[SAGA] - A work in progress...

[Heretic Zero]

This is the second time I've had to type this out... :s

Firstly, I want to tell you how much of a pleasure it is to be back here and that this is the only place that I would even consider posting this story to.
Saga is a story of High Fantasy and of crushing violence; the lands of the Realms are being invaded by an ancient evil that has decided that a young girl, Tanya Brightvoice of Aster's Port, must die at all costs.  Tanya's protection is left to the ragged band of homeless mercenaries, lead by an officer of a fallen House and the assorted misfits that she meets as they try to find someone... anyone... that might be able to help them.
Next, I want to make sure we get this out now - I WANT TO HEAR YOUR CRITICISM!
Think the story's shit? Expect me to come round and fuck you up! Tell me why!  I need the punishment!
The way this operation is likely to be working is that every week or two, I'm going to drop the next chapter on to the thread and see how we do.  Now, I have 25 written chapter already, so I'm feeling fairly confident that there's possibilities here for regularity ('no pressure, of course...', he says shying in to his spliff...).  We'll see how it goes...
She's part 1 of a two part project I'm working on, both working symbiotically and simultaneously, a RPG system mechanic.  It's been in my head for too long and now I just have to work the fucker out, and the story's helping with that process - especially since i just broke through the Writer's Block. (spits at the floor).  And you must understand how this makes me feel: I'm back in the town I did a lot of growing up in, doing some more growing up, and being stifled.  The town has a cinema and the rest are pubs and clubs.  That's it.
So appreciate where I'm coming from when I say that right now this story has become my freedom from my personal SLAVE STATE, bowing to Master who constantly shrieks at my soul like a Banshee who'd been given REALLY big testicles and then had them caught in a bear trap!

I'm including the two part prologue in this first post to whet your appetites, but I should recommend buckling up - she's gonna' pick up speed REAL quick!

So please, without further ado; I beg you all welcome and to enjoy the story as much as I have enjoyed writing.  Any more than that and I might get jealous...

William Fergus Law aka Heretic Zero (2009).

[Heretic Zero]

SAGA
The Empire Falling Chronicles

Prologue I: What Has Gone Before

   Within the Academy at Matta over six thousand students could learn the arts and disciplines from masters from all over the Empire.  Every cycle, more and more students would enrol with the hope that they would some day take their places within the academic elite and play their part in making the realm a more prosperous and knowledgeable place for each generation to follow.  For over two thousand five hundred cycles this had been the aim of the Old Imperium since its foundation and the initial discoveries about what the Weavers referred to as the Enigma.  The Academy at Matta was but one of such universities but it was still the largest and to be granted access to learn within the marble halls and ancient libraries was an honour unto itself as it predated the Empire itself as both a fortress and as a learning institute by yet another four hundred cycles.
   Of all of the lecturers in the Academy, Jenna remembered one in particular.  Despite his talent for digressing from the subject at hand, Cadwick was a man of considerable knowledge and many a humorous story to share with the class.  She liked him because he was like the kindly elder that everyone wish they were related to, so she spent more and more time listening in to his other lecturers and picked up on other issues, despite her father’s wishes for her.
   Jenna had, from her earliest years, been superb with tactical games.  Not only had she beaten her brothers but her father and all of his friends also.  She had then gone on to use these logical and strategic skills to best all within her school and, during one of her fathers’ parties; she bested one of the local militia commanders.  It was upon being soundly thrashed at what he claimed was his favourite game that he wrote a sterling letter of recommendation that had her placed within the Academy.
   Cadwick was her tutor for several years but in subjects less orientated around military skills.  He was more interested in philosophy and literature, coupled with a teaching technique that erred the students in to contemplating the questions and several students displayed various different methods in figuring out the answer to Cadwick’s ponderings.  Through this, Cadwick examined his class and ascertained further understanding of how other people, especially his students, learned to solve problems.
   It was whilst she was observing one of his lectures that Lokric crept up behind her and said quietly,
   “You know that the results have been posted?”
   “I do.”
   “Aren’t you going to check yours?” Lokric asked further.
   “Not until Cadwick has finished his lecture and I have seen him.” She replied, finally turning to look at him.
   Lokric had very intense, sharp features in such a fashion that it reminded many people of a hunting bird akin to the one that he kept and flew.  He was quite handsome, though Jenna had thought him not quite her type.  He had blonde her that draped round his chin and thin blue eyes that never left his quarry until he was done with them.  Born in to one of the noble families of Matta, he was the first son and was expecting to inherit a great deal shortly since his father had fallen ill.  He was wearing his customary navy blue silks and shin high boots where he kept his dagger, an heirloom gifted to him on his fifteenth cycle.  He had joined the Academy at the same time as Jenna and was learning the military practices, though his forte was more in martial mastery.
   He turned his attention to Cadwick who stood at his podium in the centre of the auditorium, currently sipping at a goblet.
   “Where was I?” Cadwick placed the goblet down and absently brushed at his lips with a thumb, “Ah yes…  Agart was determined to rediscover the diaries Lord Menak had secreted away but, knowing that Manek would only allow him to read them if he proved himself worthy of his cause, Agart decided to do what?”
   A selection of hands rose from the lower circles and Cadwick pointed to one of them, seemingly at random,
   “He raised an army at the expense of the House of Wyvern’s Claw.”
   “That he did,” Cadwick smiled, “but whom did he attack first?”
   Another show of hands and another student chosen seemingly at random,
   “The House of Glass Shadows?”
   “Ah, that we have never had proven,” Cadwick shook his head, “and although we cannot discount the possibility that the House was attacked, it is unlikely that the House will ever discuss where or when or even by what means and with what numbers.  Officially, we must account whom was the first struck?”
   “Harrana Castle and the House of the Eternal Sun.”
   “Indeed it was,” Cadwick replied, “and the Castle fell within the space of a single day.  One of the mightiest castles within the empire was felled in a single night and then advanced upon, although it was fully capable of repelling a siege of that magnitude.  Why?”
   Oddly, the number of hands was few.
   “Because it was a surprise attack?”
   “Because someone let them in?”
   “Because they thought the army was there to reinforce them?”
   Each of the answers were wrong but Cadwick did not provide them with an answer and, almost with a glance, he prompted Jenna to respond.  She raised her hand as per with his practice within his lectures, and he accepted her suggestion.
   “It was because he did not send in the army.  He hid the army and sent in his elite fighters as peasants.  They assassinated the Baroness while her child poisoned the forces.  The army approached once they saw the flames light the castle battlements.”
   Cadwick nodded solemnly.  He turned one of his pages on the podium and then continued to talk,
   “So why did the Baroness’ progeny do such a thing?”
   “The Baroness had a Kildren offspring, sired by Agart, secretly, who had taken to Menak’s teachings, as per instructed by Agart’s personal Mentor who he had left, supposedly, in the Baronesses’ service.” Jenna answered without a sign of discomfort.
“Due to this, the military were powerless to prevent the fall of the castle and the city.  As a precaution, the High Council introduced a member of the military’s High Command in to the Council and that is how it has transpired from that point on.  That is why I set your final assignment; in your opinion, and backed with the history of our realm, were the High Council to be reduced in size which would be the more expandable? Should we remove the military High Command or the Noble Elite and why?”
   There was an unnerving quiet for a moment as those present considered the assignment and what it was that they had been asked to do, Cadwick put a relieving end to the silence by dismissing the class with a kindly message of goodwill.  Jenna, wordlessly, stood and headed down in to the forum and smiled as she approached.  Cadwick met her with a similar grin as he put his papers and books in to a satchel.
   “Are you intentionally looking for trouble with High Command?  You know that Lord Onak would like to remove you from the Academy, don’t you?  Asking the students to consider the position of the High Command is kind of like slapping them in the face with a gauntlet.”
   “Perhaps,” Cadwick chuckled, “but then the military’s role in the High Council is something of great debate none-the-less and history does dictate that our sovereignty is rife with private affairs that can have severe repercussions upon our people.  I do recognise the need for our military and nobility, but while they have excessive influence within the High Council, they have approved larger and larger budgets which, given the growth in population, we ought to be considering money to be invested in to agriculture and the maintenance of our cities as opposed to arranging for a war we cannot even see coming or the so-called ‘affairs-of-the-state’.”
   Cadwick finished the sentence with a particularly sarcastic tone.
   “But is it not the purpose for the military to be there during a time of unforeseen dangers?  And as for the nobility, we also have a grand history of leadership that is not in turmoil.  I think it more prudent to have more people on the Council for a more democratic society.”
   Cadwick laughed gleefully,
   “My dear girl, I very much wish that you had been learning with us as opposed to ushering your talents toward unseen battlefields we could all do without.  History is the building blocks upon which each civilisation is founded upon.  By understanding that which has gone before, we can improve, evolve and slowly reach a higher state of being.”
   It was Jenna’s opportunity to chuckle,
   “I am a soldier, Teacher Cadwick, not a philosopher.  What you are suggesting will not be accomplished in your or my life time.”
   “Then whose?” Cadwick maintained his grin.
   She shrugged and turned as Lokric approached.  He walked with the sure footed grace of a duellist in the making and his eyes were still locked on to the elderly man.
   “My father has spoken of you, as has my mother.  They have different opinions about you.”
   Cadwick looked back to him and replied with a knowing smile,
   “You are Lokric?  I have heard many promising things from Teacher Hagen concerning your athletics.  He professes that you are perhaps his finest student in weapon mastery.”
   “I am Lokric and I now see why a man such as you can cause such controversy.  May I ask you a question?”
   “Please do,” Cadwick broadened his smile and appeared to be eagerly awaiting a challenge, “what is on your mind?”
   “I understand that the question must be asked in order to start the evaluation of a given state, but to begin an evaluation of High Command and the budget constraints now, with the rumours of troop movements beyond our borders, seems like a bad time to question the bigger picture.”
   “Lokric!” Jenna swung, shocked at his question, “What are you saying!?”
   “No, if he wishes to justify himself, then I wish him to teach me.  I want to know what it is he’s teaching these students.  I want to learn.” Lokric did not shift his gaze from the old man, speaking with the conviction that made him a leader of soldiers.
   Cadwick nodded and approached him with a broad smile,
   “Yes, my boy!  Yes!”
   Jenna had never seen the old man so enthused, “Teacher Cadwick?”
   “Lokric, dear boy, these young men and women are learning to become our next politicians and philosophers, the next leaders of our realm when war is not an issue.  They are going to be tried with various tasks and they need to know how to overcome them through the use of their own insight when the hand of the military cannot prevail.  They must question the role of each of these precise cogs in the machine to understand how and why they work.”
   Cadwick stood a little straighter and returned Lokric’s unwavering gaze,
   “While many might misinterpret my intentions, I assure you that when they return their written works I shall not be grading them based upon their opinions but upon their reasoning for the answers.  Note that I have placed no constraints on my students; they can quite happily reply that neither should be removed and perhaps the cuts should come from elsewhere.  We should ask all the questions, not just the ones that we feel comfortable with.”
The elderly man clapped his hands and plucked up his satchel and turned to them both,
“Have you eaten, yet?”

*****

   The Cornerstone was the name of a fine little restaurant on Matta’s tiered plateaus.  Cadwick was enjoying toasted raisin buns.  He’d taken a liking to cutting them in half and spreading butter on them whilst drinking a calming tisane.  On most evenings, he would come to this plateau and this restaurant so that he could watch the sun go down on the opposite side of the valley wall.  It was a quiet ritual that the old man went through, knowing that these were moments that were a kind of reward for having thought about them.  But tonight he had company.
   Jenna and Lokric sat about the table with Cadwick, both with a goblet of wine.  Lokric and Cadwick, it seemed to Jenna, had struck something of a bond.  They had conferred notes about the other lecturers and made notes of other promising students but Jenna could feel the conversation up in her bones…
   “And what do you think of Lord Onak’s decision to move troops to intercept the forces over the border?” Lokric jabbed the question in like a knife under mail.
   “I believe he may be walking in to a trap.” Cadwick replied with just as much ferocity.
   “You believe it a trap?  To lure him out?”
   “Not quite.  A trap to lure anybody out.” Cadwick corrected him, “It’s a psychological move.  These movements have been reported for months now and all they’ve been doing is scaring town folk.  But when you send a force out to look at it, they tend to respond in kind.  They intend to overwhelm Lord Onak and strike the first blow.”
   “A first strike?  What precisely do you think this is?” Jenna asked.
“This is the dawn of an invasion.” Cadwick replied sullenly.
The three of them were quiet for several moments until Lokric lifted his goblet to his mouth and downed the remainder of the wine and hollered the serving wench closest.
“Well, I was wondering when I was going to get to take part in my first campaign.  What better way to get started then to defend your home lands from an unseen invader.  Have you heard of who or what they are?”
Cadwick raised an eye-brow,
“I have heard nothing nor witnessed anything that would be of real use to the High Command or Council.  If you don’t mind, I can see why you are doing so well with your martial mastery.  Please, tell me, what is it that you have taken for your Aesriken?”
Lokric grinned from ear to ear,
“The Yashena Staff.”
Cadwick was in honest awe.  He suddenly found himself having to close his mouth and then find himself again.  Once he corrected himself he looked Lokric in the eye and said,
“I am a man that abhors violence and bloodshed for I have seen it with my own eyes, but I believe that the defences of our realm are all the stronger for your presence.”
Lokric humbly bowed his head and took his drink as it arrived and downed half the cup.  Jenna sipped hers and was still a little taken aback by Cadwick’s remarkable reproaches.  Cadwick happily sipped on his tisane.
“Hold on a minute,” Jenna stammered, “If you believe this to be a trap, then why haven’t you told anyone!?”
“I have,” Cadwick’s face suddenly looking a little down, “They didn’t believe me.  Lord Onak, himself, asked me to stop being foolish and leave military matters to the military.”
“So what are you going to do Cadwick?  If the invasion is imminent, can you get out?” Jenna asked.
“Should I need to?  I believe two of the finest officers in our Legions can defend me.” He gave them a wink and then, with a shudder, wrapped himself tighter.
“It’s coming in a little chilly tonight, so I believe it is time for me to head on home to bed.  Where is Jared?”
“Jared?” Jenna asked.
“Yes, he’s one of the students.  He was left in my care when his father died.  He has triumphed in much the same way you have; he’s being accepted in to the Watchmen.”
Jenna and Lokric glanced at each other, quite surprised to suddenly be dropped with this revelation: Cadwick had a son!  Albeit adopted, Cadwick had managed to keep that one quiet.  They were both speechless, even when a youth of their age with long brown hair around his shoulders darted around the corner carrying a large basket of groceries.
“Hey, Cadwick!  What have I told you about drinking all that tisane!?”
“Oh, you do fuss, boy.” Cadwick mumbled, “Jared, I would like you to meet Jenna and Lokric.”
Lokric recognised the boy immediately, Jenna hadn’t seen him before.
“You… you’re Cadwick’s son?” stammered Lokric.
“He’s my adoptive father, aye.” Jared replied, his accent oddly strong with a northern accent, “I saw you in the Martial Courts yesterday.  You have incredible technique.  Perhaps we could spar sometime?”
Lokric stood up and appeared to still be dumb-founded,
“You’re the one that Cadwick took in?  How can that be so?”
Jared was a little baffled but it was Cadwick that intervened.
“He’s an excitable boy.  I am well aware of the incident in the library, the discrepancy in the stables and the misfortunate qualm, today, in the soldiers mess.  And I was to be having a word with him about it.”
“I’m glad,” Lokric barked, “Two of those lads are fine troops and I need them…”
Cadwick took hold of Jared’s wrist and said as clearly as he could,
“Well done, my boy.  Did you give them a good kicking?”
“They were soldiers?  It’s a good thing I’m going in to the Watchmen; if the military fight like that then I’d be holding myself back.”
Jenna locked one hand on Lokric’s shoulder and placed her other arm tightly around his mid-riff, dragging Lokric back.
“Why you little…” Lokric blurted as Jenna put her weight in to it, “I ought to teach you what fighting one of our soldiers is really like!”
“Now, boys!” Cadwick shook his hand between the two of them, “Calm down.  We need all our best in defence of the realm.”
Lokric settled, but the urge to just thump Jared in the eye was anything but dissipating.  They each went their separate way, though there was a moment, as Jenna pulled Lokric away, escorting him with the sense to keep him talking so he can blow it all out, and while Jared supported the frail Elder away, the two of them glanced back at each other.  That would not be the last time they would see each other.

*****

   Lord Onak died at the confrontation in which he led over twelve hundred troops.  The word got back to Matta within the day.  Some would say that the word was perhaps a bit too quick, but none-the-less, it was the word that one of the Empires greatest warriors had died against a foe that no one had seen anything of.
Within a season, Matta was taken.  The capitol city for the House of the Eternal Sun, disrupted at its core, had very little chance of defending itself.  Despite having the Legions, they were assaulted deep in the night by soldiers already within the city walls.  The city did not dare open its gates, knowing that amongst the hills was an army just waiting to run in and cut them all down, but no matter what resistance was put up to try and stop the soldiers already within the walls, it was flawed as soon as someone realised that they could “disappear in to shadows”.
There was also the cry of poisonings.
When chaos ensued and no one wanted to come out of their homes, the army was literally let in.  Citizens did what they could to escape Matta and flee in to the wilderness.
Lokric and Jenna had been placed in to the same Legion and when the city fell, Jenna was the one to give the order to abandon the city.  They fought their way out and even then, only a handful of their original company survived; a mere six of them out of two thousand.
A season after the final break, Jenna heard from another traveller that an eye-witness had seen Cadwick struck down by one of the invaders.  All those years of knowledge and wisdom snuffed out when so many more could have learned from him.  Perhaps the sweetest man she had ever known.
But Lokric had a different view of the outcome.  Now they had seen the opposition and Lokric was quiet for several days as he came to terms with what it was that he had been fighting.  His foe was no man, nor was it one of the mythic folk; the feeling was all wrong.  These were something so very different.  They were monsters, plated carapace that looked like man-made armour grafted to their flesh, gleaming blood red, and more swift than he had expected.  They were Daemons.  The advance party had to have been summoned.  But he had no understanding of the Enigma and merely attacked them as and how he could.  He had tallied an incredible body count on his way out of the city, but he had lost something along the way.  Something inside him.
The small company made it their mission to run a message of the invasion to one of the other core Houses and give them as much information as they could.  They succeeded in their goal, losing another of their number along the way, but allowing the other Houses to fortify themselves for the trails to come.  Cadwick had been right, it was an invasion, but Jenna had to wonder if he thought that it would be an invasion inspired to take over the whole Realm?
Either way, the Sentinel War had started and for the first time since the death of the Last Emperor, the Realm was slowly falling and to a vicious adversary in much the same way as it had done before, though this time, there was no Emperor to sacrifice himself to save anyone.

[Heretic Zero]

SAGA
The Empire Falling Chronicles

Prologue II: Gone Away

   The strong arms of her guardian held her tight to his chest, his breathing swift but rhythmic as he kept pace through the streets of Aster’s Port.  The street looked very different by night; the windows barely providing light to the streets and those few braziers that lit the road were being avoided lest they be spotted by their pursuers.
   Old Wesley, as that was what she knew him as, though remained unsure as to his actual age, did not fumble a footstep, each foot fall was placed with sure, military confidence.  But she could see by the scant light that draped across his face from time to time as they passed alley openings or by low windows that Old Wesley was silently crying; no words of childish bravery nor consolation was necessary, but for her to see this older man, older than her father, weep in to the night air as he slipped through the alley ways with considerable ease, was definitely a learning experience; no other member of her father’s guard had been as loyal for nearly as long as Wesley.  He had been her bodyguard when her dad had been informed that some men wanted to kill him and he had been there when one of the kitchen boys had thrown something at her.  She remembered the way that Old Wesley had been in the courtyard when the men had arrived and the way that he had spoken to them; without an ounce of fear nor an ill word to say of any of them.  Old Wesley was a soldier and a good man, but most importantly, he was someone that she felt safe with.
   He was also the last person that she felt safe with; as the young girl clung to her guardian, she watched the flickering orange glow expand over the rooftops of the keep above them.  That had been her home all of her life.  That had been where her mother and father had once lived and where Old Wesley and all of her friends had been situated during the fighting three years previously.  All of those nights in front of a much smaller fire, while her parents and their friends ate and drank and exchanged stories of the days during the Imperial Civil War as it had managed to reach this small island.  She recalled the way that her father and Old Wesley had exchanged words over the old table in the dining room whilst it was covered in maps and the odd goblet, considering strategies in which they could defend the keep as marauding conscripts from the mainland tried to take the shores and then laid siege to the keep.  Her oldest brother had fought and died with both of them during that conflict.
Old Wesley had managed to save their second son only a day later with some considerable aplomb, according to a couple of the men at arms who had witnessed him in action, and now it appeared that he was fulfilling that role once more, for in one foul night men managed to over run and kill so many of the keep that now only two remained, save for the young lad that Wesley had sent ahead of him, silently saying a prayer that both the tide was in and that a boat would be ready for them.
Somewhere around them they could hear continued fighting, as though some of the militia from the keep that lived in the town around it had taken up their swords and axes in response to what appeared to be an invasion.  As soon as he heard the sounds of battle, Old Wesley placed her back to the floor and scanned around the alley way.
“Keep moving, young ‘un.  Keep movin’ to th’ dock.  Do you remember Justin Bayman?”
She nodded quickly and awaited his further instruction.
“Well, Justin’ll be our Captain t’night.  Soon as you see him, you go to him.  Do you understand?”
She nodded again but a clatter from above diverted her attention and gave Wesley the warning he required.  Two figures fell from above toward them from the rooftops around the alley and the sudden commotion made her fall backwards to the floor, scrabbling for the corners of the alleyway.  She watched as the two silhouettes blocked out the light from behind, plunging the alley in to further darkness and then merged with the form of Wesley.  In the scattered rays of light that burst through as the black forms moved abruptly and raggedly, for a moment she saw an assassins arm rise, brandishing a cruel, serrated blade that shone briefly and then fell sharply.
She did not dare cry out lest the assassins saw her in the shadow and she glanced about to see if the path was clear to the harbour, but as she turned back to see if she could safely start running, she watched as the fight came to a sudden and brutal finale.  With uncanny swiftness for a man of his apparent age and build, Old Wesley had seized the blade from the assailants hand with a twist and sharp blow to the elbow, then dropped to one knee and brought the blade back round in to the second attackers abdomen.  Without pausing, he then pulled himself up again and plunged the blade deep in to its original owner.  With a final cut, Wesley granted the second man a warriors’ death.
As the two bodies hit the floor, Wesley turned and looked directly at her.
“The next time you hear a noise, run faster girl.  Run and I will catch up.”
Again, she nodded and got to her feet.  They turned back to the alleyway and ran for the harbour.

