Haru=Caban

U
=
















2011 Benjamin F. Kaye












I would like to thank everyone who has told me stories;
Shakespeare, Gene Roddenberry, Ray Bradbury, Isaac
Asimov, Neil Peart, the wonderful people at Pantheon Books
(and the ones who told them stories), Jim Starlin, JRR
Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Stan Lee, and so many, many others.







Dedicated to my Grandfather, who inspired my love of stories.
















i
Contents

Foreword

Part I The Breaking Shell 1

1. The Harvest 2
2. Wisayael 9
3. What, Exactly, Is Up For Auction? 17
4. The Mine 24
5. Where did the mist go? 28
6. The Wild Lands 33
7. Blacktooth 38
8. Terror in the Night 45
9. Mysterious Savior 53
10. Bitter Rivals 59
11. Vashas Spear 63
12. Elmavriel 72
13. An Unexpected Price 78
14. Ebb and Flow 84
15. Desperate Measures 90
16. Crazy Schemes 96




ii
Contents

Part I The Breaking Shell

17. Revelations 101
18. The Auction 107















iii
Contents

Part II A Dark Weed in the Garden 112

19. Many Goodbyes 113
20. The Hunt 119
21. A Friendly Voice In The Night 123
22. A New Beginning 128
23. Whispers in the Dark 133
24. I Know Who Has Been Eating The Mints 137
25. Goodbye For Now 143
26. The Journey to Glory? 146
27. Eofers Farm 154
28. A New Calling 158
29. The Rescue 163
30. A Villain Revealed 168
31. Hidden In The Shadows 177
32. A New Alliance 181
33. Only Two Moons in The Sky 185
34. No Place is Safe 189
35. The Dark Vine 194



iv
Contents

Part III The Spider Spins its Web 199


36. Divisions 200
37. My Soul, Your Battleground 203
38. IcPanTefror 207
39. A Cry For Help 212
40. Beyond The Shore 217
41. The Power of The Many 220
42. Puzzle Pieces 228
43. The Summoning 234
44. Entaw.Sol 238
45. HaruCaban 245
46. WormRings 249
47. New Friendships and Old Friendships 255
48. Trouble Reaches Deep 263
49. Statues Everywhere 269
50. To Catch a Moth 273
51. Jubens Shield 276
52. Ebrohms Keep 281



v
Contents

Part III The Spider Spins its Web

53. D rifting Backward, Surging Forth 288
54. AostNor 293
55. Whispers 297
56. Retracing His Steps 301
57. Thalgrir 306
58. The Grove of Sacred Rock 316
59. Into the Darkness 323

























vi
Contents

Part IV Twilight Comes To The Garden 330

60. Axandalis Last Hope 331
61. The Battle of The Dead 336
62. The Prophet 342
63. The Pylamar Games 346
64. The Talking Stone 353
65. Unexpected Friends 360
66. The Wild Shadows 365
67. The Time Has Come 371
68. Pangeans Temple 375
69. Kill Your Feelings 381
70. The Battle of the Four Armies 384
71. The Hidden Kingdom of Thieves 389
72. The Messenger 395
73. The Lion & The Frog 400
74. A Star Falls From The Sky 405
75. The Dreaded Path 410
76. The Message 414


vii
Contents

Part IV Twilight Comes To The Garden

77. The Warning 417
78. More Precious Than Jewels 421
79. His Rightful Place 424
80. The Castle By The Sea 427
81. Dark Clouds on the Eastern Horizon 432
82. The Day of Fire and Blood 437
83. The Last Hope of The Souls of Mortal Men 440
84. Exodus 444
85. The Blessing and Curse of Unexpected Guests 447
86. The Spider and The King 451
87. The Temptation of Jhyndisel 459
88. Storm and Shadow 468
89. The Cloud-Thing 472
90. There Are No Winners 477


Epilogue - Grandfathers House 483







Foreword

Yes, you are one of them! You do it too. By holding this book in
your hands, ready to wade forth into this imaginary realm, you have
confessed that you are a dreamer.
That really isn=t so bad. You are in very good company (just ask
any student of literature or music). A large company it is too. The
popularity of such works as the tales of Superman and Spiderman, Star
Trek, The Lord of The Rings, The Chronicles of Narnia, and Beowulf
attests to our numbers.
Dreams have pushed and pulled civilization forth since words were first
uttered. It seems to me that, as the Age of Reason has slowly marched
across the land, we have shrunk back into the corners. For fear of being
silly or immature (or downright Anot cool@) we sometimes throw our
fantasies away and join the rest of the dreary, mundane world.
How unfortunate. Though frivolous they may seem, flights-of-fancy
can be the battleground where we pit our morals and ideals against those
notions that threaten our very souls. The phantasmal struggles that have
been passed down through the generations have served as a compass, guiding
us as we navigate the complexities of our lives.
So come, take my hand. Let us ride forth into this wonderful place
and see if it will somehow leave an impression upon our hearts.


1




Part I

The Breaking Shell








2
The Breaking Shell

Chapter One - The Harvest

This story takes place long ago, during the ARenaissance Age@; the world
had just emerged from the ADark Age@ and some had tales from their
grandparents of how grim things were back then. Nowadays, most people set
about the tasks of keeping warm and keeping their bellies full. They even found
time for celebration, however modest.
In the village of Sanfir, one of the smallest communities in the kingdom of
Oeshaili, it was time for the Harvest Celebration. Stalks of grain, decorated with
colorful ribbons and silver bells dotted the village. Laughter mingled with sweat
and songs were sung.
Inwan loved this celebration dearly. Although he was only 9 years old,
he worked as hard as any adult, as his father, Vunfael, could testify to. His short
dark brown hair was teased by the warm breeze that snaked its way through his
room. He went to the window and his grey eyes greeted the dawn as the
sunlight caressed his fair skin.
The crops would have to be distributed to all the villagers, including
Wisayael. He was tingling with anticipation over the coming visit to her small
cottage deep in the ever wondrous forest. There he would hear tales of how
things came to be. He would also learn of the paths that are open to all who
have the courage to journey.
Before he could visit Wisayael, he would have to help with the harvest as
well as the preparations for the harvest dinner. Only when he had completed
these tasks to his father=s satisfaction would he be allowed this special privilege.
AInwan.@ His mother called to him from down in the basement. Inwan=s
mother, Cyriah, was busy in the dark cellar as evidenced by the sound of clinking
jars.
AYes mother?@ The boy responded, walking to the top of the cellar stairs.
He could smell the black cabbage and red squash stew slowly simmering on the
stove. He wondered if his mother would notice if a very small spoonful was
missing.
ADon=t touch the stew. Now, see if you can find some ripe red berries for
the tea.@ His mother=s voice seemed to be marching up the stairs ahead of her.

AYes mother.@
AWhen you come back, you may also have to help me sample a bit of the


3
stew.@ Inwan=s eyes lit up with anticipation. AWe shall see to that task later -
now go! Those berries aren=t going to roll into the kitchen on their own accord.@
Cyriah came up the stairs and shooed him out of the kitchen and into the sunny
day beyond their door.
As Inwan walked past the houses to the river south of the village, he noticed
that the holiday decorating was already well underway. Silver and green cords
were strung between several homes;, by tomorrow night, cords would be strung
from every house in the village. Some of the cords had flowers hanging from
them. Other cords were decorated with small wooden and stone ornaments; the
ornaments came in all shapes and sizes, from people and animals, to small
replicas of famous cities.

After walking a few miles, he came to an open field, bordered on the west by
a dense forest and on the east by small, rocky hills. He could hear rushing water
up ahead of him and soon he saw the river, named by the villagers ANaquasier@.
The slopes of the river were broad and gentle and wreathed with tall reeds and
bushes of all sorts. As he walked up to the small ridge, he looked down upon the
Atracks@. There amid the lush vegetation, was a bare spot of smooth stone
several yards wide. A set of fossilized tracks had been engraved into the rock;
they looked like they were made by a giant bird and an equally enormous lion.
When he asked his grandfather once about the tracks the only reply was Athe
queen had been there.@
After several hours of searching and carefully making his way through the
muddy shores of the river, Inwan had a sack full of berries. He then went home
expectantly, wondering what his mother was going to add to the stew this year.

When the morning of the gathering broke, he was awakened by the sound of
Tantar in the fields; he loved the sound they made: ATi-ti-ti-whoooo-seeep@. He
had even seen a few as he went for his early morning walks; they looked like
grasshoppers, but they were purple and much bigger than an ordinary
grasshopper - they were anywhere from 6 inches to 8 inches in length. He got
dressed and paused for a moment to run his hand over his favorite book AThe
Adventures of Ka-Sa-Ikizix@; as he did so, his eyes sparkled with excitement.
After a quick breakfast, he went out to the fields with his small community.
It took several moments to actually reach their destination. As he and his
parents walked along the main path from their home to the crops, they were
joined by their neighbors. The path was lined by trees and each home had a
smaller path that connected it to the main thoroughfare. Some of the houses had
small walkways lined with trees that lead to wooden cottages covered with peeling
paint. Smoke from recently extinguished fires drifted out of metal pipes that
poked through the tin roofs. Other houses had paths lined with flower gardens.


4
These homes were made from stone and mortar and had large stone chimneys
protruding from roofs with wooden shingles. However every home, no matter how
meager or regal, was decked with garlands of pine branches. Hanging from the
garlands were pine cones that had been painted yellow, green, red, white, and
orange just for this special occasion.

AHow are you this fair morning, lovely Fuseh?@ Cyriah addressed the
woman walking next to her. Cyriah was a graceful woman in her middle years,
always quick to help others. Her long brown hair seemed to shine in the bright
morning sun. Her eyes were as blue as the sky overhead.
AI wish I could say I was well.@ Fuseh sighed, pushing a wisp of thin black
hair from her face.
AAre you troubled?@ Her voice seemed to blend in with the morning chorus
of birds.
AI was last night.@ Fuseh began, frowning. AI had a dream that I was at
the edge of a pond as the sun was setting. There was something under the water,
trying to - escape. I couldn=t see what it was, but I knew it was there. Then I felt
that someone was behind me, but when I turned around, no one was there. It
was very.....unsettling.@ She finished, a shiver running down her spine.
AIt was just a dream. Even the worst dreams pass.@
AI hope so; thank you Cyriah, you are very kind.@

Finally, they reached the fields and began to work. The sun was warm; the
scent of wild flowers and spices drifted on the gentle wind. Inwan and his
parents were in the northern field. This is where the jussup roots were grown.
Inwan had been allowed to run on ahead to where the villagers were working.
His parents watched him for a moment as he greeted the villagers who had come
early to the fields.
Cyriah looked over the landscape and took in the scene. The wild flowers
along the edge of the fields nodded happily in the sunlight while blue jays called
from the nearby trees.
AJust look at the sunlight and wind play among the trees and flowers - what
beauty! Everything here seems to be in harmony.@ Her words were bright and
sunny. She smiled while brushing away the brown curls from her face. Then
looking at Inwan, she mournfully said ADo you really think he is ready?@
AI don=t think he is ready to spend his whole life in the village.@ Vunfael
replied, while slowly moving towards the villagers. He seemed to amble forth
like a confident, mighty bear. He was a broad shouldered, imposing man, with a
neatly trimmed beard and mustache. His long brown hair, which was tied back
in a pony tail, swayed to and fro as he walked.
AWhat=s wrong with him spending his life with us? There will be


5
wanderers who pass through from time to time - he can learn about the outside
world from them.@ Her feelings tumbled out into the fresh air like wooden barrels
rolling off a cargo ship.
AHis curiosity will lead him away from the village sooner or later - it is best
that he have a guide for his journey.@ Vunfael looked back at his wife. His gentle
brown eyes seemed full of determination. She was convinced that the issue had
been settled.
When his parents joined him, Inwan was in the full spirit of the harvest.
He looked at the small yellow sprouts that were arranged in an ever widening
spiral pattern, which eventually covered the whole northern field. Each yellow
leaf had two red dots, which looked like eyes. He pulled up one yellow sprout
and shook the dirt off the root, which was white with red streaks. He broke off a
small part of the root and put it in his mouth; it tasted like butterscotch. After
chewing on the root a moment or two, there was a burning sensation, like a mild
chili pepper.
AMother,@ Inwan began as he started to fill a bushel basket with roots, Awhat
lies beyond the forest?@. This was the wall of trees that cut them off from the
adjoining countryside, where no one ventured. It always seemed to be laced with
mist during dawn and dusk.
AThat is something only the bravest and the wisest warriors know.@ His
mother glanced at the sprawling trees for a moment. Then she lifted her bushel
basket and took a step toward the wagon in the center of the fields. She turned
back, and staring at her son, asked AHow are you coming along?@
AAll done@, Inwan replied with a broad smile. He started toward the wagon
but his gaze drifted to the woods. He was filled with curiosity and foreboding as
he wondered what might be lurking just beyond the trees. Sometimes, as the sun
was rising, he would go to the fields and watch the mist in the forest - it would
seem as though it was dancing, defying the wind that swayed the treetops.

With the work done, it was time for the harvest dinner. Inwan and his
mother spread the light blue table cloth over their small kitchen table. Vunfael
searched the kitchen cupboards for candles that would be appropriate for the
occasion. While doing so, he also searched for clues as to what this season=s
extra ingredients were. Try as he might, he walked away with candles, nothing
more; he like everyone else, would have to find out what was in the stew at the end
of a spoon.
AInwan,@ He called to his son, ACould you help me bring in some logs for the
fire? It looks to be a chilly night.@
AYes father.@ Inwan gladly followed him out of the house.
ADid you get a chance?@ His voice seemed as quiet as a prowling cat. As
they walked out the door, a spark of hope rose in his mind.
ANo. She changed her mind and wouldn=t let me near the stew.@ Inwan=s


6
words seemed forlorn.
ADid you see what she was putting in that old pot?@
ASorry father. She wouldn=t let me in the kitchen for some time. Mother
has kept her secrets for another year.@
The dinner was a success and the stew was wonderful. As visitors came
throughout the evening, they shared food and bits and pieces of their lives. They
smiled upon Inwan kindly and remarked at his strong hands - Agood for steering a
plow.@
Toward the end of the dinner, there was a knock on the door. Cyriah
opened it and a short, heavy set man dressed in brown robe stood there with a
small metal pot. He wore a hood over his head which cloaked his face in shadow.
AA pleasant evening to your good sir. I=m not sure if we have ever seen you
in our village before.@ Cyriah was somewhat surprised and stood at the door for a
moment before stepping back and allowing the stranger entry.
AI am here visiting my nephew. I brought some delicacies for you and your
family to savor on this special evening.@ His voice reminded one of a bell being
struck in the distance. Without further exchange of words he walked into the
living room; he had a slight limp so it took him a few moments to reach the table.
Normally, even well known and dearly expected visitors did not enter the house
during the harvest dinner. However, the bearing and demeanor of this person
spoke of a certain authority and wisdom, so he was able to brush aside the normal
customs without a second thought. AAhhh....Master Vunfael, I have heard many
things about you. Sanfir is very blessed to count you among them.@ The
stranger continued, opening the pot. Inside was a large fish preserved with salt
and seasoned with strange spices with intrigued the nose. AThis must be Inwan.@
The guest put his hands on the boy=s shoulders; as he did so, Vunfael caught the
glimpse of a gold earring hanging from the visitor=s left ear. AWhat wonderful
eyes you have my child! They will see many a curious thing, for you have good
feet that will carry you many places.@ He then cut up the fish and served the still
surprised family. Finally, it was time for this mysterious visitor to leave. Far
from being relieved from an awkward intrusion, there was a desperate longing to
have him stay. He gave Vunfael a hearty handshake - the stranger=s hands
seemed firm yet his grasp was gentle. As he walked out the door, he turned to
Cyriah. AYou have raised him well - trust him.@

Later that night, Inwan ventured into the community barn, where the
harvest, as well as some of the village=s livestock, were kept. The community barn
was in the center of the village, and was as big as 3 small homes. It was
decorated with carvings of plants and harvest scenes. As he opened the large
doors, the smell of the fresh vegetables mingled with the cool night air - how he
loved that smell. He walked through the barn, occasionally stooping down to say


7
Ahello@ to a particular fowl that he thought he was on good terms with. As he was
walking toward the back of the barn, the fowl started clucking frantically -
something was wrong. From one of the shadowy corners of the barn, a bird
shrieked and then suddenly fell silent. Several moments passed - there was a
silence that was punctuated by an occasional snapping or crunching.
Then he noticed something moving behind one of the bales of hay. Inwan
froze - should he run for help or step forward? Despite what his upbringing told
him, he slowly stepped forward. All of a sudden, the movement behind the hay
stopped. He heard a low growling. Inwan then knew that whatever was there
was probably bigger than he was. As he was slowly backing toward the entrance
of the barn, a large, white wolf slowly stepped out from behind the bale of hay. It
had blood on its nose and jaws, along with a few feathers stuck in the hair on its
neck. For a moment, their eyes locked, each peering deep into the other=s soul.
As the wolf slowly advanced, and Inwan slowly retreated, he tripped over a
pitchfork. He quickly rose to his feet and grabbed it. The predator stopped;
he seemed to be sizing up not only his two legged opponent, but also his current
surroundings. Just then, the animal belched, and realizing that his belly was full,
raced toward Inwan. Inwan froze in terror and the wolf bolted right past him.
Inwan thought he had heard the flapping of wings soon thereafter - he looked up
and saw something white flying out of one of the upper windows of the barn.

The morning of the Ahappy sharing@ had come. The sun was just rising and
the ADragon=s Thread@ stretched across the sky as far as one could see. It was a
horizontal rainbow that shimmered like a string of millions of multicolored
precious stones. Vunfael took in the beautiful sight for a moment, smiled, and
then walked out to the community barn to retrieve Wisayael=s share of the harvest.
Inwan followed behind, hoping that his father would not notice that a chicken was
missing. Although Inwan was not afraid of his father, he was in awe of him. He
was well over six feet tall and had a muscular frame, a result of the trials of
farming. He reminded Inwan of the legendary AGuardian Bears@ that were said
to protect the forests in ancient times.
AInwan.@ His father=s voice had that particular low quality that appeared
whenever he was confronted with a mystery. As he picked up the pitchfork that
Inwan had dropped as he ran from the barn last night, he slowly looked around
the barn.
AYes Father?@ Inwan hesitatingly sputtered as he slowly stepped forward.
ADo you know why this pitchfork is here?@
AIt must have fallen off its hook.@
Vunfael looked around the barn again and then bent down to the ground;
from what Inwan could see, he was picking up something small - he hoped it
wasn=t a feather. After standing a moment in the center of the barn, Vunfael
began loading the wagon with Wisayael=s goods.


8
ACome along, Inwan; we don=t want to keep Wisayael waiting@ Vunfael
said as he ruffled young Inwan=s dark brown hair.
AFather, why does Wisayael live so far away?@
AShe values her privacy; some people need to hear the words of the wind
more than the talk of villagers@
ADoes the wind actually talk?@
ANo,@ Vunfael replied as he got into the wagon, Asome people just don=t fit in
to the village. She=s not a bad person - she=s actually quite well loved. It=s just
that her interests lie beyond the village.@
AHow far beyond the village?@ Inwan asked while looking back at
Wisayael=s goods. He was hoping that some clue to her was back there.
AYou will have to ask her that yourself.@
















9
The Breaking Shell

Chapter 2 -Wisayael

The journey to Wisayael=s home meandered through the southern forest.
The countryside had been very quiet for several months now. Whereas, in the
past, birds would be heard constantly calling, it was now a rare occurrence to hear
or see any living thing. Still, the flowering trees and plants were enough to please
the eye and nose. The blossoms of the Besath trees were truly astounding; each
petal was a different color, deep red, light blue, green, yellow. The center of each
petal was a creamy white with small speckles of black. These blossoms waved in
the wind and seemed to be greeting Inwan and his father. Snaking through the
foiliage, the vines of the Hon=Uus plant wound around many trees, their black
blossoms giving off a scent that could only be described as a mingling of chocolate
and mint.
AFather! Look!@ Inwan=s breath rushed forth into the crisp autumn air as
he pulled his father=s sleeve and pointed to a nearby tree. Vunfael stopped the
wagon and the eager boy jumped down and ran over to the tree. Hanging from
one of its lowest branches was a sac about the size of a large grapefruit; it was
white with black speckles. Parts of the sac were moving in a frenzied fashion.
After waiting for a minute or two, a small red dragonfly emerged, then a green
one, then a yellow one; soon there was a swarm of multi-colored dragonflies
happily buzzing around the now empty sac. The ants on a nearby branch were
thrown into a state of chaotic terror at the arrival of the newborn fliers.
After allowing him a moment or two of wonder, Vunfael, now standing by
his son, broke the silence: AIt=s time to resume our journey.@
After about 45 minutes, they came to Wisayael=s home. It was a modest
size stone house with willow trees on 3 sides. In front of her home, there was a
hedge of wild red and white roses. Above the pathway to her front door, the
roses formed an arch and seemed to be greeting visitors. Forty yards to the east
of her tiny residence was a small garden with a high stone wall. Another small
garden with a high iron fence lay a short distance to the west of her front door.
Vunfael stopped the wagon in front of the beautiful flower lined path that
led to Wisayael=s cottage. As they got out of the wagon, Inwan noticed a large,
white owl sitting in a tree outside Wisayael=s eastern garden.
It was now mid-morning; Vunfael looked at the eastern sky and saw that the
morning sun had erased the Dragon=s Thread. He knew it would return and that
certainty reassured him.
Before Vunfael could knock on the front door, it opened. There stood


10
Wisayael; her long, brown curly hair falling in waves over her delicate frame.
She was wearing her blue dress, the one she wore only for special occasions. Her
green eyes sparkled with hospitality.
AVunfael! Here you are at last, I thought you wouldn=t be arriving until this
afternoon.@ Her voice was like a gentle breeze on a warm summer night. She
gave him a quick hug and ushered him and Inwan inside.
The inside of her cottage was cozy, with wicker chairs that blended in
seamlessly with the sand-colored stucco walls. In one corner of the living room
sat three corn-husk dolls; a man, a woman, and a child. The woman-doll and
child-doll had black buttons for eyes and the man-doll had brass coins for eyes.
The woman-doll wore a blue dress with white flowers and a pink hat; in her hand
she held a fresh purple orchid. The man doll wore blue overalls and held a small
pitchfork in his hand. The child-doll wore a white shirt and green pants. In the
adjacent corner there was an easel that held a half finished charcoal and pencil
sketch of a river running through a forest. The sketch had been erased and
re-drawn in several places and the pencils had seen a great deal of use. At the
foot of the easel were two crumpled pieces of paper. On a shelf next to the easel
were three quartz globes; the first was a pale green, the second a milky white, and
the last a deep blue. Inside each globe were flower petals of all colors and
shapes. The shelf also contained several books on gardening and herbs.
Growing vigorously in the center of the living room was a white rose bush that
rose up like a ivory column and continued its ascent toward the heavens through a
hole in the ceiling. Beyond this, dark cherry french doorst led to the patio
outside and were framed by white curtains, as was the entrance to the kitchen.
The smell of spices, smoked ham, and wine wafted into the room and mingled
with the scent of the roses.
AWe thought we would drop off your share of the harvest and return home
in time for the annual village luncheon. Care to join us?@ Vunfael asked as he
looked around. He was always impressed with how neat and tidy her home was.
AIf only I could.@ She answered with a grin, ABut I=m expecting Mangat this
afternoon.@ As she said this, she quickly and discreetly hid her golden brush; the
item itself was normal enough, except that a prowling cat adorned the top. She
executed this maneuver with such craft and guile that her visitors didn=t notice a
thing.
AReally?@ asked Inwan, his eyes widening. Now Mangat was a source of
intrigue to him; he always had something interesting with him, whether it was a
unique quartz or a small relic, or even an odd looking feather.
AOh yes, little Inwan,@ Wisayael replied playfully pinching his nose, Ahe has
been traveling for many months now and is sure to have acquired some items of
interest.@
ABefore we discuss the exotic,@ Vunfael said to Inwan as he gently put his
hand on his shoulder, Awe have work to do.@


11
AYes father.@ He replied with a smile as he headed towards the wagon.
He always felt honored to help such a dignified and beautiful lady, even if he only
did menial things. As he said this, Wisayael hid her golden powder box; this
treasured item bore the inscription ASilvia@.
AJust unload the small items, I will be with you in a moment.@ His father
called after him.
AYes father.@ He was now at the wagon and petting the horses, Noph and
Jir. He got some apples from the under the front seat and fed the horses, all the
while talking gently to them.
Vunfael and Wisayael watched Inwan for a moment. Then Vunfael turned
to her with an expectant look. Her face was serene, with a faraway look in her
eyes.
ADo you think he=s ready?@ he asked while turning his gaze out to the wagon
again.
AIf you will allow him to spend a day or two here, I will be able to answer
your question.@
AAgreed.@ Vunfael walked out the door to help Inwan unload the wagon
and make the proposal.

An hour later, Vunfael returned to the village alone. Wisayael and Inwan
bade him farwell from the front of her path. She was surprised by Inwan=s
reaction. She thought he would cling to her for comfort while watching his
father=s wagon slowly disappear into the forest. However, he kept about a foot
away; he wasn=t cold or aloof, it was as if he felt comfortable in this place and
wanted to explore it.
ANow it is time to discuss your duties.@ She smiled.
AI=m ready.@ He replied, trying to sound as confident as he could.
AGood.@ She took his hand and led him into her eastern garden. AThe first
thing I would like you to do in the morning is to see if any of the trees have any
ripe fruit on them.@
AThe Tomkut tree=s fruit is ripe when it is red?@
AYes! You remember. You have a good memory for fruit.@ Wisayael
replied as she opened the iron gate that led to the stone garden.
The stone garden was Inwan=s favorite. The main path was lined with
Tomkut trees, with their fragrant, light blue blossoms. Each blossom had a
yellow center which smelled like rich butter. Halfway down the path, there was
another, smaller path which led to the back of the garden. There was so much
more than just trees here; exotic plants of many colors could be found throughout
the sanctuary. Here and there one could also see statues; some were of people
and some were of animals.
Inwan approached one of his favorite sculptures, that of a horse rearing up
on its hind legs. His eyes took in the details of the stone, the small cracks here


12
and there, the spider web between the horse=s hind legs, and other small nuances.
ANow Inwan, don=t admire these statues while Mangat is here, we don=t
want to encourage him.@ She sighed. Whereas Wisayael loved plants, Mangat
loved the statues and looked for an excuse to bring yet another into the gardens.
AYes ma=am.@ Inwan laughed. He wasn=t sure how two people who were
so in love could bicker so much. Perhaps the bickering added a much needed
spark that kept the fires of love strong.
AWhat I do miss is the birds.@ Inwan=s words slipped out quietly into the still
air.
AAs do I.@ Wisayael remarked while inspecting a blossom on one of the
nearby flowers. She turned to him and asked AWhy do you think the southern
forest is so quiet?@
AThe king=s men have been hunting there often - and for many years as my
father and mother have told me.@ Inwan looked for some sign of a bird amidst the
leaves and blossoms, but found nothing.
Wisayael was impressed with his answer. She was about to ask him
another question when they heard a horse and rider at the front of the house.

It was Mangat. His long black hair was tied in a braid, and he had
trimmed his mustache and beard. His blue eyes reminded one of a deep,
mysterious sea. He was wearing a white Eyryuin Shirt: the buttons ran down the
left side of the front of the shirt and it had a wide, flat triangular collar.
Complimenting his shirt was a pair of black pants. He had on his best pair of
ridge boots and one could tell that they had been well worn. Ridge boots were
similar to leather boots except for the supple ridge of leather that ran along the
top of the boot. The ridge was an inch tall; it started at the toe and ended at the
ankle.
He had arrived early and was rummaging through the pouches in his
saddle. Underneath the saddle was a grey horse with mottled spots of black.
Wisayael came running up to him and gave him a warm, long hug, punctuated by
a kiss.
AHere I am!@ He said with a broad smile. Mangat=s voice reminded
Inwan of a vintage wine gurgling from a bottle. AAnd, I did find what you said
couldn=t be found.@ He had a look of triumph about him. Obviously, he thought
he had a victory in hand.
AIs that so?@ She replied with a sly grin. Wisayael would not concede
defeat so easily. The item she had in mind was very rare and not to be found for
miles around.
AYes Madam.@ Mangat said, eager to please. He pulled out a small pouch
and delicately dipped his finger in. When he pulled it out, there were three seeds
on the tip of his finger. The seeds looked like shards of a translucent blue gem.
ARicoa found these for me, I must confess. He said they came from beyond the


13
fields of Hernesh.@
AOh Mangat,@ Wisayael looked at the seeds in wonder, Athey=re beautiful!@
AHe said that they should be watered every day for the first 3 weeks and
then after that, every 2 days.@. He replied, just noticing Inwan standing there.
AMay I see?@ Inwan asked.
AWhy of course, young one!@ Mangat lowered his finger. AHowever, I
have something more to your liking.@ With that, Mangat put the seeds back in
the pouch, handed it to Wisayael and again rummaged through his saddlebags.
After a moment or two, he found what he was looking for. AAha! This was not
easy to come by. I had to do some clever bartering to obtain it.@ Mangat
showed Inwan a small, reddish stone about the size of a coin; it was streaked with
several small veins of bright yellow ore. The rock had a glossy, polished surface
and reflected the cloudy sky in its glassy exterior.
AThanks!@ Inwan took the trinket in his hand and slowly rubbed his thumb
over the surface. The stone felt warm and content in his palm. AHow did the
stone get so warm?@ He asked, looking up at Mangat with quizzical look on his
face.
AWarm?@ Mangat=s tone mirrored the boy=s puzzled expression. He slowly
took Inwan=s new treasure from his hand. He felt the rock - it felt as cold as any
other stone he had known. Mangat looked at Inwan for a moment, studying him.
Then he smiled and handed it back to him. AI am quite hungry, as I am sure Inwan
is.@ He turned to Wisayael.
AI have prepared your favorite dish,@ she said looking into his eyes, Awith a
slight twist.@ A grin appeared on her regal face.
AI like twists!@ Mangat replied, ushering both she and Inwan into the house.

Later that night, Mangat and Wisayael exchanged news, stories, and
laughter. While they were busy catching up on each other=s lives, Inwan strolled
through the stone garden. The smell of pine trees came in on the warm night
breeze. There was something else on the breeze, the sound of night birds in the
distance. Was life going to return to the southern forest?
As he was locking the door to the garden, he noticed a golden light in the
forest. It came closer and closer then stopped about one quarter of a mile away.
Inwan could not make out the shape clearly, but he guessed that the light must
have been about 5 or maybe 6 feet tall.

The next morning, Inwan woke up to find that Mangat had left. Wisayael
was busy preparing breakfast and humming to herself. Wisayael=s kitchen was
small yet cozy. Her famous Blue Moss Omelet was sizzling and bubbling in the
frying pan. The iron stove over which she was cooking was of modest size and
had feet that looked like a lion=s paw, complete with claws. The fragrance of
honey, sausage, and spices filled the room. Wooden shelves filled with small jars


14
and flasks lined the pale green walls. On the counter opposite the stove, there
were large glass jars of spices and herbs. Two jars in particular caught Inwan=s
eye; they were light blue and shaped like swans. The table at which he sat and
took all of this in was made of cherry wood. Carved into the table top was a
beautiful image of a large tree. Sitting on top of the table was a white plate with
red and yellow roses painted around the edge. The utensils that accompanied
the plate were made of iron; their ivory handles had images of owls carved into
them. Light filtered into the room through a window with checkered white and
yellow curtains. Although she appeared to be quite busy, she addressed Inwan
all the same.
AAre you familiar with the tune I was humming?@ She said gaily as she
reached for something in one of her cupboards.
AThe Victory of The Eagles?@ Inwan=s words were cautious and hesitant.
He awaited her reply as he instinctively started to set the kitchen table with plates
and utensils.
AYou have been paying attention during your previous visits - as I had
hoped you would.@ Her faith and confidence in him bubbled up but she kept up a
formal air. She continued her delicate tune while sprinkling something into the
frying pan.
AI noticed a golden light in the forest last night.@ Inwan murmured, not
really knowing how to bring up the subject.
AHmmm.....@ Wisayael remained silent a moment, then tilted her head
slightly AMany things come to those whose hearts are filled with patience.@

After breakfast, they inspected the Iron Garden, which sat on forlorn patch
of land to the west of the house. Inwan didn=t particularly care for this place, as
it seemed darker and less inviting than the stone garden. Great maple and oak
trees overshadowed the garden, and vines and branches seemed to be making a
united effort to keep the sunlight out. Raindrops from leaves overhead
occasionally splashed upon his neck and arms, sending a chill down his spine.
However, there were some small plots where tomatoes, peas, and basil seemed to
be thriving. In the center of the garden was a small gazebo, with a comfortable
wooden bench. To the right of the gazebo was a stone basin which collected
rainwater. The basin had carvings of vines and leaves; the rim of the basin had
two stone birds on it, one on each side. Just then, a cardinal landed on the rim of
the basin, took a drink, and chirped at Wisayael. She smiled, nodded in return,
and he flew off.
As his eyes drifted across this gloomy landscape, something caught his eye.
It was in between two large rocks, crouching. Inwan couldn=t make out a
particular shape or form, but it was dark, just slightly darker than the surrounding
shade. It seemed to be taking refuge, waiting for the right time to move. Inwan
took a step toward the thing and a sound like the hissing of a cat rang in his ear, as


15
if the creature was sitting on his shoulder. The boy=s blood ran cold and the hair
stood up on the back of his neck.
AInwan,@ Wisayael said as she turned toward him, Awhat is the most
important part of my gardens?@ She stared at him intently, hopefully. Inwan
looked around, startled. AAre you alright?@ She asked, kneeling down in front
of him. She took his hands in hers and they just stayed there for what seemed
like an eternity, just looking at each other. Her green eyes were always a comfort
to him, and soon Inwan had regained his senses.
AI=m sorry, I.....I was just daydreaming.@
ADreams can be very important. They show us things we would otherwise
not see.@
AEven bad dreams?@
AYes.@ After a few moments of silence, she took him by the hand and led
him out of the garden. The rest of the day was spent on chores.

When Inwan got up the next morning, he walked to the window at the foot
of the bed. As he listened to the birds singing and the bees buzzing, it seemed to
him that other things were just awakening too; things that had been sleeping for a
long, long time. After a quick breakfast, he and Wisayael found themselves in the
stone garden once more. It seemed cool even for an autumn morning. Much of
the fruit on the trees was ripe and ready to be harvested, weighing down the
branches and almost pleading to be picked. In the distance, Inwan thought he
heard a songbird. However the sound vanished as quickly as it had appeared and
everything was quiet once more.
ASo, what is the most important part of my gardens?@
Inwan looked around, taking in not only the garden, but all that had
happened since yesterday morning.
AKnowledge. Without knowledge, you wouldn=t know what to plant and
how to take care of it.@
AKnowledge is important, most certainly. However things we don=t know
of can sometimes have a great effect on us. Our knowledge and therefore our
power have limits.@ Wisayael=s words had a wisdom in them that seemed to have
come from far beyond Sanfir and perhaps even beyond Oeshaili.
AIs there something more important than knowledge?@
AHave you ever heard of Haru=Caban?@ Wisayael asked while examining a
leaf of a nearby tree.
AI=ve heard my father talk of it from time to time. Does it mean
>happiness=?@ Inwan watched Wisayael=s inspection. She moved gracefully from
tree to tree, almost as if she was floating. Her delicate hands barely touched the
tender foliage.
AI=ve never heard of it described that way before - I suppose that could be an
appropriate term. Haru=Caban can mean harmony, balance, and unity.


16
Without it, the world would start to crumble. Too much shade and this plant
could wither.@ Wisayael said, stooping down and gently stroking a blue lily. AIf
this plant withers, then - oh!@, a bee flew out of the flower unexpectedly, Athis bee
would have no food. Everything depends on harmony, balance, and unity -
Haru=Caban. Do you understand?@ Her concern for her gardens and her pupil
seemed draped around those words like a delicate lace shawl. Her eyes were
fixed upon him. Her breathing was slow, deliberate, and soaked in a sense of
anticipation.
AYes, I think so.@ Inwan looked up at her and realized that an auspicious
moment had come upon them both.
Wisayael smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. Soon Vunfael would come to
pick up his son and she would have an answer for him.














17
The Breaking Shell

Chapter 3 - What, Exactly, Is Up For Auction?

After traveling all day, Mangat arrived at his mansion. It was about three
times as big as Wisayael=s house and sat on a spacious, grassy meadow. It was
only Detphi day, the middle of the week, but he felt as if had been working for a
full week now. Surrounding the grounds was a ten foot stone wall. Mangat
fiddled with the key in the iron gate, grumbling all the while. Leaving his horse
to roam the nearby fields (for he knew his steed needed to run free now and then),
he closed the gate behind him. Then he wearily walked up the cobblestone path,
too tired to notice the flowers that lined the walkway.
As he opened the door and stepped into the oak paneled living room, he
was greeted by the chiming of the grandfather clock. The sound reminded him of
a young maid plucking the strings of a harp. As the chimes solemnly rang out, a
very faint raspy sound could be heard emanating from the antique timepeace.
The pendulum was very slowly swinging from side to side and resembled a smiling
sun; its infectious grin reminded Mangat of happy days spent at the many lakes in
his native land. The brass hands of the clock (each one resembling a hunter=s
arrow) told him that it was four in the afternoon. The clock face itself was
fashioned out of wood with a circular border of gold and had shiny brass numbers.
Below the clock face, a miniature hunting party, fashioned out of silver, advanced
one inch to the right on its circular track.
Adjacent to the grandfather clock, in a cherry wood display case with a
fancy glass door, sat his ale bottle collection. There were all colors and sizes of
containers: some were shaped like pyramids, some like boxes, some like inverted
funnels. A few bottles resembled globes (complete with accurate geographical
etchings on their surface). One bottle even had a neck which curled around like
tuba.
He walked over to the large fireplace; it was set in a wall of stones, held
together with reddish-brown mortar. The mantle of the fireplace was crafted
from pine and had several miniature brass sailing vessels on it. Mangat looked at
the cords of wood stacked neatly at the far end of the wall. There were several
types of wood represented there: beech, pine, oak, cherry, and maple. After
debating the pros and cons of each type of wood, he reached for a cord of pine.
As he lit a fire in the fireplace, he heard the sound of the carrier pigeons coming
from the southern pen.
AYes, yes, I=m coming, I=m coming!@ He cried aloud as if addressing the
impatient birds. His voice seemed to splash against the walls. He quickly


18
decided which candles he wanted lit and then made his way to the kitchen to grab
a slice of garlic bread. He was about to put some butter on the bread when the
pigeons started calling again.
AThis had better be good - good enough to forgo butter.@ He said sharply.
He marched out to the southern pen, snack in hand and mouth full. He opened
the gate and started petting and examining the pigeons. He addressing some in
reassuring whispers and others in a stricter tone. The last bird on the right shelf
had a small vial around its neck; the vial contained a small note. Mangat=s eyes
widened with curiosity and he opened the note. As expected the page was blank.
He took a small silver box from his pocket which bore an inscription - AJackie@.
Then from his other pocket, he procured a small brush with a silver handle (the
handle itself was in the shape of a magpie). Mangat opened the silver box, which
contained a reddish brown powder and carefully dipped the brush into it. He
then gingerly brushed the powder onto the paper and letters appeared. The note
read:

Dear Mangat,

After much haggling, diplomacy and bartering, I have
obtained a ticket to the auction. Do not miss it! The
list of items is on back,. I think you will be intrigued by
number three - it is rare to see such an item even at a
private auction such as this.
As for your shirt, I am almost done. I apologize
that it took so long, but I had difficulty in finding just
the right color of thread for the embroidering on the collar.

Oubulon

Mangat=s weariness overcame his curiosity at the moment, so he made
sure the pigeons had enough food and water, then went back into the house.
He thought of what to bring Oubulon as a thank you present for the immense
favor he had done for him. He started to do a quick mental inventory of his
house and his mind wandered quickly through the several libraries scattered
throughout the mansion. After a moments analysis, he thought it would be best


19
to start in the second floor back library first thing in the morning.
He woke next morning to a grey sky and the smell of apple blossoms. His
master bedroom was on the third floor and much larger than the guest rooms.
He turned over in his large, comfortable bed and tried to deny that the sun had
arisen. The wooden posts of his bed were topped with copper horses rearing up
on their hind legs. Like everywhere else in his stronghold, the room was
paneled in dark wood. The embers of last night=s fire were still glowing in the
fireplace opposite his bed. An oil painting of a beautiful countryside with
rolling hills hung above the fireplace. The trees in the painting were decorated
with colorful paper and tiny white bells. Under one of the trees sat a solitary
picnic basket. Next to the fireplace was a wooden table with several iron
hammers and wooden mallets, all of different sizes. There were also shears,
clamps, and files. Among this myriad assortment of tools were small rings,
small sheets of copper, brass ingots, and tin spheres. Under the table were
several tomes on the history and techniques of metal working.
After several more minutes of tossing and turning, Mangat reluctantly got
out of bed and went over to the window. The window was very large and
framed with a dark red curtain with purple trim. He yawned, stretched, and
looked out over his small apple orchard; the one Wisayael suggested that he
plant. She thought he needed more fruit in his diet. He watched the rain start
to splash down on the two griffin statues that Aguarded@ the entrance to the
garden. He frowned slightly as he realized that he would have more room for
statues if the orchard were just a bit smaller.
He then descended the elegant staircase to have some breakfast. The
stairs were covered by a beautiful red carpet with gold trim. The handrail was
made of cherry wood and had iron and stone discs set into it. Each disc held a
quote from one the famous plays of the early Dynastic Period. Bands of tin
wound around the wooden pickets that supported the railing. Copper lanterns,
each with a small candle, hung from iron chains. The chains were held in place
by intricately detailed iron hooks that were screwed into the wood panels.
By the time he reached the kitchen, his stomach was growling ferociously.
The kitchen was modest; the white walls sported a decorative border of green
vines. The stove and sink were both made from cast iron and the dreary
morning light filtered in through a solitary window above the sink. The wooden
table where Mangat spent most of his breakfasts had a large ring of stone set into
it. In the center of this ring, three brass coins were inlaid into the surface,
forming a triangle. Two bar stools, made of oak, sat on opposite sides of the
table. He rummaged around in the pantry adjacent to the kitchen and pulled
out some bread, fresh herbs, cinnamon powder, and some pepper, as well as a
bit of dried grass. He put the herbs and cinnamon on the bread and then took a
bite. He smiled with satisfaction and then sat down at the table. He then took
the dried grass, along with the cinnamon, herbs and pepper and put it in a small


20
iron bowl on the table. He then lit the concoction and resumed his breakfast.
While going up the stairs to the library, he looked over the list on the back
of the note, expecting to find perhaps some imperial memorabilia from Photthar,
his homeland. He noticed several interesting clay pots, and a few necklaces
that his cousin, Enstu, might take a fancy to. As he reached the top of the
stairs, he glanced at item three and frowned, puzzled. The description of the
item read as follows:

Item three: a gold ring with an ebony band on woven into
the metal on the outside of the ring. There are several small
characters, which appear to predate the first dynasty, on the
inside of the ring. Opening Bid will be One Gold Coin.


Characters which predated the First Dynasty could be simple hieroglyphs,
but on the inside of a golden ring? And how could a band of ebony be woven
into a ring, especially if the ring seemed to be crafted before the appearance of
the first skilled artisans?
He searched all of his libraries for some clue about this ring, but he could
find nothing. He then turned to his carrier pigeons for help.
ADithplae,@ he said as he petted his favorite, Ayou have always been my
fastest ambassador - and my hungriest.@ Mangat looked down and noticed there
was no seed anywhere near the bird. AThere is a slice of garlic bread waiting for
you if you can return in five days!@ At this, the bird fluttered her wings, eager to
start the journey.
After five days filled with futile speculation, theorizing, and research, the
bird returned. Mangat smiled as he anticipated more information about the
enigmatic Aitem number three@. As promised, he went to the pen with a slice of
garlic bread.
AYou have returned, my precious one.@ The words seeped out of him as he
put the garlic bread in front of the bird. While she hungrily ate, he untied the
leather string that held the vial. He quickly prepared the blank page with his
brush and powder. The letters seemed to take forever to appear on the paper,
but when they did, they revealed the note, which read:

Dear Mangat,

Yes, it is a curious item, is it not? It was not found


21
in an ordinary peddler wagon. A few months ago, a group
of miners from Kel-Tress (that poor starving country!)
decided, out of desperation, to explore the Bronze-Gut
mountains. I=am told that, despite prudence, they went
deeper into the mountains than anyone ever has. Well all
the auctioneer could pass on was that there was a chamber of
sorts, which was guarded by some sort of foul beasts.
As to your second question, some of the survivors
from the expedition can be found in the southern town of
Nush-Jim, on the eastern shore of the great lake of
Kel-Tress.

Oubulon


Mangat had six months until the auction commenced. Still, he rode as fast as
he could to Nush-Jim.
The town was an ordinary lake-town, with a small harbor, a tavern, and
several dozen houses. The hills in the distance already showed the fall colors that
signaled the winter that was to come. Mangat enjoyed the contrast between the
colorful leaves and the pale limestone cliffs that they adorned.
The smell of ale was on the crisp autumnal breeze; Mangat followed it to its
source - The Drunken Fish. This tavern was small, dimly lit, and dilapidated.
Moss could be seen growing near the bottom of the doorway. One of the windows
had a small crack in it. As he made his way through the bar, he noted the patrons
while trying to keep his footing as he traversed the occasional puddle of liquor.
Many of them were greasy, grimy, unkempt, and otherwise disheveled. A few
customers were even wearing fringe pants. Fringe pants looked like ordinary
pants except for the bottom four inches of the pant legs, which were cut into strips
one-eighth of an inch wide. This attire was a remnant of the Dark Ages, when
ignorance, superstition, and cruelty were all at their zenith.
AI=ll have one more!@ A thin old man boisterously called out, raising his rusty,
deformed tankard. Mangat noticed that the upraised arm had suffered severe
burns, it resembled a charred, twisted branch more than a limb.
AYou=ve reached the limit, Ginz!@ The bartender called back. He was not


22
about to let the old man drink him dry, however improbable that might be.
Mangat took his drink and sat down next to Ginz, filling the old mans
tankard halfway.
ANow that man,@ he noted, directing Ginz=s attention to the bartender Ais
unfamiliar with the fine sport of celebration!@
AI couldn=t have said it better myself sir!@ Ginz replied, toasting his new
friend.
AMay I inquire as to the happy occasion?@ Mangat kept an eye on the
bartender, hoping to accomplish his task before being discovered.
AI have come into a small fortune, friend - look at this;@ he held up an Ivory
Coin, Ajust think, one of these beauties is as good as ]10 Copper Coins! It almost
cost me my life, but it was worth it.@ Ginz replied with a belch.
ANow that would be a tale worth telling.@ Mangat grinned.
AIt most certainly is.@
Two hours of slurred conversation had passed and Mangat knew only a little
more about the mysterious ring. Ginz was at the back of the expedition and the
first to run out, so he didn=t see much. There seemed to be several ingenious traps,
ones that not even the Great Tinkerers of the Sixth Dynasty could have made, that
killed most of the party. The only other thing Ginz remembered was a word
carved in stone above the entrance to the chamber: AAlur@.
As he was leaving, Mangat was approached by two men in chain mail with
swords at their sides. They had an air of office about them, but they did not bear
any royal insignia. From they way they walked, Mangat could tell that they were
soldiers who had been disciplined by rigorous training and many battles.
APlease come with us wanderer.@ The taller soldier addressed him sternly.
Now Mangat=s curiosity was absolutely gushing forth like a turbulent river.
He was escorted to a camp ten miles outside of town. No matter how
amicable he attempted to be, the soldiers remained silent. So, Mangat relaxed
and took in the scenery, confident that more answers would come soon.
When they reached the camp, they were greeted by a man who was similarly
dressed but was wearing a purple cloak with a silver clasp. One end of the clasp
bore the royal insignia of Kel-Tress= current king. He was a tall, blonde haired,
stately looking gentleman with broad shoulders. He had a neatly trimmed
mustache and beard; his voice was soft, low, and refined. His eyes were a pale
blue, they were so pale in fact that one might mistake them for being white.
The camp itself was in a densely wooded area, with several large rocks here
and there pointing up to the sky like enormous fingers. The buttery, inviting
scent of Tomkut blossoms teased Mangat=s nose - Wisayael=s stone garden briefly
flitted through his mind.
AI=m sorry if my ambassadors seemed impolite,@ the man began as he
approached Mangat, Amy name is Lepexes, and I believe we need each other=s
help.@ His tone was forthright and very cordial. As this regal officer shook his


23
hand, Mangat noticed that his palm seemed quite warm, whereas his fingers were
like ice. Lepexes was like a majestic eagle; his limbs seemed to move gracefully,
purposefully, yet effortlessly.
AI will offer any assistance that I can, my lord.@ Mangat replied keeping
cool and waiting to see who would offer information first.
AFrom your appearance, you must be none other than Mangat, the scholar.
King Hashaxe told me that your appearance would be a sign.@
AA sign?@ Mangat raised an eyebrow.
AA sign that the expedition into the Bronze Gut Mountains turned out to be
something more than a mere mining trip.@
AThere was something taken from the mountains, a ring - a most unusual
ring.@ The last words seemed to creep out from under Mangat=s mask of
nonchalant negotiating. As he and Lepexes headed towards a tent in the rear of
the camp, he secretly wondered how deep this mystery was.
AReally? We didn=t know that anything was taken out of there. All we had
heard of was the strange occurrences that had been springing up throughout the
countryside.@ Lepexes offered Mangat a plate of meat, fruits, and nuts.
AWhat kind of occurrences?@ Mangat asked, with a slight tone of concern.
ANightmares, changes in the forests, animals behaving strangely. The King
dismissed these reports at first, but then sent people to investigate. He knew that
if you showed up that it was something more than just frivolous tales.@
AFrivolous tales they still might be. Sometimes the power of an artifact
resides in the myths and rumor that proceed it, not in the item itself. The Bone
Clock of Blonshborg caused terror and mayhem even though it was just a clock.@
AMade from bones.@
ABut, in the end, only a clock.@
ASo, how can the truth be separated from fantasy?@ Lepexes asked, raising
his eyebrow.
AI will go to the mine, to see if I can gather more clues about our mysterious
ring.@ Mangat replied, popping a nut into his mouth.








24
The Breaking Shell

Chapter 4 - The Mine

SO far, the ride had been swift and uneventful. Mangat=s horse,
Eneshoulan, galloped quickly over the fields. The steed relished the journey;
every step was a note in a beautiful song that only he and his rider knew.
Mangat was unable to share his horse=s elation. Thoughts swirled in his
mind like autumnal leaves riding the eddies of a gentle river. What was fact, and
what was fiction? Who else knew of the ring? Were they trying to solve the
puzzles surrounding the mysterious artifact? If so, how much progress had they
made? If he came into possession of the ring, would it be better to strip it of its
legends or let it remain sheathed in mythology? Could the ring be sold again,
and when might be the best time to sell? Were there other items associated with
this relic? How might they be acquired? These and a dozen other questions
crowded out all other thoughts.
Still, it was a chance to take in the beautiful scenery of his native land. The
hills, which seemed more rock than soil, had a few shoots of grass sticking up from
their jumbled stony heads. Starlings and cardinals flew among the trees. Foxes
scurried into forest hide outs.
The picnic season had just begun and many were out among the sunny
grasslands enjoying a fresh lunch. Trees were decorated with colorful paper and
tiny white bells, which tinkled joyously in the breeze. As was the custom, Mangat
had brought along some food of his own to share with the happy revelers. He was
sure to impress someone with his famous roast boar sandwiches.
AWhy there=s old Zuthfu!@ Mangat exclaimed to himself in surprise. A
knobby, ancient man with white hair down to his feet was overseeing the
unpacking of a picnic basket. His beard was down past his knees and his
moustache fell down to his waist. He was wearing corded pants. These pants
had a cord running from the hip all the way down to the bottom on each pant leg.
The cord was fastened to the pants at five distinct points. Such trousers were very
>old fashioned= apparel; they were the last known surviving custom from the royal
courts during the height of the Dynastic Period. Zuthfu also wore a bowler hat
and had a wooden cane topped with a golden boar=s head. Two young children,
with hair as long as the old man=s, were busily spreading out a yellow and white
checkerboard cloth. They set out the choicest delicacies: mint glazed ham, garlic
breaded ram, spiced broccoli, and honey glazed lima beans.
AWhat do you want, young meddler?@ The old man grumpily addressed
Mangat as he rode up to him.


