The Tree at the End of the World

http://otherworldrealms.tumblr.com/post/90061056684

From - Journey to a Mystery

Dusk was falling when the last vestiges of the small village faded into the horizon. They were on the only road leading out of town, and it headed northeast. The poor old villager, Jos, had barely been able to keep up with the fast moving adventurers, and had to stop to rest on numerous occasions. Obviously he hadn't been outside the village often, much less on any long journeys. He did know where the next town was, and all they had to do was follow the road they were on to get there. Jos told them the name of the village as they were leaving his own. Tscon thought the name sounded familiar, and when that memory returned a dark and sad feeling went over the monk.

Kronheim was a name that should have stayed in Tscon's memory forever. It was the name of the village where his young apprentice Ketch had lost his life. As they walked along the road, Tscon's memory went back to that painful time in his past. He could still remember clearly everything that had happened to the young boy, and even though he'd finally come to terms with what had happened, the sting of it's memory was still strong. He began to wonder if he'd really have to strength to walk back into that village again. Perhaps, he thought, he wouldn't need to. After all, his main purpose in coming this way was to visit Ketch's grave. Maybe that would be enough. After all, what good could a mere apology really offer?

Tscon suddenly remembered his, 'vision', when he had seen his apprentice in a kind of dream, after he and Naeid had trapped the evil entity in Ghuise. He could hear Ketch telling him to return to the village, and see what it was like now, and what had come of the terrible tragedies that had befallen it. In his heart, Tscon was beginning to realize what Ketch had really meant. Tscon had to return to the village and apologize to the people who lived there now. Perhaps the destruction Tscon had seen in that vision was the aftermath of what he'd left behind. If so, it was Tscon's duty to return there and offer his apologies, to try and make amends for what he had done.

It wouldn't be easy. The memory of what the villagers had done to Ketch was slowly returning to his mind, as well as the feelings that went along with them. Tscon had to remind himself of what Ketch had said when he'd seen him. Ketch was at peace now, and soon Tscon would be as well. He took a deep breath and tried to let all the anger and resentment of that time fall away.

And so here he was, about to come full circle, and return to the place where all his misery had started. He was still dwelling on this when they stopped for the night. Jos informed them that they probably had another days march to reach Kronheim, so they decided to rest for the night there on the side of the road. None of them could really sleep, the sight of the eerily empty village still fresh on their minds. Tscon was equally restless, although he had another village on his mind that night. They got up before dawn even rose over the horizon and continued on their way.

The sun rose to it's peak and began to fall as they traveled, and as the sun's lower circle dipped to touch the ground far away, they saw what had to be the village of Kronheim. From this distance, it seemed to be much bigger than Jos' village, as they could see many more houses stretched across their view. Their pace quickened when they saw those few buildings, and a smile even began to find it's way onto their faces. Soon they even saw someone on the road, walking toward them. It seemed to be only one person, so it probably wasn't a town guard. If it was a fellow traveler, going south to Jos' village, they could warn them about what had happened. But as they approached this stranger, Tscon got the feeling that this wasn't a guard, nor a mere fellow traveler.

When this new person was a mere ten feet away from them, she stopped. Tscon stopped as well, holding his hand up for the others to halt. Daenna and Jos looked up at the monk at his sudden stop, curiosity on their faces. When they saw both the monk and Naeid staring straight ahead at the stranger, the two turned their attention in that direction. They didn't recognize the woman standing before them in red robes with the thin, shoulder length black hair, but Tscon and Naeid seemed to. She was tall, and seemed slender beneath the robes that billowed around her in the evening breeze. Her skin was pale, her face slightly gaunt, but they gasped when they noticed her eyes. No pupils at all could be seen; the eyes of this stranger were solid black.

Their old adversary smiled as she looked them up and down, one after another, the same self-satisfied look they remembered from weeks earlier. Something was different about her though, something they couldn't quite put a finger on. Right now it didn't seem to make much difference. Both Tscon and Naeid had to protect two innocent people from this deadly assassin. After considering them all for a few brief minutes, Ashila smiled wider.

"Well, master monk, it seems your company hasn't improved since our last meeting. You've even replaced your cook with a common merchant, how droll." Her gaze went to Jos for just a moment, then she looked back at Tscon. Ashila's voice sounded very different from the feminine one he remembered. It was deeper, and somewhat hollow. And her voice reverberated, as if two people were speaking with that voice at the same time. Ashila's head turned slightly, and she was looking straight at Daenna.

"And who do we have here? Another lost puppy for our brave monk to protect? Or fail to protect, I should say? You're about to die, little one, I trust you're realizing that. Just like the other people our brave monk failed to protect. In fact, everyone the monk has ever known is going to die, including his cook. What do you think of that, little girl?"

The sinister grin on Ashila's face seemed to grow at her remark to Daenna. Little D was terrified at this point, and she inched closer to Jos. The assassin's gaze rested on the young woman a moment longer before her head turned again to face the monk.

"Speaking of your cook, I'm very sorry about what happened between you. I really am. I was looking forward to killing all of you at once, but when I attacked the caravan, that captain threw your friend over his horse and rode away. At that point I had to choose whom to pursue first, and naturally I picked you and your raven haired slut-princess."

Naeid's blade leapt from it's place at her side at Ashila's last remark, and was pointed straight at Ashila's chest. The move didn't startle her in the least, but when Ashila caught sight of Naeid's new weapon, a look of concern flashed across her face. The self-assuredness immediately returned, but Tscon had noticed the look. Something was quite different about their antagonist. Ashila's confession about the caravan, and her new sound and appearance, suddenly gave Tscon a thought he wished he hadn't had. He hoped he was wrong. Ashila wasn't giving him time to dwell on it, though.

"O I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," Ashila continued sarcastically, turning her gaze to Naeid, "please don't stick me with your toy."

Naeid had all she could stand from the red robed assassin at that point, and charged in and swung Krenhavnar in a blow that would have separated the robed woman's chest and abdomen, had Ashila still been standing in the same place, but she wasn't. She was now standing right next to Naeid, her face still holding that same sarcastic grin. Naeid swung again, and again Ashila was gone by the time her sword would have found it's mark. This time she seemed gone completely, until they looked behind them, to see Ashila standing right next to Daenna. She was looking at the diminutive young woman as if she were studying a curious object. Daenna could not even bare to raise her head, so imposing was this woman’s presence.

Both Tscon and Naeid began to walk over toward them when Ashila raised her right hand. Their eyes widened as they looked at it. Her hand was black, and deformed. It appeared as though the skin and flesh had rotted, and were wasting away. They stopped, waiting to see if Ashila were about to do something to poor Daenna with that withered hand.

"You can see that didn't heal so good, but I've come to realize that's okay. You see, now I can do this to you, and it'll all be evened out."

Ashila let her hand drop slowly toward the top of Daenna's head. Tscon was afraid he wouldn't be able to reach the girl in time, but he had to try, so he prepared to leap. Suddenly Ashila went flying, landing on the ground in a heap, with Jos on top of her. She quickly threw him off, sending the old man flying through the air, to land hard on his back, crying in pain. Ashila leapt to her feet, rage displaying on her cold face.

"Fool. You'll suffer an eternity of torment for interfering with me."

She reached out her withered hand toward the terrified shopkeeper and pointed a finger. Black bolts of lightning shot out from that finger, heading straight toward Jos. Suddenly, the dark energy turned in midair, and went straight toward Naeid. The bolts struck Naeid's sword. The blade glowed for a few seconds, then faded. Ashila's face was aghast.

"What? How did you do that?"

She raised her hand again, and this time threw her black bolts straight at Naeid, and again the sword absorbed every bit of the dark, negative energy. Rage flashed across the assassin's face. Suddenly, Ashila's jet black eyes flashed red. Tscon felt a sudden rage come over him, and anger at everything and everyone around him. Naeid's sword began to glow, brightly, and the anger Tscon felt immediately began to melt away. He stood, confused for a moment over what had happened. Then he noticed Ashila's red eyes go from him, over to Naeid. The sword continued to glow. After a moment, the red light faded from the robed woman's black eyes, and Krenhavnar's glow subsided. Ashila took a step back, regarding Naeid first, then looking over at Tscon.

"This is not over, Lightbringer. We will meet again."

She looked over at Daenna, then cast a dangerous look at the old shopkeeper.

"And your interference will cost you dearly."