*****

Ackar, the first mate, glanced around to Justin and said quietly enough so that none of the other men heard,
“Who’d have thought that stone that old would burn so well?”
“For those that are in that dead within, it should burn with a purity that only the Gods could truly appreciate.” Justin replied.
Quickly surveying the others around them, Ackar then ventured,
“I needn’t tell you that the men are getting more wary.”
“Then don’t.  There is man coming that owes me a debt and I want to ensure that he pays me back.”
“That must be some debt.”
Justin merely nodded as he watched the docks, scanning them carefully.  From the right, toward the Mouldy Flagon, there were the cries of battle and another fire started in the rooms above.  Many a good night had been spent in that establishment, and the odd bad one, but generally Aster’s Port was a good place to get a little peace and quiet from the torments of the main land.
To the left there was an eerie stillness that made even the massive frame of Ackar shudder.  Some of the crew had headed in that direction when they had been given shore leave or to collect supplies, but out of those few, only a couple had returned with no tell of what had happened to their fellows.  Dusk had fallen over them and it was to their left that the sky was at its darkest hue, the smoke from other blazes that had been set further in to the alleyways crept out of the darkness like a steady sea fog but blacker and more oppressive.
“Lest this man come quick, that debt will be meaningless.” Ackar’s impatience and nerves were getting the best of him.
Justin looked at his first mate,
“I understand your fears, but we can be gone quickly enough – the tide is in our favour and there’s a wind on the rise.  We’ll be out to sea before the sun fully sets.”
“Aye, captain.” Justin’s words gave just enough reassurance.
“Ackar?” the captains’ voice was now quite audible, “We’re not waiting long.”
“Aye captain.”
   The first mate made his way back to the rudder and was quickly replaced by one of the oarsmen; a new lad that he had picked up only a couple of weeks ago as a favour to a friend.  The young man who had not yet needed to shave said, with a shake to his voice that he obviously did not intend to show,
   “Captain, the other passenger…”
   “What of him?” Justin retorted.
   “He’s clambered up in to the crow’s nest with that bow of his.  Told Dunnig not to go back up there till we were back out to sea.”
   Justin glanced up to the crow’s nest and watched the hooded man take a stance and notch his first arrow.  He could not see the man’s face but he knew what hid within the man’s eyes.  He had heard of his reputation long before he had ever had the chance to meet him and his reputation left many a sturdy man nervous.  He had approached the captain himself and paid handsomely in advance.  He had also imparted that they left in something of a hurry.  For Justin and the crew of The Sea Hag, this was not the first town that they had needed to leave in a hurry; the archer had been accurately informed that the town was going to be set upon in a very similar fashion to that of Aster’s Port.  The connection was obvious; both towns were members of the House of the Eternal Sun.  The Dukes of Aster had long served the Eternal Sun and the current Duke was no different in his allegiance but had become particularly popular with the Council at King’s Walk so it made a certain sense that he would make an obvious target.  What frightened Justin was that the same force had moved so quickly to take more ground and had still managed to keep their identity secret.  An unknown army was removing one of the most powerful Houses that the Old Imperium had to offer with a deftness that was not unlike a coup de grace.
   “Leave him up there.” Justin turned his eyes back to the oarsman, “A man like that’s more use to us doing what he does best.”
   “And what does a man like that do best?” asked the lad.
   “Amongst other things, he is a man born and bred to the bringing of death.  If your father or mother ever gave you advice to watch out for a person to avoid, Mikata, then that man is the definition of such a person.”
   Mikata looked back up at the archer and then replied,
   “It doesn’t take that much to avoid a man like that.”
   Justin stared at the boy for a moment and then smiled,
   “No.  No I suppose he doesn’t, does he…  Get back to your post, lad, we’re getting out of here now.  Let Masark judge who is fit to survive the night.”
   The boy turned away and made his way to the starboard flank, gathering rope along the way.  Justin watched as his crew prepared The Sea Hag for a swift departure and then turned his gaze back out to the docks.

*****

   Wesley covered her eyes as they crossed the street.
   The elderly man at arms and Quartermaster to Duke Aster had served on several battlefields before entering in to the service of his noble employer and then he had managed to fight again on different circumstances.  His work oft more difficult now than it ever had been as a soldier since, at the end of the day, as a soldier he only needed to take lives as opposed to protect them.  It had only been a few hours ago that Duke Aster had summoned Wesley to his private chambers where both he and his wife sat quietly, the Duke already suited in armour.  It was the look in his eyes and the complexion of his wife that told Wesley everything that he needed to know; the night was going to bring blood.  Before the Duke, lying on the stone floor, was a crumpled paper that had brought the word of what was to befall the keep and all within it.  Friends of the House of the Eternal Sun had managed to impart a message to the Duke concerning the impending attack but with so little time, the invading force would already be within the walls.
   “Treachery, m’ lord?” Wesley had asked.
   “Not within Eternal Sun.  I have received word that there is a quiet mercenary force that has been hired from the provinces south west of the Silent Trees.  They have been acquired by a rival of the House.”
   Wesley watched in quiet anger as the Duke rose and made his way over to his weapon rack.  He looked each of the weapons over and chose his father’s crested long sword, his own broad sword that he had forged himself on the day prior to his wedding and the knife that he had been given by his oldest son.  He sheathed each of them in a careful manner while his wife silently cried, knowing the night would likely be a short one.
   “Your orders, m’ lord?” Wesley asked.
   “Old friend, you have been loyal to me from the first day that you entered my service and you have done me a great many services that, despite whatever wealth and power I may have had, will never see you fully receive my true appreciation.  You have managed to gallantly secure my family, our home and this House from foes that would see harm done unto us above and beyond the call of duty.
   “Tonight we will be breached and the keep of Aster’s Port will fall, of this I have been assured by powers above even myself.  Armies have marched upon other keeps and castles and slowly Eternal Sun will vanish once and for all.  I see no reason why you should fall with this House.”
   Wesley did not attempt to contain his anger.  Instead he released it in the only way that he could given the situation,
   “M’ lord, Duke.  If you’ll beg m’ pardon, but unless that note’d be tellin’ you that the King’s Ghost ‘imself was t’ be whiskin’ me off out of arrows reach, then I kindly be stayin’ right where I am with a clutch o’ servants so they’d be moppin’ up after me as I carve me way through the fools that’d be walkin’ through your halls…  M’ lord.”
   Wesley managed to finish his dedication with a grin that revealed the teeth that he had lost during a couple of his nastier excursions and it did him good to see Lady Aster chuckle as he politely informed the Duke of his intentions.
   “And I would be beside you,” the Duke returned, “were it not that my last order to you is something of a different nature.  My dearest Isabella and I have lost two children, one to this dirty business, and would ask that we did not lose our last.”
   Old Wesley dropped to his knees and bowed his head low, despite promptings from Aster to rise,
   “You’re a cunning man, m’ lord.  Had you commanded me any other reason to leave you this night I have to sadly say that I would for the first time have disobeyed you.  As you have commanded, I shall take Tanya to a safe place, far from here.”
   Seeing that Wesley was not about to stand, Aster took hold of Wesley’s shoulder and whispered to him,
   “Now please stand and face me as you would face another man.  I am hardly your equal in any right and you would be doing me a great honour to appreciate your smile one last time.”
   Lady Aster had stood and gone behind the curtains and retrieved Tanya while the Duke and Wesley spoke their last.  Wesley had also summoned one of the serfs and informed them to run a message down to The Sea Hag for Captain Justin.  The attack came earlier than was anticipated, but Wesley had made these preparations years in advance in case he was ever to escort a cadre of people out of the building.  To get himself and one other out of the keep was by far easier.

*****

But that had been a while ago and the events had swiftly become more and more ugly as the evening progressed.  He had lifted the young girl once again and was shielding her senses from the horrors that lay in the gutters of the street and placed her back down as they managed to get back in to the alleys.  They quickly traversed the darkness and finally reached the wharf.  The Mouldy Flagon was in flames and men were fighting at the edge of the docks.
   It was Tanya that spotted the boat first and pulled on Wesley’s hand.  He grinned and jogged along side her hurried pace when from the alley way opposite the boat darted more of the assailants.  Tanya didn’t need to be told: her first reaction was to speed up and rushed down the harbour to the gang-plank.  Wesley quickly hefted a lobster cage from the side and lobbed it amongst them.  It did very little good apart from force one of them to knock it aside.  The old guard watched in dismay as one of the fighters pulled back on a short bow, aiming quickly for anything on Wesley, only to be sent careering in to one of his accomplices as an arrow slammed directly in to his chest, sending his arrow wildly out in to the water.  Another arrow from on high quickly followed and felled the last of them with a clean shaft through the neck.
   Wesley didn’t pause for a second glance – he assumed that there was an archer in the crow’s nest and he would be thanking him with plenty of drinks a little later.  He too arrived at the gang-plank only to glance back up the dock and see many more men heading toward the boat, attracted by the cries of the second man that had not yet been injured.
   “Agart’s Teeth!” Cursed Justin, “They’re on to us!  Men; arm yourselves!”
   “Nay!” Wesley bellowed, pulling a purse from his belt and, with an over-arm throw, passed it to Justin, “That’s passage for the girl and myself, plus a little extra.  Now give me a weapon and I’ll pay off my debt too!”
   To confirm to Justin what he was doing, he kicked the gang-plank off the side and in to the water.  There was not a word spoken by Justin as he drew a scimitar and a short blade and passed them over the side of the boat to the veteran.  One of the enemy closed in on Wesley as he picked up the weapons only to be stopped in his tracks by an arrow that struck with such force it propelled them in to the salty water.  Wesley looked up this time to salute the cloaked figure.  The figure nodded back to him and notched another arrow and sent it with deadly accuracy without seeming to aim.
   “Justin!  See to it that the girl is safe.  If anything happens to her, I’ll come back to drag the perpetrator to the Halls of Agart personally!”
   With that, Old Wesley turned and walked slowly up the dock to meet the first of the darkly garbed fighters.  When he closed to his last ten or so paces, Wesley gave out a roar and raised both weapons, watching as some of the assailants were throwing grappling irons over the edge of the ship, and surged in to them, allowing his weight and prowess to cleave in to their over-whelming number.
   Ackar hacked at the roped irons with a hand axe and freed them up before they had even gone taut.  Justin, Ackar, Tanya, the archer and the crew of The Sea Hag watched as Old Wesley disappeared in to the throng.  Mikata spoke a brief prayer for the man he had never had a chance to meet but was to learn about from Tanya over their voyage back to the mainland, across the Sleeping Sea.  She didn’t get to speak to the archer, although she really wished she could have had the chance to thank him for what he had done, Justin had advised against it, along with Mikata telling her stories.
   The Sea Hag was a good place for Tanya but, despite befriending Mikata, and Justin keeping a constant vigil on her, she now no longer felt safe with anyone.

[Tyrant]

I sir, am honestly impressed. I ahve to admit that I hate fantasy stuff anymore, but this is good. it's well written, got good use of the lingo. Readable and clear. Great stuff man, I'm going to print this off and read it tonight in place of my normal book so am not distracted by the blobs of goo running around the internet.

[Heretic Zero]

Quick foreword and explanation is due after making some kinda' whack promise of getting this story on to the pages sooner rather than later - no sooner did I post that prologue and shut down the archaic IBM Think Pad with hitched internet connection in a location that didn't like to recieve signal, the laptop died.
She had been a good friend for all of six months, or there about, and managed to croak with hordes of data that is not likely to be replaced - fortunately, the story remains intact (because unlike my Mom, I remember to back stuff up!).

Sorry again for the delay, but without further ado...

SAGA
The Empire Falling Chronicle

Chapter One: A Heroes Welcome

   There are few that have travelled the length and breadth of the Realm.  Such it is that those that have travelled great distances have something of a plethora of stories that they prefer to bolster their egos with, nothing to say the least of the creatures and magicks that they have undoubtedly witnessed first hand.  There are those that would speak of the places that are read about in the old lore, from the times of the Old Imperium, and many a map can show the way, but to say that one has explored fully these vast lands would make them a valuable commodity, indeed.  This is not to say, however, that no such folk exist; I for one believe that the stories of the Old Imperium bare more truth than many have given them credit, albeit made fanciful over the many cycles, but should a more hardy explorer know of these distant lands, it would be right to assume them either dangerous or a paradise from which they did not wish to return from.
- Exert from Historian of White Stand, Gideon Heartlend

   “Land ho!” Dunnig called from the crow’s nest.
   Justin glanced up at him, smiling broadly, and turned to the bow of the Sea Hag.  The whether had been favourable and there had not been any sign of a following ship despite the relatively clear skies and light but speedy winds.  The current had washed them most of the way through the Sleeping Sea and up in to the Crescent Archipelago.  As he spied his crew he noticed the sudden lift in spirits accompanied with the notion that all those aboard would be able to spend a few days in the comfort of real beds and with cooked food.  A hot bath was the second thing on Justin’s mind, coming a distant second to his own personal agenda.
   “Could not Dunnig bellow that a little quieter?” Ackar asked as he fumbled his way out and on to the deck, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
   Justin grinned at him, but hastened back to a Captain’s mind.
   “All hands on deck!  Eyes to the land and to the sea.  Watch those coasts!  We’ve not been here in months, lads, so it’d be folly to wander in to a changed island.  Get the sails ready to be dropped should we see any unwelcome folk!”
   Ackar stood by his old friend and said quietly enough for Justin to hear but for no other,
   “You know there’s been no movements out this far.  Even the Old Imperium never bothered much with what few colonies settled within these islands.”
   Justin did not turn to him but replied as sternly and as quietly as the initial statement,
   “Were I to rest on those laurels but once and be caught with my pants down, not one of us would see land again.  You know this.  Neither of us are military men so I daren’t contemplate the strategies of either army during this conflict.”
   Ackar examined the starboard railings, the chipping and breaks in the wood, the place where they had to hastily board up a breach in the poop deck where an arbalest had struck with harrowing results for one of his crew, and nodded without another word.
   They watched as they approached the land quickly, cleaving through the waves as they circled the more shallow reefs and toward a lagoon of bright blue water.  Surrounding the lagoon were hills that would hide any ships mast and the majority of them were steep cliffs leading up to grasslands.  Gulls and Turls flocked about the cliffs, some bobbing up and down on the water as they came in to the lightest of waters.
   “Heave anchor!” Justin called, “Dunnig, keep to the nest and keep an eye on those cliffs.  Ackar, you have the ship.”
   Justin turned about and made his way to one of the long boats with seven other men, several of which were his most able fighters.  As they boarded, Ackar called after him.
   “And what of our guests?”
   Justin peeked back over the side of the long boat and glanced over to the hatches where two of their passengers made their way up.  One was a tall woman with dark hair and a muscular, though shapely frame.  Already she swept the decks and the horizon carefully, brushing her cloak aside from the heat.  Next to her was a slightly taller man, wearing fine, baggy cloth and moving with an uncanny fluid grace.  His short blonde hair gave him a younger complexion that belied his age, albeit that a glance from his sharp and cold eyes stole the presumption that he was innocent.
   Justin merely grinned again and hollered back,
   “If they like they can scrub the deck.” And with that he dropped back in to the long boat and was lowered in to the waters below.
   The men swiftly rowed to the beach and as soon as they arrived pulled, from under their perches and benches, leather pauldrons and cuirasses.  As soon as each of them were armoured, they strapped their weapons around their waists and left the moored boat and began the short, steep climb through a narrow ravine.  As they neared the summit, Justin order two of them to scout ahead, as stealthily as possible and get a lie of the land.  Shortly the scouts returned and the smiles they sported told Justin all he needed.
   “It’s just as we left it Captain.  They’ve not seen us yet, but give it a moment and they soon will.” One of the scouts reported.
   “Fine,” he responded, “Plakka; get back to the beach and signal the ship, the rest of you follow me.”
   Justin and his men made their way over the ridge and paused at the peak.  Once more they gazed down over the valley before them after so many months to a place that some would call home were they to settle down.  Across the far side and around the central lake was the town of Kalen’s Rest, so named after its founding member, a captain and explorer during the days of the Old Imperium, when the five Houses served the Emperor and knew a prosperity that seemed legendary to most folk throughout the lands.  Kalen had served the House of the Eternal Sun but had no intention of returning to mainland after finding this island retreat in amongst the islands of the Crescent Archipelago and retired with the simple intention of spreading cultivating a paradise.  Justin could not help but consider whether he would one day find his own island, one untouched and devoid of the war that had ignored this place.
   Forests covered the eastern slopes and played a vast contrast to the western rocky climes where several breaches in the side of the hills made for waterfalls that dropped several hundred feet to the central lake.  The southern slope that they began to descend was still quite steep and not particularly suited for crops but was perfect for the sheep, goats and aurochs that paid special attention to them as they passed.  As they approached the town, several of the men unbuckled their belts and unfastened their armour, enjoying the sun and scented breeze from the pine woods closest to them.
   It was not long before someone had spotted them and the bell of the town hall rang clearly throughout the valley, people emerging from their workshops and studies, shepherds suddenly becoming apparent in the fields and farmers quickly making their way down the far valley wall.  As they circled the lake they were greeted by maybe three dozen men, the town’s strongest and swiftest, along with the town Chieftan, Barad.  Barad was a bull of a man, tall and well set with sun bleached hair and a simple farmers’ attire.  Justin also noticed that at his side he carried an axe at which he smiled to himself; he’d prefer that they remained cautious.
   “Hail, Barad!” Justin called jovially, “I bring good tidings and wares from the mainland!”
   No sooner had Justin called out, Barad’s expression changed visibly.  He gestured to one of the other men and sent them back to the town to spread the good news.
   “Captain!  It’s been too long.  How are you and do you come to us all in good health?” Barad’s warm voice was deep and paid homage to his size.
   “Aye, that I do.  The crew of the Sea Hag would not come here in any other way.  Tell me, how are your folk?  I have been praying to the Grey Queen and to Merrod for you all and it appears once again they have blessed you with a fine crop.”
   Barad chuckled loudly,
   “Captain, were I to think that you’d changed a habit of a life time and left your life in the hands of the Deities I’d be certain that Speaker Litila would take you for a potential husband.  Your men are along shortly, I hope.”
   Justin nodded,
   “To leave them on the boat would bring me a mutiny the next time we sailed, my friend.  But I must ask your permission for we have passengers with us, Barad, that would do well for sampling the hospitality of Kalen’s Rest.”
   Barad grinned broadly,
   “If you let them on your boat they can’t be so bad,” a quick wink, “I’m sure that we can find them beds and food.  Are they many?”
   “Eight more on top of my crew.  I would speak with you about them.” Justin replied.
   Barad agreed with a nod but then slapped Justin on the back with a large hand and ventured,
   “Indeed; there will be much we can talk about, but before any of that, let’s get you all in to the town and to the food!”
   As they made their way in to the town, Justin had one more pressing question,
   “My friend, how is Tanya?”
   Barad laughed again and spoke with a happiness Justin found some comfort in,
   “You will find her in good health and even better spirits for seeing you.”

*****

   The school was situated at the peak of the northern ridge.  It was a simple structure with a base of stone for when the rains came and the strongest winds, while the upper most section was made of wood.  Twice had the school taken moderate damage from the weather, but never so much that a days work would not fix it and with the number of able bodied young men, who would be manipulated in to getting the work done, getting the repairs done was usually a matter of the greatest of ease.  The wood had been painted white and shuttered windows stood open while the front doors were wide and anchored.  Even as he approached, Justin could here her talking to the children within,
   “…And so the Five Houses of the Imperium were named after the family that held the house.  Who can tell me the names of those families?” Tanya posed the question.
   There was a bit of murmuring and hands were pushed in to the air with a variety of speeds and confidence.
   “The House of Clear Water!” called the first upon being beckoned to do so.
   “Correct; the very same that Kalen belonged to before he founded the island.  Anyone else?  Bellsa?”
   “Wendy’s Claw?” came a timid reply.
   Justin chuckled at the door but nobody heard him or had noticed him as he had approached, probably because one of the other young girls, presumably Wendy, spoke up loudly about Bellsa’s hair.  Tanya smirked and kindly corrected her,
   “Wendy doesn’t have claws and Bellsa doesn’t have snakes for hair, either.  I think you were referring to The House of Wyvern’s Claw, weren’t you Bellsa?”
   “No.  Wendy has claws like any other witch.”
   “And you have a nose like a witch!” Wendy retorted.
   “Enough, girls,” Tanya raised her voice slightly, but with the authority to stop the argument dead in the water, “Tomas?  Can you name a House of the Old Imperium?”
   “There’s the House of the Eternal Sun.  My mommy said that was where she came from before she got here.”
   “Indeed she did, and that will have been a very long journey,” Tanya added informatively, “Any more?”
   “The House of Glass Shadows.” Called Ronyel, knowingly, “And my daddy says that there’s the House of the Stone King.”
   Justin watched as Tanya squinted for a moment,
   “The Stone King doesn’t have a House, and he’s a myth.  A legend.  Although the Mountains off the borders have not been fully explored to the best of my knowledge, it is considered to be so impassable in the regions that the stories of him are concerned that there is no way that he could have achieved what legends say.  Also, there is not enough ground in which to build a town, let alone a gargantuan city.”
   Ronyel did look somewhat disappointed at the rewriting of his father’s history lessons but his attention was quickly diverted by the Captain’s slow knock on the door.  All of the children turned round to look at Justin, decked out in some of his better casual land orientated garb, his sword dangling from his hip.  While awaiting the right time, he had rolled up his sleeves to show the tattoo; a rather nicely etched mermaid from the top of the right arm down to just above his elbow – not all of it showed; he wasn’t in the mind to show off the breasts, but the tail spurred the imagination – while on his left arm, below the elbow and slicing across his forearm were scars from a couple of his rather nastier skirmishes which had left blood elsewhere.  All of this to exemplify the buccaneer character that these children had grown up believing that he had been since before they were born.  He also noted the expression of glee Tanya held as soon as she recognised him.
   “I can tell you tales of those mountains, though I doubt but a single one of you are old enough or hardy enough to hear but the mildest of them.  Drenched in blood and scarred by monsters crueller than those of legend.  These are the stories that I have heard.  The only survivors of these tales being the men and women that told the tales on their very own death beds!”
   Justin put the pauses in the right places and hissed as and when appropriate.  Tanya squinted again, making silent note that she would have rather the children not be taken in by too many fantastic stories, but she said nothing and seemed avid to hear at least one of the stories that she too had heard as a child, told in much the same way.
   “I recall one tale in particular of a man that I picked up on my very ship, made silly with madness,” Justin twisted his face a little and put on an accent from the mainland coasts to the south of Kalen’s Rest, “’Captain Justin,’ he said to me, ‘although you have seen horrors of the sea, I assure you they will ne’er compare to the beasts I have seen from within those rocks!’”
   Justin took a moment to examine the expressions of the class.  They were hooked.
   “The old man, a soldier he had once been, went on to tell me that he had fought with effigies that had been cast to the floor, grown ten fold and then moved, and how they had fled for their lives when harassed by huge men with a single eye and a horn mounted upon their brow hurled boulders with but one enormous arm…”
   He slouched over, making sluggish but powerful movements with his arms, mimicking the motions to the big rocks, all done cross-eyed and making loud grunts and snuffles.  And that was when Ronyel observed,
   “Did he not see the Aurochtaurs?”
   And Justin came to a sudden a brutal halt.  Slowly, nervously, he took a step back and changed his tone to that of a whisper with a serious edge to it,
   “Aye, lad, he most certainly did… but… well, that part of the story may be a little more frightening than you might want to know…” he trailed off while cheekily glancing up at them, daring them with a glance to coax him on; the test of his storytelling skills.
   His audience were enthralled and would perhaps not let him leave without the rest of the tale, Tanya included.  So, he reset his stance and placed his hands on his hips and shook his head,
   “You’re braver than I gave you credit for, either that or you’re all fools!” he chided them all, thrusting a finger out and scanned the class with it, “For the Aurochtaurs were the part of the story that sent him ill most.  He told me of their size, Barad and I together would still not be enough to wrestle one down, were we able to surpass the arm-long goring horns, mightier than some of the timbers on my own ship.  Each of them, and, yes, there were many he told me, were swift with their powerful legs, but not as quick as their terrible weapons of mountain forged steel.  The only thing that bettered their physique was their own savage fury.”
   He paused after the description to let some of the smaller ones catch their breath.
   “He escaped, obviously, but not before his fellows had been decimated by the horde,” he said matter-of-factly, “but not by his speedy legs.  No…  He claimed that it was the Stone King himself that had rescued him.  They were concerned about his presence but then he shifted the mountains and ground itself with his arcane arts.  It was with that he feinted and I came in to the story, for I discovered him on a broken boat at least five days away from the nearest port.”
   He rubbed his nails against his jacket and then held them high, giving a sideways glance to see if anyone would dare question either his involvement or even the validity of the tale.  They were quiet for a moment until Wendy asked,
   “Is that the only story you know?”
   “Absolutely not.” Justin piped, apparently eager to recount another, but upon glancing back at Tanya, he realised he was using up some valuable time, “However, you’d have to convince your teacher.  She looks like she’s got plans.”
   “Like getting them all home,” Tanya took the high ground now but avoided the imminent attempt to change her mind by adding, “but if you’re all really good, perhaps Captain Justin would be able to return and tell us another story tomorrow.”
   All eyes turned to the Captain and he stared down his nose at them, regarding them suspiciously,
   “How about one with swordplay and romance?  I once gave cabin to a young lad who told me of a quest to find his true love…”
   The uproar was good enough.  Justin was, however a little surprised when, as they were about to leave, Tanya turned back in to the little school hall and called out,
   “Come on, Wesley.  Wake up!”
   At her beckoning came a large grey wolf-hound, perhaps only a year old.  It padded up to her side and casually investigated Justin with a snuffle of his boot and then to his hand.  After a moment, Wesley trotted along side the furthest children, his shoulders still coming over the heads of most of the children, but not one of them bothered by his presence.  Justin watched carefully, instinctively sizing up a powerful opponent and knowing that it would more likely be fortune and destiny that would save him from a hound that size.
   “Could you have found a smaller one?” Justin asked as they began to descend the hills.
   “He’s not native.  I found him a few months ago amongst wreckage of a ship.  We found no other survivors and after a couple of meals and some basic unguents he has not left my side.”
   Justin humphed and sarcastically added,
   “Story of many a sailor, that is, girl.”

