The Fate of Inamorta, Book Two

(back to Trilogy Homepage)

Let's do this.

The Blade of Knowledge

(Synopsis of Book One)

Prologue:

*The man scaled the stairs to his tower, making it all the way to his study at the top floor. The room had a straw bed, a desk and chair, and a bookshelf. There was a balcony surrounding the outside of the room, facing in all directions. He took no time to rest, but went immediately for the bookshelf in the corner of the room.*

*He was a stooped figure, wearing a gray wizard hat on his head. He carried a tall, golden staff, much longer than those of the lesser Magikill. He had old, long grey hair, and a beard that framed his mouth, but the beard stopped short at the neck.*

*"Oh, confound it all! Where is it? Where IS it?" said he as he rummaged through the books on the shelf.*

*A raven flew through the wide open balcony near him, and perched on the back of the chair next to his desk. The bird was a curious thing: instead of flesh and bone, it was a machine made from pieces of bronze and gold. It's wings and body were lined with stiff gold feathers, and it's beak was a sharp, short piece of hard bronze. In stark contrast to the rest of its appearance, each of its vibrant, intelligent eyes were blue sapphires.*

.

.

*The old man looked at the raven, smiling. "Icara, do you know where it is? Huh, do ya?"*

*The bird chirped, then flew towards the bookshelf. Hovering like a hummingbird, the raven looked intensely at the books, its gaze seeing through the covers to the words inside.*

*"Caw!" The bird grabbed a book from the middle shelf, and plopped it into the man's hand.*

*"Oh, good girl, Icara! Good girl!" The man pet the bird fondly as it perched on his forearm. He walked to the desk, and set the book down. He leafed through several pages, then found what he was looking for. He read the first inscription:*

----

Read here the account of Atreyos: Knight of Spearta, and Commander of the Fourth Cohort of Ordor as it ventures into the far west of Inamorta, in the 27th day of the eighteenth year of the Ordor Empire.

I stand in the direst of circumstances. Our mission to rendezvous with the lost Second Cohort has failed. I fear for their fate, as well as the fate of the Elissan family, whom we were to assist the Second Cohort in escorting out of their estate in these dark woods.

Before me...stands a sea of enemies I have never seen the likes of. They are all...dead, and yet they do not die. Many have their guts and entrails spilling out of gashes and wounds, and yet they advance, completely unwilling to die.

Night is falling. I must return to the front quickly. They will come, and we must hold firm, as we have for the last eight days…..

----

*The pages were torn here, he could not read any more. Scrolling on, he found a page, mostly tattered, but it read:*

----

Read here the account of……….of Spearta, and Commander of the Fourth Cohort…...as it ventures into the far west of Inamorta, in the seventy-sixth day of………..of the Ordor Empire.

For some odd reason….The zombies seem to hate the sun, and the water keeps them…...though, for they instead rot with an unbearable stench.

And their eyes...their glowing yellow eyes……..

……..We are desperate. We ……..survived for fifty seven days. In the past few days we have seen, among the enemy………...but limply by their sides. If they are dead, there can be no hope…..We cannot get out…

----

*Somewhat frustrated, he set the book down on the desk, and his staff on the bed. He pushed his hand down into the pages, absorbing more information than what was merely inscribed.*

*"Tempora….VIGIS!"*

*His vision flickered, and he beheld:*

…...191 years ago…...

*The spearton ran back towards the towering statue. He wore a steel helmet, black leather armor, and a red rain cloak. He held a broken, splintered spear in one hand, and a shield in the other. It was pouring rain.*

*Close on his heels was a huge horde of the undead. They were closing in from the western side of the camp.*

*He looked beyond the statue to the eastern entrance of the camp. His men were backing away, out of the camp, but hesitantly.*

*The spearton waved. "GO! GO NOW! LEAVE ME!" With that command, the stragglers turned on their heels and fled.*

*The spearton looked up at the statue. It was a stone statue of a faceless figure, with a golden crown on its head, its arm pointing forward. The word "aequalitas" was inscribed at its base.*

*The spearton knew that if he tried to rejoin the others, the horde would catch up to them all. Determined to stop them, he dropped his shield on the ground, and began to scale the statue.*

*Try as he might, the spearton could not gain purchase on the slippery stone. One of the zombies reached up, stabbing the sharp broken bone at the end of its stumped arm into his calf. The spearton screamed in pain, and kicked, hard, at the zombie's head. Its neck broke with a sickening crack, and it fell to the ground below.*

*The wounded spearton climbed higher up the towering statue of stone, looking down. The swarm of the dead was climbing higher and higher. He knew that this was the end.*

*He didn't think about that. He had only one job left: to buy his men time.*

*He reached the shoulder of the giant statue. Grabbing his broken spear, he wedged it into a crack in the stone arm that pointed forward, set his feet against the neck of the statue, and pushed with all his strength. The stone moved slightly, but it was so sturdy, he feared he could not move it.*

*The zombies were climbing higher. Worse, some of them were heading towards the east gate of the camp, towards his comrades! They would catch them, and he knew they could not survive.*

*The spearton looked to the overcast sky. "User...give me strength...one...LAST….TIIIME!" The last was a scream of pain as he redoubled his efforts, the gash in his calf causing him agony.*

*Then, a golden star fell from heaven, and suddenly, a loud crack came from the stone. The forward pointing arm of the statue fell to the ground, and the statue, unbalanced, cracked at the base, and fell in a giant pile of rubble on the zombies that were chasing after the other soldiers.*

*The spearton landed with a hard thud onto a piece of the rubble, which broke his back. Oddly enough, the wound caused all pain to cease for him as he began to fade. He looked up at the sky.*

*A hooded, cloaked figure entered his upward gaze. The figure, like all the rest, had glowing yellow eyes, but she--it was a she--was clearly not a zombie. Her clothes were untorn, and her movement was graceful, not stunted by rotting limbs. A flurry of snakes peered out from under her hood, looking at him intently.*

*Paralyzed, the spearton watched as the woman knelt on two knees next to him, and clasped his hand. She looked down at him with a strange...pity? It was impossible to tell. He felt like the pity in her gaze could be a deception by itself. He didn't care either way, he was dying anyway.*

*She looked around, at the faster, rushing zombies who were working through the rubble, still pursuing the spearton's comrades. Her eyes glowed brighter, and the deads suddenly stopped, and, at her wordless command, returned back to the forest. She looked down at the spearton.*

*The spearton faded, and the last thing he saw was those glowing, yellow eyes…*

.

…...Present Day…...

*The archmage opened his eyes. He had cried a bit during the vision. "So ended Atreyos. One of the greatest of warriors," he muttered to himself. His face was serious now. Standing, he walked out of the northern opening of the tower, to the north facing part of the balcony.*

*Icara, the golden raven, flew to his side, and he said, "I have a job for you, my friend. Can you do it for me?"*

*"Chirp!" said the raven, bobbing its head in an obvious affirmative.*

*The Archmage took out, from a pocket in his sleeve, a note he had handwritten, prepared for this day. The scroll was ensconced in a little glass cylinder with corks on either end. The glass was engraved with practical grooves, that allowed his raven to easily carry it.*

*He gave the raven the scroll. Petting her feathers, he said, "Go. May the winds guide you."*

*"Cheep!" said the bird, and it flew off to his right, to the east.*

*He turned, then, to his left. From his high perch, he saw across the land, down the mountains beyond The Exchange and beyond the distant Fort, to the western forest. He saw the storm clouds above the forest, boiling with evil, ancient power and crackling lightning. He recalled the woman in the vision, and he knew.*

*"Medusa….I'm ready. Bring it on."*

----

Chapter One: Isra

Isra studied the tracks in the ground around her, and smiled.

She was a seventeen year old girl, but she didn't dress like it. She had a thick wool shirt, over which was worn a leather hunter's jacket. Instead of a skirt, which other females of Moorsville would consider the only appropriate choice, she wore cloth leggings that allowed her easy movement through the thick forests where she hunted. She wore, on BOTH arms, stiff arm guards and leather knuckle-gloves. That--and the strong, unstrung recurve bow in her hand and quiver on her back --marked her as a serious, highly skilled hunter.

The tracks she looked at were soft indentations in the wet mud near a riverbank. They can't be very old, she thought to herself. Her mind made up, she found a drier spot away from river, and quickly strung her bow. She tested the 50 lb draw weight with the ease of a practiced markswoman, and, satisfied that the bow would do fine, she advanced further into the forest.

----

An hour later, she emerged from the edge of the forest, a small doe slung over her shoulder. She looked down at the city below her.

Moorsville was a giant, sprawling city, situated on the east shore of Moor's Bay. It served as the hub for a lot of trade down the Great River, and as such, it had grown even bigger than the ancient Order City. Its boardwalk and busy streets were filled with traders and merchants hawking their wares, and big crowds watching auctions of jewelry, fine cloths and spices.

She walked down towards her house on the southern edge of the city. As an apprentice to one of the main butcher's guilds in the city, she was fairly well off, and paid her own expenses: a highly remarkable accomplishment for a girl of her age. With her own money, she had been able to afford this small hovel, right on the edge of the bay. She had lost her parents to disease some years ago, but her old grandfather lived in the house with her. She was very proud of her home, humble as it was, and took exceedingly attentive care to its maintenance. 

She walked up onto the front porch, which looked out over the calm surface of the bay, and had two doors connecting to it. Her hands still holding the deer slung on her shoulder, she stepped on a rigged pulley that opened the right-most door into a small butchery on the side of the house, and stepped inside. "Grandpa, I'm home!" she yelled as she entered. She set the deer down on the meat bar, and went over to where her knives were hanging from the ceiling. She was checking their sharpness when her grandpa walked in, holding two aprons.

"Ahh...the great Archidonna has returned from the hunt!"

"Pfft. You know I'm not an Archidon, and I don't intend to be one any time soon."

"Yes, but you are as good an archer as the best of them. I should know!"

She smiled. "Just give me that apron will ya, Grandpa Ben?" She continued jokingly, "BEFORE I start making you pay rent?"

He smiled back, and tossed her the apron. "Aye aye...I really think you--" He was interrupted by shouting outside. "What in the blazes…" He walked to the door, and opened it a peek.

Isra huffed. "It's probably some fishermen arguing about the size of--"

"GET DOWN!"

He ran to Isra, and tackled her to the ground, just as the front wall exploded inward.

----

Isra woke.

She was dazed, and confused. All five of her senses were giving her too much input to process. She saw a furry, leathery surface on top of her, she heard the loud sound of crackling fire, and she tasted iron in the air, akin to the taste one gets before and after a lightning strike. She smelled dense, heavy smoke, and she felt a weight, something on top of her. It felt limp, and very heavy.

Her mind caught up, and she realized that the deer had fallen off the once sturdy workbench, which had collapsed inward. The body of the deer had saved her from the beam that--

"Ben!" She got up, and looked around. Her grandpa was nowhere in sight. She was coughing from the intense smoke that filled the room, and she stumbled towards the opening in the wall. She tripped over something, and she realized it was her quiver. The sturdy leather had saved the bow and string inside it, but all of the arrows had their protruding fetching singed. Only a few of them would be useful.

And she did think she would need to use them. Whatever or whoever had blown up the front of her house was probably still there.

Holding her breath, she extracted her bow, and strung it. She grabbed three arrows that looked usable, and held two of them in her bow hand, nocking the other arrow. She continued through the smoke, stepping out into the light. There was noone in sight. On the shore of the bay in front of her, several large canoes and rafts were beached where there had been none before. Similar vessels were beached all along the shore, all the way towards Moorsville.

"Oi!"

She turned, and a Swordwrath was right there, raising his sword. She yelped in fright, but she had no time to--

An arrow came out of the smoke, hitting the man in his side. His sword swung down as he fell, and missed her by centimeters. She had her arrow nocked to the string still, and she aimed back towards where the arrow had come.

"Grandpa? Are you there?"

"Yes. Don't shoot." Her grandfather emerged, holding his longbow. "We need to…"

He stopped, a look of dread crossing his face. Before she could react, he grabbed her jacket, shoving her aside. She landed heavily on the ground, and looked back at Grandpa Ben.

He had his bow up, having just fired an arrow at his attacker. He was staring down at the arrow protruding from his chest. Isra stared as well, disbelieving. Without a word, he crumpled to the ground.

Isra was not capable of any coherent thought; her fear simply drove her into a survival instinct. She ran to the water, and jumped onto one of the smaller rafts, which had a small paddle. She rowed frantically for a long time, taking her far away from the shore.

Eventually, exhaustion cut through her fear driven mind, and she realized what had happened. She was, very suddenly, stricken by grief.

The girl looked back toward her burning home, and her grief was beyond words. Then her exhaustion took over her, and she fell unconscious on the drifting raft.

.

.

----

Chapter Two: Mistress of Wind and Darkness

….twenty years ago….

"ARCHIDONS FIRE!"

Valanta held her shield at the ready, as the enemy charged straight at her. She, and the rest of the line, did not flinch as they closed in. They were thirty meters away… twenty… ten… and suddenly their ranks were torn apart by the volley of arrows from the back.

Still, some did get through, charging headlong at them. "BRACE!" Her commander's voice could be heard far over the battlefield.

She tilted her spear down and to the right, at a lone enemy that was ducking underneath the halberd of the soldier next to her. She got the man through the chest.

Turning back quickly, there was a woman with a spear charging straight at her. Valanta lifted her shield, blocking it right in front of her face. Before she could bring her spear back in front of her, the halberd wielding soldier brought their weapon down in a scything motion, felling the woman.

There was a little space now, as most of the enemy was already backing away. Valanta looked at her shieldmate. "You know, a few more seconds, and I would've had her."

Anteria looked back. "Yeah...I just had her faster."

…

Valanta woke with a start. Seeing Anteria alive had jarred her. It was so real, it was...only a dream?

She laid her head back down on the hard wood, and tried, unsuccessfully, to return to sleep. But the visions were too invasive, too deep, too REAL…

…

Valanta and Anteria, side by side with the others of their legion, pushed against the opposing shield wall, both sides fighting bitterly for mere INCHES of ground. They had been at this spot for hours. The Archidons were too far away to be reliable against their attackers now, so it was only muscle against muscle.

"Ranks! Heave and switch! GO!"

On their general's command, each Spearton of the second rank turned one hundred and eighty degrees, and set their backs against those of the first rank. The two ranks, combined, gave a massive heave that sent the tightly packed enemy back a few steps, all at once. With mere moments to spare, each pair of troops, back to back, turned, so that the members of the second rank were now in the front.

Valanta and Anteria, exhausted from the effort of fighting, went with the rest of their rank to the back, able to rest and recover. Despite their fitness, the entire group was breathing hard from combat. Each man and woman felt bruised and sore in their left arm and shoulder, as well as their right forearms, which bore their weapons. In addition, most had tiny cuts and scrapes from the enemy's shields and spears.

"You...alright?" Valanta asked.

"Heh…" Anteria chuckled. "I'll be fine...it's THEM...I'm worried about. They won't be ready in time for our return to the front, now will they?" She lightly slapped Valanta in the side of her helmet. Valanta, too exhausted for words, shook her head.

After some time, both were able to regain their breath, and they, along with all the others, were getting ready to move, as the general was about to call the switch again. They would soon take the support, or second, rank, while the support rank moved to the front, and the shield--first--rank would regroup to the back.

Valanta, now a bit more chipper, said jokingly to Anteria, "You know, the general would be doing a better job if he was motivating us."

Anteria chuckled. "Then why don't YOU give us some, eh?" The nearby troops gave resounding affirmation.

Valanta smiled. "We will win this, and we'll get to go home by spring!"

The soldiers cheered, and they were only too eager to rejoin the fight.

"Ranks! Heave and Switch! GO!"

…

The door creaked open, and she looked. The Crimson Spearton walked in, still wearing the same armor. But instead of a helmet, a red veil covered the lower half of his face. Two soldiers followed close behind, one with a drawn sword, and one with a pair of bronze cuffs, welded onto the middle of a long chain.

The Spearton unlocked the inner barred gate, and let the two in. Valanta did not resist them, and allowed herself to be cuffed, her arms behind her. The Crimson Spearton took the lead as they exited the cell, with the two guards closely behind Valanta, holding her chains firmly between them.

Together, the group stepped through a single hallway, out onto the deck of a small, single sail ship. They were drifting through calm, still ocean, and the night sky was clear and tranquil, shimmering with stars. The breeze was soft, but firm--perfect for sailing--and their boat seemed to fly along the dark, black expanse.

The other people on deck, however, did not seem to care about the beautiful weather, nor did they take any notice of Valanta and her guards as they brought her to the front of the craft. There, a small, slightly elevated foredeck looked out over the water, to where a landmass Valanta recognized as the northern coast of Moorsville, loomed over the water.

Valanta was forced to stop, and the two guards behind her knelt towards the front, dragging Valanta to her knees as well. The Crimson Spearton stayed standing.

Valanta was confused. What were they kneeling at? The foredeck in front of them was empty.

All of a sudden, the light breeze shifted, as if coming from the west, and the boat briefly went off course before the helmsman could correct for the change in wind. Valanta looked around. The two soldiers, kneeling next to her, were sweating nervously, and the previously nonchalant crew were suddenly very attentive and wary.

A dark mist came from behind Valanta. It trailed in a single line up over her shoulder, like a snake slithering up her back close to her ear. From the mist, she heard the faintest whispers of a multitude of voices, like ghosts.

The wind was really picking up now. The tendril of black smoke carried forward, and more snake-like streams of smoke joined it from all directions: from around the deck, from over the side of the ship, and even directly from the ground, all converging on a spot right in front of Valanta

The snakes of mist joined, and fused into a small, whirling tornado of pitch black, darker than the surrounding night. The wind got stronger as more clouds of mist joined the first, and Valanta felt an unexplained sense of dread at the sight.

Then, out of the swirling darkness, a form coalesced from the mist, and it faced her. With one final puff, the tornado exploded, and where it was, stood a woman--the same woman--in a dark robe. Now that Valanta could see her more clearly, she saw more of the snakes framing her head, and could see her amethyst purple nails, long as a bird of prey. Her glowing yellow eyes were painful to look at directly, as if a laser shone directly at her from them.

Valanta immediately shut her eyes, and turned her head away.

"Aww, child...don't believe those silly stories they told you about me...I don't ACTUALLY turn people to stone, you know."

The voice was the most chilling thing about her. It seeped into your mind, worming its way into your very thoughts. Valanta opened her eyes, reluctantly, then started as the woman had, in the brief moment that Valanta's eyes were closed, had come alarmingly close to her.

"Ahh...see there? Nothing to worry about...nothing." Her tone was superior, but not condescending, she seemed merely to pity those around her.

She turned then, to the Crimson Spearton, who still stood, and her tone changed somewhat. It was still superior, but now it bore a tone of humor and joking petulance.

"Ahh, you still are defiant, my loyal general. You never kneel."

The Crimson Spearton bowed at the waist. "No, your Excellency...I never liked the custom."

She smiled. "Well, as long as it's done in the utmost respect, it will be tolerated."

"Yes, Medusa."

Medusa looked back at Valanta. "And back to our guest...I'm SO glad you could join us today...your presence makes this now a…" She paused, a fierce, smiling snarl on her face. "...JOYOUS...occasion."

Valanta scoffed. "Joyous?" She looked around, at the crew nervously staying on their various tasks to navigate the ship. "This is a barge of the dead, if I've ever seen one."