Ashila took a few more steps back, then leapt into the air. When her jump had reached it's zenith, the red robed woman simply stopped moving, standing straight up some ten feet off the ground. A thick black smoke began to emanate from her body, and it enveloped her as she hovered in mid-air. When she was completely obscured, the smoke began to fade away, and she was gone.

For a moment, no one moved, nor made any sound or said anything. After a few minutes, Naeid finally looked over at Tscon.

"Okay, well she seems to be a little more powerful than the last time we saw her doesn't she. And what was with her eyes. And that magic. She didn't even try to attack us with her hands, and where was her staff? "

Tscon was wondering the same thing. He shared the sentiment he had been harboring since he'd heard her voice echoing as if from some distant place.

"I think that, somehow, that entity we thought we sealed up when we cut down it's tree has possessed her. Remember, she claimed to have killed everyone in the militia’s caravan, but as I recall some of those men killed each other. Do you remember the last time something like that happened?"

Naeid at first seemed confused by what the monk was referring to, then understanding suddenly leapt into her eyes. The village of Ghuise.

"O well that's great," Naeid proclaimed, "so now she has magical powers? "

Naeid suddenly looked down at her sword, Krenhavnar. The warrior woman stared at the weapon intently. Tscon quickly realized it might be talking to her again. It was not glowing now, except for the runes spelling out it's name, which always seemed to be glowing dimly. A smile crossed her face while she gazed at the weapon, a proud smile as if she had been paid a high complement by a lord, or a king. She was too preoccupied to notice Tscon walking over to the old shopkeeper Jos, who was still sitting in the spot where he'd landed after knocking Ashila away from Daenna. He lowered his hand, and Jos slowly reached up and took it, raising himself up with Tscon's help.

"That was a brave gesture for a shopkeeper." Tscon said.

Jos looked at Tscon, then down at Daenna, who was also just now getting up, still stunned by everything that had just happened.

"I don't know what came over me, I just didn't want to see this poor young woman get hurt. Who was that red robed woman anyway? You seemed to know her, at least she seemed to know you."

"Her name is Ashila," Tscon replied," she is an assassin, originally sent to bring me back to the Temple of the Order, although somewhere along the line, she decided she'd rather take me back dead, than alive. I'm not really sure we understand her true motivations, if indeed she has any besides pure evil. As for her powers, those are new since the last time we saw her, and I suspect another entity is involved with those. We shall see. Anyway, Kronheim is close and we should get there as soon as possible. Come."

Tscon looked back at Naeid as Jos and Daenna took the first few steps toward the nearby village. The warrior woman was sheathing her weapon, a look of concern on her face. The monk looked behind him to see if the others were watching them, then drew up near his friend.

“We may have a problem,” Naeid began in a low hushed tone, “Kren says he's never felt energy like that, ever, and he was forged over two-thousand years ago. He's known sorcerers, and dragon-magic, most everything this world's thrown at him, but never anything like she just threw at us. He said if she'd kept it up much longer, it would've shattered him. He thinks something's inside of her, something not of this world at all. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?”

He was, in fact, but was loathe to put it into words.

“The book in Ghuise referred to something called a Revenant. That must be it. As powerful as something like that is, I wonder if it can be destroyed at all.”

Somehow, Naeid's look became even darker.

“What if it can't be killed, and we've somehow let it loose?”

Tscon felt his blood go cold at that thought. The last thing he needed was to be responsible for more tragedies.

“I thought we trapped it in Ghuise when we cut down it's lair.” Tscon replied. “This could be something else entirely.”

Naeid locked her gaze on him, chastising him with her eyes, she no more believed that than he did.

“Telling yourself that won't help it become true, you know. We have to find out what's really going on with her, and soon.”

Tscon let his head nod as he began to realize she was right. But he had other business to see to first. Then perhaps they could find out more about Ashila, and this thing called a Revenant.

The monk and warrior-woman hurried their steps to catch up with the other two, who were making their way slowly up the road. As they caught up, Tscon noticed Daenna was staring at the ground, simply moving her feet one in front of the other, without looking at all where she was going.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked as he drew near his friend.

"Who was that woman, Tscon? And who was she talking about, that died?" Daenna asked, without looking up at the monk.

Tscon took a deep breath as the painful memory of his friend's deaths returned. Somehow Ashila knew that was still haunting him, somewhere deep inside. The assassin was still finding ways to hurt him, even when she was gone. Tscon took a deep breath, and confronted yet another painful memory.

"She's a lost soul really, full of hate and anger. She killed two of my friends, in an effort to torment me, and throw me off-balance so it would be easier for her to kill me. Naeid and I managed to chase her off, well, Naeid actually did it. But somehow she's found us again. Don't worry, we can fight her, and we're not going to let anything happen to you. You're going to be fine."

Little D didn't look up, Tscon wasn't even sure if she'd heard anything he'd said. She finally gave him a half-hearted reply.

"I'll be fine as long as I'm with you, or someone who can fight for me."

Tscon slowed his steps as he realized what was really bothering his companion. Were Naeid's words still stinging the young woman? Or was it something else? Tscon looked down and sighed, becoming lost for a moment in a sea of self-pity. So many people around him were needing his help, how could he help himself? He struggled internally with all the emotions clashing inside him. It wasn't until he heard Naeid's loud whistle that the monk realized he'd stopped completely. The other three had also come to a standstill and were now staring at the monk. Tscon quickly hurried back up to meet his friends.

"Sorry about that, just thinking for a moment." the monk said.

"Everything okay?" Naeid asked.

"Yes, sure.", he replied, the shaking in his voice giving away the fact that everything was not okay at all.

All assembled they made their way to the nearby village. The sun was below the horizon now, and they hoped an inn would still be open when they arrived. 

From Falls a Dark Shadow: Arcania Rising Book Two

Adjunt awoke suddenly when the door to his room was smashed open. Three men pushed inside, yanking Adjunt to his feet. Two men, one on each arm, dragged Adjunt into the narrow hallway, while the last went about gathering Adjunt’s belongings.

Without a word the men began shoving Adjunt down the stairs. Upon reaching the ground floor, he suddenly turned on his captors.

“I am a formal representative of the Imperial Army. I demand to know what this is all about.”

The guard nearest Adjunt was suddenly shoved aside by another man. Adjunt quickly recognized the officer he’d seen and followed the previous day. Reginald. An almost murderous rage had no replaced the sarcastic expression from the day before.

“You think your high and mighty Emperor is gonna save you? Think again, you Ceran cockroach.”

Deputy Reginald shoved Adjunt toward the door. In turn, Adjunt whirled around just as Reginald reached out to push him again. In a flash, Reginald’s arm was twisted behind him. Adjunt pushed his prisoner to the ground wincing in pain.

“I’ll ask you gentleman once more, what is the meaning of this?”

The two remaining officers, who were dressed exactly as Reginald, exchanged confused glances. Reginald was obviously in charge here, and the men were scrambling for what to do next.

“Well, you see…” one of them began.

“Shut up!’ Reginald bellowed.

“I’ll know the answer before you get up.” Adjunt made sure to keep his voice calm and collected.

“Don’t just stand there,” Reginald shouted. “Get him.”

A short twist on Reginald’s arm sent a shiver of doubt through the two young men accompanying Reginald. Adjunt realized they wouldn’t say anything without their leader’s permission.

“There are laws, good sir, even down here.” Adjunt began. “If accosting citizens without giving any reason at all has become policy, perhaps it’s high time the Empire took a much closer look at our neighbors here in Byloth.”

Nothing moved for a moment. The captive deputy took a long breath at last. Anger filled his voice.

“The sheriff was found dead last night, murdered. Since you were about looking for him yesterday afternoon, you stand to be a prime suspect. We’re taking you in for questioning on the matter.”

“And that warranted bursting into my room unannounced?” Adjunt asked, with as much incredulity as he could muster. “Shoving me around without so much as a word?”

“We don’t offer killers such amenities here, Ceran.”

“As you will no doubt learn later on, I am not a killer.”

Adjunt noticed this was the second time Reginald had called him ‘Ceran’. No doubt a shortening of Cerasin-Cera. So now people from the capital had their own slang name.  A signpost on a dangerous road that often led to things much more tragic.

“Well I think you are. And one way or another, you’re coming with us.”

The truth of Reginald’s statement weighed heavily. He was right, of course. Sooner or later Adjunt would have to answer their questions, some of which might land dangerously close to his mission. Deciding it would be unavoidable, Adjunt let go of Reginald’s arm, and stepped back.

