of whining in his voice. “I’m not exactly a fan of…”

He brought his face back down and paused. He then blinked in surprise. The place where the Guide had stood was now empty. He looked around furtively and then said, “Where did he go?”

Confused expressions adorned the faces of his other companions. They too looked for him but found no trace of the Guide.

“I guess he’s not going to Guide us all the way to the top,” Belem said snidely.

“It would appear not,” Gael’jic said. “But the path is now clear ahead of us. We do not have to worry about the obscuring blizzard any longer.”

“No,” Cecil said. “But it will still be cold. Colder yet as we ascend the mountain, probably. We ought to keep hold of these coats.”

“No argument here,” Belem said.

Cecil pressed forward, the first to pass between the four pillars, and headed for the stairway.

Ariam bolted forward to catch up with him. “Hold on,” he said.

Cecil stopped and turned. “What is it?” he asked impatiently.

“I’m worried about something,” Ariam said. “It’s this business about our enemy being close.”

“What about it?” Cecil asked.

“I can’t say exactly,” Ariam replied, a frustrated look adorning his face. “My sense of danger that sometimes comes and goes is back.”

“That fits with what the Guide told us about the closeness of our enemy,” Cecil said nodding. “But that’s not exactly new information.”

Ariam shook his head vehemently. “No, but it’s different somehow this time.”

“Can you describe it?” Gael’jic asked.

Ariam shook his head again. “I wish I could.”

“Well then there’s nothing more to do about it, is there?” Belem said pushing forward. “There’s no use wasting time jabbering about it. Let’s move.”

Cecil stared at the convict, then nodded to him and turned and began their ascent up the stairs. Belem came next followed by Ariam who hesitated a moment when he realized Gael’jic stayed put. He turned to look at the Dar’rynakai and raised an expectant eyebrow.

“You are right,” Gael’jic said. “Something is wrong with this.” Gael’jic turned and looked back in the direction they had come. His eyes traced along the path they had cut through the snow all the way back to the swirling blizzard around the mountain. “I feel like…” He trailed off and screwed up his face in concentration as he stared that way.

“You feel like what?” Ariam prodded.

Gael’jic turned back to him and said, “I feel like we have left something behind, something of great importance. But I cannot think what it could be.”

Ariam glanced that way then shrugged and said, “There’s nothing to do about it now.”

“No,” Gael’jic said sparing one last look behind them. “I suppose there is not.”

CHAPTER 37. TREACHEROUS STEPS

The stairs were not bad at first. Sadly, this did not last. Soon after they had passed between the pillars and begun to ascend the stairs, the grade became steeper.

Cecil, who led the way, tossed occasional glances over his shoulder to gauge the progress of the others. No one seriously struggled for a while, despite the difficulty of the path. Even Ariam managed to maintain his balance well.

The problem with the stairs was threefold. The first matter was the steep grade of their ascent. This made travel somewhat tricky. But it was a difficulty that could be overcome.

Second, was the narrowness of the steps. When the staircase started, they could all ascend side-by-side. But not long thereafter, the path narrowed and they had to switch to going two-by-two. Not long after that, they went to a single-file mode of travel. And even then, the narrowness of the way was troublesome. This was especially the case the farther up they went.

The third problem with the stairs was the material from which they were carved. Cecil had expected it to be simply part of the mountainside; roughhewn rock that would provide grip for their feet. But this was not the case. The stairs were comprised of a smooth obsidian material. It was much like what the exterior of the Obelisk had been made of. What made this aspect difficult was that the frigid temperatures surrounding them caused frost to form on the stairs. This made them sometimes slippery to navigate. More than once, one of them lost footing and went to a knee on the hard stairs. Each time there was a cry of pain.

Cecil kept to himself that his chief worry was over Ariam. The man had expressed fear regarding heights during their climb of the Dar’rynakai mountain city a while back. The beggar had struggled particularly to ascend that time. Since that time he had indeed gained in fortitude. That seemed to help significantly. But it did not entirely erase the concern from the beggar’s face.

Ariam was grateful they went slow. But this presented an additional problem.

The farther up they went on the stairs, the more the wind whipped at them. This meant the longer they took, the more it had to be endured. More than once the gales threatened to push one of them off the stairs and over the precipice.

When they reached the first part where the trail switched directions, they came to a halt. There was a semi-sizable landing upon which they could all gather. They sat down upon it and huddled close together. They put their backs to the outside and endured the winds as a group.

“Are you all right?” Cecil asked Ariam.

The beggar nodded vigorously but said nothing.

“I am doing my best to keep an eye on him,” Gael’jic said. “He is doing well.”

The conversation essentially died there. They waited until they all felt rested and then carried on to the next part of the journey. As they looked up the mountain slope, they saw they would have to traverse seven more switchbacks. While these incrementally shortened with each switch, each of them was nevertheless daunting and difficult in nature. Added to that was the concern over the increasing distance between their rising position on the slope and the base of the mountain.

Gael’jic had done the best with climbing during their approach to the Dar’rynakai city from the outside, but even he knew that he would struggle with dizziness before they reached the top of this mountain.

They carried on and struggled more significantly than they heretofore had while going up the second of the switchbacks. They all did their best to school themselves against looking down and assaulting their concentration by ascertaining the heights to which they had reached. They were all grunting with an extreme effort by the time they arrived at the second landing. This time they rested even longer.

Cecil took one look at Ariam and understood the man’s bravery had been almost spent. But they had such a long way to go. He shook his head, wondering at the effort it would take for all of them to reach the top alive. Doubt gnawed at him regarding that.

It wasn’t until they reached the sixth switchback that one of them nearly lost his life.

They were traveling along, the trail as arduous as ever, when Belem’s foot slipped on a patch of frost and he failed to regain his balance. A look of utter terror washed over the man’s face as he began to fall away from the mountainside trail. He flailed his arms uselessly as there was nothing for him to grip.

Gael’jic reached forward and snatched the man by the arm. Belem’s weight almost pulled Gael’jic off the trail as well. But the Dar’rynakai crouched low to maintain his center of gravity. The convict dangled from his grip over the edge.

Belem could not help himself. He looked over his shoulder and a cry of fear escaped him when he saw the distance he had almost fallen.

Gael’jic worked against exhaustion to pull him back up onto the steps. When Belem was safely on the stairs again he pressed his back against the mountainside and closed his eyes as he blew out a heavy breath of relief. They gave him a few minutes to recover then pressed on. When they reached the next landing they huddled together once again against the whipping wind which had grown greatly intense.

“I did not think it would be me who lost balance,” Belem confessed. He shot a look toward Ariam and they all understood.

“Just lucky I guess,” Ariam said with a cheerful grin. Belem shook his head and rolled his eyes. Ariam regretted the friendly jab when he lost his balance on the next switchback trail.

Gael’jic did the saving then also but this time he had to use his tail to do it as Ariam was behind him.

Ariam’s foot had found a smooth and icy spot and slipped on it. He forced himself to fall forward on the stairs but he overcompensated by twisting and the impact bounced him off the side.

Gael’jic whipped his tail out and Ariam wrapped his arms around it just in the nick of time. Gael’jic then lifted the beggar back onto the stairs. Ariam did not want to let go for a long time and Gael’jic did not complain. The beggar sputtered several shaking breaths as he held his companion’s tail.

A short while later they arrived at the final landing that would then lead them up to their destination.

Their eyes traced up the trail and saw that it led to a structure at the peak of the mountain. It looked as if it had been carved into the material of the mountain itself. Once again, Cecil was reminded of Gael’jic’s city. But this did not look like a normal dwelling place, a home. Instead, it was more like a temple. The edifice of it had a long sloping roof going down either side. From the center jutted a broad cylindrical tower. Atop the tower stood an open colonnade covered by a dome.

Cecil knew instinctively that was where they were headed.

CHAPTER 38. DOORS TO DESTINY

The grade decreased dramatically as they strode up the stairs toward the entrance to the temple. They were greatly relieved by this. All of them relaxed visibly as they ascended the final portion of the stairs. Yet another kind of tension overtook them. Cecil had the worst part of it, though.

As the temple grew larger in his sight, the dead and hollow feeling that had taken center stage in Cecil’s mind was replaced with something else. But what took its place was far less pleasant. It was sheer dread.

He was at the forefront of the group and so none of them saw his face. He was grateful for this. He knew that the terror must be etching his features and he could do nothing to control it.

He set his mind to take in and analyze the scene before them. He thought if he could distract himself with this, he could keep the others from knowing how overwhelmed he was, at least for the time being.

The temple was comprised of several large gray stones laid on top of one another. These were the same material as the shelters which they had encountered along their way to the mountain. The surface of the stones was all smooth and carved with care. The slanting roof falling down either side of the structure’s façade was made of fine wood. This looked untouched by the weather or time. Cecil wondered at this. How long had this temple been atop this mountain? And in all that time the ages had seemingly not touched it. He surmised parts could have been replaced over the years, but, this did not ring true to him.

They came at last to two large double doors shut before them. Each door had an elaborate handle on the front. Cecil eyed these suspiciously. He had expected there to be some trick to getting into the place. He supposed that might’ve been how his mind was trained to think from the experiences with the shelters and all the other encounters they’d had on this journey. Would it be as easy as just opening the doors for themselves with their own hands?

He looked to the others with a question in his eyes.

They stared at him, shrugged, and then looked back to the doors themselves.

“It can’t be this easy,” Belem announced.

“What about this journey has been easy?” Gael’jic asked. “Perhaps it is a kindness of Rama’dy’ac that the doors open so easily.”

“We haven’t tried them yet,” Ariam said. “Maybe they are locked.”

Cecil turned back to face the doors. He beheld them for a while, then cautiously walked forward and lifted a hand to one of the handles. His fingers stopped and hovered inches away from it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to touch the handle. What if there was some kind of trap?

“Wait,” Gael’jic said suddenly. Cecil withdrew his hand quickly and turned to look upon the Dar’rynakai. The reptilian man came striding forward and examined the doors. His eyes squinted as they traced every inch of the doors.

“What is it?” Ariam asked in a whisper as if he were afraid the doors might hear him and be offended.

“Look at the symbols,” Gael’jic said.

Each door had two large round symbols carved into it making four in total.

They were all similar to one another except each one had a unique detail about them. Each of them was the common symbol for Rama’dy’ac that Gael’jic had explained to them back on Dar’ryn. There was a circle and four triangular shapes representing rays of light emanating from the middle. But then in the center of each of the symbols was a unique image. It did not take them long to recognize them. They had been the symbols each of them had to press within the labyrinth to get past the initial chamber which closed in around them and then on the chests of the stone-like robots that had attacked them. And yet each of them was also slightly different than they had encountered before.

The symbol Gael’jic had to press had been an open book. But now the image had changed. Here it was a closed book surrounded by scrolls. The symbol associated with Belem had been a closed fist. Now it was an open hand. The symbol connected to Ariam had been a hand receiving coins. This time, however, the hand was on the top and the coins were falling from it. Lastly was the image associated with Cecil. It had been a vertically positioned sword. But now it was horizontal.

“What does it mean?” Cecil asked.

“I have no idea,” Gael’jic responded slowly rocking his head from side to side. “But the changes are troubling. This suggests to me that there will be further changes expected of us.”

“Great,” Belem said shaking his head. “The unending errands of the gods continue.”

“Try to open the door,” Ariam suggested.

Cecil stepped slowly forward and extended his hand once again to the door. He gently rested it on the handle, waited, counted five breaths, and pulled. The door came easily open. A wave of warm air rolled over them. It felt good.

Cecil went into the building and the others followed.

They were in another large circular chamber like so many they had been in before. There were four thrones situated around the room. They all pointed inward toward the center. Laid out on the floor was a giant version of the symbol for Rama’dy’ac. But before each throne was one of the individual symbols they had seen representing each of the four companions. But it was the altered symbols they had witnessed on the door of the exterior of the temple. They moved slowly into the room taking in its sights. Two of the thrones were crumbled and broken down. The other two remained intact.

“I do not understand the meaning of this place,” Gael’jic said. “It unnerves me.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Ariam asked, cocking his head to one side.

“Look at the walls,” Gael’jic hissed in response.

Ariam lifted his face and saw multiple large carvings all around the room. They were stone reliefs depicting a variety of scenes. A great many seemed to be of violence and conquest. Or maybe it was something else, Ariam reasoned. There was a lot of detail to take in.

Then his eyes fell upon a blank section of the wall. It struck Ariam as would an unpainted canvas, waiting for the final part of the story.

In a troubled voice, Gael’jic continued, “The story told by these carvings is difficult in many ways to read, but also, they do not make sense to me.”

“You probably just need some time,” Ariam said in a hushed tone. The carvings were rich in detail and quite complicated. He knew it would take a very long time to parse out what the carvings told.

A noise from above their heads caught their attention and all four of them whipped around to locate what caused it. A shaft of light suddenly penetrated the chamber from above. A stairway leading down was illuminated by the fresh spill of light. And a pair of legs appeared on them.

Cecil suddenly wished he still had his spear.

CHAPTER 39. THE MESSENGER RETURNS

In the next moment, Cecil relaxed and dropped his fisted hands to his sides. The spear would have been unnecessary anyway. The other companions likewise were put at ease. When the being attached to those two legs on the stairs finally revealed himself they all expelled a relieved breath. The figure coming down the stairs was Vael.

“Greetings, champions of Rama’dy’ac. Congratulations are in order. You have made it farther than any champion ever has before you. You have reached the Throne of the Gods.” He swept his hand to indicate the chamber in which they stood.

Belem harrumphed. “Glad to see you showed up ahead of any horde of monsters or other indomitable enemies we have to fight this time,” he said.

Vael locked all four eyes onto the convict. As was customary he furrowed his brow in frustration at the man.

“There will be no foe this time,” Vael said. “Not everything must end in a fight.”

“Could have fooled me,” Belem muttered.

“Then perhaps you could tell us why we have come here?” Ariam asked.

“That is my purpose,” Vael answered. “I have come to teach you many valuable lessons.”

“Great,” Belem said rolling his eyes. “Just what I wanted. School.”

Vael ignored him and went on. “Before you can complete this quest, and finally defeat Uri’thind’ac, you must become familiar with what has come before. But we warned: what I have to tell you will be quite difficult to receive.” He turned to face Gael’jic and added, “Especially for certain of your number.”

Cecil cleared his throat. He raised his hand as if he were in school and said, “What about me?”

Vael turned his attention to the former Captain of the Royal Guardians. “What about you?” he asked.

Cecil blinked, looked to his companions, then back to the Messenger. He said, “I have not yet fulfilled what you said I lacked. Does this not disqualify me in some way? Have I not failed?”

All four of Vael’s piercing eyes rested upon Cecil. Cecil felt the celestial being’s gaze not merely upon his exterior, but penetrate to the inside of himself, searching, scouring, measuring him.

“What you have said is true,” Vael said. “Your lack remains. Yet there is still time.”

“But the Guide said…” Cecil began and then halted when he saw the look of alarm bloom on Vael’s face.

Vael looked sharply around as if just noticing for the first time something was missing.

“Where is the Guide?” the Messenger of Rama’dy’ac thundered as he stepped quickly forward. All four companions involuntarily took a step back at his approach.

“He…he left us,” Gael’jic stumbled over his answer. “We arrived at the base of this mountain and he had some final parting words for us then he vanished.”

Vael folded his arms over his chest and swept a dark gaze across each of the companions slowly. “It was not meant to be this way,” Vael said, his guttural words twisted with an echoing growl. “This is greatly disturbing news.”

“Does it sabotage our efforts?” Gael’jic asked, concerned. “Does his absence mean that our quest has come to naught?”

Vael was silent for a long time then he finally said, “No. But it is highly irregular and disturbing. I would know more about your encounters with the Guide.”

The companions glanced nervously at each other. Gael’jic said, “He met us after we solved the puzzle of the initial chamber in the labyrinth.”

“After?” Vael repeated, arching the eyebrows over his two left eyes. “He was meant to meet you right when you came out of the gate.”

“Well he didn’t,” Belem said gruffly. “He took his sweet time coming to us. We had to face two deadly obstacles before he met us.”

In a dangerous voice, Vael said, “I will have words with him soon. Rest assured, he will not enjoy the conversation. The commands of Rama’dy’ac are not lightly set aside or improperly accomplished.”

“Perhaps a little grace is in order,” Ariam cut in. “He did seem quite old and slow. He was stooped over and required a cane.”

“A cane?” Vael replied in disbelief.

“Yes,” Ariam answered immediately, flashing uncertain looks at his companions. “He said he was old and had been injured.”

Vael looked away from them and back up the stairs which he’d used to descend into the chamber.

Belem leaned over to Cecil and said, “What is going on?”

“I have no idea, but I don’t like it,” Cecil said. “Something is obviously wrong.”

Vael turned his face back to the companions. He blurted out, “What did he say to you? Tell me anything which struck you as significant.”

“Not much,” Gael’jic said, appearing ever more uncertain about the situation. “Mostly he just led us out of the labyrinth and to the four shelters along the path to this mountain. But he did seem to have one important thing to tell us.”

“Out with it!” Vael shouted.

“He told us our enemy was closer than ever. That he walked the skin of this planet.”

“Uri’thind’ac has come here?” Vael said forgetting his frustrations with the Guide momentarily.

“He seemed to suggest so,” Gael’jic said.

“Have you encountered him?” Vael asked.

“No,” Cecil said stiffly shaking his head. “We have seen no sign of him.”

Vael fell quiet again as he contemplated this new development. Finally, after a long period of silence, he said, “Then we must hurry. And we must be on our guard. If he has come here, that must mean he is truly desperate. And a desperate Uri’thind’ac is an even more dangerous Uri’thind’ac than he has ever been.”

“Then you had better tell us what you have come to say,” Cecil said.

Vael came the rest of the way down the stairs and moved to the center of the chamber between the four thrones. He lifted his hands and said, “This is the Throne of the Gods. You have entered the chamber from which they have ruled this star system for generations immemorial. This was their counsel chamber. They met here for the governance of all things. And more.”

“What more?” Gael’jic asked, eagerly.

Vael shook his head. “It is too much to tell you in a lesson such as this. And besides, that is not the purpose of this lesson. You must now learn the true nature of the gods.”

“The true nature?” Gael’jic asked, sounding moderately disturbed. “What do you mean by this?”

Vael turned his face to the Dar’rynakai. “I am quite sorry,” he said, “but this will be very difficult for you to hear. As it will be when you must relay it to the others of your kind.”

Gael’jic’s head fin arose, tremored briefly then lay back down on his head. Then the rest of his body shivered as well. Cecil could almost feel the tension radiating off his reptilian companion.

“You must first understand this. The gods are no gods at all. They, like yourselves, are another species of creature. But in many ways, they are unique from you and superior. They have exceedingly long lifespans and are not merely limited to a fleshly existence. They are beings of powerful energy. They may take a form if they choose but they are not constrained to this. They are a highly advanced race of alien creatures called the Zulle-Shee.”

CHAPTER 40. THE TRUTH ABOUT THE GODS

Gael’jic gasped and drew back. “This is not true,” he said. “You lie.”

“I warned you this would be difficult for you to hear,” Vael said. Cecil noted the compassion in his voice. Gael’jic took no notice of it, however. He was too worked up.

Gael’jic shook his head vehemently and backed up another step. “No,” he said forcefully, shaking his head. “It is not difficult. It is impossible.”

Vael tilted his head and looked at Gael’jic curiously. “Is it so? Have you not disbelieved in the gods for most of your life? Has it not only been recently that you have come to place your faith in them?”

“Now that faith is being trampled,” Gael’jic spat. “And it seems to be breaking apart for it cannot endure this.”

“It must,” Vael replied without a hint of the frustration he seemed to reserve for Belem.

“Why have the so-called gods deceived us so?” Gael’jic said. He shook his head once again. His head fin now stood straight up and flapped with the gesture. His dewlap likewise wobbled beneath his long snout, side to side. He issued an agonized hiss.

“This is unacceptable,” Gael’jic said.

“That you must judge for yourself,” Vael said. “But I implore you to listen to the end.”

“So there are no gods?” Gael’jic asked, despair evident in his tone.

Vael replied, “I did not say that. All that I said was Rama’dy’ac, Uri’thind’ac, and the others were no gods. Only a great fool would look at the design of the universe and conclude it was nothing but a chaotic accident.”

“Then…?” Gael’jic began, but Vael interrupted.

“That is not the purpose of our discussion,” he said finally adopting terseness. “What you must understand is what has come before in this struggle.” He lifted a hand to indicate the stone-carved reliefs surrounding the chamber. “Here, upon the walls of this chamber is laid out for you the story.”

The companions all turned to look at the carvings. Vael explained them.

“Here, Rama’dy’ac and his three Zulle-Shee companions traveled to this world and established a base. They were a scientific expedition. They came to observe the Dar’rynakai and their world, at first from a distance. But their purpose was grander than this. They also came to shape a planetary system that would be hospitable to intelligent species under threat.”

“Why here?” Ariam asked. “Why this star system?”

“Because it was unique,” Vael answered. “First of all, it held one already habitable planet with a native population – a rarity in the universe. That planet is Dar’ryn. Its native species are the Dar’rynakai and the Dar’ryneel. There also roamed the primitive Dar’rynist and many other forms of life. But more than that, three other planets orbited the star. Originally, they were outside the range of habitability, but with some help could become habitats for other beings from other worlds. Beings that were endangered by cataclysm or according to other tragedies. Beings that required refuge. Therefore, Rama’dy’ac and the others altered the orbits of Remmice, Cairn, and this world.”

“Altered the orbits?” Cecil said astonished. “How could they do this?”

“The Zulle-Shee are immensely powerful beings. Their technological advancements are far beyond anything you have ever known. But it took tremendous effort and care. As well as centuries of work. Not only were the planets shifted in orbit, but they had to be terraformed as well.”

“But something went wrong, didn’t it?” Cecil asked.

“It is as you have said,” Vael replied. His face was grim. “Over many centuries, species that were found to be in close danger of extinction were selected and transported to the planets for salvation. First, came my people. Our world had suffered an irreparable geologic cataclysm. We were brought here, to the Throne of the Gods. Here my people were cared for and elevated to assist the Zulle-Shee in their endeavors. They taught us many things and greatly strengthened our race.”

“But there were others,” Ariam said.

Vael nodded. “Next came the large but gentle Shedi’im.”

“Gentle?” Belem snorted. “Not the last time I checked.”

“They have been corrupted by Uri’thind’ac,” Vael said with a scowl. “They were placed on the planet Cairn. For many centuries they thrived and developed. After the Shedi’im came the ones you know as Remmites. Their people were attacked by a warlike species from a neighboring world that had no mercy in their hearts. The Zulle-Shee spirited them away secretly aboard an Ark. And so the four worlds of the Dar’ryn system were populated as preserves for endangered people. But then something they did not intend occurred. Far out in the stars, there was a wandering people who abandoned their world that they foolishly destroyed. They were exiles.”

“They were humans,” Ariam said.

Vael nodded again. “Yes. It is as you say. Rama’dy’ac insisted that they be saved. A sharp dispute arose among the Zulle-Shee. Uri’thind’ac led the protest. He contested that the Zulle-Shee had done enough. That they had too many peoples to shepherd as it was. Rama’dy’ac insisted that the humans be saved. The other two gods sided with Rama’dy’ac.”

“The other two gods,” Belem interrupted, looking to the two crumbling thrones, “who were they?”

“They were Zulle-Shee who have been defeated since the great fracture. They are not to be named at this time.”

“So the dispute led to this great fracture?” Cecil asked.

Vael answered, “It is so. Uri’thind’ac secretly began to scheme against his companions. He vowed in his heart to overthrow them. But he bided his time and pretended to acquiesce to Rama’dy’ac’s request to save the humans. I have already shown you the moment Rama’dy’ac Guided the human colony ship to Dar’ryn. But already by that time Uri’thind’ac sewed his seeds of dissent among the Dar’rynakai. But he did so in a subtle and crafty way. He moved in shadow and whispers, never truly revealing himself to the key players whom he sought to corrupt.”

Gael’jic listened to all this with a combination of rapt attention and dismayed defeat. Ariam came up next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Over the next many years, he sowed discontent among the Zulle-Shee themselves, positioning the other two against Rama’dy’ac. Then, one day, having gained the confidence of the other two, he proposed a change in leadership. Rama’dy’ac, the chief among equals, immediately dismissed this notion. But the other two had already been twisted. He had laid plans with them to put into operation a contest of strength between the Zulle-Shee. They would each rule a people who would compete against one another. The victor of the contest would reign over the other Zulle-Shee with absolute authority. Rama’dy’ac objected but was overruled by the ill-formed majority. Yet Uri’thind’ac had already quietly been at work to corrupt the peoples of the other worlds.”

“He rigged the game,” Belem said. “Smart.”

“Evil,” Ariam said.

“Sure,” Belem agreed. “But still smart.”

Vael went on, “But Uri’thind’ac did not anticipate the wisdom of Rama’dy’ac. Rama’dy’ac foresaw what Uri’thind’ac was doing. He put into effect his own countermeasures to combat the corrupt ways of his one-time friend.” Vael turned his face to Gael’jic. He said, “It was never Rama’dy’ac’s design to deceive the peoples into believing the Zulle-Shee were gods. That was all Uri’thind’ac. Rama’dy’ac’s hand was forced at the beginning, but he always planned to reveal the truth. Now through me, he has done so.”

Gael’jic shook his head slowly from side to side. “It is too much,” he said in a strained voice.

“I told you it would not be easy. But understand that you, Gael’jic Du’lamic, are part of the plan of Rama’dy’ac from the beginning. He has cultivated the bloodlines of his champions. He has Guided all of you down through the centuries to this very moment. He has watched as one by one his former Zulle-Shee companions had fallen to Uri’thind’ac’s schemes and been killed in the treachery. Defeat upon defeat has led to this moment. And now Rama’dy’ac is prepared to make his final gambit.”

The sound of a cane tapping four times broke their spellbound state with the tale unfolded by Vael. All four companions whipped around to stare at the now-open door of the temple. Standing there was the Guide, stooped over and masked as always.

“That is an interesting slant to the story,” he said.

“It’s our Guide,” Ariam said bewildered, pointing to the solitary figure.

“That is not your Guide,” Vael said in a growling voice.

CHAPTER 41. UNMASKED

The stooped figure suddenly stood upright and twirled the cane in his hand like a professional showman. He then tossed the cane off to the side where clattered uselessly on the floor. “Oh, Vael,” he said with false affection, “you always could see right through me, couldn’t you? I guess that is why you were always one of Rama’dy’ac’s favorite little pets.”

The masked figure lifted a hand and dramatically removed the disguise in one deft motion casually casting it to the side.

“Ryth!” Belem shouted, yanking both knives from his belt.

“In the flesh,” Ryth said as he bowed at the waist.

“You were the Guide the whole time?” Cecil sputtered in disbelief.

“But of course, I was!” Ryth said with overstated joviality. “After what you did to my Shedi’im, I couldn’t just let you wander on up to the Throne of the Gods unaddressed, now could I?”

“What happened to your face?” Cecil asked with a hint of delight at seeing the wound over his eye.

Ryth raised a hand and gently tapped at the hideous wound on his countenance. “Oh, you mean this?” he asked. “It’s nothing. Merely an unwanted gift from an ungrateful little Dar’ryneel wretch. But don’t worry, I have not yet begun to address the insult of it. That is forthcoming.” He leaned forward and in a conspiratorial stage whisper added, “And that is coming quite soon.”

“I told you he could be hurt,” Belem said with a sneer.

Ryth threw his head back and burst out a gale of laughter. When he finished, he looked at Belem and said, “You really have become my favorite. That is why I have come to take you with me. The rest of you, feel free to die at your earliest convenience. I have no use for you.”

Vael stepped forward. “This is not allowed,” he snarled.

“Try and stop me,” Ryth said arrogantly.

“I don’t understand,” Ariam said. “Why didn’t you just attack us when you met us in the labyrinth?”

“Yes,” Ryth said slowly. “I did tell you your enemy was close, didn’t I? That doesn’t mean I wanted to create any extra hassle for myself. I wasn’t about to engage with three of you only to have to drag Belem kicking and screaming all the way here and risk him hurting himself in the process.”

“So what happened to the real Guide?” Cecil asked.

Ryth rolled his eyes. “Oh, the endless questions! You really are going to make this take forever, aren’t you? I came in the labyrinth the back way and met your precious little Guide. He was quite surprised to see me, I should add. So I killed him and disguised myself in his garments. Then I waited to see how you would fare against a few of the labyrinth’s obstacles. I can see why Rama’dy’ac chose you now. You really are all very resilient and resourceful. But now all of that has come to an end. So, which of you wants to die first?”

Vael stepped forward interposing himself between the companions and Ryth.

“You will be killing no one today,” he said with a growl.

“Is that so?” Ryth said arching an eyebrow. He did not seem concerned. “I think you have interfered in these matters for the last time.”

“Are you forgetting you are confined to human flesh?” Vael asked.

“Are you forgetting that I am still superior and far more powerful than you are in literally every way?” Ryth balked. “You would be wise to stand aside, Messenger of Rama’dy’ac.” He spat the last words as if they were poison in his mouth.

“I will do no such thing,” Vael said. “If one of the lowly creatures on Dar’ryn could damage your flesh, imagine what I can do.”

“Then come teach me,” Ryth invited haughtily.

CHAPTER 42. THE MESSENGER AND THE DECEIVER

Vael spread his arms to his sides and suddenly lifted from the ground, hovering several feet in the air. His hands crackled with arcs of power as he mumbled strange words to himself. Ryth simply watched unperturbed by the display of power.

Vael lifted one of his crackling hands straight up and pointed toward the ceiling. The circular symbol before one of the intact thrones began to glow blue. A sudden jagged bolt of energy shot up from the image and connected with Vael’s upraised hand. His fingers were splayed out and glowing with the new power. He then lowered his hand and pointed it at Ryth. A burst of energy shot forth and lanced Ryth’s chest. He was lifted off his feet and thrown back through the door. His body crashed upon the obsidian steps and he rolled down them. His body skidded to a halt before it reached the precipice leading down to a sheer drop to the switchback trail below.

The companions broke free from their places and ran out the door to see what had become of Ryth. They gathered on the steps just outside the door and stared down at his prone form. He lay motionless on the ground.

“Is he dead?” Belem asked sounding a little disappointed by the prospect.

He was answered by a noise that drifted their way from Ryth. It began faint and low and then rose in magnitude. It was laughter. He pushed himself up to standing once again and doubled over with the laughter. Through bouts of the gleeful display, he managed to get out a sentence. “Is that… the best… you can do?”

The companions spun around to watch Vael as he approached. For the first time, they saw a worried expression on his face.

Ryth stopped laughing and came stalking purposefully forward.

“My turn,” he growled. He suddenly jumped high into the air and soared above the heads of the four companions. He landed on the other side of them directly in front of Vael. His hand shot forward and he seized the Messenger of Rama’dy’ac by the throat. He lifted the celestial being off the ground with seemingly no effort whatsoever. Vael struggled and choked. He pried at Ryth’s fingers around his neck but could not get them to come loose.

“What’s the matter?” Ryth said. “Can’t break free? Can’t teleport to safety? That really is too bad.”

Still holding the Messenger of Rama’dy’ac by the throat he strode through the door of the temple.

The companions ran forward to follow him to see what was going to happen to Vael. They came through the door just in time to see Ryth stalking up the stairway to the level above. Vael continued to writhe in Ryth’s grip. They disappeared through the hatch leading up to the next level.

Cecil raced after them first and the others came up behind him. They charged up the stairs and found themselves soon on the open colonnade under the dome.

They stood in disbelief and horror as Ryth drew Vael’s face close to his. Ryth opened his jaw unnaturally wide and he began to inhale. Cracks formed all over Vael’s flesh and tiny shafts of light broke through. The light streams bent and angled into Ryth’s mouth. Vael began to convulse. The glow of his flesh dimmed. Soon he ceased struggling and went limp. All four of his eyes sank back into the skull leaving four gaping empty cavities. His flesh turned gray and dried out.

Ryth stopped sucking the life force out of Vael and held the corpse up and out at arm’s length staring at it, tilting his head, admiring his work.

“Not quite finished yet,” he said. He drew the corpse of Vael closer once again and opened his mouth again. This time his mouth glowed orange and light shot forward into Vael’s mouth. A moment later he snapped his mouth closed. The four cavities where Vael’s eyes had been, now glowed with orange light. Little beams of orange light also creeped out of the cracks in his flesh.

Ryth turned and carefully set the corpse of Vael on the floor so that it faced the exiles.

“That’s more like it,” he said. He waggled a reprimanding finger in the face of Vael’s corpse and said, “No more meddling for you. Now you will serve me.”

“He’s like the Shedi’im now,” Ariam said breathlessly.

“Quite right,” Ryth replied, turning to them. “Now he obeys only me. Speaking of which…” he turned to Vael and said, “Wait until I’m gone. Then you shall kill those I leave behind.”

Ryth turned to the inert gate arch that stood nearby. He lifted a hand toward it and waved at it. It sprang to life, a shimmering pearlescent glow suddenly filling the arch.

He slowly turned toward Belem and beckoned for him to come.

“Time to go, young man,” he said.

Belem lifted his fists. Clenched in each of them was a knife.

“Come and get me,” Belem said. “I wager I’ll at least add a few more cuts to that pretty boy face of yours.”

CHAPTER 43. IT GOES AWRY

Ariam launched himself at Ryth before Belem or Ryth could make a move toward one another. A scream of rage burst from his mouth.

Ryth blinked in surprise as the beggar charged at him. For a moment he was frozen, not quite certain what was happening. But he quickly recovered. When Ariam came within proper distance and leaped at him, Ryth plucked him out of the air like he was a ripe fruit. He held the beggar’s struggling form by the throat as he had done with Vael.

Ryth turned a reprimanding look upon the beggar and said, “Have you learned nothing?” He shook his head, made a tsk-tsk sound, and wandered over to the edge of the colonnade. He leaned forward and peered over the edge. He turned Ariam so he had to look down and see the great slope of the mountain. He turned his smiling face back to Ariam and said, “I understand you’re afraid of heights.”

Ariam thrashed against his hold, growling like a wild beast caught in a snare. His eyes were filled with anger as he stared back at Ryth, but now there was also a hint of fear. His attention flicked back to the edge of the colonnade just as Ryth swiveled and held him over the edge.

Suddenly Belem was at his back. He rammed both knives forward inserting them into Ryth’s kidneys. Ryth arched his back and grunted in pain, but merely looked over his shoulder at the man. “It’s not your turn,” he said.

He nodded to Ariam and said, “It’s his.” Then to Ariam, he said, “Enjoy the view while you can. I imagine this is going to hurt a lot. He then casually tossed Ariam up into the air over the expanse out beyond the colonnade. Ryth spun and backhanded Belem across the face sending him reeling backward. The convict’s knives were still lodged in his back.

But in the next moment, Gael’jic careened toward the edge of the colonnade. He jumped out over the edge and threw a hand outward to catch one of the pillars holding up the dome. His body swung out over the empty air and his tail lashed out and wrapped around Ariam’s waist. The momentum of the maneuver brought them both around back underneath the dome. They crashed to the floor of the colonnade and rolled.

Ryth turned a surprised face around to see what had happened. He made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat and then said, “Interesting.”

Suddenly Cecil was standing in front of him. He thrust forward a gauntleted fist and punched Ryth across the face. He then swiveled and landed another punch with his other fist in Ryth’s midsection. But Ryth took these without any sign of pain or disturbance. Instead, he leaned back then lurched forward and planted a powerful kick in Cecil’s chest. Cecil was thrown powerfully backward.

He landed hard upon the floor of the colonnade and slid toward the opposite edge. His body then slipped beyond the edge and he was falling but his arms caught the lip of the colonnade floor and halted himself from plummeting.

Gael’jic was on his feet once more. He issued a threatening hiss that caught Ryth’s attention. Ryth spun to meet the oncoming attack.

Gael’jic plunged his hand into the sack at his side and extracted the final remaining Illuminoc flower. Ryth cocked an eyebrow in curiosity as he watched Gael’jic heave himself forward and come coursing at him. Gael’jic jumped and landed right in front of Ryth. With all his might he shoved the flower in Ryth’s face. Ryth jerked his head away and took an involuntary step backward. Gael’jic extended his arm to keep the flower in contact with the Lord Advisor’s face.

Silence fell over the colonnade as all watched and waited for the Illuminoc to have its effect on Ryth the way it had with the Shedi’im.

But nothing happened.

Instead, Ryth said, “You brought me flowers? You really shouldn’t have.” He plucked the flower from Gael’jic’s hand and gingerly cast it aside. He then stepped forward and lightly pressed his hand against Gael’jic’s chest. Gael’jic was thrown backward and struck one of the pillars. The pillar cracked and Gael’jic crumpled to the floor before it.

“This is starting to bore me,” he said. He lifted both hands into the air. Power crackled around his fingers and he turned his face upward to the dome. He unleashed a powerful echoing shriek toward the sky. The dome cracked into a thousand pieces and exploded, sending showers of the material into the sky, arching away from the temple.

The sky became suddenly dark. The once clear and blue sky turned black with sudden cloud cover. Flashes of lightning began to strike all around the temple. Then some struck the temple itself. A blast hit one of the pillars which shattered. Ariam, who was just then standing up, shielded his face as debris from the pillar pelted him

While Ryth was distracted with this, Belem charged. He ducked low and threw his shoulder into Ryth’s midsection. Ryth was knocked off his feet and both of them tumbled together through the gate. The glowing pearlescent power of the gate abruptly ceased, leaving only an empty arch. Another blast of lightning came from the dark maelstrom above and struck the gate. It shattered sending fragments in all directions.

Cecil finally pulled himself back over the edge and pushed himself up on shaking legs. He stared in disbelief at the destroyed gate. But his attention was soon diverted elsewhere.

The corpse-like form of Vael moved from its place and stalked toward him.

CHAPTER 44. NEW ARRIVAL

The strange whooshing noise cut into Cecil’s awareness, but not enough to distract him from the menace at hand. The corpse creature that had once been Vael continued toward him. Though there were no longer eyes resting in the sockets, the cavernous holes were filled with malice.

Cecil stood upright, ready to receive whatever attack came. But none did. Instead, a thin twirling object came shooting into his field of vision with great speed. It struck the approaching threat on the face and continued on its merry way.

The corrupted corpse of Vael staggered and fell to one knee. Cecil’s eyes were drawn to the object which had struck the undead celestial being. He tracked its movement and watched in confusion as it carried out beyond the edge of the colonnade and then spun and arced backward in midair. It came back along its previous course and sped past Vael, striking him once again. The object came home to rest in the outstretched hand of a new figure.

This new arrival was tall, thin, and enveloped in robes. A hood covered his head but Cecil could see three arms protruding from its torso. He plucked the flying rod out of the air easily and held it aloft for a few seconds before lowering it to his side.

He strode towards Vael. The corpse stood once again, falteringly preparing to meet the attack. Power crackled around Vael’s hands as he lunged at the newcomer.

With one sharp motion, the newcomer struck at Vael with the rod. The end of the weapon crashed against the side of Vael’s face and sent him spinning toward the edge of the colonnade. He rolled across the floor then came right back up. With tremendous speed, he jumped at the newcomer.

The newcomer held out the single arm on his left side, his hand palm out. “I am sorry, my friend,” the newcomer said in a deeply resonant, echoing voice. It was an odd mix of complete authority and gentleness. He concluded, “But your suffering is at an end now.”

All around them lightning continued to strike the mountain as well as the temple. Great chunks of the structure were broken loose and sent flying, cascading down the mountainside. The newcomer was undisturbed by this. He concentrated on Vael.

The newcomer lifted his hand slightly and Vael lifted in the air with it. The hooded head bowed and Cecil heard him muttering something.

The cracks all over Vael’s flesh grew and split wider. His body jerked in unnatural angles while suspended in the air. His head tossed every way and his limbs convulsed as his back spasmed.

Vael’s corpse exploded. A blinding flash of orange light, brief but agonizing, accompanied the blast. He was gone entirely.

The newcomer turned to Cecil and shouted, “Come! We must go now!”

Cecil nodded and looked to his companions. Ariam and Gael’jic helped one another to their feet. At the same time, they kept a wary eye on the newly arrived figure.

The robed man with three arms ran down the stairs and they scurried behind. The lightning strikes intensified all around them and chunks of the colonnade now were sent soaring into the air. The pillars exploded one by one as they were struck by lightning.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, the newcomer angled straight for the door without stopping. He was fast, faster than any of the companions by far. Cecil did his best to keep up with him, but it just wasn’t happening. He spared a glance over his shoulder and saw Ariam and Gael’jic struggling to keep up as well. Gael’jic was immediately behind him, and Ariam brought up the rear.

His thoughts lingered momentarily on Belem. Belem had tackled Ryth into the gate. Wherever they were, they were together. Recalling Ariam’s tale of the vision he had of Belem hijacked by Ryth made him nervous. But he could not dwell on that. They had to escape.

The deafening report of blasts sounded everywhere. The timbers and stonework of the temple shook with each of them. The blank stone segment of the wall that had no carving exploded outward.

Soon they were out the door and running down the stairs. A short distance away, the new figure halted and spun to watch them continue coming as well as to behold the destruction of the temple.

Cecil skidded to a halt before him and Gael’jic and Ariam nearly ran into the back of him. A loud explosion from behind tempted them all to turn and see it. The central tower of the temple was gone. In its place was a shower of large stonework tossed in every direction and a column of smoke in the midst of it all. Cecil was sure the debris would reach them and crush them. There was no escaping the hail of death.

He watched as several large chunks angled directly for them. Miraculously they halted in midair air and hovered there. Abruptly they changed course and flew off to the side to collide with other chunks coursing their way through the air. The collisions smashed into smaller debris and fell away.

More lightning strikes hit all around them. A strange shimmering bubble suddenly encompassed them. Cecil turned and saw the robed figure standing with one arm held straight up into the air. His head was bent forward and Cecil could hear the figure murmuring. Cecil whipped around and witnessed several lightning strikes attack the shimmering bubble. But they did not penetrate. They merely dispersed their energy over it in a thousand arcing fingers of energy.

Then with a great shout, the new figure splayed his fingers, and the shimmering protective bubble expanded outward. Cecil watched with amazement as it coursed its way upward toward the clouds then pushed the clouds away leaving only a blue sky in their wake. His jaw dropped as he beheld the dark clouds recede into the distance at great speed.

With his mouth still hanging open he slowly turned to look upon the newly arrived figure.

The figure lifted its sole left hand to the hood and drew it back. Cecil and the others gasped. The being looked just like one of the four-armed creatures represented by the statues atop the pillars below at the base of the mountain.

The newcomer pierced Cecil with his gaze for several seconds before turning to look at Gael’jic and Ariam. In that strange echoing resonant voice, he said, “I am Rama’dy’ac.”

CHAPTER 45. RAMA’DY’AC

Cecil could not think what was the appropriate response. Should he kneel? Should he bow? In the end, he elected to stand there with a dumbfounded expression on his face. Gael’jic and Ariam managed about the same.

“Rama’dy’ac,” Gael’jic said with an odd whisper. Cecil turned to look at the Dar’rynakai. He found his companion’s face full of conflict. The reptilian man’s understanding of the universe had been battered over the last short while. First, he found out the gods were real, then he discovered they were not gods at all. He must have been having a monster of the time putting his view of all things into place. Cecil understood. He had been through something similar himself when Vael had revealed his mixed genetically engineered heritage.

“Why have you come?” Ariam asked. “I mean, why have you come now? You could have shown up before.”

“I could not,” Rama’dy’ac said. “Though I certainly would like to have. You first had to come here.”

“I don’t understand,” Gael’jic said. “How is it that you could not have come?”

“It is the rule by which the game operates. I was confined to the Throne of the Gods as long as I was to be in corporeal form like this. But I have been with you in other ways.”

“What other ways?” Cecil demanded through gritted teeth. “How have you been with us? We have suffered and fought a great many dangers and I have never seen you with us.”

“Yet I have been with you,” Rama’dy’ac answered. “In order to run my final gambit, I had to disperse myself.”

“Disperse?” Ariam asked. “What does that mean?”

“This Zulle-Shee are a people of energy,” Rama’dy’ac explained. “We may take forms such as this, or we may solely exist in an energy state. Allow me to show you.”

Rama’dy’ac took three steps back and lifted into the air. In an instant, he no longer possessed the visible form of a creature. Instead, he was a roiling mass of blinding bright energy, like lightning embodied and personified. He maintained the same basic shape as he had been in his corporeal form but he was now something else entirely.

The three remaining exiles shielded their eyes and turned their faces away. “All right,” Cecil shouted, “we get it. Turn it off.”

Rama’dy’ac congealed into a solid form once more. He gently lowered himself to the ground and clasped his lower arms in front of him while raising his singular upper arm and stretching it out to them splaying his fingers.

“So you see,” he went on, “I may take many forms.”

“But how were you…with us?” Gael’jic pressed.

“My energies resided within you,” Rama’dy’ac answered. “As well as in some other locations. As I said, I had dispersed myself. It was the only way to infiltrate Uri’thind’ac’s realm on Dar’ryn and stay within the confines of the rules.”

“Other locations?” Gael’jic prompted, arching an eyebrow. His hand shot instinctively down toward the empty sack at his side.

Rama’dy’ac nodded once. “Yes,” he said, “I resided within the Illuminoc plants. I designed them ages ago to be vessels of unique personal power.”

“So you lived inside the Illuminoc flowers?” Cecil asked incredulously. “That means you were there in the palace when Ryth gifted one to the king.”

“That is true,” Rama’dy’ac said. “I was there when he inhaled the micro-explosives from the petals of the flower. I saw everything.”

“Then why didn’t you do anything?” Cecil asked.

“For two reasons,” Rama’dy’ac answered. “First, I could not yet. My power was dispersed among all the flowers and I was as of yet seeking you all out. I needed to move you, to guide you all to the chamber where Vael was kept prisoner so that you might release him.”

“The visions,” Ariam said. “That was you.”

“It was.”

Ariam squinted in thought, scouring his memory. “The figure I saw leading me through the Citadel streets…that was you also.”

“Correct,” Rama’dy’ac answered. “Though I only appeared corporeal to you then. I was only able to be seen by you. I was in your mind not in the street.”

“And the second reason you could not do anything about the king?” Cecil said with a snarl.

“It was not the right time,” Rama’dy’ac said. “I had more pressing matters.”

“My king was murdered by that monster!” Cecil shouted at Rama’dy’ac’s face.

“I am aware of this,” Rama’dy’ac said. “And I regret that it had to be that way, but it could not have been otherwise. Nor could I have done anything at the moment without spoiling the game and losing everything.”

Cecil turned away, furious. In rapid, careless motions he buttoned his coat back up and folded his arms over his chest to keep the warmth inside. He muttered several angry curses to himself. Ariam stepped forward but Cecil shot him a look of warning. The beggar halted and kept away.

“Cecil of the Human Citadel,” Rama’dy’ac said firmly, “I am not finished with you.”

Cecil spun to face him. “I might be finished with you,” Cecil snapped.

“If that is so, then all is at an end. Including your friends. Including the rest of the king’s family. Are you still not bound to their fate? Despite your expulsion are you not still responsible in your heart for them?”

“What can I possibly do from here?” Cecil said. “They are trapped in Ryth’s clawed fingers. And the three of us are stuck here. And, worse, he has Belem wherever they went.”

“I am aware,” Rama’dy’ac replied. He lifted one of his right hands to the place on the opposite side where there should have been a fourth arm. “Part of me is yet with Belem.”

“That’s why you only have three arms, isn’t it?” Gael’jic asked.

“This is true,” Rama’dy’ac answered. “If I am to be made whole and you are to have any chance of triumph over Uri’thind’ac, you must regain Belem.”

“What’s to stop Ryth from killing Belem?” Cecil asked.

“Uri’thind’ac greatly desires to inhabit his flesh,” Rama’dy’ac responded. “I have already shown this to Ariam.”

“My vision in the gate,” Ariam whispered.

“That’s all well and good,” Cecil said waving his hands, “but how are we going to get out of here? The gate has been destroyed and we are on a different planet than they are.”

“What about the gate in the labyrinth?” Gael’jic asked. “That would take us back to Remmice. From there we could go to Cairn and from Cairn back to Dar’ryn. The Boatman could take us across the sea again and we…”

“I have another way,” Rama’dy’ac interrupted. “I require to no gate.”

“So you would transport us back to Dar’ryn,” Cecil said. “But what hope do we have? Ryth holds all the cards.”

“No, he does not,” Rama’dy’ac said calmly. “He does not hold you.”

“He holds Belem,” Ariam suggested.

“Correction,” Rama’dy’ac replied, turning to Ariam, “he possesses Belem. But he does not hold him. Belem still has great hate in his heart for Ryth. He will not be easily controlled.”

“But my vision…” Ariam said.

“Your vision was only of one possible path,” Rama’dy’ac interrupted. “Ryth will seek to undo all of Belem’s defenses. He can do this, but it will take him time.”

“How much time?” Cecil asked.

“Time enough to afford you an opportunity to slip into his realm and defeat him.”

Cecil scoffed. “But how are we to defeat him? He is Zulle-Shee. He is a greatly powerful being and superior to us. We are but three humans and a Dar’rynakai. And one of us is a captive under Ryth’s boot.”

“You will not be mere mortals in this endeavor. For I will be with you. I will be within you.”

“You have been with and in us during this whole process, haven’t you?” Cecil asked.

“Yes,” Rama’dy’ac answered.

“It hasn’t made any difference yet. Why should it be different now?” Cecil observes snidely.

“You have not yet unlocked the power. If all four of you can do this, you will be able to meet Uri’thind’ac in battle and triumph. You can fight and defeat him.”

“And what of my lack?” Cecil asked. “I am not worthy of this because of it, isn’t that right?”

Rama’dy’ac took a step toward him. He leaned forward and quietly said, “You lack hope, because you do not choose hope. Hope is a decision. It is not an object to be seized and carried like a spear. You have decidedly resisted hope for this entire journey. But now you must turn to it.”

“I don’t know how,” Cecil said hearing the weakness in his voice.

Rama’dy’ac put a hand on his shoulder. “You must combine all the other lacks that have been fulfilled in your companions. You must forge them together in yourself. Companionship, faith, fortitude. Your companions have bravely and faithfully stood by your side this whole way. Receive that into yourself for what it is. And let it give you hope. Look to your friends.”

Cecil held Rama’dy’ac’s gaze for a time then slowly turned to Ariam and Gael’jic. They returned his gaze, waiting on him.

“Do you know what hope really means?” Rama’dy’ac asked. “Many confuse it for nothing more than a foundationless wish. But it is not so. Hope is a certainty. It is the firm foundation of the way things are. Hope is assurance.”

“But we have no assurance that this will work,” Cecil said.

“But you have assurance in those who are with you,” Rama’dy’ac replied. “Regardless of how it all comes to an end, you are not left alone.”

Cecil stared at Gael’jic and Ariam for a long time. He found himself mysteriously missing Belem’s presence. As annoying as the convict could be, he was good to have around.

Cecil turned back to Rama’dy’ac. “We need all four of us to win.”

“Yes,” Rama’dy’ac answered.

“Then let’s go get Belem.”

To be Concluded in

WARS OF DAR”RYN

WARS OF DAR'RYN

BOOK 6

CHAPTER 1. BEFORE

Before.

Despite the direness of the situation the captain sat in his command seat; calm, cool, and collected. Warning alarms and klaxons blared all around him and his meager crew. Aside from himself, there were only three others.

They had been carefully chosen; hand-selected by himself. They were the best and brightest his species had to offer. Each of them was a keenly gifted individual who excelled where others fell behind. But now they were all that was left of their race.

In part, that was what this project was all about. The preservation of their people. Yet not theirs only, but also others. The Zulle-Shee had condemned themselves to extinction. Careless and wanton, they had consumed rather than conserved. The cry of their people had been “Progress!” for millennia. But now they had progressed right over a precipice and plummeted to their doom.

And they had been warned.

He had tried to save others but it had not worked. Now the once noble Zulle-Shee people were reduced to four. But Captain Rama’dy’ac put all of this out of his mind. What mattered now was their current predicament.

They were headed for a new planet. It was a world alive and lush. It sported no indigenous population, but was instead like an empty seat, waiting for one to take it up. It was a haven. A place of rest.

Years had been spent in search of a location like this one. But habitable worlds were few and far between. And most that were known were already home to indigenous species they could not supplant. One of the chief directives Rama’dy’ac had insisted upon from the outset was that nascent people groups must be left to develop. There were criteria in place for contact if it became necessary, but that was an absolute final resort. The chief directive for contacting new people on a habitable world was the presence of a vast and thriving civilization that had not consumed its world’s resources beyond reason.

Finding this world in particular had seemed miraculous.

And its discovery had come none too soon. The planet and civilization of the Zulle-Shee had been in their death throes. Now at least they had a place to dwell. But it was not only a place to take up residence until their deaths. No, they had a further purpose. There was the cargo they stored. That was certainly important. But its time would not come for many ages. Nevertheless, there would be plenty to occupy themselves in the intervening time. They had another mission besides that which related to their cargo.

And that mission required they survive for a long time. Considering the state of their spacecraft, that was in question. The ship rocked violently and they were all thrown to the side yet held firmly in place by their seat restraints.

“Report,” Rama’dy’ac serenely commanded.

A soft and worried feminine voice answered. “Rupture in the aft compartment,” she said. This was Nu’ul’hi, the pilot.

Rama’dy’ac felt a wave of concern wash over himself. “Cargo hold?” he asked, his voice clipped.

She tapped in a series of commands and read her display grimly. The pause was no more than three seconds but it felt interminable.

Her shoulders sagged in relief and she turned her face to Rama’dy’ac. “No sir,” she said. “Cargo hold integrity remains intact.”

“Then what was it?” he asked.

“Void thruster number seven,” she replied.

“Captain?” came another feminine voice, this one hard-edged and maybe a touch annoyed. “Perhaps we ought to pull back on the speed?”

Rama’dy’ac shook his head right away. “No,” he replied. “If we do that, we won’t make it.”

“We won’t make it if we explode into a thousand pieces either,” Uri’thind’ac noted sarcastically.

Rama’dy’ac shot a glance toward his friend and colleague. Uri’thind’ac continued, “I don’t know about you, but I don’t care to float disembodied in space for the rest of my days.”

“Nor do I,” Rama’dy’ac said. “But if we must…?”

“And what about our cargo?” One of the others interjected. It was Nu’ul’hi.

She was right he realized. But they were so close to the planet. Just a little farther…

Another explosion rocked their craft.

“Void thrusters one and four have disappeared,” Nu’ul’hi said. This time the terror had permeated her voice unmistakably.

“We only have one choice now,” Uri’thind’ac inserted. “And I think you know it.”

Rama’dy’ac stared hard at his friend. Uri’thind’ac returned the gaze indefatigable.

He was right about that too. Rama’dy’ac hated to admit it, but he was right. In a split second, the decision was made.

“All right,” he said. “Get to your evacuation stations. We will split the craft.”

The two females looked at one another and then to their Captain.

“Are you certain?” The second of them asked.

“Get to it,” he said. “That’s an order.”

He hated pulling rank. They were essentially equals in this operation, though they did agree to have a leader. And that had fallen to him. It was a project of his design after all. His leadership made the most sense, though he suspected Uri’thind’ac was not entirely pleased with the outcome. Hopefully, they would continue to exist beyond this point to evaluate later how well he did.

Uri’thind’ac was the first to stand and move toward the portal to his evacuation post. The two females stood at the same time and then headed toward theirs, sending secretive glances at their captain before disappearing through the doors. Rama’dy’ac remained in place. This was his duty.

The main part of the ship would remain under his control. Once the craft had separated into its four distinct segments the danger of the ship’s instability should be leveled out. But at the same time, they jeopardized whether all four segments might make it to the planet below.

He waited a handful of moments and finally, lights appeared on his display console telling him the three crew members had made it to their evacuation posts on the separable craft. He keyed in the command which began the separation sequence.

Seconds later the entire ship shuddered as it broke into four roughly equal-sized segments. The small cargo remained with his segment. He saw to it in the design of the craft ahead of time that the responsibility for it would remain with him no matter what.

Moments later many of the warning sirens and klaxons ceased. Yet a few remained. He had been afraid of that. While separating the ship had taken care of many of the issues and dispersed the problem into space, a few remained.

His portion of the ship trembled violently. He knew that meant they were passing through the atmosphere and the others would be experiencing similar phenomena. Suddenly a vicious jolt ran through his segment of the ship. He knew that was not as it ought to be.

They had reached the point in the atmosphere where natural gravity took hold. His ship should have phased the artificial gravity into the natural but it failed to do what it should have. He felt as if he were being squashed into his seat by an unseen giant. He closed his eyes and went through a mental process of resisting.

He lifted all four arms off the four armrests of the seat. He pressed the upper two hands, palms pressed together while spreading the lower two hands out palms, facing upward. He mumbled the ancient meditative words of his people. He felt strength flow into himself. His physical body was being reinforced against the oppressive forces working upon it. He hoped the others were not experiencing something similar.

When at last his physical form was safe from the gravitational onslaught he keyed in commands and the artificial gravity of his craft ceased and the normal gravity of the planets took over. It was a great relief.

He opened his eyes again and shifted his attention to the bridge’s primary display. He tapped a series of quick commands into the console and the display showed the approaching skin of the planet. At least, he thought, I have remained on course. He hoped the others had as well.

For now, all he could do was concentrate on himself and the survival of his part of the craft as well as the cargo he carried.

He worked the controls of the ship to make sure it was properly adjusted and at a good entry angle. His displays advised him that none of this was currently optimal. He worked hard to get it to fall into line and was mostly successful. Mostly.

A few minutes later he crash-landed on the surface of the world. His vision went dark.

He woke up, he knew not how long later. All of the lights and displays of the craft were dark and blank. His physical body ached but he managed to undo the restraints holding him into the seat. He slowly stood up and felt stabs of pain in every muscle and fiber of his being. He grunted against this but completed his upward journey.

He looked around unable to see much in the darkened cabin. He turned back to his seat and tapped a few of the buttons on the console. The lights grudgingly came back to life and he read with disbelief the information laid out for him. He had expected to find that he had been unconscious for a few hours at most. In truth, the displays revealed to him he had been put into stasis for close to three hundred years. He worriedly tapped in a few more commands and then breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that his cargo had also been put into stasis.

But what about the others? It was time to go find out.

***

Cecil gasped as his eyes shot open. Frigid air whipped all around him. His eyes were blurry at first but quickly refocused and landed upon Ariam’s astonished face. Next, he looked to his right and saw Gael’jic shaking his head. The Dar’rynakai had his head fin standing straight up. It flapped rigidly with the motion as did the dewlap hanging beneath his long, narrow chin.

The reptilian man said something in his language Cecil did not understand. Yet he recognized a kind of kinship to it. It was almost as if there was something in what the Dar’rynakai said that rang a bell somewhere deep within him. If Cecil did not miss his guess that was on account of the Dar’rynakai DNA that had been infused and engineered into his dominantly human DNA. That whole thing was still a mystery beyond his understanding. He hoped one day to unravel some of it but now was not the time.

He shifted his gaze to the newest member of their party. The three-armed Rama’dy’ac stood watching them.

“So that was how you came to be here,” Cecil said. “I don’t know that I understand the importance of it for us, though.”

“There is more to tell,” the Zulle-Shee replied. “But now is not the time for that. I could only begin to tell you about it. More will come later.”

“But why?” Ariam asked. “What is it that we need to know?”

“That will come in the telling,” Rama’dy’ac replied.

Cecil noticed Gael’jic was disturbingly quiet. He shot fugitive glances toward Rama’dy’ac, but he would not lift his attention to him fully. Cecil guessed he could understand why.

“I suppose that’s all well and good,” Cecil said into the tense silence. “We can save story time for another day. But for now, we’ve got big problems. Ryth has Belem. How are we going to get him back?”

“You are not,” Rama’dy’ac said.

Cecil felt his jaw drop. He snapped his mouth shut, then said, “I beg your pardon. Didn’t you say we needed all four of us?”

“You do,” Rama’dy’ac replied.

“Then this whole thing is at an inglorious end, isn’t it?” Ariam said, his face dropping. “This whole project has failed.”

“I did not say that,” Rama’dy’ac replied. “You must be patient.”

“What would you have of us?” Gael’jic asked meekly. His face was turned away scouring the view of the frozen plains at the base of the mountain.

“We must travel,” Rama’dy’ac said. “You have journeyed long, but you have much traveling to go. And many hard sacrifices to make.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Cecil said.

“We have all sacrificed much,” Rama’dy’ac said. Cecil’s attention shot to the vacant place at Rama’dy’ac’s side where there should have been another arm. He thought of Belem once again. According to the Zulle-Shee, part of himself was inside of Belem. Evidently, that part would have manifested his fourth arm.

“All right then,” Cecil said shaking his head. “Then let’s get on with whatever it is we have to do next.”

Rama’dy’ac bowed slightly at the waist and dipped his head. “Very well,” he said. “We shall travel to Dar’ryn.”

CHAPTER 2. ON THE MOVE

Ariam leaned forward and peered over the edge of the mountain. His chest tightened as he beheld the zigzagging path down the ragged slope. Though it was bitingly cold up on their elevated position, he felt his forehead break out in a sweat.

He turned to face the others and said, “I’m not wild about the idea of going back down the way we came.”

Rama’dy’ac stepped forward. His face was serene as he beheld the beggar. A smile encroached upon his alien face.

“Fear not,” he said comfortingly. “We are not going to go down the way we came.”

Ariam felt hope blossom in his chest. He arched an eyebrow and said, “Oh? Then how are we getting back down?”

“Easier that I show you,” Rama’dy’ac said taking another step forward. “I require you to come closer.”

“Hold on,” Cecil said. “First, I want to know how we are supposed to get home. The gate was destroyed along with the rest of the temple. Are we to go all the way back to the labyrinth and enter the gate we came through to get here?”

“No,” The Zulle-Shee answered. “There is a better way.”

“I’m all for a better way,” Ariam interjected, his voice hopeful if also a little desperate.

Gael’jic was quiet and pensive. He refused to make eye contact with his companions or Rama’dy’ac. Ariam turned to the Dar’rynakai and waited for him to lift his countenance to him. But he dared not attempt to draw out of the reptilian man what troubled him. Much of it was obvious. His world had been shaken to its foundations. Ariam could sympathize.

He had undergone much change as well, though he doubted he should compare his own situation with that of Gael’jic. The poor creature’s understanding had been tossed about like a ship in a stormy sea. He must be directionless, confused, Ariam thought.

At last, the Dar’rynakai lifted his long snout and locked eyes with Ariam. They gazed at one another for a handful of heartbeats before Gael’jic spoke.

“What is our destination?” His tone was troubled.

“As I have said, we return to Dar’ryn,” Rama’dy’ac replied. “There is much work to be done before the final battle.”

“Final battle,” Gael’jic repeated quietly to himself. Then he spoke up louder and said, “The journey has cost us much already. What will be the cost of this battle you speak of? We have seen the decimated worlds of Cairn and Remmice. Is that what is at stake for Dar’ryn also? If we fail…”

He trailed off, not having the heart to finish the sentence. Rama’dy’ac stepped toward Gael’jic and placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked him deeply in his eyes and said, “I can promise you nothing. But yes, the battle may cost us dearly. Civilizations are at stake, not just lives. I can explain more as we travel. But first, we must get off this mountain. Everyone, step close to me, please.”