"Well, then just ignore them. They're gloomy all the time. What I mean is, you--the final piece of my grand design--have finally come to me. You will help me bring rebirth to this land...come! Let me show you!"

Medusa turned and looked to the for'ard of the boat, and Valanta now suddenly noticed the orange glow now in the sky ahead of them. The guards forced her to her feet, and she could now again see over the bow bulwark of the ship. They had come partially around the headland in front of them, and they could see the city of Moorsville ahead of them….burning huge flames into the night sky.

Valanta gasped, and rushed forward, hitting the bulwark of the ship, but still restrained by her cuffs. "You...you MONSTER! Those are innocent people, they don't deserve--" She was pulled back, hard, by the soldiers, and once again forced to her knees.

"They are not innocent. You know that. Greedy money loggers, they sit at the heart of your trade. Great wealth flows into that city, and yet children STARVE to death in that same city. But, it doesn't matter to me. I'm generous enough to let them--"

"You're killing them! You are destroying their homes, taking their lives! How is that generous?!"

Medusa frowned. "I'm...sorry. What?" Valanta would have answered, but Medusa now turned, stifling all objection with a strange, motherly expression that mostly masked her malice. Mostly.

"Oh, my dear, you misunderstand," said the enchantress. "I'm not here to hurt your people. I'm here to give them what they've always wanted."

Valanta scoffed. "Oh really? And what's that?"

"Eternal life...I offer the chance to defeat death forever, to transcend it." Medusa bent low, the glow of her eyes vanishing, leaving behind only warmth, understanding, even pity. Try as she might, Valanta could not help but to look deep into those eyes.

"I offer the chance to bring back anyone you ever loved, to see them again." Valanta thought of Anteria as she had been in life: indomitable, strong.

"You could see them again Val…see HER again..."

Valanta nearly forgot the burning city. She nearly forgot everything else. Those deep, black orbs, they were so warm, so caring, so--

With great effort, she snapped out of it. She was sweating, and breathing hard. "I...I don't know what you want from me...but you're never getting it. Whatever it is, you're not getting it."

Medusa's face changed. The snakes re-emerged from under her hood, and the yellow glow returned to her eyes, stinging Valanta the way hearing a high pitched sound does. She averted her gaze.

"I'm...DISAPPOINTED to hear that, Val. It would have been less painful if you had simply complied." Medusa stood. "Take her back to her cell."

The two guards began to get Valanta on her feet, and still she felt defiant. "You'll never win, Medusa!"

"Oh...I disagree," said the sorceress, and quoted Valanta's vision. "We WILL win this, and we'll get to go home by spring!"

Valanta looked surprised, but she had no time to react to her statement, as the guards took her away.

----

Chapter Three: Riverside

Chessler and David loaded their donkeys onto the raft. They stood, with the rest of the army, at the edge of The Great River, a body of clear, flowing water that split Ordor across the middle. Half of a kilometer away, the shore could faintly be seen, and flat expanse to the west beyond that. The water reflected the sky so well, it was like standing on the edge of a great cliff, which opened into an endless blue abyss.

Chessler whistled as he and David boarded the large raft. "This place...it's beautiful."

David shrugged. "Yeah...it's alright."

Chessler looked at his friend. Though they were not related by blood, Chessler had long considered David to be like a brother. He knew him very well; well enough to know that something was bothering David right now.

"Hey...you alright?" said Chessler, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Huh?...oh..yeah. I'm fine," said David, brushing Chessler's hand off his shoulder. "I...I just miss Pa...that's all. Without him, I don't know what to do with my life. I don't know what the right thing to DO is."

"What do you mean you don't know? You started us on this quest."

David frowned. "Yeah, but...I mean, look at them Chessler! They're serious about this. This is WAR we are marching to, Chessler, and I chose to tag along out of some...impulse!"

"You doubt yourself, David."

"I…I don't know." David hugged himself. "Is this fear? I don't even know if this is just my fear talking."

Chessler looked at David like David was a madman. David was confused. "What.."

"David, you snuck BEHIND enemy lines to try and reach your father, you fought a SWORDWRATH in the city with zero training, and you think you're afraid?!"

David smiled slightly at that. "I am...I'm afraid that…"

"...you're afraid that you dragged me along into a death mission." David nodded. "Well...I didn't want to say this back then, but because I had no parents, and your Dad let me be friends with you...well he kinda felt like a surrogate father for me. I was sad when he died too. Not as much as you, but still. So you didn't drag me along into anything."

David didn't answer, and Chessler could tell that he wasn't convincing him. He looked for something to change the subject, but saw something ahead of them.

They were nearing the far shore now. They could see strange lights, like bright lanterns, hovering over a group of miners. They were hard at work breaking bits of quarried gold ore into chunks, and putting them in a smelter. And the lights...they were several stars of the User, giving the miners extra strength and speed at their work.

David stared. "Woah!...they're…" he stopped awkwardly.

Chessler got the attention of a soldier, and pointed at the stars. "I thought the Star only chose people in battle."

The soldier nodded. "Indeed...and Inamorta is in battle even now. The User understands that to win this war, our lifeblood, our economy, must flourish. Without food to feed our armies, without weapons being made constantly, we stand no chance. I have seen a lowly cobbler annointed once, when he was making shoes for the army."

"Can the User choose anyone?" Chessler asked.

The soldier shook his head. "No, not quite. It has never been seen over the heads of our enemies; whoever the User is, they must really like Ordor. Also, it has never been seen over the heads of children, Magispawn, trolls, or zombies.

"Oh."

"Yes...even when those people fight for Inamorta, it is never seen over their heads, or not that I've ever heard of."

----

The monarch walked through camp to the central pavilion: a large, cloth edifice that housed the main command center and the monarch's quarters, as well as those of the premiere General of the cohort of Westwindr. The tent was patrolled by a few soldiers.

They had just finished crossing the River, and were setting up for the night. Around the monarch, people were setting up tents, running around, and in a general, organized hubbub, like a swarm of ants around an anthill.

The monarch stopped before the entrance, where two Swordwrath and two Archidons stood guard. One of the Swordwrath rapped the thick post next to the entryway with their sword. "[Playername], General!" (again, the Westwindr were intensely egalitarian).

"Let him in!"

[Playername] was let inside the pavilion. Inside, the furniture was sparse, consisting of only those things needed to operate a command center for the army: a table map of Inamorta, its accompanying croupier sticks and pieces, and a desk with scrolls of messages and supply counts. Behind the desk stool the general.

The general looked up. "Glad you could make it, King/Queen."

"Not at all, General Cromnt. I want some good news today."

General Cromnt frowned. "I'm afraid I cannot provide it...the force I sent south to cut off the people who invaded your city reported back. They say the enemy was able to escape."

"How?"

"Boats." The general took up one of the croupier sticks, and a war-board piece carved into the likeness of a boat. Using the stick, he slid the boat onto the map, near the eastern coast of Inamorta. "They had no way to pursue them."

"Hmm...this will complicate things...I don't like the idea of an enemy that's able to raid anywhere on the shore at any time they like. The Royal Navy is already too hard pressed dealing with smugglers and pirates."

General Cromnt nodded. "Our fleet is still non-existent; all of our attention for the past couple hundred years being on the Risen Dead." At this he tapped the forest to the west of Westwind. There was a long pause, as both looked at the map.

"...You said you have an idea of what the enemy had in mind."

The general laughed. "No...I said the Westwind SENATE had an idea, but those old washbags see no need to disclose any-"

They were interrupted by shouting outside. The monarch shouted, "What's up?"

One of the soldiers shouted outside. "A vessel has been seen coming down the river!"

----

David and Chessler were confused by all of the activity. They went with the herd to the river's edge, where a phalanx of soldiers were facing the river, at the ready.

On the river, a small, wicker raft floated aimlessly with the current, and was approaching fast. A small, black raven was tugging at what looked like a bundle of cloth that was half hanging off the raft.

"That's a person on the raft!" Before Chessler could stop him, David had lunged forward and dived into the rushing river.

Immediately, the force of the current hit David, and he found himself fighting to keep his head above water. He swam at the raft, and tried to reach for it, but the current seemed to want him to never reach it.

The black raven stared at him with blue eyes, and kept tugging at the person on the raft. David reached the raft and started to raise a hand to shoo the bird away.

"Wait! David! It's helping that person!"

David looked back to where Chessler was shouting from the river's bank, then back to the bird. The bird looked at him and cheeped, and, very suddenly, each of the bird's feathers inverted on hidden pivots, turning the raven's entire skin inside-out. What once was a pitch black raven was now solid bronze and gold.

David realized, and climbed up onto the raft, and he pulled the person onto the raft. He realized it was a girl. He turned her over so she was lying on her stomach, and lifted her up so she was on her knees. He held her there for a few seconds, trying to figure out what to do, when suddenly the girl woke.

She coughed up water from her throat, and David quickly grabbed her hair, holding it back for her. After she finished, he let her hair go.

"Are you alright?" She nodded. "I'm David. What's your name?"

She looked past him at the shore, where the soldiers were watching, and then looked at the golden raven watching her intently. She looked back at David.

"I'm Isra."

----

Chapter Four: The Key of Elimas

Valanta was forced ashore; two guards flanked her from behind. The night was no longer clear: dark clouds covered the sky, making it hard for her to tell where everything was. But the Crimson Spearton ahead of her seemed to know the way in the darkness, as he led them up a mountain road. Medusa was not with them: Valanta had not seen her since their last encounter offshore of Moorsville.

As they got further away from shore, and further up the mountain, the weather gradually got colder and colder….and colder. Eventually, she was in an unbearable freeze, and cloth cloaks were given out to everyone around her...except for her. Her hands were still secured behind her, so she had no real way to shield from the cold.

The Crimson Spearton looked back at them as he walked. "Gorland, you don't have one for her?"

The man sneered. "Why give HER one? She's a prisoner."

"And it will hardly do to have her freeze to death before we get there, will it? Get her one, now!"

The man, perplexed, stuttered, "But...Commander...we really don't have any more."

The Crimson Spearton scowled at Gorland, then took off his cloak and his own red cape underneath. He walked up to Valanta, holding one in each hand. "Pick one."

She refused to even speak, though she was unable to stay stoically still, as she shivered in the cold.

He looked at her with a strange expression, as if he was...confused, and irritated by her stubborn refusal to give an inch. He slung the cloak over his shoulder, and walked beside her, holding the red cape. He reached around her neck, and she flinched at his closeness.

"General...just take it."

She looked, intensely, straight at him, as he fastened the red cape around her neck. Immediately, her cold ceased, and she felt a strange, unexplained warmth flow from the cape. She realized it was enchanted.

Valanta looked at the Crimson Spearton, and for a brief moment, her hard face broke, letting through her confusion, and her vulnerability, and he saw it.

Then, her face hardened again, and she was once again merely his prisoner, as they trudged up the mountain.

----

Valanta's cuffs were removed, and she was shoved into a dark room, where she could see nothing around her. The red cloak had been taken back from her, the moment they had entered this place, leaving her with the leather shirt and pants. She guessed that she was in a fortress, though she had not been able to see it very well, in the dark night, as she had approached it a while before.

Her eyes took a few seconds to adjust. She was in a square room, with a stone counter ringing several sides of it. In the back stood an iron furnace, and a set of pots and cauldrons next to it. Those objects, and the hard, tiled floor, told her this was, or once was, a kitchen.

The only object that was out of place lay in the very center of the room. It was a large, strangely shaped block of stone, with a flat top that was slightly tilted. Steel clasps were fastened to the stone at the middle, and at the end that was tilted down. A single, large steel band, padded with leather, rested at the very top of the gently sloped tabletop.

She crept closer to it, trying to see it more clearly. She saw, on the stone near the steel bands at the middle, a furrow of scratch marks, and all over the table and floor were small dried patches of blood.

Her heart skipped a beat.

The door behind her opened, and she whirled around, her back to the torture table. Two guards entered, and went to two corners of the room. One of them held a cloth bundle in his fist. Right behind them, strode in Medusa, seeming to glide over the bloodstained floor. She held an ornate box, decorated in purple and green wiring. Behind her, the Crimson Spearton, who held a large tray of red hot coals, in which was deposited several iron brands. He walked around the perimeter of the room, to the furnace in the back.

"Ahh, Valanta," said Medusa, her voice soft, yet impossibly intense. "Welcome to my winter castle!"

Valanta stared at her, and looked around. "Where am I?"

"An apt question...we sit atop one of the most secluded mountains of the northern Ice Hills. We will not be disturbed this far north, I think."

Valanta looked back at her, and at the Crimson Spearton now standing behind her. She noticed that the Crimson Spearton had set the furnace going, and was working to heat the tray of coals. He avoided Valanta's gaze.

Turning back, Valanta hardened her face again. "So...what? What is it you want from me?"

Medusa chuckled, and walked to the side, setting the ornate purple box down on the counter. Her back was to Valanta. "You're trying to figure out what information I'm going to pry from your mind, so you can forget that information before I can ask it of you."

Valanta blinked.

"Heh, a common tactic to resist torture: forgetting information through sheer force of will...well that's alright. I don't care either way...it's not like your mind is an impenetrable wall anyway." Her back still turned to Valanta, she snapped her finger in the general direction of the guard in the left corner, the one holding the cloth bundle in his fist.

With a grin, the guard tossed the bundle at Valanta's feet, and out rolled...a severed head, the man's final expression an image of pure terror. Valanta gasped.

Medusa turned her head, sidelong to Valanta, so that one of her glowing yellow eyes illuminated her feral, evil smile. "What was it you said? Back on the boat, when my faithful general asked you how Ordor knew about our assault? You said 'I'll never tell you.' in an attempt to make us think that there was an Ordor spy in our midst, when really…" she gestured at the decapitated head "...the spy was of Westwind."

Valanta was finally beginning to feel true fear.

Medusa turned to her. "I won't lie to you, Valanta. I never will, not even by omission. It's simply not in my character. So, to answer your question, I seek only one thing...get her on the table."

A firm set of hands grabbed her shoulders from behind, and the Crimson Spearton forced her down onto the torture table. She tried to resist, but the other two guards were already there, and they had her restrained on the table, lying on her stomach. They did not use the head restraint.

Medusa continued. "You know of the Key of Elimas?" Valanta said nothing, the name did not ring a bell. "It is a great artifact, left over from a war that came LONG before Ordor even existed. It is a great source of power, dedicated to the preservation of one man...the last domino I need to topple before I bring justice to this wretched land. It was entrusted to Westwind since time immemorial, but recently it switched hands to Ordor…under the codename, 'The Hedronal Stone' "

This name DID ring a bell for Valanta. She knew that it was a gift to Monarch [Playername], and they kept it--NO. She could not even afford to THINK about it, or think about…

Medusa smiled. "And now you realize the truth, my child. Your will will break eventually, even for ONE moment, and I will have everything I need to begin. So please make it easier on yourself, easier on all of us, and just let me know now!"

Valanta was shivering now, in fear. She now stood on a knife's edge. One wrong move, one wrong THOUGHT, and Inamorta would fall. She would fail everyone. Such failure, such guilt, she felt, would be worse than any torture Medusa could imagine for her.

Then, suddenly, she stopped being afraid. She found strength within herself, and she felt...ready.

Medusa sighed, annoyed, and almost sad. "Very well...General?"

Valanta turned to look at the Crimson Spearton, who was bringing a red hot iron brand towards her. The Crimson Spearton, strangely, was hesitant, unsure. Valanta wondered at it.

Medusa's voice spoke again, and for the first time, Valanta heard a bit of anger in that terrible voice. "It's either the brand, or the box! Your choice, General!"

The Crimson Spearton looked at Medusa, then back down at Valanta. Making his decision, he continued to advance, the red hot iron getting closer and closer to her.

----

Two janitors walked down the hallway, one holding a wooden bucket and mop, and the other one a broom. They were in the middle of cleaning up a dirty corner of the floor when a piercing, agonized scream sounded throughout the hallway.

The two slaves looked at each-other with tired, knowing expressions, and continued at their work even as the screams continued.

----

Chapter Five: The City of Nations

Chessler and David walked alongside the army as they scaled a large hill; one of the last foothills of Du Fells Magikill (The Magical Mountains) some kilometers to their north.

Chessler looked at David, whose eyes were looking off towards the center of the caravan, where the medical wagons were being towed by oxen. Chessler snorted.

David looked at him. "What?"

Chessler smiled. "That girl, Isra. You're thinking about her."

"Yeah. I hope she's alright."

"Of course she's alright. She was saved from certain death by a knight in shining…" Chessler looked at David's attire. "...cotton? I think it's more than that. You like her."

David gave a huffy smile. "Yeah, whatever dude."

They were nearing the crest of the hill. "That's not a bad thing. She was kind to you, and grateful for saving her life."

"Yeah, well, she…" He stopped as they reached the crest of the hill. Both boy's eyes widened. "Woah!"

A spectacular city lay on the flat plain before them. It was a large city, both in size and construction: most of the buildings were as tall as a castle keep--if not even taller--and sprawled out over a large area. Even from this distance they could see, on the larger buildings that happened to face them from the edge of the city, massive gates of light wood.

Monarch [Playername] came up beside them. "Yep. Pretty awesome, isn't it?"

"Why are the buildings so large?" asked David.

"This city lies at the intersection of the borders of Ordor, Westwind, and No Man's Land, and was built to accommodate the citizens of all three. No Man's Land is the ancestral home of the nomadic giants. Those buildings are large for them."

"Giants?" Chessler looked at the buildings, now pretty mind-blown at the size of a giant that would require such immense scale. "Are they friendly?"

"Yes. We trade with them, and they're surprisingly civilized, so any troublemakers among them are outnumbered. They are one of Inamorta's biggest providers of basic resources, like wood and cobblestone, because they can break a mountain with their bare hands, and carry a boulder or a tree for miles. In exchange, they crave our finer resources, things that they have difficulty crafting with their large hands."

David asked. "Do you think they will help us? If they're nomads they won't join your forces in any numbers."

"Well, they're nomads, but that doesn't mean they don't have a king."

"A king?"

[Playername] nodded. "Griffon the Great. Their oldest, and strongest, giant by far. And since they don't have cities, The Exchange has served as his de facto capital city, though the city belongs to all three nations. We should be able to convince him, he'll love a war like this."

----

As Monarch [Playername] neared the eastern gate, he/she recalled the last time they had visited this place. It was thronging with members of all the peoples of Inamorta: Magikill of the east, the Pertlandr, the Westwindr, the nomadic tribes of The Nameless Desert, giants, and more. The ruler remembered how General Valanta and her friend Anteria had met in this city right before their recruitment, a story Valanta had shared with the Monarch years ago.

This city, more than ANY other place in Inamorta, symbolically represented the single best hope for their survival. Though Inamorta lay in three separate nations, the Monarch felt, for the first time, hope that they could engineer a response to this invasion, if they did so united.

At the large gates ahead of them, a large crowd waited to greet the incoming army. There was, as the Monarch remembered, members of all the races in that crowd ...except the giants were nowhere in sight. The Monarch was confused, and a little worried.

At the very threshold of the gate, stood a lone man in their path. He was an old man, with a stooped back, and a white, scraggly beard that flowed down over his chest. He wore a grey robe, and a steepled grey hat. He held a golden staff in his hand, much longer than the scepter of the lesser wizards. His face lit up at the sight of the Monarch. "[Playername], it's good you have come."