“Very well.” Adjunt began. “But you’ll conduct your questions here, now. I cannot be your murderer, as you will soon see.”

Coldhands

http://37.media.tumblr.com/827bf0eca20779301ddb9d821bfcb852/tumblr_n4u2h179u41sp8yqvo1_500.jpg

This is Coldhands, a character from the A Song of Ice and Fire series. They seem to have left him out of the HBO show, which I felt was a pity, to say the least. Well, Tom Bombadil didn't make it into Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings either, so, there ya go. Can't squeeze 'em all in. But I was really hoping they'd fit this guy in, at least one episode.

Dany

http://fantasyart101.tumblr.com/post/87314765979/samspratt-daenerys-illustration-by

http://fantasyart101.tumblr.com/post/87314765979/samspratt-daenerys-illustration-by

The artist here did a fantastic job. Dany is one of my personal favorite's from the George Martin series A Song of Ice and Fire. She goes through some intense hardships, coming out as a major player for the Iron Throne. A great, great epic series.

Love Wants Not

Love Wants Not

Love wants not, it freely gives

In the soul of charity, does it live

Ne'er will it demand, nor make a claim

Love always gives, but not in vain

Love wants not, to be undone

It seeks to last, as the burning sun

To endure the road of life together

Love wants to be, to last, forever

Love wants not to abandon thee

Will follow over land and sea

Love wants to grasp and never let go

It's warm embrace, freely bestowed

Love wants not to walk alone

To stand as just the only one

Love wants a partner, tried and true

Who's proud to say, just me and you

Love wants not to see you cry

In sadness left, to wonder why

Love wants to see your eyes turn bright

As a great full moon on a cloudless night

Love holds us together, keeps us whole

Without, what good is our immortal soul

To spend eternity void of hope

Alone, adrift, with nothing of note

Love wants not to be fettered down

Tightly gripped, chained to the ground

Love must be free, like the sky above

To soar like as a pure, and gentle dove

Love wants to see your beauty true

The in, the out, the really you

Love makes no judgment, wrong nor right

Love sincerely accepts, from morn 'til night

Love truly is our greatest treasure

A swell of emotion that has no measure

No precious jewel, or golden mountain

Could be worth more then true love's fountain

From Comes a Dark Heir: Arcania Rising Book One

The sides of the chair bit deep into Stavross’ arms. Splinters in sharp corners dug into his skin. The captain had decided to lock Stavross’ arms by his side after the young man had attempted to escape. Panic had overcome him as they approached the door to the jailhouse. He’d almost gotten away too, but Mith had caught up with him too quickly. Mith had pleaded with Stavross to stop struggling, but something deep inside had forced Stavross to run.

The jail was empty except for Captain Swann, Mith, and Stavross. The calm man in the plain brown robes who’d occupied the second cell was gone. The two guardsmen who’d accompanied the Captain were now standing watch outside, keeping the curious from stealing peeks at the proceedings within. 

Stavross studied the floor. Both men were looking at him, he knew. And he knew they knew. Who had told them? Tasis? Diesha? Or did someone else see him at the widow’s wagon? His accusers would not say. All they’d said thus far was why he was being accused of murder.  Stavross’ worst fears were realized.

It had happened just as the festival was winding down. People were pulling their crops and vegetables from the tables, taking down banners, and folding up the pavilions that had protected them from the hot autumn sun. The widow had needed help getting on her wagon. She struck the reins and her horses lurched forward. Her wagon had not gone with her, however. For some reason, she hadn’t been able to let go of the reins, and the horses pulled her off the seat. She went face forward into the ground. The villagers standing near the wagon had all heard the bone-snapping sound of her neck breaking.

So far, Captain Swann had only told him that someone saw him near the wagon earlier that day. But why did they burst into his home, and take him away in irons if they didn’t suspect him of something? Stavross wished they would say if they already knew. But the Captain was asking questions, not giving answers.

“Well, are you just going to sit there in silence? Now I’ve asked you a question, were you near the widow’s wagon today nor not?”

The panic that had gripped Stavross earlier had died down, at least somewhat. He was able to hear again. The blood pumping through his body had been rushing through his ears so loud he hadn’t heard a single thing Captain Swann had said since the three men had entered the jail.

The villagers they had passed on the way to the jailhouse were almost as shocked as Stavross. Nothing like this had ever happened in their collective memories. Tomerel was a quiet, peaceful village. Bandits rarely came this far south. A few poor farming villages bore slim pickings for stealing, and not worth the trouble of travelling so far. And a murder, well a murder had never happened in Tomerel as far as anyone knew.

Stavross had to think hard about his answer. This was the turning point, the crux upon which his destiny would spin. If he said yes, it would be the first step down the road of confession. Good for his soul, perhaps, but not for his health. If he denied it, and they had witnesses who swore to the truth, he’d be caught in a lie, disgracing both himself and his family. If there were actually no witnesses, however…

“Yes, I was near it.” The words leapt from his mouth before he made up his mind, as if someone else were making him speak.

Captain Swann nodded. His hard stare remained the same.

“And what were you doing there, boy?”

Stavross continued to study the floor. His heartbeat began to quicken again, his breaths deep. He wanted to run, but the chains kept him in place. It was time to put it all to rest.

“Okay, it is my fault. I loosened the bolt on the widow’s wagon. But I only did it because she made fun of Diesha. I didn’t want her to get hurt. She wasn’t supposed to get hurt. Diesha said…” His lips faltered, and his mouth quivered. Where is my father?

“Diesha said what?” the Captain demanded. He bent slightly and lifted Stavross’ chin to meet the young man’s eyes. “Well?”

Stavross suddenly launched into the whole affair. The festival, having a cup of wine with Tasis, his meeting with Diesha, and her affirmation for him. He told them she had asked for this one favor to prove his devotion, and he’d done it gladly. With every sentence he declared his love for the beautiful young woman. All was for her.

Stavross was in tears. Red circles ringed his eyes, and long frown lines ran down his cheeks, making him look ten years older. His panic was gone now, replaced with sadness and anguish. His breath came in short sobs.

Stavross could feel their eyes looking down on him. Unable to look up, he could still feel the frowns on their faces, the suspicion in their eyes. Mother, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.

A long, heavy moment of silence passed in the dimly lit office of Captain Swann’s jail and office. Stavross studied the wood floor underneath him. He counted the nails within each plank as the seconds ticked by.

Captain Swann stood straight up. Even at his full height, the captain was almost a full head shorter than Mith. Swann leaned in close to his subordinate, and Mith bent down to hear his captain’s instructions. He nodded when the captain was finished. With one more glance at Stavross that held a mix of pity, sadness, and annoyance, Mith walked around Stavross and moved quickly out the door. Stavross still could not raise his head.

The room was quiet for the next several minutes. Stavross could hear the guardsmen at the door talking, their voices rising now and again. A crowd must be gathering outside, he thought. Gawkers come to look at the boy murderer. How did it come to this? He only wanted to prove his love for Diesha. He never meant for anyone to get hurt, and certainly not to die. Why did she have to mock Diesha anyway? If she hadn’t done that, perhaps Diesha would have sent him on some other task to prove his devotion. Deep down Stavross knew that path was fruitless. The old woman hadn’t made him do it, and Diesha hadn’t forced his hand.

The door to the jail suddenly opened. The murmured voices of a crowd came rolling through the office. Stavross looked up to see how many had gathered to watch his interrogation, but when he saw who’d come through the door he lost all interest in the gathering outside. Mith was closing the door as the two visitors came inside. Mayor Bodkins walked past Stavross, his face twisted into the most hateful look of malice the young man had ever seen. Rage boiled behind his eyes. Fear returned to the pit of Stavross’ stomach. The visitor that held Stavross’ attention the most remained near the door, her own expression fearful as well. What could she be scared of, Stavross thought?

Diesha looked at Stavross with her beautiful blue eyes as her father conversed privately with Captain Swann. Stavross tried to smile at his love, but his lips wouldn’t form the pattern. He felt better though, just seeing her. She could tell them why he did it; she would profess her love for him at last. Surely the captain would understand love.

The mayor suddenly spat in Stavross’ direction. The young man looked up at their corpulent town leader. Somehow his face had gotten even more contemptuous, his look even more hateful. Mayor Bodkins walked in front of Stavross to stand by his daughter, the man’s eyes never leaving the young prisoner chained to the seat. Mayor Bodkins stood directly behind his daughter, his fat hand closing on her shoulder.