25
AWhy, Master Zuthfu, it is wonderful to see you out enjoying a picnic on a
sunny day.@ Mangat pleasantly replied. His voice sounded like sweet wine
pouring out of a bottle.
AYou=re not out here to trade recipes or beg for food, or steal. What=s your
business?@ The old man would not let himself be flattered.
AYou know me too well.@ Mangat answered, still flowing with charm.
AYou and your little rapscallion friend frolicked in my orchards during your
youth, that=s why I know you so well. You still owe me a bushel of apples!@
Zuthfus voice seemed raspy, bitter, yet determined. He vigrously shook his cane
at the foxy pest now before him.
AThe finest my orchards have to offer is yours.@
ANow, what takes you through Photthar?@
AI heard that some people went into the Bronze Gut Mountains recently.@
Mangat, began, taking out one of his >famous= sandwiches.
AWhat you heard is true. They were very foolish, they went down below
Orthar=s vein.@ Zuthfu replied, taking Mangat=s offering and sniffing it. He then
cautiously peeled back the top layer of bread, revealing roast boar, Swiss Cheese,
peppercorn, sour kraut, and asparagus. ANo spinach?@
AI prepared my delicacies in the Northern style. I was surprised to come
upon a Southern gentleman such as yourself.@ He humbly offered this
explanation and almost winced in anticipation of the answer. AI didn=t know that
one could go below Orthar=s vein.@ Mangat spoke up after an awkward silence.
ANo one knew!@ The old man said, angry that his sandwich inspection had
been interrupted. ANot until they discovered the scrolls.@ He finished, taking a
tentative bite. He chewed slowly, deliberately, analytically, and then swallowed.
AHmmmm......Northern style. Unusual, but a refreshing change of pace.@
AScrolls?@ Mangat asked, taking a silver flask from his coat pocket and
handing it to the old man. He eyed it suspiciously. ANorgrangthar Cider@
Mangat reassured him.
AHmmmm......you may have been a rogue in your youth, Mangat, but you
may become a gentleman yet!@ Zuthfu replied, opening the flask and sniffing
heartily. He then took a generous swig. AAncient scrolls found among some ruins
in the Wild Lands, between Borkulete and Nhroma.@

Mangat continued his journey, spurred on by an intensifying curiosity. As
he neared his destination, he came upon the village of Feshmem. Several
caricatures of farmers, animals, and funny faces, all carved out of pine, greeted
him. It was a clean, modest place, with small wooden shacks among green grass
and trees. There was a croaking in the distance, but that was all; the birds were
silent. As Mangat rode on, he noticed that one of the houses had been
abandoned recently. The door swung back and forth in the breeze and field mice
could be seen running in and out. As he continued, he noticed small black weeds


26
here and there among the grass and flowers.
At the center of the village, there was a deep well. It was surrounded by a
circular wall of stone and had a slanted wooden roof over it. Carved out of the
top of the roof was a charming scene of children carrying pails of water. The
community barn had chickens, pigs, sheep, horses, and cows carved out of its roof.
Ears of corn, heads of lettuce, and stalks of grain were carved out of the sides of
the barn. As he was taking in the ambiance of this quaint little place, he noticed
two more abandoned houses. He hitched his horse to the well and went to
investigate.
AHello? Is anyone home?@ He called, knocking on the door. He opened
the door a little wider and peered in. Everything seemed normal. Almost. A
painting of a man and wife hung in a corner. Next to that, a curtain flapped in
the wind. Drawers and cabinet doors were closed. The bed was made.
However, upon closer inspection, a chair was sitting three feet away from the
modest oaken table, as if some one had gotten up and forgotten to put the chair
back to its rightful place. Mangat walked closer and noticed shards of clay next
to the table. A crude iron fork was nestled next to the wall.
A sudden Aclang!@ came from behind him. He stood up and turned
around, heart racing. A field mouse ran out the door. He noticed a can on the
floor. Mangat breathed a sigh of relief.
AHe=s not here.@ A voice came from the doorway. Mangat jumped. AI=m
sorry, I didn=t mean to startle you. Cevex disappeared a week ago. We don=t
know if he=s coming back. My name is Ioldor.@ The man said, shaking Mangat=s
hand. He was a short, chubby man, with brown hair and a soft voice.
AI am Mangat. I came to look at the mine, but this house, as well as some
others, caught my attention.@
AThose other two abandoned houses belonged to the unfortunate souls who
ventured below Orthar=s vein.@
AYes, I had heard that they had some scrolls with them. A pity, truly a
shame what happened.@ Mangat=s sorrowful words seemed to fit in perfectly with
the quiet, hollow atmosphere inside the abandoned home.
AYou=re right about that, they never should have gone in. There were
rumors the mine was haunted, but they thought that was nonsense. Now look
what happened to them.@
AI was wondering; if it=s not too much trouble, would I be able to see those
scrolls?@
ASorry, they were lost somewhere in the mine during all the horror and
confusion. You=re welcome to look around if you want, but I don=t think you will
get very far.@ Ioldor looked towards the Bronze Gut Mountains looming in the
distance. His words seemed to fall upon the ground like rocks.
Continuing on through the tiny hamlet, Mangat noticed yet another
abandoned house. This one had a broken window. Inside, it looked as if several


27
pieces of furniture had been tipped over. Was it his imagination, or were there
red stains on the floor? He rode closer and got off of his horse. The house
looked as if it had been ransacked. Blood was on the floor. What was going on?
As Mangat left the village and neared the mine, the croaking sound became
louder and louder, threatening to drown out his own thoughts. When he came
upon a marsh, the croaking sound was as loud as a thousand drums. From the
east, he could see a large swarm of black and yellow things moving toward him.
He watched in astonishment as thousands upon thousands of moon frogs hopped
toward him. The normally nocturnal creatures, with their black bodies and
yellow splotches, steadily hopped along like refugees fleeing a catastrophe. They
were in such a frenzy that some even jumped over Mangat=s head as he was sitting
on his horse. Now Mangat wanted to see the mine more than ever.
Near the entrance to the mine, he spied a huge, undulating carpet moving
outward. It was one half of a mile wide and made a deafening buzzing, whirring,
and chirping sound. As it came closer, Mangat could see millions upon millions
of beetles, centipedes, ants, spiders, and grubs marching forth. Mangat lost his
courage and fled as fast as his horse would carry him.













28
The Breaking Shell

Chapter 5 - Where did the mist go?

After only 2 weeks, Wisayael had let Inwan go home for three days. She
still wanted him to have a sense of connection to his home even as she broadened
his vision. As he walked home, he fingered the Copper Coin that he had earned
for his service.
When he arrived, the first thing he did was to check the community barn.
Was the wolf back? He dared not ask his father, for fear he would reveal his
failure several weeks earlier. As Inwan strolled through the barn that night, he
made sure all the chickens were where they were supposed to be. He stopped
and crouched down as he noticed one of the eggs hatching. It took a good five
minutes and when the chick finally emerged from its shell, he whispered:
AWelcome to the world!@ The newborn received a more raucous greeting from its
neighbors, as its birth had caused confusion among the flock. Inwan thought of
what Wisayael had said about Haru=Caban.
Suddenly, he heard something stirring in a corner; he saw nothing but
shadows. As he slowly walked over to the spot that caught his interest, he
noticed a hole in the ground, allowing passage under the timbers of the wall. It
looked like it had taken several days, or perhaps several weeks to make the hole.
Inwan admired such dedication and persistence. A moment later, he heard the
flapping of wings and saw something white fly out of the barn. At this, Inwan left
and headed toward his home.
On the way there, he passed Georn, one of his fellow villagers. He seemed
to be in a foul mood, which was unusual for him. He was the most carefree
person in the village. To say that he was child-like was not much of an
exaggeration. He was only a few inches taller than Inwan and always wore an
expression of innocence mixed with simple joy.
AGood evening Sir.@ Inwan timidly offered.
AIt is most certainly not!@ Was Georn=s reply. He didn=t even look at the
boy, but kept on walking quickly towards his home.

The next morning, Inwan mentioned the incident to his mother and she told
him that Georn had lost his horse.
AI don=t think he found it.@ He turned his omelet over to see if the bottom
had burned. His eyes reflected the uneasiness he had felt on meeting Georn last
night.
ADon=t be such a fussy eater!@ His mother=s reply seemed to slice through


29
the air and clatter on the floor like copper utensils. Cyriah=s voice softened as she
tousled her son=s hair. AI=m sure Georn=s horse will turn up sooner or later.@
Inwan realized that his breakfast was the only thing that was standing
between him and a day full of fun and romping about; he began to steadily devour
the omelet on his plate.
ACould you go out to the fields and search for my ring, dear? I haven=t
seen it since the harvest and I have a lot to do here.@
AYes mother.@ His mumbled words came out between mouthfuls. He
dutifully ate his eggs - actually, he liked them better when the bottom was a little
singed; he thought they had more character that way.
The sun was just about to rise as Inwan entered the field. The dew on the
grass chilled his ankles. Inwan could smell preparations for breakfast coming
from the village. He looked at the eastern forest. The mist was gone. A chill
went down his spine as he looked around, wondering if he would see the mist, but
it was not to be found. After searching for about an hour, he completed his task.

AMother! I found the ring!@
AThank you dearest!@ Cyriah replied smiling as she came in from the back
yard.
AHave you noticed anything strange about the eastern forest?@ Inwan was
hoping that he was not the only one who had noticed the recent change.
ANot really dear.@ His mother washed off the ring and put it on. AI=m sure
everything is as it always has been@.
ACyriah? Are you home?@ It was Kithmana, Georn=s wife. She was
standing at the door with a worried look on her face.
ACome in, come in...how can I help?@ Cyriah=s voice was warm and
inviting, like a plate of fresh cookies.
AIt=s Georn, his jaw hurts badly. Do you have any herbs?@ Kithmana was
trying as well as she could to hide her worries, but they seemed to seep out
between her words.
AInwan, go to the red cupboard in the cellar and get the white jar.@
AYou are most kind.@ Kithmana seemed to relax somewhat.
ADid he fall while looking for the horse?@ Cyriah asked as the two women
sat down at the kitchen table.
AHe didn=t tell me that he fell and there are no cuts or bruises on his face.@
She paused a moment, and then looked out the window and said quietly AI=m
worried.@
AI=m sure everything will be fine.@ Cyriah squeezed Kithmana=s hand. Now
she was beginning to worry. However, she put her concerns aside and tended to
her guest.

Inwan walked down the stone stairs to the cellar. The walls of the


30
descending staircase were lined with wood with a thin coat of white paint. At the
entrance to the cellar, he opened a wooden door, also painted white. He used the
candle he was holding to light two candles by the door, each one sitting atop a
braided iron column. The candles provided an eerie flickering light, which made
the shadows dance against the cold granite walls. The walls themselves were
lined with various trunks, chests and cupboards. The damp air filled his nostrils
and seemed to caress his skin. A red salamander with yellow and black spots
scurried across the floor and over his feet. The soft earth beneath his feet and
rocky walls seemed to suck up any sounds that dared enter the gloomy basement.
He cautiously walked across the cellar to the antique wooden cupboard that his
mother loved so much. It which was painted red with white trim and had many
drawers of different sizes and shapes. He gently turned the delicate tin handle
(which was loose) on the upper left door. A pungent, musty odor seemed to leap
out at him, but he wasnt surprised. He searched among the myriad tins, bottles,
and jars. As he was looking through the cupboard, he could hear muffled singing
in the distance.
AHey Ho!@ A chorus of voices rang out to the clanking of metal.
Inwan was so startled that he almost dropped the candle. He looked
around for several moments, wondering where the sound came from.
AInwan,@ his mother called down, Adid you find the jar?@
AYes mother!@ He called back and raced up the stairs with the jar in his
hand.

The next morning as Inwan was helping his father in the back yard, he
heard arguing in the distance. It was Georn and Kithmana, that much he could
tell.
A few minutes later, Georn showed up at their front door, knocking angrily.
AVunfael! Are you there! Come out!@
AI=m coming.@ Vunfael called back as he made his way to the front door.
This tone was not like Georn at all, and Vunfael thought it wise to keep a calm
demeanor. He strode confidently across the living room like a bear protecting
his territory.
AI need more herbs.@ Georn growled as he rubbed his jaw. Both sides of
his face appeared slightly swollen.
AI will be right back, make yourself at home.@ Vunfael politely responded.
Georn would not budge, but stayed in the doorway. As Vunfael went to get more
herbs, he realized that Georn seemed a few inches taller.
AIs this all?@ Georn said, his voice rising in anger. By this time, Inwan=s
curiosity had led him into the house. Vunfael subtly waved him back with his
hand, while still keeping eye contact with Georn.
AWe were just about to pick more herbs out of the garden in the backyard;
can I bring some to your home this afternoon?@ Vunfael studied Georn=s eyes.
It was as if something primal were stirring in his soul.


31

Georn went back to his house where he found Kithmana sweeping the
kitchen floor. When she heard him come in, she looked up, startled. She put
the broom away and brushed the hair from her face, revealing a black eye. Georn
had never hit her before, so this morning=s blow was truly a shock.
ADid you get what you needed, dearest?@ Her voice trembled slightly as she
took a step towards the back door.
AFor now.@ He replied, smelling the herbs and grunting.
AI=m sure Wisayael can help, she has many exotic spices that can soothe any
pain.@ She regained control over her quivering feelings, but took another step
toward the door.
ANo! She cannot help...I...I don=t need anyone=s help. It=s just that Orab
is hungry... it has been so long.@ Georn said, his voice softening.
AOrab?@ Kithmana was hopeful that this was a clue to her husband=s
salvation. She stopped her slow retreat out of the house.
AHe was betrayed...banished....long ago.@ Tears welled in his eyes.
AWisayael, I am sure, would be able to help Orab. Let me fetch her.@
Kithmana wrapped her words in love and hope.
ANo! She will betray him! She and all her kind have always hated Orab!@
His voice seemed to echo slightly - as if a second something deep down inside him
was talking at the same time he was. AYou will not leave this house! Go down to
the basement and see if we have anything else to eat.@ Georn growled ominously.

Later that afternoon, Vunfael, accompanied by his neighbor Taxin, went to
Georn=s house. They found him sitting at his table, hunched over. Food was
strewn all over the kitchen and a small vase was lying broken on the floor.
AWe have more herbs, Georn.@ Vunfael said, knocking on the open door.
Georn remained silent for a few moments and then slowly rose from the table.
AGive...give me...the herbs.@ There seemed to be a slight squeal to his tone
and the words came out after much effort. As Georn approached, a slight odor
seemed to proceed him. The scent was hard to recognize, but reminded Taxin of
the lonely, haunted places he had been warned about as a child. Vunfael tried not
to stare, but it almost appeared as if Georn had grown an inch or two since he saw
him that morning.
AHere they are my friend.@ Vunfael handed Georn a small sack . Whilst
he did so, his other hand tightened around a pitchfork that was leaning on the
outside of the house, just out of Georn=s view. Taxin had concealed a pitchfork
on the other side of the open door; his grip likewise tightened.
AThat=s all?!@ Georn yelled as he stared into the bag. Before Vunfael could
react, Georn had lifted him off the ground with one hand. He held Vunfael there
for a moment or two and then threw him back about four feet and went growling
into the house.



32
The next afternoon, Kithmana was discovered lying on the floor of her
house. The cottage looked like several wild beasts had desecrated it.
A search was made for Georn, but he was not found. Blood stained
footprints were discovered leading into the eastern forest - everyone hoped that
they would never see those footprints again.



















33
The Breaking Shell

Chapter 6 - The Wild Lands

Mangat woke up early and saddled his horse for the coming journey. It
would not be pleasant at all, but he would make the best of it. As he walked up
to the stable, Eneshoulan , recognizing its master=s foot steps, neighed excitedly.
Mangat petted his steed affectionately and the creature soaked up the attention.
AYou seem to enjoy that Symandar barley that is so expensive don=t you?@
Mangat mused, petting his horse=s muzzle while looking at the empty feed bucket.
AOnly the best for one so true and faithful.@ He stroked the horse gently on its
side. Eneshoulan responded by pawing the ground impatiently. Then they left
home while it was still dark and rode south.
He rode on through small villages with tidy houses and orderly fields.
Here and there, he could see a candle in the window of a cozy stone cottage. In
the distance roosters heralded the daylight and farm animals began their morning
routine. Ahead, the country road curved and gently undulated. After turning a
sharp bend in the road, the landscape took on a different appearance. The lush
green countryside seemed to be cloaked in a terrible, aching loneliness, as if
something was missing. The cheery homes and neatly trimmed fields were now
behind him.
After about an hour, the countryside changed in an almost subtle way. The
path faded into an ever thickening carpet of grass and weeds. There were fewer
and fewer wild flowers as he rode on. There also seemed to be more briars,
thistle bushes, and nettles. He knew he had crossed into the Awild lands@, a place
where mythology and the unknown seemed to hold sway over everything.
The most unpleasant thing was the stench. It huddled around the traveler
like a begger. There was no path here, only mementos from ruined lives and
failed dreams. Crumbling houses and broken wagons were scattered over the
almost endless ruins. Skeletal hands still clung to plows or swords. A skull
looked on, half buried in a pile of broken pottery, dilapidated furniture, and
weathered papers. And then there were the noises. Sharp Abangs!@ of old doors
pushed by the winds or the unexpected Acrash!@ of a clay jar as it fell punctuated
the unnatural silence and kept one=s nerves unsettled.
All this kept the foolish traveler motivated to pass through these untamed,
forgotten lands as quickly as possible. And, if the ground beneath them
cooperated, then it was a very quick journey indeed. More often than not,
however, there were large, deep lakes of thick, gooey mud, adorned with blotches
of foul lichen and moss. There were also large sink holes and pits, which were


34
cleverly hidden by the unruly grass. All of these obstacles made the journey very
long and very dangerous.

When he entered the kingdom of Kel-Tress, he felt a little more at ease.
While crossing the country, he stopped at several inns along the way to greet
merchants that he knew. He not only traded items, but also news of the local
countryside.
He made a point of stopping at his favorite inn, the Red Rock. As its name
implied, it had a large, reddish stone outside the door, sitting on one side of the
covered porch. The inn itself was situated in a wooded area with a small
waterfall behind it. Candles in expensive brass candle holders glowed in the
front windows. It was a two storey inn, made out of expertly crafted oak and
pine boards. The smell of fine foods met the wayfarer before he or she could
dismount from their horse. A well manicured stone path guided visitors to the
front entrance, which featured a large oaken door adorned marble.
AMangat!@ Everyone shouted as he walked through the doors.
AHellooooo good folk!@ Mangat replied, his voice resembling the exuberant
waterfall outside. He was shown to a table in back (one of his favorites) where a
leather bound menu was waiting.
His meal was personally brought out by Oogoolat, the owner. He was a
short, stocky, happy man with black hair and a long mustache. He had yellow
eyes that reminded one of gold doubloons shining in a torch lit cave.
AFried Codfish, extra pickles, and mashed potatoes with garlic and onion
sauce!@ Oogoolat announced cheerily.
AOogie, you know how to spoil a man!@ Mangat replied with a broad smile.
He tossed him \2 Ivory coins. When Oogoolat had put those away, Mangat
tossed him ]3 more Copper coins.
AWhat are these for?@
AMy horse=s burden is too heavy. You don=t mind lightening his load a
little?@ Mangat winked.
ANot at all, not at all.@ Oogoolat winked back. ASo, tell me the latest news
from abroad.@
AI=m sure you=ve heard about the commotion in Photthar - the shake up
between the king=s grandson and the prime minister.@ Mangat began between
mouthfuls of fish.
AShake up? I thought that was resolved peacefully.@ Oogoolat=s eyes
widened with surprise and curiosity.
AThat, my friend, is what they want you to believe.@ Mangat pointed his
fork authoritatively at Oogoolat. His voice then died down to a discreet whisper.
AMy sources inside the government said that the prime minister had to write an
apology not only to the king=s grandson, but also to the queen.@
AWhy now that=s a shame, to humiliate someone over such a small thing. I


35
have long thought that the royal family still had too much influence over that
country.@
AThey aren=t as influential as in times past, but they still can muster some
political muscle when they feel the need. Now, your turn, what news has come
through this fine establishment?@ Mangat asked, offering Oogoolat a bite of his
fish.
AWell, I know you will be fascinated by this little tidbit.@ Oogoolat=s words
excitedly bubbled up as he accepted Mangat=s offer. AThe borders of Nazalquatat
have been sealed.@
AThat happens all the time. That=s a routine state of affairs for one of the
dark realms.@
AThis time they aren=t only keeping folks out, they are keeping people in!@
AThat=s an unusual development. Does anyone know why?@ Mangat
frowned, sipping on the wine he had been so generously provided with.
AMy sources say that king Exthrem is being extra zealous in this year=s draft.
He doesn=t want the young men running off. They say that he=s even drafting the
young women into the army.@
AYou never know what Exthrem is thinking....how frightening.@ Mangat
poured some wine into Oogoolat=s glass. He then kissed the cork for good luck
(as was the custom in The Lands of The West) and put it in Oogoolat=s front
pocket.
AHave you heard about the Asparagus Rebellion in Ifishix?@ Oogoolat=s
words gushed out of him. He waived a waiter over. The young lad came over
and set down a plate of hollow colorful sticks; the sticks were red, green, yellow,
and blue; each had white stripes. The center of each stick was filled with what
could only be described as a combination of sauerkraut, peanut butter, horse
raddish, and thick whip cream.
AI thought they had given up on the asparagus crops up there. From what
Wisayael told me, asparagus can=t be grown north of Oeshaili.@ Mangat said,
surveying the colorful sticks. He finally picked out a green stick and bit into it.
He smiled as he savored the unusual filling.
AWell, everyone knows that except - A Oogoolat waited for Mangat to
provide the answer.
AThe Imperial Congress. Honestly why didn=t those people just choose a
king?@ Mangat spat the words out as if they were bitter herbs.
AIn a country where everyone wants to be king, congress flourishes.@ The
words were Thamren=s, a famous Seventh Dynasty philosopher, but Oogoolat
spoke them as if they were his own.
AThese Idsutging Sticks are better than usual - my compliments to the chef!@
AYou are too kind my friend. How about the exotic lands to the East?
Any news from there?@ Oogoolat could barely contain his excitement. To him
anywhere east of Oeshaili was mysterious and beautiful. While waiting for an
answer, he sipped some wine and picked up a red stick.


36
AThe realm of Slunarkien has been exploring the wild lands surrounding it.
Nothing on a grand scale, but they are looking to annex a few square thousand
miles to the south.@ Mangat replied, finishing the last bite of his stick.
AReally now? The wild lands - those cursed places between civilization.
Taming them isn=t for the faint of heart.@
ATrust me, Oogie, Slunarians are not faint of heart.@ Mangat quipped. A
shiver ran down his spine as an unpleasant memory came back to him. AOn that
note, I think I will retire for the night.@
AYour accommodations have already been prepared.@ Oogoolat smiled
warmly.
AOogie, you are a true master of hospitality!@

Mangat was able to secure his favorite room (the one that overlooked the
waterfall) for his overnight stay. As he opened the door, he thought about his
conversation with Oogoolat - entertaining, lively, and informative. However, he
did not get any additional information about the mysterious Aitem number 3".
The room itself was spacious, with panels of cherry wood and fine furniture.
Long crimson curtains framed a large picture window. There was a large
fireplace with logs ready to be ignited. On a table near the fireplace there was not
only a pitcher of water, but also paper, pen, and an inkwell.
He went over to the night stand by the bed and lit a candle. He turned and
looked at the pillow. Instead of the usual mint, there was only a mint wrapper.
AIt would be best if you stayed there.@ A mysterious voice slithered out
from a shadowy corner of the room.
AWho are you?@ Mangat demanded.
AMangat, you ask the wrong questions. No wonder you are so - confused.@
AWhy are you here?@ Mangat asked.
AThat is a much better question. My associates are seeking a ring that is up
for auction. This ring is quite unusual, gold with an ebony band. There are also
some interesting characters on the inside of the ring.@
AWhy don=t you get it yourself?@ Mangat challenged, taking a step forward.
ANo, no.@ The voice gently chided. Mangat=s blood turned cold and he
stopped advancing. AWe prefer to remain anonymous for now. If you could
obtain the ring for us, you would be handsomely rewarded. To answer your next
question - if you don=t you will find life quite difficult and dangerous, as will
Wisayael and Inwan.@
AHow dare you threaten me! Do you know who I am?@
All of a sudden, a dagger flew out of the darkness, missing Mangat=s ear by a
half inch; it stuck in the wall behind him.
AConsider our offer. Carefully.@
Mangat pulled the dagger from the wall and examined it: it had a steel blade
and a bronze handle. There was an ebony jewel in the handle; surrounding that
were five smaller turquoise jewels. As he put the blade on the night stand,


37
Mangat wondered where the border between civilization and the wild lands really
was.

After a sleepless night, Mangat resumed his journey. He eventually
reached a point in which the path once again disappeared into untamed grass,
nettles, and briars. As he traveled deeper into the wild lands, he would still
occasionally come across a broken chair, the foundations of an abandoned home,
rotting wagon wheels, or even bones. These forlorn items seemed so faded and
weathered that one suspected that they might simply vanish before one=s eyes if
one was patient enough. Piles of rocks, skulls, and rusted weapons, known as
Ataboo markers@, alerted travelers that they were entering the Ahaunted places@.
Sometimes, as he was camping for the night, he would examine the sad artifacts
nearby and wonder who they belonged to.

One day, while still in this desolate countryside, he spied a group of knights
in the distance. They had no banner, so he didn=t know at first where they were
from. When they came closer, he noticed the royal emblem of the red dolphin,
the seal of the realm of Ohor. What were these knights doing so far north of their
native land? Ohor was one of the dark kingdoms and its knights rarely traveled
beyond their own borders.
AHello there travelers!@ Mangat called out.
AGood day.@ The leader of the group responded as he rode up to Mangat.
He and his companions were clad in chain mail and wore helms fashioned from
iron. Red tassels hung from their left shoulders. Each man had a long sword
by his side. Two knights in the rear of the formation had crossbows.
AHave you any news of the path ahead?@ Mangat politely asked.
AAye. It is clear all the way to Blacktooth.@ The leader replied, eyeing
Mangat warily. The other knights began to slowly form a circle around them.
The only sound was the thud of the horses= hooves upon the bleak moore.
AYou have been to Blacktooth? I thought that place was only for those who
loved dusty books and damp libraries, not courageous knights.@
AWe were gathering information for our king.@ The knight=s tone was terse
and secretive. His companions drew closer; Eneshoulan started to fidget
anxiously. Mangat petted him reassuringly.
AReally? Perhaps I can help. I have many friends scattered about and
they know many things.@ Mangat cordially negotiated. His voice was as smooth
as a warm vintage ale on a cold winter night. He could hear the swords being
drawn from their scabbards.
AOur king is preparing for an auction that is to take place in several months
and wants to know more about the antiquities that will be up for bidding. I
doubt that you can provide any information on such a matter rouge.@ Then the
knight and his group rode off.



38
The Breaking Shell

Chapter 7 - Blacktooth

After traveling one week, Mangat arrived in the Iquat Jungle, the heart of
the kingdom of Eauphixes . It was buzzing with all kinds of insect calls. They
seemed so loud and chaotic that it seemed to be some kind of frenzied, nonsense
debate. The sounds of exotic birds interrupted the dialogue at irregular
intervals; every once in a while, their colorful wings could be seen flashing in the
thick canopy.
The trail was well worn and occasionally marked by small ebony obelisks,
about 2 feet high. The markers warned travelers not to venture onto the many
side paths, which invariably led to washed out rope bridges or hidden robber-pits.
Low hanging, bright yellow vines with purple flowers occasionally barred the way.
Mangat would sneeze as he hacked at the pungent, foul smelling obstructions; the
blossoms smelled like rotting meat.
Even though it was still early in the morning, the temperature was already
above 90 degrees and the humidity was stifling. Mangat would have hurried if he
could, but the jungle, heat, and humidity were too much for him. He would have
to trudge along and hope his steed was faring better than he. Occasionally, he
looked back to see if he was being followed.
After what seemed to be weeks (but in fact was only several hours), he
arrived at a clearing with the jungle on one end and a huge gorge on the other.
The sound of a mighty river could be heard far below. Sitting almost at the edge
of the precipice was a black tower four miles tall and two miles across. The tower
was surrounded on three sides by a garden courtyard, the smell of which was a
welcome relief from the cursed vines that Mangat had to battle to get here. The
courtyard was protected by a wall five hundred feet high and two hundred feet
thick. On top of the wall were several smaller guard towers, each of which were
ninety feet high and forty-five feet across.
Mangat approached the main gate and rang the stone bell, which was about
100 feet high and fifty feet across. An inscription on the bell read:


Those who seek knowledge will never be found by ignorance

AWho is seeking?@ A voice called from the top of the gate. Mangat could
see a guard wearing what appeared to be yellow armor.


39
AMangat, of the Society of the Jade River!@ Mangat hollered back.
Although he was impressed with the size and scope of the tower, he really didn=t
appreciate having to shout at the top of his lungs just to gain entrance.
AThat Society is not recognized here.@ The answer that came from the wall
seemed like an echo from a far away canyon. Mangat sighed and hung his head
for a moment. He was promised that Blacktooth=s registry would be updated
after his treatise on onyx scarabs from the second dynasty. True, he had hurried
the work to submit it in time for the registry deadline, but he had only forgotten
one-cross reference out of the two hundred he had listed in the second appendix.
Anyways, this was his fourth submission to Blacktooth=s archives. Was the
council becoming that strict about its standards?
AWhat nonsense!@ He thought to himself. Then he remembered what
Ricoa had told him about the registry: the updated copy was not distributed until
after the council had celebrated the anniversary of Blacktooth=s founding, which
would take place tonight. He didn=t want to wait around for several hours, what
would he do?
One hour passed, then two. Mangat scoured his memory of his
conversations with Ricoa for some inside information that would allow him to
charm his way in.
All of a sudden, he heard a steady, low rumbling. The huge stone doors
were sliding back and a small party was walking out. Mangat=s pulse quickened
as he searched for a familiar face. Quatzitil! Quatzitil was Ricoa=s niece and
might be able to help with the current dilemma. She sauntered forth like a young
lioness preparing for a hunt.
AExcuse me! Miss!@ Mangat waved to Quatzitil, motioning her to come to
him.
AWhat can I do for you?@ Quatzitil answered in a no-nonsense fashion.
AAre you a relative of the great Ricoa?@ Mangat asked, looking into the
young woman=s eyes while rummaging around in his saddle bag.
ASave your baubles and charm for the foolish.@ came the cold reply. The
young lady brushed away the blond hair from her face and was about to move on.
APlease madam, it is a matter of utmost importance.@ Mangat=s voice
flowed like a gentle river.
AAs it always is with you wanderers.@
AI assure you madam, I am here to see Ricoa about something that interests
us both.@ Mangats words marched out authoritatively. As he said this, he
brushed the mane of his horse with his left hand. She briefly glimpsed his
Society Patriarch ring, which was silver with two small jade triangles. If charm
did not work, the issue of hierarchy would have to be brought up.
AForgive me, my lord.@ The young lass bowed low after seeing the ring.
APlease tell Ricoa that Mangat is here to see him. You will be rewarded for
your efforts.@ Mangat smiled warmly.



40
Several moments later, Ricoa briskly walked through the gate. He was a
tall man with red hair and a long beard and mustache. His white shirt had
several ink stains on it, and seemed to be missing a button on one of the cuffs.
He always had an air of being preoccupied with a dozen different things at the
same time.
ANo, no, no.@ Ricoa chided him before Mangat could speak. AI submitted
your paper on time and did not even take it out from its scroll tube.@
AThen who...?@
ANo, not who - don=t keep thinking badly of Surbat - I know that=s the first
name that comes in your mind. It was a matter of what. There was a bad storm
and some water leaked into the outer archives where this year=s submissions were
held. Your paper was slightly - only slightly damaged. I re-wrote the last part
myself, based on what I could decipher from the smudges. It is being added now
as a last minute addition, that=s why the guards didn=t recognize you.@
AMy friend, I am sorry to be so irritable, but something is weighing heavily
on my mind.@ Mangat=s tone took on a dark hue.
AA good bean will lighten your heart!@ Ricoa said, smiling as he pulled out a
blue bean from his pouch. It had small yellow hairs on it, as if it had been sitting
in a dark, damp place for some time. He popped it in his mouth, chewed once or
twice, then sucked on the bean, and then started chewing again.
AHow can you partake of those things before nightfall?@ Mangat asked him
as they went through the gate.

Later that evening, Mangat and Ricoa sat in the eastern wing of the
sprawling 300 acre garden-courtyard. The fluorescent algae that clung to parts
of the main tower gave Blacktooth a faint, eerie red aura. Ricoa was wearing a
light green Phixarian Shirt: the cuffs of this shirt went from his wrist to his elbow
and each cuff was fastened by three golden cufflinks. This shirt sported a stiff,
upturned collar. He had chosen to wear white pants to compliment his green
shirt. Before they could actually sit at their favorite table, Ricoa had to clear
away a large spider web from one of the seats. This was not appreciated by the
spider who created the web; it raised its two front legs in a gesture of defiance and
anger, then decided to flee. Once the usurper had been banished, the two men
sat down and took in the beauty of the garden.
This unique floral sanctuary was populated by willow trees only, no other
types of tree were allowed. However, there were seventeen different varieties of
lilies throughout the garden. A large turquoise fountain, fifty feet high and
twenty-five feet across adorned the center. The two moons, Nibat and K=Posh
were doing their annual courtship dance in the sky. Nibat, smaller with a pale
yellow complexion, appeared high in the starry host. K=Posh, larger with his
deep red face, was rising to meet her. The Dragon=s Thread was strung across the
horizon like a silver thread.
ADid Wisayael appreciate the seeds?@ Ricoa=s question seemed to float


41
innocently on the cool air. He kept his eyes squarely on his task: sifting
through his beans on the stone table. There were blue ones, yellow ones, and
white ones.
AVery much.@ Mangat studied Ricoa=s task for a moment. AI will never
quite understand this...ritual@.
AThat=s because you are not a true connoisseur my friend.@ Ricoa replied
without looking up.
AWill the council grant me access to the lower archives?@ Mangat looked up
at the two moons. Rhymes from childhood briefly danced in the back of his mind
before being chased away by his current troubles.
AYou know they won=t. They didn=t share your alarm at the recent
happenings. They have been aware of them but do not seem to be as concerned
about Haru=Caban as you are.@ Ricoa looked up at Mangat and leaned his face
against his hand.
AThat=s because they live here - behind all this stone and their unbending,
ancient, regulations.@ Mangat angrily waved his hands at the distant walls. AI
have long thought that the council members need to take sabbaticals and live in
the outside world.@
Just then, a figure dressed in a white robe approached them. He was
short, heavy set, and bald. He wore a gold earing on his left ear and walked with
a slight limp. His smile grew bigger as he approached the two men. Mangat
jumped up from the table, almost knocking it over, and greeted him.
AThune! I thought you had been appointed as head of Ivory Gate
University. It is so good to see you!@ Mangat hugged him warmly and
remembered the many times Thune had argued for him when he had submitted
papers to the council.
AI discovered I no longer had patience for youth. Sometimes, I had no
patience for teaching. I just arrived two weeks ago.@ Thune replied, taking a
white bean from Ricoa=s pile. His voice rang out like the gentle melody of a
copper wind chime. As he pulled back the hood of his robe, his gold Society
Patriarch ring flashed in the moonlight. AI have heard why you have come and I
will go into the lower archives tomorrow morning - and you will accompany me.@
AThen the Jade River has been accepted in Blacktooth?@ Mangat asked,
not believing that this time would finally come.
AOf course, my friend. All that was needed was a little muscle - some
pushing here, some shoving there. You know how heavy regulations can be.@
The old man winked and pulled out his pipe.
They retired for the night, walking down the grand spacious halls of the
academic citadel. Though protected from the elements outside, some of the walls
felt slightly damp and cool, as if they were drawing water from the nearby river
right into their core. Above them, black tiles covered the ceiling. Each tile had
concentric circles molded into it, so that when one looked up, it appeared that one
was looking down upon a dark lake being pelted by rain.


42
They stopped at a side hall. It was dimly lit by several candles and had
cobwebs clinging to the ceiling. At the end of the long, dreary passage was a
heavy wooden door framed by a dark green tapestry.
AYou really aren=t -A Ricoa began, looking at the door at the end of the hall.
AYes, yes I really am.@ Mangat=s voice had a certain smug tone to it.
AWhy do you insist on spending the night - in there?@ Ricoa said in a low
tone, as if he was speaking of a taboo subject.
AWhy not?@
AIf you had spent more time with your classmates, instead of traipsing
around the countryside, you would have numerous reasons why not.@ Ricoa
lectured sternly.
AYou don=t really still believe all those stories - do you?@ Mangat
punctuated his question by lunging forward with a devilish look in his eyes.
AYou never heard them - not one! And, being your dear friend, I never
wanted to frighten you they way we had all been.@
AI will give your regards to the >green lady=.@ Mangat turned and slowly
walked down the hall, hoping that Ricoa was dreading every step.
AMangat! Mangat!@ Ricoa harshly whispered, hoping that no one would
hear him. ASomeday you will have your own tale to tell my friend, and it will
haunt you for the rest of your days.@ Ricoa thought to himself.
The door to the AGreen Room@ was slightly ajar. The doorknob, as all the
doorknobs in Blacktooth was at eye level with Mangat. He put his hand upon it
and relished the feeling of cold metal under his fingers. He smiled to himself
slightly when he remembered his first visit here as a young child, standing on tip
toe, all the doorknobs just out of reach. Mangat slowly pushed the door open.
AHello?@ The only answer to his greeting was a low moaning. The sound
seemed to rise and fall. It sounded as if someone was trying to sing a lament
while slowly dying. Mangat lit several candles and the green tapestry could
barely be seen in the murky room. Suddenly, one of the curtains flew forward -
was some one or something hiding, waiting for the next naive guest?
AAhhhh....good evening madam.@ Mangat chuckled to himself. AWhat
shall it be tonight? Nupetep?@ He walked over to the bookcase against the wall
and perused the tomes. AYou=ve read that one many times before, it must be
getting quite dull.@ The moaning sound became angrier, increasing in pitch, till it
sounded like a terrible scream. AThree Roses Under The Moon. Yes, that
should do the trick quite nicely. We all need a bit of humor now and then to
brighten our spirit.@ Taking the book from the shelf, Mangat walked over to the
curtain that had seemingly leapt out. Unexpectedly, it surged forth again.
AAha! A contest to the death tonight? Then prepare yourself for Mangat,
the Master of the Silver Blade!@ Mangat jumped back and waved his imaginary
sword this way and that. Then, pulling the curtain aside, he put the book in a
small hole in the wall near the floor. The moaning, screaming >voice= was
silenced.


43
AGood night madam. Pleasant reading - and pleasant dreams.@ Mangat
chuckled to himself. As he looked out the window at the garden below, he
wished all of his problems could be as easily dismissed as this one.
The next day, Mangat was awakened by his former mentor, who rapped his
walking stick sharply on the foot of his bed.
AYoung Master Mangat! It is time for the research to begin!@ Thune
announced in mocking solemnity; his voice sounded like a hammer hitting an
anvil.
AYes teacher!@ Mangat replied, out of years of habit. He got up and
rushed to get dressed.
ASuch a late riser! I didn=t know how you could learn so much at Ivory
while sleeping half the day. Then,@ he smiled slyly, AI discovered you had been
tutored.@
AWisayael never, ever, stepped foot on the grounds, Master, I swear.@
Mangat blurted out, blushing.
AI believe you. I saw you leave the grounds once or twice.@ Thune then
slowly turned around and walked out the door, smiling to himself.

The lower archives were several hundred feet below ground, accessible only
by a small, dimly lit, spiral staircase. Moss and lichen adorned the walls and
every once in a while water dripped from a stalactite above. At the bottom of the
staircase, a bronze door was guarded by a gentleman wearing yellow armor. He
was holding a spear with a bronze shaft and an ebony spearhead. After Thune
had given the proper papers to the man, the door was opened.
The library of the lower archives had been abandoned for several years now,
much to Thune=s disdain. He viewed this place as the foundation of Blacktooth=s
paradigm and vitality.
ASo, no name - just >Item number three=?@ Thune said as they made their
way to the north east corner of the library.
AIt is a mystery, one that intrigues me.@ Mangat=s voice splashed against the
cold stone walls.
After several hours of research, examination of the clues, and erudite
debate, they found a scroll that seemed promising. It was a Third Dynasty
account of a pre-dynasty folktale.
AI didn=t know that the lower archives had scrolls from the Third Dynasty,
this must be four thousand years old!@ Mangat whispered in wonder.
AThere are scrolls from the Second Dynasty in this library Young Master
Mangat.@ Thune looked over his former pupil=s shoulder; Mangat could feel
Thunes warm breath upon his neck.
AReally? I thought most everything before the Third Dynasty was lost. I
will have to return once the present troubles have been dealt with.
ARead the fifth paragraph.@ Thune instructed, his brow furrowed.



44
Two bitter enemies,
Rising above the barbaric hordes.
Both turned from death=s door,
Each one bound,
Never to be found,
Circling round forevermore.

As Mangat examined the intricate lettering on the paper, Thune went to a
shelf and brought out a scroll and started to examine it. After muttering to
himself about geography and dates, he instructed Mangat to read aloud the third
paragraph.

Thrashe torn from his throne,
Steel upon bone,
Justice overthrown,
The Dark Seed has been sown.

AHmmm.....I am surprised by the contradictions between these texts.@
Thune mused aloud.
AContradictions?@
AYou would have noticed them too if you had spent more time studying
history and less time studying metalworking!@ Thune teased while playfully
poking him. AThrashe was the last barbarian king.@ After a pause, he added:
ADress warmly, you must go to Vasha=s Spear.@









45
The Breaking Shell

Chapter 8 - Terror in the Night

AEveryone please have a seat, there should be a place for everyone to sit.@
Kaetar said, guiding people through the door of his home. His home was the
biggest in Sanfir, with a living room twice as big as the one in Inwan=s home. The
smell of soup and warm bread came from the large kitchen. Nimit, Kaetar=s wife,
could be heard with some other women, talking and preparing a large Olmna day
meal (what better way to celebrate the end of a long week?). A fire was roaring in
the spacious stone fireplace to keep away the cold night air. The home was
befitting a village elder, with paintings and other relics (some donated by Mangat)
adorning the living room. A large beautiful rug lay in the center of the room,
which was lit by several silver candelabra. The sound of rain upon the windows
and roof made a constant Atat-tata-tat-tat!@ sound, like war drums signaling the
approach of a great army. The wind howled and moaned as it wrestled with the
trees and the ominous rumble of thunder seemed to herald something - not quite
pleasant.
After everyone had been seated and the soup and bread had been
distributed, Kaetar got up in front of the crowd. He was a short, thin man with
long white hair and a monocle. He put a little tobacco and a pinch of jussup root in
his long ivory pipe (which was studded with jade and turquoise stones).
AI have no news to report of the murderer or of Georn=s fate.@ He began,
pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace, head bowed low. ABut, we must go
forth in the midst of our ignorance.@ He continued, stopping at the left edge of the
fireplace.
AWhere, exactly, are we going?@ asked Hetteph, a young farmer. His voice
was low and sounded like potatoes rumbling around in a wooden barrel.
AThat is why we are here tonight.@ Kaetar replied, taking his pipe out of his
mouth and pointing it at him. AThere are several suggestions which must be
voted upon by this assembly. His eyes scanned the crowd quickly to see if they
agreed with his concept of Aassembly@ or if they just thought of themselves as
farmers who lived next to each other.
AThe first item up for discussion is the building of a moat around the
village.@ Kaetar started to pace. AObjections, concerns, questions, anyone?@
His voice seemed to pop up out of nowhere like bubbles on a lake. As the last
word drifted out, he stopped at the right side of the fireplace.
AHow long will it take to build this moat?@ Vunfael asked.
AGood question.@ The old man quipped, puffing on his pipe. AThe proposed


46
measurements for the moat are twenty feet wide and twenty feet deep.@ Kaetar
paused, taking a slow, long draw on the pipe, rubbing the bowl with his thumb for
a moment. AIf we have a company of seven men working ten hours, it should only
take about one month.@ He concluded, taking the pipe out of his mouth and
pointing it in Vunfael=s direction.
AWe would have to start quickly, before the ground freezes.@ Hetteph
added.
ADo we have enough shovels for seven men?@ Asked Loshan. Loshan was
a tall farmer with a raspy voice. His thin, grey, whispy hair was tied neatly in a
ponytail for the auspicious meeting.
AWe could borrow some from a nearby village - Gappiur perhaps.@ Cyriah
spoke up.
AWhat is to prevent someone from using a wooden plank to cross the moat?@
O=Parzshuk asked. He was short and round, but pleasant. His voice was warm
yet sharp at times; it reminded one of a crackling fire.
AThe moat would have to be patrolled.@ Hetteph observed.
AWhich brings me to our second proposal.@ Kaetar interjected, beginning
his pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. This time he stopped on the
left side. AIt has been proposed that a small army be either formed out of the
young men of the village or that we ask King Noratar for soldiers. He has already
provided two - gentlemen if you would step forward.@ He motioned with his pipe
to two men in the back of the room. They stepped forward, clad in chain mail
and holding their helmets. One soldier had a sword on his side, the other held a
great axe.
AI am Zu-Tan.@ Said the soldier with the sword. He was a large man, well
over six feet tall. He had a fair complexion and blonde hair that fell to his
shoulders.
AI am L=Ronph.@ Said the other soldier. He was shorter, about five feet
and seven inches, but he had broad shoulders and muscular arms. He had short
black hair, a dark complexion, and a neatly trimmed mustache and beard. His
voice sounded like the rumbling of thunder in the distant hills.
AFor now, Zu-Tan and L=Ronph will patrol the village at night@. Kaetar
announced, indicating that the two could sit again.
AHow much is this costing the village?@ Hetteph=s voice was quiet, yet laced
with skepticism.
AThe king would usually charge \ 1 Ivory coin per soldier, but I have called
in a favor or two and it will only cost us only ]7 Copper Coins for each of these fine
gentlemen.@
AHow long would it take to train us as soldiers?@ Vunfael asked.
AGentlemen?@ Kaetar said, waving his pipe toward the two soldiers.
ATo reach our level of discipline would take well over a year. However, we
could teach the men here to hold a weapon and hold their ground in less than
three months.@ Zu-Tan replied, once again standing. AUnfortunately, King


47
Noratar cannot send any additional knights until next summer.@ He looked
around, trying to gage his audience=s reaction.
AWhich brings me to the final proposal.@ Kaetar carefully articulated this
last idea, not indulging himself with a walk in front of the fireplace this time. AIt
has been proposed that a wall be built around the village@.
AWhere would we get the stone for a wall?@ Cyriah=s question gently glided
out among the tiny congregation.
AKing Noratar could provide stone from his North Cliff Quarry in about four
months.@ Zu-Tan replied, remaining seated.
AIt seems that it would be best to start on the moat while we are waiting for
the king=s help.@ Vunfael said, rising to his feet.
AAny objections, concerns, questions, or debate?@ Kaetar asked puffing on
his pipe. After a moment of silence, he replied, AWe begin digging a moat
tomorrow!@
After everyone had left, Zu-Tan approached Kaetar.
AThe cost for our services is \ 1 Ivory, why did you say otherwise?@ Zu-Tan
frowned, not pleased with the idea of keeping a secret.
AMy friend, do not worry, not at all. I still might be able to reduce your
price by means of cunning negotiations.@ Kaetar winked.
AAnd if you cannot?@
AIf the villagers have to pay a few more Copper Coins than they know about,
no one will be the wiser.@ Kaetar said, guiding him out of his home.

The next morning, Vunfael, Hetteph, O=Parzshuk, and a few other men met
at the entrance to the village. The white peacocks, with their golden plumage,
were finishing their night time courtships. Their calls, Acluck, cluck, eeeeooopiii,
cluck!@ broke the morning silence. Inwan came running up with two shovels.
He handed one to his father and another to Hetteph. His eyes scanned the
horizon, hoping that he would see the mist and that everything would return to
normal.
AAre you cold?@ Vunfael asked his son.
ANo, not really. All that work finding the extra shovels and running here
has warmed my blood.@
AGood. Now run back home and....@ Vunfael was interrupted by a large
flock of birds, chirping excitedly and flying out of a nearby grove of trees.
Everyone turned toward the grove and listened. A faint grunting could be barely
heard. There was the sound of movement - it came closer. Whatever was out
there was slowly approaching. The men waited, gripping their shovels tightly;
Vunfael stepped in front of Inwan. All of a sudden, the noise stopped. All
present waited several minutes in silence to see what would come next, but the
creature that had caused the commotion must have left. The rest of the day was
uneventful.



48
That evening Vunfael and Cyriah were standing in their backyard garden.
Wrapped in their cloaks, they looked at the night sky. As Cyriah was surveying
the landscape, planning on how to plant next year=s garden, Vunfael approached
her. He put his hands on her shoulders and gently kissed her neck.
AWisayael must miss him by now. I am sure she must have a lot of work to
do to get ready for the winter.@ His voice was gentle and she could feel his warm
breath on the back of her neck.
ABut he has only been here for such a short time.@ Cyriah gently protested.
AI think he would be better off with her for a few days.@
AVun, you don=t really think the situation is that grave, do you?@ Her voice
softened as she reached the end of her sentence.
AIt might be.@ He replied as he left her side and looked up at the moons
dancing in the sky.
ADearest, I=m sure this is nothing to worry about - you=ll see.@ She said as
she gently took his hand in hers.
AI wish I could always be as hopeful as you, my love. This morning makes
me think differently though.@
AYou really think there are villains behind every tree, don=t you?@ She
blurted out coldly, withdrawing from him.
AI do believe the situation is dangerous for a child - for anyone.@ He
replied, putting his hands on her shoulders again.
AVery well, he will go to Wisayael tomorrow morning.@ Cyriah sighed.


AHow is everyone this fine morning?@ Vunfael greeted Hetteph. He tried
his best to have a note of cheer in his voice, but his foreboding seeped out between
his words.
AWe should get started, O=Parzshuk will join us later. He must be sleeping
in today.@ Hetteph replied picking up a shovel.
It was late morning and still there was no sign of O=Parzshuk. Vunfael
considered the fact that he had wanted to visit his sister for some time now.
Perhaps he left without letting the other villagers know where he was going.
After lunch, Vunfael went to O=Parzshuk=s home and knocked on the door.
His home was the smallest, but he had one of the bigger backyards. He couldn=t
look into the home because the shutters were closed, so he went to the back of the
house and looked for clues there. The wooden fence had been knocked down in
one area along the back of the yard. Several of the flower pots had been knocked
over and a bench was overturned.
It was decided that a search should be undertaken for O=Parzshuk. The
search party consisted of Hetteph, Kaetar, and Vunfael. Efforts on the moat were
re-doubled; eyes were directed to the surrounding forest with anxiety.
The search party set off to explore the western forest. It was cut in two by
a creek, which proceeded west for several miles and then turned north. The


49
forest itself was predominantly populated by pine trees. Here and there an oak
or maple tree rose high above the pines as if it were a parent watching over
children. The northern breeze carried along the scent of the pines and
occasionally knocked a pine cone to the ground.
AHmmmm........no footprints in the mud.@ Vunfael commented to the
others as much as to himself as he stooped to inspect the banks of the creek. As
he stood up and examined the area, he seemed like a bear trying to catch the scent
of its prey.
His eye caught something attached to a tree several yards away. While the
others were looking around for more clues, he went up to the tree and pulled a
weathered parchment off the rough bark. The picture was of a white cat
prowling in a forest of pine trees. There were three bonfires, at the left edge of
the picture. Green vines with dark blue stripes slithered along the bottom left of
the picture. The vines he recognized; they were abundant in the forests of
Yebfam, to north and east of Oeshaili. The rest of the drawing seemed utter
nonsense. He tucked it into his pocket and rejoined the group.
AWell then, let=s call this the border of our search area for now.@ Kaetar
instructed, surveying the landscape. He had left his pipe at home and brought
his oaken walking stick.
AGood.@ Hetteph replied, heading toward the west. He plowed straight
on, neither looking left nor right.
After heading east for a half mile, Vunfael found some blood on the ground.
They brought more of their neighbors to the spot and then explored that area
more thoroughly. After two hours, they found O=Parzshuk=s body. Some in the
group had never seen a body in such a brutalized condition and recoiled in horror.
One young lad even fainted at the grisly sight.

That night, Cyriah couldn=t sleep, even though Zu-Tan had knocked on the
door and talked to her and Vunfael for a little while. So, she set about making
some food for the coming week. The smell of the herbs and meat filled the
kitchen and the sound of the sizzling concoction in the frying pan cheered her
heart a little. She thought of Inwan, safe at Wisayael=s house - she was glad he
was there.
After she had taken the meat off the stove and put it on the counter to cool,
she looked out the kitchen window into the back yard. All of a sudden, she saw
something moving just a few feet beyond the wooden fence. It looked big; it
seemed to be sniffing the air and looking around. She thought she saw the glint
of moonlight on ivory as the creature moved along the fence.
AVunfael!@ She whispered, frozen.
AYes?@ He said, coming to her side. He noticed that she was staring
intently out into the backyard and looked out the window. Whatever was out
there had moved on. He got his pitchfork from the cellar and went out into the
backyard. After a moment, he returned.