The Monarch frowned. "Uhh...who are you?" Before the Mage could answer, there was a fluttering sound from behind him, as the golden raven that had joined them at the river flew forward to greet the old man enthusiastically.

The man pet his bird, and whispered something in its ear. The bird immediately took off again, and flew east, over the army.

The mage answered. "I see you have met my pet, Icara. She is an invaluable messenger, and a good friend...as for me, my name is Elimas Magnus. Come with me, if you will."

The Grand Mage led the Monarch north, along the edge of the city, until they were some distance away from the crowds. The Mage stopped walking.

"I think you, and General Cromnt, deserve to know exactly what is going on."

"You know the enemy's plan?"

"I do...but let us wait until the General arrives."

They only had to wait for a few minutes, until General Cromnt came to them, being led by the golden raven. The man walked up to Elimas, and bowed at the waist, which surprised the Monarch. The general never seemed to bow, and the Monarch knew that the people of Westwind were notoriously democratic. Their way of showing respect to someone of higher office was merely to state their title, like "King" or "Princess", and that was it. No bowing required.

The Mage spoke. "Stop that, General, and let us discuss what you two have been wondering. Look to the east."

The two men looked eastward, towards the Magic Mountains, and the clear sky above them. Even from this distance, they could slightly see a light, like a blue laser, shot up from the top of one of those mountains, and hitting the very ceiling of the sky.

"Atop that mountain, rests my fortress, Vantorra: the Tower of Winds. It constantly feeds energy into the sky, which spews outward in a wind that reaches the edges of Inamorta."

General Cromnt frowned. "What purpose does that serve?"

Elimas turned to the General. "You have noticed, I think, that the horde of undead that opposes you is almost always accompanied by dark, rainy clouds?" The general nodded. "Those particular clouds are more than what they seem. They are dark, boiling cauldrons of evil that completely surround Inamorta, and they sustain the lives of the rotting armies that lay below them. If those clouds covered Inamorta in their rain and shadow, there would be no stopping those armies. Each of your men could die to slay a thousand of the undead, and still they would completely overrun Westwind, Ordor, and all of Inamorta."

The Monarch and the General listened very intently. The Monarch asked, "So this Tower of Winds holds the dark clouds back?"

"Precisely. They hold back the power of the One who sustains and lords over those armies, she who predates Ordor, Westind, and even myself: Medusa."

The Monarch's eyes widened. "Medusa? She's back? She's behind this attack?"

The General shook his head. "The legends are true...After all these millenia...so her plan is to destroy the tower, and overrun us all."

Elimas Magnus nodded. "To do that, Medusa needs this staff in my hand. Its power is directly linked to the Tower; only with it can the Tower be destroyed. But beyond that, she also seeks to end my life. It is my spell that sustains the wind that holds her power back. If I die, the spell ceases."

The Monarch felt the left side of his/her jeweled crown with their hand.

"But it is painful for her the closer she gets to that tower, and to me. Her power is weakened the closer she gets to the center of Inamorta, as long as that tower is active. This is why she has recruited other armies, LIVING armies which don't fear the tower and its power, armies under the command of this...Crimson Spearton you encountered in Order City."

The Monarch asked. "Do you have any clue who the Spearton is? I'd prefer to have a name...his strategies in the city are strategies I find familiar…"

"His face is somehow hidden from me….but it is unimportant. He holds no power of his own: it is clear that he answers to HER. And their forces cannot be allowed to come close to this tower. It is our best and only weapon against her ancient power."

The General spoke. "I have another question...where are all of the giants? We need them for this fight."

"They have gone to the northern reaches of No Man's Land, at the decree of Griffon the Great. His face, too, is hidden from me, as you know, because of his enchanted helmet. It irks me, but the Giant King has the right to demand privacy from my gaze….I do not know what he is planning…"

----

Chapter Six: Purpose and Courage; Wisdom and Self

Time passed quickly for Chessler and David in the next month. They had little time to think, as their military training moved at a faster and faster pace…

----

"FASTER, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! FASTER!"

Chessler ran at full tilt up the hill. As usual, he was among the last of the pack; his shorter legs gave him a distinct disadvantage at all things running.

Ahead of him, the rest of the group was doing push-ups at the top of the hill. He saw David among them; his long legs gave him an edge. He got down as quickly as possible, and started doing them. The rest of the stragglers were slow to get on the floor.

"I DON'T THINK I SEE MUCH MOTIVATION IN THIS GROUP! EVERYONE UP!"

Chessler got up quickly, and the rest of the group were a second behind him. The PT trainer paced the downy ground in front of them, looking them in the eye. She was at eye level with most of them...except for Chessler. The corporal looked down at Chessler, and gave a slight, subtle nod, imperceptible to everyone but him.

Then she barked out, "You poor fools tired after a long jog up the hill, so you think you can be slow to get in a pushup? THINK ABOUT IT! Did running on your legs somehow tire your ARMS? Dig deeper people! We are at WAR! You idiots joined the freakin' ARMY, and you look like my grandpa's PILATES class!"

A couple people, despite their best efforts, could not contain a tiny chuckle at the image that sentence conjured up in their minds.

That was a mistake.

----

David walked back to the barracks area: a line of tents on either side of a long, narrow stretch of ground just outside The Exchange.

He found Isra waiting for him at the camp's edge, wearing a wool, toga-looking dress provided by Westwind. He walked up to her. "Hey, you got out of the hospital...did you join the army?"

She shook her head, and spoke awkwardly. "No...I'm not...I didn't...I can't fight like that….can I talk with you?"

"Sure." He put his equipment back in his tent, and joined them. They meandered as they talked, sort of walking away from the encampment.

"I...uhm...wanted to thank you for saving my life."

"Not at all. I couldn't just let you drown."

"Well, it was more than that…" She paused, trying to come up with words. "The other soldiers told me what you did. The water was rushing so fast, if you had not reacted as quickly as you did, they said I would've drowned. They said you reacted without hesitation."

"Wouldn't you?"

She looked at him, with a strange expression on her face. She looked...sad, and almost guilty. She was, of course, remembering how she had lost control to fear in Moorsville, but he had no way of knowing about--

"Hey...you alright?"

She realized her mind had wandered. "Oh...yeah...I'm just sad."

"Why's that?"

"Well...I lost my parents to disease several years ago...and just a month ago, I lost my last family...my Grandpa Ben…to the invaders."

David's face saddened. "I'm sorry to hear that...I lost my mother at childbirth...and my father died about a month ago as well."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

She looked at him. "You know...you are a lot braver than I am...you joined the army. I couldn't ever do that."

"Oh...I'm not as brave as I'd like...I just...after my dad died, I needed to find some source of purpose. The army was the choice I went with...I guess. But that choice dragged Chessler into this."

Isra and David were quiet for a time as they walked over the field. Then, David reached his hand out subtly, and Isra took it.

----

From a hilltop, Chessler watched the two walk hand in hand away from the encampment. His own feelings were hard to wrestle with: he was happy for his friend, but also wondered if he had just got "third-wheeled". His logic driven brain did not comprehend relationships and people very well.

"You worry too much."

Chessler looked to see Elimas Magnus standing at his side. "What?"

The Grand Mage nodded. "You worry too much. David should be allowed to pursue new relationships. And, deep down, I think you know he hasn't third-wheeled you. Your friendship goes back to your childhood; it runs too deep to be broken this easily."

"Yeah, it's just that--" Chessler stopped. "Wait...how do you know about our childhood? We only met...like a month ago."

"That may be...but I have watched the whole land of Inamorta for a long time. Walk with me, will you?"

Chessler followed the Grand Mage away from the camp, walking towards the city.

"And...what? You took notice of me? What's so special about me?"

The Mage paused, as if trying to think of an answer. "...a couple reasons. You started out much the same way I did: an orphan with no family, poor, et cetera. And, I see potential in you."

"Like what?!"

"You possess a gift of the User. It is not to ANYONE that the User grants gifts."

Chessler looked at Elimas, confused. "What?"

"A gift of the User grants the recipient special abilities, beyond the range of normal men. Your gift was evident when you deduced that Order City was under attack, or when you knew the purpose of the blue ribbon on that dead soldier's hand. Or recently, when you figured out my raven Icara was more than what she seemed."

"I...what gift is that?"

"Perception. You are able to look at something, something that appears ordinary to the untrained eye, and perceive the hidden truth behind it. You can tell a lie by seeing it, by hearing it. You can look at an object and comprehend it. Here. Try it with my staff."

At this point, they were at the edge of the city, and they were at the last patch of grass. Instead of handing the staff to Chessler, the Mage stuck the staff into the earth, so that it stood upright.

Chessler looked at the staff, and wondered why Elimas hadn't just handed him the staff. "Will...will it hurt me when I touch it?"

"Well done. Yes, it will, unless you touch--"

"Wait…" Chessler looked at the midpoint of the staff, where a latch covered up the side of the staff. The latch, and the ring that secured it to the staff, was made of a brown, copper looking metal, different from the rest of the golden staff.

The Latch

Chessler lifted the latch, and underneath it was a button of the same coppery material. On an impulse, he pressed the button. The moment his finger touched the button, the staff lifted into the air, on a magical whirlwind, and then vanished in the blink of an eye.

The Grand Mage smiled. "Nicely done. What have you learned?"

"....That latch, and the button, are the only part of the staff that ordinary people can touch. The latch is there to keep you from touching the button on accident as you wield it...so it wasn't destroyed? It went somewhere?"

"Yes. It went somewhere safe, somewhere it is not easily found." The Mage moved his right hand in a straight, vertical line, and proclaimed, "REDITUS!" With a flash, the staff was once again in his hand.

Chessler thought about what he had just done, what he had just deduced. "Heh...a gift of the User...I thought the User just gave people strength."

"And that is not a strength? Your gift is not a strength?" The Mage looked at him quizzically, as if not comprehending him.

"Uhh, well I thought it just gave someone physical strength in battle."

"That's not quite true. The User does not give a person strength." The Grand Mage stooped, pointing his knobbled finger at Chessler's chest. "It only helps you find the strength already inside you. And that strength does often come physically when the User VISIBLY annoints the person, but sometimes… it doesn't."

Chessler digested what Elimas Magnus has shown him. It was a lot. He looked at the Mage, and realized there was something else.

"Is...is there another reason you had your eye on me for so long?"

The Mage looked at Chessler, with a strange, knowing, even sad expression that lasted for a millisecond before he hid it. "Yes...I watched you for so long by someone's request."

"Who's?"

Elimas Magnus looked at Chessler, as if trying to decide whether to tell Chessler. Then, he made his choice.

"By the request….of your father."

----

Chapter Seven: Breaking Point

"AAAAUUUUUGGGHHHH!!"

Valanta groaned in agony as the hot brand lifted off of her right arm, pulling a little bit of crisped leather off of her shirt with it. She lay on her back on the stone torture table, the cold marble feeling like ice against the burns on her back. The pain in her entire body was more excruciating than anything she had ever experienced in her life, even her battle wounds.

Medusa loomed over her, as the Crimson Spearton returned to the hot pan of coals at the edge of the room. "This is dragging on too far, Valanta. You must talk NOW, for your own sake. You will die if this continues. WHERE is the Hedronal Stone? WHERE is the Key of Elimas?!"

"I'll never tell--AAAHH!" Her sentence ended in a scream as Medusa pressed, hard, on her shoulder, which was already burned.

"What is it, Valanta?! You have fought me for nearly a MONTH now, and for what? To prove you're--"

"I'm not….proving ANYTHING…to ANYONE...if I give in...you win. You will DESTROY Inamorta!"

From the edge of the room, Valanta heard a slamming sound, as the Crimson Spearton slammed the wall with his fist in frustration. Medusa looked up briefly, then back down.

"You know...he cares about you. I've noticed: he admires your bravery, as do I."

Valanta scoffed. Occasionally, between her torture sessions, the Red Spearton had visited her in her cell, pleading with her to give in. She knew it was dangerous, but she had tolerated it: it was the only remotely kind thing being done to her in this place. But it was all part of the strategy, she knew. All part of the plan to get her to break.

"...But right now, it is not your bravery, but pure STUBBORNNESS, that delays my plans. I will never destroy Inamorta, only reshape it. All injustice in the world will be obliterated: never again will one man wrong another, for they shall reside in one collective mind."

Valanta groaned as one of the muscles in her chest spasmed in pain. "Your...YOUR mind!"

"So what?! I will bring paradise to Inamorta, for all who bow down and serve me. I will not have this debate again. For the last time: WHERE IS THE KEY OF ELIMAS!"

"NEVER!"

Medusa looked down at Valanta with pure fury. "General, continue."

The Crimson Spearton walked towards Valanta, and, again, he hesitated for a moment before he stepped forward.

Thereafter, Valanta's world faded into a blur of pain as her torture continued. She knew that if she thought about the location of...something she refused to remember...for even a moment, Medusa could wrestle it from her mind. So she directed her mind to think about anything BUT that, even if all she could focus on was the pain. Her mind wandered, to a past memory.

….Nineteen years ago….

Valanta rode through the forest along with her cavalry squad, ducking under the lower hanging branches. The moonlit night made it hard to see very far forward.

Anteria and Valanta

"Anteria! Watch your right side. We're almost there!"

"Aye, Sergeant!" Her friend kept a sharp eye on the right of the path, watching for any attempted ambush as they moved quickly at the head of their men.

The thick forest, quite unexpectedly, opened into the clearing ahead of them. A distance away, she could see the banner of Ordor, hanging over a small group of fighters, in a tight circle, surrounded by the barbarians.

"Quietly now! Fall on the enemy from behind. Reach Captain Rifter as soon as possible!"

Her force--silent, swift, deadly--cut into the enemy before they even knew what was happening. Panicking, the barbarians fled, running back into the forest.

They reached Captain Rifter within moments. He was leaning against another soldier, clutching a stab wound in his side.

"What...who are…"

Valanta dismounted her horse as quickly as possible, and saluted. "Staff Sergeant Valanta Allyss-daughter, of Cavalry Squadron Four, Sir!"

"What...you're here...and…" He grunted as his wound throbbed, then he passed out. The soldiers around them gave soft exclamations of surprise and fear.

"Who is next in command?" "What do we do?" "We're dead!"

Valanta looked at the group around them, and realised: of the people here, she was of the highest rank. The responsibility was hers to--

Anteria pushed forward into the center of the group. "Shut up, all of you. We will not be afraid, not here in enemy territory. We must move fast. You three, check your friends' bodies, see if any of them are still alive. We will prioritize them first."

"First for what?"

Valanta realized what Anteria had in mind even before Anteria said it. "Getting them on our horses. You five" --Anteria pointed to them-- "watch the perimeter, let us know the moment you see the enemy regrouping on our position. We'll have only a few seconds to ride out of here."

The soldiers all looked at Valanta (who was of higher rank than Anteria), and she raised her hands in confusion.

"What in User's name are you waiting for?! Do as she says! NOW!"

The soldiers hopped to, and looked for any survivors. Two of the bodies were dead, the rest were unconscious. In the end, each of the sixteen horses had a rider, and several also had a semi-conscious or unconscious soldier slung hastily over the back.

"Sergeant! They're regrouping! Over there!"

"Wait! The dead bodies! What do we do? We should bring them back for burial!"

Anteria, still on the ground, curled her face in regret. "We have to leave them. There's no time." She rushed to the two bodies, and made sure each one had their swords firmly clasped in their hands. She kissed the first two fingers on her hand, and touched the hands of the two soldiers. Having consecrated the bodies, she leapt up onto her horse, and nodded to Valanta.

"Men! HYAHH!"

At Valanta's command, the group set off at a gallop, leaving the open clearing behind with moments to spare.

...Present…

Valanta was shoved into her dark cell: a windowless room with four solid sides, and an iron door in the front. A single cot was on the back wall.

She could not stop her momentum from the guard's shove. She stumbled into the back wall, and fell, hard, against the cold stone floor. The pain from her wounds was now magnified by the cold in the cell, which came from the back wall of the cell, from the bitter cold of the Ice Hills just outside it. After three weeks of torture, her once sturdy leather clothes had burned through in several places, providing little defense against the cold.

After a few seconds of laying on the floor, she pushed herself up. "Uuuunnnhhhhh," she groaned as her muscles cramped in protest, and she only managed to get to a half-sitting, half-laying position against the wall.

She lay there on the floor, barely breathing. She felt like she was close to death, but that did not worry her. On the contrary, she was glad. She felt a few more torture sessions like that would truly finish her ordeal.

The door opened, and she barely reacted, though she knew who it was. The Red Spearton walked in, wearing his ever present red garb and face veil. He carried a wool blanket and a bucket of cool water. He sealed the door behind him.

She looked at him with a cold expression, and did nothing as he set the bucket and blanket down next to her. He went to the other end of the cell, and slumped down against the wall, mirroring her posture.

After a bit, she relented, and began pouring the water over her burns. The water helped soothe the pain for now, but she knew it would do nothing to help her in the next session. She finished by drinking a bit of the water, and then kicked the bucket away firmly, sending it toppling on its side, splashing the Crimson Spearton with water. She covered herself with the blanket, both to help her burns and to preserve her modesty--her clothes burned through as they were.

The Spearton did not care that she splashed him. Instead, he just looked into her eyes, and she looked into his, and they were silent for a time: mirror images of one another, as if they were BOTH imprisoned here.

Then, he spoke. "What is with you? You have managed to avoid even THINKING about the stone, for three weeks. How? Why?"

She didn't answer.

"...you need to give up now. I mean it. Now."

She frowned. "You'd sure like that, wouldn't you? You'd get to watch Inamorta burn to the ground...what did those people ever do to you?! Why do you obey her?"

He glared at her. "Can you not tell that I am one of the few people in her employ that enjoys NONE of this?...but I have no choice. She has me under her control."

"That's a lie. That's a pure lie. She can't break you. I know, because she can't seem to break me."

"That's because she isn't trying, and because you are far stronger than I am...than I was."

She scoffed. "So...what? She has you under mind control, and she has you bringing me this blanket? That's not like her. You're a liar. Just go away."

He looked at her, and she saw his face mixed with a mixture of anger and sadness. He got up, abruptly, and unlocked the door. Before he left, he looked over his shoulder back at her.

"Not mind control...worse. What she has planned next for you...is worse. Worse than torture. I've wielded the brand to try and break you before it comes to that. But nothing I can do will break you...so I won't do it. Not anymore. I hate it."

She heard the true sadness in his voice, and for a moment, she wondered if...no. It was all a ruse. "I don't care what she has planned for me. I'm not talking, I'm never serving her goals."

He reached down, and brushed his hand against his stomach, as if feeling a scar through his clothes.

"I...I felt the same way…everyone has a breaking point, Valanta. Once you reach it, you are never the same again." That said, he left the room.

----

About an hour later, the door opened to her cell, and a guard forced her to get up. Once they had her restrained, they led her down the hallway. As they neared the door to the kitchen, to the torture chamber, Valanta considered fighting, trying to break free before they reached the room. But, she realized, she had better save her strength for whatever torture--

The guards led her past the room.

Confused, she looked back at the door, and saw, in the darkness, the Crimson Spearton, watching her from a distance.

Then, she was led into a stairwell, one that led upward, into the central tower of the fortress. After some time, they came to a door.

For some reason, Valanta felt an extra sense of dread at all this. She fought, weakly, against the soldiers, but she was too injured from torture to offer any real resistance as they uncuffed her hands, and pushed her into the room.