Cecil, Ariam, and Gael’jic shot uncertain glances at one another and then obeyed the instruction. They came each within a few paces of Rama’dy’ac forming a triangle around him.

Rama’dy’ac closed his eyes and raised all three hands into the air. A faint hum began, barely perceptible at first but grew in intensity. Accompanying this a brilliant glow surrounded Rama’dy’ac. Tendrils of light snaked outward from him and wrapped themselves around each of the companions.

Ariam sucked in a sharp breath. A warm sensation accompanied the contact of the light tendril. He turned his attention to Gael’jic and saw a similar expression of surprise adorning his features. Cecil also did not seem to know what to do.

Rama’dy’ac slowly lifted into the air. Ariam felt the slightest pressure from the places the tendril snaked around his body and he too was lifted from the ground. Cecil and Gael’jic likewise were taken up.

“What are you doing?” Cecil demanded.

“Maybe don’t bother him right now,” Ariam said. “If you break his concentration, we might fall.”

“You will not fall,” Rama’dy’ac interjected. “I have you.”

In a sudden motion they were thrust forward over the edge of the mountain and Ariam experience a sudden wash of vertigo. A stunned yelp escaped him.

“Yes,” Gael’jic said. “This is a touch unsettling.”

Then they started to descend. A cold ball of terror arose within Ariam’s belly. But soon it subsided. They were not falling, merely lowering at a comfortable rate of descent. But then they began to pick up speed. Ariam felt the wind whipping against him and shut his eyes. He did not think he could take seeing this. He was having a hard enough time as it was not screaming for his life.

He felt a shift in their trajectory but would not open his eyes to ascertain the nature of it. They were not moving only down but also forward.

Rama’dy’ac’s voice broke into his thoughts. “You are perfectly safe, Ariam. You need not fear the descent.”

“If it’s all the same to you,” Ariam said nervously, “I’d like to keep my eyes closed anyway. I don’t like heights.”

“Suit yourself,” Rama’dy’ac replied with the barest hint of humor in his voice.

Ariam wanted to ask how much longer he would have to endure this, but he didn’t want to offend their rescuer. Best not to upset someone who can drop you thousands of feet, he thought to himself.

After a short while, Gael’jic called out to him. “We are nearing the ground; it will be over soon.”

“Not soon enough,” Ariam muttered to himself. Rama’dy’ac chuckled.

True to Gael’jic’s word, they came to a stop and Ariam felt himself gently lowered to the ground. He kept his eyes closed a few moments longer and then opened one of them and darted his focus around to take in the scene. They were back on the snowy plain surrounding the mountain. The storm that had encircled it and through which they had trudged to arrive at the mountain was nowhere to be seen. He opened his other eye and looked more carefully about.

He stopped rotating his head when he saw they were close to the shelter that was nearest to the mountain.

A frustrated sigh escaped Cecil. Ariam guessed he was reliving his failure at the shelter.

“What troubles you, my child?” Rama’dy’ac asked the one-time guardsman.

“This is the fourth shelter,” he said. “It did not provide what we needed because I had not fulfilled my lack.”

“That is not true,” Rama’dy’ac said.

A tense silence fell about them. At last, Cecil said, “Care to explain that?”

“Are you not merely repeating what Lycas Ryth, disguised as the Guide, told you?”

Cecil’s mouth opened to respond then he snapped it closed again. His brow furrowed in thought. “Yes,” he said at last slowly. “What of it?”

“Have you already forgotten that Uri’thind’ac is a deceiver?”

The beginnings of comprehension dawned on Cecil’s features. He looked to Ariam, then Gael’jic, then back to Rama’dy’ac. He tilted his head as he stared at the Zulle-Shee.

“It was the duty of the Guide to activate the shelter. Uri’thind’ac had the power to do it as well. He lied to you. The shelter did not activate because he refused to do so. He wanted to tear you down. It seems to have worked.”

Rama’dy’ac turned toward the shelter and waved a hand at it. It hummed loudly to life. None of the other shelters had done that.

The snow covering the structure began to melt and dribble down the sides. The door in the side opened at the command of Rama’dy’ac. “Come inside,” he said.

He stalked forward until he was enveloped in the structure. The companions looked to one another again then followed after him. Soon they were all inside.

It was not empty as it had been before. Instead, it was filled with machinery. There were technological consoles and display screens everywhere.

“What is this?” Cecil asked.

“This is one of the four parts of the original ship that brought us here. This is how we will return to Dar’ryn.”

“But it’s just a big block of stone,” Cecil said furrowing his brow once again.

“Is it?” Rama’dy’ac asked in reply, a smirk now tugging one corner of his mouth.

“That’s what it looks like on the outside,” Cecil replied sharply.

“Is Uri’thind’ac what he appears to be on the outside?” Rama’dy’ac asked.

“No, of course not,” Cecil said. His face began to flush with embarrassment.

“Do not trouble yourself about it,” Rama’dy’ac said. His face was now enveloped in a full smile. “The technology designed by the Zulle-Shee is quite different from your own in many ways. Our spacefaring ships were not composed of steel. Their hulls are made of a special kind of stone, crafted to create the vessels. It can even change shape within reason upon command. Now if you will please take your seats, I will take us to Dar’ryn.”

Three seats that had not been there moments earlier now sprang into existence. Rama’dy’ac moved to the central console and turned his face back to the companions expectantly.

Ariam was the first to move to a seat. He lowered himself into it and looked to Gael’jic. The Dar’rynakai moved to his seat and sat. Lastly, Cecil took his place.

“There are no restraints?” Ariam said arching an eyebrow.

Rama’dy’ac chuckled softly. “You would not need them.” He turned back to manipulate the controls and began punching buttons and moving levers.

Ariam felt the vessel shudder and lift from the ground. He heard a noise like an explosion, but there was no accompanying sensation to suggest anything had gone wrong.

“We are now ten miles above the surface,” Rama’dy’ac informed them.

“That fast?” Cecil asked.

“Yes,” Rama’dy’ac said turning his smiling face to the guardsmen. “But what you have called ‘fast’ is exceedingly slow for this ship. It will not take us long to reach Dar’ryn.”

CHAPTER 3. IN THE CLUTCHES OF THE DEMON

They tumbled for what felt like forever through strange and swirling glowing space. It was so bright his eyes could not penetrate. Nevertheless, he felt the bulk of the other one within his grip. He tightened his arms to the best of his ability. There seemed to be no resistance. But there was a noise that unnerved him deeply.

Sinister laughter floated everywhere, echoing all about him. There was a dark and blurry shape before his vision, a black island in the sea of piercing brightness. It was Ryth.

Belem snarled and tried to squeeze the life out of his enemy. Ryth merely laughed all the louder.

He thought about reaching to his belt and seizing one of the knives and trying to plunge it into Ryth’s smirking face. That was if he could make out where his stupid face was. But he could not. It took everything within him just to hold on to the demonic thing.

Sudden darkness encroached upon his sight and they were tumbling through what felt like dense foliage. It whipped at his face and arms. He and Ryth thudded to the ground and rolled. Ryth continued laughing the whole way. Suddenly he lost his grip on him and he was rolling alone.

His vision resolved. He saw that he was in a jungle. He guessed he was back on Dar’ryn. He recognized Raka trees the more his vision resolved. He first scrambled to his hands and knees and searched desperately to locate his enemy.

He saw Ryth sitting up, still laughing, even wiping away a tear from his good eye with a gloved thumb. His shoulders shook. Ryth’s attention landed on Belem and he laughed all the harder.

The demonic being wrapped in human flesh merely sat there shaking his head.

Belem scrambled to his feet and yanked the knives out of their sheaths. His lips peeled away from his teeth in a snarl and he growled like an animal. His hands flexed around the hilts of the knives as he stalked toward Ryth.

“Time to carve that smile off your face,” Belem said.

In a heartbeat, Ryth was on his feet again. It all happened so fast that Belem barely had time to register it. The man’s laughing idiot visage had not evaporated but remained steadfast on his face. He lifted a hand and casually beckoned Belem to come forward.

“By all means,” he said mirthfully. “I would love to see you try it.”

Belem leaped forward and arced one knife around in a slashing motion aimed at Ryth’s throat. Ryth stood in place waiting for it to arrive. With lightning speed, he shot a hand up and snatched Belem by the wrist, and then he spun, throwing Belem like a ragdoll into the forest. Belem’s back collided with the large trunk of a Raka tree and he slid down as a pained grunt escaped him. He collapsed in a heap on the ground at the base of the tree, his back throbbing. He turned a snarling face back at Ryth and slowly worked at pushing himself up to his feet.

He swayed in place trying to regain his balance and ignored the agony in his back. His eyes narrowed and he bellowed a rageful cry.

With a concerted effort, Belem darted forward once again and this time he cocked an arm back and then hurled one of the knives at Ryth, aiming for his upper left torso. He knew Ryth would pluck it out of the air but he wasn’t sure if he could deal with two. When the first knife had left his hand he maneuvered quickly and threw the other at a lower target on Ryth’s body. He kept pressing forward and jumped into the air in case the second one was intercepted by his opponent.

True to form, Ryth casually snatched the first tumbling knife out of the air and dropped his other hand down low to catch the other. He did so with ease.

Belem smirked as he sailed through the air at his enemy. He shot a kick forward at the center of Ryth’s chest. It landed full force.

But instead of driving Ryth backward as he expected, his opponent remained in place. A jolt of pain shot through Belem’s foot, up his leg, and into his hip.

He fell with a cry of pain to the ground. He might as well have kicked the tree.

Belem writhed on the ground for a moment, growling and snarling up at his enemy.

Ryth just looked back down at him, shaking his head disappointedly and smiling at him.

“Now, now,” he said as if merely chiding a mischievous child. “That will be enough of that. And I don’t think you need these toys anymore if you’re going to misbehave.”

He held up both Raka wood knives for Belem to see. They had been hardened to as strong as steel by the Dar’rynakai. They had never lost their edge of sharpness either for all the times he used them. But now Belem beheld with dismay as they shattered in Ryth’s grip. In the next moment, Ryth was tossing handfuls of splintered wood shards to the sides.

“I’ll kill you,” Belem snarled.

Ryth adopted a curious expression and arched an eyebrow as he looked down at Belem. “Is that so? I wonder how you intend to do that.”

“However I can,” Belem retorted.

“Well if you figure out a way, let me know. I’d love to know how that would work. No one has managed it in thousands of years. Not even your tin-god Rama’dy’ac.”

“There’s always a way,” Belem seethed.

“Maybe there is,” Ryth replied with a shrug. “But I’ll be cursed if I know what it is.”

Belem pushed himself slowly up to a standing position. He glowered across the short distance at Ryth. His hands were clenching into fists and unclenching at his sides. He breathed raggedly with hate. He took a menacing step toward Ryth who remained in place, unperturbed. But a sudden noise off to his right caught his attention and he froze.

It was a low and menacing growl. It was also familiar. Belem whipped his head around to stare in that direction.

Two large cavernous glowing orange eyes emerged from the dark of the forest and stepped forward. It was a Shedi’im. Then there was a second one beside it. Then a third, and a fourth. He turned his head and looked around in dismay. He was surrounded by hundreds of them.

“Even if you could do something about me,” Ryth said, “how would you deal with them?”

Belem returned a contemptuous look at Ryth. “What are you talking about? Me and my friends sent these stupid beasts packing not that long ago. All I need are a few of those pretty blue flowers. There must be some of those around here.”

The false good humor that had adorned Ryth’s face vanished in an instant. He thundered forward and seized Belem by the neck, lifting him from the ground.

“Touched a nerve with that one, did I?” Belem said in a choking rasp.

Ryth stared furiously up at him. His wounded eye wept blood. He said nothing.

“Going to finish me off finally?” Belem asked in an ever more breathless and choked voice. He barely recognized the words himself.

Ryth’s eyes glowed orange. He looked like he was about to tear Belem to pieces with his bare hands. But soon he got control of his emotion once more and set Belem roughly upon the ground again. He withdrew his hand from the convict’s neck and shook it as if it were filthy from contact with him. He wiped it on his pant leg.

“Oh, I’m not finished with you quite yet,” Ryth said in a sinister tone. “You and I are going to be spending quite a lot of time together.” He took a step closer to Belem and narrowed his eyes. He continued. “In fact,” he said lifting a finger and tapping Belem on the forehead, “I intend to make my home in there.”

“Never going to happen,” Belem said staunchly.

“I have my ways,” Ryth replied. “All I need to do is find the right pressure point and push.”

From behind him, Belem heard a soft and troubled feminine voice.

“Belem?”

The hate and anger drained instantly from Belem’s face as he whipped around.

He saw her standing there in the jungle. Her clothes were torn and filthy. She looked nervously at the Shedi’im flanking her. “Belem, will you save me?”

“Mother?” he said in shock and disbelief. “But you’re…”

He whipped around and shot a snarling look at Ryth. “I’m going to kill you,” he said again.

“Even if I’m the only one who can give you what you want the most?”

“She’s dead,” Belem thundered at him.

“But she needn’t be,” Ryth said. “You and your mother can live together in your mind in complete peace and joy forever. All you need to do is turn yourself over to me.”

“I hate you,” Belem said.

Ryth smiled widely and said, “I know. And I love it.”

CHAPTER 4. FOREST TREK

Ryth and Belem walked side-by-side through the forest. The Shedi’im had remained behind by Ryth’s orders. The creatures seemed disappointed and Ryth had spoken to them like a parent comforting a child who had been told there would be no dessert after dinner. The hideous beasts mewled and groveled and Ryth played the part of the affectionate master, patting several of them on the head like pets and speaking lovingly to them.

Belem was repulsed.

They had been walking for hours. Ryth displayed no concern over Belem. Belem wanted to lash out, wanted to strike his enemy down, but knew it would be fruitless to try.

Ryth had not even bothered to bind him to prevent any such measure. He had ably demonstrated thus far that Belem could do nothing against him. The convict walked along stewing in silence, puzzling over what could be done about his enemy. Suddenly a flicker of something caught his attention. Belem jerked his head around and stared into the jungle as they continued walking. A faint blue glow far back among the trees pulsed briefly. It was one of the Illuminoc plants.

He might have broken away from Ryth to snatch it but knew it was useless against Ryth. He could use it to dispatch a Shedi’im or two, but Ryth would certainly not allow him to keep it. It would be useless to try.

“Something interesting out there?” Ryth asked.

Belem returned his face forward. “Nothing much,” he said. Ryth leaned forward and looked beyond the convict. He witnessed the dimming glow of the flower. It went completely dark.

“Ah,” he said. “One of those strange flowers that you used to kill some of my Shedi’im. Tell me, what is the secret behind them?”

Belem turned a surprised face to Ryth. “You mean, you don’t know?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I did,” Ryth opined.

Belem made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. “Interesting,” he said. “I don’t know myself. I only know that it worked. I assumed you would be aware.”

Ryth stared at him, gauging him. Belem felt him probing around in the depths of his mind.

“Get out of my head,” the convict snarled.

Ryth shrugged and turned his face forward again. “Suit yourself,” he said. “I was just poking around the real estate. Trying to see what kind of place I might set up for myself in there.”

“You’re never getting in,” Belem said.

Ryth shrugged. “We will see.”

They continued in silence for quite some time. Yet another Illuminoc flower off to his right flared to life briefly then went out once again. This time Belem attempted not to show his noticing of it, but Ryth caught it anyway.

“It’s like a little wink from Rama’dy’ac, isn’t it? Too bad he can’t do anything to help you.”

Belem refused to answer. He simply stared forward, his face set grim. He did not want to give Ryth the satisfaction of knowing that he stirred him up. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to resist lashing out.

After a while, Belem said, “So where are you taking me?”

“Back to the Citadel, of course,” Ryth replied. “The place needs me and I have been away for too long.”

Belem harrumphed. “I think they could do with a great deal more of your absence. I know I could.”

Ryth halted and turned to Belem. “Do you want me to just abandon you out here? Is that it?”

Belem shot back, “Now that you bring it up, I wouldn’t mind if you would. Is that an offer?”

Ryth gave him a long-suffering look. “Of course, it isn’t, you dolt. You and your companions scurrying about on different worlds have proven to be too destructive if left to your own devices. I’m not about to deposit you here in the middle of the jungle only to be picked up by some other unhappy crew.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Belem said.

“Take it however you like,” Ryth said. “You’re no better than the rest of the measly wretches of humanity or any of the other species Rama’dy’ac so desires to save. You are all so far beneath me.”

Belem stood firmly rooted in place and arched an eyebrow. “Liar,” he said simply.

“Excuse me?” Ryth retorted with a huff.

“You’ve expended a lot of effort and traveled far to take me captive. You’ve ordered your Shedi’im not to kill me. That all points to one thing: I’m valuable to you. You need to me. You can spout your nonsense about me being just a miserable human wretch all day long if you want, but I’m not buying a minute of it.”

They fell silent and Belem pursed his lips as Ryth stared back with a surprised face. The convict took a menacing step toward his enemy and leaned close to his face and said, “I wonder what you would do if I just killed myself?”

In the next instant, the surprise was gone from Ryth’s features and replaced by a thundercloud of anger. He backhanded Belem and sent him flying through the air briefly and sprawling on the forest floor.

When the convict landed he laughed.

In a heartbeat, Ryth was standing over him glowering down, and said, “What are you laughing at?”

“You,” Belem said sitting up and continuing to chuckle under his breath. “You act all high and mighty. You proclaim your greatness and superiority. You say you are undefeatable. Yet I have just found your weakness. Me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Ryth spat at him.

“It’s too late for that,” Belem retorted. “I’m starting to figure you out. You’re just like any other enemy I have ever fought. All I have to do now is figure out how to exploit this weakness of yours.” He grunted as he stood back up, pain throbbing in the cheek where Ryth had struck him. He now stood practically nose-to-nose with Ryth. “And when I do,” he whispered menacingly, “I will beat you.”

Ryth stared at him for several seconds fuming with rage. At last, he shot his hand down and seized Belem by the wrist. He turned and stalked away yanking Belem along.

“Come along, you misbehaving youngster. It’s time for you to be punished.”

CHAPTER 5. NEXT STEPS

“We have arrived,” Rama’dy’ac remarked casually.

Cecil blinked and shot a glance at the others. He looked back to Rama’dy’ac and said, “Already? That was fast. I didn’t even feel our landing.”

A smirk stretched one corner of Rama’dy’ac’s face. “No,” he said, “you wouldn’t have.” He turned away from the former guardsman and waved a hand toward one wall. It split apart and a door opened revealing the jungles of Dar’ryn beyond. He strolled forward without another word and exited the structure.

No, Cecil thought. Not a structure. Not a building. It’s a spacefaring vessel. He shook his head. He stood up from his seat and followed after the Zulle-Shee. Ariam was next. Gael’jic remained behind staring at the doorway with evident trepidation.

Cecil looked over his shoulder as he reached the door, noticed Gael’jic hanging back, halted, and moved out of Ariam’s way. He turned back to Gael’jic and said, “Coming?”

Gael’jic simply stared in silence at the doorway before turning to Cecil and said, “Yes. It is just that…”

“I get it,” Cecil interjected into the pregnant silence. “You have been through a lot. We all have.”

“Yes,” Gael’jic said cautiously. “But it is more than that. What awaits us beyond that door?”

Cecil turned his face to observe the opening and then looked back to Gael’jic. He shrugged and said, “Next steps I guess.”

Without waiting for Gael’jic to continue, Cecil turned again and strode through the doorway into the jungle. A few moments later the Dar’rynakai was at his side.

They walked up to Rama’dy’ac and Ariam who stood together waiting for them.

“Okay,” Cecil said to Rama’dy’ac. “We’re back on Dar’ryn. Now, what are we going to do about Belem?”

Rama’dy’ac held up a forestalling hand. “Patience,” he said. “A reunion of sorts will come. But we must accomplish other tasks first.”

Cecil adopted an irritated posture and folded his arms over his chest. A small frustrated noise blew out of his mouth. “Fine,” he said. “So what do we do next? Do we need to go to Gael’jic’s city again?”

“You will travel there, but you must go to another people first. You must travel to the Dar’ryneel. You will require their help if you are to defeat Uri’thind’ac.”

Gael’jic cleared his throat. “The Dar’ryneel are not warriors,” he said. “Their weapons and ways are very primitive, even compared to my own people.”

Rama’dy’ac turned his face to Gael’jic. “Do not mistake simplicity for primitiveness. Their ways are chosen by them. You might be surprised to find they know how to make war if they must. This is something Belem already knows.”

“How so?” Ariam asked with his brow creasing with curiosity.

“He has visited them already. Before I guided him to meet you in the forgotten city in the jungle, I led him to the Dar’ryneel.”

“You did?” Cecil balked, more than just a bit surprised. “Why? Was he meant to stay with them and irritate them perpetually? Were they being punished or something?”

Rama’dy’ac shook his head once. “No,” he replied. “I desired to establish positive human contact with them before they were to be drawn into the conflict.”

Cecil scoffed. “Positive human contact? With Belem? That may not have been your best choice.”

Rama’dy’ac favored him with a wry look. “Perhaps you do not know the convict as well as you think you do.”

“I’ve known him long enough to tell you that he is both abrasive and brash. He cares only for himself and honestly if he miraculously stumbles upon a chance of escape, I doubt we’ll ever see him again.”

“You are right about his abrasive nature. However, you are wrong about his character. He is also brave and possessed of powerful instinct to protect,” Rama’dy’ac countered.

“Protect?” Cecil said with a humorless laugh. “Since when? All he’s ever talked about was serving himself. He kept threatening to leave us and to go off on his own.”

Rama’dy’ac stretched all three of his hands out toward Cecil in an explanatory gesture. “There is what a man says, and then there is what a man does. Surely you know these do not always align.”

“Sometimes they do,” Cecil countered coldly, his countenance darkening.

Rama’dy’ac shook his head. “Belem wears a mask before the world. Yes, some of his more…difficult traits are genuine and perhaps hard for you to stomach. But much of what he displays regarding his hard exterior is a false projection. You should be more worried that Uri’thind’ac will seek to exploit this, than Belem abandoning you out of some sense of self-reliance. He needs you and you need him.” Rama’dy’ac lifted his face to look at Gael’jic and Ariam. “You all need each other. And whether you believe it or not, Belem understands this. Now more than ever.”

Cecil stared at him, skepticism etching his features. He said, “How can we be sure of that?”

“Have you forgotten?” Rama’dy’ac replied. “Part of me remains with him.”

CHAPTER 6. RULES

A storm of uncertainty raged within him. Gael’jic kept his face pointed forward as they traveled through the jungle. But his mind was elsewhere. He barely even noticed Cecil and Ariam chattering. In the back of his mind, it registered that Cecil was noncommittal about it all while Ariam was dogged in his suppositions about what lay ahead of them.

Rama’dy’ac was quiet. Traveling with the Zulle-Shee was unnerving for him. Given the avalanche of recent revelations, Gael’jic no longer knew what to think. He knew Cecil shared some of his reservations, but for other reasons. Ariam appeared in it as ever.

The Dar’rynakai stole a glance at Rama’dy’ac. He realized there was one question burning powerfully in the back of his thoughts that demanded to be brought forward. But was this the right time? If not now, then when?

He shook his head. The fin on top of his head shook as did the dewlap hanging from his jaw.

“Something troubles you, Gael’jic?” Rama’dy’ac said, interrupting his stream of unsettled thoughts and worries. The Dar’rynakai turned his face to Rama’dy’ac and nodded. “Go on,” Rama’dy’ac said. The expression on his face was charitable, which somehow made things worse.

“At the end of our road is Uri’thind’ac,” he began but then stopped and wrinkled the reptilian flesh on his long snout. He searched for the right words but struggled to drag them up from the depths of his consciousness. At last, he said, “He has demonstrated that he is too powerful for us to defeat. So, I do not understand how it is we are supposed to do so. And what is more, he has an army of those demonic creatures at his beck and call. They pose a very formidable threat.”

“You have learned to deal with them, have you not?” Rama’dy’ac asked.

Gael’jic wrinkled his snout again and gave his head a frustrated shake. “Yes,” he said. “But there are so many of them. And while we have driven them away in the past, they might not flee from us again. What is more, we have no guarantee we will be able to weaponize the plants.”

“Trust in me,” Rama’dy’ac said.

“How can I?” Gael’jic snapped. “You have presented yourself to be one thing but turned out to be another.”

“Nevertheless, I have proved to be powerful. You must understand I am at least the equal of Uri’thind’ac.”

“But he is willing to play dirty,” Ariam observed. “He has proven that time and again.”

“That is true,” Rama’dy’ac answered. He came to a halt, and the others turned to look at him. Ariam was expectant. Cecil and Gael’jic stared at him skeptically.

“I too want to know what the plan is to defeat him,” Cecil said. “Will we be successful in weaponizing the Illuminoc flowers?”

Rama’dy’ac shook his head once. “I cannot make promises about any of that. The right technology exists, but perhaps not the time. But there are more important matters than technology and weapons. The remaining peoples of the Dar’ryn system must be united. That is why we travel to the Dar’ryneel.”

“What happens when we get there?” Cecil nearly shouted. “Are you going to convince them?”

“They must not see me right away,” he said. “You three will have to do the convincing.”

The three exiles glanced at one another in concern. Ariam’s jaw dropped open as he turned his face in disbelief back to Rama’dy’ac.

“How are we supposed to do that?” Ariam pleaded. “We don’t know their language.”

“The Dar’rynakai and the Dar’ryneel share strong linguistic roots,” Rama’dy’ac replied. “It will not be hard for him to communicate with them.”

“That is true,” Gael’jic said. But he didn’t sound convinced. He turned his face away from Rama’dy’ac and stared off into the jungle. His reptilian brow drew down in concentration.

“Why?” Cecil demanded. “What’s so important about all of these disparate people banding together against him?”

“Those are the rules of the contest,” Rama’dy’ac said.

“Rules?” Cecil scoffed. “Who made these rules?”

“They were devised in secret by Uri’thind’ac and the other two Zulle-Shee. Uri’thind’ac corrupted them against me and they concocted the rules. I was made to agree to them against my wishes.” Rama’dy’ac folded his lower two arms across his belly. The other he lifted, palm upward in a shrugging gesture.

“And these other two are dead?” Cecil said.

“Yes,” Rama’dy’ac said. There was a hint of something on his face. Cecil thought it might be regret, but he couldn’t say for certain.

“That’s not very comforting,” Cecil replied. “If Uri’thind’ac was able to systematically eradicate the other two Zulle-Shee, how do we know you will be any different?”

Rama’dy’ac turned his face, grim and stoic, to the former Captain of the Royal Guardians. There was a long uncomfortable pause. Finally, Rama’dy’ac answered, “Why do you think he saved me for last? He corrupted the other two and destroyed them one by one so they would not band together with me against him. By the time the second one realized what was happening, it was too late. Her doom was upon her. Uri’thind’ac knew that if he went after me first, there was a good chance he would have lost. I might have employed reason and turned the other Zulle-Shee against him. He would have been punished.”

Ariam interrupted saying, “But now that your other two companions are out of the picture? What does that do for our chances?”

Rama’dy’ac turned his face to the beggar. “I cannot say, but I suspect that Uri’thind’ac still harbors some fear of me. That does not make him any less dangerous, however. Perhaps it makes him even more so. He will stop at nothing to win this contest.”

“I don’t understand something,” Gael’jic said suddenly turning his face back to the discussion. “Now that it is down to only you and Uri’thind’ac, why still abide by the rules of the contest? Who is there to hold you accountable?”

Ariam added, “Yes, I would be surprised to find Uri’thind’ac still played by the rules.”

“Contingencies were put in place just for such an eventuality,” Rama’dy’ac answered patiently. “Part of the process of enjoining ourselves to the contest was that we shared parts of our individual life forces with one another.”

“What does that mean?” Cecil said screwing up his face.

“It means a small but powerful portion of each of us is shared amongst one another. This powerful piece acts as a deterrent against cheating.”

“How so?” Gael’jic asked.

“The one who would cheat would know for sure if they were cheating. The rules were very clear to all of us. Knowledge of one’s transgression of the rules would activate the part of the one being cheated against. Uri’thind’ac is cunning. But he is not cunning enough to subvert himself. He is too wise for that.”

“What would happen to him if he cheated?” Ariam asked.

“That would depend on the portion of the individual Zulle-Shee that was given and activated. But essentially the cheater would be caused unbearable suffering. Or in some cases death.”

The exiles fell silent as they looked with renewed curiosity upon Rama’dy’ac. They all implicitly understood that whatever part of himself Rama’dy’ac had placed within Uri’thind’ac, the consequence would be the termination of Uri’thind’ac’s life.

Ariam came right out and said, “If he cheated against you, he would die, wouldn’t he?”

“That is true,” Rama’dy’ac said. But a sudden look of wariness flashed across his features.

“What? What is it?” Cecil asked.

The Zulle-Shee drew in a deep breath and then expelled it slowly. “Uri’thind’ac has done the same with me. Each of us gave one another a lethal portion of ourselves.”

“But you’re not going to cheat,” Cecil said. “It wouldn’t be activated.”

Rama’dy’ac squeezed his eyes and dropped his face. “True,” he said. “But…” He trailed off, evidently not wanting to go on. After a few moments, he lifted his face again and opened his eyes staring pleadingly at the exiles. “You must understand the final consequence. Because we both exchanged lethal portions of ourselves, if one cheats, both of us will die.”

“What?” Cecil blurted. “How?”

“A lethal portion of ourselves can only be given with great personal danger to ourselves. If Uri’thind’ac or I were to cheat and trigger the lethal power, then that portion would die with the transgressor. But that also means that portion would die. We are linked by those portions of ourselves. If Uri’thind’ac cheats and undoes his life, I will die with him.”

A breathless silence fell among all of them. It was Cecil who broke it.

“You formed a suicide pact,” he said accusingly.

“Perhaps it could be characterized that way,” Rama’dy’ac said with a rueful shrug. “It was a gamble.”

Cecil asked, “If Uri’thind’ac sees that he is going to lose, what is to stop him from cheating so that you both die and none of you wins?”

“That is a risk I understood before undertaking enjoining myself to the contest. I knew that it was a risk. But it was not a guarantee. If Uri’thind’ac loses the contest, he will not necessarily be killed.”

Cecil’s face went pale. Then it went red and anger clouded his features. “You mean to tell me we are not trying to kill him?”

“That is true,” Rama’dy’ac said.

Cecil tossed his hands up in a show of agitation and shouted, “Then what are we doing this for?”

“If we can succeed and defeat Uri’thind’ac,” Rama’dy’ac said gravely, “then I will be able to imprison him.”

“Are you sure?” Ariam asked worriedly.

“Yes,” Rama’dy’ac answered. “I am certain. The instant the contest is completed, the winner receives back the portion of himself, and the loser is put under the winner’s power.”

Ariam asked, “How can you be sure he would honor that?”

“He has no choice,” Rama’dy’ac replied, “as I would not have the choice if I lost.”

“And if you lose?” Gael’jic asked.

“Then Uri’thind’ac will be free to do as he wishes. His twisted schemes will come to fruition and he will no doubt wipe out all of you and all of your people. He has come to hate life. He will seek its eradication.”

“So how do we win?” Cecil asked.

Gael’jic provided the answer. “The rules of the contest dictate that the various peoples must become united for you to win, isn’t that correct?”

Rama’dy’ac bowed his head. “Yes,” he said.

The exiles all looked at one another, all of them coming at last to understand Rama’dy’ac’s insistence on uniting the different peoples.

CHAPTER 7. DAR’RYNEEL

“Are you going to leave us?” Ariam asked. “You said the Dar’ryneel could not see you right away. Why is that?”

“As with the Dar’rynakai,” Rama’dy’ac began carefully, “the Dar’ryneel have faith that Rama’dy’ac is their trustworthy god. They are not prepared to deal with the truth. That tangle will have to be gently pulled apart later.” He did not sound entirely pleased with the prospect of doing so. Ariam supposed he understood why.

“When?” Gael’jic asked pointedly. “When can they know?”

“I cannot say,” Rama’dy’ac said. “It may not be until after the battle is over.” He left unsaid the possibility that the battle might not go their way. They all understood this, but no one would bring it up.

“Speaking of the battle,” Cecil said, “what are we going to do about all the Shedi’im? You still haven’t answered that.”

Rama’dy’ac lifted all three of his hands into the air, closed his eyes, and allowed his face to drop toward the ground. They were deep in the jungle and the canopy of trees overhead blocked out much of the light. So when the flowers all around them glowed blue in intensity, they understood.

“All right,” Cecil said. “But these things aren’t everywhere. I understood them to be rare.”

“They are where I placed them,” Rama’dy’ac replied. “Some must be gathered, but some should be left as traps.”

“And we will still have to try to weaponize them,” Cecil added.

“Yes,” Rama’dy’ac replied. “If you can. Before you carry on to the Dar’ryneel village, you must first gather some of the flowers.”

Cecil cocked his head. “Why?” he asked suspiciously.

“You will need them,” Rama’dy’ac answered. “Uri’thind’ac has dispatched some of his corrupted servants to attack the village and wipe them out. He knows that if our forces are diminished, he has a greater opportunity to win. You must hurry.”

“Why that village?” Ariam asked. “Surely there are many more such Dar’ryneel villages.”

“That is the one closest to the Human Citadel, and the one Uri’thind’ac knows I would most likely leverage against him, to begin with. It is also a prominent village with an Elder Chief. He is greatly influential and other village chiefs will listen to his counsel. You must not fail to persuade him.”

“No pressure then,” Cecil said, rolling his eyes. “But how do we…”

Cecil trailed off and blinked in confusion. In one moment they were looking upon Rama’dy’ac’s strangely posed form and in the next the space was vacant.

“He’s gone,” Cecil said astonished.

“No,” Ariam said. “He’s not. He’s back inside of us. And in the plants. Notice they’re still glowing.”

Cecil turned his head and took in the sight. He harrumphed.

They went to work gathering handfuls of the glowing Illuminoc flowers. They placed as many as they could in Gael’jic’s sack. In short order, it was stuffed full.

They traveled in silence for a time, each lost in his own thoughts. After a while, Ariam broke the silence. He said, “Maybe sometime it would be a good idea to string some of those together and wear them. It might act as armor against the Shedi’im. We know they don’t like them to cause hesitation when they see them.”

“That is not a bad idea,” Gael’jic admitted after briefly considering it. “But first we must go to the village. Our time is short.”

***

A short while later they crouched in the jungle near the edge of a clearing. In that clearing, there was a multitude of wooden huts with thatched roofs. Nearby two Dar’ryneel walked side-by-side, patrolling. Each carried a spear made of Raka wood. The exiles remained a little way back among the trees hiding behind them to keep out of sight. They watched as the patrolling Dar’ryneel passed by and kept going. They were patrolling in a circle around the encampment.

“How do we play this?” Ariam asked. He looked to Gael’jic and asked, “Any idea how they think of outsiders? Will we be in any danger if we just walk in?

Gael’jic fell contemplative. He scratched his dewlap in thought. He mumbled a few things to himself in the Dar’rynakai language as he considered the question.

At last, he said, “Our peoples have some marginal dealings with one another. I should proceed first. But I would like the two of you to come with me. Only keep at a short distance.”

Cecil squinted his eyes as he stared at the village. “You sure that’s a good idea? They won’t think we’ve taken you prisoner or something, will they?”

Gael’jic shook his head once. “I do not believe so. In my culture as with the Dar’ryneel, the one who leads walks in front. He is confident to leave others at his back.”

“Okay,” Cecil said sounding unconvinced. “No time like the present, I guess. Lead away.”

Gael’jic stood in place for another handful of heartbeats. He took a breath and came around the tree behind which he had hidden and slowly strode toward the village. Ariam and Cecil allowed him to make it several paces before coming along. It was not long before they were spotted.

One of the villagers yelled an alarm as he saw them coming. Soon the whole encampment was alive with excitement and the sound of rushing feet. The two patrolling Dar’ryneel who had walked by quickly returned, spears at the ready. They halted several yards away and snapped out a few reptilian warnings.

Ariam and Cecil raised their hands in a show of nonaggression. A few of the villagers saw this and began whooping excitedly. Gael’jic turned to look at them and then his eyes widened. “Put your hands down,” he hissed at them.

Cecil witnessed a few of them take note of this change in posture and leaned toward one another whispering.

Soon a new group arrived. There were several more Dar’ryneel bearing spears. One stalked just ahead of them. He wore the skull of some kind of large feline predator on his head. He walked forward quickly but not hurriedly. Cecil easily detected his confidence, just as Gael’jic had said. The others spread out in a line jutting out from points at his back. He came to a halt a few paces away from Gael’jic and snapped something at him in their reptilian language.

“What does he say?” Cecil asked quietly.

Gael’jic hissed and said, “Be quiet. I need to handle this.” The Dar’rynakai scholar turned back to face the Elder Chief.

He rattled off something in his own language none of which the humans understood. But both Ariam and Cecil picked out one word: Rama’dy’ac.

The whole village became a buzz.

The Elder Chief hissed sharply and all voices quieted. He and Gael’jic bantered back and forth in a rapid exchange. Cecil watched all this with interest and growing concern.

When the two seemed to conclude their conversation, the Elder Chief suddenly directed his attention toward Cecil. The Dar’ryneel’s eyes narrowed in a display of suspicion. He walked slowly forward and came to a halt before Cecil. A sudden string of angry-sounding words issued forth from the village’s leader. He concluded by flicking a clawed finger against the armor Cecil wore over his chest.

Gael’jic came quickly up beside the Chief and began issuing something that sounded to Cecil’s ears like a harried explanation.

“Mind telling me what’s going on?” Cecil asked.

When Gael’jic finished chattering at the Chief he turned toward Cecil. “The Elder Chief is not pleased to see you.”

“I gathered that much,” Cecil snarled. “Tell me why.”

“Not long ago the son of the Elder Chief was abducted along with his mate. They were taken by humans who wore armor similar to that which you wear. He recognized it at once. He does not trust you.”

“I’m not with them,” Cecil said. “Can’t you explain that?”

“I did,” Gael’jic said. “But he is having trouble nonetheless. I am sure you can understand that.”

The Elder Chief began muttering more words, now facing Gael’jic once more. Gael’jic adopted a baffled look. He thrust his attention to Cecil and Ariam then back to the Chief. He issued a few words of his own that sounded like questions.

The Chief answered.

Gael’jic turned to Ariam and Cecil once more. “He says they have encountered another human being, however. This one was helpful and not like the ones wearing that armor.”

“When was this?” Cecil asked.

“Not long ago,” Gael’jic replied.

The Chief said something else and flicked his finger against the skull on his head. He spoke for a long while then fell silent.

Gael’jic nodded and translated for the other exiles. “He says the other human saved the village from an attacking predator. The Elder Chief now wears the skull of the predator as part of his ceremonial headdress. He described the man as big and muscular. He said his arms were covered in strange markings.”

“He’s talking about Belem,” Ariam said.

“It would seem so,” Cecil said. He recalled what Rama’dy’ac had said regarding Belem and an urge to protect. He had not believed him then, but he was starting to reconsider.

Cecil considered, then said, “Tell him that man was part of our party but has been taken by an enemy.”

Gael’jic began to explain hurriedly.

CHAPTER 8. WAITING IN THE DARK

“I have pleasing news and displeasing news,” Gael’jic explained after talking a little more with the Dar’ryneel Chief.

“Give us the good news first,” Ariam said.

“There will be a council gathering tonight to decide whether or not we are what we claim to be.” The flesh on the side of his snout twitched a little as he restrained himself from turning back and looking at the Chief.

“And the bad news?” Cecil prompted.

Gael’jic hesitated just long enough for his companions to notice, then plunged ahead. “If they determine we are not what we claim to be, they will kill us. Then they will roast our flesh in a sacrifice to Rama’dy’ac. After that our meat will be consumed in a banquet and our bones will adorn the Elder Chief’s hut.”

“Charming,” Ariam said.

“Rama’dy’ac probably won’t take that well,” Cecil said. “You might warn them of that.” He hesitated and then, speaking quite a bit louder, said, “Or maybe he could just show up and straighten things out.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Ariam said. “I think he was right about them not being ready to meet him as he is.”

“Come on,” Cecil said, “all he has to do is show up and do a few of his little magic tricks to dazzle them. That should convince them.”

“More likely,” Gael’jic interacted, “they would deem him to be Uri’thind’ac trying to beguile them.”

Cecil made a derisive noise and shook his head. “Perfect,” he said. Then after a few moments, he said, “Anything else we need to know?”

Gael’jic cleared his throat guiltily and turned his face away. He said, “I am commanded to attend this evening’s council, but you two are not permitted to be present.”

“Why not?” Ariam asked, his tone tinged with genuine curiosity.

“My people and theirs have at least a claim to this world as our home. You are outsiders and your people have caused trouble to us all in the past. You are not trusted. I am barely trusted.”

“They seemed to trust Belem,” Ariam observed.

Gael’jic answered, “They were not sure of him at first, it would seem. But in the end, Belem rendered aid to them.”

“And what are we supposed to do until this counsel?” Cecil asked.

Gael’jic said, “We must remain outside the village and wait until a decision is reached. A delegation will come to collect me but others will remain behind to watch over you to make certain you do not cause trouble.”

“Well, we have no choice,” Ariam said cheerfully. “Rama’dy’ac says we need them. This is the only way they will accept us.”

“Or the whole useless affair ends here and now,” Cecil said, his face etched with grim features.

“It is a risk we must take,” Gael’jic cautioned. “I am no more pleased about it than you are.”

“I suppose you’re not,” Cecil said regarding him through slitted eyes.

***

They were escorted to the outskirts of the village where they were deposited and sternly warned they must not move from those places. If they were found to have traveled anywhere else, the matter would be closed and they would be hunted down. They agreed and in the following hours of waiting, they dedicated themselves to their earlier idea of stringing together Illuminoc flowers to wear around themselves. Ariam received the first string, donning it around his neck, followed by Cecil. When Cecil held one out toward Gael’jic he shook his head.

“Not yet,” he said. “When we have passed this first phase then I will wear it. But if I adorn myself with the flowers now, they may take it as an ill sign. As stated, these flowers are rare and viewed mystically. But among my people and theirs, the affiliation of the plants is uncertain. Some hold they are the work of Uri’thind’ac.”

Cecil snorted. “Affiliation? You have to be kidding.”

“It is not funny,” Gael’jic snapped. “Many beasts and plants are said to be in service of the evil one. I know better, of course, but the Dar’ryneel do not. I would not risk a misconstrual of the gesture.”

Cecil and Ariam reluctantly agreed. They all knew the danger that the Shedi’im could show up at any moment, ruining any chance to persuade the Dar’ryneel over to their side. As they discussed this the delegation of Dar’ryneel arrived and demanded Gael’jic come with them. The Dar’rynakai spared his companions one final look then joined the patrol which accompanied him away.

Two Dar’ryneel remained behind, spears planted on the ground and wary eyes fixed upon the human companions. Night had fallen and the jungle surrounding them was impenetrably dark. Cecil continuously scanned for any sign of the approaching Shedi’im. They had been surprised by an attack from one of them on Remmice and there had not been much of a forest in which the thing could hide at that time. In retrospect, Cecil found it odd they had not seen the beast coming. The empty and cavernous eyes glowed orange. They should have been easy to spot in the dark. And the giant things lumbered and made all kinds of noise where they went. But not that time. They could be stealthy as well. Cecil therefore resolved to be on high alert at all times.

Ariam on the other hand lay on the ground with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes closed. Cecil occasionally stole glances at him. After a while, he said, “How can you just rest? Those things could be on us at any moment.”

“True,” Ariam said, “but we have our flowers now. I think we should be safe enough.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Cecil chided. “The ones that attacked us on Remmice got braver even once they realized the flowers were killing them. And I wouldn’t be surprised to find Ryth punished one or two of them to send a clear message. They will attack us again and die trying if they have to. They won’t want to endure his wrath.”

“Maybe so,” Ariam said. The beggar fell silent once again and continued his rest. Cecil shook his head and returned his attention to the forest. He found himself growing more and more restless.

“I’ve been thinking,” Ariam said interrupting his agitation. “About Belem, I mean.”

Without turning his attention back to the beggar, Cecil said, “Oh? What about him?”

“A lot of things actually,” Ariam responded. “I’ve been thinking about what the Chief told us. How Belem stepped in and protected the village from the predator. That doesn’t seem like the Belem we know, does it?”

Cecil expeled a frustrated sigh. He lowered his head and shook it. “No,” he said, “it doesn’t.”

“All this time I’ve been worried about him,” Ariam said. “I’ve been worried because of the vision I had coming through the gate. That stuff that Rama’dy’ac showed me.”

He fell silent. Cecil turned his face to him at last once again. “Go on,” he said.

“Maybe he’s not so selfish after all. I think Rama’dy’ac is right. It’s all just a show.”

Cecil shrugged. “I suppose so,” he said. “But I guess I don’t see your point.”

Ariam slowly stood up. He walked over to stand beside Cecil and stared into the jungle right next to them. “I just thought maybe I shouldn’t be so worried about him succumbing to Ryth after all.”

Cecil regarded the man. He shook his head, and replied, “I don’t think that’s what it means at all.”

Ariam turned a curious expression on the man. “How so?”

“Before when we understood he was a selfish and self-reliant man, I guess I could believe he would resist. That meant he was stronger. But now with this understanding…” Cecil shook his head. “I think it means he’s more vulnerable than we realized.”

Ariam blinked in astonishment at the suggestion. He turned his face away and stared into the jungle, his mouth agape. At last, he said, “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Neither had I until just now,” Cecil said. “This could spell trouble.”

Ariam turned to him and opened his mouth to say something but then shut it quickly. He whipped his face around to stare back into the jungle.

“Did you hear that?” he asked in a whisper.

“No,” Cecil said whipping his attention back to the jungle once more. “What was it?”

“I don’t know,” Ariam whispered. “Maybe it was nothing, just the noises of the forest. But I wasn’t…”

He halted. Two glowing orange eyes appeared in the vast darkness in the depths of the jungle.

“We’ve got trouble,” Ariam said.

CHAPTER 9. ARGUING WITH A DEMON

Ryth had been blessedly silent for a while now. For which Belem was grateful. It allowed him to put his mind to his escape. Nothing came to fruition from those considerations, but he knew that to give up was tantamount to suicide.

Night had encroached around them like an unwelcome shroud. His eyes could not penetrate very far but Ryth seemed to know where he was going. The disguised alien being carried on unperturbed as he had in the daylight. A thousand other thoughts swirled in the convict’s mind but he would not ask Ryth. He would give almost anything for the man to keep his mouth shut as long as possible. But Ryth eventually spoke anyway.

“It does not have to be this way, you know. I can make things so much easier for both of us.”

Belem turned an appraising eye toward Ryth. He shook his head and did not answer but kept his face forward.

Ryth chortled lightly, then said, “Don’t believe me?”

“Of course, I don’t believe you,” Belem said. “You’re a liar.”

“And what are you?” Ryth shot back immediately. “A killer. Which is worse do you think?”

“You have more than your fair share of blood on your hands,” Belem said. “I’m not about to take a reprimand on morality from someone far worse than I am.”

The Lord Advisor scoffed. “Is that so? And how do you know how much blood is on my hands? Who told you? Rama’dy’ac. But have you ever stopped to consider the source?”

Belem stopped and turned fully facing Ryth. “Remind me again,” Belem said, “who was the one who had the assassination of the king arranged?”

Ryth shot him a narrow-eyed gaze. “Remind me again; who delivered the explosives to the Palace?” Ryth snapped back. Then he added, “And how do you know the king was a good man? Your existence is owed to his infidelity. His wife, the closest human being to him, could not trust him. Why should anyone else? Maybe he needed killing.”

“Maybe you do,” Belem said and then turned away and started walking again.

“Not that way,” Ryth said. “We are turning here.” Ryth came up to his side and pointed off to Belem’s left. Before Belem could take a step forward, Ryth planted his hand on Belem’s chest.

“Get your hand off me,” Belem said.

“Or what?” Ryth pressed. The expression on his face invited challenge.

Belem looked deeply into Ryth’s single good eye. He stared for several seconds before answering. “I may not be able to make you regret it now,” Belem said, “but I will find a way later. Every offense will be answered.”

“I promise the same,” Ryth replied sneering. “I could kill you right now, you know,” he said. “I could hold you up and drain you just like I did with Vael. I can make you like one of my Shedi’im.”

“Oh yes,” Belem said mockingly. “You’re a real hero.”

Ryth ignored him. He leaned in closer and said, “The four of you faced against me all at once on the temple summit. None of you stood a chance. What makes you think you will be able to beat me now? Or later?” He let the question hang in the air, but Belem provided no answer. He merely stood and looked back impotently.

Ryth’s face softened. “There is another way,” he offered quietly.

“That is?” Belem asked.

“Just give in to me,” Ryth said. “I can make it worth your while.”

“I doubt that,” Belem said. “If I gave in, I would just be your slave. I’d be forced to do your wicked deeds. I’ve seen what you’ve done to those you co-opt for your cause. I’ve seen Jobash at the Dar’rynakai city, and that fellow back on Cairn. I’m not interested in your offer.”

“It won’t be like that at all,” Ryth said. “Those were just pawns, expendable pieces to be moved and disposed of when I was done with them.”

“You’re sounding more and more noble with every word you say,” Belem spouted sarcastically.

“Sometimes I have to use bad people to accomplish good ends,” Ryth retorted. “Yes, both of those men were corrupt. But they would have faced justice from me sooner or later.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Belem said. “There is no justice in you, only deceit and wrath. Murder. You have nothing to offer me.”

A wicked smirk crawled across Ryth’s face. “We’ll see about that,” he said.

CHAPTER 10. WELCOME HOME

“Congratulations, Belem, you have come home again.” Ryth halted them and pointed directly ahead.

Even in the dark Belem could make out the towering shape of the Human Citadel. The great wall encompassed the massive city. He had to lift his neck to see the spires towering high above. Those spires belonged to the Palace in the center of the sprawling city. An avalanche of emotion cascaded over him. All of the things he had learned about himself in the past little while threatened to crush him entirely. He stood dumbly, staring.

After a time, he said simply, “I have no home.”

“Nonsense,” Ryth said good-naturedly and slapped him on the shoulder. “This is where you belong. By my side. Or rather should I say,” and here Ryth leaned in close and whispered to Belem, “with me inhabiting your stupid animal flesh. Wearing you like a Belem garment.”

The convict turned a disgusted face toward Ryth. A great temptation rose within him. He wanted to lash out and strike Ryth in the face. He considered attacking his good eye, gouging it out. If that happened, would he be truly blinded? Belem doubted it. He somehow managed to restrain himself, though he knew not how.

“I despise you,” he said to Ryth.

“I think I can get your attitude to change. But it may take a little work. For now, let’s get you inside where it’s safe and warm.”

Ryth shot a hand forward and snatched Belem at the back of his shirt. He strode forward dragging Belem along. The convict could not resist the man’s superhuman strength. He stumbled a few times until he caught himself and was able to keep up pace with him.

Belem put his attention forward and watched with growing coldness as they approached the Human Citadel which grew gloomily in his vision. The massive structure was a wonder to behold from the outside. He had not left as Cecil and Ariam had. He never did get a good look at the Citadel’s exterior. It was an impenetrable fortress.

Lights twinkled on the spires as if they were additional stars cast into the sky by man. The central spire of the Palace pointed upward like a finger reminding the humans from whence they had come. But they kept their faces down, forgetting, consumed in the fog cast upon them by Uri’thind’ac. Ryth.

A short time later they came up to the Citadel wall and Ryth raised his other hand. He closed his eyes and mumbled something in a strange language. A door he would not have otherwise noticed appeared on the wall directly before them. Ryth marched them forward and they entered. The door immediately slid closed behind them encasing them in the darkness.

But soon lights came on and he saw they were in a long continuous hallway. As soon as the path was clear before them, Ryth marshaled them forward once again, never letting go of Belem’s shirt. He strode forward with purpose and a grim expression on his face.

Belem noticed several hallways branching away from them off to the left. He peered down these corridors as they went by. Ryth never slowed. Most of the passageways were empty. Every once in a while, however, Belem saw a strange skeletal robotic figure standing motionless. Rarely one of them would move, taking note perhaps of the trespassers. One of them even took a step forward raising its arm but then halted. It then fell over and crashed noisily to the floor. Ryth took no notice of this.

Belem remembered what Ariam said about encountering mechanical beings in the Citadel wall as he left.

They came to a stairway leading up and Ryth ascended dragging Belem with him. The stairs were not wide enough for them to walk side-by-side and so Ryth allowed Belem to trail behind him. But he never took his hand from him. That forced Belem to walk up the stairs sideways. Soon they were in another corridor at the top of the stairs and Belem was dragged once again to Ryth’s side.

“You mind slowing down a bit?” Belem complained.

“Now he wants something from me,” Ryth said, rolling his good eye.

“For being so advanced, you sure do moan a lot,” Belem retorted.

Ryth leveled a chilly gaze at him.

“For someone as vulnerable as you are and entrapped in enemy territory, you sure do have a big mouth. You might want to look after that, lest someone decides to break your jaw.”

“Thought you wanted me intact,” Belem replied haughtily.

“I can mend you later,” Ryth said. “But for that, I have to be in you.”

“Never going to happen,” Belem said stonily.

“Keep dreaming,” Ryth said as he shook his head and continued down the corridor. They took several turns after this and ascended another two staircases. Then they travel downward. Belem lost count of the number of stairways they descended. But he guessed they must be deep in the skin of the planet Dar’ryn. They were in the Under-Citadel.

Ryth pressed further inward for a long time toward what Belem guessed to be the center of the Citadel. They came at last to an elevator. Ryth shoved Belem inside and then joined him. Ryth punched several commands into the control panel. Belem suddenly felt himself shooting upward.

“Where are we?” Belem asked casually.

“We’re going up into the Palace now,” Ryth answered with clear candor. “We are going to my quarters.”

“You will have to buy me dinner first,” Belem quipped.

A perverse smile covered Ryth’s face. “That’s not something you have to worry about,” Ryth said. “I can violate your soul in countless other ways. You have that to look forward to.”

A chill ran through Belem. He saw the truth in Ryth’s eye. His words were pure threat and Belem knew that he could carry through on it. Fearfulness suddenly threatened to overcome him.

Somewhere deep within his mind, he heard a phrase spoken by an unfamiliar voice. They were four simple words but they had an immeasurable calming effect on him. They echoed through every fiber of his being.

Do not be afraid.

They were not his own thoughts. They were foreign, coming to him as if they were news from a faraway place. But they had sounded out only inside his mind. Belem guessed that could mean only one thing.

It was Rama’dy’ac.

Vael was out of the picture and while they had met several other celestial beings on their journey, none had displayed an aptitude to speak in his mind as Vael had. But Vael was dead. That could only mean it was Rama’dy’ac.

Ryth must have detected something shift in Belem’s demeanor.

“What is it?” he asked, for the first time seeming genuinely concerned.

A snide retort died before it reached Belem’s lips. He simply turned his face away and ignored Ryth.

The elevator continued its upward journey until it came to a halt a good long while later. The door opened before them and Ryth remained stationary, staring at Belem. The door began to close once again until Ryth shot his hand out to prevent it from doing so.

Ryth suddenly shoved Belem forward throwing him into the next space. He stumbled briefly through the space and then tripped and rolled upon the cold steel floor. He pushed himself up and turned his face toward Ryth. He saw Ryth stalking toward him his face clouded with rage.

“What was it?” Ryth demanded. “Something was different for a moment. I saw it in your face. I want to know. Now.”

Belem pushed himself back up to standing so that he came face-to-face with Ryth. He did not budge. He simply returned Ryth’s glare and did not answer.

“You do not want to infuriate me, human.” The last word came out sounding poisoned.

“What difference does it make?” Belem asked calmly. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Ryth’s lips peeled away from his teeth. He reached forward and seized Belem by the shirt over his chest and dragged him along once again. They stalked through the deserted nighttime corridors of the Palace. Every once in a while, they would stumble across an errand boy or some other servant traveling through the corridors with their heads down. Whenever this happened Ryth lifted a hand and hissed something. The servant would halt in their tracks, turn away, and run in the opposite direction. Belem thought he detected a faint orange glow in their eyes when this happened. They were under his power.

They came at last to a set of doors and Ryth waved his hand before it. They opened allowing them entrance. Ryth shoved Belem into the dimly lit space. He found himself surrounded by black velvet curtains hanging everywhere. This must be his quarters, Belem thought. How cheerful.

Ryth took hold of his arm and jerked him into the space. They came to a set of curtains at the back and he shoved them aside. There was a doorway beyond and they passed through it. After a short corridor, they came to another small room. A man was hanging by manacles. His lower face was covered by a steel mask, holding his mouth closed. He looked dead. Ryth shoved Belem so that he tumbled to the floor and collided with the wall.

“You wait there,” he commanded. He then turned to the fellow hanging by his wrists on the wall. He shot a hand forward and wrapped it around the man’s throat. He thrust his other hand forward and manipulated the steel mask until it fell away from the man’s face. The poor soul’s eyes weakly came alive and terror covered his face.

Ryth moved his face closer and opened his mouth. The Lord Advisor’s eyes glowed orange and a deep sucking sound issued from within his mouth. The man in the manacles convulsed and his eyes opened wider. His jaw dropped open and bright white light shot out from within him. Ryth sucked in the essence of the man’s life. There was a dreadful tearing noise as if the man’s life force was being physically ripped from his flesh. It was the sound of the man’s soul being sucked from his body, or at least that’s what Belem imagined.

Belem watched in horror as the man’s flesh turned gray then appeared to dry out and crack and flake away. His eyes sank into his head and soon there was nothing but dry taught flesh covering his body. The eye sockets were empty and there was a gaping skeletal mouth.

Ryth undid the manacles and the man’s dry corpse dropped to the ground, shattering. Ryth whipped around and faced Belem. He reached down and seized him by the throat and dragged him upward. He slammed him against the wall and forced one of his hands into a manacle. He closed and locked the device. Belem, terrified of his fate resisted. He struck at Ryth.

Ryth batted away the blows without a problem. With one of the convict’s hands manacled Ryth easily managed to seize the other and trap it in the second bond.

Now the only thing free was Belem’s feet. He kicked at Ryth but this did not prevent Ryth from doing the rest of the job. A set of lower manacles attached to the wall awaited Belem’s ankles. The Lord Advisor had no problems securing his prisoner the rest of the way.

When the job was done Ryth stood straight again and stared at Belem. He dropped his eyes briefly to look at the dried and desiccated corpse of the former prisoner at Belem’s feet. “I’ll get someone to clean that up later,” he said, his face splitting into a smile. “But for now, I’m going to leave him so you can think about what will happen if you don’t give in.”

Without waiting for any kind of response, Ryth whipped around and strolled away. Belem was left manacled to the wall and stared after him, helpless.

CHAPTER 11. INCURSION

“Fall back!” Cecil managed to scream seconds before the beasts burst out of the darkness and charged. It wouldn’t have made a difference, though, even if he’d had more lead time. Ariam was the only one who understood him.

There were surprised gasps from the two remaining Dar’ryneel guards. The only reason Cecil managed to weather the shock of the moment was he had noticed the glowing eyes a few seconds earlier. Because of this, he was able to mentally shake himself loose and marginally prepare for the onslaught. Not that there was much preparing he could do. He no longer had a weapon of any kind. Nevertheless, he dropped into a fighting stance and prepared to grapple with one of the oncoming beasts. Experience told him this would be fruitless. He had barely survived the last encounter with the Shedi’im, and that only because…

Then he remembered. He turned to Ariam and held out a hand. Before the hand was fully extended Ariam slapped a string of the Illuminoc flowers into his palm. He quickly tossed the loop over his head. The Shedi’im noticed this and skidded to a halt before they reached the exiles and the Dar’ryneel.

The creatures growled and snarled. Cecil slowly backed away and Ariam followed suit. The two Dar’ryneel guards chattered with one another in their strange language and brandished their spears at the monsters. For all the good it will do them, Cecil thought.

The Shedi’im closest to him shifted its gaze from him to the Dar’ryneel just to his right. When the creature discerned the lizard man was not armed with the Illuminoc flowers it pounced. Cecil stood helplessly by as the lumbering monster lurched past him and tackled the Dar’ryneel to the forest floor.

The reptilian man thrashed violently and struggled against the overpowering force that was the Shedi’im on top of him. The struggle did not last long. A muted cry of pain rang out and suddenly ceased as the Shedi’im wrapped its jaws around the Dar’ryneel’s throat and crunched.

Cecil dropped his eyes to the Raka wood spear laying near the dead Dar’ryneel’s outstretched hand. He scooped it up and brandished it at the Shedi’im who was not paying him any mind. The thing was busy gnawing on its kill.

Cecil shot forward and shoved the spear toward the creature. The sharpened wooden point reached the thick hide of the monster and went in mere centimeters then was deflected. Cecil watched in dismay as the tip of the spear bent. It had not gone through the hardening process his previous weapon had. Perhaps the Dar’ryneel were not familiar with the technique perfected by the Dar’rynakai for hardening their wooden weapons to steel-like strength.

Cecil suddenly recalled he was in possession of something he knew for certain would hurt the Shedi’im. He looked down at his chest where the string of Illuminoc flowers lay. The glow came to life and intensified quickly. Cecil wasted no further time and dashed toward the busy creature. He jumped and landed on the monster’s back. The Illuminoc flowers pressed into the flesh of the hideous thing. That got its attention.

It lifted its face and howled in agony at the village. It stood up and thrashed. The sharp movement was too much to allow Cecil to maintain his hold. He was thrown from the back of the beast but by then it was too late. The flowers had done their damage.

Several burn marks on the creature’s back showed where the flowers had contacted its flesh. Jagged cracks creeped outward like the tentacles of some dark creature. Tiny shafts of orange light shot out from these crevices and the beast fell to its knees. It clawed at the ground, uselessly seeking some respite from the pain. It tried to push itself up, then fell back down. It rolled over onto its back and rubbed its decaying flesh on the ground, trying to put out the burn. It was no use.

The cracks had spread to the creature’s front and orange light lanced out of them. Soon a million cracks formed all over the monster’s skin and connected with one another. The light inside it suddenly went dark and the thing’s body collapsed and disintegrated, turning into so much dust and ash.

A snarl to his left demanded his attention and Cecil whipped around in time to see another Shedi’im charging at him. He hunkered down low ready to meet the attack and shove the flowers around his neck at the thing. But when the creature came within striking distance it leaped high into the air and soared over his head. He craned his neck and swiveled to watch it go. It landed several paces beyond him on the other side and darted toward the village.

From behind him in the direction he had just faced, he heard the rustle of shrubs as more Shedi’im roared from nearby hidden places in the forest. He whipped around and watched in dismay.

Four additional Shedi’im charged out of the forest and darted past him and Ariam and the remaining Dar’ryneel. They ran like madmen, possessed of a single insane intent. In a heartbeat, the Dar’ryneel followed after them shouting at the top of his lungs in his strange reptilian language and waving his spear.