50
AWhatever it was, it moved on.@ He sighed with relief and leaned the
pitchfork against the wall next to the door.
AI hope it never comes back!@ Her voice quavered with fear as she hugged
him tightly.
The next day, as the sun was setting, the men left the moat and went to their
homes. They each found a small bag of herbs that Nimit had prepared for them.
Hopefully, it would relax them a little and help them gain a little sleep, a precious
commodity in Sanfir.
After the stars had been shining for a little while, there was a cry in the
village. Vunfael grabbed his pitchfork and ran to the sound of the commotion.
At the community barn, Zu-Tan, L=Ronph, and a few other men were standing
with weapons and pitchforks drawn. A few yards away what only could be
described as an abomination stood, staring intently at the inside of the barn. It
looked like a man, but it was taller than any Vunfael had seen - it was easily seven
feet tall. It had two six inch tusks, like those of an elephant, protruding from its
lower jaw. It had a strong odor of damp, rotting wood that rolled off its dark,
grayish skin.
The creature looked at the men, charged several feet, then halted. Some of
the villagers retreated, but Zu-Tan, L=Ronph, Hetteph, and Vunfael stood their
ground. The creature then sniffed the air and looked hungrily at the barn
entrance. After a moment or two, it started to grow agitated. It pawed the
ground impatiently.
Zu-Tan broke the stalemate and charged. The beast was startled for only a
moment; it grabbed him by the neck with both hands. His sword cut the
monster=s left arm slightly, but not enough to loosen its grip. As the monster=s
hold tightened, Vunfael could hear bones cracking. Zu-Tan=s sword fell to the
ground and his body went limp. Hetteph thrust his pitchfork forward - he
pierced the creature=s right leg. At this, the beast let out a loud squeal and
forcefully thrust Zu-Tan against the side of the barn. It then pulled the pitchfork
from its leg and threw it at Hetteph. The pitchfork sank deep into his chest.
The monster then ran off into the forest. Both Hetteph and Zu-Tan were dead.

That morning there was a funeral service for Hetteph and Zu-Tan. While
Kaetar delivered the eulogy, several men frantically worked on the moat.
AThese men will go on fighting for us, by the example they imparted. They
will continue to inspire us, even as we..@, Kaetar=s speech was interrupted by a
rustling sound from a nearby grove of trees. Everyone looked on in horror as the
bushes moved. A deer sprang out, looked at the crowd for a moment, then
bounded off.
The tension then broke Nimit=s spirit and she fell down, sobbing loudly.
Cyriah and several other women ran to comfort her. Kaetar=s words failed him at
that moment and he just looked on, tired and confused.



51
The next night, the villagers were again roused by the sounds of conflict
coming from the community barn. When they reached the barn, they found the
creature with L=Ronph=s lifeless body in its hands. After the abomination had
accomplished what it set out to do, it tossed the body over its shoulder. It slowly
advanced upon the men who had gathered. One of the villagers thrust his
pitchfork at the beast, but it dodged the blow and the pitchfork merely scratched
its skin. The monster grabbed the pitchfork and snapped it in two. Then it
grabbed the villager and killed him.
Vunfael knew of only one thing that might work - fire. He grabbed the
broken shaft of the pitchfork. While trying to get a nearby lantern, the creature
almost caught him - only a quick duck and roll to the side saved him from being
the next victim. While the intruder was distracted with some of the other
villagers, he was able to get to the lantern and light the shaft.
AHere you beast! I=m over here!@ Vunfael growled, waving his torch. He
looked as if he was pawing at the invader like an angry bear.
The creature turned around and stared at Vunfael, defiant, yet not sure of
what to do. The two of them stared at each other and then the monster lunged
for him. Vunfael managed to dodge a direct blow from the creature, but its wild
attack knocked the torch from his hand. The surrounding hay began to burn.
The growing fire increased the abomination=s anxiety and rage. It was no
longer waiting to see what these tiny things would do. It was striking at anything
that was close to it. However, after several moments, the flames and the smoke
proved more than a match for its courage. It fled from the barn and into the
night. The men barely had time to follow the monster out of the barn before it
collapsed.

Another funeral service was held the next morning - all the while the moat
was being dug with the utmost urgency. After the eulogy, Kaetar and Vunfael
inspected the smoldering ruins of the barn.
AThis will take a long time to rebuild.@ Sighed Kaetar. He pulled out his
pipe, then looked at it disdainfully for a moment and put it back in his pocket.
ABut it shall be rebuilt.@ Cyriah answered, joining them.
AWho will be left to do the work?@ Kaetar wondered, poking a smoldering
pile of timbers with his walking stick.
AAnyone who has the courage to stay.@ Vunfael=s hope seemed to wash
over them like the dawn.

The next night, several torches were lit around the village, in hopes of
intimidating the monster. The first hour of the night passed quietly, then the
second.
However, in the third hour, there was a knock on Nimit=s door. It was
Jurshel, her next door neighbor.
AI think....I think it=s back.@ Her voice trembled. Nimit rushed her inside


52
and closed the door. They watched the creature walk through the village, looking
for enemies to kill. By this time, the men of the village had heard the intruder
and left their homes. They surrounded the creature in the center of the village.
What they hoped to accomplish, they knew not since there were only four of them
left. The monster, although cut and burned from the previous two battles, looked
as strong as ever. The only thing that seemed to be holding it at bay were the
torches the men had. There was a wild, fearful look in its eyes, as if it sensed that
its fate was almost played out. However, the creature still made irregular lunges
and swings at them. The defenders shouted at the abomination and waved their
torches, in hopes of driving it off; this only served to agitate and confuse the
monster.
Then, in the distance, a steady whistling could be heard. As several
seconds passed, it grew louder and more insistent. Suddenly it stopped and the
creature froze. After a moment of eerie silence, the beast dropped to the ground,
dead.














53
The Breaking Shell

Chapter 9 - Mysterious Savior

The next morning, the village came out to examine the creature, whom
they let lay where it fell. There was an arrow with a dark wooden shaft in the
back of its head. The feathers of the arrow were white with black spots.
Then Inwan broke into the circle around the grisly spectacle.
AShe=s coming.@ He said, out of breath. He looked at the creature in
fascination. He would have stepped closer, but his mother grabbed his shoulder
and held him back.
Then Wisayael stepped forward. She was wearing a white Eyryuin shirt
with an intricate design in blue and green thread on the collar. She had on
brown pants and black ridge boots (for women, there were two ridges on the
boots, running side by side, instead of one). Over this, Wisayael wore her green
cloak; the long hood partially hid her delicate features. She didn=t smile but
looked at Kaetar with an icy and suspicious glare.
ANimit,@ Wisayael began calmly as she turned to her, AI want to thank you
for inviting me.@ Nimit smiled timidly and then took a step back to let Wisayael
examine the creature and the arrow.
AInwan,@ Wisayael called to him, her voice sounding like a haunting
northern zephyr, Acome closer@. Cyriah reluctantly let Inwan go and he ran to
Wisayael=s side. There was a mixture of wonder and fear in his eyes as he stared
at the beast.
ACome, meet our mysterious savior.@ She ran her finger along the shaft of
the arrow. It felt as if it had been coated in a waxy resin, then polished. The
shaft seemed to have a hollow core, but was surprisingly strong. As she pulled
out the arrow, she noticed that the arrowhead was crafted from silver.

That night, Inwan was sent by his mother to bring a meal of herbs, eggs, and
nuts to Kaetar, thanking him for his leadership during the crisis. As Inwan
approached the house, he was about to knock, but he heard voices from inside.
He decided to listen for a moment, as grown-ups usually kept important
conversation from him.
AAnd when will you be leaving?@ Kaetar asked. His voice was stern and
unforgiving.
ASoon enough, I still need to examine the body and the surrounding area.@
Wisayael cooly replied.
AThe sooner the better.@


54
AAre you still afraid? Still going on rumors? When will you seek the truth?@
Wisayael=s anger billowed forth like an ominous storm cloud.
AI have no fear of your dark craft! How dare you speak of the truth? You
are the one who buried it in a shadowy grave!@
AI will be gone from the village before noon tomorrow.@ Wisayael regained
her composure but the hurt and mistrust lingered in her heart.
As she opened the door and stalked out into the night, Inwan hid behind the
corner of the house. Wisayael=s form seemed different to him somehow as the
dark night enveloped her.

The next day, as Wisayael and Inwan were going to her house, the forest
seemed quieter than usual, as if it were waiting for something. It was a cold, gray
day and the clouds in the distance were heavy with snow. Far from the forest
path, a large black vine had all but engulfed an ancient oak tree. At several
points along the trunk it appeared as if the vine had burrowed under the bark. At
the bottom of the tree a mist lay; it too was waiting for something.
ASo, what did you think of our monster back there?@ Wisayael said as she
playfully rubbed Inwan=s hair.
AI haven=t seen anything like it. I hope it=s the last one I see though.@
Inwan=s voice softly trailed off; as the last word hung in the air, he leaned slightly
away from her. He stared straight ahead.
AHopefully, that will be the last monster you lay your eyes on.@ Wisayael
replied, withdrawing her hand and looking at him thoughtfully. AWhen we get
home, I think I will make my famous omelet - all this business has made me very
hungry. How about you?@ The note of forced happiness in her voice seemed to
awkwardly slip out and break the unusual silence.
AThat would be nice.@ Inwan tried to sound as obedient and respectful as he
could. He looked at the forest around him and noticed, in the distance, the white
wolf. It seemed to be studying him for a moment; then it trotted off into the
wilderness.

When they got to her cottage, Wisayael immediately set about making her
famous omelet, all the while singing one of her favorite songs. While Inwan was
cautiously eating the exotic concoction, she looked at him for a moment,
wondering what he was thinking. She decided that now was not the time for
questions; later, under the right circumstances, she could begin to heal his
troubled spirit.
AZoshan!@ She called and then whistled. The white owl that Inwan had
noticed when he first arrived came and perched on the kitchen window sill. She
petted the bird gently and it playfully nipped at her. AI don=t have any garlic
bread, I=m sorry little one. Mangat spoils you too much. I think that=s why his
pigeons fly so slow!@ She laughed. AHowever,@ she bargained as she got a small
vial and put the feather from the arrow inside, AI will reward you with a little


55
sausage if you return to me in three days!@ She smiled as she petted the bird.
Then Zoshan eagerly flew off.

As dusk approached, Wisayael looked out over the forest and wondered
about the creature she had found. She was certain it was orab, but that answer
only led to more questions. Why now? Men haven=t been plagued by the Ataint@
for many generations; what had re-awakened this ancient, long forgotten curse?
A shudder went through her as she wondered if the mist would claim any more
souls in the months to come.
Then there was the arrow. She went to the library that Mangat had built
for her, just off the kitchen. As she entered it, she looked over the room with eyes
of love and giggled. She remembered how long it had taken Mangat to build it to
her specifications. Since she was right handed and he left handed it took him
twice as long; she still could hear him mumbling about having Ato do everything
backwards and inside out@. The results however were magnificent. It was a
nice, cherry paneled room with a sky light in the center of the ceiling. There were
windows on the left and right walls, with broad window sills, so there were plenty
of room for her favorite daisies. Of course, Mangat had to insert something of
himself into the room; there was a marble statue of a woman sitting and reading a
book in the left corner. The wall opposite of the entrance way had a beautiful
arch with carvings of vines that led to her bedroom and the guest bedroom. This
time, however, the library was of little use. After going through several tomes, all
she could conclude was that the wood used in the shaft did not come from any
local species of trees.

The next day, Inwan set about inspecting the Iron Garden, seeing what
needed to be done to prepare it for the coming winter. He wandered through the
garden, distracted by his thoughts of Wisayael and the slain beast. As he left the
garden and closed the gate, he heard something in the forest adjacent to the
garden. He looked to his right and saw the white wolf standing there, only five
yards away. Their eyes met and they stared at each other for several moments.
Then Inwan took a step towards the wolf and stopped. The animal sat down and
tilted its head, studying the boy. Inwan took one step, then another; the wolf
stood up and started to growl. Inwan took a step back and his guest looked at
him for a moment, smiled, then ran into the forest.
When Inwan came back into the house, he asked Wisayael about the wolf.
AIt sounds as if he is curious about you. How do you feel about him?@ She
asked, sitting down across from him at the kitchen table. Her green eyes gently
searched his face for some clue as to the condition of his spirit.
AMy father says wolves are dangerous, but this one hasn=t hurt me - yet.@
Inwan=s recent cautionary tone gave way to slight confidence.
AI think if that wolf wanted to hurt you, he would have done so.@ Wisayael
replied, her voice whispering like a soft breeze. She was hoping that she could


56
use this circumstance to replace some of the trust that had somehow vanished
from their relationship.
APerhaps I will see him tomorrow.@
APerhaps.@ She smiled softly. It was a beginning.
Zoshan returned earlier than expected. Wisayael was clearly excited as she
untied the vial from around the bird=s neck. She read the note slowly, then went
to the kitchen table and re-read it:

Dear Wisayael,

I have searched through my books all day and I am at a
loss. This feather did not come from any bird that I know of.
The web of the feather suggests an owl. The quill is what is so
odd - it does not resemble any quill I have seen before; this
would suggest that the creature that this was procured from
was not a bird at all. Mangat should be able to provide
additional insights when he examines the arrowhead.
As you read this letter, I am making all haste to
Blacktooth, feather in hand, to solve this riddle.

Ever your friend,
Fajk-M-uum


That night Wisayael again made her famous omelet to comfort Inwan, as
well as herself. They both ate in silence and occasionally their eyes met. It was
Inwan who always seemed to look away first.
Wisayael was ready for a good night=s sleep, so she took some water drawn
from her well and approached the fire with the intention of extinguishing it. As
she came closer with the pail, some of its water splashed out and hit the fire,
causing a hissing sound.
ANo! Don=t!@ Inwan yelped abruptly as he jumped up from his chair.
AInwan? What=s the matter?@ Wisayael asked, puzzled.
AThe fire, you=re hurting it.@ He approached the fire. He was staring deep
into the heart of the flame.


57
AHurting the fire? Wisayael looked at the fire and then at her young pupil.
She wasn=t sure what Inwan was trying to say.
AThe fire wants to die out naturally. It won=t do any harm.@ Inwan
pleaded with her while approaching the fire and crouching down in front of it.
Wisayael looked at him for a moment and then left him in front of the fireplace.

A few hours later, the fire had died down of its own accord, but Inwan was
still wide awake. It was a lonely night, with only K=Posh aimlessly roaming the
night sky. The Dragon=s Thread cut across his face and he seemed to be hiding
behind it. The white peacocks had just started their moonlight serenade.
He was still having difficulty taking in all the things he had heard and seen.
Were there more monsters out there? Was there something about Wisayael that
was dark or bad? Perhaps his father and mother would know more - he would
ask them when he next saw them. He felt safe - for now; he just wasn=t sure who
or what he could trust.
As he rose from his bed and looked out the window, he noticed a golden
light in the stone garden. He quietly crept from the house and slowly
approached. As he drew closer, he noticed Zoshan looking down at the light,
enraptured by what he saw. There was a strange sound - it was like clicking,
clacking, gasping, snorting - at first slowly, then ending at a very quickened pace.
Inwan stood, torn between his curiosity and his fear. Should he open the door?
He decided that such a direct approach would not be wise. He noticed a nearby
tree (on the other side of the wall). The branches were within his reach; he could
climb quietly and satisfy his curiosity, unnoticed. He grabbed the branch - as
soon as he did so, he heard a beautiful female voice; the first and last words it
spoke seemed to echo slightly. He let go, startled. He looked at his hands and
then at the bark. He again touched the branch and heard the voice. Frightened,
he stumbled backwards. However, his curiosity finally got the better of him; he
snuck up to the wall and grabbed the branch firmly. Inwan heard the voice
singing:

=


58
=



Then there was a slight giggle and the light went out. A few red petals fell from
the branch overhead.













59
The Breaking Shell

Chapter 10 - Bitter Rivals

Mangat walked to the stables outside his mansion and greeted
Eneshoulan with a smile, gentle words, and an apple from his cellar. The horse
happily ate the apple and then pawed the ground impatiently.
AI=m beginning to think you enjoy these trips more than I do.@ Mangat
harnessed his horse, pausing only momentarily to savor the smell of his orchard
as it floated in through the window. In response, the horse again pawed the
ground.
His first stop on his journey to Vasha=s Spear was Wisayael=s house. She
greeted him happily, but he could see that she was troubled by recent events.
She seemed to be trying extra hard to soothe his soul.
AHow is Sanfir? He asked as he dismounted.
AThey have gotten the last shipment of stones for their wall. That, and
the ditch should keep them safe.@
ADon=t worry dear, I will not allow things to get out of hand.@ Mangat
replied, guiding her towards her home.
AI=m sorry dear, now is not a good time to go in the kitchen.@ Her words
seemed distracted and distant. Mangat just then noticed the silken-gauze
mask that hung around her neck.
APreparing for a war, my dear?@
AJust preparing. I want to be able to face whatever comes.@ She
answered, kissing him on the cheek.

His next stop was Sanfir, a place he hadn=t visited for many years.
However, he thought he would check in on Inwan and see how he was coming
along. He also had a gift for him.
AYoung master Inwan, I have something for you. For being a dedicated
and skillful caretaker of Wisayael=s gardens, I would like to present you with
this.@ Mangat handed him a bronze ring studded with three onyx gems.
AThank you!@ Inwan said, his eyes growing wide with awe.
AI also brought you this.@ Mangat smiled. It was a book on precious
stones. It was very well worn with notes in the margins of the pages.

As Mangat was leaving Sanfir, he came across Keatar in the center of the
village. Kaetar seemed surprised to see him.
AGood day, Kaetar, how are you?@


60
AMangat! Why I didn=t think I would see you here.@ Kaetar stammered.
AI was passing through.@ Mangat replied, slightly curious about Kaetar=s
reaction.
ADid Wisayael send you?@ He asked, looking nervously about him.
ANo. Why?@
ANo reason, no reason at all. Well, I must be going.@ Kaetar=s tone was
cordial yet quick and concise. He abruptly turned around and hurried off.
There was something odd about this conversation, Mangat thought to
himself. When things calmed down, he would have to mention this to
Wisayael.

After journeying several days, Mangat found himself in the wild lands to
the north of Oeshaili. This section of the wild lands was populated by several
forests, some so dense that one could not travel through them. However,
Mangat was familiar with this area, so he was able to travel the quickest route,
avoiding the forests altogether. From time to time, Mangat looked over his
shoulder to see if he was being followed by the mysterious man from the Red
Rock Inn.

As he was traveling along, he noticed a large group of knights; there
seemed to be at least forty of them. As they got closer, he noticed that they
were wearing steel plate mail and were heavily armed. Some had great axes,
others swords, and still other warriors had maces. A few of them even had
crossbows.
AHail mighty warriors!@ Mangat called to them.
AGood day sir.@ The captain of the knights replied, riding up to meet him.
His accent was thick and sounded like he was whispering from a deep dark hole.
He bore a symbol of a White Wolverine, the emblem of the realm of Borkulete.
AAny sign of raiders?@ Mangat politely inquired, looking them over.
AWe saw a few, hiding in the trees, but they kept their distance.@ The reply
was formal yet wary.
ASo, how are you enjoying the marvelous scenery of the West?@ Mangat
asked. His voice flowed like a gentle river.
AWe really haven=t noticed. Our mission is our concern, not sight seeing.@
AYou must have an important mission indeed to travel so well armed.@
Mangat eyed the captain=s great axe; from its scratches and scars he knew that it
had tasted blood on many occasions.
AKing Jenden has heard rumors of a powerful ring that was found in the
Bronze Gut Mountains. He wants to know more about this ring before he sends
his envoy to the auction where it will be sold.@

At that moment, a second group of knights came riding out of a dense
forest to the west; there were fifty of them. They were well armed like the


61
knights of Borkulete, but they carried a banner which bore the symbol of a
Golden Ram. It was the royal seal of the kingdom of Nhroma. When the
captain of Borkulete saw the visitors, he motioned his army to cautiously
advance toward them.
AI advise you to stay behind us, stranger; the people of Nhroma are known
for their warlike nature.@ He commented while riding past Mangat. Mangat
chose to ride beside the captain.

Within a moment, both small armies were only thirty yards away from
each other. The captains of each side stared at each other, sizing up their
opponents strengths and weaknesses.
AWhat business do you have in the West?@ The captain of the Nhroma
army called out.
AWe are here in the service of our kingdom - we will leave when our
intentions have been fulfilled. That is all I can say. Let us pass.@ The
Borkulete captain=s response was like a stone wall.
AWe would know your intentions - if they are noble or otherwise.@
AWhat do you know of >noble=?@ the captain of the Borkulete army sneered.
AWhy is it always so difficult to deal with Borkulete?@ The commander of
the Nhroma army replied with a disdainful air.
AGentlemen, Gentlemen!@ Mangat interrupted, riding between the two
armies. AIf you will.@ He motioned the two captains to join him.
AAnd you are?@ The captain of the Nhormans asked Mangat.
AI am Mangat. And you?@ He said in a friendly manner.
AN=aan A=Taaunga@ The captain of the Nhroman brigade proudly
declared.
AAnd you sir, I never did get your name.@ Mangat said, addressing the
captain of the Borkulete army.
AOndoo-Makaala@ The knight replied.
AWell, now that we are on more familiar terms, perhaps we can.....@
AWhy are you here?@ N=aan demanded of Ondoo.
AI doubt you would understand. All your kind know of is pillaging and
torture.@ Ondoo replied harshly.
AHow would you know our nature? You never leave your own villages!@
N=aan replied. Several of his men laughed at this comment.
AGentlemen, gentlemen - please! We are getting nowhere. Perhaps if
we look at this as a unique opportunity to help each other, we can begin to erase
the bitter rivalry that has existed between your people for so long.@ Mangat
tried to steer this confrontation toward a peaceful resolution.
AWe don=t need help. We have what we came for. We must hurry home
before the auction. We are asking you - politely - to stand aside.@ N=aan said.
AAuction? The ring! You are trying to get the ring! By my blood, that
ring will never make it to Nhroma!@ Ondoo replied angrily.


62
ASirs, please calm down.@ Mangat implored, addressing both men.
ALet=s think of it this way -A at that moment, a crossbow bolt whizzed by
Mangat=s ear and struck one of the Borkulete knights. Then another crossbow
bolt whizzed by Mangat, coming so close to him that it went right through a
loose fold in his robe; that bolt hit one of the Nhroma knights. Mangat gave up
and decided to save his own skin (and robe). He rode away as fast as he could,
leaving the battling armies to their fate.
















63
The Breaking Shell

Chapter 11 - Vasha=s Spear

Mangat had traveled three long, grueling weeks to get to Vasha=s Spear,
the oldest of all the libraries. The worst part of the journey was getting
permission to enter Eyruinabatalshukinar, the realm of Queen Shaolava. To
him, that was far worse even than crossing the wild lands.
After that ordeal, he had to travel another day to get to his destination.
Even this part of the journey was not simple. On several occasions he had to
carefully and cautiously negotiate with raiders in order to continue on his way.
Finally, he arrived at Vasha=s Spear. In addition to being the oldest of all
the libraries, it was also the smallest - just a simple tower seventy five feet high
and fifty feet wide. There was a small stone wall about ten feet high
surrounding it.
But the view was simply stunning. It sat close to the shore of the Great
Frost Sea and was flanked on the left and right by trees of all types. Mangat=s
favorite tree was the mysterious Ice Hair; as its green leaves fell, they turned ice
blue and then shattered like fragile glass when they hit the cold earth. Great
white snowy ostriches, twelve feet tall, ran back and forth between the two
pristine forests.
It was mid-morning on a Evemp day when Mangat rode up to the main
gate. The gate consisted of two oak doors inlaid with round pieces of ivory the
size of a quarter; the ivory pieces were arranged in a concentric circle. Since
this was the beginning of a new week, he hoped that this week would go better
than the past several. He reached inside his robe and pulled out a scroll. In
the distance, a low creaking could be heard, followed every so often by a low
rumble. The nearby glacier was making its presence known.
AWho knocks at our door?@ The voice from the other side of the wall
demanded. It sounded like a harsh trumpet blast.
AI have come from the Council of Blacktooth with a letter for Kabat.@
Mangat wearily answered. His voice sounded like waves which barely had
enough energy to reach the shore.
AKabat doesn=t accept letters from anyone!@ The voice curtly replied.
AThis letter has been sealed in white bee=s wax taken from the Nagar
Forest.@ Mangat pleaded. Ricoa as well as Thune had told him to expect
resistance.
AImpossible! White bees die in early spring and their wax doesn=t last
past mid-summer!@ The voice sounded slightly interested in what Mangat had


64
to say.
AWhite bees can be kept alive until late summer by planting black lilies
near their hive.@ So far, things were going as expected.
ANonsense! The honeybees in the forest would never let the white bees
near the black lilies.@
AUnless you planted enough blue and white lilies to satisfy them.@ Mangat
said, starting to shiver in the cold.
AThat would solve that problem, but how would you have usable bee=s wax
this late in the year? It would have become mush by late fall! We have no time
for this - begone!@ The voice sounded like a rattling saber. However, there
appeared to be a note of expectancy in the reply, as if it wanted more
information.
AIf a very small amount of hemlock is put into the bee=s wax while the bees
are making their honeycombs, the wax can last for months.@ Mangat dutifully
repeated what the boring, musty tomes had told him, hoping he got that answer
right.
AHow could anyone even approach a nest of white bees to accomplish
this?@ The voice sardonically mused.
AIf one burns maple leaves near the nest the smoke puts the bees to sleep.@
AYou must be very foolish indeed - and very sore!@ The voice laughed.
AFor burning maple leaves attracts red fleas by the hundreds!@
AIf one wears garlic around the neck, ankles, and wrists, the red fleas stay
away.@ Mangat wearily replied. He didn=t know that entering Vasha=s Spear
would be this difficult. He was glad he had spent some extra time reading
about it before leaving his home.
AEnter.@ The answer had a certain relaxed, joyous ring to it, as if the
gatekeeper hadn=t had his riddle solved in some time. The oaken doors opened
and he was greeted by two sentinels. They were wearing long grey robes with
hoods. Underneath the robes, Mangat noticed chain mail. There were long,
curved daggers at their sides.
Mangat found himself in a small courtyard; there were no trees or plants,
but there were several large stones which were painted various colors. On each
side of the main path, there was a circular stone basin set in the ground. Each
basin was about one inch deep and five yards in diameter. These were filled
with sands of numerous colors; the sands themselves had been carefully
arranged to form complex, interweaving patterns. These Asand paintings@ were
covered by glass domes.
Mangat was escorted to the main hall of the library. It was a large stone
chamber with alternating oaken and stone pillars. In each corner of the room
there was a glass tube, about five feet high and three inches in diameter. These
tubes were, like the stone basins, filled with multicolored sands. As with the
basins, the sands in the tubes had been carefully arranged to form complex
patterns. A strip of wood was inlaid in the stone walls. Set halfway up the


65
wall it wound itself around the room. Scenes of war, justice, and tragedy were
inscribed upon it.
He was greeted by Nabat and his wife Misin=Juwayl. Nabat was a very
old, very frail man who was supported by two attendants. He had long white
hair flowing almost to his ankles and a long white beard that went down to his
knees. He wore a black Eyryuin Shirt with silver buttons and a collar
embroidered with gold and light green thread. Along with this, he was wearing
light gray trousers. Finally, he wore fin boots, which were polished to
perfection. Fin boots looked like ordinary leather boots except that there was a
supple Afin@ of leather attached to the back of the boot. The fin, which was an
inch and a half tall, started at the heel and ran up the back of the boot for three
inches.
Misin=Juwayl was much younger with midnight black hair which fell to
her shoulders. She was clad in a simple white dress embroidered with blue
thread. She had a tattoo of a claw which started at the left side of her neck and
ended at her high, regal cheekbone.
AWhat...what have we here? A scholar?@ Nabat whispered faintly. It
sounded as if he were speaking from the other side of the grave already.
AMy lord,@ Misin=Juwayl softly said while gently touching his arm, AI will
dismiss this interloper if you wish.@
AGreat Nabat, I am Mangat and I have need of your library=s unrivaled
resources.@ Mangat stepped forward and bowed low.
AAs many do.@ Misn=Juwayl replied, taking a step forward and staring at
Mangat suspiciously. Her ice blue eyes seemed colder than the sea outside.
AMangat...Why does that name mean nothing to me?@ Nabat replied,
stretching out his arms so his acolytes could help him up.
AI have never traveled to Vasha=s Spear before, my lord. In my arrogance
I never thought I would have to. Now, humility and desperation have driven
me like a leaf blown on the wind to your door.@ Mangat expalined. He
wondered how difficult this would be.
ANormally, we wouldn=t let you enter our hallowed sanctuary. If it were
up to our council, you would still be out there - tasting the gales from the Frost
Sea. However, we trust Nabat to decide your fate.@ Misin=Juwayl=s tone was a
mixture of hostility and reluctance. Yet, as she looked at the frail man beside
her, one could see an innocence and child like trust wash over her.
AMisin, have the acolytes prepare some tea for our guest. I would like to
be alone with this >Mangat=@. Nabat replied, steadying himself with his cane.
AI thank you most deeply.@ Mangat=s voice sounded like wine.
AI knew you would come. And...I also had confidence that you would
have the knowledge that was required.@ Nabat had a gleam in his eye that
announced that there was still a spark of youth and adventure left in him.
AThen you know what I seek.@ Mangat=s words were saturated with a
mixture of hope and relief.


66
AAnd I know why you seek it.@ Nabat=s voice was almost drowned out by
the rumbling of the glacier.
ATomorrow, I will have Misin=Juwayl accompany you to our lower
catacombs. What you seek can be found in there. But tonight we celebrate the
first night of the Snow Festival. You are welcome to join if you like. Oh yes...@,
he said, as if suddenly remembering, AKing Hashaxe sends his regards.@ By this
time Misin=Juwayl had returned with the tea.

That night, a group of about thirty people went down to the shore. They
stood around while costumes, trumpets, drums, mandolins, and fireworks were
distributed. The air was cold and they could smell the pungent, fruity scent of
the sea. A few flakes drifted down here and there gently landing on clothes and
occasionally noses, causing much joyful laughter.
AHave you ever heard the history of Vasha=s Spear?@ Misin=Juwayl asked
Mangat as she tried out a mandolin.
AJust the abridged version. That the library was the site where Vasha
defeated ten-thousand warriors in a single day.@ Mangat replied, trying on a
costume.
AIt is said that she wrote the account in her own blood as it was spilling on
the ground.@ She stated proudly.
AAhhh....I heard that she wrote the account in the blood of her enemies.@
ANo, I will show you the story tomorrow. Did you know that she was also
rewarded for her efforts with the honor of being eaten by the great dragon,
Cushoiloin?@
ANo, I don=t remember anyone mentioning a dragon. I thought it was a
historical account, not a folktale.@ Mangat answered, surveying the
instruments, trying to find one that fit his personality.
AIt is not a folktale. Dragons were - are real@. Misin=Juwayl replied
combatively.
AI really don=t have much knowledge on the subject, so I will have to take
your word for it, madam.@
AIts true, dragons haven=t been seen since before the First Dynasty, but
one day...@ Her voice trailed off and she looked wistfully toward the direction of
the glacier.
AOne day?@
AWe shall see them again.@ She declared emphatically. In the distance,
the glacier creaked, moaned, and rumbled. AFor now, I can show you the glacier
and how it is crumbling into the sea. It is something that hasn=t been seen for
one hundred fifty years - quite unusual@.
AMany unusual things have been taking place as of late.@ Mangat replied.
When all the preparations were complete, the parade began. The route
would be the same one that had been used for centuries; after all, why break with
tradition now? They would march to the glacier whose great ice-wall touched


67
the sea, turn around, then march back up the shore, through the eastern forest,
and finally back through the gates of the Spear.
When they reached the glacier, the parade stopped to have a picnic of
sorts. As torches were lit and sandwiches passed out, the wall of the glacier
seemed to shimmer and glow, reflecting the light of the fire, moons, and stars.
Mangat walked to within one hundred feet of the glacier; occasionally a large
chunk of ice would fall into the sea with a loud grumbling sound punctuated by a
disgruntled splash. After a few pieces of ice had fallen away, Mangat thought
that he saw a huge stone that had been trapped within the ice. Taking a risk, he
approached closer, to within seventy-five feet of the glacier. From there, he
pulled out his spy-glass. As he examined the trapped object, he could have
sworn that it was moving, ever so slightly. He dismissed the observation as a
trick of the light.

That night, Misin=Juwayl fell asleep very quickly, almost as if her
consciousness had been ripped from her grasp. She had a dream of a lady of
dazzling beauty. The lady was bathing in the sea and preparing to meet her
lover. As she stepped back onto the shore and combed her beautiful black hair,
she whispered her lover=s name over and over again: Rifune. Suddenly, the
parade from Vasha=s Spear came upon her and caught her unawares. She was
so infuriated that they had seen her in this state that she drew a sword and
slaughtered every last one of them.
Misin=Juwayl awoke screaming. Naquadra had awoken.

The next day, Mangat entered the lower catacombs. The entrance itself
was impressive: an arch of green stone inlaid with onyx. The onyx itself
brought the history of the site to life: the left side depicted the early barbarians,
the top of the arch bore an image of Vasha herself, and the right side showed the
construction of the library. Set into the floor in front of the door was the spear.
That very instrument which the legendary knight had used on that fateful day.
It was six feet long and fashioned from metal, but what kind Mangat could not
tell. White marble wound itself tightly around the spear and seemed to be part
of the very metal itself (instead of a separate piece added later). The head of
the spear was black and seemed to absorb the surrounding light and then reflect
it somehow.
AIf you are wondering, it is the actual spear.@ A voice from behind
seemed to float around him, like a ring of smoke from a pipe.
AMost impressive. In all my years I have never seen metal like that - and
yet there seems to be stone infused right into the iron; if it even is iron.@
Mangat kneeled down and ran his fingers gently along the shaft.
AMetal, stone.@ The acolyte quietly chuckled. AThat isn=t important.
What matters is that it is here, awaiting its next servant.@
AInteresting concept. Usually the weapon is the servant, not the master.@


68
AThis is no ordinary instrument. The one who serves the spear will serve
her well. They will not fear the blade, nor will they succumb to violent desires.@
The acolyte kneeled down beside Mangat and put his hand upon the head of the
weapon.
ADo you mean to say that the one who wields this will be invincible?@ Due
to the ominous circumstances which seemed to be creeping over the land,
Mangat was very tempted to believe in the promise that seemed to cloak the
spear like an aura.
AWhen the servant and the master are in agreement, the victory will be
assured.@ With that, the robed figure silently walked away.

The library of the lower catacombs had bronze shelves crammed full of
scrolls and books. The sides of some of the shelves had ebony masks (which
were inlaid with emeralds). Other shelves had masks fashioned from quartz
crystal (these were inlaid with amber). He estimated that each ebony mask
would have a value of well over \100 Ivory Coins; i1 Gold Coin, with \2 Ivory
Coins would probably be needed to acquire one. There was one large stone
cylinder in the center of the library; it was decorated with bands of silver and
gold. There was a small stone basin set in the top of the cylinder; this
contained black sand only.
Mangat was impressed, but soon he was studying scrolls from the Second
Dynasty and even one or two from the First Dynasty. His task was complicated
by his allergies to the mold that clung to some parts of the walls. One passage
caught his attention:

Thrasheh

torn from his throne,

Steel upon bone,
Justice overthrown,
The Dark Seed has been sown.

AThrasheh

. Now that=s interesting.....=h

=
....where have I seen that
before?@ Mangat mumbled to himself. Suddenly he sneezed several times; he
sneezed so violently that he almost fell out of his chair. AFoul mold! A He
shouted. AThat pernicious nuisance must have been here since the Barbaric
Ages.@ Mangat quietly chuckled as he imagined hairy, unkempt, wild warriors
sneezing to the point of being driven mad. AWait a minute....=h
=
......The Barbaric
Ages. Things are beginning to make sense!@ Mangat said with a triumphant
air.
He went over to another section of the library; thankfully this one had not
been invaded by mold. He scanned the shelves, muttering and mumbling, even
sometimes humming a little ditty. AYes....here it is. Now let=s have a look.@


69
Mangat took a yellowed, brittle scroll down from the shelf.

Thrasheh

listened closely,
And listened well,
To the whispers from the dark,
And the stories they had to tell.

He listened in the day and in the night,
When he tried to resist it was too late to fight,
Down,
Down he fell,
The king and his land swallowed up by Elmavriel.


Later that afternoon, as the sun was setting, Mangat decided to join the
parade for the second night of the Snow festival. Even though this celebration
was done without the jubilant costumes, fireworks, and music, he hoped it would
lighten his spirit, if only a little. As he was preparing his things for tomorrow=s
journey home, Misin=Juwayl burst into his room, frantic.
AHave they left yet?@ She said, with a wild look on her face. Mangat
looked at her and noticed that her eyes had changed color; the iris was now
golden and the pupil was a deep green.
AAre you alright, madam?@ He asked, concern for her health rising in his
voice. He thought she had a fever of some kind. He felt her forehead; there
was no evidence of a fever or other physical malady.
AYou=re a Patriarch - Nabat told me;@ she replied excitedly, Athey will
listen to you! They must!@
AI don=t understand. What=s happening?@ Mangat replied, confounded.
ANaquadra - she=s awake and on the shore. No one must see her! Please,
please, please! Tell the revelers not to go to the shore tonight!@
ANaquadra?@
ANaquadra - the Queen of the Dragons. If they see her, she will be furious!
Please, please - she will destroy us all!@ Misin=Juwayl blurted out, breaking into
sobs.

But it was too late. The revelers were already making their way down the
stone path from the sanctuary to the shore. As required by the second night of
the Snow Festival, they were dressed in red robes with purple sashes around their
waists. Each member of the procession had a small candle.


70
The first two miles passed uneventfully; the prescribed silence was only
broken by a stray whisper of joy here and there. However, after three miles,
someone cried out in astonishment and wonder.
There, on the beach, a giant white griffon was preening her wings. She
cooed contentedly and stretched her limbs. She was easily over one hundred
twenty five feet long and one hundred feet high. Suddenly, she stopped, cocked
her head to one side, and turned her gaze upon the revelers. Her golden-green
eyes followed the movements of the parade for a moment and then she acted.
Within seconds she had two under her front talons and one in her beak. As she
devoured those three, the rest of the party ran as fast as they could. Several
minutes later, everyone who had seen her had been consumed.
Then she turned her fury on the sanctuary. With her mighty talons, she
knocked over the top of the tower and started to eat the exposed occupants.

Mangat ran for his horse. He got halfway down the hall when Naquadra
had ripped off the roof. She reached for him, but he rolled out of the way. This
went on for several moments, Naquadra grasping and Mangat jumping out of the
way. Finally, Naquadra was distracted by someone coming out of their quarters
into the hall. She grabbed that unfortunate victim in her beak. Mangat took
the opportunity to run to the stairwell and escape. However, the whole tower
was starting to tremble under the beast=s fury and he had to dodge several large
stones as they fell around him. As he exited the tower, it started to topple; he
ran as fast as he could and barely escaped being crushed by a large stone.

He did not escape unscathed however; as Naquadra smashed whatever she
could find, part of the stone wall fell. Mangat=s leg was trapped underneath a
pile of rubble - he thought it might be broken. The screams were fewer and fewer.
He knew that the monster would soon have no distractions and come looking for
him. After several moments, which seemed forever, Mangat freed his leg and
limped toward the stable.
As he was untying his horse, he noticed Misin=Juwayl hiding in a corner of
the stable.
ANabat? Is he?@ She asked, shaking with fear.
AI don=t know,@ Mangat replied, struggling to get on his horse, Abut I know
we will be that creature=s supper if we don=t leave!@ He held out his hand to her
in hopes that she would get on.
AI can=t, I can=t leave him!@ She cried. Then she ran out of the stable.
Mangat followed her on his horse. He and his steed were as one; each
instantly adjusting to the other=s movements. Naquadra was ripping up the base
of the tower, defiantly flinging stones in whatever direction suited her whims at
the moment. Mangat had to dodge several large stones while chasing down
Misin=Juwayl. Finally, he caught up with her and, reaching over while his horse
galloped on, picked her up and sat her in front of him. She resisted him at first,


71
so it was quite a challenge to stay on his steed, avoid the flying debris, and subdue
her all at the same time. However, once Misin=Juwayl caught a glimpse of the
monster devouring an acolyte, she seemed more cooperative.
Mangat turned his horse around and spurred it on; it galloped away faster
than it knew it could.
















72

The Breaking Shell

Chapter 12 - Elmavriel

AElmavriel....hmmm.....still a total mystery to me. No mention of it at
Blacktooth or even Vasha=s Spear.@ Mangat said to his cousin as she watched
him pour over books in his first floor library. The library was lit by candles
placed throughout the room. On Mangat=s desk sat a candelabra made from
whale bone; it resembled a school of fish spiraling upward. In the flickering
candlelight brass globes with detailed geography peeked out from between books
on the shelves. Geothora watched him, tilting her head in a bird like fashion.
She was a tall, thin woman with pale skin and blonde hair. From time to time,
she took a puff on her ebony pipe; the polished brass band around the bowl
almost seemed to glow softly. ANothing yet?= AMangat=s impatience was getting
harder and harder to mask. He looked up at her for a moment and then sighed;
this endeavor would not be done quickly.
AAll I have is a word, dear cousin.@ She replied calmly and patiently. Her
coal black eyes took in the room and then gently settled back on Mangat. The
nostrils of her large pointed nose flared slightly, taking in the sweet aroma of the
tobacco Mangat had provided. Otherwise, she remained calm and still.
AI=m terribly sorry....I forgot that you haven=t been researching the ring as I
have. Elmavriel was a word mentioned in a poem: >Thrasheh

>s Lament=. It
was written around the middle of the Barbaric Ages.@
AWhen certain words were taboo.@ Geothora cooly interjected.
AHmmm?@
AMany of the tribes and clans thought disaster would creep into their
homes at night if certain words were pronounced. Even the bards were
influenced by this practice. The word you read might not be the true word.@
AHow would one know the actual words that are being read?@ Mangat
pondered, offering his guest more tobacco.
AOne would have to know where it was written.@
AAnd how would one know where it was written?@ Mangat sighed once
more, closing his book and settling down for his usual cat-and-mouse game with
his enigmatic cousin.
ATell me about the paper.@
AIt was old.@
AOf course.@ She smiled at him.
AI don=t remember! Why did I invite you here in the first place?@ He
snapped at her.
73

AMy garden....hmmmm.....two...no....three summers ago.@ She moved
about in the couch, getting comfortable.
AYes, of course, now I remember. If it weren=t for your rare herbs
Wisayael and I would still be itching.@ Mangat replied sarcastically.
ANow about the paper. You have an excellent eye and a keen memory - as
you have just demonstrated to us both, little cousin.@
AIt was brittle, yellowed, and white in places.@ Mangat continued,
resigning himself to the game.
ASpots, blotches, streaks, or strands?@ She inquired, taking a sip from the
black coffee in front of her.
AStrands.@
AWhat did the paper feel like?@
APaper.@ Mangat sarcastically replied.
AWas it soft like leather, rough and grainy, or smooth like a polished
stone?@ As she said the last word, she again tilted her head in a bird-like fashion.
AIt was rough and grainy.@ Mangat answered, taking a bite of the garlic
bread that he had put out for them both.
ADid the paper have a smell?@
ANo...wait...yes a very faint odor of....cinnamon.@
ASouthern Papyrus.....despised by the west as the palette of the uncouth -
yet highly valued in the east.@ She let silence fall between them like a feather
slowly drifting towards the ground. Mangat knew her better and waited for her
next set of questions before asking his own. AThe brush strokes.@
AThe brush strokes...go on...I=m ready.@ Mangat said, taking a sip of tea
from his favorite cup. It was black with green and white images of an ancient
hunting party pursuing its quarry.
AWere they long and graceful, as if done by a master artisan enjoying his
craft, or were they jagged and hurried, as if done by a madman gasping his last
breath?@
AThey were long and graceful, very beautiful. I wish I had such inspiring
penmanship.@
AHow much space was there between lines? A half inch, a quarter of an
inch, one inch perhaps?@ As she finished her sentence she picked up her pipe
again and slowly puffed upon it, savoring the taste.
ATwo inches actually. It was somewhat odd.@
ATwo inches, really?@ She replied, raising an eyebrow. Again, silence
settled upon the room, the only sound the crackling of the logs in the fireplace.
ACome, come, I=m sure this isn=t the end of it.@
AWere there equal spaces between the letters, or were some letters farther
apart than others?@
A>h= and >t= seemed to be spaced far apart, as well as >w= and >n= - almost as if
they didn=t particularly enjoy each other=s company.@
74

AYou don=t say.@ Geothora replied, picking up on Mangat=s double
meaning. AWere some letters bigger than others?@
AThe >d=s seemed particularly large.@
AWere some words leaning to the left or the right?@
AThe word >and= seemed to be leaning to the left.@
AFrom what you have told me, begrudgingly, the poem was written in the
far east, and very far south, perhaps even in Dalaghuv=s Pit. It is quite interesting
though...@
AYes?@
AFrom the style of the writing, the author was probably from one of the
tribes that lived north of the Wild Shadows.@
ASo, do we know what the true word is?@
AYes. This is where it gets quite interesting. The word is >Evmalreil=.
There is a small sanctuary in the southern tip of Axandali with the same name.@

The sanctuary at Evmalreil was in the middle of a large lake. There were
no bridges to cross the lake; however many stone pillars poked up out of the
water. They were scattered about the waters in seemingly random fashion.
The lake was eerily calm; no waves, no fish jumping out of the water, nothing.
AI=m sorry I can=t take you with me.@ Mangat told his horse. The steed
affectionately nudged him and then snorted. AThen again, perhaps its best that
you stay here.@ Mangat commented, looking out over the water to the stone
steeples and towers. There was absolutely no sound; no singing birds, humming
insects, not even the whisper of a gentle breeze. Mangat gathered his courage
and stepped onto the nearest stone.
After two hours of jumping like a toad from one lily pad to the next, he
stepped onto the dark pebble ridden shore that wound around the sanctuary like
a mourning veil. Mangat looked up at the walls and noticed frightful, distorted
faces carved out of the granite. Ordinarily, he would have dismissed such
things, but these gargoyles stirred something ancient and horrifying in Mangat=s
soul. A shiver ran down his spine. He went up to the stone archway and
examined the iron gate. The tops of the bars were sharp; a few inches below
them a writhing figure, fashioned out of the very gate itself, seemed to be impaled
upon the metal. Hanging from a chain in the archway was an iron hammer,
bearing a few spots of rust here and there. He took the hammer and banged on
the gate. As he clenched the iron, it felt as if it was almost wriggling under his
grasp. After knocking on the metal bars for several minutes, there was no
answer.
APerhaps no one is home.@ Mangat thought to himself, looking back over
the water. AWell, I guess the mystery ends here.@ He toyed with the idea of
leaving. He looked at the twisted faces, and marveled at the fact that some of
them resembled his friends. He then took up the hammer again and banged
75

even more loudly on the gate.
After a moment or two, a crimson robed figure emerged and walked slowly
towards the gate. From his gait, Mangat guessed that he was very, very old. He
stood a foot from the bars, head bowed, as if he was waiting to be punished.
AI have come seeking knowledge.@ Mangat cordially said.
AEnter.@ The mysterious figure replied, unlocking the gate. There were
shades of gloom, misery, and exhaustion in his frail voice.

The gate, not being used for many, many years, was reluctant to open.
Mangat pushed on the gate and it wouldn=t budge. As he applied more force to
the iron bars, he thought to himself ADo I really want to do this?@
Nothing grew on the rocky oasis, not a blade of grass, not even weeds,
moss, mold, or lichen. The barren landscape and its demoralized, silent
caretakers were under the unyielding gaze of the tortured, twisted stone faces.
As he walked through the high stone arch into the main hall, Mangat felt as
if he was walking backward in time. The chamber was lit by sunlight filtered
through high windows. The windows were covered in layers of dust and
abandoned spider webs (if one looked closely enough, one could see the remains
the of spiders= meals still hanging in the web). Mangat made up his mind to
head straight for the lower library and stared directly ahead. He didn=t want to
look at the grotesque antiquities in the room, but he couldn=t help himself. Two
rows of wooden posts ran the length of the room. Each post had an iron chain
attached to it, and each chain was covered in thorns. In between these posts
were busts of people. The looks upon the stone faces was that of someone in the
moment before some unanticipated, cruel fate overcame them. Toward the rear
of the gloomy hall were several oil paintings. One painting depicted a barren
wasteland crawling with emaciated half-dead men, women and children. To the
left of that was a painting of a long line of ragged, sickly souls being led towards a
giant wall of flame. On the opposite wall, a painting depicted people being
driven towards a dark, festering pit. What struck Mangat most forcefully was a
painting of a black vine strangling a tender red rose. As he walked closer to the
macabre piece of art, he noticed that the oil used for the work had a sickening
sweet, somewhat bitter and repulsive smell.
All the while, the caretakers quietly shuffled about, reluctantly carrying on
their duties. At times they would stop, almost unable to bear their heavy
burden. Then, they would whisper some words to themselves and continue on.
Some of the older acolytes said nothing at all - they seemed to wearily glide about
like soulless puppets, guided by a rationale that few could ever understand.
As with the iron gate outside, the heavy wooden door of the lower library
was not used to being opened and required some force. The rusty, loose
doorknob seemed in perfect agreement with the door in its effort to keep visitors
out. The acolyte was ready to accompany Mangat to the dingy, damp cellar, but
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something prevented him. It was as if waves of sadness were pushing him back.
So, Mangat carefully descended the cracking stone steps alone.
The lower libraries were lit only by a few candles, forcing an awkward
dance of shadows and light upon the walls. As he walked through the shadowy
rows of ancient tomes, he thought he could hear sobs from some gloomy corner.
Whenever he looked in the direction he thought the noise was coming from, he
would see nothing. The shelves upon which the books sat seemed to be failing
and almost ready to tip over. He would also hear a distinct Adrip!@ now and
then; he couldn=t figure out what could produce that kind of odd sound. In the
flickering light, he noticed a yellowish-brown syrupy liquid slowly falling from
the ceiling above. From time to time, a foul odor that reminded one of rotten
food slithered past his nose. Here and there a crimson-purple stain decorated
the floor.
Despite his surroundings, he pressed on. Things were becoming clearer
as Mangat read the faded and crumbling papyrus.

Sucking Thrasheh

=s soul from his very skull.....Evmalriel

came upon us...

He had uncanny ways.....unnatural talents....many tried, but
no one ever prevailed....

Innocent....yet punished....woman was still
living...pain...horror....screaming...too many days to die...

From the Frost Sea to the Sea of Nazal to the Iron Blood
Mountains to the Wild Shadows.....no hope...no dawn....

Millions......bone....unknown graves larger than a
kingdom...blood.....burning....in agony....screams still echo in
the night....

....struggled like a butterfly caught in a spider=s web......his
fangs gleamed.....cruel smile.....dead, gray skin brushed her
creamy white flesh...

Seemed to be a great ghoulish forest, stretching farther than
the eye could see....spears catching the rays of the dying
sun....slowly dying....moans...sobs...

Arkplur, fashioned out of gold, ebony, and bits of bone......
Here we shall entomb the great evil......@
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Circle of gold....buried deep in the ground.....must never let
C=Numti walk the earth again.


The next passage nauseated Mangat to the point where he threw up. He
threw the scrolls aside and ran out of the library as fast as he could.


















78

The Breaking Shell

Chapter 13 - An Unexpected Price

It was early on a Olmna day morning when Mangat opened his eyes and
reluctantly rose from his bed. He had worked hard and traveled much during
the past few weeks and wanted just a little more rest. However, he had more
work ahead of him. As he looked down at the pillow, he noticed a mint wrapper.
Mangat looked about wildly then searched the house overflowing with rage and
panic. He found nothing.
After a quick breakfast, he went out to his apple orchard to clear his mind
and refresh his spirit. He was dressed in grey trousers and a white Pladexien
Shirt. The sleeves of this shirt were most unusual: from the elbow to the wrist,
the sleeve was divided into two parts. The top part of the sleeve was one long
piece of cloth; the bottom part of the sleeve consisted of three one inch strips of
cloth, each set an inch and a half apart. The Dragon=s Thread was just beginning
to fade as the sun climbed into the sky - Mangat could still see a few streaks of
orange, red, and blue across the horizon. As he was strolling through the rows
of bare trees, now robed in snow, he remembered Athe game@. With a sense of
excitement, he walked to the center of the orchard. Sitting quietly in front of
him was a large, gnarled tree stump. Mangat carefully blew away the freshly
fallen snow to reveal what was underneath. He saw a small brass ring at the
high noon position, so close to the edge of the stump that it was a wonder it
hadn=t fallen off. At the four o=clock position there was a small silver
medallion, placed two inches inside the edge. The last time Mangat had checked
(which was before his present journey began), there was an iron medallion at the
seven o=clock position and a onyx figurine at the two o=clock position. At that
time, he had left a small amethyst in the center of the stump. Mangat searched
his pockets and pulled out a small onyx stone. He then picked up the ring and
the medallion and left the stone in the center of the stump.