[Heretic Zero]

SAGA
The Empire Falling Chronicle

Chapter Two: In the Company of Strangers

   Of all of the places that I have ever known, there have been few places friendlier than the outlying islands of the House of Clear Water.  For those that choose not to be included in the vast political struggles that plague the mainland, havens of quiet agriculture and fishing have appeared around several of these tiny islands which offer a place to settle for those that wish to go no farther, while in some cases the small villages harbour small pirate families or offer refuge for smugglers; either way, these small islands soon enough claim those that wish not to travel anymore.
   As to how these islands aren’t regularly checked stands beyond reason – the House of Clear Water’s navy must be well aware of the opportunistic raids that come from some of the islands, although from an experienced Captain’s mind, I would dare venture the suggestion that it may be that since the islands are also slightly closer to the Sundered Lands of the Eternal Sun that they do not risk finding themselves engaged by one of the Dreadnaughts that haunt those waters.  As for the stories of monsters in these waters, I cannot confirm the sightings, though there has been the odd tall, but still conceivable, story told by associates of mine.  Beasts that warrant care for even the most hardy of sailors.
   Were you ever to ask me as to where it would be that I would consider resting my head and taking to the land, it may be Kalen’s Rest, but I have overheard my first mate laugh in to his tankard whenever has mentioned the idea of my retirement.  He made underhanded remark of me resting at the bottom of the seas, along with Merrod’s Heart, before I took to the land.  Perhaps that is so, but were I ever to take to the land, then born I was to Clear Water and to her islands I would remain.
-  An Exert from Captain Justin Bayman’s Diary

Mikata had returned home with Tanya, not because he wanted to but because Justin had told his father that although Mikata had been a sterling addition to the boat, the next few months aboard the Sea hag would likely be the death of her crew at the hands of this daemonic army that was slicing its way through the House of the Eternal Sun.  Justin had sealed the boys fate upon the island by embellishing his reasoning with a rumour he had heard of the daemons wearing fresh skin of the youngest crew members.  Mikata’s father, a seasoned and not easily fooled man, did not question the rumour and said nothing more other thanking Justin for returning his son and seeing that he was well taught in the seafaring ways.
It was now under his father tutelage, as a carpenter, that Mikata attempted to make himself useful to the community and was showing some promise, though on a shore leave of the mainland he had traded some of his coin for books about crafting arts in the hope that one day he would learn how to read them.  It was Tanya that had made it possible and once he learned how to read he started to understand the diagrams.  One of the chapters had taught him how to blow glass and stretch it.  His finest moment was accidentally leaving one piece of glass he had crafted over night near one of his mothers ovens and finding it warped in the morning.  When he peered through it, he discovered that distances were distorted, far away became close and close became far away.
While he had served aboard the Sea Hag, he had often heard Justin, Ackar or Dunnig curse about the distance in which the eye could perceive a flag or a crew and therefore immediately knew what it was he wanted to make for them with his fathers trade, Tanya’s learning and his own hands.
He opened the stove and dropped ash over the embers so they would remain hot but not consume the fuel.  After he put the last of the tools away and added a small dose of plant oil over the leathers he entered his own room and collected the satchel of gifts, flipped it over his shoulder and back and made his way out the door.  He snatched up a torch and lit it off the brazier outside and ran for the town centre.  He gave up the running after he had rounded the edge of the lake and plodded along.
The events of the day were skimming through his head and in which order they had occurred left him wondering if he should have made a list of the jobs he had in the morning.  He recalled that he had to carve up twenty brace and winch components, at least another thirty sturdy hooks for rigging and a section of cross-mast capable of holding the fore sail.  With that, Mikata wondered what they had been doing to cause such damage and require such a repair, not to mention how desperate they would be to have an apprentice carpenter to be a shipwright before his time.  This led to him realising that he would need to examine the fittings of the ship in order to get the correct sizes and lengths and then get or cut (or both) the correct materials.
So lost was Mikata in his agenda, despite brandishing a good and bright torch, that he failed to notice the root protruding from the ground, one that he must have avoided a million times of more unconsciously, and therefore never noticed before, and fell flat on his face, his torch escaping his grip and plunging in to the lake.
“Dung!” he exclaimed.
He scrabbled to the edge in the hope that he could rescue it for the way home, while attempting not to get himself any dirtier than he already was.  After a several attempts he realised that it was futile.
“Pig dung.” He snorted and then turned about and started the trail again, paying more attention to the ground.
He approached Maddox’s boat house where the two main fishing boats remain moored, when he heard a voice.
“This is ridiculous!” said the voice.
The reply was mumbled and neither of them were voices that Mikata recognised and therefore curiosity set in with abundance.  Mikata knew several of the longer standing sailors on the Sea Hag, but he also realised that since he had left the crew Justin may have brought on others.  All he was expecting to find was a few of the sailors smoking pipes and complaining about the islands brew in a place that no one else would be concerned about, but as he approached the door he spotted several figures, and perhaps one or two more that he heard, stood, crouching and sat in a group, each of them in thick, brown, waxed cloaks.  Instead of stepping out and introducing himself, Mikata opted to slip up next to the main door and listen in to their conversation.
The first voice he could describe clearly was a heavy and low, almost resonant tone; likely a man as big, if not larger, than Barad,
“…but I like it here.  The Captain seems to trust these folk and I don’t see why we shouldn’t take a little break.”
The next voice was higher pitched, not that it would have been much of a feat, but retained a gritty quality.  The accent sounded like a voice from the southern coasts which Mikata had become accustomed to during his limited travels.  He had little doubt that these two were from some form of soldiering background.
“Thank you, lummox, but if one person here were interrogated, and let us not speak of the Sin Seekers, I have no doubt that every single one of these folk would perhaps do a little dance while recounting our presence here.”
This time it was a female voice, yet stern and with more authority than the previous voices,
“Must I say it again?  He told us that the one that we were seeking was on this island.  The Captain told us that this was Kalen’s Rest and you would need to be one fine sea-farer to trek here, let alone find the right island.  We have seen no sign of them in days and I have no doubt that he has been good to his word.”
“Jenna, I don’t mean no disrespect…” replied the challenger, only to be interrupted by yet another voice.  This one was male and difficult to make out, perhaps because he were the furthest from the door, but the voice definitely reminded him a little of the Captain,
“So don’t question her decision.”
Mikata shuddered at the sound of his voice; something behind the tone erred to being a little inhuman.  Perhaps a little more callous than a warrior should be.  And for one moment he remembered the archer in the crow’s nest aboard the Sea Hag, but Mikata had never heard him speak; if he had a voice, he suspected that the two of them would be similar.
“And with all respect to you, Lokric,” another new voice, tinted with an accent Mikata did not recognise at all; rounded and seemed to club away at simple words but with a simple clarity, “but Jenna has asked us to speak our minds and I agree with Unsh; and I’d like to add that this boat has now been seen, they will likely still be searching for us.”
Another couple of voices were raised in agreement, but nothing was said that Mikata could differentiate between.  He strained to hear more of what was being said, but nothing was easily made of until a new female voice hissed out with a delicacy that had Mikata wishing he were not spying but introducing himself, perhaps with a few colourful plants in his hand.
“I assure you, if the child is found and her blood is shed, you will have no further reason to run.  Personally, I would gladly meet my own blade as opposed to facing the infinite blades of the Scourged.  I wish not for one of those visions to be visited, and unless to seek a court with Agart himself, neither will you.”
A priest? Mikata wondered, Visions of a possible future?  She must hold a notable ranking within her order.
“Do we warn the villagers?” asked the heaviest of the men.
And that was when the silence began, only to broken when he continued,
“We ought to warn them.  That little place near the woods was nice; I would have gone back there, you know.  I really liked it.”
Mikata caught his breath.  Were these people so much of a danger to their shores?  And who was it that they were seeking?  He need not ask who it was that followed them for he had seen their ilk once before in the harbour of Aster’s Port and were that the last time he would not miss their company.  That was the night that they had picked up Tanya.
Mikata did not know why, but suddenly he knew who it was that these folk sought after.  Some instinct that was buried deep under his skin told him that the one that they were seeking had to be Tanya; no other of the island had a background shrouded in the same way as hers.  He even recalled how Justin and the Elders had stated that there was no reason to accept Tanya as anything other than an equal to the rest of the village back then.  He recalled them saying something like “Her bloodline is better lost for a while.”, and it was a phrase like that which had made a lonely little girl loved and cared for amongst the inhabitants of the island.  Even the hermit, Torsa, had taken a particular interest in her education.  Tanya was, without question, the most educated on the island, even if she were the least experienced.
   He glanced about, having heard this and now urgently intent on informing his old friend of the danger she may be in, and began to hurry away from the barn, Kalen’s Hall was no real distance away and Mikata believed that he was swift enough to make it there as long as they did not have an archer with them.  He crept away from the boat house entrance and toward the far side of the path.
   And then he learned the location of another within the boat house, one of which had not spoken, nor made a sound either intentionally or otherwise; just within the door where he had been hiding, one of the strangers, a pipe in his mouth, turned to look out at the stars and the view to spot Mikata covering open ground.
   “Jenna, we have a runner!” he reported.
   “Dung!” came the leading feminine voice again.
   And that was the last Mikata could have heard, his heart beating in his ears and the sound of his own hurried gasps as he covered the shore line.  Mikata was used to running around the lake – his father ensured his son was fit enough to run the errands that any of the islanders would have required; he had no use for a worthless son here – and didn’t stop till he reached the tavern.

*****

   “…But we were not afraid,” Captain Justin boasted, “my crew and I, along with those strangers, fought and shot each of those wretched fiends from the edge of the boat.  We gathered speed with the night air and, since I know those northern currents, we propelled swiftly away from the shores.  Now, as you and I both know, with the islets comes a selection of varying currents that reach to the furthest reaches of the Old Imperium.  Nine, last time I checked.  Kalen’s Rest is not a place that any of the merchants often frequent and therefore your Elders retain their wisdom in their secrecy, for that is what will suspend the wear from these shores once more.”
   An applause was a wonderful thing to the captain of the Sea Hag; it denoted that he still had a port to come to after one of his riskier jaunts toward the mainland and the lands of the fallen House of the Eternal Sun.  It wasn’t entirely finished; Wyverns’s Claw and Clear Water had both donated land and sanctuary to members of the nobility and those that ran from their homes, and made it to the borders, since the fall of Aster’s Port eleven cycles ago, but their vote on the High Council of the Old Imperium was nothing more than lip-service in the eyes of the population.  For the likes of Justin, Ackar and the crew of the Sea Hag, Kalen’s Rest was perfect for those that were not actually affiliated with any House.
   Barad had left the High Chair and was mingling with the others when Justin had started his tale of adventure and now found himself in the company of the town Elders who urged him to bring Justin over.  With a wave of his hand and the promise of ale, the latter more effective in Barad’s opinion, he gestured Justin to the table.  Justin bowed humbly before the town Elders, remembering the manners of the Old Imperium, and started quickly,
   “On behalf of my crew, I would like to personally thank you all for the hospitality that you have shown my crew and I once again, and I consider it an honour to sit with you on this fine night.”
   Town Elders consist of the five eldest members of the community and only should they wish to take the role.  Even if one is old enough and chooses not the role, their advise and suggestions are requested and heeded, but they do not vote on the policies that the town Leader would act upon.  Of the five, only four were there that night; Anna, Gwen, Rufus and Zilia, Gwen being the oldest and yet in fine health.  The last member of the council was the hermit, Torsa, who retained his right to vote despite not paying much attention to the town social strata.
   Barad pushed the tankard across the table and commented,
   “Apple cider.  Anna’s made something of a batch this year.”
   “I’ve never had such a harvest,” the aged woman to Justin’s left decreed, “and the raspberries are numerous, too.  Might you wish for some preserve, Captain?”
   Justin grinned at his fortune,
   “It’s been far too many moons since I last woke to the tastes of finely baked bread and a preserve topping.  You know, with the affairs of the sea being the way they are at the moment, I may be sorely tempted to retire here sooner than I was expecting.”
   This was a cue which Barad and Gwen had been waiting for.
   “Tell us,” Gwen responded, “what real news do you bring us from the main lands?  Has there been any movements?”
   Justin lowered his tone carefully and removed from himself the urge to break in to a story.  He drank deeply of the cider and sighed as he began to recount the last few months.
   “The waters around the House of Clear Water are still busier than I was expecting, but the ships on my waters are all bigger and armed with more insidious weaponry.  It’s a rare day when a catapult is not launched with a flaming message for the crew.  Cannons have become more sophisticated for those few that can afford them and the ammunition and I steer clear of any ship with one of those Thunderers.  I shan’t be arming the Sea Hag with one any time soon – something I can’t be doing with.  All that weight; the girl wouldn’t like it; I need her fast, not frenzied.  I keep to myself the thought that it is probably that sole advantage that brings me back here – their ships are all too heavy and we can be out of range in the time it takes them to train their flanks on us.
   “Not that it’d make a difference if I had a battery of cannons, mind you,” Justin looked in to the mug as the fluid rinsed around the sides, “I’ve seen rich merchant ships tackled by one of their boats, also laden with their own cannons and the some of the finest shot money can buy.  I watched them loose a salvo so closely, were it the Sea Hag we’d all be swimming, but the shot either rebounded off plates of what sounded like metal.  Metal ships, I ask you!?  And they’re still not slow.”
   He paused again to swallow more and stared back in to the bottom of the tankard,
   “I haven’t taken a run out of Eternal Sun in over two moons.  The last time I got close to the land we got a little more company from pirates.  Pirates off the Sun’s coats?!  It’s a thought I ne’er wish to remember while I’ve been drinking.
   “The part that puts the fear in to many of the travellers and those that still live within the borders is that there’s been a few rumours that they’ve seen stranger riders throughout the lands.  Some are calling them Sin Seekers because if they don’t like the look of you they make a sound that sound’s like they’re hissing the word ‘sinner’ and then, if you’re lucky, they kill you.”
   “If you’re lucky?” Anna enquired, “How does that make you lucky, to be dead?”
   “Because those they don’t kill,” Justin replied plainly, no hint of adventure in his voice, “they take you to one of those Black Citadels.  There are rumours of four people escaping one of the Citadels and apparently there’d be only two of them left now.  I also heard one soldier say that he’d overheard his own commanding officer say that there was no help coming from the Mythica and that even now Wyvern’s Claw and Clear Water’s borders may be examined for weaknesses.  And another has told me that there’s a political standing by the Duchess of Wyvern’s Claw that a military campaign in to Eternal Sun is being considered, despite protests from the High Council.  High Command want to go in, too.”
   Rufus and Barad sat back exhaling, Rufus shaking his head.
   “Don’t these children ever learn from their mistakes?” Rufus growled.
   Gwen was still in deep thought and suddenly asked,
   “Black Citadels.  Have you ever seen one?”
   “A Black Citadel?” Justin retorted, “Why?  Of course!  Horrid black claws jutting from the land.  ‘Five pillars raking at the heavens’.  Isn’t that how it goes?”
   Gwen stared at him for a moment,
   “You’ve read your books.  That’s Lanka’s ‘Prime’, I studied that in school.”
   She smiled quite happily at the young Captain across the table, as if remembering something, but then pondered on a thought.
   “Torsa would know something of this.  In fact he has already mentioned them to me, but then you realise that Torsa doesn’t speak to many folk.  Mind you, I see Tanya up there all the time.  He’s a good teacher and he’s made that girl good and strong.  Who’d have thought he had a soft side.”
   And suddenly Justin remembered that night on the pier with Old Wesley’s last stand.  He remembered as he helplessly watched from the side of the Sea Hag, the archer in the crow’s nest plucking them off while we were in range, the smell of the burning city at night.  He remembered being thankful the skies opened up and rained that night.
   Old Wes had been a good friend.  And honestly, Wesley didn’t owe him a thing; that was just doing a favour for a friend.
   “I have met such a man, Gwen,” Justin said slugging back on some more of the refreshing cider, “and he was the same man that brought Tanya here.”
   “You think too highly of yourself!” Zilia exclaimed.
   “Oh, not I,” Justin corrected them quickly, “but the man that she’s named her hound.  He got her on my boat by himself…” he paused for a moment and then added, “And if I could have got more out of Aster’s Port that night, I would have seen my timbers crack before I let another fall before those daemons!”
   The table was silent.
   Until the door came crashing open with Mikata trying to catch his breath, closing the door behind him before staggering over to the fire place.
   “EVERYONE!” he coughed and tried to reclaim his breath, but he had everybody’s attention, “Everyone, there were strangers over at Maddox’s boat house…” he took another lung full and then continued to say, “They were talking about searching for someone here.  They said they had to take them because if they were found by something they called a Sin Seeker there would be a lot of trouble round here for us.”
   One of the towns-folk laughed at him,
   “You’ve been at Randolph’s crop again, haven’t you!”
   “No, seriously, I saw a couple of them earlier today dressed in matching cloaks and cowls!” Mikata reported.
   Justin slapped his head in to his palm,
   “Oh, dung…”
   “What?” Brada asked.
   “That sounds like those passengers I told you about earlier.  And there was I saying nice things about them…”
   The door to the hall opened again to seven cloaked figures.  They made their way in and pulled their cowls down, revealing their faces and uncoupled their cloaks and hung them over their shoulders.  Each of them were armed and armoured.
   The leading member, a woman of incredible composure, dark brown hair tied back in to a pony tail that hung down her back, stepped forward and said clearly so that all could hear her,
   “We do not come as foes.  We are soldiers in service to the House of the Eternal Sun.  My name is Jenna, daughter of Count Reyan Lightrain.”
   She reached in to her pocket and Justin’s hand dropped down by his side, until she retrieved a piece of parchment.  It was folded over but had at one point been sealed.  Barad, finding that he was already standing, walked over and took the parchment and read them aloud,
   “By order of Lord Onak, War Master of High Command, the barer of this scroll is under special order to fulfil the task of searching for and recovering the children of Duke Aster to be taken in to protective custody.”
   “But Lord Onak died before the fall of Matta.” Zilia retorted.
   “It’s his son.” Justin said, looking in to the bottom of his tankard, “Lord Onak did go to his death, but his son has taken command since he heard of his fathers fall.  He was made War Master last cycle.  Word has it that he takes his own personal War Guard in to the lands of the Eternal Sun just to go looking for more blood in his father’s name.”
   “I’m more interested in what this has to do with why Mikata here is concerned.  He spoke of you here with a trail of destruction.  The Captain has already told of your recent exploits, fighting side by side.  So are you here on purpose or are you still searching?” asked Gwen with the power of an Elder’s grace.
   Mikata slipped up the wall to where Tanya was and stood beside her.  These soldiers looked, and had most certainly sounded, quite dangerous.
   “As it happens we’ve been following a rumour about Captain Justin ever since an innkeeper mentioned something about a story of him being in Aster’s Port.  Apparently he had been there the night that Aster fell.  We had to make sure since we recently discovered that a Sin Seeker was reported to be heading up around the coasts, also bearing orders to find the children of Aster.  They’ve been looking for her for years, but now something’s stirred them up and they’ve something much more… thorough.”
   “A Sin Seeker?” Gwen questioned further, recalling the rumour Justin had mentioned earlier, “And what do they do, exactly?”
   “You don’t want to know.” Replied the simple but cold man to Jenna’s right.
   “And how would you know that these plans?” Gwen asked one last question.
   “Oh,” said the giant at the back, “we took them.  That’s why they’re chasing us.”
   Jenna’s head slumped forward,
   “Thanks, Bors.  Great help.”
   The sarcastic remark was lost, however, to the sudden uproar from the town’s folk.  Justin barked out quickly, but when he realised that no was paying any attention, he grabbed Barad’s arm and motioned for a chance to speak.
   “EVERYONE!” Barad’s voice boomed over the crowd, “Please, let the Captain speak!”
   The room was suddenly quiet, but all eyes fell upon Justin with flesh shredding precision, especially since he brought these folk to their shores.
   “We have not been pursued.  Not for days have we seen sail.  I do not believe they could follow us without knowing these waters first.  An unknowing captain in these waters can crush his ship with one bad night, and they certainly don’t know these waters.” Justin pointed out and then added after a moments’ consideration, “And I certainly wouldn’t come here if I thought I was being shadowed.  I’m a Captain from the House of Clear Water and I assure you I know how to hide my ports.”
   Gwen shook her head and took the floor,
   “I suggest that what has been done is done and we plan ahead for whatever events proceed.”
   And that was when Mikata burst out,
   “You can’t take her!  You won’t take her!”
   Mikata shifted himself so he bodily blocked Tanya from them.  Justin glanced at Jenna and her soldiers and then back at Tanya.  The boy was right, it had to be Tanya they were looking for – who else could it be?
   “Where would you be taking her?” Justin asked, quickly.
   “To Lord Onak, who is stationed on the borders between Eternal Sun and Wyvern’s Claw.” Jenna replied, confidently.
   “You can’t take her!” Mikata yelled again.
   Barad walked to Mikata and took his arm,
   “Quieter now, lad.  No one is taking any one anywhere until we get to the bottom of things.  If I recall, the Captain isn’t going anywhere soon since the ship has been damaged, and as for our other guests, we extend the same hospitality to you as we do to the Captain.”
   People began to mutter and snort in disgust, until Barad bellowed,
   “IT IS THE RIGHT THING TO DO!  These soldiers fight for us.  They fight an enemy that may still not visit our shores.  The least I can do is thank them for their services and approaching us with their agenda and offer them beds and rest after their ordeals.  We do this because we are not daemons.”
   And with that, the room was silent.  Barad let the moment last before stating that the town elders would consider the matter and that the Sea Watchers make their rounds more often.
   “Well, Justin,” Tanya said as everyone began to head off to their beds, “it looks like you’ve brought one of your stories to Kalen’s Rest.”
   Justin glanced at her and said sheepishly,
   “You have to believe I didn’t want any of this to happen…”
   “I do believe you,” Tanya said quietly, “but at least this time you’re going to get the chance to meet Torsa.”
   “You haven’t met Torsa yet?” Gwen asked Justin.
   “Not really.  I remember the day I brought her here and that was when he said he’d take her in.  But then, I don’t actually see him when I visit – he’s always busy.”
   Rufus cackled,
   “Then you’re going to be privileged tomorrow, then, aren’t you?”
   “Why’s that?” Justin asked, impetuously.
   “Because you’re going to have to go and see him about these Black Citadels,” Gwen reminded him, “and you’ll need to be on your best behaviour.  He’s a hermit for a reason.”

