A knock on the door of his room woke Arahan pa’Dragon from a restful sleep. Startled, he crawled out of bed and pulled on his shirt, then went to answer the door. He unlocked it and cracked it open to find a messenger in the door.
"Yes?" he asked sleepily, not quite wanting to talk to someone at this hour.
The young man saluted snappily, a little too snappily for Arahan’s taste. He was a recruit, messengers always were. Then he said, in a whiny voice, "Colonel Lohain’ari, Arahan pa’Dragon, is to present himself at the office of the General’Ari in 1 hour’s time to receive new orders."
"Fine," he growled. "Go away."
The messenger hesitated. "No tip, sir? We don’t get paid much and---"
Arahan growled again. "Don’t try your sob stories on me, boy," he said. "I’ve had messengers enough to know you don’t deserve a tip. No go away before I report you."
The messenger saluted once again, this time shakily, and walked off. As soon as he thought he was far enough away, he headed for the elevator at a dead run. Sighing, Arahan closed his door. Sometimes being a member of the Blamalian army was a curse.
Established long before his parent’s parents were born, Blamalis was the largest and most powerful country on Gemini, the planet. Its army was the most feared in the world. Called the Demoneyes by its members and the Bloodswords by its enemies, it was large and swift. Arahan was a special member of the Demoneyes, a lohain’ari. Lohain’ari meant "Light Warriors" in the Holy Language. Lohain’ari were specially skilled people born with the ability to use Magic. Even the scientists of Blamalis couldn’t understand how this was possible, but lohain’ari called on certain elements of nature and spirit to attack and defend.
Arahan mused over the message. General’Ari Markeus Aralna. The leader of the Demoneyes, he was reputed as being hard to his men and doubly hard to his enemies. One of the youngest people to reach his position in the over 300 year history of Blamalis, Markeus was easily the most active and feared leader the Demoneyes had ever known. Arahan did not look forward to meeting him. On the other hand, orders received directly from Markeus must be important. Sighing once again at the guessing games he played because of the army, he went to wash up.
About forty minutes later, Arahan pulled on his customary white cotton shirt and black leather pants. As he pulled on his boots, he wondered again what could be so important it would take orders from the Marshal-General. He had heard of troubles in Ashara, a land across the ocean to the west, but that certainly wasn’t important. Blamalis had trouble holding its grip on that territory for as long as he could remember. Perhaps Blamalis was ready to move on Salin and Dilminio? The only two countries not under the grip of Empire, Salin and Dilminio fought viciously to protect their territories and oftentimes aided each other. Two neighboring countries on a far south continent, many philosophers maintained it was distance that kept them from being conquered. In truth they were the only two countries that had an answer to the lohain’ari.
Their answer was simple: the strifa’ari. Strifa’ari meant "Strife Warriors" in the Holy Script, but not even the strifa’ari themselves dared speak of it. Religion made Arahan’s head spin, he had never had time for it. All he knew was that the strifa’ari declared Salin and Dilminio the "Holy Land", whatever that was supposed to mean. They also took oaths swearing never to let it fall to hands outside of the two countries. The strifa’ari were strange, following a code of honor laid out by the outlawed and heretic Book of Strife. The code often contradicted itself, he supposed it made sense only to other heretics. He had never met one and had long ago decided not to meddle in religion.
Firmly resolving not to worry about it, Arahan pulled on a gauntlet onto his right forearm and a black glove onto his left hand. Picking up his sword, Diablon, and his sword belt on the way out, he opened the door and strode out. The hallways of the main rooms were drab and gray, with little decoration. All the doors were a painful shade of red, inlaid on the doors of officers with gold and a little silver for the less fortunate. Arahan had never condoned an officer flaunting position or wealth, it led to an enlarged sense of importance. He had seen several meet their end that way. Bad habits, his instructors had called it.
Outside, however, the city was beautiful. Green trees lined the sides of the roads, and all around people walked peacefully. Above the flight limit shuttles cruised back and forth, creating a slow hum that was almost unnoticeable. All around the buildings were painted bright colors, and people laughed and talked. They were all dressed in fine clothes to celebrate the anniversary of the conquest of Ashara. Arahan presumed holidays were useful things, he never participated anymore. An instructor had said government holidays were nothing more than tools to keep public morale up in case of a long conflict. He tended to agree.
Turning the corner, he bumped into a young woman carrying a lot of books. She went wide-eyed and toppled over, sending her books crashing down.
"Sorry," was all he said, then he walked on.
She looked very surprised by his rudeness, but was more interested in picking up her things. Arahan decided he had time enough to stop and look over the day’s news, so he went into the Officer’s Club. It was a drab place, as were all the officer related locations, with gray walls and a gray bar and a gray seating section. All of the officer’s locations and specially designed clubs were made this way. The upper brass thought that this would lead to less preoccupation; he had often found it led to great boredom. Most of the officers there seemed to reflect that opinion with the looks on their faces. Arahan picked up the day’s news and sat down at a table.
******
Markeus Aralna arranged the papers on his desk in his customary neat fashion. He hated the paperwork part of his job, but it seemed it was becoming that and only that more and more often these days. The President was taking too much power for himself, including a pet project he wouldn’t even discuss. Markeus had asked for an audience with the man and been refused. Refused! The highest ranking military officer in the Demoneyes, refused by the President! A knock at his door raised him from his angry thoughts.
Without waiting for an answer, a man entered his office. He wore a reddish black cloak with a hood that covered his face. Markeus’ first instinct was an assassin, but Hirax never would’ve been so foolish as to send a Presidential assassin. Anyway, the figure took a seat in front of his desk.
"What do want. barging in here like that?" Markeus demanded. "Whoever you are, this is still---"
"A man is coming to see you," the figure rasped. "One Arahan pa’Dragon."