On the way back to the mansion, he decided to check on his pigeons.
Haugleitta, one of his oldest, had laid an egg. As Mangat wondered how she was
able to do this at her age - and in the middle of winter, he heard a small cracking
sound. The pigeon, startled, jumped up and Mangat saw that the egg was
hatching. Soon there was a new baby chick, shivering in the cold. Its mother
seemed perplexed, as if it didn=t know what to do about this new arrival in her
world.
AWell, old girl, we can=t have junior here pecking at snowflakes.@ He
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smiled as he petted the bird. AI=ll have to move you inside; hmmmm.....how
about the western library? It=s well lit, spacious, and quite comfortable.@
Mangat=s words were bathed in a warm, fuzzy tenderness. He picked up the
chick with one hand and the bird with another. As he walked back to the
mansion, his smile gave way to worry over this odd occurrence.

Wisayael was the first one to arrive. She was going to help him tidy up the
place, but Mangat had cleaned up the night before. Before she was halfway up
the main path to the front door, Mangat rushed out to meet her.
AWere you followed?@ He urgently said as he quickly ushered her inside,
looking to his left and right.
AMangat, what=s the matter?@ She asked, panicked.
When they had gotten inside, and he had locked the door, Mangat told her
what happened at the Red Rock Inn. They held each other for several moments.
So, she prepared the nuts and roots so everyone could have something to
eat while they played Scridwable and discussed Mangat=s plans and fears.
ADo you need any help?@ He asked while strolling into the kitchen.
AI=m almost all done. I=m surprised by how much food you have here.@
She commented while continuing the preparations.
AI always like to have enough food for guests, whether they are expected or
unexpected.@ He smiled as he kissed her forehead.
ADo you think everyone will show up?@ Wisayael=s tone was laced with
doubt. She looked at him intently for a moment before putting the bowl of food
on the counter in the center of the kitchen.
AYes. That=s not the problem. Getting them to agree on a course of
action will be the problem. I don=t know if everyone will feel the same way I do.
I=m not sure my arguments will be strong enough to bind everyone into a state
unanimity.@ Mangat sighed.
ADear, dear Mangat,@ Wisayael softly answered, holding his hands in hers
and looking into his blue eyes, Ayou can do this. You have the education, skill,
and information, which you risked your life for I might add.@

An hour later, Oubulon arrived. He stood about five feet, seven inches tall
and had an athletic frame. He had blonde hair, which was cut very short,
exposing his small ears. He had piercing green eyes which, when one looked
into them, imparted a sense of a deep forest. He had worn his lucky red shirt
(which could be seen underneath his leather jacket) for this occasion.
AAhh...Oubulon it has been too long since you have walked these halls my
friend!@ Mangat beamed, shaking his hand heartily.
AI was just about to invite myself over when I received your communique.@
Oubulon replied smoothly. His voice sounded like a melody being quietly
played on a mandolin.
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AIt=s good to see you!@ Wisayael said happily, giving Oubulon a quick hug.
ASo, how is the orchard?@ Oubulon inquired.
AWe had a good harvest this year. I have a bushel of apples left - you will
definitely enjoy them!@ Mangat ushered both he and Wisayael into the living
room.
AJust in time for the Masquerade of Books. A good apple, whispered
poetry, costumes - a combination that could not be equaled!@ Oubulon stated
with a grand wave of his hand.
AAnd what will your disguise be this year, dearest?@ Wisayael teased him.
Every year, the one literary character Mangat had chosen to represent was
Lxlimon The Trickster, from Erhoon=s AThree Roses Under the Moon@.
After reflecting several moments on what had transpired the past few
months, Mangat quietly and thoughtfully said AY=Phoariphix@.
AY=Phoariphix? The hero from Asideon=s >The Great Eagle and The Misty
Sea?=@ Oubulon replied, raising an eyebrow.
AYes.@

Mangat=s living room was decorated with paintings and artifacts from his
various journeys. There was an intricately woven rug covering the hardwood
floor. Silver, brass, and marble candelabra scattered about provided light.
The winter glow streamed through large windows on the southern side of the
room. On the northern side of the room, logs were burning in a stone fireplace.
ASo, where did you meet this little fellow again?@ Oubulon asked in his
unique, quirky tone as he picked up a statue, about six inches high. The statue
was of a portly man, with big ears and six toes (five on the front and one on the
back).
AI acquired that statue from Norgrangthar. Legend tells of small men with
red skin who live under the ground. Supposedly, they bring great wealth to
those they favor.@ Mangat replied, moving some chairs into place around a
beautiful oaken table.
AAnd this fellow?@ Oubulon continued, walking over to where a four foot
statue stood. It was of a man; it had claws, which were from 3/4 of an inch to
one inch long, protruding from each knuckle, (except the thumbs).
AAhhh. The legendary sea demons of Nazalquatat. The folktale about
them says that they live under the Sea of Nazal. The folktale also goes on to say
that they eat people, so you had better be careful.@ Mangat answered, winking at
his friend.

Soon everyone was in place and the game had begun. Thune, being the
eldest, had the choice of going first; however, he passed that honor to Wisayael.
AHmmmm.....well that is an interesting way to start things off.@ She
grinned slyly as the die she rolled ended up showing a two.
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AThe suit of Roses as Trump?@ Ricoa muttered to himself. He had his
Abean pouch@ on the table. He drew out a red bean with purple spots and
popped it into his mouth.
AUnfortunately,@ Oubulon frowned as he re-arranged the cards in his hand,
Aone=s cunning is sometimes limited by the available opportunities@. His ivory
and amber patriarch ring contrasted starkly with the black cards.
AI think I will force an opportunity to the surface!@ Thune triumphantly
declared as he defiantly put a card next to the one Wisayael had lain on the table.
His voice clanged like a sword against a shield.
ASo, what did you think of the research at Vasha=s Spear?@ Mangat
cautiously asked Thune while laying down a card.
AImpressive, quite impressive. But don=t be so troubled. Remember the
tome I gave you, written by Desanth, on barbaric languages?@ Thune replied,
while picking up a small root. He looked at it, brushed off a little of the sugar,
and then started to eat.
AOn loan.@ Mangat sighed. More letters. Perhaps more traveling.
AReally? For how long?@ Thune asked, looking into Mangat=s eyes.
AEnstu, my cousin, has had it for about one year now.@ Mangat replied
looking away and picking a nut out of the bowl.
AReally, Mangat, how could you let someone borrow a tome for such a long
time?@ Thune reproached his former pupil.
AI=ve had books loaned out for more than a year myself,@ Ricoa interjected,
laying down a card, Abut only to my brother.@ Thune gave him a disapproving
glance. Obviously there were no exceptions to this rule.
AI, for one, am not yet convinced that this ring will be the downfall of
civilization. I think it might have particularly awful consequences for the owner,
but nothing more than a nasty nightmare or an especially bad disposition.@
Oubulon stated, playing a card.
AThat is my hope, but the more I ponder what I read, I think that C=Numti
wants to rule more than a person=s soul. Such a demon will want to dominate
whole empires.@ Mangat countered Oubulon=s opinion diplomatically yet
forcefully.
AThat is a possibility,@ Ricoa spoke up, joining the debate, Abut only with
those realms that are weak of will. Aha!@ He added joyfully playing his last card.
He had won the round and therefore won several letter tiles.
AThis creature ruled for a long time, not only by might, but by cunning.
He could easily out maneuver even the most determined, clever mind.@ Mangat
replied, looking over letter tiles that he, as well as everyone else, had drawn at the
beginning of the game.
AThis is the modern age, men nowadays are not so gullible as the ancients.@
Oubulon stated, spelling out the word Anaive@ on the word board.
AGreed, deception, fear, and false hope are potent weapons in any age; or
82

have you forgotten the lessons of the Scorpion Wars of the Fifth Dynasty?@
Mangat replied as he watched Wisayael spell out the word Aunity@ on the word
board. He was glad that he had brushed up on his history earlier in the week.
AHmmm.....you do have a point.@ Ricoa said, taking another bean from
his bag; his ruby patriarch ring momentarily got stuck on the frayed edge.
The three black triangles on his ring seemed to absorb the surrounding light.
ASo, you think that the ring is so dangerous that it was hidden deep in the
earth and guarded by monstrous contraptions?@ Oubulon summarized, picking
up the die.
AIsn=t that the only conclusion?@ Mangat answered.
AActually, I thought it was because of the ring=s value - or at least its
perceived value.@ Oubulon theorized, scowling at the die, which came up as a
Afour@.
ACastles as trump suit! This may be a good game yet!@ Thune declared.
AOubulon, what are you getting at?@ Mangat said, not feeling comfortable
with where the conversation was heading.
AThe facts, or rumors to some, of how the ring was discovered has driven
up the auction price in the past few weeks. It is now valued at '2,500 Platinum
Coins.@ Oubulon stated, his voice sounding like the strumming of a guitar.
AThat=s Outrageous! I only have '1 Platinum Coin, i2 Gold Coins, and
\8 Ivory Coins in this whole mansion! I could, by some clever bartering, get
another i1 Gold coin, but that would be my limit. Where am I going to get that
kind of money?@ Mangat blurted out, exasperated.
ASweetie, calm down. Let=s focus on the solution, not the problem.
Obviously we will have to draw upon our Societies.@ Wisayael gently comforted
him. As she touched his shoulder, her silver and bronze matriarch ring glinted
in the mixture of winter daylight and candles. Her voice sounded like a gentle
breeze through autumn trees.
AYou really feel this strongly about this ring?@ Ricoa asked.
AI am willing to sacrifice my entire fortune to obtain it and destroy it.@
Mangat announced, pulling out the steel dagger that had almost killed him at the
Red Rock Inn. He put the dagger down on the center of the table. ASeveral
weeks ago, I received a dubious proposition. I was to obtain the ring; if I
refused, I and my loved ones would suffer.@ As Mangat=s ominous words hung
in the air, Thune picked up the blade and examined it. AFriends, I am afraid
that if we do not get this ring, it will fall into the wrong hands.@
AHmm...@, Thune mused, looking at the handle of the weapon. AThis looks
like one of the legendary >viper blades= of the Fourth Dynasty. What an
unpleasant time that was.@ He remarked, passing it to Ricoa.
A I need your help.@ Mangat begged, addressing Oubulon, Ricoa, and
Thune. AEven with the Jade River and the Society of the Wild Rose,@ he
continued, looking in Wisayael=s direction, we might not be able to raise enough
83

gold to get another Platinum Coin.@
AIt only takes i10 Gold Coins to make '1 Platinum Coin.@ Thune spoke
up, a note of optimism in his voice. AWe of the Society of Onyx Valley can have i3
Gold Coins in your pocket by the middle of next week.@
AThe Society of the Dawn Leopard can add i2 Gold Coins to your house in
one week.@ Oubulon assured his old friend, looking into his eyes.
AThe Society of The Red Hills can give you i1 Gold Coin and \3 Ivory
Coins if you can wait 2 weeks.@ Ricoa pledged.

Later that afternoon, everyone but Wisayael had left. She was helping
Mangat clean up and put things back in order, including his troubled heart.
Mangat entered the kitchen with an empty bowl and put it on the center
counter. He walked to the window and sighed.
ADearest, you can do this. I know you will find a way.....and you don=t
have to do this alone.@ She softly said as she took his hand in hers.










84

The Breaking Shell

Chapter 14 - Ebb and Flow

I nwan was trying to get used to the new guest staying in Wisayael=s
house, but the new addition just gave him more to ponder. Who was this
Misin=Juwayl? Why did she sometimes ramble on about >@Naquadra@ and
ARifune@? Why did she seem so reluctant to sleep? Perhaps he would know
more with more time and patience.
And then there was Wisayael. Sometimes, her intentions seemed a
complete mystery to Inwan; this worried him greatly.

AHave you heard anything from the Society of The Black Spear? They
seem to always have lots of Ivory and Gold on hand.@ Mangat wondered aloud,
helping Wisayael in the kitchen.
AI=m not sure if we are still on speaking terms with them. Our past
meetings over the years always seem to end up bickering over trivialities.@
Wisayael replied, frowning.
AIf we had only focused more on the common causes at hand rather than
the unique differences, diplomacy wouldn=t be such a challenge.@ Mangat
lamented with a quick sigh. AHowever, I think Ebet could be persuaded to join
our cause by Tharldan.@ Mangat dumped the vegetables he had just diced into a
large bowl.
ATharldan of the Society of the Hidden Eagle? How would you ever find
him?@
AOubulon knows folks who know many things, my dear.@ Mangat=s reply
had a dash of optimism.
AAnd why would Tharldan talk to Oubulon, or any of us for that matter?@
Wisayael quizzed him as she rinsed off a potato.
AOubulon could contact Goulgern of the Society of The Bronze Ram.
Goulgern is not only on good terms with Oubulon, but Ebet and Tharldan as
well.@
AThat would be three more allies. If we keep on working, who knows how
many more will join our cause?@ Wisayael smiled.
APerhaps I can help? After all, you have been my rescuers and saviors.@
Misin=Juwayl said as she entered the kitchen. AI hope you don=t mind, but I
overheard your conversation and I would like to contribute in any way that I can.@
AAny help you could give would be most welcome my lady.@ Mangat
respectfully replied, looking into her blue eyes.
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Inwan had also been listening to the conversation, unbeknownst to the
adults. Was Wisayael trying to practice her dark craft? Was Mangat a part of
her plans? All these questions gave him goose bumps. The next time he was in
Sanfir, he would have to talk to Kaetar to find out more about Wisayael and her
past.

That night, as Misin=Juwayl laid down to rest, she felt that her burden was
somewhat lighter. She was no longer a beggar in a strange home, an idea that
turned her stomach. Now she was an ally, an equal. She smiled as she closed
her eyes.
Her peace did not last however. She dreamt of the black haired woman of
dazzling beauty. This time she was wearing a beautiful, regal white gown,
embroidered with precious stones. She was standing, alone, in the center of a
grand hall, nervously waiting...waiting. After what seemed an eternity the doors
of the hall swung open and a tall, athletic king walked through. His air
suggested that he was not only a king, but the father of many, many generations -
he was young and had long blonde hair, which seemed like fire. The Iris of his
eyes was orange, the pupil was a brilliant snow white. He gently took the
maiden in his arms.
ANaquadra, I laid you to rest with the tenderest kiss. I am sorry to see that
Arkplur has disturbed your sweet slumber.@ He said, kneeling and kissing her
hand.
ARifune, my love, my master, I care not for dreams whilst you are here.@
Naquadra replied.
AI have missed you so much. Haru=Caban might be stirring like a tender
sapling under the warm sun, but at least these events have reunited us.@ Rifune
whispered into her ear, starting to passionately kiss her.

The next thing Misin=Juwayl saw was a pregnant Naquadra. She looked
out the window of Rifune=s stronghold toward the sunrise over the sea. Her
thoughts were being tossed on a stormy sea of emotions.
AI sensed your troubled heart even before I entered the room.@ Rifune
walked up behind her and put his arm around her waist.
AOh my love! What happens from here? Will our children be a part of
things to come or an enemy of them?@ She asked, turning and looking into his
eyes for strength and guidance.
AThe future has no allies or enemies, only omens.@ He solemnly answered,
trying his very best to hide his own fear.

The last scene Misin=Juwayl saw was of Naquadra and Rifune standing on
the shore of the great sea beneath the castle. The tide had gone out revealing
hundreds - no thousands of eggs, each one as large as two men. There was a
86

multitude of low cracking sounds, like a growing thunder. Rifune smiled.
AMy children....my children! Awake and arise!@
As the eggs opened, dragons came out of some. They were all colors,
black, white, yellow, green, red, gold, blue, and purple. As for the other eggs,
griffons issued from those. Some griffons had an eagle=s head, two front talons,
and a lion=s body, bearing a close similarity to their mother. Others were wolves
with ravens wings. There were winged horses with the head of a lion, and
winged serpents with the head of a horse. The variety and diversity of creatures
seemed endless.
After they had hatched, they turned and bowed low before their mother
and father.
That morning, as Misin=Juwayl awoke, she looked in the mirror. Her eyes
were once again golden-green.

As for Inwan, he had slept little that night, which was typical for him for
the past several weeks. He had fallen into the habit of waking up at the
slightest noise and there were many odd sounds that visited the cottage at night.
The inky blackness seemed to hide the mysteries that were just beyond his
window. This morning, he had given up on trying to get back to sleep; so he
rose early and was having breakfast with Misin=Juwayl.

ADid Mangat or Wisayael say how long they would be gone?@ Inwan
asked, while poking at his poached eggs. His eyes darted between the eggs and
Misin=Juwayl, not sure of where to fix his gaze.
ANo, but I am sure they will be back as soon as they can. Don=t you like
my eggs?@
AThey=re quite good, I=m just not used to eating them.@ He replied. He
then realized that he was very fond of Wisayael=s omelets. He had to admit to
himself that if she was practicing the dark arts, it was not the breakfast table.
ASo, what duties do you have today?@ Misin=Juwayl inquired.
AChopping firewood.@
AYou sound lonely. Do you ever have anyone come and visit you while
Wisayael is gone?@
AWell....@ Inwan stopped himself, not knowing if he could trust her.
ACome now, you can tell me. Trust me,@ Misin=Juwayl locked eyes with
him, Ayou can tell me.@
Inwan looked at her golden-green eyes and decided that, compared to her
story, his didn=t sound so crazy after all.
AI sometimes see a white wolf near the house. Sometimes he comes quite
close, almost close enough to touch.@ He quickly confessed, taking a bite of his
eggs.
ADo you know his name?@
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ANo.@
AWhen you learn his name, he will trust you.@ Misin=Juwayl replied,
finishing her eggs. She then went to the sink and let Inwan solve the puzzle she
had left him. From what she had seen of him the past few days, she had
confidence that he would.

After breakfast, Inwan went out to chop firewood. He went at a steady
pace, only taking a break every so often. It was when he was about to start his
task again that he heard a twig snap nearby.
It was the wolf. It was standing about ten yards from him. Inwan put
down the axe and took a step towards the visitor, but it didn=t budge. Inwan was
about to take another step, but stopped. He just stared at this mysterious
creature and it seemed to submit to his examination. Inwan then looked into
the wolf=s eyes - it seemed to him that he found something he had never noticed
before. Then Inwan felt something stir in his soul, something he couldn=t quite
describe, something like kinship, but more.
ASishkye?@ He whispered.
The wolf took a few steps toward him and then stopped, waiting. Inwan
looked at this creature with newfound eyes; he never realized how beautiful and
admirable the wolf was.
ASishkye...@ Inwan whispered, a little louder.
The wolf came closer. It was now a foot away from him. Inwan=s eyes
widened with anticipation and excitement.
ASishkye....@ Inwan reached out and gently touched the wolf=s nose. The
creature submitted. Inwan felt the bonds of kinship deepen as he petted his
companion.

That night, Inwan couldn=t sleep, due to his exciting adventure earlier that
day. He looked out the window and noticed something unusual in the stone
garden. There were two golden lights. He left the house and crept quietly
towards the garden, hoping that he could get close enough to the lights to hear
what they were saying. At first, all he heard was the clicking, clacking, gasping,
snorting sounds he had heard that fateful night, weeks ago. He was able to
creep right to the wall; obviously the lights were too concerned over their debate
to hear him. When he put his hand on the stone wall, the odd sounds became
two voices. Inwan noticed the familiar echoing of words immediately.
Somehow these lights were related to the one he saw and heard earlier.
AHaru=Caban has been disturbed by the dark seed. We should
intervene @ One of the lights asserted.
ANot yet. Other forces may yet restore Haru=Caban.@ Came the
reply.
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AAre you referring to the old man?@
AHe is the only one who can protect them.@
AAnd if he refuses to intervene?@
AThere are others who can help, but none have his power. Things
would change.@ The voice sounded somber and somewhat uncertain.
AWould they change for better or worse?@
AThe ebb and flow of Haru=Caban is hard to discern, even
from our vantage point. However, none would be spared, not the
humans, the miners, the sea-folk, or even the Owl=at.@

Over the next few days, Inwan had the word Owl=at circling in his head, like a
bird of prey, high in the sky. When Wisayael returned, he asked her about it.
AThe Owl=at? That=s just a myth.@ Wisayael replied, smiling at him. AWhere
did you hear that mentioned?@
AI heard it when I was in Sanfir a few weeks ago. When I saw your owl I
remembered it. It=s a funny word.@
AThe Owl=at were funny people. They had yellow eyes twice as big as a
man=s. They had white feathers with black spots on them. They were archers of
great skill.....some say they were descended from owls.@ Wisayael furrowed her
brow and spoke slowly, as if realizing something.
She went to her library, with Inwan close behind. She looked through a
book of mythology, which she hadn=t opened in years. After looking through the
book, she sat down and wrote to Enstu:

Dear Enstu,

No doubt Mangat has told you by now
about the strange arrow that killed the beast in Sanfir.
Based on what I have seen, and what Fajk-M-uum has
told me, I believe that it came from an Owl=at. Could
the legend of the Owl Men be true?

Ever your friend,
89

Wisayael

The answer from Enstu, the acknowledged expert in mythology and
folklore, came several days later:

Dear Wisayael,

Mangat not only told me what happened in
Sanfir, but also what happened at Vasha s Spear.
Considering all that has happened, the only answer I can give
you is that the wild lands are vast and unknown to most.
There is plenty of room for legends to roam about, unhindered.

Ever your friend,
Enstu










90

The Breaking Shell

Chapter 15 - Desperate Measures

Eating at the Red Rock was always a rare treat for Oubulon, even though
he had eaten in some of the best restaurants in the West. For him, it was an
experience to be taken in slowly and savored.
AHonestly Oubulon, you have been sitting here for twenty minutes and we
don=t even have menus yet!@, Mangat said, exasperated. His voice sounded like
water being pumped out of a well against its wishes
AI love smelling the wood paneling for a moment or two before ordering.
The way that smell mixes with the scent of the candle smoke is truly unique.@
Oubulon dreamily murmured, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. His voice
sounded like a mandolin playing softly in the night.
AYou smell the wood, and I will look at the menu.@ Mangat retorted, giving
up on trying to change his friend=s mind. He gestured to a waiter who came over
with two menus.
AI=m sorry, I really do indulge myself too much at times.@ Oubulon
confessed, taking a menu. AHmmm...what=s this?@ He opened his menu - a small
mint wrapper fell on the table.
AThose villains!@ Mangat hissed, scanning the room for his mysterious
antagonist.
ACalm down my friend,@ Oubulon also looked over the room, AI have a
feeling that they probably aren=t nearby.@
ATo have to put up with this, on top of everything else is madness.@ Mangat
sighed.
AAren=t you glad that we at least have a shred of reason left, old friend?@
Oubulon smiled.
AYou=re right, a shred is better than none. So - how are we coming along?@
ASo far we have '500 Platinum Coins, i342 Gold Coins, \800 Ivory Coins,
and ]1243 Copper Coins. I have been starting rumors that the ring is a cheap
imitation of the real one, which was destroyed in the Sixth Dynasty. Hopefully,
that will drive down the price considerably.@ Oubulon replied, looking over the
menu.
AAnd the auction itself, where is it being held?@ Mangat asked casually.
AThat was a mystery up to yesterday. It is being held in a castle in the wild
lands, north of Eauphixes. I have the directions for you. I hope you realize how
difficult it was to get these so far ahead of the auction. Usually they are given out
the day before.@
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AI truly appreciate the gift, it will be most helpful.@ Mangat reached into his
bag. He pulled out a letter from Enstu and handed it to an excited Oubulon.
AShe replied to me? What did she say?@ Oubulon stammered.
AI don=t know, you will have to have the courage to read it.@ Mangat replied,
looking over the menu.

Mangat was able to follow the directions to the castle quite easily. The
stronghold was large, seven times as large as a peasant=s home and six stories tall.
Iron chains with shackles hung from the top of the four storey outer wall, which
was crumbling under the weight of countless years. The few very tiny windows
near the top of the keep were set very deep into the stone and only begrudgingly
afforded a view of the outside. It sat squarely in the center of a broad moor,
choked with brambles and weeds; here and there thick patches of trees rose up
out of the soggy ground.
Finding the imposing castle was one thing, but finding out the details of
the ring=s location would be more difficult. After all, he couldn=t just walk up to
the front door and ask. Or could he?
AExcuse me sir,@ Mangat began in a very official voice as a guard opened the
door, Adoes your master have some time to spare?@
AHe has none to spare.@ The guard replied, closing the door.
ACould he take some time out of his busy schedule to talk to the Iron
Crafter=s guild? We would make it worth his while.@ Mangat craftily continued,
holding up an iron pendant that he was wearing around his neck. The pendant
was shaped like a triangle and had an jade jewel in the center. It was at times like
these that Mangat was extremely grateful that members of his society were also
Iron Crafters.
Soon he was walking through every room of the castle, with the lord of the
manor by his side. Mangat was wearing black pants and his best Eyryuin Shirt
that Oubulon had made for him years ago. The shirt bore all the hallmarks of his
friend=s unique, expert craftsmanship: it was a pale yellow with onyx buttons and
the collar was intricately embroidered with black thread. To finish the look,
Mangat wore his silver falcon pin on the right side of the collar.
AThank you so much for seeing me on such short notice.@ Mangats voice
was cool, friendly, yet authoritative. He looked over the front hall as they walked
through. The first thing he noticed were two doors, on the left and right.
ASo, the Iron Crafters are moving their headquarters?@ The lord of the
manor, Pomkon, asked.
AThat is correct. The king of Eauphixes has put new laws into place that
make it difficult to do business.@ Mangat replied as Pomkon showed him the
interior of the left room. This room seemed to be an ordinary study with
windows on the south and west sides. It would be vulnerable to prying eyes and
probably not a good place to put something valuable.
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ASuch as?@ Pomkon continued, showing Mangat the room on the right. It
was almost identical.
ANew tariffs on items crafted from high grade steel. Ordinary steel
weighing more than ten pounds would also be taxed at a higher rate.@ Mangat
expalined as they walked down the hall. He noticed another room on the left,
and a little further along, a staircase leading up on the right side of the hall. He
noticed a steel chain on the first post of the staircase; a fine, subtle barricade.
Was the auction to take place on one of the upper levels? Was the ring on one of
the upper levels as well?
ATariffs, taxes, and tyranny; that is why we live here, in the wild lands.@
Pomkon declared defiantly, showing him the large room at the end of the hall. It
resembled a ballroom and could hold many people. There was a staircase going
down on the north east side of the room. The staircase was barred by an iron
gate, which reached from the floor to the ceiling. That looked like a good place to
store valuables.
AI presume you have a wine cellar my friend. We Iron Crafters, while being
the practical sort, also enjoy quality spirits from time to time.@ Mangat explained,
looking over the large room.
AThe finest in all the wild lands!@ Pomkon boasted proudly. Mangat paid
careful attention to the key that he used to unlock the gate. It was silver with a
brass octagon on one end.
AImpressive, very impressive.@ Mangat=s words echoed slightly as he
looked over the wine cellar. There were shelves of wine and several large barrels
of spirits. As he walked around, he would feel an ever so slight breeze from time
to time; this might be a clue as to the location of a hidden passage or room.
AI am always glad to be of service to the Iron Crafters. What other locations
is Klepnopak considering?@ Pomkon politely inquired.
AYou know his type. He plays his cards very close to the vest. I was sent
here, someone was sent somewhere else, no one but Klepnopak knows the whole
agenda.@ Mangat answered, being purposefully vague.
ASecrecy has always been the key to the success of the guilds.@ Pomkon
observed, while they walked back up the stairs.

After Mangat had left, one of the guards approached Pomkon. The lord of
the manor was watching his visitor ride away, not paying attention to the guard.
AMove the auction items from the wine cellar to the basement beneath the
south east tower. We are going to have a visitor tonight.@ He told his servant.

That night, as Mangat rode up to the castle, he thought about what he had
seen and how best to enter without being noticed. He finally decided to enter
through one of the windows of the second room on the left off the main hall. The
next problem was getting a key to the wine cellar. As he was leaving, he noticed
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that some of the guards also had silver keys; but how could he get one? Mangat
stopped and thought. The guards had to sleep somewhere. That would be how
he would get a key, by sneaking into the guard house and stealing one from a
sleeping sentry.
Mangat rode on for a little while, stopped, and took out his spyglass. He
couldn=t see much in the darkness, but he did see candle lamps coming out of a
small barracks just thirty yards east of the main house. There was a thick forest
behind the barracks and beyond the wall, so he would be able to hide there and
wait until the right opportunity came along.
Getting into the forest was the easy part. Getting over the wall and
crossing the twenty yards to the back of the guard house unnoticed would be more
of a challenge. After half an hour, the procession of guards in and out of the
barracks had stopped. Mangat waited another hour for the guards to fall asleep.
The wall somehow seemed taller than when he first rode past it in the
daylight. He grabbed the iron chain and started to climb. Halfway up, the chain
started to come loose. Fighting an increasing sense of panic, Mangat quickened
his pace. Five feet from the top, the chain was about to come loose. He looked
around for any kind of hope, but the darkness was working against him. He
thought he saw a dark shape a few feet from him, hanging from the aging stone.
Mangat gambled and swung himself towards it. As the chain he was holding
crashed to the ground, his hand reached out and grabbed hold of another chain.
As the guard at the front gate came around to investigate the noise, Mangat
quickly scrambled to the top of the wall.
He then crept quietly to the guard house, but three feet away, stepped on a
small twig. It made a quiet Asnap!@ - but to Mangat, it just might as well have
been a thunderclap. His pulse raced as he wildly looked around, expecting to be
caught. However, all was silent. Mangat opened the door slowly, quietly, and
looked around. There were several guards sleeping, some more soundly than
others. Mangat quickly retreated to a shadowy corner of the room and let his
eyes adjust to the darkness. He studied his surroundings and noticed that one of
the guards sleeping near the back of the barracks had put his key on the night
stand next to him.
As Mangat tiptoed down the center of the barracks, he accidentally knocked
over a sword that was leaning against a bed. It made a loud Aclang!@ as it hit the
floor. Mangat panicked and quickly hid under the nearest bed.

AUeddy, could you stop being such a klutz for once in your life?@ A guard
grumbled, half awake.
AShut up...@ Ueddy mumbled. He then turned over and fell asleep.

Mangat waited another half hour under the bed, heart beating wildly,
hoping that everything would settle down. Then, he quietly got up and
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approached the night stand where the key lay. He was about to pick it up, when
the sleeping guard mumbled:
AFather, is that you?@ The guard was about to turn over and face him.
AMy precious son,@ Mangat whispered, Arest.@ He gently kept him on his
side.
AFather, why have you come back from the dead?@ The guard asked,
starting to wake up.
ATo warn you about the terrors of the night, my son. It is better to keep
your eyes tightly shut until daybreak.@ Mangat replied, picking up the key. His
voice was as cold and eerie as a frigid river flowing through the roots of a haunted
mountain. The guard was convinced and kept his eyes shut.

Mangat then walked quickly to the room he wanted to enter and hid behind
the bushes under the window. As he was looking up, he could see flickering light
coming from the room; a sign that a guard was doing a quick inspection. After
waiting five minutes, he made his move.
The window opened with great difficulty, and at one point Mangat thought
he would have to break the glass. However, he slipped into the room without
breaking anything. He hid in a dark corner near the door and listened for
footsteps. When all was silent, he crept into the main hall and quickly walked to
the large room at the end of it. Just as he crossed the threshold of the room, he
heard steps coming up from the wine cellar. He hid behind a couch and waited
for the guard to pass. He slowly rose to his feet and looked into the hall. The
guard was just going up to the second floor. Mangat ran to the iron gate of the
wine cellar and put the key in. He turned it, but the gate seemed to be stuck. He
was wondering what to do when he heard footsteps coming down the staircase in
the hallway. He ran and hid behind a nearby chair. From where he was hiding,
he could see the flickering light of the lamp dancing across the room. The key - it
was still in the lock. Would the guard notice it? After a few moments, the light
seemed to recede and Mangat could hear the footsteps going down the hall and
leaving the house. Mangat raced back to the gate and tried again; no luck. He
leaned against the gate in despair; wondering what to do next. That=s when he
heard a small Aclick!@ - he then decided to push on the gate while turning the key.
It worked: the gate opened, Mangat closed it behind him, and then raced down
the stairs.
Mangat breathed a small sigh of relief as he took one of the torches from the
wall of the wine cellar. He had gotten through the most difficult parts
undetected. Now all he had to do was to find the ring. The crates full of bottles
seemed to rattle too loudly when he bumped into them. He was about to turn
down the center isle when he heard someone shuffling their feet. He quickly hid
behind a row of barrels as yet another sentry walked out of the cellar. In the
darkness, Mangat noticed yet another type of key. This one was brass with a
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silver triangle on the end. If he needed one of those, it was too late to obtain one
now. He decided to focus on the task at hand, not this new worry. He was
searching for a secret room when he heard the gate lock upstairs. His heart sank.
AYou have the key to get in, but unfortunately for you, you do not have the
key to get out. Feel free to enjoy a bottle of wine while waiting for the king=s
knights to arrive. You won=t find any such pleasures in the gloomy, rat infested
dungeons of Eauphixes. By the way, when you get to the dungeons, give my
regards to Klepnopak.@ Pomkon called down to him.














96

The Breaking Shell

Chapter 16 - Crazy Schemes

AInwan, could you get some boxes from the basement for me?@ Wisayael
called to him from the kitchen. Inwan came into the kitchen from the back yard,
and before he could open the cellar door, Wisayael put her hand on his shoulder.
APut these on.@ She told him; she handed him a long robe, garden gloves, and a
silken-gauze mask.
Inwan then brought up the boxes, very slowly and carefully as Wisayael
directed. The boxes smelled like many of the plants in the stone and iron
gardens; Inwan could distinctly pick out the rich buttery smell of the Tomkut
trees.
Then Wisayael sent Inwan outside again and closed the shutters on the
windows. She donned the long robe, silken gauze mask, and garden gloves. She
then opened the boxes; inside there was a very fine black powder. She began to
fill paper balls with the powder. She also filled a funny flute like instrument with
the odd concoction. It was a hollow stick with a mouthpiece sticking straight up
at a forty five degree angle on one end; one inch from the opposite end there was a
small slit with a piece of wood (called a Agate@) in it. After filling this ALultfe@ as
it was called, Wisayael made sure that the wooden piece was firmly in place so
that no powder could escape (until the proper time).

She then set out for Eau=Dor, one of the smaller cities in the northern part
of Eauphixes. First, she stopped at the city of Oth-Kor in the southern part of
Kel-Tress. It was a large city with statues of eagles everywhere. The smell of
roasting meat mixed with the scents of vinegar and wild flowers. She rode along
the streets, which were paved with stone and lined with iron, until she came to the
Green Salamander Inn. The inn itself was made from stone and framed with
copper trim. Candles in tall brass lanterns sat on either side of the heavy pine
door. Garlands of tulips and daffodils decorated the windows. Several tassels
of hawk and crow feathers could also be seen hanging in the windows. When
Wisayael walked into the inn, she was greeted by a smoky smell and the sounds of
birds (who must have made their homes somewhere in the rafters overhead).
AExcuse me, Sir.@ She said, approaching the bar.
AYes Ma=am?@ The bartender replied. He was a younger man, tall and
lanky, with whispy blonde hair and grey eyes.
AI would like four bottles of wine please.@ Wisayael=s voice was low, sweet,
and silky-smooth as she put \3 Ivory and ]8 Copper Coins on the bar.
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ARight away Ma=am.@ The young bartender went into the stockroom in
back. While there, he met the owner of the bar. The proprietor was an older
man, in his fifties. He had long, thick grey hair and a flowing beard and
mustache.
AHow=s business, my lad?@ He asked his young apprentice.
AVery good sir! A beautiful woman just came into the bar and ordered four
bottles of wine. And she paid ]8 Copper Coins more than the asking price.@
ABeautiful woman, eh? I=ll have to see for myself.@ The old man grinned
as he went out to the bar, happily humming to himself.
AThank you, good gentlemen.@ Wisayaels voice sounded like a gentle
breeze on a warm autumn day.
AYou=re quite welcome Madam.@ The owner replied with a smile. He then
started sniffing and picked up the scent of Tomkut trees and various flowers and
spices. A look of horror then came over his face and he backed away from
Wisayael, pulling his apprentice with him.
AGet out! Get out you vile destroyer! You have what you want now leave
us alone!@
AAs you wish.@ Wisayael replied, remaining polite despite her hurt feelings.
How could she blame them though, knowing what she was carrying? She
experienced no further trouble until she entered the wild lands north of
Eauphixes.

She had left behind the safety of Kel-Tress a day ago. As she was riding
past a dense forest, three heavily armed men on horseback suddenly galloped
toward her. She knew better than to try to outrun them, so she put on her
silk-gauze mask and her fine leather gloves. Just as the men were riding up to
her, she pulled the hood of her robe over her head.
AHey! Young lass! Where are you headed all alone?@ The leader of the
ruffians demanded.
AI=m on my way to see a friend, good sir and I cannot be delayed. If you
would let me pass, I would be most grateful.@ Wisayael=s tone was polite yet sharp
as a sword. As she was talking, she lifted up the lultfe that was hidden in her
robe.
ANot until you play us a pretty tune on your flute!@ The leader flashed a
wicked grin and came closer. Wisayael lifted the gate and blew as hard as she
could. Out came the black powder which covered the leader and the raider on his
left . They yelled and hollered as the powder blinded them. Then they started
scratching their face, neck, and arms as the venomous mixture burned and itched.
AScorpion powder. It is quite painful and quite deadly. I really wish you
would have let me pass.@ Wisayael=s voice was cold and without sympathy.
The third rider was about to charge Wisayael when she threw a paper ball,
filled with the deadly concoction, at him. It hit him square in the face and he too
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screamed, itched, and suffered severely. As Wisayael left them to their fate, the
riders fell off their horses and started convulsing. Their bodies had frozen
quickly and they were gasping for air, soon to suffocate.

After traveling a few more days, she arrived at Eau=Dor, in the northern half
of Eauphixes. It was a small, inconspicious city with a quiet river running east to
west through its center. There were trees throughout and large ferns of various
hues and shades threatened to overrun the city. Large groups of rabbits could be
seen hopping about. The houses were all made of flimsy wood and looked like
they might fall over in a strong wind. As the lonely breeze danced among them,
an unnerving moaning and creaking issued from the shoddy homes. The only
structure of good construction was the castle at the southern end.

The castle was two stories and had a high iron fence around it. Dogs
chewed on bones, perhaps of prisoners, in the courtyard of the prison. Rodents
of all kinds and shapes waited in the shadows, hoping to steal a morsel from the
giant mongrels. Crows sat on the fence, cawing, demanding a meal. Two guards
sat at the entrance and played dice. Wisayael took off her robe to reveal her
beautiful red dress, which was very seductively cut and shaped.
AWhy hello there. I am looking for the warden; he is a friend of a friend
and I have something to deliver to him.@ She announced, sauntering up to the
guards, holding a bottle of wine. Her voice sounded like an exotic breeze
carrying rare spices and her eyes sparkled with mischief. After several moments
of suggestive glances, laughter, sly talk, and wine, the guards had passed out.
Wisayael was able to subdue all the guards in the castle with her drugged
concoction. She then searched the dungeons, knowing that time was against
her. Finally, she found Mangat=s cell.
AMangat! Mangat!@ She whispered.
AWisayael! Is that you? How did you know - A Mangat said, racing to the
opening in the cell door. His voice splashed against the cold stone walls.
AHoney! The keys, where are the keys?@
AI really have no idea, dearest, they didn=t give me a grand tour of this fine
institution.@
AHumor is not going to free you honey, I am! Any clue? I searched the
whole prison and haven=t found one key yet.@ Wisayael replied. From the end of
the hall, she heard a guard waking up.
AOh, my little sweetie, do you need a little more honey?@ She smiled as she
walked up to the guard. Her voice sounded like a seductive tropical breeze.
AWisayael! Where are you going?@ Mangat whispered. It seemed like an
eternity before she returned.
AThe guards will wake up in a few minutes. Oh Mangat! When you
thought of a plan to steal the ring, I wish you would have come up with a plan to
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break out of prison too!@ She sighed.
AThe dog! That=s it, the dog!@
AWhat dog?@
AThere was a dog in the courtyard, a big black one, who wore a collar. I
remember hearing a tinkling sound coming from the collar, as if metal objects
were on it. Just find the dog and we can escape!@
AAny idea of where he is?@
AThe guards just had their supper, he probably is in the kitchen eating
scraps. Good luck honey!@ Mangat pressed his face against the opening of the
door, watching her run off.

Wisayael found the kitchen and the dog. It was sitting in a corner chewing
on a rather large bone. As Mangat had said, three keys hung from a collar
around its neck.
AWhat a pretty dog you are, what a nice dog.@ Wisayael cooed gently as she
approached the dog. The dog was not convinced of her intentions and rose up,
growling. AOh, I don=t want your bone - but you do have a pretty collar, my what
a pretty collar.@ She hadn=t brought any scorpion powder with her and she was
out of wine. She looked around the kitchen and wondered what to do. She saw
some black horse raddish, sweet starfish root, and red pineapple. She then
remembered something from an old exotic cookbook that her aunt gave her years
ago. AYou are a good doggie, you deserve a treat.@ She smiled, backing away from
the hound. While keeping an eye on the dog, who was keeping an eye on her, she
reached for a nearby knife and mallet. She mixed together the black horse
raddish, the starfish root, and the red pineapple. After a moment, she had a
thick, yellowish paste. She quickly grabbed the bone and, while keeping the
kitchen table between her and the now angry dog, smeared the paste on the bone.
AHere you go! I don=t know if you will like it, but give it a taste.@ She threw the
bone in the dog=s direction. The dog licked the paste off the bone and started
sneezing uncontrollably. As the dog was sneezing, Wisayael adeptly removed its
collar. She then ran as fast as she could back to Mangat=s cell.
AI have the keys!@ She whispered triumphantly.
AGood, now we can escape.@ Mangat replied with a sigh of relief.
AWhich one?@
AWhat do you mean, which one? How would I know?@ Mangat blurted
out, panicking. She tried the first, and it didn=t work. She could hear a guard
waking up in a room down the hall. She tried the second and that didn=t work
either. As she used the third key to unlock the door, the guard at the end of the
hall had woken up.
AStay back, I=ll kill her!@ Mangat shouted as he grabbed Wisayael from
behind.
APlease, no! He=ll do it, he has a knife!@ Wisayael screamed excitedly.
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The pair were able to convince the rest of the guards that they were serious.
As soon as they got through the main doors of the castle, Mangat found a large
branch and put it through the handles of the doors.
AThat should hold them for a few moments.@ He declared with an
undeserved air of pride, as they headed for Wisayael=s horse.
ADearest, the next time you involve me in your crazy schemes I would like to
be told ahead of time.@ Wisayael teased as she smiled at him.














101

The Breaking Shell

Chapter 17 - Revelations

Inwan had come home for a three day respite from his duties at
Wisayael=s. By now, the town had a ditch and was beginning work on a stone
wall (despite the snow and cold). Every time Inwan visited home, he felt more
and more out of place.
His mother sent him to Kaetar=s home to borrow some sugar for a recipe
she was making. Inwan walked along the well-trodden snow paths,
remembering the last time he had stood outside of Kaetar=s home. When he got
to the door he knocked and waited; after several moments, Kaetar himself opened
the door.
AExcuse me, sir, but my mother needs some sugar.@ Inwan began, shivering
in the cold.
AOf course! Of course, come in.@ Kaetar courteously answered. Inwan
came in and followed him into the kitchen.
ASo, how are things at home?@ Kaetar inquired, looking through kitchen
cupboards.
AGood.@
AAnd how about Wisayael? What has she been up to?@ Kaetar asked.
AWell - nothing much really.@ Inwan murmured, casting his eyes downward.
ANothing? It almost sounded like you were going to share a truth. Truth
is like medicine - it=s always good for people.@ Kaetar said, finding the sugar jar.
AA few days ago she asked me to bring up some boxes from the cellar. She
had me wear a robe, mask, and garden gloves. Also, the boxes smelled funny.@
ASmelled funny?@ Keatar raised an eyebrow as he was handing him the
sugar jar.
ALike Tomkut tree blossoms and flowers and spices.@
ABy the heavens! Do you know what was in those boxes?@ Kaetar=s eyes
grew wide. He knew an opportunity had come his way and he pounced on it.
ANo - is it something bad?@ Inwan stammered, his eyes reflecting Kaetar=s
insincere panic.
ABad doesn=t begin to describe the contents of those boxes, my lad. Those
boxes were filled with scorpion powder - it can kill a man in seconds.@ Kaetar let
those words sink into Inwan=s young impressionable mind for a moment. AI see
Wisayael is still up to her old tricks.@
AOld tricks?@ Inwan was growing more frightened by the second.
AYears ago, she poisoned a young lass from this very village. They say that
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the girl was in love with Mangat; Wisayael killed her in order to win Mangat=s
affections.@ Kaetar replied. He smiled inwardly - the seed had been planted.

Inwan returned home, deeply troubled. Should he tell his parents what he
heard from Kaetar? No, that would only put them in danger. Should he go back
to Wisayael=s? He thought about that for a moment. What would happen if
Wisayael discovered that he knew the truth? He shuddered and decided that
there was only one thing he could do: run.

The day he was to return to Wisayael=s, he went through the eastern forest
instead. He had heard his parents mention a city that lay beyond the forest; he
hoped that he might be able to get an apprenticeship of some kind there. With
desperate hope and fear of the unknown, he made his way through the deep snow.
Although he was used to the quiet forest by now, the absence of sound made him
feel very lonely and vulnerable.

After walking for two hours, he came to a small stream. Inwan got the
distinct impression that the water in the stream was happy to see him. He knelt
down to get a drink of water. As soon as he put his hand in the stream, he heard
something funny.
AInwan!@ Came a voice from inside his head. The voice sounded like
something he had never heard before, like several people talking at once. He was
so startled that he jumped backwards. He stared at the water for several
moments and then took a step forward. All was silent. Then, cautiously, he put
his hand in the water.
AInwan!@ The mysterious voice repeated itself. He again jumped
backwards. He would have contemplated this all day, but the cold reminded him
that he needed to get to the city before nightfall.

Back at Sanfir, Wisayael had arrived to see what had happened to her
beloved pupil. She walked up to the door, drew a deep breath, prepared for the
worst, and hoped for the best.
AYes?@ Cyriah said as she opened the door.
AWhy Cyriah, you are looking as lovely as ever.@ Wisayael greeted her
cheerily. Is Inwan at home?@
ANo. He left for your house three hours ago. Is everything alright?@
Cyriah answered, starting to panic.
AHe didn=t show up, but I=m sure he=s fine. He must have gone exploring -
you know how inquisitive he can be.@ Wisayael tried to calm Cyriah.
ANo, that=s not like him, not at all. He doesn=t like the cold weather and
wouldn=t just wander around like that. Something is wrong!@
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ACyriah, please, don=t panic. Maybe he took another path to my house and
got lost.@
ANo! He wouldn=t do that - if you knew him as well as I do, you would
know that something is very wrong! I knew that letting him be your apprentice
was a mistake! He should have never left Sanfir! If harm comes to him, you will
be held responsible, I swear it!@ Cyriah shouted and slammed the door in her face.
She then fell down and started sobbing.

While everyone else searched the village, Wisayael discovered Inwan=s
footprints and followed him into the eastern forest. As her horse trudged through
the snow, she sensed a distinct lack of Haru=Caban. Something was wrong,
something was out there among the trees that shouldn=t have been there. She
picked up the pace of her pursuit.

As fate would have it, Mangat also arrived in Sanfir. He wanted to present
another gift, a book, to Inwan. He had discovered Wisayael=s house empty and
assumed that they had traveled here. While his horse was trotting down the
snowy path, Mangat muttered curses against the winter scenery and dreamed of
the day he could once more live in the warmer climate of Photthar. After talking
to Inwans parents and reassuring them that everything would be alright, he took
off in the direction of the eastern forest. First, he decided to follow a hunch - he
went to Kaetar=s house.
AKeatar, are you home?@ Mangat knocked on his door urgently.
AComing!@ Kaetar answered from inside his home. He tried to sound like
nothing was wrong, but Mangat sensed something was amiss.
AVunfael said that Inwan had visited you before he disappeared.@ Mangat=s
tone was steady, yet quick.
AHmmm.....Oh yes, yes! He came by to borrow a cup of sugar.@ Kaetar
diplomatically responded, his voice slightly uneasy.
ADid you two discuss anything?@
ANo, nothing really important. We talked about his home, and his duties at
Wisayael=s.@ He stammered ever so slightly when he mentioned Wisayael.
AWhat did Inwan mention about Wisayael?@ Mangat knew he would have
to take a roundabout approach in this conversation.
AHe just mentioned some funny smelling boxes that she had him carry up
from the cellar.@ Kaetar=s minty breath poured out slowly and filled the space
between them.
ADid he know what was in the boxes?@ Mangat asked.
ANo, but I did think it was my duty to tell him.@
AWhat exactly did you tell him?@
AThe truth. That the boxes were filled with scorpion powder.@ Kaetar
replied, trying to sound assertive.
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AKaetar, you fool! No wonder why the lad ran away, he was spooked!@
AAnd he has every right to be! That woman is still practicing her dark
craft! She will be the ruin of us all! No wonder why she was banished from the
village!@ Kaetar cried, trying to convince Mangat of his deceptive description of
things.
ADark craft ?! Kaetar have you lost your mind? What are you talking
about?@
ACome now, Mangat.@ Kaetar expounded, trying his best to sound
convincing and sly, AYou must have guessed by now that Wisayael poisoned Axora
all those years ago. Why her nose and ears were bleeding; everyone knows that is
a sure sign of poisoning.@
AOf course she was poisoned you fool! She ate poison berries! I saw you
with her as she lay dying. When you carried her back to the village I noticed that
you had left something behind. When I went over to retrieve it, I found the
poison berry bush and her scarf, which had berry stains on it! Are you that
dumb?@ Mangat shouted.
AMangat, please, this isn=t the time to debate her guilt or innocence.
Whatever happened, happened. Right now the important thing is to find Inwan.@
Kaetar babbled anxiously while backing away from him.
ANo, no you aren=t that dumb. You must have realized what had happened
and lied about the whole matter! Now, Inwan has run off and Wisayael has run
off after him. If Wisayael gets hurt, I will break every bone in your body old
man!@ Mangat shouted while grabbing him.

Mangat jumped on his horse and raced into the eastern forest, following
Wisayael=s tracks. He rode as fast as he could for two hours before he found
Wisayael. She was lying on the ground, unconscious; her horse had run off.
Towering above her was an orab, seven feet tall with grey skin and tusks like an
elephant. He had a large branch in his hand and was about to strike Wisayael
when Mangat charged him.
AGet away from her you beast!@ Mangat yelled as he jumped off his horse
and tackled the creature. The creature rose up, with Mangat hanging on to him
from behind. The creature reached behind him and threw Mangat ten feet into a
nearby clump of bushes. Then the creature slowly advanced toward him.

Unbeknownst to Mangat, there was a second orab only fifty yards away. It
heard the commotion and started walking towards the scene of the battle. Soon
Mangat was facing two monsters instead of one. The two creatures stared at one
another and started grunting, growling and squealing, as if debating who had the
rights of possession to this puny man.
Suddenly there was a low growling behind the second monster. Sishkye
was standing behind it, teeth barred and hackles raised. Before the creature
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could decide what to do about the white wolf, Sishkye leapt at it and had his jaws
securely clamped down upon its throat.

That left only one creature to deal with. The creature started advancing
again, large branch in hand. Mangat picked up a branch to defend himself with.
AYou murderous beast! Let=s see how you deal with someone who is still
standing on their own two feet!@ Mangat challenged as he poked his stick at the
monster. His voice was rushing forth like an angry river.
AMangat! Mangat!@ It was Inwan. He had been hiding the whole time
but now gathered up enough courage to rise up.
AInwan, my boy! It is good to hear your voice. Stay there! Don=t come
any closer. I will deal with this foul abomination!@ Mangat cautioned while
ducking and dodging the orab=s attacks.
AFollow me! I have a plan!@ Inwan urged.
ASince you have a plan, and I do not, then it is you who are in charge.@
Mangat replied, trying to sound humorous.
Inwan and Mangat led the creature, by taunts and snowballs, away from
Wisayael and deeper into the forest. While wandering, Inwan had discovered a
Aboar pit@, a large, hidden hole with sharp spikes in the bottom used for luring
wild pigs and other animals to their death.
When they had gotten to the trap, the creature was in a rage. It swung at
Inwan and then at Mangat. It smashed its stick against trees and the cold earth.
Then it charged at Mangat, who was standing in front of the pit. At the last
possible moment, Mangat jumped aside and the creature fell, head first, into the
hole. The noises it made as it lay dying at the bottom were ones that neither
Mangat nor Inwan would ever forget. Despite his revulsion, Inwan walked to the
edge of the pit and looked in; his eyes absorbed every last movement of the
creature as it lay dying.
ACongratulations, young master Inwan. You have killed your first
monster.@ Mangat announced, still breathing hard from all the physical exertion.
AIt won=t be my last, will it?@ Inwan said, looking into the deep forest.
AI=m afraid that there may be more where that one came from.@ Mangat
confessed, putting his hand on the boy=s shoulder and leading him back to
Wisayael. When they got back to where Wisayael lay, they found the other orab,
dead - its throat crushed and torn.