[Heretic Zero]

SAGA
The Empire Falling Chronicle

Chapter Three:  The Hermit

   To understand the Mythic, it is first important to realise the origin of all the races; the Creator’s will was to conjure a vast array of different beings and began with one of each – which was created first is uncertain or if they were all created at the same time, though the so-called Houses of the Manish are without question the most widespread.  Several Manish types were created though it would appear that after the first of the Manish Lords and Ladies were created (the first immortal member that the race, and therefore their House, would be named) the Weave weakened substantially as their generations grew from the original; magickal means were no longer being used to create their offspring while the Mythic, from the moment of their creation, are gifted and flawed with an intrinsic need for the Weave to be present in the breeding of each new generation.
   It can also be noted, after those few dealings that we Mythic are prepared to consider with the Manish Houses, that they do not have quite so many of their population capable of becoming Weavers, though this is not to say that they cannot learn how to, nor is it reasonable to say that they have not had in their history some extraordinary wielders of mystical power, but the inherent, instinctive awareness that the Mythic have (in varying degrees, admittedly) is somewhat lacking in the majority of the ‘lesser’ Manish.  This, however, does come with something of an advantage, one might say, in that they do not necessarily get foxed or bewildered by a variety of common placed Magicks, solely because they are simply incapable of perceiving them.  Elemental evocations, summonings and rituals, on the other hand, have all the usual effects on them, though truthfully, there are very few folk that are not effected were someone or something to summon one of the Unifiers, while on the other hand the same horrid effects will be felt were someone to conjure a large chunk of ice above their head.
   Ultimately, the Manish and the Mythic have not really managed to cross those borders of understanding yet, and while there are several optimists on both sides that believe that it is but a matter of time before old (and hard) feelings are put aside, that is time some of the Mythic Weavers believe that we simply do not have.  It is for this reason that to find a member of the Mythic residing in the lands of the Manish is considered rare indeed (and vice versa) and it may be worth contemplating why it is that they are there.
-  The Collaborated Works Vol. 3 in the great library within the Church of Unity

   She dreams.
   She’s back in the family house at Aster’s Port.  Her father and her mother smile warmly at her while Old Wesley stands at the door helping himself to a glass of wine.  These were happy moments.  But something moved from behind the curtains.  The walls were moving and blackness took shapes.  She can hear her mother and father screaming as the blackness slips through the keep.  But Old Wesley is fast and he outruns the blackness.  And he takes me to the Sons of the Crone.  Aster’s Keep is aflame and now looks more like a black claw raking at the skies.  A Black Citadel.  The blackness is coming again and I reach out for Old Wesley.  He tried to take my hand.  Then the Sirithsin snaps him away…
   Tanya opened her eyes and near instantly felt aches all over.  She had kicked the covers off the bed and the pillows were in disarray.  Slowly she sat up and straightened her back.  Wesley was in front of her, a look of concern on his face; sad eyes that didn’t understand.
   “It was just a bad dream,” Tanya rebuked his concern, “it’s not like I haven’t already suffered one of those before.”
   She quickly got herself ready and plucked some apples, pencils (that she had made herself… with a little help from Mikata), and a little bit of paper in to a satchel and marched out of the door with an apple in her mouth.  Wesley pawed along side her and sometimes ventured off to the verges – it was a good time for fast prey with good meat on them.
   It was a simple day in the school, varying between games, scribing, numbers and reading.  It became a little more raucous when Captain Justin arrived and told them another story from lands that were popular lore and of heroes and heroines that were legend.  And the children loved them.
   As the sun began to set, and the children made their ways back to their homes and their parents, Tanya whistled Justin a different direction.
   “But the folk live in that direction.”
   “But Torsa isn’t one of the folk.”
   Justin paused.  Cocked his head to one side and asked, plainly,
   “Is there something you lot aren’t telling me?”
   “Yes, Justin, there is.  Come with me, it’s going to get cold tonight.  Maddox was sure there was a heavy storm coming over us.”
   They started off toward the woodlands, following an old deer trail as they got under the canopy.  Justin stopped again and regarded Tanya,
   “Why the hermit?  Why was the hermit interested in taking you in?  Why is it that he knows something about the Black Citadels that even the other Elders aren’t aware of?”
   Tanya had come to a stop but her back was still turned to him.  She spoke calmly over her shoulder,
   “Because Torsa is a Weaver.”
   Justin’s eyes went wide.  He glanced to his left and to his right and then back at her.
   “The old man is a Weaver?  Is this why I never see him when I’m here?  Because if someone was to ever learn there was a Weaver here…”
   “Precisely.  Kalen’s Rest is a safe place and out of the way.  And Torsa used to be a particularly gifted student.  I have never seen him use his ways.” Tanya replied.
   “So why are you lot telling me this?!” Justin cried, “Do you have any idea how many nasty scrapes I’ve been in lately?  My ship’s in a pretty way right now docked on your beach and it’s going to take at least a few days to fix her up good again.  And last night finding out that my passengers are marked…!  And then finding that you, of all people, may be the one that they’re here to find…  If they don’t find us here, they’re going to be harsh out there.  Oh, and by the way, in case you hadn’t realised, those soldiers, I suspect, won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, will have to take you back to the mainland on my ship.”
   “I hadn’t forgotten.  But Torsa has invited you for a meal tonight and has had the chance to prepare some of his better recipes.”
   Justin nodded and followed her; he had never met a Weaver before.
   The smell of the food met them some distance from the front door.  It was a well crafted timber shack of two compartments.  Outside the door were hanging baskets of herbs and a couple of rabbits.  Chimes tinkled in one of the open shuttered windows and as they approached they heard Torsa’s voice over the bubbling pots.
   “So you’ve brought him have you?!” called an older mans voice, yet still quite firm from inside the house.
   Tanya slipped about the window where Torsa was cooking and gave him the apples she had been carrying around all day.  He gave one of them a good long sniff and said, quite proudly,
   “Smells delicious!  They’ll make a lovely sauce.”
   Justin stepped round the window to see Torsa and was taken aback again.  Torsa was tall and with a good build, much leaner than a man of his supposed age would normally be, and weathered to go with it.  But these characteristics didn’t phase him so much as the goat legs and the two small horns protruding from his forehead.
   “Strap me to Merrod’s Heart!” Justin blurted.
   “That would be a neat trick, but I don’t know it, Captain Justin.  I hope my appearance does not discomfort you?”
   Justin took a deep breath and looked again and slowly exhaled,
   “Please, pardon me.  I have only just been told you were a Weaver.  Two major insights in one day is well over my limit.  Your appearance is by far from offensive.”
   Torsa grinned and looked at Tanya,
   “You told him I was a Weaver but you didn’t tell him I was a Satyr?  Why?”
   “Just to see the look on his face when one of the Mythica was right there in front of him.  That expression is a treasure I hope to recreate to my class.”
   Torsa shook his head as he stirred the pot and glanced over it to check something floating about in it,
   “My girl, you have most definitely developed a wicked streak.”
   Justin pondered,
   “So are you telling me that everyone on Kalen’s Rest knows about Torsa’s… origins?”
   “And not taught to fear it.  Torsa makes medicines from the herbs and cures fevers.  Several of the children have required Torsa’s skills.  They have seen him wandering the woods as you see him now.” Tanya remarked.
   “They even say hello, but they leave me be out here.” The Satyr said with a smile, “Now you’re just in time to set the table.  You are joining us, aren’t you, Captain?”
   “Please, call me Justin.  And it would be a pleasure.”

*****

   Justin had sat in halls packed with nobles, shared wine with men and women that had more gold than he would ever know and heard some of the finest minstrels relay their comic genius to a receptive audience; but none of it compared to the company he shared that night.  The food that Torsa had prepared was a dish that he did not know – chunks of meat well cooked, freshly picked field mushrooms sliced in to what he referred to as a ‘gravy’, while the apples had also been mushed in to a tangy addition to the meat.  Wonderful large peas and what looked and tasted like a potato, mashed in to a smooth lump with melted cheese in amongst it.  Homemade apple and ginger wine was the bottle of choice for the night and once the meal was finished and settling contently in their stomachs, Torsa began to pluck and fiddle with a dulcimer.
   Justin could not contain his curiosity any longer,
   “Tell me, Torsa, about the land of the Saytrs.  What do you remember of your kin?”
   The elderly man smiled with fond memories and replied after a moment,
   “There is no place in the Realm with quite so many crags.  Several valleys make up the homeland of the Satyrs and between each of them are high peaks and treacherous passes by which even we a cautious.  The valleys, on the other hand, are wide and wild.  We are by no means the only creatures that live there, either.  Although they do not live with us, as such, the valleys are frequented by the tradesmen of the Equinotaurs from the plains of the North East, while the Aurochtaurs still trade with us from the mountains to the north.”
   “You have seen Equinotaurs and Aurochtaurs?” Justin asked incredulously.
   “Indeed, though I have only seen on Aurochtaur; an ambassador from Hornreach who was visiting Glade’s Heart for the trade of wood.  Lots of wood, if I recall.”
   “Wood?” Justin asked again, quite surprised, “Why?”
   Tosra chuckled and replied as he strummed a few notes on the instrument in his lap,
   “Aurochtaurs have very little wood that serves any purpose to them and they do not care for travel over water by the most part, but they do use it for art.”
   “Art?” Justin leaned forwards and slipped at the wine and glanced at Tanya who had a knowing smile and was enjoying the storyteller receiving a dose of his own medicine.
   “Indeed; while stone is the basis for the majority of their crafts and serves them well in the lower peaks, with the storms and the harsher conditions of their region, wood is weak and fragile in comparison, something that Aurochtaurs find respect in those delicate substances that still survive.  Due to their disciplines and their deeper philosophies, the Aurochtaurs are by far more civilised and refined than the Manish legends suggest, and their average carpenters and stone masons alone would confound the majority of other races’ artisans.  Their art with wood is usually in the form of sculptures, but a special trinket or a gift of considerable worth to them is made from rarer tree species that grow many moons travel from their kingdom.”
   Justin was astounded.  Tanya slipped up beside him and, placing her fore-finger under his chin, amongst the wisp of a bread that draped from Justin’s bottom lip, and pushed his jaw upward.  Torsa chuckled loudly as Tanya then got to her feet and went about the table collecting the pots and dishes.  Justin, realising his manners took to his feet to assist.
   “Oh, that reminds me,” Tanya spoke as she poured hot water from over the cooking fire in to a large tub in the floor, “I had another dream again last night.  It was the same as before, apart from perhaps more fire. It was certainly more urgent from start to finish this time.”
   Justin slipped the dishes that he had collected in to the water as he listened and was promptly given a large cloth by Tanya to dry them.
   “Typical!” Torsa snorted, “And we’ve got another two moons or so before anything related to a remedy starts to grow again.  You’ve been going through my tinctures and herbals very quickly recently.”
   “Oh yeah, and now there was a black tower in it.”
   Torsa suddenly became less jovial and looked at her sternly.  Justin had also turned to look at her, forgetting the plates beside him.
   “A black citadel, perhaps?” Justin probed.
   “Yes, I suppose it could be.” She said as she continued to wash.
   Torsa leaned back in to his seat and sighed, long and heavy.  Justin put the towel on the side and walked over to the old Satyr and sat down beside him, the fire crackling beside them.
   “What does all this mean?” he asked, “What army is it that plagues us and puts ruin to our mightiest cities in a single night?  They are daemons, I have seen them and always been quick enough to get away but… where did they come from!?  I know the waters better than many a sailor and I have travelled far, but I have never encountered a land that harboured these monsters.”
   Torsa paused.  He poured himself another goblet of wine and considered what he would say next.
   “What you really want to know is why these strangers want to take Tanya away from Kalen’s Rest and through a war.”
   Torsa took a sip and began,
“There is only scripture that refers to the Black Citadels and that is preached in all of the Churches of the Unity.  It is the First Story and it tells of how the Emperor was born and created the Realm.  And it also tells of how it created its first children.”
   “’It’s’ children?  The Emperor was an ‘it’?” Justin looked puzzled.
   “They were powerful, the first children, and were gifted with magickal abilities.  Each of them became the Kings and Queens of their Houses, and through their Magicks created the first generation of their Kildren.
“Five of them formed up their own Kingdom and traded.  The Houses of Eternal Sun, Wyvern’s Claw, Glass Shadows, Clear Water and Grey Cross.  But there were many more children; and they became the Mythic Folk and some are quite… elemental…”
Torsa paused and gulped at the wine, hoping it would help warm a cold memory.
“But the Emperor had a twin; if there is Creation, then there must be Destruction.  And the Conqueror was interested in this Realm and scattered his children amongst the lands, monsters of the Havoc.  Daemons and the Undying Scourge were amongst his creations.
“The Humans were devoted to the Emperor and stood their ground, defending against the onslaught.  The Mythic rallied to their aid when they realised their Realm was in danger and supported them with Magicks and Talents.  It was the Emperor, however, that realised that it was not a war that could be won and found the Conqueror and they battled.
“They fought for days, laying waste to the Imperial City, and it wasn’t until they came only a moment before striking each other a fatal wound that The Unity intervened.  The Emperor and the Conqueror were gone in an almighty flash and all that was left of the great Imperial City is what we now call the King’s Everglade.  And it is there that Kildren, the spawn of these demi-gods, go to be found worthy of their House, whether Human or otherwise.”
Justin listened, enraptured, until Tanya closed his jaw again.
“The second story tells of Agart and Lord Menak.  It tells of their intentions and how they near toppled the House of the Eternal Sun and were it not for the House of Grey Cross, this realm would have undoubtedly turned out just as their Conqueror had wanted it.”
“Yes,” Justin blurted, “I know this one.  This is the Second Story.  The Grey Cross sacrificed everything to hold King’s Walk and prevent Agart from resurrecting the Conqueror.  They even say that could still be children of Grey Cross alive today.”
“Fat chance…”Torsa spat and then finished off the wine, “And even if there was a single Grey Cross left, there would be creatures of horrible power hunting them even now.  The Realm is not ready to cope with the daemons…  And in answer to your question, Captain, these creatures don’t populate an island, they come from the Black Citadels.  And a Black Citadel occurs at a site where an act of terrible cruelty has been performed.  The feelings of fear and hatred, for example come from those towers because they are the gateways to the Havoc.”
Tanya realised that she had listening to Torsa and the washing water had gone cold with her hands still in it.  She pulled them out and dried them on the towel as she walked through and tossed it to Justin.  Wesley looked up, sensing something in her; he was alerted by something in her posture.
“I’m going to have to go with the strangers, aren’t I?”
She was set in stone.  Her voice did not give away any emotions and her stance showed she was set firm against the answer.
“No way!” Justin exclaimed, quite shocked by her question.
“It is her decision.” Torsa interjected, “Judging by the movements of the Sin Seekers, they’re heading here: presumably searching for Tanya.  She is likely in more peril staying here than she is getting to one of the Houses.  She’s going to High Command because they don’t want her to be found executed, or worse, by the daemons.”
Justin looked back at Tanya and said plainly,
“The route they are taking you takes you over land.  I can’t leave the Sea Hag.  I won’t be there to help you.  And I assume you were listening on the conversation I was having with the Elders, too.”
“She goes with students from Matta.” Torsa said.
“But Matta’s gone.  It’s been gone for years.” Justin retorted.
“And they survived it.  I wouldn’t be surprised if they had been there the night Matta was over-run.”
“How can you tell?  How do you know this?  Magick?”
“A little bit,” Torsa smiled to them both, Tanya regarding him with a surprised expression, “the rest of it is over hearing them and then having Tanya repeat it to me.  I am confident that they are extraordinary in their fields of expertise.”
“So I’m going then, am I?”
Justin sighed and replied uncomfortably,
“If you step willingly on to my ship then I shall take you where ever you need to go.  If you need a ship, the Sea Hag’ll carry you and all with you…”
“What is it, Justin?” Tanya realised that there was an edge to Justin’s voice that she had never heard before, “What aren’t you saying.”
Justin paused and then said in to his lap,
“I just feel still indebted to Old Wesley, and that man died getting you out of a war.  I just don’t know what he’d say if I were the man to go sail you straight back in to one.  Especially against daemons and gates to fear and havoc…”
Justin had been speaking in such a miserable tone that the best reply did not come from either Torsa or Tanya, but from the hound.  Wesley stuffed his cold wet nose, kindly, in to Justin’s eyes and licked his face as he looked up.
“Well, Justin, I think you’ve got your answer.” Tanya chirped and then grabbed her stuff together.
“You’re going home already?” Torsa asked.
“It’s Dark-After and I have work in the morning.  It’s alright for you lot to get hammered on wine, but I have to get some sleep.  I have a lot of thinking to do and preparations to make, not to mention more lessons with the children.”
Justin rose and collected his pieces and thanked Torsa for a marvellous night.  Justin walked Tanya home in the pouring rain and a strong wind, then made his way back to the Hall.  The following morning the men would begin the repair of the Sea Hag but with enough hands the ship would be back to her old self before long.
He got back to his room and as he was about to sleep, he suddenly considered, as a result to what the old Satyr had said, that perhaps Merrod’s heart really did create the tide.

[Heretic Zero]

SAGA
The Empire Falling Chronicle

Chapter Four:  Shipwreck

   Ever since the fall of the House of Grey Cross, many have wondered what would happen if the Sirithsin were to return.  Once there were five Houses of the Imperium (to refer to it as the Old Imperium would suggest there was a new one) and it was the role of each of these Houses to defend the Realm from the Destroyers creations, the most lethal of which, albeit debatably, would be the hordes of the Sirithsin, though others would now state that it was the Lifeless of the Sundered Lands, that which used to be the House of Grey Cross and the northern lands which belonged to the Manish Tribe of Frost Call.  It should be noted that it has not only been the House of Grey Cross that has fallen, though to speak openly of how the Imperium failed to assist the lands of Frost Call is considered something of a taboo, one of which the Lords and Ladies of each of the Houses never speak of to the best of my knowledge.  This, should I dare to presume their will, would be that when a House or a Tribe of the Manish have fall, so does a Lord or Lady.  Being that these were the first members of these factions to be designed by the Creator itself, and intimately imbued with a piece of the Weave, to lose one would be like losing a brother or a sister.
   The Sirithsin, from what the legends divulge, have such a Lord or Lady, along with each of the other races that were spawned by the Destroyer.  I would consider, therefore, that they too would be aware of the passing of such an entity, but as to how they would feel about it fills me with the dread that it is, by their very nature, part of their overall agenda to wipe out their siblings.  It is for this very reason that I hypothesise that the return of the Sirithsin and the other races of the Destroyer to be not only inevitable but to be also part of the intrinsic destiny of the Realm.
-  From Cadwick’s paper ‘A Study of the Realm’s Prophecies’