“Diesha,” Captain Swann began, “Stavross here says you asked him to take the bolt out of Lady Saunder’s wagon. Is that true?”

Diesha looked down at Stavross. A thick, lingering silence pervaded the room in those seconds. Stavross could feel each beat of his heart as he waited for his love to come forward for him. She looked behind her quickly, glancing at her father, then turning back to face the captain. And in this moment, Stavross lost his heart.

“O no sir.” Diesha began, tears welling up in her eyes. “I would never ask anyone to do such a hurtful and hateful thing. This is awful, terrible, I’m so sorry for the widow. But I had nothing to do with it, I promise you.”

“Then why would he say you asked him too?” The Captain’s question was blunt, as ever.

“Well, he,” Diesha stole a quick glance down at the young man bound to the chair. Stavross was looking at her, but he hardly noticed, as his world was crashing down around him. Tears began to well up in Diesha’s perfect blue eyes. Stavross had no tears left. “He loves me. He’s always following me around, trying to do things for me and telling me he loves me. Maybe he thinks that I’d love him back if he did something like this for me. I don’t know, but I never would have asked him to do this, I swear.”

Captain Swann looked down at his captive. Stavross sat up straight in the chair. His eyes were locked on Diesha, his mind a confusion of clutter and chaos. Stavross felt as though he had no heart left at all within his chest. He was alive, but he no longer felt a heartbeat within him. He was still having trouble comprehending what he’d just heard. Had she just lied to the Captain? Did she just deny me? Where is my father?

“Well boy, what have you to say now?” The Captains voice was stern.

Stavross continued to look at his lady love, unable to pull his gaze away. Still weeping, she turned and buried her face within her father’s chest. The mayor gazed at Stavross with hateful eyes, addressing the captain with venom in his words.

“Must my daughter bear this mongrel's stares as well as his lies? She’s innocent of any of this, you heard her. The boy’s confessed; now do your duty, sir.”

The captains’ voice was flat, but there was no mistaking the irritation in his words.

“I’ll carry out my duty in my own time, sir. Your child was brought here to make a statement, and now she’s made it. You may go.”

This did not satisfy Blaylock Bodkins at all.

“I’m the mayor here; I have every right to stand in this room. We should hold a trial right now, I’ll get five honorable persons straight away and we’ll deal with this matter expediently. He should be hanged for what he’s done.”

The words should have stung young Stavross, made him fear for his life, but he felt nothing. He stared at the floor, counting the nails again. Twenty six, twenty seven, twenty eight.

“He’s confessed, sir, there’s no need for a trial. And we do not hang someone for anything less than a malicious act. I see no malevolence here. Young Stavross has lived in this village all his life, and I’ve never seen any sort of cruelty from him. This seems to be some kind of joke, or a misguided act of love. Obviously it went wrong, very wrong. But malice, no, I think not.”

Mayor Bodkins looked down at his daughter, nudging her gently. He grabbed her shoulders and turned her around. She glanced quickly at Stavross. He was gazing back at her. She was still lovely, even through all the tears. Hope flared within him for a moment. Was she going to give them the truth now? Diesha looked away as Stavross’ eyes met hers.

“Well, he, he…” Diesha was trying to force the words from her lips. Her eyes darted back to Stavross, and then she turned away again. She avoided her father this time, burying her face in the corner.

Mayor Bodkins looked down hatefully at Stavross.

“What she means is…”

“She’s nearly a woman grown, and I’ll hear what she has to say from her, not you.” Captain Swann was clearly becoming agitated.

The mayor was equally frustrated.

“Well she can’t speak freely with this vermin in here scaring the wits from her.”

Captain Swann seemed to grow taller. His voice fell, and the icy stare he gave the mayor could have frozen a swift river.

“That’s twice you’ve referred to my prisoner as an animal. This is one of our people, if you recall, not some creature that crawled out of the woods. He’s made a mistake and he’ll pay for that according to the laws we’ve set down. Your child has offered her account, and unless she has something to add, the two of you are free to go.”

The mayor stared at Captain Swann. It was a strange look, Stavross thought, anger and frustration in his face, but fear in his eyes. The air within the jail stood as still as its occupants. No one moved, or seemed to breathe. At length Mayor Bodkins grabbed hold of his daughter, flung the door to the jail open and nearly shoved her outside. Captain Swann watched the mayor shove through the crowd, pulling Diesha behind him. Faces looked into the jail to catch of glimpse of the proceedings. Mith crossed the room and shut the door.

Stavross was numb inside. He no longer had any feelings. No sadness, no joy. I should be angry, he thought. It all seemed to be happening to someone else. Or perhaps this was a dream. Yes, that’s it. I’ll wake up soon, father will be chopping wood outside and mother will be cooking the last of the bacon. Just a dream.

The two men looked down at their sullen prisoner. Stavross raised his head and returned their stares. All emotion was absent from his expression. Something crossed the captain’s face for merely a second. Pity, sadness? It was gone as quickly as it came. The captain’s face was always a stern mask.

“Well son, that’s it.” The captain began, “Since you’ve confessed to this, I’ve no choice but to hand down a sentence. You won’t be executed; I don’t care what his Roundness declares. But your punishment will be harsh, and for that I am sorry. But I have to uphold our laws, and someone is dead behind what you’ve done. Now, you’re almost of an age where you can answer for yourself, but if you’d like your father present, Mith can go fetch him. Well?”

Stavross didn’t move. His breathing was shallow, as were his feelings. Stavross had heard the captain’s words, but it took a moment for his mind to comprehend them, and what they meant. He glanced up at the captain, trying to force an answer from his lips, but the words simply wouldn’t leave his mouth. His eyes answered for him.

Captain Swann looked up at Mith. “Go get D’Vinn.

The Betrayers Part Three

Jaysun Stratton lunged as he reached the top of the grassy hill. He got there first, much to the chagrin of his six-year old sister.

“No fair, your legs are longer than mine.”

“But you’re lighter than me, so you should be faster.” Jaysun smiled at his twisted logic. It would confuse her for at least five minutes.

Her puzzlement, however, didn’t even last one minute. After giving him a sour frown, she ran off to chase the evening insect life. This was her true purpose in accompanying her brother to the hillside, catching a glowing form of life known to them as lightning-bugs. Their father had told them the bug’s scientific name, but such high-sounding labels made little sense to the children. Why not just call them lightning-bugs?

These small flying creatures gave off a strange green glow for a mere five seconds, after which they simply disappeared into the dusk of the evening. Sherice delighted in chasing them, though she never caught a single one.

Jaysun laid back into the tall green grass, engaging in his own favorite past-time, stargazing. For reasons the young man never clearly understood, the night sky was always the clearest here. His father had told him this observation was just his imagination, that the night sky was clear from every viewpoint. But Jaysun held firm to his belief anyway, something about the night-sky here just seemed so much clearer. Purer, perhaps.

Sherice’s laughter served as a minor annoyance, distracting him from the pure pleasure of lying there and looking up at the stars. He wondered what it would be like to be up there, to look down from that height. What did New Earth look like from that vast distance?

He’d found this spot when he was even younger than Sherice and had been coming back every night he could. Jaysun prided himself on knowing every star, and even though they were just now beginning to learn the constellations, he’d already given some of the brighter stars his own names. Somehow, this made them his.

As he gazed upward, Jaysun suddenly noticed a new star had emerged between Old Bear and Twinky (He’d let his sister name that one, a mistake he hadn’t repeated. He also hadn’t the heart to re-name it, knowing how much it would hurt her feelings). This new one was bright indeed, as bright as Old Bear itself, if not brighter. Its light was solid, never wavering or twinkling in the slightest. Jaysun began to think it might be a planet, but this new light had never before appeared in the sky. It couldn’t possibly be a planet.

As he watched transfixed at this new arrival in his night sky, the bright star suddenly flashed brilliantly, seeming to throw a small halo of light in a small circle of brilliance. And then it was gone.

Jaysun sat up, his eyes locked on the sky above.

“Sherice, Sherice, did you see that?”

His little sister leapt to his side, following his gaze upward.

“What? See what? Where?”

“There. Between Old Bear and Twinky. That star just flashed.”

Sherice followed Jaysun’s finger, though she knew exactly where Old Bear and Twinky were.

“There’s no star in between Old Bear and Twinky? What are you talking about?”

“No there was, look!”

Both children locked their eyes on that dead space between the familiar stars. Jaysun’s new star failed to return, or even blink its existence.