“We have to go help them,” Ariam said to Cecil.

“No argument here,” Cecil responded and then broke into a run. He heard Ariam join him and the beggar was soon at his side. They ran abreast of one another heading at full speed toward the village. But the Shedi’im were faster. They had already reached the first hut and were tearing into it. The consequent screams of dying Dar’ryneel reached their ears.

“We have to get these flowers to more warriors,” Ariam said.

“They’re not going to understand that,” Cecil retorted. “We’ll have to start by doing the work ourselves. Hopefully, it will become clear to them and they’ll take them from us.”

Ariam merely nodded as they continued running.

CHAPTER 12. DEFENSE

By the time Cecil and Ariam arrived at the Dar’ryneel village, there was already way more mayhem than they had expected. Four Dar’ryneel lay dead and eviscerated on the ground. Two of the Shedi’im were bent over and crunching on the bodies of two of the victims. The other one was concentrated on living Dar’ryneel. It slowly stalked forward as reptilian warriors brandished spears and flaming logs snatched up from a nearby fire at the creature. The Shedi’im did not seem afraid.

“Hey!” Cecil shouted. The prowling Shedi’im turned and leveled a hateful gaze at him. “I didn’t say you could go anywhere,” Cecil snarled at the thing. “I’m not done with you.”

He stalked purposefully toward the creature, making a show of aggression to keep the thing distracted so that the village warriors could get some distance between himself and the menace.

Ariam darted away from Cecil and toward one of the creatures that had its back to him. In his right fist, he clenched the sack of Illuminoc flowers they had gathered on their way to the village.

The Shedi’im that had its attention locked on Cecil, noticed his movement. It barked something incoherent to the creature Ariam approached. That Shedi’im lifted its blood-dripping face from its meal and whipped around to face Ariam. The beggar halted in his tracks and silently cursed to himself.

More warriors came rushing out of the village with spears and clubs. There were many shouts in their strange reptilian language. Cecil wished Gael’jic was with them so he could at least understand some of it and maybe add some helpful suggestions of his own that the Dar’rynakai could translate. But Gael’jic was still nowhere to be seen. He hoped that did not mean he and the village elders had gone off somewhere far away for their gathering. He realized he hadn’t considered this until that moment. For now, he would have to make do without him.

“Make as much noise as you can,” Cecil said to Ariam. “Maybe we can get the attention of the other Shedi’im.”

“Get their attention?” Ariam said in disbelief. “Don’t we have enough to worry about? I’m not even sure we can handle these two.”

Cecil grimaced as he looked at the other man. “You’re going to need to dig out that fortitude,” he said to the beggar. “This battle will not be won without it.”

Ariam made a disappointed noise and rolled his head a little. He muttered something to himself then began waving his arms and shouting loudly at the Shedi’im. “Hey, look at me you big dumb beast!” That did not seem to have any effect on the other creature.

“You’re going to have to do better than that,” Cecil muttered.

Ariam seemed to consider this. Then in a loud voice, he cried out, “Lycas Ryth is going to die. And we are the ones who will kill him! We will make him grovel like the pathetic wretch he is.”

That seemed to do the trick.

At the name of their master, all Shedi’im stopped what they were doing and directed their attention to the beggar. Low rumbling growls emitted from all of them. Their dry dead lips stretched back and revealed their rows of big razor-sharp teeth. One of them farther away opened his mouth and issued a hateful-sounding hiss.

“Great, that seemed to work. Now what?” Ariam worriedly said to Cecil.

“Keep yelling at them,” Cecil said. “I want them mad enough to not think about the flowers. I want them to charge us.”

“You want them to charge us?” Ariam barked in disbelief.

“That’s right,” he said. “An angry enemy is a stupid enemy. We just need to get them close enough to touch the flowers.”

A short distance away one of the Dar’ryneel warriors took advantage of a Shedi’im being distracted. He lurched forward with his spear in hand and shoved it into the back of one of the creatures. A look of surprise and fear blossomed on his face when he realized the weapon was going to do him almost no good at all. His eyes tracked upward from the place the spear contacted the flesh of the creature then looked with terror and certainty of his own doom as the monster slowly turned his head to look upon him. With lightning speed, the beast whipped around and shot out its massive clawed fingers. It wrapped its hand around the Dar’ryneel’s neck and lifted it from the ground.

The victim screamed in terror as his face was brought near to the Shedi’im’s widening maw. The Shedi’im then thrust the entire head of the Dar’ryneel into its mouth and bit down. In no time at all the Dar’ryneel’s head was separated from his neck. The Shedi’im tore his face away from the body. It turned its bloodstained face back to the exiles and grinned widely as it crunched down on its meaty prize. The beast casually tossed the headless body of the Dar’ryneel off to the side where it sprawled uselessly. The monster continued to chew the head for a short while before it swallowed.

“That was gross,” Ariam said under his breath and shuddered.

Cecil beat a fist against his chest and shouted at the creatures. “Lycas Ryth will die! Lycas Ryth will pay! Lycas Ryth is a coward to send you instead of coming himself!”

In a hellish chorus, all the Shedi’im let loose a cavalcade of earsplitting roars.

Cecil took the damaged spear in his other hand, cocked back, and threw it at one of the Shedi’im. It sailed through the air and collided with the cheek of the closest monster. The already bent tip of the spear did not penetrate the thing’s flesh at all. Nevertheless, the Shedi’im swatted at the weapon and knocked it away. It growled at him and bent low to strike.

“Come on!” Cecil roared back at the thing. He then burst into a run straight at it.

The creature blinked in surprise at this aggressive move. But then a moment later it recovered and prepared to meet the attack. It lifted both hands to its sides and stretched out its clawed fingers.

When Cecil came within striking distance, he threw his body down into a slide so that he sailed underneath the creature’s reach. The monster, not anticipating this, shot one hand forward swiping at where he expected the former Captain of the Royal Guardians to be. Cecil slid underneath this attack and found himself coming to a stop directly beneath the monster’s bent-over torso.

The creature looked down in surprise when it realized it had missed its target.

Cecil reached down to his chest and grabbed the string of flowers Ariam had given to him. He shoved it upward and connected the flowers with the creature’s chest. A sizzling sound immediately ensued. The Shedi’im’s face opened wide in surprise. Cecil continued to press the flower against his flesh with all his might. The beast leaped away from him pawing at the place the blossom contacted his flesh but it was too late.

While the other Shedi’im were distracted by the sight of their companion backing away from Cecil and swiping repeatedly at its burning chest, Ariam made his move.

He dashed toward the enemy closest to him and held forth his own string of Illuminoc flowers.

The monster turned just in time to see Ariam shoving a collection of the blossoms into his face. It instinctively began to back away, but not in time to prevent the flowers from being pressed onto its cheek.

The monster shrieked in agony and swiped its face. It whipped around wildly trying to get away from the pain but to no avail.

Now two of the creatures were on the ground writhing and howling with pain. Joining with this was a chorus of surprised chattering from the Dar’ryneel villagers and warriors. It was clear they did not yet understand what was happening. At the same instant, both Cecil and Ariam lifted their strings of Illuminoc flowers at them and shook them. Comprehension dawned on a few of their reptilian faces.

Ariam tossed the sack of Illuminoc plants in his hand to the closest Dar’ryneel. He caught it out of the air and carefully opened it peering inside suspiciously. A blue glow washed over his face from within the sack. He stood momentarily mesmerized before he shook his head as if to clear it. He thrust a hand down into the sack and extracted a flower. He held it up and showed it to Cecil and Ariam. Both men nodded vigorously in affirmation.

The Dar’ryneel turned and motioned for several of his companions to come over to him. He stretched the Illuminoc toward the Shedi’im that remained. The other two were now on the ground writhing in their death throes and their flesh was flaking away as they burned to death from the contact with the flowers. He shouted something in their language and confused expressions adorned the faces of his companions, but only briefly.

When he shoved the sack toward one of the closest ones, it eagerly received the package from him and extracted one of the flowers for himself. The bag was then passed along to the others. One by one the other Dar’ryneel present took flowers for themselves and brandished them protectively toward the Shedi’im. A few of the warriors even made threatening moves toward the hulking things.

The Shedi’im tentatively backed away and hissed and snarled at their newly armed enemies.

CHAPTER 13. TRUST

An earsplitting roar shook the scene. Cecil rounded to look at one of the Shedi’im surrounded now by spear-wielding Dar’ryneel. The weapons were clutched in one hand while the other hand of each warrior held forth a glowing flower. The Shedi’im spun quickly, taking in the group that had encircled it. Its movements were quick and manic. It huffed and panted rapid breaths. Cecil could tell it was searching for some kind of opening. It wanted to escape.

An instant later it saw its only chance. It charged at a space between two of the Dar’ryneel guarding it. Once it came close it leaped high into the air and soared over their heads. The two Dar’ryneel jabbed upward with their spears, connecting with the thing’s belly, but the thing didn’t seem to notice or at the very least care.

It landed with a thud on the other side of the ring of guards. It wasted no time darting away. It dashed toward a group of defenseless Dar’ryneel. There were women and children among them. Cecil broke into action moments before the rest of the warriors did.

They charged at the retreating back of the monster. They were fast, but could not hope to match its speed. It reached the gathered Dar’ryneel onlookers before the warriors could catch up with it. Screams erupted from the crowd as they tried to break away like a wave, but too late. On its way past them, the Shedi’im reached out and snatched one of the women. The creature bounded onward without giving his pursuers a second glance. The woman’s screams retreated into the distance with it.

A crying child reaching out for its mother was left behind.

Cecil gritted his teeth, growled, and pressed on all the harder. He snatched one of the spears from the Dar’ryneel guards running beside him. There was some small protest, but he ignored this. He lifted an Illuminoc flower and rubbed it along the shaft down to the point of the spear. He jerked the petals of the flower up and down the sharpened end a few more times to deposit as much of the glowing plant material on it as he could. He then tossed the flower aside to concentrate on the next part.

As he ran along, he cocked his arm backward, spear in hand, and took aim. Everything in his vision seemed to slow. His eyes and mind focused on the target and let loose. The spear-wielding hand traveled forward and released the shaft. Every detail of the event crystallized in his mind. He saw his fingers peel away from the spear shaft. A few droplets of sweat flicked away from his hand as it opened up. The weapon now traveled at speed. It moved faster than the Shedi’im could run.

The projectile sailed, rotating through the air as it went. Little by little it gained on its target. Having released the weapon, Cecil came to a halt to watch its progress. He knew there was no chance he would catch up with the beast if the gambit didn’t work. Cold and merciless eyes tracked the progress of the traveling spear. It made a whooshing sound as it ripped rapidly through the air. Then it landed home in the Shedi’im’s back. There was a thud as the tip of the Raka wood weapon collided with the creature’s hard flesh. He thought for the briefest of moments the ploy had not worked. But then he witnessed the tip of the spear penetrate the flesh a few inches.

The Shedi’im arched its back and skidded to a halt. He threw his head upward and let loose a horrendous roar into the sky. The woman in his hand screamed and thrashed, but the creature did not seem to take notice of this. Now all its concentration was on the agony embedded in its back.

With its free hand, it reached up around its shoulder and swatted at its back. Its long claw-tipped fingers could not reach the spear. The beast dropped to its knees and roared again.

Now that the thing had stopped charging, Cecil broke into a run again headed right for it. The other Dar’ryneel had already come to a halt, forming a half-ring around the beast. They brandished their spears and held forth their Illuminoc flowers. Soon Cecil ran up into the midst of them, moving beyond the ring and penetrating just a few paces from the dying Shedi’im.

The beast stared at him with a hate-filled face. It lifted forth the arm that held the woman in its grasp, and Cecil expected the thing to take his revenge on the woman. It probably would have, but then the cavernous eyes went dark. The monster’s face slackened as cracks formed all over its body. Little tendrils of light shot forward between the cracks and then the beast’s body crumbled to bits. The Dar’ryneel woman fell to the ground. She scrambled to her feet and ran from the desiccated remains of the dead thing. She threw repeated worried glances over her shoulder as she ran perhaps to make sure it couldn’t resurrect and come after her. She darted past the ring of Dar’ryneel guards and headed back toward the gathered onlookers. She scooped up the child and held it close.

Cecil watched the scene for a handful of heartbeats but then remembered there were more Shedi’im to deal with. His eyes searched in vain to locate them.

Ariam came running up to them.

“Where are the others?” Cecil demanded in a grim tone.

“That’s just it,” Ariam said. “I’m pretty sure they took off. They must have escaped in the confusion.”

Cecil cursed under his breath.

They were surrounded by the sound of whimpers and chattering reptilian voices. Suddenly a new sound broke out. It was a roar off in the distance out in the forest somewhere, followed by another.

“You think they will come back?” Ariam asked.

“I’m almost sure of it, Cecil replied. My guess is the things are too scared to go back to Ryth empty-handed. They will probably wait until late at night before they strike, but they will come back.”

“Well,” Ariam began, “when they do, the village will be ready for them. They know how to kill them now.”

A familiar voice shouted, “Cecil!” The former guardsman turned and saw Gael’jic approaching. He moved at a measured pace, looking like he wanted to run, but he would not dare outpace the Elder Chief who walked along beside him. The expression on the lead Dar’ryneel’s face was grim.

“What do you think?” Cecil leaned over and asked Ariam. “Is this good news, or bad news?”

“Let’s wait and see,” Ariam said. “But I have a feeling it’s good news.”

The Elder Chief began speaking loudly and looking around. A few voices from nearby guards answered him. The chief listened, nodding along. The whole time he kept his eyes focused on Cecil. When the last of the guards finished their responses, the Chief turned his attention to Gael’jic.

He spoke rapidly. Gael’jic listened intently nodding along. When the Chief finished, The Dar’rynakai turned his face to Cecil. Cecil thought he saw a half-smirk there.

It was good news.

“The Elder Chief says we are now welcome among them. He is grateful you have assisted in defending the village from an attack by the ancient Shedi’im.”

“Wait a moment,” Ariam said. “Do you mean to tell me they know what these things are?”

“They do,” Gael’jic said. “It is in their lore. He says this can only mean you are servants of Rama’dy’ac. We have gained their trust.”

CHAPTER 14. THE TRIUMVIRATE

The double doors to the Council chamber burst open and Lycas Ryth strode in like an angry thunderhead. His eyes darted about the room, rapidly taking in the only other two inhabitants. He came to a halt at the head of the table and stood beside the largest chair. He rested his hand casually on the chair back and stared at Zain.

“Welcome back, my Lord,” Zain said in a falsely friendly tone. “I trust your trip was successful?”

“Shut your mouth, you pathetic sycophant,” Ryth snapped.

Shahleen, the other person in the room, flinched at Ryth’s venomous statement. The Lord Advisor turned his focus to her and arched an eyebrow.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Are you offended?”

She looked uncertainly at Zain, then back to Ryth. There was deep confusion on her face, not mere surprise at the way Ryth had spoken to Zain. The effects of Lycas Ryth’s hypnotic powers still held sway over her mind but part of her had awakened. This was no cause for worry to Ryth, however. This often happened. He could only exert his control for so long before having to reestablish it. And the stronger the will or the wiser the person, the more frequently it needed to be done. He saw that her time had come yet again.

Her eyes were only marginally hazy. Her attention seemed to have come back into focus more than it should have. He wondered if something had happened to her.

Ryth looked to Zain and said, “What’s the deal?” He nodded his head toward Shahleen to make clear what he was talking about.

Zain’s eyes tracked over to Shahleen. He said, “Ah, yes. She had a bit of an experience with Racine.”

“What happened?”

“I’m afraid he got away,” Zain answered. There was only the slightest hesitation in his voice. He knew that to hold back information from Lycas Ryth would be foolish.

“He got away?” Ryth repeated, enunciating each word acidly. Ryth took a menacing step toward Zain and added, “And, pray tell, how exactly did that come about?”

“I wasn’t there,” Zain said, backing up a step and shaking his head. “It was all her doing. And your guards, I might add.”

“Spare me the excuses and tell me what happened,” the Lord Advisor snapped.

Zain shot a furtive glance at Shahleen then quickly reoriented his vision around Ryth. The Lord Advisor liked to be looked in the eye when a failure was grovelingly explained to him. It helped assert his dominance over the one explaining.

“He had help,” Zain explained quickly. “Some woman with a bionic arm.”

“A bionic arm, you say?” Ryth said. He turned his face away just a little and scratched his chin. Under his breath, he muttered a name. “Vellin.”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Zain prodded gently.

Ryth brought his face quickly back to the man. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the former Sector Representative. “I said it was Vellin. The same one who held you captive until you freed yourself. This is interesting. Usually, people from the Under-Citadel mind their own business. I wonder what brought him slinking out of his hole for this?”

“Does it matter?” Zain asked.

“It might,” Ryth replied. “It is no trouble at all to deal with ham-fisted attempts at revolution from within the Sector Representatives or other political idealists. They don’t know what they’re doing. People from the Under-Citadel, however, are devious. And dangerous.” A small smile crept to Ryth’s face as he said this.

He’s enjoying this, Zain thought to himself. He must be mad.

Ryth flinched. Zain almost wondered if Ryth could hear his thoughts. He quickly dismissed the idea. It was ridiculous, of course. Ryth might have the ability to psychologically hypnotize someone, as he did with Shahleen, but the man wasn’t truly supernaturally empowered…was he? Then again, there were those odd powers he imbued upon Zain to escape. But those couldn’t be truly mystical, could they? Of course not, he thought. He felt his own thoughts go fuzzy for a moment. His head swam and dizziness threatened to overtake him. He felt like he was about to fall onto his knees but then caught himself.

Odd, he thought. I wonder what that was about. I hope I’m not getting sick.

He brought his face back toward Ryth once again and found the other man staring piercingly at him. There was an irritation pasted on his face.

Zain shook his head. “Sorry, I felt funny there for a minute. But what are we going to do about Racine? He’s escaped and will talk”

Ryth waved a dismissive hand. “Talk to who? Criminals? I wouldn’t worry about the matter. Now that he’s on the run, he will look guiltier than ever. It won’t be hard to make it appear as if he is the one ultimately behind the assassination of King Beirand. If he shows his face, he will be caught. It’s as simple as that.”

Zain made a face.

“What’s the matter?” Ryth asked clearly losing patience.

Zain upbraided himself. He needed to stop showing such disdain for Ryth’s ideas in front of the man. Ryth was too good at reading him.

Zain looked away. He breathed a defeated sigh and then said, “I just don’t understand what we’re going to do about him. With Racine on the loose, he can cause extensive trouble. He might supply this criminal with damaging information. How do you propose we find them?”

Ryth smiled widely for the first time during the meeting. “I don’t think we have to worry about that. In fact, they will come to us.” Ryth paused and made sure Zain brought his attention back to him. Ryth narrowed his eyes and leaned forward as he addressed the other man. “I have already seen to it.”

“Racine?” Shahleen said wistfully, concern etching her tone. “What happened to him? Where is he? I miss him.”

Ryth slowly turned his face to her. He took a slow and purposeful step toward her and placed a hand on her shoulder. He looked deeply into his eyes her eyes. His own began to glow orange. Zain looked away. Whenever Ryth displayed his power in such a fashion, Zain found himself getting immediately uncomfortable. It was as if his mind refused to comprehend what he saw. He always came up with some kind of explanation to dismiss it. In the end, he figured he was only imagining things. No one had such powers.

“Hush now,” Ryth said gently to Shahleen. “Don’t trouble yourself over Racine. We will take care of him in time.” He paused long enough to broaden his smile as he stared at the woman. “Just like we will take care of you and all of the humans.”

All of the humans? Zain thought. That was a weird way to say that. I wonder why…? Then Zain’s head began to swim once again.

Ryth slowly turned his attention back to Zain. “Why Zain, you look like you need to sit down.”

Zain nodded thoughtfully at the suggestion. “Yes,” he said, “I think I need to sit down.”

Ryth returned his attention to Shahleen. “You too, my dear, look a little tired. Why don’t you go rest for a while?”

Shahleen’s face adopted a thoughtful look. “You know,” she said, “I think I need to go for rest. I’m so tired.”

She turned away from Ryth and walked slowly toward the open doors. She passed between them and turned the corner disappearing.

Zain found himself at the table for the Council of the Sector Representatives. His mind was blank for a few minutes then he came back to himself. He looked around the empty table and noticed he was sitting. He wondered how he had gotten there. He didn’t quite remember. He turned his face and looked at Ryth who was sitting at the seat at the head of the table.

“Oh, Ryth, you’re back. How was your trip?”

Ryth rolled his eyes and replied, “Just fine, thank you for asking. Now, let’s get to business.”

Zain looked around the room confused then back to Ryth. “Wait a moment,” he said. “What about Shahleen?”

“I understand she isn’t feeling well and needed to rest for a while,” Ryth replied.

“Ah,” Zain replied. “I suppose that makes sense. You know, I haven’t been feeling well myself lately either.”

“You don’t say?” Ryth replied. “I wonder if something is going around?”

CHAPTER 15. A DARING NOTION

Racine lay in his bed, hands knit together behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. He was lost in thought, wondering how they could possibly get out of this mess. He came up with no solutions. As far as he could tell, his life as he knew it was at an end. He would never be able to return to the Citadel above. He would never serve the public as he had before. The best that lay ahead of him, he feared, was a life of crime. That did not appeal to him.

The door to his room slid open suddenly and he shot bolt up to a sitting position, staring with wide concerned eyes at the inhabitant filling the doorway. He had not been able to shake the sense that he was inevitably going to be found out by the bad guys and brought to an end. He half expected one of the Lord Advisor’s personal guards to come storming through his door at any moment. He had been entertaining those thoughts not minutes before. So when the door came open of its own accord, his heart nearly exploded with fear.

Thankfully, it was not one of the Lord Advisor’s guards standing in the doorway. It was Kaelinn. She leaned against the door jamb with her arms folded before her, and a self-satisfied smirk on her face.

“Your new digs suit you?” she asked.

He blew out a relieved sigh and lowered his face, shaking his head. “You scared me,” he said in a half-growl. He lifted his face to shoot a reprimanding glare back at the girl. “Don’t do that!”

She shrugged. “You’ll live,” she replied.

He looked around his not-so-spacious room. “To answer your question,” he said, “I’m not about to give these accommodations five stars if that’s what you’re asking.” He returned his face to her and added, “But my guess is you haven’t come to discuss the fineries of the hospitality industry. What’s going on?”

“Vellin wants you,” she replied. “Come on.” Without waiting for any kind of reply, she turned and strode back out of the room.

For most of the time he had been under Vellin’s custody, he had been confined to his quarters. Vellin didn’t want him wandering around and getting into any kind of trouble. And even though he trusted his men, he didn’t want them tempted to snag Racine and make off with him to turn him over to Ryth’s people. Despite his earlier assurances of their loyalty, it turned out that Vellin only trusted them so far in this situation.

Racine huffed in exasperation and looked around. He didn’t like it much and would have preferred a little nicer scenery. His room had no windows of any kind. Only blank walls. Not that a view of the Under-Citadel was particularly desirable, of course. But it would be better than nothing. Vellin had been kind enough to provide him with a few different books. Without those, Racine wondered if he would have gone mad by now. It wasn’t easy to occupy his attention. An avalanche of worries and fears threatened to tumble down on him at any moment. Distraction was welcome but hard to maintain.

He reluctantly arose from the bed and walked after Kaelinn. She waited for him a little way down the corridor and when he came up beside her she continued on. She led them through the labyrinth of hallways until they came once again to Vellin’s command center.

Her bionic hand shot forward and inhumanly fast typed in the passcode on the door keypad. The door slid away to admit them.

Inside was a flurry of activity. Men ran hither and yon carrying about a bevy of tasks. Some shouted at each other from across the room. The tumultuous activity was maddening. But at the center of it was the calm eye of the storm. Vellin. He sat in his seat behind his desk looking quietly over a variety of documents and electronic tablets spread over the surface before him. Every so often he would tap a command into a device and lean closer to read the display. Soon he swiped the information away and turned his attention to something else.

Kaelinn cleared her throat and Vellin looked up.

“Oh good, there you are. Come in and have a seat.” Racine strode forward and casually deposited himself in the chair before Vellin’s desk. Once in his seat, Vellin picked up a tablet and swiveled it to show him. He tapped a button to play the footage that was poised and ready on the display.

“What am I looking at?” Racine asked, furrowing his brow. He saw a corridor that appeared empty.

“Just watch,” Vellin said flatly.

Racine stared at the screen but nothing happened for a while. Then suddenly two figures appeared. One was unmistakable. It was Lycas Ryth. He also dragged someone in tow alongside him. That was someone he didn’t recognize, but he was clearly someone whom Ryth had taken against his will.

Racine squinted as he leaned closer, trying to make out details.

Vellin tapped a button and the image paused as Ryth and the other man filled the prominent position on the screen and their faces were both clear.

Racine lifted his eyes to Vellin’s face. He arched his eyebrows and said, “Well? Who is the other man?”

“That’s the question of the hour, isn’t it?” Vellin asked. A grin stretched his face. “He is certainly someone of interest. Before all of the hullabaloo surrounding the former Captain of the Royal Guardians, Cecil came to me searching out answers regarding the assassination of the king. Luckily, it was something I had already been working on. And I just so happened to have a bit of information to share with him.”

Vellin tapped the display a few more times and showed Racine a still image. It was the same man.

“Okay,” Racine said, still uncertain of where this might be headed. “I’m interested. What’s this about?”

“That man,” Vellin said indicating the new image, “is someone from the criminal underworld. His name is Belem. Low-level sort. Bit of a nobody, really. Brawler.”

“Friend of yours?” Racine asked casually.

Vellin shook his head. “Afraid not,” he replied. “But he’s the one who delivered a nasty surprise to the Palace. He smuggled in the micro-explosives that were used to destroy the king. They came smuggled in with some sort of exotic flower.”

“So what? Is Ryth just tying up some sort of loose end? You said he was a nobody.”

“It’s more than that,” Vellin said. “This man disappeared completely. I pulled every trick I could manage to find where he was, and as far as I could tell he no longer existed. But now all of a sudden, he is back. And he’s in Ryth’s clutches. Ryth doesn’t bother with nobodies. That’s beneath him. Ergo, he’s a ‘somebody’ after all. But who is he really? Not just some Under-Citadel delivery man, I can assure you that much.”

Racine leaned back in his chair and stared thoughtfully at Vellin. The two looked at each other for a long time as Racine pondered what to say.

“What does this have to do with me?” he asked at last.

“We are going to liberate this man. I need your help to do that.”

Racine blinked. “And just how am I going to do that?” he asked. “I can’t exactly waltz around in public and demand prisoners be turned over to me from the local prison.”

“Don’t worry,” Vellin said maintaining his grin. “It’s far worse than that. Belem is not located in any prison in the Citadel.”

“So where is he?” Racine asked, a cold feeling taking hold of his gut.

“We tracked their progress through the Citadel wall. Thankfully, I was able to track them all the way to what I believe to be their destination. Ryth is keeping him in his personal quarters.”

Racine cocked his head to one side. “Why would he do that?” he asked himself more than anyone else.

“It doesn’t matter,” Vellin said. “If Ryth wants to keep the man hidden, then we want him out. So, here’s the plan. We have to break into Lycas Ryth’s personal quarters and free Belem.”

Racine snorted in disbelief. He spent the next handful of moments just staring at Vellin. After a while, he slowly shook his head from side to side.

“And how exactly do I figure into this?”

“I’m so glad you asked,” Vellin said.

CHAPTER 16. THE NEXT LEG OF THE JOURNEY

After a day of frustrating conversations translated through Gael’jic, the exiles finally convinced the Dar’ryneel to help. The reptilian people had been inclined to do at least something in favor of the companions after their assistance in fending off the Shedi’im. However, they had been reticent to commit to reaching out to other villages. The Elder Chief in particular had been hesitant. But at long last, he had come around.

After that, they left. They waited until daybreak the morning after the discussions had closed. They did not want to journey at night so far as it was possible. Even though they still had several samples of Illuminoc flowers at their disposal to fend off the Shedi’im, it would be best to see an enemy coming before it pounced. That meant affording themselves as much daylight as possible.

A half-hour into their journey away from the Dar’ryneel village, Cecil spoke up. He ceased their progress and planted both fists on his hips. “All right, you can come out now,” he said in a raised voice. He glowered around, waiting for Rama’dy’ac to appear. Nothing happened.

“Where is he?” Ariam asked.

“You know bloody well where he is,” Cecil said. “He’s been with us the whole time. And you know he saw everything that has transpired. He saw every drop of Dar’ryneel blood that was spilled.” Turning away from the beggar he lifted his face and shouted out to the forest, “Well? What about it? Are you going to show up or not?”

Several pregnant heartbeats passed but no sign of the Zulle-Shee scientist appeared.

“Perhaps it is best if we merely keep going,” Gael’jic said. “He will come to us when he deems it necessary.”

“I deem it necessary,” Cecil said in a sharp reply. “If he wants this endeavor to go over at all, he needs to show up and be a part of it.”

“My apologies,” came a soothing voice. It was Rama’dy’ac. All of them whipped around to gaze in surprise at the freshly appeared being. He stood with his lower two hands folded in front of him and his lone upper arm draped casually at his side.

“It’s about time,” Cecil said. “What kept you?”

Rama’dy’ac arched an eyebrow but betrayed not even a hint of frustration or anger in response to Cecil’s short-tempered outburst. He said, “Coalescing into my physical form is not always easy. It takes a lot of energy and effort. I know that you do not understand this, but I would ask you to be patient.”

“Patience isn’t exactly my strong suit,” Cecil replied. “When there’s work to do, I aim to see it gets done. Now, do you mind telling us what our next move is?”

“We will make our way back to my craft,” Rama’dy’ac remarked casually. From there you three will travel to the Dar’rynakai city. There you will gain the help of Gael’jic’s people. When you have achieved this, you will travel back to the Human Citadel. You will have to infiltrate through the Citadel wall. I can help you with this by leaving a small part of myself with only one of you. I regret that I cannot stay as I now am, but I must travel via my craft to Remmice to complete the recruiting of the Remmites and bring back at least some of their warriors.”

“You’re leaving us?” Ariam squeaked, his eyes were wide and fearful orbs.

Ignoring the beggar’s complaint, Cecil pressed on with his own question. “Once we make it into the Citadel…no, if we make it in, what then? Find Belem?”

“I cannot tell you this,” the Zulle-Shee said, his tone tinged with regret. “You will have to decide for yourselves what will be best. But it may become clear as you go.”

“That is not very comforting,” Gael’jic quipped.

Rama’dy’ac said, “You must make haste with these tasks. Our time is running short. Uri’thind’ac intends to make his play very soon. He has already begun to work in earnest to turn Belem to his cause.”

“I was afraid of that,” Ariam said. He turned his face away from Rama’dy’ac and stared uncomfortably into the dense jungle. Then after a few moments, he returned his focus to the Zulle-Shee. He said, “What do you think the odds are Belem will be able to resist Uri’thind’ac’s overtures? Will he succumb?”

“That is not for me to say,” Rama’dy’ac replied. “Belem has great strength and tremendous hatred for Uri’thind’ac. But as Cecil has pointed out, he is vulnerable. Uri’thind’ac is smart and crafty. He will see this vulnerability and seek to exploit it. He possesses expertise in doing so.”

“You can see and hear everything through Belem’s senses, can’t you?” Gael’jic observed.

The Zulle-Shee turned his face to Gael’jic and nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Part of me remains with Belem so I can detect what he detects. I hear what he hears. I see what he sees. I feel the pressure that is heaped upon him by Uri’thind’ac.”

“Can Uri’thind’ac sense you in Belem?” Cecil asked.

“No,” Rama’dy’ac said shaking his head. “I do not believe so.”

“But you are not sure? Are you?” Cecil pressed.

“No,” Rama’dy’ac replied. “I cannot be certain of anything. But I have seen no sign in Uri’thind’ac that tells me he knows I am there. There was one recent instance where he came close to suspecting something was going on with Belem. But I believe he has dismissed this. Belem is providing frustration for him. It is a good distraction against his detecting me.”

Cecil snorted. “That’s not a big surprise. Belem has that way about him.”

“Yes he does,” Rama’dy’ac said, smiling just a little. “In part, he was chosen precisely because of that. And, for other reasons as well.”

“What other reasons?” Ariam asked.

“My reasons are my own,” Rama’dy’ac said. There was a hint of something in his voice that none of them had heard before. It was sternness.

“Very well,” Ariam said waving a hand in a gesture of dismissal, trying to defuse the situation. “I suppose we ought to get going.”

“Yes,” Rama’dy’ac said. “Let us do that. And along the way, I will tell you more of the tale of our coming to this place and what happened afterward to split the members of my expedition against one another.”

They recommenced their journey. As they traveled along, Rama’dy’ac continued unfolding the tale of what happened after his crew had arrived at the Throne of the Gods.

***

Before.

Rama’dy’ac, captain of the scientific expedition to save endangered civilizations and peoples checked the condition of his crashed craft. He was relieved to see there was no permanent damage. At least nothing that couldn’t be repaired by his crew. Assuming of course they had survived their own crash landings. He was reasonably confident they had all survived. After the basic rundown on his craft, he checked on his precious cargo. It too was safe. He made sure it was stowed securely and then he headed toward the exit.

The door to his craft opened onto the vast plain where he had crash landed. It was warm and green. His eyes scanned the horizon for pillars of smoke indicating crashes. Thankfully, he saw none. What he did see off in the distance was the barest hint of one node of one of the other crafts sticking out of the ground. He purposed to make his way there and commenced the journey.

He traveled on for quite some time, keeping his focus on his destination. He put away all thoughts of concern over his companions. If they had survived, then well enough. If not, he would spend the appropriate time mourning them before carrying on with their final mission. They would not be forgotten. But he had work to do.

The visible portion of the craft ahead grew in his sight as he drew nearer. This separable part of the larger craft had crashed harder than his own. Its saucer-like front had nosed into the ground and pushed up mounds of broken dirt. He came right up to the broken valley surface and moved away chunks of the disturbed ground. He was pleased to see there appeared to be no external damage to the craft. He wasn’t truly surprised by this. All the portions of the spacecraft were made of stone-like material that had been perfected over generations of Zulle-Shee innovation. It was quite hardy. Its dense molecular structure had been engineered to withstand tremendous stresses, even collisions, and most crashes. Now the proof of it was evident.

He lifted his face away from examining the exterior of the ship and sought the way in. He came upon it quickly and lifted his hand sending out mental waves of psychic energy. The door sprang open permitting him entrance. He stepped gingerly inside and looked around. The craft appeared to be empty. He cocked his head in confusion and searched more diligently.

The seat of the pilot station was vacant. He rested his hand upon the chair back and narrowed his eyes. There appeared to be a bit of blood on the console before the seat. He looked away from this and examined the rest of the craft’s interior. There were no places to conceal oneself. It quickly became clear who was the operator of this particular craft. He could tell this from the section of the ship it had been.

“Uri’thind’ac? Are you here?” he called out.

No answer came. A nagging note of worry arose at the back of his mind. Something felt off.

He called out again but received the same lack of an answer. He was not prepared to be worried yet. Perhaps Uri’thind’ac had gone off in search of one of the other crafts. He might have sought to help one of them. He might have…

“So, this is the place you have brought us to?” came a voice tinged with curiosity.

Rama’dy’ac slowly turned and looked at the figure filling the doorway. It was Uri’thind’ac.

“I am glad to see you are well,” Rama’dy’ac offered. He folded both sets of hands in front of himself as he stared at his companion.

Sunlight from outside streamed in from behind the figure, casting his face in the deep shadows of a silhouette so Rama’dy’ac could not quite make out his features. Uri’thind’ac stood for a long time just staring back at Rama’dy’ac. Then he stepped forward. A little bit more light flooded in around him and soon Rama’dy’ac could make out his face.

Rama’dy’ac gasped.

“Yes,” Uri’thind’ac said. He lifted a hand to his face where a large gash traveled down from beside his left eye to his jawline. “I will need assistance to heal this. For some reason, I cannot seem to do it on my own.”

“That is curious,” Rama’dy’ac said taking a step toward Uri’thind’ac. He raised a hand and gingerly touched a finger at the flesh on one side of his companion’s wound. Uri’thind’ac merely stood there allowing him to examine the injury. After a while, Rama’dy’ac took another step closer and placed several fingers on the flesh near the wound. Then he lifted another hand and placed it on the other side of Uri’thind’ac’s head.

“Join energies with me if you will,” Rama’dy’ac said.

Uri’thind’ac made no reply. He simply closed his eyes in concentration. In moments, Rama’dy’ac could feel Uri’thind’ac’s energy mingling with his own. They both concentrated on the wound on the side of his face.

What should have only taken them mere minutes took about half an hour to accomplish. The wound was closed up as it should have been by the end of the process, but the energy it took both of them to see to it was more than either had anticipated. They were both exhausted and sat on the floor.

Uri’thind’ac lifted a hand and gently touched the place his face had healed up.

“Interesting,” he said. “Is it something about this place that is dampening our ability to do what has always been so easy?” he asked.

“I do not know,” Rama’dy’ac replied. “But maybe you are right. Or, it could be the ordeal we have been through has drained us. It makes it harder. Such things have happened to others before.”

Uri’thind’ac shrugged. “If you say so,” he replied. After a few minutes, he got to his feet and turned away from Rama’dy’ac. He stared at the still-open exit. “Shall we?” he asked.

“Yes,” Rama’dy’ac replied, getting to his feet. “But I have the feeling you have already been out of your ship and explored some of the surrounding environment. Is this the case?”

“It is,” Uri’thind’ac said turning a smirking face to Rama’dy’ac. “Mostly I was admiring the mountain in the center of the plain. Since establishing a base of operation is in order, I propose that is the best candidate for its location.”

“Perhaps so, but we have another order of business to look after first. We should find the others and make certain they survived the crash.”

Uri’thind’ac waved a dismissive hand. “I have no concerns about that,” he said. “I’m sure both of them are just fine but I agree we ought to go find them nonetheless.”

With that, they walked out of the craft and began to search for their companions.

CHAPTER 17. THE ARRESTED QUEEN

She reposed in a large overstuffed chair in her chamber, though she was far from comfortable. She stewed over her many thoughts. They were dark ponderings and led her down paths of fury. One figure only was the target of her ire. Lycas Ryth.

The Queen had been confined to her quarters, no better than house arrest. They treated her as a criminal. She silently and bitterly deliberated over this. Ryth had clearly been the true perpetrator of wicked deeds lately. At least that was what she strongly suspected. He had not come right out and admitted it, and no doubt he never would. But he didn’t have to. She could practically smell it on him.

Her grief was minimal, however. Once upon a time she supposed she had loved Beirand. But those days were far gone by the time of his assassination. A cold calm approximating something like peace had settled upon their relationship. She knew of several of his infidelities. Eventually, she did not come to begrudge him. Their marriage had grown ceremonial and political only. Her chief prize out of the ordeal was her son. Therin was the one she adored. Though she could not help admitting to herself that whenever she looked at the boy, she saw his father. She knew that could not be helped. It hadn’t brought her to loathe her son in any way, not in the way she once had loathed his father. But she supposed she had allowed a cold distance to settle between herself and the boy just before everything went to hell. Now more than ever she regretted that. She wanted to see him, to hold him, to comfort him. She wanted to be responsible for his continued training in statecraft. She would be the best suited for it, or so she reckoned.

But she feared Lycas Ryth was stepping into that role. If that man got his slimy claws into her son, she would never forgive herself. She vowed to do whatever she could to…

The whisper of noise behind her caught her attention and set her spine rigid. It was the sound of one of the secret entrances into her chambers. But they were supposed to be guarded by the Lord Advisor’s personal guards. If one of them was coming into her chambers without permission, she feared what that might mean. Was this the end for her? Was she to be assassinated like her late husband?

She rose slowly from her chair and turned to look upon the newcomer. She blinked in surprise when she saw it was not one of Ryth’s guards.

She struggled to remember his name. But she had seen him on many occasions. Ever since the former Captain of the Royal Guardians had been divested of his rank and status and cast into the rank of criminal and set for execution, he had to be replaced. This was the man who had replaced him. The new Captain of the Royal Guardians stood before her, not wearing his armor.

He too had been divested of honor following a thwarted assassination upon herself. He had been present for it. The assassin had been another of the guards and Ryth had immediately announced the suspension of the Royal Guardians’s service. The man had fled and was assumed by Ryth to be in league with the assassin. She highly doubted this, suspecting Ryth to be responsible. But she remained not entirely certain about this man. She tensed.

“Captain?” she said cautiously. “To what do I owe this odd honor?”

The man’s eyes darted about the room, searching for any signal that someone else might be present and listening. After a few moments, he raised a hand to his ear and tapped it. The question, unspoken, was clear.

Are we being listened to?

“I don’t think so,” she replied out loud. “I have swept for listening devices and found nothing. I have my own equipment that searches for such things that no one knows about which leaves me to believe we are safe. Now, regarding my question about your presence here?”

The Captain looked as though he did not believe her. His eyes darted once more about the room. When he had satisfied himself that no one else was present, nor were they being listened to, he sagged his shoulders slightly. But just enough for her to notice.

“The Royal Guardians have been set aside for the time being,” he began. “My brothers are sequestered under house arrest in their barracks and I am on the run, as it were. But you well know this.”

Rivess narrowed her eyes. “And you all simply allowed this to happen,” Rivess said with clear undertones of reprimand. The Royal Guardians were renowned for their acumen and their ability to fight. She fumed they had given up so easily.

“Orders of the Lord Advisor,” he said with a hint of gravel in his voice. “It is backed by the Triumvirate. We had no choice.”

“We always have a choice, Captain,” she said.

“If we refused, if we fought, we would have played right into his trap. He would have used that to his advantage to paint the Royal Guardians in an unfavorable light in the common opinion. We would have been hunted down and terminated.”

“By whom?” she scoffed. “Who matches your skill? Who rivals your abilities? Who possesses greater backbone than the Royal Guardians?”

The man looked torn. Something was clearly going on with him that he was reluctant to voice. He shifted his eyes away from her, ashamed. He shook his head a little then brought his face back to her.

“I was ready to contact my brothers in secret and give just such an order, but then my men surrendered without question. I tapped into security footage and what I saw…” the man winced at the memory. Rivess held back a surprised reaction and waited for him to go on. He did. “They knelt before the Lord Advisor. I was taken completely by surprise when I learned of this. I alone am left standing in uncertainty at Ryth. On the security feed, after my brothers bowed, Ryth turned to stare at the camera. I could tell he meant for me to see it. I can still see the smug look on his face. He arched his eyebrows in expectation as if waiting for me to give some kind of answer. But I have kept myself in secret. For the time being that is. But I vowed to find a way to get back at him, to undo whatever he had done to my brothers. And I have schemed.”

“And what have you schemed?” she said.

“We will move against him. And now we have an opportunity.”

“We?” she asked.

“It turns out that not all my brothers acquiesced of their will,” he replied. “I have reached out to a few I still trust. It seems some of them at least merely played along with the others in bowing. They were sharper than I was. But Ryth has them watched. I take a great risk contacting them periodically, just as I am taking a great risk to be here speaking with you. If I am discovered missing…” He left unsaid the rest. She understood.

“What is this plan?” she prompted.

“First, you have to understand something about Ryth. He seems to have some sort of ability; a hypnotic power over others. It is the only explanation I have devised to understand why so many of my brothers so quickly bowed before him and received his instruction. And though I did not believe my own eyes at first, I saw something in his face when he issued the command, a kind of glow in his eyes. It was orange and eerie.”

“Are you suggesting some kind of supernatural strength?” Rivess asked, uncertain. Perhaps the Captain had lost his mind. Perhaps this was merely lunatic ravings as he spiraled out of control. But he did not strike her as such. He seemed mostly calm and rational. There was no raving here, only calculation.

“If we can take him out in a coup,” he continued, “then perhaps we have a chance.”

“And just how do you propose to do this?” Rivess asked. “And who else is with you besides of handful of other disgraced Royal Guardians?”

A slight smirk appeared in one corner of his mouth. “Yes,” he said, “about that. I’ll get to that in a minute. But first, you have to understand the plan.”

“Before you divulge this scheme,” she said, “I need to know something. What do you intend to do about my son? He must be a priority. He is the heir to the throne. He must be preserved. Are you going to protect him?”

Something flashed across the man’s face at that moment which made her even more uncomfortable than she had been when she had sat in her chair and ruminated over her concerns. But it was not merely that she understood his answer to be ‘no.’ She could tell there was more to it than just a simple no. His expression was packed with unspoken detail.

At last, she pressed, “What is it, Captain?”

CHAPTER 18. SCHEMES AND PLOTS

The Captain took a deep steadying breath and blew it out before answering. “There may be another,” the guardsman said.

She blinked. “Another? Another what?” A cold pit formed in her belly, accompanied by an undeniable sense of foreboding.

“Another heir,” he replied.

She turned her face slightly away from him though kept her eyes fixed on him. Her eyelids narrowed as she studied the man, disbelieving, wondering if perhaps after all he had gone crazy. There could be no other legitimate heir, could there? Her mind returned to all of the illicit dalliances the king had participated in. There had been many over the years. And several of them had allegedly produced children. Women had come forward and claimed their sons or their daughters were sired of the king. Such claims were quickly investigated to find out if there was any truth to the matter. Several times, it was confirmed. The king had produced other children. But, those had been… taken care of, or at least after a fashion.

The customary way this occurred was that the women were paid a sum and given special privileges, and the children would be taken care of, as long as they promised to make no further claim on their child’s lineage. And if the mothers refused, well there was another solution. That solution was that the mother’s life was terminated and the child became an orphan, and their identity was changed. It was all very expertly addressed. A bit of a messy affair, she thought, but one to keep the kingdom stable. And, she supposed, it had been worth it. Some part of her rather disliked the reality of it, though she understood its value.

There was always the fear that one of these orphans might miraculously be discovered to be the child of the King. She supposed such matters might be taken care of in further messy and violent ways if necessary. But she chose not to know if she didn’t have to. Best to let someone else take care of that sort of thing. She was afraid that Lycas Ryth was probably the one who took care of it. That put him in a unique position. He possessed a lot of dirty information about the king. She had figured out the inherent problem with that some time ago but had bided her time to make sure nothing ever came of it. She vowed that if anything ever did, she would see to it that Lycas Ryth was himself taken out of the equation in a rather messy fashion. But that had never had to happen. As much as she detested the man, she knew she could not simply move against him. He was too slippery and too smart. If she tried, he might catch wind of it ahead of time and take his own countermeasures against her. She could not have that. She had a son to raise, after all.

She realized she had trailed off in thought and brought her attention back to the man before her. “Who is this child?” she demanded.

“His name is Belem,” he answered. “A man, not a child. He grew up in a very rough existence in the Under-Citadel. His mother was killed by Lycas Ryth and the Royal Guardians some time ago when he was still but a child. It was a while before my own time. I was still a child myself then, early in my training. Even in our formative years, we heard whispers and rumors of the clandestine activities that awaited us when we came of age. But when one becomes the Captain of the Royal Guardians, one has access to all kinds of confirming information. And even as a mere Royal Guardian, I learned much I never dreamed could be true. And sometimes you just have to put the pieces together yourself.”

“And where is this Belem?” Rivess asked, eyes still narrowed in suspicion.

“He is right here in the Palace,” he replied in a whisper as he leaned forward.

“What?” she barked. “For how long?”

“Only recently,” he answered. “He had been tracked as a person of suspicion in the king’s assassination but then he just disappeared.”

“No one just disappears,” the Queen seethed. “Not from the penetrating gaze of the Palace.”

“Even so,” the Captain replied, “this man did. Regardless, he has resurfaced as it were. And this time he is in the clutches of Lycas Ryth himself. We have security images of him being dragged along by Lycas Ryth and taken into his own chambers.”

“What for?” Rivess asked.

“We’re not exactly sure, but we know it cannot be good. Belem was obviously being dragged against his will. He has been in there for at least two days now. We’ve kept a tight watch through the security camera network and he has not exited again.”

“Many of the chambers of important personnel have a variety of secret doorways and passages leading out of them.” She lifted a hand to indicate the one through which the Captain had arrived. “Case in point,” she added.

The Captain was shaking his head. “Not Ryth’s,” he said. “He doesn’t need them, I don’t think. Besides, if he required that, why would he not bring Belem in through that way? Why bring him in the public entrance so that he might be seen? It doesn’t make any sense. We are reasonably certain he is still inside.”

Rivess stared at the Captain for a handful of heartbeats before going on. “You intend to break into Ryth’s personal quarters and free the man. That’s right, isn’t it?”

The Captain bowed his head. “Yes, my Queen. And we must do so soon. We do not know how long Ryth will keep him alive. We know he has brought other subjects into his chambers in similar fashion and that none of them ever come out alive.”

“And just how do you plan on breaking into his quarters? You know he has exceptionally tight security. You won’t just be able to knock and let yourself in.”

The smirk returned to the Captain’s face. “I have… other resources available to me. It won’t be easy, but I believe we can get the job done.”

‘We,’ he kept saying. And she got the distinct impression he wasn’t only speaking about some other guardsmen.

“And who is working for you on this?” she demanded.

A sheepish look overtook his features. “I am afraid I have something to confess, my Queen. And I don’t think you’re going to like it very much.”

“Go on,” she said cautiously, not liking this one bit.

He continued, “For some time, I have been something of a double-servant.”

“A double-servant?” She gaped incredulously at the man. “What precisely does that mean?” There was acid in her voice. The cold and terrifying look on her face seemed as if it could peel the flesh right off his body.

He did his best to ignore this and pressed on. “I serve as the contact in the Palace for an influential entrepreneur in the Under-Citadel.”

“Entrepreneur?” she barked a mirthless laugh. “You mean crime boss.”

“If that suits you, yes,” he said. “I serve as his source. I feed him information and he feeds me information. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. On more than one occasion it has helped the Royal Guardians serve better.”

“How can I trust you, you snake?” Rivess spat.

“That is up to you,” he replied nonchalantly. “But I do not see that you have many options. You can either work with us, work alone, or work with Ryth. Take your pick.”

She issued an animalistic growl as she turned away from him. She wanted to spit, she was so furious. She folded her arms over her chest and felt her jaw tighten. Her face grew hot.

The Captain let several seconds pass before he spoke up again. “You don’t have a whole lot of time to decide, I might add. When this happens, it will happen soon. You either elect to be with us or choose to not stand in our way.”

She rounded on him, her face clouded with unvarnished rage.

“And what will you do if I stand in your way?”

He stood stolid where he was. His face was a mask of calm. His hands hung casually at his sides, but she thought they were coiled for action if necessary. He was, after all, Captain of the Royal Guardians. They were no slouches.

He merely said, “Don’t stand in our way.”

The two of them stared at one another for quite a while. Neither of them blinked. At last, she acquiesced.

“Very well,” she said. “Deal me in. But under one condition.”

“Name it,” he said.

“My son is still a priority.”

“That never left my thoughts,” he said. “Belem may be a legitimate blood-heir, but that doesn’t mean he is the best choice. When the dust settles, we may have to find a way to dismiss him from the picture.”

She snorted and shook her head. Everyone around there had such a cavalier way of talking about murder.

CHAPTER 19. DEPARTURE

“It looks like story time is over,” Cecil commented snidely as they entered the clearing where Rama’dy’ac had landed the ship. He turned to the Zulle-Shee and said, “So where are you taking us from here?”

The Zulle-Shee shook his head. “I am taking you nowhere,” he said.

Ariam stepped closer to Rama’dy’ac…but not too close. The strange being still scared him a bit. The beggar said, “Tell me you’re not just leaving all of this to us.”

“I will return,” Rama’dy’ac said. “And when I do, I will bring reinforcements with me.”

“Reinforcements?” Cecil asked

Rama’dy’ac nodded. “Yes. I return to Remmice once more. I will bring back with me those who are willing to battle Uri’thind’ac and the Shedi’im.”

“Good luck with that,” Cecil muttered, looking away.

“I don’t know that you’re going to fit very many of them on that ship,” Ariam said looking at the craft askew. “It’s not very big.”

“I will not be bringing them back aboard my craft,” Rama’dy’ac said. “We will travel through a gate.”

“A gate?” Gael’jic asked. “The Remmites have become somewhat primitive. They may be reticent to travel in that manner.”

“They will understand it as being mystical,” Rama’dy’ac answered. “That will fit within their frame of understanding. The gate does not require knowledge of the technology’s methods and finer workings. After all; you traveled through gates though you do not understand them. Is this not so?”

Gael’jic nodded absently. He looked toward the jungle and seemed to get lost in thought. A moment later he returned his focus to Rama’dy’ac and said, “Do we truly have time for you to depart from us on this venture?” He lifted a hand and rubbed the dewlap hanging from his snout. His reptilian eyes narrowed as he stared at the Zulle-Shee. He added, “We are pressed for time as it is.”

“We will be pressed for more than just time if he fails to convince the Remmites,” Cecil interjected.

“You must trust me,” Rama’dy’ac said.

“That is getting harder to do,” Gael’jic said. “After you leave, what would you have of us?”

“You will go on to the Dar’rynakai city in your old mountain enclave,” Rama’dy’ac said. “Just as we have already discussed. Your charge is to gather their assistance for the fight.”

“At least they’re expecting us,” Cecil said to Gael’jic. “Getting in there won’t be nearly as hard as getting back into the Human Citadel.” He turned to Rama’dy’ac and said, “That is where we head afterward, isn’t it? That’s where this all will end.”

“I cannot say where all of this will end,” Rama’dy’ac replied. “It may end before you even get to the Dar’rynakai city. Uri’thind’ac has brought his Shedi’im to this world. They could be lurking anywhere. I sense their presence through the Illuminoc flowers. Yet they stray as far away from these as possible, knowing the damage that it might do to them to touch the flowers. That makes them difficult to locate with precision.”

“Well, that’s just great,” Cecil said. “What are we supposed to do about them?”

“All will be made clear,” came Rama’dy’ac’s answer.

“I’m getting kind of tired of hearing that sort of thing,” Cecil snapped.

Rama’dy’ac pursed his lips. After a moment he said, “Very well. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Does that suit you better?”

“Not really,” Cecil answered. “But close enough.”

Rama’dy’ac looked at each of the three remaining champions in turn. “I bid you farewell,” he said. “Now go. The time draws near.”

“Do you really think we have a chance?” Ariam asked. “Sometimes it feels so hopeless.”

Rama’dy’ac slowly stepped toward the beggar and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hope can only be given up. It cannot be taken. If you lack it, look to shore up the wound that bleeds it out.” He leveled a grim gaze at Ariam and then removed his hand. He turned away and strode toward the craft.

The three exiles watched him go in silence. He entered and the door closed by itself behind him. They heard a low hum as the machine came to life. It lifted off the ground, hovered for a few seconds, then shot skyward with incredible speed. A sonic book washed over them. They craned their necks to watch it go, soon losing sight of it as it disappeared into the vast blue sky. They were all quiet for a long time as they just stared upward. Gael’jic broke the silence.

“He has left us,” he said simply.

Ariam continued to look skyward, wrestling with Gael’jic’s statement. Something about it felt not entirely true. He supposed Rama’dy’ac maintained a connection with the Illuminoc flowers on Dar’ryn. Perhaps he could still communicate with them through the plants if he chose. And he said he’d leave a part of himself behind in one of them. But he didn’t specify which of them it was. Ariam considered looking inward and calling out to Rama’dy’ac to see if there would be any sort of internal answer. But he decided against this. There’s no call to seem needy, he concluded.

He locked eyes with Cecil. The other man appeared grim. Ariam almost asked what the matter was, but he suspected he knew. He saw it in the eyes of the former Captain of the Royal Guardians. The man doubted this would work. Ariam wrestled with that same notion himself.

Instead of saying anything about it, the beggar just nodded to him.

“All right,” Cecil said. “Let’s get a move on.”

CHAPTER 20. TEMPTATION

The manacles bit into his wrists and ankles as he strained against them. The short chains holding him to the wall stretched taut as he glowered at Ryth. Whenever he came around, Belem lunged at him. He knew it would do him no good, that he could never reach him. Nor did he think it would help if he could. That had already been proven time and again. But, he still did it on principle.

Ryth stood scratching his chin as he looked back at Belem. A quizzical expression adorned his features. One finger lightly stroked beneath the scarred eye. That ruined flesh had already begun to mend remarkably. It no longer presented as an open wound. He had received it only days ago if his own telling of it was to be believed. And who knew about that? But if that was the case, he must have sped up the healing process somehow. There was no way it should have looked as mended as it did in such short a time. And yet it did.

“Something on your mind?” Belem spat. His muscles strained against the chains holding him back. Every once in a while, his body shifted and the chains would clank and clink and groan against one another. They were iron and bolted deeply into the wall. It was evident that occupants of the past had likewise strained against them but to no avail. He doubted he would have much success either.

Ryth tilted his head to the other side as he tapped his lower lip. He made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat as if considering something. Belem could not tell if this was an act just as so much of the demonic figure’s self-portrayal had been. Or if there was genuine perplexity in him.

“You are a curiosity,” Ryth replied. “Many men have been chained to this wall. None have resisted as you. What is so different about you? Why has Rama’dy’ac chosen you, such a wretched thing as you are, above others?”

“You don’t like not knowing, do you?” Belem returned with a sneer. “It is eating you up inside. You, the great Lycas Ryth, Lord Advisor, wise man of the ages…stumped.”

Ryth’s eyes narrowed just perceptibly. In the remaining good eye was the barest hint of a flash of rage. But it, too, seemed to be on a chain. It was not always so with him. Sometimes it snapped its tether and came all the way forward. That’s when things hurt the most. That’s when Ryth struck. But it was quickly gone. It was then replaced by a cruelly cold façade. Or worse, a cheerful and wicked one.

“Let us talk business, shall we?” Ryth said.

“I have no business with you, except for revenge,” Belem retorted. “And that I would be most happy to get to. Just let me out of these chains.” He let them loosen for just a moment, then made them taut again so they’d issue their clinking metallic protest.

Ryth turned his chin up and laughed a little. “Your mind runs along a singular track, does it not?” Ryth replied. “That is what I appreciate most about you. You never deviate. I thus find something of myself in you when I see it.”

“Stop,” Belem said with a growl. “I am nothing like you and never will be.”

Ryth shrugged. “That may be so, but only because you will be dead if you resist too much longer. There are others you know.”

“Then you might as well get it over with,” Belem said. “Kill me and be done with it. Only let me out of these chains so I can have a real go at you first.”

A devious smirk appeared on Ryth’s face. “Oh, I’m not quite done with you yet. I rather think we both have something to offer each other. It just needs to be teased out is all.”

“You have nothing that I want,” Belem said.

“Do you think so?” Ryth asked. “I may have more to offer you than you realize.” He took two careful steps forward and came almost nose-to-nose with Belem. “I think you might be surprised.”

“I think you might be insane,” Belem said. “Too many centuries crammed in human flesh has driven you beyond the brink.”

Ryth gazed at him intently for a handful of heartbeats before he went on. “Tell me,” he said slowly, “do you miss your mommy?”

That was something Belem had not anticipated. He blinked and almost withdrew. He maintained his place and held his gaze although he was fearful that he might have revealed a crack in his otherwise rigid mask. Had Ryth noticed? Almost certainly he had, he realized. Too late now, he told himself.

The grin on Ryth’s face widened ever so slightly. Yes, he had perceived it. “Leave her out of this,” Belem snarled.

“I don’t think so,” Ryth said. “You have no position to be making demands of anyone, let alone me, and I have every advantage. But I need you to listen carefully. This is of tantamount importance.”

Belem said nothing only continued his stony glare.

Ryth went on as if he had Belem’s full acquiescence. “What if I told you that you didn’t have to miss your mother any longer?”

Belem felt a wave of something he could not identify. It washed through every fiber of his being. It was both cold and hot at the same time, prickly. He wanted to rage and shout at Ryth to shut his filthy hole. But he would say nothing. He knew it would not help. Ryth would have his say no matter what.

“First, understand this,” Ryth continued, “Rama’dy’ac has no hope of winning. I hold all of the pieces. He has lost every imaginable advantage of the game. I have consolidated and taken for myself everything I need. I have devastated his allies and triumphed at every turn. He has no hope. If you place your trust in him, you are a fool.”

“I have no trust in that make-believe god,” Belem retorted. “I likewise have no interest in him. Just as I have no interest in you.” He paused and tilted his head in consideration. “Except in spilling your blood, that is. Or whatever passes for blood in whatever it is you are.”

Ryth nodded once then said, “Good. That is as it should be. Or at least, almost as it should be. If you are not tethered to Rama’dy’ac, I will consider you something of a free agent.”

“Consider away,” Belem said with disgust and contempt. “It will make no difference.”

“That remains to be seen,” Ryth replied. “But I need to establish your disinterest in serving Rama’dy’ac before I present my offer. Hence, the question about your mother.”

“Leave my mother out of this,” Belem warned again.

Ryth went on. “What if I told you that you could have her back?”

Belem scoffed. “She’s dead,” he said with a growl. “You killed her. Vael showed me.”

“Yes,” Ryth replied. “You were robbed of your mother. And I am the one that did the robbing. Well, at my command anyway. But that part of it is neither here nor there. However, what you do not seem to comprehend is the nature of beings like myself and Rama’dy’ac. We are masters of energy.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Belem asked with haughty indignation.

“I make it a habit of not letting anyone of my victim’s energy go to waste if I don’t have to. You saw how I drained poor little Vael. That is what it is like when I rip energy from a living being. But it is different with one who has just died or is in process of dying. It’s not quite as dramatic as what you saw. As your mother’s life ebbed away from her body, I spirited away her energy forces. I contained them within myself. I have for decades. Some energies I simply absorb to feed myself. But some I keep compartmentalized, safe if you will. They sleep in me, those victims. Sometimes they wake a little and scream in my mind, but I quickly deal with that.”

Belem froze and fell silent. He stopped struggling against the chains. He backed up the slightest step and felt the chains drape and go limp.

He stared back at Ryth in disbelief. “Why?” he heard himself say. He hadn’t intended to speak. It simply came out.

“For just such an eventuality,” Ryth replied smiling even broader, playing the part of the dramatist. “You see, I recognized the great potential in you right away. I always look for it in those of royal blood. I have spent centuries cultivating that bloodline. In you, I saw something powerful, something unique even when you were little at our first meeting. I wasn’t quite sure what it was. I’m still not certain if I’m being honest. I knew that maybe one day your mother’s spirit energy would be useful. And here we are. Was I wrong?”

Belem cocked his head. His mind raced in a thousand directions at once. Something deeply disturbing about this revelation clicked in the back of his mind. Something that Ryth was avoiding. Or at least that he neglected.

Rather than answer his question, Belem tossed out one of his own. “Why did you leave me?”

Ryth blinked his one good eye in surprise. “I beg your pardon?” he said.

“Why did you leave me after you murdered my mother? If I was so special, why not take me with you?”

Ryth waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, that’s easy,” he said. “I don’t do that sort of thing. I don’t treat you like the Royal Guardians treat their candidates. Your kind is not taken as children. I don’t want you trained in conventional methods of combat. I want you tough in other ways. I want to make sure you could survive on your own. If you did, then I would know you are something special. Most of the illicit progeny of the king are disposed of. The mothers are talkative after all. They love the attention that having a royal sire for their children brings to them. Of course, that cannot stand. The mothers and the children are disposed of in quick and efficient ways. But there are rare occasions when one will back down and vow silence on the matter, which I know how to ensure. Or the child is too young to understand what is going on. As it was with you. So I let them go. But I give them no assistance. I keep an eye on people like you, to be sure. I just don’t help.”