Valanta's eyes widened in surprise at what she saw.

Chapter Eight: Knowledge...is Power

The room, unlike every other room in this castle, was brightly lit, so Valanta's eyes took some time to adjust. The light was coming from a small, glass chandelier that hung from the ceiling, and from various candlesticks at the edge of the room. A soft, circular rug covered the floor around a small bed: a real bed, not a prison cot. A cabinet over on Valanta's left had a small bowl of various fruits, and a vanity mirror mounted on the top of it.

At the far edge of the room, a dark opening led out to a balcony, one that had a view of the Icy Hills, and the sunset behind them. It was the first time Valanta had seen light--true sunlight--in weeks.

The floor directly surrounding Valanta was soft, and warm. Valanta looked down, and saw that she was standing in a basin full of dirt: fertile dirt that supported a lush garden of flowers that were more beautiful than anything Valanta had seen.

In the very center of the room, a small, wooden table stood. On the table, was a beautifully decorated box, lined with purple and green metal vines, with two handles on either side. Valanta realised that the box was the same box that Valanta saw Medusa carry into her torture chamber the first time, weeks ago.

Despite the box's aesthetic beauty, and the beauty of the room around it, Valanta felt certain, somehow, that that box was out of place: it belonged more in her torture chamber than it did in here.

"Beautiful...isn't it?"

Valanta flinched slightly: Medusa had apparated right behind her. Valanta forced herself to calm down. "What...what is?"

"That box...and what it represents." Like a lioness, Medusa prowled around Valanta, her voice soft, and intoxicating. "More beautiful than anything else in this shoddy place, for that box is knowledge embodied….do you know what knowledge is?"

Valanta was confused. "What?! What do you mean?"

"Knowledge is sacred. Knowledge controls the fate of everyone, even myself. Knowledge is beautiful, ohh...so TRAGICALLY beautiful. Knowledge is the best, the most good thing that exists, for within it, lies the information to save lives, destroy evil...and heal all wounds."

Valanta flinched as the wounds in her body started tingling, and itching. She looked, and realized that they were being healed.

Medusa chuckled. "Oh, dearest…I couldn't STAND it if you weren't at your strongest for what's coming...and neither could your friend."

Medusa gestured to the open balcony, where Valanta could now see a figure, holding a standard Meric's staff. The figure was shrouded in silhouette of the setting sun behind it.

Medusa walked to the center of the room, towards the green and purple box. She opened it, slowly, deliberately, as if her actions were part of an ancient ritual.

A green glow emanated from inside the box, and the snakes on Medusa's head reacted instantly, fanning out of Medusa's hood, staring at the box's contents with great intent. Medusa reached in to the box, and pulled out the blade within it.

The Blade of Knowledge

Valanta looked at the blade. It was the same amethyst purple as the box it came from, with tints of blue along its edge. Surrounding the blade was a green aura, and emerald bolts of energy shot along its length.

While Valanta was mesmerized by the blade, the dirt at her feet began to shake. A hand shot out of the ground, grabbing her ankle! Another hand came up to grab her other ankle, and the ground to the left and right of Valanta began to shift as well. Up from the ground came two….things. They were monsters, zombies. Each had horrific, fatal wounds in their gut, and their eyes glowed the same yellow as Medusa's eyes. They grabbed Valanta's arms, holding her in place.

Medusa turned to Valanta, holding the blade at her eye level. "A potent craft of the Soul-stealing tribe. A standard vampire's blade, on its own: originally designed to steal life force from its victims. But" Medusa pointed to the moving green bolts of energy on the blade "it's been altered to extract something else. For this...THIS is the Blade of Knowledge."

Medusa approached Valanta, still holding the hypnotic blade at Valanta's eye level. "And, more than sacred, beautiful, or good...do you know what knowledge is?"

Valanta did not answer.

"Knowledge...is POWER!"

Medusa plunged the blade into Valanta's gut, and Valanta flinched. Looking down, she saw the green tendrils of energy now touching her body, and felt the blade within her. The blade was not painful...it was cold.

"Come on out, friend," Medusa said, not taking her eyes off Valanta.

The figure holding the Meric staff stepped inside, and Valanta stared, aghast. For the figure holding the staff...was Anteria!

Anteria moved towards Val: slowly, her movements stunted by the wound in her chest, the same wound Val saw on her last time. Her left arm hung limply at her side, where it had been broken by the force of the explosion that had ended her life, a month ago. Other than those two places, Anteria's armor was still pristine.

Val looked in utter horror at the corpse standing before her. She was exactly as Val had seen her last, her wounds still bleeding. The only difference was that her eyes were more alive than they had ever been, staring deep into Val's soul.

"My...friend. Why do you fight? Let go of your fear."

"No…" said Val, tears flowing from her eyes. "You're not….you're not real. This isn't happening!"

"But it IS, Valanta. I am here...we are here together." Anteria came close, and Medusa stepped out of her way, leaving the Blade still in Valanta's stomach. Anteria stuck the Meric staff in her hand into the ground, and placed her hand on Val's shoulder.

"You blame yourself for my death...you sent me to the right side of the line...if not for that, I'd still be alive, Valanta."

"No...NO!"

"If not for your decision, I'd still be alive!" Val shivered: Anteria echoed the same thing Val had told herself every day since Anteria died.

"NO!!"

"IF NOT FOR YOU, I'D STILL BE ALIVE!"

Val was reduced to tears. She no longer even felt the blade in her gut, or the zombies holding her in place, or anything else. It all paled in comparison to THE ultimate pain, the Knowledge of what she had done, what she had blamed herself for this whole time. She couldn't even look Anteria in the eye as she said it.

"It...it should have been me…"

Anteria smiled sadly, and lifted Val's chin, so they were eye to eye.

"But you can FIX it, Valanta. Right here...right now. You can save me...you can save yourself...you can save EVERYONE. All you have to do... is tell me."

Val felt something change within her soul: she wanted, so BADLY, to tell Anteria. She could not stop herself. She looked into Anteria's eyes.

"The...the Hedronal Stone...is--"

Val looked past Anteria's smiling face, and saw a ghost: a full image of a person, watching her. Val stared: it was the faded ghost of Anteria! It was the REAL Anteria, looking at her with an expression of desperate conviction, as if she had been trying to get through to her, and only just succeeded. The ghost mouthed the word, "Don't."

The Sould Is Not the Flesh

Valanta looked back at the other Anteria, the flesh one, and her heart filled with an unspeakable, utter despair.

"NOOOOOO!"

With a savage pull, the flesh Anteria yanked the Blade of Knowledge out of Valanta's gut, and Valanta fell to the ground. The other zombies backed away, and Anteria walked over to Medusa, holding out the blade for Medusa to take.

Valanta lay on her side, feeling for the wound that should have been in her gut...but it was not there. The only thing that was there was a bump: a ridged scar just above her navel. There wasn't even a hole in the shirt, where the blade had pierced it.

Medusa grinned. "Finally. The knowledge is now mine." She gripped the handle of the blade. "The Key of Elimas is…not in any vault of Ordor. Monarch [Playername] saw fit to keep it themself, to safeguard it...your precious girl broke, General. What you could not do in nearly a month, I did in four minutes!"

Valanta realised that the Crimson Spearton had entered the room while all this was happening, with two guards.

Medusa looked down at the blade. "And yet...something is missing." She reached her hand out to the blade's crossguard, where the green orb of knowledge sat. "Valanta KNOWS where exactly the Monarch keeps it on them, but before she could say it…" Medusa frowned. "...something intervened."

The Crimson Spearton looked at Medusa. "What did?"

"Something...hidden from me, that was not hidden to her. I do not know."

The Crimson Spearton looked down at Valanta, laying, as if in pain, on the floor. "What does this mean?"

Medusa thought about it, about whatever had just blocked her from gaining full knowledge. Then she shrugged.

"Meh. It matters little whether [Playername] keeps it in their left pocket or their right. All that matters is that they have the Key. Ready your forces to move out by morning ...Crimson Spearton...heh, that's what she calls you…" Medusa looked at the blade and chuckled. "I kinda like it."

The Crimson Spearton looked at Valanta again. "And her?"

"I have a feeling whatever blocked her from revealing the whole truth will keep her from serving me fully, as you do...execute her. She is of no further use to us alive."

The guards grabbed Valanta and dragged her out the door. The Crimson Spearton tried to look Valanta in the eye, but her head was bent low, her hair obscuring her face.

The door shut behind them, Medusa walked out on the balcony, looking towards the west, where the sunset had now finished, giving way to twilight.

The Crimson Spearton thought for a moment, then walked out to Medusa. "My lady...if I might suggest...we keep her alive."

Medusa looked at the Crimson Spearton intently. "Why?"

"She could be useful to me...one last time. I crave revenge against Ordor, but more than that, I crave vengeance against one person in particular."

Medusa nodded, thoughtfully. "[Playername]."

The Crimson Spearton nodded. "[Playername]. I want to face him/her. Alone."

Medusa frowned. "It will be nigh on impossible to get him/her alone."

"They will...for me. And for her," he said, pointing where they had taken Valanta. "I can use her as a bargaining chip."

Medusa thought for a moment, then handed the Crimson Spearton the Blade of Knowledge. "Very well...do with Valanta as you wish."

The Crimson Spearton bowed. "Thank you, my lady." He walked back inside, but before he got there, Medusa called to him over her shoulder.

"I know you're mainly doing this for her. You know that, don't you?"

The Crimson Spearton nodded. "Of course." That said, he left the balcony.

Chapter Nine: The Blade of Knowledge

Like they did every time, the guards shoved Valanta into her cell. This time, she had the strength to stop her momentum.

She didn't hear the door close behind her. She didn't hear the noise of the door locking behind her.

If not for you, I'd still be alive.

She fell to her knees, clutching her stomach. The scar tingled with a deep pain, she felt like it had wounded her soul.

If not for you, I'd still be alive.

She heard it as a whisper, something in the back of her mind. She was surrounded by the whispers, the voices that accused her, feeding the storm within her soul.

"If not for me…"

On top of her guilt over her friend's death, she also felt shame at what had just happened. After so long, she had broken. It was all over. The Fate of Inamorta now rested in the hands of Medusa.

She slumped against the wall, her will shattered. Nothing really mattered to her anymore. Soon, they would come for her, and execute her. Her pain, her numbness, it would all be ended in a few short hours.

She tried, hard, to think of one positive thing, like in the past few weeks. She realized there had only ever been one thing: the visits from the Crimson Spearton. Even if they were part of the ruse, she realized that some part of her had looked forward to it, though she wasn't sure why. But even that was gone. Now that she had broken, he had no reason to--

The lock moved again, as someone unlocked it from the other side. The Crimson Spearton came through, and shut the door behind him.

She sighed. So this is it, she thought.

The Crimson Spearton took off his red cape, and draped it over her. The warmth came from it again, driving away the cold. Valanta looked at the cape, and then at him.

They Are Much the Same

Valanta realized his kindness towards her was not a ruse. It never had been. And it was this realization, and her remembering his warning, and how she had rebuffed him, that finally pushed her over the edge. Heart wrenching sobs came over her, her misery pouring forth like an avalanche. He sat down next to her, and offered his shoulder to cry on for a while.

"So now you know."

Valanta looked up at him. "...now I know...You were right: that was worse than anything...I…"

The Spearton nodded. "I wish I could tell you the pain fades...but it doesn't."

Valanta rubbed her eyes. "...it happened to you, didn't it? She did it to you."

The Crimson Spearton paused, and he had tears in his eyes as well. "Yes...so long ago...and STILL I feel the scar." He took her hand, and allowed her to feel his stomach through his shirt. He had a scar, a bump just like hers.

"What was their name?"

"Theostenes…my best friend...he was a strong man, stronger than I...you remind me of him a bit."

They held hands for a bit, then he asked. "What was her name?"

"Huh?"

"Your friend...the one I saw you give rites to, the one Medusa used against you...I never learned her name."

"Oh...Anteria."

"Could you tell me about her?"

So she did. She told him about Anteria's kind, thoughtful nature, how she was fearless in battle, and how capable she was. She also talked about what had held her back.

"I feel like, sometimes, she was discriminated against, because of her race. She was just as capable as I, sometimes even more so. She took charge in situations I wasn't prepared for, and learned, along with me, the same principles of command of a General...yet I was consistently promoted before her."

The Spearton shook his head. "That isn't right."

"No...it's not. I always worried she had resented me for it...but I don't think she did. It wasn't in her character. She was my best friend...she trusted me with her Fadhawa ribbon, so long ago."

"The one you used on her...she gave it to you?" Valanta nodded. "...YOU'RE not Fadhawa!"

Valanta nodded. "No...I never really understood it, why a little piece of silk mattered at all...what use could it be to a dead person?...but it does. Somehow it does matter. I know that now."

"Why DID you keep the ribbon for her, if you didn't believe in it?"

Valanta sniffled, wiping her face. "I….I don't know...I guess it became a token of our friendship, and something that gave me reassurance when I needed it. When she died though….I needed peace.

The Spearton looked at her. "Have you found peace?"

"No….I don't think I will EVER find it...if she had been promoted before me, it would have been ME that died…" Valanta teared up again. "She died in my arms...that, and the knowledge that she died because of me...it HURTS...that knowledge, that guilt, feels like…"

The Spearton nodded. "Like a blade, in your gut."

"Yeah…."

The Spearton felt his scar; he was tearing up as well. "The Blade of Knowledge...it will be something you live with forever."

"Not for very long...I die in a few hours."

"No," the Spearton said. "I negotiated with Medusa to let you live...I could not bear to see her kill you and use your body as...as a zombie."

"Oh...thank you."

"But that doesn't even matter does it?" He said. "She'll kill you all whether I want her to or not."

"We can't let her do that to Inamorta...we have to fight her, somehow."

For the first time, he pulled away from her a bit. "We? There IS no fighting her, Valanta… it's over."

She looked at him. "Why do you say that? It's never over."

"With Medusa, it is. It's over for me. For you. I am bound by her, and I will serve her forever."

"You only serve her by your choice. Don't make that excuse. Together, we can--"

The Crimson Spearton looked at her, and she realized that he was angry. He abruptly got up, wrenching the red cape away from her, muttering to himself. Confused at this sudden anger, she started to get up as he walked towards the door. "What-"

He turned on her. "Excuse? EXCUSE?! I really thought you, of all people, would sympathize with me, Valanta, now that you experienced the same hurt I did! But I see now you never could. You could NEVER feel the same hurt I did."

"But I didn't--"

"Just stop, Valanta, and listen. Think about the hurt you've been through, and the pain you feel right now. Now imagine how I feel when I've lived with that for nearly two hundred years! And all that while, Ordor prospers! Ordor forgets you! All its people, even those you considered your best FRIENDS, just leave you for dead! Theo DIED because of them, Valanta! I am lost, because of them!"

Valanta shot back. "Because of who?! A little kid on the farm in the middle of NOWHERE? Because of ANYBODY who had NO part in what happened to you? That's why you serve Medusa?"

"You don't GET it! I have no choice! Medusa controls everything: nothing I do is without her approval. The only reason I'm even able to meet with you is because, in the grand scheme of things, she doesn't even care! And even if I could resist her, I don't WANT to stop! I don't WANT to resist Medusa! Ordor DESERVES what's coming to it! It deserves to burn in HELL for every evil committed in its name!"

"Evil?! Your master is evil! Whatever sword of justice she claims to bring on Inamorta is a LIE, and you know it! I know, deep down, you do, and still you serve her! You serve evil. If Theo only saw you now--"

He struck her in the face. Hard. She fell to the ground, holding her left cheek. She went too far, she realized.

The Crimson Spearton looked down at her, pure fury in his eyes. He trembled as he spoke.

"Don't lie to yourself. For a moment back there, you WANTED to tell Medusa. The only reason you are still able to resist Medusa is because of something so powerful, MEDUSA could not discern it when it intervened. Maybe it was the User, or a god. And in this grand battle of the gods, none of them saw fit to save ME, or save Theo."

"I'm sorry--"

"No you're not. Your sense of freaking PATRIOTISM somehow prevents you from feeling sorry for your enemies. I had that once, but it's gone. Your sense of duty, the sense I once had: neither Ordor, nor its people, nor even [PLAYERNAME] deserve it. So don't waste your time."

He threw the cape at the ground, and began to leave.

"I'm...I'm so sorry…"

He scoffed at her awkward pause. "Heh...You don't even know my name, Valanta… you never even asked."

----

Medusa watched, unnoticed, from the dark corner of the cell as the Crimson Spearton slammed the door behind him. She saw Valanta look at the cape, and watched her kneel down next to it.

Valanta's sorrow and regret had no words, no tears. She took the cape off the floor, folded it, and placed it on the cot at the back of the cell. She curled up into a ball next to the cot, completely gone.

Medusa looked in contempt at Valanta. She genuinely did not understand why she had hurt the Crimson Spearton the way she did.

Silently, without a trace, she vanished from the room, and re-apparated in her room, the room at the top of the central tower. Anteria was still there, now standing out on the balcony, but the other zombies had returned to lie in the dirt of the basin.

Medusa joined Anteria on the balcony. "She could never understand us, Anteria. She is a heartless, stubborn fool."

Anteria's living corpse did not respond.

"But we will show them...we will show them all." Raising her hand, Medusa cried out, "ACCERSENDA… TENEBRIS… MARROWKAI!"

The Marrowkai's Blade

A dark mist flowed out of the ground at their feet, and formed into a solid shape in Medusa's hand. With a puff, the mist dissipated, revealing a dark staff: a straight, cold line of pitch black. At its tip, a sideways blade extended in a circular arc. The steel was sharp, and pristine as the moon.

Medusa handed the scythe to Anteria. She spoke in a host of voices, the snakes on her head joining in. "We entrust you, Anteria, with the power to raise the dead, and to lord over them, as we do. Bear it well."

Anteria took the scythe in her hand. "I hear and obey, O Queen. What is thy first command?"

"You will help reap the harvest." She raised her hands again, and proclaimed, "ACCERSENDA… TENEBRIS… ECLIPSOR!"

The mist returned, this time forming a much larger shape right next to them. This time, it was a man, with a huge, hunch-backed hooded robe, much like Medusa's.

Medusa looked at the man. "It is time."

The man bowed. "At long last...what is my task?"

"Our friend needs a ride."

The man, with a gleaming grin of joy, threw off his cloak. Instead of a large humped back, his robe actually hid two huge, bat-like wings that stretched nearly five meters from tip to tip. The man took hold of Anteria, and saluted Medusa, before taking off from the summit, flying south over the Icy Mountains.

----

Chapter Ten: The Eve of War

The messenger rode through the city at a frantic pace. "Out of the way! Out of the way!" The citizens of the Exchange got out of the way as quickly as possible.

The messenger finally left the city's edge, and urged his horse to greater speed on the open ground outside, straight towards the army camp outside of it.

----

"Pack your things, people! We move out now! Get going! Get going! Go go GO!"

Chessler and David quickly packed their things, trying their hardest to be brave. They knew in a few short days, war would be joined.

"You kids will probably not see much battle," said a corporal packing the tent next to them.

"We won't?" David asked.

"Your class is not fully trained. There is still too much to teach you before you can fight on the front lines...but you might help with supplying our--"

"Never mind that. These children are coming with me."

They turned. Behind them, stood the Grand Mage, Elimas Magnus. He was leading two horses.