   Justin was awoken by yells out in the street.  As the grogginess passed, he started to recognise the voice Ackar and he sounded urgent.  He quickly threw his garb on and snatched up his armour and sword on the way out of the room.  Ackar met him at the door with several of the villagers around him.
   “Captain, on the beach, there was wreckage this morning.  But that’s not the worst of it – there are warriors lying amongst the ruins and they don’t look like any of our kind.”
   Justin glanced about and then yelled,
   “Rally the crew and make sure they are all armed!  I want them on the road to the boat now!”
   He turned to the nearest townsfolk and said slowly and clearly,
   “Get everyone in to the town hall.  Brace the doors and don’t leave them until we come back.  Do you understand?”
   They all nodded and scattered throughout the town.
   “Spread the word!” Justin added and then started to strap himself in to the armour and hung his sword at his side.
   Quickly, the crew of the Sea Hag were assembled apart from a handful.
   “Where are the rest?” Justin called.
   “They’re still at the boat, Captain,” Ackar reported, “they’re ready in case any of them are still alive.”
   “How many of them are there?”
   “Dunnig counted eight.”
   “Eight!” Justin turned about and bellowed, “Let’s be about this, then.  Let’s make sure they’re dead!”
   Barad strolled out amongst them, brandishing an old longsword and a round shield of solid wood.  Wordlessly, he joined their ranks and motioned for the stronger men of the town to follow, armed as they were with the tools of their trades.  The band made their way up the road and to the pinnacle that led down to the hidden cove.  Before they saw the boat, they heard the sounds of combat.
   “Support those men!  Charge!” Justin bellowed as the crew of the Sea Hag raced over the ridge to see two of their comrades running up the hill at them.
Below them they watched as one of the creatures cut down one of the crew with cruel precision.  The sands were stained with the blood of six men and not one of those capable fighters had slain their foe.  Seven of the bodies had risen, the last appeared to either be still unconscious or was actually dead.
As the men approached the creatures on the sand, it became apparent that they wielded no weapons but their clawed hands.  As the first of the crew approached, the closest of them met their charge and tore open yet another man.  The next three crewmates struck at their target only to find it evade every swing.
Barad roared as he closed in on another opponent, only to raise his shield in time to parry a ferocious barrage of blows.  As the shield got in the way, Barad could see chucks of wood chipped away as if it were raining axes.  He staggered backwards and thrust the sword forward, sure of a cut.  But the fiend was not there but at his side, gripping the blade of his sword with one hand.
Justin ploughed in to the back of it, hacking in to the shoulder, between what looked like plates of steel.  Filthy yellow liquid spurted from the wound and the warrior roared.  With sudden ferocity, Justin was lifted from his feet by the arm which he had wounded and closed his eyes tightly.
Barad’s sword was freed of the creatures grip, however, and he had regained his composure.  He brought the sword round and in to the creature’s back with bone-shattering force.  Justin was dropped to the floor and the warrior staggered forwards over him.  And yet, it still did not fall.
Ackar and Dunnig fought alongside Maddox, but their foe had not been injured and had already incapacitated or slain four of the crew and townsmen and was not even tiring.  The less experienced fighters were falling too quickly and the other five of these daemon soldiers had not yet entered the skirmish; they were simply waiting.
Justin rolled away from the staggered warrior and got to his feet, finding his sword and then leapt back in to finish it off, Barad flanking around to the side of its weaker arm.  It met the charge, however, and caught Justin’s wrist and threw him back to the floor.  Barad lunged at the torso but to no avail, only to be rewarded with a vicious back hand that drew blood.
“Captain!  Help!” Ackar called as Dunnig was struck in the shoulder with enough force to send him to the ground and clutch at his arm in agony.
Barad and Justin could only look up at their opponent and wonder which of the two of them it was going to kill first.
And then there was a loud bang and its head exploded in a shower of blood and armour, bone and sinew.
At the top of the ridge was Jenna holding a long contraption.  She walked quickly down the ridge pouring something in to one end of her weapon, add another component and then run a long strip of metal in to it.  She then withdrew the metal and lifted the device to her shoulder, appeared to look down the length of it and then there was another loud bang.  The daemon above Ackar and Dunnig attempted to dodge only to receive a wound in his hip.
From round the back of the ship walked the cold warrior with a weapon that was crossed somewhere between a polearm, a sword and a scythe.  From the road strolled the giant, now garbed in plate mail, sporting a huge shield and a war maul.  Another amongst them was a woman of delicate pace, quietly stepping out from a piece of the wreckage and to the back of one of the five remaining soldiers.  The strangers had joined this fight.
With incredible deftness, the woman from behind the wreckage skipped across the sand with silent grace and placed a curved blade to the neck of one of the creatures that had not noticed her yet.  A fountain of thick liquid spurted and a gaggling roar signalled to the others that it had been killed.  The girl stepped forward and plunged her knives in to its back and silenced it, permanently.
Before it had even hit the ground, the giant and the other strangers bellowed and ran at six remaining creatures.  The man carrying the strange staff was the first in to the fray, thrusting at the fiend that threatened Ackar and Maddox.  With disturbing ferocity, he followed the blow through by swinging the staff in a wide arc that narrowly missed Ackar’s head and hacking in to the beasts’ side.  It bellowed and swung down on him only to have him side step as it lunged past, and bring the staff’s bladed segments down squarely in to its back.
He then picked his next target.
But it was then that the giant joined the fight, hurtling in to the creature that stood closest to Justin and Barad, bearing in with a huge war-maul.  The sheer force from the blow lifted the creature from its feet and threw it back against the floor.  It hit the ground but quickly got back to its feet.
“Don’t worry, I was just givin’ you a tap.” Hissed the brute.
The daemon flipped to its feet and threw itself forward, thrashing out with its claws only to find itself stopped by a shield nearly the height of a man.  It must have been like running in to a cathedral door, Bors contemplated as he withdrew the shield to view his stunned opponent.  He then hefted the war-maul and then brought it down squarely on top of the head of his opponent.
He pulled the maul out of the creature’s neck and checked on how the others were doing with the other four.  The other men in this military unit had ran in to the next closest as one, three men running in to one and raining down upon it with blows from every direction with swords, axes and maces.  It fell swiftly.
Another loud bang signalled the re-entry of Jenna.  The bullet struck the daemon furthest away.  It staggered backward and lifted its hand to its ‘helmeted’ head and fell backward.  She slung the long contraption over her shoulder and dropped to the sand and pulled two smaller contraptions that she could use in each hand.  From where she had been she had noticed the eighth of the daemons rising up again, possibly woken by the sound of the battle.  She marched across the sand to see it flanking to one side and approaching the giant from behind.  Jenna came up on its blind side and placed both of the small contraptions to the base of the creatures neck and fired.
The remaining two creatures decided to concentrate their joint skills on the lithe fighter with the strange staff.  As they threw themselves in to him, he began to parry rapidly, but not matter how much they threw at him, he would parry the attack away apparently without even breaking sweat.  They continued to lunge in to him until there was a sudden flurry of movement from the man with eyes like two storms, and it slipped him under the attack of one of the daemon soldiers, along with his bladed staff, and used the momentum of movement to swing the staff up, blade high, in to the creatures’ gut.  With horrid speed, he yanked the blade out of the wound and then looked directly at the last remaining monster.  But then the weapons-master lowered his blade; this fight was already over.
The young girl slipped up right behind him and placed both knives against its throat and yanked them deeply in to the flesh and the yellow flushed out again as she drew her knives back and out the other side.  The soldier toppled over, its head rolling a further still.
“Sound off!” Jenna yelled.
“Lokric.” Replied the weapons-master.
“Bors!” bellowed the giant, banging his chest.
“Verena.” Called the priestess from the other end of the beach.
“Unsh, Gillon and Royan here too.” reported Royan.
“Split in to teams and scour the shores for any more of them.  Be thorough, we don’t need one of them visiting us in the night.” Jenna ordered, “Lokric and Verena will start with the Sea Hag and make sure nothing is left in there, Bors and Unsh will take the shore to the left of the cove and Gillon and Royan will go to the right.”
“Oh do I have to go with Royan?” Called Gillon, “He smells funny, y’know.”
“Get to it.  Be thorough!” Jenna repeated the sentiment in her mind knowing the consequences of what could happen if one of them did escape.
Jenna then turned back to Barad and Justin who had finally gotten back to their feet and watched as she approached.  As she got closer she quickly surveyed the current situation and stood in front of them like an officer about to report.
“Thank you,” Barad spoke first, “Thank you so very much.  I, amongst many others, owe you my life.  We owe you all our lives.”
Jenna smiled, almost warmly, albeit slightly marred by the yellow splatters across her clothing and the two small contraptions to reload the long one,
“As an officer of the House of the Eternal Sun I am sworn to protect the citizens.  I don’t see why that should just be the citizens of just one nation and I believe this to be a threat that involves all of us.  We’re just doing what we’re supposed to.”
“None the less,” Justin countered, “I can speak on behalf of the Sea Hag and her crew and I assure you that the rest of this voyage is free of charge.  You still saved our lives.  And I have never seen anyone fight like that, and I’ve seen a lot of fighting.”
“Be that as it may,” Jenna returned to the matter at hand and took control of the conversation like a superior officer, “I strongly suggest that you get your injured and dead back to the town quickly.  I will be setting up a watch and two of my men will be with the Sea Hag at all times.  How many people can your boat take?”
Justin glanced round at Barad; get the population of Kalen’s rest on to the Sea Hag and not have her sink to Merrod’s heart?
“I can do more than one trip…” Justin started, only to have Barad interrupt,
“I can put it to the Elders and we will consider the offer, but I doubt many will want to leave here.”
“Well, we can do that tonight,” Jenna concluded, “in the meantime, let’s get these men back to their homes.”

*****

Tanya had been waiting for them, and possibly for effect, Torsa had joined her in to the town hall.  They had awaited the Elders, Barad, Captain Justin and Officer Jenna, but with the necessary searching and scouting of the island, it wasn’t until evening when Barad, Justin and Jenna arrived.  Jenna was accompanied by Lokric, Bors and Verena.  However, the whole town had arrived, aside from those who required serious aid, though Ackar, Maddox and even Dunnig (who nursed his shoulder as much as his drink).  As soon as the warriors turned up, the town hall erupted in to a chorus of applause and cheer for them.  Several offers of drinks had to be held aside, for a while, or at least until after they had spoken to the Elders.
As soon as Jenna and Justin saw Tanya at the table, they had realised that the decision had been reached.  The elders sat about the long table with the other members of Jenna’s company.  Justin sat at the far end, as the third party.  Tanya sat between Gwen and Torsa, who wore a hood at the table; perhaps indicating his race.  Jenna’s perception on this was, however, a little more abrupt as she turned to the elders and asked,
“I must ask: is Tanya the person that we are looking for?  Is she the daughter of a fallen noble from Aster’s Port?”
Justin replied calmly,
“Yes.  I brought her here.  I have known her since she was a child.  I have harboured in Aster’s Port many a time because of an old friend who happened to be the Quartermaster and bodyguard to Tanya Brightvoice, and who died to take her away from a war.  However, under council and information gathering, I have decided that if Tanya wishes to travel on the Sea Hag with you, then I shall transport you all as far as I can, at no charge, and should you ever require a swift vessel, the Sea Hag will be with you.”
Gwen reproached,
“The Elders of Kalen’s Rest appreciates your offer, but the decision is, ultimately, Tanya’s as to whether she wishes to stay or go.”
Jenna sternly contradicted her,
“My men have travelled a great distance, through some horrific fighting and adverse conditions to recover the remains of OUR fallen nobility.  And with Captain Justin’s admonishment of Tanya’s nobility, and under the express orders of Lord Onak, himself, Tanya is coming with us, whether anyone likes it or not.”
And then Tanya spoke, with a calm and pleasant tone,
“I will becoming with you by choice.”
Everyone turned and looked at her.  Silence drifted over the table and then out over the rest of the hall.  Everyone of Kalen’s Rest and the Sea Hag knew Tanya well.  Those that remembered a little girl left alone on a boat in the midst of a war that killed her parents, and those that met the little girl and took her to their hearts very quickly.
“Wesley will be joining me.  And Torsa if he would come?”
Torsa leaned forwards and placed his face in his hands.
“Oh dear.  Oh, my dear girl…”
He pulled his head back and pulled back the hood.  Suddenly, everyone realised that Torsa had not said a word and as they saw his eyes, it was evident that he had cried.
“I am sorry, Tanya, but I cannot go with you.  I am too old to travel as far as you will need to go.  My knowledge of the Enigma is scant and I am not a powerful Weaver.  But what I can do, I shall have crafted before you leave, along with all of my love.”
Tanya was slightly overcome and cried as she reached over to hug him warmly.  Justin was agape, again, and it was Jenna that propped his mouth shut for him before standing back to her feet and then, formally addressing the Elders and Justin, said clearly,
“In that case it is important that you know who travels with Duchess Tanya.  As I have said, I am Officer Jenna Lightrain and these lot are ‘Cadwick’s Company’.  The surly whirling razorblade of death beside me is Lokric Keensteel.  And then there is Sir Bors, knighted after the Battle of Tir Anan for hitting someone with a dead horse.  And then there is our Church of Unity representative, Verena Silentwater of the Order of Death…”
“What, no funny remarks about the assassin that’s given her orders from the Gods themselves?” Verena smirked.
“No,” Jenna replied quickly, “It’s because you’re a show off, any how.  Aside from these, we have Unsh, who also served with at Matta, and Royen and Gillon, brothers that we picked up who are quite good at getting in with the right crowds after Academy basic soldiering.”
Tanya took the point to reply first,
“By those qualifications and the reports of what transgressed earlier today, then I am confident that if you can’t get me to High Command, then nobody could.”
“Well, as it happens,” Jenna informed them all, again a little abruptly, “There’s a few details we’ll need to get straightened out concerning the journey, especially as we cross land that the enemy have outposts around.  We are looking to sneak through the borders of Eternal Sun and get to Wyvern’s Claw as quickly as possible, but to do that, the emphasis will most definitely be on ‘sneak’ through part.”
Gwen stood and patted the air with a hand and then spoke up,
“The night is getting shorter the longer that we bark about this table.  Let this be a night of celebration and give people a chance to say their goodbyes before they leave.  The Sea Hag is near finished and the decisions have been made.  The Elders dismiss you.”
And as the merry-making progressed, Tanya discovered Mikata waiting by the door with a face like thunder.  He scowled at her intensely as she approached and looked away.
“Oh, Mikata, I am sorry.”
“No you’re not.” He snapped back.
“But I have to go!  If I don’t the people of Kalen’s Rest could be visited by more of those daemons!”
“That’s not why I’m angry.” Mikata hissed.
Those that danced around them didn’t notice the conversation, apart from Verena, who couldn’t quite hear the conversation but it did very much appear to be a very cold disagreement.
“Then what is it?” Tanya asked, genuinely concerned.
“You haven’t even asked whether or not I’d come with you.”
Tanya stopped dead.  She stared at him in disbelief and then blurted,
“We’re going to a war!”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t be there with you, Duchess Tanya Brightvoice.”
Mikata was still icily cold, his eyes still staring elsewhere.
“I don’t want you to get hurt!” Tanya fumbled for words again.
“And I don’t want you hurt either.  I’ve been listening in to every conversation that they’ve had since the night I heard them in Maddox’s boathouse.  They don’t even know why they’re bringing in the nobles.  So, I’m coming with you.  You won’t be alone.”
“Do you know why they’ve been sent to get nobles?” Tanya asked.
“Sure, they want the nobles in a safe place so they can organise better.  Who cares, it doesn’t change anything.”
Tanya bowed her head and then replied,
“Okay, Mikata, I’ll talk to Captain Justin…”
“I already have.” Mikata interrupted, “And he’s happy with the idea there’s another person with you that you know.”
“Well, in that case, it looks like you’re taking Torsa’s place.”
She reached forwards and gave Mikata a great, long hug.  It would only be a day or two now before the Sea Hag would be ready to set sail for the mainland.  Jenna also detailed that there was going to be a very short detour to pick up another colleague who was catching up with them.  Apparently, this man had been left behind to try and lose some of their pursuers and if he has survived they would meet up with him at a pre-determined meeting place.
When questioned what the likelihood of surviving such a dangerous task was, Jenna and Lokric chuckled.  Tanya had been a little happier to know that she was going to be surrounded by yet another killing machine.

[Tyrant]

I wish i could write like this...

[Heretic Zero]

I wish i could write like this...

Oh you pookie...
And for those that are still enjoying this...

SAGA
The Empire Falling Chronicle

Chapter Five: Faith and Prophecy

   Some of the Lords and Ladies of the different races, based upon their respective powers and traits, influence the Weave in a variety of different ways.  Merrod and Nautiss are particularly good examples, Nautiss especially.  Most of the Lords and Ladies retain their corporeal forms and live within certain physical restraints, though these are few and not awfully impeding.  Very few of them sleep, need to eat or drink and there’s a good deal of them that don’t care for breathing.  Every single one of them is immortal, though, but none (or at least none that anyone know of) that are invulnerable.
   It is difficult to say exactly how many of the highest echelon there is, or was, but if one to discover a member of every race within the realm, one would certainly have met some fantastic beings.  It has occurred to many of the priesthood to enquire from one of the Lords and Ladies as to how many there are, but every single one of them that has asked has answered with a knowing smirk and a courteous shrug, as if they had intended to keep it a secret in the first place.  It is safe to assume, though, that there are different strengths to each of the Lords and Ladies; Merrod and Nautiss both have complete control over their elements, as is their role defined by the Weave, but as for some of the more corporeal races, such as the Manish and some of the Mythic, their connection to the Weave and the abilities for their monarchs can be somewhat abstract.
   It is unfair to say that the Weave does not flow equally through every fabric of the Realm, and many of the finest philosophers still quandary the possibility that those of less noble blood can develop the skills to Weave and understand, to a better degree, the Enigma, though it would be reckless for a scholar to say without evidence that it was an assured factor.  The Weave and the formulae by which we try to understand it, The Enigma, do not get their names without reason.
-  An Introspective View of the Monarchs by Baroness Bellasay Shyshade
   
   Captain Justin walked to the bow of the Sea Hag and knelt before the head of the ship and the head-piece.  When he had first purchased the construction of the Sea Hag, he had spoken to a carpenter who had been known for his craftsmanship, an old friend he had known since childhood, to fashion an effigy of Merrod’s bride, Nautiss.  Justin had always been a sailor, and his father had taught him the waves.  With that came the tales of Merrod, the God of the Sea.  It told of how the Merrod, the Sea King, had fallen in love with a mortal woman.  He had loved her and convinced her to marry him, and she loved him without question.  Even when she aged as a Human would, and he remained immortal.  Merrod’s Heart beat so hard when his wife passed beyond the Veil that is placed the first wave in the ocean.  After the death of his wife, who he had loved so deeply, he disappeared in to the oceans, never to be seen by another mortal, afraid of sorrow revisiting him again.
   Captain Justin prayed to Merrod before every voyage, and he prayed aboard the Sea Hag, the vision of Merrod’s elderly wife, and the Mistress of the Storms.  Apparently, when she reached the after life, she took with her such devotion that she dragged with her the weathers, to which Merrod required to plan his movements.
    It was, perhaps, the first love story.  The most tragic.
   So Justin spoke his prayer to Merrod, Guardian of the Deepening,
   “Lord Merrod, the Sea King, I wish your blessings to pass through your waters.  I take with me the lives of many good men, who share your plight.  And then there are those that would seek refuge from the forces that pursue us.  I pray to you, Lord Merrod, the Watcher from the Water, to grant us leave to pass through these waters to our destination.  With Nautiss’ blessing, we will see fine winds and good speed.
   “I beseech you, mighty Sea King, for I carry a ward that a man trusted unto me.  Please, give me right to sail in harmony with you to purchase a long life for both this ward and my good crew.”
   The wind blew quietly from behind the Captain’s head and he glanced up to see the sun setting across the peaks of the cove.  He turned back to look at the crew and the members of Jenna’s Company.  Even Tanya was watching carefully.
   “Well what are you waiting for, you filthy bilge rats!?” Justin bellowed, “I hear we have dangerous waters ahead and I need her to be faster than at dead stop, for sure!”
   The crew of the Sea Hag scattered about their many posts and started to drop the sails as the twenty crew on the shore took hold of the ropes and wood and began to give her a nudge out to sea.  Mikata stood beside Tanya as they washed out to sea, the men on the shore scuttling up the ropes and getting hauled through the oar holes, those that could fit.  Justin took his wheel and aimed the bow first, straight for the parting in the cove.
   The people of Kalen’s rest waved and called to Tanya and Mikata, wishing them well and a good voyage.  All except Torsa.

*****
   “Please, Torsa,” Tanya had begged, “I don’t know if I can do this without you.”
   “You must,” Torsa had replied as he worked over one of his benches, “and as I have said, I am not capable of such a distance.  I have retained some of my wounds.  But still, I can share my talents with you even when you are a distance from me.  I am working a few useful herbs for you and the soldiers.  You know their application and you shall also know how to use these few trinkets that I have prepared in case of a such time.”
   Tanya glanced over his shoulder to see his crafts.  In one of the pots to his left, he had been crushing a variety of different dried herbs and a mushroom in a mortar, while waiting for the drying to finish he had been carving a wooden gull feather.  He checked it over and, albeit crudely made, the tree-sap varnish seemed to add to quality.
   “Come here, girl.” Torsa commanded.
   Tanya stepped up unquestioningly and was a little surprised to quickly take her hand and prick the side of her hand with a blade he had concealed.  He then quickly brought up the wooden feather to catch droplets of her blood.  The nick was slight but it drew a couple of drops and that appeared to be enough for Torsa.  He waited a moment while the blood soaked in to the tree sap and down to the wood.  He then turned to her and said,
   “Give this to Captain Justin at all times.  If you are in trouble near the sea, the Sea Hag will always be in time to offer its support, as long as they can.”  He then turned to the little parcels of herbs and powders, “These are a selection of my own medicines.  You should find yourself well stocked even for damage to bone.”
   “Do you believe that I will have to treat a damaged bone?”
   “I’m sorry, Tanya, but I suspect you will.  The roads ahead are violent ones and it is with violence that you companions will best be able to aid you.”
   Tanya nodded,
   “I understand why you cannot come.  I heard tell of what Jenna and her troops did at the beach.  By all accounts it seemed as though they are perhaps the very best of what the High Command can offer.  They’ve even come here with special information stolen from the hands of the adversary.”
   Torsa shook his head and made his way to his upper-most cupboards.  In one of them, behind a few boxes, was a large copper bowl.  He pulled it down and took an urn of water with it.  He set the bowl down upon the table and poured the water in to it.  He gestured for her to sit beside him and he lit four candles around the table.  He peered in to the bowl and added a few grain of salt, stirring the water gently.  For a moment the water appeared to go black in the candle-light and then it rippled the way water should.  Torsa stared in to the water a while, and then quietly began to speak,
   “I have been a Weaver for some time and one does not forget easily the powers of the Enigma.  Within the scrying I can see some events that have not yet happened.  I can see siblings, one carrying a torch and the other is hidden in the shadow.  But then there is another man, of whom you have already met.  The Unity has supplied you with a Guardian of a different order.  His history is a tortured tale with vengeance in his heart and a kingdom that cannot be saved.  The last to enter the allies is a watcher.  He has skills of the hidden arts and covers his tracks well.  He will be reluctant to care, but not reluctant to respond.
   “The path ahead of you is a trail of your own nobility.  Not of social status but in the soul.  You will be faced with adversity but the companions you will trust will be those that serve you best.”
   Torsa closed his eyes and coughed slightly, reeling forward slightly in order to catch himself.  Tanya came to his aid by wrapping her arms about him and clutching him as he began to wretch.
   “The strain of even such a little feat…” Torsa tried to explain, but Tanya hushed him.
   She longed to stay with the old Satyr but it had been a decision that could save the lives of the folk that had taken her in.  There was no need for a war to come to Kalen’s Rest.  She could not tell Torsa that the dreams were getting worse; dreams of the Sirithsin.

*****

   Ackar’s hand clasped firmly about Mikata’s shoulder.  He was the best first mate that Justin had ever hoped for; reliable, strong and a clear headed in the face of adversity.  He was good with the crew, too, and Mikata had come to share his nights around Ackar while he had served aboard the Sea Hag, learning from a motley selection of role-models.  Ackar was perhaps the largest member of the crew and the crew’s champion wrestler when it came to the gambling pits in some of the seedier ports they had rode in to.
   “So you’re along on this adventure, are you?” Ackar already knew the answer but humoured the boy.
   “Aye,” Mikata replied calmly, “I would not see Tanya take this voyage alone amongst so many strangers when she leaves the boat.”
   Ackar nodded and glanced up in to the crow’s nest where Dunnig was perched, his arm slung snugly in to his belly.
   “Should he be up there?” Mikata asked.
   “Do you know a man other than Dunnig Longview better to be up there?  Coming to think of it,” Ackar chuckled, “can you imagine anyone trying to get Dunnig out of the crow’s nest?”
   Hearing Ackar chuckle was a relieving sound.  If he was able to find humour then there plenty more to be found if one went looking for it.
   “I asked him if he wanted to rest it further,” Captain Justin said as he walked up beside them both, “but he insisted that it would heal faster if it were left alone in the good sea air.  And he didn’t get the name Longview for nothing.  I remember his father, a guard at Cliffgazer, claimed to have spotted deer in a forest, from the walls, over five hundred paces away.  But then I also remember his mother who quietly pointed out a dragonfly perched on a hazel branch some two hundred paces away.”
   “Where are we headed, Captain?” Ackar asked.
   “Straight down to Beacon, around the last islands of the archipelago; it’s the shortest distance to a port to let Jenna’s troop off.”
   “Beacon’s one of the largest ports, Captain, is it not also likely that if there are enemies there they will be watching the harbour?”
   “It is likely, but given the current temperament of the Isle of Hounds, they’ll have more to worry about from brigands and vagabonds.  And then there’s the Count of Coral Guard, Reven Redswearer...”
   “Where is Cadwick’s Company?” Ackar asked.
   “Below,” Justin replied, “cleaning their weapons.”
   “Do you not trust them?” Mikata asked.
   “I am not sure, Mikata,” Justin sighed, “although I am sure of their intentions, I cannot account for those that they serve.  Each one of them has already proven themselves formidable warriors, but what if it is their very orders that might betray us.”
   “You think High Command could be compromised?” Ackar asked as a seasoned seaman.
   “Someone knew where to find me.  A Sin Seeker is on the prowl around here and more are on their way.  The seas of Clear Water are heaving with War Galleons.  What am I supposed to think?” Justin spoke like a Captain who was considering all of his alternatives, “My waters are getting crowded and not a lot of them like me too mush at the moment and the Sea Hag is getting an interesting reputation.  It wouldn’t surprise me if any of the ships out there weren’t logged with orders to search my vessel.”
   “But you assist the war effort!” Mikata cried, “Why would our own turn against us?”
   “Someone as influential as a member of High Command would likely be aware of a secret rescue attempt for a member of nobility.”
   The three of them were silent for a moment until Ackar chirped,
   “Nothing new there, then, ay?”
   “Nope, not a bit.” Justin grinned back at his first mate and slapped him on the back as he made his way to the wheel once again.