Belem nodded once. “I suppose I should thank you then for offering me the opportunity not just to live, but to return vengeance on your head. I don’t want your help. I don’t want anything to do with you unless it is to cause your miserable end.”

Ryth came in another step closer and now stood well within Belem’s reach. Not that he could do anything of course. It was a move of power.

“You haven’t even heard how I can help you,” Ryth said quietly.

“I’m not interested,” Belem said, enunciating each word. But now they were tinged with uncertainty. Ryth was eating it up.

“I can reunite you with your mother,” he said.

Belem harrumphed. “Oh really?” he replied.

“Yes, you snotty brat,” Ryth said, losing his cool a little. “But only if you let me in.” Ryth took another step closer and put a hand on Belem’s shoulder. Heat emanated from it and Belem felt a surge of power course through him. Suddenly Ryth jerked his hand away. Pain contorted his face. He looked away from Belem at his hand and then back to the convict. “But you see, there is a problem,” he went on. “I cannot take you unless you allow it. You are one of the very rare in that regard. You must let me in if I am to have my way. But, remember, there are tremendous benefits afforded to you. Your mother is chief among them. Prolonged life is another.”

“You are a lying snake,” Belem said. “Why should I believe you?”

Ryth lifted his arms to his sides. “Take this shell for example,” he said. “I’ve had this one for about two hundred years. In all that time it’s aged maybe six years. And I’ve only allowed that because I grow bored with it.”

“Do you mean to tell me you’ve got another man’s mind running around in there? Is that what you’re offering me?”

“That is what I am offering, but it’s not the case with this man. I absorbed his energy a long time ago. Now he’s just meat for me to manipulate.”

“Then why should I believe that you won’t do the same to me?”

“I never made any such promise to this one,” Ryth replied with a shrug. “But I always keep my true promises. And here is what I promise to you, Belem. I will permit you a corner of my mind. It is expansive, like a world. And in that world, I will reunite you with the energy of your dead mother. It will be like the life you never had. It will not seem disembodied to you. It will feel as real as any of this. You can have her back. All you have to do is say yes to me. Give in. Invite me inside.”

Belem did not recall when, but he had backed away from Ryth again, and now his back pressed against the wall. The cold steel surface resisted any further retreat.

“You can’t,” he said. “You’re lying.”

“Do you think so?” Ryth asked. “How else do you think I made her appear to you in the forest? Or is that merely the denial of a man facing what he knows to be true but wishes it was not so? I suspect that is what it is. I strongly urge you to consider my offer.”

Belem turned his face away. He could not look Ryth in the face. He had to think.

“You seem to be having some trouble,” Ryth said. “Perhaps I should leave you to think about it. That is all well and good. I have business to attend to elsewhere. I have your friends to check in on. Probably dead after I sicced Vael on them, but you never know. Maybe one of them survived and needs me to finish them off.”

Belem whipped his face around and stared at Ryth. The overconfident grin was back. Oh, how he hated it.

Belem’s jaw dropped open and closed again, then worked at words once more but nothing would come out. He wanted desperately to say something, anything. But there was nothing to say.

Ryth stared at him for a few seconds longer, turned, and strode out of his chambers.

CHAPTER 21. A WELCOME INTRUDER

Belem sagged against the wall. He stared in the direction Ryth had left for a long time. He didn’t know what he was waiting for. But he was surprised to find himself considering Ryth’s offer.

All told he entertained the offer for only about five minutes. They were the longest five minutes of his life.

He shook his head. No, he concluded. Not possible. Even if Ryth was right, he could never give in.

After he put away thoughts of ever acquiescing to the demon, he found a fresh resolve. His soul was galvanized to fight against Lycas Ryth all the harder. And now, he had a new motivation.

No longer was he simply seeking to avenge himself against the trickery and machinations brought upon him by the Lord Advisor. No longer did he seek satisfaction against his mother’s killer.

No, instead he found himself in possession of a new purpose. If Lycas Ryth possessed the energy and personality – the spirit – of his mother within him, then the only thing for it was to let it out. He was resolved all the more that he had to kill Lycas Ryth. It was the only way to bring about any kind of justice for his mother.

But to let her out, he had to get himself out of his current predicament. And that was going to be the real trick. He looked to his right and observed the iron plate on the wall attached to the chain which led to the manacle at his wrist. He studied it for the millionth time. Hoping to find some manner of weakness to exploit.

There were many dings and marks from countless years of men and women trying to free themselves from the restraints. But evidently, none of the attempts had amounted to much. All the damage was minimal and superficial. Still, he had to try.

He slowly moved his arm forward until the chain between the manacle and the wall was taught. He slid his gaze slowly along the length of it, observing each link, seeking for a weakness or flaw in any of them. Perhaps, he reasoned, if he found one of the links to be at least somewhat loose, he might find a way to work it until it came apart. He might leverage the other links to pry one of them open.

He shook his head. No, that would take too much time. Ryth would come demanding an answer long before he ever managed such a feat. And no doubt, others had tried the same thing over the years with no success. Besides, that would merely free but one of four limbs.

But he could not give up. He intended to make Lycas Ryth pay, and for that, he had to free himself. Beyond that, he had to find a way to bring an end to Lycas Ryth. That was an even more difficult achievement than undoing the bonds which held him in place. Or at least, so he reckoned it. There had to be some way to kill the fiend, he reasoned. It only required that he find it.

He spent the next several minutes looking over each of the chains that held his other limbs to the wall. They all were of the same strength and resilience as the one that bound his right arm to the wall. None of them seemed pliable or damaged in any way aside from minuscule nicks and scratches. They were hard, unyielding. But then again, so was Belem.

He gazed around the room, searching for anything he might use to his advantage. But there was nothing he could see. The closest object was too far out of reach and didn’t look to be of much help, anyway. It was a desk with communication equipment. Even if he freed one of his hands, he knew he wouldn’t be able to cross the rest of the distance to it with the other three limbs still affixed to the wall.

He looked back to the wall. He wondered if he could get one of the steel wall panels to come loose. The chain, the manacles, and the plate which held it all together were all iron. But the wall was of a different substance. And there were discernible seams. He wondered if these were in any way removable. He suspected they had been once upon a time. He doubted Ryth would be stupid enough to allow such a simple way of escape, however. No doubt, it had crossed the mind of hundreds of others of the demon’s victims over the centuries.

That was when he heard the noise for the first time. It was faint and low. But he was so used to the quiet, that it stood out to him. The sound did not come from his immediate vicinity, but from outside of it, and beyond his vision. It must be from the other side of the main chamber beyond the velvet curtains which draped off his section of the quarters. It came and went too fast for him to identify. He was about ready to dismiss it as a simple fluke of his imagination. But then he heard it again.

It was a mechanical rattle of some kind. He briefly considered it might be Ryth returning. But he doubted that. Ryth was not the kind of person to forget something and have to come back for it. And even if he was, he doubted he would have trouble with his own door. He seemed to be able to manipulate technology as well as people at an almost mystical level. It was no wonder that the Dar’rynakai considered him to be a demon and Rama’dy’ac to be a god. But he had learned the truth of that shortly before being taken back to Dar’ryn.

He strained forward, listening for a long time until he heard it yet again. It was a little louder this time. More insistent. His mind still could not quite locate the direction from whence it came. He knew it was in the chamber on the other side of the curtains, but it was elusive. He forgot about his chains for the moment and paid attention, waiting to hear it again. Something was not right and his mind demanded he devote all his attention to figuring it out. Something within him insisted.

It was quiet for a long time again, almost to the point he convinced himself yet again he had heard nothing, to begin with. Perhaps it was merely his mind working to distract him from the despair of the situation. But then it came back, much louder this time. And this time, it was accompanied by a loud crash. The sound of steel colliding with steel reverberated throughout the chamber. Next came the sound of a thud. Something softer than steel landed on the floor. That was when he realized the noise he had heard came from the ceiling. Someone entered Ryth’s chamber, but not through the door.

A mixture of hope and terror seized his heart with cold fingers. He held his breath. He expelled it quickly and called out, “Hello? Is someone there?”

The heavy black velvet curtain obscuring his view was drawn aside. A man stood there holding it away. Grim determination set his features as he stared at Belem. His appearance was ragged, though his face, the set of his jaw, and the look in his eyes suggested nobility.

“Belem?” the man said in a deep and resonant voice.

“Who wants to know?” Belem said.

The man leveled an impatient glare at him. “The man who broke into the Lord Advisor’s chambers to spring you. You interested in getting out of here?”

Belem lifted his arms and shook the chains. “I’d love to,” he said. “But I got a bit of a problem here.”

The man quickly assessed the situation and gave a curt nod. “I believe I can help you with that,” he said. He reached behind his back and quickly produced a small device. It was an energy cutter. It was a simple enough instrument. It used the process of applying intense concentrated heat to cut through difficult-to-cleave substances… like iron. The man strode forward raising it. He lifted his chin once toward Belem and Belem replied by holding forth one of the manacles. The man immediately went to work applying the device to the hinge of the manacle.

Intense heat bloomed over his wrist, accompanied by burning pain. He did his best to ignore it, suppressing a grunt. About a minute later his left hand was freed. Immediately the man went to work on his other hand. When he finished with that one, he placed the device in Belem’s hand.

He said, “You do your ankles. I’m going to stand guard in case Ryth returns.”

Belem nodded and went to work. He did not bother explaining that would be fruitless. Whomever the man was, he had no hope of defending himself against Ryth if the Lord Advisor decided to go through him. But that was a revelation for another moment. For now, he had to get himself free.

Less than three minutes later his ankles were freed. He let the manacles and chains drop. He handed the device back to the man who returned it to the concealed home at his back.

“Let’s move,” the stranger said. He turned and headed past the velvet curtain once again, Belem following.

Once on the other side, Belem lifted his gaze and saw the place in the ceiling from which the man had entered. A large square steel panel was missing. Instead, it reposed uselessly on the floor. Hanging from the center of the hole where the panel had been was a rope. The man turned to him.

“Do you climb?” he asked.

“Well enough,” Belem replied.

“All right,” the stranger answered. “I’ll go first, then you follow. Clear?”

“Get moving,” Belem urged. “I don’t want to be here when that thing comes back.”

The new man spared him a brief questioning glance, shrugged his shoulders, then turned and began to ascend the rope. He was quickly up through the hole in the ceiling. As soon as his feet disappeared into the hole, Belem jumped up and grabbed the rope. Hand over hand, he made his way up through the hole.

CHAPTER 22. EGRESS

The space directly above Ryth’s chamber was awkward to stand on. The contours of it followed the domed shape of Ryth’s personal chamber’s ceilings, forcing him to balance strangely. There was a pillar immediately to his right and he propped his hand against it to hold himself upright.

It was also dark. The man who had rescued him clicked on a small handheld light and turned it toward him shining it in his face. Belem squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face away, growing at the man.

“Get the thing out of my face,” Belem snapped. “Your rescue won’t amount to much of I can’t see a bloody thing.”

“A little testy for someone who couldn’t free himself,” the rescuer observed. “How about a little gratitude?”

“How about you get me out of here first,” Belem retorted. “It won’t be a rescue if we get captured.”

The other man turned away and started moving. Belem followed, casting glances over his shoulder. The only available light, aside from the one carried by the man, came through the gaping hole in Ryth’s ceiling. It did not provide much illumination as Ryth kept his room mostly dim. Belem turned back to follow the other man.

They soon came around the domed structure to a wall. There was a large square hole there, leading into the ductwork. The man crouched down and entered. Belem came after without hesitation. Just a few paces in he recalled his holding cell aboard the prison barge which had failed to deliver him to Void Island. It was cramped and claustrophobic; this made the going slow. He felt the urgency, however, to move quickly. He wanted to put as much distance between himself and Ryth as possible. Upon further reflection, he realized they might not be doing that. There was no telling where Ryth had gone and how close they might pass by to him. Belem wondered if they did come close if Ryth would somehow be able to sense Belem’s presence.

He shook his head. No use worrying about that.

“Where are we headed?” Belem asked in a voice just above a whisper.

“We’re going to see some friends,” his rescuer replied.

Belem was quiet for a few heartbeats then asked, “What friends? I don’t have any.” That was his customary way of thinking about that matter, but the second it escaped his lips it felt wrong. He supposed in light of recent events it was not entirely true. He thought about Cecil, Ariam, and Gael’jic. Ariam in particular had found odd ways to worm himself into Belem’s graces. The convict was mainly indifferent to Gael’jic. Cecil was another story altogether. He doubted he would ever be able to consider that man a friend.

“You’ll see soon enough,” the other man said.

“I’m going to need more than that,” Belem said. “Who are these people?”

“There will be time enough for questions later,” the man said. “You’ll get to know them when you meet them.”

“And what about you?” Belem asked. “Do you have a name?”

“Vincent,” the other man said without hesitation.

“And what do you do, Vincent, when you’re not springing prisoners from Lycas Ryth’s chambers?”

“For right now?” the man asked. “Nothing. You might say I’ve been set aside. But before that, I was the Captain of the Royal Guardians.”

Belem froze. The other man carried on for a few paces before he realized Belem was no longer following. Vincent turned around and played the light across Belem’s face.

“Something wrong?” Vincent asked.

Belem stared hard at the man. He weighed whether or not to say anything. Cecil had been expelled from the Royal Guardians and set for execution. If Belem let it be known he was recently associated with Cecil, it might turn out poorly for him. In the end, he concluded he ought to say something.

Belem cleared his throat then said, “It’s just that you’re not the first Captain of the Royal Guardians I’ve come across lately.”

It was the other man’s turn to fall silent. They stared at one another in the dim light of the handheld device. After a few moments, Vincent crept forward until he was close to Belem.

“Do you mean Cecil?” he asked with a hint of a razor’s edge in his words. Belem couldn’t tell, though, if that was good or bad.

“I do,” Belem replied.

Vincent practically blurted out, “Where is he? Is he still alive?”

“He was when I left them,” Belem replied. “That wasn’t that long ago. But he was facing some real trouble at the time. Maybe even too great a trouble for a Captain of the Royal Guardians to handle.”

“Trouble?” Vincent asked, casting a dubious look at the convict. “What kind of trouble?”

“It’s not exactly easy to explain,” Belem said.

“Why don’t you give it a try?” Vincent said stonily.

“Fair enough,” Belem relented. “The last time I saw Cecil, he and a few other people I know were fighting the revived corpse of a celestial being. And it wasn’t looking good.”

Vincent blinked. He seemed to be having trouble deciding whether or not Belem was telling the truth. Maybe he was wondering if Belem was crazy.

“Hey, you asked,” Belem added, lifting placating hands.

“How did you meet him?” Vincent asked.

Belem huffed and threw a glance into the darkness behind them to make sure nothing was stalking them through the ductwork. A second later he brought his face back around and said, “We met in the jungle, at some ancient ruins. Look, there was a lot of weird stuff going on and it has only gotten stranger ever since. It’s kind of a long story.”

The other man stared silently at him, reading the convict’s face for any sign of duplicity. At last, Vincent said, “I’m sure you’ll have your chance to spell it out in greater detail, but not now.” After a pause, he added, “For right now we ought to keep moving.” He turned and recommenced crouch-walking through the cramped escape route.

A short time later they came up to a junction. There was a small green glowing mark at the corner.

“We’re turning here,” Vincent said. He withdrew a rag from inside his shirt and wiped away the green mark.

“Route markers?” Belem asked.

Vincent grunted affirmatively but said no more. He just kept going. He led them on for several minutes and passed beyond a few other turns without marks. A few times they came across one of the glowing green signals and Vincent led them off a branching pathway At last, they came to a dead end. He turned and handed Belem the light and said, “Hold this.” Belem took it.

“Point it at the floor,” Vincent instructed. Belem did so.

Vincent knelt and pried up a loose steel panel. He casually laid it against the wall to his left and turned and said, “Follow me.” He then dropped through the hole in the floor of the ductwork. Belem crept forward and shined the light down. He was relieved to see there was not a long drop beyond the hole. He shimmied forward and descended through the opening.

Belem pointed above his head at the opening and said, “Are we worried about Ryth finding us? Do we need to replace that panel?”

Vincent shook his head as he took the light from Belem once again. “No,” he replied. “Soon we will be past where we’ve had to leave any markers. From that point, we could go in any number of directions. We should be fine.”

“How long until we meet up with your friends?” Belem asked.

“Any minute now,” Vincent replied.

CHAPTER 23. WAITING IN THE DARK

“I really hate this,” he said into the dark. His companion was only a few feet away, but he could not see her. He imagined an irritated expression forming on her face and knew that he could not be far off in his guess at her response. At the very least she would be rolling her eyes right about now. He didn’t care though. He meant every word of what he said.

Her sardonic tone shot back at him, “Thanks, I never would have guessed. Let me just alert the news agencies about this unprecedented development.” He could hear her shift in the dark and wondered what she might be about to do. He pondered if she was going to get frustrated enough to turn around and clout him a good one. But then he remembered that she couldn’t see him, either. She might take a swing at him, but maybe she’d be just as likely as not to miss him. She didn’t even try, though. She maintained her position and waited for Vellin’s contact to show up.

“Do we really have to do this?” Racine asked. He was just getting used to the idea of being under lock and key for the foreseeable future and being sent out on an errand like this was making him feel both nervous and vulnerable. He was not fully convinced Vellin’s explanation of his inclusion in the affair made sense to him. He thought one of Vellin’s other people could have accompanied Kaelinn to acquire this convict from his contact just as well as he could. Probably even better.

Vellin told him that once the contact laid eyes on Racine, then he could be assured the outcome would be desirable. Racine didn’t get that. If Vellin and this unnamed contact had arranged this whole operation, Racine did not see how he possibly needed to be there. Unless Vellin was lying. That was entirely possible. He could not dismiss that Vellin might have an ulterior motive in sending Racine along on this errand.

What if he is using me as some sort of collateral or bait? he wondered. He wanted to suggest as much to Kaelinn but there would be no point in doing so. She would never tell. Racine was good at assessing people, particularly in relation to one another. He determined beyond the shadow of a doubt that Kaelinn was unquestionably loyal to Vellin. She would never betray him, not even for a mountain of money. He couldn’t say he understood why, but it was that way.

The fear lingered at the forefront of his mind that he might be used in some kind of trade. Maybe it was to be his life in exchange for Belem. If that were the case, his life would soon come to an end. He might be offered up to purchase some goodwill from Ryth. Unease about this ate away at the fringes of his sanity. A noise up ahead in the dark broke his concentration and made him jump a little.

“What was that?” he asked with a shaky voice.

“Shut up,” she hissed back at him. “Get down,” she added as she placed her bionic hand on the edge of his cloak and yanked him down into a crouch. He heard her shift in the dark, placing one hand on the floor and probably getting ready to spring into action. He did the same, but the action he readied himself for was to flee if necessary. He could not understand why getting low was advisable in such a circumstance. Dark was dark. They would not be seen.

But then a shaft of light stabbed suddenly into the void before his eyes. It created a horizon of light in the black field of vision. He squinted against its advent, lifting a hand to shield his face. The light shifted one way, then another. It bobbed around, searching, questing greedily for a target. It was not directed at them, at least not yet, but it might do so at any time.

Soon the sound of shuffling feet drawing near appeared as well. Indiscernible murmurs of conversation could also be heard drifting their way. The flesh on his arms prickled and his breathing quickened.

The lights suddenly turned and landed directly on them. Every muscle in his body went rigid and all considerations of running seemed hopelessly out of reach. Then came a voice.

“Here we are at last.” The owner of the light and the voice came steadily in their direction. A grunt of affirmation came from over his shoulder.

Kaelinn, now silhouetted in the shaft of light stood up and Racine joined her.

“What are you doing crouching down in the dark like that?” the voice said, amused.

There was an unhappy grunt and then a second man’s voice joined the first. And it sounded none-too-thrilled. “So these are your friends that are supposed to help? They don’t look like they’ll be of much use to me.”

“Never mind that,” Kaelinn said. “I wasn’t sure it was you coming. I was just getting ready in case I needed to pounce. Just trying to keep out of sight.” Her silhouetted shoulder shrugged.

A bare outline of the first man’s features showed in the peripheral light from his handheld device. As Racine looked at him, he thought there were echoes of familiarity resounding in his memory. But he couldn’t quite place the man. The owner of the other voice was still concealed entirely in the dark.

“Well,” the first man said, “I’m glad we’ve all made it. Now we can get down to business.”

A fresh wave of concern arose within Racine. This talk of business directed Racine’s mind once again to the potential of a trade involving himself as a commodity. He couldn’t help worrying about whether or not this rendezvous might entail precisely that.

When the light shifted from Kaelinn to him, a gasp ensued. It only amplified his concerns. “Bloody blazes,” the first man said in awe. “Vellin wasn’t kidding, was he?”

“He never does,” Kaelinn replied, sounding like she’d rather be talking about anything else.

“So,” the man went on, “the rogue Sector Representative truly has been with you since his disappearance. I know a whole host of people that would love to get their hands on you.”

“Yeah, great,” Kaelinn cut in, snapping the fingers of her flesh and blood hand to get the man’s attention. “Now how about what you brought?”

“Yes,” the owner of the light answered. “Where are my manners?” He turned and played the light across the man who accompanied him. The illumination stabbed sharp shadows everywhere on his companion’s chiseled features. It was unmistakably the same person who had been in the security footage. His grim countenance and numerous scars made him cut an imposing figure. His face was dark in a way that had nothing to do with the deficit of ambient light and his eyes communicated pure threat. His arms folded across his chest proudly displaying countless scars on his flesh. The security footage had not done him justice. He was a big man. He was intimidation personified.

“I trust this is satisfactory,” the more talkative of the two men asked.

“It is,” Kaelinn said.

“And what about Racine, here?” The first man asked. “Is this some sort of peace offering Vellin has for the Palace?”

Kaelinn turned and looked at Racine with an arched eyebrow. A pit of icy terror formed in his middle.

CHAPTER 24. THE HANDOFF

She was silent for an uncomfortably long time. At last, she said, “No. He stays with us.”

Racine felt relief wash through his whole frame.

“That’s just as well,” the man said. “I have no time to babysit any longer today. Just seeing him is enough to confirm what Vellin offers. Besides, I have other business.”

“I take it you need to get back to whatever hole you’ve been hiding in?” Kaelinn asked.

“I’m afraid not,” the man said. “Too much has been put in motion. It’s time to make our move.”

“What?” Kaelinn nearly exploded. “It’s too soon. Vellin won’t stand for that at all.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” the man said. “It’s a busy night for treachery. If we sit on this any longer, Ryth will have us all. The Queen’s life is at stake, and maybe the Prince’s, too.”

“You are supposed to wait, Vincent,” Kaelinn growled.

“No can do,” he said.

“Vellin is not ready,” Kaelinn warned.

“Vellin now has him,” the man said indicating Belem. “What more does he need?”

“He would prefer a little more time to plan, for one thing, thank you very much,” Kaelinn growled. “And it takes time to get all the pieces in place for something as delicate as this. If you move forward now, you could ruin everything. Then it won’t matter who we have.”

“Regardless,” the man she called Vincent said, “better go tell Vellin to get a move on.” He turned and strode away into the dark. Kaelinn shot her flesh and blood hand out and planted it firmly on his shoulder bringing him to a halt.

“You might want to get that hand off me,” he said without turning. There was cold steel on display in his tone. “It would be a shame to have to replace that one, too. I understand it’s quite expensive as well as painful adjusting to a bionic replacement.”

“You listen to me,” Kaelinn simmered, ignoring his threat. “If you put my boss in jeopardy because you act brash and thoughtlessly, you will have to answer to me.”

The man turned slowly and glowered at her with a stony expression. “Don’t think you can intimidate me, little miss,” he said. “I’m the Captain of the Royal Guardians,” the man snapped.

That’s it! Racine realized suddenly. He knew he recognized him from somewhere. He had not had much chance to see this man but from a distance. And he was hard to distinguish without his Royal Guardian armor. But now Racine was certain this was the one who had replaced the previous Captain; the one who had been branded as a traitor and set for public execution but had escaped.

“It doesn’t matter to me,” Kaelinn retorted. “I’m a match for you any day.”

“Just because someone gave you that shiny arm, doesn’t mean your skill matches mine. I was brought up since I was a very small child and trained and conditioned for violence the likes of which you could never dream.”

“You lived in a cushy nursery in the world above, fed and doted upon,” Kaelinn spat back. “I grew up in the Under-Citadel. I may not have your fancy pedigree, but I have something you’ll never have. A kilometer of guts.”

“Threaten me again, and I’ll spill those guts for you,” Vincent shot back stonily.

Racine cleared his throat. “If I may,” he said stepping forward.

Both faces turned to him. He noticed Belem also looked his way and arched an appraising eyebrow. He suddenly felt a touch uncomfortable being the center of attention among so many dangerous people but there was nothing for it now.

“Yes, Sector Representative?” Vincent said making his title sound like a foolish joke.

“I’m not exactly sure what the two of you are trying to measure,” Racine interjected, ignoring the man’s belittlement, “but if both of our sides are scheming against Lycas Ryth, we can’t afford to fight among ourselves. You’ve seen him up close so you should know. But there may yet be more to him than even you realize.”

The new Captain of the Royal Guardians narrowed his eyes as he stared at Racine. “And just what does a little rat like you think he knows that I don’t?” he asked.

Racine was suddenly possessed of a confidence that came from he knew not where. He stepped forward again and put himself within reach of the other man. “I’ve seen plenty when it comes to Ryth,” Racine said. “And I’ve seen a lot that I cannot explain. I’ve seen people I have known and worked with for years, people of high integrity and the greatest character be manipulated and twisted, somehow even hypnotized by Lycas Ryth to do his bidding. I’ll say it again: there’s more to him than you realize.”

“He’s right,” Belem said.

Vincent rolled his eyes and shot Belem a look. “Not this again,” he said. He turned his face back to Racine and said, “Your opinion is not unique. On our trip here this one prattled on about strange things he has seen and supernatural goings-on concerning Lycas Ryth.” He turned to Belem once again and asked, “What was it you called him?”

“Uri’thind’ac,” Belem said firmly.

“And he is some sort of demon, is that right?” the Captain of the Royal Guardians pressed.

“Something like that,” Belem replied evenly.

Vincent turned back to Racine and Kaelinn and said, “You see what I had to put up with? Lycas Ryth is slippery to be sure, but he’s just a man.”

“You underestimate him at your peril,” Belem interrupted. “If you move against him now without the right help, he will crush you. That’s just not what we need.”

“Nevertheless,” Vincent replied, clearly disinterested in pursuing the matter any further, “I’m taking off. You three do what you want, but I have a tyrant to overthrow.”

“You’re going to get a lot of people killed,” Racine said. “Including yourself. You better listen to us, friend. This will not end well.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Vincent said, turning away and heading off once again into the dark. As he moved away the light diminished and they were eventually left in solid blackness. Kaelinn pulled out a device of her own and thumbed it on. The light from hers was not as harsh as that from his.

“All right,” she said, “let’s get going.”

“Hold on a second,” Racine said, holding up a hand. He turned to Belem and said, “I want to know what you know regarding Ryth. What was it you called him?”

Belem was silent as he stared at Racine for a few seconds. Then he said, “I called him Uri’thind’ac.”

“What does that mean?” Racine asked.

Belem expelled an exasperated breath and looked away. A moment later he returned his focus to Racine and answered, “Are you sure you want to hear this? I don’t want to waste my breath.”

“I’m sure,” Racine said. “I could use some solid answers after seeing some of the things I have. Please go on.”

Belem began to unfold his tale. Racine listened with ever-widening eyes.

CHAPTER 25. APPROACHING THE MOUNTAIN CITY

“At least we won’t have to climb this time,” Ariam said into the pervasive quiet. They had ceased speaking for quite a while during this part of the journey. No one seemed to want to say anything now as they drew near to the Dar’rynakai city.

Though none of them said it to each other, they all felt the same thing. It was unidentifiable at first, only noticeable as a minor sense of impending dread. All of them initially brushed it off as nothing, as if it were only the remnants of the past struggles over the last weeks. But it grew with each step. It was undeniable as they neared the clearing where the mountain city sat as the central feature.

Ariam’s attempt at levity fell flat. Cecil and Gael’jic kept their faces forward and Ariam, tossing a glance to each of them in turn, noticed a tightening of their faces.

If Belem had been here, Ariam thought, at least I would’ve gotten some sort of grunt of acknowledgment. Maybe even a snide comment. But we can all tell something is wrong. A cold chill prickled his spine.

The pervasive foreboding started only in the last hour. The conversation had already died and they merely walked along. But that had not been because of the inarticulable feeling they all shared. They just had nothing to talk about. They knew where they were going, they knew the reason for going there. It was a foregone conclusion that when they arrived the task before them shouldn’t be too hard. They were to call the Dar’rynakai people to join the fight. They had already been preparing to do so since the exiles left the Dar’rynakai city many days before. That had been when they traveled to Void Island and after that to the planet Cairn and beyond.

Ariam did not know what they would find when they came, but he sensed it would not be as they hoped. Had something happened among the leadership? The Dar’rynakai Triumvirate was down by two members. Only Sev’aran remained. But they were to have replaced the others and begun preparing for the coming battle.

Ariam wondered if there had been some sort of shift in perspective. The Dar’rynakai were reclusive people. They did not mingle well with outsiders. He supposed that was true of the humans and the Dar’ryneel as well. Not to mention the Remmites, but they were on a different planet and seemed to separate into numerous paranoid tribes. All peoples had sequestered themselves away from one another. But that the Dar’rynakai seemed to have a particular prideful knack for it.

The mountain the in the center of the plain was just now visible through the trees. Aside from the towering natural monument, bright blue patches of the Dar’ryn sky were visible. They were getting close. It quickened Gael’jic’s step. He did not quite break into a run, but now he trotted toward the tree line. Ariam spared Cecil another glance, but the man did not return the look. He merely jogged ahead to catch up with Gael’jic. Ariam sighed, shook his head, and jogged after them.

Gael’jic passed beyond the tree line several paces then skidded to a halt. Soon Cecil and Ariam came up at his sides and stopped to gape along with him. Ariam could hardly believe his eyes.

A few pillars of smoke rose from several places on the mountainside. No fire was discernible, but the scene was instantly disheartening. Their eyes tracked downward and beheld the base of the mountain. A few dark shapes lay scattered about. Smoke likewise trickled lazily upward from these spots on the vast surrounding plain.

Gael’jic cautiously stepped forward on shaking legs approaching the scene. Great patches of tall grasses of the plain surrounding the mountain city were charred away. Bare expanses of burned ground now lay where they had been. In the center of one of these patches was a large dark shape, burned to a crisp. Ariam felt drawn toward it and neither did he need to direct the others that way. Gael’jic was running toward it already. Cecil and Ariam ran to catch up. But Gael’jic’s reptilian legs made him faster than them.

By the time they reached the burned patch of ground, Ariam’s legs and lungs were burning with effort. They halted just at the edge of the burned ground and stared in disbelief at the figure reposing at its center. Gael’jic took a tentative step forward, his foot crunching down on the bare, blackened dirt. Brittle black bristles of scorched grass crunched under his footfalls. He walked slowly toward the figure. He stopped just a few feet away and knelt. He stretched out a hand and carefully touched it. He whipped his hand back as if contact with the prone figure sent a jolt of pain through his arm. Cecil came forward but Ariam stayed back at the edge staring in horror.

Cecil came up to the thing and nudged it with the tip of his foot. It did not budge. Then Cecil lifted his foot and placed it on the shoulder of the burned figure and pushed with a grunt of effort. The thing fell over onto its back. Large dark empty eye sockets stared upward at the sky and an empty scorched mouth gave up a wisp of gray smoke: the thing’s final word on the matter.

“Shedi’im,” Cecil said. He looked away from the beast toward the mountain. “There must’ve been a battle. How many of them do you think there were?”

Gael’jic and Ariam only remained silent in the face of the question. None of them could begin to venture a guess, nor did they want to.

At last, Ariam cautiously stepped into the burned circle of grass. He came to a stop beside Gael’jic and looked down at the Dar’rynakai scholar. Gael’jic studied the dead thing before him. Suddenly he lifted his long snout and looked all around them. He stood up to get a better view of the area.

“There are three such patches,” he said in his calculating reptilian voice. “But only this one holds the corpse of one of these creatures. The others are Dar’rynakai.” Ariam considered asking how Gael’jic could tell but decided against it. He knew the Dar’rynakai had keener eyes than the humans and thus relegated his question to that as an explanation.

Cecil, still staring toward the smoking city, said, “That’s an awful lot of damage for just three of these things. There may have been more.”

“What will we find if we go inside?” Ariam asked, his voice trembling. A large part of him did not want to know. But a small insistent thought rang out in his mind. You must go, it said to him. You are all needed inside.

“We go into the city,” Gael’jic said with finality. “Follow me.”

CHAPTER 26. A WARY WELCOME

They walked solemnly along the way finding the road leading to the primary entrance to the mountain city. They all fell quiet once again, and it was getting on Ariam’s nerves. He wanted to ask a thousand questions but he knew that neither of his companions could answer him. So, he too fell quiet.

He was unnerved by the sound of the ground crunching beneath his feet. There were not even caws from birds or other expected sounds around them. The plain seemed entirely vacant of any form of life or noise. It made him nervous.

They drew closer to the city and noticed the entrance was filled with all manner of debris. It’s a barricade, he realized. Smart. But ultimately probably not helpful. The Shedi’im would find a way in if they intended to. And from the looks of the smoke, they had indeed intended to.

Suddenly, three horn blasts echoed all around them; the first two were short and the third was long. Beyond that, there was no sound. Ariam reasoned they were probably too far away from the city to hear the tumult of noise in response…if there was any. For all he knew, whoever had sounded the horn was the sole survivor of the ordeal. He doubted that, but a gnawing concern about it refused to let go.

A few seconds later there was an answering horn that blasted the same pattern of noise. All right, Ariam thought, there are at least two survivors. This second horn sounded somewhat different from the first. That was how he knew it was made by someone else. Additionally, it sounded as if it originated from a different place. But with a vast plain stretching out all around them, it was impossible to locate the source point of either sounding.

The closer they came, the more devastation they discerned. Aside from the ramshackle blockage barring the doorway into the city, there were also several bodies of Dar’rynakai scattered about. Many of them were missing limbs or heads or had nasty gashes marring their flesh. As they drew nearer to these they were finally able to hear an additional sound. It was minimal at first, then grew as they approached. It was the buzzing of insects.

The corpses appeared to be dead a few days and the insects flitting about them were feasting. Ariam did not want to get close to any of these. He had witnessed enough carnage for a lifetime. He knew there would be more in the days ahead, but he refused to add to it if he did not have to. He did his best to keep his face trained on the blocked point of entry into the city. He was not sure how they would get beyond the barricade, but he knew they had to. Then another despairing thought occurred to him.

I sure hope we don’t have to climb after all.

A voice cried out in the Dar’rynakai language and Gael’jic froze in place. He shot his hands out to the side to prevent Cecil and Ariam from progressing forward any farther. Gael’jic quickly answered back in his native tongue. Silence followed this for a few seconds then Ariam thought he heard whoever had called from beyond the barricaded city entrance talking to someone on his side. An argument ensued. It lasted for only a short time before the first voice called out once again. Gael’jic listened intently, nodding at a few places and then the voice fell silent. When it did so, Gael’jic turned and looked at Cecil and Ariam.

“The city has been attacked by the Shedi’im, as we deduced,” Gael’jic said. “There were heavy casualties.”

“Any idea how many of the creatures there were?” Cecil asked.

“Perhaps five,” Gael’jic said gravely. “But at least two hundred of the Dar’rynakai have been slain. The monsters were not easily repelled. In the end, they only could be burned out.”

“Burned?” Ariam asked. He realized the Dar’rynakai did not know about the Illuminoc flowers. That was something the exiles had discovered themselves on a different planet. They had not been able to communicate it to anyone on this planet until they met the Dar’ryneel. But that flaw would soon be remedied.

“So what’s the plan?” Cecil asked.

“This entrance is entirely blocked off, and cannot be opened up. There are other smaller entrances around the mountain. We will have to use one of these. The Shedi’im did not find them so they are still accessible. It will take some time for one to be opened up, however. Once the attack was driven off, my people decided to bar every entrance to the best of their abilities, even the difficult-to-find ones. Come, follow me.”

With that, Gael’jic strode away and began the task of circumnavigating the mountain until they came to one of the entrances of which he spoke. Cecil and Ariam spared each other a look then followed him. Several heartbeats later, Ariam spoke up.

“Something about this is still wrong,” he said.

Cecil did not look at him, but said, “You mean more than what we’ve already seen?”

“Yes,” Ariam answered right away. “My sense of impending doom only grows larger. There is still some kind of danger hereabouts.”

The former Captain of the Royal Guardians grunted in affirmation. “Very well,” he said. “We will keep our attention sharp.” He looked around, taking in the environment, searching for any sign of what Ariam might be talking about. Ariam did not think the danger was immediate, only that it was somewhat close. He hated the non-specificity of these feelings. When they came, they were irritatingly general in nature. He assumed Rama’dy’ac had something to do with it. He looked inward and thought at the part of Rama’dy’ac that might still be inside him.

Mentally, he asked, What is this sense? What is nearby? Is it another one of the Shedi’im?

No answer came. He was left only with a feeling of internal emptiness. He wasn’t sure in which of the exiles Rama’dy’ac might have left a part of himself behind before he traveled to Remmice to gather more warriors. He supposed he hoped that it was someone other than himself. He knew there was danger close by, but there was nothing he could do about it. Not until it presented itself, anyway. Still, either Cecil or Gael’jic would be better suited to react quickly.

“Can we move a little faster, please?” Ariam asked.

Gael’jic threw a glance over his shoulder at the beggar. He nodded once and put on a little more speed.

CHAPTER 27. ROYAL FLIGHT

The body fell into her room with a thud, which understandably startled her. A small feminine yelp escaped Queen Rivess as she whipped around to see the cause of the intrusive noise. Her eyes tracked to the floor and saw one of Ryth’s guards lying face down with a knife protruding from his back. Blood pooled under the corpse around the area of the throat. Not only had he been stabbed, but the arteries in his neck had also been opened for business. The guard’s body writhed and twitched briefly then went still. She lifted her attention to see the man who had stood in the guard’s place. It was the Captain of the Royal Guardians.

Vincent, she thought suddenly. That’s his name. It is odd what one does and doesn’t remember when under duress, she reflected. But here the man stood, holding out a hand toward her.

“Your Majesty,” he said, “we really ought to get going. There’s no telling when this one’s backup is going to arrive.”

She remained frozen in place, staring at him as if uncomprehendingly. Her head tilted to one side as she struggled to digest what he was saying.

He came forward into the room and shook his hand toward her. “Your Majesty,” he said more forcefully, “right away.”

That snapped her out of her paralysis. Rivess came rushing forward a few steps then halted again. She looked down at herself. She noted that she wore her night clothes only. Her feet were bare and it would not be considered appropriate to wander about in such a state.

“I can’t come like this,” she protested. “It would not be…”

“Your life is at stake your Majesty,” Vincent said firmly. “Forget the clothes and propriety. Get some boots on, but that is all the time we can afford. We have to move now.”

She stood fixed in place a few seconds longer, then he shouted, “Right away!”

That set her moving again. She jumped in place a little at his stern command then scurried to find a pair of boots to put on. Normally she wore long flowing dresses so the nature of her footwear did not matter. Therefore, she always made sure to wear something comfortable on her feet unless her presence was required at a formal event. She quickly pulled on and laced up knee-high supple leather boots. When she was ready, she stood.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Never mind that now,” he said waving her forward. “Just get a move on.”

He turned back to the secret entrance and dragged the body of the Lord Advisor’s tan-clad guard into the passageway leaving a crimson smear on the floor. When she came close, she had to hop over the body. She made a disgusted noise as she did so.

Vincent slammed the controls and the door closed. When next anyone came into the room through the normal doorway, all they would find was a bloodstain leading up to the wall.

“Tell me we’re getting my son as well,” she hissed in the dark.

“Sorry, your Majesty,” Vincent replied shaking his head. “He’s too tightly cordoned off. I could never hope to get past the guards. There are too many of them. I wouldn’t even consider it if I had a group of Royal Guardians with me. We would risk him getting killed in the fray or threatened as a hostage.”

She halted and planted her fists on her hips. “I’m not going anywhere until we go for my son,” she said.

He wheeled around and shot a disbelieving look at her. “Your Majesty,” he said, “don’t be a fool. We have no time for this. It is either you or nothing.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Then it is nothing,” she said hostilely.

He looked at a complete loss for words. He took several slow and purposeful steps toward her. He shot out a hand and grabbed her by the arm. “You’re coming with me now, whether you like it or not,” he snarled.

She yelped in disbelief and pain as his fingers wrapped around her upper arms like a vise. He yanked her forward and she stumbled until he righted her. She swatted at him but he ignored her attempts to dislodge her arm from his grip. She reprimanded herself that she of all people should know she had no hope of breaking away from one of the Royal Guardians, especially not their Captain.

As they carried forward progressing down the mostly darkened hallway, he slowed then stumbled then had to stop and lean against the wall.

She shot a questioning glance at him. “What is it?” she asked in a tentative tone. “Is something wrong?”

In the dim light, she saw his eyes go hazy. He lifted a hand to his forehead and rubbed it, squeezing his eyes shut as if he suffered a sudden and massive headache. A groan of pain escaped him and she winced at it.

She had never known one of the Royal Guardians to visibly react to pain. They were trained against it. Whatever he was going through had to be tremendous for him to be affected like this.

“Captain, what is wrong?” she insisted.

For a long time, he didn’t answer her; he just kept rubbing his head, grunting periodically. Then a few moments later, he stopped, blinked a few times, then stood upright once again. He shook his head a little and looked confusedly back at her.

“Your Majesty?” he asked, his voice slurring just perceptibly. “What did you say?”

“Something’s wrong with you,” she said.

“No, there isn’t,” he said. “You asked me to stop, so we stopped.”

She looked at him askance. “No, I didn’t,” she replied. “I merely asked what was wrong with you after you stopped us.” Her sense of worry over what was happened increased exponentially. Her thoughts returned to Therin, her son. If he was left behind now, she doubted she would ever see him again. She drew in a sharp breath, then said, “I demand we go free my son.”

“I’m sorry, your Majesty,” he said, “I cannot do that. We have to get you away quickly. I have a safe place to store you. But we have to get going before…”

As he trailed off once again his face went blank, then it turned confused once again.

“What is it?” she asked cautiously.

“Thank you, Captain,” came another voice, “that will be all.” Vincent and Rivess whipped around toward the voice. It came from farther down the hallway in the direction they had been traveling. There stood Lycas Ryth with four of his guards. Vincent instinctively moved between Rivess and the enemies.

“Get ready to run,” he whispered over his shoulder. He then turned a grim face toward Ryth. “That’s far enough, Lord Advisor,” he said in a suddenly steady and clear voice.

Ryth stepped forward, unconcerned, grinning. “Lay down your weapons, Captain,” Ryth said in an easy-going tone. “That will make it easier for everyone.”

Vincent raised his long-bladed knife and pointed it at Ryth. “I intend to make it easy on no one,” he growled.

Ryth raised a hand tossing it casually into the air then said, “Don’t you remember, Captain? You came to get Rivess because I commanded you to. You have performed admirably.”

The Queen witnessed the Captain’s body go rigid.

“You’re lying,” he said. Rivess thought he didn’t sound like he believed it, however.

Ryth chuckled and shook his head. “You know that I am not. I needed you to go and make a bloody mess for me so that when all of this business is said and done, the whole Human Citadel will know of yours and Rivess’s treachery. The security camera footage will show that as a certainty.”

“Come one more step toward us, and I will kill you,” Vincent muttered. But his speech slurred once more and Rivess noticed he swayed a little on his feet.

“Oh please, Captain,” Ryth said, coming another few steps closer. He raised his hand and opened the palm toward him. “Why don’t you just put that little toy of yours on the floor?” he said in a suggestive tone. That’s when his eyes started glowing orange.

Rivess squeaked in surprise and backed up a step. Ryth shifted his gaze toward her and jabbed a finger in her direction.

“You stay right where you are,” he demanded.

She felt herself come to an involuntary stop. Her flesh ran cold and prickled as her back straightened. She couldn’t run if she desired to. Which, of course, she greatly did.

Rivess watched in horror as the Captain casually tossed his bladed weapon on the floor behind him. It slid a little across the steel surface, coming to stop a few inches from her feet. Ryth came and stood before him face-to-face. The Lord Advisor gently placed a hand on the Captain’s shoulder as he stared into Vincent’s face. The glow in Ryth’s eyes intensified, becoming uncomfortably bright in the dim surroundings.

Ryth seized the clothes at the man’s shoulder and held him in place as his jaw opened unnaturally wide.

Vincent’s back arched and his hands clawed feebly at the air. He started to tremble all over. A muted grunt was torn from the man as light shot from his face and went into Ryth’s mouth. The whole affair was over quickly. During it, an unearthly ripping noise appeared for just a few seconds and then terminated abruptly. When it was over Ryth held the corpse standing upright.

She stared in horror and saw that Vincent’s body had become a husk of what it had been. It was dry and desiccated. Little flakes of paper-thin skin flaked of and drifted to the floor

“So pliable,” Ryth said. Then more thoughtfully he added, “So disposable.” He lifted the dehydrated corpse of Vincent off the ground and threw him full force against the wall where he shattered into countless pieces of dried body and dust.

Rivess screamed.

Ryth locked eyes with her. His eyes no longer glowed orange but were no less sinister for it. He walked slowly toward her. She tried with all her might to run but she was rooted in place by some unseen force.

“What are you going to do?” she asked in a trembling voice.

Ryth halted a few paces away and looked down at the floor. There he saw the long-bladed knife Vincent had tossed behind himself. He stooped and picked it up. He walked the rest of the way toward her and reached out with his other hand and seized her by the wrist. He pulled her arm toward himself and twisted a little until her upturned palm displayed its emptiness. He lifted the knife between them and showed her its blade slick with the blood of one of his guards. He then lowered the hilt and pressed it into her palm. He forcefully wrapped her fingers around it.

“Come with me,” he said. “We have a show to put on.”

CHAPTER 28. SHOWTIME

She struggled against his powerful grip but to no avail. Ryth held her tightly. Even more so, she reflected with amazement, than Vincent had. She swung her knife-wielding hand at him numerous times, but each time he batted it away easily.

“Stop that now,” he chided her as if she were nothing more than a petulant child throwing a tantrum. “There’s no use resisting. This must be done. It’s the best for your son.”

“You leave my son out of this, you wretched beast,” she snarled at him. She continued to struggle all the more. It had no apparent effect on his hold on her. But that wasn’t about to stop her from trying.

Without warning, he thrust her to the side and she collided with the wall of the corridor. The shock of it went through her whole body and her eyes went blurry. Her legs gave out beneath her but Ryth held her up anyway.

“I said stop!” Ryth shouted and then he actually did release her.

She slid to the floor her head swimming. She collapsed in a heap no longer even knowing which direction was up. Bile rose a little way up her throat but she fought against the urge to vomit. That battle, at least, was successful. When her thoughts finally cleared and her vision came back into focus, she stared up at Ryth in disbelief.

“Just who do you think you are? You cannot do…”

Ryth suddenly knelt before her. His eyes blazed as he stared at the Queen. Her mouth seemed to shut off its own accord.

“I can do whatever I want, your Majesty.” He made the last words sound like rancid food in his mouth. Like he wanted to spit it out and never taste it again. “You have no idea who it is you are dealing with, do you?”

“I am the Queen,” she said indignantly. “I could have you killed for this, you know. In fact, I believe that’s exactly what I will do. Your life is now forfeited Lycas Ryth.”

He chuckled laughter as he shook his head. “Oh, you really are entertaining, your Majesty. I hope you understand that. I am not someone you may either command or have killed. I know all your dirty little secrets. I know the people you’ve silenced. I know the blood spilled by your secretive and spiteful commands. I know that you think you are in charge, but you never have been. I am and always have been.” His face went suddenly grave and all of the humor disappeared entirely. He leaned closer and his eyes bored into hers. She wanted to retreat from him, but the steel wall at her back refused to let her go anywhere.

“What are you?” she whispered.

A wide humorless grin split his face and he leaned even farther inward. His nose was mere inches from hers. He whispered, “I am a god. The sooner you stupid, dullards learn that, the better. It might even save a few of your meager and pathetic lives. Probably not, though one never knows when a magnanimous mood will strike me.”

She did not know what came over her, but her hand wielding the knife thrust forward, aiming for his throat. She had to bring an end to this wicked thing before her. She could not let him remain. Her strike moved with astonishing speed, but he was quicker. His hand shot forward and intercepted hers with lightning accuracy. With terror, she watched his emotionless face stare back at her. Sudden tremendous pressure weighed down on her hand. He tightened his grip on her weapon-wielding hand and she felt sharp pain bloom everywhere. Then came the sound of cracking bones. She screamed in agony, surprise, and terror. Her eyes darted between her breaking hand and his impassive face. She tried to pull her hand away from his but he held her so tightly she could not move it in the slightest.

A few seconds later he released her hand and it slumped at her side spilling the knife on the floor. It clattered there but her terrified attention remained fixed on his face.

“Now look what you made me do,” he said casually. “That wasn’t smart, your Majesty. It did not have to come to this you know.” He then shrugged and looked down at the knife on the floor. “Oh well,” he said reaching for the weapon. He brought his face back to hers and said, “At least you have one good hand left.”

He plucked the knife from the floor and with his other hand he reached for her unbroken hand. He seized her by the wrist and pulled it forward forcing the palm to face upward. He gently held the knife out to her, the tip of the blade pinched between two of his fingers. The hilt lay suspended in the air over her upturned palm.

“Take it please,” he said.

She shook her head. “I don’t want to,” she replied.

He gave her a long-suffering look then lowered the knife into her palm. “Take it now,” he said more sternly.

Reluctantly she wrapped her fingers around the hilt of the blade. He removed his hand from her wrist and her whole arm began to shake uncontrollably. Her weak unresponsive fingers then opened suddenly of their own accord spilling the knife once more onto the floor. She looked down at it in horror, wondering why it hadn’t stayed put. She looked back at Ryth and a fearful yelp came out of her when she saw his face. He gave her a look as if she were a disobedient child and he was a disappointed parent.

“Pick it up,” he said, enunciating each word with razor-sharpness. She reached her trembling only working hand toward the hilt of the blade. She barely was able to force herself to take hold of it once more and plucked the weapon from the ground.

“That’s more like it,” Ryth said pleasantly, smiling as he stood up. He then reached down and took hold of her nightshirt at her shoulder and yanked her back up to standing. She cried out in surprise. He was so strong. How could this be powerful? she wondered.

“Time to get on with it,” he said and recommenced their travel through the secret hallway.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked in an unsteady voice.

“We’re going to see your son. Remember, I said we have a show to put on.” His words were now matter-of-fact as if he were describing nothing more important than an upcoming shift in the weather.

“Please,” she said, “leave my son out of this. He hasn’t done anything. He’s just a boy.”

Ryth made a scoffing noise. “That’ll be enough of that.”

A short while later they came to the door that she knew to be the secret entrance to Prince Therin’s room. He released Rivess and turned to face her. “Now,” he said, “you are going to go in there and attempt to kill your son with that knife.”

Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open. She stammered out, “No! I will not. You said…”

“Never mind what I said,” Ryth shouted. “You are going to obey me right now, or your son will be dead in the next three minutes.”

Her mind raced to put together the disparate puzzle pieces of all that was happening but came up short. “But you told me to kill him! Won’t he be dead anyway?”

Ryth screwed up his face and looked at her as if she were a simpleton. “I said you were going to attempt to kill him, not that you were actually going to succeed. Now, off you go.”

She shook her head violently. “I will not.”

One of his hands shot forward and seized her by the throat. He squeezed and lifted her off the ground. Her breath caught in her throat and she could no longer breathe. She tried to gasp for air but it would not come. Somehow, she maintained her hold on the hilt of the blade and batted her fist on his hand. She knew to release the weapon would incur his wrath once more and she did not want to do that. She was terrified at the prospect. She tried to say, ‘Please, let me go,’ but it only came out as a series of cut-off gurgles.

“You listen to me,” he said. “If you do not obey me in this, I will drag you in there and I will rip the life out of your son the way I did with Vincent. Do you understand me?”

She tried to shake her head but it would hardly move at all.

“I am serious your Majesty,” he said. “If I have to, I will cut off your eyelids and have my guards hold you to make you watch. I am not playing here. I will have my way.”

Her mind raced for any sort of way out of the situation. But she came up empty-handed. She did her best to nod in affirmation and then he suddenly released her, dropping her to the floor. She nearly collapsed yet again but this time managed to maintain enough balance to only fall into a crouch before she stood back up. Ryth backed away from the door and motioned toward it.

“After you,” he said.

CHAPTER 29. MOTHER & SON

The Prince had taken to staying up late, which he would soon judge to be a fortunate thing. A life-saving thing. He stood by his window looking out, not really focusing on anything in particular. His eyes tracked across the darkened Citadel landscape, searching for anything that might hold his attention. There was nothing. Just like the thousands of other times that he’d looked over it all.

Several lights blinked over many of the towers jutting upward into the night sky, and he could see hints of movement in some of them periodically. Beyond them the wall stood stolid, holding the wilds at bay. He often wondered about the jungles beyond the wall. The creatures kept in his menagerie often made him wonder what it would be like to venture beyond the wall. Being cooped up as he was for a while, he was starting to feel like those two lizard-people kept for his entertainment must feel. He was beginning to wonder if he was being kept locked away for the amusement of others and did not know it. He needed to move, to get out. Not that he ever ventured much beyond the Palace anyway, but he was starting to get itchy feet.

What was more, a sense of uprootedness frayed at his nerves. He had grown restless of late. He even found himself becoming a little jumpy. It was starting to irritate him and he didn’t like it.

He kept the lights in his room dim at this time of night. It was a vain attempt to bring some quiet to his thoughts.

A whisper of motion behind him cried out for his attention. He spun around to see what had caused the sound when his heart stopped in his chest. A section of the wall that had been perfectly placed before was now missing. There was a large black rectangle in its place, an opening into a secret passageway. He knew about the secret passageways, of course, he had been told about them long ago. He had even been shown how to operate them in case of an emergency. He had never done so, except for once just to get a curious peek. He had stuck his head beyond the door to see what the passageway was like. Mostly, it was dark and foreboding. He’d never liked the idea of going in there by himself. For it to be standing open without his emergency code was very much out of order.

He gasped. Then there was movement in the darkened corridor beyond the entrance. It took his mind a few moments to believe what his eyes told him. It was his mother who stood in the doorway. One hand hung limply at her side, trembling and looking disfigured. The other held a bloodied knife. But most disturbing of all were her eyes. They were wide and wild. The set of her lips told a story of desperation.

He took a step toward her and halted. Something was dreadfully wrong about this. The way she looked at him, the way she leered at him. Something was…

Then she stalked forward on quivering legs. Her head was shaking: she was apparently disagreeing with herself about something. Whatever it was he could not tell. She kept mouthing the word ‘no’ over and over. But he could not hear it, only see the shape of the word form repeatedly on her lips.

“Mother?” he asked, hating the sound of the hitch in his voice as he spoke it. His back was to the large picture window looking out over the Citadel. There was nowhere for him to retreat that way. So instead, he took a careful step to the side. He stopped himself from taking another, not wanting to disturb the obviously delicate balance of the situation.

His mother lifted the knife and pointed it at him, it shook horribly. A droplet of blood flew off the blade and landed somewhere on the carpeted floor. He did not track its movement but kept his attention fixed on the woman in front of him. She was crazed.

“No,” she said, this time audibly. But it did not sound at all like her. It was a feral noise. She advanced another step into the room and halted. She made slashing motions at him with the trembling knife.

“Mother, what are you doing?” he asked in a quavering voice.

She gritted her teeth and narrowed her eyes. Tears brimmed in them and spilled down her cheeks. She hissed inhumanly at him. Several hyperventilated breaths hitched in her chest. That was when she raised the knife over her head and came for him. He screamed.

The Prince started to backpedal, striking his feet on the floor to get away from the woman. The knife in her hand cut a wide arc through the air, missing him completely. It wasn’t a very good attempt, the Prince thought in the back of his mind. She can do better than that. What’s going on here?

But there was no time to analyze. She came at him again. He darted out of the way just in time to avoid getting slashed in the arm with the blade. He yelped in surprise anyway.

“Mother, stop it!” The Prince backed up into a small square table. He darted around it never taking his eyes off her face. He then brought his hand up on the underside of the table. He heaved it with all his might, sending it flying at his mother. It never reached her. It simply clattered to the floor right in front of her, breaking one of its legs. She looked down at it briefly then back up at her son. She stepped over the table and advanced once more.

His eyes shot everywhere around the room, looking for something – anything at all – to use in defense of himself until his mother could be subdued. He had to communicate with the guards on the outside of the door to get them to come in and protect him. But he worried they might hurt his mother. He could not have that. No, he resolved, he had to finish this on his own. It would be up to him.

Just as this thought completed, two of the Lord Advisor’s guards stormed into the Prince’s chambers through the secret entrance. The Prince’s eyes flicked to the newcomers and then to his mother once more. What is going on? he wondered yet again in terrified bewilderment. Then his mind put it together. They had pursued her through the secret passageway as she raced toward him. They must’ve understood her intent.

But why? He didn’t understand what had happened to cause her to come after him, weapon in hand no less, to hurt him. No, he thought, not hurt. She came here to kill me.

“Help!” he cried to the guards. They needed no further instruction than that. They pounced toward Rivess. At the same time, she darted for him.

He stumbled out of the way, tripping on his own feet and falling backward onto the floor. An instant later his head slammed against the floor and his vision went fuzzy. He lay there for a few seconds trying to collect himself, but he only saw stars at first. The sounds of a struggle brought him back.

He pushed himself up on his hands and located the source of the noise. His mother swiped at the two guards with her knife. The motions were frantic. Her other hand still hung limply at her side. He could now tell that it had been broken.

The two guards spread out and approached cautiously from different angles. She alternated swipes from one to the other. They were both too far away for her to connect the weapon with either of them yet. And Therin doubted she would ever manage to strike one anyway. They were exceptionally well-trained, perhaps even as well as the Royal Guardians.

As she turned toward one of them, the other darted inward. The Prince screamed involuntarily and raised his hand to protest. He watched the assailant darting in with his weapon raised at the ready. In a fraction of a second, he understood they did not intend to detain her. They were going to kill her.

He scrambled to his feet and charged toward the fray. He watched as if in slow motion the collision of forces occurred. First, Rivess heeded the Prince’s warning and turned back toward the approaching assailant. She pivoted and brought the knife around readying to strike. He wondered if she would get a lucky hit, after all. Then, he also saw his shoulder plowing into the back of the other of the Lord Advisor’s guards who simply stood watching the events unfold. The man had not thought of the Prince as a threat and so he was taken by surprise. That guard was thrown off balance and plunged forward. His body careened ahead toward the colliding forms of Rivess and the other guard.

The Queen completed her turn and brought her slashing knife around. But the other guard was too deft an opponent and ducked beneath the strike. He came up after the weapon had arced above him and brought his own blade up, slashing into Rivess’s throat. A gash appeared instantaneously and blood jetted out, spraying the guard. The Queen turned away from him, her eyes wide and terrified. Blood continued to shower outward. Some of it flew across the distance and landed on the Prince’s face.

Then the guard whom Therin had collided with stumbled forward into the Queen and threw her into her attacker. The three of them tumbled to the floor in a mass of writhing bloody humanity.

In the next instant, the Prince was the only one who remained on his feet. The two guards were essentially unharmed, but his mother was dying. She would be gone very soon. He stood and stared at the scene, disbelieving, trying to will it not to be so.

Her eyes locked onto him and pleaded. He saw in those eyes hints of sanity which he had not believed present until that moment. She reached a hand out toward her son, the only one that was still intact, the one that had until moments earlier held onto a knife.

He backed away a step, then another. The guards were starting to collect themselves and get their feet beneath them. He backed away several more paces until he felt his back hit the door leading out of his chambers.

Suddenly, the door unlocked seemingly by itself. Odd, he thought with curious detachment. Without thinking he slammed his fist against the control and the door slid open. He stumbled out into the hallway between the two guards stationed outside. The two tan-clad Lord Advisor’s guards stared down at him questioningly. He quickly got to his feet, turned, and ran.

CHAPTER 30. ENCLOSURE

The Prince ran pressing the limits of his ability through the hallways of the Palace. He could hear Lycas Ryth’s guard coming up behind him at speed. By some miracle, he was able to keep ahead of them.

He was not headed in any specific direction. He only knew he had to flee, to get away from the massacre scene of his mother. His mind was a storm-tossed tumultuous sea. He could not keep one thought from colliding with another. It was all an unthinkable morass of haphazard chaos. His legs coursed on autopilot, carrying him in whatever direction they decided to take him. Tears streaked down his face. His breathing hitched regularly as he sobbed.

One man was the cause of all of this. Lycas Ryth. Therin vowed never to trust the man again. He knew he was behind everything, even his mother showing up in his room that night allegedly to kill him. Somehow, Ryth must have pushed her into it. He could not say how he understood this, only that he did. There was a war in his mind. The two competing factions were sorrow for his murdered mother and hatred for the Lord Advisor.

He had to get help. But who?

The Royal Guardians were the obvious choice. But they had been temporarily set aside. They were all under house arrest and he didn’t know how to get to them. The same was true of the Sector Representatives. The more he thought about who might be of help to him, the more he ran up against similar walls of unavailability. It had to be by design. And Ryth was the designer.

A sudden clarity stabbed like a spike in his thoughts. He recognized where he was. He was on the path to his menagerie. He needed someone to defend him, and if the Royal Guardians and the Sector Representatives were not available, then there was only one other choice. It was an odd choice, but it was all that was left to him. He didn’t even know if he could convince them. But the Dar’ryneel whom he had trained to converse with him in the human language had shown reluctance and misgivings regarding Lycas Ryth. They would not come right out and say what the trouble was, but they seemed to comprehend something he never had. There was something dirty about Lycas Ryth and they knew it. If he went to them and explained the situation, perhaps they would be of some assistance in protecting him at least from Ryth’s guards. He wondered if they meant to kill him too.

He followed the path carefully watching behind him and looking down every passageway to make sure he was not seen. He could still hear Ryth’s guards charging up behind him from his room. There was no chance they would lose him, but if he made it to his menagerie, got inside, and managed to lock the door behind him, there was perhaps a chance that he and the Dar’ryneel could escape. There were secret passageways all over the Palace. No doubt there was one in that room as well.

The shouts of Ryth’s guards grew louder as they gained on him. He glanced over his shoulder and caught the first glimpses of some of them rounding the corner behind him.

“There he is!” one of them shouted. “Get him!”

That goaded him on all the more. A fresh burst of panic speed overtook his legs and propelled him forward. He was almost there; he just needed to round the next corner.