The corporal frowned. "Their whole cadre?"

"No...just Chessler and David. You can tell your sergeant that Elimas Magnus took them."

The soldier, nervously, asked. "You can't tell him? I need to have proof that they are accounted for."

"There is little time...deliver this message to your commanding officer." Elimas handed him a scroll. By this point, Chessler and David had packed their things. The corporal took a quick glance over the scroll's contents, then nodded.

"This will do…boys, leave your tents there, someone will get them...good luck."

----

The Map

[Playername] looked at the map table, and at the information newly displayed on it. Cromnt stood opposite him/her, eying the table thoughtfully. Around them, there was a flurry of activity as their staff hurriedly packed up the things in the pavilion.

[Playername] sighed. "Ugh...my legion has not been assembled in time."

General Cromnt shook his head. "Don't beat yourself up. You got a half legion prepped in record time, and you have the Magikill with us." The Magikill had arrived at the Exchange from their province, about a hundred strong. "They will be telling in this battle ahead."

"But what about my legion? They won't be fully ready ANY time soon."

"But that's ok. We can use a half legion anyway." General Cromnt grabbed a croupier stick from the ground, and moved the piece representing Ordor's half assembled legion.

"While my Westwindr will have to put the bulk of our forces into defending the Fort, there is still reason to worry about our northern and southern border. Your half legion could arrive at the Exchange in a few days…"

[Playername] nodded. "Yes….from there they could help defend the north, south, or east of your nation."

"Do you feel confident that your defensive forces can hold Ordor?"

"Yes...but even so, I've moved the general populace to army camps around the country. Even in the worst case scenario, the people will be saved, even if we have to abandon cities."

"Hmm… and what of the giants? Their disappearance worries me."

The Monarch frowned. "There's nothing that can be done about that." A messenger came in, and nodded to the two of them. "It's time to move out. Have someone contact Elimas, will you? Advise him to stay away from this fight: if the enemy kills him, Inamorta falls."

"Oh...about that...he left already."

[Playername] was surprised. "Oh?"

"He left a few hours ago...and he took those two boys you introduced me to in Order."

"Chessler and David? What does he want with them?"

----

After three hours of gently walking their horses away from the city, through the plain of tall grass surrounding it, David couldn't stand it anymore.

"Where the heck are we going? Why are we so slow?"

Elimas laughed. "Because I know exactly when I need the three of you to arrive with me at Vantorra. I'm in no rush to get there. I should hope," the Mage said with a smile, "you aren't questioning my wisdom."

Chessler raised his hands in exasperation. "Well, we should've been taken with the army, and not on a leisurely stroll with--" He stopped, confused. "Wait...the THREE of us? There's only two of us."

"Heh...you certainly need to learn to count." The Mage then raised his voice to a yell. "Come on out! There is no need to hide from us!"

After a moment, the grass behind them, to their right, stirred. Out from the brush, came Isra, wearing her leather hunting jacket, and cloth leggings--the first attire they had seen her in.

Chessler and David frowned. "What are you doing here? Why are you hiding?"

Isra shyly put her hair behind her ear. "I had three choices: stay with the army, stay in the Exchange, or go with y'all. It really was the most logical choice…but I felt shy about asking him," she said, pointing to Elimas Magnus.

Elimas laughed. "My presence can often be intimidating...One thing you ought to know about me, my dear: never feel shy to ask me anything. You are more than welcome to join us….now that we have no need to slow down for her, let's ride!"

As Isra and David mounted their horse, Chessler looked briefly at Isra's wrists. Both of them had an archer's wrist guard, designed to protect the wearer from the whip of a bowstring. The fact that she had one on BOTH wrists meant she was an experienced archer, able to fire with either hand, and he thought about asking her why she didn't sign on with the army as an archer. Then he shrugged. It was her choice. He got on Elimas' horse, and they rode off at a much faster pace.

While they rode, Chessler thought to ask Elimas Magnus something. "Sir...earlier, you said you knew my father…that he had you watch me while I grew up."

Elimas nodded. "He wanted to make sure nothing terribly bad happened to you."

"But I was an orphan...why did he want that for me?"

Elimas took some time to answer; long enough to make Chessler wonder at it. "I do not know...I am not a mind reader."

"Really? You're not?" Chessler smiled. After more thought: "What about my mother? Did you know her?"

Elimas turned the horse slightly as the path curved towards the mountains. "No...I never met her."

Somehow, Elimas' statement felt wrong to Chessler, but he did not know why.

----

[Playername] called over to General Cromnt. "What do you think? Can your men keep going into the night?"

"After a brief rest...yes." General Cromnt did not show any signs of calling the rest. "What...you getting tired? We've only been marching for three days."

The Monarch smiled wryly. "Just you wait until you're as old as I…"

"Nah...I can just start waddling like you were today, and I'll already know what it's like." After the two laughed for a bit, General Cromnt asked. "[Playername]...I've seen your administration ability, and how quickly you've gotten the Magikill to join us. Your leadership should not be squandered this battle."

"Whatever you try to convince me otherwise, I intend to participate in this fight. I made that mistake once, and that was once too many." [Playername] looked at the men around them, mostly comprised of Westwindr, with a few mages. "They need to feel motivation; if I abandon them, it will feel hopeless for them...You intend to fight, do you not?"

General Cromnt nodded. "I admire your sense of duty, King/Queen. I shall see to it you are outfitted with good armor, then, for the battle."

"Thank you."

----

After several days of travel, Elimas, Chessler, Isra, and David arrived at the top of one of the Magikill Mountains, deep in the heart of Inamorta. The landscape around them was obscured in deep fog; if not for Elimas, they would have gotten lost.

"We're almost there. Dismount, let the horses rest." They walked through the mist, leading the horses across the plateau. They were surrounded by utter, tranquil quiet, as if the land was a temple of silence.

The Base of the Tower

Quite suddenly, they came up to a structure, surrounded by a wall of glass windows. Joining the windows were stout stone half-arches, standing roughly in a square, that all connected to a very thick cobblestone pillar. The pillar was immense, and tall enough to fade out of their sight in the fog, as they looked up.

They entered through a small door in the side of one of the arches. In the space under the arches, a hall of various experiments, artifacts, and relics filled the room.

In awe of the large room, and the things within it, Isra, David, and Chessler walked around the pillar, until they came up on a wall that blocked the hall. Into the wall, was recessed a little alcove, in which rested a Spearton's armor, helmet, shield, sword, and spear. All of the items were wrought in gleaming, resplendent gold.

"The legendary armor of the Golden Spearton." Elimas gestured to it.

David asked, "who was the Golden Spearton?"

"There have been a few, throughout history, that have taken the mantle of Golden Spearton...warriors of great honor, valiancy, and strength. The armor must choose you, before you can wear it. Go on, try and take it."

David walked up to the sword, and tried to lift it from its bracket. It refused to budge.

"It's enchanted?" The Grand Mage nodded. "Only if it chooses you…but what does the armor do?"

"The armor and shield does not break, and the spear will return to the thrower's hand after a few seconds. But, most importantly, the people of Westwind, Ordor, and all of Inamorta see the coming of the Golden Spearton as a sign of great hope… and someday, the Golden Armor will come of use...when all hope is lost, that hope will appear again."

"When?"

"Soon….very soon."

----

The Army Arrives at the Fort

At high noon, the seventh day, the Westwindr arrived at the Fort. Coming from the east, they could see the squat, stout Fort, at the crest of a great ridged hill. Unlike any other city in Inamorta, it was built solely for WAR.

And it was a good thing, too. A few miles to its north, lay the enemy, a few thousand strong. They were coming up the hill at the Fort, where [Playername] could see desperate defenders holding off the advancing army.

"Good thing those walls are protected against their Magikill...otherwise there'd be no city to arrive to."

Next to them, General Cromnt lowered his eyeglass, which he was using to look at the city. "Indeed… but the defenders are desperate. We need to attack now." With this, he began calling out orders to his subordinates, instructing the valleys to distribute extra water to the troops."

It was during this time that [Playername] received a shirt of chain mail, a beast plate, and armored greaves and bracers. In their left hand, a shield, bearing the crest of Ordor: a golden crown, surrounded by the sword of Swordwrath, the bow of Archidon, the staff of Magikill, and the spear of Spearta. In their right, [Playername]'s own trusty sword, wrought in gleaming bronze. On their head, the Crown of Ordor, so all could see it, and know the Monarch of Ordor stood for them, and with them.

By now, the enemy had disengaged from the city, having seen the Westwindr coming up on their flank. With scary precision and coordination, the front rank, closest to the Fort, dug into defensive positions, with trenches being built at lightning speed due to their magicians. While this was happening, the bulk of their force did an about face, and advanced down the hill toward them.

[Playername] looked on. "This is it."

General Cromnt nodded. "You have a speech planned?"

"No...you?"

"Nope," said Cromnt as he got up on a horse, and began trotting up and down the front line. And though stories of what exactly he said that fateful day would disagree, and confound historians, what he truly said would accomplish his goal: to motivate his men. And that's all that mattered.

In a booming voice, he spoke: "Men and Women of Westwind! Of Magikill! Of Ordor! All of you, my brothers and sisters! Today comes another day where we prove our bonds of unity, in the sheer, iron forge of battle. Today comes another enemy that would see our lands, our people, our families come crashing down! Today, Death herself comes for all that you hold dear. But I say to thee: THEY SHALL NOT PASS!"

"RAH!" proclaimed all of the Westwindr: a sharp, crisp shout, surprising the Magikill around them. [Playername] smiled. He/She knew the subtle motion Cromnt was making with his spear to signal the shout.

"This is not the first time an enemy has tried to destroy us. Like wolves in the dark, they seek to strike at us time and time again….And yet we stand! They would wish us flee in COWARDICE, leaving our brothers and sisters to die at their hand...And yet we stand! They bring a promise of Chaos to us, and to all who stand for justice and honor...AND YET WE STAND!"

"RAH!"

"For we stand not for the fate of any one nation, not for the fate of any one people. Today, we stand FIRM for the people of ALL our lands! For our families, and our friends, and for the comrades next to you! Today, we stand…

"...for the Fate of Inamorta!!"

We Stand for the Fate of Inamorta

He hefted his spear high, as the horse reared beneath him.

"RAAAHHHH!"

"RAAAHHHH!"

"RAAAHHHH!"

As one, the people, of lands united, charged straight at the enemy.

----

Chapter Eleven: The Battle of the Fort

From a window in a distant tower, overlooking the charging Westwind, the Crimson Spearton heard every word of the general's speech. He sneered at the words. He looked to the side, where the Eclipsor held Valanta, her hands bound before her, a rag tied over her mouth.

"I used to believe that sort of nonsense, you know." She would not look him in the eye, and the Crimson Spearton's sneer turned into a scowl. Whatever affection he had for her was gone.

"Should I send forth my Eclipsors, sir?"

Turning his attention away from his dark thoughts, the Spearton shook his head. "No...we will use them in a different way."

"But sir, they outnumber the forces down there!"

"Only slightly...strategy will be more important here. Send your fliers to the right side, and signal the right Swordwrath wing. I have an idea."

----

Westwind covered the open ground in a spearhead formation, and got to within 100 meters of the enemy shield wall. Behind the enemy, the sky darkened as a volley of arrows arched over the ground between the two hosts.

"SHIELDS!" cried General Cromnt, as did several officers along the front. The Speartons raised their shields to block the oncoming arrows, while the Magikill ducked under the shields of those next to them.

The arrows struck, and most of the Westwindr escaped harm, though a few cried out in pain. Meanwhile, the enemy before them had stopped, and their Magikill were at work, summoning Magispawn over and over again.

[Playername] pointed. "General! Look!"

"I see it!"

A swarm of Magispawn came out from between the shields of the enemy, who were still holding position. The Magikill of Ordor were at work, doing the same. But they would not be ready nearly in time, as the swarm got closer. General Cromnt called out from atop his horse, "BRACE!"

The front line interlocked their shields, each man using the hooks on each side to attach to the shields next to them. Many of the charging Magispawn were cut down by arrows, but many also made it through. The sheer momentum of the charge crashed headlong into the Westwindr's shield wall, and the Speartons were hard pressed to repel them.

Then, the line surged forward as the Magispawn of Ordor joined the fray. The mages controlled the actions of each Magispawn, and their coordination drove the enemy back, further away from the Westwindr, where those that remained were finally picked off by the Archidons.

"Westwindr! Line formation! Advance!"

The whole army moved forward at a walking pace, in step with one another. The wings moved at a faster pace then the center, flattening the spearhead into a straight line. As soon as the line was level, the center accelerated to a trot, the organized formation like an advancing tide.

----

Watching the battle from the tower, the Crimson Spearton smiled. Something about that perfectly coordinated maneuver was just pleasing to watch, even if it was an enemy's maneuver.

----

The two lines met, near the base of the sloping hill. Both sides pushed and shoved, and archers were pouring arrow after arrow at the support ranks of the other army.

Then, slowly, Westwind began to push the enemy further back. It was slow, step by step, but progress was being made.

[Playername] looked at the front with hope. Maybe, after all this worry, they could defeat the enemy here and now, and save the--

"GENERAL! THE LEFT! IT'S BUCKLING!"

"What?" General Cromnt turned his horse, and looked over in that direction, but he could not see clearly what was going on from this distance. "Defend the line! Don't let it buckle!"

But it was too late. The Swordwrath that the Crimson Spearton had signaled had done their job, and smashed the left side of the line. Even now, they were systematically taking out the soldiers over there, and any soldier had to either face left to repel them, or stay facing forward to fight off the main enemy force.

General Cromnt looked on, shocked. "How did they get there? They would've had to jump off the cliffs!"

[Playername] blocked an arrow with their shield. "They had to have had some lying in wait, that our scouts missed."

"Damn cunning, this Crimson Spearton is. We have to fall back. Regroup! Back and right! Move! MOVE!"

The Westwindr retreated, backwards and to their right, at an orderly walking pace: each soldier's shieldmate assisted the other in walking backward so their shields could stay facing forward as they did. The enemy responded immediately, straightening out their slightly crooked line, and advancing on them.

Cromnt swore. The precision with which the enemy was maneuvering meant that they were only foxing when they had lost ground to the Westwind line, in order to maneuver them into the ambush.

"[Playername]! We need time to prepare to repel them! Have your Magikill send out raiding parties of Magispawn. Slow them down!"

And so, for a few minutes, several large, fast moving swarms of Magispawn, controlled by the Magikill, went forth to harass the enemy as they closed in on the Westwindr. As they reorganized, it became painfully clear that the surprise attack had seriously wounded them: a lot of the platoons on the left were gone. Whereas they had a slight numbers advantage at the start, it was clear now that they were outnumbered.

"General, they broke the last raiding party!" The enemy had finished off a group of Magispawn with a volley of arrows, and were now advancing steadily at them.

"We should have done this sooner...SPEARTONS! Pila!"

As the General's command was echoed across the line by the various captains, the Westwindr in all ranks but the very first got ready their pila: short, throwing javelins that looked like large darts. The first rank stayed locked on to the enemy, and gave their projectiles to those behind them.

The enemy was closing. Fifty meters… fourty… thirty… and at twenty meters, Cromnt called out.

"SPEARTONS! LET FLY!"

The reaction was immediate, by both sides. The Westwindr hurled their projectiles at the advancing infantry, while the enemy quickly assumed a turtle formation with their shields. The weight of the heavy projectiles wounded several of the enemy, and their shields moved, giving some of the Archidons arrows an opening to wound the enemy, and disrupt their line.

The two lines met, for the second time, on that stretch of land. The shoving, and thrusting with spears, the screams of the wounded. All of it melded into a brutal few minutes of fighting for every inch of ground.

Then, slowly, the Westwindr were losing ground. The enemy was too numerous now. They pushed them back, further and further away from the Fort, treading over the bodies of Westwindr in their way.

[Playername] saw a gap form in the line near them, as an enemy Swordwrath broke through, and was hacking side to side at the Westwindr. Without hesitation, he/she bolted forward, clashing with the enemy soldier. They traded blows for a few seconds, then the Monarch slew the man with a slash to the heart.

A Magikill in front of them aimed his staff at the Monarch, and the explosion made the Monarch flinch: even though they were protected against those explosions by their own magicians, the sound and flash startled the Monarch. And that moment, where their concentration slipped, was costly, as a spear came out of nowhere, hitting the Monarch in the left arm, close to the shoulder.

"Aaahh!" Groaned the Monarch, as he/she felt the wound. Around the Monarch, the battle was going just as badly, as friendly Speartons pulled the Monarch back. The line was crumbling in several places; it looked as if it would turn into a full rout in a few minutes.

Thud.

The battle stopped for a moment as the ground shook beneath the combatants. The Westwindr looked for the source of the noise, it seemed to be coming from behind them.

Thud.

[Playername] looked back in despair, knowing the enemy had some other trick up their sleeves. Whatever was causing that noise would soon crush them.

Thud.

"Ranks! Split by regiment! Now!"

[Playername] looked over to where General Cromnt was still on his horse, looking backwards towards the source of the noise. Strangely, General Cromnt's facial expression was not one of despair, but of surprise, and awe. But Monarch [Playername] had no time to think, as the friendly soldier holding him/her quickly moved left, creating a gap between them and the soldiers that had been standing a few meters to their right.

Thud...Thud… THUD. The noise accelerated in pace as the noise drew closer and closer. Over the heads of the Westwindr, [Playername] finally saw them.

A full wrecking crew of Giants!

The giants plowed into the enemy forces, dashing them aside left and right with their huge clubs. The Westwindr cheered as the enemy fled in terror, completely shattered by the charge.

And then, came their leader. Griffon the Great: a massive, powerful man with a club the size of a battering ram, and a flail shaped like a dead body. He roared with the might of a lion, and stomped the ground, sending a rolling earthquake after the retreating enemy.

[Playername] and General Cromnt met up with the Giant King as the army advanced. [Playername] laughed. "Where were you? You missed a lot of the fun!"

The Giant smiled. "North… trouble…. bandits. Crush them quickly, come fight for Ordor...sorry we late."

Cromnt smiled at Griffon. "No, you saved us. Now let's break through their left side. Get any wounded through to the Fort, so we can heal them."

[Playername] held their wounded arm. "Yeah...that would be nice."

----

The Crimson Spearton watched from the tower as his forces fell back, from the fearsome giants. The way was now open for Westwind to take the hill, and repel his own forces.

He wasn't angry. This was to be expected. His forces would not win the day today, but they would nonetheless strike a heavy blow that would doom Inamorta to utter destruction.

And besides, he still had a few tricks up his sleeves. The battle was not lost yet.

"General! The Magikill are signaling...the Monarch was wounded."

That piece of information made the Crimson Spearton smile. "Just as planned." He walked away from the window, towards a door in the back of the tower. Opening it, he came out...onto a section of the wall protecting the Fort.

"[Playername] will be coming...straight to us."

----

Chapter Twelve: Revelation

The Westwindr, with the might of the giants with them, easily crushed through the line of trenches in front of the Fort. The enemy line regrouped with precision on the western side of the hill, setting up a defensive formation further down the hill.

Cromnt and [Playername] made it up the hill to the end of the bridge, [Playername] still nursing their wound in their left upper arm. [Playername] looked downhill, towards where the enemy was regrouping.

"You think you can handle them for a bit?"