When Wisayael regained consciousness, her head hurt, but she was
thankful to be alive. She was in Inwan=s home lying in his bed.
AEasy, easy dearest, you had a nasty bump on the head.@ Mangat tried to
prevent her from springing out of the bed.
AInwan? Is he ok?@ She asked, following Mangat=s direction and laying
back down.
106

AInwan is fine. Everything is ok. There is one very small matter though.@
AYes?@
AThe next time you involve me in your crazy schemes I would like to be told
ahead of time.@ Mangat smiled.

There was a grand celebration that night in Sanfir. Three villains were
defeated that day. The two orab lay dead in the forest. Then there was Kaetar -
once his lies about Wisayael had been exposed, he was banished from the village.













107


The Breaking Shell

Chapter 18 - The Auction

The day of the auction had finally arrived and Oubulon was tingling with
excitement. He rushed through his daily routine, gulping down tea and eating
toast while moving through his home. He was dressed in his best light gray
Pladexien Shirt and black trousers. He quickly put on his favorite pair of ridge
boots and almost forgot to lock the door behind him. As he walked to the
stables, he whistled a merry tune. He strode in and walked right up to the last
stall where his horse was waiting. After feeding his companion, he petted the
horse=s nose. Then he quickly mounted and rode off.
As he entered the Wild Lands, he came upon a dense forest. The branches
hung low and vines twined around the ancient trees. As he carefully made his
way through the tangled labyrinth of gnarled boughs, everything was eerily silent.
It was as if the animals, in their superior wisdom, had decided to leave this place.
He heard a twig snap behind him and wheeled around. All he could see were
trees and vines; whatever had been there had disappeared. As he continued his
journey, he felt as if he was being watched; in fact, he sometimes felt that someone
was just a few feet away. Whenever he turned around he would find nothing.
As he rode up to Pomkon=s castle, he smelled the air; it seemed perfumed
with wild flowers, which was unusual for the wild lands. It had been decided that
he would represent the interests of Mangat, Wisayael, Thune, and the others. He
felt confident that he could accomplish his task. He had learned, through his
connections, that the bidding price of the ring had gone down. How much it had
gone down remained to be seen.

Once inside the imposing fortress, Oubulon=s curiosity got the best of him
and he wandered around for a few moments before the auction began. As he was
looking through one of the libraries on the second floor, he quite accidentally
bumped into a young lady.
AOh! I=m quite sorry.@ He said apologetically; his voice sounded like a
harp playing in a distant forest.
ANo harm done.@ The woman replied. She was a light skinned woman
with flowing blond hair down to her waist and deep gray eyes. She had a streak
of midnight black running through her hair on her right side; this dark shadow of
hair was tightly braided. At the tip of the braid was a rosy quartz jewel. This
elegant woman wore a sleeveless vanilla colored satin dress which seemed to
108

welcome the sunlight which streamed into the room. An ivory bracelet wound
itself around her left arm. The bracelet, which was an intricate lattice work of
three graceful curves, started at her wrist and ended at her elbow. The curves
intersected at several points and then went their separate ways again, only to meet
a few inches later. Engraved upon the first ivory strand were strange names that
Oubulon didn=t quite recognize. Something about them - had he heard those
names before? Engraved upon the second strand were pictures of trees and
plants. The third strand bore engravings of paw prints and feathers.
AYou=re here for the auction I presume. You won=t be disappointed. I
have been to many in my time, and I haven=t seen one like this in years.@
Oubulon reassured her.
AThat is what I have heard. My father would love this - but alas he is quite
busy so he sent me.@
AYour father?@
AKing Hynyxoxo of Axandali.@ She replied looking deep into Oubulon=s
eyes.
APrincess Khyphryxia, it is truly an honor to meet you. I have heard many
tales of your travels. I am Oubulon.@ He addressed her, bowing low.
AMy good fortune to meet such a gentleman.@ She kindly answered. All of
a sudden a small bell could be heard; the auction was about to start.

The ballroom of the castle was festively decorated with wild flowers and
peach blossoms. There were comfortable chairs, with a white flag on each chair;
the flags themselves had numbers on them, so as to keep track of who was
bidding. On the sides of the room large buffet tables were spread. Oubulon
looked over the participants; many were rich nobles, some like Princess
Khyphryxia, represented their countries. A few, like Oubulon himself, were
genuine auction lovers. He then perused the buffet tables; there were a variety of
breads and several kinds of butter. There were fruits and many types of cheeses,
there were even some oak leaf crackers, a rare delicacy.
As for his seat, Oubulon took a position near the center, where he could see
the items for auction as well as some of the bidders. He looked over the auction
list and noticed that Arkplur had moved down from the third item to the seventh,
which indicated that its opening bid would still be high. As he was watching the
auctioneer and his assistant prepare the stage, Khyphryxia took a seat next to him.
AVery well chosen Master Oubulon! Close enough to see the items, yet far
enough away to see some of your competitors. Truly the strategy of a veteran
bidder.@ She complimented him.
AMaster Oubulon?@
AI noticed your patriarch ring. Don=t look so surprised - I know and notice
many things.@ She quietly smiled.

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AFirst item for bidding,@ the auctioneer began as he stepped up to the
podium in front of the crowd, Aa rare tome from the Fifth Dynasty. It is said to
contain a re-creation of the map Blonshborg, the great barbarian king, drew in the
last year of his life. Bidding starts at i2 Gold Coins.@

Khyphryxia was about to raise her flag, when Oubulon stopped her. Any
other princess would have immediately had him put in a dungeon, but she paused
for a moment.
ANot yet, honored one. Let=s see the strength and interest of the
competition first.@ Oubulon whispered to her.
ANumber 18, i2 Gold, \5 Ivory.@ There was a silence as the auctioneer=s
assistant moved back and forth in front of the crowd to make sure that the tome
could be seen by all. ANumber 43, i2 Gold, \7 Ivory.@ Another pause. All the
while Oubulon was taking notes on flag numbers and bids.
AWhat are you doing?@ Khyphryxia asked him with a quizzical look on her
face.
AJust keeping track of the competition, bright star.@ He handed her a piece
of paper and an extra quill pen he had in his pocket. She then quickly copied his
notes.
Number 11, i4 Gold, \7 Ivory.@ The auctioneer announced as Khyphryxia
held up her flag. There was a long pause then the auctioneer announced: ASold,
to number 11.@
ANext item up for bid - a vase from the Fourth Dynasty. Opening bid, \75
Ivory Coins.@ A flag shot up immediately. ANumber 3, \80 Ivory. Number 9
\82 Ivory. Number 3 \84 Ivory. Number 17, \90 Ivory. Number 3 \91
Ivory. Number 9, \91 Ivory...@, a small slip of paper went up from the direction
of number 9. The assistant retrieved it and the auctioneer read it aloud:
ANumber 9, \91 Ivory, 1 horse, 2 years old.@ There was a long pause and then
came the announcement: ASold to number 9.@
AWhy they=re using the >property clause= - this is truly rare!@ Oubulon said
aloud to himself.
AThe property clause?@ Khyphryxia asked.
AThe property clause states that you can bid items, such as a horse, for
example as well as money. This should be most interesting.@ Oubulon
speculated excitedly. His voice sounded like a master musician deftly playing a
guitar.
When Arkplur finally came up for auction, Oubulon hadn=t been able to
think of any items to add to his bidding strength. He looked over the crowd and
then at his notes, and even at Khyphryxia=s notes. He was desperate to gain some
indication of the ferocity of the bidding.
ANext item up for bid, a ring, perhaps from the First Dynasty or even -A a
flag shot up before the description was finished. The auctioneer was somewhat
110

taken aback from a moment, but gained his composure. ANumber 2, '800
Platinum.@, There was a pause and then Oubulon raised his flag ANumber 10,
'805 Platinum. Number 29, '810 Platinum, Number 37, '811 Platinum.@
There was a long pause and then ANumber 11, '814 Platinum.@
AJust to keep things interesting!@ Khyphryxia said, flashing Oubulon a sly
grin.
Oubulon=s heart started to sink. It had been difficult enough to raise the
'820 Platinum Coins, and it looked as if the ring would slip out of his grasp. If
only Mangat were here, he would know what to do. Suddenly, he wrote
something down on a piece of paper; he waved the paper and his flag in the air.
ANumber 10, '814 Platinum....and a large 1o room estate complete with a
small apple orchard - total estimated bid now '821 Platinum.@ Mangat could
stay with him or Wisayael after his home was taken, Oubulon thought. ANumber
29, '825 Platinum, Number 8, '830 Platinum.@ Again, there was a very long
pause. The auctioneer was about to make the final announcement when
Oubulon again raised another slip of paper. ANumber 10 '814 Platinum, 10
room estate, small cottage, complete with 2 gardens - total estimated bid '830
Platinum \7 Ivory.@ Mangat and Wisayael could stay with him after their houses
had been taken; after all, weren=t they like one big family? Oubulon mused on
how long that arrangement would have to be in place. ANumber 8, '831
Platinum. Number 53, '831 Platinum, i3 Gold. Number 10 - '814 Platinum, 10
room estate, small cottage, and 1 child. Total estimated bid '831 Platinum i3
Gold \25 Ivory.@ Inwan is a strong, healthy boy, he could withstand a few years
of indentured servitude - why it might even do him some good, Oubulon mused.
There was another long pause and then came the announcement: ANumber 8,
'840 Platinum, i3 Gold, \50 Ivory.@ After an excruciating long pause came the
final announcement ASold to number 8.@

After the auction, Oubulon approached the gentleman who had outbid him
for Arkplur. He was a short, yet stately dressed man in his twenties who wore
expensive clothing fashioned from cotton, silk and leather. His short blonde hair
was parted to the left side and his mustache was neatly trimmed.
ASir, if I may have a word with you?@ Oubulon began.
AWhy, yes of course. Are you number 10? You are truly a fierce
competitor! You may not have won the ring, but you certainly have won my
admiration.@ The gentleman replied, shaking his hand.
AThat is what I would like to discuss. That ring is not what it appears to
be.@ Oubulon=s tone and face became shadowy and sober.
AYou sound very grim, my friend.@ The gentleman=s words likewise took on
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a dark tone and he looked somewhat nervous.
AThe ring itself is grim, not to mention dangerous. My friends and I are
hoping to destroy it before it can do any harm.@
AWell, if you are seeking to get the ring from me, I am truly sorry.@
AWhy? What happened?@ Oubulon said, trying his best to mask his fears.
AI sent the ring to my lord by courier just a few minutes ago. If you hurry,
perhaps you can catch him.@

Oubulon raced out of the room to the front door. He was given the
description of the courier: a tall young man with red hair who was riding a gray
horse with black speckles. The guard at the door mentioned that the courier
was traveling to Apandish, a city in the northern half of Nazalquatat.
After riding as fast as he could, he found the courier two miles away from
the castle. He was dead and his horse was gone. Oubulon frantically searched
the body, not only once, but three times. He did not find the ring, but what he
did find troubled him greatly: a mint wrapper.




























112










Part II

A Dark Weed in the Garden

















113
A Dark Weed in the Garden

Chapter 19 - Many Goodbyes

The time for the Harvest Festival had come once again. Vunfael woke
early that morning and got everything in good order; as the village elder, he was
expected to be the first in the field. He woke Inwan, who was sleeping soundly in
his bed. Inwan got up slowly and put on his clothes. He was about to leave the
room when he noticed that the book he was reading was still on his night stand.
He picked it up and looked at the bookshelf across from his bed.
AMetal Working in the Dark Ages - now let=s see - where shall I put you?@
Inwan thought to himself. He decided to put it next to his book on Renaissance
gardening. Inwan laughed to himself as he thought that the books belonged
together - just like Mangat and Wisayael.
Then he went with his father to the fields; they looked sickly, as there were
small black weeds everywhere. They had a soapy, filmy residue on them and they
smelled like rotten eggs. The clouds overhead seemed determined to block any
happiness that might otherwise have been brought by the sun=s rays.
AI picked as many as I could for three days, but they just keep coming back.@
Inwan sighed, stepping on a weed and crushing it with his foot.
AI know, I know.@ His father acknowledged his efforts. AI haven=t seen
anything like this.@
AWisayael says that these foul plants actually suck the Haru=Caban right out
of the earth.@ Inwan disdainfully kicked a rock at a nearby weed.
AI don=t know if that is true, but they are sapping the joy from my heart.@
Vunfael strode forth into the field like bear defending his territory.
By this time, some of the villagers had arrived; they looked as disappointed
as Vunfael and Inwan. They set about their task slowly and somberly - there was
no laughter at this Harvest Festival.

When Inwan and his father came home, Wisayael=s white owl, Zoshan, was
perched on the fence in the back yard. Inwan=s eyes sparkled with excitement as
he ran over to where the bird was. It was wearing a small vial with a piece of
paper in it. Inwan carefully opened the vial and read the paper.
AI=ve been accepted! Mother! Father! I=ve been accepted! I=m going to
be a knight!@ He shouted joyfully as he ran into the house.
AMy dearest, that=s wonderful!@ His mother smiled as she hugged him. A
look of worry swam in her eyes though and she held on tight to her son.
AI knew they would accept you.@ His father proudly stated as he put his
hands on his son=s shoulders. AI=m sure you will have many grand adventures


114
ahead of you.@
AI am supposed to leave in one month.@ Inwan=s words bubbled up from
inside him, reflecting the awe and wonder of this auspicious moment.
AJust enough time to say goodbye to Wisayael and Mangat.@ His mother
said.

That night, Inwan did not sleep well and his mind was wrestling with his
heart, even as he slept. He dreamt he was on a road, the village was behind him
and a dense forest lay ahead. As he walked on, he noticed a mist, slithering
around some of the trees in the forest. He quickened his pace, determined to
complete his journey. Then, he was in the middle of the forest; he heard
squealing and thought he saw something moving out of the corner of his eye.
Standing in front of him was an orab, another appeared to his side, and then
another behind him. He woke up in a cold sweat.

He decided to take in some fresh night air, so he went to the community
barn. No matter how hard the villagers tried, a few black weeds had been
harvested along with the crops. The whole barn had a faint, foul odor. He looked
over the newly hatched chicks and the young chickens. Then he noticed that the
rabbit he had caught and killed yesterday was missing from its hook.
Sishkye stepped out of a shadowy corner. There were a few tufts of rabbit=s
fur in his lower jaw. He smiled and sat for a moment; then sniffing the air,
walked out of the barn. He stopped momentarily in the doorway, and looked
back at Inwan.
AI agree, I think the barn smells too.@ Inwan said as he followed him out of
the barn. Once in the night air, Inwan petted Sishkye. AI have to say some
goodbyes and I wanted to save this one for last.@ He hugged the wolf for a long
time and finally, reluctantly let go.

The next morning he was taking Wisayael=s share of the harvest to her
home. This was the first time that he had taken the journey alone. His father
was busy drawing up plans to strengthen the wall around the village. As he drove
the wagon through the forest, he smiled as he listened to the occasional bird
singing happily in the trees. He noticed that the tree limbs looked especially
barren, even for this time of year. Was winter going to come early?
AWisayael! I=m here!@ Inwan called out as he stopped the wagon in front
of her house. She came out to meet him with a smile.
AThere you are! Where=s your father?@ Her voice sounded like a fresh
breeze rushing through a stale house.
ABack in the village, drawing up plans for a bigger, better wall.@ Inwan
replied sarcastically.
ANow Inwan, your father takes his duties as village elder and protector very
seriously. You yourself know the dangers in the forest.@


115
ADangers we haven=t seen for years. I think he and my mother are over
protective at times.@
ATrust him. It will be easier to trust him than to doubt him. So, you
received my good news?@ She asked, closing further debate on the matter of the
village wall.
AI=m really excited. I wish I could have gotten into the academy at
Okphangor though.@ Inwan replied, his excitement tempered by slight
disappointment.
AThe knights of Oeshaili have strict requirements. I watched at the
academy; you passed three out of the five tests. Most don=t even pass three tests.
That=s why the Knights of the Green Curtain are so famous.@
AYou were there?@ Inwan said, his eyes widening in surprise.
AYes, so was Mangat.@ She smiled.
AThen I definitely wished I could have done better.@ Inwan replied, slightly
embarrassed.
AI think you have done quite well - soon you will be a Knight of the Grey
Raven.@

Wisayael then made a champion=s feast for Inwan, which included her
famous blue omelet. The familiar smells of the cooking herbs and spices took
Inwan back to all the happy memories he had of this place.
AWhy didn=t Mangat come?@ Inwan asked while Wisayael put a plate full of
food in front of him.
AWell, he=s busy chasing after artifacts. I don=t need to remind you of how
fond he is of such things, do I?@ She winked at him.
ANo ma=am! I still remember the argument you had with him when he
tried to bring a new statue into the iron garden.@ Inwan laughed.
AI=m sure that he will be at his mansion, rummaging around in one of his
libraries. You will finally be able to see what his home looks like. That will be
quite an experience for you.@

After they had finished eating and cleaning up the kitchen, Inwan and
Wisayael toured the stone garden. As Wisayael stood and admired the scenery,
Inwan was trimming a tree here, plucking a weed there.
AI think the garden is all set for the winter, Inwan.@ She said gently.
AJust a little more and I=ll be done.@ He replied, focusing on his garden
duties and pushing down his sorrow.
AInwan, it=s time to continue your journey.@ Wisayael hugged him tight.
A tear ran down her cheek and she bade goodbye to her pupil.

Mangat=s mansion lay on forty sprawling acres. The lawn was neatly
trimmed and punctuated with small flower beds here and there. Two imposing
statues of warriors, each thirty feet tall, stood on either side of the front path.


116
On the east side of the lawn sat a small wooden stage, which traveling performers
could use when they happened to stop by. The stage itself was nestled under
three immense oak trees. Inwan could see squirrels running about the stage,
almost is if they were preparing for a grand production of their own. The gentle
breeze played with the purple and white banners that adorned the platform. The
main path itself was inlaid with reddish brown marble tiles. It all seemed so
refined and idyllic - except for the two snarling, ghoulish faces which adorned the
iron gate. Inwan searched his pockets for the key Wisayael had given him,
occasionally glancing at the two leering iron gargoyles. When at last he turned
the key in the ancient lock, he felt a small wave of relief wash over him. As he
approached the mansion, he noticed several more ominous granite faces; from
their expression, they seemed to be trying to tell him something about the place -
something unpleasant. The front door was made of oak and had an inscription,
wrought in the finest silver, upon it:


Welcome traveler to my quiet home,
A place of sanctuary from the lonely road,
Come sit and rest your weary bones,
No need for a purse of sliver or of gold.

We=ll share stories by the fire=s light,
And enjoy fruit from the sweetest vine,
When the sun again banishes night,
You will journey on and leave friendship behind.


When he knocked on the door, Thune greeted him.
AMaster Inwan, I presume?@ Thune addressed him, his voice sounding like the
ringing of a distant, somber bell.
AYes, sir. Is Mangat at home? Inwan quietly asked. He had been
impressed with Mangat=s mansion before he even stepped foot on the grounds.
Now that he was here, his awe almost overwhelmed him.
AI=m sorry, but he has been delayed in Photthar. Please - come in.@
AI didn=t know that Mangat had a servant. How long have you known
him?@


117
AServant? I have been young Mangat=s teacher for many, many years now.@
Thune replied in tone of authority. He stepped back and studied Inwan to see
what his reaction would be.
AMaster Thune! I am sorry! I didn=t realize!@ Inwan said, quickly
bowing before the patriarch.
AUp! Up! This is no time for ceremony. It is time to eat! I will give you
a good meal, not some disgusting omelet.@ Thune guffawed, leading Inwan into
the living room. As they headed for the living room, Thune was impressed with
Inwan=s submission to authority, but hoped he would not eventually be
completely bound and gagged by it.
AIf your mentor paid as much attention to culinary matters as to artifacts we
could be having lunch by now!@ Thune grumpily complained. AInwan, could
you see if Master Mangat has any vegetables in his cellar?@
AYes Master Thune!@ Although Inwan was disappointed by Mangat=s
absence, he was excited by Thune=s presence.

Down in the cellar, Inwan was confused by Mangat=s haphazard
organization. Wine caskets were placed where cheeses would usually go, and
cheese boxes were placed where vegetables would usually sit. While trying to
find his way through the cluttered labyrinth, Inwan once more heard singing. It
seemed closer than it had been when he was in the cellar at home. He stopped
for a moment to listen.
A......down the happy hole!@ That was all he could make out and the sound
soon faded altogether.

After they had finished eating, Inwan and Thune went to the northeastern
library on the first floor. Inwan looked at the books while Thune searched
several chests.
AAre you familiar with those books?@ Thune questioned the boy,
momentarily pausing his search.
AI=ve read this one, and this one. I would like to read this one some day.@
Inwan ran his fingers over the books.
AWhat about this one?@ Thune pointed to a book on the desk nearby.
AMangat says that I should read a few more books on Fifth Dynasty artifacts
before reading something like that.@
AHmmmm.....Mangat has been using an Eastern perspective while
educating you. Well, I hear that=s the way things are done now. I guess that=s
why I gave up teaching long ago - too old fashioned.@ Thune lamented, resuming
his search. AAha! Here it is. Even with notes and a map I thought I would have
to search all day for this. Mangat is so exceedingly disorganized.@ Thune
grumbled, shaking his head in disgust. He pulled a wooden box out of a chest in
the corner. He opened the box and held up a sword. The sword was made of
high quality steel and had a blue stone set in the handle. AThis was crafted in


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Eyruinabatalshukinar at the beginning of the Renaissance Age. It will serve you
well - but I caution you, wield this as a precious gift and not as a badge of honor.@
AI will remember you and everyone who has helped me get this far
whenever I pick up this sword, Master Thune.@ Inwan graciously answered as he
humbly accepted his weapon.


















119
A Dark Weed in the Garden

Chapter 20 - The Hunt

Oubulon finally arrived home on a QanQan day evening; it had been a
long eight day week - even for him. He had been searching the Wild Lands
between Yebfam and Oeshaili for clues as to Arkplur=s whereabouts. Not a
pleasant task, not at all; whereas the others tolerated the wild lands, he despised
them. He always tried to find an excuse for either avoiding them or passing
through them quickly. Now, however, it seemed that everyone had to take on
some unpleasant chores and he was no exception.
Up in the sky, the two moons, K=Posh and Nibat were doing their autumnal
courtship dance. This time it was K=Posh=s turn to lead - the large red moon was
high above the twinkling Dragon=s Thread. It seemed that Nibat, with her
smaller size and pale yellow complexion, was having trouble keeping up with her
suitor; she was barely above the trees of the forest. Several shooting stars raced
across K=Posh=s face and burst into a thousand tiny sparks as they hit the Dragon=s
Thread.
Oubulon walked through the door of his modest two story home and hung
his cloak upon the wooden peg next to the door. He undid the top button of his
pale red Pladexien Shirt and started a fire in the fireplace. The living room of his
home was spacious, with portraits of friends, family, and ancestors hanging from
the walls. There were several large comfortable chairs gathered around a
beautiful stone coffee table. The coffee table itself had several lists of to do
projects on it: mostly letters that he wanted to write and auctions he wanted to
attend. He looked around at the dark room and sighed. Over the past few years,
he had spent less and less time at home. Although he liked to travel, this
business of chasing Arkplur had begun to exhaust him. He almost wished that
the mysterious mint connoisseurs still had the ring; then all they would have to do
is find them. However, over the past few months rumors had surfaced that they
had somehow let it slip from their grasp.
He went over to the coffee table and picked up a list. It was a list of letters
he thought he should write. To his embarrassment, he noticed that he was late in
some of his letters. His first priority would be to write to Enstu and congratulate
her on her wedding, even if he was four months late. He stood there for a
moment reflecting on his short courtship with her; cordial, friendly, scholarly, yet
no passion, no trust. At least they were able to end things on a good note and
remain colleagues.
He went to the kitchen and made some tea. The moons shown through the
window; metal and glass tins containing various exotic spices gleamed in the faint


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light. While the water was boiling, he looked through his cupboards and noticed
that he still had some saa=bishad in a metal tin. He opened it, smelled it and
decided it was still fresh. He then ate it slowly, relishing the dried tomatoes,
nuts, and bits of beef jerky.
After putting another log in the fireplace to keep away the chill of the night
air, he went to his roost, where his hawks were waiting for him. Their feeding
pans were empty, so he hurried to fill them with food. His frustration at being
away so long started to grow. After that was done, he noticed that two of his
hawks had vials with letters in them. He went to the first hawk, a large black
male with a river of blue feathers running down the left side of its head.
APenphe, my good fellow, what news have you brought?@ He asked the
bird, gently petting it. He opened the vial and took out a blank piece of paper.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bronze brush with a handle in the
shape of a bull. From his other pocket he pulled out a small iron box filled with
ashen gray powder. Upon the box, the name AUlysses@ was inscribed. He opened
the box, dipped the brush into the powder, and applied it to the blank page.
Letters slowly became words, and words slowly became a note:

Dear Oubulon,

Have you had any news of Mangat? He has not
written or visited as often in the past few weeks. I am
starting to worry about him.
Things here are fine; in fact Inwan has just left for
Kel-Tress to begin training as a Knight. He is so excited,
yet, as to be expected, sad at saying so many goodbyes. We
will have to look in on him from time to time to remind him that
he will always have us in his life.

Write soon,
Wisayael

Wisayael=s kindness and concern for others made Oubulon smile. Mangat
was lucky to have such a beautiful and wonderful woman in his life. He then
went to his other hawk, the one with bright yellow feathers and a river of black
feathers running down its back. This bird seemed unhappy that Oubulon had


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been gone so long and pecked at him as he tried to untie the vial from around its
neck.
ATemtem, must you be so fussy?@ Oubulon said as he pulled a bit of beef
jerky out of his pocket. APerhaps next time I will take you with me? Would you
like that? You always seem to enjoy traveling.@
Oubulon finally opened the vial and brushed the blank page with his
powder. He read the letter that now appeared before his eyes:

Oubulon,

I hope your hunt for clues has gone well. I am not
having much luck finding out who are enemies are, so I am
trying to get more Jade River members into the guilds. If
all goes well, that will yield much more information about
the whereabouts of Arkplur and those who seek the vile
ring.
I am also at an impasse with my research on how to rid
the world of this evil. A few Second Dynasty texts
mention Jisi, but I have yet to discover what that is or how
it can be found.
I know we all have made sacrifices through the years,
but we must not give up. As long as the ring is out there,
everyone and everything is in danger.

Mangat

ACome back to us, Mangat, come back.@ Oubulon sighed.

All of a sudden Oubulon heard a crash inside the house. He entered through
the kitchen and found nothing amiss. He then walked through the living room
and lit a candle, preparing to go upstairs. He then heard footsteps, muffled and
quick approaching the top of the stairs, so he called out:
AWhoever is there, I am armed.@ He put his right hand on his sword. The


122
steel handle felt cold and smooth as his grip tightened. Mangat had urged him to
have his blade by his side at all times. At first, Oubulon thought he was over
reacting, but now he was glad that he had followed his friend=s advice.
There was no answer from upstairs, only the wind whistling through the
trees outside. Oubulon cautiously went up the first three steps and then stood
still. Still nothing. So he went up several more stairs; this time a crossbow bolt
shot out from the dark and pierced his left arm, causing him to drop the candle on
the stairs. Another crossbow bolt pierced his left leg; Oubulon fell backward
down the stairs as the fire from the candle spread to the rug covering the stairs.
He thought he heard the sound of someone putting more bolts into the crossbow;
he took the momentary lapse in the attack to crawl away from the stairs as fast as
he could to avoid another strike. As he was crawling out of the living room and
into the kitchen, a crossbow bolt narrowly missed his head. Once he entered the
kitchen, Oubulon rolled to the left to put the kitchen wall between himself and his
attacker; as he did so another crossbow bolt grazed his head. As blood trickled
down his forehead, he reached up and grasped a sharp kitchen knife on the
counter above him. As his attacker walked through the entrance to the kitchen,
Oubulon stuck the kitchen knife deep in the intruder=s thigh. This unexpected
move startled him and Oubulon hit the back of his knee as hard as he could; this
sent the assailant to his knees. However, he was able to push Oubulon away and
then struggled to his feet again. The fire was spreading and the smoke was getting
thick; that was enough to persuade the mysterious assailant that he should flee
and leave the killing to the fire. Despite getting a good close look at him,
Oubulon couldn=t identify his attacker; the rouge had worn dark leather armor,
with a hood and helmet to conceal himself. The only clue was the attacker=s
armband; it had a yellow symbol of some kind. The encroaching fire persuaded
Oubulon to escape first and speculate later.
The fire was moving faster through his home than he was; in the middle of
the kitchen, a beam from the ceiling fell and missed him by mere inches. Finally,
after a moment or two, Oubulon reached the outside and crawled as fast as he
could from his burning home.









123
A Dark Weed in the Garden

Chapter 21 - A Friendly Voice In The Night

ASuch a small thing.@ Aexeon remarked, holding the gold ring in the palm
of his hand.
AIt is very rare and powerful.@ A voice drifted from the shadows.
Although it was a sunny day, the mysterious trader had found the only dark spot
in Aexeon=s cozy library. The room was filled with exquisitely crafted mahogany
furniture and comfortable leather chairs. On the north side of the library three
large windows admitted sunlight; the center window was in the shape of a
crescent moon and the two on either side were triangular. The scent of apple
blossoms seeped out from between the leather bound books.
AAhhh....yes. >Rare and powerful.=@ The count=s words rolled off his tongue
like water running off a leaf. He was a broad shouldered man with black eyes and
a long mustache. His short dark brown hair was neatly trimmed and he wore a
general=s uniform. ALook around, go on, take a long leisurely look.@ He said,
motioning to his library. Although the mysterious visitor was not prone to
suggestion, advice, or consul, he began to examine the books on the shelf next to
him. AA fine selection.@ The count continued, indicating the book his guest had
picked up. AIt too is very >rare and powerful=, as is the one next to it, and the one
next to that.@
ASome say it even carries a curse.@ The visitor hissed ominously.
AI do not believe in curses, but I do believe in foolishness. A curse. Do
you think I am a child or a simpleton? The price is '2 Platinum.@
AMany have died and killed for this ancient wonder.@
ASo...what is the price for murder? Hmmmm.....@ Aexeon mused, looking
at the ring in his hand. He was tempted to toss the ring back to the seller, when
something prompted him to keep it. A'2 Platinum, i5 Gold.@
AYou have no idea of what you hold in the palm of your hand.@
ARing, I command you to smite my visitor!@ The count commanded.
Nothing happened. ASee? An ordinary ring.@ Suddenly, three knights came into
the room and dragged the mysterious visitor away. AYour payment awaits the at
the entrance to my estate. Good day.@

Later that evening, as the count sat reading in his library, with the ring
safely tucked under a glass display case, something rustled in the shadows.
Aexeon looked up momentarily and then went back to his tome. A figure seemed
to condense from the gloom in one corner and observed him quietly.


124
AMore.@ It whispered.
AIs someone there?@ Aexeon looked up. His eyes scanned the room and
noticed the black figure, barely discernable among the shadows. He dismissed
this as a trick of the light and resumed his reading.
AYou want more.@ The figure continued.
AWhere are you? Show yourself.@ Aexeon commanded. The figure
complied, somewhat, and seemed to take a step out of the shadows. It was tall,
with pointed ears and long, claw like hands.
AA magnificent collection you possess - but you want more. I can feel it, I
know it.@ The figure hissed.
AFrom whence do you come, spirit?@ The count asked, undisturbed. The
figure motioned to the ring under the glass case. ASo....there is something to this
ring after all.@ He replied, rising and walking over to the ring. AWhat a fine trick
- how amusing!@ The count chuckled.
ADo not mock me, or what I offer.@ The apparition threatened.
AI do not take the threats or offers of the dead seriously, especially when
they are shackled to trinkets.@ The count walked out of the library.

Although Iknis had been strictly forbidden to enter his father=s library, that
didn=t mean that he couldn=t walk past it. His curiosity about the new artifact
that his father had acquired was stronger than his fear. There the ring lay,
glinting in the warm sunshine, under the glass. It looked very innocent and -
inviting.
AStay away from the library!@ A sudden blow to the back of his head sent
him reeling to the red and gold carpet of the library.
AI=m sorry father! I didn=t go in the library, I didn=t!@ Iknis yelped.
Aexeon stood there, towering over his trembling son, glaring at him.
AWhat must I do to get you to listen to me?@ He sneered, picking his son
up. ADo you enjoy the rebellion? Do you relish the punishment?!@ The count
yelled.
AI=m sorry father! I=m sorry!@ Iknis squealed with a trembling voice.
AThe next time I even catch you in the mansion, I will beat you till your
bones break. Do you understand me?@
AYes father.@
ANow get out!@ His father yelled, shoving him into the hall. The door
slammed in his face.

That night, Iknis walked across the grounds to the kitchen window. There
was only one potato on the sill, and a small one at that. He looked in and the
cook shrugged his shoulders. Now he knew he had been bad, since he usually
received two potatoes. Although he was drooling, he knew that this would have
to last him two days.
When he got back to the small hut that was his home, he put the potato on


125
the table and then shivered. While he had been gone, one of the rags he had
stuffed between the spaces in the wooden planks had fallen out. As he was
putting the rag back in its place, he thought he saw something out of the corner of
his eye. He turned around, but no one was there. He lit a fire in the hearth and
warmed his hands. Iknis smiled as the light and shadow danced over his pottery,
which he had worked so very hard to create. He spent long hours shaping each
piece just right and he was very passionate and proud of what now sat on his small
wooden shelf. He then sat down and cut the potato in two. Just as he was about
to take a bite, he heard a curious song:

Sun or moon,
Shine or rain,
I always walk down the country lane!

He heard a humming coming from somewhere outside his door. Iknis ran
to the stone wall guarding the estate to see if he could catch a glimpse of the
traveler, but he saw no one.
This happened for several nights, until one night, when Iknis ran to the
wall, the sound of footsteps could be heard. Suddenly they stopped.
AHo! Is someone there on the other side of the wall?@ A voice said. It
sounded cheery and pleasant.
AI am Iknis sir, son of Aexeon, the lord of this estate.@ Iknis called out.
AIsn=t it a bit chilly for a lad like you to be out on a dark night like this?@
AI am free to do what I want, so long as I have my chores done by the end of
the day.@
AI see. Well then, good night, Master Iknis - till we meet again!@

The next night, Iknis was waiting by the wall when he heard the joyful
singing again. The singing stopped, as did the foot falls.
AIknis, are you there?@
AYes, I am here.@
AI thought you would be romping around with your friends; I am actually
surprised that you show up every night to meet an old wanderer such as I.@
AI don=t have any friends.@ Iknis replied sadly.
AA fine gentleman such as yourself - no friends?@
AFather says my time is better spent working than playing.@
AIt is true,@ The voice softly said, Athat work must be done,@ Then it
continued in secretive whisper, Abut one must also have friends! Don=t you
agree?@
AYes, yes I do!@ Iknis whispered back.
The door in the wall then opened and closed. Iknis could hear something
walking but saw nothing but the cold night.



126
The next few nights, the conversations between Iknis and his unseen friend
took place around the table of his small hut. Iknis didn=t seem concerned that he
couldn=t see his new companion; he was so lonely that even a voice was a comfort.
He shared everything with his friend, who called himself >Mr. Funny Ears= -
whenever he heard that name, he always laughed. Mr. Funny Ears always had a
joke, or an amusing story to tell. Many of his stories were about times long ago.
He even gave Iknis very good advice on how to complete his chores. Soon Iknis
found that he accomplished more in a shorter amount of time. Mr. Funny Ears
also knew what plants in the nearby fields were edible, so the boy could go to sleep
with a full stomach every night. However, what Iknis always relished the most
were his invisible comrade=s reports about what went on in the mansion -
especially the forbidden library.
AMr. Funny Ears, where do you live?@ Iknis asked one night, eating his
potato.
AA very good question. I live in a very odd place.@ The voice cheerily
responded. As the fire flickered, one could briefly see a tall, dark shadow with
pointed ears and long fingers. But, since it was on the wall behind the boy, he
didn=t notice anything.
AHow odd?@
AIt is very, very small. Why it could fit in the palm of your hand.@
AAre there any doors or windows?@
ANo.@
AHow do you get in an out?@
AHmmm.....it is very hard to say how I enter and leave my home. You will
have to just trust me on that point.@ The spirit softly whispered.
AWhat color is your home?@
AGold. It is fashioned from purest gold.@
AI wish I could see it.@ Iknis mumbled, growing sleepy.
AYou already have, my boy, you already have.@

The next morning, Iknis summoned his courage and crept into the
mansion. He sneaked silently down the hall to the doorway of the library.
AImpressive, is it not?@ He heard his father say.
AYes. How much do you want for it?@ Another voice said.
A'3 Platinum, i53 Gold.@
AQuite a price. I will have to think on it.@ The other voice said. Iknis
opened the door just a crack and saw a stranger holding the ring in his hand.
ANo! You can=t!@ Iknis cried, rushing into the room.
AWhat are you doing here ?!@ His father roared. He grabbed the lad by
the scruff of his neck.
ANo, you can=t sell the ring! Mr. Funny Ears will go away!@ The boy
wailed.



127
When the prospective buyer left, Iknis was beaten and sent to his hut
without anything to eat.
AIknis, Iknis! Are you alright?@ Mr. Funny Ears asked.
AI don=t want you to go.@ The boy quietly sobbed.
AI don=t want to leave either.@ The voice soothingly cooed.
AIt=s so unfair!@ The boy replied, angrily kicking the table.
AI agree it is an injustice. Many are the times when I had to face similar
injustices.@
AWhat did you do?@ Iknis asked, his sobs subsiding somewhat.
AReason is always the first and best instrument when facing injustice.@
AMy father won=t listen to me.@ Iknis groaned, angrily kicking the table
again.
AThen we must rely on other instruments.@ The voice replied.

Iknis walked across the grounds on the chilly night, as if he was in a trance.
He quietly opened the door to the kitchen and walked in. He went over to a table
by the wall.
AThere it is, Iknis. Take it - take the knife. We have no other choice, you
can=t let your father separate us.@ The voice urged.
Iknis slowly took the knife in his hand and stared at it for a moment. Then
he walked up the stairs to his father=s bedroom.











128
A Dark Weed in the Garden

Chapter 22 - A New Beginning

It was a sunny Evemp day morning when Inwan arrived at Adamnar, the
capital of Kel-Tress. The Dragon=s Thread glistened red, blue, and yellow
between the spires of the city. He was dressed in black trousers, a white shirt,
and an Ollarsunder. The Ollarsunder was a most curious thing. It consisted of a
leather collar worn around the neck, with two strips of black cloth firmly attached
to the leather. The collar itself was held in place by a simple copper clasp. Each
strip was two inches wide; one was in front and one was in back. Both were
securely buttoned to Inwan=s pants. Complimenting his pants was a new pair of
fin boots. As Inwan rode up to the main gate, the first thing he noticed was a
black vine which seemed to wind itself around the city wall. The blossoms of the
vine had deep bluish purple petals with a dark blood red stamen. They smelled
like dank rotting vegetation. There were several men trying to pull the vine out
by the roots; it seemed that they harder they tugged the more the vine resisted.
AExcuse me good sir, can you tell me where the Hall of the Gray Raven is?@
Inwan addressed one of the guards at the gate.
AJust follow the main street until you come to a large statue of a man on a
horse. Then take the first street on your right.@ The soldier instructed, looking
him over.
AThank you sir.@ Inwan graciously replied as he rode past. As he went
under the stone archway, he noticed carved gargoyles peeping out at him from the
top stone of the entrance. He had never seen anything like this before and
stopped for a moment to study it.
ABetter get going, lad - the Gray Ravens don=t wait for sight seers.@ The
sentry laughed.
Inwan then rode on his way, trying to take in all the sights, sounds, and
smells of the city. One thing he noticed is that there were gargoyles everywhere.
Some were shaped like devils, others like men, some like maidens, and yet others
like animals. Some kept solitary watch over the corner of a building, and others
frolicked together on stone walls. Some buildings had as many as one hundred
gargoyles on them. The sounds of blacksmiths could be heard both near and far;
then there was the creak and rattle of merchants wooden wagons on their way to
the city square. It sounded like a huge panoramic orchestra. Inwan could smell
bread baking, exotic spices and washing soap, as well as farm animals.
From a small side street, a traveling troupe of performing clowns danced
toward him. They were dressed in brilliant hues of red, blue, gold, green, orange,


129
and purple. They had funny hats; they stood straight up like a top hat, but then
curved forward. Bells, feathers, and berries hung from the tips of those hats.
Their shoes were also adorned with feathers and bells. Their faces were painted
white with red circles of varying sizes. Some were carrying large veils (so large
that it took two of them to hold the cloth). Others were carrying large poles (a
performer supporting each end) from which bells, feathers, and colorful strips of
paper dangled. They quickly surrounded Inwan; they shook their poles joyfully
and ran in circles around him, blocking his path with their veils.
They spoke no words at all. The leader of the troupe approached him with
a broad smile and a sparkle in his eyes. He held out a mask for Inwan to wear.
It was made of red paper mache and had very, very thin yellow wax paper covering
the eye holes. He could see that he was going to advance no farther until he
joined the performance, so Inwan put the mask on. The clowns immediately
began to wander around chaotically, bumping into each other and nearby walls.
They held their hands out, groping for objects they pretended not to see. When
Inwan took the mask off, all their aimless wandering stopped. They smiled and
clapped; they shook their poles and waved their veils in triumph. The leader of
the troupe then bowed low before him and they moved on.
As he continued on his way, he noticed a parchment on a door. Curious, he
examined it closer. In the center, a white cat was prowling through a field of
golden petals. In the background five stone towers kept vigil.
AKeep away from that!@ A young woman warned as she approached him.
She wore a simple green dress and had long blond hair. She wore a brass
bracelet on her left arm, which was partially hidden under her long sleeve.
AI=m sorry, I didn=t mean any harm.@ Inwan apologized.
AJust begone! Those pictures bring ill-fortune on all who gaze upon them.@
The woman curtly replied. With that, Inwan continued on his way.
Soon he was at the Hall of The Gray Raven. It was a large castle, even
larger than Mangat=s home. There were two large stone ravens, each one about
as long as two horses, with wings outspread, guarding the entrance. The large
oaken doors were set in a black and red marble doorway; each door had a knocker
made of brass. The stairs leading up to the doorway were also composed of black
and red marble. Inwan went up to the door and knocked. There were several
moments of silence; had he come too late? Inwan took hold of the knocker and
knocked even harder. Again, there was silence. He was at the right building - he
was sure of that. He looked over his acceptance letter - this was the right day.
He waited several minutes and then knocked again, even harder.
AEnter, fledgling.@ A man in his thirties answered as he opened the door.
AYour desire has opened the door for you.@ The man was bald, but had a long
blond beard. His brown eyes met and held Inwan=s for several long moments
before Inwan gathered up enough courage to step forward.
AHey! Here=s another one!@ A young boy, about Inwan=s age, called out to
some other cadets as he approached Inwan. AMy name=s Wushzan. Always


130
good to have another friend.@ He smiled, shaking Inwan=s hand; his grasp was
inviting and firm. He had long, curly, light brown hair with occasional ringlets of
blonde peeking through. His brown eyes sparkled with vitality and warmth.
AGlad to meet you. My name is Inwan.@ He replied, slightly taken aback.
He wasn=t sure what to make of such an exuberant welcome, but he was glad
things had started off on a positive note. His eyes took in his new friend and also
his surroundings.
The inside of the castle was just as impressive as the outside. He found
himself in a large room, with two stairways facing him. On his left and right
there were two giant archways leading to other parts of the castle. Through the
archways, he could see navy blue carpeted hallways with pine panels. In each
corner of the main room there was a set of forty candles. Each wall had a large
stained glass window which depicted great battles and auspicious events. White
banners with gray ravens, about ten feet wide and twenty feet long, hung on the
walls; there were two on each wall. Large chandeliers hung from the ceiling; the
iron bands which held the candles were artfully sculpted to resemble forests,
cities, and even great battles. Braided leather cords inlaid with turquoise and
mother-of-pearl hung from the walls in the main room and continued down the
hallways and out of sight.
Sitting in a shadowy corner, feeling overwhelmed and out of place, Iknis
eyed the room hopefully, looking for someone to talk to. A young lady walked
by him - he took a chance.
AWhat a marvelous place this is.@ His greeting was shaky and unsteady.
AExcuse me?@ The young woman said, turning toward him.
AThis place is incredible, is it not?@ Iknis nervously blurted out, stepping
forth from the shadows. She was so beautiful; his heart was racing and his palms
were sweaty.
AYes, it is quite impressive.@ She replied. After a moment of awkward
silence, she added AExcuse me, but I still have to unpack some of my things.@ She
walked away without a backward glance.
AIknis. You still have much to learn about
people. I now understand why you are so lonely.
One day they will all respect you - if you listen
to me . The voice in the young boy=s skull whispered gently. The words
had a certain air of triumph and haughtiness to them. The mysterious entity
seemed to take delight in Iknis= failures and shortcomings and took every
opportunity to point them out.
ACadets! Formation!@ A young lass yelled. It was Quatzitil; she was
standing between the stone stairways. She looked like a young lioness eager to
prove her hunting skills. AI am your brigade leader! Do you understand?@
AYes Ma=am!@ All the cadets said at once.


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ADon=t cross her my friend, she is a little too eager to prove her leadership
skills.@ Wushzan whispered to Inwan.
ACadet! Do you have something to say?@ Quatzitil growled. She slowly
and deliberately walked toward Wushzan. She made sure that everyone heard
her confident footsteps as they echoed through the hall.
AI am looking forward most eagerly to serving the Gray Ravens!@ Wushzan
quickly knelt before her.
ARise cadet! Let=s see how well you can serve the Gray Ravens.@ Quatzitil
drew her sword. Wushzan was a little surprised - this wasn=t what he expected
for his first day. Somewhat nervously, he drew his sword.
AQuatzitil. That will be all. Cadet Wushzan, resume your position in the
formation.@ Lepexes gently instructed as he walked down the stairs. His
movements were like a graceful eagle landing on a rocky perch. Quatzitil quickly
walked back to her former position. As she did so, she tried putting her sword
back in its sheath; it took her two clumsy attempts, but she was finally able to put
her weapon back where it belonged. AI am Lepexes. I will be your trainer, and
your captain. Welcome to the Hall of the Gray Raven. We have a long and
proud history, which stretches back to Fifth Dynasty. We defend our king, our
people, and our principles!@ The cadets enthusiastically roared in response.

The next morning, Lepexes once again stood before the cadets. He was
assigning sparring partners. Everyone was sizing up everyone else, some with
their eyes, some with their words, and even some with their swords.
ACadets. Formation. Now, we shall assign everyone a partner; this is the
person whom you will train with, both academically and militarily.@ Lepexes
informed them, eyeing his young cadets. He then started to read off the list.
Inwan was hoping to have Wushzan for his partner, as they had already spent half
the previous night talking about the grand adventures they would have. AInwan,
your partner shall be -A, Lepexes said as he scanned his list, Amost interesting.
Your partner shall be Quatzitil.@
ANot much of a challenge.@ Quatzitil said, striding forth. She looked over
her new partner, obviously disappointed. AWell, perhaps it will be a challenge to
train you. I think there=s a lot of work that needs to be done.@
AI=m ready.@ Inwan replied, trying to hide his disdain for her arrogance
under a mask of cordiality. Despite her beauty, her character seemed
disagreeable.
ADo you even know how to hold your sword, cadet?@ Quatzitil sneered as
she drew hers.
AMy father taught me what he knows.@
AAnd who is your father, cadet?@
AVunfael, elder of Sanfir.@ Inwan replied, drawing his sword.
ASanfir? I haven=t heard of that village. Is it small?@ She laughed,
sharply knocking her sword against his.


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AThe people of Sanfir are brave and honest.@ Inwan was finding it harder
to contain his anger. They began to spar, but it was over in seconds. With a few
quick, decisive moves, Quatzitil had bested Inwan and was standing over him as
he lay flat on his back.
AI=m sorry to say, but this training will be quite difficult for you - and quite
boring for me.@ She said as she walked away.

















133
A Dark Weed in the Garden

Chapter 23 - Whispers in the Dark

Inwan and Quatzitil were sitting in the main library of the Hall of the Gray
Raven. It was on the third floor of the castle, overlooking the rear courtyard.
Carved into the stone walls were scenes from victorious battles the Gray Ravens
had fought. The entrance to the library was guarded by a ten foot tall statue of
Horordir, the founder of the Gray Ravens (Wushzan had affectionately named the
statue Athe librarian@). Horordir was standing with a sword in one hand and a
scroll in the other. The statue had rubies for eyes and was adorned with iron and
silver chain mail. There were three rows of pine tables, which had been
refinished with a mixture of beech gum resin and white lotus oil, giving them a
scent of lemon and mint. Light was provided by several large torches, which
were in rows between the tables. The bases of the torches were braided bands of
iron; the tops of the torches were brass bowls in which coals were lit.
Quatzitil had chosen a table near the back of the library as the place she and
Inwan would study. Whereas she was reading and re-reading several passages
from her book, he was moving steadily and confidently through his text. From
time to time, she wrote notes and then resumed her struggles. Inwan had no pen
or paper, for he had no need to take notes.
AWhy does a warrior need to know about such nonsense?@ Quatzitil=s
frustration boiled like water in a red hot cauldron. She got up from the table and
walked to the window. As she did so, her leg disturbed a spider web. The ruler of
the tiny empire raised its front legs in defiance and anger, but then retreated to
the shadows.
She desperately wanted to be outside, proving her mettle. She looked back
at Inwan, still evaluating his worthiness as her partner. AYou seem to have no
problem with these books. You must have a deep understanding of Haru=Caban.@
AI was taught well before I came here.@ Inwan calmly replied. He chose to
focus on his text rather than prove himself to Quatzitil.
AI didn=t know that peasants in your country were allowed to learn.@ She was
somewhat surprised.
AIn my country everyone is allowed - and encouraged to learn.@ Inwan
tried all the harder to focus on his studies.
ALearning should only be for those of noble blood. If it weren=t for the new
king, we would have kept that fine custom.@ Quatzitil looked out the window, as if
searching for someone to rescue her from the present age. She sighed as she
wished for the old days, when the upper class ruled and the peasants simply
labored.


134
AIt sounds as if you don=t approve of the new ways.@ Inwan said, looking up
at her and giving up on reading.
AThe old ways worked just fine for centuries. My father told me that, when
peasants were allowed to learn and wield swords, civilization fell into chaos.@

The fourth bell rang in the distance. Inwan suddenly jumped up, not
realizing how late it was. Then both he and Quatzitil headed to the east arena for
battle training. The halls through which they passed had statues of ravens carved
out of the very stone. Some were flying up, others diving down, and yet others
simply sat and stared. Each bird had a pair of brass spheres for eyes and was so
carefully carved that it seemed like it might come to life at any moment.
The arena was an open air colosseum with stone pillars, walls, and pits
scattered throughout. There were also several obstacles - these consisted of
various giant pendulums which combatants would have to avoid while fighting
each other. Finally, there were areas of mud and water to test how well the
cadets could fight on treacherous footing. Two statues of feathered wings, each
the length of three horses, adorned the arena. One pair sat on the north, the
other on the south. Statues of famous knights who had walked through the
hallowed halls of the Gray Ravens looked down upon the field from their perches
atop the benches; their cold, stoic gaze inspired the students to recapture the glory
of the past.
AI am glad to see you my friend!@ Wushzan=s relief poured out of him like
water in a gurgling fountain. He pulled Inwan aside when he and Quatzitil entered
the arena. AIknis is having a particularly bad day. That=s not surprising since he
didn=t have a particularly good night.@ He continued, cautiously eyeing his
partner. Iknis was sitting alone on one of the stone benches halfway up the
arena. He seemed to be whispering to himself.
AI though you said that he seemed to be feeling better.@ Inwan looked at
Iknis.
ADon=t stare! I really don=t want to attract his attention. He had been
doing fine the past few weeks until last night. That=s when the dreams started
again. I could hear him muttering something, but I couldn=t make out anything
sensible.@
APerhaps you should tell Lepexes.@
AHe knows. He just dismisses the whole thing as Acadet anxiety@ - he says
it will pass in a few months.
AYou don=t think so?@
AThis is more than just anxiety. It=s like some one is in his head, talking to
him.@ Wushzan explained, noticing that Iknis had left his seat and was now
walking toward them.
AStudents. Please report to your training areas. The contest is about to
begin.@ Lepexes announced. He was standing on a stone platform at one end of
the arena.