A few seconds later he turned and arrived at the door. He punched in the code and slapped at the control. He rushed in, turned, and manipulated the code to shut the door once again. He then engaged the lock and sagged against the closed door catching his breath for just a few moments. He realized they would soon get through the door. They had their own sets of codes for overriding such a lock in case of an emergency. Every second counted.

He gathered himself and hurried into the menagerie. It was thick and heavy with a scent of plant life all around him. The light was almost completely out so that the Dar’ryneel could sleep. It came up a little bit at his presence in accordance with an automated program. He saw another light come on automatically in the enclosure that held the Dar’ryneel. They both lay on the ground, resting. At his approach, one of them stirred and lifted its head. He believed it was the male, but he sometimes still had trouble distinguishing them.

It saw him coming and bent low and whispered to the companion. There was much Therin had learned from them while he taught them how to speak his language. They were already mates, and the male was the son of an elder of his tribe. Evidently, he was something akin to himself. A Prince. That had given Therin pause. It forced him to think about maintaining their captivity the way he had. He started to consider that he perhaps ought to release them. But now he had great need of them.

However, on his way to the cage, something else caught his eye. It was a faint blue glow amid the darkened garden area. He staggered to a halt and turned his head in that direction. It was the flower that his father had received for his birthday. It glowed oddly in the dark, seeming almost to call out to him. He felt drawn to it. He diverted briefly from his original errand and strode over to the flower instead. He stopped and knelt before it. One hand gently reached forward and caressed one of the glowing petals of the blossom. A little plume of glowing pollen lifted into the air at his touch. He leaned forward and inhaled strongly, taking in the intoxicating scent of the flower.

A sudden cascade of clarifying thoughts rampaged through his mind. It seemed to drive away everything that confused him as if they were clouds blown away by the wind. Mentally, he now stood in the clear light of day. He stood up from his place and turned toward the Dar’ryneel enclosure. He walked casually over to it and began punching in the code on the door.

Both Dar’ryneel now stood up and walked cautiously forward. They stopped a few paces away from the door and stared at the Prince.

“I’m letting you out,” Therin said.

The two Dar’ryneel looked briefly at one another then the male looked at him and said, “Why?”

“Because it is not right for you to be caged like this,” he said. “You deserve to be free.”

The Dar’ryneel opened his mouth to respond but then an insistent pounding at the door broke his attention and all of them stopped and looked toward the door. The Prince turned away from it once again and continued punching in the codes to open the enclosure.

“What is happening?” the female asked.

“The Lord Advisor’s guards are pursuing me.” He lifted his eyes and gravely stared at them. “They murdered my mother before my very eyes. I’m afraid they are after me, too. If they mean to kill me, then my last act will be to free you. It is the right thing to do.”

“Thank you,” the male said. “But if you are in danger, we will do our best to protect you. Perhaps we can take you away with us.”

“I do not ask this of you,” the Prince said as he completed cycling through the code pad on the door. The door hissed briefly and then propped itself open. Therin reached forward and opened the door the rest of the way. He motioned for them and stepped backward.

Just then the door leading into the menagerie burst open, exploding. A shower of sparks and a ball of fire jetted into the room. Therin wheeled around and stared in the direction of the damaged doorway. A few moments later four of the Lord Advisor’s guards came charging into the space.

“Surrender, Prince,” one of them demanded gruffly.

The Prince stepped forward and opened his mouth to defy the guard when a hand fell on his shoulder. Therin turned and looked and saw the male Dar’ryneel looking down at him.

“Stand aside Prince,” he said. “Let us deal with these men.”

There was a chorus of murmurs from among the Lord Advisor’s guards. And a little bit of laughter.

“Stand aside, savage,” the leader of the guards sneered.

Without waiting for further provocation, the male Dar’ryneel crouched low, hissed loudly, and then pounced. The female likewise leaped into the air and sailed toward one of the guards. The guards were all caught unawares by this move. The male and female Dar’ryneel both landed at the same moment on their targets, driving them to the ground and attacking them viciously with their claws. But the Lord Advisor’s guards fought back right away. The other two also lurched forward and joined the fight.

The guard that the male Dar’ryneel had landed upon was quickly dispatched. But the other attacker that swooped in was not so easily dealt with.

The fight was a blur of motion. The two reptilian figures leaped and slashed, and struck with their tails. The guards dodged and evaded and struck back. Blows and strikes were exchanged in much faster order than the Prince was able to keep track of.

Then another hand fell on the Prince’s shoulder and his back went rigid. He whipped his face upward and stared into the glowing eyes of Lycas Ryth. Ryth smirked down at him. The orange glow of his eyes was piercing. The Prince wanted to shield his face from it.

“Call them off,” Ryth said with a voice of command.

“No,” Therin shot back. Therin regarded the look of startlement on Ryth’s face as priceless. But before the Prince knew what was happening he was thrown backward into the Dar’ryneel enclosure by Ryth. Then the Lord Advisor stalked forward and joined the fight. Therin sat up and watched in bewilderment as Ryth moved with greater speed than even the Dar’ryneel. Two more of the Lord Advisor’s guards lay bleeding and unconscious or dead on the ground. But Ryth and the one remaining guard subdued the Dar’ryneel. They carried the struggling reptilian people to the enclosure and unceremoniously deposited them back inside. Ryth reached forward and closed the door then locked it with Therin still inside.

Ryth stood staring in disbelief at Therin. “How did you…?” He shook his head. “Never mind,” he said. “If you want to run with the beasts, you will be caged like a beast and fed like a beast. I will keep you here and come in for my amusement when I am bored.”

“Someone will come looking for me,” the Prince said. “I am the rightful heir of the kingdom. You are nothing but a wretched usurper.”

Ryth looked furious. He shot his hands out to the side and his body lifted off the ground, hovering several feet above it. His eyes glowed orange once more, though the light from them was intense in a way that was different than before. They looked like twin suns blaring in the sky. Then his whole face lit up as if a stage spotlight were directed at it. His hair whipped around as did his clothing as if he were caught in a great gale.

“Do I look like some mere usurper to you now?” he thundered. His voice echoed all around the room as if he were in a great canyon. “I am a great god!” he shouted. “Fear me. Worship me.”

Therin and the two Dar’ryneel scurried backward cowering against the far wall. The Prince could hardly believe his eyes. He screamed and wrapped his arms around the nearest subject…the female Dar’ryneel.

Ryth hovered, glowing and thundering for just under a minute then his power display subsided and he gently lowered back to the ground. When he landed he brushed off his shoulders and straightened his clothing. He lifted haughty eyes back to Therin.

“Needless to say, your Majesty,” he said, “I don’t intend to give up. And you have already lost.” Without waiting for any kind of response, Ryth spun around and exited the room, his last remaining guard in tow. They left behind the other three, probably dead on the ground.

“Impossible,” Therin muttered to himself in a shaky voice. “It cannot be.”

The male Dar’ryneel leaned over to him. “Do not believe him,” he rasped. “He is not a god. But he is a demon and a deceiver. And there is a greater one who can defeat him.”

The Prince turned an unbelieving face to the Dar’ryneel. “Who?”

CHAPTER 31. INTERNAL SCARS

Ariam had hoped the damage would not be as bad once they arrived inside. He was sorely disappointed. There was evidence of the Shedi’im attack everywhere they looked. Long scratches along the stone buildings carved from the mountain could clearly be seen. Doors were torn from the buildings and multiple purple bloodstains were in evidence. Scorch marks were in abundance. Some homes were torn down entirely.

Ariam took all this in with shocked silence. Gael’jic darted his eyes everywhere and shook his head occasionally. His head fin laid low against his skull and back. His dewlap wobbled as his head shook in disappointment.

Cecil’s face was grim as he observed it all with detached calculation. His eyes narrowed as he drank in the scene. Occasionally, he would make a grunt of affirmation as if he understood what he beheld.

How can he be so calm? Ariam thought. This is a tragedy. The weight of the carnage before him pressed down on his shoulders, and he felt like he wanted to lie down and weep. But he was propelled forward of necessity. The task before them could not be relinquished even in the face of such a travesty. The work appointed to them by Rama’dy’ac must be carried out if they had any hope of defeating Uri’thind’ac.

They wound their way through the city streets rising ever slowly upward until they came to the straight path leading to the Civic Center. Ariam was disheartened to see even that place had not escaped the violence. The heavy doors sported the marks of the Shedi’im’s claws. Great splashes of Dar’rynakai blood, no doubt belonging to those entrusted to guard the Civic Center, adorned the doors and the walls immediately to the sides. The path was also stained purple.

A feral growl escaped Gael’jic. He said, “Our most sacred ground has been desecrated. This shall not stand unaddressed.”

Neither Ariam nor Cecil said anything in response to this. They merely allowed Gael’jic to stew in his anger.

They arrived at the doors and the Dar’rynakai accompanying them rushed forward to open them for the exiles. Once inside they found the newly reformed Triumvirate waiting for them.

Sev’aran sat in the middle seat, the other two were occupied by Dar’rynakai whom neither Ariam nor Cecil recognized. But then again, they didn’t know almost any of them anyway. Jobash had been killed and the other one – Ariam couldn’t remember his name – had been arrested and locked up.

Gael’jic halted several paces away and looked thoughtfully at each of the members. He turned briefly and shared a look of disquiet with Ariam and Cecil then returned his gaze to the Triumvirate. Ariam narrowed his eyes as he stared at Gael’jic’s back. He wondered what was bothering the Dar’rynakai scholar.

Gael’jic took one step forward and held his hands out to the sides palms facing the Triumvirate. He began to speak using their reptilian language in tones that suggested formality. He carried on this way only a short while, and Ariam closely watched the faces of the Triumvirate as they listened.

When Gael’jic finished speaking, Sev’aran responded. The tone of his speech was much less formal and much angrier sounding. Gael’jic flinched.

Ariam turned to Cecil and muttered, “I don’t like the sound of this.”

“Hush,” Cecil replied trying to pay attention even though he did not know the language either.

When Ariam looked back to the Triumvirate, he noticed the other two members staring at him with icy expressions. One of them even snarled showing his teeth. Ariam wanted to retreat a step but held his position. To show weakness now would be poor form indeed.

Gael’jic nodded and then turned to Ariam and Cecil. “The situation is not good,” he said.

“We gathered as much,” Cecil replied dryly. “What’s going on?”

“The attack by the Shedi’im took a heavy toll on the city,” he answered. “They had been preparing to join forces with the humans but none of us showed up. And then the attack happened.”

“We haven’t been gone that long,” Cecil said. “What we’re doing takes time. We have traveled to different worlds. Can you explain that to them?”

“I can try,” Gael’jic answered uncertainly, “but I do not think it will sway them. Having sustained the losses, they are not amenable to explanations at the moment. Perhaps they never will be after this.”

“Rama’dy’ac is not going to be happy about this,” Cecil said.

At the mention of Rama’dy’ac’s name, the Triumvirate hissed in unison. Gael’jic shot a worried glance in their direction then looked to Cecil and said, “Best to not speak his name. They now suspect your coming here is a trap set by Uri’thind’ac for them.”

“Even after what happened with Jobash?” Cecil asked, his temper beginning to spin out of control.

Ariam stepped beyond Gael’jic and his mouth fell open to speak.

“What are you doing?” Gael’jic hissed worriedly at Ariam’s back. Ariam ignored this and said what he intended to say. Or rather what he had not expected to say. The words that came out of his mouth were not his, and neither was the voice.

“Dar’rynakai triumvirate,” he began, “I am the mouthpiece of Rama’dy’ac.” The voice boomed out of Ariam’s mouth and echoed all around the chamber. It had the same echoing and otherworldly quality as that of Vael, the Boatman, and Rama’dy’ac himself. From behind him, Ariam could hear Gael’jic’s teeth click together as his snout snapped shut. Cecil gasped.

“What is this mystical treachery?” one of the Dar’rynakai asked.

It only barely registered in Ariam’s mind that he understood what the Dar’rynakai said. Perhaps they know the human language as well as their own, He reasoned. But he quickly dismissed even this in light of what was happening with his own mouth.

“This is no treachery,” the strange voice and its words issued forth from Ariam’s mouth. It was Rama’dy’ac’s he realized. “I am Rama’dy’ac’s voice. His mouthpiece. This is his will. If you reject these – my servants – you will greatly displease me. You will lose my favor.”

All three members of the Triumvirate gasped and looked uncertainly at one another.

One of the others rose from his seat and spoke. “How do we know you are the mouthpiece of Rama’dy’ac and not Uri’thind’ac?”

“Silence!” the voice boomed. It hurt Ariam’s ears to hear it. The Triumvirate member quickly crumbled under the command, falling back into his seat. He looked sufficiently cowed for the moment. A few tense seconds passed to allow the rebuke to sink in before Ariam’s mouth came open once more.

“My servants bring to you the only path of victory. The demons that attacked you can be overcome by my power. Only my servants can show you this power. You must listen to them and equip them for their journey. The time of the final battle draws near. You must devote yourselves to it and all your people. Otherwise, the knife in the dark will strike and your blood will be shed for eternity. This is your final chance. Do as I say or fall forever into the darkness of the pit. The mouthpiece of Rama’dy’ac has spoken.”

Ariam felt his shoulders sag. He tried his best to remain upright but collapsed to his knees. Powerful tiredness overtook his whole frame. Cecil and Gael’jic rushed to his side and knelt by his side.

“What in the blazes was that?” Cecil whispered into Ariam’s ear.

Ariam shook his head. “I have no idea. I did not mean to do that.”

“It was Rama’dy’ac,” Gael’jic whispered back. “He left a part of himself inside of you before he left. Just enough of him to speak through you.”

Ariam nodded slowly, thoughtfully. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and rest for an hour or so. But he had to stay and devote his time to this. He already felt hints of strength returning to his body. It arrived little by little.

He noticed the Triumvirate murmuring among themselves. There seemed to be some disagreement, but Sev’aran won out. He stood and raised his hand for attention. All eyes turned to him.

“The voice of the Triumvirate speaks,” he said. “Since you left us only a short time ago, much has changed here. We are no longer a disparate people, spread over many leagues in separate enclaves and ruling ourselves separately. We have covenanted and joined the many tribes together into one people. This Triumvirate represents all Dar’rynakai tribes. The members are taken from each enclave. Until Rama’dy’ac had spoken to us just now, we had resolved to reject you servants of Rama’dy’ac. We feared you were an act of treachery from Uri’thind’ac. But now we see otherwise.”

Cecil leaned over and said, “Wait a second; why is it that I can understand them?”

Gael’jic shot him a curious look and arched an eyebrow. He made a thoughtful noise then shrugged. “It must be Rama’dy’ac,” he said. “I hear him speaking in the tongue of my people.”

“Curious,” Cecil said.

“More than that,” Gael’jic added, “Ariam spoke in my language as well.”

Cecil shook his head. “Not to my ears,” he replied.

“Curious indeed,” Gael’jic replied.

They noticed Sev’aran had stopped and was watching them. Sev’aran tilted his head in an inquisitive gesture. Then he said, “We shall continue the plan to assist and join forces with the humans. And we will equip you for this last part of the journey of which Rama’dy’ac has spoken. What do you need from us?”

CHAPTER 32. ARMAMENTS

Standing in a room full of weapons and armor, Ariam felt exceptionally out of place. The same could not be said for Cecil. He looked at everything with great interest, taking note of the artistry with which every item had been formed. He stepped forward to a rack of what Gael’jic had called Ke’ef blades. They were curious things, he noted. They rested over the hand and forearm in a cuff. Inside the device, there was a horizontal bar for the hand to grip. A strap farther back held the device onto the forearm.

This weapon would cover a human’s hand and reach about to his elbow. Dar’rynakai had slightly longer limbs. The underside of it was completely open so that one could see inside to manipulate the strap which held it in place. Jutting from the top of the weapon was the blade itself. It was long, at least the length of his forearm. It was made entirely of Raka wood. The material had gone through the same hardening process as his former weapon.

He thought once more about the spear he had given up on the world of the Throne of the Gods. This weapon had also been hardened to a steel-like strength. And the blade was sharp enough so that if he ran his finger along its edge he would cut himself. He was warned of this by Midrin who stood leaning against a doorjamb, arms folded over his chest. Cecil turned to the man and nodded. He then redirected his attention to the weapon and examined it with his eyes only.

“Would you like to try one on?” their Dar’rynakai guide asked.

Cecil looked at him only briefly and nodded. He was a thicker specimen of the reptilian people than either of the humans had yet encountered, except perhaps for Chin’tel who was absent because he was still recovering from the wounds he’d received in the battle against Jobash. This one was perhaps a few inches shorter than Gael’jic, though he still towered over the humans. His muscles were toned but also thick. It made Cecil think of a blacksmith from days otherwise long forgotten. It was the kind of work that remained only in fables and tales passed down from generation to generation. Cecil once half-wondered if it was true that such a role ever existed. He supposed it had. Little good it did them now. How might things be different for us all if the ancient humans had possessed and understood Raka wood? Cecil mused.

Cecil returned his attention to the weapon before him and said, “Yes, I would like that.”

The Dar’rynakai guide came forward and lifted the weapon from its place on the shelf. He turned towards Cecil with it and said, “Extend your arm, please.”

Cecil stretched his arm forward palm facing down.

“No,” the guide said, chuckling, “turn it upward.” Cecil did so.

The Dar’rynakai brought the encasing cuff up from beneath his arm. He slid it over Cecil’s hand and instructed him to grab the bar. When the former Royal Guardian had done so the Dar’rynakai fastened the strap in place with a buckle. The Dar’rynakai stepped back a few paces and said, “Give it a try.”

Ariam and Gael’jic backed out of the way also. None of them wanted to get cut. Midrin remained where he leaned in the doorway. It was not that they didn’t trust Cecil. He was an expert warrior. It was just that he had not used this style of weapon before. Cecil drew back his arm and positioned himself in a punching stance.

The Dar’rynakai nodded thoughtfully and rubbed the dewlap hanging from his chin. “Yes,” he said. “Your instincts for weaponry are good. You may do it that way. But it has other applications besides stabbing.”

“I figured as much,” Cecil replied. “That’s just the first thing my mind went to.” He jabbed the hand forward and the weapon sliced through the space. He then brought it around, slashing through the air backhanded, causing a whooshing sound, and then brought it around the other way once more striking in an arc in front of him. He then brought his forearm up to examine it and looked at it from underneath.

“It would take some getting used to,” he said, “but I think this will work for me.”

“You were always a natural,” Midrin commented.

Gael’jic had already been equipped with Raka wood armor and his own Ke’ef blade. They had no available armor that fit either of the humans but an offer was made to craft some. Cecil had thanked him but demurred.

“No,” he replied, “we don’t have time. We must get going quickly. I’ll just take what you already have.”

“You sure?” Midrin asked. “You seem to have made a mess of my old armor.”

Cecil looked down at the hastily repaired Royal Guardian armor he wore. It had been through quite a lot in a short amount of time. But he shook his head. There was just no time. He’d already insisted several times to the Triumvirate that they could delay no longer now that the promise of Dar’rynakai help had been secured.

“I’m sure,” Cecil replied.

Sev’aran had pleaded with him for only a short time to reconsider. In the end, he relented understanding the urgency of the situation.

The Dar’rynakai guide turned now to Ariam and said, “What would you have? Another Ke’ef blade?”

Ariam looked stunned out of his reverie then shook his head. “No,” he said, “I’m not one much for weapons.”

“Could have fooled me,” Cecil muttered.

Ariam shot him a questioning look.

Cecil explained, “The way you took out those Shedi’im on Remmice makes me think there’s more fight in you than you realize.”

“Maybe so,” Ariam replied. Turning his face to their guide he said, “But I’m not sure one of those would work for me. It doesn’t… look right.”

The Dar’rynakai gazed at him and tilted his head in thought. “I think I have just the thing,” he said. He turned to a rack of spears and examined each of them in turn. Ariam could not say he could tell the difference between any of them. They all looked essentially the same. There were some different carvings near the pointed ends of the shafts, but other than that they all appeared to be roughly identical.

Three-quarters of the way through examining the rack their guide made a victorious noise and snatched up a spear. He turned slowly and reverently held out the spear to Ariam. “Take this and give it a try,” he said.

Ariam reached forward but hesitated partway through. His fingers poised suspended in the air an inch or so above the shaft of the spear for a few heartbeats. At last, he completed the journey and wrapped his hands around the shaft of the spear. He held it at arm’s length from him for a good long while just looking at the instrument of war. But it was not reluctance or discomfort with the weapon that caused him to do this. Quite the opposite. There was a deep sense of familiarity which resonated throughout his entire body and soul just looking at the weapon. The feel of it in his hands and the weight of it felt very right. His hand was at home holding the weapon.

He could not understand this. He had tried to the best of his ability to be a man of peace. He never expected to be plunged headlong into a world of violence. Yet here he was.

“Is everything all right?” Gael’jic asked. “You look disquieted.”

Ariam stammered then said, “Y…yes I think so.”

He turned to face the Dar’rynakai who handed him the spear and asked, “How did you know?”

The Dar’rynakai stared back at him for a long time. “It is hard to explain. It just seemed right. It spoke to me.”

“Spoke to you?” Ariam asked.

“In a way,” the Dar’rynakai replied. Ariam regarded him for another moment or two then returned his attention to the spear. He drew the shaft close to him and examined the carvings closely. He could not make sense of them, but they felt familiar and comforting.

“What do these carvings mean?” Ariam asked.

“I am not permitted to say,” the Dar’rynakai replied. He shared a curious look with Gael’jic who only nodded back. Returning his attention to Ariam he said, “It is part of our heritage that we are not permitted to say to outsiders.” He bowed his head and added, “Forgive me, servant of Rama’dy’ac.”

“It’s quite all right,” Ariam fumbled out. “I meant no offense or to make you uncomfortable.” He wondered if he could draw an answer regarding the carvings out of Gael’jic later, but decided it best not to press the matter.

“These are the last of the supplies we needed,” Gael’jic announced. “We should go.”

Cecil nodded and looked to Ariam to make certain he was ready.

“I’m ready,” Ariam said. “Time to go home.”

CHAPTER 33. THE NOOSE TIGHTENS

“I take it you’re feeling much better?” Lycas Ryth asked casually.

Shahleen darted her eyes to him and held his gaze for a handful of moments. She looked uncertain. Most of his recent hypnotic assertion over her was thinning and she was returning to her right mind again. Well, what was left of it, anyway. Nevertheless, the influence he had exerted over her remained firmly fixed in place. She continued to be confident in her mind that this was the right course of action. That did not mean she was not greatly saddened by it.

Her face showed this.

“Yes,” she said in a hushed tone. Her eyes darted away and she looked off, seemingly at nothing. Ryth could read the regret written all over her. These were her friends, after all. They were people she had known and worked with for years. Had it not been for the conditioning he had put her through, there was no way she would go along with this. But he had exerted a great amount of effort to maneuver her to the place where she now was mentally and emotionally and in all other ways pliable to his manipulations.

“I know this must be difficult for you,” Ryth said. “It certainly is for me. I have trusted these people for a long time as servants of the kingdom. It is a shame they have conspired in such an insidious plot.”

Zain stood back, arms folded watching the conversation unfold. Ryth kept note of his posture and the slightly contemptuous look on his face. Ryth knew the man didn’t like him, and sought any opportunity to undermine him. For all the good it will do him, Ryth thought. Like any other human, Zain had no hope of subverting Ryth’s purposes.

The Lord Advisor spared him a glance of warning. It was quick and subtle, but it was enough to unnerve the man. He watched Zain’s arms drop to his sides and his back straighten. A brief look of concern dashed across his features but then vanished. Ryth suppressed a smirk.

He returned his attention to Shahleen. She was still looking often at an unidentifiable point in the distance. Really, she just stared at a blank spot on the wall as her mind worried over the present situation.

“Yes,” she agreed quietly. “It is just that…” she trailed off unable and unwilling to complete her thought verbally. Ryth reveled in her vulnerability.

“I understand,” Ryth said. “For the kingdom to be betrayed like this is unthinkable. But I sense your concerns lie elsewhere. When we go out there to make our announcement, perhaps you should let me do the talking.”

She nodded absently. “Yes,” she said in just above a whisper. “Whatever you say, Lord Advisor.”

Now the barest hint of a grin did tug at one corner of his lips. He quickly put it away. He stared at her in silence for a few moments until she returned her gaze to him. When he was sure he had her full attention, he went on.

“You are thinking about Racine again, aren’t you?” Ryth asked. He laced his words with false sympathy.

She merely nodded in response.

“I understand that the two of you were close.”

A look of concern swept her features. Ryth smiled inwardly. He so enjoyed unsettling people in this way.

He waved a hand and went on. “No, no,” he said, “I do not mean to imply anything about your connection with him. He had all of us fooled. The fact that he was able to escape our clutches in the manner he did indicates he is truly the ringleader behind this conspiracy.” He shook his head as if he could not believe it. “It beggars belief,” he added.

She nodded and said, “It truly does. He seemed so genuine, so concerned with the welfare of the kingdom. I have a hard time accepting that he would do the things he has done.”

Ryth reached out a hand and let it fall gently on her shoulder. He shared a warm smile with her and said, “I know. But the evidence is incontrovertible.”

“I know it is,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut and turning her face away. Ryth was pleased to see a rogue tear streak down one cheek.

A lowly servant entered their place of preparation and waited to be acknowledged. Ryth continued to stare at Shahleen for a handful of seconds more before turning to him. He nodded.

“It is time my lords,” he said. He then turned to Shahleen and added as if an afterthought, “And my lady.”

“Very well,” Ryth said to the man. “You may go.” The servant bowed at the waist, turned, and hurried out of the room.

Ryth looks to Zain and then to Shahleen. He took a deep breath and expelled it shakily, making a show of the gravity of the situation.

“Are we ready?” Zain asked.

Ryth looked to Shahleen and raised his eyebrows as if highlighting the question.

Shahleen nodded once but said nothing else.

Ryth said, “All right then, let’s get this over with.”

He turned away from Shahleen and shared a brief smile with Zain, then confidently strode out of the room. He entered a long corridor that coursed to the main balcony for official Palace pronouncements. It was a short walk but he found himself savoring every step. When he passed through the doorway and onto the balcony overlooking the open-air arena, he halted and soaked in the scene with relish. There was a tumultuous wave of murmurs from the crowd as he arrived. About a thousand people were gathered. It was just a fraction of the populace throughout the Human Citadel, of course, but the announcement would be broadcast live as well as recorded for later transmission. Soon Shahleen stood at one side of the Lord Advisor and Zain at the other. He raised a hand for silence. A few moments later the noise died down and he stepped forward once more.

Several hovering camera drones lazily floated about in the air recording every moment. He located one of these and stared pointedly into it for three seconds then moved his attention to the crowd. He waited for several seconds creating a tension into which he could speak. At last, he lowered his hand and cleared his throat.

“Citizens of the great human kingdom and colony on Dar’ryn, I come to you today with grave news.” He paused and moved his gaze across the entire gathered crowd. “We believe that we have gathered almost all of the highest coordinators of the conspiracy. Upon a complete and thorough investigation, the Sector Representatives of our magnificent Human Citadel have all been found guilty of conspiracy to overthrow the government. It is they who plotted the assassination of our beloved king. What is more…” He halted and lifted his hand to cover his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut as if suppressing deep emotion. He took what appeared to be a steadying breath then lowered his hand and opened his eyes once again. “I regret to announce, that even in their incarceration and house arrest they have continued pressing their agenda. Last night they sent one of their vile assassins and ended the life of our beloved Queen Rivess.”

Gasps and cries of astonishment echoed all around the gathered crowd. Ryth knew that in homes and everywhere else that the broadcast of the press announcement was taking place people were doing the same. Soon tears would be streaking cheeks and wailing would be heard in the streets. It was already beginning right here in this very place.

Ryth raised his hand once more for silence. They struggled to obey the instruction, but eventually, they managed it. “Please,” he said. “I have further difficult news to share. Once again, a Captain of the Royal Guardians was involved. He eluded capture and traveled via secret passageways until he entered Queen Rivess’s private quarters and murdered her. The Triumvirate has gathered and consulted on this matter. After much discussion and heart-wrenching decision-making, we have agreed to permanently disband the Royal Guardians. It is clear that they have been thoroughly corrupted and are no longer trustworthy to safeguard the Royal family and the kingdom.”

He fell silent again and stared with a grim expression at the crowd.

As he had anticipated, someone in the crowd could stand it no longer.

“Blood!” A voice cried out. “We demand blood!”

A chorus of shouted assent exploded from many places in the crowd. He knew there would be people nodding their heads in agreement as they watched the news broadcast. Ryth looked directly at the camera and nodded. Then he returned his attention to the crowd and said, “Yes. You shall have blood. The Triumvirate has concluded that a series of public executions are in order. Beginning tomorrow at the noon hour, we will begin with the Sector Representatives. Each of them will be allowed to confess, and then they shall be executed in this very arena.”

A cry rose up from the crowd. It was a cry of bloodlust.

Ryth held up his hand once more. “Please, hold on. There is more.”

The noise died down and Ryth lowered his hand. He went on, “There are yet conspirators on the loose. One Sector Representative appears to be at the head of this conspiracy.” He wagged his head back and forth slowly. Then he said, “Racine is still slinking in some dark hole. If anyone has any knowledge of his whereabouts, a fantastic reward awaits you. We suspect he is dwelling in the Under-Citadel. But with the Royal Guardians out of the picture, the Palace’s resources are stretched thin protecting the sole remaining heir of the kingdom. We request the help of all of the citizens of the Human Citadel. If you know anything, if you see anything, please reach out to the Palace. Help us put an end to this wickedness. We are so close now to the termination of this evil.”

He stopped and placed his hand over his heart. He closed his eyes and lifted his chin as if staring up into the heavens. He began to recite the creed of the Temple for Far Humanity.

“We give our lives to this,” he said. The gathered crowd knew exactly what to do, and so did the people in their homes and wherever else they might encounter the news broadcast. A chorus of voices repeated the phrase.

“We give our souls to this,” he said. The voices all around the arena echoed the phrase.

“We energize the universe by this,” he concluded. The voices repeated the last words.

He lowered his chin and opened his glowing orange eyes. More than a thousand faces stared up at him. Even from his elevated place on the balcony which was a few hundred feet above them, he could see their eyes all likewise beginning to glow orange. His smile stretched wide.

CHAPTER 34. THE PLOTTING THICKENS

Vellin set the tablet down on the surface of his desk and watched Racine with anticipation. Racine had no longer been able to take notice of any such thing, however. He was too consumed with what he had just seen.

I’m a wanted man, he thought to himself. Not as adventurous as I suspected it might be.

“Well?” Vellin asked.

“Well, what?” Racine responded, incredulous. “What do you want me to say?”

“Well,” Vellin said slowly, “we need to come up with a plan. Your friends are going to be killed not long from now. I take it you would like to do something about that.”

Racine was uncomfortable with the fact he had to think about that. Of course, he wanted to do something, but what could be done? They were kept under high security, the ones that were still alive anyway. He thought once again of the security footage of Francisco being run down by Mekhounds and torn apart. That was when they had all just been under house arrest. But now they were kept in some kind of secure holding within the Palace. A dungeon, no doubt, he thought.

“And just how do you propose we break into the Palace to free them?” Racine asked. “Do you have some sort of special connection there that I don’t know about?”

The criminal kingpin smirked. “Of course, I have special connections you don’t know about,” he said with a sly grin. “But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Racine cocked his head then looked to Kaelinn who stood across the room leaning against a wall with her arms folded. She stared implacably back at him offering nothing. He returned his attention to Vellin and said, “Then what do you mean?”

“I mean we’re going to have to interrupt the execution. It’s not like I haven’t done it once already.”

That is true, Racine thought. He had been the one to interrupt the execution of Cecil, the former Captain of the Royal Guardians. But now that it had happened once, they would surely be ready for it again. That created quite a risk.

He said as much to Vellin.

“Oh, I know,” Vellin replied. “This time it will have to be a little different. We won’t be able to go in from underneath. They’ll be prepared and waiting for that.”

“Then how, pray tell?” Racine asked arching an eyebrow.

“We walk right in, obviously,” Vellin said. “Like we own the place.”

Racine stared at him, slack-jawed and wide-eyed for several seconds. “We will be caught for sure if we try that,” Racine said.

“Will we?” Vellin asked. “I’m not so sure.”

“They would never believe we would be stupid enough to try it,” Kaelinn offered from her place over at the wall.

Racine shot her a reproachful look. “You’re right, he said. It is stupid. We should put the idea out of our heads right now. We have to come up with something better. Something sane.”

“I’m open to suggestions,” Vellin retorted, the good humor gone from his voice. “I am perfectly willing to sit this one out,” he added. “But that won’t go so well with your friends. Keep in mind that if we do nothing, they will die. Is that what you want?”

“No, it’s not!” Racine nearly shouted back.

“What about our new friend?” Kaelinn asked in a thoughtful voice.

Both men looked to her. She was talking about Belem. The elusive convict currently resided in a holding cell many floors below them. He had been none too happy about that no matter how many times he had been assured they would release him shortly. They only wanted to talk to him first. He had colorfully intimated he was not interested and had more pressing things to do. Nevertheless, they locked him away.

“I suspect he’s not going to be too cooperative because we caged him,” Racine said. “He doesn’t seem the type to let that sort of thing go.”

“But then again,” Vellin said, “who does? However, he seems to be a reasonable sort.”

“Does he?” Racine asked in a disbelieving tone.

“I do run in different circles than you do,” Vellin said. “By the standards down here, yes, he is quite reasonable. I think a brief chat is in order.” He turned to one of his servants and motioned him forward. “Please go retrieve the convict and have him brought here. Be sure to bring along a few armed guards. He is not to be trifled with.”

The servant nodded and then hurried out of the room. Racine watched him go, wondering if they were ever going to see Belem again. The man had disappeared after the assassination of the king to which he was allegedly tied in some measure. Who was to say he couldn’t do it again? And the way prisoners had disappeared from their cells in Vellin’s facility lately, Racine wasn’t exactly confident that he would even be there when the servant arrived.

They were at something of a stalemate and so no one spoke further until the servant and armed guards arrived with Belem in tow.

“Welcome,” Vellin said cheerfully. “Sorry to have kept you waiting like this. Shoddy hospitality, I know, but we are all under a bit of a crunch right now and can’t get to everyone right away.” He shared a friendly smile with the convict. It was not returned.

Belem lifted the cuffs linking his hands and displayed them to Vellin. “Let me out of these right now,” he said.

“My pleasure,” Vellin said and motioned for a guard to undo the bonds.

Racine leaned over to Vellin and said, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Vellin answered, “I’m sure it’s not a good idea to antagonize him further.”

“He’s right about that,” Belem growled. A moment later the cuffs were off his wrists and he rubbed at them.

“Truly,” Vellin said, “I don’t mean to detain you much longer. But I suspect we may be of service to one another.”

Belem barked a scoffing laugh and then said, “Is that so? And how’s that?”

“We appear to have a mutual association that needs dispensing,” Vellin said. “I believe you are acquainted with Lycas Ryth.”

Racine had no idea how it was possible, but the already stony face of Belem went even grimmer at the mention of the Lord Advisor. Racine believed he could almost see heat radiating from the man’s body.

“Yes,” he said darkly, “we have met. What’s your quarrel with him?”

“Oh, you know; the usual. He poses a danger to pretty much everything as I understand it,” Vellin said casually. “And I can’t help but guess you’ve got a bit of a grudge against him yourself. Am I wrong?”

“Not wrong,” Belem said.

Vellin continued, “And if I don’t miss my guess, you’d probably like to dispense some vengeance against him.”

“I would,” Belem said. “But I doubt you will be of any use in that regard.”

“Why?” Racine piped up.

Belem shot him a cold glance, and Racine wished he had said nothing. He shrank back an inch or two.

“I’ve already told you,” Belem said. “Just like I told that other fellow who pulled me out of Ryth’s chambers. He didn’t seem to lend it much weight, though.”

“Yes,” Vellin said, “something about a demon, I believe. I confess we are not ready to disbelieve you on that count. Certain odd occurrences have happened around the man. Unexplainable things.”

“Believe me when I say that you have no hope of defeating him,” Belem said. “I’m not interested in joining up with your little party only to get killed. Or worse, to fall back into that evil thing’s talons.”

“If we have no hope of defeating him,” Kaelinn interrupted, “then what hope did you have?”

“That’s my business,” Belem said. “But I will add that even that is not looking good.”

“Before you decline my offer,” Vellin cut in, “why don’t you allow me to present you with an opportunity that will be upon us all shortly?”

Belem growled. “All right,” he said. “Let’s hear it.”

***

About two hours later the conversation was over and Belem reluctantly agreed to be a part of their little endeavor. He had been assigned a room within Vellin’s secure facility. Racine likewise had gone off to his own quarters. But one of the guards standing in a corner of the room remained in place, watching over everything. He had taken it all in and committed it to memory. It would yet be several hours before he could communicate what he knew with Zain.

He had been one of those set to keep watch over the Sector Representative while he was held in Vellin’s facility. As Zain had broken out, he had whispered a set of instructions and commands to the guard. It had not been picked up by the security equipment because it had been uttered so low. But most of it had been communicated telepathically anyway. Zain had been empowered by Lycas Ryth to do such things. The guard would report to him in relatively short order because that was what he had been hypnotically conditioned to do. And he was sly enough not to get caught while doing it.

And he had not been the only one. There were four of them that night. They all had their parts to play in the upcoming mayhem. None of them really thought about that. They were just prepared to do what they had been commanded. The only question was whether or not the influence exerted over them would last long enough to see it through. But the guard didn’t think about that. The guard didn’t even know about it. He just knew what he was told to do, and he would do it to his dying breath if need be.

CHAPTER 35. GOOD NEWS, BAD NEWS

Zain was quite happy with himself. Happier, in fact, than he had been in a long time. He had something, at last, to get into better graces with Lycas Ryth. Doing so wasn’t the point, of course. He wanted to gain increasing favor with Ryth not because Zain was a little lost puppy needing affirmation, but because he needed to get in deeper with the man so that when he overthrew him he could really throw it in his face.

The information he possessed now was a great stride toward doing just that. Sure, Ryth had empowered him with the hypnotic ability he had leveraged against Vellin’s guards, but why should that matter? Wasn’t it Zain who did all the hard work of getting caught? Wasn’t Zain the one who had been imprisoned by the criminals? He endured the danger while the Lord Advisor sat back in comfort, waiting.

Ryth liked to make out that he was the mastermind, the one in charge of everything. But without people like Zain, he was nothing. Soon, it would be time for him to learn that. And when he did, it would be too late for the smug fool to do anything about it. Hypnotic powers or not, Ryth was just a flesh and blood man. And flesh and blood men could be brought to ignoble ends.

He approached the door to Ryth’s private quarters and slowed his gait. When he arrived, he did not want to seem hurried or overworked. Calmness was the key to dealing with Ryth. The Lord Advisor liked to unsettle people, he knew that. Therefore, remaining steadfast was to be played as a victory against the slippery man.

He stopped before the Ryth’s door and put his hands behind his back, clasping his wrists. He took a few calming breaths before reaching out and pressing the button that signaled someone at the door. He waited a long time, beginning to wonder if Ryth was even at home. A note of disappointment clawed at his insides. If he had made this trip for nothing, he would be frustrated.

But then from the panel beside the door a shrill noise issued forth. Then Ryth’s impatient voice followed.

“Yes? What is it?”

“It’s Zain,” he replied, trying to maintain his calm.

“I didn’t ask who it was,” Ryth said, “I asked what it was. Why are you bothering me?”

Zain felt his composure slipping. He had to reassert it. He took another breath and as calmly as he could, he said, “When you hear what I have to say, you won’t be so upset. You might even ask my forgiveness. Why don’t you open the door and find out?”

Silence followed from Ryth’s side of the conversation. Zain was about to depress the button again and repeat himself when the door slid open before him. He didn’t make it more than two steps into Ryth’s private chambers before being confronted by the man. His countenance was a threatening storm cloud holding back strikes of lightning. Zain nearly recoiled. But he held his position and stood firm.

“Get on with it,” Ryth said, clearly in no mood for nonsense. That suited Zain just fine. What he had to share would be of exceptional interest to the other man.

“Is that any way to treat the bearer of good news?” Zain said haughtily.

Ryth remained immovable, continuing to glare at Zain. Zain had hoped in the slightest to unsettle Ryth for a change. It looked like that wasn’t about to happen.

He sighed. “Very well,” he said. “You will be pleased to know I have located something of great value to you. Something you believed lost.”

Ryth continued to stand and stare at him without saying a word. He only arched one eyebrow and waited.

“All right,” Zain said, “fine. It’s Belem.”

Then Ryth’s face did change. “What? How?”

Zain adopted a superior air and replied, “I have resources of my own, you know. One of the guards that I left behind when I escaped my cell.”

“Vellin?” Ryth asked a little surprised. His eyes flicked away and he fell into thought. Zain could tell the man’s mind raced at incalculable speeds. Comprehension quickly dawned on his features and he returned an expectant expression to Zain.

“Yes,” Zain went on, “That’s right. Our scapegoats have put all of the eggs in one basket.”

“That’s fortunate,” Ryth said, sounding the slightest bit perplexed. Zain was starting to be flustered. What did the man have to complain about or worry over? Wasn’t everything starting to play right into their hands?

“It gets better,” Zain prodded, a smile growing on his face. “We won’t even have to go down there and collect them. They will come right to us.”

“How so?” Ryth asked.

“They are coming to disrupt the execution of the Sector Representatives. They plan on attempting a rescue.”

Ryth slowly reached up a hand and stroked his chin. “A bold move on their part. Especially considering they’ve already done that once recently for Cecil.”

Zain snorted a laugh. “Funnily enough, that was part of their discussion on the matter according to the guard. Racine objected on those very grounds.”

“At least someone among their number has a set of brains for about them,” Ryth said.

“So,” Zain said turning away and moving into Ryth’s private quarters and having a look around. “In short enough order, you will have your prized convict back in your possession once more. I suppose it’s a good thing my little bomb aboard the prison barge didn’t do the job fully.” He turned around and found himself face to face with a suddenly furious Ryth. This time Zain did take a step back. Ryth’s eyes glowed orange and his face was set in a mask of furious steel.

“What is it?” Zain asked.

“You were responsible for the bomb that almost took Belem’s life?”

It occurred to Zain too late that he had never shared that tidbit of information with Ryth. Of course, at the time he had not known Ryth prized Belem’s life and intended to use it for whatever purpose he had set aside for the man. He just wanted to erase any link back to themselves regarding the assassination of the king. He was only trying to help.

“Yes,” he said, starting to feel a fearful bile rise up his throat. “I didn’t know what you intended with the man. I took the initiative to get rid of a link back to us, that’s all.”

“Without consulting me,” Ryth simmered, emphasizing each word with poisonous effect.

Zain felt his defenses go up. “Yes,” he said back hotly. “That’s how initiative works, isn’t it?” Ryth slowly stalked toward the man. Zain stood his ground, determined not to let the Lord Advisor intimidate him this time. A few moments later he would reflect that was a bad move. But by then there was nothing to do about it.

He would never have escaped Ryth anyway.

Ryth lanced forward an arm and seized Zain by the clothes at his chest. He yanked the man closer toward him. Zain felt his feet leave the floor. It would be the final time he touched the ground alive.

“Do you have any idea of how close you came to ruining a thousand years of work?”

Zain stared back, not comprehending. A thousand years? What could that mean? he wondered, bewildered. But then it didn’t matter. Zain was drawn closer. Ryth waved his other hand toward the door control panel and the button to close it sank into the wall seemingly by itself. The door slid closed.

“What are you doing?” Zain blurted in a high-pitched squeal.

Ryth shook his head slowly from side to side. “Your life doesn’t matter anymore,” he said. “My victory is a foregone conclusion. I don’t need any of you anymore.”

Zain’s mouth worked but no words came forward. His sense of dread was too great. It paralyzed his speech.

Ryth’s jaw dropped open and a glowing orange light emanated from inside.

Zain felt as if a freezing-cold sword stabbed into his heart. A ripping sensation coursed throughout his body as if everything within him disconnected from every other part by force. The agony was brilliant. He felt his mouth drop open and intense heat filled him. His whole body wanted to shake but he went completely still. A total sense of dislocation came over him. Then he could feel himself drying and cracking from the inside out as his soul was ripped from his body.

It all happened so fast that Zain felt little compared to others Ryth had put through the process. But the man was dead now. Ryth continued to hold his desiccated corpse up into the air and stared at it for a handful of moments. There was no sense of satisfaction in him. Only disgust. He then spun around and with all his might hurled the dried remains of Zain across the room. He collided with the wall and shattered.

CHAPTER 36. RETURN TO THE WALL

The three of them stood side-by-side staring with unease at the massive wall before them. Beyond that wall was the Human Citadel. Two of them had once called it home. Gael’jic stood with his hand stroking the dewlap hanging from his chin. Cecil looked over at him and noticed his head fin stood halfway up. There was a slight tremor that went through it. Mild agitation, he thought.

He remembered how he felt entering the Dar’rynakai city for the first time not long before. That Gael’jic’s irritation was only mild was impressive. The reptilian man was about to enter an alien environment that he could hardly begin to comprehend.

The Dar’rynakai people were simple in many ways, though they had their own forms of technology. They used no harnessed power source for internal lights or other electronic machinery as did the humans. Their world was one of wood and stone. Water and wind power were what they knew.

He had caught glimpses of human technology since they began their journey, but it had been in incremental amounts here and there. But even that baffled him. What will his response to our sprawling human civilization and its technological advancements be? Cecil wondered.

“It is unbelievable in its scope,” Gael’jic uttered in awe. “How could a civilization even conceive of such grandiosity?” He shook his head, wobbling his dewlap and head fin. The two humans only watched him with a minor sense of amusement as he tried to take it all in. Both men had only known the environs of the Human Citadel and nothing else for their whole lives until they had been thrust out into the wilds.

Breaking the spell of his reverie at last, Gael’jic turned to Cecil and asked, “How do we get inside?”

“Good question,” Ariam said in response. He had been troubled over that very question for quite some time now. But he had come up with no satisfactory answers. Getting out had been easy and he hadn’t had to do much aside from following a spectral figure who later turned out to be a psychic projection of Rama’dy’ac. The doors had been opened for him.

“The first thing,” Cecil interjected, “is to find a door.” He looked to Ariam and added, “Doors let us out, and they will let us back in.”

“But how will we open them?” Ariam protested.

The other man replied, “Let’s find a door first before we worry about that.”

Ariam returned his face to the expansive wall before them. A flicker of memory shot through him. He recalled the vision he had seen when he traveled through the gate from Cairn to Remmice and it re-opened the disturbing wounds of his fears. In that vision, he had seen a great rift that had been opened up in the wall. Blackened scorch marks adorned both sides. He could never have imagined what could possibly have caused such destruction, but the vision suggested something could. Even more disturbing than that was the encounter he had with a possessed Belem. Ryth inhabited his body. Ariam wondered, were they in time to save their companion? Or had he given in already and the unraveling of all things was already underway?

Who could tell?

Cecil left his place and stalked toward the wall. He halted a few paces away from it and then started to move to the left. He walked sideways slowly and studied the surface of the wall methodically as he did so. Ariam knew he was looking for a door they could hopefully use to enter the Citadel. A moment later Gael’jic joined him in the effort. Ariam stood for a few moments watching both carry on this way. After a while, he relented and finally joined them. Yet he could not help but detect a nagging sense of defeat encroach upon him. That feeling clouded his focus and distracted him. The attention he gave to their task was therefore halfhearted.

Sometime later – Ariam estimated about half an hour – Cecil brought their group to a halt. He took a closer step toward the wall and lifted his arm. His fingers stretched forth and met the surface. He squinted his eyes as he ran his fingers along what appeared to be a seam.

“Here,” he said. “I think this is what we’re looking for.”

Ariam and Gael’jic crowded forward and examined what he spoke of. It took him a few seconds, but Ariam finally ascertained the shape of a door on the side of the wall. Cecil carefully ran his fingers along the seam, tracing upwards, then running horizontally, then going back down.

“Yes,” Gael’jic said, “I see it.”

“Great,” Ariam said, lacking enthusiasm, “but how do we get in now? I don’t see a control panel of any kind.”

Cecil withdrew his hand and searched the immediate area. Ariam was right, there appeared to be no panel to open the door. At least not from this side of things.

Cecil scrunched up his face in concentration as he stared at the immovable door. A moment later he reached out his gauntleted hand again and began feeling around the area to one side of the door. He brushed away decades of grit and grime that had accumulated to see if doing so would reveal the presence of a control panel, perhaps concealed beneath a removable plate. But he could find nothing.

The three of them fell silent and contemplative. After a while, Ariam said, “Should we try to find another door?”

“Odds are,” Cecil answered, “we will have the same problem with any other doors we find as we do with this one. I think they’re all designed to let something out but not in.”

“Can it be broken into?” Gael’jic asked thoughtfully.

“Maybe,” Cecil said, “if we had the right equipment. But we don’t. Doors like these are powerfully sealed against such tampering. What we really need is someone on the inside to let us in.”

As if on command, the door sprang open. It flew to the side with a hiss of motion startling them all. Each of them backed up an involuntary step or two. Gael’jic hissed and hunched his shoulders in response.

Cecil kept his eyes trained forward on the now open portal. He half expected someone to reveal themselves. But the space on the other side was entirely vacant. He turned a questioning face to his companions.

“Apparently,” Gael’jic said, “Rama’dy’ac continues to assist us even though he has departed.”

“Maybe,” Cecil said. “Maybe not.” He took a step forward but Ariam thrust out a hand and placed it on his shoulder restraining him.

“Wait,” he said. “Do you think this might be a trap?”

Cecil shot him a glance then looked back to the open door. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Of course, I can’t say for sure. Regardless, we need to get inside and the door’s open. Best we get moving before it closes again.”

Without waiting he pulled away from Ariam’s restraining hand and entered the opening in the wall. Gael’jic hesitated only a moment then was right on his heels. Ariam drew a long quavering breath and expelled it. A deep and abiding sense of trepidation settled over him. He was sure once they were inside, they would encounter a host of troubles. Lycas Ryth wasn’t the only danger beyond the door. He recalled the robotic figures he stumbled across on his way out. And who knew what other dangers lurked in the darkness?

He followed them.

Once inside, the door closed immediately behind him bathing them in total blackness. Ariam’s breathing threatened to quicken as did the beating of his heart. He did his best to suppress this so as not to succumb to overwhelming fits of terror.

“Fortitude,” he whispered to himself, trying his best to reassert some semblance of self-control.

As with the first time he entered the wall, a handful of moments passed and then lights blinked to life around them. They were dim and faltering and only illuminated the immediate area surrounding them. At least, he reflected, it’s better than perpetual blinding blackness.

A low hissing noise came from Gael’jic. Both Ariam and Cecil turned to him, eyebrows raised in expectation of an explanation.

“This steel cave,” he said in an unhappy tone, “it does not smell right.”

Ariam inhaled deeply and his mind began to process the scents around them. He could detect nothing he would consider to be out of the ordinary. But then he guessed it was all out of the ordinary for Gael’jic.

“I don’t detect anything strange,” Cecil commented. “It might take you some getting used to, though. Try not to get your hackles up.”

Gael’jic simmered for a moment then said, “I shall do my best.”

“Maybe don’t,” Ariam said thoughtfully. Both companions turned to him.

He continued, “Perhaps his heightened senses will detect trouble before ours will. I think it’s best to stay as alert as possible here.”

The Dar’rynakai nodded to him. Cecil seemed to consider this for a moment then said, “All right. Maybe that’s a good point. But let’s get moving. I get the feeling we need to put a little speed on.”

“You sense it, too,” Ariam said. “You also feel the urgency.”

Cecil only nodded and then started their group moving once again. Both Gael’jic and Ariam fell into place behind him right away.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Ariam asked.

“Not precisely, but I think I know roughly where we are. As Captain of the Royal Guardians, I am marginally acquainted with the secret passageways of the Palace and the Citadel wall.”

Ariam, a fresh wave of worry washing over him, asked, “Are we going to the Palace? Do you think that’s a good idea with Ryth hanging around there?”

Cecil considered this for a moment as they walked then he shook his head. “No, I don’t think so,” he answered. “I have a gut feeling we need to make our way to the Under-Citadel first. I have a contact there who may be of service to us. He may even have resources to weaponize the Illuminoc flowers. Gael’jic still has the shattered pieces of the Remmite tech. Maybe his people can use that. Or, maybe they have something of their own.”

“By all means, then,” Ariam said. “Lead the way.”

CHAPTER 37. INTERRUPTED PLANS

They wandered for what seemed like hours in the vast labyrinth of the Citadel wall. Ariam’s oppressive sense of urgency never diminished. It only increased. He wondered if Cecil continued to feel it the same way he did, but the former Captain remained tightlipped about it.

“When we get to an opening that will lead us into the Under-Citadel,” Cecil commented over his shoulder, “only Ariam and I will be able to enter. Gael’jic, you will have to stay behind.”

Ariam wanted to protest, but fully understood. A Dar’rynakai walking around in any part of the Human Citadel – seedy underworld or not – would attract attention. For all he knew, no human being still in the Citadel in living memory had ever laid direct eyes on a living specimen of the Dar’rynakai. Many had seen only images and had heard a variety of unfounded rumors. These stories mostly turned out to be false, but that would only serve to complicate their situation. They would never make it anywhere if Gael’jic was seen walking around with them.

“What shall I do then?” Gael’jic asked.

Cecil halted and turned to address him. “The only thing you can do is wait,” he replied. He turned to Ariam and said, “I suppose Ariam could stay with you if you feel uncomfortable waiting by yourself.”

Gael’jic shook his head vehemently and his dewlap wobbled as did his head fin. “No,” he insisted. “You both must go. It is important.”

“Where are we going?” Ariam asked into the tension. “And who exactly is this person we’re hoping to see?”

“My contact is a crime boss operating in the Under-Citadel,” Cecil replied. His name is “Vellin.”

“And you know how to find him?” Ariam asked.

Cecil shrugged. “Unless he’s moved his operation. Which I admit is a possibility. Who knows what’s happened since we left the Citadel?”

A short time later they came to a hatch on the inmost side of the wall leading into the interior of the Citadel. They were now several levels beneath the surface having descended several sets of stairs.

“What exactly is on the other side of this hatch?” Ariam asked as Cecil began manipulating the controls to open it.

Cecil shrugged. “I can’t say for sure. I’ve never gone this way. I only have a vague idea of where we are.” He shared a concerned look with Ariam and then returned his attention to the control panel. A few seconds later there was a hiss of compressed air as the hatch came open. It was a circular portal elevated a few inches off the floor. It irised open but the top only reached about four feet off the floor meaning they both had to duck to get through it.

Cecil stepped through first then a moment later Ariam was right behind him. They both turned and looked back through the portal at Gael’jic. Ariam gazed around to make certain no one stood nearby who might see him. They were in another hallway which was completely empty.

“We will be back,” Cecil promised to Gael’jic. “Hopefully, it won’t take us too long but still, we might be gone a few hours.”

The Dar’rynakai merely nodded.

“We should leave our weapons here with him,” Cecil said to Ariam.

The beggar looked uncertainly back at Cecil. “Are you certain? We’re going to be mingling with unfavorable and dangerous elements down here. Maybe we should…”

Cecil was shaking his head before Ariam could go on. “No,” he said. “These weapons are strange and will attract looks. Not as much as him, probably,” he said, indicating Gael’jic with his chin, “but more than enough, anyway. Besides, it’s probably smart to leave Gael’jic armed to the teeth.”

Ariam spared the Dar’rynakai a concerned look, hesitated, then handed his spear back through the portal. Cecil sent his Ke’ef blade through as well.

When they were finished disarming themselves Cecil reached forward and depressed a button on the side of the door. It irised closed.

“I don’t like leaving him behind like this,” Ariam said.

Cecil shifted his face to the other man and in a reasoned voice said, “What choice do we have?” He then turned away from Ariam and moved down the hallway. Ariam caught up with him a few paces later.

They carried on this way for a while and every few junctions Cecil would turn down one. Ariam wasn’t very good at directions and soon felt lost. Without Cecil, he would never find his way back to Gael’jic. He hoped whatever it was they needed to do they would be finished quickly.

Soon they came to another door and Cecil opened it. They stepped out onto a street. People milled about everywhere. The companions halted just beyond the door and looked around to get their bearings. Cecil became suddenly aware he still wore the purple armor of a Royal Guardian, damaged though it was. It would quickly draw attention to them.

“I have to find something to put over this,” he muttered.

“I don’t suppose you have any money? Maybe we could buy a covering.” Ariam asked.

Cecil shook his head.

“Then we may have to make do without,” Ariam said.

“All right,” Cecil said, “but be prepared to get some interesting looks.”

“I’m used to that,” Ariam said with a slight grin.

“Well, well, well,” came a gruff voice. “What do we have here?”

They spun at once and saw a collection of eight men. They were all filthy and grim, but one, a man significantly larger than Cecil, stood out from the others. His arms were folded and a sneer adorned his face. “What’s a Royal Guardian doing all the way down here?”

Ariam felt his heart drop as he stared at the gathered men. The big one, the apparent leader of the group, had an ill look about him. His nose had apparently been broken a few times. Several days’ worth of stubble sprouted in sickly patches from his chin. One eye was a milky white color, the other was muddy brown.

Now Ariam wished even harder that they had not left their weapons with Gael’jic. Walking around in the Under-Citadel was probably not a good idea armed with foreign bushcraft-style weapons. But now Ariam was reevaluating that decision.

Cecil stepped forward. “I’m not a Royal Guardian,” he said. “I just like this dinged-up old armor is all. Found it laying around in a rubbish pile. It fit so nicely I thought I’d keep it.”

The big man in front rubbed his chin as if in thought. It was a poor affectation, Ariam thought. The grin on the big thug’s face suggested he was in a taking mood.

“Is that so?” the big man said. “Just found it did you? It seems to me like I just found it. I think I’ll be taking it.”

“I don’t think it’ll fit you,” Cecil said with casual and unconcerned grace. Ariam had no idea how he maintained the attitude in the face of such an obvious threat.

“Fit or not,” the big guy said, “it’ll probably fetch a pretty price. Hand it over.”

The big man reached forward with a meaty paw and clearly intended to lay hold of Cecil. But it was never going to happen. Ariam should have known that.

In less time than he could almost perceive, a change came over Cecil. The good-natured responses and casual countenance were gone. Before the big thug’s hand could complete its journey, Cecil was in motion toward him instead. The former Captain of the Royal Guardians shot his hand forward and seized the man’s big hand by the thumb. Cecil jerked that hand forward and a disgusting popping sound filled the air. The thumb now stood at a sickly and unnatural angle. The man’s face opened up and the look of superiority that had been there blew away like dust in a strong wind. His eyes became large round saucers of fear and pain. Cecil kept moving.

With unbelievable speed Cecil, maintaining hold on the man’s now broken thumb, rushed forward and underneath the big thug’s now outstretched opposite arm. It had shot up involuntarily as the pain coursed through his body. Cecil now came up behind the man. Still holding the man’s other arm the guardsman yanked, sending a fresh wave of agony through the bloke. At the same time, Cecil kicked at the back of one of his knees driving the man to the ground. He then reached around with his free hand and cupped the man’s chin. He pulled sharply and snapped his enemy’s neck then let go of him completely allowing the body to collapse to the ground. He whirled around to face the astonished remainder of the man’s crew. He gave them no opportunity to react. With lightning speed showing why he had once been selected as Captain of the Royal Guardians Cecil went to work on the rest of the men. Ariam watched in agape astonishment.

By the time Cecil had dropped two more of the remaining seven men, the rest of them burst into action. But only two of them were smart enough to flee for their lives. The other three engaged Cecil in battle.

The former Royal Guardian Captain was a blur of purple motion. The street thugs had no chance against him. Ariam watched in disbelief as Cecil brought down the remaining group with ferocious efficiency. Ariam didn’t think all of the men were dead like the first one had been, mostly unconscious. But at least two of the men had lost their lives in the fray.

When the brief but pointless battle was over, Ariam looked around and noticed a few passersby had stopped to witness the mayhem with interest. When they perceived he made eye contact with them, they quickly looked away and hurried off on some other more pressing errand. But when Ariam looked back to Cecil, he found the man kneeling among the bodies and removing garments. There were two cloaks in his fists when he stood up. He tossed one of them to Ariam.

“Put that on,” he said. He then began to throw the other cloak over himself hiding his armor.

Now that they were both disguised they checked each other’s cloaks to make sure they were both well enough concealed. Cecil made sure to bring his hood up. Ariam’s scraggly beard and unkempt appearance did a fine enough job of concealing his true identity. But Cecil’s face was still well known considering the debacle surrounding the assassination of the king and the accusation that he had been involved. The fewer people who saw his face, the better.

Cecil led the way and Ariam followed. He kept shooting glances around to make sure they weren’t being watched. He saw no one looking at them. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was.

Suddenly Cecil brought them to a halt. He shot a hand out which landed on Ariam’s chest. Ariam glanced to Cecil with a questioning expression. He saw Cecil’s face had gone ashen.

“What?” he asked quietly. “What’s wrong now?”

Cecil merely pointed.

Ariam followed the gesture and his eyes landed on a video screen across the street. It was large and elevated. It was meant to display the news so that the entire Citadel could keep pace with what major events transpired. Some in the Under-Citadel still cared to know what went on above their heads.

A news announcement about a forthcoming execution of all the Sector Representatives played upon it.

Video images of Lycas Ryth and a female Sector Representative Cecil recognized played across the screen. A scrolling banner beneath it bore the legend that one of the members of the Triumvirate was missing.

“Triumvirate?” Ariam asked in an alarmed tone. “Like in the Dar’rynakai city? But here?”

“Hush,” Cecil said sharply.

The image switched to a crowd gathered in the same place where his own execution was supposed to have happened. Several quick image changes showed faces in the crowd.

Ariam’s heart stopped. One of those displayed ever-so-briefly was Belem’s cloaked face.

“Change of plans. We have to get out of here,” Cecil said.

“Let’s get back to Gael’jic,” Ariam agreed with a nod.

They were off.

CHAPTER 38. EXECUTION COMMENCEMENT

The gathered crowd rumbled with anticipation. From his place away back inside the door Lycas Ryth smirked with self-satisfaction. He shifted his eyes to Shahleen who stood a few paces farther down the hall. Her face was blank and her eyes dull. Ryth had quite recently reasserted his hypnotic control over the woman so that she would not poorly react during this event. Deep within her, it was entirely possible that her mind was soaking in all the things happening around her and might rebel. But with the psychic blocks he had put on all the important pathways, there was virtually no chance she would break through and protest. Even if she did, it would be too late for her to do anything. He had made certain of that.

The noise grew as the Sector Representatives were brought forth chained together and positioned at their places of execution. His one remaining good human eye could not pierce the steel and stone of the Palace, but he could perceive them in other ways. Ryth did not need to look upon the accused officials to detect their disturbed state. He could feel it even from where he stood. His attachment to the psychic reservoir that was generated by the mass collection of people in the Human Citadel was powerful. He had established it long ago and manipulated it for centuries. He knew every ebb and flow and how to divert it to his purposes. He had mastered these pathetic creatures.