Although somewhat angry at being interrupted, he nodded.
"We believe he will lead us to the one we seek. He is to be assigned to the team of Skandra Tyullis?"
Again, Markeus nodded.
"Good. Arahan will be a useful tool to us. All you must do is give him this."
With that, the creature extended an arm and dropped a talisman onto his desk.
"Just a second," Markeus growled. "You can’t mean to---"
"I can and do, fool," it snapped. "You will obey my order or will you find yourself sorely tested."
"Unless you tell me who you are, I’m going to have you thrown out and--"
Without a word the figure ripped aside the intervening desk, sending the talisman and everything else flying into the wall. Before Markeus could even grab his sword the figure had twisted his arm behind him, pressing him into the wall. The other arm came up and Markeus felt something-a claw, it seemed-touch the soft part of his throat.
"You are a lapdog," the voice snarled. "You have no real power over anything. You will do as you are told or we will find another lapdog. What do you say, lapdog? Will you play by your master’s rules or will I be forced to kill you?"
"You cannot scare me," Markeus replied, his voice strangled. Whoever - whatever - this thing was, it was very strong. "I have looked death in the eye - "
"Spare me your clichés," the voice said. Then its tone became amused. "How many times has your wife looked death in the eye? She will look it in the eye just once more unless you do as I say. So, lapdog, what will it be?"
"If you--"
"Clichés and empty threats? I cannot see why he even chose you, but you are all there is. I am leaving now. Straighten up before he arrives."
The thing dropped its grip on him, and he fell to the floor, gasping. The thing stopped only to pick up the talisman and throw it at him before walking out the door. Still gasping, Markeus looked at it. The talisman had a picture of a great black shape engulfing a much smaller white shape. He clenched his fist and went to straighten his desk before pa’Dragon arrived.
******
Arahan arrived to the office of Marshal-General Markeus only slightly ahead of schedule. The offices of Markeus were a great change from the weary gray of the rest of the base. His building was made of a gold marble with purple flecks throughout. Quite beautiful, the marble was also extremely rare and also of high quality. Arahan personally thought it was so rare because they had used it all to build the place.
The main lobby had several waiting chairs arrange against the south and east walls, with the secretary’s desk and another hallway taking up the rest of the room. A few senior officers were seated in the waiting chairs, some reading and some casting a baleful eye upon any who so much as glanced at them. Arahan took a seat well away from those he considered social obligations and studied the patterns on the carpet.
For the twentieth time that hour Arahan wondered what Markeus could possibly want to speak to him personally about. Reading over the news he had seen nothing of interest to Blamalis. It was probably scud work for blowing up half the capitol in Gaeil while on a mission to get the parliament disbanded. Technically, it hadn’t been his fault, he hadn’t had it made clear how sensitive Magic infused explosives really were. He doubted the brass saw it that way. The brass never saw eye to eye, Arahan found that difficult to understand. Hadn’t they been soldiers once? His private opinion was that it had been so long most of the old bats had forgotten what it was like when you didn’t have a committee to discuss everything with.
The secretary came hurrying down the hallway Arahan guessed led to Markeus’ office. She seemed concerned about something, but she hurriedly waved him on down the hall. Standing up, he straightened his shirt and sword and headed down the hallway towards the office. On his way in he passed a strange person in a reddish black cloak, but the figure just kept moving without so much as a glance. Arahan knew that if they had spoken he would have found that figure his kind of person. He proceeded into the office.
Markeus was picking up a few papers from the floor and straightening his desk. The office looked somehow.... messy, although no mess was in evidence. Sighing, Arahan sat down in a chair in front of the desk.
"Hello Colonel pa’Dragon," Markeus said without looking up. "I have new orders."
Arahan braced himself for the worst, but it never came.
"I am assigning you to Grefalna, under a team led by Skandra Tyullis. Your duty will be to assassinate the president."
Arahan almost gasped in shock. As it was, he knew his mouth was hanging open. A parliament in a country that barely was one thing, this was quite another. A president in a country that was only under the influence of Blamalis would be a rich target indeed. Perhaps too rich. Arahan found his hand was shaking.
"Ah.... sir, I must respectfully decline to participate in this mission," he said. It was an effort to keep his voice steady.
"Hmm? Respectfully decline? Why?" Markeus demanded.
"I uh... I just... well.... maybe you should choose someone with more experience," Arahan replied.
"You have enough experience to suit Hir- my needs, Colonel," Markeus said, a little ruffled.
Arahan nodded, still a little worried. "How are we supposed to assassinate him, sir?"
"Well, you will be meeting with a resistance group in Grefalna, led by a young lady named Lyssia Martes. Now, they should have a plan," and Markeus leaned forward. "If they fail, however, you are to kill them. Understood?"
"Those are orders for the commanding---"
Markeus cut him off with an impatient wave of his hand, tossing a few folders down and gesturing impatiently for Arahan to pick them up. "I’ve read your file. Responsibility comes with the job, Colonel, even if you don’t like it. Follow orders and you will do fine. I suggest you meet the rest of your team before you head off tomorrow at 0800 hours. Dismissed."
Arahan stood and saluted, but Markeus had already bent down over his papers. Sighing inwardly, Arahan picked up the papers, leaving the office and headed back for his quarters.
******
As soon as pa’Dragon had gone, Markeus reached into his desk and pulled the talisman out. Whoever, whatever that thing had been, Markeus was not about to do as it told him. What was so damned important about this talisman, anyway? He had looked it over and it seemed to be a normal talisman. Sighing, Markeus put the talisman back in his personal drawer and locked it tightly. Firmly pushing it out of his mind, he turned his attention to the field reports from Ashara.
******
President Hirax Urias straightened the last of his papers. He had been offered a fresh new computer, but growing up poor had accustomed him to writing by hand. A soft knock sounded at his door. "Come in," he said softly, standing to pour himself a drink. When he turned around, the red cloaked figure had already taken a seat.