135
ARemember what I showed you - go get her!@ Wushzan urged, pushing
Inwan towards the center of the training area.

Inwan and Quatzitil met in an area with three stone pillars. The pillars had
sharp metal protruding from them, as if someone had wrapped scimitar blades
around the very stone itself. The ground was muddy and slippery and Inwan
almost fell as he entered the combat circle. Snowflakes were just starting to drift
down between them from the gray skies overhead. They drew their swords and
circled each other. Quatzitil sized up her opponent like a hungry lioness. Inwan
looked at her and glanced at his surroundings, trying to formulate a strategy.
AShall I be merciful today?@ Quatzitil playfully asked. Inwan lunged at
her and she easily dodged him. He swung his sword and she blocked him
without any effort.
AStop this! If you don=t want me as your partner tell Lepexes!@ Inwan=s
words rang out like the clash of steel on steel.
AYou dare address your brigade leader in such a tone?@ Quatzitil growled,
offended. AToday, your lesson shall be on the subject of humility!@
She began the contest in earnest. Although it was over in less than three
minutes, Quatzitil was surprised. This time, it took more effort than usual to
defeat Inwan. She walked away silently, refusing to acknowledge Inwan=s
improving skills. What she did not know, however, was that Iknis was watching
her every move.
ACadet Iknis. You have improved much. I am surprised by how quickly
you have learned the art of war. Your father would be very proud.@ Lepexes
congratulated him as he came down from the stone pillar.
AThank you, Master Lepexes.@
AI am surprised that your father hasn=t visited you yet. I am even more
surprised that you have no desire to go home.@
AMy father is a very busy man. He=s usually abroad conducting business.@
Iknis stammered.
AI see. Hopefully your father=s travels will bring him to our wonderful city.@
Lepexes smiled warmly at his student. AHmmmm......Aexeon doesn=t travel - he
prefers to have people come to him and deal with him at his estate. Something is
amiss.@ He thought to himself.

That night, as Wushzan slept soundly, Iknis lay awake in his bed. The
moonlight streamed in through the window and seemed to accentuate the
shadows. Bare, ancient tree branches impatiently clawed the windows, as if they
were hungry for innocent blood. The wind moaned, screeched, and wailed, as if it
were being tormented by something just beyond the veil of blackness. Iknis
waited and cast nervous glances at the dark corners of the room. His beloved
pottery collection could barely be seen in the enveloping embrace of the night. It
was crowded into a small corner of the room, since Wushzan=s belongings took up


136
so much space. Although Iknis thought his roommates prized possessions were
junk, he never dared voice this opinion. His books sat in another corner,
gathering cobwebs.
As the night wore on, Iknis ran his hand over the ring on his finger, feeling
the gold and the ebony as they seemed to fight each other. Although he only took
his prized treasure out of its hiding place in the middle of the night, he still feared
someone would notice.
AIknis! Are you awake?@ The mysterious voice in his soul called out.
The voice sounded like a blend of a whisper and a hiss. It also sounded as if it
were many, many miles away.
AYes.@
AI was afraid that I had lost you.@ For a brief moment, the words
took on the same comforting tone that had first shone forth in his tiny hut.
AI would never leave you. You are my friend.@ Iknis said, nervously
fingering the ring.
AWe have been through so much together, haven=t we? I
can still remember when you first set foot in these hallowed
halls. Do you remember? You didn=t even know how to hold a
sword.@
AI remember.@ Iknis answered reluctantly. He wished he could have
forgotten that first awkward day, but it was a subject that the voice constantly
mentioned.
ANow, you fight well. There is so much more I want
to teach you. Soon you will be a mighty warrior and everyone
will respect you - even Quatzitil.@ The shadowy voice poured out her name,
sweetly, seductively.
AQuatzitil?@
ACome now, Iknis, I know how you look at her. Your eyes
follow her every move. Your gaze is quite intent.@
AShe is quite beautiful.@ Iknis admitted.
AYou can earn her love. She would be yours - forever.@
AHow?@
AAll in good time, my student, all in good time. Now
rest, you have much to learn tomorrow.@
AYes, C=Numti.@




137
A Dark Weed in the Garden

Chapter 24 - I Know Who Has Been Eating The
Mints

Mangat sat in a dark, dingy corner at the Drunken Fish rubbing his lower
back. There had been one too many puddles of ale and he slipped and fell. The
chair in which he sat offered no comfort; one of the four legs seemed longer than
its companions and two of the rungs on the back were loose. The table itself had
seen better days; the top was loosely attached to the base and the surface had
many dents, scars, stains. Was it his imagination, or had the walls started
leaning towards the south since he had last been here? The candle in the bent,
rusty cup sitting in the center of his table offered little light. The stench of stale
beer, gruff men, and undercooked, greasy food did little to improve his mood.
What was worse was that Mangat, with his clean, crisp, yet casual attire, still felt
out of place.
AThat will be ]3 Copper.@ The young, mangy waitress mumbled. She
carelessly tossed an ancient, dented tin bowl on the table. The bowl contained
cold rice and one or two bits of fish.
AThere you are madam.@ Mangat said, trying to sound as cheerful as he
could. He gave her ]5 Copper coins. APerhaps that will motivate you to cook
things more thoroughly.@ He thought to himself.
Several minutes later, a young gentleman came in. He was tall, had long
light brown hair, and brown eyes. He wore simple clothes and had a fair
complexion. He had a brass bracelet on his left wrist. In his hand, he had a
most unusual drawing; a magpie holding a fish in its beak was seen perching on a
Fisipar tree. Now the Fisipar was very peculiar, resembling an oak, but having
long, stiff yellowish needles at the base of its trunk. This tree grew only in the
northern forests of Kel-Tress, despite the valiant efforts of many gardeners to
transplant the unique tree to other places.
APatriarch, it is good to see you again.@ The young man greeted him as he
bowed in respect.
AIt is good to see you Nouthphir. How are your duties as clan leader
coming along?@ Mangat inquired trying to steady himself on his rickety chair.
AI was not expecting to become the leader of the clan tribunal, but with the
help of K=Pourtat and Ujaj, I am learning my duties quickly.@ Nouthphir
responded as he sat down across from him.
AThe West Oak Clan is a good collection of people. K=Pourtat has been


138
serving on the tribunal for several years now - trust him.@ Mangat replied, his
voice flowing like a gently babbling brook.
AI have the information that you seek. Our efforts to infiltrate the guilds
have reaped some rewards.@ Nouthphir timidly pulled out some papers from a
leather pouch at his side. The information was far from comprehensive. He did
not know Mangat well (not many clan leaders were on intimate terms with their
patriarchs or matriarchs) so he did not know how he would react.
AHmmm.....that=s odd. Aha...good. A very good report.@ Mangat smiled
at his subordinate.
AI am glad you are pleased Patriarch. I know that the report doesn=t
contain much.@
AIt contains enough pieces of the puzzle to formulate our plan of action.
Anyways, what fun would it be if we had all the pieces - hmm?@
AYes Patriarch.@
ANow it is time for us to take wing. Tell the others that Jackie has flown off
to the north.@
AYes. Patriarch. It was an honor to finally meet you.@ Nouthphir pulled
out an eye dropper and applied a blueish liquid to the drawing. The paper turned
black and started to crumble.
AOne last bit of instruction.@ Mangat scowled as he pushed the tin bowl
away from him.
AYes Patriarch?@
ADon=t order the fish.@

Three days later, he arrived at Wisayael=s cozy stone cottage. It was an
inviting sight amidst the stark, bare, snow covered forest. The wind howled
incessantly and blew the snow in Mangat=s eyes. He didn=t expect the reception
he would get once inside to be any warmer.
ADearest. It=s me, Mangat.@ He gently called out, knocking on the door.
There was no answer. The wind and cold chilled him to the bone. He knocked
again and this time the door opened abruptly. Wisayael looked at him cooly for a
moment before letting him in.
AI was expecting you yesterday.@ She said quietly.
AI know, I know.@ He began, approaching her, intending to wrap his arms
around her. He reconsidered though; he wanted to take things slowly. AI was
delayed by some business just outside Oeshaili; there was an intriguing clue I
wanted to check up on.@
AYet another clue. I wonder if you will ever run out of them.@ Wisayael
replied, while making lunch for the both of them. Her voice sounded like the icy
gale outside.
AWe are so close. In fact I have a plan to find out who has been threatening
us for the past several years. Once we find out who they are, we can deal with
them and then focus all our energy on finding the ring.@ Mangat=s words were


139
brimming with hope as he drew closer to her.
AThat sounds like a wise course of action; unless of course another group
takes their place in the hunt for the ring. Oh Mangat! Don=t you see? This will
never end. Someone will always be after that ring. Let it go - look what it has
done to you.@ She turned and stared at him.
AWhat do you mean?@ Mangat asked, totally taken by surprise.
AThe ring - it has possessed you and you are nowhere near it!@
ANo, no, that=s not true!@
AWhen was the last time that you visited me? The last time you wrote to
me?@ She angrily demanded.
AI know that it has been several months, but this pace won=t last forever.
All I ask is -A
@What, what do you want now? Information, gold, herbs?@ She looked at
him angrily. It was then that Mangat realized that he was losing the love of his
life. Mangat grabbed her hand and led her out of the house and down the road to
Sanfir.
Three hours later, they stood in Vunfael=s home in front of the fireplace.
Freshly cut pine branches and lit candles of all sizes had been hastily put around
the room. They both had tears of joy in their eyes. They held each other=s hands
tightly. There was a white silken cord which was wrapped around Mangat=s right
arm. The nuptial cord continued winding its way down his arm and up
Wisayael=s right arm till it ended in a flowing train behind her left shoulder.
AMangat, do you take this woman, Wisayael, to be your mate for as long as
you live?@ Vunfael solemnly asked.
AYes, absolutely, with all my heart and soul. For eternity.@
AWisayael, do you take this man, Mangat, to be your mate for as long as you
live?@ Cyriah continued where her husband had left off.
AYes.@ She whispered. She studied his kind face and felt happier than she
had for some time.

It had taken some time to move her things into his mansion, but in three
weeks she had settled into his home and his life. Mangat worked tirelessly to
ensure that she felt at home. As they would go about their daily tasks, he would
make a mental note to move something from one place to another to make the
mansion more comfortable for her. Statues, artifacts, and books found new
places in guest rooms and hallways. He had even moved his prize ale bottle
collection to the cellar in order to make room for her plants. He had thought that
sharing his life with her on a daily basis would dilute their feelings, but it had
quite the opposite effect.

That night, as they prepared for bed, Mangat watched Wisayael put out the
incense candles. The scent of nectarine-tiger lily hung heavily in the air and


140
stung his eyes. Wisayael moved as gracefully as the summer breeze as she went
from candle to candle.
AHow long have you had those honeymoon candles?@ He asked, wrapping
his arms around her as she settled into bed next to him.
ALong before you realized how much you loved me.@ She elbowed him
playfully.
AI=m sorry that it took a world crisis to bring my feelings to fruition.@
Mangat confessed as he looked deeply into her eyes. He kissed her deeply and
long. Then they fell asleep.
When she woke up, Wisayael found a mint wrapper on the pillow next to
her. As she picked up the wrapper, a drop of her blood fell to the bed sheet; she
ran her finger across the right side of her face and realized that she had been cut
slightly. She let out a quick shriek which woke Mangat immediately. They
found a note in the living room pinned to the mantle with a dagger:

Dear Mangat,

It has been some time since we have had need of
your services. We know that you are close to finding
the ring, so the sooner you obtain it for us, the better. It
would be a shame for your honeymoon to be soaked in
blood.

While doing a thorough search of the home to make sure there were no
intruders, Mangat noticed several drops of a funny reddish green residue on the
rug in the bedroom. He dabbed his finger in one of the drops and tasted it; it
tasted like nectarines but it also had a sour, greasy aftertaste. He spent the next
several hours in his alchemist workshop in the cellar with Wisayael by his side.
This was an unusually dark corner of the basement, with only an old brass lantern
to provide light. The workbench had numbers and formulae scratched into it, as
well as some colorful verses.
ALeather, definitely leather.@ Mangat announced. He held a tube of
reddish liquid up to a candle. AThat incense of yours must have had contact with
leather.@
AThere are many different types of leather though. This really isn=t helping
sweetie.@ Wisayael replied, munching on a piece of bread.
AWait a minute. Could you hand me that metal tin with the small iron bird
on the lid? Why didn=t I think of this before?@ Mangat mixed a leather sample


141
from the workbench with the blue powder in the tin. He then put that in a glass
full of water. After a few seconds, the leather turned black and green droplets
rose to the surface of the water. AWell, that accounts for the green in the
residue...this must have been an old piece of leather; at least we have a clue as to
the possible age of our intruder. But why is the leather turning black?@
ABecause you are only thinking of the type of leather, not how it was cured.@
Wisayael smelled the glass; she then held it to Mangat=s nose. The scent was a
mixture of strong vinegar, ammonia, and burnt cedar. ASmell that? It=s Black
Orchid, which is used only by one group - the Leather Guild.@

Mangat then wrote a letter to Nouthphir:

Dear Nouthphir,

The time has come. Plant the weeds in the
garden.

M

Several weeks later, on a chilly spring night, Mangat and Wisayael were in
the northeastern library of their mansion. Suddenly, they heard someone
stumble and fall upstairs. They made their way to the sound of the disturbance
through wafting layers of fox tongue incense, which appeared like a reddish fog
throughout the household. The incense smelled of wood and ammonia and were
it not for the masks they were wearing, Wisayael and Mangat would have
succumbed to its presence hours ago.
AAhhhh....what have we here? Dearest, did you call for a leather worker?@
Mangat said, as they came upon a leather clad intruder on his knees, coughing,
hacking and sneezing.
ANo, sweetie. Although I do have some items that are in need of repair. I
don=t think this lad is in any shape to be of help though.@
AWell, I think he will be able to make it out of the house, with a little help. A
Mangat=s sense of triumph billowed to the surface as he helped the intruder to his
feet. He was still coughing uncontrollably. ANow sir, you had best return to your
superiors as fast as you can. I hear that there is trouble brewing between the
Leather Guild and the Cloth Weaver=s Guild. Something about the Cloth
Weavers infiltrating your guild and stealing your profits.@
AI heard that some members of the Cloth Weavers have even been
implicated in the murders of some high ranking Leather Masters. I=m glad that I


142
took my mother=s advice and avoided the guilds altogether.@ Wisayael remarked.
AWe learned that only yesterday. How did you know?@ The invader
managed to sputter out between coughs.
AIt is our business to know such things.@ Wisayael=s words seemed to wrap
around the intruder=s heart like a hungry python.
AI do believe this nasty business between your guilds will keep you busy for
quite some time.@ Mangat added, throwing the man out the front door.
AHowever, if you do find it in your black hearts to trouble us again, I can assure
you that things will only get worse.@
















143
A Dark Weed in the Garden

Chapter 25 - Goodbye For Now

The sunlight drifted over Iknis= sleeping eyes. He winced, as if the light
was somehow tormenting him, and turned over. When he finally rose, he looked
at the ring on his finger. It had served him well over the past few months and he
had served it. Then he gasped in horror. There was his beloved pottery, broken
into hundreds of shards.
ANo!@ He cried racing over to the shattered clay. AThis can=t be
happening! No!@

AYes, Iknis, it had to happen.@
AWhat....what do you mean?@ Iknis said between sobs.
AThis was foolishness. It was getting in the
way of your destiny.@
AIt was just pottery....it...it...was my only joy.@
AIt was distracting you from your true path.
What is molding clay compared to molding the
hearts and souls of mankind?@
Iknis spent the rest of the day in his room, tracing the intricate patterns on
the broken shards with his fingers. As the shadows lengthened, he felt the ring
grow slightly warmer. Feeling hungry, he walked down the halls to the kitchen.
ACadet. I did not see you at training today.@ Quatzitil commented as she
passed him in the halls.
AI was very busy today.@ It was as if his body and soul had gone numb. He
continued on to the kitchen. As she watched him disappear into the gloomy
shadows, she realized how little she actually knew about him. A chill ran down
her spine.

The next morning, Lepexes walked down the hall to Iknis= room (which
Wushzan had deserted weeks earlier, saying that it now felt >creepy=). As he came
to the door and was about to knock, he noticed spiders crawling across it. He was
somewhat startled and when he looked down, he noticed several more insects
crawling out from under the door.
ACadet Iknis. Quatzitil says that you are not feeling well.@


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AI=m fine.@ Came the faint reply from the other side of the door.
ASeveral of the cadets are worried about you.@
AI=m feeling quite well; in fact, I am probably doing better than you.@
ACadet, open the door.@
After a long silence, the door slowly opened. Iknis was sitting in the center
of the room, surrounded by various maps and books. Across the spine of one
book was the title: AThe Legend of Thalgrir@. The tendril of a black vine could
be seen peeking out over the windowsill behind him. The young boy looked up at
his captain with a cold glare.
AI am quite busy, Master Lepexes. Is this important?@
AYes. It concerns your future with the Gray Ravens.@ Lepexes answered,
growing frustrated with his pupil=s arrogance.
AI already know all about my future with the Gray Ravens.@
AYour attitude and demeanor are not becoming of a good student.
Perhaps if your father were informed of the situation, you would see things
differently.@
AIf you were able to contact my father.@
AOh trust me cadet,@ Lepexes said, growing angry with his young charge, AI
have many connections throughout the Lands of The West. I am quite sure that I
would be able to track down your father.@
AMy father is.....beyond your reach. Now, if you will excuse me.@ With
that, Iknis walked up and left the room. Lepexes was about to prevent him from
leaving, but something in the boy=s eyes sent a dark chill through his blood.
Lepexes went to his study. After writing a lengthy note, he sealed it and
called in one of the cadets. She appeared so suddenly that she caught Lepexes
unaware. She was sleek and had beautiful flowing red hair. Her green eyes
almost seemed to glow in the dancing candle light.
AKelatan, I have a special task, suited well for your swift feet and your keen
eye. Deliver this to Aexeon=s estate with haste.@ Before he could say another
word, she was running as fast as she could out of the castle.

That night, Iknis set out for Blacktooth. His journey took him past an
abandoned graveyard at the base of the Bronze Gut Mountains. Nibat and
K=Posh were high in the sky and so close that they appeared to be touching each
other, ever so gently. The Dragon=s Thread was below them and sparkled like a
diamond necklace. The iron gates of the burial ground swung open in the breeze
and the burial mounds were overgrown with weeds and shrubs.
He heard murmuring. At first he thought it was just the wind moaning
through the trees, but it got louder. The ring on his finger grew very warm and
the characters that lined the inside seemed to prick his finger.
Then he saw them. Several black shapes, only slightly darker than the
night which cradled them, gliding over the forgotten tombs. At times they


145
shrank and at others they expanded. They would dart here and there; they
seemed to >dance= in certain dark corners. As he drew nearer, they noticed this
new visitor and drew closer.
Before he could react, the shadows were circling around his horse. He felt
something icy, slimy, and surprisingly solid glide past his hand. Iknis felt a chill
run down his spine. The murmuring, although louder now, was still hard to
understand.
AWho=s there?@ Iknis demanded, mustering up all the courage he had left.
A.....Tefror.@ Was the only word that he could understand. Iknis rode
as fast as he could from that place and never once looked back.

Several nights later, Quatzitil was in her room sleeping peacefully. The
moonlight steamed through her window and fell upon her cheek.
AI really wish I could stay; I really do.@ A voice came from the shadows.
ABut my master says there is no other way - I must walk down this shadowy trail if
I am to fulfill my destiny. I hope you can forgive me. This is goodbye - for now.@
Iknis stepped closer to her and reached toward her. He was about to caress her
sweet, angelic face, but she started to toss and turn at the last moment, as if
sensing something was not quite right. Then Iknis grabbed her silver brooch
from the nearby table and slipped out her window into the night.











146
A Dark Weed in the Garden

Chapter 26 - The Journey to Glory?

ASo, young one, how are your cadets?@ Lepexes asked Quatzitil as they
dined together. They were having dinner in the grand dining room of the Hall
of the Gray Ravens. Their surrounding were decorated with rich tapestries,
armor, shields, and swords. The banquet hall was lighted by tall, brass
candelabra which lined the room. There were several large rectangular tables;
each one was made of polished stone and framed with either oak, cherry, or pine.
The chairs around the tables were also made of stone and seemed to be fashioned
for large, sturdy warriors. Quatzitil felt small and insignificant while sitting in
them.
AI have worked hard to train them, Master Lepexes.@ She looked into his
eyes and then quickly glanced down at her meal. She was eating a well cooked
duck with seasoned butter. The butter gave the main course a sharp, tangy,
almost bittersweet aftertaste. There was also an ample supply of potatoes and
peas on her plate.
ACan they handle a sword?@ Lepexes glanced at her and then turned back
to his meal. He had chosen breaded veal with blue cheese. He cut his veal like a
general would plan a battle; one piece here, another piece there, potatoes placed
strategically next to the asparagus.
AWe have put in extra hours practicing with swords and bows.@
ACan they read a map?@
AThat is our next lesson, Master.@ Quatzitil said, shifting uncomfortably in
her chair.
ADo you know what is coming, Quatzitil?@
AYes Sir. The Koushiyarouh.@
AThe Koushiyarouh. Translated from the ancient tongue it means >first
trial=. The first of many for a young cadet who wants to become a squire. Have
you talked with the squires about the Koushiyarouh?@
ANone of them will discuss the matter with me - or any of the cadets.
When I mention the word to them, they glare at me harshly as if I have trespassed
upon a very private subject.@
AHas anyone told you about the Koushiyarouh? Not even your uncle?@
ANo. All I know Master is that it is something that must be undertaken
with all my heart and strength.@
AAnd what will happen if you fail?@ Lepexes stared at her intently.
AWe will be expelled from the Gray Ravens.@ Quatzitil replied quietly.


147

The day before the Koushiyarouh, Lepexes invited Inwan to dine with him.
Before sitting down, Inwan went over to one of the large copper basins in the
corner. These basins were to be found throughout the castle; each one was filled
with water and had wooden blocks of all sizes and colors floating in them. As he
was reaching for a red block, he heard someone clear his throat.
AThey won=t help you, no matter what the others say. I am surprised that
superstition is still circulating within this hall.@ Lepexes spoke up as he entered
the room. Then they both sat down at the table.
Inwan had chosen the Black Lake Goose with bitter herbs and jussup roots.
Lepexes had chosen a simple salad.
ADo you miss your home Inwan?@ Lepexes asked, looking at him and then
at his meal.
AYes, Master. Please, do not misunderstand, I am grateful to be here, there
is so much to see. At times, I do miss home - and my parents.@ Inwan=s tone
was wistful and somewhat sad. His gaze drifted off and he imagined the warm
sunny fields of Sanfir. However, he quickly focused on the matter at hand and
his gaze turned toward Lepexes.
AI am glad you are eager to see new things, young one. Can you handle a
sword?@
AYes. Almost as good as Quatzitil.@
AShe is quite talented, isn=t she?@ Lepexes observed, starting to plan how to
eat his meal.
AYes, Master.@ Inwan agreed quietly.
AYour voice betrays your words. You don=t think she is a gifted warrior?@
AShe is quite gifted with a sword Master - and eager to prove it.@
AIs there something wrong with enthusiasm?@
AI was taught that we should use reason before using the sword, Master.@
Inwan stated confidently.
AMangat and Wisayael have taught you well. I believe that you and your
fellow cadets will do well during your Koushiyarouh.@ Lepexes replied, putting a
bit of salad into his mouth.

A moment after Inwan left, Kelatan walked into the room. Lepexes
motioned for her to sit at the table. A meal more sumptuous and grand than any
of the cadets had ever seen was placed before the young lass. She ate with the
appetite of ten ravenous wolves.
ADid you speak with Aexeon?@
ANo.@ She barely paused between mouthfuls.
AThe estate?@=
ADeserted.@
ADid you see anything - unusual?@ Lepexes asked, putting some of his food


148
on her plate.
ASmall drops of blood at the foot of Lord Aexeon=s bed.@ She answered,
continuing to eat as quickly as she could.

The morning of the Koushiyarouh had come. Quatzitil was in her room,
looking out the window, watching as the first rays of the sun graced the sky. She
reached under her bed and pulled out her flute. A beautiful instrument carved
from wood, it was decorated with engravings of vines and leaves. One end was
adorned with an ivory mouthpiece, the other with a carved female head with
flowing hair. She put the instrument to her lips and played so beautifully that the
birds outside her window seemed enchanted by the sweet melody. After a few
minutes, she put the instrument back in its hiding place, prepared herself, and
resolutely strode forth.
By now, the sunlight filtered through the windows of the main hall.
Quatzitil stood before the cadets and was arrayed in her finest attire; a suit of iron
chain mail, a brass helmet, and a scarlet cloak. She had polished her sword the
night before and it gleamed in the early morning rays.
ACadets! Attention!@ She shouted, demanding their obedience.
Lepexes walked down the stairs like an eagle landing on his perch. He then
walked over and stood behind Quatzitil. She turned to face him and knelt down
on one knee.
AWe are here, Master Lepexes, and ready to serve.@ She declared solemnly.
AOverdoing it just a bit, don=t you think?@ Wushzan whispered to Inwan.
ACadets, this is your Koushiyarouh - your rite of passage. How you fare on
this journey will speak volumes about yourselves - and the Gray Ravens.@
Lepexes explained, looking over the cadets as he spoke.
AHonor! Justice! Duty!@ The cadets replied in unison.
AThis is your mission: to travel to a farm just west of Oth-Kor and find out
why the cows on that farm have died. When you have learned what is behind this
mystery you are to return and report to me.@
AYes Master Lepexes!@ The cadets responded as one voice. Then, with
Quatzitil leading the way, they marched out of the main hall.

They had marched only a little ways out of the city when Wushzan broke the
silence.
ADo you think we will see anything unusual?@ He said to Inwan, who was
marching beside him. A shiver ran down Inwan=s back as he thought of the Orab.
AI don=t know. Speaking of seeing things, I haven=t seen Iknis for several
weeks now. Isn=t he coming back?@
AI don=t think so. I know what he told everyone, that he was going home to
see his parents, but he was traveling due west when he left the castle.@
Wushzan=s voice reflected the confusion that everyone had felt over the past few


149
weeks.
AWest? I thought his parents lived to the north of Adamnar.@
AExactly.@
ACadet Wushzan! Is there a reason you are breaking the silence?@ Quatzitil
called back to him.
They spent the next ten miles marching in silence. However, that didn=t
prevent Inwan and Wushzan from tapping each other on the shoulder and
pointing out interesting things to each other.
When they reached their first resting point, a little inn called the Green
Shield, everyone was hot and tired. The inn, with its stone and pine log walls was
inviting. The smell of baked bread and cooking soup greeted the young cadets as
they walked into the main room. There were plenty of large windows, each of
which had a small plant on the window sill. The round metal tables had pitchers
of water and small baskets of bread on them.
ASome menus please.@ Quatzitil walked up to the bar.
AWhy look,@ A young man said to his three companions, Acadets. From
their insignia it appears that they are from the Gray Ravens.@ He laughed.
AAnd you are, Sir?@ Quatzitil turned toward him. She looked like a proud
young lioness defending her cubs.
ACadets from the Hall of the Iron Bear. I didn=t know that you Ravens were
allowed to stray so far from home. I hope that you do your master proud.@ He
answered, barely able to contain his laughter.
AWe will bring honor to our master, of that you can be assured.@ Quatzitil
answered cooly.
AI surely hope so. It would be a shame if you brought even more ridicule
on your castle.@ The lad countered. His companions snickered.
AWhat do you mean?@
AI=m sure that your master has told you about the - glorious history of the
Gray Ravens. You know, the battles of Heximore and Nardixin?@ One of the
lad=s companions answered.
ANo. What our master has told us about is our duty and our principles.@
One of the Gray Ravens= cadets declared, stepping forward.
AI=m surprised. Those were some of the worst defeats in modern history;
perhaps not the worst though. At the battle of Goughgin, all of your knights were
slaughtered - in a single afternoon. Now that must have been embarrassing since
you outnumbered your enemies two to one.@
AWould you like to see how well we fight now?@ The Gray Raven cadet
drew his sword.
ACadet! Sheathe your sword!@ Quatzitil ordered, holding him back. AI
will handle this. You are the leader of these - cadets?@ She said, addressing the
young lad.
AYes. I am Buthur, Cadet Prime of the Iron Bears.@ He stated proudly.


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AWould you like to test your skill against mine and see exactly who you have
been insulting?@ Quatzitil=s words crackled like angry lightning. She took a step
forward and put her hand on her sword.
AWhy of course! I love to make fools out of arrogant young whelps like
yourself.@ The lad replied, laughing. Then, both groups of cadets walked out of
the inn and formed a circle around Buthur and Quatzitil.
They circled each other; Buthur lunged first and Quatzitil dodged. She
struck back but her sword missed her mark. They seemed evenly matched;
striking, dodging, parrying, slashing, and ducking.
AI grow bored with this. It is almost time for us to continue our journey.@
With a few quick moves, Buthur bested Quatzitil.
AI demand another contest!@ She sprang to her feet.
ADo you really think it will be any different? Oh well, I will indulge you.@
He replied, drawing his sword. He again defeated Quatzitil quickly and without
much effort.
AAgain!@ She roared, charging him. Buthur dodged her and soon had her
flat on her stomach, with mud on her face.
AWon=t you Gray Ravens ever learn? That is where you are supposed to be!@
He and his companions laughed. Then they left Quatzitil and the Gray Raven
cadets to soak in their latest defeat and humiliation.

Later that night, as they were lying in bed, Wushzan and Inwan looked up at
the ceiling, trying to take in everything that had happened.
ADo you think what he said was true?@ Wushzan wondered, finally
breaking the silence.
AI don=t know. It doesn=t sound like he made it up. You have to admit, the
Gray Ravens aren=t the most respected knights in Kel-Tress.@ Inwan confessed,
still staring at the ceiling.
AYeah, but it sounds like we are the worst. Why didn=t Master Lepexes tell
us this?@ Wushzan=s voice was coated with disappointment as he turned over and
looked at Inwan.
AIf he did, would you have come this far?@ Inwan replied, turning and
meeting Wushzan=s gaze.
AYou have a point. The past is the past, let=s leave it behind.@ Wushzan
conceded.
AA wise idea. Our actions in the coming days will bring glory to the Gray
Ravens, I just know it.@

The next morning, Quatzitil was up earlier than usual, practicing with her
sword in the courtyard behind the inn. Again and again she went over
yesterday=s battle in her mind while swinging her sword. She thought of her
deceased parents and wondered what they would say. Uncle Ricoa had always


151
told her that her parents had high expectations; that never weighed so heavily
upon her as it did now.
ABrigade Leader, we are ready to continue our quest.@ Inwan spoke up
quietly. He hoped that this bit of respect would ease her mind.
AThank you cadet Inwan. Inform the brigade that we will leave in five
minutes.@ She replied, her back turned to him.
AYes Ma=am@.
ASo, you lads and lasses are moving on?@ The bartender said as Quatzitil
was paying their bill.
AYes Sir.@ She replied as she handed him a bag of money.
AWhere to?@ He asked, putting the money below the counter.
AJust to the west of Oth-Kor.@ She looked at him indignantly. She was
annoyed by his curiosity.
AYou will be traveling through the SouthSpeare Forest? If you do, beware!
Some say it=s haunted. Foul creatures lurk behind the trees and under the rocks.@
He cautioned.
AThank you for the warning sir.@ Quatzitil rolled her eyes and left.
AYou would do well to heed the good gentleman=s warning. An open heart
will open your eyes.@ A hooded stranger said, as she walked past Quatzitil. The
stranger watched the troop of youngsters till they disappeared from sight. Then
pulling back her hood and taking a seat at the bar, Kelatan ordered lunch.

After marching a mile or two, they came to the edge of the SouthSpeare
Forest. It was large, with pine trees mingling with oaks and willows. The edge
of the forest was gilded with blue and white wildflowers. As they entered the
forest, a breeze swept the dank, musky odor of the forest into their nostrils.
AKeep on the path, the roots and undergrowth will only trip you up.@
Quatzitil instructed.
AYes Ma=am!@ Wushzan said, saluting her. A moment later, he tripped on
a root and down he went. There was the sound of laughter, hearty and husky, but
not from the cadets. It seemed to be coming from somewhere in the forest. The
cadets looked around them, but found nothing.
By the late afternoon, they had journeyed ten miles through the forest and
had come to a wide river. There was a rope bridge which seemed to be in need of
repair, but it was their only way across. As Wushzan and Inwan were waiting
their turn to cross, Wushzan stooped down and examined the muddy riverbank.
AHey! Look at this.@ He spoke up, getting Inwan=s attention. Inwan
stared at the ground and then took a closer look. It was a six toed footprint; five
toes in front and one in back. They were starting to believe the rumors that the
forest was haunted.
After crossing the river, they journeyed on for several more miles, for
Quatzitil would not let anything keep her from victory. The sun was setting as
they made camp. There was a distinct chill in the air and it had started to rain.


152
AOnly one more day of this place. I will be glad when we get out of here!@
Quatzitil growled.
AWe have some extra dried meat if you want some.@ Inwan offered,
approaching her.
AI=m fine with what I have, thank you cadet.@ She briskly replied, staring at
him.
AHow is she?@ Wushzan asked, as Inwan returned to the fire they had
made.
AGrumpy. I think her pride is still hurt.@ Inwan wearily sat down.
Wushzan offered him a potato.
AThat=s why she is pushing us so hard. This is tough enough without her
making things harder. I=ve heard some of the others talking - some are thinking
of turning back.@ Wushzan mumbled while chewing on some dried beef.
AIf they do, they will probably get lost. Do you have the extra maps?@
AYup. Right in my backpack.@ Wushzan patted his backpack.
AYou had better give one or two to the others, I have a feeling they might not
be here come the dawn.@

When daylight came, it was as Inwan had predicted. Several of the cadets
had turned back. Quatzitil was furious. She gathered up her equipment, angrily
shoving things into her backpack.
ACadets! Formation!@ She shouted. The cadets, some of whom were still
waking up, tried to comply with her order as fast as they could.
AYes Brigade Leader!@ They replied in unison.
ADuring the night, some of your fellow cadets chose cowardice over duty.
They have brought shame upon us all. Now we will have to work even harder to
bring honor to the Gray Ravens. Are you with me?@
AYes Brigade Leader!@ The cadets shouted.
AI can=t hear you! Are you with me?@
AYes Brigade Leader!@ The cadets shouted even louder.

The day seemed to last forever. The traveling was hard as the path had
become overgrown with roots, shrubs, and bushes. Several times, one or more of
the cadets tripped and fell, but Quatzitil would not wait. Finally, one of the
cadets fell and stayed on the ground.
ACadet Xinkshi! What is the matter?@ Quatzitil was exasperated. She
approached her with quick, decisive steps. Xinkshi was a fair skinned lass with a
graceful air about her. Her short black hair glistened in the sunlight. Her eyes
were a deep amber and reminded one of a golden wheat field catching the last
glory of an autumn sunset.
AMy ankle, Ma=am - I think I twisted it.@ She replied, holding her ankle.
Just as Quatzitil was about to respond, there was a rustling in the bushes to the
left and right, as if small animals were running past them.


153
AWho=s there?@ Quatzitil demanded. Then they heard the same hearty,
husky laughter that greeted them when they entered the forest. Then all was
silent. AInwan, Wushzan, carry Xinkshi. We will camp after two more miles.@
Quatzitil looked around her, defiantly. Deep inside however, a tiny ember of fear
flickered. Disgusted by her own weakness, she pushed all doubts and worries
from her mind, until there was only one thing left for her to consider: success.

The next morning, they set out again, this time with Quatzitil and Inwan
carrying Xinkshi. It was a slow journey, but they finally came to the edge of the
forest. The farm was only a mile away. Quatzitil thought this would be a good
place to rest and boost the morale of the brigade.
AYou have persevered through everything that has come in your path. You
have done better than anyone had expected. I am proud of you.@ Quatzitil
announced, looking over her cadets.
The cadets, however, were staring into the forest with wonder and awe.
There, at the edge of the dark woods, were two small men, no taller than three
feet. They had deep crimson skin and large ears. They smiled and then
disappeared into the thick tangle of trees.











154
A Dark Weed in the Garden

Chapter 27 - Eofer=s Farm

Eofer=s farm was spacious and inviting. There was a neatly trimmed lawn
in front with several very tall pine trees here and there. An apple orchard sat to
the left of his house, a peach orchard to the right. The apple and peach orchards
were surrounded by four foot stone wall. The stones in the wall had slightly
different hues and tints: some were blue, some red, some green, and others were
white. The gates to the orchards were made of simple wood and had bands of
copper to keep them together. In back of the house was a large pasture dotted
with a few trees scattered throughout the field. The barn was situated at the
north end of the pasture.


Eofer=s home was large, with a porch that wound itself around the whole
house. The porch was decorated with several plants of various kinds and even a
few wooden statues (mostly of farm animals). The chairs on the porch were
spacious and comfortable. Iron tables sat between the chairs, so one could have
lunch (or a snack) while enjoying the warm sun and the sweet scent of the
orchards. The railing of the porch was made of pine and painted a deep blue; the
posts of the railing had intricate carvings of all sorts of faces on them.

Quatzitil knocked on the door and was greeted by a large man wearing
overalls and a straw hat. He had small round glasses and long brown hair. His
beard went down almost to his knees.
AHey Ho! What have we here?@ He greeted them enthusiastically.
AI am Quatzitil, brigade leader of the Cadets of the Gray Ravens.@
AWhat a precious little thing you are!@ He smiled as he picked her up, as if
trying to guess how much she weighed.
AUm, well we were sent by Master Lepexes to -A
@Ahhh...the cows. Certainly a tragedy.@ Eofer replied, putting Quatzitil
down inside the front doorway. He then smiled and ushered the rest of the
cadets into the house. ALuckily, I have some money saved up from previous years
and will be able to buy some more cows in the next few weeks.@
ACan you show us the place where this happened?@ Quatzitil said, trying to
regain her formal composure.
AMy goodness! Right down to business is it?@ Eofer laughed. AWhen did
you and your fellows last eat?@
ALast night sir, however -A


155
@Right this way then. Have you ever had Thornberry Jam? It tastes like
peanut butter with a slight hint of orange marmalade. Thornberry Jam on toast
is the way we start our day around here my child!@

After a leisurely snack of Thornberry Jam with toast on the porch, Eofer
showed the cadets the place were he had found the cows several weeks earlier. It
was in the middle of the field, with two trees a few yards to the north.
AThis is where I found them, all five, just lying here. A pity, truly a shame.@
Eofer shook his head in disbelief.
ADid you notice anything out of the ordinary when you came upon them?@
Quatzitil began her investigation, as she looked at the field.
AWell, when I looked at the ground, I saw wolf tracks. The creature had
been prowling the area for several weeks, coming closer and closer each time I saw
him. Finally, when I was asleep, he struck.@
AWas there anything unusual about this wolf?@ Inwan asked.
AHe was large, and white. Very...cunning, very intelligent. He wasn=t like
any wolf I had ever encountered.@
ASishkye.@ Inwan whispered.
ADid you say something cadet?@ Quatzitil asked, staring at him.
ANo, no. It=s only an old saying - it means >mysterious=.@
AI don=t think there is much mystery here. Do you know where this wolf
might be?@ Quatzitil scanned the forest beyond the pasture.
AEvery time I shooed him away, he ran off to the north. I don=t know if he=s
there now, but it would be a good place to start looking.@
AThank you sir. This creature shall trouble you no more. Cadets!
Prepare to march in half an hour.@ Quatzitil ordered, turning to her
subordinates. She was like a hungry lioness, eager to begin the hunt.
AWait, I=m not sure if the wolf did this.@ Inwan protested.
ACadet, this is not up for debate. Prepare to march in half an hour.@
Quatzitil growled.
AI think I=m getting sick, what was in that jam anyway?@ Wushzan
moaned. He stumbled over to Inwan, and leaning on him, whispered in his ear:
AI think you are going to get really sick too.@
AHey Ho! What=s this? Let=s have a look at you little one.@ Eofer took
Wushzan=s face in his hands and stretched it this way and that. Wushzan winked
at him and then Eofer smiled. AYou must be allergic to Thornberries. Shame,
this will put you off your feet about a day or so.@
AI don=t feel so good either.@ Inwan gurgled. He stumbled over to Eofer,
who then began to examine him.
AI don=t believe this...@ Quatzitil sighed. AYou two stay here, the rest of us
will pursue the wolf.@

After Quatzitil had left, Eofer joined Wushzan and Inwan on the porch. He


156
was carrying a brass plate with toast, adorned with Thornberry Jam.
ANow you lads confess. I know you aren=t allergic to the jam. Especially
since this is your third helping!@ Eofer laughed.
ASir -A, Inwan began.
ANonsense! Call me Eofer.@ He insisted, handing them the toast and
smiling warmly.
AEofer, why would a wolf kill five cows at once?@ Inwan asked.
AI don=t know. That is puzzling.@ He replied scratching his chin.
AFor that matter, did you notice any blood?@ Wushzan asked, suddenly
intrigued.
ANo....that is odd.@ Eofer took a slice of toast for himself.
ACan we go back out to the field?@ Inwan asked.

Back at the scene of the crime, Inwan stared at the ground for a long time.
Eofer and Wushzan watched him, wondering what he was doing. After circling
the area several times, he stopped suddenly and bent down.
ADid you see something lad?@ Eofer asked excitedly.
AI don=t see anything really. I want to know what this grass smells like.@
Inwan replied, sniffing the ground. The grass had a slight odor which resembled
ammonia and cedar.
AI didn=t know that grass smelled like anything other than grass.@ Eofer
pondered, surprised.
Back at the house, Inwan had taken some of the grass and put it in a frying
pan. After holding the frying pan over a fire on the stove for several minutes, red
smoke began to curl upward towards the ceiling.
AJust as I thought. This is thakik, a compound used in treating metals.@
Inwan frowned.
AThakik?@ Wushzan asked.
AWhen metal is melted, thakik is used to give it a red tint. Mangat showed
me how to use it. Usually, it is odorless and colorless until heated. However, if
it sits around in the open air for a while, it smells like ammonia and cedar.@
Inwan explained, watching the red smoke dance upward.
ASo, it wasn=t the wolf who is the culprit, it=s the poison.@ Eofers words
were quiet yet troubled.
AYes, but the question is, who poisoned the cows? Thakik is quite rare and
very hard to obtain.@ Inwan stated with authority.

Just at that moment, the rest of the cadets returned. They had a look of
panic on their faces.
AQuatzitil disappeared!@ Xinkshi blurted out frantically.
AHey Ho! What=s this?
AShe spotted the white wolf, charged on ahead, up a hill, and then just
disappeared. We looked and looked for her, but we couldn=t find her.@ Xinkshi


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replied, looking down at the ground.



















158
A Dark Weed in the Garden

Chapter 28 - A New Calling

It was cold, damp, and dark; just like Quatzitil=s heart. Up above her
there was a small circle of light - the hole she had fallen through. She shouted in
rage at the cavern that yawned before her, but there was only silence. She tried
to stand on her two feet, but quickly fell to the ground, brought low by the sharp
pain in her right leg. She felt around blindly for something to hold onto so she
could at least stand up. There was nothing near her however, so she looked
around and wondered in what direction she should begin her slow, agonizing
crawl.
That=s when the tears came, slowly at first. She defiantly brushed them
away, but they kept on coming, more insistent with each passing second. She
then broke into uncontrollable sobs, her whole body caught up in the despair of
her soul.
She then decided that it would be best never to return to the surface; better
to be a lost heroine than a visible failure. AFailure@ - that word echoed in her mind
like a soft dirge. It seemed that no matter how hard she tried, that=s all she was -
a failure. That was the last thought she had before succumbing to sleep.

The first thing she saw was a castle on a high cliff above a beautiful beach.
The sand was pure white with streaks of black that curled this way and that. The
cliff seemed to be a sheer black rock face and gleamed in the sun. Beautiful puffy
white clouds hung lazily in the warm air. The scent of saltwater plus that of
vinegar and smoke flowed off the sea. The sea itself was blue-green and
incredibly clear, the whitecaps on it seemed like priceless pearls.
Far out among the waves a black ship with silver sails prowled about. It
effortlessly glided through the water undisturbed by the turbulent ocean. This
mighty vessel seemed to be dictating its own course and speed, somehow ignoring
the winds and water.
Further on down the shore, she saw a woman with black hair cloaked in a
white robe looking out toward the sea. Even from this distance, Quatzitil could
tell that her beauty was dazzling, enchanting. She suddenly felt small, awkward,
and ugly. The woman then turned, stared at her for a moment, and then slowly
walked toward her.
AWelcome.@ The woman=s tone was warm, yet firm. Her eyes were
golden-green and inviting. Quatzitil felt that this mysterious lady was looking
into the deepest parts of her heart and soul.
AWhere am I?@ A spellbound Quatzitil asked. She could not believe that


159
such regal, enchanting people really existed.
AHere - on the beach. Would you like to stay?@ The woman smiled.
AYes.@ Quatzitil hesitantly answered.

The next thing that appeared before Quatzitil=s eyes was beautiful garden.
Exotic plants and trees that she had never seen before surrounded her. The
fragrance of rare spices and delicious fruits was almost overwhelming. A stream
of crystal clear water ran through the center of the garden, sparkling in the
moonlight. She looked up, expecting to see Nibat and K=Posh; but what she saw
startled her. There were three moons - Nibat, K=Posh, and a moon that was pale
green. This last moon was larger even than K=Posh and was halfway between
Nibat and the red moon. Suddenly, a piece of fruit fell on her head. She looked
up and saw a lad with curly black hair and a ruddy complexion sitting on a branch
above her. His eyes were red with white at the center; they reminded Quatzitil of
the exotic vegatation that surrounded her. He was dressed in a leather suit that
was held together at the torso, knees, shoulders, and elbows by strips of gleaming
chain mail.
AOlgolomon doesn=t like to be stared at!@ He laughed impishly.
AOlgolomon?@
AThe large green moon. He=s very temperamental; sweet one moment,
murderous the next. That=s why Nibat is so afraid of him.@
ABut there are only two moons.@ Quatzitil shifted her gaze from the young
lad to the night sky.
ANow there are two moons. K=Posh murdered Olgolomon a long time ago.@
the lad proclaimed, eating a piece of fruit.
AWhere am I?@
AHere - In the garden.@ The boy replied as he finished his snack and
nimbly jumped down from the tree. He landed right behind her, but he didn=t
make a sound as his feet hit the earth.
AIt=s all so beautiful.@ Quatzitil quietly exclaimed, looking around and
smiling. She couldn=t remember the last time she smiled.
ADo you want to stay?@
AYes.@ She excitedly whispered.

Then Quatzitil found herself in the grand hall of the stronghold. It was
dark, lit only by a few candles in corners of the room. There were large, silver
chandeliers above her, but they gave no light. The gray sky outside was just
beginning to let down its rain. Quatzitil could see weapons and armor hanging
on the walls; some items she recognized, other paraphernalia was utterly foreign
to her.
The young lad appeared from the shadows of a dark corner. He held a
sword in his left hand and slowly and confidently walked toward her. He wore a
devilish grin; his red eyes seemed to be burning with excitement.


160
ATime to play.@ He said as he thrust his sword past Quatzitil=s face. She felt
nothing at first, but after a moment or two, she felt blood trickle down her cheek.
She ran for the opposite wall to get a weapon of her own. The young man waited
a moment and then gave chase; he quickly caught up to his prey. He bounded
fifteen feet into the air and landed in front of her, so that he was standing between
her and the wall. Before she could react, he knocked her legs out from under her
and she was on the ground. AI couldn=t make this easy....where would be the fun?
He grinned.
AXaven!@ A voice boomed. It seemed to be coming from everywhere; it
was deep and rumbling, like thunder. The young lad quickly ran off, hoping to
hide.
AWhat have we been up to?@ A tall man said, catching the young, curly
haired lad with one hand as he ran past him. The stranger was athletic and had
the bearing not only of a king, but of a great father. His blonde hair fell over his
shoulders like the sun=s rays streaming through dark clouds. The iris of his eyes
were orange, the pupils were a brilliant snow white. He was wearing a breast
plate; attached to that were sleeves and trousers forged from steel chain mail.
ANothing father. I promise!@ The boy said, still trying to run away.
AQuatzitil, come closer.@ The man gently commanded.
AYes great sir.@ Quatzitil=s soft words barely escaped her lips and she
hesitantly stepped forward.
AI am Rifune. And this - young man is Xaven.@ Rifune announced,
dropping his catch to the ground.
APleased to make you acquaintance, miss.@ Xaven sheepishly said.
AHow did you know my name?@
ANaquadra and I have been keeping an eye on you. She was the lovely
woman that greeted you on the beach.@ Rifune answered.
AWatching - me?@
AYes - you.@ Rifune chuckled. AWe saw something inside you - something
that even you do not know is there.@
AThis all seems like a dream.@
AThis dream will make your reality sharper, more vivid. We can show you
things - wondrous things.@ He motioned to the window at the far end of the hall.
Quatzitil=s gaze darted there momentarily; it seemed as if great mysteries and
wonders were waiting just beyond the gray clouds.
AI would like that very much, Sir.@ Quatzitil said, bowing down on one
knee.
AFirst, there is something we must attend to.@ Rifune=s words seemed like
a great army on the horizon just before an epic campaign. He lifted her to her
feet.
AI am ready - Master Rifune.@
AThat I am not sure of - but you must know the truth.@ Rifune countered as
the world around Quatzitil grew dark.


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Quatzitil awoke to find herself back in the cavern. She could not explain
it, but her leg had fully healed. The shadows seemed to taunt her as she tried to
discern shapes in the gloom. Suddenly she felt that she was not alone - she
heard a deep slow breathing in the darkness ahead.
AQuatzitil. Stand up.@ A voice in her head reverberated. It
sounded like Rifune=s voice. She did so, slowly and silently.
AYou will find four torches in front of you, light
them and put them in the iron stands at the
corners of this room.@
Quatzitil did so and found herself in a huge underground cavern. She
then found more torches and lit them as well. The walls were decorated with
strange symbols and creatures. She had wished she had studied more while at
the Hall of The Gray Ravens so she could tell what the markings meant.
The floor was decorated with a giant circle - there were gems set into the
ground outside this circle. There were fifty one gems in all, the last gem having
been placed in the stone floor only recently. Each gem had its own peculiar
markings surrounding it.
She also saw tall stone pillars, each as thick as a small house. Around the
pillars were bands of wood, iron, brass, copper, silver and ivory. They were
strangely warm to the touch, but felt rough under her fingers. The columns had
the same kind of weapons and armor hanging on them that she had seen in her
dream. She examined them closely, but dared not touch them.
In the center of the room there was a beautifully carved bed of marble and
ivory. It had a mattress of grass, straw, and sweet smelling leaves. A curtain of
red satin provided privacy. The posts of the bed were topped with ebony
spheres which seemed to absorb and reflect the light.
A pool of water was behind the bed; there were five small pillars of ivory
surrounding it. Curtains of white satin hung between the pillars; each curtain
had the same unusual markings as the walls had.
On the left side of the room was a large hole in the ground, large enough to
swallow two small houses. A large iron grate covered the hole. She noticed
another huge hole in the right wall, this one large enough to swallow three
houses, also covered by an iron grate. The grates had large stone levers by
which someone, even someone as small as Quatzitil, could use to open them.
The back of the room had two large iron doors set into it. The doors had
silver markings embedded in them, as well as a golden circle. Quatzitil realized
that the circle on the floor and the one on the door were the same.

Her wonderment was disturbed by the opening of the iron doors.


162
Something moved toward her - something incredibly large. The sound of
movement stopped just outside the boundary of the flickering torchlight.
ADo you have enough courage to see things as
they really are?@
AYes.@ She felt she was smearing naive bravado over her fear. She gripped
her sword tightly - but then something from the corner of her soul seemed to
whisper to her. She stood there, peering into the darkness, trying desperately
to see (or even guess) what lay just beyond her sight. Fighting her instincts,
training, and intuition, she slowly put the sword down in front of her.
Rifune slowly marched out of the darkness into the light. His true form
was that of a large snake, longer than most small villages. His thousands of
huge centipede legs gleamed like swords. Quatzitil could see his skin in the
torchlight - there were sporadic bands of yellow and purple blending in with the
orange scales.
ADo you wish to stay?@
AYes.@












163
A Dark Weed in the Garden

Chapter 29 - The Rescue

AHey-Ho! So you have come back to visit old Eofer?@ Eofer=s words
bounced happily along as he opened the door. He had on his overalls and straw
hat (which was tilted slightly to the right this fair morning).
AActually, we were wondering if you had seen Quatzitil. We are here to
find her.@ Inwan replied. He could smell the thorn berry jam in the kitchen.
ANo, sorry to say it, but I haven=t. I thought she would have found her way
out of the forest by now and returned home. A pity, a shame. She truly was a
fine young lass. I could see why she was your leader.@
AYou could?@ Wushzan blurted out. Inwan elbowed him. AYes, yes of
course. She was very - talented.@
ACome on in lads - have some eggs and jam before you search the woods.@
They went inside and Eofer gave them a large helping of eggs, along with
some thorn berry jam. As he was making breakfast, he sang the following song:

Hey Ho!
Here we go!
A little lager=s good for one=s soul!

Hey Ho!
Here we go!
Pour the liquid gold down the happy hole!

Hey Ho!
Here we go!
A little ale is a comfort to these aching bones!

Hey Ho!
Here we go!
Pour the liquid gold down the happy hole!