“Well, my dear, are you ready?” he asked in a nonchalant manner.

Shahleen slowly brought her attention to him and stared at him blankly. She gave a minuscule nod and mumbled in affirmation. It was hardly even a word. That was all right, he didn’t need her consent.

He turned toward the opening before him, the door onto the balcony where Royal pronouncements had been made for hundreds of years. He put on his practiced face of grim resolution, set his posture just so, and then strode forward in a measured way. Shahleen brought up the rear slowly, obediently. In moments they were awash in sunlight beaming down from the open-air arena. Ryth took his place at the primary position on the balcony and swept his focus slowly across the gathered crowd. He sensed their eagerness, their lustful demand for blood. He was about to gladly satisfy them.

He raised a hand to gain their attention. The tumult died down slowly as many faces turned toward him and eyes drink in the sight of the Lord Advisor. He waited, allowing tension to build as he gazed down at the crowd affecting a saddened countenance. He wanted to set the mood before he proceeded. The moment was building. The meticulously planned words came next, preparing to culminate in the shedding of blood.

“Fair citizens of the kingdom,” he started, “we have gathered today for justice.” He paused, sensing the advent of the cheer before it escaped any of their mouths. He felt the psychic reservoir rise like a tsunami wave on the ocean threatening to overtake the shore. He relished in it. But he managed to keep a smile off his face. It would not do… not yet anyway.

When the noise from the crowd died down, he carried on. “Yes, we will meet the demands of justice regarding the despicable seditious activities of the one-time Sector Representatives of the Human Citadel and kingdom. They will receive the due penalty for their crimes. But,” and he halted here, thrusting his finger into the air and pointing up at the sky as if it were a fleshly exclamation point, “What we did not expect until an hour ago was that the justice served today would expand to address an even further mystery. One which has now been solved. The disappearance of Zain, former Sector Representative and installed member of the Triumvirate has been uncovered. Even from their places of arrest, these vile criminals have managed to capture and assassinate Zain.”

Gasps and other noises of startlement sounded out from the assembly. The place was immediately filled with the din of clamoring comments and murmured disbelief. Ryth was pleased to let this go on for some time until he once more raised his hand for silence and attention. It took considerably longer for them to obey this time, but he didn’t care. He enjoyed it when they stewed in their discomfort. When the noises finally did die down, he went on. “Fair citizens…” he began again but then halted immediately. He snapped his mouth shut and furrowed his brow in concentration.

Something was amiss. He was, of course, well aware of the plot to disrupt the execution, but this was not that. This was something unexpected. His eyes darted everywhere searching the crowd for an answer to his perplexity.

***

Cecil and Ariam stood side-by-side, quietly watching and waiting for some kind of opportunity to act. They were not yet in the main arena but just outside it gathered with an overflow assembly. Large display monitors resided high on the walls, showing what was happening within the main area. These images were also mandatorily broadcast on every screen in the Citadel.

They had listened to the beginning of Ryth’s pronouncements with detached interest. They knew what was going to happen, they just had to find a way to subvert it. Cecil lost count of how many times he wished Belem was still with them. His mind was too preoccupied to think about how out of the ordinary that was. He didn’t like the man, even still. But he knew Belem belonged among them to accomplish Rama’dy’ac’s work. And somewhere in the crowd not far from them, he stood.

What is he thinking? Cecil thought. Cecil believed wading out into the open like that was a sure way to get himself caught once more. He only wondered briefly how Belem had escaped Ryth’s clutches, to begin with. But he knew better than to put it past the man. He was quite a capable criminal. Surely, he must have his ways.

Ariam had theorized as they traveled to this place that perhaps he had already given in to Ryth and was stationed in the crowd for some other purpose by the Lord Advisor. Cecil thought about this for only a short amount of time before he dismissed it. He explained that he did not believe that to be the case because the vision Ariam experienced where he’d seen Belem possessed by Uri’thind’ac indicated that Ryth would have no more use for his current body. He doubted Ryth would be able to maintain any kind of control over Belem unless Uri’thind’ac was in firm possession of his body and mind. Regardless of the hypnotic powers Ryth exercised over others, he didn’t seem capable of doing the same with Rama’dy’ac’s champions.

No, the two of them remained apart. Cecil’s best guess was that Belem was there to seek revenge against Ryth. Belem was there because that was where Ryth was assured to appear.

“We’re going to have to get inside,” Ariam muttered and was only barely to be heard over the noise of the other people around them. Cecil nodded his head and grunted in agreement but said nothing else. He scanned the area before them taking note of the absence of the Royal Guardians. Instead, serving in place of them, were the tan-clad personal guards of the Lord Advisor.

Cecil did not like to consider how that transition must have happened. Upon their arrival, he worried about the status of his brothers. Were they imprisoned, or already dead? The answer to that question had come from conversations he’d overheard after they arrived. Eavesdropping on several conversations brought him the news he needed. The executions would begin with the Sector Representatives, but it would not stop there. Eventually, every member of the Royal Guardian core was to be put to death as well. They had been implicated in the assassination plots against the king and now, evidently the Queen. Cecil knew this to be nonsense, and so tucked the information away in the back of his mind to be used later. He figured his brothers would be invaluable in the coming fight. But he had to free them first. Yet, before that, they had to regain Belem. That meant finding Belem in the crowd and pulling him away from his immediate errand of vengeance. That would be a next-to-impossible task, he knew.

“Follow me,” Cecil said to Ariam. And keep your face low.” He started to take a step forward then halted. He turned an excited expression to Ariam and the beggar stared back at him in confusion.

“No,” he said slowly as an idea began to take shape. “I think I’ve got a better idea.”

“What is it?” Ariam asked with a growing sense of unease.

A grin spread on Cecil’s face. “How do you feel about making yourself known once again?”

Ariam’s brow drew down as he tried to untangle what Cecil had just said to them. He thought about it for a second then said, “Do you mean…?”

“Why yes,” Cecil replied, “I do.”

***

Belem itched to stand before Ryth and ram a blade home in his throat. He had been given two knives by Vellin to replace the ones Ryth destroyed. They were good quality, but Belem found himself missing the ones fashioned by the Dar’rynakai.

He schooled himself not to draw Ryth’s attention just yet. It would ruin the plan. But, as little as he cared for the lives of the captive Sector Representatives on the stage, he understood the value of the long game involved here. If the plan went accordingly, the Sector Representatives could be used to draw Ryth out of his snake’s den. This was only the first phase of the scheme.

“Are you ready?” came Kaelinn’s voice through the earpiece. The device was small and invisible to the naked eye. Aside from that it was lodged deep in his ear. Belem wondered at first how he would get it out again but decided not to worry about it. He had other more pressing issues at hand.

“Don’t worry about me,” he commented tersely and a little louder than perhaps he should have. He did not need to shout to be heard over the noise of the crowd. The communication device worked in tandem with his body, relying mainly on internal vibrations to reproduce an exact replica of his voice in the ears of all who received the transmission. The device would pick up very little from his surroundings. It had taken some getting used to it, but after a few failed simulations, he’d gotten the hang of it. He concluded in a slightly calmer voice, “Just let me know when you are ready.”

“Almost,” came back the girl’s voice. “Standby.”

Standby, Belem thought wryly. I’ve been standing by for this for a long time. Longer than even I had once known. The disruption of the Sector Representatives’ execution was only the first stage in his revenge against Ryth. Rescuing these allegedly innocent fools from Ryth’s claws would surely dig at him. As long as it upset him, Belem didn’t care how foolhardy it seemed on the surface. He had a real chance of infuriating the demon. That was good enough for him. Provided they succeeded.

A new voice came through his earpiece, this time it was Vellin. “Now,” he said, “you’re not going to do anything foolish, are you?”

“What do you take me for?” Belem said.

“I take you for a brute,” Vellin said casually. “And brutes don’t always make the best decisions.”

“I’m no common thug,” Belem replied. As he spoke, he continued to look around his environment, keeping his gaze casual and not resting on any particular person or thing for very long.

Ryth was up on the balcony, spouting his propaganda leading the crowd to swallow his lies.

Vellin continued in his ear, “It’s just about time. Just be sure you’re ready to go when I give the word.”

“Of course, I’ll be…” Belem started but then trailed off. An alien sensation unexpectedly sliced into his consciousness, intruding into his thoughts. It was at once foreign and familiar. Yet for all that, it was also elusive. Belem instinctively looked around, searching for anything that might have caused the mental disturbance. He saw no one looking back at him. All eyes were turned up toward the balcony where Ryth stood with that woman at his side. He continued flicking his eyes about, searching in growing desperation for something out of the ordinary.

It registered in his mind that Ryth had suddenly stopped speaking. He couldn’t help himself. He jerked his face upward and looked at the balcony toward Lycas Ryth. At the same moment, Ryth turned his face and looked directly at him. The two locked eyes. Belem was pleased to see a look of confusion crawl briefly across Ryth’s features. But then he did something Belem never would have expected.

Ryth smiled and then winked conspiratorially at Belem.

“Oh, that’s not good,” Belem muttered.

In his ear, he heard the voice of Vellin hiss, “Belem! What do you think you’re doing?”

CHAPTER 39. DISRUPTION DISRUPTED

“It’s a go,” Vellin said harshly into the shared intercom. He cursed but only mentally. He did not want the members of his team to know his frustration. They hadn’t even begun and it was already veering sideways.

Vellin stood back in a recessed alcove overlooking the crowded arena. He arrived there via secret passageways that he was fairly convinced only he knew. Or at least that was what he hoped.

Now that he had given the order it would only be moments before the rescue operation commenced. He paused, holding his breath, waiting for that moment to transpire. Once it did, he would breathe a sigh of relief. But that relief would only last a few more seconds. There was no telling how this would unfold. Everyone knew their roles, everyone knew their designated exits. They did not have access to the arena before this and so they could not practice it on true grounds. But they had hastily cleared space and set up a simulated environment in his headquarters. They had run through it a few times just so they could get a sense of the timing. But nothing prepared anyone for the realities of such an operation.

Racine, who was not present for obvious reasons, had said, “At least we won’t have to deal with the Royal Guardians.”

“Yes,” Vellin agreed, but then provided a correction to the other man’s perspective, “but we will have to deal with Lycas Ryth’s guards. They are no less proficient than the Royal Guardians in many respects.” Racine, having fled and barely escaped an encounter with those very people, had to concede the point.

The fugitive Sector Representative was squirreled away back at Vellin’s headquarters with only one other person to guard him. He was one of the few men Vellin trusted the most. He hoped they would all be rejoining them soon.

The first energy blast rang out from another recessed alcove off to his right. In a flash, it left the high-powered rifle from which it was fired and traveled home to its target. The blast landed dead center in the chest of one of the Lord Advisor’s guards. The tan-clad figure crumpled immediately to the floor of the stage. Several other guards who were positioned behind the Sector Representatives, poised to administer the killing strokes against them with blades, reacted instantly. They exploded from their locations and headed on a path presumably toward the location from whence came the deadly blast.

The one who had fired the shot was no doubt already on his way away from the spot. But there were others.

Two more shots rang out. These expertly found their marks on the heads of other guards who were now pushing through the crowd. Racine had voiced misgivings about the tactic of firing into the crowd, but Vellin assured him his marksmen were unrivaled. Of course, he said nothing about the fact that there was no such thing as perfection when it came to such dark work. Your people trained and then you hoped for the best. Vellin was not disappointed in their performance.

The crowd – paralyzed at first – now erupted in a frenzy of terror. It considerably slowed the other guards trying to push their way through. Now was their opportunity.

Others of his men who had been planted in the crowd rushed the stage. Each of them possessed a device that would make short work of slicing through the chains which held the Sector Representatives to their execution stakes. Vellin watched all this transpire with detached interest. His cool and calculating mind worked at gathering all the visual and auditory data surrounding him, making note of the performance of his people. He nodded along, mostly pleased with what he saw.

The men with the cutters were now up on the stage positioning to work to free the Sector Representatives. Relief washed over the faces of the captive men.

Another shot rang out, this one lanced toward the balcony. Vellin’s eyes flicked up that way just in time to see the energy bolt course through the air and arrive at its target. The grimly smiling man simply stood and took it. Vellin waited for him to fall but blinked when nothing seemed to happen. Lycas Ryth continued to stand in place unperturbed and unharmed. Vellin’s otherwise rational mind struggled to comprehend what he had just witnessed.

The bolt of energy had sped through the air as it should have and landed home at the center of Ryth’s chest as it should have. But instead of undoing the man, he remained unaffected.

Suddenly Ryth turned his face so that he looked right at Vellin. He smiled widely and raised a finger which he waggled in a no-no-no gesture. He mouthed a single word. Even from this distance, Vellin knew what it was.

“Naughty.”

Several explosions abruptly rang out demanding his attention. He looked away from the Lord Advisor and dropped his attention back to the stage. Where his men had stood cutting away at the chains holding the Sector Representatives in place, they stood no more. Now their ruined bodies lay collapsed at the Sector Representative’s feet. Each of them had gaping wounds in their chest. Vellin lifted his face to look at the Representatives themselves. Their faces were all uncomprehending and covered in blood.

“What happened?” he couldn’t help asking out loud.

“It’s a trap,” Belem’s voice came back over his earpiece. “They were expecting us. They knew we were coming and what we planned to do.”

Vellin turned his face to look out over the crowd. He quickly located Belem and saw the man now staring at him with a frustrated expression pasted on his face.

Belem’s voice came over his intercom another time. “I warned you about this.”

Vellin tore his attention away from Belem and looked back to Lycas Ryth. Ryth was still staring at him, triumphant.

“So,” Vellin said. “It is true. He really is a demon.”

Below him, more of Lycas Ryth’s tan-clad guards stormed the stage and reasserted their positions behind the Sector Representatives. The captive men tried to pull away but their chains but remained helplessly in place. None of them had been freed by his men in time.

“Boss?” came Kaelinn’s urgent voice over his earpiece.

“What?” he shouted, his sense of control now completely gone.

“Behind you!”

First Vellin looked across the way and saw Kaelinn stationed in her alcove. She reached out her bionic arm toward him, fingers splayed. A look of terrified helplessness adorned her face.

He started to turn but then felt a powerful arm reach around his body which pinned him in place. His insides went cold.

“Hello, criminal,” came a slithering voice. Vellin tried to wrench himself free but he was held in place. He continued to struggle for a few seconds but froze when he felt cold, sharp steel press against his throat. The voice returned. “Beautiful day for an execution, isn’t it?”

Vellin’s eyes went wide when he realized what was about to happen. But there was nothing he could do to stop it. And Kaelinn was too far away.

The cold steel of the blade bit deeply into his flesh as his neck was sliced open. Blood sprayed forward, splashing the alcove. Then the powerful arm that had held him in place released him. He collapsed to his knees, snaking a hand up to his neck and then he fell onto his side. He twisted to get a look at his assailant. He saw another one of Ryth’s guards standing there, holding a bloodied knife. The pain in his throat was sharp but it was nothing compared to the encroaching cold fear overtaking his whole world.

Vellin stretched out a pleading hand and his mouth worked but no words could come forward. Only gurgling and hissing sounds issued from the fresh wound in his throat. His world started to go dark.

“Don’t worry about the girl,” the tan-clad assailant said. “She’s next.”

Vellin’s last thoughts before he passed out of life were oddly tinged with satisfaction. Even if one of them was able to creep up on her, they would have a much harder time dealing with her than they did with him. They were in for a surprise.

CHAPTER 40. KEEPING IT TOGETHER

He didn’t have many options. Even the ones he did have were not all that attractive. Belem was seen. He knew that much. Ryth had spotted him, and he knew it would only be a matter of time until his guards were directed to apprehend the convict. A good handful of Vellin’s men were killed before his very eyes. And if he didn’t miss his guess, he heard Vellin’s death over the device in his ear.

He could run, but suspected he wouldn’t get far. If Ryth had known they were coming, if he had some kind of source in Vellin’s operation which seemed likely, then he probably knew their escape routes. He might even have men stationed, waiting for them to try such a move. He supposed he could try to escape another way but knew all exits would be guarded.

That left standing and fighting. That probably suited him better, he reasoned. He likely wouldn’t be victorious, would probably be apprehended, but at least he could take down some with him before he fell. He gave no thought to what the rest of Vellin’s men were going to do. Kaelinn didn’t even enter his thoughts. For Belem, there was now only himself and Ryth. Although he also knew he could not hurt Ryth. He had tried that multiple times when they had come through the gate back to this planet. Nothing he did seemed to work.

He wondered if once Ryth had him cornered and captured if he would bother with him any longer. Perhaps Belem had proved to be too much trouble for him and would not be worth maintaining.

He shoved aside all these thoughts in favor of one simple purpose. Violence. He reached beneath his cloak and extracted the knives concealed beneath. They had come into the arena through secret entrances that had not been guarded by anyone. That was how each of them managed to smuggle in their instruments of war undetected. It felt good to wrap his hands around the hilts. He extracted the knives and felt their weight, savoring it, especially the anticipation of spilling blood.

He lifted his attention to the stage and saw the guards standing poised behind the Sector Representatives. He selected a target and readied to launch. He felt his muscles tense preparing for movement. Suddenly a tan-clad guard stood beside him glowering at him. He too was poised to attack.

“Don’t move,” the guard said. “You are under arrest by order of Lycas Ryth, Lord Advisor and member of the Triumvirate. Surrender or be met with force.”

In the next instant, Belem committed himself to violence.

***

Ariam had pushed his way to the raised fountain several meters back and climbed up it. He splashed his way through the great pool of water and then clambered up the large statue in the center which spewed water into the pool. As he ascended, he thought, I can’t believe I’m doing this.

He drew his hood away from his face and then shouted for attention. A few faces turned toward him with irritated expressions trying to see what the odd beggar was doing. Ariam shouted more loudly this time. More faces turned. “I guess that will have to do,” he said. He took a shuddering breath and continued.

“People of the Human Citadel! Five years ago, you mysteriously lost a beloved performer of the arts when he disappeared without explanation. He was reputed to be a master of stagecraft and acting. I have come here today to announce my return!” He watched as the irritated faces staring up at him shifted to confused. Then there was recognition among a few of them. Some eagerly turned toward a neighbor to get their attention and began whispering furiously. Soon more faces now gazed up at him. Questions lurked there, and not a small amount of doubt. But among some there was belief. Those who believed were surprised. And some were delighted.

A voice cried out. “You there! Get down from that statue.” It was one of the Lord Advisor’s guards, probably tasked with crowd control. The tan figure pushed his way through the assembled crowd trying to get to him. It was of little use.

Ariam continued. “People, you must listen to me.” He was pleased to see even more faces turned to pay him attention. “I have news about these proceedings. They are a sham. Lycas Ryth is the cause of all of the killings and treachery in the Palace. He cannot be trusted.”

More guards appeared and pushed their way toward him now. They shouted and shoved. The crowd blocking them murmured with confusion about what Ariam said. That was all right, he was not meant to convince them of anything. He was meant to distract the guards. Ariam lifted his attention beyond the crowd and witnessed as Cecil ducked now through an unguarded entryway. Great, Ariam thought, now what do I do? He turned and looked toward the crowd and saw tan-clad heads bobbing trying to make their way to him. Then he thought, I have to get out of here.

***

She heard the motion as it occurred, the whisper of fabric, the slightest grunt of exertion. It was enough to warn her. She had suspected this was coming anyway. She had stood witness to the death of Vellin and it had shaken her to her core. But she was a survivor. Her emotional disruption would not paralyze her for long. Now that she was under attack, she was already responding.

With catlike grace, Kaelinn whipped around and seized the wrist of her assailant with her bionic hand. She wasted no time but applied all the pressure she could bring to bear through the technological wonder that was her mechanical appendage. Hundreds of pounds of pressure suddenly bore down on her attacker’s wrist, shattering the bones beneath it. She didn’t even give him enough time to yelp in pain before she yanked him off balance. It was one of the Lord Advisor’s guards. Her opponent careened toward the wall. But she was not done. She allowed his face to collide with the steel wall and then went to work on him with a knife she had quickly and expertly extracted from its sheath at her hip. With her other hand, she drove the knife down into his spine at the neck, severing it. The man collapsed instantly. She let go of his wrist allowing him to fall as she yanked the blade out of him.

Kaelinn spared him one glance then said, “I know you’re not dead yet. That’s good. You get to suffer.” Then she turned and walked away.

***

Belem threw a flurry of knife strikes at his opponent. His enemy was fast, however, and dodged or blocked every one of them. He then returned strikes of his own which Belem did his best to block or redirect. What followed was a blur of combat almost too fast for onlookers to comprehend. The two men exchanged blows, strikes, blocks, kicks, and a variety of other attacks. The crowd backed away from them so that they now stood in a circle. Out of the corner of his eye, Belem detected another guard moving in his direction. He was about to have more than one enemy to deal with. And probably even more soon enough. But he had the one before him to deal with. He had to bring that one down before another got to him. Doing so would be tricky, he knew.

The fight went on. The circle around them widened ever more as people scampered away from the exchange of violence. No one wanted to get caught up in it. The two circled one another as they fought. That afforded Belem a wider panorama understanding of what was headed his way. At least two guards were rushing toward him pressing their way through the thriving mass of humanity in the arena. But the one who stood before him just refused to fall. The other man showed no signs of slowing down or tiring.

Amid an exchange of strikes, Belem saw something that confused him. One of the guards who almost reached the edge of the circle and was ready to join the fight suddenly fell backward. He did his best to ignore this, focusing on the problem directly in front of him.

As he fought on with his opponent the other guard still headed his way broke through the line of people and charged right for him. But suddenly the other man stopped what he was doing and changed direction. He turned to face someone else.

Another cloaked figure emerged from the spot the first oncoming attacker would have moments later. The hood was drawn over his face but through the opening of the cloak, Belem saw damaged purple armor. His surprise at comprehending what this meant allowed his opponent an opportunity to get a hit in.

The punch struck him on the side of the face but he had the presence of mind to roll with it. It still hurt a great deal, but at least it afforded Belem the chance he needed. While the strike that had landed across his face was following through to completion, Belem recovered himself well enough to come up underneath the man’s attack and shoved the blade of one of his knives up through his rib cage. He witnessed the man’s muscles constrict as the foreign object penetrated his flesh. Even over the surprised noise of the audience around him, he heard the man’s grunt of astonishment and pain.

He quickly yanked the knife out again and slashed at the back of the man’s neck with the other. For good measure, he added three more strikes with both knives before his opponent collapsed to the ground.

He spun and watched Cecil engage with the other Lord Advisor’s guard. Cecil employed a Dar’rynakai weapon against the man. He had seen examples of them in the Dar’rynakai city when they were previously there, but he couldn’t remember what they were called. It didn’t matter. Whatever it was called, Cecil employed it well against his opponent.

The guard facing off against him had a long-bladed knife of his own but he was no match for the disgraced Captain of the Royal Guardians. Cecil deflected a strike and then opened a wide gash diagonally along his opponent’s chest. He then darted forward and planted a hard kick in the man’s belly sending him sprawling to the ground. When his enemy was down, Cecil turned to face Belem. The two acknowledged each other with a nod.

“It’s about time you got here,” the convict said. He spared a quick look around and then added, “Where’s Ariam and Gael’jic?”

Cecil turned and faced briefly in the direction he had come pointing that way. “Ariam was that way when I left him making a distraction. He should be safe enough for now. Gael’jic is hidden. Will have to get back to them. Glad to see you’re okay.”

“Glad to be okay,” Belem replied.

“Guards!” Lycas Ryth shouted from the balcony. “Apprehend them.” Both men turned and spared him a glance then looked away. They knew more guards would be coming at any moment. Sure enough, they saw several of the tan-clad figures pushing their way through the crowd.

“Help us!” a voice shouted from the stage. Belem and Cecil glanced at the captive Sector Representatives still chained there. Cecil and Belem exchanged a look then moved quickly. They both bounded toward the stage and climbed up. Both snatched cutting implements from the bodies of Vellin’s men that lay crumpled and dead on the stage. They quickly went to work on the chains. The first two were freed and handed the cutters and told to get to work on the rest. Belem and Cecil hopped back off the stage and waited for the guards to come. They did not have to wait long. Soon eight of the Lord Advisor’s guards pushed beyond the crowd and readied their weapons.

“These aren’t good odds,” Cecil said.

“Speak for yourself,” Belem quipped. His shoulders heaved and his hands flexed around the knife hilts. He was ready.

The ring of guards slowly closed in holding their weapons at the ready.

Suddenly several explosive reports rang out and a handful of the guards fell dead. Kaelinn exited the crowd, her energy pistol raised and firing. More guards dropped. Blasts suddenly came from other directions as well as some of Vellin’s remaining hidden men took their vengeance upon their enemies. She swiveled quickly and looked at Belem.

“Time to go,” she said.

He nodded. He turned toward Cecil and said, “What about Ariam?”

Cecil shook his head. “I told him when he was done with the distraction he needed to run away. He was going to go reconnect with Gael’jic. We’ll find them later.”

Belem nodded and they were off. Belem spared one last look at Lycas Ryth. The Lord Advisor stared down furiously at him. Belem smiled up at the demon, gave him a wink, and then turned away, following Kaelinn into one of the secretive escape routes.

CHAPTER 41. ARIAM AND THE DEAD ONE

He had to admit there was an advantage to having lived on the streets for five years. He knew the streets very well and so when it came time to evade his pursuers, he had a pretty good idea of how to do it. He had spent a good amount of time learning to duck the notice of Citadel authorities in the past. It served him well now.

Ariam sequestered himself in an alleyway behind some refuse containers. He had a tarp pulled over himself to conceal his presence if any of the Lord Advisor’s guards came this way snooping. Not that he thought anyone would. Nevertheless, he spent several minutes waiting for the Lord Advisor’s guards to pass beyond his location intending to catch him elsewhere. That was if they even pursued him this far.

For all they knew, he was just a minor troublemaker, a crazy vagrant seeking attention by climbing fountain statues. He doubted Ryth had informed them of his identity. He was too arrogant for that. He had only met the demon twice before, but that was more than enough to figure out a few key aspects of his character. He was the personification of pride. No doubt he only kept servants such as the guards for menial errands. He certainly didn’t need them to act as bodyguards. Having grappled with Uri’thind’ac briefly at the pinnacle of the Throne of the Gods, he knew that much.

When he was reasonably sure they would not look down the alleyway and find him he removed the tarp and peaked his head around the trash receptacles. There was hardly any sign of activity. He started to push himself up, making it about halfway when a thunderous noise followed by a powerful tremor rumbled everything around him and unceremoniously deposited him back into a seated position. He took a few moments to steady himself, then got up again.

He took note of his surroundings and saw that it was significantly darker outside than it had been. Thick black clouds reminiscent of those that had swirled around the temple at the Throne of the Gods before Rama’dy’ac had dispelled them blanketed the sky. They were sinister and peculiar all at once. He jogged to the end of the alley to get a better look.

In the direction from which he had come, he saw that there was a swirling maelstrom of angry clouds centered above the Palace. Numerous lightning strikes tore jagged holes in the sky. He thought, That can only be the work of Lycas Ryth. He stood frozen in place for a time just staring agape into the vortex overhead.

He returned to himself at last and remembered Cecil’s instructions. He had to get back to Gael’jic. They would attempt to regroup later. He did not like dividing the group like this but understood the necessity of it. In the first place, it would make it harder for Ryth to capture all of them. Yet at the same time, it made it harder for them to coordinate what their next move might be.

He dearly hoped Cecil had been able to meet up with Belem and that they escaped. Everything seemed to be balanced on a knife’s edge. He could not fathom how they were going to come out of this okay.

Ariam took a quick look around to make sure no tan-clad opponents were lurking about searching for him. There was no sign of them and so he left his place at the mouth of the alley. As he traveled back toward where they had left Gael’jic, he began to take closer notice of his surroundings. It was a familiar place. Then again, many places in the Citadel were familiar to him. He had passed through much of it over the last five years. That made it easy for him not to be known by the Citadel authorities when he was simply trying to find a place to rest. Or to beg.

But there was something even more so familiar about this particular location. Then it struck him and he came to a hasty halt. A feeling, both familiar and horrible settled over him. He looked around and realized why. This was the spot where everything had changed for him five years before. This was where he and the two women with him were assaulted by a criminal. In his selfishness, he had thrust a woman between himself and his attacker. She had been stabbed and soon thereafter died. A dark feeling of encroaching shame seeped into every fiber of his being.

Without almost realizing why he did so, he slowly left the walking path beside the road and made his way to the center of the thoroughfare. No vehicles were traveling on it at the moment. It was out of the ordinary for this time of day, but this hardly occurred to him. He was so consumed in his grief over what had thrust him into his present state that almost nothing else would have drawn his attention.

He dropped his eyes and looked upon the very spot where the girl had lain in a growing pool of blood as she died. Echoes of voices in his memory clamored, hardly able to be heard over each other. He sank to his knees and pressed his hand to the spot where she had died.

What was her name? He couldn’t remember. He shook his head at the shamefulness of that fact. “She should be remembered,” he muttered to himself. A tear streaked down one cheek.

“Why do you cry?” came a soft feminine voice. His heart nearly stopped. He shot his face up to look upon the one who had spoken. In complete disbelief, he beheld the form of the very girl who had died at that spot.

“How…?” he barely managed to croak the unfinished question.

She stood complete and whole in his sight. She wore a simple white dress and her hands were clasped before her. She looked down at him and smiled serenely. “Just because something is thought to be lost forever does not mean that it is,” she said with cryptic intonation.

“What?” he queried.

“Put away all such questions, Ariam,” she said. “But know this: I once was lost. Like you, I was lost in a storm-tossed sea of selfishness. The only life I pursued was vain and shallow. I thought that if I attached my cart to the right person, I would be drawn up to the top along with him. I gave no concern to others.”

He stared at her dumbly, not knowing what he could possibly say to this. But she had fallen silent and he just gazed at her in wonder. At last, another question occurred to him.

“Is this a trick?” he asked, hopeful that it was not. “Or,” he continued, “is this the work of Rama’dy’ac?”

She shook her head and said, “Do not trouble yourself. Just know there are greater forces at work than can ever be known on this side of the veil. But I have come to you now to encourage you back to the right path.”

“What path?” he asked, perplexed.

“The path of liberating the captives,” she said as if it were obvious. Then she crouched down and looked him in the eye. She continued to smile softly at him. Her face was far sweeter than even he recalled.

“How?” he asked again.

She gently reached out a hand and cupped his cheek. She stroked away one tear with her thumb. Her smile brightened somehow.

She said, “Before you may free others, you must free yourself, Ariam. You still carry one last weight of captivity on your soul.”

“What captivity?” he asked, his heart turning cold with the fast-paced realization of the answer.

“It is the prison of shame,” she said. “You have gathered much fortitude in these last days, but there is one thing more needful for you. You must let go of your shame. I have died. I will be brought back. You are wallowing in it day after day and it is keeping you in prison. And until you free yourself, you will never free others.”

He was silent for a time as he stared at her beautiful face. At last, he managed to say in a dry voice, “I don’t know how.”

“But I do,” she replied. She leaned forward so close that her lips were now beside his ear. She whispered, “I forgive you. So live forgiven.” She pulled her head back after a few seconds and smiled at him once more, then stood. She looked at him for a few seconds longer, then she turned and walked away. He watched her go with complete awe.

Ariam’s face was suddenly flushed with heat. He thought for the briefest moment that it was embarrassment. But this misconception was soon corrected. What he felt was instead deep relief. His eyes welled heavily with tears and they freely spilled down his cheeks. He looked away from her retreating form and slapped his palm against the place she had died. A new feeling blossomed at the center of this sense of relief. Joy.

His shoulders began to shake with laughter. He lifted his face once more to behold the beautiful girl but found she’d gone. He blinked and then stood up quickly. He looked around but caught no sight of her. A few people darted away from the arena, rushing past him but he paid these no mind. He desperately wanted to see the girl one last time. But he understood he never would. She was gone.

Had she even been there? Had it maybe all been a concoction of his mind? Or was something else at work? He couldn’t say.

He stepped away from the spot ready to carry on and go find Gael’jic when he came to a halt once more. No, he thought. I can’t go to Gael’jic, not yet anyway. There’s one thing I have to do. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do, but he set out after it anyway. He just hoped the others would understand.

CHAPTER 42. OPENING THE DOOR

It had been centuries since Lycas Ryth had found himself at a loss as to what to do. It did not sit well with him that he experienced it now. He had expected all things to fall into alignment with his plan as they mostly seemed to have thus far. The trap had been laid for Belem and Vellin’s men and sprang just as he’d intended. He had not even bothered to set guards to prevent their egress through their planned escape routes. He disbelieved he would need to. He briefly entertained the worry that this might hint at a developing carelessness on his part.

But then the unexpected occurred. Cecil had arrived. He puzzled over this eventuality. How could it be? He had left Vael corrupted by his power to deal with the remaining three champions of Rama’dy’ac. He should have been more than capable to deal with all of them. Yet somehow Cecil had survived.

He couldn’t imagine he had somehow underestimated the man. But the fact that he was alone indicated to Ryth’s mind that at least the other two were out of the picture. Ariam and Gael’jic probably had been undone by the trap he set for them with Vael. But to be embarrassed like this was unthinkable. Just as quickly as these concerns came, he shooed them away like pests. It was one little aberration brought on by the unlikeliest of eventualities. It meant nothing.

He could easily have jumped down from the balcony and subdued them with his own strength. But that was, as of yet, forbidden. That manner of direct contact at this juncture was a violation of the rules to which he’d agreed. He’d even had a hand in crafting those rules. At the time he’d mainly been thinking of preserving his own efforts from the meddling of his opponents, but now it had come back to roost in his own house.

However, they were quite close now to the final phase of the game wherein he could at last grapple personally with the champions of Rama’dy’ac if the need should arise. Still, the old fox appeared to have outsmarted him somehow. He could hardly believe it.

Then a truly disturbing thought occurred to him.

Could it be…? he wondered. Had Rama’dy’ac been playing a long game with him? He immediately dismissed this. It was ridiculous. He had beaten his opponents at every turn through the course of the game. First, he had manipulated the other two Zulle-Shee to his will. That in and of itself had taken centuries, but it had all been worth it. The game had been established, the rules had been put in place, and he had begun his long play for domination. Over the course of hundreds of years, he had manipulated and defeated the other two Zulle-Shee, getting them out of the way just before they could have become a problem for him.

He remembered with relished delight standing in the throne room at the Throne of the Gods before the crumbled throne of his first defeated opponent. Rama’dy’ac had looked thunderstruck. The other had remained impassive. He had made her believe that she was part of his greater scheme for victory over Rama’dy’ac. She had thought to become his queen. Then in the next round, he had ended her. He had taken the life force of both of the defeated opponents into himself growing ever stronger.

He put all such thoughts away. Now was not the time for reminiscence. Now was the time to act. It didn’t matter if Belem survived and if Cecil had shown up when he did. The game was as good as over at any rate. Rama’dy’ac had still lost two of his champions. What did the remaining two hope to do against him?

Still, his fury simmered like an overheated cauldron within him. He could not discount the galling effect of his foiled execution and recapture of Belem. Those insults would have to be answered. Now was as good a time as any, he supposed.

He snapped out of his thoughts and looked at the crowd which stared at him expectantly. They were like chastised children, hoping for some saving grace from a riled parent. The stupid cattle had no idea what they were in for. Shahleen continued to stand submissively off to one side. Her eyes were only half-focused in her hypnotized state. He thought about killing her right then and there in front of the crowd and casting her body over the balcony. That would really throw them. But it would be a useless gesture. He turned away from the thought almost as soon as it came into his mind.

No, now was the time for another move. He closed his eyes and turned his thoughts outward. He reached out with his consciousness probing into the forest beyond the Human Citadel wall. He searched where he knew the target of his thoughts would be. It didn’t take him long to locate what he sought.

He sent a wave of psychic communication, calling for their attention.

***

They feasted on a fresh kill. The large predatory animal lay on its side as two dozen or so Shedi’im crowded in to get to its meat. Stony teeth bit at the flesh of the creature. The big carcass moved back and forth, jostled under the voracious feeding frenzy. Shedi’im growled and snapped at one another in an attempt to get at the meal.

It was a Gurag. Gael’jic encountered one of the large creatures on his initial journey into the jungle of Dar’ryn. The appearance of a dark and demonic figure scared the thing away preserving the life of the Dar’rynakai scholar. That had been a projection of Uri’thind’ac sent to intimidate the champion of Rama’dy’ac. The big predatory beast had fled into the jungle to seek other prey. Now one of its brothers had become prey for something far fiercer.

The Gurag were considered quite fearsome by the native populace of Dar’ryn. They were not hunted, not even by the Dar’ryneel who considered them too dangerous. Mainly, they were avoided. If one came snooping too close to a Dar’ryneel village or a Dar’rynakai enclave, it was driven off, or if it could be managed it was killed by a large warrior group.

No human had ever seen one. They were safely tucked away in their precious Human Citadel behind their allegedly impassable wall. This one had been no match for even just a few of the Shedi’im. It had seen one and charged at it. The big ill-tempered beast had almost made it to its intended target when seven more of the Shedi’im had jumped out of trees onto its back and brought the thing down. It hardly had time to understand what had happened to it before the demonic creatures had ripped its life away with bloody claws and teeth. Within fifteen minutes of the assault, the beast was now nearly stripped of all consumable flesh. That did not stop the Shedi’im from snapping its bones and sucking the marrow out of them.

Abruptly, they all stopped. They lifted their heads, bloodstained and covered in viscera as they were, staring in the same direction. They had heard their master’s call.

The Shedi’im who had not been able to get to the beast and feast on its dead flesh also looked up from where they had been trying to get inward to it. All thoughts of their gnawing eternal hunger became subservient to a greater need. Their master beckoned.

Come, my beautiful pets, a voice echoed in their minds. A greater feast than that creature awaits you. Come and follow my voice. Images flashed through their minds at the same time. Images of people, wandering the streets of the Human Citadel, carefree and displaying temptingly soft flesh. They looked delicious. Ryth guaranteed that they were. And they were all there for the taking, more than a million of them. The Shedi’im could feast for months on the inhabitants. All they had to do was obey and come. Ryth would let them in.

Without further hesitation, all of the Shedi’im broke from what they were doing and charged with madness into the jungle and headed toward the Human Citadel, toward their master and his promise.

***

When Ryth opened his eyes again they glowed a piercingly bright orange. Even from far below him the gathered crowd gasped and staggered backward in communal terrified bewilderment as if they shared a hive mind. And it was not merely those gathered before him who witnessed and were startled over what this might mean. The whole of the Human Citadel and those beneath the surface were watching the continuous broadcast of what he was doing. No one could quite say why it unnerved them so deeply, but every single human being who laid eyes on Lycas Ryth in his current state shuttered under an oppressive sense of a nameless fear.

It made him grin. He lifted his arms out to his side and threw his head back in laughter.

The environment quickly grew dark and a loud clap of thunder directly overhead frightened everyone present. The feet of Lycas Ryth lifted from the floor of the balcony and he hovered for just a few moments and then he rose upward into the air high above the heads of those gathered in the arena. He kept ascending for a long time. finally, he came to a halt far above the tallest spire of the Palace. He was not much more than a dark speck in the sky to those on the ground.

The clouds that had gathered without warning grew almost black. Lightning stabbed out of them in deadly arcing fingers seeking hapless targets. Many of the flashes of lightning struck trees in the forest, splintering them, flash boiling the sap within them, and causing them to send charred shards flying in an explosion in all directions. Ryth lifted one hand pointing a finger straight up. The clouds began to churn in a threatening vortex. They were lighted from within by occasional bursts of lightning. The flashes started slowly, then increased in frequency.

Soon several jagged arcs cut through the clouds and struck the upturned finger of Lycas Ryth. Visible arcs of power danced around his finger and then his upturned arm, and then his entire form. More strikes of lightning came and added to the accumulating power. Then he sharply shot his arm downward, pointing at one particular section of the Citadel wall. The stored strikes of lightning within him exploded forward in one massive concentrated beam of power. Along with it several more strikes of lightning from the clouds above struck downward at the beam and contributed to its destructive power. The blinding bolt lanced forward and collided with the Citadel wall. A deafening explosion resulted, shaking the whole wall. When the power was expended at last a massive burning rift in the Citadel wall was revealed. It provided a path for the approaching Shedi’im. He guessed they would be there in about an hour.

Satisfied with his work he slowly lowered himself back to the balcony. He looked around and noted most of the people who had been present had fled. A few remained, cowering against the walls of the arena, crouched with hands covering their heads and trembling like fools. Ryth allowed himself a little grin at this but then turned away. He meant to stride back into the Palace and get about the rest of his work, but then recalled Shahleen standing stupidly on the balcony waiting for his instruction. He turned to her and appraised her anew. He lifted a hand and stroked his chin.

The decision came quickly. He snapped his fingers and she broke completely out of the hypnotic trance to which he had subjected her. She stood confused for a brief time then turned her face to Ryth. He read a curious mixture of fear and hate in her.

“What have you done?” she whispered.

“Whatever I pleased,” he replied in a nonchalant tone, shrugging one shoulder. “I have no further use for you. Your days are at an end. Go, take what little solace you can find. This civilization will be no more in very short order.”

“Who do you think you are?” she said petulantly.

He took a menacing step toward her and was only a little surprised when she did not back down from him. Good for her, he thought. For all the good it will do, he added with a mental sneer.

“I am the one who wins,” he said gravely. He held her gaze a few seconds longer, then turned on his heels and strode away.

CHAPTER 43. REUNION & ALLIANCE

“So, about that friend of yours…” Kaelinn said trying not to speak too loud as they jogged side-by-side down the corridor. Belem didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know whom she indicated.

“Cecil,” he said simply as he carried along.

She thought about how to say what was on her mind. “Is he one of the ones you thought might be dead?”

He grunted affirmatively and kept jogging.

She spared a look over her shoulder, then back at Belem, then straight ahead again. “He’s wearing Royal Guardian armor,” she said.

“What about it?” he asked, suspicion leaking into his voice. He wasn’t sure he liked where this was going.

“Oh, nothing,” she said in a faux-casual manner. “It’s just that… I’m the one who gave it to him.”

That brought Belem up short. He stopped and reached out a hand for her to do the same. She came to a halt and turned to face him. The rest of their little party also bottlenecked in the hallway. Aside from Belem, Kaelinn, and Cecil, there was a half-dozen of Vellin’s men left as well as the rescued Sector Representatives. Considering the plan and how many people they had started with it was not a particularly good showing.

“What do you mean you’re the one who gave it to him?”

“Well,” she began, sparing Cecil another glance. The two locked eyes very briefly, then Kaelinn shifted her gaze back to the convict. “It was really Vellin’s idea. He’s the one who had the armor. I don’t know who gave it to him.”

“It belonged to the Captain of the Royal Guardians previous to me,” Cecil supplied. He turned to Belem and added, “The one we met in the Dar’rynakai mountain city.”

She nodded thoughtfully at this then said, “It doesn’t matter. Now that the boss is gone…” Her voice hitched as it trailed off. Pain flashed across her face and she looked away. But before she did, both Belem and Cecil noted the presence of tears welling up in her eyes.

“Sorry about your friend,” Belem said flatly.

She was quiet for a while then looked back to him. “He wasn’t my friend,” she said. A few pregnant heartbeats passed before she completed the revelation. “He was my father.”

“Your father?” Belem asked genuinely surprised.

She shrugged. “Well, close enough. I never knew my birth father. But Vellin’s the one who took me in and raised me. He looked after me since I was about five. I was just a street kid alone on the way to a probably messy end in the Under-Citadel. But that’s not important.”

“Kaelinn,” one of Vellin’s men said stepping forward. “What’s the plan now? Now that…” He left the rest unsaid, knowing full well she comprehended his meaning.

“Now we go back to headquarters. Time to relocate again.” The last word was stressed and bitter. She stared the man in the eyes for a few seconds then turned to face the rest of the gathered crowd. “If any of you want out, now is the time. I won’t hold it against you if you turn tail and find someone else to join up with.”

The rest of them stood there stolid and quiet. The message was clear. They were going nowhere. It made Belem think once more about Vellin’s boasts regarding his men’s loyalty to him. Maybe he wasn’t blowing smoke after all.

“Before we do that,” Cecil interrupted, “we need to go collect some more friends of mine. They shouldn’t be too far from here in the tunnels.”

“I don’t know that we have time for any more errands,” Kaelinn said hotly. “We’re at risk of getting caught as it is.”

“If they knew you were coming,” Cecil said, “then they probably know your escape route. If we diverge from the route, we stand a better chance of not getting caught.”

“He has a point,” Belem observed.

She looked from the convict to Cecil and then back to Belem. She shook her head and her shoulders sagged as she looked down.

“Fine,” she acquiesced. “How far?”

“Not far at all. Follow me,” Cecil said.

***

When they rounded the corner and Cecil saw only Gael’jic waiting for him his heart dropped a little.

“Where’s Ariam?” he asked.

“I have not seen him,” Gael’jic replied. “He never came back.”

“You don’t think he was caught, do you?” Belem asked.

Cecil looked off in the direction of a deserted hallway. He thought for a moment then said, “There’s no way to know. He provided a distraction and I took the opportunity to slip in and save your skin. I didn’t look back to see how he was doing. He was supposed to run as soon as I was out of sight.”

Cecil turned around to speak to Kaelinn and then noticed the girl and all of Vellin’s remaining men along with the Sector Representatives staring in complete shock at Gael’jic. It took him a second to figure out what the problem was. When he comprehended the matter, he turned to Belem and said, “I suppose you didn’t tell them you were traveling with a Dar’rynakai?”

“It didn’t exactly come up,” Belem quipped.

“That thing…?” one of the men said lifting a hand to point at Gael’jic and trailing off, uncertain how to finish what he started to say.

“That’s not a thing,” Belem corrected the man harshly. “That’s a friend. His name is Gael’jic.”

“It can talk,” another man said.

“Yes, he can,” Cecil said stressing the word irritably. “And he is smarter than probably all of you put together.”

He turned to Gael’jic and held out a hand. “One of the flowers please,” he said. While keeping a wary eye on the freshly arrived group of humans Gael’jic carefully slipped a hand down to his side and extracted one of the flowers from the satchel he carried. He handed it over to Cecil who then turned and lifted them toward Kaelinn.

Her brow drew down in confusion. “You shouldn’t have,” she said.

He shook his head once and explained, “No, these are important. This Citadel is about to get a nasty surprise. Monsters are coming and they’ll be here soon. How soon, I can’t say. But these plants are the only thing that will save us from them.”

“Flowers?” she asked dubiously. “How are flowers going to help against monsters?”

“They are deadly to them. They have some kind of power within them. What I need to know is: can you harness the power and find a way to weaponize it? Is there some way that you can store it in an Energy pistol magazine?”

She turned to Belem and was met only by a stony gaze. Kaelinn turned back to Cecil,  cautiously reached forward, and extracted the flower from his grip. She held it close to her face and turned it over several times looking at it from as many sides as she could. Finally, she said, “I don’t know. But we can have some people look at it.”

“We need to move fast,” Cecil said.

“What about Ariam?” Gael’jic protested.

“He should be back by now,” Cecil said to them. “We don’t have time to wait for him. We have to get moving on this now or the Citadel will fall.”

“Fall?” one of Vellin’s men asked.

“Haven’t you been paying attention?” Belem growled. “There are hundreds of those monsters and they are unstoppably ravenous and they are under the direct command of Lycas Ryth. And without these flowers, they will be next to impossible to destroy.

“Just a few of them killed hundreds of people in my city,” Gael’jic said.

Belem shot Cecil a questioning glance.

Cecil waved a dismissive hand indicating he’d fill him in later. If there was a later.

CHAPTER 44. FINAL WARNING

Ariam stood arms folded at the base of the stairs leading up to the main entrance of the Palace. Four guards flanked him. Their weapons were out and they looked ready to commit to the shedding of his blood.

“Just go tell Lycas Ryth that Ariam is here to see him,” the beggar said for the second time.

The guards didn’t move. They remained in place and looked like they were uninterested in humoring this ragged fool.

“Look,” he went on, “I’m not asking you to bring me to him. But I promise, once you tell him who’s here to see him, he will want to see me. And if he finds out that I was here and you didn’t let me in, he might get pretty mad.”

One of the guards took a step closer to him. In a low voice, the man said, “And if I tell him your name, and he acts like he doesn’t know you, when I come back I will kill you just for wasting my time. Understood?”

Ariam nodded. “Fair enough,” he said. “Now go shuffle off. Be a good little dog.”

He knew he ought not to antagonize them. But he couldn’t help himself. Something within him was driving him in a way that nothing ever had before. It was an unparalleled confidence. He still had doubts, to be sure. He felt more than just a little foolish walking into the grip of Lycas Ryth like this. He still hadn’t figured out why he felt compelled to do so, only that he did.

He had even come to terms with the possibility that he might die in the next few minutes. That didn’t bother him as it had before. He didn’t want to die, but he knew that if he did, he would be at peace with it. Yet something told him he would not die, at least not now.

He waited several minutes until the guard returned. The man walked slowly down the steps, and even though Ariam could not see his face through the tan and black shroud covering it, he thought the set of his shoulders indicated the man was chagrined.

Ariam raised both eyebrows and said, “Well?”

The guard came to a stop before him and was silent for a handful of seconds before he answered. In a low voice, he said, “The Lord Advisor wants to see you right away.”

“Very well,” Ariam said pleasantly. “Take me to him then.”

The guard took a step toward him and said, “I wouldn’t be so happy about it if I were you. Not everyone the Lord Advisor grants an audience ends so happily.”

“True enough,” Ariam said. He was about to take a step forward to initiate their movement then stopped, adopted a thoughtful look, then said, “I wonder what that says about you?” He turned his head to look at the others and added, “All of you. What happens when the Lord Advisor ceases having a use for any of you?”

The guard who had confronted him initially said, “We are not worried about that. We have a special design.”

“Special design, or not,” Ariam retorted, “when Lycas Ryth sees no purpose in keeping someone around, that’s pretty much it for them.”

Without further argument, the guard turned and walked up the stairs expecting Ariam to follow. He did so.

They moved at a measured pace. Ariam had been to the Palace before, back during his days as a renowned performer. He was sure he may even have brushed shoulders with Lycas Ryth, or at least been in the same room as him. But much of those days was a drunken blur. If he had previously come in proximity with the Lord Advisor, he didn’t precisely recall. Now that he knew about the reality of what stood behind Ryth’s mask of humanity, he thought he probably ought to be scared. Yet he was not.

As he drank in every detail of his environment, Ariam recalled the troubling vision he experienced coming through the gate to Remmice. Many details of it were the same, yet much was also strikingly different. In the main entrance hall, there was no makeshift throne set up on a dais. There were no scores of Shedi’im around. The devastated bodies of his friends were not on display. Everything was clean and intact.

The guard led them straight ahead into the main audience chamber where the king’s throne was. They passed through a large set of ornate double doors. The audience chamber beyond them was vast and vaulted.

His eye was drawn immediately to the dais in the center and the thrones that sat upon it. One throne was empty, the one reserved for the Queen. The other was occupied by an intrigued-looking Lycas Ryth.

Calculating eyes bored into him. A devilishly mirthful face was on display at the moment. But Ariam knew the man must be at least a little surprised.

“So, it really is you,” Ryth said. There was a hint of good humor in his tone. He shook his head slightly.

“It’s me,” Ariam agreed.

“Alive and well,” Ryth said and shook his head. “Where are your friends?” Ryth asked. “Haven’t you come to do combat with me?”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Ariam said, “but that is not why I have come. I just dropped by for a brief chat, and then I’ll be on my way.”

“Awfully bold of you to assume you will walk out of here alive.”

“I make no such assumption,” Ariam replied. “I didn’t say how I would be on my way.” His tone was even and calm. He wasn’t quite sure, but he thought he detected a hint that this might bother Ryth. He hoped it did.

“So,” Ryth went on, “what have you come to chat about?”

“I came to give you one last chance to surrender,” Ariam said, turning his face away with casual disinterest and looking at the beautiful art displayed on one of the walls. There was a sharp inhale of breath from the guard on his right. It sounded more like a hiss than normal human breathing, Ariam noted, stirring a memory that was only just too elusive for him to recall fully. He did his best to ignore this and returned his gaze to focus on Ryth.

“Have you now?” Ryth asked. “Well, that certainly is interesting. I confess that I’m not exactly in a surrendering mood at the moment. Not that long ago, two of your friends interrupted some of my business. They killed some of my guards and took something that belonged to me.”

“The Sector Representatives,” Ariam said.

Ryth nodded. “Yes. Them. They were mine. I was going to kill them.”

“Why?” Ariam asked. “What would be the point? You are already certain that you are going to win. Why bother wasting time killing a few humans you don’t care anything about?”

“Because it’s fun,” Ryth replied as if it were obvious. “Why does anyone do anything that isn’t necessary? You should try it some time.” He leaned forward on his throne and propped his elbows on his knees. He said, “You see, it would have delighted me. But instead of being delighted, I find myself annoyed. I’m not usually good company when I’m annoyed.”

The implicit threat was clear. Ariam remained undisturbed by it, however.

“Something tells me, you can’t hurt me. Not really, anyway.”

Ryth blinked. His head drew back just barely perceptibly. Something flashed in his eyes. It was more than mere irritation. But he masked it well.

“I can do whatever I want,” he said.

“That’s not what I heard,” Ariam said.

“Oh really? And what have you heard?”

“I have heard you must play by the rules. And if you don’t, you might forfeit the game.”

Ryth was out of his throne and halfway down the dais to Ariam when he abruptly stopped, his eyes burning with hate. It all happened in about the space of a heartbeat. “Who told you that?” he seethed.

“Rama’dy’ac did,” Ariam answered nonchalantly.

Ryth went as rigid as a statue. Time almost seemed to have paused.

“Rama’dy’ac,” Ryth whispered with a sneer. Then louder he said, “So he is still in this, is he?”

“You know that he is,” Ariam said.

“And here I have one of his champions in my grasp. I wonder what kind of bargain he would make to have you back. Or I could just let you rot in chains. You know his champions are all disposable to him.”

Ariam shrugged. “Maybe so. Not really my problem.”

“It certainly seems like it is,” Ryth said.

Ariam turned his face away as if bored with the conversation and looked around again. “I’ve said my piece. The opportunity for you to surrender has been extended.” He brought his face back to Ryth. “It’s your move.”

“It certainly is my move,” Ryth said. “And you are right about one thing. I may not personally harm you in any permanent way. I slapped Belem around a bit, but that was mere child’s play. My guards however are another story.” Ryth turned to the tan-clad guard who had accompanied Ariam into his presence.

“Arrest him,” Ryth said.

The guard moved to obey the instruction before Ryth had finished speaking it. He turned and shot a hand out toward Ariam. It was the last thing he did.

The speed at which Ariam moved to counter the attack was blindingly fast. He had experienced something like this once before. On Remmice when the Shedi’im had attacked something had come over Ariam. Whatever it was seemed to be happening again.

He caught the guard by the wrist and yanked him off balance. He then maneuvered himself forward and spun until he came up behind the tottering guard. He pulled the arm with him and brought it up sharply behind the guard’s back. He forced it so hard that the shoulder came out of the socket. With his other hand, he reached around and grabbed the guard by the chin. He yanked to the side and snapped his neck. He allowed the body to collapse at his feet. He turned and looked at Ryth relishing the look of astonishment on his face.

“Apparently,” he said, “it’s not advisable to arrest me. You have been warned.” With that, Ariam turned away and began striding away. He made it several paces before he came to a stop. Something occurred to him. He turned back to Ryth who remained in place on the stairs, staring dumbfounded at him.

“You know what?” Ariam said. “I’ve been to the Palace before, but I’ve never had a proper tour. I think I’ll have a look around.”

He turned away from Ryth again and walked away.

CHAPTER 45. DARK RUMINATIONS

Ryth watched the beggar leave his presence, not really understanding what had just happened. He dropped his eyes to look at the dead guard crumpled on the floor. He stared at the corpse for a good long while, just digesting the sight. He shouted for another guard and one soon appeared. He pointed toward the corpse on the floor and through gritted teeth said, “Get rid of that. Now.”

The guard nodded and rushed forward to collect his dead comrade. He dragged the body away and, Ryth assumed, disposed of it somehow. He didn’t care how.

He went back to the throne and sat down to think. He replayed the scene in his mind several times, trying to figure out just what had happened. How had he lost control of the situation? He couldn’t understand.

The guard who had taken away the dead one returned a while later and halted before his master. He straightened and then waited for further instruction.

The Lord Advisor stared at him with narrowed eyes.

“Do you need something?” Ryth asked, irritated.

“The man who came in here…” the guard said.

“What of him?” Ryth asked, his voice a threat.

The guard hesitated. Then he said, “He wanders the Palace freely.”

“Yes,” Ryth replied. “I suppose he does. What of it?”

“He killed one of my brothers,” the guard said. “Are we going to let this stand?”

“What say do you think you have in the matter?” Ryth asked leaning forward. “Perhaps I should send you after him and he can do the same to you. Is that what you want?”

He saw the guard was agitated. He also saw that he was wisely more fearful of Ryth than he was of Ariam. That was as it should be and it brought his anger down the slightest. But not much.

“No, my lord,” the guard said.

Ryth leaned back into the throne and said, “Then go back to your station. His presence here does not matter. He can go wherever he pleases. All of this will be over soon anyway. Whatever he does will make no difference.”

The guard hesitated, then bowed and went away. Ryth paid him no more mind. He stood up and realized he did not know where he meant to go so he sat back down. He closed his eyes and stretched out with his thoughts. His awareness spread out absorbing all available information wherever it went. He was searching, probing, looking for any sign of Rama’dy’ac. He found nothing. He caught the barest hints of the location of Cecil and Belem. The lizard, too, was with them. So why had Ariam separated from them? Had they sent him? That didn’t make sense. He got the impression they didn’t know where he was.

He didn’t like this development. He didn’t like things he didn’t understand. They infuriated him.

He stood up once more and stormed off to his quarters. The Palace had been cleared of all staff so there was no one to encounter aside from his guards. He detected their apprehension as he passed by them. Some of them had seen Ariam wandering the Palace grounds and reported it to him. None of them had done anything about it, however. That struck him as odd. It should not have been that way. Someone should’ve tried to stop the beggar. Yet no one had. He stopped only long enough to listen to the reports but said nothing further and moved on.

This was a puzzle indeed. And one he had no time for. He had other pressing matters to attend to. The destruction of the Citadel and all lives within it was chief among them. Then he would devastate the rest of the planet along with every filthy breed of lizard and beast on it. There was no better way to dig at Rama’dy’ac than to slaughter innocent lives. Ryth cared nothing for them. It didn’t matter to him whether he killed or let live. It was only the undermining of Rama’dy’ac he cared about.

Soon he came to his chambers and entered. He found himself at the center of the main room, black velvet draped everywhere, pillows thrown in all directions. He looked up. A large section was missing from the ceiling. That was how Belem had escaped. Someone had come in from above and released him.

He sniffed the air. It had been Vincent. It didn’t matter. Vincent was dead now and Belem was on the loose once more. It would not be hard to recapture the man later, he guessed. He stopped and thought about that once more. Things had started to not go his way. A claw of doubt dug into his thoughts. He tried to dislodge it but no matter how he struggled against it, it remained.

He felt his whole body heat up. His power threatened to undo the flesh that encased it. He forced himself to calm down once again. It would not do to be without a host body at the moment. That would cause him all manner of trouble, especially if Rama’dy’ac really did show up. He would not be impossible to beat, but it certainly would make things difficult. He had to keep a tight rein on himself.

Now more than ever, he was close to victory. He could almost taste it. If Rama’dy’ac somehow managed to snatch it away from him, he didn’t know what would happen to him. He supposed Rama’dy’ac might imprison him the way Ryth had once imprisoned Vael in a statue. Or, perhaps he would execute him somehow. He couldn’t believe Rama’dy’ac even had the guts to try that. But maybe after all this time, after all the havoc Ryth had wreaked on the planetary system they had established to preserve life, perhaps he had enough. Perhaps he was ready to close this chapter and end Ryth’s life once and for all.

He shook his head. He doubted it. He told himself he was making much out of nothing. Ryth had all the pieces working for him. Rama’dy’ac had nothing but a few scraggly rebels to throw at him. Ryth had an army of Shedi’im. Even if they did possess their magic little flowers to use on them, the Shedi’im would still overpower them in the end. They had no hope of undoing all of them before their blood was fully evacuated on the ground.

“Uri’thind’ac,” came the quiet and calm voice.

Ryth froze then whipped around. There was no one there. That voice. Had it been…?

“No,” he asserted to himself. It was his imagination and nothing more. He was allowing the beggar to get to him.

He shot a hand out, snatched a handful of a velvet curtain, and ripped it from its place in the wall. He screamed in rage and threw it.

“This is not the way, old friend,” the voice came again.

“Stay out of my head,” Ryth shouted out loud. “You have lost, you old fool! You should run and hide while you still can.”

The voice said nothing else.

Ryth’s shoulders heaved with his heavy breathing. He stormed forward to the door, pressed the button to open it, and exited. This was no time to wallow in self-doubt in his chambers like a petulant child. He had a star system to destroy. He had an old friend to murder. It was time to bring this game to a close.

CHAPTER 46. CAPTIVES

He absentmindedly scratched his beard as he stared with perplexity at the destroyed door before him. He had no idea where he was in the labyrinthine Palace. He had simply followed an aimless sort of path through the Palace until he had arrived at this point. It sort of felt natural to do so, and so he suspected he had at least partially been led here. But he could not say why.

He let his hand drop to his side and he planted his fist on his hips as he stared into the space beyond the destroyed door. He could smell the fresh odor of plant life wafting his way from the darkness beyond the door. He shrugged and strode forward. He passed through the door, having to duck a little to dodge the jagged bent-inward portions of the door. The space around him was dim but replete with those fresh smells.

He halted a few paces in. A faint blue glow far back in the dimness caught his attention. He knew what he was looking at before his eyes reported it to him. It was an Illuminoc flower.

He slowly made his way down a path until he came to the little blue glowing blossom. He stared down at it and scratched his head.

“What are you doing here?” he asked the little flower, not expecting an answer.

Oddly, he got one.

“Hey!”

Ariam blinked in surprise as he stared at the flower. It took him a few seconds to realize it was not the flower that had spoken. The voice had come from elsewhere. He turned around and searched. It did not take him long for his eyes to land on the source of the voice.

Not far from him, there stood a large transparent enclosure with a boy trapped inside it. His eyes were wide and hopeful, but also a touch wary. Soon Ariam realized the boy was not alone.

Two reptilian creatures stood up and came to his sides. At first, Ariam thought they were Dar’rynakai, but soon realized they were not. He ascertained that they were Dar’ryneel. Ariam quickly strode forward until he came within a few paces of the enclosure door.

He realized the boy was not just any child. Instead, he was Prince Therin, the heir of the kingdom.

“Your Majesty?” Ariam asked, his face showing his confusion.

The boy pursed his lips. He stared uncertainly at Ariam. He had the look of one who had been through more than his fair share of rough times recently.

“Who are you?” the boy asked.

Ariam flicked his eyes to the Dar’ryneel to either side of the boy then focused on the young Prince once more. “My name is Ariam,” he said. ‘How did you get in there?” he asked.