“There was something there, I saw it.”

Sherice stood back up, her expression belying her disbelief.

“Sure there was.”

“I’m not kidding, Sherice, I’m serious. There was a light there. It flashed, and now it’s gone.”

Sherice shook her head. “Sure Jay, whatever.” And she was off to chase more lightning-bugs.

Jaysun lay still, his eyes transfixed on the spot where he knew he’d seen that light. Knew it!

Suddenly Sherice appeared again at his side, a small device in her hand emitting a soft, blue glow.

“Father says we have to come home, right now. C’mon.” Her voice was full of unusual concern.

“I’m not leaving.”

“We have too. Father said it’s urgent.”

Though he was loathe to leave his spot, Jaysun dared not risk the wrath of his father. Sherice’s voice also carried a worried quality that broke the night-sky’s hold on Jaysun’s consciousness. Reluctantly he stood, following his little sister as she raced home.

It was months before Jaysun was again allowed to return to his favorite stargazing site. Their parents kept them indoors for weeks following the night Jaysun had recounted seeing the new star appear and then disappear. In fact, none of his friends had been allowed outside at night either, for reasons that were not explained until well into Jaysun’s adulthood.

But when he was at last allowed to visit his night-time sanctuary, Jaysun never failed to check that dark spot between Old Bear and Twinky, just in case the light returned.

He never saw it again.

The Betrayers Part Two

Mathias looked out through the wide front window. Squarely in the middle sat a small blue orb, growing steadily larger. It looked like Earth, from this distance it could have been Earth, had he not known they were over three light years away from their own home world.

A full two minutes went by before anyone even realized Captain Briggs had set foot on the bridge. All movement slowed down as everyone realized they were just now acknowledging their captain’s presence. He smiled inwardly, frowning outwardly. These poor people.

“Carry on.” He ordered, and the pace picked up again, full force.

One man, however, stood completely still amid the chaos. Hiat Kain stood near the captain’s chair, staring hard at his commander. Mr. Kain had gotten bolder in the weeks since he and the captain had held their little discussion. Though he hadn’t yet openly challenged the captain, it was becoming commonly known that Hiat was displeased with the captain’s performance, and was quietly drumming up support for himself to replace that captain.

Mathias almost felt sorry for him.

Mr. Kain backed down as Captain Briggs approached his chair. When they almost stood face-to-face, Hiat withdrew back into the crowd, sharply giving orders. Mathias did not miss the hateful looks thrown his way. Others caught it as well, but Mathias decided to let it go. None of that mattered any longer.

The blue orb in the wide ship’s window steadily grew larger. Mathias sank further into his sorrow, knowing that he would probably never set foot on its wide, unspoiled plains. He would never see green grass again, nor an unspoiled ocean. Never again stand in a summer rain, or a cool evening breeze. His only comfort was the knowledge that he was doing the right thing.

The ship’s retro-rockets fired as the clean, blue planet at last filled the view. They were now in place to deliver the deadly cargo that would deliver justice to the men and women who’d become known on Earth as the Betrayers. This new world would become as devastated as the old one, and these people would now know the suffering which they’d inflicted on their own people.

Only those people were long gone now.

This new world represented a place for all of humanity to start over. But mankind had chosen to waste that opportunity, taking their revenge instead. What a waste.

Even now, as Mathias Briggs was about to launch into the final phase of his ultimate destiny, he was still calm. The chaos on the bridge had quieted as everyone’s eyes became locked on the pristine blue planet below. Perhaps they too were wondering what a walk through pleasant meadow was like. A small hope sprang up inside him; perhaps it wasn’t too late after all.

Captain Briggs touched a small green button on the left arm of his chair, activating the ship’s intercom, so everyone, on every deck could hear him.

“Attention crew of the E.S.S. Hammer, this is Captain Briggs.”

Mathias paused a moment, his heartbeat at last growing as he began his final speech.

“As you know, we have arrived at the New World, where the Betrayers were known to have settled after leaving our world in ashes. We have followed them across time and space to deliver justice for that terrible crime against us and our families.

But before we let the hammer of justice fall, I ask you to consider just what justice here is? Our long journey at light speed caused time around us to slow. Below us, centuries have passed, and the Betrayers are long gone. Their descendants, six, or even seven generations later now exist on this planet. These people may not even know what their ancestors have done. Is it right that we should bring a devastation to their world they have not sowed? Shall we truly hold them responsible for the crimes of their forebears?”

Look down at this new planet, this new Earth. Shall we destroy it now, in the name of justice, or vengeance? When I look down, I do not see the Betrayer’s world; I see a new beginning for all mankind. This ship and others like it could carry all our people from the broken Earth they now live on to this new planet. Shall we throw away this opportunity to start over, merely for the sake of vengeance?”

We have shuttles capable of leaving the ship. Instead of destroying this world, let us instead visit it, talk with the inhabitants there, and establish a new destiny for all men and women.”

A long moment of silence answered the captain’s call. He hoped his words held enough impact, on enough people, to make the crucial difference.

Clap.Clap.Clap.

Hiat Kain’s hands finally broke the eerie silence that fell across the bridge at the captain’s words. A self-satisfied smirk stretched across the first officer’s face.

“Well, wasn’t that a right-pretty speech?” Arrogance and sarcasm fairly dripped from Kain’s words. “Well said captain, well said. Unfortunately peace treaties aren’t in our orders, sir. In fact, going down to that planet is a violation of those orders, as is refusing to deliver our, vengeance, as you say. So on that thought,”

Kain’s hand shot to his side, bringing up the pistol he always wore by his side.

“I’m relieving you of your command. Please step down out of the command chair, sir.”

Captain Brigg’s right hand went calmly to the armrest.

“Think about what I said, Mr. Kain. A new start for everyone and all we have to do is let go of the past. All we have to do…”

“Shut up! I’ve relieved you of your command. I’m in charge now. Now get out of my seat. You’re going to the brig, right after you watch us deliver our brand of justice to the Betrayers of all humanity.”

Hiat turned to two officers who stood near him.

“Mr. Kyle, Mr. Hale, take the captain into custody immediately.”

Mathias knew these two men to be close associates of Hiat Kain, but even they were hesitant to carry out his instructions. So much hung in the balance of what happened next, everyone seemed frozen. But the moment would not last forever; a decision would have to be made. The men stood where they were, uncertain.

“What are you doing, I gave you an order!”

Hiat was screaming now, and fear as well as anger had crept into his voice.

Mathias’ voice was calm and collected.

“Take the gun from him, Mr. Kyle. Take it and secure a place on the new world for everyone who’s still suffering back on Earth.”

Mr. Kyle, Mr. Hale, and everyone on the bridge simply stood still. No one moved. Time stretched.

Hiat leveled the pistol at the captain’s chest.

“This is your final warning, captain. You have five seconds to get out of that chair or I’ll kill you sitting in it.”

Mathis looked around the bridge. Everywhere, on every face, he saw confusion, and fear. Indecision ruled. No one knew what to do, no one moved. Mathias Briggs knew the future in those moments, and his heart fell.

“Last chance, Briggs.”

Mathias refused to look at Hiat, there was no need. He knew full well his first officer meant to kill him, one way or the other. It was to his crew, his planet and his people that he uttered his final phrase.

“I’m sorry.”

The Betrayers Part One

The Betrayers

A dark shape drove through space at near the speed of light on its righteous mission. Earth’s second ever near-C spacecraft hurtled toward the same destination as the first, but on very different purpose.

That purpose defines me, and it is not a designation I care for. Mathias Briggs looked out the window of his cabin-office, thinking about that mission, where it came from, and where it was taking him and his crew.

The window flashed, blinking for a nanosecond as a power-surge interrupted the captain’s view. It was not a real window, of course, but merely a sensor screen that showed a reflection of space opposite where he was standing. Despite the ships four-foot thick titansteel hull, it simply wasn’t smart to have the windows uncovered when one was travelling at .8 of light-speed. One stray piece of debris and the mission would be over. Nature had never been that generous before, Mathias thought, why would she start now?

Deep space was much like the human heart these days, cold, unyielding, full of unfeeling malice and vengeance. Who could blame us, though, after the despicable evil that had been perpetrated on us by the Betrayers? The act demanded justice, but at what cost?

Captain Briggs continued to stare out at that cold universe, awaiting some kind of answer to his unspoken questions, or nature’s generosity, perhaps.

Beep.Beep.