164
AEofer, where did you hear that song?@ Inwan asked.
AYou like it? I hear it when I=m down in the cellar. A pretty tune it is - I
would love to meet the fellows who sing it.@
He looked at the eggs and frowned, then he went to the cupboard and got
out a small black canister with blue stripes on it. He opened the canister and
sprinkled a little dark brown powder on the morning meal.
AEofer, what is this? It tastes like pepper and strawberries.@ Inwan=s
words slipped out between mouthfuls of breakfast.
AWell, there you have it - it=s Hazelberry Pepper! Hard to grow, harder to
grind. I have a whole barrel downstairs. That=s one of my best crops.@ Eofer
smiled as he sniffed the pepper.
ASo, we still haven=t come up with a plan to find Quatzitil, other than
aimlessly wandering around the forest for hours on end.@ Wushzan commented
as he picked at his breakfast.
AThe stones out there will tell you a lot, they see a lot of things.@ Eofer
said, sitting down at the table. Inwan looked at Eofer for a moment and the old
farmer winked at him.

The woods seemed thicker than the last time they had seen them. Many
of the trees had small black weeds protruding from their trunks. Inwan
recognized these as the same slimy, foul smelling plants that plagued the fields of
Sanfir.
AHave you ever seen - or smelled anything like this?@ Wushzan could barely
contain his disgust as he felt one of the weeds on a nearby tree.
AThey ruined our crops back home in Sanfir. They seem to devour
Haru=Caban and leave nothing but despair@ Inwan angrily cut a weed off a tree
with his sword.
They traveled on, pushing their way through brush and branches. They
thought they were going in circles, but couldn=t be sure. Then, Inwan=s foot hit a
rock and he remembered what Eofer had told him. What a strange thing for
him to say- unless he too had a Aconnection@, as Inwan had come to call it. As
Wushzan looked around to get his bearings, Inwan knelt down and put his hand
on the rock.
AInwan! Find the giant fallen oak. It will guide
you.@ A voice sounded in his head. It sounded low, hushed, patient.
ADid we pass a fallen oak a while back? A big one?@ Inwans tone was
pensive and he had a captivating look in his eyes.
AAbout a mile back. Why?@
ALet=s go back there, my intuition has given me an idea.@

They sat on the oak and had a quick snack; some Aegg crackers@ that Eofer
had given them. Each cracker was wrapped in green wax paper; the paper itself


165
had funny letters on it that neither Wushzan nor Inwan could understand. They
speculated over what these markings might represent. The crackers themselves
were triangular and white. They tasted like cornmeal, eggs, and tapioca. They
had a leathery consistency, but dissolved soon enough in one=s mouth.
AWhere=s my other cracker?@ Wushzan wondered aloud, looking around
him.
AIt was probably stolen by a mouse.@ Inwan chuckled.
AI just put it down on the log beside me for a moment.@ He lamented.
AHave mine; I=m really not very fond of these things.@ Inwan tossed his
cracker to his friend.
ASo, now what, great Brigade Leader?@ Wushzan asked, finishing his
cracker.
AYou don=t have to call me >Brigade Leader= - >cadet=.@ Inwan winked at
him. This was a topic they had teased each other about regularly the past few
weeks. ADid you ever notice that all the branches of this oak are pointing
north?@
AThat is odd, do you think it=s a clue or -A, the sound of something crashing
through the forest in the distance interrupted him. Both of them listened as it
came closer and closer. They hid behind the log and peeked through its bare
branches. A large creature came through the brush thirty yards ahead of them.
It looked like a man, but it was much taller, well over nine feet tall. It had a
dark, blackish blue skin and there were two large bull=s horns on its head. It
walked toward the fallen oak, slowly, sniffing the air and looking to the left and
right. When it reached the oak, it stopped and cocked its head, as if listening for
something. Both Inwan and Wushzan were shaking with fear and were sure that
this moment would be their last.
Suddenly, the monster leaped over the log. It was right next to them, but
it rushed into a clump of bushes to their left. They could hear the sound of
squealing and grunting. The monster pulled two orab out of the bushes and had
them firmly in its grasp. The two boys jumped out of the way as the horrible
creatures wrestled and struggled with each other. Soon however, the larger
creature had broken the orabs= necks. Then, it noticed the two boys and started
towards them.
All of a sudden, there was a whistling sound and an arrow pierced the
monster=s left side. This was quickly followed by another arrow that hit the
creature in the back of the skull, and another that hit it between the eyes. The
creature fell with a great crashing noise. Inwan and Wushzan looked around,
terrified, to see where the arrows came from.
That=s when Wushzan saw it. A creature that looked like a young boy, but
not quite. The child=s eyes were yellow and twice as big as an ordinary eye. It
also had a few white and brown feathers growing from its temple. It timidly
approached, but then saw something behind the boys and stopped, as if warned
not to go any further. Inwan and Wushzan turned around and could barely


166
make out an older child, partially hidden behind the cloak of the forest. This
child also had feathers on its temple and the same penetrating yellow eyes. The
lad then disappeared into the forest. When they turned around, the younger
child was gone too. When they found the spot where the younger creature had
stood, they found an arrow. Inwan realized that it was exactly like the one that
had felled the orab who terrorized Sanfir years ago. Wrapped around the arrow
was a piece of green wax paper.
They were stunned, but not daunted. Inwan came to the conclusion that
the Owl=at were to be trusted instead of feared, so they continued the search for
Quatzitil.
They proceeded in the direction of the oak branches; after two miles, they
came to a clearing. As they started through the field, a large shadow quickly
crossed the grassy plain. They looked above them, but saw nothing but blue sky
and puffy clouds. As they nervously continued their trek, the large shadow
again passed through the clearing. The boys started to walk faster. Just before
they could reach the safety of the trees ahead of them, a red dragon, as long as
three horses and as tall as two, landed in front of them. It sat on its hind legs
and stretched its long, powerful leathery wings. All the while, its long, graceful
tail was slowly swishing back and forth. It cocked its head, first one way, then
another, as if deciding what to do with the boys. Then it let out a mighty roar
and lurched forward. The creature opened its jaws and fire poured forth like a
hellish river. The deluge of burning ferocity came between Inwan and Wushzan
and almost singed their cloaks. It let the boys run for a few yards and then took
to the air. It circled ominously above them for a moment or two and then dived
down, flames licking its lips and smoke pouring from its nostrils. The dragon
pinned both of them to the ground, one under each front foot. It snapped its
jaws first at Wushzan, then at Inwan. It seemed to be paying more attention to
Inwan than his comrade.
AXaven - no!@ A shout came from the forest. From a stand of trees to the
east, a young woman came running. It was Quatzitil. The dragon opened its
jaws slightly; its sharp, white, massive teeth glinted in the sunlight. Its long
tongue licked Inwan=s forehead. Then it snapped its jaws at him. The dragon
looked at Quatzitil. Its grip around Inwan tightened slightly.
AI said no!@ Quatzitil yelled, grabbing Xaven by one of his horns and
tugging on it. Xaven smiled and let both of her friends go. They were shaken
and speechless. AInwan! Are you alright? I am so sorry....Xaven shouldn=t be
outside - I told father that.@
AQautzitil, is that you?@ Wushzan said, not really believing that they had
found her.
AYes. I=m sorry that I didn=t return to the Gray Ravens, but I had some
tasks to accomplish.@ She answered apologetically.
AYour eyes - they=ve changed.@ Inwan=s astonishment crept out like a shy
cat. Quatzitil=s eyes were indeed altered; the iris of her eyes were orange, the


167
pupils were a brilliant snow white.
AA lot of things have changed.@ She replied softly; her voice reminded one
of a mysterious vast ocean.


















168
A Dark Weed in the Garden

Chapter 30 - A Villain Revealed

Things had definitely changed, as Inwan discovered when he sparred with
Quatzitil. Although her skill had increased tremendously (perhaps to the point
where, with a little luck, she could even best Lepexes), gone was the arrogance,
the taunting. The pride was now replaced with focus, patience, discipline. This
match lasted much, much longer and did not end with either one of them being
humiliated.
AThat was a good practice.@ Quatzitil said with a gentle smile. She
searched Inwan=s eyes for any clue of what he might be thinking.
AI learned a lot from it.@ He replied, puzzled at how things went. Was it
his imagination, or could she have bested him at several points during the
contest? And yet, she never gave the appearance of making things easy for him.
AAre you ready Quatzitil?@ Lepexes asked, gliding into the room like a
hungry hawk.
AYes - Sir.@ She answered hesitantly, not sure of how she should now
address Lepexes. Then she followed her mentor into the dining room. He
paused at the brass basin with the colorful blocks floating in the cool water. He
put his hand in, stirred up the water, and watched the blocks circle each other.
ADo you know what this represents?@ He looked at her intently. She was
watching the blocks in the basin, circling round and round. AOnce, long ago, we
were a people of the sea. There were many different tribes, clans, and tongues,
but we all had one common purpose-A
@To serve - our king.@ Her answer seeped out slowly as if something was
awakening in the back of her soul.
AA sword is useless unless pointed in the right direction.@
AAnd to know one=s direction, one must know who they are.@ Quatzitil
responded, quoting from Nupetep=s >Rhyme of the Silver Lake=. In the past few
weeks, that tome had captured her heart.
AI have another mission for you and your cadets.@ Lepexes began as they sat
down at the table. He studied his breakfast of eggs and toast. Quatzitil knew
that he was coming up with a plan of attack for this meal and she had to stifle a
giggle, but a smile still broke out on her lips.
AWe will do our best.@ Quatzitil declared, as she looked at Lepexes, then at
her breakfast. Everything seemed familiar, she knew these halls well - yet now
everything seemed just slightly foreign to her.
AAnd if you fail to accomplish your task?@


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AI will see to it that any mistakes are corrected and reparations are made
for any lost items or goods.@
AYour time away from us has changed your perspective, not only your
eyes.@ Lepexes looked up at her from his eggs.
AIt=s hard to fully describe what is happening - I mean what happened to
me.@ Quatzitil replied as she shifted her orange-white eyes to the floor.

It was a warm Gigen day morning and the sun was just rising. The
Dragon=s Thread, sparkling in a multitude of beautiful hues, pierced the clouds.
Nibat was just over the opposite horizon, with K=Posh directly behind her. The
birds were just waking up and singing to greet the sun. The smell of the castle
garden, with its wild flowers, herbs, and vegetables, greeted Quatzitil=s nostrils.
She looked at the small wooden box in her hand and studied the carvings on the
side. She recognized some of the scenes from her history lessons - how she had
grown to love history in the past few weeks!
AOk everyone. It=s time to get started. Does everyone have their money
and provisions? This is going to be a longer than usual journey.@ Quatzitil
addressed her charges as she walked among them.
AEveryone seems to be ready. I have the maps and some of the pots and
pans. Wushzan, Xinkshi, and Leveru have the rest of the cooking gear.@ Inwan
walked up to her.
AThanks. I=m glad they kept you on as Brigade Leader. It=s nice to know
that there are two of us to handle all the details.@ Again she looked into his eyes,
trying to gauge his reaction.
AI=m surprised they didn=t think of this earlier. I didn=t see how you could
do all of it on your own.@ He handed her a map and smiled.
AShe has changed, hasn=t she?@ Wushzan strode up to Inwan as Quatzitil
walked off to supervise some other cadets.
AYes, yes she has.@

Then they set out. Their destination was Count Fi=ansh=s castle, which
was in the wild lands, just outside Ifishix. As they traveled, Inwan walked in
front of the group and Quatzitil walked in back, each making sure that things
were proceeding as planned. While they were walking along, Inwan could hear
Quatzitil talking with the others, especially the girls. Every once in a while, he
could hear laughter, which always surprised him - he never knew that Quatzitil
had such a charming laugh.
AThe troops are slowing down a bit, I think it=s time for a break.@ Quatzitil
suggested, walking up to Inwan.
AWhy don=t we rest in that clearing off to the right?@ Wushzan spoke up,
pointing to a nearby open pasture.
ASounds good.@ She responded.
As everyone put their packs on the ground and sat down to rest, Quatzitil


170
and Inwan stood in the middle of the group, looking everyone over. She
checked her pack to make sure the wooden box was where it should be, which it
was. Neatly tucked to one side of the pack was her beloved flute. She sighed
as she realized that it had been quite some time since she greeted the dawn with a
sweet melody. She then looked to the sky, as if hoping to see something.
ALooking for your friend?@ Inwan asked quietly as he walked up to her.
AI don=t think he will come around, he has too much exploring to do. I
was hoping to see some others though; maybe another day. By the way, thanks
for not telling anyone about what happened with Xaven. I don=t know how they
would react.@
AI=m not sure what to think myself.@ Inwan replied, looking her up and
down to see if anything else about her was going to change.
AYou don=t trust me then. I guess I can=t blame you.@ She said softly. Her
voice reminded Inwan of a gentle day by the shore of the ocean.
He paused a moment, then with a shy tone he replied: AI didn=t say that.
I just have to get used to the new you.@ As he was talking to her, he noticed
something white moving at the edge of the trees. He stared to see if he could
make out what it was, but it disappeared into the forest.

The next morning, they resumed their journey, this time with Quatzitil
leading the way and Inwan in back. As they crossed into the wild lands, he
could see her sword, flashing in the sun, as she cut a branch here and there. It
seemed to him that her expertise with her weapon was growing with every
passing day. From time to time, she would look back and make sure that
everyone was accounted for and in good shape.
AShe has changed indeed!@ Wushzan said, elbowing Inwan. ASo much so
that I just might ask her to the summer dance.@
AWushzan, really. She=s a Brigade Leader - she=s not supposed to dance
with her subordinates.@ Inwan replied, slightly annoyed.
AOh-ho! Do I hear the music of jealousy on the wind?@
AI think Xinkshi is more to your tastes. You have noticed her occasional
glances, haven=t you?@ Inwan countered, spotting something white moving
through the forest. It was keeping pace with them. Quatzitil noticed it too and
stopped. She then crept slowly, like a stalking lioness, toward the creature.
Inwan raced toward her to try to stop her.
AQuatzitil, where are you going?@ Inwan said as he ran up to her side.
AThe wolf, I saw it. It took off into the forest.@
ANow you know that it isn=t responsible for what happened to Eofer=s
cows.@
AThat=s true - but that creature has been following us and I want to deal
with this threat before someone gets hurt.@ She then stalked off into the woods.
She had only gotten a little way, with Inwan by her side, when she heard
something growling in the bushes up ahead. She drew her sword and took a


171
step forward, but then Inwan put his hand on her shoulder.
APlease, let me handle this - please.@ Inwan begged as his grip on her
tightened ever so slightly. He walked toward the bushes, slowly, trying to see
the creature hidden within. AHey, it=s me. I haven=t seen you in a while.@ He
addressed the bushes. AAre you going to come out and see me?@ Inwan knelt
down and waited. Sishkye stepped out of the bushes and looked at Inwan, then
at Quatzitil. AOh? Her? She=s ok, she=s my friend.@ Inwan smiled as he reached
toward the wolf. Sishkye came closer and Inwan petted his luxuriously soft
white fur.
AYou know this animal?@ Quatzitil asked, surprised.
ASishkye and I have known each other for a long time. Why don=t you
come and say hello?@ With that, Quatzitil came and knelt down beside Inwan.
This was a side of him that she had never known about.

As the sun was setting, they finally came to the castle of Count Fi=ansh. It
was a large estate; the main hall was built of dark hued stones with reddish
brown mortar gluing them together. There was a smaller cottage to the right of
the main hall and a large, five storey red brick tower to the left. The stone path
that led to the lawn was dark and overgrown with trees and grass. Here and
there brass lamps peeked out from behind gnarled branches and weeds. The
lamps had either yellow, red, blue, or green colored glass. The flames within
shone brightly and provided a weird, flickering light which danced among the
long forgotten trees and bushes. It reminded Inwan of Wisayael=s Iron Garden.
A large iron fence surrounded the mansion and the gate was decorated with two
brass shields. As he continued to survey the gloomy lawn, he saw several dark
shapes, just slightly darker than the surrounding shadows, scamper among the
branches and grass. Inwan remembered the shadow he saw in Wisayael=s
garden and a chill ran down his spine.
AWe have come to deliver an heirloom to the noble Count Fi=ansh.@
Quatzitil stated, addressing the guard on the other side of the fence. He was tall
and wore dark blue plate mail. His helmet was brownish red and had metal
horns on each side; the helm shaded the guard=s eyes from the cadets. He had a
large, sharp, well polished axe with names on it, presumably of foes he had slain.
AFrom whence do you come?@ The guard demanded curtly.
AFrom the Hall of The Gray Ravens. We were sent by Lepexes.@ Quatzitil
answered.
AEnter.@ The guard brusquely replied, opening the gate. He did not move
much though and some of the cadets brushed past his weapon. The estate
seemed eerily quiet and devoid of life. As they walked to the main entrance,
Inwan looked into one of the windows of the small cottage. He stopped for a
moment in surprise, then quickly caught up with the rest of the group.
AYou won=t believe this.@ He whispered to Wushzan.
AI=m pretty gullible, try me, see how far you can get.@ Wushzan whispered


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back, winking at him.
AI just saw Iknis.@
ANo, you=re bluffing. Where?@
AIn the cottage on the east side of the lawn .@ Inwan said, looking back at
the cottage to see if Iknis would come out.
AWhy is he here of all places?@ Wushzan asked dumbfounded.
AIs everything all right back there?@ Quatzitil interrupted, slightly
annoyed that Inwan and Wushzan=s impromptu conversation might disrupt this
formal moment.
ANothing worth mentioning right now Quatzitil.@ Inwan answered.
AHmmmm......I look forward to hearing about it tonight then.@ She replied
with a puzzled look on her face. Inwan wondered if she would come face to face
with the object of their conversation before then.
Quatzitil knocked and the door was opened by another well armed guard
who resembled the one at the gate, except this one said nothing. They were led
to the doors of the main hall, which were made out of granite with brass rings as
handles. The dimly lit hallways had too few iron candelabra to provide bright,
cheery light. What could be seen in the almost gloom were oak paneled walls
and dark gray carpets with intricate black and red designs on them.
When the immense doors slid back, a cold stone room was revealed.
There was a row of marble orbs leading up to a large, dark obsidian throne.
Black and red tapestries hung on the walls of the room, and light was delivered
from large silver chandeliers. Two blazing braziers sat on either side of the
throne and the acrid smoke they offered hung in the air.
AWelcome to my realm.@ The count grinned, rising from his chair. He
was an older gentleman with silver and black hair. He was of average height and
had a refined manner; however a suggestion of craftiness gleaned in his gray
eyes. He wore a light blue Pladexien Shirt and black trousers.
AThank you noble count. We bring greetings and good wishes from
Lepexes.@ Quatzitil answered.
AGreetings and good wishes are always good to receive. I trust that your
journey was uneventful and that everything is as it should be?@
AYes count. We have your heirloom.@
AGood. You shall be my guests tonight. I have had something prepared
for you.@ The count replied, stepping forth to receive his package. At that
moment, Iknis entered, quietly walking along almost like a spider. He
approached the count and whispered into his ear. The former cadet stared at
Quatzitil, taking in every detail of her young, lovely form. A chill ran through
Quatzitil=s blood and she hesitantly took a step back.
AIknis informs me that your rooms are ready. The guard will show you the
way.@ The count cordially dismissed them and the cadets were shown out.
ANow, tell me of your progress.@ He said, turning to Iknis.
AEverything is in good order. We can attack the farm at night after the


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farmer has tasted the wine.@ Iknis responded, somewhat unsteadily.
AGood. The poison will do the work soon enough and then the wife and
child will be easy to get rid of. It should only require one of my guards.@
Fi=ansh replied, smiling wickedly.
AIs murder really necessary though? Couldn=t we just have the farmer
arrested on false charges?@
ACome now, Iknis. You are so skilled at this sort of thing. I was very
impressed with your work at Eofer=s farm. It was almost as if you had some
instruction in the dark craft.@
AThank you my lord. That was a herd of cows, but these are people.@ Iknis
replied.
AYou never had the mettle for this type
of thing. I am starting to believe that my
help has gone to waste.@ C=Numti whispered in Iknis= head.

A>Nothing is wasted.= That=s what my mother always said.@ Iknis silently
replied to C=Numpti=s cruel comments.
AWhat a foolish saying! What must I do
to rid you of such ridiculous ideas?@ C=Numti harshly
whispered. Whilst dealing with his young apprentice, C=Numti was also peering
into the Fi=ansh=s soul. The more he looked the more he smiled; he savored
the insecurities, failures, and weaknesses he found there like one might enjoy a
good meal or a warm bath.
AYou don=t look well, Iknis. Why don=t you rest until the feast tonight?@
Fi=ansh offered, putting his hand on Iknis= shoulder.
AYes, my lord.@

That night, the cadets had dinner with their host and their former cadet in
the main dining hall. It was dimly lit and paneled in oak, with brass shields and
ancient iron swords hanging on the walls. There were four large bronze
braziers, one in each corner of the room; their flickering light threw odd shadows
about the hall. Each of the wooden chairs had a soft red cushion on the seat and
back, with the count=s initial engraved in gold on the armrest.
The meal itself was roast pig with apples, peas, asparagus, and corn. The
aroma made most of the cadets hungry, but Inwan was wary. He looked over at
Quatzitil to gage her reaction to all of the pomp and circumstance.
ADid Lepexes tell you anything about Count Fi=ansh?@ He whispered to her.
ABesides that he his cunning and hungers for power?@ She whispered back.
AWhat is the heirloom that we delivered?@ Inwan=s tone was still hushed
and secretive as he eyed the count and then Iknis. It was then that he noticed
the glint of gold on Iknis= finger and wondered where he could have gotten such


174
sumptuous jewelry.
AI don=t know.@ Quatzitil replied. She noticed Inwan staring at Iknis and
remarked ASo you noticed his ring too? As I passed him on entering the dining
hall I had a chance to steal a glance at it. It=s quite unusual, gold with a band of
ebony.@
AWhat?!@ Inwan whispered in alarm.
AGold with a band of ebony. Are you ok? You look like you had just seen
destruction itself.@
ACould it be? Here?@
AWhat? What is troubling you so much?@ Quatzitil asked, her voice now
starting to mirror Inwan=s.
AArkplur. A ring that contains an ancient evil.@ We have to get that ring
- we must!@
AInwan! You sound crazy.@
AI will tell you everything I was told by Mangat - tonight, after supper.@ In
the meantime, Inwan kept a close eye on Iknis. He was talking to the count and
the other cadets, timidly, unsure of himself. However, every once in a while, he
would pause, as if listening to an unseen ally; after these pauses he spoke much
more confidently.
AIknis! Be careful - do not say too much.
Remember how your incessant chatter ruined your
opportunity to woo Quatzitil?@ C=Numti reminded him. This
was another in a long list of mis-steps that the dark lord regularly brought up.
AYes my lord.@ Iknis replied. He was slowly learning to keep quiet and let
C=Numti speak for him and guide him. Throughout the feast, he stole several
glances at Quatzitil, but his arduous gaze was not returned.

That night, as the count slept in his ornate bed, the moonlight streamed in
through the window. The shadows of the window pane stretched across the
plush red and black rug and onto the edge of his bed. There was a darkness on
the edge of the moonlight; waiting, anticipating. At times it pushed its way, ever
so slightly, into the light; then it would grudgingly slip back into the blackness.
It kept up its game for several moments. It waited, then challenged the border
between shadow and light, then slid back into the gloom.
ACount Fi=ansh. May I have a word with you?@ A
voice sounded in his head - it was C=Numti.
AWho=s there? What do you want?@ The count replied, his voice a mixture
of sleepiness and annoyance.
AI have come to talk to you about what you
want.@ C=Numti hissed seductively.


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AI have everything I want.@ Fi=ansh mumbled, turning over and preparing
to go back to sleep.
AThen why are you planning to take yet
another farm after you seize Eagalen=s tonight?@
AHow do you know of such things?@ Fi=ansh sat up in bed, startled and
uncomfortable. He was very nervous around those who could read him like an
open book. A shadow appeared on the edge of the moonlight - it looked like a
tall human being but had the mannerisms of a spider.
AI have something that you do not - something
that you desperately need if you are to achieve
your grand dreams.@ C=Numpti teased as the shadow took a step into
the moonlight.
AAnd what is that?@ The count asked as he looked at the shadow,
wondering if he was in the realm of dreams or the waking world. He then
caught glimpses of an ancient, vast empire, stretching over many, many
countries. He also saw a vast army marching, conquering, slaughtering.
AWould you like to know how to bring
this vision into your world?@
The count=s fear of the shadow was overcome by his desire for power.
AWhat you have shown me is very intriguing, shadow. Tell me more.@
AFirst, there is something you must do for
me.@ C=Numti whispered.

As Quatzitil stepped into the guest room, she looked around cautiously.
Angry at herself for being so timid, she brushed away her fears and lit several
candles throughout the room. As she unpacked her backpack, she once more
thought of all the things that had come up missing from her room at the Castle of
The Gray Ravens over the past few months. They were little things really, a
hairbrush, a cloak, her silver brooch. Why would someone want to steal such
petty items? Before finally succumbing to sleep, she made sure that the door
was locked, as well as the large windows. She tried to pull the curtains closed,
but to her frustration, they were too short to completely cover the window,
leaving a small sliver still exposed. What she did not know, however, was that
Iknis= watchful eyes were following her every move.

The next morning, there was a knock on the door of the grand estate.
When the door was opened, Kelatan and several knights of the Gray Ravens stood
there in the early morning light.
AWe have come for Iknis.@ She said coldly. She was holding a letter in


176
her hand with the seal of King Hashaxe upon it.
Kelatan as well as all the cadets searched thoroughly for Iknis, but he was
no where to be found. Before another word could be uttered, Kelatan
followed her intuition. She and the knights sped off to the west, leaving the
cadets confused and uneasy. The young brigade left the count=s estate with
Inwan=s heart full of foreboding. After traveling for two hours, Inwan noticed
Sishkye off in the distance, partially hidden by some bushes. The wolf was
insistently barking at him, beckoning him. Inwan and Quatzitil approached the
area where Sishkye stood and he whined and barked all the while. They pulled
aside some brush and found Iknis. The young lad=s body lay on the ground like
a broken plaything. Despite all he had seen before, Inwan was still shocked.
He quickly turned his eyes away. Despite her fear, Quatzitil began making a
cairn to honor their fallen comrade.

Back at the castle, Fi=ansh sat in the upper room in his tower. He could
see the countryside for many miles around; he smiled as he wondered how
quickly he could expand his domain. He then put Arkplur on his finger. Like a
potter before a lump of clay, C=Numti began to mold the count=s soul.











177
A Dark Weed in the Garden

Chapter 31 - Hidden In The Shadows

The noonday sun shone brightly as count Fi=ansh looked out through a
window in the tiny cottage in the city of Hatralgazul. It was one of the larger
cities of Nazalquatat. As he looked at himself in the mirror above the
washbasin, he noticed a small grayish spot on his chest. He washed the spot
again and again, but to no avail. Buttoning his shirt, he attributed the blemish
to his poor living conditions. He looked around at the small, sparsely decorated
room and sighed.
AUncomfortable with your accommodations?@ C=Numti=s words
curled around the count=s ear like a hungry spider.
AVery. I still think I could have stayed home.@
AYou would have been arrested for the boy=s
murder sooner or later. Trust me this is
the best course of action - I have much
experience in this type of matter.@
AHow long do I have to stay in this miserable little house?@ The count
bemoaned, staring at a spider weaving a web.
ANot long. Soon you will be eating at
the king=s table. First, we must go down to
the sea of Nazal with several of your best
warriors.@

The shore at the sea of Nazal was populated by large white rocks, some as
large as two houses. The wind, sand, and tide had shaped them into many
different and unusual formations. The sand on the shore had a slightly green
hue and felt finer than flour. The smell of seaweed and saltwater mingled with a
scent of jasmine as it rushed through the rocks, riding the southerly winds that
came up from the distant waves beyond. The sun was setting and sea flies
twinkled as they zipped between the rocks.

Three odd beings stood on the shore, standing quietly and watching the
daylight fade into a deep starry night. They resembled men - to a point. Their
skin was light blue and they viewed their world with yellow feline eyes. Claws


178
still glistening with sea water protruded from their knuckles.
Aurgushhh! We have come too early. herephh@ Wucustre announced.
Aurgushhh! Is there anyone here to see us? herephh@ Wuyami replied. He
was slightly shorter than his two friends. He looked at the claws protruding
from his knuckles and frowned; they appeared slightly yellowish.
Aurgushhh! No. The humans are afraid of us. That fear is the only thing
that is holding this sandy sanctuary together. herephh@ Wux= hiphi answered,
walking towards the sand dunes behind them. He spoke with dignity and
authority.
Aurgushhh! We must eventually change that. herephh@ Wucustre reflected,
running his fingers over his white claws.
Aurgushhh! How? herephh@ Wux=hiphi wondered, looking toward the city in
the distance.
Aurgushhh! Get the attention of the curious. herephh@ Wucustre replied,
fingering his necklace. It was made of obsidian and seashells; the obsidian had
strange characters carved into it.
Aurgushhh! I will not leave my family=s treasure on - A, Wuyami was
interrupted by the sound of armed warriors approaching. The three turned to
leave, but several more warriors came out from behind some nearby rocks and
cut off their escape.
AStay where you are, foul creatures!@ Fi=ansh commanded as he stepped
between two of his soldiers.
The three surprised sea folk found themselves in a slowly shrinking circle
of steel blades. Wuyami looked into the faces of his captors, hoping for some
sign of reason or mercy. The three travelers were prepared to fight their way
back to the sea and put their hands on their swords. That=s when Wuyami saw
it, only briefly. A large silvery fin gliding far out among the waves; it not only
sliced through the waters, but his unconscious as well.
Aurgushhh! The Dark Emperor! He has awoken. herephh@ Wuyami
exclaimed in fear.

Several days later, Count Fi=ansh was at the palace of King Exthrem. It
was a large, austere mansion guarded by towering columns, each seven stories
high. Some of the columns had the helms of past warriors set into them, as well
as their swords. The grounds were decorated with navy blue and red rose
bushes. There were many knights, each wearing deep black plate mail walking
through the palace. The stone walkways they tread upon had shields of fallen
warriors embedded in them here and there. There were three iron towers, each
two stories tall, from which giant fires burned in huge bronze braziers. Two of
these towers were behind the palace, the third tower was in front. A large
bubbling tar pit sat near front tower and the smell of hot tar pervaded the
grounds. The mansion itself was made from dark red bricks; dark bluish green
mortar fastened them together.


179
The inside of the mansion was very expansive and brightly lit by too many
candles. The stone walls were as smooth as glass and always seemed cool to the
touch (even if a candle was merely an inch away). The hallways and
passageways seemed to turn and twist as if a demented mind had crafted them
after awakening from a particularly disturbing nightmare. There were no rugs
inside the castle anywhere. The sound of a visitor=s footsteps echoed and
reverberated throughout the halls until it seemed that half the country was
coming to visit the king from all directions.

AWhy have you come to disturb our king?@ A particularly huge guard
demanded, stepping forward to the middle of the king=s grand hall. The hall
itself had no tapestries or paintings, or decorations of any type. It was round
and only four small windows admitted light into the room. Each window had
brass bars which gave the impression of a cell rather than a royal hall. On the
side opposite of where Count Fi=ansh and his captives were standing sat King
Exthrem. He was seated upon on a large granite throne guarded by shadow.
Lions carved into the armrests warned visitors to stay well back from the
ominous chair. The most curious feature of the throne was a large serpent
carved into the base (it was a most unusual serpent, for it appeared to have the
legs of a centipede). A small tar pit could be seen to the right of where the mad
king sat.
AI have come to warn the king of a threat to his domain.@ The count
replied, looking past the knight to the king. He then had the captives brought
forth from the shadows into the light. There was a gasp of astonishment from
all in the court, except the king, who seemed intrigued.
AWho are you?@ The king warily asked his unanticipated guest.
AI am Count Fi=ansh. I have recently come from the wild lands just
outside Ifishix.@ Fi=ansh responded, stepping forward. The guard put his battle
axe in Fianshs path and the count respectfully nodded to him and stopped.
AVery good, very good indeed. You have
been paying attention to my words.@ C=Numti whispered in
his ear.
AI know who you are, count. I just was - curious to see if you would be
honest. I also know of these creatures, the Wustavae. To most, they are the
legendary Asea demons@, but you have proved they are real.@ The king said,
rising from his throne.
AThey are a threat my lord. They have only one intention, to conquer -
and they will not stop until they have devoured every last one of us.@ Fi=ansh
looked back at his three captives as these last words escaped his lips. They stood
there, silent with their eyes closed, faces raised to the ceiling.
AUs? I did not know that you were a citizen of Nazalquatat.@ Exthrem
studied his visitor for a moment, then took a calculating step forward.


180
AI have a sea stone, which I paid dearly for.@ The count handed a small
white-blue stone cube to the guard. The guard examined it and handed it to the
king.
AAhh...yes. It does appear that you are now a citizen of my realm, and
quite a talented one at that.@
AI have pledged my life and soul to you, mighty Exthrem.@ Fi=ansh=s
breath glided past the king and into the shadows beyond as he knelt. C=Numti
stifled a chuckle at this, for he knew that he would eventually have the count=s
soul for himself.
ARise, Fi=ansh. For this act of skill and bravery, I confer upon you the title
of Fourth Regent of the Outer Court. As for the Wustavae - kill them.@














181
A Dark Weed in the Garden

Chapter 32 - A New Alliance

AWhat a treat! And to think, two times this month!@ Oubulon=s words
spilled out of his mouth with a smile. He and Mangat sat down at their favorite
table at the Red Rock. Oogoolat was busy lighting candles and straightening
tablecloths and chairs. He waived to Oubulon heartily and Oubulon smiled back
at him. The sound of the wind whispering in the trees outside and the soft glow
of candles accentuated the smell of the day=s special.
The center of the restaurant had been cleared of tables and chairs. What
took their place was a Woongoxyl. It was a large ring, nine feet in diameter and
four feet high. The upper half was made of wood and the lower half was made of
metal. The thickness of the ring increased steadily from three inches to one
foot. The instrument sat upon four marble pedestals each two feet high. Two
musicians were sitting inside the ring, one dressed in red, the other in white.
They each wielded two beautifully engraved rubber mallets. They stood upon
their stools, bowed to the patrons, and began playing.
A>The Lighthouse and the Black Eagle=! A wonderful piece - complex,
haunting, emotional. They must be good if they can play that. All this is more
than I deserve. You should be handsomely rewarded for this - old friend. I will
make sure that, the next time we meet, your fringe pants will be ready.@
Oubulon grinned.
AOubulon! Hush! We shouldn=t even be talking about fringe pants in a
fine establishment like this.@ Mangat chided him. Many fine establishments,
such as the Red Rock, would not allow fringe pants through their doors and
Mangat feared that even discussing such matters would place his good standing
with Oogoolat in jeopardy.
AQuite right. I guess this surprise brunch has loosened my tongue as well
as my sensibilities.@
AI have another surprise for you.@ Mangat said, realizing the obvious irony
that was about to hit Oubulon like a wave of frigid water.
AYou are famous for those last minute surprises, my friend - I can=t wait!@
Oubulon closed his eyes and breathed in the atmosphere of the inn.
AAh...there she is.@ Mangat uttered somewhat nervously. His voice
sounded like a spring erratically bubbling into the air.
AOubulon, it is so good to see you again.@ Princess Khyphryxia smiled.
Oubulon looked somewhat startled for a moment and then bowed low and kissed
the princess= hand.


182
AI am honored that you would sit at our table Bright Star of Axandali.@
Oubulon replied, taking in her beauty. She was wearing a blue dress of fine silk;
on her left arm, she wore an ivory bracelet with a yellow crane.
AExcuse me sir!@ Mangat called out to a nearby waiter. The waiter brought
menus for them and Mangat immediately opened his. ARoast Boar with Sweet
and Sour Asparagus!@ He exclaimed. AWhy Oubulon, this is turning out to be
the best day of your life.@ Mangat smiled and winked at him.
AIt most certainly is. Why, to be sitting at a table with my old friend and
such a lovely member of the Axandali royal family.@ Oubulon smiled. He looked
up from his menu at Khyphryxia; he noticed her royal beauty and her regal dress
- but his brow furrowed somewhat as his eyes were drawn to her bracelet. AThat
symbol - it seems familiar to me, yet I can=t quite place where I have seen it. Oh
well, it will come to me.@ His voice sounded like a guitar lightly playing a boyish
tune.
ASo, I hear you have flourished these past few years, Master Oubulon.@
Khyphryxia=s tone was regal, graceful, yet firm. After a moment=s pause, she
brushed aside the braid of midnight black which complemented her long flowing
blond hair. For this special occasion, she had chosen a stunning orange pearl to
fasten at the end of her lock of dark hair.
AFlourished? Well, not exactly, I have published a paper here and there. A
He stammered.
AOne of which inspired a whole course of study at Pine Lantern University.
I now see the night sky with new vision thanks to your writings.@ She replied, her
deep gray eyes meeting his. All of a sudden, a passing waiter bumped into their
table, knocking over the candle in the center. The flames spread even as Mangat
and Oubulon reached for their glasses of water to put them out.
AWell, I hope this isn=t one of your surprises Mangat.@ Oubulon joked as
he helped put out the fire. He looked at Khyphryxia over the flames; the sight of
her bracelet and the diminishing fire sparked his memory.
AYou. It was you! Why?@ Oubulon demanded angrily.
APlease, Oubulon. The attack on you and your home was not my idea. It
was my father=s. I tried to stop him, but he wouldn=t listen. He was - is
obsessed with finding Arkplur; he had one of our spies raid your home for clues
as to the ring=s whereabouts. No one was supposed to get hurt.@
AI lost my home due to your father. I nearly lost my life!@ Oubulon glared
at his adversary, considering whether or not he should leave.
AOubulon, please. I know you have lost much, but there are several
reasons why Princess Khyphryxia is here.@ Mangat=s tone was like a soothing
balm.
AThe first is to ask your forgiveness. I have talked to my father and he will
compensate you three times for what you have lost.@ She murmured, gently
putting her hand on his arm. Her touch felt warm, consoling.
AA most generous offer, but there were some things in my home which


183
cannot be replaced.@ He countered. He was buckling ever so slightly under her
beauty and charm, but he did not want to appear to be a spineless fool.
AWe also need your help once again, old friend. She is here to discuss
more than just reparations, which, trust me are more than adequate.@
ADefine adequate.@ Oubulon continued, trying to sound as remote and
calculating as he could.
AYou could be living in a home quite bigger than mine my friend; populated
by some rare items and tomes. I have seen her offer and it is quite generous.@
Mangat responded. AShe has gone to a great length to pick out things that you
would like. She has been thinking of your situation often during the past few
months.@ Mangat whispered to him while nudging him and giving him a quick
wink.
AI accept the terms of your offer, Honored One. Forgive me, but the loss
of my home was very devastating.@ Oubulon confessed, kissing the princess=
hand.
AI am glad that you accept. I will personally oversee the compensation.@
She smiled as she looked into his eyes.
ANow that we have that issued settled, we should discuss the other matter.
I don=t want to keep our guest waiting.@ Mangat pressed forth with the agenda.
AGuest? Another one?@ Oubulon=s words tumbled out in a confused
manner.
AYes. I thought it best that he wait outside while the present matter was
settled, which it is, correct?@ Mangat confirmed while looking at Oubulon and
Khyphryxia.
AYes, it most certainly is.@ Oubulon answered, smiling at Khyphryxia; she
returned his smile with one of her own. Mangat called over a waiter and
whispered into his ear. The waiter went to the covered porch outside and came
back with a stranger clad in a black robe. The robed figure glided through the
restaurant like an eel; his garments seemed to flow over him like water pouring
down from a waterfall. He sat down silently and waited.
AOubulon, do you remember the statue in my living room, the one of the
blue fellow?@ Mangat studied Oubulons face to anticipate his reaction of what
was about to happen.
AWhy yes. The legendary sea demons. Enstu even told me that they
might be real. She said that she found some of their artifacts on the shore of
Nazalquatat.@ Oubulon replied, wondering where the conversation was headed.
The stranger chuckled slightly.
Aurgushhh! I have heard many legends in my time too. herephh@ The robed
stranger uttered quietly. Oubulon looked at the stranger with a quizzical look,
not sure of what to make of him.
AYou have heard of these sea demons then?@ Oubulon said, trying to
discern the strangers features.
Aurgushhh! When I was a child, I heard of strange creatures - humans. I


184
would never have believed these tales had I not seen them with my own eyes.
herephh@ The stranger removed his hood and revealed his identity: it was
Wuyami. Oubulon stared in amazement and awe. Wuyami took the attention
with a calm dignified air, but started to grow impatient - he shot a glance at
Mangat.
ANow that the introductions are over, I would like to discuss the main topic
of today=s luncheon.@ Mangat continued, bringing Oubulon out of his stare.
AWhich is?@ Oubulon was trying to prepare for another surprise, if one was
to come.
AAn alliance - between the Societies, Axandali, and the Wustavae.@ Mangat
answered, nodding to Wuyami.
Aurgushhh! The hunt for the ring is over. The Dark Emperor has awoken
and will soon begin hunting us! herephh@















185
A Dark Weed in the Garden

Chapter 33 - Only Two Moons In The Sky

The sun was shinning through the window in the library, but it provided
little comfort to Quatzitil. After hours of trying to get through the dusty tome
before her, she closed the book and walked to the window. The walls which
once seemed so comforting seemed to be closing in on her. She shook her head
as if to dismiss the notion and looked around. The Alibrarian@ still guarded the
entrance to this hallowed hall of learning, the lemon and mint still stung her
nostrils, and the torches still blazed forth brightly. How often had she wanted to
be outside, proving herself in battle? Too many times to count. Now when she
looked outside, she thought of her adoptive father, and wished she would hear
something, anything from him. She didn=t seem to notice that the bell was
ringing, summoning her to the arena.
AQuatzitil. Are you alright?@ Inwan said, stepping into the library.
AI=m fine.@ She responded quietly after a thoughtful pause.
ALet=s not keep Lepexes waiting.@ With that, he turned around and walked
down the stairs.

As their swords flashed in the morning sun, Quatzitil struggled. Her skill
was as good as ever, but the intensity and thrill of the contest had ebbed over the
past few weeks. During this exercise, she found it harder and harder to keep
pace with her partner. Her partner, on the other hand, seemed to be relishing the
fact that he might be getting the upper hand.
AYou=re here, but where is your heart?@ Inwan challenged her as they
circled each other. After much struggle and some improvisation, he drove
Quatzitil back, causing her to stumble over one of the stones behind her. She
momentarily struggled to keep her balance, but was soon headed toward the
ground. Much to her surprise, he quickly caught her in his arms.
AYou didn=t think I would let you fall, did you?@ As their gaze fell upon
each other, a momentary spark flashed in Inwan=s eyes. It was something she
had not seen before and it startled her somewhat. After the exercise, she
watched him leave the arena; her heart was brimming with a thousand different
emotions.

That night she looked out her window. K=Posh and Nibat seemed to be
doing a slow courtship dance around the Dragon=s Thread. As the stars twinkled
in the sky, she sighed.


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AOnly two moons in the sky.@ She thought to herself.
She looked about her room. The dark cherry furniture seemed out of
character for her now. She went over to the desk and ran her hand along the
top. She remembered how her father would sit and write letters to his friends
and family. She then opened the drawer and took out one special letter.

Dear Quatzitil,

How happy I am to hear that you have successfully completed
your inaugural year at the Hall of the Gray Ravens! To have
earned the position of brigade leader after only one year is
astounding. I do believe that you are the youngest person to have
achieved that rank. Your father would be so proud of you.
I still remember the first time I saw you. Your father, having
earned the rank of Captain of The Royal Guard of Kel-Tres,
threw a grand party. He had you on his lap and called you his
Asweet nightingale@. He said that your little songs were the most
beautiful things in the world - even if you didn=t know all the words.
What I noticed, however, was that you kept running your hands over
the handle of his sword. I knew then that you were destined for
something great.
Watching you grow during those painful years after your
parents had died, I knew that you had the talent and temperament to
become a great knight. I have utmost confidence that Kel-Tres will
be safe with such a strong, gallant young warrior defending her.

Always with love,
Uncle Ricoa

She then picked up the sword which her father had used to defend the


187
realm so many times. She ran her fingers over the handle and blade, feeling the
intricate engravings which seemed to dance along the steel. As she sat on her
bed with the sword on her lap, she looked around at all the memorabilia and
mementos that she had retained from her childhood. Her mother=s comb, her
favorite seashell, her father=s pocket watch, and so much more surrounded her.
All of this seemed to be a barrier to a path she desperately wanted to explore, but
how could she give up her family? What could ever take their place? As the
guilt, confusion, and desperation welled up inside her, tears streamed down her
face. That=s when she sought refuge in the crisp night air.

She found herself alone in the fields outside the city. Around her, moon
flowers had opened up their pale-yellow phosphorescent petals in answer to
Nibat=s invitation. Black moths sailed from flower to flower, savoring the
precious nectar. She again looked up at the sky, wondering how long ago
Olgolomon had perished. She realized how ironic it was that she, the champion
of tradition, was now longing for a time so far in the distant, ancient history of
mankind.
Suddenly, she felt something give way. The leather strap of her shield,
which normally had been so well cared for, broke. She scolded herself for being
so careless and neglecting her duty, not to mention being a poor role model for
her cadets. She picked the shield up and brushed off the mud and grass. She
then resolved to put all those silly notions out of her mind and turned around to
go back to the castle. Then she looked up.
Hundreds of griffons flew overhead. Some were horses with eagles talons
instead of hooves; others were tigers with reptilian heads; and yet others had the
bodies of great lions and the heads of horses. Their diversity seemed endless
and stunning. Several great dragons darted in and out of this flock. Her heart
was awash in a sense of beauty and peace that she had never known before.
Then, for no apparent reason, one of the griffons landed a few yards in
front of her. It was an enormous black wolf - as long as two horses - with the
wings of a black eagle. The creature had an eagle=s beak, instead of canine jaws.
For several moments, they just stood and stared at each other. Then, slowly,
Quatzitil took several steps toward the beast. Before she could get close enough
to touch, the griffon responded to the calls of its kin and flew off with a loud
screech.

The next morning, Quatzitil was busy packing her belongings. She still
wasn=t sure what she should take with her - or even where she was going. She
rushed around the room, trying to decide which of the myriad items was
important to her. Every now and then she looked out her window.
AQuatzitil, breakfast is getting cold. Master Lepexes sent me to get you.@
Xinkshi gently knocked on the door and tentatively poked her head in the room.
AIt=s open, come in.@ Quatzitil called out. Her voice reminded one of a


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warm pleasant day at the beach.
AQuatzitil, what=s going on? Are you leaving?@ Xinkshi asked, shocked.
AI can=t stay here. This isn=t for me.@ Quatzitil gently answered.
AWhere will you go?@
AI don=t know - not yet.@
AYou don=t have to go alone.@ Xinkshi assured her.
AI know. Someday we=ll see each other again - we=ll fight side by side again.@
Having said this, Quatzitil finished packing and bid farewell to her friend.















189
A Dark Weed in the Garden

Chapter 34 - No Place is Safe

It was a cold, bleak Detphiday afternoon with the rain gently tapping on
the windows of the Opal Library, which sat on the top of Blacktooth.
Occasionally, a flash of lightning would illuminate the library and the opals set in
the floor would flicker in the temporary brightness, echoing the sentiments of the
storm. The myriad tomes sat on oaken bookcases and the reading tables were
fashioned out of stone and iron. A great brass chandelier hung in the center of
the library and was the main source of light. There were small crystal
candelabra at each table for additional light. The smells of stale, musty paper
and ink hung heavily in the hushed atmosphere.
AJisi, Jisi, ahhh....here it is.@ Ricoa said to himself silently. He then read
a passage from the book in front of him and raised his eyebrow. Before he could
comment to himself further, he heard a sudden Athump!@ and turned around,
startled. He went to the source of the sound and expected to see a young,
clumsy apprentice putting a book back on the shelf. Instead, he found nothing.
He walked down the aisle and looked both ways when he reached the end of it,
but all he saw were empty halls and books. He pulled a bean from his bag and
chewed on it in a most determined fashion.
That evening, Ricoa stopped at Thune=s quarters to see if he would
accompany him to the moonlight lecture. It was supposed to be a fascinating
one - the topic was the effect of gambling on the strong willed. Ricoa himself
had written one or two papers on the topic and was hoping to hear his works
discussed. Before he could knock on the door, it opened and the Master Of The
Guards stepped out.
AJunjir, it is good to see you. Is everything alright?@ Ricoa asked,
pleasantly surprised.
AI wish we could have met under better circumstances, Master Ricoa.
Excuse me, I must be going.@ Junjir added and then politely slipped away. He
walked briskly down the hall; in fact, his pace seemed almost frantic.
ACome in Ricoa.@ Thune murmured quietly. His voice sounded like a sad
dirge from a wind chime somewhere in the distant night.
AIs everything OK, Master Thune?@ Ricoa took a tentative step into the
room. The dismay in his mentor=s voice took him unawares and he was unsure
of his next move.
AOne of the guards in the southwest tower was found murdered this
morning. The young soldier was also my grand nephew.@ Thune answered,


190
slowly rising to his feet.
AHave they captured the culprit?@
ANot yet, not yet.@ Thune responded, with hope and the desire for revenge
rising in his voice.
AIs there any way we can help?@ Ricoa offered while handing Thune=s cane
to him.
AThis is Junjir=s hunt, not ours. The security and safety of Blacktooth is a
matter of personal pride for him. All we can do is sit behind closed doors and
wait for the conclusion.@

Junjir meanwhile was at the entrance to the southwest tower. He stood
three feet outside the doorway and stared for a minute. Then he moved three
feet to his right and examined the scene; he then moved three feet to the left of
his original position and looked hard at the tower. He then moved inside the
tower and looked around; finally he faced the doorway and looked outside. All
during this time he moved slowly, sniffing the air and listening intently. Several
times he crouched down and felt the floor or a stone in the wall. He picked up
several small bits of wood, presumably from an arrow, and looked at them
closely. He felt them carefully, smelled them, and even tasted them. Then he
walked out of the tower and stood ten yards away from it. He was looking,
searching, smelling, listening - thinking.
ABrae=Shairn - take Venthu with you and go to the Middle Library. Jiknit -
go with Esh to the southeastern corner of the garden. Truguthy and Borshin go
to the lower archives. Kukar, tell the rest of the guard to search their immediate
area.@ Then Junjir set off at a brisk, determined run.

Brae=Sharin and Venthu reached the Middle Library in a matter of
moments. This library had the least amount of light, being illuminated by only
two large iron candelabra. The men split up and walked up and down the halls
of aged tomes. As Venthu was about to reach the end of the aisle he was
walking down, he heard the ever so soft sound of someone on the other side of
the books. The unwelcome visitor was shifting his weight, his leather heal
letting out a muffled creak. The guard quickly rounded the corner, but saw no
one. He spun around wondering where the shadowy intruder could have gone.
A moment later he saw BraeSharin turning the corner and walking down the
aisle across from him. Venthu quietly motioned to him that he heard someone
walking down the aisle next to him.
AHe was just inches away from me; so close that I could have reached
through the shelves and grabbed him.@ Venthu whispered to his partner as they
met in the center of the library.
AJust a moment ago, I thought that he was walking down the aisle next to
me.@ BraeSharin replied.
AHow can that be? Do you think there is more than one?@ Venthu asked,


191
scanning the library.
AI don=t know.@ BraeSharin=s eyes were also searching the room. Just
then both of them heard a muffled sound, as if the wooden doors to the library
were being opened. Both raced to the entrance and out into the hall. All they
saw was an empty, candle lit gloom.

Truguthy and Borshin walked quickly but cautiously down the long spiral
staircase that led to the lower archives. At the entrance, they found the guard,
dead. He had been stabbed once in the chest, but the offending blade was
nowhere to be found. They drew their swords and slowly entered the room.
They walked toward the center of the library, scanning the darkness and listening
for any clue as to the intruder=s whereabouts. Borshin tapped Truguthy on the
shoulder and pointed to a corner where he thought he saw something move. As
the two came closer, they heard footsteps behind them walking out of the room.
They ran after the sound, all the way up the spiral staircase, but were greeted only
by silence and emptiness when they reached the top.

Jiknit and Esh were standing in the center of the southeastern corner of the
garden, which had become infested with small black weeds. They were looking
for footprints in the soft mud around the newly planted trees. Esh stood up and
looked around; an arrow pierced his throat. He died instantly. Jiknit ran off in
the direction of the arrow; moments later he was standing at the foot of a
particularly large willow tree. He circled around the tree but found no one. He
stepped away from the tree and an arrow pierced his skull; he too, died instantly.