"Ah, Chaos, you finally arrive. What do you have for me?"
Chaos pulled back his hood, revealing a face that still sent shivers down Hirax’s spine. Long and black, at first glance he did not appear to have any eyes. Upon closer inspection, one saw the cold black eyes that seemed totally lifeless. He was covered in shimmering black scales that absorbed light, making him an excellent stalker. His mouth was lined with needle sharp teeth that Hirax had seen bite through solid steel. Shivering again, Hirax made himself sit down.
"That Markeus is a fool, Hirax," Chaos rasped, his eyes absorbing the room in a short cursory glance. "He understands less about politics than you."
"I know politics better than anyone in this sorry excuse for a country," Hirax growled. "Be careful you do not overstep yourself, Chaos."
The creature inclined his head. "As you say. In any case, he was scared sufficiently enough to give pa’Dragon the talisman. Now all we have to do is get close enough to Tyullis to kill him."
Hirax sipped his brandy, swishing it in his mouth before swallowing. "Still, things could be a little close. If they fail, we won’t have the foothold we need. I want you to send a group of demons to Grefalna. They’ll be there in case Tyullis fails. If they do fail, your group is to kill them all. Nothing must stop our plans for Grefalna."
"With the respect you are do," Chaos said, his voice implying it wasn’t much, "perhaps we should focus instead on tightening your grip on your current territories before you gaze across the ocean to Salin. Those people have vowed - "
"I know their vows, as I know mine and yours. You will do as I say, yes?"
Chaos nodded again. "As you say."
"Good," Hirax replied. "Now get to it. There isn’t much time left."
Chaos rose and pulled his hood up before sweeping out of the office. Hirax swallowed the rest of his liquor hoping it would warm his insides against the terrible chill he received whenever Chaos was around. Then he turned back to writing a eulogy worthy of a service record such as Skandra Tyullis’s.
******
Arahan sat down in the officers lounge and sighed. He did not want to return home because it would make him think harder than he wanted at the moment. Grefalna had been only under the influence of Blamalis, never taking direct orders from Hirax, the president, or Blamalis itself. They weren’t exactly the important orders Arahan had been expecting, everyone knew Blamalis had its eye on Grefalna for quite some time. Grefalna was a key port to Salin and Dilminio, and anyone with half a brain for strategy knew that holding Grefalna was key to ever holding Salin and Dilminio in the grip of Empire. Putting on a false smile for the woman who brought him his drink, he sipped once and set it down in front of him
Staring into the warm spirit, his troubles seemed to melt together into one single ball and disperse. He always had this drink when he came here. It reminded him of his wife. Thinking of his wife always led him to a sadness that seemed to pull at him, first grabbing an ankle and then his leg, until it had hold of his whole body and pulled him into an abyss. Not that any memories of his wife were unhappy, just that they made him sad when he thought about them. Looking deeper into his drink, his thoughts wandered...
... and found himself in a short field of green. The field cascaded down a hill, then pulled short of a rocky cliff about a mile down the road. On one side of the road was a length of apple trees, their pink-ish blossoms flowering. The fields were full of different plants, some of which his mind could not recall the names of. The sun, warm and somewhat low in the sky, struck his back his neck and warmed his shoulders. Arahan pulled down a deep breath. This was his home, his farm. What the hell is this?
Arahan looked down the road and saw his wife was driving their simple cart down the road, his two children sitting on the hay in the back. Their hair was tangled with hay, indicating they had been wrestling in it before their mother had set them straight. Arahan wiped the sweat from his brow and leaned his hoe against the fence, waiting for his wife to arrive.
Saraha, his wife, jumped off the cart into his arms. Muscles tightened by years of heavy work caught her easily.
"Saraha!" Arahan said, hugging her tightly. "When did you get back?"
"A few minutes ago," she said, releasing him. "Mr. Bulimb wanted to borrow some feed for his sick cow."
"I’ll take it up there after supper," Arahan said.
What is going on? The past - but how? These.... seem like my memories.....
Saraha hugged him fiercely again. "Come, love, the sun is nearly set. You can finish this on the morrow."
Arahan nodded. "All right then. Come, Sliver is as sharp as ever, let’s race!"
She giggled, resting her head on his chest. "My days of racing are over, love."
Arahan easily pulled himself onto his horse and snapped the reins. "Hya, hya!"
Still giggling, Saraha ran to the cart and jumped on. "Cheater!"
He beat his wife and children easily to the house, having enough time to de-saddle Sliver and cool him down before putting him in the stables. Saraha arrived, her two horses not out of breath. "Not much of a race," he said, chuckling.
After dismounting she reached up to hit him on the head. "Someday someone will not share your sense of humor."
He shrugged, earning a warning glance from his wife. Fending her off, he de-harnessed the horses and pulled the wagon inside. Still laughing, his wife led their children inside. Just as he was about to start mucking out the stables, his wife screamed.
NO! Not this! Not again.......!
Running up to the house, he threw open the door and saw his wife and children backed against the wall. There was a strange figure standing there, holding a sword worked in a golden style.
"Who are you?" Arahan demanded. "What do you want?"
The figure chuckled. "What a beautiful young lady. I’ve heard stories about farm women being good at--"
"Filthy pig!" Arahan cried. "Leave my home or I will kill you where you stand!"
The figure chuckled again. "So be it, farmer. Shall we?"
Roaring, Arahan charged forth and swung his fist like a hammer. The figure easily dodged, and his fist started to glow. Throwing it forward, the figure aimed straight for Arahan’s head. Ducking, he threw up his hand and felt a searing pain. Crying out, Arahan fell to the floor. "Such is the price," the figure snarled, "for not obeying the law. Your kind is of no use to anyone."