*****

   Tanya watched from the door as the member’s of Cadwick’s Company groomed their armours, polished their leathers and, in the case of Jenna, prepared more her contraption’s munitions.  She watched as Jenna had unlatched the long barrel and was brushing down the length.  She put it to her eye and stared down the length and appeared to be examining it for something.  Tanya’s curiosity got the better of her and she made her way over to Jenna’s table and boldly asked,
   “What is that?”
   “This?” Jenna glanced up, not particularly disturbed by the girl’s sudden appearance, “This is the barrel.  The barrel is the funnel which a bullet passes through once fired.  There are three mechanisms that can do this, the short-arm, the long-arm and the cannon.  This is the barrel of my long-arm.”
   Tanya stared at it for a moment until Jenna plucked one of her pistols from the bench and passed it up to her.
   “Do not worry, it is not loaded.  To do that, it needs to be loaded with a portion of Fire Sand, along with a bullet, usually made of lead but there are other materials, and then it is packed with a loading iron to ensure ignition of the Fire Sand and a good projection of the bullet.”
   Tanya examined the pistol, fingering the trigger and feeling the weight.  She held it out and stared down the barrel, as she had been told Jenna had, and squeezed one of eyes shot.
   “Did you learn that in Academy or through the battles?” Tanya pondered.
   The rest of Cadwick’s Company had been paying attention to the conversation but each of them had barely noticed Wesley pat his way in behind Tanya.
   “Some of it we learnt at the Academy, the rest is stuff you learn through necessity.  Needs and wants become less of a concern; we tend to need a lot and want even more.”
   “How long have you been fighting?”
   Lokric answered, his voice cold, and as he spoke, staring at the floor, Tanya could not help but here a distant memory pass his lips,
   “Eleven cycles, since the fall of the House of the Eternal Sun.  For us, that night was the beginning of the war, and for some of us, it is also our reason to fight.”
   “You were at Matta?” Tanya tested.
   “We were, lassie,” Bors grinned, “and while some of us are haunted by it, some of us keep in mind that we have survived it and have done good work since then.  There was this one time when…”
   “Bors…” Unsh sighed.
   “No,” Tanya pleaded, “Tell me, please.  If you are to be my trusted guard, then I want to know you.”
   “Why?” Lokric spat, quite suddenly, “It shan’t make any difference.”
   “Because I want to remember you.” Tanya replied.
   Lokric shook his head, but did not prevent Bors from relating his tale.  And while Bors told the story of a daring exploit that earned them a handsome meal in the High Command Banquet Hall, Verena quietly slipped over to Tanya and began to braid her hair.  Verena smelt of roses, and for the first time, Tanya realised that Verena was quite a beautiful woman, vibrant red hair curling down her shoulders, meadow green eyes and a slender grace that came like whispering death.  Verena brushed her hair first while Bors explained the part where Gillon and Royen had stolen uniforms to get in to a keep on the outskirts of Eternal Sun.  As Verena started to smoothly shift through Tanya’s hair, Jenna laughed out loud when Bors had difficulty with explaining that the only way he had been able to get in to the keep was by hitting himself over the head several times so they would take him in to the Church inside the walls.
   Mikata arrived a little later with food and drink from the galley and pulled up a table so that everyone could help themselves.  After the third tray, he had managed to provide cheeses, dried ham, tomato and apples, not to mention a barrel of water.  Whilst eating, Bors concluded his tale and Jenna joined Lokric as he poured over a map with an apple in his mouth and a knife in his hand.
   “What do you think, Lokric, are we still making the right move?”
   He didn’t look at her when he replied, taking the apple out of his mouth and pointing at the map with the knife, straightening his back,
   “The Captain is right, Beacon is going to be the best place for us to dock, but we’ll have a trek to Crag Top.  Assuming he’s there, we’ll have a short time before we have to head off again.  We should be meeting up with the Captain again at Coral Guard, but I suspect that if anything goes wrong along the way, we may well find that Coral Guard could be a very serious problem.  Keep in mind, Beacon and Coral Guard are in the middle of a feud because of the death of Redswearer’s oldest son.”
   Mikata and Tanya looked at each other, trying to understand how risky this business was to be.
   “And what of this man you are to be meeting up with?  Why is he so important?”
   “He is one our own troop… mostly.  And as I explained before, he is the probably the only reason we have had the chance to find you.”
   “And he was at the Academy with you?” Tanya ventured.
   “No, he wasn’t,” Lokric replied, “but his skills as a ranger and a scout are second to none.”
   “Dmitri is not a member of the five kingdoms.  He is from the lands even further north from here.  He’s not a talkative fellow, either.” Jenna added.
   “He just creeps me out.” Unsh voiced his opinion openly.
   “Yeah but we don’t see much of him.  We have to look at you all the time.” Gillon chuckled.
   Tanya was not really listening and was watching Lokric now.  Short blonde hair, swept back and spiked behind him and a sharp complexion, Tanya saw how his every movement was a calculated one; the shifting of his body weight, his narrow eyes examining every detail with a focussed determination.  His very posture was like that of a big cat, garbed in black, light weight leathers and a form of harness for his bladed staff.
   She turned her attention then, to the weapon.  He had it lying on a sheet of fine textile with a whetstone and a little pot of some kind of thick oil.  At closer inspection she noticed the etchings in the haft, not to mention that the shaft was actually still made of wood.
   “It’s called a Yashena Staff.  It is my Aesriken.” Lokric sat back down on his bunk and placed it across his lap and started to sharpen the blades.
   “Aesriken?  Bonded Weapons?”
   Lokric looked up and raised an eyebrow.
   “You know of Aesriken?” Lokric pondered, genuinely interested.
   Tanya shook her head,
   “Not really.  I read a lot of stories and legends to the children.  There are several tales of righteous warriors with swords and shields bonded to them.  I even recall one story where I knight was bonded to his socks.”
   “Yes, I know the tale,” Lokric leaned back and Tanya noticed a strange smile appear on Lokric’s face.  It was gone within moments, however.
   “My father used to tell me the story when I was child.  I was told how heroes always came to save the day with their magickal artefacts for their true loves.  I did like them when I was a boy.”
   “I’m… I’m sorry,” Tanya began, but Lokric interrupted her.
   “You have nothing to be sorry for, Duchess.  We are the ones under attack and now is the time to disregard fantasies for dirty truths.  I assure you, Duchess, that I will be at your side.  Many of us here are survivors of the daemons’ encroachments so you will find sympathy here.  But you will also find death and horrors.  For these things, you will need to be strong.”
   Jenna leaned over them and checked Lokric’s staff with a probing eye and then looked up in to his eyes and said, ruefully,
   “Those have to amongst the softest words I have ever heard from your lips?”
   “You’ve heard others?” Gillon yapped from his bench.
   “Yeah, I can really picture Lokric dancing in a field full of flowers, can’t you?” Royen nearly choked on the water when he heard Gillon.
   Unsh slipped over with a slice of cheese rolled in wafer ham and sneered,
   “Aye, while Bors here takes up the cross-stitch and Dmitri sings with a voice like a Banshee.”
   “Better than seeing you prancing about in the snow with nothing on like that time we caught you outside the garbage chute of Fort Yan.” Jenna countered.
“Coming to think of it, you never did tell us what happened.” Royen leaned round to look at Unsh and give him a nudge, “Go on, what was her name and who was her husband?”
“For a moment there,” Gillon rolled in on the other side and added, “I thought you were going to ask him what ‘his’ name was and who the wife was!”
Unsh battered at them both, but Tanya laughed and Mikata tried to hide the idea of laughing at one of these dangerous people behind his sleeve.
“Play nice, boys.” Jenna said, with a hint of motherliness in her voice, and then stepped up and out on to the deck and the fresh night air.
Lokric was quick to follow and as he left and shut the hatch behind him, Gillon and Royen finally gave up harassing Unsh.  Verena had gone back to her bench and was brushing her own hair while Sir Bors continued to check over the tower shield.  Mikata and Tanya looked at each of them in turn and offered to bring more food and water down should they require it, but they declined and stated they were shortly off to their bunks.  They hastened to add that it might not be a good idea to disturb Jenna and Lokric and with the hour getting late Bors suggested that they get some sleep. It was going to be another long day.

[Heretic Zero]

Sorry about the delay - internet connections and what have you...

SAGA
The Empire Falling Chronicle

Chapter Six: The Sea King

   Should I see such a sight as that again in my remaining days I would devote what I have to the cloister; ne’er have I witnessed such ferocity and savagery as I did this day.  They broke the lines within their first charge for the land, taking Captain Rennard Fallowreed and the Shining Star, Captain Allertos Bee and Lizzy’s Grin and Captain Duncan Quarter and the Harpoon to the depths within their first volleys.  They knew no fear, gave no quarter, shed blood without remorse and all before they even touched the sand.
   And they touched sand without delay.  No matter the strength of our forces, I still believe to this day that we could have been another ten ships stronger and it would have made not a slip of a difference.  Of all of my confessions, the one I still see at night despite my pardon, is the sight of seeing those monsters march up the beach head.  No warrior stood before them for long, no fortification held up against their force and no aid came to them, save that which found their way through prayers of salvation.
   Mark me well when I tell you of their dreadnaughts; I should wish to outrun a sea dragon, endure Nautiss’ tantrums or swim the length of the Sleeping Sea rather than set eyes upon the gun ports, iron spikes and the horrid, barbed weapons that threatened us that day.  And know this too, I am a Captain of my own vessel and I shall not shirk the responsibility of aiding those in need at sea, but when I ordered a full retreat it was with full knowledge that there was nothing more that we could do other than die at the hands of our enemy.
-  Exert from a statement by Edward Fisher, Former Captain of the Salty Drifter

   By the eve of the second day they were rounding the last of the islands of the Crescent Archipelago and entering the strait to the Isle of Hounds.  Tanya and Mikata watched as they rounded the edge of the islet and set their eyes straining for any hint of land.  The skies were clouded, a nimbus approached from the east, following the current of the strait west, from and to the Sleeping Sea.
   “Eyes sharp!” Justin called as he came back out of his cabin, “All lights out!”
   And with that, Mikata joined the rest of the crew extinguishing all of the lights.
   “Captain?” Ackar asked.
   “I have a sneaking suspicion that if there was going to be an ambush, it would be right here.  Wait for darkness and we’ll ride out under the cover of that storm.”
   Ackar looked at the nimbus and glanced back at the captain and grinned,
   “Aye aye, Captain.” Ackar then turned to the crew, “You heard him, ladies, time to earn your pay.  We’re riding a storm tonight.  Anyone on deck will be wearing their rope if they don’t want to be washed away.  Pass the word.”
   The storm hit nearly three hours later and tore around the ship with unwavering brutality.  No one was allowed on deck unless they were manning a position and, in storms like this, only the most experienced of the crew were set out in to the winds and water.  Justin had tied himself to the brace beside the wheel and was spinning the wheel wildly in order to put the Sea hag back on her course.  Dunnig had been ordered out of the crow’s nest and he hadn’t complained, he merely commented,
   “There wouldn’t be a point, Captain; you won’t be able to see the shape of land before we hit it.”
   Ackar was starting to think that perhaps Dunnig was correct and had tied a second knot in his life line.  Ackar’s role was a fairly simple one: back up anyone who looked like they were having a problem at their station.  He started by getting himself in to a good place to see everybody about him and ensuring his crew’s lines were in fact fastened tight.  He turned about to see Justin at the wheel still, bracing against the wheel and let out a hearty laugh at the skies.  As Justin brought his face down out of the rain, he glimpsed Ackar peering at him in disbelief, so he gave Ackar a similar boost in morale and yelled over the sound of the waves,
   “Isn’t she beautiful?!  Looks as though Merrod and Nautiss are in confusion about us, this time!  What do you say, Ackar?!  Faster?!”
   Ackar grinned from ear to ear as he heard his Captain’s confidence and bellowed at the top of his lungs,
   “You talk dirty, Captain!  You hear that men?!  The captain wants her to go FASTER!!!”
   Tanya and Cadwick’s company all glanced at Mikata as, albeit that he was inside, replied with the rest of the crew,
   “Aye, Captain!”
   Mikata darted off down through the door only to stop and turn back for a moment,
   “The Captain’s going to use a Tide Breaker.  You might want to hang on to something.”
   “Where are you going?” Tanya called after him, genuinely worried.
   “To the front of the ship, when we come down we’re going to want as much momentum as we can get!”
   “When we come down?” Verena asked Lokric as he perched himself backward.
   “And here was me thinking that the Captain was smoking Calm Weed.” He replied.
   And then the wind seemed to change direction.  Justin felt her changing her mind and saw the crew already preparing for the storms wet embrace.  A wave swept across the deck and knocked Justin from his feet and his hands left the wheel spinning out of control.  Ackar had spotted him and was racing up the poop deck to his side and the wheel but a second wave threw him off his feet and in to the sides of the ship.  Beside him he watched Plakka hit the side of the vessel and then roll limply over the side.  Ackar glanced back to the Captain and then back to the taut rope beside him.  Instinctively, realising that the rope had not severed and was still tightly fastened, Plakka still had a chance.  Ackar rolled on to his front and over the rope that had secured Plakka and then got up on to his feet, placing one foot on the frame and pulled with all of his might.  Another of the men had noticed his plight and slipped and slided over to his side and took a hold of the rope and pulled in time.
   “Brace the rope!” Ackar called over the waters and reached over the side and took hold of Plakka’s belt, “Now PULL!”
   Three of them fell to the deck, Plakka coughing and spluttering.
   “Get him inside!” Ackar ordered the crewmate as he searched for the Captain again, “Release his rope once he’s inside!”
   Plakka however was looking upward and in to the wall of water that flickered for them briefly.  Ackar shoved the two of them toward the door and made his way to the Captain.  Justin glanced over his shoulder and he was still grinning.  He turned his gaze back to the bow of the boat and spun his wheel lightly in to the watery mountain.
   “Well, she’s got him panicking, that’s for sure!” Justin yelled as they began to slide, at an angle across the wave, and up to the peak.
   “Oh dung…” Ackar caught his breath, grabbed hold of anything that he could put his hands around and screamed,
   “BRACE!!!”
   Mikata ran in to the bow, along with Dunnig and Plakka who was still quite groggy.  Tanya and Cadwick’s Company experienced a moment when suddenly the world seemed very light, as if the world had slowly thrown them in to the air and this was the moment before the fall.
   “He hasn’t just…” Jenna scolded, but was interrupted by the sudden dive over the top of the peak, driving the boat over the crash and then through two more as it came down the far side, quickly lifted away and toward the breach of the storm.
   Justin was pulling on the wheel still, while the crew were making their way back around the boat to evenly displace the weight.  Ackar opened his eyes and found himself staring in to the eyes of Justin.  Justin looked at him as he slowly let go of the brace that Justin had tied himself to.
   “Is it over yet?” Ackar croaked; his voice was going to be in bad shape by the morrow.
   “Well, I’d be untying myself if you weren’t hugging my rope.”
   Ackar shook his head, wiping some of the rain from his brow and looked at the chop behind them.

*****

   War Master Sirak stood at the railings watching the storm’s frenzy.  He had dealt many a death-blow and conquered all of his subordinates through the power of his might. Sirak had been born to be a War Master, bred by the Breed Mongers to be a warrior and a leader of his troops.  He had commanded armies across the reach of the House of the Eternal Sun and every creature he put to his sword he revelled in the glory.  Known amongst the Sirithsin as ‘thirsty for blood’, he had made it strict policy that he gave no quarters and never turned down a battle.  Thousands had fallen before his sword.
   And it agitated him that this foetid, gangly creature beside him was able to countermand him and choose the course of a ship under his power.  Still he didn’t grumble about the chance to kill a little girl or perhaps slaughter anything that got in the Sin Seeker’s way.  What gave him a certain glee was that this would be a chance to wander in to the lands of another House and indiscriminately murder anyone he fancied.  His orders were quite specific; follow the Sin Seeker and ensure that any thing that prevents you from killing the girl must be slaughtered.
   The War Galleon was a monster in to its own right.  A fortress of wood and steel, twenty eight cannon ports to both the starboard and the port, with another four facing to the front of the ship.  The head of the ship was a cruel curved and jagged spike made of black iron.  Once there had been several great forests in the House of the Eternal Sun, and now those very same forests floated upon the oceans as machines of war.
   Few spoke of the Mythic Enclaves within those forests, though Sirak would boast of the blood shed.
   “With this ship, I can cleave through that storm.  I can sweep aside that storm and run the ship through the Sons of the Crone.  I want their blood and you tell me to wait.”
   Sirak was calm for the time being, but he did long to kill the Sin Seeker.  With a whispering rasp from under the hooded cowl, the creature garbed in vibrant red, hems of black and the shoulders covered in ancient scripture that seemed to continuously burn like acid, said plainly,
   “The Crone is too fast.  You would show your sword and they would flee.  While you have might and clarity, you do not know the waters you sail.  But if you follow a beast to its lair…”
   “You’ve told me before, nameless one, but what you haven’t told me is to where they are going to!” Sirak spat his reply.
   The gangly spectre did not flinch, however, when so many normally would.  He, instead, gestured to the cabins and ushered him in to the Sin Seeker’s holdings.  He had ordered that it remain locked at ALL times.  He had been specific, also, that no one but him was to enter the room.  Sirak had also heard from some of the troops who manned the boat say that in the old ways of the Hated Ones that only the darkest of Magicks can be used, and in some case only witnessed, by one that had already returned their Life Curse to the Conqueror.  But then, only a Sin Seeker would truly know the truth about the prices that came with their darkest arts.
   Sirak did not pause as he ventured over the threshold, though as he did, he realised his sword was close to hand.
   “You will not need that here.” It hissed aloud as the door swung shut and locked with a casual wave of his hand as he reached down to the side of his desk and withdrew two goblets and a large, beautifully gilded flask of black and dark blue veins running through what appeared to be a jelly-glass.
   No sooner did the stopper leave the top, Sirak smelt the blood.
   “You have a good sense of smell, Sirak, and your thoughts scream for battle, do they not?”
   Sirak stammered,
   “I am a warrior!  I was bred for this!  Would anyone dare challenge ths?”
   “Yes.” The hiss slipped out from under the hood with icily barbed precision.
   Sirak stood up, towering over the Sin Seeker, glaring down on him and nearly entering the hood, his visage a terrifying destroyer and butcher, and growled,
   “Who?  Who, nameless one, who… would… dare?”
   The Sin Seeker had not stirred and it was questionable if one could see his chest rise and fall, he had been motionless and not a fold in his robes fabric was shifted.
   “Why, Mighty Sirak, only one would question your role in the events to come.  Lord Manek.”
   Sirak snorted,
   “You speak in riddles, Dark Wielder.  Why would Lord Menak desire one Human killed in particular?  Why we do not slaughter our way across the Five Kingdoms is beyond me and await Lord Menak with an Oubliette in which we can properly greet him?”
   “We will, War Waster, your time is upon you.  Shortly comes the day when you will strike at the heart of the next Kingdom; the House of Clear Water.  But I have foreseen that your most successful crusade within the lands of Clear Water will begin in the same place as my journey ends: the port they call Beacon.”
   “Beacon… The Sons of the Crone are taking the girl to a place called Beacon.”
   “Again, War Master, you prove your superiority over your subordinates with you cunning mind.”
   Sirak grinned for a moment but then stopped as quickly as it had started.
   “You take me for a fool, nameless one.  What do you get out of this?”
   “Sirak, you are no fool, of course I am commanded, as you are, to dispatch a Human child over all the others, but that is because they have foreseen a danger to us.  It is a weapon that they will use in order to stop us from opening the Oubliette.  She already knows of the Black Citadels.  She sees us in her dreams, as I have seen her.  She sleeps again soon so I shall garner more knowledge for you as and when I know it.”
   The War Master stared at the creature before him.  He watched as the Sin Seeker poured blood in to the goblets and handed one over.
   “You want me to drink blood?  From whom?”
   “Not from whom, from what?”
   Sirak was puzzled; ‘kill your opponent, skin him, gorge on his flesh if you must’, but he recalled nothing decadent about any of it.  He glanced at the goblet and took it up in one hand and then asked, genuinely intrigued,
   “From what, then?”
   “A Unicorn.”
   Sirak was not sure to believe the nameless one; to fell a Unicorn and take its blood was thought to be impossible. They weren’t quite the same as the rest of the Mythical; they were something else as well.  It was believed, virtually universally, that Unicorns had a direct Magickal link of some kind with the Unity itself, granting them considerable power.  Sirak was also aware that there were also very few Unicorns remaining and the destruction of one was evidence of your power.
   The red blood shimmered in the iron goblet before him.
   “Will you drink with me?  I assure you, the vintage is superb.”
   “You have killed a Unicorn?” Sirak scoffed, “Or did you more likely find one that had fallen over from old age!?”
   “Oh, I didn’t kill it,” The Sin Seeker replied with almost a humorous curl to his whisper, “it still lives.  Unicorns are Immortal, and as long as they have their horn, they can use their Magicka.  It wasn’t until I experimented a little, that I discovered that a Unicorn is still immortal even after the horn is removed.”
   The Sin Seeker then reached over his desk and drew out a long box and opened it to show a sword of craftsmanship Sirak had not seen before.  At first, he thought it some kind of twisted scimitar, until he examined closer and realised that, from the top of the hilt to the tip of the blade, it was a viciously warped horn.
   “The rest of the carcass is skinned daily in one of my own circles, while it screams, and I get a rich stock of Unicorn blood.  Sample it and understand why I was sent to guide you to your destiny, Mighty Sirak.”
   He did not wait and slurped at the goblet and no sooner had the first drops started down his throat he suddenly felt an overwhelming exhilaration and the blood in his veins turned to fire and energy; he knew in that moment that he was unstoppable.
   And then it was gone.
   He drank again, polishing off the rest, roaring with the sudden rush of exaltation he received as the magickal blood imbued him again with incredible power.  But again, it slipped away, like a fading memory.
   “That, Sirak, is why I sip it.  It seems to last longer.”
   Sirak shook his head, still heaving from the twisted ambrosia, and raced out on to the deck.  He stormed up to the rear of the ship where the drums resided, ripped the hammers from the drummer and threw him out of the way with a roar.  He then started to slam on the drums, increasing the stroke speed.  He continued to roar; the closer he came to the land, the more he felt destiny’s hand begin to tighten around him.

