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.