Arahan tried to get to his feet, but the figure kicked him over. Then, in one smooth motion, it jumped at his family. The sword came into play. It parted flesh like a hot knife through butter. His wife’s anguished screams as she died tore him apart inside, made him wish for an eternity of suffering in exchange for the silence of that scream. He felt as if the blade was tearing his own flesh, not hers, not his children’s. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
The figure chuckled and let its hood fall back. Its face was a tangle of black threads. The threads dissolved, revealing...
...Arahan looked up from his drink, shaking. That seemed so real, he thought wonderingly, the almost broke down. But how? And why? Arahan looked to his right and saw a man sitting there.
"Hello Arahan," the man said softly. "Now do you remember?"
"Remember?" Arahan asked, his voice thick with emotion. "What are you--"
"Perhaps I misplaced y-it," he said, hesitating. "No matter. There will be plenty of time for that. Now I believe you have a visitor."
Time seemed to slow, the colors blurring together. People’s laugh became gargled, and motion slurred. Everything was spinning, the air became thick as water. Choking, Arahan tried to force air down into his lungs. The room stopped spinning and instead tilted, the colors melting off people and things like it was a two-dimensional painting. Something thick and oozing struck Arahan from behind, pressing him into the table. He tried to scream, but nothing came out. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!...
...Arahan picked his head up from the table and looked around quickly. No time had seemed to pass, except that his drink was gone. He tried to still his shaking muscles as he pieced together what had happened. What the hell just happened to me? he thought, dazed. He looked to the door on impulse. A man Arahan easily recognized as Skandra Tyullis entered.
Skandra was the most legendary soldier to have ever existed. His doings were already taught in theory, his tactics already incorporated into books on strategic offense and defense. He was also non-descript, his white hair close cut save a short ponytail in the back. He wore a black button up shirt with a white collar, with black pants and black boots that lace up in the front. He carried a long masamune katana on his back.
Skandra looked around the lounge and his eyes settled on Arahan. Smiling at the hostess, he walked past her to Arahan’s table. "Arahan pa’Dragon?" he asked politely.
I do remember, Arahan thought grimly. I remember that it could be anyone who killed my wife. It could be any one of the lohain’ari.
"I am he," Arahan said curtly.
Skandra raised an eyebrow at his tone but sat down, swinging his masamune around behind him and laying it horizontally across the booth seat.
"You probably know who I am. Skandra Tyullis, your commanding officer," he said, his calmness unbroken by Arahan’s attitude. "I wanted to meet you before we ship out tomorrow."
Arahan sighed. "So you are one of those conscientious commanders, hmm? Don’t waste your breath, I’m not the sociable type, General."
"Actually, I didn’t come to socialize," Skandra said equably. "I wanted to offer you a little training exercise."
"Training? The night before a mission?" Arahan demanded. "Who ever heard of that?"
Skandra sighed and pressed an order into his panel on the table.
"Not you. apparently," Skandra said. "It’s common procedure for me before a mission with a small covert team."
I suppose there isn’t much that fazes him, Arahan thought grimly. He could probably stare a dragon in the eye and win the staring contest.
"Why not?" Arahan said, pretending to be bored. "But, are we the only two going?"
Skandra shrugged. "I haven’t asked Kyra or Eurion yet."
The other two members of his team. Kyra Delios, a beautiful young woman who always confused him. Eurion Shakanar was a surly man who Arahan had no desire to meet. He sighed.
"Well? Are we going to ask them or not?" Arahan asked.
Skandra grinned. "I thought you’d never ask."
Arahan frowned back. "I almost didn’t."
"That’s okay. Let’s go."
******
Jade m’Liant stepped off the shuttle warily, looking around for the President’s guards. There didn’t seem to be any about, so he went to the ticket changing booth and handed his in for the rest of his money. Cursing silently at the amount he received, he wondered how any country’s economy could fluctuate so quickly. Certainly Salin was much more stable than this, with a current rate of exchange much better than this. Jade supposed it was one of those things that happened to large empires.
Pulling his cloak tighter, he shifted his shoulders and the thin set of twin swords he hid under it. Hoping once again none of the guards were about, he walked on toward the tunnel and entered the much less used access tunnel. Dark and somewhat wet, he could slip out of Daemos with little or no attention attracted.
The tunnels were rank with the smell of vermin, the thick odor of decay wafting into his nose. Slick, oozing puddles made the footing slippery at best and very hard to navigate. A drop of sewage leaked out of a pipe overhead and plopped onto his shoulder. Not daring to touch it, he walked on. Further along he saw light peeking through. Here the tunnel was neat and tidy, with very little to suggest that it was a sewage pipe. Jade supposed they only paid for this part because it was as far any inspector or citizen would dare go. What kind of a pig lives like this? he wondered to himself.
The tunnel then opened up to a courtyard of sorts, with a small wall keeping the rank smell and fluids in the tunnel. Hoisting himself up over the wall, he scanned the open area. Something caught his eye to the left and he looked that way sharply. A man had slipped off into an access alley. Walking quickly but still trying to maintain his nonchalant appearance, he ducked into the alley and looked up. The man was scaling the side of a building on an auxiliary ladder that only went up about halfway. Grimly, Jade jumped up and grabbed the lower part of the ladder, pulling himself up. Grasping one side of the ladder with muscles strengthened by years of this sort of sneaking around, he pulled himself quickly and stealthily up the ladder toward his quarry.
The man looked down the ladder and his face blanched. He evidently could not climb the ladder on the side like Jade, and was reduced to climbing much slower with the rungs. He reached the top only just ahead of Jade, throwing himself over the edge and heading for the open door. Jade smiled to himself and jogged to the entrance, opening the door and strolling in.