Two short audile’s indicated a visitor seeking to intrude upon his privacy. A push of a button could have switched the viewscreen to the camera just outside his office, but there was no need. He’d been expecting this visitor for some time, and knew exactly who it was.

“Come.”

Recognizing the captain’s voice, the computer opened the door for the ship’s First Officer, one Hiat Kain. Thin almost to a fault, with a hawk-nose and steely grey eyes that shifted everywhere, he was the polar opposite of the large and well-built captain whom he served under.  Mathias knew Hiat was scanning the room with his suspicious squint. There were times the man looked almost rat-like. Those were the times Captain Mathias Briggs could hardly bear to look at him.

“Your report?” Captain Briggs continued to stare out through the window/screen.

Hiat let an odd silence fall before answering, hoping it might throw the captain off-balance somehow.

“Engine number four now running normally, captain.”

“And the malfunction?”

Captain Briggs turned to face his junior officer, knowing full well it would throw him off-balance. Mr. Kain had to check the floor in order to find his courage under the captain’s stare.

“Well, Mr. Latshaw reports that those matter-injectors could not have overheated without some kind of interference. The back-up systems were clearly turned off, on purpose.”

Captain Briggs nodded.

“So we have a saboteur, after all.”

“It would seem so, sir.”

“And you’ve checked everyone? You’ve not missed a single person aboard this ship?”

“No sir, everyone’s been checked. Except yourself, of course. Sir.”

Captain Briggs let that thought hang in the air a moment. Both men played their invisible tug-of-war on one another’s nerves. At last, Hiat glanced at the floor in defeat.

“Except myself.” Mathias continued, allowing a small victory smile to purse his lips. “Of course, it wouldn’t make sense for me to sabotage the ship when I could destroy it by simply pressing a button.”

Mathias let that spin in the first officer’s mind a moment.

“Well, as it’s obvious we do indeed have a spy, or a saboteur on board, I suggest you carry out your interrogations again. You’ll need to be more thorough this time, Mr. Kain. The next time he, or she strikes, their attack may not be as subtle. We’re the only ship left that can carry out our mission, so we must succeed. We cannot let the thoughts and feelings of one person interfere with our sacred duty.”

“Of course, sir.” Hiat sneered, doing his best to hide his utter contempt and not doing a very good job. “I’ll begin at once.”

Captain Briggs nodded, turning back to the faux window. Mr. Kain stared hard at the captain’s back as long as he dared, then turned to carry out his orders.

“I understand them, you know.” Mathias began. Why he was saying this to his conniving first officer, and why now of all times, he couldn’t say. But the words began to flow, and there seemed to be no stopping them.

“I might not agree with them, but I understand them.”

“Understand who, sir?” Hiat asked, knowing full well who the captain was referring too.

“The saboteur, or saboteurs. I know why they’re doing it. They’re not acting out of madness, for no reason. When you think about it, they do have a point.”

“I’m not sure I understand, sir.”

Mathias turned slowly back around to face his fanatical first-officer.

“Think about it, Mr. Kain. How long ago did the Great Betrayal happen? Fifty-years ago now?”

“Fifty-one years ago, sir, last October.”

A strange sensation rushed through Mathias at the mention of October. He got that eerie tingling in his spine every time someone mentioned the day of the week, or a month. Space had no months, no years, time was meaningless out here.

“Fifty-one, of course. Fifty one, for us. But not for everyone else. We’ve been travelling at near the speed of light for over three years now, and time has slowed considerably for us. Einstein’s theory was correct. Right now, at this moment, on Earth it’s been over three hundred years since the Betrayers unleashed the nuclear holocaust on our world. Three hundred. The men who sent us on this glorious mission of retribution are now dead and gone. The Earth’s finally beginning to heal. Perhaps our people are starting to heal as well.”

Hiat Kain stared at his captain, trying to measure the weight of his commander’s words.

“Perhaps.” Kain replied at last. “Perhaps not. In the end, with all due respect, that matters little to us.”

“Does it? Another three hundred years will pass on our return voyage as well, Mr. Kain. We might find a very different Earth from the one we left. One filled with people who might not be as proud of our mission as we are.”

“Our mission is one of justice, sir. The Betrayers must be punished for ruining our world and leaving us to die in the aftermath of the nuclear winter that was sure to follow.”

“True, our people deserve justice, but whom shall answer now for that crime? Three hundred years are passing on the New World as well. The men and women who perpetrated the Betrayal are long dead and buried. Their children and grandchildren as well. The generations who live now on the New World may have no idea what happened on Earth so long ago.

“No idea, sir, of what their ancestors did to us? Impossible!”

“Is it? I think not. Put yourself in the place of a Betrayer for a moment. Suppose you just built a spacecraft to take your friends and loved ones away from a decaying world to a pristine new one, leaving your fellow human beings to fend for themselves on a planet quickly running out of precious resources. And then you instigate a global nuclear war. The better to be sure that no one follows you to spoil your new ‘paradise’. Is this truly the legacy you’d leave for your progeny? Or would you instead make up some heroic lie, putting you and your compatriots in the role of savior, keeping humanity from dying out of the universe because of some catastrophe or another.”

“Sir, I don’t like where this conversation is going.”

“Beg your pardon, Mr. Kain? Are you shirking in your sworn duty?”

“No sir, it’s just that…”

Captain Briggs cut him off, narrowing his eyes. Hiat shifted uncomfortably under his captain’s scrutiny.

“This is merely the reality of what we’re doing, Mr. Kain. I expected that you understood that. If not, then it’s good we had this little talk, whether you enjoy it or not. Our superiors, our people, sent us on this voyage to bring justice to the Betrayers for what they did to our world and our people. And bring it we shall. But to whom? If everyone who betrayed our world is dead, and those living now had no part in it whatsoever, what is it that we truly bring?”

Hiat held his tongue, waiting, hoping, it was a rhetorical question his captain was using to drive home a point he’d already made, and made very well. When the captain’s stare told him he required an answer, Mr. Kain gave it, in a weak, subservient voice.

“Vengeance.”

Mathias nodded approvingly.

“Good, then you do understand. I was beginning to worry. After all, if you were still confused about our mission, then how could I be sure that you were not the saboteur? I have to be able to trust you, I’m sure you understand.”

Hiat’s eyes were wide, with both confusion and no small amount of fear.

Mathias hid his satisfaction.

“Very well, Mr. Kain, you’re dismissed.”

Hiat gave his captain the weakest salute he’d ever given anyone. It was clear in his eyes that Mr. Kain had no idea what to think of his captain now, and that was exactly what Mathias had been trying to do.

Three more weeks went by on the ship, at least thirty years on Earth and the New World. In that time Captain Briggs prepared his ship for what had to be done.

Mathias often wondered what the Betrayers had called their new home planet. That particular bit of trivia had not been found among the other information that had revealed the Betrayer’s plans. That he would probably never know brought a melancholy to his soul.

He stood in front of the door to the bridge, ready to take those last steps into dark destiny. In that moment, Mathias was strangely tranquil, almost relaxed. He should have been nervous, considering what he was about to do, but instead his heartbeat was slow, regular. His nerves, calm. He punched in the security code for the bridge and walked slowly into the lion’s den.

Controlled chaos was everywhere. Men and women were scurrying about, going from one station to another. The ship had slowed to a normal speed. Their destination was at hand. Everyone was getting ready to bring Earth’s peculiar brand of justice to the New World.

The Cleansing

Deep thunder rolled. Black clouds closed evil fingers around a full moon desperate to escape their grasp.

Pale fog drifted between cracked tombstones. Names of old families were written here once; time had long since erased them, and worn the stones to mere dreams of what they once were.

Crooked trees reached with bent and broken branches and malevolent intent; and each of the vile sentinels leaned toward the dead and broken cathedral nearby.

Grey stones turned black by time and fire littered the ground. The remnants of the old church melded with the darkness of the night, casting a dark shadow upon a gloomy sky.

A full moon looked balefully down upon the two errant trespassers.

“We shouldn’t be here.” A weak, shaky voice uttered.

“No one should be here.” An equally shaken voice replied.

But someone was here. Or, something.

Evil mist rose over toppled and broken pews. The rectory smelled of ash, and brimstone; as if something vile was still defiling this once-hallowed ground.

They entered cautiously, holding the last gold cross before them. The black air itself seemed to close in from all sides. Pale night faded behind them as they approached the blackened pulpit.

At last, two small, frightened men stood before a malevolence they couldn’t begin to fathom, with nothing to shield them save a poor golden cross and their faith.