“Lycas Ryth put me in here,” the Prince said, his face went suddenly cold.

Ariam nodded. “I see,” he said. “That man is evil.”

Prince Therin nodded solemnly. “Yes, he is,” he said. “He did something to my mother and she…” He looked away as tears welled in his eyes.

“The Queen” Ariam said in a quiet and sorrowful tone. “I know that she is dead. If I don’t miss my guesss, Ryth orchestrated it, didn’t he?”

The Prince turned his face back to Ariam and merely beheld him. He did not have the heart to speak the truth. Ariam felt a rush of sympathy for the boy. And then, without warning, Belem came to mind. Ariam discerned the family resemblance as well as recalled the vision in which Belem’s mother had been murdered by order of Lycas Ryth, with the Lord Advisor looking on in approval.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, your Majesty,” Ariam said. “But I have come to fight Lycas Ryth.”

The boy’s head drew back perceptibly and he began to shake it in a gesture of firm negation.

“No,” the boy said. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do. He is… different.”

“I know,” Ariam answered. “He isn’t human. But he is a powerful creature, and my friends and I have been tasked with his downfall.”

The boy looked from one of the Dar’ryneel to the other.

One of the Dar’ryneel opened his mouth and began to speak, which threw Ariam.

“Who has tasked you with this?” the lizard man asked.

Ariam blinked in surprise. “You… you can speak our language,” Ariam said.

“The boy has taught us,” the female Dar’ryneel supplied.

Ariam smirked a little at the Prince. “Good for you, your Majesty,” he said. Ariam turned his face back to the male and said, “Rama’dy’ac has tasked us with this.”

The two Dar’ryneel shared glances.

The female said, “You are one of his champions?”

Ariam nodded. “I am,” he answered. “And I am here with others. Though we have been separated for the moment. But I think I can free you.”

Ariam stepped closer to the door and lifted his hand. His fingers paused a few inches from it.

He looked to the Prince and said, “I do not know the code.”

The Prince rattled off a set of numbers and Ariam punched them into the keypad. Air hissed and then the door propped open slightly. Ariam stepped away and allowed the Prince to push it open as he stepped into the freedom of the menagerie. The two Dar’ryneel accompanied him, looking about warily. They both hunched forward in what appeared to Ariam’s eyes to be attack postures. They were ready to pounce if need be.

“I don’t know if I can get you out of the Palace,” Ariam said.

“I don’t want to get out of here,” Therin replied. “I need to make my way to the Royal Guardians. They have been placed under house arrest. I believe they have also been scheduled for execution.”

Ariam nodded. “Just the same, there are many of the Lord Advisor’s guards in the hallways. I don’t think I can handle all of them by myself. I’m not even sure your two Dar’ryneel companions can help against them.”

The Prince gave him a long-suffering look and then walked up to a blank wall. He pressed his hand against one steel panel and a square of yellow light suddenly glowed to life around it. A heretofore hidden door then slid open revealing a secret passageway.

“We won’t be going in the hallways,” Therin said. “Will you join us?”

“Perhaps I will,” Ariam said. He took a step forward then stopped. He turned around and looked at the Illuminoc flower resting and glowing in the dark of the menagerie. “Hold on a moment,” Ariam said.

He strode up to the little flower and crouched beside it. He reached out a hand and gently uprooted it from its place on the expansive menagerie flowerbed.

He stood and walked back to the Prince. He held the blossom out to him.

“I think you’re going to want this,” the beggar said.

The Prince arched an eyebrow quizzically at Ariam.

“Trust me,” Ariam said. “An army of nasty demonic creatures is on its way to the Citadel, and this may be the only thing that will protect you from them.”

“What is coming?” one of the Dar’ryneel asked leaning closer.

“They are called Shedi’im,” Ariam said.

Both Dar’ryneel sucked in surprised gasps.

“The Shedi’im are here?” The female asked in alarm.

Ariam dipped his chin and said, “I’m afraid so.”

The male Dar’ryneel turned to Therin and said, “I do not know how much help your Royal Guardians will be in a fight with those demons.”

“They will be better than nothing,” Therin replied. “And if we do not free them, they will die.”

“They will die anyway,” the female said.

Ariam looked at her and so did the Prince. The Prince said, “We all will die. The Royal Guardians will want to die free, armed for combat, and on their feet. I aim to see them meet their fates on their own terms.”

He turned to Ariam and said, “And so will I.”

“All the same,” Ariam said, “we better get moving. Lead the way, your Majesty.”

The Prince turned and ducked into the secret passageway, followed by the two Dar’ryneel and Ariam brought up the rear.

As soon as they were in the hallway and a few paces away the doorway closed. They were in total darkness save for the faint blue glow of the flower Ariam had given to the Prince. It quickly intensified and illuminated the way for several paces.

“Do you know the way?” the male Dar’ryneel asked.

“I think so,” Therin replied, though there was a hint of hesitation in his tone.

As they traveled along, Ariam spoke to the Dar’ryneel. “I suppose you were recently taken from your village by a raid of humans,” he said.

The Dar’ryneel shared a look. “We were,” the male said.

“I met your father, the chief elder,” Ariam said. “It was not that long ago, in fact.”

Both Dar’ryneel halted and spun to face Ariam with surprised expressions on their blunt reptilian faces. The Prince also stopped and turned, looking on with interest.

“When was this?” the male Dar’ryneel asked.

“Probably about two days ago,” Ariam said. “As we speak, he gathers other tribes of the Dar’ryneel for the coming fight.”

“We should join them,” the female said quietly to her mate.

The male stared at her and then looked to Ariam. “My heart agrees with her,” he said. “But another part of me, a greater one, demands I stay by this boy’s side. He would see me go free. I would see that also, but first, I feel I must protect him.”

The Prince folded his arms and huffed. “I don’t need anyone’s protection,” he said.

“Did you intend to get yourself imprisoned with us?” the female retorted.

The Prince had no answer for that.

“That is as I thought,” she said snidely. She turned to Ariam and added, “You humans can be quite brash.”

“I don’t think that’s species-specific,” Ariam said with a little chortle.

CHAPTER 47. NEXT MOVES

As soon as they had arrived at Vellin’s headquarters, Kaelinn had ordered men to begin working on trying to draw and distill the power from the Illuminoc flower into something usable in a weapon’s power magazine. Gael’jic provided the broken pieces of the technology he’d brought with them from Remmice. The exiles all held their breath as she explained the situation to two men who both looked a little crazy.

“Can it be done?” she asked when she had finished explaining what she wanted.

Both men looked at each other and started chattering away in something that approximated the human language, though none of the exiles could make out what they were saying.

Belem leaned over to Kaelinn and asked, “Can you understand them?”

She shrugged. “More or less,” she said.

“I hear familiar words,” Belem said, “but none of them seem to be in the right order or make sense together.”

“They’re a little funny that way,” Kaelinn said. “But they seem to know what they’re doing. Otherwise, Vellin would never have tolerated their presence. He cared more about competence than he did social graces.”

“I suppose,” Belem said as he stared skeptically at the two strange-looking men. After a handful of moments of them babbling away in their bizarre speech, one of them turned to Kaelinn and gave her a solemn nod. Then he said something indecipherable.

“He says they think they can do it. But they’re going to need a few of those flowers.”

She turned her attention to Gael’jic and gave him an expected look. Gael’jic reached into the sack at his side and extracted four more of the blossoms. He handed them over and the men hesitated, then both reached forward at the same time and took two of the flowers. They stared with awe at Gael’jic as they did so.

The two odd men headed toward the room’s exit, scurrying as they went. Their heads were bent toward one another whispering in their curious manner. They then disappeared through the doorway.

“Where are they going?” Cecil asked.

“To a lab,” Kaelinn answered nonchalantly. Then she said, “How long do you think we have until these monsters of yours arrive?”

“There’s no way the tell,” Cecil said. “But I’m sure as soon as we disrupted the execution that Lycas Ryth called for them. They could be here any minute for all I know.”

Kaelinn stared through narrowed eyes at the former Captain of the Royal Guardians. “I hope you understand that I have no idea how long it will take them to figure out distilling whatever is in those plants. We may not have time.”

“I would rather us try,” Gael’jic said.

An assistant came running up to Kaelinn holding a tablet. He leaned close and whispered something to her, that none of the exiles could hear, except for Gael’jic of course.

She stared at the man with widened eyes. She slowly took the tablet from him and turned her focus to it. She tapped the device and watched. Her eyes grew wider yet.

“I think I know what that explosion we heard was about,” she said. She tapped the surface of the tablet a few more times, then turned it to show the exiles. Appearing on the device was an image of the Citadel wall. Cecil and Belem immediately understood they were looking at a recorded video. A sudden bright flash in the image encompassed and drowned out all detail on the entire screen. When the light retreated, it revealed a large blackened hole torn in the wall going all the way from the top to the ground level.

The exiles all looked knowingly at one another.

“It is just as in Ariam’s vision,” Gael’jic said.

“What?” Kaelinn asked.

“Our other companion had kind of a vision,” Belem explained. “He saw a giant hole torn in the wall of the Citadel just like that. Then he saw it was the way monsters had gotten into the city. Dead people were everywhere and there were only monsters about. Only monsters, and their master, Lycas Ryth.”

“This isn’t making me feel any better,” Kaelinn said.

“We may be out of time, after all,” Cecil said.

***

As the Shedi’im charged forward, there was a blinding flash of light. A great powerful bolt of lightning lanced out of the sky and struck somewhere off in the distance. There was a thunderous explosion followed by a large dark cloud of smoke. It mushroomed upward into the sky.

Delight filled every rampaging Shedi’im. They knew what it meant. Their Master had opened the way for them. They were getting so close now. Their ravenous hunger was about to be sated as they glutted on the lives in the human-place.

Hundreds of the beasts moved with one purpose. The forest blurred by as they traveled at their top speed. The closer they came to their feast the more powerful the need felt in their guts. They had to feed. They needed the blood of their victims smearing their faces and hands.

Soon.

So very soon.

High above their heads a flock of reptilian birds burst away from the places where they had roosted in the trees. Some of the Shedi’im in their eagerness to get forward had climbed the trees and were leaping from branch to branch.

One of them reached a clawed hand up and snatched one of the flying creatures right out of the air as it took off. The beast opened its mouth wide and slammed the thing into its toothy maw then crunched down on it sending rivulets of blood flying in all directions. It chewed briefly and then swallowed the delicious but unsatisfying corpse of the animal.

A piercing shriek of jealousy just off to its right sounded out. He answered it with a victorious growl of his own. He snapped his jaws and then leaped from the branch upon which he ran and then landed upon another in the next tree. Several more made similar leaps, soaring through the air and arriving in yet another tree. One missed its intended branch and tumbled to the ground. He crashed sending up dirt and forest floor detritus in all directions. The Shedi’im quickly recuperated and charged along the forest floor as if nothing had happened.

Soon, they saw the first hints of the Citadel wall through gaps in the trees. They were coming right up to the place where the powerful blast had rent a hole in its side. Just beyond that hole was a meal unlike any they had ever gorged upon. Imagining the blood and meat gave them a fresh burst of speed.

They poured forward like water thrown from a bucket. They were a cascading wave of death. The first of them reached the hole in the wall and charged right through. Soon the others came in behind them.

That’s when the screaming started. That’s when the blood began to flow.

CHAPTER 48. RACINE’S ERRAND

Racine searched among the newly arrived Sector Representatives hoping to see Shahleen but knowing almost certainly she would not be there. He’d seen the broadcast. She had been at Ryth’s side. But he also knew she was under his control. Maybe there was hope… He hoped at least for news of her. He pressed toward the small group and quietly called for their attention as the others who had just recently arrived discussed strategy and something about some sort of technology and a flower. None of that made sense to him. He had other concerns.

Gillam met his eyes. The poor man looked half-dead. He probably hadn’t slept in a while, perhaps was even tortured. Racine loathed the idea of pressing the man for information given his current state but knew that if he did not intervene on Shahleen’s behalf that even if she was still alive now she might not be for much longer.

Gillam looked away. Several prominent bruises adorned his face and Racine winced at the thought of what must have been done to him. He took a steadying breath and then expelled it.

“Gillam,” he said gently. Gillam lifted his face to look at his friend but there was a tremor in his eyes. Racine continued, “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I wanted to save you from capture. But there was nothing I could do.”

Gillam looked away. His eyes traveled around the room and took in the tumultuous sights of the command center. He looked back to Racine and in a quiet voice said, “Are you part of this?”

Racine nodded. “I am,” he confirmed.

“Then you did save me, Racine.”

Racine nodded again. Then he plunged on. “What about Shahleen? Do you know if she lives?”

The other man’s brow creased in concentration. A few moments later he said, “I think so. She was alive when we were spirited away, at any rate. But I don’t know. Especially not with Ryth. But…” He trailed off and a guilty look overtook his face.

Then he continued. “But she betrayed us.”

Racine shook his head. “It was not her. It was Ryth. He exerted some kind of control over her. I can’t explain it to you now. But I promise it was not her fault. I have to save her.”

“I don’t think you can save her,” Gillam said. “Whatever she was, she is lost to us.”

Racine shook his head vehemently. “No,” he said forcefully. “I do not believe that.”

Racine turned away from Gillam and the other Sector Representatives and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Gillam said rushing up behind him.

“I’m going to find my friend,” Racine replied without looking back.

“Are you crazy?” Gillam asked. “It’s dangerous out there.”

“It’s going to be dangerous everywhere soon. I have to try.”

CHAPTER 49. ROYAL GUARDIANS UNBOUND

“No one is guarding the guards,” Ariam observed in disbelief. He half-turned his head to look at the Prince who only shrugged in reply. Ariam returned his attention to the door where the Royal Guardians were now being kept. Their barracks had become their prison.

“I do not like it. It feels like a trap. Is there perhaps another way into the room?” the male Dar’ryneel asked. The two reptilian people stood a little way back from the corner which Ariam and Therin had been peering around.

“Yes,” Therin said. “But that is more likely to be guarded than even this entrance,” he added.

Ariam wondered about that. He wasn’t convinced the Prince was correct in that matter but didn’t bother to say anything. It wouldn’t help. In the very brief time he’d known Therin, he observed that the boy was strong-willed.

“So,” Ariam said, “do we just walk up and open the door? We will probably need a code.”

“I know the codes,” Therin assured him. Then the confidence on his face faltered and he said, “Unless they changed them.”

“That’s entirely possible,” Ariam said. “I suppose we will just have to go and try.”

Without waiting, Ariam moved from his place around the corner and made a straight line toward the door. If there really was a trap, he wanted to be the one to spring it, not the Prince. He stopped in front of it and bent to examine the keypad. He turned his face and watched as the Prince approached. Therin trotted quickly across the way. He pushed past Ariam and came up to the keypad. He quickly tapped in a string of commands and waited. Seconds later the door slid open before them. Ariam and he shared a brief look and then the Prince strode forward into the room. There was an immediate stirring at his presence.

Ariam came up behind him and halted a few feet back, not wanting to appear threatening to the Prince. He now stood among those charged to protect him. The wrong move might land him in trouble.

Men sat up quickly on their bunks and stared in disbelief at the new arrivals.

“Your Majesty?” the nearest one said as he jumped from his bed and came to attention. In short order, about fifty more pairs of feet hit the floor as the men came to stand ramrod straight.

“Gentlemen,” Therin said with a snap in his tone. “Time to go back to work.”

A murmur ran through the room. Ariam looked around the place. It was spacious. There were about thirty sets of bunk beds as well as lockers. There were empty racks where weapons ought to have been placed. Ryth would have had all their equipment confiscated, of course. Ariam realized they would have to find it all before they could get to work in earnest.

“Status?” the man closest to the prince asked.

“There has been an uprising,” Therin informed them. “Lycas Ryth has manipulated and maneuvered to put himself in power. He is the one responsible for my father’s murder, and now also…” He trailed off, his voice choking up.

The guard he spoke to merely looked at him expectantly.

Ariam stepped in. “His mother has been killed as well.”

The guard’s stony visage shifted to Ariam. “And who are you?” he barked.

“He is a friend,” Therin said. “I was imprisoned in the menagerie with the Dar’ryneel that you see behind me.” Ariam turned and noticed that the Dar’ryneel had not entered the room. They hung back in the hallway, waiting. Therin continued, “If it were not for this man, I would still be imprisoned and so would you. You owe him your thanks.”

The guardsman stared a few moments longer at Ariam then gave a curt nod before shifting his focus back to the Prince. “What are our objectives?” he asked.

Ariam guessed this must be the most recent replacement of the Royal Guardians’ Captain. Or otherwise, he was the one who had assumed de facto command.

“The first order of business is to equip you, men, for battle.” Therin swept his gaze around the room taking in the sight of all the bedraggled Royal Guardian corps.

“Our equipment has been taken,” the man replied. “But I’m sure we can find it quickly.”

“You will need to,” Ariam supplied. “Things are moving fast now. And we will need every ounce of help we can get.”

“We?” the guardsman asked with an arched eyebrow.

Ariam nodded. “Yes,” he said, “it’s a bit of a long story and it will be hard to explain but a great fight is on our doorstep. The outcome will be decided in short order. And the combatants will not all be human. The humans, Dar’ryneel, and the Dar’rynakai must all join forces. And if I do not miss my guess, we will even be joined by others you have never even heard of. An unprecedented threat is on its way at this very moment.”

“What kind of threat?” the guard asked.

“There are ravenous creatures about to invade the Human Citadel. A great tear has been opened in the protective wall. It is the doing of Lycas Ryth and the creatures are at his command. They are virtually unstoppable by conventional means. But my friends and I are working on something that may just do the trick.”

The guard looked to Therin with questioning eyes, waiting for confirmation.

The Prince said, “You should listen to him. He speaks the truth.”

“Then we had better see about getting our equipment.”

A storage locker not far from where the Royal Guardians had been kept under house arrest was located a short time later. When it was opened all their equipment was found. They began putting their armor on right away and passing out weapons. Just as they had gotten ready emergency warning sirens began to sound throughout the Palace as well as the entire Citadel. The men all looked to one another in alarm and then to Ariam as if he had some sort of answer. He did.

“I believe the creatures have arrived,” he said.

They ran and found an information terminal. The Prince accessed it and brought up a menu of security footage selections throughout the Citadel. He passed through several feeds until he found one that caused his heart to stop.

The display screen revealed a horror. Several large hulking creatures were tearing into civilians and ripping them apart with their clawed hands. Several were biting into the still-living people ceasing screams in mid-cry. His eyes grew wide and he looked away.

“What are those things?” one of the Royal Guardians whispered.

“They are called Shedi’im,” Ariam answered. “They are hellish demon-like things. And they will stop at nothing until every living soul in this Human Citadel is torn and consumed.”

“Well then,” the first guard said grimly, “we better put a stop to them.”

CHAPTER 50. HASTY PREPARATIONS

“This seems like a brilliant way to get us killed,” Belem snarled as they coursed through one of the secret passageways to get up into the Citadel proper. The three exiles ran and were accompanied by a handful of men from Vellin’s compound. Belem shook his head. He realized he had to stop thinking of it that way. Now it was Kaelinn’s compound.

“I really missed your sense of optimism,” Cecil quipped as he ran beside Belem. He tossed a sideways glance at the convict. Belem returned to a patronizing look.

“We do not have much choice,” Gael’jic said. “The few remaining flowers we have are the only things that can put an end to the Shedi’im.” Gael’jic had made sure everyone from the party had gotten one of the blossoms before they left. The rest had been left behind with Kaelinn in case the crazed scientist twins under her service could figure out distilling the power and weaponizing it. At this point, none of them had any confidence this was going to happen. But they all knew it was their only chance to overcome.

“How much farther?” Belem asked.

“Not much,” Cecil replied. “Just a few more turns and we should be through the wall and into the interior of the Citadel.”

“Do we have a plan?” one of the men sent by Kaelinn asked.

“Do your best not to be killed,” Belem said with a grunt. “Other than that, not so much.”

“And remember,” Gael’jic shouted, “they can only be killed if the flower comes into contact with their flesh. Just about anywhere on their bodies will do it. But it will not be easy to reach them. They are dangerous.”

The group fell silent as they completed their journey to the door that led them into the Citadel’s interior. As the wall parted for their passage, Cecil ran headlong through it without bothering to get the lay of the land. Belem came next but was far warier. His slower movement caused the others to bottleneck behind him. None of them were exactly eager to go out into danger, so they did not complain about this minor hindrance.

The sound of screams could be heard all around them. They came from every direction and were at varying distances. The Shedi’im had apparently poured through the Citadel wall and ran headlong into the place to find their meal. Cecil, Belem, and Gael’jic knew there to be hundreds of them. They had killed comparatively few of them back on Remmice. Far too many of the demonic things remained. And now they carried about their foul work.

As they looked around, they saw evidence of the creature’s presence. Great splashes of blood and viscera were cast haphazardly around. Ruined and ragged body parts lay scattered everywhere. There was no way to tell just how many people had been killed here, but Cecil guessed it to be close to a dozen. The Shedi’im had not bothered with a thorough search of the area or trying to even get into the buildings. For now, they appeared to be focusing on people who were simply walking out on the street. Men, women, and children alike would be targets.

Cecil continued to run and everyone followed his lead. Belem jogged along behind him and kept a watchful eye on their surroundings making sure that none of the creatures lay hidden and waiting for an ambush. So far, there was no evidence that any of them were that crafty. He guessed they were too focused on taking down whatever moved to be anything close to strategic.

A fresh wave of screams to their left caught their attention and Cecil immediately darted down a street in that direction. There was an undeniable trail of horror guiding their path. Belem caught glimpses of people in a few windows, their terrified faces taking peaks to see if the rampage was over or if anyone at all had dared put an end to it. He sincerely hoped all of them would stay put or even find places to hide in their apartments. He knew from experience that even heavy steel doors would not be enough to keep the ravenous beasts out if they were of a mind to get in. But the longer they stayed put and still, the better chance of survival they had.

They caught their first glimpses of Shedi’im tearing into a group of citizens. They were a little way off but it was enough to give pause to the men with them who had never seen any of the creatures. They gasped in horror as they beheld the dreadful sight of the creatures ripping into their victims.

Human shrieks mingled with Shedi’im howls and roars. But now a new sound joined. It was a battle cry from Cecil.

The demonic creature closest to them whipped his face around and beheld their approach. It took the thing a few seconds to comprehend what was happening. They were not used to being run at by anyone. People normally ran from them. But now, the Shedi’im seemed to apprehend this was no ordinary attack. This was led by the enemies of its master.

Belem and Gael’jic joined in the cries and shouted a challenge toward the Shedi’im. Belem imagined the men running along with them perplexed by the show of aggression against the creatures. After all, they were merely armed with flowers. Each of the men from Kaelinn’s group also carried an energy pistol for good measure. Belem had not seen one of the weapons used on the Shedi’im and hoped they would be of some benefit in the fight. But he knew for sure the flowers would work against the creatures. Convincing Kaelinn’s men of that might be a bit of a challenge, as much as it seemingly defied logic. However, Belem was resolved to demonstrate it so that the men could get into the fight sooner rather than later.

The Shedi’im whose attention Cecil had caught with his battle cry dropped the bleeding and writhing figured it had been munching on. And began to slowly stalk toward the oncoming threat. It barked a hideous noise three times in quick succession and the other Shedi’im accompanying it, four of them in total, stopped what they were doing and paid attention to their companion. Soon they ascertained the presence of the exiles approaching and diverted their focus to the new threat.

***

“I am coming with you, Captain,” Therin said in protest. “That is an order!”

The newly minted Captain of the Royal Guardians simply shook his head. “I’m sorry, your Majesty, that is out of the question. You will remain here under heavy guard.” Four additional Royal Guardians stepped forward to form a ring of protection around the Prince. Therin looked exasperated.

“He won’t be much safer in here,” Ariam observed. “Lycas Ryth is still about. And as we have explained, he is no ordinary man. He has… powers that are beyond explanation.”

“We will sequester him somewhere safe,” the Captain retorted. “Somewhere Lycas Ryth will not be able to find him.”

“There is no place Lycas Ryth will not be able to find him,” Ariam argued.

“Are you suggesting he go out there among those monsters?” the Captain said in disbelief.

Ariam was already shaking his head. “No, I’m not. My suggestion is that we take him through the secret passageways to somewhere other than the Palace, but not out in the open where the Shedi’im can easily get at him. He ought to go to the Under-Citadel.”

The new Captain – his name was Lorenzo – barked a laugh. “He won’t be any safer down there,” he said. “Countless criminals below our feet would love to get their hands on the Prince and hold him for ransom.”

Ariam folded his arms and said, “My understanding is you also have allies down there. Cecil told me about a man named Vellin.”

Lorenzo blinked. “Vellin,” he said acidly. “I have heard of the man. I don’t know that I would say he should be trusted.”

“I’m telling you he’s the best bet,” Ariam said, raising his voice. “You and your other men here ought to accompany Therin there. I have friends down there with them. I’m sure the five of you are more than enough to handle yourselves getting him there.”

“I will not do it,” Lorenzo simmered.

“This is a last stand,” Ariam snapped as he marched defiantly up to the Captain. “Our choices and comforts have dwindled significantly.”

Therin cleared his throat noisily. Both Ariam and Lorenzo turned their attention to him.

“Take me to the Under-Citadel,” Therin said. “If I cannot be out there fighting among the rest of you, then perhaps this Vellin can find a use for me.”

“I do not care to think what that use might be,” Lorenzo said.

Therin took a purposeful step toward Lorenzo. “Captain,” he said, “either you accompany me down there, or I will try to find my way. Which will it be?”

Lorenzo turned a frustrated face and Ariam. He narrowed his eyes and grumbled something unfavorable. Then he said, “Very well, my Prince; I obey.” He then turned to address the remaining group of Royal Guardians. “The rest of you,” he said, “accompany this man into the Citadel and fight to the best of your ability against these monsters.”

Ariam turned away from the Captain and addressed Therin. “My Prince, do you still have the flower?” he asked. The boy held up the flower for him to see. Ariam said, “Keep it with you at all times. It may save your life if one of those things gets close to you.”

“We shall remain by the Prince’s side as well,” the male Dar’ryneel said. His mate came and stood by him resolutely.

Ariam nodded to them then turned and moved to join the rest of the Royal Guardians as they prepared to venture out into the city and face the Shedi’im.

“I have one more thing to say,” Therin announced in a proud voice. Every eye turned to look upon him. He paused, turning his gaze slowly to take in the entire group. When he finished, he said, “It is time for you all to cease referring to me as ‘Prince.’ The king and queen are both dead. I have not been officially crowned, but I am now your king. You will all address me as such.”

A hush fell over the group as they digested the pronouncement. Ariam felt a swell of appreciation for the boy.

Lorenzo stepped forward, brought his fist to his heart, and in a loud voice shouted, “Long live the king!”

The whole company of Royal Guardians repeated the phrase loudly in a unified response. Even Ariam was caught up in the fervor and echoed the phrase. Deep within the well of his heart, he cautiously thought, May it be so.

CHAPTER 51. STREET FIGHT

Cecil pumped his fist into the air holding aloft the Illuminoc plant which dangled from his grip. “You know what this is!” he shouted at the approaching Shedi’im. “You know what it will do to you.”

The creatures halted their forward progress. Their ragged lips peeled back from their stony teeth. A chorus of low growls issued from the monstrous things.

Belem came up beside Cecil and held up his flower. Gael’jic did the same coming up along his other side. The others that accompanied them stayed back watching with trepidation, wondering what would happen.

Behind the Shedi’im the people who had been under threat from them turned and ran screaming. The creatures paid them no mind. They were now entirely focused on the newly arrived threat.

“Great,” Belem muttered. “Now what do we do?”

“Now we take them on,” Cecil growled. He took a single step forward and the Shedi’im hunched lower but remained fixed in place. Cecil took another slow purposeful step. The creatures did not move.

Belem said, “I don’t like this. Something else is going on here.”

“Just get in it!” Cecil growled at the convict.

“Just get in it, he says,” Belem muttered to himself.

Suddenly one of the Shedi’im before them raised on its haunches and lifted its face toward the sky. Its mouth opened fully and an earsplitting shriek bellowed forth. A flicker of motion caught Belem’s eye and he spun around. Two more Shedi’im darted in behind them and cut off the other men that had been with them. Soon a few more raced in from the other direction. Two now faced the other men while two faced the exiles on that side. Belem recalled thinking not long before that these creatures were too stupid and not strategic at all. But now a trap had been sprung. They were boxed in and cut off from the others.

“We are surrounded,” Gael’jic hissed with mounting tension.

“That’s right,” Cecil said. “There’s no chance they’ll escape from us now.” Then he shouted and charged at the closest Shedi’im. The big lumbering creature furrowed its eyeless sockets in a show of surprise as the man ran right for him.

The demonic creature reared up on its legs and stepped several paces backward to get out of reach, but Cecil moved fast. He reached the creature and ducked beneath the desperate swipe of its claws. When the dangerous arm passed overhead, Cecil came up and shoved his flower dead center into the creature’s belly. When the blossom came into contact with its desiccated flesh, it sizzled and the Shedi’im yelped in pain as it desperately backpedaled to get away from him. But it was too late. Large cracks formed all over its body and the flesh blackened. Soon the monster was crumbling from its center and collapsing in a pile of charred chunks to the street.

Belem and Gael’jic likewise shouted challenges and ran at the two coming at them from behind. In the back of Belem’s mind, he simply hoped the men accompanying them took note of the effectiveness of the attack.

However, just before Belem and Gael’jic reached their targets, more howls sounded out around them. Several more Shedi’im came charging in from behind the men that had come with them. The men spun around to meet their fate. One of them brought his flower up and around but not in time. The Shedi’im that charge at him swiped and took his head clean off his shoulders. The body collapsed spurting blood from his headless neck.

The fingers that had gripped the Illuminoc plant so powerfully now spasmed open sending the flower falling toward the ground. The Shedi’im had not noticed the blossom in his grip and so moved forward. When he did so, it overtook the flower, stepping on it. The beast howled in pain and lifted its foot right away. It swiped uselessly at the pad of its foot shrieking as it did so. Great burned chunks of the foot came away and cracks worked their way swiftly up its leg. The whole leg turned black and when the creature tried to kick the pain away from its wounded limb, it shattered when it struck the street.

Another of the beasts nearby quickly scurried away for fear of succumbing to whatever had taken its brother. The other men with them shouted in terror as they backed away from the creatures. One of them was so desperate to get away he hadn’t paid attention to where it was going. He backed right into the path of one of the other Shedi’im that had come between themselves and the exiles.

His first hint of this was the angry growling just over his shoulder. He spun around and instinctively lifted both hands to shield himself. In doing so, he shoved his own Illuminoc flower up into the face of the creature. The flower struck its flesh and the thing began to sizzle. The monster barked in agony as it leaped backward. It slapped repeatedly at its face until it had no more face to slap. The creature stopped moving abruptly, tottered, and then fell forward. Its dying body broke apart upon the street. The man whose flower had done the job simply stared in disbelief not understanding at first what had happened. He then turned his face to appreciate the flower afresh. He looked to his remaining companions and held the plant up. They nodded in acknowledgment and turned to select Shedi’im targets of their own.

But by now there were many more that had come charging inward. The men were smart enough to know that even though they were armed with something that would surely kill the creatures, there were far too many of them to deal with. They carefully backed away and moved toward the group of exiles. They were careful to avoid the single Shedi’im that now stood between them and their new companions. Two of them distracted the Shedi’im by coming in slowly from different angles. The thing turned its head between them and growled threateningly.

One performed a feint, lurching forward, holding his flower up, and then quickly withdrawing to avoid the swipe of the creature’s claws. The other took the opportunity and charged forward pressing his flower to the monster’s shoulder. In response, the thing howled and swiped with its claw at the man who had attacked him. The man barely ducked in time to avoid the deadly attack. The thing staggered away, spinning violently trying uselessly to get away from the source of its pain. The remaining men sent by Kaelinn rushed forward to join the exiles.

“We have to get out of here,” Belem shouted to Cecil. “There are too many of them!”

Cecil took a quick survey of the situation and nodded his head. “Where are we going to go? We’re surrounded.”

A steel door on the building closest to them opened up and a man stood in the doorway shouting for them. “Come this way!”

They needed no encouragement beyond that. They charged toward the door keeping a wary eye on the ever-encroaching crowd of Shedi’im. Cecil attempted to count but lost track after about twelve. And there were certainly far more than those he could see at the moment.

When the last of them was in, the man who opened the door for them slammed a button and it closed.

***

Ariam fingered the pocket inside his tunic absently. Stored inside it was one of the Illuminoc flowers they had used against the Shedi’im at the Dar’ryneel village. He had kept it on him, hoping it would last and be usable again in case they came up against the creatures once more. But that had been a few days ago, and he wasn’t sure the thing was good any longer. The vibrancy of it had faded. The blossom as well as the stalk began to turn brown. Still, he figured it was better to keep it rather than simply discard it in case it was still viable.

Ariam stood in the midst of around fifty of the armed and armored Royal Guardians as they marched down the street away from the Palace. They were still a little way off from where the Shedi’im seemed to be attacking. They had entered the city and some of them had spread out so that attacks occurred in multiple directions. He knew this group could be set upon by them anywhere. He did his best to debrief the men about their capabilities and anything he could think of to explain the creatures. The Royal Guardians had all listened with analytical interest, trying to figure out ways of bringing the things down if they encountered them. Not if, but when they encounter them, Ariam corrected himself.

The Royal Guardians had their energy pistols and other weapons at the ready. Some of them bore electrified staffs like the ones Ariam and the other exiles had encountered at Void Island in the hands of the gate guardians.

Their travel was slow and cautious. Ariam had warned them the creatures might dart in from anywhere and they needed to be aware of their surroundings. The lieutenant who had been left in charge of the operation led the way and occasionally barked orders. Every once in a while, he would send one of the others forward or down one of the side streets to scout. The scouts returned with a report a few minutes later. All of them came back with nothing to report. The streets had mostly emptied, thanks to the emergency sirens that had blared. Yet according to the security footage they had viewed several people had been caught out on the street when the Shedi’im had charged in. Ariam guessed that by now a few hundred or even a thousand citizens probably had lost their lives to the ravenous bloodlust of the Shedi’im.

The Lieutenant lifted his arm, pointed forward, and commanded one of the other Royal Guardians to move forward on another scouting expedition. But before he could finish the sentence, a long way in the distance several Shedi’im appeared. But they took no notice of the Royal Guardians. They were rushing in a large group in the opposite direction. The Lieutenant quietly called his men to a halt. The Royal Guardians watched the tumultuous wave of demonic creatures pour forth on some dark errand. The Lieutenant looked to Ariam and arched a questioning eyebrow.

“Whatever it is they’re up to, we don’t want them to do it,” Ariam said. “We had better follow them.”

“That’s an awful lot of those things,” the Lieutenant said.

“We’re going to have to fight them all at some point,” Ariam replied.

The Lieutenant nodded, turned, and commanded the men to chase after the creatures.

They were able to keep their distance quite easily. The creatures were very fast. If anything, the Royal Guardians and Ariam had trouble keeping up with them. A deep and abiding sense of foreboding settled over Ariam’s chest. This was accompanied by a sense of urgency. Whatever those things were up to, they needed to get there fast and put a stop to it.

CHAPTER 52. BOXED IN

“What are those things?” the man who let them into his building asked with a terrified voice.

“No time to explain,” Cecil said. “Do you have any kind of weapons here?”

The man shook his head vehemently. “I’m afraid not,” he said. “This is a fruit market.” He waved his arm around the place and Cecil saw indeed he sold nothing but fruit. Cecil quietly cursed to himself.

The large windows looking out onto the street were made of transparent steel, not dissimilar from that which the Dar’ryneel enclosure in the Prince’s menagerie had been comprised of. But even those were currently covered up by sliding steel shutters. Cecil knew they would provide little protection from the army of Shedi’im amassing outside the door.

“Is there any other way out of here?” Belem asked.

“There’s a back door,” the man said.

“That will not do us any good,” Cecil said. “Those things are coming from all over and they’ll be back there, too, before long. If they aren’t already. We can’t risk it.”

“Then what do you want to do, guardsman?” Belem shouted at Cecil. “Stay in here and wait to be torn to pieces?”

“Shut up so I can think,” Cecil barked at the man. Everyone else was quiet and watched this transpire. Even Gael’jic stood with arms folded as he witnessed the two volley arguments back and forth.

Suddenly Cecil said, “Wait a moment; did you hear that?”

Belem stared at him for a few seconds then shook his head. “I didn’t hear anything.” But they all fell quiet and listened intently. The Shedi’im had started aggressively scratching at the door and walls. Some were even pounding. But aside from that there was another sound, barely perceptible through the rest of the cacophony. It was high and whiny, yet buzzing at the same time. It was followed by angry responses from the Shedi’im.

Cecil and Belem looked at one another. Belem said, “Is that what I think it is?”

Cecil nodded slowly. “Energy pistol fire,” he confirmed.

***

The first volley of blasts from their energy pistols met their marks. They burned minor holes into the thick hides of Shedi’im. Those closest to the Royal Guardians whipped around and issued furious noises. Another volley of energy blasts went forth and struck several of the beasts all over their bodies and faces. Howls of anger and pain came in response.

At least we know it hurts them a little, Ariam thought. He remembered the charred corpses of Shedi’im they had encountered outside the Dar’rynakai city. It was clear that fire had been employed to take them down. It made sense that concentrated blasts of energy would at least do some damage. But it did not appear to be enough to take them down, or at least not initially.

The Royal Guardians were spread out as best they could so that as many of them could take aim and fire at as many of the demonic creatures as possible. Waves of energy blasts flew across the distance and found their marks, gouging burning crevices and craters into their targets. Chips of their hard flesh flew away, smoking as they sailed from the impact sites.

Ariam snaked his hand inside his tunic and freed the dying Illuminoc flower he kept there. He pulled it out and held it up. It looked worse than ever. But there was a minor glow emanating from the center of it. Maybe it would be just enough to take one or two of them down, he mused.

More bolts of blasts from the energy pistols and rifles shot forward this time – by command of the lieutenant – concentrated on just a few of the approaching creatures. This time two or three of them fell shrieking and clawing at their wounds. Then they went still.

“It’s working,” the lieutenant shouted. “Keep firing.”

“We need to back up,” Ariam warned. “They’re going to come charging any second now. They’ll overpower us in no time.”

The lieutenant stared grimly at the now-approaching line of Shedi’im. He considered briefly then shouted, “Fall back, but maintain firing.”

The men began to walk back but kept on laying down the suppressing line of fire. It did not accomplish much actual suppression, however. The beasts just kept flowing forward.

A deep rumble of collective growls issued from the mob of Shedi’im as they angrily charged ahead now. The ground shook beneath their trampling run.

Ariam stepped forward and held aloft his flower. The glow suddenly intensified. Even though it was a bright day, a blue hue was now cast over everything in the immediate vicinity. The charging creatures now slowed, yet they kept coming. Their vacant eyes sockets narrowed and they looked with something Ariam thought of as akin to nervousness at the glowing plant.

“Have any more of those things tucked away?” the lieutenant asked.

“Sorry,” Ariam said. “This is the only one. I left the others with my friends.” That’s when it clicked for Ariam. That’s why the Shedi’im had been congregated in this area. They must have located Cecil, Belem, and Gael’jic and were after them. That was the only explanation he could fathom for the creatures concentrating their efforts in this way. Otherwise, they would scatter throughout the city and chase down whatever human flesh they could find for consumption.

They had come on account of their master’s enemies. And now here he was. Standing out in the open, tempting them with his very presence. Suddenly, Ariam felt exceptionally vulnerable.

***

“Are they leaving?” Belem asked in disbelief.

“It sounds like they are,” said the man who let them into his fruit market. There was no small amount of relief in his tone. “We are saved.”

“Not so fast,” Gael’jic said. “These things do not give up on the hunt so easily.”

One of Kaelinn’s men said, “We should take our chances and run.”

Cecil turned, regarded the man for a few seconds, shook his head, then slowly walked toward the door. He lifted a hand to push the button and the owner of the building came rushing up to his side seizing his wrist. “What do you think you’re doing?” he said. “Some of them might still be on the other side of this door.”

“I’m going out there,” Cecil replied evenly. He freed his wrist from the man’s grip and pushed the button. The door slid away and revealed an empty street. Cecil stepped out and looked to his right and saw the backs of the Shedi’im as they headed away. He motioned with his head to his companions and he began to follow after the monsters. He lifted his flower protectively between himself and the demonic creatures who did not know he approached from behind.

Belem grunted a laugh then said, “Now it looks like we’ve got them surrounded.” He pointed beyond the mass of Shedi’im and Cecil saw up the street a sea purple of armor. A spike of hope arose within his heart. It was his brothers, the Royal Guardian Corps. He saw they were backing up. And in their midst, he discerned a ragged figure holding aloft a glowing flower.

“It’s Ariam,” he whispered to Belem and Gael’jic. Both men looked on in astonishment.

“Beggar?” Belem asked in surprise taking a step in that direction.

“There are still too many of them for us to defeat,” Gael’jic hissed to his companions. “Whatever advantage of surprise has been gained is about to end,” he concluded.

One of the Shedi’im must have heard them. It spun around and beheld them. It crouched low and growled menacingly. A few more turned to see the approaching exiles.

“Aaaand, there it goes,” Belem said. “It looks like this party is over, boys.”

Suddenly a blue bolt of light shot past them from behind and struck one of the Shedi’im in the chest. When the bolt of light blinked out of existence a moment later it left a giant smoking hole in the thing’s chest. The creature looked down at itself in shock then tumbled forward and shattered into a thousand pieces on the street.

Belem, Cecil, Gael’jic, and the other men spun around and beheld in surprise a welcome sight.

Kaelinn and several men stood there holding energy rifles. A little trail of smoke lifted from the emitter of Kaelinn’s.

“Looks like this works,” she said.

CHAPTER 53. TOGETHER AGAIN

A thunderous wave of roars resounded from the collective Shedi’im. It was answered by another volley of blue blasts from several energy rifles. More of the creatures were struck by the deadly light and fell shrieking to the ground then ceased as they crumbled apart and died. Kaelinn and several of the men accompanying her with the Illuminoc-powered weapons came charging forward releasing more blasts indiscriminately into the crowd of monsters.

The exiles rushed forward to meet them. Cecil reached out a hand and a spare energy pistol was tossed to him. He snatched it out of the air, turned, took aim, and fired. A satisfying blue bolt of energy sizzled forward and struck one of the creatures. It hit right between its eyes. A hole appeared in its head just before it fell backward swiping at the air uselessly with its clawed hands. It tumbled until it collided with the street and its head disintegrated. Soon the rest of the thing crumbled.

Belem was handed a rifle. He took aim and judiciously fired. He wasted no time watching the effect of this but moved on to another target. He fired repeatedly taking down several of the monsters.

By this time, the Shedi’im’s primitive minds had figured out that something was amiss. They scrambled desperately to get away, pouring down streets and alleyways to get out of reach of the new deadly threat. In almost no time at all the only Shedi’im that remained on the scene were dead ones. Cecil swept his gaze over the scene and estimated about fifteen or twenty of the things had been killed. That still left a few hundred. The danger was not over by any stretch of the imagination.

Kaelinn led her men forward and watched the retreating backs of the demonic things as they evacuated the area. She lifted a hand and pointed after them. “Don’t let them get away,” she shouted. “Take out as many as you can.” About a dozen men bearing rifles and pistols flowed forward with deadly purpose. Occasionally, when one of them thought he had a shot, he lifted his weapon and squeezed off around. Sometimes it hit, sometimes it didn’t. But the creatures fled nevertheless.

Soon Ariam and his large group of Royal Guardians joined them.

The lieutenant in charge spared Cecil a brief look, nodded to him, then turned his attention to Kaelinn. “Do you have any more of those?” he asked.

“Not enough,” she replied. “But we have a few spares. You boys are welcome to them. You’re probably better shots than we are.” She turned and motioned to some of her men who came forward and handed over about a dozen more of the weapons. The lieutenant directed their placement among the men. He then turned to Cecil.

“Klein,” Cecil said with a nod. “Good to see you.”

Klein nodded. “Never thought I’d lay eyes on you again, sir,” he said. A small grin tugged at one corner of his mouth.

“I take it you figured out I was never a traitor,” he said.

“Never thought you were,” Klein replied.

“Reunion time is over,” Belem said. “We got monsters to kill.”

Klein dipped his head in acknowledgment and pointed after the retreating beasts and Kaelinn’s men who were chasing after them. He turned his face to the other Royal Guardians and said, “Don’t let them have all the fun. Go get them.”

The newly armed Royal Guardians charged forward running at top speed. They soon disappeared down the streets and alleys hunting the beasts. Klein turned toward Cecil and said, “We’ll soon drive those things out of the Citadel. We’ll have to figure out a way to repair the wall to keep them out, though.”

“That won’t be good enough,” Cecil replied shaking his head. “If we don’t exterminate them, they will just come right back and be as much of a problem as they are now. We need to hunt them down and take them all out.”

Klein regarded him grimly then nodded his agreement. “Okay,” he said. “Then we better get a move on.”

A tremendous clap of thunder sounded out overhead and all lifted their attention to the sky.

A tiny figure floated in the black sea of clouds. He was barely perceptible, but the exiles all knew it was Lycas Ryth.

Joining the thunder, an unearthly and shapeless cry of anger sounded out and came at them as if from all directions. Sudden strikes of lightning shot down from the sky and from the figure, striking in the direction the Shedi’im and Kaelinn’s men, as well as the Royal Guardians, had all run. Explosive reports echoed from that direction and Cecil and the others realized with alarm that Ryth was trying to kill those pursuing the Shedi’im.

Belem growled and aimed his energy rifle at this small figure. He squeezed the trigger and a bolt of blue light shot into the sky. The exiles all watched as the lance of light coursed toward the figure. It missed him by a large margin but Belem had not intended to hit him.

“Fat lot of good that did,” Cecil said.

“Just trying to distract him,” Belem said. “I didn’t even think it would hurt him if I struck him. Besides, we’re pretty sure he can’t hurt us yet. Right?”

“No, you idiot,” Cecil replied, pointing toward Kaelinn and the others. “But he can hurt them.”

As if to highlight this observation, a bolt of lightning struck out of the sky and hit one of the Royal Guardians frying him in his armor. When the flash of light and deafening noise was gone the man collapsed onto the street, nothing but a blackened and charred corpse wearing scorched purple armor.

“Take cover,” Klein shouted.

While the Royal Guardians and Kaelinn and her remaining men dodged away from the street, the four exiles remained and stared up at Lycas Ryth. He floated there simply glowering back at them for a long time. Then he began to move in the direction of the fleeing Shedi’im and their pursuers.

“At least we’re getting him away from the Citadel,” Belem said.

“After him,” Ariam shouted angrily. He was the first to break root with the place he stood and charge away. Cecil, Gael’jic, and Belem shared looks of surprise, then burst into action following the beggar. Soon, Kaelinn and the other people who had gathered followed them but kept a cautious eye on the sky.

CHAPTER 54. AT THE RAIL

She did not leave the Palace. She expected she never would, at least not alive. She did not know where else she should go. So much trouble had come about and much of it was from her own hand. She could not live with it. So, she decided to die with it.

Shahleen had remained on the balcony for a long time, just looking at the devastation around her. From the elevated place, she could see where lightning strikes had hit all around and taken lives. Some buildings were even on fire. Overhead the dark roiling storm continued unabated. Though Ryth was nowhere to be seen any longer. He had left.

She could make sense of almost nothing that had happened. He had demonstrated bizarre powers and had done unspeakable things. He had caused her to do unspeakable things. She had betrayed those closest to her. How they must hate her. How everyone in the Citadel would hate her once they realized her role in everything. Her life was worthless now. Why bother to maintain it?

She stood only a while longer on the balcony before returning inside. She wandered aimlessly for quite some time through the grand Palace. Finally, she found herself at the central set of lifts that could take her to the highest levels of the place. She stood dumbly before them for quite a while. She reached forward with a numb hand and pressed a button to call for one of the lifts. A short time later the doors slid open before her and she slowly and thoughtlessly ambled inside. Without giving it any thought, she pressed the button for the uppermost level of the Palace’s central spire. The lifts refused to move. She shook her head. Of course, she thought. It requires passcodes. But as a Sector Representative, she knew those. She punched in the series of numbers required and then the lift took off.

As the lift left its place on the main floor of the Palace, she heard the echoes of a ghostly voice in her mind. It sounded familiar. But she could not make out the words. Who was it, she wondered? It didn’t matter. It was all coming to an end.

A short time later she arrived at her destination. The doors of the lift opened for her and permitted her entrance onto the uppermost balcony of the Palace. The tallest spire of the structure still reached high above her head, but this would do. She slowly and thoughtlessly walked toward the edge of the balcony.

The wind was terrible up here. She had not ever liked coming up here. She’d only been there twice before, but that was more than enough. She always felt like a strong gust of wind would come and sweep her over the edge and throw her to her doom. Now she had planned that very thing.

She walked cautiously to the edge of the balcony and leaned against the railing peering over. She wondered how long the drop was. It didn’t matter. It would be more than sufficient to destroy her. A meager sense of self-preservation arose within her and demanded she remove herself from this place. She ignored the sensation. She continued began to ascend the rail. She lifted one shaky foot and swung it over the edge. Then she raised her other foot until both legs dangled over the edge of the railing. All it would take now would be one simple push from herself. One infinitesimal action and it would all be over in moments.

“Wait,” came an urgent voice from behind her. It surprised her. Her heart jumped in her chest and she whipped her head around to see. It was Racine. That was the voice she heard. It had not been in her head; it had come through the other side of the lift door. She was just too numb by everything to realize it.

“Go away, Racine,” she said in a shaking voice. “This is my way out.”

“No,” he insisted. “I have to save you.”

“Why?” she asked, turning her face back out to the expanse. “Why bother? I have done so much. I have ruined so much.”

“It wasn’t you,” Racine said. “It was that man. It was Ryth.”

“He had his part, but I followed.”

“Against your will,” Racine said. “Look inside yourself. You will see that I’m right. He has powers he exerts over others. He hypnotizes them. He forces people to do things they never would. That is what happened with you.”

“Yet it was I who perpetrated those awful things,” Shahleen said in a voice breaking up with tears. Quietly she added, “I did awful things to you.”

He was quiet. She wondered if he was going to give up. But then she heard his feet shuffling up quietly behind her. He put a hand on her shoulder and said, “Please don’t. I need you.”

“You need me,” she repeated. It wasn’t a question. But she didn’t believe it. “No, you don’t,” she said. “You need me to go away.”

“No,” he said with a voice filled with compassion. “I need you to live. I want you by my side.”

She turned an uncomprehending face to him. “I don’t understand,” she said.

He reached a hand out to her and said, “Then come with me and I will teach you.”

She turned her face away to look out over the yawning expanse of the Citadel before her. She took it all in and thought about how easily it would all be over if she just jumped.

“Please,” he said.

She looked to him again. His eyes were alive with desperation and…what? Something strong. It dawned on her. It was love. Seeing that woke up something within her. Like a broom, it swept away the last holds of Ryth over her mind. All the numbness, all the despair was brushed away in a heartbeat.

Her flesh prickled all over. As she gazed at Racine, she beheld a future with him. Her eyes dropped to his extended hand. She raised her own but halted it halfway. Could she? Should she? It took her only a moment to realize, yes, she should. Then she proceeded the rest of the way and placed her hand in his hand, and at the same time she placed her life in his hand. He wrapped his warm fingers around her cold flesh and gently helped her back off the rail.

CHAPTER 55. FOREST PURSUIT

Lycas Ryth gritted his teeth as he flew through the air. The darkness and turmoil of the raging storm he’d summoned were nothing compared to the fury in his heart. He sent a wave of psychic reprimand to his retreating Shedi’im. Where do you think you cowards are going? he demanded.

No answer came. The only thing he could detect among the fleeing beasts was an overwhelming sense of desperate flight. He reached even deeper into the mind of one of them and reviewed the memory stored there. He watched their initial rampage into the Citadel and them munching on the helpless human beings who were unfortunate enough to be caught out on the street. He felt their delight as they easily devastated the available population. He searched and searched until he found the cause of their distemper.

Even his flight through the air hesitated briefly as he beheld in his mind the replay of the Shedi’im memory. They had cornered his enemies in one of the buildings and were making the first attempts to get in at them. Several of the brothers had fallen to the application of those odd flowers the enemies carried. Yet, that was not enough to deter the Shedi’im from their master’s call and command.

Without warning a new group arrived, sending volleys of energy blasts. It was the Royal Guardians. Ryth’s brow furrowed as he rifled through the memory of the Shedi’im at the newly arrived group. He saw Ariam standing at the center of them and a wave of hatred arose within Lycas Ryth’s chest. The Royal Guardians continued to fire their energy weapons at the Shedi’im. A few of them actually fell under the volley, but most received only minor injuries from the attack.

The Shedi’im turned and charged toward the group of purple-clad soldiers. They had intended to rip into the freshly available meat. Ariam came to the front and lifted his flower. The Shedi’im seemed only minorly concerned with this. This one was more concerned with fulfilling his master’s wishes. He was even willing to die for it if need be. The beasts slowed but did not stop.

And then the oddest thing happened. Screams and screeches from behind, cries of death from some of the brothers caught his attention. This one whipped around and looked to see more people who had come onto the scene. They, too, held weapons that initially did not concern him. But suddenly when they fired yet again, more of the brothers fell and died without trouble. Their bodies came apart under the attack. Ryth noted the energy blasts were not the common yellow, but blue… much like the glow of the flowers that killed the Shedi’im when they came into contact with them. Then the beasts fled.

What have you done? Ryth thought with seething hatred toward Rama’dy’ac, wherever he might be. He wondered if the old fool could hear him. But then he didn’t care. He was simply overtaken with fury. He renewed his pursuit and intended to put an end to every single human being he came across. This insult would be answered.

But he would not pick off the petty little humans one by one anymore. No, he would draw them out to the wilds… to the place he had begun the game. There he would wait with his untirable Shedi’im. And when the humans arrived along with the champions of Rama’dy’ac, he would set loose the Shedi’im on them, commanding them to be as merciless as possible. And if they failed, then he would finish the game himself. The requirements had been met. He was free to kill.

***

The exiles and the other warriors had now been trudging through the forest for quite some time. The Citadel was far behind them and they all hoped there were no Shedi’im left behind to prowl the streets and take down hapless citizens who might have wandered about for a look. But even if there were, there was nothing that could be done about it at the moment. They dared not spare one man or woman who held a weapon that could take down the Shedi’im that they pursued. They had to exterminate the largest threat first. If there were any left at the end of the conflict, they would have to take care of that later.

The humans had to stop to catch their breath a few times. The Shedi’im showed no signs of slowing; in fact, they put an even greater distance between themselves and their pursuers.

Eventually, the human beings along with the exiles caught up with those who had first chased after the retreating monsters. They had been headed back, assuming that they had done all they could. But then Kaelinn, Cecil, and the other Royal Guardian Lieutenant – Klein – instructed them to join up and continue the pursuit.

The light was not yet failing, and wouldn’t for several hours. Cecil began to wonder just how far the Shedi’im would go. During one of their stops, he turned and called Ariam, Belem, and Gael’jic over to him. Doubts had started to form in his mind. He looked at each of them in turned and asked, “How much farther do we push this?”

“To the end,” Ariam answered without equivocation.

“What about the Dar’ryneel and the Dar’rynakai?” Gael’jic asked. “Rama’dy’ac said we needed them to join us. They will not know where we are.”

“You don’t know that,” Ariam said. “How many times have we all been guided by Rama’dy’ac to just the right place at just the right time? We have to assume he will guide them as well.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Belem said.

Suddenly Ariam turned to Belem and stalked forward quickly until he was nose-to-nose with the man. “Do not lose your nerve now,” Ariam growled.

Belem blinked and stepped back, surprised at the aggression the beggar showed. Cecil and Gael’jic likewise stared in disbelief. Ariam stood his ground.

“We are not crying off,” the beggar said with finality. “We are going to see this through.”

“No one is arguing against that,” Cecil said. “We’re just wondering if this is the right way to see it through.”

Ariam stared at the former Captain of the Royal Guardians for a handful of heartbeats then said, “This is the right way. I can feel that it is.”

The other exiles looked at one another then Cecil answered the beggar. “None of us seem to feel that way.”

“Then you’re just going to have to trust me,” Ariam said.

“You’ve come a long way, beggar,” Belem said. “I hardly recognize you anymore.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Ariam said managing a halfhearted smile.

“What about when it gets dark?” Gael’jic inquired. “The forest holds many other dangers besides Shedi’im. It is especially so when the light is gone. It is a miracle we have not encountered anything else dangerous as of yet.”

Ariam waved a hand. “The Shedi’im probably scared them all off. We should keep following their trail. I think the odds are that we won’t encounter anything else as long as we keep to their path.”

“And what about Ryth?” Belem said. “We haven’t figured out how to deal with him yet.”

“We will,” Ariam said. “I’m sure of it. You have to trust me.”

The exiles looked at one another then Cecil nodded. “All right,” he said, “for now, we’ll keep to this course. But we may have to revisit this later.” Ariam stared at him for a long time, then nodded in reluctant acquiescence.

CHAPTER 56. FIRESIDE VISITATION

After a few more hours of travel through the dense jungle following the clear path of the Shedi’im, the light began to dwindle. Cecil brought the group to a halt for the last time that day. After a discussion with the other exiles and Kaelinn as well as a few of the Royal Guardians they decided to make camp for the night. It would be far too arduous a trek to return to the Citadel that night. And Ariam was insistent they continue to follow their quarry through the forest.

They set watches through the night. Each of the exiles would accompany several Royal Guardians for a watch shift through the course of the darkness.

It was toward the beginning of the third watch when Cecil was shaken awake. Gael’jic stood over him, shaking his shoulders, but not looking at him. He was instead looking toward the campfire. Cecil quickly roused and scrambled to his feet, instantly alert. His damaged and patched Royal Guardian armor hampered him not at all in this process. When he came to his feet he stared in disbelief at the campfire. Surrounding the fire, all of the Royal Guardians were awake and pointing their weapons at a solitary figure. It was Lycas Ryth

Ryth stood with his hands clasped behind his back looking perfectly composed and undisturbed. Ariam and Belem were already awake and joined the ring of Royal Guardians.

“Now,” Ryth said in a casual tone, “that everyone is awake we can have our little chat.”

Ryth locked eyes with Cecil. Cecil casually but cautiously strolled forward toward the campfire and the singularly menacing figure. The other exiles joined him, leaving the Royal Guardians where they stood.

Ryth slowly sat down on a log on one side of the fire. Cecil and the other exiles did the same opposite him. For the longest time, they merely stared at one another. A self-satisfied smile played across Ryth’s face as he took in each of them in turn.

“I have to admit,” Ryth said, “you have done remarkably well. You should be proud of yourselves.” He pointed to Ariam and said, “Especially you, beggar. Marching into my presence as you did.” Ryth shook his head as he chuckled. “Astonishing, really.”

Ariam had told his companions about the events leading up to their reunion. They were now well acquainted with the narrative of how the Royal Guardians and the Prince had been freed. Yet hearing it tumble so casually and dismissively from Ryth’s mouth sent a chill down Ariam’s spine.

“Get to the point,” Belem said.

“The direct approach as always,” Ryth commented. “Very well. My Shedi’im and I will be waiting for you in the ancient city in the jungle. My recommendation is that when you arrive, you bow your knee and surrender. I will grant you a merciful death.”

Belem snorted. “Don’t expect the same offer from us.”

Ryth stared at him with sharp and penetrating eyes. “I don’t,” he said coldly. “But I’m feeling generous so I thought I’d do you the courtesy of making an offer.” Ryth turned his face toward Ariam and grinned widely. “Just like you did.”

“That offer is off the table now,” Ariam said. “We are coming for you.”

Ryth shook his head. “I don’t doubt it. You will come. And you will all die. I will personally see to it. In the interest of issuing a fair warning; we have reached the stage of the game where I can hurt you.” He shrugged and added, “Or, we will very soon, anyway. Once you pass into the boundary of the city, you are fair game for me. I may do with you whatever I wish.”

The exiles stole glances at one another, then returned their focus to Ryth.

Ryth stood. He placed his fists on his hips and looked at them as if he were a disappointed parent. “If I do not see you march into that city tomorrow and bow before me, that will be it. My patience with you will be exhausted. I will unravel every last one of you.”

“No, you won’t,” Cecil countered. “You will fall before us.”

“Words, words, words,” Ryth replied, rolling his eyes. “And just how do you propose to do that?” Ryth asked in a genuinely curious tone. “Your little magical guns may work against my Shedi’im, but they will not work against me. None of you can defeat me. You don’t have what it takes within you. You may take down every last one of my little pets, but when you face me, what will you bring other than ephemeral hopes and wishes? And what good will they do you? Nothing,” he said.

“We will not be coming alone,” Gael’jic said.

Ryth threw his head back and laughed loudly. “Oh, is that right?” he said. “All you bring with you are more humans.”

“And Dar’rynakai, and Dar’ryneel,” Gael’jic corrected him.

Ryth shrugged. “I care not what sort of flesh you throw at me,” he said, “it is still nothing but weak flesh. That is something Rama’dy’ac never seemed to understand. No matter what sort of beings he raised against me, I always knocked them down or took them over for myself.” His eyes flitted to Belem and his smile increased a little. He looked back to Gael’jic and continued.

“Take my Shedi’im for example. They were leveraged against me ages ago and I took them for myself. I sucked the life force right out of them and imbued them with my power. Now they serve only me. That is the best any of you can hope for.” He lifted his face and looked around at the gathered Royal Guardians as well as Kaelinn and her men. “Is that what you all want to become? My slaves? Mindless servants, no better than beasts. And eternally hungry. That is what awaits you.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Ariam said standing and shouting. “He’s a deceiver.”

Ryth stood slowly and looked Ariam in the eye. “Am I? Do you mean to tell me you have not seen this very thing with your own eyes? I took Vael and turned him against you. What hope do any of them have?”

“We do not come alone,” Gael’jic repeated.

Ryth looked at him with an exasperated expression. Gael’jic went on, “And I do not merely mean all of the peoples of the Dar’ryn star system. We have Rama’dy’ac on our side.”

“Where is he?” Ryth asked, looking about in mock interest. Then he turned his focus back to Gael’jic and shook his head. “Nowhere to be seen as usual. He’s hiding in the shadows. Your people call me ‘the knife in the dark’ but I am not the one who has hidden for centuries. Rama’dy’ac has done that. Are you sure it is wise to come at me in the name of a coward?”

Ryth turned his face slowly over the exiles and all the others gathered with them. He shook his head slowly. “Heed my warning.” He continued to stare at the faces of the gathered people, flitting his malevolent gaze from one face to another. Then he turned and slowly but confidently strode out of the camp and into the darkness.

CHAPTER 57. NOT ALONE

When dawn broke and Ariam had awakened for the second time, he was pleased to see that no one had deserted. He never would have expected the Royal Guardians to flee in fear, but he had assumed at least some of those from the Under-Citadel would have judged the situation hopeless and fled. But none of them had. He considered this might be due to the idea of traveling back through the jungle at night and fear of getting lost or set upon by Shedi’im or something else just as deadly. But he quickly dismissed this thought.