A black shape hurled itself from the darkness toward him, catching him from his backside and knocking him off balance. Recovering quickly, Jade spun around and used a chair as leverage. The man grunted as Jade shrugged him off and kicked him in the gut as he flew into the wall. Somersaulting backwards, Jade was on his feet, his duel swords drawn and ready. The man grunted again as the pain reached his ribs and staggered to his feet.
"They said you would be tough," the man said grimly. "Still, you cannot refuse the president forever."
Jade chuckled. "You have the voice of a man coming to grips with his doom. So it is your doom, if you do not surrender to me."
"Surrender? To you?" the man guffawed. "I’d sooner sell my skin to a thief for five change out of my own pocket."
"Have it your way, soldier," Jade said. "Perhaps you will find peace in the afterlife."
The man pulled a short, blunt knife from his belt and launched himself at Jade. Twisting sideways, Jade snapped a sword up and deflected the blade, jarring the man’s hand and nearly causing him to lose his grip on the dagger. The man snarled as he realized how skilled his opponent really was. Jade twirled around, deftly dodging the second attack and almost lazily slashing for the man’s leg. A muffled cry told him the man had taken a wound.
The man spun around to face him, blood trailing down his leg from his calf. "I’ve had worse," he snarled. "You’ll get no satisfaction from me."
"My offer still stands," Jade replied easily. "You can spare yourself the trouble of dying."
"Give me the spell and I’ll save you!" the man shouted, charging again.
Jade jumped back as the man swung his knife in wide arcs, hoping to score a hit on Jade’s arms. Jade ducked sideways and thrust up, driving his sword into the man’s arm. Screaming in pain, the man stabbed at Jade with his free hand and the blade. Jade brought his other sword up and blocked it crosswise, then kicked out and sent it spinning into the shadows of the room. Then he twisted the sword again and stabbed, this time for the man’s gut. He screamed, his arm jerked once on the blade of Jade’s other sword, then he died.
Jade wiped the blades clean on the clean parts of the man’s tunic and searched him. He carried a few change and one card, an ID that identified him as a Black Lion.
Black Lions were mercenaries, mostly composed of former members of an army or the Thieves Guild. Jade figured the president must’ve gotten this man in to serve as his private assassin so nothing could be traced back to him. The man had been skilled enough with his knife, he probably would have beaten someone else. But not Jade m’Liant, the greatest Strife priest and strifa’ari the world had ever known.
Jade sheathed his twin swords and pulled his cloak tight around him once again, then left through the front door. Standing in the hallway outside was a figure cloaked in a reddish black cloak that covered all of his features. The figure chuckled softly.
"He was not as good as he thought," he rasped.
"He was not," Jade agreed, loosening his cloak. "I suppose you are here to try me as well?"
The man - if it was a man - chuckled again. "There’s no need for me to do that. All you have to do is give the President the Necromancy spell he desires and you’ll be free to go on with your business."
Jade growled. "I’ll be going on with my business anyway. The only question is whether or not I kill you before I do."
"Pleasantries aside, you are rude for a Priest," the figure snarled. "You think you have the skills to beat me? I welcome you to try, then."
Jade hesitated. The man doesn’t sound afraid, he thought grimly. Of course, I am not a defenseless woman either.
"I accept," Jade said, stripping off his cloak and drawing his two swords.
"Very well then," the figure said, pulling off its cloak. It revealed a monstrosity, a creature that defied anything Jade had ever seen. It had midnight black scales covering its body, scales that absorbed the light that touched them. Its eyes were darker than the deep black of space, cold like death. It had bulging muscles beneath those scales, striking fear even into Jade. At the end of all its extremities it had heavy claws that were large and apparently razor sharp. Before Jade could blink, the thing launched itself at him.
Jade whipped his swords up and blocked the lightning strokes, quickly as they came. Ducking under one, he slashed up and was deflected. Falling backwards, he rolled to the side and leapt up, thrusting toward the thing’s side. Suddenly the side was gone, replaced by its stomach and a swiping claw. Jade crossed his swords and caught its claw, then twisted sideways. The thing screamed in pain as its claw was ripped off, the snap a sickening sound.
Now it renewed its assault, throwing itself almost on top of him and slashing extremely fast. Pressing back against the wall, he crossed his swords again and caught the other claw. The creature, however, did not stop. It tossed all its weight and muscle into Jade, crashing through the wall. Jade felt the wind blow by, completely silent. Then he twisted around and tried to land on his feet on the street below. Instead he struck his side painfully on the cobbled stone, the wind knocked out of him and his swords sliding on the smooth surface down the street.
The creature laughed, having landed on its feet quite easily. "You were a fool to even attempt it, Jade m’Liant.," it said. "You are the first to take my claw, however. For that I praise you as almost an equal. Almost."
Jade’s last sight before slipping into unconsciousness was the thing picking up one of his swords and inspecting the blade before hooking the sword on its belt.
******
Arahan and Skandra arrived at Kyra’s home just as the sun was dipping beneath the horizon. The place looked modest from the outside, its simple white frame and brown roof reflecting a style of non-indulgence. Arahan had worked with Kyra once, on a year long assignment to the frontier of Gaeil. She had become attracted to him, through no fault of his own, and had tried to pursue a relationship. He had ended that thought, but she still wrote letters. As long as they contained nothing romantic, he wrote back whenever he could.
They had already been to Eurion’s home, and he had snidely refused to take part in any "training" with the likes of Arahan. So Arahan and Skandra had proceeded on to Kyra’s home.
Skandra pulled back the knocker and gave it a hefty push into the door. Almost immediately someone answered the door, it wasn’t Kyra though. The girl was young, probably in her teens, with black hair that flowed wildly around her shoulders. She grinned mischievously from that hair.
"Yes, sirs?" she asked impudently.
"We’re here to see Miss Delios," Skandra said, amusement tingeing his voice. "Would you tell her we are here?"