*****

   With the morning light came a sense of enormous relief from the passengers aboard the Sea Hag.  They had finally slept as the water tilled over, the confidence of the Captain having inspired the crew had also passed over to Cadwick’s Company and Tanya.  She had risen before all of them, as she had each day on land, and made her way on to the deck to be greeted with a smile by Captain Justin, simply leaning on the wheel.  He grinned at her and complimented,
   “You’re doing well.  When you were a little girl you didn’t get shifting sickness and you haven’t acquired now.  If I looked hard enough, I’d think you had natural sea-legs, girl.”
   “And you’d take me on as a member of your crew?” Tanya jovially asked.
   “That I might, that I might.” He chuckled and turned back to the horizon.
   Tanya made her way over to the wheel and braces and felt the skies throwing them a strong wind.  Because of it blowing her hair in her face she found herself taking apiece of leather from her pockets and tying her hair back.  She stared out to sea and took in the open air.  Tranquillity had followed the storm, aside from the strong wind and a little chop, and with the sails fully charged with the blessing of Nautiss, the Sea Hag swept through the waters like a stag sweeps through the forest.
   “That was a violent storm, last night, wasn’t it?” Tanya hoped to confirm that their survival was something of a feat of Justin’s ingenuity.
   “It wasn’t the worst that I have seen,” he replied, still grinning, “but, aye, she was stronger than Plakka’s breath.  Have you seen him, yet?”
   “Yes, he was sleeping comfortably.  Gillon had a look at him and believes he may have badly bruised the arm but he’s sure that there’s a couple of impact cracks to his ribs.”
   “Aye,” Justin replied, “I saw him plough in to the side of the ship and it’s only because of Ackar he’s sleeping without a blanket of sea water.”
   Tanya could see the pride that he had in his crew in that moment; seeing how they had stuck together, as they had been trained, brought happiness to him.  She had never heard anything of Justin’s family, but she knew that he regarded every crew member as closely, if not closer still, than his own flesh and blood.
   They stood together at the bow for a while until she looked back to where they had been.  She could see heavier clouds in the distance and the haze that comes with the consistent rainfall.  She observed how the clouds still seemed to follow them, but never quickly enough to keep pace.  Open water had a wonderful feeling and the roll of the ship was as slight as the rocking of a chair.  She glanced up to see Dunning back up in the crow’s nest and also peering back to the storm.
   “Is he okay?” Tanya asked, still looking up to peak of the sails.
   “Dunnig will call if he sees something.” Justin replied confidently.
   She continued to watch him for a little while and recalled for a moment that night at the docks of Aster’s Port.  She recalled the archer in the crow’s nest.  She recalled his deadly accuracy and the support he provided to Old Wesley.  She didn’t even need to glance down to know that Wesley was near her side, sniffing at something that was still aboard after the storm.  Again, the archer sprang to mind and, despite he remained silent the whole voyage, she had not felt threatened by him.  He was, from her recollection, still a frightening visage, his remorseless killer instinct expelled with every arrow that he had loosed that night, but she did not feel as though she needed to fear him.  The only dream where he had appeared again, he had been present throughout and had killed repeatedly with flawless grace.
   She never had managed to thank him for saving them both.
   “Do you remember the archer?” Tanya suddenly asked.
   “I do.” Was his short reply.
   “Why was he aboard?”
   “He never said, but he had known about the fall of Aster’s Port before it happened.”
   “He knew?” Tanya asked incredulously, “But it was a surprise attack!  How could he have known?”
   “I picked him up from the coast of the Eternal Sun.  He paid in advance and he specifically wished to get to Aster’s Port.  He paid handsomely.  He also warned me to get out of port that night – there was a large number of daemons coming and they were allegedly under orders to leave no one alive.”
   Justin then went quiet.  Tanya watched him carefully and, after a moment, said plainly,
   “You’re not telling me something.”
   “Aye, that’s true.  He stayed with us for two more voyages.  He trailed behind us a wake of pain and destruction.  None his own doing, I’m pretty certain, but it still the crew were happy to see the back of him.”
   “And?” she persisted.
   “Must you know?” Justin asked, the grin no longer present.
   “Yes, Justin, I must.” She insisted.
   “Then know this; I have known many men from many lands, and none of them carried themselves as he did.  I do not believe that he comes from the Five Kingdoms.  I have seen those that had talents that surpassed those of normal warriors, but never have I seen talent such as his till I did battle at Kalen’s Rest with Cadwick’s Company.  I believe he had some Kildren blood in him…” he paused for a moment before finishing, “…like you may have.”
   “Kildren blood?”
   “Why not?  The majority of nobles are the distant offspring of the Lords of the Houses.  Somewhere inside you, I would suspect that may have a drop here and there.”
   Tanya went quiet for some time.  Although she knew the histories and then what Torsa had taught her, she never really paid it much heed.  It was apparent, however, that of all the nobility on the boat, she was the highest ranking present.  She would, if the legends were true, potentially retain some of the most powerful Magicks that the Realm could offer.  But that thought did not bring her any comfort.
   “Are you okay?” Justin asked.
   “Yes, Justin, I am.  You haven’t said anything that I didn’t already know, just something I wish I could be permitted to forget.”
   Justin just shook his head and kept his eyes on the horizon.  Tanya glanced back up to the crow’s nest to see Dunnig glance about him in each direction but then turn back to the storm behind them, almost as if he was not comfortable with the storm behind them.  She thought he would have been happy to have it behind them, but something still appeared to concern him.
   “Don’t worry, lass,” Justin said calmly, “He’ll call if he sees something.”
   She shrugged and made her way to the bow.  There she found Ackar and Mikata, who had apparently managed to pass behind her while she spoke to Justin undetected.  They were both scrubbing down the deck while members of the crew got some sleep and those that had been less experienced worked the sails and checked the boat for any more damage.  As she approached she discovered them chattering, laughing and witnessed Ackar splash Mikata with water.  Mikata replied in kind.  She observed silently as Wesley padded past her and past them and began pawing at a crab.  It snipped at him and he recoiled quickly, but took a ready pose to play with the potential opponent.  Swiftly, he turned his paw over it and gave it a cat-like shove.  It skittered quickly to the other side of the deck and he stalked it, but maintained a safe distance from the pincer.  His play brought a smile to her face and when he narrowly escaped a clip to the muzzle, she giggled allowed.
   Mikata and Ackar turned about to see her and Ackar passed her a brush from beside his bucket.  She took it without question and just started to pile up detritus from the sea in to a central pile.  She listened to the two of them banter about the storm and the Tide Breaker, and of some incident while Mikata had been a member of the crew.  They chuckled afterward, recollecting what had been an embarrassing moment for Mikata and Ackar alike.  As she moved on, she didn’t notice Ackar glance back over his shoulder and then regard Ackar,
   “You love her, don’t you.” It was without doubt more of a statement than a question.
   Mikata hesitated, hoping, in vane, that the secret were not so obvious,
   “Yes.  I do.”
   “Have you told her?” Ackar asked.
   “No.  I couldn’t.”
   “Why not?” Ackar questioned further, while quickly adding, “If you wish to speak of such things, that is.”
   Mikata sighed and paused in his scrubbing.  He had spoken to no one about his feelings for his friend, but Ackar, although he had not urged him without option, was a friend he could trust implicitly.
   “I would have, had this not been our task.  I wanted to, so very much, and I had hoped to court her once the Snowfall had passed.  But then this happened…”
   “And still you wait?” Ackar asked, minding his volume.
   “Do you mock me for it?”
   “No,” Ackar replied with a grin, “never.  I would understand your reluctance in such harrowing times.  To set your heart in a time of war is a frightening undertaking.  Knowing that each day can be your last can finish a relationship before it has even started.  Personally, it is the same reason why I have not taken a woman to my side.”
   Mikata stared at Ackar for a moment and then dropped the scrub in the bucket, saying quickly,
   “I have something that I must do.  I have a present for Justin, and I had nearly forgotten it.”
   “You’re supposed to love the woman more than the Captain.” Ackar scoffed.
   Mikata chuckled and jogged to his quarters.  He filtered through his items and pulled out the spyglass that he had fashioned for Justin.

*****

   Dunnig was quite relaxed, the wind brushing under the hood.  Each time it was strong enough, the bitter tendrils of cold slipped around the back of his neck and his shoulder became tense.  Shooting pains.  He knew it had not yet still fully healed, but he did not really need his arm to watch the seas with.  When the daemon had hit him, he had been quite fortunate enough to receive the damage of a back hand stroke.  The claws on those beasts were formidably sharp and had it raked him, judging by the force of the blow he had taken, he was certain that it would have ended his sailing career, assuming he survived it.
   Still, Dunnig was able to climb the rigging to the crows nest and get over the top without any particular difficulty, though it was good to rest it once he was at the top.  He served a purpose.  They had many more men down there as strong as he was, but none of them had his eyes.  Nor an inkling for danger ahead.  He had spent enough years up in a crow’s nest to know the little manoeuvres that pirates used to sneak up on their prey.  And then there was the advantage of simply seeing the land and letting the crew know: it did wonders for their morale knowing that it wouldn’t be far to swim if things got ugly.
   They had always counted on Dunnig’s incredible eyes and since he had woken after the storm and taken back to the crows nest, the moment his eyes saw the look of the storm behind them, he knew that if anything was going to come for them, it would need to come through the storm.  Perhaps he was being a bit more cautious because of the recent skirmish, but an instinct told him that if their warships were as good as their soldiers, they would task the storm and would not be tried the same the Sea Hag was.  He watched with only brief glances to the other sides, knowing that nothing was going to appear, and would turn his eyes on the storm again.  The Captain wasn’t the only crewman that trusted in Merrod and Nautiss.  She was still angry and that suggested that she should not be taken so lightly.
He also brought up with him a flask of herbed water, something that the girl, Tanya, had offered him.  She had assisted with the treatment of the wounded as soon as they had started to arrive.  She had treated Dunnig and had used several salves, including one that seemed to make his flesh burn but without flame.  She told Dunnig that the heat would fade and it would relieve some of the immediate stiffness.  He received a visit each day since the injury and had treated; his back checked along with his shoulders and around the base of his neck rubbed.  She applied the salve each time and each time the burning occurred.  Tanya had seen him back to health very quickly and was also tending to Plakka when she had a moment.  Already the colour had returned and his breathing was greatly improved.  A good bit of bandaging and a sling for the arm if he needs it.  The herbed water was apparently some kind of restorative she had brewed up and when she said it would ‘liven’ him he was not expecting, with the sour taste, a sudden rush that warmed his entire body.  She had also told him to have a little bit at a time, and only to sip it, too much could knock him out.
Dunnig glanced to his left and then to his right and back over his shoulder seeing nothing.  He glanced down to the remainder of the cap and slugged it back.  He topped the bottle and put it back in his satchel.  He looked back at the fury behind them but this time something was different.  The cloud had slipped at the bottom, of some size, as if something had passed out of it and dragged some of the mist with it.  He stood up from his haunches and stared, looking through the light and waves to find something else.  Anything.  Something that would confirm his suspicion.  And then he saw it; a second wake in the water.  It was so very slight at such a distance, but was the way the waves curled away from each other in the wrong directions.
He was about to call out when he considered it again and made his way down the rigging.  He arrived at the bottom just as Mikata approached, eagerly, with something in his hand.
“Captain!” Dunnig hollered as he approached, “Captain, there’s something think you need to see.”
Immediately, the Captain turned to him and passed the wheel over to Ackar.  Dunnig took Justin to the stern and said,
“Directly behind us, Captain, base of the storm in out own wake.”
“I don’t see anything,” Justin said as he drew his own spyglass and stared down it, “what am I looking for?”
“A second wake.” Dunnig replied quietly.
Justin took the spyglass from his eye and put it back under his coat.  He sighed and said flatly,
“Dunnig, you know I can’t make out that kind of detail, with or without a spyglass.”
Dunnig shrugged and said,
“Maybe so, Captain, but I’m sure I can see one.”
Justin regarded him for a moment and then nodded.  He dismissed him back to the crow’s nest with a smile and a brush of the back of his head.
“Dunnig, your eyes are a gift.”
“I’d rather have a wife.” Dunnig laughed as he made his way back to the crow’s nest.
Justin on the other hand quickly made his way to the passenger quarters.  There he found Jenna and the others waking up.  Justin marched straight up to Jenna and asked bluntly,
“Jenna, do you know whether Sin Seekers can hide ships from sight?”
Jenna’s immediate reaction was to glance to the others and they all began to put on their armour.  Justin, in kind, took that as meaning that he had to get the Sea Hag to go faster somehow.
“How far behind us are they, Dunnig?” Justin called up as he got back out on deck, all of the crew hearing him say it, suddenly aware that they were being followed.
“Hours, Captain, and I’d reckon that they are gaining on us!”
“What is it Captain?” Ackar asked.
“Ladies and Gentlemen!” Ackar replied to the entire crew, “We have attracted the attention of one of their Sin Seekers.  Every minute counts.  I want ores in the water and with long strokes.  Shift positions every four hours.  You know the drill, so get to it!”
Not a word.  They just moved.
Men were straight up the rigging, down in to the hold, sorting out weapons and preparing for a gruelling few hours to come.  Jenna stepped up behind Justin and asked politely,
“And what can we do to help?”
“If they board us, kill them all.” Justin replied sternly.
“Oh, you can count on that.” Lokric hissed as he watched the sea behind them.

[Heretic Zero]

SAGA
The Empire Falling Chronicle

Chapter Seven: Beacon

   Many of the larger towns in the out-lying islands were named after significant landmarks or the most prestigious member of the original community.  In many cases, the stories of these places or the people that found them were embellished over the years and a founding community would be recognised as a band of heroic travellers that had sought some treasure, only to find, as many tales would tell it, the most precious treasure they could find; a home.
   As with many of these stories, there is likely to be as much fabrication in it as there is truth.  While many a story may tell of giant lizards breathing fire and of fabled quests set by the Stone King, Weavers of terrifying power and of men and women bonded with their Aesriken to the point where they were capable of defeating garrisons single-handed, what records we have suggest that this is largely fancy on behalf of local folk bringing imaginative prestige to their kin.  It should be noted, however, that there are settlements that predate most of the records with very few details as to how they were founded or even to which House they originally aligned to.
   This, however, is not necessarily the case with the Mythic.  Given the age of many members of the Mythic and the likelihood that they will survive several, if not many more, generations of one Manish family, it is not uncommon for a grandparent, uncle or aunt to be well acquainted with the verses and deeds of both Mythic personalities and, in the odd, rare case, Manish.
- On the Trot by Torsa Footstomper

The Sea Hag sheered through the waves, the wind pushing the light vessel along at a terrific speed, but in the shadow of a juggernaut.  It was much larger than the Sea Hag, with more oar men than the entire crew and looked long enough to transport a large number of troops.  The tearing spike at the figure head was the first thing Dunnig had seen as it tore through the strange mist about it.  It did not slice through the ocean, more claw its way through the water.  It was a weapon, a brutal cutlass in the sea designed to strike out.
   The War Galleon was easily in sight for Dunnig as he registered the cannons at the bow and figures ready to fire.  One well-placed salvo from those and the Sea Hag would be dead in the water.  And shortly after that, once the Sin Seeker arrives, any crew that had survived will wish that they hadn’t.  It was nearing noon when the Dunnig brought a smile when he called,
   “Land ho!”
   Sirak, on the other hand, did not mind if the land got in the way; he had every intention of cutting through it with a bloody swath.  He had battered at the drums, without losing pace, since he had taken to them.  None of his crew would leave their ores unless they were crippled and if they could not row, then they were no use to him.  If they could swim to shore and join the fight, then they were showing some worth, but until then, he would not wait for his destiny.
   The Sin Seeker watched with gleeful anticipation until the dusk began to set in.  He had retired to his room but it was shortly after that Sirak was approached by one of his soldiers.  The soldier reported that there was screaming coming from the room of the Sin Seeker.  Sirak decided, since he had ventured in to the room before, he had nothing to fear this time – tricks and conjurings were little for him to fear, although he did not go there unarmed.  He arrived at the door and to the screams like a Human baby in discomfort; high pitched and somehow haunting.
   “Nameless one?  If you must make such a noise, could you do it after we arrive at the killing grounds?” Sirak asked, flippantly.
   No sooner had he finished his sentence, the Sin Seeker looked up to show blood running from under the cowl.  Sirak drew his sword and glanced about him, trying to perceive a would-be assailant.
   “No enemy resides here!” The Sin Seeker screeched, “No enemy aside from my own fate.”
   Sirak didn’t care of the Sin Seeker’s warning.  He pounded around the room and checked the various niches and then, upon being satisfied that nothing else living remained in the room, turned back to the nameless one and snorted,
   “Your fate?  That’s rich coming from one that chooses to speak of destiny.”
   “Shut up, fool!” screeched the Sin Seeker, dominating willpower and a sudden ebb of the dark forces that seeped from its voice, “I choose my course because I have no choice aside from cowardice or dishonour.  I have seen my own deaths.”
   “Deaths?  How many must you have?” Sirak asked, trying to maintain his composure.
   “I can throw myself to the water and drown there.  I can hide in my cabin as you attack and gladly take my life for my cowardice.  Or I can stand beside you and see my killer before he strikes for you.”
   “Why would you save me?  You could take this legion to its war.”
   The Sin Seeker grasped Sirak’s wrist.  Sirak noticed, suddenly, that no mater how much armour he had grafted, the coldness from within the Sin Seeker flowed through as if there nothing between them.  It slowly began to burn and then the pain became quite potent.  Sirak stood his ground: pain was nothing new to him.
   “You, Sirak, are the one I have prophesized to take the lands of Clear Water, not I!  You will march from the island we will begin to invade and you will conquer all before you.  You will destroy all before you.  I will not last the night.”
   Sirak shook the Sin Seeker’s hand from him and then replaced his sword within the sheath.  He glanced about the room and then back to the Sin Seeker.  He could still not see the face of his alleged ally, but something spoke to his instincts to leave this fiend to its work.  He made his way back to his quarters and settled for a full meal.

*****

   The Sea Hag was the first to reach Beacon and the city had seen the approach of both ships.  Justin had decided upon their course of action long before they had even set eyes on the harbour.  He had left the deck for the chance to speak to his passengers, personally, with the course of action. He had summoned Tanya, Jenna and Lokric to accompany him in to his own quarters and sat them down.  He offered them each a drink and then took his seat by an old desk, plucking an apple from a bowl he had nailed to the top in order to keep them from spilling all over the floor.  Sometimes it even worked!
   “We’re not stopping in the harbour.” Justin stated, frankly, “To do so would have the Sea Hag sunk, my crew dead or worse and, most importantly, nowhere for any of you to go once you reached Coral Guard.”
   Jenna glanced to Lokric who was watching the Captain with his cold eyes, then turned back to the Captain and asked,
   “So what is it that you have in mind?  I suspect that the War Galleon will give up on you and charge Beacon in the hopes to silence its cannons before the city claims them.”
   Justin grinned and pulled out a map and placed it on the table.  He shifted it about and placed goblets and tankards on the edges.  He pointed out Beacon and the rest of the island and noted the tight gap of the harbour.
   “If we float in there, we’d all be dead.  On the other hand, I’m going to make a rather sharp turn here.” Justin pointed at a small copse of rocks sticking out before the harbour and continued, “As we depart, we’ll follow the shore round to Coral Guard, via Hollow Rock.  When we get there, I’m suspecting you may be in a bit of a hurry, so you’re going to have to be at the very end of sea wall turret when I arrive.”
   Jenna and Lokric nodded but glanced back at him when they had a moment to mull it over.
   “I’m not stopping,” Justin answered their unspoken question, “you get one shot at this.  Don’t worry, however; you’ll know I’m coming.”
   “Now wait one minute…” Lokric started quickly interrupted by Tanya.
   “That’ll be fine.”
   “No that won’t be fine.” Lokric countermanded, “For what he’s expecting is going to require timing we do not have.”
   “Yes we will,” she said as she drew something out from her pocket.
   She held a wooden feather, the gift for Captain Justin, fashioned by Torsa.
   “Torsa has told me that this enchantment will ensure us that the Sons of the Crone will be here when we need them.”
   There was no point in Jenna arguing, Justin was probably right, anyway.  And it was likely that they were going to have a problem getting through Coral Guard without some kind of upset.  It was a large city and it was easy to get split up and with the tension from Count Redswearer, and an army on the opposite side of the island, it was likely to get quite chaotic.  The city was going to see the War Galleon, if it hadn’t already, and send a rider to each of the settlements ordering them to raise their militias and armies.  Coral Guard and Beacon were to the largest settlements, fortified and manned, but they were unlikely to be outfitted with seasoned warriors.  In close quarters, Beacon would fall in the space of a day or so.  Getting in to Beacon as the War Galleon approaches could be interesting, but getting out of Coral Guard would undoubtedly be problematic, not to mention just gaining entrance.
   Jenna and Lokric got up and left to start passing the word on, Justin however paused Tanya till they had gone.
   “Sons of the Crone?” he asked.
   “Sorry?” Tanya asked, “I don’t understand?”
   “You called us the Sons of the Crone.  Why did you call us that?”
   Tanya was puzzled for a moment and glanced back to the map for some reason.  When she was ready to answer she replied truthfully,
   “I don’t know why.  I remember the crew of the Sea Hag being called that in one of my dreams.”
   Justin almost sneered,
   “Had I not known of Torsa and the rest of your up-bringing, I’d have thought that you had just cursed us.”
   Tanya was a little taken aback by it and stammered,
   “Why?  What’s wrong with it?”
   “The Sons of the Crone were the first men of the races that were born of Nautiss before she became the storms and winds.  Neither girls nor boys were blessed with immortality, but they left for in and around the waters.  The girls apparently were the ‘love of the ocean’ while the boys became the ‘hate of the ocean’.  It’s an old tale, but not one often told anymore.  Do you read that to your class?”
   “Never.” She pondered over it and then reached over and gave Justin a hug, “You know that I’d never speak ill of you, Justin.  Never of you or any member of your crew.”
   “I know you wouldn’t, lass.  Just thought, given the rough waters ahead, perhaps you ought to know of it, just in case.”
   Justin gave her a wink and then shifted her off so she could get her stuff prepared.  As she left, putting the wooden feather in his hand, he shut the door and sighed out loud.  He did not like these arrangements, but they were insistent to acquire their comrade.