Soon everyone was roused and their meager camp was broken. Travel commenced once more. Their journey that morning through the jungle was mostly silent. No one felt like talking, not even any among the exiles. Ariam was lost in his thoughts and assumed everyone else was, too. They carried on for a long time until the first glimpse of the ancient city could be seen in the distance. The Shedi’im had plowed through the jungle and cleared a line of sight. There were a few trees left standing, and these were larger specimens. But otherwise, the shrubbery and smaller saplings had been broken and crushed down in their frenzied trampling.

When the first sighting of a structure came into view, Cecil brought the group to a halt. None of the Shedi’im were visible as of yet, but they could be anywhere. Cecil rallied the group into a small tight formation so that he could be heard without shouting.

“This is it,” he said. “Check the charge on your weapons.”

Rumbling disapproval started echoing from the gathered troops. Klein came forward and reported.

“Most of the weapons are very low on charge. We won’t get much out of them from this point on. Maybe a few blasts each.”

“That may be all we need if we’re careful,” Cecil said. “Just aim true.”

Klein nodded but looked skeptical. He said, “Do we have any idea how many of them there are?”

Cecil shook his head. “Hundreds still,” he answered.

Klein gave him a grave look.

Belem came to Cecil’s side and whispered, “Can I talk to you for a minute?” He motioned with his head and wandered off several paces. Cecil looked at the man for a few seconds then left the group with an apology and joined him. Ariam and Gael’jic came as well.

“Are you marching us to our doom?” Belem asked.

“No,” Ariam interrupted, answering for Cecil. “I do not believe that is what will happen.”

“I don’t recall asking you, beggar,” Belem growled at Ariam.

Suddenly Gael’jic hissed a warning and snapped his attention in another direction. “Silence,” he said. “Something is out there.” He took a single step away from the group and leaned forward squinting his eyes as he stared into the expanse of the jungle.

Belem came up to his side. “Is it the Shedi’im?” he asked, a note of worry in his voice.

Gael’jic shook his head slowly. “I cannot tell.”

“What now?” Cecil asked with a hint of despair. “We don’t need further complications.”

“We are not a complication,” came a voice from above their heads. They all shot their attention that way. They were relieved to see Sev’aran perched in the tree. Then they looked around and saw several other Dar’rynakai stationed in other trees as well.

“How long have you been up there?” Gael’jic asked.

“We came in the night,” Sev’aran answered. “We thought it best not to disturb you, so we kept our distance. We knew this would be the path upon which you would travel so we waited here until you arrived.”

“That’s fortuitous,” Ariam observed out loud, looking pointedly at each of his companions.

“How many are you?” Cecil asked, ignoring the beggar.

“A little more than a hundred,” Sev’aran answered. “We left many warriors behind in the city in case the Shedi’im came back.”

Belem leaned over to Cecil and said, “It’s great that we’ve got more bodies, but they may just end up being that: dead bodies.”

“If it helps,” Sev’aran interjected, and all eyes lifted to him once again. They saw he held up an Illuminoc flower. “We have been collecting these as we traveled this way.”

Cecil smirked and looked at Belem. “I think that does help.” Belem gave a noncommittal grunt but nodded.

A sudden indecipherable reptilian voice came from another direction, and all exiles as well as the rest of their company turned to look. Striding out of the forest came a large collection of Dar’ryneel. Standing at the head of them was the Elder Chief. Ariam thought about the two Dar’ryneel who stayed behind with the Prince. No, he’s the king now, Ariam mentally corrected himself. He turned to Gael’jic and said, “Translate for me.”

The two of them strode up to meet the emerging reptilian people and Ariam began to unfold the tale of meeting the Elder Chief’s captive son and his mate in the Palace and how he had freed them. The Elder Chief listened with great interest and then expressed his thanks to Ariam. He then went on to explain how he had amassed a force of Dar’ryneel from various villages and how they felt led according to a dream to come out into the jungle to this very spot. The exiles shared interested looks with one another and thanked the Elder Chief for coming and bringing his reinforcements.

“This doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better about marching into face the creatures,” Belem said. “But it does a little.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” Ariam said with a smirk as he smacked Belem on the shoulder good-naturedly. The convict looked at him and sneered a little.

Klein and the other Royal Guardians along with Kaelinn and her men walked cautiously forward.

Then, walking in from the side came the freed prisoners from The Obelisk, minus the children. Cecil stared at them, chagrined that he’d actually forgotten about them. They looked lean and bedraggled, yet resolved. He knew that if the circumstances allowed, they would have reported that an unexplainable motivation had drawn them to this strange place in the wilds.

Dirk, one of the earliest people they’d freed in the Obelisk, led the group. He saw Cecil and headed over to him, keeping a wary eye on the Royal Guardians.

“This is the place?” Dirk asked.

“This is it,” Cecil replied. “Glad you could make it.”

“Almost didn’t,” Dirk said in a grave tone. “Apparently there were five infiltrators, acolytes from the Obelisk mixed in with us. They tried to kill us in our sleep but we caught them and dispatched them.”

“More friends?” Kaelinn asked. Cecil looked at her and nodded affirmatively.

“Yes,” he said. “Now it’s time to go meet our enemies in battle.”

“What about Rama’dy’ac?” Gael’jic asked.

“I have a feeling he’ll show up when he wants to,” Ariam said. “I wouldn’t worry about it.” A brief discussion ensued but they all agreed in the end that they needed to go in now.

They began their slow march the rest of the way to the ancient city, keeping watchful eyes on their surroundings to make sure they were not ambushed by an avalanche of those deadly creatures.

Once they passed beyond the border of the ancient city overgrown with vegetation and marred by ancient violence, they slowed their walk considerably. Eyes that had been watchful for the enemy now turned in awe toward the structures and statues all around them. They noted the presence of the likenesses of both Dar’rynakai and humans as well as the occasional Dar’ryneel. They even passed by what the exiles knew to be the statue of a Remmite. The first time they had been to the city, they had entered different places and had not seen evidence of all of the species. If they had, they would not have known what to do about it.

“Over there!” one of the Royal Guardians shouted, pointing. Everyone directed their attention. They saw it just in time as a Shedi’im’s glowing orange eyes disappeared behind a corner.

“This is the place, all right,” another of the Royal Guardians said. “Curse it all.”

They kept moving until they arrived at their intended destination, the place the exiles all instinctively understood as the only place this could conclude. Standing at the top of the stairs leading up to the great Temple at the most central point of the city was Lycas Ryth. His hands were clasped behind his back and he waited. Surrounding him were most of his Shedi’im.

“Congratulations on making it farther than any champion of Rama’dy’ac ever has,” he announced to the exiles, ignoring everyone else. To him, they were not a concern. His interest was in the four companions.

“I see you’ve gathered some friends,” he continued. “Admirable, but ultimately unhelpful. As I told you last night, it doesn’t matter whom you throw at me. I will win.”

Cecil stepped forward and opened his mouth to reply. But a sudden tremor through the ground stopped him. Startled noises and gasps spread out all around the company of people, Dar’rynakai, and Dar’ryneel. Cecil and his companions turned angry faces toward Lycas Ryth. They had expected this to be some trick of his, but they were surprised to see a look of confusion run across his face as well.

Between the group with the exiles and Lycas Ryth with his Shedi’im, a long slit opened up in the ground as bricks dropped and disappeared into the hole. From the newly appeared emptiness, a large stone arch about four times the size of any gate they had seen on any of the other worlds slowly filled up the long and narrow hole in the street. At first, it was empty but suddenly a brilliant, opaque pearlescent glow filled the gate’s arch. A lone figure stepped out and faced the exiles.

Belem turned to his companions, pointed to the newly arrived Zulle-Shee, and asked, “Rama’dy’ac?”

“Rama’dy’ac,” Gael’jic answered affirmatively with a dip of his long snout.

“I told you he’d come,” Ariam said leaning over to Belem. Belem merely grunted in acknowledgment.

Rama’dy’ac walked several paces forward and stopped before the group of exiles. He turned his head and looked at Belem. Belem made a little surprised noise and arched his back a little.

“What in the…?” Belem began. Sparkling blue light began to glow all around his flesh and then shot forward until it reached Rama’dy’ac. At the place where his fourth missing arm should have been, the light suddenly coalesced, solidified, and then shaped itself into that arm.

“Now I am whole,” Rama’dy’ac said.

“Is it just you?” Cecil asked with a hint of trepidation.

Rama’dy’ac smiled. From behind him a ragtag army of Remmites materialized and came through the gate. They rushed out to the sides to make way for all of them. By the time the last one came through, two hundred Remmites were now present. Belem recognized the large one he had fought to gain entrance to machinery that powered the decrepit Remmite city.

The gate slowly lowered back into the hole in the ground and was covered up moments later.

Rama’dy’ac slowly turned around and took a few paces forward stopping at the base of the stairs. He locked eyes with Lycas Ryth.

“Hello old friend,” he said. “It is time now to conclude our game.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Ryth said, wearing a wicked smile.

CHAPTER 58. WAR IN THE ANCIENT CITY

Lycas Ryth snapped his fingers which resulted in a thunderous noise. That was all the signal the Shedi’im needed. The great collection of monsters bellowed a roar in unison and charged down the stone stairs of the Temple.

Those with firearms powered by the Illuminoc flowers needed no encouragement. They lifted their weapons, took aim, and let loose volley after volley of deadly energy blasts. Each time a blast struck one of the creatures, it dropped and shattered to the stone streets of the ancient city. And each blast did find a mark. Nevertheless, the horde of demonic things continued charging and roaring their displeasure.

Cecil had acquired one of the energy pistols, aimed it, and let loose an energy blast that caught one of the Shedi’im in the jaw. The creature’s entire lower face blew apart in a shower of scorched desiccated flesh. The thing continued toward him for a few seconds then dropped dead.

Belem had not taken one of the guns, however. He maintained a hold on his two knives. He had taken an Illuminoc flower and rubbed its blossom on the blades of both knives, drenching them in its blue glowing pollen. He ducked low underneath the swipe of one of the Shedi’im and then darted forward coming up behind the thing. He spun and jumped onto its back. He then plunged one of the knives down into the base of its neck. The blade easily entered the beast’s flesh. A gout of steam rose from the wound and he had to yank his weapon back out to get his hand away from the searing vapor.

Still attached to the creature’s back, he gathered himself and pressed against its still solid but dying flesh with his feet, leaping away and somersaulting through the air, and landing on his feet a few paces away from the thing. He did not bother watching his opponent die, instead, he spun around to find a new one.

Gael’jic had armed himself with a ke’ef blade. As Belem had done, he applied an Illuminoc flower’s deadly blue pollen to the length of the blade. Instead of ducking beneath an attack as Belem did, he darted inward and stabbed at the Shedi’im’s swiping arm with the weapon. The hardened Raka wood weapon pierced the forearm of the attacking creature.

The beast howled in agony as he continued the attack in vain. The arm’s motion thrust Gael’jic to the side. He stumbled and lost his balance tipping sideways. The howling and writhing creature toppled on him nearly smothering the life out of the Dar’rynakai scholar. But soon the creature began to break apart and relieve Gael’jic of the immense pressure on top of him.

Ariam had his spear in hand. After having applied the plant material of the Illuminoc flower to the deadly end of the weapon, he went to work against as many Shedi’im as he could. Gone was the terrified beggar. In his place was a determined warrior, well-stocked with fortitude. He gave no consideration as to how he went about fighting the Shedi’im, he simply did it.

What little training Belem had given him was put to good use. However, his current employment of fighting skill was something of a mystery, and would be even to himself had he taken time to reflect on it. As he had with the Lord Advisor’s guard in the Palace, he efficiently went about the work of killing his opponents. He spun the spear over his head and brought it swiping in a diagonal arc slashing one of the Shedi’im across the face. The creature howled and smacked at its burning face, backing into one of its brothers and tumbling to the flagstone street with him.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Ariam switched his attention to another opponent. This enemy was hunched low and staring menacingly at him. Ariam could tell it was about to leap. He maneuvered himself and put the butt-end of his spear against the stone street and stepped on it for reinforcement. He then lifted the tip of the business end at just the right angle. When the creature leaped into the air it skewered its mouth on the sharp end of the spear. This all happened in the space of two breaths. The impact of the Shedi’im drove Ariam backward but the damage to his enemy was already done. The pointed end of his spear was poking out the back of the creature’s head. The Shedi’im gave a whole-body shiver and then collapsed to its knees as it started to crumble from the head down. Ariam tore the spear through its crumbling head.

***

Some distance away, Kaelinn was aiming with her energy rifle. She gently squeezed the trigger and a short bolt of blue light emitted from the muzzle of the weapon and struck its target taking the thing down. She moved the muzzle just a little to the right, found another one, and pulled the trigger again. Another bolt shot forth and struck the creature in the neck, decapitating it.

She heard a horrified scream to her left and was distracted by it. Her eyes instinctively shot that way just in time to see a Shedi’im pick up one of her companions and bite down on his head. The large beast’s mouth covered all the way down to a few inches past his neck. When he bit down he ripped the man’s head and a little portion of his upper torso away from the rest of his body. He then turned, saw Kaelinn, then wheeled back, and hurled the body at her. She stood paralyzed and helpless as the headless cadaver soared through the air toward her. Her eyes went wide just as the body collided with her, throwing her to the ground. She almost lost hold of her energy rifle, but by some miracle maintained it. That much at least was a blessing considering another Shedi’im stalked toward her.

She felt with revulsion the sticky sensation of the dead man’s blood coating her face. The coppery smell of it filled her nostrils and she fought against her gag reflex. Now was not the time to succumb to nausea. Now was the time to push past and survive.

The body was still on top of her, pinning her to the ground under its weight. But the arm which held the energy rifle was free. She lifted it and aimed the slowly approaching Shedi’im. She squeezed the trigger and there was a click, but nothing happened. She felt her face go cold as terror seized her. She pulled the trigger again. Again, nothing happened. She twisted it to the best of her ability and saw the charge meter on the side registered as empty.

Her attention flicked desperately to the approaching Shedi’im and knew that within moments her life would be at an end. She pushed with all her might at the body pinning her to the street and just managed to get it off her. She knew she would not escape the thing’s approach but she was desperate and acting on sheer instinct alone. The Shedi’im was now a bare pace away from her. It opened its mouth wide and she looked into the cavernous maw that sported an orange glow from deep within, like a campfire in a cave.

This is it, she thought. This is the end.

She was about to close her eyes and await her brief but horrific death when a sudden lance of blue light shot over her head and struck the approaching Shedi’im right between the eyes. There was a brief look of surprise on the beast’s face but then it crumbled and fell apart.

She whipped her head in the other direction and saw Cecil standing there in his damaged purple Royal Guardian armor having just shot the creature that was going to kill her. She nodded to him, and he nodded back.

Now that she was free, she had to get up and see if there was some other weapon available. Perhaps something dropped by one of her men who had been killed.

CHAPTER 59. ESCALATION

Kaelinn’s weapon was not the only one that ran out of Illuminoc power. Shortly after hers was depleted, none were left. But there were yet many Shedi’im left ferociously tearing into their enemies. The blood of all the living races that had called the Dar’ryn star system their home mingled on the stone streets of the ancient city.

However, there were several combatants on the side of Rama’dy’ac still armed with Illuminoc flowers. Three Dar’ryneel piled on top of a Shedi’im and stabbed at it with spears and knives laced with Illuminoc pollen. The creature howled and swiped at the only one of them it could reach, knocking him completely away to skid away on the street. The Dar’ryneel rolled as best he could, but was still brutalized by the attack.

A nearby Shedi’im reached forward and wrapped a big clawed hand around the midsection of one of the Dar’ryneel still on his dying companion’s back. The Dar’ryneel’s arms were still free and still holding a spear. Without looking, he instinctively jabbed backward with the weapon over his shoulder. The sharpened tip rammed into the cavernous eye socket of the creature. His big body spasmed and the hand holding the Dar’ryneel opened releasing him to fall to the street. The Dar’ryneel pulled at the spear shaft with all his might and yanked it out of the head of the Shedi’im that had attacked him.

Close by, Sev’aran had a ke’ef blade attached to both hands. Someone had done the honor of applying Illuminoc pollen to the blades and he levied a frenzied attack. He ran with his great reptilian speed through a pack of Shedi’im, slashing at each of them as he went, not bothering to watch the effect of his work. He was mainly interested in taking down as many as possible. Twelve of them had fallen to his blade by the time an untouched Shedi’im came up behind him and tackled him to the ground. Sev’aran felt the massive weight of the demonic creature bearing down on him and he struggled fruitlessly to wiggle out from underneath. He was completely pinned. The Shedi’im launched its face forward and wrapped its teeth around Sev’aran’s neck. He bit down and ripped his head away from his body which immediately slackened.

But when the Shedi’im pushed itself up on its hands and knees, two Dar’rynakai pounced and shoved their Illuminoc flowers into its flesh; one in its face, another in its back. Searing pain worked through the Shedi’im body and within seconds the thing was dead.

The big Remmite that had faced off against Belem a few days earlier squared off against one of the demonic beasts. The Remmite had his meaty hands wrapped around the shaft of a large war hammer. His weapon had not been laced with pollen from an Illuminoc plant, but that didn’t matter. The Shedi’im pounced toward him and he met the attack with one of his own. He swung the hammer and caught the Shedi’im in the cheek, shattering his head with one powerful blow. The giant lumbering body swayed to the side and collapsed twitching into a dead pile.

Another Shedi’im charged at the large Remmite from the side, but he saw it coming. He swiveled in time to meet this attack also. He brought his large hammer swinging up from below and crashed the heavy head of the weapon into the Shedi’im’s jaw, shattering it and driving the broken pieces upward into the thing’s skull.

***

Gael’jic surveyed the carnage around him. He remained close to his companions and they did their best to watch out for one another. He saw that Cecil had discarded the energy pistol since its charge had failed. He resorted to the ke’ef blade he gained at the Dar’rynakai city. Belem and Ariam kept fighting with knives and a spear respectively as well as they could. But Gael’jic felt a tightening ball of despair form in his gut when he saw the dwindling numbers of their side compared to the Shedi’im.

They had depleted a good number of the demonic creatures, to be sure. There were, however, still too many of them for Rama’dy’ac’s champions and their hastily cobbled-together army to handle. Now that the weaponized Illuminoc power was removed from the equation, Ryth’s forces seemed to be gaining the upper hand. For every one of the beasts they killed, the Shedi’im took out approximately three from their side. He saw from the beleaguered faces of his companions they understood this reality also. Unless Rama’dy’ac could produce some kind of miracle, this war would come to an inglorious close shortly.

One of the Shedi’im bounded toward him and he slashed the thing in the throat with his ke’ef blade. The creature reeled backward, grasping at its torn neck and rasping angrily. It collapsed backward and crumbled to pieces on the flagstone street. The Dar’rynakai turned to look for yet another target when something else caught his eye.

Rama’dy’ac stood, untouched by the chaos with both sets of his arms folded, staring across the distance. Gael’jic followed his gaze and saw that Lycas Ryth continued to stand atop the stairs leading up to the Temple. The Dar’rynakai scholar looked in confusion from one to the other.

Belem came up suddenly beside him. “What’s wrong, lizard?” he asked. “Do you find this chaotic war boring or something?”

In response, Gael’jic lifted a hand and pointed to Rama’dy’ac. Belem followed with his gaze and then Gael’jic pointed toward Ryth.

“Neither of them is doing anything,” Gael’jic noted.

Belem screwed up his face in a sour expression for a few moments then shrugged. “No time to think about that now. We’ve got demons to kill.”

Belem took a step away and was about to head for a nearby Shedi’im that was swiping at a group of three Dar’rynakai when he halted in midstride. He turned his head and looked back at Gael’jic, his face clouded with concentration. His brow drew down and he said, “Do you feel that?”

Gael’jic nodded. He had indeed felt what Belem referred to. It was a minor trembling in the street, maybe a low quake. But it quickly intensified. Soon a noisy rumbling accompanied the tremor. Those closest to the farthest out edge of the combat stopped and looked around.

There was a cry of surprise from that direction and the next thing Gael’jic knew and a stampede of Gurag came charging out of the jungle. Gael’jic’s eyes widened as he beheld the raging collection of large insectile beasts. They charged on like a destructive wave. Humans, Dar’rynakai, Dar’ryneel, and Remmites all dodged out of the way to the best of their ability. The Shedi’im stood dumbly and many of them were trampled by the stampede. The large insectile bear-like creatures unleashed a massive roar in unison as they tore into the Shedi’im.

The Shedi’im fought back, but there were just too many of them. Shedi’im bodies were trampled beneath the heavy feet of the Gurag and others were tossed up into the air, their torsos absent of some limbs having been bitten and gored by the beasts.

Gael’jic turned his head and saw Rama’dy’ac now hovered a few feet above the street with his arms outstretched and his head bowed.

He shifted his attention and saw Ryth standing atop the stone steps with a furious expression on his face.

Gael’jic turned his attention back to the unbelievable sight and watched as several Shedi’im broke away from the conflict and ran toward the jungle to get away from the new and unexpected onslaught. Something about the scene didn’t click well in his mind. Something seemed off, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on…

That’s when the trees in front of the line of the charging Shedi’im reached out and started to grab the beasts. One of them lifted a Shedi’im off the ground and pulled it toward a suddenly opened massive maw. He thrust the Shedi’im’s upper body into its mouth and bit the thing in half.

“Demon trees,” Gael’jic said with fearful awe, recalling his own brief encounter with one of the naturally camouflaged creatures. That was what had struck him as odd. Those trees had not been there when they arrived. They did not appear like Raka trees but like some other variety.

Sudden bolts of lightning shot forward and lanced several Gurag and a few of the demon trees turning them to ash and charred flesh. Gael’jic looked back to the furious figure of Lycas Ryth and saw that his face was contorted with rage, he stretched out his hands and was calling down lightning from the sky. More bolts struck and several more Gurag, demon trees, and other combatants were roasted by the energy strikes.

Gael’jic turned to say something to Cecil who was nearby, watching the remaining Gurag stampede in awe but then saw Rama’dy’ac fly through the air toward Lycas Ryth; to his old friend and enemy, Uri’thind’ac.

CHAPTER 60. SHOWDOWN

“If I cannot have this world, then neither can you,” Ryth snarled at the approaching figure of Rama’dy’ac.

Ryth shot a hand out toward Rama’dy’ac and a jagged bolt of lightning shot down from the sky toward the Zulle-Shee. Rama’dy’ac raised a hand to block the strike with casual grace. The jagged beam of energy struck the back of his hand and deflected away from him. It careened away and struck a Shedi’im, frying the beast.

“You know that will not work against me,” Rama’dy’ac said.

Ryth ignored him and shot his arms out to the side. He lifted several feet off the ground and then raised his hands toward the sky. Another bolt of lightning exploded from the clouds; this time however it arced toward Ryth’s upraised hands. The long sinuous line of energy crackled in the air and then began to swirl around his hands. He then brought his hands down and pointed both of them at Rama’dy’ac. The bolt of lightning shot forth in a dancing line of deadly energy.

Again, Rama’dy’ac raised a hand to intercept it. Instead of deflecting at this time, however, he splayed his fingers and then wrapped them around the beam of energy. The exiles watched in disbelief as he took hold of the bolt of lightning and pulled at it. Ryth lurched forward involuntarily and the bolt of lightning was torn loose from his fingers. Rama’dy’ac then drew his arm back and then thrust it forward sending the haphazardly dancing line of lightning back toward its originator. The beam of energy moved through the air like a whip made of light. The end of it split into three distinguishable prongs and struck Ryth in the side of his face. The Lord Advisor was thrown back and issued a pained cry.

In the next moment, the light whip winked out of existence. Rama’dy’ac floated stoically staring at Ryth with a reprimand in his eyes.

Ryth turned his wounded face back toward Rama’dy’ac, gritting his teeth and growling like an animal.

With a speed that was almost too fast for anyone to track, Ryth shot through the air toward Rama’dy’ac, and the two grappled in midair. Ryth pulled back an arm and balled the hand into a fist. It glowed brightly. He then thrust it into Rama’dy’ac’s face. The blow landed hard accompanied by the sound of thunder. Rama’dy’ac’s head turned to the side and the exiles saw that it had hurt the Zulle-Shee.

“How about that, old fool?” Ryth snarled.

The Shedi’im were all but destroyed or subdued around them. The four champions of Rama’dy’ac paid them no more mind, now transfixed on the battle going on above their heads.

“We should do something,” Ariam said.

“Like what?” Belem scoffed. “They’re throwing lightning at each other. Nothing we’ve ever tried against Ryth has worked.”

“A Dar’ryneel damaged his eye,” Ariam retorted.

“I don’t get the impression he was bothered by that very much,” Cecil said.

Ariam grunted. “Still, it feels wrong to be down here doing nothing.” His hands tightened and anxiously twisted around the shaft of his spear. Cecil noted his antsy disposition but said nothing.

“Rama’dy’ac seems to need to do this fight himself,” Gael’jic supplied.

“Then why involve us at all?” Ariam protested. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

Above their heads, the two Zulle-Shee traded blows. Each strike produced a resounding thunderous noise. All eyes were fixed upward to behold the godlike combat.

Rama’dy’ac thrust a punch at Ryth which the Lord Advisor blocked. He then countered the strike with one of his own, landing it in Rama’dy’ac’s midsection. The Zulle-Shee issued a pained grunt. He bent at the waist and flew backward several feet. Ryth pursued him. He unleashed a flurry of strikes. The companions saw that his fists glowed even brighter. Soon his entire flesh was seemingly a fire.

Strike after punishing strike landed on Rama’dy’ac’s body. Each one seemed to take a toll. The Zulle-Shee was driven farther down toward the ground once more.

One final strike across his face sent him coursing down toward the stone street. He collided and a circle of cracks in the stones formed all around him, radiating outward like a spiderweb.

Ryth floated down, his arms held out to the sides, fire seemingly blazing from his hands and face. His countenance was all rage. The eye that had been slashed by the Dar’ryneel was now completely gone from his head. In its place was a ragged bloody hole. One of Rama’dy’ac strikes must have taken it out, Belem surmised.

“Now our contest is at an end,” Ryth announced haughtily. He lifted one hand behind him and then thrust it forward. A beam of orange light lanced outward and struck Rama’dy’ac in the belly. The grounded Zulle-Shee released an echoing cry of agony.

Ariam could stand it no longer. He cocked his arm back, lurched forward, and then hurled his spear at Ryth. The exiles watched as the weapon coursed across the distance toward its target. At the last moment, Ryth flicked his attention in its direction and shot his hand upward to snatch the thing out of the air. He then held it horizontally before them, displaying it to the exiles. The orange light around his hand intensified and soon the spear caught fire and shattered into a thousand scorched shards. Little fragments of this wooden spear flew in all directions leaving tiny gray trailers of smoke. Ryth let his hand drop to his side as he shook his head slowly.

He said, “All in good time, beggar. Do not worry. You will have your turn.”

“Their turn is now,” Rama’dy’ac said, suddenly standing tall, still receiving Ryth’s powerful onslaught.

Ryth whipped his face around to behold his fellow Zulle-Shee. The exile’s eyes widened. They all saw Rama’dy’ac standing with all four of his arms stretched out to the sides, surrounded in swirling orange and blue light.

He was enveloped in crackling power. At the center of it all, his flesh seemed to glow with intense light. It was almost too hard for the exiles and everyone else to look at. Ryth merely sneered at the display of power.

Then, without warning, Rama’dy’ac turned toward the exiles and lifted all four of his arms to point at each one of them. Four lances of light shot out from each hand and connected with one of the companions. Rama’dy’ac’s body grew transparent and then dimmed. Then it completely winked out of existence.

Each of the exiles looked at one another and noticed they all glowed with blue light.

“What is this?” Ryth thundered.

Ariam smirked. “Now it is our turn,” he said.

Ryth thrust his fists out to the side, bent forward, and opened his mouth. It omitted the most unearthly and horrendous roar any of them ever heard, like the sound of a mountain under great tectonic duress suddenly splitting in two. His orange intense glow grew brightened further yet. The exiles stared in disbelief as the human flesh began to melt and burn away.

In a blink, Ryth’s Zulle-Shee form was revealed, unsheathed from human flesh. Uri’thind’ac stood bare before them, wearing the scorched and shredded clothing of Lycas Ryth, Lord Advisor of the Human Citadel.

CHAPTER 61. THE LAST ACT

Ariam made the first move, though he no longer had any weapons to speak of. That was all right by him: he didn’t need any. But the others were right behind him. Ryth threw a strike with one fist toward the beggar, which Ariam lifted a hand and easily blocked. He returned with a strike of his own, connecting with Uri’thind’ac’s jaw. The Zulle-Shee seemed only minorly perturbed by this.

Belem came next, thrusting both knives toward Uri’thind’ac. The Zulle-Shee held up two of his lower hands in response palms flat and facing outward. The knives in Belem’s hand formed cracks all over them and then shattered in his grip. The convict grunted with only minor pain but continued forward. Belem shot his fist toward Uri’thind’ac’s midsection. The strike landed, but Uri’thind’ac hardly seemed to notice. In reply, he thrust his head forward and head-butted Belem, sending him reeling backward.

Gael’jic came next, rushing inward. He came within striking distance, then pivoted on one heel and turned his tail in a deadly strike toward Uri’thind’ac. The Zulle-Shee levied all four hands in response and took hold of Gael’jic’s tail. He then spun around and used the Dar’rynakai’s own momentum against him and hurled him away. Gael’jic sailed through the air like a rock tossed by a disinterested child. He landed painfully on the stone stairs leading to the temple, the breath driven from him.

Cecil came last. Having watched Uri’thind’ac destroy Ariam’s spear and Belem’s knives, he knew the ke’ef blade would be no use against him. He simply tossed it to the side and charged forward. Uri’thind’ac awaited his arrival with a ready stance. Cecil leveled his shoulder at Uri’thind’ac and kept moving forward increasing speed to the top of his ability. He waited to see the Zulle-Shee prepare himself for the shoulder strike. When his opponent did so, the former guardsman switched tactics. He pushed off from the ground, leaping high into the air – higher, seemingly, than humanly possible – and striking Uri’thind’ac’s face with his foot. The kick landed thunderously on his chin and sent Uri’thind’ac staggering backward. It was the first blow from any of the champions of Rama’dy’ac that seemed to have any effect on the Zulle-Shee.

Uri’thind’ac looked back at Cecil with a brief display of surprise, then his brow furrowed in fury and he charged at the former Captain of the Royal Guardians. Cecil awaited him with great anticipation.

When Uri’thind’ac arrived, Cecil blocked two strikes from his upper arms, but the lower arms were something he could not prepare for. Their attacks came too quickly. One landed directly in the center of his chest. The armor served to absorb some of its force, but he felt the power of the attack through it nonetheless. He also thought he heard the armor crack under the assault. The second strike came lower and connected with his thigh. It forced his leg out from under him and he went down on his knee. Uri’thind’ac pressed his advantage and continued to rain blows down on him.

Cecil was able to reflect many of these, but by no stretch of the imagination could he stop them all.

Three strikes in a row landed at various places on Cecil’s body, driving him to the ground. He sprawled backward and felt his head collide with the stone street. His vision went blurry for a handful of seconds.

When he came to again, he saw Uri’thind’ac standing over him smirking and ready to pounce once more. But something awakened within Cecil, something reptilian. He felt an initial warmth arise in his body, which then turned to intense heat. Without knowing how Cecil was almost immediately back on his feet and blocking a surprise strike from Uri’thind’ac. He replied in kind with one of his own. The punch landed in Uri’thind’ac’s throat causing him to stagger backward. One of his four hands lifted to his neck and rubbed at it as he coughed. Four furious eyes returned to Cecil and a sneer formed on his face.

Uri’thind’ac lifted in the air again and Cecil knew what would be coming next. More lightning strikes were on the way and he was fearful he would not be able to withstand that.

But suddenly someone was latched onto Uri’thind’ac’s back. Ariam’s determined face appeared over his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around his neck and with the other hand, he held his opposite wrist tight, trying to cut off Uri’thind’ac’s air supply. The Zulle-Shee answered by striking backward at him with all four hands. Several hits landed and Cecil could tell Ariam was partially dazed by the punishment of the strikes. Cecil watched as the beggar’s hold on Uri’thind’ac’s neck slackened. They hovered several feet above the stone street. Suddenly Gael’jic was beneath him jumping and taking hold of one of Uri’thind’ac’s legs. In the next instant, Belem was right there as well leaping and taking hold of the other one. They began to sink slowly back toward the ground and Uri’thind’ac wriggled against their grip. He sent a flurry of mad strikes in all directions with all four hands. Several of them landed on the exiles, but none were able to persuade them to dislodge from him.

Cecil charged forward and leaped into the air until he landed in front of the Zulle-Shee. In a fit of fury, Cecil threw land punch after punch at Uri’thind’ac’s face. Each one caused a resounding and echoing grunt from the Zulle-Shee.

Then there was a brilliant flash of light and Cecil found himself flying backward, as did the other three exiles. When Cecil’s vision resolved to normal, he saw Uri’thind’ac standing but all four of them had been knocked flat to the street.

Uri’thind’ac slowly shook his head from side to side. “Your pathetic brute strength has no hope to overcome me,” he said. “Do not forget I am a god, a being of energy.”

Ariam slowly got to his feet, groaning with every ounce of effort. A trickle of blood ran down his chin. He swiped at it absently with the back of his hand but kept his eyes fixed on Uri’thind’ac. He then raised that hand in a contorted claw shape to his side and said, “Then we shall bring you down with energy. Blue sparks of power crackle to life around his fingers. The light formed and coalesced into a glowing sphere. Ariam shoved his hand forward and the sphere leaped from his palm and headed right for Uri’thind’ac. It struck the Zulle-Shee in the shoulder causing him to stagger backward.

Uri’thind’ac wasted no time but charged at Ariam. A shapeless cry of rage was ripped from the Zulle-Shee as he went. Orange light danced and sparked all over him as he went. He shot one of his hands toward the beggar. A lance of orange light leaped from the hand and struck Ariam in the dead center of his chest, throwing him backward. He landed once more on the flagstone street with an oof.

Uri’thind’ac pounced from his place and then landed on top of Ariam. He bent low, took hold of the beggar, and lifted him from the ground.

CHAPTER 62. PIERCED

“Now it is time for you to die, beggar,” Uri’thind’ac hissed at him, hefting him above the street effortlessly. He opened his mouth unnaturally wide and orange light glowed from deep within his maw.

Ariam struggled mightily in Uri’thind’ac’s grip. He tried as hard as he could to get away. But it was no use.

Belem charged at Uri’thind’ac to stop him from draining Ariam of life and turning him into an undead slave. He landed several punches in his back. Uri’thind’ac paid this no mind except to bat him away with a single strike from one hand. Belem was sent flying and then sprawled on the ground, unconscious.

Gael’jic looked to Cecil. “What do we do?” he pleaded.

Cecil looked down at his own hands. He wondered if he could do the same thing Ariam had, somehow form a kind of energy weapon in his own body. He concentrated, but nothing seemed to come of it. He lifted his face and looked with desperation back toward Uri’thind’ac and his companion… his friend.

Ariam continued to struggle, but now he was gasping as if desperate for breath. His eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open.

“He’s going to kill him!” Gael’jic shouted desperately. Cecil could only stand dumbly, fearfully, and do nothing.

Ariam’s hands were wrapped around one of Ryth’s wrists. He tried desperately to pry the fingers away from his neck.

Then there came an abrupt change to his face. Cecil had to blink to make sure he saw what he thought he saw.

His visage was now a mask of calm. Then the barest hint of a smirk touched one corner of Ariam’s lips. One of his hands left the wrist holding onto his neck, snaked forward, and took hold of Uri’thind’ac’s neck. The fingers began to squeeze and Uri’thind’ac’s face went suddenly confused and then concerned.

Ariam’s mouth dropped open once again, this time a blue light showered forth, bathing the Zulle-Shee in its glow and it caused Uri’thind’ac’s back to spasm and arch.

Uri’thind’ac let go of Ariam’s neck and suddenly struck at his arm with all four of his fists. But Ariam would not let him go.

Ariam’s whole visage glowed bright blue now. And Cecil thought he saw additional features appear over Ariam’s face; those of Rama’dy’ac.

“You have lost my friend,” Ariam said, but in Rama’dy’ac’s echoing voice.

“No,” Uri’thind’ac wheezed. “Impossible.”

“You have only played at the transfer of energy,” Rama’dy’ac said through Ariam’s mouth. “I was always the master of it. To you, it was only a game. To me it was life. And so now I take yours.”

“No!” Uri’thind’ac shouted echoing all around in a deafening boom. “You’re cheating!”

“I’m playing by your rules,” Rama’dy’ac casually supplied with a shrug of one of Ariam’s shoulders. “If you don’t like them, you never should have set them.”

Uri’thind’ac’s body began to convulse under Ariam’s grip. Uri’thind’ac writhed but could not get away.

Cecil watched in horror as one of Uri’thind’ac’s hands shot out to the side and orange light formed around it. It coalesced into a dangerous point, a spear-like extension of his hand. He pulled back and then thrust the point forward. It skewered Ariam through the chest, piercing his heart. Ariam convulsed from the blow but maintained his hold on Uri’thind’ac. Rama’dy’ac was sustaining him.

“No!” Belem shouted, having just come to consciousness again and made it to his feet in time to witness the treacherous move. He raced toward them. When he reached them, he was suddenly thrown backward, repulsed by a wave of energy thrown when Rama’dy’ac lifted one of Ariam’s hands and waved it at him.

Uri’thind’ac kept his arm pressed forward, skewering the beggar. Blood began to pour from the wound.

Cecil watched as pain overtook Ariam’s face, but he continued onward.

Cracks formed all over Uri’thind’ac. Tremors overtook his body and he shook violently. Blue beams of light shot out of every one of the newly formed crevices on his body,

He opened his mouth wider yet, and a piercing scream issued from it. He lifted his face to the sky and raised one hand, trying to call down one last bolt of lightning. Power crackled around that hand and a bolt of light indeed shot down, but it missed his hand. Instead, with a flick of Ariam free hand it was diverted and struck Uri’thind’ac’s face. Uri’thind’ac’s entire body shattered into countless burning fragments, sending pieces flying in all directions. Each glowed in a churning combination of orange and blue.

Finally, all eyes were on Ariam. The beggar stood motionless for an interminable set of heartbeats. His hand was still outstretched from where he had been holding Uri’thind’ac. He slowly lowered his face to look at the gaping hole in his chest that had been caused by Uri’thind’ac’s attack. He brought the hand toward it and gently probed at the edges, and then pulled the fingers up to look at them and see that they were drenched in his blood.

He slowly lifted his face and looked at his companions. What had once been a small trickle of blood coming from his mouth now coated his entire chin. He smiled at them. He tilted his head to one side and a look of serene peace overcame his face. He then collapsed to his knees.

Belem rushed forward and knelt before him.

“No,” he said roughly. “I forbid you to die.”

Ariam looked back at Belem. He slowly shook his head. “See,” he said weakly, “you do care after all.”

“Shut up beggar,” Belem snapped, his face uncontrollably sad. “I am not done with you yet.”

“I’m sorry,” Ariam replied. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could stay, but Rama’dy’ac has told me it’s all right. It’s okay to go.”

Belem shot both hands forward and took Ariam by the shoulders. He held him fast. “No,” he demanded. “You may not go. I have not said you may go.”

“Just do one thing for me,” Ariam said. “That is all I ask.”

Tears brimmed in Belem’s eyes. Cecil and Gael’jic slowly walked closer and heard the exchange, battling their own welling emotions. They exchanged glances but could say nothing. They then both looked back to Belem and Ariam.

Ariam slumped forward and Belem caught him. “What?” Belem asked in a shaking voice. “What do you want?”

Ariam slowly lifted his bloody face to stare into Belem’s once more.

He answered, “Just…remember me. Remember me as your friend.”

“I’ve never had any friends,” Belem choked out.

“Yes, you have,” Ariam said. “You did since the day I met you. You just weren’t smart enough to see it.” A wide smile stretched his pale face. Then his eyes went glassy and he slumped forward once more. Belem caught him and cradled him to his chest.

“No,” Belem said once more, this time weakly. “No, no, no. You can’t have him,” he said.

Cecil knelt beside them and looked at Belem. The convict slowly turned his face toward the one-time Captain of the Royal Guardians. He shook his head in denial. “No,” he repeated in a hoarse whisper. “He can’t go, he can’t…” But the convict couldn’t finish.

Cecil reached out a hand and placed it on Belem’s shoulder. “I know,” he said. “It’s not all right.”

Gael’jic knelt on the other side and placed his hand on Belem’s other shoulder. “He is gone,” the Dar’rynakai said. “He is at peace.”

Belem lifted his face to the sky and wailed.

CHAPTER 63. A LAST REQUEST

Belem hadn’t noticed right away that he was likewise starting to glow. When he observed Cecil with a faint blue hue around him, he turned his face to Gael’jic to say something. The lizard-man, too, was glowing. He instinctively dropped his eyes to himself and saw he was also glowing. As was Ariam’s corpse.

The glow lasted for a few seconds, then the light seemed to leave their bodies and joined together a few paces away where it grew in intensity and then coalesced into the form of Rama’dy’ac. He stood with all four hands clasped in front of himself… and he was looking Belem in the eye. The convict returned his stare with an icy version of his own.

“Bring him back,” Belem demanded stonily. His teeth were clenched and his face was hot. Ariam’s dead body remained in his arms.

“I cannot,” Rama’dy’ac replied. “He is gone.”

Belem shook his head. “I don’t accept that.” He gently laid Ariam’s body on the street never taking his eyes off Rama’dy’ac. He stood and slowly walked toward the Zulle-Shee. He lifted a finger and jabbed it in Rama’dy’ac’s face.

“You bring him back to life right now,” he said.

Rama’dy’ac did not move. He merely stood and gazed at Belem. There was compassion on his face yet also resolve. “Would that I could do that,” Rama’dy’ac replied calmly.

“I don’t believe you,” Belem snarled. “You’re an expert in energy and power, aren’t you? What about life; isn’t that just another form of energy?”

“No,” Rama’dy’ac said. “Life is more complicated. Energy is impersonal. Life is consciousness and soul. Ariam was a man, not a tree. Not a flower. Believe me when I say that if I could restore Ariam to life, I surely would do so. He sacrificed himself so that I might win. That you all might survive and not come under the crushing power of Uri’thind’ac. He saved your very lives. To me, that far exceeds the mere manipulation of energies. That is why I worked so hard with my fellow Zulle-Shee to come to these worlds: so that civilizations might be saved. Conscious life is beautiful. It is exquisite and truly rare in the universe. I always believed it ought to be preserved. Uri’thind’ac had other ideas as you know.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” Belem said. “I just want my friend back.”

“And I want my friend back,” Rama’dy’ac replied evenly. “But mine had to be stopped. And your friend sacrificed himself to do it.”

Belem was quiet for a long time. Then in a whisper, he simply said, “Please.”

Rama’dy’ac lifted one of his upper arms and placed a hand on Belem’s shoulder. “It is impossible,” he said. “Dead is dead. And for that I am sorry. We all only get one life. It is incumbent upon us to use it as well. Ariam spent his life so that you might have a longer life. Honor him by living in such a way that his sacrifice was meaningful and not wasted.”

“Now that the conflict is over,” Gael’jic interjected, “what are we to do?”

“I am not your god,” Rama’dy’ac replied. “I am in no position to command you. But I do have recommendations.”

“Such as?” Cecil asked.

Rama’dy’ac looked from one of the companions to the other, then glanced beyond them to the amassed survivors of the war.

“Come together,” he said, addressing them all. “Maintain your distinctives and cultural values, yet share in fellowship with one another. Live under a mutual banner with each other. Find common goals and pursue them. Value life. Maintain justice. Do not give the darkness a foothold. Uri’thind’ac is gone, but evil has not been extinguished from the universe. And do not say evil only exists in another. No, the truth is that darkness lurks in us all. There are many other Uri’thind’acs out there. Watch for them. Beware, but also be just.”

“And what will you do?” Gael’jic asked.

The Zulle-Shee turned to behold the Dar’rynakai and smiled. “A worthy question,” he replied, his face filled with unmistakable sorrow. “But my time has also come to an end. I am old. There may yet be much power in me, but it must be offered for something other than sustaining myself. I will dissipate. I will, as my last act, send forth my energies to the planets of Cairn and Remmice to begin the process of rejuvenating them. Perhaps other civilizations need them. The Remmites surely could do with a refurbished world. I will first return them there.”

“What about me?” Belem asked. “What should I do? I have never been a just man. I have never been moral. I have taken what was not mine and I have killed.”

“Yet you have found life,” Rama’dy’ac replied. “That cannot be underestimated. You may start anew. There is royal blood in you, and there is a young boy who shares it and who will need protecting.”

“The Prince?” Belem asked.

“The king,” Rama’dy’ac corrected.

Belem’s face turned sour. “I delivered the explosives that killed his father. I’m not altogether sure he will want me by his side.”

“Why don’t you let him decide what is best?” Rama’dy’ac asked. “You may find surprising forgiveness waiting for you. Besides, it was not you who slew the king. It was Uri’thind’ac. He merely used you, as he used so many.”

Rama’dy’ac took a few paces away to address the gathered survivors again. He lifted into the air and stretched all four arms out.

“People of Dar’ryn,” he said, “Today you have united and overcome. But you must learn to overcome every day. You must mourn your losses and rejoice in hope of tomorrow. This ancient city in which you stand once was a place of unity. It should become so again. To honor the sacrifices of those who paid with their lives, restore this city together and find ways to live side-by-side. Leave behind the deceptions and clouded truths and distorted false promises under which you have dwelt for the last thousand years. Reject these things and turn to the light. Live in truth. Rise from the ashes and rebuild together. Walk side-by-side into a hopeful future.”

***

A short while later, after Rama’dy’ac had concluded his address and spoken with several of the leaders of the various gathered peoples, he called Cecil, Belem, and Gael’jic aside to speak with them privately.

“I have one last request for you,” he said in a grave tone.

Belem folded his arms and grunted. “As long as we don’t have to figure it out for ourselves, go ahead.”

Rama’dy’ac managed a weak smile. He shook his head and replied, “No, nothing like that. A very long time ago when I came to the planet where we established the Throne of the Gods, my Zulle-Shee companions and I had precious cargo with us. I had hoped one day to see it bear fruit. But now it will be left to others. I hope those others are you.”

The three companions glanced at one another and then back to Rama’dy’ac. Cecil said, “What is it?”

Rama’dy’ac dipped his head in acknowledgment and continued, “It will take some time and preparation. But once I have outlined for you what I would like done, you three will travel together to Remmice through the gate. My original spacecraft is there since I had to gather the Remmites for this final battle. In the hold of the craft, you will find the cargo of which I speak.”

“Great,” Belem said, rolling his eyes. “More gate travel. I can hardly wait.”

“Very well,” Gael’jic said, ignoring Belem’s complaint. “Tell us what you want us to do.”

CHAPTER 64. SEEDS OF THE FUTURE

The overwhelming brightness of the gate dissipated and their vision returned to normal. The three companions took note of their surroundings and quickly located the spacecraft Rama’dy’ac had left behind. The three of them merely stood still for a handful of moments staring at it. The thing seemed sleeker than when they had originally encountered it as one of the separate huts on the Throne of the Gods planet. How the strange stone of the Zulle-Shee home world could reshape the way it did was beyond their comprehension. But just looking at it struck all of them with deep-seated awe.

Cecil was the first to step forward and the others quickly joined him. The ship was not far away so it only took a few minutes for them to cross the distance. Cecil halted at the bottom of the ramp and gazed up into it. The interior was completely lit and several blinking lights could be seen. A faint hum of power was detectable hovering in the background. It all seemed so alive. It felt more like a living creature than a designed craft.

Cecil recalled traveling with the Boatman to Void Island and how his ship seemed to have living components to it. The serpent’s head on the prow of the boat, in particular, was unsettling to all of them. He shook was head and cleared away such thoughts.

Rama’dy’ac had given them a final charge and Cecil understood its value and importance at least as it related to Rama’dy’ac himself. Cecil guessed if he or any of the others were in the same position, they would have made a similar request.

That is why, he supposed, they unanimously agreed to see it through.

Cecil reverently walked up the ramp followed by Gael’jic and then Belem. Once inside the three of them headed toward the rear of the craft. The first time they had been aboard the craft, they had not noticed the door there. Perhaps it had not been as obvious at the time as it was now. This ship and technology are so strange, Cecil thought. Anything is possible.

The door slid aside without any of them having to press a button, insert anything of value, or issue a command. It was as if the craft awaited them. He supposed, after a fashion, it had been doing just that. Rama’dy’ac might have programmed it to act this way for them.

The cargo hold of Rama’dy’ac’s craft was not large. And it was mostly empty. In fact, the only item visible was a stone-like pedestal in the center. But that was why they had come. The three of them moved toward it and halted. Gael’jic came closest to it. He reached out a hand and placed his palm against the top of the pedestal’s surface. He held it there for several seconds, waiting for the device to do what it was supposed to.

Seconds later, three bright blue rings of light lit from within the pedestal going from its bottom to top in equidistant lengths. Following this came a hissing noise as compressed atmosphere released from within the curious structure. Gael’jic quickly drew back his hand. The top split in half and two panels parted and opened up like little doors.

Resting just below the surface and covered in a thin layer of mist was what they had been sent to retrieve. Resting in suspended animation among the mists and nestled in the small carrying device were four seed-shaped objects the size of a man’s palm. The outer layer of the objects was completely clear showing their contents. Each of them contained the embryonic form of a Zulle-Shee being. Rama’dy’ac had called them seedlings. There were two males and two females. That was all that would be required according to Rama’dy’ac. It would be the salvation of his people. They could flourish once more in a few thousand years.

When Gael’jic asked who would raise and educate them, Rama’dy’ac waved a hand. “Do not fear,” he had told them, “They have been instilled with generations of education already within them.” In other words, they would not be blank slates. And once the embryos matured and were “born,” – apparently not requiring a womb of any kind – they would be competent enough to survive with minor guidance. That is where the exiles came in.

They were to see to the release of the embryos from stasis. From that point, they would begin to grow on their own. In ten years, the embryos would hatch. The new Zulle-Shee would be born. There was a fifth planet, a secret one known to none but Rama’dy’ac and his original companions.. It was the intended new home of the Zulle-Shee. For now, it was unnamed and uninhabited by intelligent life. But it had been terraformed and prepared hundreds of years ago to be the place where the new Zulle-Shee would flourish.

But the Zulle-Shee were not only to live apart. They were also to live among the various peoples of the Dar’ryn system. They were to learn a life shared with other kinds.

That was what Uri’thind’ac had fought so strongly against. He wanted Zulle-Shee superiority. He, therefore, sought to destroy the other peoples or otherwise enslave them. He thought the other races would corrupt their kind and bring them down. Uri’thind’ac had wanted them for himself. That was why he went about systematically destroying his Zulle-Shee companions. He wanted no competition for control of their future.

Gael’jic had argued and questioned why Rama’dy’ac would not stay behind to lead them.

Rama’dy’ac had answered that it was for the opposite reason employed by Uri’thind’ac. He did not want the young Zulle-Shee to become solely dependent upon him. He wanted them to grow and learn. He wanted them to see the value in other kinds of peoples.

Belem took another step toward the pedestal, bent over, and peered into the stasis device at the four embryos. Cecil and Gael’jic quietly watched the convict.

Belem eventually said, “Ariam would’ve loved this.”

The other two remained silent, not wanting to interrupt his grieving. It was clear to them both that Belem needed to sit with the loss of his friend for a long time.

When Belem turned his face to look at Cecil and Gael’jic, both gave him a nod of affirmation. Belem smiled.

EPILOGUE.

Belem

Belem tugged at the collar of his fine new clothing for the third time in the last ten minutes. He still wasn’t used to wearing such refined garments. And as he looked around at his environment, he could still hardly believe where he stood. And what he did.

The sun beat down on him and sweat formed on his brow. The sounds of both demolition and construction were prevalent. It had been a month since the conclusion of the war in the ancient city in the jungle. And not only did he have new clothes, but he also had a new role. He had been appointed by the new young king as Master of Security.

It was an entirely new role for the realm. In part, it had been concocted to replace the title of Lord Advisor. King Therin had seen to it that position was eliminated forever from the kingdom. And who could blame him? A thorough search of the kingdom’s archives had yielded the truth that the role of Lord Advisor had come into being through the machinations of a singular individual a long time in the kingdom’s past. It became abundantly clear that the individual was Uri’thind’ac in one of his earliest human disguises. Now that he was gone, it made sense to do away with the office he had concocted. Many of the responsibilities had been absorbed by the Sector Representatives. But some had been delegated to Belem in his new position as Master of Security for the kingdom.

One of his chief responsibilities was overseeing the removal of the protective wall around the Citadel. That was the project he currently shepherded. The project had been going on for most of the previous month. The wall was a large and complicated structure and required great care to dismantle. The plan was to take the materials and construct an outward expansion of the Citadel. The objective of this plan was to create space to bring the denizens of the Under-Citadel up and into the light. Belem appreciated the symbolism of permitting those who had dwelt in darkness to come into the light.

They had only begun to scratch the surface of the scheme. The project would be a very long time before it came anything close to completion. But at least it had begun.

An insistent beeping from his side snapped him out of his reverie. He dropped his hand to the small communication device and extracted it from his belt. He lifted it to his lips and said, “Yes?”

“Are you ready?” came the other man’s voice.

Belem had been so consumed with what was before him that he had almost completely forgotten about something equally as important. He checked the time and reprimanded himself for losing track of the hours.

He grunted and depressed the button that would allow him to respond. “Sorry,” he said. “Got caught up in a few things. I’ll be with it shortly.”

Cecil chuckled on the other end. “That’s all right,” he said. “This is worth doing right and taking the time to see it through.”

Belem felt that familiar stab of sadness that had not quite left him in the month since that final epic conflict. Would he ever move past that? He wondered. Probably, it was best not to, he reasoned.

He took one last surveying look at the hive of activity before him, then turned and left.

Cecil

However glad he was to be wearing the armor of the Royal Guardians once more, and to serve once again as their Captain, he was relieved for the moment to be removing the purple armor and exchanging it for simple travel clothes.

He had just returned the communication device to his belt and reached out a hand toward the energy pistol resting on the table. His hand froze just above it. His thoughts drifted immediately to the conflict from the month before.

He turned his head and surveyed the barracks around him. There were so many empty bunks. So many of his brothers had been mindlessly slaughtered by Shedi’im in the war. It would be a long time yet before their numbers could be replenished. And it was up to Cecil to see to it that how one became elevated to the role of Royal Guardian was drastically changed.

No longer would people be snatched away from their families at birth and pressed into service. It would be a voluntary position from now on. The question that remained was what to do with the children and young men who had been in their earliest stages of coming through the process under the old ways. Therin and the Sector Representatives had been consulted and spent a long time deliberating over what to do about them. It was Cecil who had insisted the kingdom had an obligation to see to their care and to see to it they were not forced to become something they had never chosen. However, if it was within their desires to still explore becoming a Royal Guardian one day, then special allowances could be made for their upbringing. But they would not be held to it if they changed their minds later.

Cecil returned his attention to the energy pistol and removed it from the tabletop. He housed it in the holster at his hip. He made certain it was strapped and secured before turning back to his current errand. It was time for him to go. He was to join up with Belem and they would set out from the Citadel together.

There had been so much to take care of, so much to sort through since the victory at the ancient city. All remnants of Ryth’s manipulations had yet to be uncovered, but those that were found were swiftly and judiciously dealt with. The laboratories for the genetic engineering of the Royal Guardians were shut down, and the specimens of dangerous and aggressive creatures that had been spawned from those laboratories had been destroyed. That included all those that ran rampant on Void Island as gate guardians. It also included all of the Lord Advisor’s guards. Their tan coverings had been meant to conceal their unnatural and mingled genetic heritage which showed in their strange flesh. Just as with the gate guardians on Void Island, they too had an odd amalgamation of human and Dar’rynakai flesh. And they had been trained specifically by Lycas Ryth to serve only him and to subvert the kingdom. They had no interest in surrender or rehabilitation. It made it an easy choice to deal with them decisively when it came to it. None of them gave themselves up but instead chose to fight back. Every last one of them had been destroyed.

Cecil feared they would spend decades trying to uncover every last layer of Ryth’s machinations. And when they did, it would be harder yet to truly dismantle them. But dismantle them they would, just as Belem had been tasked with dismantling the outer wall. He vowed it.

He spared one last look around the barracks and caught Lieutenant Lorenzo looking his way. The man held his gaze briefly then shifted his attention elsewhere. The revelation that all the Royal Guardians had some form of genetic engineering in their background, and all of them had some Dar’rynakai DNA mixed in with their human heritage had greatly troubled the entire Royal Guardian Corps. They would be a long time coping with the reality of it. Cecil wasn’t sure he was completely at ease with the truth himself.

He took a deep breath, expelled it, and headed for the door.

Gael’jic

The Dar’rynakai scholar scribbled furiously trying to get every last one of his thoughts down on the paper. There was so much. Too much, too much, he thought. And of course, there was no way to know exactly everything that had transpired. But he had taken it upon himself to investigate and chronicle the dark years of the manipulation of his people by Uri’thind’ac. His people needed to know the truth.

Sadly, because of the nature of the deceptions of Uri’thind’ac and the strong influence he had exerted over a thousand years, it was impossible to know the extent of his sinister work. Gael’jic labored to fill in the gaps and suggest explanations for how certain eventualities had come about. He had, of course, included information from the visions that Rama’dy’ac had shown to himself and his companions. But even those revelations had been incomplete. Gael’jic could not drive away the nagging belief that Rama’dy’ac had meant to give them a fuller picture. But now, that would never happen.

It was a lot of work putting the documentation of it together into a cohesive narrative. One day, he hoped to publish it as a historical work as well as something of a philosophical discourse. History was only valuable so far as it served as an example. And he was determined that the example would be laid down for generations to come. That was if he could ever finish it considering his other responsibilities.

He lifted his head and looked around the vast and prestigious study he had been granted as a new member of the ruling Dar’rynakai Triumvirate. He had greatly hesitated to accept the honor when it was offered to him. He had, in fact, rejected it out of hand at first. But the other members of the Triumvirate had insisted. And the people themselves had spoken almost in unison on the matter. It became harder and harder to deny. Eventually, he relented and accepted that it could be for the best. He accepted the position, but not without a large amount of trepidation. And many conditions.

One of those conditions was nearly upon him, he reminded himself. The fin on the back of his head rose a little and quivered. He shook his long snout and the dewlap hanging from beneath it wobbled. He was both tired and agitated. This day had been coming for some time and he both desired and dreaded it.

He stood up and removed his robe of office and hung it up on a hook on the wall near his desk. Beneath them, he had worn the common clothes of his people. They were simple and homespun and comprised mostly of earth tones. The crest of Rama’dy’ac was stitched in blue over his right breast. His fingers absently traced the design as he considered what he was going to do that day.

There was a knock at his door.

“Yes, come in,” Gael’jic said.

The door cracked open and another Dar’rynakai stuck his head in. It was his assistant. It was Sev’aran’s son.

He said, “The humans are here to see you.”

“Yes,” Gael’jic replied, “I was just on my way out.”

The other Dar’rynakai dipped his head and ducked back out the door but left it open. Gael’jic came around his desk and headed for it.

On the other side of the door, he found Cecil and Belem waiting for him. It had now been several weeks since he had seen the two men. Memories of the last time they had seen one another came rushing back.

“You ready, lizard?” Belem asked in his usual gruff manner.

Gael’jic laughed a little bit and shook his head causing the fin rising from the back to stand up a bit and flap around. He had decided to stop pointing out to the man that speaking of him in such a way was considered a great insult to his people. Even more so than usual since it was directed at a member of the Triumvirate. His assistant, standing on the opposite side of the room gasped a little, but Gael’jic waved a hand to dismiss the younger Dar’rynakai. And to reassure him that all was well in hand.

“I am ready,” Gael’jic announced.

***

All three of them were armed. Cecil had his energy pistol, and Belem had two new knives – one crafted of Raka wood by Dar’rynakai weaponsmiths, the other of human make – as well as a smaller energy pistol attached to his ankle. Gael’jic carried a ke’ef blade dangling from a strap on his belt as well as a spear in hand. They traveled through the jungle which still was not exactly a safe affair. There were still Gurag, demon trees, and any number of other dangerous creatures out there. But since the fall of Lycas Ryth, things seemed to have calmed down, even on a natural level. It just went to show how far and deep the wicked Zulle-Shee’s influence had gone.

They had been traveling for quite some time and the smells and sounds of the beach were just starting to come through the trees at them. None of them said anything, but they all felt a pang of loss blossom in their hearts. Nevertheless, they pressed on.

A short time later, they emerged through the tree line and slowly trudged down to the sandy shore of the beach.

Cecil reached into the satchel he carried slung over his shoulder and extracted the medium-sized clay jar. He held it up for the others to see. Both Belem and Gael’jic stared at it solemnly.

After a long, somber silence, Belem said, “Do you remember how much he loved it when we first came to this spot? He danced like a foolish child in the waves.”

“I remember him splashing and clapping muddy hands,” Cecil said, not able to conceal the smile that came to his face.

Gael’jic made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat then said, “Yes, he seemed to enjoy himself.”

“Enjoy himself?” Belem asked with a chuckle. “He danced in the surf like an idiot.”

A small burst of laughter came from Cecil and he dropped his face and shook his head. He then lifted the clay jar a little higher and it now was between them.

“This is what remains of our friend,” Cecil said. He felt his throat tighten as he drew in a sudden sharp hitching breath. He saw from Belem’s face that the other man felt the same emotion overwhelming him. Belem turned his face away and absently swiped at a tear forming in one eye.

“I think he would like to have come back to this place,” Gael’jic observed. The Dar’rynakai reached forward and gently took the clay jar from Cecil’s hands. He lifted it a little higher and said, “I am glad to have met you, Ariam. I wish we could have known each other longer.” He continued to hold the clay jar containing Ariam’s cremated remains for a while longer, then turned his face to Belem.

Belem, his face still turned away, was staring out at the sea. After a long and uncomfortable silence, he finally returned his gaze to his companions. His eyes landed last of all on the clay jar. He hesitated, then reached out and took the jar from Gael’jic’s hands.

He drew in a shuddering breath and then said, “I miss you, you stupid beggar.” He then turned toward the beach and slowly walked toward the surf as he went, he reached one of his hands up to the top of the clay jar and removed the lid. He casually cast it to the side. He then took the clay jar in both hands and continued toward the surf until he was calf-deep in the water.

Cecil and Gael’jic followed him.

Cecil gently reached out a hand and placed it over Belem’s left hand on the jar. Gael’jic did the same, placing a hand over Belem’s right. Belem looked from one then to the other and then nodded. Together, they tipped the urn forward and spilled the ashes into the surf.

“Time to dance in the water one final time, my friend,” Belem said, his voice cracking on the last word. They watched the water recede away from the shore taking the ash with it. When it had gone a little way out it was subsumed under a wave that crashed over it. And just like that, he was gone

They stood for a long time in the surf, just looking out at the horizon and thinking about their friend.

THE END

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