The girl considered it. "What’s in it for me?"
Just then Kyra rushed up to the door. Even with her hair messy, she was stunningly beautiful. Her long blonde hair reached her waist, with green eyes shining brilliantly. She wore her customary sleeveless green tunic and short green skirt. Her black boots reached her calves, leaving much of her leg exposed. Arahan realized he was staring and quickly looked up, face burning.
"Hello Arahan, Skandra," she said, her face and voice bright. "Marai, go bother your uncle."
The girl grinned and scampered off in search of the aforementioned uncle. Kyra turned back to Arahan and Skandra. "How rude of me, come on in."
The interior of the house quickly dispelled any notion of modesty. It was lavishly decorated, with oak wood that was hard to find and several rare statues and paintings.
Kyra led them into a study that was lined with bookcases, the bookcases filled with thick volumes of everything from Studies in Anthropology to In Depth Religious Analysis. Kyra sat down at the large desk and faced them.
"So what are you two doing prowling the streets so close to a mission?" she
asked lightly.
"Actually, Kyra, Arahan and I were going on a little training exercise," Skandra replied. "We wanted to know if you wanted to come."
Kyra looked at Skandra, then at Arahan. "Well, the training facilities are closed--"
"No training facilities," Skandra said. "We are going to test our skill on monsters."
"M-m-monsters?" Kyra asked, shocked. "Are you mad?"
"Pfft, I can pretty well handle any monster in these parts," Skandra said, dismissing her fears. "If you run into trouble, I’ll give you a hand."
"This seems like a really bad idea," Kyra said. When neither Skandra nor Arahan said anything, she sighed. "Okay, let’s go."
******
Obsidian m’Liant fingered his sword nervously as he approached the Heavenly Palace. Her Royal Majesty, the Gatemistress of Heaven, the Guardian of the Holy Land, Queen Sandaha had summoned him earlier in the day. He had no earthly idea why, it was his brother who was famous. Obsidian himself was a fairly new strifa’ari, he had been one only about two or three years.
The two men at the gate sneered at him. Even for members of the Royal Guard, they were snobbish. "What do ye want, boy?" one demanded.
"By the summons of Her Royal Majesty, Queen Sandaha, I come to seek guidance in the halls of the Heavenly Palace," Obsidian recited, bowing with one hand on his sword and the other across his heart.
"Boy knows his words, that do be true," the second guard said grudgingly under his breath. Then aloud, "May you find guidance this day, in the halls of the Heavenly Palace. May Her Royal Majesty and the Holy Shamash shelter you against all evil as you walk the halls of the Heavenly Palace."
Obsidian raised his head but kept his posture until the gates were drawn open. His hand remained on his sword, and he walked with a straight back as a sign of respect to the guards. Once he was safely inside the walls that kept the Gardens, he exhaled and loosened his stance. They were sticklers for procedure, those Guards, but procedure was as honorable as the daily prayers, and everything else a Priest did.
Many of the Queen’s Ladies strolled in the garden, and more than a few eyed him in a manner that made his face burn. A Queen’s Lady could request a strifa’ari as a bodyguard and usually the Queen agreed. Obsidian’s brother was the only one the Queen had ever refused a Lady. Obsidian did his best to hide his deep flush, for some bodyguards were little more than a pair of hands, for books or whatever else the Lady... desired. He quickened his pace and hurried into the Palace Proper.
The walls were a grand display of royalty, with shining gold fists, the symbol of Salin and Dilminio, inlaid on every slab of red marble. Obsidian had never been in the Palace but had learned to be overawed by what he saw. A few Royal Guards walked past, but Obsidian had once again put his hand on his sword hilt and assumed a rigid back, so the Guards only nodded slightly to him and kept walking.
As he turned a corner, Obsidian ran into a woman. She spilled over with a squeak of protest, and Obsidian rushed to help her to her feet. His face reddened even more than he could have believed when he realized it was the Princess.
Princess Rayavahn, adopted by the Queen when the Regent of Dilminio had died. She was a Lady of Her Majesty automatically, and also more high standing than anyone other than Her Majesty the Queen. Obsidian stood as he was while she straightened her skirts and studied him. "Who are you?" she asked softly.
"Obsidian m’Liant, strifa’ari of the Regent’s Quarter," he said, then winced at having mention the Regent. It was Rayavahn’s uncle, and he had denounced her and sent her packing just before he had died.
"Jade m’Liant’s brother," she said, musing to herself. "Tell me Obsidian, are you already taken by a Lady? I need a pair of... hands," she continued, batting her lashes at him demurely.
Obsidian heard himself make a choking sound and strangled to find some words. "I-that is-I.... I was... well... That is.... I..."
She smiled lightly and tugged on her dress again. "I suppose not. I will mention you to Her Majesty."
Obsidian’s eyes widened. He didn’t want to be stuck guarding a Princess, even if it was an honorable position. "Actually, I am on my way to see Her Majesty," Obsidian said, holding in a sigh of relief at having been given a chance to escape.
"I see," Rayavahn said, staring up at him. "Well, I shan’t keep you waiting then." With that, she strode off. Obsidian muttered to himself and continued walking.
The path to Her Majesty’s Throne was actually quite short, with only a few twists in the hall before he reached it. The two Guards there only pushed open the doors, one announcing, "Obsidian m’Liant, strifa’ari of the Regent’s Quarter."
Obsidian stepped into the room and barely held back a gasp of astonishment. The room was made richly in gold, and everywhere he looked even servants wore gold. The trays, goblets, Ladies, they all wore gold in mass quantities. He turned his attention quickly to Her Majesty.
"Majesty," he said gravely, putting both hands over his heart and bowing deeply, "You summon, and the Ever Faithful obey. You summon, and the Ever Watchful observe. You summon, and I come to you, Ever Faithful and Ever Watchful."