General Cromnt nodded. "I hope so...we have to really keep on a lookout for any tricks the Crimson Spearton has for us."

Again, [Playername] recalled the unsettling feeling that the Crimson Spearton's strategies, the way he organized and commanded his forces, was very familiar. But then [Playername] shook their head. It mattered little.

They arrived at the edge of the land bridge. Before them, the drawbridge stood, still standing upright, blocking their way. Below them, the Chasm Deep bore deep down into the earth, its bottom too distant and shrouded by shadow to see. Around them, lay sections of the Fort's wall, designed to harass any would be siegers on the whole bridge.

"General, I want that force eliminated. Slain to the last man. Inamorta will be all the safer if you do."

"Of course." General Cromnt waved his hand at the people on the wall, signalling for the drawbridge to be lowered. "And their commander?"

"Do what you see fit with him, when you find him. If we capture him, we might find out what else Medusa is planning. If we kill him, we send her a message that her puppets will never succeed. Either option will work."

"Indeed." General Cromnt looked up, as the massive drawbridge began to creak downward. "If we capture him, we could eventually accomplish--"

A loud crack sounded, from their left and their right. They looked at the sections of wall guarding the bridge, and their eyes widened. Each wall had exploded, the hidden demolition bombs having been activated. That could only mean--

"General Cromnt, the enemy somehow got right up to the west wall."

Cromnt nodded, in thought. "The only way for those towers to have been destroyed is if our defenders decided they risked losing them to the enemy, and triggered the demolition explosives." He looked up at the drawbridge, which was lowering at a slightly faster pace. "You need to get inside, [Playername]. Get the wounded inside, and get them healed as fast as possible to reinforce me. Your wounded Magikill will find strong vantage points on our walls, I think." He started to get on his horse to gallop off, but [Playername] stopped him.

"You…" [Playername] stopped, awkwardly. Present on his/her mind was the fact that, with the uncertainty of war, it was no guarantee that he/she would see Cromnt again. Over the past month, [Playername] had become good friends with the Westwind General. At last, [Playername] said. "....good hunting...friend."

Cromnt and Playername

General Cromnt understood [Playername]'s thought process, and shook the Monarch's hand. "You too...friend." With that, he swept away on his horse, calling his men into formation behind him, galloping left to the west wall.

[Playername] looked after him, and then turned, watching the drawbridge come down. When it lowered all the way, he/she stepped forward, then gasped.

There before him/her, were three people, suddenly revealed by the opened drawbridge. One was a man [Playername] had never seen before, bearing the giant, pitch black wings and bow of an Eclipsor. The second was Valanta, bound with her hands before her.

And the third person, holding Valanta firmly, with a sword at Valanta's throat, stood the Crimson Spearton.

----

General Cromnt veered left, towards the western wall of the city. Now that he could see more clearly, it was true: the enemy HAD again managed to move up the hill, much closer to the walls of the Fort.

He reunited with his command circle, a group of lieutenants that were helping command the battle. Near them, was also Griffon, the Great Giant, looking square at the enemy. The whole host of Westwindr, Magikill, and giants were paused, some distance from the enemy.

General Cromnt reined in his horse. "What's happening?"

A lieutenant answered. "Commander. Another of their mages has emerged. She is more powerful than the rest, so we have to keep our distance…she says she wishes to speak to you."

"A female mage...is it Medusa?"

"No...from this distance, she looks like a Marrowkai."

General Cromnt looked across the distance, to where the figure stood, a few meters ahead of her host. "Well then...if she must parley, then she must parley."

Cromnt and the Marrowkai

General Cromnt rode forward, past the line of Westwindr. He called out. "What is your purpose, witch?"

The Marrowkai stared at Cromnt. Even though the distance between them was still around fifty meters, when she spoke, it was as if she was right in front of Cromnt, speaking at a normal volume.

"I wish to end it, Westwind Commander. I wish to end the suffering of your forces, and of my master's. Let the outcome of today be decided by a duel. Win, and my forces will surrender. Lose, and they will claim victory. You will face me, our strongest warrior...to the death."

General Cromnt scoffed. "Heh...not likely, demon. You are utterly defeated. Your force is crushed, and with the might of all of Inamorta pitted against you, you have no hope of victory."

The Marrowkai smiled: an evil, malicious smile that stretched unnaturally far across her face. "Oh...do I?" She stomped her staff twice into the ground.

Immediately, a swarm of fliers took to the air from behind the enemy, from below the edge of the cliffs. They hovered behind the enemy, like gigantic bats. All of them had bows, at the ready.

The Marrowkai continued. "You see, General, that I still have the might to withstand you. Oh, sure, your forces could win eventually, and cast us all down onto the mountainside… but the cost… how much would it cost, Cromnt?"

General Cromnt looked at the soldiers around him, and at the swarm of Eclipsors hovering over the enemy. He swore to himself….the Marrowkai had called him out: if he refused the duel, he could still win the battle, but lose so many of his own in the process. If he cared about the lives of his men, he would try, at least try, to gamble on this, and hope that the enemy were true to their honor. And if they weren't...Westwind wouldn't be any worse off.

Looking back, he saw his lieutenants, his trusted officers. Each and every one of them, he had mentored, and raised them to their level of ability. He felt confident in those men and women. If Cromnt met his end, they would be able to handle the command. And it was this confidence that decided it for him.

Looking in their faces, one by one, he nodded in affirmation, letting them all know his utter confidence in them. Then he dismounted his horse, and hefted his spear and shield.

"What is your name, Marrowkai?"

She smiled. "Anteria."

Cromnt nodded. "Very well, Anteria...I accept your challenge."

----

"Valanta! You're here...what…?"

"[PLAYERNAME]!" cried the Crimson Spearton. He shoved Valanta to the ground, and she fell with a yell as she hit the hard floor. [Playername] made as if to rush to her, but stopped. The Eclipsor standing next to the Crimson Spearton had drawn his bow threateningly.

"[Playername]...you will face me. Right here...right now."

[Playername] frowned. "Or what?"

"Or she dies." The Crimson Spearton motioned, and the Eclipsor aimed his bow at Valanta, who was getting up on her knees, her hair obscuring her face.

[Playername] held their hands forward in a pleading gesture. "Don't...please…please, at least let the men get healed in the Fort."

"Not gonna happen, [Playername]. I've waited too long for this."

[Playername] frowned angrily. "If you're so desperate for this, you'll grant them my wish."

The Crimson Spearton sneered cruelly at the Monarch. "So touching that you care about your men now...that didn't use to be the case. You order your men around like a puppet master, and they die because you send them to battle. And for what? For an Empire that forgets their sacrifice? For an Empire of blood, of death...for the two hundred years of Ordor's existence, it has been built on nothing but the blood of those you conquered, and of the people you sent to wage your war….people like me."

That last sentence hit [Playername] in the stomach….all this time, he/she thought the Crimson Spearton was an enemy that Ordor had faced before, but now...all those brilliant strategies the Crimson Spearton used, everything else about him...it all made sense. It was familiar, because the Red Spearton was of Ordor.

The Monarch looked at the Crimson Spearton, and had a sinking feeling. "Who are you?"

"What...you don't recognize me?"

The Spearton sheathed his sword, and with both hands, took off his helmet. There, standing before [Playername], was…..

Atreyos the Spearton

Atreyos the Spearton.

Chapter Thirteen: Vengeance

[Playername] would be dumbfounded. After a moment, you wave the wounded that are with you back. "Get back!"

They move away, leaving you to face the Crimson Spearton alone.

You rest your hand on your sword, still in its sheath. "Why, Atreyos?"

"Because of you, [Playername]….you sent me with the Fourth Cohort that day."

"A hundred and ninety years is a long time to hold a grudge."

"It's a long time, indeed...to walk these lands, unnoticed, for everyone to think you dead...a long time for the loyalty I once had for you to be slowly melted away… but not a lot of time for them to forget me...oh, they remember you for a bit, [Playername], but then your sacrifice...the blood spilt to defend Ordor...is written over by the blood of new heroes...of new martyrs…" Atreyos paces sideways, back and forth, his volume raised, at times, to a manic shout. "And you...you ordered me into that battle. The one where I WATCHED... My best friend DIE...right in front of me! And for WHAT? For an Empire that must keep consuming lives to continue existing?"

You're too shattered by all this to raise your voice back. "But...Atreyos...HER conquest will cost lives too. You know that."

A gleam in his eye, he clenches his fist. "Oh, but it will actually ACCOMPLISH something, [Playername]. When Medusa wins, when she destroys the Tower of Winds, her power will end all suffering in Inamorta. There will be no wars after this one, for none will be left to challenge her might."

"You would sell out all of Inamorta to that witch? You would break every oath we took to defend the people, and let her destroy Ordor, Westwind, No Man's Land...all of it?"

"Not destroy, [Playername]...reshape. She brings the dead back to LIFE, [Playername]. You know this. You see this power as unholy, as vile...I see it as a chance for us to see our dead friends, our dead families, again. And yet, you selfishly refuse it. You refuse it for yourself, and for all your subjects. And I say enough. Enough of this. Face me now, or die."

You hesitate, your hand still on the hilt of your sword, but then move your hand away. "No. You are as a brother to me, Atreyos. I will not fight you."

Atreyos stabs his sword into the cobblestone, and unbuckles his red cape, hanging it on the sword. "Yes, you will."

He draws a sword--a second sword--from a sheath on his back. The green glow that emanates from its crossguard makes you stare, in horror. The purple blade, tinted with blue...you know this blade.

The Blade of Knowledge.

You look down at Valanta, her hair still obscuring her face, and tears come to your eyes. "Valanta...you didn't."

The Crimson Spearton smiles. "Oh yes, she did. She broke like a TWIG, [Playername]. I know you have the Key of Elimas."

You ignore him. "Valanta?"

For the first time, she looks up at you, tears in her own eyes.

"I'm...I'm so sorry, [Playername]."

You look at her, knowing the power of the Blade, and you nod at her. "It's ok, Valanta."

You consider your options. If you try to toss the Key into the Chasm Deep, the Eclipsor could just retrieve it. Your only chance would be to defeat Atreyos. You draw your sword, looking the Crimson Spearton dead in the eye.

"I know Atreyos. He isn't like this...you aren't him. You're some undead imposter of Medusa's." Deep down, you don't believe the words, but you have to convince yourself you aren't about to try and kill your friend.

Atreyos laughs, cruelly. "At last...at long last..."

You charge at Atreyos, and he at you, yelling his pain and rage at you.

----

General Cromnt inched closer and closer to Anteria, waiting for her to cast the spell...waiting...waiting.

With a hand motion, she summoned a reaper: a ghost-like demon that came at him with a speed like wind.

With only moments to react, Cromnt dodged the wraith as it zoomed by. Looking back, he saw one of his men, compelled by the reaper, try to rush forward, away from the safety of his comrades. But the soldiers surrounding him held him back.

The moment had come. Cromnt charged at Anteria, and she held her dark scepter at the ready.

They clashed on that open stretch, trading blows. Right away, Cromnt realized that her left arm was broken, hanging limply by her side. She was wielding the scythe with one hand. He decided to exploit that weakness.

He waited calmly for his opening. It came when she overextended, thrusting forward with the scythe's blade horizontal. He simultaneously dropped his spear and blocked with the shield, and then kicked her right arm sideways. The resulting momentum on her body sent her spinning, centrifugal force raising her limp left arm towards him.

With a single, deft motion, he drew his short sword, and lopped her exposed left arm off, close to the elbow. She howled with pain, and pushed her scepter at him. A gale as strong as a giant's breath hurled Cromnt backwards several meters, where he rolled to his feet. Pointing his sword at her, he yelled. "Submit, foul demon! You are beaten!"

She snarled at him, and looked down at her stumped left arm, then at her severed limb, laying on the ground. Tendrils of dirt and flesh sprang up from the ground, devouring the arm on the ground--like worms devouring carrion--until only the armored bracer and glove was left. Dark, pulsating energy came towards Anteria from where the arm had lain, crawling up her leg, and into her arm. With a sickly sound, like breaking bone, the arm regrew, minus the armor, still hanging limp at her side.

She looked at him, saying in a terrible, haunting voice, "You will LEARN to better respect an Officer of the Empire." She raised her staff into the air, and with a wordless shout, slammed it into the dirt.

The ground around Cromnt bubbled up in a few places, and several zombies sprung up from the earth. He swung his sword, decapitating three of them before they could do anything. The last, the fourth one, was behind him, and clawed at his right leg from the ground. Howling in pain, Cromnt turned, and stabbed the zombie through the head.

He faced Anteria, now slightly favoring his wounded leg. "Is that the best you can do?"

She laughed. "You REALLY shouldn't have asked that." She raised her staff to the sky, and proclaimed: "ACCERSENDA… TENEBRIS… GIGANTOR!"

A bolt of lightning fell from the heavens, striking the ground directly in front of General Cromnt. That ground began to rumble and shake. Up from it came a huge giant, with a strange, stone mask stitched to its face. It wielded a giant pine tree. As it continued to rise up, it's size was awesome: it was at least as large as Griffon the Great, if not larger.

Cromnt looked up at the giant, and huffed. "Well, now THAT'S really unfair."

Cromt Faces the Giant

----

Atreyos knocks your sword aside, and punches you in the arm. Howling in pain, from the spear wound earlier in the battle, you reel back, desperately trying to find room.

The Eclipsor smiles. At last, after several minutes of wordless fighting, the Crimson Spearton has you.

With a final charge, Atreyos howls at you, hammering blows all the while. "WHATEVER I DID, I DID IN THE SERVICE OF ORDOR! IN SERVICE OF YOU! YOU WERE MY FRIEND, [PLAYERNAME]! AND YOU FORGOT MY SACRIFICE! YOU FORGOT ME!"

With those words, he slams your sword to the ground, and plunges the Blade of Knowledge into your gut.

"GAAHHH!" The pain is both real and ethereal: the sharp blade, melded with the Crimson Spearton's pain and anguish, passes on into you. Any doubt you had that the Crimson Spearton WAS Atreyos, alive and well, vanishes the moment the blade enters your body. You fall, limply, to the floor, not noticing that Atreyos grabbed the gilded crown off your head as you fell.

Atreyos looks at the Blade, then at the crown. Looking at the left side, he notices one of the gems on the crown looks different than the others. It's more transparent, and while the others are priceless rubies and diamonds, this one looks like a worthless piece of glass, shaped as an icosahedron.

The Key of Elimas

Atreyos smiles. "Of course...the Hedronal Stone." He rips the stone from the crown, and tosses it to the Eclipsor. "Take this to Medusa. She'll know what to do with it."

The Eclipsor smiles. "Victory." With a leap, he bounds into the sky, flying east as fast as he can.

Atreyos kneels next to you. "And you...you can keep this crown, for now it is a crown of shame. Everyone that spilt their blood to keep that damn crown on your head, for two hundred YEARS, cries out with me, [Playername]. Let it, and the scar, remind you EVERY DAY of the suffering you caused me. Let it remind you how you forgot me."

He reaches for the blade's handle, but as he grabs it, you grasp his wrist, looking him straight in the eye.

"You...you are right, Atreyos. The people DID forget you. All it takes those damn fools to forget a hero is two hundred years of peace, even though they owe that very peace… to you…. But know this: I NEVER forgot you, Atreyos. I never forgot your sacrifice, and I have tried, to my utmost, to make the Empire stand for freedom. As you would have wanted it. I have tried, and sometimes, I have failed. And I am so sorry to you for that….But Medusa will take that freedom away. If you let Medusa win… that freedom will give way, in the name of 'justice', to tyranny, and your sacrifice will be for nothing."

Atreyos looks at you, and sadness, and even regret, briefly crosses his face. Then his face hardens, and he wrenches his hand away from the Blade.

"You cannot undo two centuries of my suffering with one speech, [Playername]. That's not how it works."

Atreyos walks towards the edge of the drawbridge, looking down into the Chasm Deep. He turns, looking back at you, the Blade of Knowledge still in your gut. And at Valanta, still on her knees a few meters away.

"The end of all things is at hand, Valanta… [Playername]. Prepare yourselves, with what little time you have left."

From the ground, you say, feebly. "No...please don't…"

Atreyos looks you dead in the eye, and as he stands on the edge of the void below him. Mockingly, he speaks.

"Goodbye...your Majesty."

The Crimson Spearton topples backwards, into the depths of the earth. You scream, "NOOO!", but it's too late. Laying there, in pain, you begin to sob, completely destroyed. The sound of Atreyos's body slamming into the side of the Chasm as he fell would barely register, nor would Valanta, crawling towards you.

----

And atop her fortress, deep in the Icy Hills, Medusa sees her good work

And she smiles.

----

Valanta pulled out the Blade of Knowledge, and set it down next to the Monarch. Her eyes were filled with tears as well. Wordlessly, helplessly, she lifted the Monarch off the ground, and supported his/her weight as they walked, away from the city.

Looking backwards, she saw Atreyos's sword, stuck upright into the earth. The sword was tragic: the same sword that had once been used to fight for Ordor, for Inamorta. A sword of legend...now nothing but a rod of steel, a monolith of sorrow. The red cape, hanging from it, the same red cape that Atreyos had used to comfort her, all that time, in her cell.

Monolith of Sorrow

She could not bear to look upon it any more. She averted her gaze, and walked away.

----

Chapter Fourteen: Phyrric

Chessler and David both tried to lift the Golden Spearton armor, but it would not budge for them. It was as if it was bolted to the wall it was displayed on.

Elimas Magnus walked forward, touching the handle of the sword as it hung from the wall. "It rarely chooses anyone...and even then it only chooses people in time of great need."

Isra had decided not to try it, but nonetheless asked. "Why do you show us this?"

Elimas Magnus looked at the three of them, and to their surprise, he looked sad, and almost afraid. "Because…." He looked at each of them in turn, looking last at Chessler. Something in his face changed, something only Chessler, with his User given gift of perception, noticed. Elimas was deliberately choosing what exactly to say to them.

"....because ALL of you--not just you three, all of you--will need some piece of TRUTH to forge on in the times ahead. Some of you have already found it, but don't know it. Some of you think you have it, but have nothing. For all of us, truth eludes and hides itself from our sight. But when it is found...great power comes with it."

"What...what are you talking about, Elimas?" said Chessler.

"The enemy will try to sow distrust among you. They will try to break your spirit, to make you doubt yourself. If I have time to teach you but one thing, it's that the only defense against the enemy...is truth."

All three of the children were thoroughly confused, but they said nothing. The sadness on Elimas's face forestalled them.

Elimas moved off to the side of the relic hall, and sat down, cross-legged, on a floor mat. He set his staff in his lap, and seemed to be meditating.

For a while, the three companions wandered the hall of relics, looking at everything. There were strange stones, and weapons they could not discern the purpose of. There were scientific experiments, beakers and glass tubes of liquid, and several open books lay on the desks, but they were too sophisticated to understand.

In one stall, David and Isra found a large contraption made of wood and leather. They could not tell what it was, or what it was for. It had a strange, winged shape, and had two large straps, like a backpack, secured to a cushion in the wooden protrusion. On a small table next to it was a gilded crossbow and a quiver.

Before they could really look at it more, however, Chessler ran up to them.

"Guys! Come quick!" He had a worried expression on his face.

He brought them back to where Elimas Magnus had been sitting. The tables that had been near him were toppled over, and he was on his hands and knees on the ground, groaning. His golden staff lay next to him, and the bird Icara was fluttering around him, visibly worried about its master.