*****

   It was only as they ‘commandeered’ a long boat did Mikata finally get the chance to present Justin with the spyglass he had crafted.  Justin made a point of hiding his own superior telescope so as not to hurt the boy’s feelings.  They had four oars on either side and Bors was taking the two at the back.  The only two not to take an oar were Tanya and Verena who kept the equipment away from the oars.  Wesley lay still: he did not seem entirely pleased with being on a small boat.
As they approached the outcrop of rocks, Captain Justin gave the order to lower them away as he took to the wheel.  As soon as they hit the water, moving at some speed, Ackar and Plakka cut the ropes.  The long boat was dropped between the Sea Hag and the outcrop and Wesley swung in to the outcropping, bringing the boat round quickly.  The Sea Hag tipped as she hurtled round, narrowly avoiding the rocks and before the wake had diminished enough, the Sea Hag was aimed back out to sea.
Cadwick’s Company and Mikata were already rowing against the waves and had started toward the city.  They didn’t pause to look up; within the next hour or so, the War Galleon would be on top them.  Bors kept a stroke that the others could keep up with but it was without doubt his awesome strength that was key to propelling them quickly across the open water and toward the harbour.  Several wooden piers jutted out of the cove and beyond it was the sea wall with fishing homes scattered around between the two.
They got out of the long boat in shallow water and quickly shouldered their gear.  They didn’t bother mooring the long boat, they simply ran through the empty fishing homes.  As they approached they first realised the name for Beacon – the giant tower in the centre of the city.  Mikata had seen it before, lit in during the misty nights, guiding the fishing boats in during the dark days of Snowfall.  More than once, the Sea Hag put in to port here before going on to Kalen’s Rest.  Mikata had bought his first book at Beacon from a travelling salesman.
They were quick to the gates and men were already at the gates to meet them.
“Who goes there that brings such an army after them?!” shouted one of the guardsmen.
“Officer Jenna of the House of the Eternal Sun!  We must pass through!” Jenna hollered as she approached the gates.
“And you bring this behind you?  Why shouldn’t we just leave you out there?” the guardsmen asked, mockingly.
“By order of the High Command!” Jenna was still yelling even when she slammed against the gate, “Now open this gate before they get here.  If they get her, the House of Clear Water could be lost!”
The guardsman eyed her for a moment and then gestured the portcullis be opened.  Mikata glanced back over his shoulder to see where the War Galleon was and was shocked to see it by the outcrop they had left the Sea Hag by.  The War Galleon wasn’t changing course, however: they had neither slowed nor had they paid the slightest attention to the Sea Hag , it appeared that they were going to try and ram the city with the boat.
It came as a relief to be in the city and with the portcullis dropping behind them.  No sooner were they through the entrance archway, the first of the cannons fired.  The ship was evidently capable of reaching much greater distances and the shots collided with the city walls with incredible force, pounding huge holes in to the defences.  Rock and debris was scattered over them and all of them began to run from the walls and in to the city.
“How long till they reach us?” Verena asked as she over took Gillon and Royen.
“Not long!” Jenna called back over her shoulder, “We have to get to the other side of the city and out the rear gates!”
“Will they get through Beacon?” Mikata asked.
“In about two days if they stop to eat or enjoy themselves.” Lokric reported.
And that dashed all of Mikata’s hopes of the Beacon ever being lit again.  Surely it would be brought low in the assault.

*****

He heard the explosions of rock and metal.  He quickly gathered his gear and began running for the walls of the city.  The trees at the back walls were plenty and gave him ample opportunity to climb one of the larger oaks and scramble across one of the branches.  He leapt from the branch and on to the lowest segment of the wall.
His feat of agility went unnoticed as people flocked from the rear gates, making their way out and around the island in order to find safety.  He hit the ground running, his longbow slung over his back, crossed with his quiver.  He crept across the battlements and round through some of the parapets, each of them unguarded.  As he made his way across the city, getting higher and higher, he discovered the source of the explosions; off the coast, hurtling in to the land, was a Sirithsin War Galleon.
This would suggest his companions had arrived, at last, and in need of help by the looks of it.  He sprinted off again, and began to jump across the roof tops, aiming toward the Beacon.  The streets below were a bustle of activity as soldiers tried to man the walls and the city folk tried to escape them.  He caught his breath as he glanced about the rooftops, trying to find a quick way in to the Beacon tower.  He spotted a window a storey above him, just large enough for him.  He drew his bow and loosed an arrow in to the window, shattering it.  He then slung the bow over his back again and then ran at the tower.  He leapt on to the roof of the hall at the base of the tower and then ran up the side of the wall and up to the window ledge.  Effortlessly, he got his fingers on to the ledge and lifted himself in to the stairwell beyond.  It circled up to the top of the beacon tower and came out by the stacks of wood, surrounded by huge panes of warped glass.  He glanced about the chamber and spotted a hatch upward.  He scrambled up, through the hatch and found himself peering out over the sea wall and in to the view of the War Galleon.
He watched the War Galleon approach and strike the land with titanic fury.  It churned up through the sand, firing a final salvo into the portcullis and the parapets around it, chewing them up and collapsing the western parapet completely.
If the city’s defences were not already breached, they most certainly were now.  The gigantic spike that rode at the front of the ship did not quite reach the walls but on the decks the figures were clearly seen.  Daemons, each member of the crew was a soldier and the ship was to be abandoned for the onslaught to come.
He watched the ship carefully and then spotted something that stood out; a member of the crew that was not covered in grafted plate but in bloody red robes and what appeared to be a War Master.
Dmitri unslung the bow again and notched an arrow.  He peered down the arrow, both eyes open, searching for his target.  The War Master was without doubt the most threatening member of the crew.  He sighted him up, check the wind and drew back on the bow.  The wood creaked and the fletching came back to meet his cheek.  He brought it back so that his thumbnail brushed his stubbled chin and then aimed high of his mark and let the arrow fly.
The arrow shot out, far above the city and the sea wall, over the remaining houses and over the boat.  Dmitri watched as the red robed figure suddenly shifted in front of the War Master and received the arrow, in to the cowl and punching out the other side by a hands width.  The fiend shuddered on its feet and then dropped to the floor.
The War Master roared and the daemons aboard the boat leapt over the sides of the wood and metal behemoth and began storming up the shores.
Dmitri was back down the hatch and back on to the roofs before any retaliation could possibly reach him.  There was, however, one last salvo from the boat, just one cannon, that was fired at the Beacon itself.  The top of the tower exploded as Dmitri leapt from the roof of the hall and began to retrace his route to the back of the city.  He assumed the others would be able to get out in time.  With the loss of the Sin Seeker, it would perhaps take the army another day to clean out the city.
Two days was not much of a head start, but it would have to do.  He left the city walls and disappeared back in to the woods.  There would be the best place to find them and to pass word on about the man at Crag Top.

[Heretic Zero]

SAGA
The Empire Falling Chronicle

Chapter Eight: Hunter

   To know something of the Enigma almost always provides a modicum of awareness with the Weave, even if there is a lack of skill.  To become knowledgeable of the Enigma requires at least one of the following; an intrinsic link to the Weave through blood, a vast amount of research and training or, in some cases that I have been made aware of, certain events in an individuals life-path that may enlighten one to otherwise hidden truths.  Of the first, there is the Mythick and the Noble Blood, of which have a varied connection and perhaps some destined limitation to their knowledge.  Academies, such as the renowned Academy at Matta, can prove to be a training ground for many of the most inspirational minds that will explore the Enigma and the patterns of the Weave, many of which will devote their lives to examining a single Weave and a master may get so far as to contemplate a second, perhaps even a third if they were to learn any of the Gifts of Longevity.  In the odd rare instance, there are those that can accumulate a significant event in their life-path that will reveal some information that will gather them naturally to the Enigma and, therefore, the Weave.  These latter individuals are very much opened quite randomly to the Weave and the Enigma and therefore can be given but a trickling of the immensity of the Weave’s complexity, or they could be furnished with so much in a single moment that it drives them to lunacy.  Again, the latter of the two types is more common simply due to the amount of stringent and time-consuming discipline that it requires to come to terms with the knowledge that may be presented to the individual.
   I confess, however, that I believe there to be a hole in this theory, not dissimilar to the fossilised remains that we have discovered, both of the Imperium and the Era of the Creator; if one were to search the family records of the nobility and trace them back as far as one can, it becomes apparent that there has been, at some time, a massive influx of births and very few deaths.  If the legends are entirely true, then the Lords and Ladies responsible for the creation of more and more of these families, from the Highest Baron to the lowliest of the peasants, but it is in this that I would be left to consider that even a beggar of less than humble up-bringing should have access to unimaginable power.  Were this to be true, then how is that access to the Weave is so considerably rare amongst the Manish?  I am left to surmise that there are gaps in the heredity of the Lords and Ladies or, at least, in their offspring.
-  From Cadwick’s paper ‘A Study of the Realm’s Prophecies’

   The sounds of the battle were horrific.  Beacon’s militia were many men strong, but as the daemons managed to clamber through the rubble, they found themselves outmatched by their savagery.  The screams of the men were terrifying to those that fled from the city.  It was if the daemons weren’t even trying to kill them; almost as if they wanted them to scream in pain and fear before they were mutilated.  The fighting itself gave swiftness to the hearts of Cadwick’s Company.  They had managed to cross the city with no problems save for the crowds by the rear gates.  No soldiers manned it and the scrabble just to get out of them was intensifying with every explosion or scream.
   Even across the whole city, they could hear those terrible sounds.
   Passing through the gates was a tight fit and falling over was not an option.  Mikata clung to Tanya, gripping her wrist tightly.  Jenna continued to call to her troops and from time to time Tanya thought she had spotted either Gillon or Royen.  It was difficult to miss Bors and as soon as he spotted them, he reached through the crowd, people stopping in mid pace to avoid being clobbered, to pull them closer to him.  He took hold of Mikata and suddenly Tanya was pulled through the crowd and straight in to Bors’ flank.  He wasn’t moving; he was just looking at them both.  He seemed to be pondering.  He then drew in a breath and bellowed,
   “Move out o’ the way!” and added, “Jenna!  I’ve secured our cargo and coming to you!”
   Jenna replied, giving him a chance to look about to spot her.  Then, upon spotting her by the road side further ahead, put his arms out to either side of him and said to Mikata and Tanya,
   “Hold my hand and don’t let go.”
   Even had they tried, as soon as they clasped his huge hands, a grip of iron secured them.  He then pulled them both in to his side and grunted.  Despite the furious tide of people pushing to get out of the city, Bors simply stepped through it.  Had someone run in to him, as one or two of them did, his elbow would suddenly come out of his flanks and the children and dropped them to the floor.  He didn’t hurt them much, he just dazed them.  They just wanted to escape too.
   As Bors got to Jenna, they finally spotted the rest of the Company.  As they followed the road down and the jostle of folk was not so violent, though many were still at jogging pace, they came to a cross roads.  It was had become a rest for the older or younger people escaping the city but needed to catch their breaths.
   “We’re not stopping.” Lokric said bluntly, “It’s the road ahead to Crag Top.”
   “But what about your companion?” Asked Tanya, “What if he’s here?”
   “Knowing Dmitri, he’s already found us.  He’ll show himself when he’s good and ready.”
   Crossing the crossroads was surprisingly arduous.  The number of people that were using it, crossed with the number of people that were still travelling down the roads, made it quite cramped again.  Bors had taken not let go of Mikata and Tanya and didn’t seem like he was intending to any time soon.  However, as they crossed, following the river of folk heading upward, Verena spotted a stock cart with two people in it.  Tanya saw what Verena was looking at and suddenly pulled on Bors’ hand.
   “We’ve got to let them out!”
   Bors stopped nearly in mid-stride and thought for a moment.  He then pulled them in tightly again and swept through the current again without much ado.  As they closed in on the cage, they heard the occupants of the cart yelling for assistance.  Tanya called back to them and they quickly spotted the giant.
   “Please tell us you’re coming to let us out of here!”
   “That’s what the young lady ordered,” Bors snorted, “And I don’t stand to happy with the idea of you being left like that.  Get to the back of the cage.”
   He let go of Mikata and Tanya and released the catch on his War Maul.  He brought it up once over his head and brought it thundering down on the front end of the cage, and despite there being two people in the other end, he still caused it to rise several inches from the floor.  With a single blow he had demolished a quarter of the box cart.
   As they scrabbled out, a man and a woman, both quite young, they spoke their thanks repeatedly until Bors heard Jenna call out.
   “Please!” asked the girl, “Can we come with you?  We have no where to go other than away from the city.”
   “Just come.” Bors replied, “There’s plenty of others going this way.  Hold on to my hips and follow me.”
   He had become locomotive in the crowds now, passing easily through them.  They got to the start of the road uphill, which not so many were taking due to the steepness as it climbed between the two mountains.  Cadwick’s Company kept up the pace until it came to nightfall and took camp at a junction.

*****

   He had heard Lokric say, “Knowing Dmitri, he’s already found us.  He’ll show himself when he’s good and ready”, and made good his relationship with them – they knew that it was best to just leave Dmitri to do his work.  He had followed them up the road, past the crossroads and watched in some amusement at the rescue of the two criminals.  He had spotted them and was considering doing something about it, but Bors had saved him the bother.  Instead he had turned his eyes back to the crowd with the intention of catching anyone that might be following them.  It was unlikely since he had seen, and incidentally shot, the Sin Seeker.  Anything that was working in its service would have dissolved by now.
   They were all camping out in the open tonight.  It was easier for most of them to fight in open ground than it was within the trees and they would likely see their opponents coming, were it not that they had noticed that Dmitri never slept.  He’d sit and rest, meditatively, but he did not sleep.  They had tried to play many a prank on Dmitri over the years, hoping that they could catch him unawares, but he had never fallen for any of them.  Even when Royen and Unsh had taken a little bit of Jenna’s Fire Sand and placed it under a seat for Dmitri so that he could eat one night with the rest of them.  Dmitri had accepted the invitation and as he approached to the seat they offered, flipped up the upturned box with his foot and picked up the trap.
   That night, Royen and Unsh’s pillows exploded with a muffled pop.  It always brought a smile to Dmitri’s face whenever he thought about how he had heard the prank go off as he clung to the wall just outside their window.  He tried not to remember seeing Royen running about the room, quite naked, thinking his hair was on fire.
   This was his life now, fighting with this company of good folk.
   Jenna had taken him as a freelance forester when they tried to cross through the House of the Eternal Sun as the daemons relentlessly stripped the forests they had to pass through.  Dmitri was apparently the only forester that would have gone where they wanted to go.  He had never asked for payment, although Jenna had given him a good sum in advance and then given him a nice bonus after they had reached the borders of Wyvern’s Claw.  She then had given Dmitri an option, after having witnessed some of his incredible abilities, to keep walking the road he was going or join them and fight against the Sirithsin.
   Originally, he had declined and continued along the road, but a few nights later, Jenna found him sitting on the windowsill over the tavern room they were staying in, the night before they left for another mission, and they quietly agreed the terms of their professional relationship.  Socially, Jenna, that night, resigned to the fact that she would always have a loose cannon in her Company.  He would operate alone and without assistance.  He would be able to act on his own initiative and move from the shadows.  Orders that she gave him were fashioned for him alone.  He did not get paid as such, but they provided him with rations and a little silver in case he needed to buy anything.  He had quite a little purse now and he left it at the bottom of his pack; it was unlikely he was going to need any of if unless he required a new bow, replace some of the chain about his shoulders or, in one case, purchase a new cloak.  Dmitri had insisted it had a hood.  He said it was the only way he got any peace.
   Lokric and Dmitri got along.  There was something of a kindred spirit between the two of them, the calm knowledge and respect from two killers working together.  There really wasn’t anything more to it.  They had spoken around the fire from time to time and he had drank with Lokric once or twice, but they did not drink heavily.  They spoke more of philosophy and history.
   Bors, Unsh, Royen and Gillon were a raucous bundle of laughs, each of them so very idiosyncratic and stereotypical in their own unique way.  Misfits, ruffians and a bruiser.  Had it not been for their commitment to Jenna, they would likely have become a rather formidable pack of mercenaries or bandits.
Verena, over the years, had become something of a dark vision for him.  She was another that knew his purpose and had apparently instrumental in Jenna’s decision to include him in to the Company.  Over the years he had grown fond of the sight of Verena, for her beauty was undeniable, but he had not recovered, even after all of these years, for his dead wife.  And what perhaps stung the most, and Dmitri doubted that she would realise it, but Verena reminded him so very much of his beloved.
Dmitri shook his head as he tried to vanquish memories and turned took a glance from his vantage point to check on the group.  They all slept quietly, in their rolls, beside the fire.  He made a point of checking that each of them were there and then checked the cargo.
He peered down and saw the two of them within arms length of Bors.  No sooner did he look at them did he recognise them.  Dmitri leaned forward, as if it would make a difference, and nearly tipped from the tree branch.  Still he was silent but chided his own clumsiness, but he turned quickly back to the matter at hand.  He knew it was the girl from Aster’s Port.  And the lad had to be the boy that was with her aboard the Sea Hag.
Dmitri suddenly realised he was frowning and didn’t feel like stopping.  He should never have seen them again, but it suddenly made sickening sense that would be the one that they would have to come and rescue.  He recalled bitterly the night that Aster’s Port fell.  And he also recalled hearing, that night on the Sea Hag, listening to a little girl weep because her friend had died and because she was all alone.  An eight year old girl forced to leave her home with no knowledge of wars and why her parents had been killed.  He would never envy the life she had been born in to and was torn because of it.
The daemons would not let her live.  They would strip her of all her life and shred it in front of her eyes before she died.  He found himself smirking to a little black irony; of how she was a noble of the House of the Eternal Sun, which had not accepted his people from the north when they wished to seek refuge from a daemon onslaught.  All they did was send Lord Onak and, not knowing what it was they faced, they slew some of his own people, only to be ambushed in a ravine.  Dmitri had seen Lord Onak fall.  He was a bloodthirsty man and all too eager to send his troops in to a fray.
Dmitri wondered if the son bore the name of his father to keep something of his role model alive.  But then, it was on Onak’s orders that they retrieved any surviving nobles after the massacre at Matta.  His policy was to keep the House of the Eternal Sun alive and to prosper again.
A snap of wood suddenly brought Dmitri around again, and he peered out of the trees.  He watched carefully in the direction he had heard the sound and quickly saw a hefty man in sack cloth wielding a dagger creeping through the underbrush.  He was aimed for the junction.  With a quick scan, Dmitri caught sight of two others, but figured there would be more.  He needed to scupper their ambush enough so that the others had a chance to grab their weapons.
He pulled around his bow and notched an arrow quietly.  He stood up on the branch and, with incredible balance, walked down the limb of the tree until he had a nice shot at two of them.  The first arrow tore in to the leg just below the knee, the arrow pinning him to the ground.  The reflexive scream was enough to waken everyone around the campfire.  The next arrow slipped cleanly through the eye of the second target.
He heard the Company arming themselves and become a circle with Mikata and Tanya on the inside.  The woods were dark around the campfire and an attack could come from any direction.  Dmitri was still moving however, dropping from the branch and in to the undergrowth, still virtually inaudible, and shifted so that he could see across the clearing.  Notching another arrow he swung round in mid-stride and loosed it.  It passed close to Unsh who turned to see which direction it had come from.  They then heard another bow twang and an arrow was sent high out of the clearing and a man carrying a short bow came stumbling out of the undergrowth with an arrow lodged in his shoulder.  A fourth arrow ripped through the leaves and despatched a second archer with even more precision.  The only trace was a muffled cry and a thump as a large weight hit the ground.
Three men ran out and in to the road, evidently wondering if it was worth attacking or just start running.  Jenna held out a small arm and spoke calmly,
“Four of your number are already dead…” another scream from the undergrowth and a spear thrown wide of the mark corrected her, “…five.  Five of your party are dead.  Leave before I empty one of you of your guts.  I won’t offer again.”
The three of them turned about and fled uphill and toward Crag Top.  Two others left the brush and made their way slowly past them and then disappeared up the road.  As soon as they were gone, Jenna called out,
“Thanks, Dmitri!  How are you?”
“I’m fine.” He whispered as he emerged from the plants beside Royen and Gillon.
The two of them jumped out of their skins as he appeared and was silently upon them in a heartbeat.  He approached Jenna, passing Tanya and Mikata.
“You!” They both said at the same time.
“Yes.”  He replied, shortly.
He continued to Jenna, not intending to stop until Tanya tapped which prompted him to turn about.  She stared up in to the hooded man’s face for the first time and saw the face of her saviour all those years ago.
“Thank you.” She said simply, “Thank you for what you did for Old Wesley and myself.”
He did not know what to say to either of them and looked as though he were going to turn away wordlessly until his eyes fell upon the dog.
“What’s his name?” Dmitri asked.
“Wesley.”
“I never forgot that night, little Tanya Brightvoice.  And I remember your bodyguard.  Had there been anything more that I could have done for him, I would not have hesitated.”
His words were clear and plain.  There was an edge of sadness to the memory in his voice but he did not reveal it well.  Dmitri crouched by the dog and ruffled his head and briefly scratched behind his ears.  Wesley replied with a wet nose sniffing about Dmitri’s hood and then a stretch as he stood again and made his way to Jenna.
“Dmitri, it is good to see you.” Jenna greeted him, “What’s the word on the island?”
“Run.  Just run.  Some have a ridiculous idea that Beacon will hold.  Those who know better are fleeing the island in whatever will take them.  Count Redswearer, last I heard, was already after blood for his son’s death and that was before the daemons arrived.  He undoubtedly knows of it already.  Other than that I still have the documents we stole from them but I have not found anyone who can read the second half of the plans yet, but they were useful to draw them away from you for a little while.  Looks to me that they’ve nearly caught up.”
His voice was quiet, like winds slipping through water reeds.
“Do we know how Redswearer’s son ended up dead?” Jenna asked, hoping to learn more of the politics.
“Yes.  I shot him.” Dmitri answered, simply.
Jenna stared at him and then brought her head in to her hand and sighed.
“We’ve got to leave here via Coral Guard, Dmitri.  Please tell me they don’t know it was you.”
“Not by name, no.  Someone may have seen me.”
“How!?” Jenna cried, “No one spots you if there’s no light and it’s a rare time that you wander where others might see you.”
“We were in the walls  torch-filled corridors of Coral Guard Keep.  He drew his sword.  I shot him.  I didn’t have much of a choice.”
Jenna simply shook her head and then glanced back up the hill and then to the others.  Everyone had decided that they did not need to rest anymore.  Jenna was about to get her own kit when Dmitri stopped her,
“I’m glad you’re going through Crag Top, by the way.  There is somebody there that you might want to speak to.  If we are recruiting, I would strongly advise acquiring his talent.”
Jenna was surprised to hear Dmitri speak in such a way.  She did not question his logic, but turned back to gear, asking,
“Do they have a name, this prodigy you recommend?”
“People don’t readily speak of him round here.  They’re keeping his presence a secret.”
“If he’s heard of the army approaching he will likely be headed away, assuming he is not a fool.” Lokric critiqued.
Dmitri simply shrugged.
Jenna finished getting her kit together and concluded by saying,
“If we see him there, I’ll talk to him, but if we don’t we won’t be hanging about.”
Dmitri shrugged, half-heartedly, and pointed to some of the rations yet to be picked up.  He packed them away upon approval and then darted back in to the darkness, but not before laying eyes on Tanya and Mikata again.  He approached them and, faintly smiling,
“If I can see you, you are safe.” Was all he said before disappearing again.
“So, you’ve met Dmitri before, huh?” Jenna probed Tanya.
“Yes.  Yes we have.  How has he been?”
“To be honest,” Jenna replied, with as sincere a tone as she could possess, “I really wouldn’t know.  I don’t think he would ever confide in us if there was something wrong.”
“He’s not lost his edge.” Mikata said as he examined the spearman , the arrow solidly driven deep through his shoulder and in to his heart.
“I’ve never known an archer his equivalent.  I have yet to see a day when he misses; I get to thinking that Dmitri has developed his skill to the point where it’s no longer a question of whether he was going to strike his target, but where he wants to.”
Verena stepped up beside them and said with a strange conviction,
“He does not have a skill, but an art.  He is one of the Unity’s tools.  An Aspect.”
“There she goes again, singing his praises.  I’m surprised you haven’t tried to seduce him in to your order.” Unsh called as he strode up the hill.
“I’ve tried.  I said that he couldn’t because he would find the order too restricting.”
All but Mikata and Tanya laughed and it was Mikata that asked,
“You make him out to be a cold blooded murderer.”
Bors, carrying a huge pack of gear near effortlessly, shifted them on their way while saying cheerfully,
“That’s because he is.”