A murmur rose among the Ladies assembled, most strifa’ari did not know such a formal greeting. Jade had taught it to him, with a wink and a nod, and Obsidian had practiced it many times before coming here. The Queen, sitting on her raised throne, said nothing, only gazed at him silently. Finally, she answered, "The Ever Faithful obey, as the always have. The Ever Watchful observe, as they always will. Welcome to the Palace, Obsidian m’Liant, and may Shamash shelter you while you walk my halls."
Obsidian rose from his bow but left one fist at his heart in sign of respect. Another murmur rose. Jade had taught him that too, it seemed Jade knew exactly how to get in the good graces of the Court.
"Do you know why I have summoned you, m’Liant’ari?"
He almost tripped, the Queen had addressed him respectfully as well. There was a twinkle in his eye that said Jade was not the only shocker.
"I know not, Your Majesty, but with troubles in the world increasing I supposed that you mean to send me Across the Sea."
Even he heard the capitol letters in that. Across the Sea was what a highly trained strifa’ari waited for, a chance to roam the other realms. The Ladies murmured again.
"It is presumptuous of you, to expect to be sent Across the Sea." The twinkle returned, Obsidian had hit the nail on the head.
"Am I wrong, Your Majesty?" he asked, and this time a steady chatter arose. Not many walked out with their heads after such a question. The Queen raised a hand.
"Leave us," she said coldly, her eyes boring into Obsidian. He felt a stab of fear. "It seems m’Liant’ari and I have things to discuss. In private."
The Ladies rose without another word and even the servants quickly emptied the hall. Obsidian stood nervously as the Queen arose, fixing her skirts and striding over to him.
"Not many are so familiar, young m’Liant," she said, her voice mild.
"My humblest apologies, Your Majesty, truly I-"
She waved a hand. "You have much of your brother in you, even if you are not nearly as useful yet as he. Yet you have a purpose."
Obsidian stood quietly while she collected her thoughts and looked up at him. "I am sending you Across the Sea, young m’Liant, to collect your brother. Do not think it an honor. I have heard of your roguish behavior, and I will not tolerate that. Your brother is too important to stay where he is. I must have him here, with the peril so great."
Obsidian bowed his head, his hand still across his heart. The Queen surprised him by cupping his chin and lifting his head. "And yet, tall for your age, and broad shouldered. Rayavahn moons over you, young m’Liant."
Obsidian’s throat constricted.
"I will not give you to her yet, as she has not asked publicly." Then the Queen’s hand tightened, and he gasped. "If you fail," she continued coldly, "You will wish that you had an eternity of mucking stables next to what I would do to you. Do you understand me, young m’Liant?"
Obsidian found it hard to nod as she gripped his throat and chin, but he manages a semblance of "Yes" and she released him.
"Good. You will leave on the next shuttle, and get off in Grefalna. I do not want to see your face again unless Jade is with you. Now go."
Obsidian bowed hastily and strode out, hurrying down the hall quickly. Jade had been so sure of himself, and now this. Why was he the one to pay. Why?
******
Arahan, Kyra, and Skandra arrived in record time to the outskirts of Daemos and the cliffs that bordered the city. Skandra hailed it as the perfect place to find a monster, and Kyra hailed it as a spot she planned to avoid. Arahan, for his part, remained silent for the rest of the trip.
The cliffs slanted upward, their jagged patterns making an easy climbing aid. Arahan glanced up once and began scaling the cliff. He ignored Kyra’s shouts to wait and proceeded to the top.
"Not a lot going on here," he said grimly. "I guess Skandra’s monsters are on vacation."
There was a forest at the top of the cliff, its trees spread thin throughout. Through the trees Arahan could see the Feril River weaving its way down the cliff and towards Daemos. The moon also could be seen through the trees, glittering in and out of the gaps. Arahan decided to head for the river.
When he got to the river he also found nothing of interest. The water was murky this close to a mud bank, the moon reflecting off the surface in broken patterns. A ripple ran across the water, and Arahan jerked Diablon out quickly. The ripple became a splash as a fish jumped from the water. Sighing at his jumpiness, Arahan was about to put Diablon away when a rustling behind him caught his attention. Turning around, he saw a figure in a reddish black cloak approaching him.
Arahan stood transfixed, trying to match that figure with a picture from his mind.
The thing was tall enough, with muscles that would scare even the heftiest of lohain’ari.
It moved swiftly, almost seeming to glide across the grass with a supernatural grace. The figure also had an odd bulge against its sleeve, making it seem.... disproportion.
"Who are you?" Arahan said, surprised to find his voice was half frozen.
The figure chuckled, a strange sound coming from such an ominous creature. "Perhaps the better question would be ‘What are you?’. Anyhow, I did not come here to discuss questions with you. I seek Skandra Tyullis. Where is he?"
Arahan was taken aback by the forcefulness of the last question. This thing seemed over interested in Skandra. "I don’t know, and even if I did I wouldn’t tell you."
The figure chuckled again, seeming to find his words amusing. "Another strong one. Two in one day. Shall I deal with you as I dealt with the last one?" it rasped.
Gritting his teeth, Arahan’s grip on his sword became so tight his hand started to go numb. He tried to relax. Whoever-whatever-this thing was, it didn’t seem worried about taking on a member of the most elite fighting group on Gemini. "Oh?" he asked with a false confidence he had to force very hard. "What did you do to the last one?"
The hood from the creature fell back, exposing a face that sent a shiver down Arahan’s spine. "You do not have to die in vain. Help me and there will be a place for you."
"That doesn’t sound like something I’d like," Arahan said. He figured anyone with a face like that could not have good intentions. "I think I’ll refuse your offer."
"I think you might regret that. Are you sure I can’t change your mind? Yes? Well then, I suppose our conversation is done."