Just as they approached him, Elimas reeled back, as if struck by a blow, and fell on his back.

He sat up, rubbing his head, and looked over at the Golden Spearton armor near him.

"Atreyos...what?....How?"

At that instant, explosions sounded in the tower's structure above them, along with the sound of falling rubble.

----

Cromnt eyed the giant carefully. He was aware that his spear lay on the other side of the giant, near where he had dropped it during his fight with the Marrowkai. He was now armed only with his sword and shield: his pila had already been used in the battle.

Looking beyond the giant, he saw that the enemy horde was attempting to withdraw down the hill. He knew his soldiers saw it, and would try their best to halt them. Cromnt's only job now was the giant.

The giant stepped towards Cromnt, and Cromnt backed away. The giant became frustrated as Cromnt maneuvered away from it. It swung its club in a vertical stroke, and Cromnt saw his chance to dodge to the side of the giant, striking at its ankle as he ran past it.

It would have been better if he hadn't. The giant growled with pain, and reflexively kicked sideways at Cromnt, sending him flying down the hill. He landed, with a hard thud, on his back, and the wind was knocked out of him. He heard nothing, save for the beating of his own heart and his lungs as they desperately scratched for air.

Oddly, he was at peace. He felt as if he was aware of everything around him: the grass he had landed on, the birds of prey, high above him, the faint northern breeze....and the spear that lay next to him, discarded by some other soldier during the battle.

He lay there, unmoving, waiting for his moment. He felt, rather than heard, the giant approach him from uphill, laughing cruelly at him. "Puny spearton."

The giant raised his weapon upward, and Cromnt rolled suddenly to the side, letting the giant's tree land next to him. He thrust upward, nailing the giant in the stomach.

The giant growled in pain, as Cromnt twisted the spear's blade deeper into it's gut. In a last ditch attempt, the giant attempted to fall onto Cromnt, to crush him. With a titanic effort, Cromnt held up the giant with his bare hands, shouting from the extreme effort, then dived to the side, avoiding being crushed by an inch.

The field was silent.

Slowly, Cromnt rose to his feet, and looked towards the western cliff. He saw the enemy, fully retreated downhill, and even now disappearing in the distance. A few feet in front of him, was the Marrowkai. Her scythe was slung on her back, and her arms were at her sides. As close as she was to him, she was defenseless.

"You win, General. I will not resist you any more. I surrender myself to your custody."

Fearing treachery, he drew his sword, holding it at the ready. "You fight without honor, demon. I do not trust you."

"It does not matter whether you trust me or not, I will not fight you."

Wary, Cromnt thought about it, then waved his sword above his head, signaling to his men to come forward, keeping his eyes on the witch the whole time. In a few seconds, the men had Anteria in their grip, and had taken her staff away. Cromnt looked on, confused.

The battle seemed so pointless. The enemy had attacked the Fort, and then simply retreated. Here was a powerful leader of the enemy, surrendering, rather than escaping. And the Crimson Spearton had not seemed to be present at the battle at all, which made no sense. Cromnt knew if he had been in control of these enemy forces, he never would have let the Key of Elimas escape from--

And then, all at once, Cromnt realized. He had sent Monarch [Playername] into the city walls to safeguard the Key.

But the enemy had flyers.

He cursed himself for not realizing, the moment he had seen the Eclipsors, that [Playername] was in danger.

He looked up at the Marrowkai, now bound hand and foot by the Westwindr. Even in defeat, she was staring at Cromnt with a knowing smile on her face. She knew what Cromnt had just realized. "You….you planned this."

Anteria's smile widened.

"Checkmate."

Cromnt hastily wheeled away, looking around frantically. He saw a nearby cavalry officer, standing next to his empty horse, and ran to him, mounting the horse. "Fall back! To the city! NOW!"

With that, Cromnt set off at a gallop towards the Fort's front gate.

----

The Wizard stood abruptly, yelling at the three children. "Run!"

They took off through the hall of relics, while the sounds of explosions shook the thick stone arches above them. In places, the ceiling broke open above them, and small boulders fell jarringly close to them at times.

"Where are we going?" said David as they ran.

The Mage yelled back, still running. "Around the tower! To the entrance of the superstructure above us. That's the part they cannot destroy without my staff! If we can just get there in time to--"

"AHH!" They heard Isra scream behind them. Turning to look, they saw that Isra had tripped over a piece of rubble, and was looking up to where a gigantic section of the wall was sagging inward.

It happened so fast, Chessler had no time to react. David dove forward, towards Isra. Chessler was pulled backwards by the Grand Mage, just as the wall broke, and fell on David and Isra.

----

Chapter Fifteen: Because I Had To, and Because I Can

Cromnt rode frantically towards the Fort's front gate. Though tempted to shout out to the men to fall back, he knew it would only panic them. His staff would oversee their retreat.

It didn't take long for him to break through the mass of soldiers. He set off at a gallop up the hill. In the distance, he could see two people stumbling away from the city, one supporting the other. It wasn't until he got closer that he realized it was [Playername]...and Valanta.

He came to a stop, and dismounted near them, confused. "Valanta...you're alive? What happened?"

She looked up at Cromnt. "The...the Crimson Spearton. He won. He took the Key. Medusa has the Key now."

"Where is he?"

Cromnt was confused when tears welled up in her eyes, and she pointed back towards the drawbridge. He looked in that direction, and saw a plain steel sword stuck into the cobblestone at the far end of the wooden drawbridge. Hung from it was a red cape, and on the ground next to it was a red helmet, as well as the Blade, glowing an ominous green. He approached, and touched the green blade. A wave of terrible images and memories came over him. He groaned in pain, but he could not pull away from the blade.

~~~

*Within the flashing images, he beheld a horde of the undead, marching forth from a dark fortress in the mountains. He saw a terrible darkness that covered the sky and the earth.*

*He saw Valanta, fighting futilely for what she held dear. He saw her kneeling over a body that was hidden from him, and silently crying as darkness flowed over her.*

*He saw a man--a Spearton--kneeling over the body of an Archidon. The man howled his sorrow, like a wolf at the moon. He saw a life of wandering, of sorrow, of hate, before the darkness swallowed him too.*

*He saw himself, standing on the edge of darkness and light, the very jaws of death before him. In the dark, he saw a woman, pacing in the darkness like a lioness, watching him. Her face was the only thing he could see, and her voice was the only thing he could hear.*

*"Evil...always...wins"*

~~~

At last, with great effort, he pulled away from the blade. He lay on his back, panting as if he had just run a race. He saw Valanta and [Playername] standing over him, looking at him with concern. At last, Cromnt spoke.

"Elimas Magnus...he's in danger!

----

David and Isra crawled forward, barely able to fit under the rocks.

When the wall had fallen, a sturdy, thick part of an arch had landed just to their left, protecting him and Isra from the worst of the falling rubble. Apart from several bad bruises, they were ok.

David pushed aside a block of cobblestone, and crawled out from under the rubble. He turned back, and pulled Isra up to her feet.

"You ok?"

She looked at him, scared. "Yeah...I...I think so." She looked around at the now ruined hall of relics. They were standing where they had been standing before, near the end of the hall with the Golden Spearton armor, and the armory with various other swords, weapons, and bows and arrows. "We're...we're on the wrong side of the rubble though."

David looked around, and nodded. "Yeah...we have to go around, or--"

They heard a gurgling, rumbling sound beneath them. Isra yelped in fright, looking at something behind David. David, without thinking, turned, and drew his dagger in the same motion. A zombie had sprung up from the ground nearby, and was lurching towards them.

David rushed at the zombie, stabbing the abomination through the heart. At the same time, a second zombie sprung up, and was rushing at him from his right. But when he attempted to pull his dagger back out of the other zombie, it grabbed his dagger, preventing him from wielding it.

David swore, and shoved the first zombie aside, abandoning his dagger. He turned just in time to be tackled to the ground by the second. He wrestled, with bare hands, against the thing, but he was unable to wound it. As he fought, he looked over at Isra, who was frozen in fear.

"Isra! Help!"

She snapped out of it, and rushed over to a bow that lay in a quiver on the ground nearby. She strung the bow, and pulled an arrow out.

And again, she hesitated. David and the zombie were too close together, and moving too rapidly.

"Isra! Take the shot!"

"You two are too close...I might hit you!"

"I can't get him off me! You have to go for it!"

She looked in fear at the struggling pair, unable to decide. She felt unready.

"You can do it Isra!"

She looked at him. David was holding the zombie above him, by the throat. He was staring at her.

"You can do this!"

All of her skill in archery came to the fore, and instinct moved her hands for her, as she drew the bow, and fired, hitting the zombie straight in the head.

David got up, pushing the corpse off of him. He walked towards Isra, who was now shaking from trauma. She was babbling, "I...I can't do this David. Fight a war. It's...I'm not ready."

David looked back at the dead monster, and at the arrow in it's skull. "I'd say you have the skill for it."

"No...not that! When I fled from Moorsville, I...my Grandpa Ben died, because I was scared! I couldn't save him!...and later, I should've gone into the army as an archer, but--"

David gripped Isra's shoulders to stop her shaking. "Woah woah, slow down. Isra, listen to yourself. Noone is expecting you to run into a battle straight away!"

"But that's...that's literally what you just did!"

" 'Because I had to, and because I can'. Think Isra. Was there anything you could have done to save Ben?"

"No...I didn't see it coming."

"Isra. Bravery isn't blindly running into every battle. Bravery isn't removing all fear from your mind. No one can do that.

"Bravery is realizing you can do something, and realizing you have to do it, and then doing it. That's it."

At that instant, a golden light shone from the edge of the room behind Isra, as bright as the noonday sun. It was too blinding to see where it came from. Isra was disoriented, and then confused when David, with a sudden blank expression on his face, walked towards the orange glow, and disappeared into it.

----

"NOOO!"

Chessler ran back towards the pile of rubble, pounding the rock in defiance. His friend couldn't be dead...it couldn't be!

"Chessler...we have to go! Now!"

Chessler looked at Elimas Magnus, then back at the pile of rubble. "No! We have to save them! Or...or find them…"

Elimas looked at Chessler sadly. "Chessler...I'm sorry. There's nothing we can do about it right now! Right now, we have to get to safety! We have to reach the entrance of the Tower."

"Ohh….I'm afraid…"

They both started in fright at the sound of a woman's voice echoing in the massive chamber. They turned slowly, to see a swirling tornado of black smoke behind them.

"...I'm afraid it's too late for that."

Chapter Sixteen: Look Upon Yourself, You Know It to Be True

A bolt of emerald green energy shot out of the black maelstrom, straight at Elimas. Before Chessler could really process what was happening, he found himself on the ground, along with Elimas, who had been struck.

Elimas got up slowly, chuckling to himself. "An ambush attack, Medusa? Will you still not face me?"

"Oh, friend, I've missed your… misplaced… sense of superiority." The swirling tornado coalesced into Medusa's dark form. She smiled. "It's really refreshing to see you again."

Chessler was confused at the cordial nature of Medusa, as well as the fact that she moved stiffly, as if in pain.

"Silence your snake's tongue now, Medusa," said Elimas Magnus. "You will not tempt me."

Medusa's laugh, eerily sincere, echoed through the hall. "Now now, Elimas. I didn't come here to tempt you. I came to SHOW you. I came to offer you a choice. I have turned them, Elimas. The greatest heroes you genuinely thought would be the saviors of Inamorta. Atreyos' anger has consumed him. [Playername] let him kill himself, right there at the gates of the city. The leaders of Westwind, Ordor, and the rest of this land are wavering; many of them already call me master. And one of them, Valanta, gave me this."

She held up a tiny, glass object. Though Chessler did not know what it was, Elimas knew it was the Hedronal Stone. The Key of Elimas.

"In the swirling storm of confusion, only you and I know the truth. This war is as immortal and unending as I am; as the earth is. This is a cycle, doomed to repeat itself. Over...and over again. Such is history. Such is fate. Your predecessor knew this, as did his, as did hers, as did his….and I think your intended successor knows it too, deep down."

Elimas raised an eyebrow. "You know?"

"I know. But I don't understand your choice."

"...what do you mean?"

Medusa frowned. "You know the pattern. You know the event that marks the crowning of a new keeper of The Tower of Winds. The sacred User must agree with your choice. 'The Star of the User will anoint the head of Inamorta's guardian'. So why, of all people, did you choose him?"

Elimas started to glow with an inner light. A golden wreath of leaves gradually appeared on his head as he spoke.

"He is more ready for this role than you know. Than he knows. You will not break him. He will stop you, again."

Medusa's smile vanished. She began charging up a green orb of energy in her palm. Her face contorted to a snarl. "So that's a 'no', then?"

Elimas Magnus drew a strange shape in the air with his staff, and a golden energy shield surrounded him and Chessler. By this point, his golden glow had increased in strength to that of the moon. The Star of The User appeared directly over his head, without flying down from the heavens like it normally did. It had always been there, Chessler realized, but so dim and clear as to be invisible.

Elimas nodded. "Yep. That's a 'no'."

Medusa's mouth twitched with a wry smile. She brought her other hand forward, flicking the gemstone into the air in front of her, like a coin. Time seemed to freeze as Elimas and Chessler watched the Key in the air. Then Medusa shot her green bolt of energy--not at Elimas, but at the Key of Elimas.

Elimas fell, writhing, to the ground, the energy field surrounding him flickering and dying. His golden glow, and the golden wreath, still remained. The Key of Elimas hovered there, between Medusa and Elimas, crackling with the energy it had just absorbed. It swelled to the size of a baseball, and finally shattered, the broken shards falling to the floor.

"Elimas!" Chessler rushed to him. Elimas was still alive, but barely. His face began to shrivel up, so that in a few seconds, he appeared much, much older. Elimas, weakly, grabbed Chessler's hand, and pointed at Chessler's chest.

"...you…" whispered the wizard.

"..what?"

The wizard looked at him, and pointed again. "I….choose...you." His hand fell, and he fell unconscious, though he still breathed.

Medusa smiled, walking straight towards the wizard's staff. "Now, to destroy this Tower, and fix Inamorta."

"No!" Chessler yelled, lunging for the staff. But the moment he touched it, he drew his hand away, yelping with pain. The staff had burned his hand.

"Chessler, no normal man can wield the staff. It's quite pointless."

Chessler knelt on the staff, the cloth of his pants protecting him from the staff. He drew his knife. "I won't let you have this, Medusa!"

Medusa rolled her eyes, exasperated. "Child, do you truly think that stick you call a knife will stop me?" With a flick of her wrist, Chessler was flung backward by an invisible force.

She grabbed the staff, reverently, for she knew its great power, and purpose. She spoke softly to herself. "Now, old Elimas has changed the way you work, staff, so let's see how to work this..."

Chessler got up, and hurled the knife at Medusa. Again, she motioned with her hand, and the knife stopped mid-flight, then fell clattering to the floor.

Medusa chuckled. "There really is no point, Chessler. He couldn't beat me, certainly you can't."

"I won't let you do this!" Chessler charged at Medusa, as if to tackle her, but she turned into mist again, letting him pass right through.

"Heh...you have some spirit, boy," she said, as she turned solid again. "Perhaps that is why he chose you."

Chessler recalled what Elimas and Medusa had said about the guardian of the Tower, and he realized, all of a sudden: "I'm….I'm the next guardian?"

"You're pretty slow, kid. But, given the severe trauma of this situation, withnessing a murder and all, that is rather understandable. Yes, Chessler, he wants you to tend Vantorra for him, now that he's rather…" Medusa looked at Elimas, lying on the floor. "...preoccupied."

"But...I can't even wield the staff...I can't even touch it!"

"Most people can't. He chose you, Chessler, so, theoretically, you'd be able to soon enough, but for two problems. One...well, I have the staff now. And two: the User must ALSO choose you." The appearance of the golden end of the spear changed as Medusa worked on it. "Ah...almost cracked you...in a few moments, Chessler, I'll have this staff figured out."

Chessler frowned. "But...why is that a problem? Why is the User choosing me a problem?"

Medusa looked at him quizzically. "Well, because it can't."

"What do you mean?"

Medusa frowned now, and looked at Elimas, laying on the floor. "Did Elimas, [Playername], or anyone else not mention your parentage?"

"They...well, Elimas did, but what does that have to do with anything?"

Medusa looked at the staff, then at Chessler. "I'm curious now. What DID he tell you?"

"That my father left me in Order City, and asked Elimas to watch over me from afar, and that Elimas had never met my mother."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really?? 'He never met your mother?' That stupid fool lied to you?"

"You're saying he HAD met my mother?"

"I'm saying that your mother does not EXIST, Chessler."

Chessler was thoroughly confused at this point. "What do you mean?"

"Let me start from the beginning then." The staff changed again: the golden cage at its tip beginning to open slightly. "You'll have to forgive me, I'm multitasking here...do you know what a Magispawn is, Chessler?"

"Yeah," said Chessler. "They're organic machines constructed by the Magikill to do their bidding."

"Indeed. Your 'father', see, was one of these Magikill, but he was far more skilled than his brethren. He experimented on making stronger, more sophisticated Magispawn."

What Medusa was hinting at was beginning to dawn on Chessler.

"Eventually, he came up with something interesting: a fully formed, believable, SENTIENT Magispawn, though still wrought with the same flaws and imperfect design. And so, with a wave of his staff, he created...you.

Chessler stared at Medusa, disbelieving. "No….that's….that's not true! You're lying to me! You're trying to get inside my head!

Medusa tilted her head, in a surprisingly sympathetic expression. "Oh, my precious boy...he never told you, did he? Elimas might not have known your father gave life to you in this way."

Chessler looked at Elimas, then back at Medusa. "But why? Why abandon me? Why would my father leave me as an orphan in Order City?"

Medusa smiled. "Is it not obvious, Chessler? You were merely his creation. His… experiment. His MACHINE. He did not care about you, not enough to raise you and feed you."

Chessler's eyes began to water. "No...you're lying!"

"Heh...you have the gift of perception, Chessler: I can see it on you. Did Elimas tell you of it?"

"Yeah, he did. He said it was a gift of the User."

Medusa scoffed. "Another of his lies...it was given to you at the moment of your creation. Well, use it, Chessler. See if I AM lying--see if you aren't the thing I claim you to be. Look upon yourself, you know it to be true."

Chessler looked down at his hands, and his vision seemed to shift. For the first time, he saw the hidden, flawed designs within his body. Every flaw on his skin, the building blocks that made him up. He saw it.

Medusa paced towards him. "And, of course, you must know, as everyone does, that the User does not ever choose the Magispawn. It doesn't work, which is why it has never happened in recorded history. Which means you could never wield this staff, even if I let you try. Elimas chose wrong...he really must not have known."

Chessler was in tears now. All the old hurt he had felt, alone, and abandoned in Order City as an orphan boy, was returning. He was a reject...a castaway...a failed EXPERIMENT.

Medusa's face saddened. "Well, don't worry, boy. When all this is over, as it will be in a few moments, I'll have a lot of spare time on my hands. I could be like the mother you never had." A small sound came from the tip of the staff, like a cracking noise, and both Medusa and Chessler looked at the staff.

The golden cage at the top had fully opened now. A shimmering, golden orb floated above the staff, rising from within the broken cage. At the same time, the Tower of Winds began to rumble slightly, as if in an earthquake.

Medusa smiled. "Finally cracked your contraption, Elimas." She reached for the orb.