“We, we b,banish you in the n,name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” A weak voice uttered.

The mist in the air hovered still, as though it had become solid and stood on its own.

“Doesn’t sound like you mean it.” Came the answer, from everywhere, and nowhere, chilling them to their very core.

“Well. We do.” Said the other one, as mousy as his friend, and just as terrified.

“Do you now, do you indeed?” Came the dark answer. “Let’s put that to the test, shall we? Will you give your lives to banish me? Hmm? Or will you save yourselves, and live?”

One now, stood firm, a resolve welling up deep within him.

“What shall our lives be worth if we fail our duty, our Lord and our people now? We would live in misery, every day being more toil than the last, our souls heavy with the stench of failure and weakness. Nay, I shall not. I stand up to you, with Christ behind me. Send me to Him if you can, but I’ll not leave ‘till you’re back in hell where you belong!”

Silence reigned, teeth chattered, all remained still.

Suddenly the dark mist began to recede. Moonlight filtered in from the ruined ceiling.

The dark voice called out one last time. “So be it.”

The two men, one old, one young, both terrified to their core, gasped a sigh of relief. It was finally over.

From The New Master: The Legend of Tscon Lightbringer Book Three

The sun was still shining, but the day was almost done. He scanned the courtyard and saw no one. The monk's spirit's actually began to lift a little, and he thought they might actually make it. All they had to do now was make it to the middle of the far wall. Prevnevron had said that small teleportation pads had been set in the ground at the middle of each of the outer walls of the castle, to allow guests who couldn't get out on their own a way out, so the wizards would not be bothered with them. Tscon allowed himself a slight grin, hoping that seeing his face brighter might cheer up the frightened villager.

“We're almost out Dmir,” the monk began, “all we have to do now is get to the wall. We'll teleport to the other side, and run like mad to the edge of the clouds. There, we'll take another teleporter to the surface, and we'll be free.”

Dmir said nothing, and his expression did not change. Tscon thought this somewhat odd, but decided his friend was probably just in some kind of shock, having seen all his fellow villagers taken away, never to be seen again. Tscon motioned for Dmir to follow him. They took a few tentative steps forward, out into the sunlight. When they saw no one, and heard no alarms ringing, the monk led the two of them in a mad sprint across the courtyard.

Suddenly, as they were just about halfway across, Tscon's legs began to feel heavy. Dmir passed him as the monk slowed down. Tscon's legs got heavier with each step, and soon it was all he could do to walk. Dmir turned to see his rescuer barely moving.

“What is wrong, sir ?”

“I don't know.” Tscon replied. “My legs are so heavy now. Don't wait for me. Get to the wall now, and run straight ahead when your on the other side. Someone will be there to guide you when you reach the cloud's edge. Run!”

Dmir took one last, frightened look at the monk, then turned and did as he was told. Tscon was standing completely still now, and it was all he could do stay upright. His legs felt as though he'd had tremendous weights tied to them. Dmir reached the wall, stopped and looked around, as if searching the walls. He was turning to face the monk when he suddenly disappeared. Tscon wasn't sure but it almost looked as though Dmir was smiling. Just as well, he thought, the man's getting out of this horrible place, he should smile. Tscon looked down at his legs, but they seemed no different, simply too heavy to move. Just as he began to suspect some sort of wizardry was at play here, Tscon heard someone behind him, clearing their throat.

The monk turned, barely able to force his legs to simply face that direction. Standing in front of him now, were three men. They stood abreast, two taller men, standing to either side of a smaller one. They were all old men, but the two standing aside seemed younger than the stooped, frail looking old man between them. All three wore pristine white robes that almost shone with their own light. They appeared to be the same clothes the monk had seen Prevnevron in, but where his friend's robes were brown and dingy, the robes these men wore were bright, as though they'd never had so much as a speck of dirt on them.

The men regarded Tscon for a long time with cold eyes. The one in middle seemed somehow to be especially hateful. He looked at the monk with the cold contempt of someone who held an unadulterated hatred. At length, this fragile-seeming old man was the one who spoke first.

“So, you are the Lightbringer monk. Very unimpressive. Your Order has indeed fallen far if you are the height of it's achievements. We stopped you easily, of course. Did you really think your pathetic plan had any chance of success? Do you think us fools?”

The old man's voice rose as he spat his question at the monk. Tscon didn't think the old wizard actually expected an answer, but the sudden silence between them gave the monk a different impression.

“No, I don't think...” Tscon began. He was cut off by his captor.

“Silence. Do not trouble me with your insipid voice and your utter stupidity.”

The old man was almost shouting now. He suddenly seemed to notice his lack of self-control, and stopped for moment. When he'd calmed somewhat, he continued.

“You see, we've known all along about that fool Prevnevron. When he tried to move against us, we were going to kill him, but then you escaped your assassins, and we found a better use for him. Bringing you here, as it were. Now we can dispose of you properly. I think, a falling death will be most amusing.” A malevolent smile made it's way onto the old man's shriveled face.

Tscon could not stay silent.

“We know about your plans, and you're going to be stopped. The Council has become corrupted and evil.”

Anger began to suddenly show on the old man's face again. He brought it swiftly under control, so as not to repeat his former outburst, but the contempt in his voice held a razor sharp quality.

“Do I have to cut your tongue out, commoner ? You will not speak to us again.” The old man waited, as if daring Tscon to say something. After the moment passed, he continued.

“That pathetic wizard knows nothing of our true intentions. As I said before, we've known about his feeling toward the Council for quite some time now. He was given what we needed him to know so that he'd lure you here. Although, there was some truth to it.”

The old man began to smile again. It was an evil, frightening visage, as if such a glance had no place on this creepy man's old face.

“We did perform a few experiments on those pathetic villagers, just to see if there was some way to counter the Order's attacks. They proved unsuccessful, but in the end it didn't matter. You see, your colleagues have not proved near as resilient as you have. Our associates have done quite an effective job at eliminating the rest of your pathetic Order. In fact, I believe you are the only one left.”

The old man's malevolent grin grew wide at this pronouncement. At first, Tscon thought the old man was probably lying, but his intuition, given to him by the years of the Order's training, told him that he was hearing the truth. As this realization began to sink in, Tscon's heart began to ache. He felt as though his very soul was being punctured. Tscon's inward agony must have been showing on his face,  because when the old man spoke again, he began driving home the stake he had just put into Tscon's heart.

“I suppose it is sad to see the last of your kind disappear. Think of it as a merciful death. After all, your Order has become quite ineffectual of late. Your Temple is empty now, and your Grand Masters do nothing but sit in it, contemplating their past glories. There was no more use for you, and so you were put away, as is befitting all tools when their use has come to an end.”

Tscon felt a white-hot anger begin to well up in him now, punching through the melancholy that was covering his soul. It had been decades since he'd felt this much angry passion, the last time being the small village where his young apprentice had lost his life. For a moment, the thought of what had happened so long ago began to temper his anger, but the sudden, mocking laughter that emerged form the bent old wizard's face renewed his building rage.

“Heh, I sense the anger in you now, finally. I was beginning to think I wouldn't be able to break through that iron will that your Order is somewhat famous for. Hehe, ahh well, now that you have amused me, you may die.”

The crooked smile was still on the old wizard's face as he began to chant in a strange language. The men flanking the old wizard began to chant as well, and put their hands up, tracing invisible symbols into the air. Suddenly, Tscon's legs began to feel somewhat lighter, and he began to try to move them. But those legs were not following his will. He wanted to run, get away from these wizards, before they followed through on the old man's death threat. But they did not go in that direction. Instead they turned him, and he began to walk slowly toward the tower at the corner of the great white fortress. Try as he might, his legs simply would not respond to his thoughts. Step by slow step, he walked closer to the ivory tower. He could hear the footsteps of the men behind him, and occasionally a diabolical laughter. Tscon led them inside the structure, and began to climb the stairs that hugged the wall. They reached the second floor of the tower, and Tscon's legs turned him again, and the grim procession marched out onto the wall.

The wind was howling, and Tscon could hear the robes of the men behind him whipping in the fierce gale. Thankfully, the mocking sounds of the wizard's laughter was drowned out by that gale, a last comfort to the doomed monk. It was short lived, however, as the old man couldn't seem to resist giving his victim one last insult. Tscon heard his fragile voice carry over the wind.

“We commemorate the end of this gallant warrior, whose death shall carry with it the extinction of his kind. It is just as well, though, they were useless anyway.”