On that last the thing dropped its cloak from its shoulders, revealing a glistening covering of black scales. Without a word it jumped at Arahan, swinging its broken claw. Ducking aside, he tossed his sword up to cover his escape and felt the claw score his side. Wincing in pain, he twisted around to face the creature. It took barely a half breath before launching itself again, striking with incredible speed. Arahan swung up, deflecting a blow. Spinning to the side, he caught another and stabbed up for the things chest. It dodged the blade and caught his arm, wrenching it hard. He screamed. Before the thing could rip it off, Arahan made a small fireball of Holy energy and tossed it in the thing’s face. It screamed this time.
Dodging back as it loosened its grip, Arahan began to weave through the trees away from whatever it was. A sudden Fire spell on a tree made him jump to the side, leaping over a bush and ducking behind the thicker trees for cover. Sliding his sword into its sheath, he hoisted himself up and grabbed a branch of the tree, looking down and across for the thing. A branch caught fire next to him and he shouted, more in surprise than pain. The thing suddenly leapt up through the branches, its full weight and speed behind the jump headed straight at him.
Caught by surprise, Arahan hit the dirt beneath the tree like a ton of bricks, gasping for breath. The thing slashed down at him; Arahan rolled to one side and yanked out his sword, stabbing up to help slow down the strikes coming at him. The thing yelped, obviously he had hit it. Deciding not to risk a one on one confrontation with the thing, he got up and ran again, this time for the straight cliffs that lined the eastern portion of the forest. He could hear the creature rumbling behind him, screaming some obscenities he did not want to translate. Arahan ran faster.
He was ducking through trees, quickly trying to lose the creature, but it just kept coming right on his heels. Arahan saw a tree to suit his purpose and slowed up. The thing came shooting right at him, but Arahan leapt up and barely grasped the last branch in his hand. The thing rolled across the dirt and got up.
"Now I have you," it said.
Arahan replied by forming another Holy spell, shaping it around his body. Sweating with the exertion, he jumped straight at the creature. It screamed as the shield hit it, but the barrier was gone as soon as it touched the creature.
The creature was now badly burned, black gouges marring the otherwise stately scales. Its hiss spoke volumes. "I am Chaos, servant of the High God of Gemini. I will not be defeated by you, puny mortal."
Arahan resisted the urge to mock, in his experience it only led to a far more enraged and relentless opponent. He did, however, smile grimly. The creature’s strength was low. Maybe he had a chance. But he could feel his own strength ebbing the more he stood there.
Instead Arahan decided to turn and keep running, hoping to drain more of his opponents’ strength. For his part Chaos pursued him relentlessly, cursing Arahan’s parents and telling Arahan all the horrible things he would do when he was caught. Arahan gripped his sword tighter and dodged behind another tree. One of the indiscriminate Fireballs hit him on his sleeve. catching the whole shirt on fire. Yelping, he tore it off with his gloved hand and tossed it aside, still running.
He scratched to a halt, his boots leaving gouges in the soft autumn grass. He had reached the cliffs. One pebble sailed off the edge, sailing in freefall for a good fifteen seconds before he heard it click against a distant rock. The sound carried easily because of the silent night, echoing throughout the hills. He could hear Chaos tearing through the underbrush behind him. Grimly setting his frame of mind, he turned to face the thing.
Chaos wasted no time on speaking, launching himself at Arahan with blazing fists and claws. Arahan rolled to one side, using the flat of his sword to deflect the flames away from him. He hit one outcropping of rock and felt it shake slightly. He ducked under Chaos’ wide wing and dodged until Chaos had his back to the rock. Growling, Arahan lurched forward, kicking out.
Chaos dodged of course, but Arahan’s foot hit the loose rock. Rocks from as high as thirty feet up tumbled down. Turning to Chaos, Arahan jerked forth as if to attack, but at the last second he tossed himself sideways off the cliff as the rocks crashed home. For one moment it was dead quiet, then he heard and felt the wind rush by, heard Chaos scream as the rocks hit that already blistered hide. Using the flat of his sword once again, this time to block a rock from hitting him, he got as close as he could to standing position.
Hitting the ground feet first was not pleasant, by a freak chance of fate he had missed the flat rock. Letting his legs go like jelly, he curled up and rolled, taking most of the shock out of the landing. He knew he was rolling downhill. Then he hit something; a rock, a tree, he wasn’t sure; only the trusty flat of his sword saved him from losing a limb. He launched off of what was definitely a rock into the air.
Stiffening his legs, he landed standing straight and sagged almost immediately. Arahan looked around and saw Kyra and Skandra hurrying toward him. He made sure Diablon was relatively unharmed and stood up, his legs feeling like someone had been hitting him with a sledgehammer for a few days.
"By all that’s holy, man, are you all right?" Skandra cried, for once losing his composure.
Arahan enjoyed that glimpse of vulnerability. "Fine," he muttered. "You run into one of those things?"
Skandra shook his head. "I don’t even know what that thing was, Arahan," he said. "I didn't get a good look."
"Well it was looking for you," Arahan muttered, but Skandra didn't hear.
Kyra sighed. "I knew this was a bad idea. Let’s go home."
Arahan turned to walk away when the rocks on the cliff roared and burst off, showering down toward them. With a strangled cry, Kyra dodged for cover. Skandra merely raised one hand and used his Soul Magic to destroy them with small energy blasts. The rocks became small stones, the stones became pebbles, the pebbles became dust. By the time anything reached them it was almost to small to tell.
There was Chaos, in the middle of it all. He glared down at them and roared, the suddenly vanished. Skandra shook his head.
"That was a demon, Arahan," he whispered. "By all that’s holy, I wonder what we’re in for this time around?"
Kyra gulped visibly. "A-a-a demon?"
Indeed, old man, Arahan thought. What have we gotten into? This was going to be a long mission.