"No."

Medusa looked at Chessler. "What?"

Chessler was staring at a point halfway down the staff's length...at the brown, copper latch hiding the concealed button.

"No!"

As quickly as he could, Chessler grabbed the latch, opened it, and pressed the button underneath it.

The staff immediately tore itself from Medusa's grasp, the cage on top once again concealing the golden orb within it. The ground stopped shaking as a gale-force wind threw both Medusa and Chessler away from the staff. For a split second, a faint, glittering blue halo surrounded the upright staff, and through it, Chessler saw another location, another landscape. He could not tell where, but only that it was very high up, as if on a mountain's peak.

Then the staff, the blue halo, and the whirlwind all vanished at once, leaving Medusa and Chessler alone in the room.

Chapter Seventeen: A Golden Hope

Medusa glared at Chessler, snarling in a terrible voice. "Imbecile! What have you DONE!?"

She crossed the distance to Chessler in a flash, striking him in the chest. Chessler tumbled backwards, the force of the blow and of his hard landing on the floor knocking the wind out of him.

She stuck out her hand, sideways. "Reditus!" Nothing happened, but Medusa seemed greatly weakened by the attempt. She tried again. "REDITUS!!" Still nothing. Medusa strained from some mysterious pain. She shook her hand in frustration. "What have you done?"

Chessler slowly rolled onto his hands and knees, coughing for air. "What…what Elimas said I would do. I stopped you."

Medusa scoffed, "You've stopped nothing, Chessler NO-NAME," the mockery in her voice silencing him with his own insecurities. "Wherever you sent the staff, I WILL find it. And in the meantime, with Elimas dead, your people stand no chance against what is coming."

"What? What is coming?"

"I'll give you a hint."

She waved her hands over the cobblestone floor, and the rock cracked in several places. With great effort, she raised her hands, and from those cracks came several of the undead.

But this time, it seemed too much for Medusa. Her feet began to slowly fade into mist, which traveled up her legs and began to trail up towards the ceiling. She did not seem to care.

"You will soon die, Chessler, and without Elimas's chosen successor to defend it, Inamorta's Fate will be mine to reshape. The RIGHT way. I have SEEN it, Chessler, with my own eyes. No more suffering. No more bloodshed. No more death. That is MY mission, Chessler. That is my Truth."

She gestured with her hands at the broken, destroyed courtyard around them, at the zombies rising from the earth. In a sense, she was gesturing at ALL of it: all of the Earth, every evil thing within it.

"And what about you? What are you fighting for? For yourself? For your pride? For your fear of what I bring? Are you DEFENDING this broken world from my paradise?"

As the last of her faded to mist, she stared hard at Chessler.

"I have found the truth. Have you?"

Medusa's face melded into the mist, and the small, dark cloud traveled up through a crack in the ceiling, where Chessler could see it fly off with the wind, towards the north.

Chessler looked at the zombies converging on him. He saw his dagger, a few feet behind where Medusa was just standing. But the zombies were between him and it. He backed away from them, but he had no escape. They began to converge on him, from the right, from the left, from the front….

An arrow hit a zombie directly in front of him, knocking it back a few steps.

Chessler looked for where the arrow came from. It came from somewhere high up and behind him, but hidden by the glow of the sun coming from a crack in the ceiling...but the glow got stronger and stronger….and then, the glowing source of light hit the floor behind Chessler with a metallic thud. Up where it had been, Chessler could now see Isra, standing on top of the giant pile of rubble behind him, even now nocking another arrow.

And coming towards him on ground level, wearing the armor of the Golden Spearton, a Star of the User above him, was David.

He threw his spear at one of the undead before him, knocking it back with such momentum that it knocked over several others like ninepins. David reached out his hand for the spear, and it returned to him as if tugged by a string. David got between Chessler and the small horde.

"Chessler! Get Elimas! Get him inside! We'll hold them off."

Isra walked past Chessler now, and he realized she had come down the pile of rubble. She was now wearing a leather chestplate over full chainmail armor. Chessler also noticed that she was covered in several scrapes and bruises, and assumed David was too. She held her bow at the ready, facing the group of zombies in front of them. None of them were advancing at the moment; they stood there, stunned by David's appearance.

Chessler nodded. "Right!" He ran to Elimas, who was still barely breathing. He grabbed him underneath his arms, and looked around the Hall of Relics for an entrance to the tower above them. He saw a doorway, and pointed. "Over there!"

Isra looked around. "Wait...where is the staff? And what happened to Elimas?"

Chessler realized that the two had not seen or heard anything of their confrontation with Medusa. They hadn't seen Medusa strike Elimas down, nor had they heard Medusa reveal the truth about his 'father'.

"I'll explain when we have time! Get inside!"

Isra and David nodded, then Isra faced the enemy again--David had never taken his eyes off them. They backed through the doorway, and the zombies still watched them. They did not interfere as they passed through the doorway, and closed the door behind them, which locked automagically.

The room they found themselves in was initially pitch dark, but a few seconds after the doors closed, the lights on the edges of the room turned on. They were inside an empty room, with an empty space in the center, and a spiral staircase that went up into the distance, following the inner edge of the walls of the fortress tower.

"We should be safe for the moment." Chessler paused for a moment, then ran to David, hugging him. "I thought you died! How did you survive?"

Isra was standing off to the side. "A large column landed partially over us, not crushing us, but blocking the falling debris. Apart from some bruises, we got lucky."

David gestured at Elimas. "Chessler, what happened?"

"Medusa was here...she hurt Elimas somehow. She summoned the zombies that were attacking us."

"Where is she now? Where is the staff now?"

In a few sentences, Chessler explained the entire encounter to the two of them, from the moment the wall fell, to Elimas's confrontation with Medusa, to the staff's disappearance, to when David and Isra showed up. However, Chessler chose not to mention that Medusa revealed that he was a Magispawn.

David whistled. "Elimas's successor. Man, we have gone way beyond being boys in a clay city."

Chessler was glad that Isra and David were too busy thinking and recovering to notice any signs of his lie of omission. He was about to say something more, but a noise interrupted him.

Looking up, the three companions saw a lift, supported by several chains, lower towards them. The elevator stopped at their level, and on it was the golden raven Icara, who stopped the machine with a push of a small lever. The bird cheeped, and flew towards Elimas, then back to the lift.

It's meaning was clear. Chessler picked up Elimas's unconscious form, and rested him on the floor of the lift.

As the lift raised the four of them up, David sat next to Isra on one corner of the lift. They were silent for a bit.

"...thank you."

Isra looked at David. "What for?"

David gestured to her bow. "For saving my life. You were brave. It just took some time."

Isra smiled. "Well...my pleasure." They held hands. "...who taught you that stuff about 'because you had to, and because you could.' ?"

David paused. "...my Father did."

Chessler watched from the far side of the lift, unnoticed by the two of them.

"Your father knew what he was talking about, I guess."

Thereafter, followed several minutes of deep silence, as David and Isra, exhausted from the day's events, fell asleep as the elevator lifted them up into the immense tower.

But Chessler stayed awake. He looked at Elimas, and recalled what he had said.

"All of you will need some Truth to forge on in the times ahead."

And Medusa's words echoed in his mind.

"I have found the truth, Chessler. Have you?"

----

Chapter Eighteen: The Fate of Two Generals, Part the First

~~two days later~~

Valanta picked up the red and yellow helmet of the Crimson Spearton. She saw, in the empty space, the face, the eyes of Atreyos. She remembered how that face was, strangely, the only face she cared to see in the dark fortress of Medusa, the only one that showed her kindness. She wiped away a tear, then set the helmet down next to the sword and the red cape of Atreyos.

Valanta knelt near the green and purple Blade of Knowledge, which lay near the end of the drawbridge, where the duel had taken place. She knew it was a bad idea, but still she felt compelled to touch the handle of the Blade.

Seamlessly, without her noticing the transition at all, the landscape changed around her. The sky darkened, and the grass on the plain in front of her revealed the presence of a strong western wind. She felt as if there should have been a pain from touching the Blade, but she was numb to it.

In her vision, it began to rain. The water fell from the sky in torrents, as if the world itself shared in her sadness. But the rainwater was off: it FELT wrong, somehow, different from normal rain. She looked up at the sky, at the hidden conduits of energy surging the clouds forward, unto the east. A bolt of lightning leapt across the sky above her, and a moment later, the sound of a rumbling thunder.

“She’s won.”

Valanta looked down from the sky. In front of her, sitting on the ground, was Atreyos. Despite his fall into the Chasm Deep, he seemed unharmed, which confused her. But then she noticed. His eyes now glowed yellow. The same as Anteria’s eyes, as Medusa’s eyes.

He was dead.

Atreyos looked up at the sky, at the boiling thunderclouds above her. “Her power is unstoppable, Valanta. Whatever hope you had to find a way to fight her, is gone. Can you look at the sky, at me, at even yourself, and tell me truly that hope somehow still exists to stop her?”

Valanta felt the wound in her stomach, the scar of the Blade. For a brief moment, a flash of lightning revealed, standing behind Atreyos in the thick rain, Anteria, her eyes glowing yellow. A moment later, her silhouette disappeared.

Atreyos looked back, where Valanta’s gaze had been, and nodded. “You see the truth now….the world is changing. Freedom, the right to choose our own path, is no more, Valanta. But…” Atreyos got up as he spoke, and Valanta rose to her feet at the same time. “...but that’s a good thing. Evil is vanquished now. The only way to remove our ability to do wrong is to remove our ability to choose.”

Valanta shook her head. “No...you’re wrong…somehow...”

Atreyos stepped towards her, until they were only a meter apart. “How?”

Valanta stopped. She thought. But she had no answer.

Atreyos nodded. “Maybe Medusa HAS found a way to break you...to make you serve her goals, as I did in life…

"...The Crimson Spearton lives. Once in me…and now…”

He pointed at her hand. Valanta looked, and realized she had inadvertently picked up the red and yellow helmet when she had risen to her feet.

“....in you.”

The world around her seemed to shatter, like glass. There was only grey haze around her...but in front of her, an infinite glass wall that split the world in two. Her reflection, which now stood where Atreyos had been standing, revealed her destiny. Revealed her Fate.

.

.

.

In that aetheric space, a comforting hand was laid on her shoulder, but she didn't feel it. She didn't see it, nor was she aware of it or its owner. She was now focused on the swirling images before her--

----

“General Valanta.”

Valanta woke with a start. She was still kneeling, the Blade of Knowledge before her, the cape of Atreyos and the helm of the Crimson Spearton next to her.

She looked up at General Cromnt, who had addressed her from the seat of his horse. Next to him was [Playername], also riding, and holding out two steel sheaths for Valanta to grab. Next to them, a third horse for her.

"Time to go."

Valanta nodded, remembering their mission, then wrapped the helm of the Crimson Spearton in the red cape of Atreyos. She rose to her feet, and with minimal effort, pulled the steel blade Atreyos had carried out of the earth. "Should we leave a monument here?"

Cromnt frowned. "I don't know…"

[Playername] nodded. "You should, Cromnt."

Cromnt looked at [Playername], and at Valanta. Valanta was slightly surprised to see a hint of...exasperation, or maybe silent judgment...hidden behind his world weary face. A moment later, it was gone as he nodded.

"Very well, then."

From the seat of his horse, he waved to a guard near the drawbridge chail reel behind them. While Cromnt instructed the officer on the location and construction of the monument, Valanta finished her task by sheathing both the Blade of Knowledge and the sword of Atreyos, and placing them, along with the helm and cape, in her own saddlebags. She mounted her horse.

As they rode towards the east, towards the Exchange and the Tower of Winds, Valanta recalled her vision. As she played it over in her mind, she felt...as if she missed something. Something important. But she didn't know what.

And she recalled the final, flashing images that ended the vision:

~~~~

*Within the flashing images, she beheld a horde of the undead, marching forth from a dark fortress in the mountains. She saw a terrible darkness that covered the sky and the earth.*

.

.

.

*She saw herself, fighting futilely for what she held dear. She saw herself kneeling over Anteria, cradling her broken body as she slowly faded and died in her arms, and silently crying as darkness flowed over her.*

.

.

.

.

.

.

*She saw a man-- a Spearton-- Atreyos-- kneeling over the body of an Archidon-- Theo. The man howled his sorrow, like a wolf at the moon. She saw a life of wandering, of sorrow, of hate, before the darkness swallowed him too.*

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

*She saw herself, standing on the edge of darkness and light, the very jaws of death before her. In the dark, she saw a woman, pacing in the darkness like a lioness, watching her. Her face was the only thing she could see, and her voice was the only thing she could hear.*

The entity of evil, weilding dark powers beyond comprehension.

.

.

.

*"Evil...always...wins"*

~~~~

Epilogue

Without an army slowing the three travelers down, and by eating and sleeping in the saddle, they made it to the Exchange by evening of the second day. For the sake of their mission, they left the saddlebags-- containing the two blades, cape, and helm-- behind at the edge of the city, and continued towards the mountains of Magikill at all possible haste, carrying nothing but their weapons and food. And so it was, that on the morning of the third day, they arrived at the foothills of one of the mountains.

[Playername] reined in their horse, and looked up the slope of the mountain. It's top was hidden by the curve of the mountain's face.

"Are you SURE that it's this mountain, General Cromnt?"

"I'm pretty sure…from what I could see of the energy beam that was in the sky when Elimas Magnus was talking to the two of us, it has to be--"

"But the beam was further away, and more to the right."

Valanta spoke. "Elimas did not show you where the Tower of Winds was?"

Cromnt shook his head. "No, he never deemed it necessary to do so. But we're royally doomed now, because if we can't find the fortress before Medusa does, then we cannot assist in the defense of the Grand Mage."

[Playername] thoughtfully scratched their chin. "If the enemy had Eclipsors, then there's no way we beat them to--"

In a shocking, vehement snap, Cromnt turned on [Playername]. "Your words mean NOTHING, [Playername]! Our duty is to find Elimas, no matter what. And whether or not he's even alive, or whether the Tower is destroyed or not, doesn't change that!"

Dead, awkward silence filled the air around them.

"My...apologies, Valanta…[Playername]. I...if the Tower falls...my...my family…"

Valanta could see that the Monarch was about to speak again, and she could guess, based on his/her angered expression, that it wasn't going to help. She laid a hand on Cromnt's shoulder.

"You have family, Cromnt?"

The man nodded. "A wife...Priscilla...and my daughter, Elise."

Valanta continued. "Well, I don't have that yet, so I can't speak to your fear for their safety, other than to assure you that we will do everything in our power to save them."

When Valanta looked back at [Playername], she was relieved to see his/her anger was gone as they spoke. "Yeah...in the midst of fighting for the fate of our world, I forget we all have personal stakes in the outcome."

Valanta saddened. "That's what's at stake in our battle for Inamorta. Our friends, our family…" she thought of her vision of her own destiny. "...ourselves."

From somewhere nearby, a fourth voice spoke. "I couldn't agree more."

They looked around, but there was no one in sight, nor was there any cover for a hidden speaker. "Up here!"

Valanta and [Playername] recognized the young male voice, but couldn't quite place where she had heard it.

They looked upwards. A raven, with pitch black feathers, was descending from the sky, hovering a meter or so overhead. It carried a hand held mirror, about the size of a soup bowl, in its talons. The raven dropped the mirror into Cromnt's lap, and landed on his horse. It winked at him, then it's feathers inverted, revealing Icara, the golden bird.

"It's a good thing you've come," continued the voice, speaking through the looking mirror, and [Playername] recognized the voice at last.

"David! You're alive!"

Cromnt looked at the mirror, and his eyes widened. He handed the device to the other two. "Heh...he's more than ALIVE."

Valanta and [Playername] gaped when they saw David, wearing the armor of the Golden Spearton. They could scarce believe it until they saw the Spearton speak again. "Yeah...I can't seem to get the armor off, except for the helmet and shield." The field of view shown within the mirror rotated, showing the helm and shield resting on the desk of a small room--a study, based on the bookshelves in the background.

David continued. "Chessler figured out how to get these mirrors to work. And Isra is here, helping us care for Elimas." The field of view rotated again, showing Chessler and Isra standing next to a bed, in which lay Elimas Magnus: weak, old, and barely conscious.

Cromnt had come over to see the screen by this point. When he saw Elimas, he gasped. "No…we're too late."

Chessler and Isra looked, worriedly, into the mirror from their place by Elimas's bedside. And David spoke, "Yeah, he's not looking good. You guys had better get here quickly. Icara, the bird, will guide you to us."

----

In the afternoon of the same day, they reached Vantorra, and they rode up the mechanical lift up through the core of the Tower. The space for the lift got narrower and narrower as they ascended, meaning that they could actually see the interior walls on all sides. A few glass windows, meant for opening, were dotted along the winding staircase, and in front of each window, a flat bit of the staircase that extended far into the empty space at the center of the Tower, and a rack holding several sets of Albowtross flying gear.

Eventually, they reached the top, where a little flight of stairs finished their journey to a trap door. The door was already open, so they climbed into the study at the top of the tower.

Valanta immediately went over to David; she was still wondering where she had met him before. "David…"

"Hello again, General Valanta!"

"Where did we meet before?"

David nodded. "Nearly two months ago, in Order City. I was that little boy on the rooftops."

All at once, Valanta remembered. "Oh, yeah...and the armor chose you?"

"Yes...it was the strangest thing. When I was talking to Isra, telling her that bravery was not about being "fearless", but about ignoring fear to do what was needed, or what was right...well it sort of, I don't know, happened. I used it as Isra and I saved Chessler from the undead that were here."

Cromnt was listening. "They were here?" David nodded. "Medusa too?" David nodded. "When?"

David thought for a moment. "That would have been five days ago."

[Playername] shook his/her head. "Damn...Medusa knew where this fortress was the whole time… that means she arrived here, with the Key of Elimas--" he glanced at the unconscious Mage in the bed. "--mere moments after the battle at the Fort...So how did you drive her away?"

"We didn't...we don't really know why she left, but I do think it was against her will."

"The….Tower!"

They turned at the loud, croaking voice of Elimas. They approached his bedside.

[Playername] and Cromnt looked at each-other. "That's right...this tower holds her back." Cromnt looked at Elimas Magnus.

[Playername] spoke. "Without his life to maintain it…"

"How long do we have?"

Chessler looked at them sadly, and spoke for the first time.

"Mere moments, I'm afraid. He's too weak."

A second or two later, Elimas groaned heavily, as if laying down a great burden. The ceiling above them emitted a strange, humming sound, and they could taste iron on the air surrounding them.

The group of them ran out to the balcony, leaving Chessler alone with Elimas.

Chessler looked down at his hands, and at Elimas. Tears welled in his eyes, and he spoke privately to Elimas. "Did you know?"

Elimas was breathing better now, but still being deeply asleep, he did not answer.

----

Outside, the rest of the group bore witness as the energy beam at the tower's top dwindled and faded. A final, energetic pulse shot upward from the tower's top, hitting the ceiling of the sky.

All was quiet…

And then the wind shifted.

The group looked to the west. From their high perch, they could see beyond the vast plains of Westwind, beyond the rocky canyons of No Man's Land, and see the western forest….and the huge, thundering clouds that came closer and closer, covering the land in a dark shadow.

The Monarch looked on, solemnly. "It has begun….the Battle for Inamorta...has begun."

----

(Trailer for Book 3)

(back to Trilogy Homepage)