The wind did not drown out the sound of the men's mocking laughter this time. Despite Tscon's effort not to let these men affect him now, at what did indeed appear to be the end of his life, their jest stung him in a profound way. The Order was going to fail, and Tscon could not help but feel personally responsible. And once again, his ever-present companion, guilt, resurfaced. It brought him down even further to know that here, at the end, he was going to feel guilty.

Suddenly Tscon felt himself rising into the air. He looked behind to him to see that all three men were now tracing symbols and chanting, as if it were taking all their effort to raise the monk. He rose high over the battlements, then floated against the wind into open air. He could barely make out the ground beneath him, the wind was blowing so hard he could barely keep his eyes open. He suddenly began to feel himself falling as the forces holding him aloft let go. As he fell, his mind drifted to Naeid, and he felt a deep sadness that he would never see her again.

From Journey to a Mystery: The Legend of Tscon Lightbringer Book Two

Tscon heard his name, the voice calling from far away. He struggled to open his eyes, but at first they wouldn't open. He tried to get to his feet, but his body felt as if it weighed a ton, and he could barely move it. He heard his name called out again, this time it seemed much closer. He forced his eyes open, and slowly the world came into focus around him. The first thing he noticed was that he was lying on straw, which seemed very odd indeed, as he had gone to sleep on his bedroll. He started to sit up, when suddenly he felt his head strike something hard. He looked up to see a wooden board over him. Then he looked around, and saw bars surrounding him in three directions. He was in a cage. The side closest to him was made of solid wood. The box could not have been more than ten feet square, and just a few feet high. The monk was forced to stay bent over in the cramped conditions. On his right, Naeid and Daenna were sitting down, hunched over as well. Daenna's face was filled with worry, while anger, or perhaps even rage, was manifest on Naeid. He scooted over toward them.

"What happened? " he asked, still groggy.

"I don't know yet," Naeid replied," but I have an idea.” She looked slowly around the cage. “ Someone seems to be missing from our group."

"No it can't be," Daenna burst out, "he just couldn't...". She was unable to finish her sentence, her sobs choking out the words.

Tscon looked around the small cage, and found that Leng was not with them. The monk suddenly noticed voices nearby, but could not see anyone.

"Hey what's going on?" he asked, hoping to get the attention of whoever was speaking.

The talking immediately ceased, and he heard footsteps coming toward them. Soon two soldiers came into view, wearing the leather armor of the Mytarian Militia. The monk recognized them as two of the men they had seen in the company on the southern road days earlier. As the men approached, one of them leaned back and yelled.

"Captain the last one is awake."

The companions heard two more sets of footprints heading toward them, and soon the captain came into view with his second in command close beside him.

"Well, well," Thur said as he approached the wagon cage, "the great monk has finally awoke from his long slumber. You sleep well, did you ? I hope so, cause it's the last good night's sleep you'll get, probably for the rest of your life. Haha."

Both Thur and Brag found this no end of amusing, and when their laughter finally died away, he continued.

"I guess you're wondering where your other friend is. Well, he's riding at the head of the column with us. He gets to ride outside the cage since he did as he was told and helped us capture you. Heh, he must have used the whole package of sleeping powder we gave him, it's almost midday. We found him wandering on the road yesterday, and we, ah, 'convinced' him it would be in his best interest to help us. Naturally, he saw it our way. Well, you all seem healthy enough to make it to the capital, so let's get on our way."

As Thur and his men left, Naeid jumped to the edge of the cage and grabbed the bars.

"You send that traitorous backstabbing son of a bitch back here, you hear me!"

Rancorous laughter came back as an answer to Naeid's demand. She sat back down with force, and looking at the floor, her arms folded across her chest. It was obvious she was very uncomfortable in these confined quarters. Soon, they heard the captain call for the march to start, and the wagon lurched forward.

They sat in silence for most of the day, with only Daenna's occasional sobbing and the creak and groan of the wagon wheels interrupting the quiet. Unfortunately, Daenna's crying began to get on Naeid's frayed nerves, and her anger suddenly burst forth.

"Will you stop that pathetic sniveling! By the gods, do we have to put up with your childishness in addition to being caged in here like animals?"

They could hear a few chuckles come from the front of the wagon, obviously the driver had heard Naeid's little outburst. Daenna, caught off guard by Naeid's anger, shrunk away from her, holding back her cries as best she could. Tscon moved next to Little D, and held her hand.

"Don't worry," he said calmly, "we're going to be okay."

Daenna didn't respond to him, not even to look up and acknowledge he had said anything. Tscon didn't blame her. She was caged up now with a group of fugitives whose crimes she had nothing to do with. And the man with whom she had shared a growing attraction had betrayed them all. Tscon had seen the young man and woman's friendship growing, and admired it. He was happy for both of them, but now that affection had turned into an extra insult to add to the injury of being held prisoner. After doing his best to console her, the monk turned and scooted slowly over to Naeid.

"Just stay away from me, okay? " she exclaimed, sharp anger still filling her voice.

Tscon stopped, but did not take his gaze off of her. It took only a moment of looking into her eyes to see that not only was their anger there, but fear as well. He wished she would let him near, the power of the Chyr might soothe her heart and mind, if his words could not. But he knew she would never allow it, not anytime soon. So he sat in silence, as they all did, considering their predicament.

When the day fell and dusk settled in, the wagon slowed to a halt. They could hear the captain giving orders, then the men broke up their formation and began to mill around. A few went into the forest, while others simply sat where they were, opening the backpacks they slung off their shoulders. Both Naeid and Tscon did their best to see if they could spot Leng somewhere in the group, but he never appeared. Tscon noted aloud that he was probably being held by the captain himself, just in case Leng had any last minute thoughts about releasing his friends.

Almost an hour had passed since the wagon stopped, and no one had come to check on them, much less give them anything to eat. Tscon was about to say something about this, when he heard one of the men cry out. A loud snapping sound immediately followed. All of a sudden the entire company seemed to be yelling. Sounds of swords being drawn, and other commotions of battle came to their ears. All three of the captives strained to see what was going on, but could make out nothing from their limited vantage points. Suddenly, a soldier came flying past their cage, as if having been thrown like a rock. He sailed past the entire cage in midair, landing some ten feet behind it. He did not move after he hit the ground. After only a few minutes, the sounds of battle began to subside, until they heard one last bone crunching snap, and the sound of a person falling to the ground. Then, nothing.

A moment later, they heard a metallic sound at the rear of the wagon-cage, like someone inserting a key into a lock. No one was back there. Then the cage door swung slowly outward. Naeid moved to the door, and gently pushed it open. When nothing happened, she leapt out, and ran around the wagon toward the soldiers as soon as she hit the ground. Tscon moved out next. When his feet were on the ground, he turned to help the much shorter Daenna. The two of them quickly walked around the corner to see Naeid standing there, her mouth wide open in stunned surprise. A quick look around provoked the same response from the two of them.

All the soldiers lay dead. One of them had his head turned into an impossible position, while another man appeared to have had his limbs broken, both arms and legs. But what elicited the most response from the three observers, was that the soldiers appeared to have killed each other. The man named Brag had a spear driven deep into his chest, and the killer's hands were still on the long wooden pole. That man had a sword sticking right through his chest, driven from back to front. Two more had swords thrust deep into their abdomens, almost to the hilt. The rest of the bodies all had mortal wounds as well. Deep sword cuts were evident in their necks and chests. There were no corpses other than those of the soldiers. Blood was everywhere, and the three companions had to watch carefully to avoid stepping in it.

Tscon and Naeid broke themselves from staring at the sight, and immediately began looking for Leng. Daenna was still transfixed by the horrible scene, unaccustomed to sights like this. After a few minutes of fruitless searching, the two looked at each other, Tscon speaking for them both.

"He's not here. I don't know whether to be relieved or angry. I still can't believe he'd turn us in just to save himself. There must be more to it than that. And what about this," He turned back to the garish scene of the recent battle. "What could have made these men kill each other?"

Naeid looked over the battle once more, then slowly shook her head.

“I have no idea. This is insane, to say the least. And who let us out? That door opened by itself. And, where the blazes is Leng?”

Tscon was thinking about that too. They had searched thoroughly, and were sure their friend was not among the dead. Naeid looked skyward, then up and down the road, and suggested that they should get on their way. He agreed, and the three companions walked quickly away from the horrific battle. Though the scene was nightmarish, it had a strange sense of familiarity to the monk.