That evening, Junjir met with Thune and the council. The council room
was large, austere, and cold. Cages meant to hold small animals dangled from
iron chains. In the center, a wooden sculpture of a resting woman (decorated
with boughs of holly) was slowly burning. Everyone gathered wore red earrings
to show respect for the three that had fallen. The council members were dressed
in black robes with the white and red stripes; these garments were worn on only
the most serious occasions. When Junjir entered the room, the murmurs and
whispers fell away until there was only silence. They looked at their Master of
The Guard with determined eyes.
AWe are continuing to search the grounds from the Opal Library to the
Lower Archives. We have not found the assassin yet.@
AIs there any clue as to his motives, so we can anticipate his next move?@
Thune asked.
ARight now, it seems as if he is testing us - trying to see where we are
weakest.@ Junjir replied.
ADo we know anything about our attacker yet?@ One council member spoke
up.
AHe is fast and quiet. He is heard only when he wants to be.@ Junjir


192
answered. As if to underscore this point, an arrow shot out from the darkness
and killed one of the guards in the room. A second later, another arrow shot out
and killed another guard. There was chaos in the council chamber with some
council members fleeing and others reaching for swords as the guards frantically
examined every corner of the room.

The next morning, everyone at Blacktooth was tired and agitated, for no
one had slept well during the night. Every shadow and bump in the night was
cause for alarm. Ricoa thought he heard something in the corner of his room
and shot up in bed. It was only his imagination, as he was alone with nothing
but fear and suspicion as his companions. He quickly got dressed and reached
for his sword and crossbow. When he opened his door, he saw three guards
running down the hall towards the stairway.
AWhat=s going on?@ He called to one of the men.
AWe have him cornered in the Middle Library!@ Was the response.
Ricoa followed them despite his fear and common sense. When they
reached the Middle Library, they found five guards dead. As they looked on in
shock, an arrow killed a guard on Ricoa=s right. Another arrow killed a guard on
his left as Ricoa ran into the library to look for a place to hide. He could hear the
assassin=s footsteps as he methodically walked through the library. From time
to time, the sound stopped and Ricoa could only guess what the mysterious figure
was doing. He could hear more soldiers coming from the hall. Then Ricoa
heard several muffled Atwang!@ sounds in rapid succession; five in all. The clang
of the guards= armor as their dead bodies fell to the ground rattled his nerves.
After several seconds of terrifying silence, Ricoa felt a hand on his
shoulder; moments later, he too fell to the ground. After making sure that Ricoa
was dead, the assailant left the room.

Junjir was on the wall, planning his next move during all the chaos, when a
curved, double edged blade cut his arm. He looked in the direction from which
the projectile had come; a man clad in black leather with a hood was standing on
the edge. Junjir raced toward him, intending first to punish, then to kill the
murderer. The mysterious figure just stood there, waiting for Junjir to reach
him. Just as Junjir reached the spot and reached out for his enemy, the
assailant leaned backward and gracefully dived off the wall.

At his castle in Hatralgazul, Count Fi=ansh looked out at the night sky.
The wavering reflection of the moonlight on the sea mirrored Fi=ansh=s conflicted
heart.
AIt is done.@ A voice said from the darkness behind him.
AAll of Exthrem=s heirs are dead?@ The count asked without turning around.
AYes. Ricoa was the last.@ The voice answered.


193
AThe scrolls, what about the scrolls?@ C=Numti
greedily demanded. He had grown more impatient, more argumentative of late.
Fi=ansh was starting to tire of their endless debates.
AAnd the scrolls?@ The count asked wearily.
AThey are sitting on your desk.@
















194
A Dark Weed in the Garden

Chapter 35 - The Dark Vine

It was a sunny Bouwxi day morning; Fi=ansh looked at his reflection in
the mirror above the washbasin. His brow furrowed with frustration and
anxiety - the grayish spot on his chest had grown slightly larger over the past few
weeks. The tip of the mysterious blotch extended almost halfway up his neck.
What was even more troubling was that certain areas of the blemish had taken on
a slight greenish tone; it almost looked like some kind of moss that had risen up
from beneath his skin. No matter how he much he washed, he could not remove
it: over the past several months he had spent many nights applying various
salves, creams, potions, and powders, but nothing worked. As he buttoned his
shirt he wondered if the spot could be seen above his collar. After a thorough
examination in the mirror, he was satisfied with his appearance and walked out
the door.
He surveyed the king=s courtyard calmly. A group of young lads were
practicing their swordsmanship, using sticks. They were clumsily swinging at
each other, tripping over their weapons and their own feet. One lad in
particular seemed to be having much trouble hitting anything at all with his
weapon. In the background, a huge dark vine grew - it covered the walls and
seemed to be growing, ever so slightly, right before the count=s eyes.
AYoung man, do you know what you are getting yourself into?@ Fi=ansh said,
approaching the clumsiest youth. He was barely nine years old.
AWe were only playing, Regent.@ The boy answered shyly.
ASoon you will have to wield a true weapon in defense of your kingdom.@
AEnemies of the kingdom are everywhere.@
C=Numti whispered.
AEnemies of the kingdom are everywhere.@ The boy responded with a
hollow, dull tone.
ALet me give you a little luck for your next battle.@ The count began as he
took out a wooden box from his coat pocket. Inside the two compartments of
the box were two pastes: one red and one gray. The count used the pastes to
write symbols on the boy=s forehead and arms. On the lad=s forehead he used
the gray paste and wrote:

_
|w
_
|



195
On the boy=s arms he used the red paste and wrote on each arm:

`_.-l
_
|r&

The lad looked down at his arms and then at the count. He raised his eyes
to the storm clouds that were gathering to the east. He walked away silently,
stiffly.

Inside the main hall of Exthrem=s palace, his nobles, advisors, and regents
were gathered. There was a large map on a wooden table; in the center was
Nazalquatat. There were stones of different colors on the map, the black stones
represented Nazalquatat=s knights. The blue and yellow stones represented
knights of the countries of Ohor and Norgranthar. The blue stones outnumbered
the yellow and black. Uhum, First Regent of the Inner Court, was scrutinizing
the map carefully, moving black stones to different places on the map and then
looking at notes sitting next to the table. He was wearing his official garb, as
was expected of him for this occasion. On his head was a blue-white conical hat,
four feet tall. On top of the hat were two golden tassels. He was dressed in a
flowing black robe with yellow triangles on the left sleeve.

AGood day, First Regent.@ Fi=ansh=s tone was warm yet official. As he
approached the table, he stole a glance at the notes. Uhum looked at him
scornfully - both knew it was forbidden for a Regent of the Outer Court to directly
address a Regent of the Inner Court. Uhum motioned to a guard, who politely
but decisively stepped in between the two regents. Fi=ansh frowned and walked
toward a dimly lit corner of the hall and Uhum resumed his work.
The other three Regents of the Inner Court filed into the room. They
were dressed exactly like Uhum and had small cymbals which they clanged as
they approached him. They circled him three times clockwise and four times
counter-clockwise, all the while clanging their cymbals.
Then twenty of the king=s mightiest warriors entered the room. They
made a circle around the First Regents of the Inner Court and knelt down. They
clanged their swords on their armor and then on the ground in a strange rhythm -
this ritual lasted for forty five minutes.
This was followed by a procession of youth into the hall - the squires of the
First Regents of The Inner Court. They wore blue conical hats one foot tall.
They were dressed in black, flowing robes with one yellow triangle on the right
sleeve. The stood before the Regents of The Inner Court and prostrated
themselves, then rolled to the left, then rose. They repeated this ritual ten
times.
The ten Regents of The Middle Court then walked into the hall. They
wore green-black conical hats three feet tall. They were clad in red robes with


196
two purple circles on the left sleeve. On their feet they wore large white shoes,
which curled up in the front and the back. A bright green tassel was on the front
of their shoes and a golden tassel was on the back of the shoe. They were
followed by twenty more knights, who conducted the same ritual as was
performed earlier. Then the squires to the regents came in, dressed in red robes
with one white circle in the center.
Finally, it was time for the seven Regents of the Outer Court to proceed
into the hall. They wore red conical hats six feet tall; each hat had five white
tassels on it. They were dressed in white robes with a green square on the left
sleeve. They were also accorded the privilege of being attended by twenty
knights, who again performed the sword ritual. The squires of the Regents of
the Outer Court came into the room and bowed low before their masters. The
squires wore white robes and large red shoes. Each shoe curled up in the front
and back and had five golden tassels on each end.
AFools! This is why it takes all day
to get anything done. The pomp! The rituals!
The protocol! They spend more time engaging in
nonsense than action.@ C=Numti hissed in the count=s ear as Fi=ansh
finally took his official place in the king=s hall.
AMighty Exthrem, I beseech you, on behalf of the Regents of the Middle
Court - let those excellent regents be heard.@ The First Regent of The Outer Court
began.
AAre all of the Regents of The Outer Court in agreement?@ King Exthrem=s
personal guard asked.
AYes!@ All of the Regents of The Outer Court responded in unison.
AMighty Exthrem, I beseech you, on behalf of the Regents of the Inner Court - let
those excellent regents be heard.@ The First Regent of The Middle Court said.
AAre all of the Regents of The Middle Court in agreement?@ King Exthrem=s
personal guard asked.
AYes!@ All of the Regents of The Middle Court replied in unison.
AThe kingdoms of Ohor and Norgranthar are gathering their knights in
preparation for an attack on Nazalquatat - of that we can be sure.@ Uhum
announced as he took a step toward the king.
AWhy do you believe this is so, Uhum?@ Exthrem questioned, glaring at him
with a mixture of caution and intrigue.
AMighty Exthrem, I beseech you, on behalf of the Regents of the Middle
Court - let those excellent regents be heard.@ The First Regent of The Outer Court
said.
AAre all of the Regents of The Outer Court in agreement?@ King Exthrem=s
personal guard asked.
AYes!@ All of the Regents of The Outer Court responded in unison.


197
AMighty Exthrem, I beseech you, on behalf of the Regents of the Inner Court - let
those excellent regents be heard.@ The First Regent of The Middle Court said.
AAre all of the Regents of The Middle Court in agreement?@ King Exthrem=s
personal guard asked.
AYes!@ All of the Regents of The Middle Court replied in unison.
AOur spies have seen several letters going back and forth between the kings
of those countries and their commanders.@ Uhum continued. The Second
Regent of the Outer Court captured two enemy knights and they provided further
details of the attack.@
AIs this true, Second Regent?@ Exthrem asked not even looking in his
direction, but fixing his gaze on the Uhum.
AMighty Exthrem, I beseech you, please let the First Regent of the Middle
Court be heard.@ Uhum said, bowing low before the king.
AExthrem the Excellent, please, allow the Second Regent of The Outer
Court the privilege of speaking in your presence.@ The First Regent of the
Middle Court said.
ASpeak Second Regent of The Outer Court.@ Exthrem commanded.
AAfter much questioning, the enemy knights of Ohor told us that they plan
to attack within one year, perhaps sooner.@ The Second Regent of the Outer
Court said.
No one noticed the young lad that Fi=ansh had marked with the red and
gray paste. He slipped into the room, as quiet as a spider in a shadowy corner.
ANow, sink, sink down into the darkness -
let me come forth.@ C=Numti=s words slithered into Fi=ansh=s ear.
The count closed his eyes and lowered his head, as if meditating. A moment
later, he raised his head; Fi=ansh=s skin was now an ashen gray and his eyes were
as black as the deepest midnight.
In the blink of an eye, the youth grabbed one of the knight=s swords and
killed him with it. The other two knights standing nearby drew their swords and
the child defeated them both in a matter of minutes. All gathered were shocked.
Then all the knights sprang into action, but it was of no use. The lad was as
strong as two of them and quicker than any human could ever hope to be. The
youth slaughtered knights, regents, and advisors with amazing skill and dexterity.
At times, he ducked and dodged blows as if he was a nimble dragonfly - at other
times he leaped out of the way as if he had wings. Soon all who were in the
room were dead - except the king.
ANow, it is time for a new power to seize the kingdom. A ruler who shall
conquer, destroy - and devour.@ C=Numti proclaimed. He stared at the king with
his cold, black eyes as the youth slowly advanced upon the throne. With one
stroke, the lad ended the king=s reign. AYou have done well.@ C=Numti smiled as
he wiped the paste from the child=s body. The child looked up at him for a
moment, confused, as the last thing he knew he was in the courtyard playing with


198
his friends.
AMy lord! I am in the royal hall without permission! Please, do not punish
me.@ The boy begged as he quickly knelt before Fi=ansh.
ANonsense, my child. You did something great this day.@

ABut, I don=t remember.@ As he said this, his skin started to lose its
pigmentation.
AOh....you will....in time.@ C=Numti chuckled.
AC=Numti! Please! I can=t see! I can=t
breathe!@ The count=s voice cried pitifully in C=Numti=s ear. There was a
struggle for a moment, which C=Numti relished, then he let Fi=ansh regain control
of his body.
Fi=ansh looked about in horror. He had never seen so much blood, so
much death. In desperation, he tried to remove Arkplur from his hand, but the
ring wouldn=t budge.


























199












Part III

The Spider Spins its Web
















200
The Spider Spins its Web

Chapter 36 - Divisions

The rain was falling steadily; Quatzitil stood before the small stone obelisk
in the eastern wing of Blacktooth=s garden-courtyard. Water ran down in small
streams over her forehead, which was adorned with a silver circlet. Embedded
in the crown were three ebony stones, the center stone being slightly higher than
its counterparts. The rain continued to snake its way down over the links of her
dark red chain mail. Despite the water coursing over her, she didn=t notice the
foul weather. She stood staring at the two foot marker with its inscription:

A life well lived,
Full of kindness,
Flowing with generosity,
A man most dearly missed.

She laid two branches of the fragrant blue spice bean plant (one for each
year that Ricoa was gone) at the foot of the obelisk. Walking around to the back
of the marker, she noticed a spider weaving a web between the obelisk and a
nearby tree. Quatzitil roared with anger, drew her sword, and slashed at the
web. The spider retreated to the tree and hid among the branches. Tears
streamed down her face as she continued to brush the web off the obelisk. Soon
Xinkshi, wearing an iron circlet and red chain mail, was there by her side with
her hand gently on her shoulder.
AI=m sorry, this isn=t how I should carry myself.@ Quatzitil=s tone was
remorseful and terse as she stood up and brushed the tears from her face.
AYou may be the First Sword of The Sisterhood of the Three Moons,@
Xinkshi began, hugging her, ABut you are also human - it=s ok to cry.@
AI knew there was a reason why I gave you the title >Faithful Sword=.@
Quatzitil gave Xinkshi a quick hug and a small smile. Soon three other young
women, dressed like Xinkshi, came up to Quatzitil to offer support and
condolences.
Then the women turned and walked toward the center of the garden, where
their mounts were waiting. Quatzitil looked at her companion, a griffon as long
as two horses with enormous black eagle wings. It had the body of a wolf, and


201
even the head of a wolf, but it had an eagle=s beak instead of jaws. The creature
was wearing a leather saddle decorated with small turquoise stones. Her sisters
rode white dragons which were as long as three horses and as tall as two. The
dragons themselves had leather saddles decorated with brass coins.
AI=m sorry to keep you waiting Xieri.@ Quatzitil=s voice seemed to softly
wash over her friend like a gentle ocean wave. She petted the griffon=s head and
ran her hands across its beak. The creature nuzzled her face affectionately then
quickly turned and growled at Xinkshi, whom she thought had come too close to
Quatzitil. AIt=s alright, it=s ok - please Xieri, you have to learn to trust. These
are my sisters.@ Quatzitil=s voice reminded the griffon of the ocean she had seen
so many times in her dreams. She stopped growling and Quatzitil mounted her.
Then all five young women flew off to the north.

Inwan watched this scene from a distance. At one point, he took a step
forward to offer his support, but then he hesitated. As he watched Quatzitil and
her comrades depart, he felt something nip at his hand. He turned around and
saw Sishkye standing there, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. Inwan=s pulse
quickened.
ASo, you want to play?@ Inwan said softly as a smile played across his lips.
The wolf charged and sprang upon him, but he quickly moved out of the way.
Inwan had always felt more alive with Sishkye around, but that feeling had
increased over the past few months. The two tousled and wrestled until they
were interrupted by Mangat and Wisayael.
AAhem!@ Mangat broke in on the contest, getting Inwan=s attention.
Inwan was underneath Sishkye and the wolf had the young man=s arm in his jaws.
AMaster Mangat! I didn=t hear you coming.@ Inwan blurted out as he rose
to his feet. The wolf gave him a playful nip.
AI would like to present you with something on this solemn occasion.@
His voice sounded like bottle of wine being poured out into a goblet. Mangat
pulled a brass ring from his pocket; it had two small silver triangles set into it.
AThank you Master. It is a wonderful graduation present.@ Inwan
replied, putting the ring on his finger. Sishkye gave him another playful bite.
ASo, now that you are knight of the Gray Ravens, where will you go from
here?@ Wisayael asked while looking at Inwan and the wolf.
AWe haven=t gotten any specific orders yet. There is talk that we might aid
Eauphixes in their war with Norgrangthar .@
AAnd where did you hear such talk?@ Mangat was somewhat surprised.
AFrom Oogoolat.@
AI didn=t know that you frequented the Red Rock.@ Mangat=s words were
brimming with curiosity.
AI stopped by when Quatzitil and I traveled to Blacktooth a few months
back.@ Inwan nonchalantly responded then stooped to pet Sishkye.
AOh really?@ Wisayael said, smiling and raising an eyebrow.


202
AIt was nothing, just a stop in an otherwise dull journey.@ Inwan was
hoping that the subject of the conversation would soon change.
ANothing? Hopefully not.@ Wisayael thought to herself.
AWar with Norgrangthar would be a most dangerous gamble for King
Hashaxe.@ Mangat tried to steer the conversation away from Inwan=s personal
life.
ALepexes believes that if we strike now, we might be able to defeat Emperor
Jywvyn.@ Inwan argued, his eyes meeting Mangat=s.
AI wish I shared his optimism, but Jywvyn is much stronger than he thinks.
Peace may be hard, but war is even harder.@ Mangat chose his words carefully
and balanced them between his vast experience and respect for his pupil.
Aurgushhh! I agree.@ Wuyami interjected, walking up to Mangat. AWe have
grave news, friend. The knights of Nazalquatat have captured and killed several
Wustavae - my people=s trust of humans is disappearing quickly. herephh.@
AGrave news indeed. Have you spoken to your people?@ Mangat asked.
Aurgushhh! I am leaving tonight to speak to One-Who-Sits-In-The-Shell,
our Emperor. herephh.@
AMay luck travel with you my dear friend.@ Mangat=s words were hopeful,
yet his voice was troubled.













203
The Spider Spins its Web

Chapter 37 - My Soul, Your Battleground

The water in the lake was icy cold as it wrapped around him. Looking
up, Fi=ansh could see the sunny sky overhead. This was not his place. Before
he could make his way to the surface he heard screams. Those voices, the sound
of metal on metal, the groans; they sounded so familiar. Had he heard them
before? Then he started to sink down. The sunny sky overhead gradually gave
way to murky blue and the chill of the waters seeped into the marrow of his
bones.
The count woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. He looked about
him but saw nothing but the shadows of his bedroom. Arkplur was snugly
nestled around his finger. Looking at the ring, he wondered how it could have
fit his finger and the boy=s so precisely. A chill ran down his spine as he
remembered the great effort and drastic measures it took to remove the ring from
Iknis= lifeless hand.
Suddenly, he thought he saw something dark in the reflection of the ring as
it glittered in the moonlight. He looked up and just for half a second saw a
shadow on the ceiling quickly sliding back to the safety of a dark corner. He
dismissed what he glimpsed as his imagination and went back to sleep.

The next morning, he got dressed and opened the north window. The
kingdom of Nazalquatat lay before him, in all of its morbid glory. Enemies of
the king were being thrown from the front tower into the bubbling tar pit below.
There seemed to be so many of them. Fi=ansh wondered if all of them were even
guilty. The sight bothered him; he turned away and went down to the dining
hall for some breakfast.
He sat down to enjoy a piece of toast and some mint tea. He could hear
the muffled screams of the many prisoners being tortured in the dungeons below
him.
AMinstrel!@ Fi=ansh called out.
AYes King.@ A young man replied, quickly walking into the hall. He was
carrying a mandolin with him.
AAre you familiar with >Thrashe=s Throne=?@
AWhy yes. I know that quite well.@ The lad answered as he struck up the
melody and began to sing:

From where Thrashe sat,


204
He saw many things,
From the lowliest rat,
To the mightiest of kings.

Oh Wise king of gray eyes,
You never lost sight of your prize.

He knew what had been,
He glimpsed what would be,
He left behind his own kin,
And would march on to victory.

Oh mighty king strong of arm,
You kept all yours from every harm.

Seat of royal stone,
Couch of precious ore,
Reserved for the king alone,
To be seen nevermore.

As he was sipping his tea, he noticed the delicate taste of oranges on his
tongue. He pulled back, startled, and looked into the cup. He put the cup
down and went on his way, making sure to avoid the entrance to the dungeons.

He awoke again that night, gasping for breath. He went to the east
window and looked out on the quiet countryside. The lights of the farms in the
distance seemed to beckon him to a simpler, more peaceful life. Almost
unknowingly, he slipped Arkplur off his finger and set it on the window sill. For
the first time in months, his body relaxed. As he continued to take in the
tranquil scene, he caught the scent of wild flowers and spice tea on the night
breeze. He then went to sleep and slept soundly the rest of the night.

The first thing Fi=ansh did when he woke up was walk over to the east
window sill and greet the dawn. He then realized that he was not wearing the
ring and quickly put it on, for fear that he might lose it. He felt guilty for being
so careless with such a precious artifact. He then had breakfast in his room


205
and closed the windows. This way he could enjoy his toast and tea without
having to smell the tar or hear the screams.
However, as the day wore on, the smells, sounds, and sights of Nazalquatat
couldn=t be avoided. He signed execution orders quickly, ordered that the
prisoners be moved to the deep dungeons, and then went for a ride through the
countryside.
He came to a wheat field with a pine forest on the northern edge. The
warm sun on his face and wind in his hair was almost enough to make him forget
his place and his duty.
AI don=t have to be king right here and now.@ He mused to himself. He
then slipped the ring off his finger and carefully put it in his pocket.
For some reason, the sense of peace that he experienced the previous night
seemed to elude him, like something just beyond his grasp. Then, he caught the
scent of wild flowers and spice tea. As he tried to follow the smell to its
source, he detected the slight hint of oranges on his tongue. Intrigued, he
spurred his horse on faster.
The more he rode, the hungrier he became. He had already eaten the five
date and raisin cakes he had brought with him. Although each cake was about
the size of a pancake and twice as thick, he was still hungry. In fact, he started
to feel weak, as if he hadn=t eaten for two days. He reached for Arkplur.
AFi=ansh - don=t give up.@ A soft, gentle feminine voice whispered in his
ear.
AWho=s there?@ Fi=ansh asked, startled. The wind was his only reply.
Confused as to what to do next, he stayed there a moment. Then,
reluctantly, he put Arkplur back on his finger and turned back to the palace. For
some strange reason, his hunger retreated as he rode home.

That night, he stood at the east window. The tranquility of the scene
moved him to relinquish the ring. Before setting it on the window sill, he held it
up to the moonlight. All the suffering it had caused, all the misery. Was it
worth it?
He sensed something behind him. He turned and stared at the gloomy
scene. The moonlight was providing faint light which ended at the side of his
royal bed. From under the bed, something quickly slithered to a dark corner.
Then, he noticed another shadow peeking from another corner. Terrified, he
watched as they stared at him. After a few more eerie moments, they seemed to
fade into the darkness. The ring felt warm in his hand, almost hot. Perhaps it
would be better to wear Arkplur tonight, just in case something came to visit him
again.

The warm morning provided cheer and comfort as its rays caressed the
king=s face. He smiled as he had breakfast in the royal dining hall, oblivious to
the sounds of torture below him. He quickly, almost carelessly, conducted his


206
morning duties. He then mounted his horse and galloped into the countryside.
AI know where you are going and why . Do
not betray me .@ C=Numti whispered in Fi=ansh=s ear. His tone had a
very dark, menacing flavor to it.
When he arrived at the wheat field, he looked down at the ring. He waited
anxiously for several long minutes. Then came the scent of wild flowers and
spice tea. He smiled and, with great effort, removed the ring from his finger.
Then he tasted oranges on his tongue.
ACome to me Fi=ansh. Leave the darkness behind.@ The soft female voice
beckoned to him.
AWhere are you?@ The king called out.
At that moment, he became very hungry. He ate one raisin and date cake,
then another. He was still hungry. He ate several more date and raisin cakes
but to no avail. He felt hungrier than ever.
ADon=t let him win. You are stronger than you know, noble Count.@ The
sweet voice reassured him.
AShow yourself, please!@ Fi=ansh begged. He scanned the horizon in
hopes of seeing his rescuer, but no one was there.
Then he began to feel cold, despite the sunny weather and warm breeze.
The chill gripped him like a shroud and sank deep into his flesh. After a few
minutes, it felt as if the very marrow of his bones was turning to ice.
AFight him, Fi=ansh. Your very soul is at stake!@ The female voice
implored.
AI=m....s-sorry...please...f-forgive me!@ Fi=ansh replied as he shivered
violently from the cold. The hunger pangs were overwhelming and threatened
to drive his sanity from his soul. AH-he=s too strong!@
AFi=ansh! No!@ The female voice screamed.
Fi=ansh reached for the ring. It was warm to the touch. As he struggled
to put the ring on, he looked up one more time, but no one was there. As the
hunger and cold receded, a gust of wind brought the scent of wild flowers and
spice tea to him one last time. Then there was nothing.










207
The Spider Spins its Web

Chapter 38 - IcPan=Tefror

T he rising sun shone through the stained glass windows of Axandali=s
Crown Hall; the most sacred place in all the royal palace. It was a round room
made of yellow sandstone sitting on top of a hill. Upon closer inspection, the
hill revealed itself as a collection of burial mounds of past kings and warriors.
The ceiling of the hall was made of clear glass. There were five prisms, each
about the size of an oak desk along the walls. These prisms scattered the light
coming into the room until everything and everyone within was bathed in an odd
illumination. The rest of the royal palace was below the hill, arranged in the
shape of a AY@.
AMy Lord, Khyphryxia and Oubulon are here to seek your counsel.@ King
Hynyxoxo=s advisor informed him. Hynyxoxo stood brooding over a map of his
kingdom and the kingdom of Slunarkien. There were stone squares of two
colors on the map; the yellow squares were in the kingdom of Axandali and the
Blue Stones were in the Kingdom of Slunarkien.
AI=m busy.@ The king grumbled, looking up from the map. He was a tall,
heavy set man with long black hair and beard. Three braids of fiery red hair
dangled on the left side of his head. Each braid was capped with a small iron
ball.
APlease, My Lord, they said it was urgent.@
AShow them in. It has been many weeks since I have seen my Precious
Jewel.@ The king sighed.
AFather, thank you for seeing us. I have an urgent matter to discuss with
you.@ Khyphryxia began, walking halfway into the room and then kneeling
down before her father. She was dressed in a bright yellow dress embroidered
with purple thread. After a second or two of defiance, Oubulon followed her
example. He was dressed in a white shirt, grey trousers and an Ollarsunder. The
clasp of the Ollarsunder was fashioned from silver and shaped like a boar=s head.
The cloth strips were a checker board of green and blue squares. To compliment
his attire, he had on a pair of fin boots that had seen many miles.
ARise. What troubles you? What have you heard on your travels?@ The
king addressed his daughter and ignored Oubulon. Oubulon was told to expect
such treatment, since the royal family didn=t trust outsiders. So, he politely
wandered off to a nearby window with a view of Hynyxoxo=s garden. The quiet
sanctuary of flora and fauna was filled with banana and fig trees. In the center
of the garden, a tall stately palm tree towered over its neighbors, as if keeping


208
watch. The birds were signing happily in the sunshine and fragrance of the fruit.
Suddenly, a raven swooped down and perched upon a nearby fig tree. It seemed
to Oubulon to be twice the size of a normal bird. As looked down into the
garden, he noticed that a sort of smoke was gently wafting from it. His study of
the creature was interrupted by shouting.
ADo you know what is at stake?! Our kingdom is about to be attacked by
Slunarkien! The time for talk is over! Alliance- ugh! There is no alliance,
only treachery behind smiling faces! Can=t you hear them? The ancestors below
us? Even now, they cry out! >Help us....Don=t abandon us.....let us guide you -
follow the ways of the ancestors.= Guards! Escort these two interlopers out -
now!@ Hynyxoxo bellowed. Then the king looked out toward the front of the
palace where his troops were gathering.
AThat went worse than even you predicted.@ Oubulon whispered to
Khyphryxia as they were quickly ushered out.
AOver the past years his temper has cooled and his suspicion of his
neighbors has quieted. Why has he returned to such madness?@ Khyphryxia
sighed in frustration.
APerhaps you should ask the bird in the garden.@ Oubulon quipped, looking
at the garden from a window in the hallway.
ABird in the garden?@
AA very large one, twice the size of a normal raven. It also had - smoke
coming from it. As if it was smoldering.@ Oubulon turned toward Khyphryxia as
his witicism turned to worry.
ASomething is very wrong here.@ Her comment was angry and somber.
She looked at him so intently she felt that she almost glimpsed the darkest
corners of his mind; then she turned her gaze to the garden.
AI wonder if Mangat knows anything about this?@ Oubulon=s words
poured forth uneasily due to the intense scrutiny. He turned his back on the
royal hall and escorted his wife out of the castle.

Walking through the door of their spacious home, Oubulon breathed deep
and savored the smell of pine paneling and rare spices. Although one could tell
that this was his home from the style of the furnishings, one could also see his
spouse=s influence as well. There were several wood sculptures made from
acacia and balsam wood throughout the room. Each piece was composed of
intertwined poles which formed cubes; inside each cube a sphere made from
colored papyrus paper hung from a leather cord. As his eyes fell upon the
mantle and the extensive collection of rocks and minerals sitting on top of it, he
smiled with pride. How beautiful, how wondrous they were! His wife
understood him as few others had, for she had even left out some specimens for
the pleasure of the hunt.
While Khyphryxia went to the kitchen to make some tea, Oubulon went
over to the large oak desk filled with papers. There were auction notices in one


209
pile and lists of letters to write in another. He scanned the auction notices to see
not only what was for sale, but who was scheduled to attend. He noticed that
several auctions were to be attended by Agray robes@ - mysterious liaisons who
represented others. Who were they representing? He put that mystery aside
and went to his garden.
At the entrance to the garden was the pen where he kept his hawks. He
noticed that one of them, Penphe, had a message for him.

Oubulon,

I have terrible news, my friend. Even as I write this letter,
the armies of Eyruinabatalshukinar and Ifishix are marching
toward each other with war in their eyes and treachery in their souls.
I have tried, numerous times, to broker a peace between these
ordinarily peaceful kingdoms. However, no amount of reason or
supplication can penetrate the cloak of madness that has enveloped
them. I stood by helplessly as I saw the Banner of The Black
Star ride forth, followed by hundreds of Ifishix=s knights. I
noticed a huge raven circling overhead, it seemed to be much larger
than a normal bird. It looked as if it had been through a fire; smoke
poured from its wings. Something is terribly amiss.

Mangat

Oubulon shuddered when he read Mangat=s description of the raven. He
knew then that he must get a closer look at the bird in King Hynyxoxo=s garden.

AI=m sorry miss, but no one is allowed in the king=s private garden. You
and your friend will have to leave.@ The guard said to Khyphryxia, as she and
Oubulon walked up to the iron gate surrounding the sanctuary.
AYou may admit us.@ The princess replied, pulling back the hood of her
robe.
AI=m sorry, Bright Star, I didn=t know it was you.@ The guard hastily
bowed and unlocked the gate. The garden was beautiful. It was filled not only


210
with trees, but small fountains, each about a foot high. They came in all sorts of
shapes: horsemen, lions, cobras, musicians, circus performers, and even ones
that looked like the king himself. The sun was setting as they walked toward the
center. When they arrived there, they sat in the little wooden gazebo, which was
painted red with pine railings which were painted green. Prowling the railings
were Apyanganthers@, miniature black cats with yellow stripes. Each feline was
about two inches long from the tip of its nose to the end of its tail.
ASo, we just wait?@ Khyphryxia looked at the beauty around her.
AI wish I had some other plan, but that seems like the only idea I have
now.@ Oubulon conceeded.
AThere could be worse places to wait!@ Khyphryxia smiled and gave him a
playful nudge.
AVery true. This seems to be one of the last few quiet places.@ Oubulon
stood up and reached out to stroke the leaf of a nearby fig tree.
AI don=t think the world is coming apart at the seams; there is strife, but not
on a cataclysmic scale.@ She tilted her head and looked at him, wondering where
his gloomy mood had come from.
AI used to think the same thing, even after this C=Numti came to power. I
thought to myself, >Well just another tyrant to be defeated - we=ll win, it may take
some time, but good will prevail.= But with the appearance of these birds, my
confidence in the future is shaken. I have never encountered such things as
these before.@
ANew, mysterious things are just something else to be tamed. You=ll see,
in time we will unravel this mystery and be stronger because of it.@
Just then, the raven could be heard, flying overhead. It settled in a
banana tree thirty yards away. As Oubulon and Khyphryxia tried to sneak up on
the bird, it flew off to another part of the garden. They again tried to approach
the bird, but it again flew to a nearby tree - it seemed to be taunting them. The
fourth time they approached the bird, a strange yellow light came out of the trees
to their left. It had the shape of a man, but it was translucent; it was wearing a
flowing robe and what appeared to be a box on its head. The apparition had a
small one foot chain dangling from the left side of its jaw and another dangling
from the right side. This ghostly figure silently glided past the shocked
onlookers and proceeded toward the tree in which the raven was perched.
AAm I seeing things?@ Oubulon whispered.
ANo. I see it too.@ Replied a stunned Khyphryxia.
The figure raised his arm and muttered in a long forgotten language:
AV

|= |=
m
i
_
|@ This sounded like clicking, clacking,
gasping, snorting - at first slowly, then ending at a very quickened pace.
A low sound was heard, like a multitude of great horns being blown softly.


211
A tiny drop of light appeared in front of the tree and pulsed; the light grew larger
and expanded to the shape of a disc, about the size of a dinner plate. The bird
fell down, wings outstretched as if it were dead. The glowing figure looked
directly at Oubulon and Khyphryxia - then it pointed to the bird. A large fan,
seven feet in diameter, spread out behind the specter; it appeared to be fashioned
out of silk and had strange writing on it. Then it glided away. They watched
the apparition grow smaller and fainter until they were left in the dark with the
raven.
The next day, Oubulon examined the raven in his study. The bird
appeared normal, but had a strange odor, like that of a skunk - yet, if one was
patient enough the faint scent of sulfur could also be detected. He also noticed
markings under its left wing. In what appeared to be gold, the following
characters were written:

_
|
m
i`_.|= r&

Under its right wing, in what appeared to be red paste, one word appeared:

IcPan=Tefror











212
The Spider Spins its Web

Chapter 39 - A Cry For Help

Sanfir had suffered since Inwan had been away. The crops had not been
as plentiful as in years past and some of the villagers had chosen to move away.
Inwan had to come back, at least for a visit. No matter what he had seen on his
travels, he knew that this was his home. As he and Quatzitil walked through the
village, he pointed out the various houses and who lived in them. When they got
to the community barn, Inwan stepped inside and was quiet for a moment.
AAre there a lot of memories here?@ Quatzitil looked around and then
picked up a pitchfork. Her voice sounded like a gentle wave breaking upon the
shore.
AOne in particular stands out.@ Inwan replied as his eyes wandered over the
barn. He then walked over to a corner and looked at the wall. The hole that was
at the base of the wall had been filled; it looked like it had not been disturbed for
months. AI guess even Sishkye has had enough of this place.@ As the wind blew
through the barn, Inwan=s head started to throb.
AInwan! Help us! Please!@ The sound echoed in his skull.
It sounded like a thousand faint whispers riding the wind. Inwan felt slightly
nauseous and sat down on a nearby bale of hay.
AAre you OK?@ Quatzitil quickly came to where he was sitting. She was
about to put her hand on his shoulder, but stopped herself.
AI=m alright. I guess the anxiety of whether or not we will go to war against
Norgrangthar is getting to me. I never had to kill another human being before - I
don=t know if I can.@
AWar, famine, disease. It seems like Haru=Caban is seeping out of the
world, doesn=t it? I don=t know if I could kill anyone either, but if I had to defend
my fellow sisters, I think I would do anything - even if it meant spilling blood.@
Quatzitil said thoughtfully.
AWe should go now, my parents are expecting us.@ Inwan slowly rose to his
feet.

As they came upon the center of the village, Inwan pointed out the
Amemorial@. The tusks of the beast that had attacked the small hamlet were
sticking up out of the ground. They were surrounded by pitchforks.
AWhat are these?@ Quatzitil asked, fingering one of many bracelets strung
upon the prongs of the pitchforks.
AStatements.@ Inwan answered, fingering the bracelet he himself had


213
made.
AStatements?@
AEach bracelet represents the willingness to stay. After those horrible few
days, many talked about leaving.@
ADid anyone leave?@
ANo, they stayed.....although we all thought about leaving this place behind
from time to time. Then Jurshel, Kithmana=s sister, built this memorial and put
Kithmana=s bracelet on one of the pitchforks. She told us that, if the bracelet was
gone one morning, we would know that she had left.@ After several moments of
silence, they continued on.

AMother! Father! I=m home!@ Inwan called as he opened the door to his
family=s house.
AMy darling! Let me look at you!@ Cyriah happily cried out, coming from
the kitchen. She was still as Inwan had last seen her, graceful and kind. AAnd
who have we here?@
AI am Quatzitil, ma=am. I am very pleased to meet you.@ Quatzitil replied,
giving Cyriah some bread that she had baked. She was hoping that would
distract Cyriah from her unusual appearance.
AWhy thank you. You are most kind. I see now why Inwan keeps writing
about you in his letters.@ Cyriah smiled warmly as her eyes met Quatzitil=s.
AYour eyes! They - they=re different.@ Her startled remark created a temporary
awkward silence that no one knew how to fill. She quickly gained her composure
though.
AQuatzitil is not only an accomplished knight, she is actually a very good
baker, the bread is delicious.@ Inwan commented as he escorted his mother to
the kitchen. Quatzitil stayed behind in the living room, unsure of what to do.
After a minute or two, he returned.
AFather is out in the field. Trust me, you will get a better reaction from
him.@
AI=m glad I left Xirei at the outskirts of the village.@ Quatzitil=s words were
still wrapped up in uncertainty. She was somewhat embarrassed about the
commotion she had already caused.
AIt=s not you.@ Inwan gently reassured her. AMother just isn=t comfortable
with all the wonders that lie outside the village.

Inwan and Quatzitil found Vunfael in the western field. When they got
within thirty yards, he turned around and drew his sword. Seeing that it was his
son, he quickly sheathed it and breathed a sigh of relief.
AMy son! It has been too long since you were home.@ He declared
happily, giving the boy a big bear hug.
AWere you expecting someone else father?@ Inwan=s innocence returned
like the spring sunshine. He almost felt like the young boy who had lived here so


214
long ago and worked side by side with his parents harvesting the crops.
ARaiders have taken some of our harvest in the past few weeks. I=m sorry if
I startled you.@ Vunfael replied with a sigh. This made Inwan uncomfortable -
where was the man who had protected him and his mother all these years?
AFather, this is Quatzitil.@
AI am very pleased to meet you sir.@ Quatzitil replied, bowing low.
AAnd I am finally pleased to meet you, good lady. I have heard much about
you.@ Quatzitil=s curiosity was now reaching a fever pitch.

Then they had a wonderful lunch at the entrance to the fields. It was a
warm fall day and the wind played with the red and gold leaves on the nearby
trees. In the distance, dark clouds seemed to be standing still, waiting - waiting.
AThat was a wonderful lunch ma=am. Now I see why Inwan loves to come
home.@ Quatzitil remarked.
AI wish he would come home more often.@ Cyriah chided him, looking at
Inwan from across the wooden table where they sat.
ANow dear, Inwan has many important things to do. The world at large
needs him and we have to accept that.@ Vunfael interjected before Inwan had a
chance to apologize.
AInwan has been invaluable to the Grey Ravens.@ Quatzitil added. At that
moment, Zoshan perched on the stone wall behind them.
ASpeaking of being needed, there is something I must do.@ Inwan said as
he approached the bird. He gently petted the white owl, stroking its feathers.
Then Zoshan gently nipped his fingers and flew off.
AMust you go so soon?@ Cyriah=s question was bathed in sorrow and
resignation.
AI don=t have much time mother, and this is important to me. I will be
back as soon as I can - I promise.@ Inwan replied, hugging her.

Wisayael=s home was in relatively good condition, despite the fact that she
now only rarely visited it. Inwan walked up the main path and opened the door.
As he looked around the kitchen for something to eat, Quatzitil began to explore
the house.
AInwan, there are boxes down here. They smell like butter.@ Quatzitil
called up from the basement.
AGet out of there! Don=t open them!@ Inwan yelled frantically as he ran
down the basement stairs. He grabbed Quatzitil=s hand and quickly led her up
into the living room. There he made sure that she was in good health.
AWhat? What=s wrong?@ Quatzitil asked, startled.
AScorpion powder - that=s what is in those boxes. It kills within minutes.@
Inwan replied, relieved that neither she nor himself had suffered any ill effects.
AI didn=t know that Wisayael dabbled in such dark crafts.@ A shiver ran
down her spine. AWhy does she need something like that?@


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AShe=s preparing.@ Inwan said as much to himself as to her.
APreparing for what?@
AWar.@
ADo you really think that we will have to rely on such things?@
AWe may.@ Inwan looked into her eyes.
APerhaps, but if all goes as Rifune wishes, such things will not be needed.
You can rely on me - and on the sisterhood. When we are ready, The Sisterhood
of The Three Moons will join with our earth-bound kin and no one, not even the
vile one himself will be able to defeat us!@ Her words were somber yet steadfast.

That night, Quatzitil slept in Wisayael=s room and Inwan slept in his old
quarters. Sitting in the dark, she put her flute to her lips and played a mournful
tune. Then, putting the instrument on the bed, she began to sing:

Troubled times have come upon thee,
Like a jackal in the night,
Although our courage may flee,
Still we must fight.

Many terrors gather round,
And war draws close,
It is in courage that hope is found,
It is with courage that we will defend our homes.

Though sword cuts through the night,
And blood will spill,
The memory of our forefathers shines bright,
They live with us still.

She then lay down to sleep. When she opened her eyes, she was in a
secluded bedroom in the large castle by the sea. She was standing behind a
wooden partition; it had fine royal blue silk laced through the pine lattice.
Quatzitil was about to step out from behind the partition, but she hesitated.
ACome out Quatzitil.@ The voice was familiar, but she couldn=t quite
recognize it.
AWho=s there?@ Quatzitil asked, afraid of being seen.
AYour adoptive mother. Come out.@ It was Naquadra.


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AIs anyone with you?@
ADoes that matter?@
AI=m afraid.@
AOf what?@
AI=m - I=m not sure.@ Quatzitil stammered.
ACome out Quatzitil.@
When Quatzitil stepped out from behind the partition, she was wearing a
beautiful white gown with long white gloves. A diamond hung down upon her
chest, suspended by a brilliant platinum chain, which was as thick as thread.
Two dazzling rubies hung from her ears.
She was in the middle of the grand ballroom. There were many guests,
each of whom smiled as she passed them. As she moved about, she thought she
glimpsed Inwan.

While Quatzitil was sleeping, Inwan was awake and sitting by the fire in the
living room. He was pondering all of the various people and duties that seemed
to come at him from all directions at once. Then his head started to throb.
AInwan! Please! Help us! We need you!@ A voice seemed to
come from the very heart of the fire. The pain in his head was so intense that he
staggered outside to get some fresh air, despite the thunderstorm raging around
the house. As the water splashed down, the voices pleading for help only grew -
it seemed that every raindrop contained a whole community of them.

By this time, Quatzitil had awakened and was standing at the front door. A
bolt of lightning struck the ground in front of them. But instead of disappearing,
it stayed, as if waiting.
AInwan! Come with us! Help us please! Come
with us!@ The voices inside the crackling electricity urged him.
Inwan stepped into the bolt of lightning - then he and the bolt vanished.











217
The Spider Spins its Web

Chapter 40 - Beyond The Shore

Home. It was too long since he had been home. Wuyami stood in the
enormous dark cavern, with the Sea of Nazal gently lapping at his heels. The
bright red sand felt warm and inviting. The air was heavy with the scent of
seaweed, fish, and salt. Glowing jellyfish swam in large sea shells, providing a
soft flickering light. To the east, water poured through a hole in the wall,
splashing on an octagonal platform made of limestone. Wuyami stepped on the
platform and let the warm water splash over him. He took the opportunity to
reflect on all that had happened since he was last in BrightWater.
The Gate of Wuhesephae, made from whale bones, loomed in the distance.
He walked along the path; it was lined with blue, yellow, and white coral. He
wondered who knew of the attacks on his people. How would this incident shape
their collective vision of the future? The path soon turned into a bridge made
entirely of coral. The bridge arched over a large pool; within the depths
thousands of glowing jellyfish and other luminous creatures swam and darted
about. The great gate, its ornate structure decorated with black sea shells, was
half submerged in water. Adorning each half of the gate was an ivory statue of a
griffon. The creatures, perched atop the arching whale bones, reared up on their
two hind paws and with their front talons defiantly clawed the gloom. Despite its
position, the gate rose three stories into the cold, dank air.
Aurgushhh! Lord Wuyami. It is good to see you again. herephh.@ The guard
standing at the gate greeted him. He was wearing a suit of armor that seemed to
be composed of interlocking plates of whale bone and shark cartilage. It was
pure white, except for the center which was dyed yellow.
Aurgushhh! It is good to see you Wupitingae. How is your family? herephh.@
Aurgushhh! They are well, my Lord. Even my grandmother is faring better
these days. herephh.@
Aurgushhh! She is, is she? How old is she? herephh.@
Aurgushhh! She is one hundred seventy five, but she behaves as if she is one
hundred. herephh.@ The guard answered, trying to hold back his embarrassment.
Aurgushhh! The Eel may behave badly, but in the murky depths, it brings no
shame. herephh.@
Aurgushhh! That is my favorite story too. herephh.@ The guard smiled. He
then gave a signal to another Wustavae standing in a tower nearby. The guard in
the tower blew on a large conch shell and two large sperm whales swam up from
the depths. The two creatures then pushed open the gate.


218
Wuyami dived in the water and began the one hundred yard swim to the
Shell of Favor, a place where few had ever set foot. The luminous denizens
brightened the waters and larger creatures could be seen floating lazily in the
seemingly bottomless ocean. Starfish, some as large as three houses, clung to the
walls and ceiling of the cavern. The quartz fragments in the cavern reflected and
diffused the light from below. Just as Wuyami was about to reach his
destination, something pulled him under. An eel, black and as long as five
horses, was staring at him.
AIktiphe, now is not the time!@ Wuyami said, addressing the creature. The
behemoth took Wuyami=s foot in its mouth and raced downward. With a gentle
tap on its jaw, it let go. Then it slowly glided past him; there was a string
attached to the creature=s tail. At the end of the string there was a bottle with a
small stone tablet inside. AAhhhh....I see; you bring news.@ Wuyami mused as he
opened the bottle. The stone tablet had many tiles with markings set into them;
the news was grave indeed. Wuyami then rearranged the tiles within the stone
tablet and put it back in the bottle. AGo. Seek Wutete - let nothing stop you.@ He
ordered as he petted the creature=s lower jaw.
He then ascended the thirty foot stone column that supported the Shell of
Favor. It was a large oyster shell, both halves about nine feet in diameter. As
Wuyami came to the top of the column, the shell yawned open. About thirty
yards in front of him, an intricate sculpture of whale bone, exotic coral, and stone
rose one hundred feet into the air. It was crafted to resemble three columns of
fish spiraling upward. Atop this was the Shell of Wustavae. Inside the shell, the
Emperor of the Waters sat, studying not only Wuyami, but the creatures that
swam around him. The emperor was tall and well built; the claws on his
knuckles were two inches long and his white hair flowed over his muscles.
AGurgushhh! Now that you know as much as I do, how do you intend to
enlighten me? herephhi.@
Aurgushhh-usum. I am grateful for this opportunity, Mighty Eel-Tamer. I
have much to share with you about the >humans=. herephh-naasa=v.@
AGurgushhh! Over the centuries, many have shared their experiences of
>humans= with me. herephhi.@ The emperor reply=s was cold and dour.
Aurgushhh-usum. They have experienced humans from afar. I have lived
among them. herephh-naasa=v.@ Wuyami confessed with an embarrassed whisper.
AGurgushhh! How true. You even spent several months being tortured in
one of their prisons. herephhi.@
Aurgushhh-usum. Not all of them are bad. Some are good, noble, generous
- and....even peaceful. herephh-naasa=v.@ Wuyami had a faraway look in his eyes.
For the first time in his life, he felt that the walls of this grand court were
confining him, narrowing his vision.
AGurgushhh! The bad >humans= as you like to call them, far outnumber the
good ones. If only Wux= hiphi and Wucustre were here to lend their testimony - I


219
heard they were tortured far worse than you. herephhi.@ The emperor=s words were
like a cold dagger in his heart. His glare was harsh and after a moment he leaned
forward slightly in his chair.
Aurgushhh-usum. I volunteered to be interrogated first, but I was chosen
last. Sometimes - sometimes at night I can still hear their screams.
herephh-naasa=v.@ Wuyami replied, turning his eyes downward.
AGurgushhh! How much torture and death will it take to convince you of the
truth? To these things were are nothing more than....=Sea Demons@! herephhi.@
The emperor hissed.
Aurgushhh-usum. The truth. The truth lies beyond the shore. I have seen
so little, yet my heart and mind have been opened to things I never considered
before. Wonderful things......dark, evil things. It is true, the darkness threatens
to overcome the light. If we do not help the >humans= the darkness will
eventually reach our hallowed caverns too. herephh-naasa=v.@
AGurgushhh! Really? And how would the >humans= find us? herephhi.@
Aurgushhh-usum. The >humans= are not a threat. The Dark Emperor
C=Numti is. He could destroy Haru=Caban on the surface - it would only be a
matter of time before the Haru=Caban of The Deep suffered as well.
herephh-naasa=v.@
AGurgushhh! C=Numti - a myth. Over the past two hundred years five
different prophets have told me that C=Numti has awoken. herephhi.@
Aurgushhh-usum. And if I present the Glorious Shark Eater with proof that
C=Numti walks the earth, will we aid the >humans=? herephh-naasa=v.@
AGurgushhh! Yes. herephhi.@
Aurgushhh-usum. I will not fail you, Emperor. herephh-naasa=v.@ With that,
Wuyami turned to leave.
AGurgushhh! Wuyami? herephhi.@
Aurgushhh-usum. Yes Emperor? herephh-naasa=v.@ Wuyami said, turning
back towards his king.
AAGurgushhh! Wutete...cannot help you. She died at the hands of the
>humans= one month ago. herephhi.@









220
The Spider Spins its Web

Chapter 41 - The Power of The Many

Mangat was examining his notes carefully. He looked down at the large
tree stump in the center of his orchard. There were three ancient iron coins lying
there; one in the high noon position, one in the one o=clock position, and one in
the four o=clock position. All three coins were two inches inside the edge of the
stump. Then there were two small brass spoons: one was in the center of the
stump and the other was in the nine o=clock position. Mangat then collected the
items, left two iron rings, and returned to his mansion. From the window in one
of his upper libraries, he surveyed the surrounding countryside. From time to
time, he looked at his notes and the maps he had on hand. Then, he would go to
a wooden box, take out an item that had been left on the stump, and put it on the
map.
AAre you still pondering this mystery?@ Wisayael asked him as she entered
the room.
AThere is a system to the placement of the objects; it has to do with the
geography of the land - I think.@ He replied, moving some objects on the map.
AIt=s almost time for lunch, would you go down to the cellar and pick out a
wine, or do you need a map to find your way?@ She playfully teased him. Her
voice sounded like a frisky breeze on a lazy summer day.
AI think I can find my way around this old home.@ He smiled back at her,
stretched, then glided out of the room.

The basement was crowded with barrels of wine and old crates. As Mangat
examined each barrel to determine which wine would suit the occasion, he heard
something in the corner. It sounded almost like singing. He went to the place
where he thought the sound was, but it sounded muffled and far in the distance.
He searched the corner thoroughly, but found no one. However, he did find
something most interesting: a brass ring. He put the ring in his pocket and went
back upstairs.

That night, Mangat looked out the window of his bedroom and watched the
moons rise over his orchard. He thought he saw someone enter the orchard from
the east. His mind raced with anger and fear as he thought of the Leather Guild.
What were they up to now? Wisayael was already asleep and he did not wish to
awaken her, so he quietly crept down to the orchard. A thick fog had settled over


221
the land, which only made Mangat feel more vulnerable. As he stepped into the
grove, he thought he heard footsteps ahead of him. He raced on ahead and found
a young lad with curly black hair and a ruddy complexion sitting on the large tree
stump. His eyes were red with white at the center. There was a large pile of
apples at his feet and as Mangat took a cautious step forward, the lad looked up
and stared at him intently.
AWho are you? Why are you in my orchard?@ Mangat asked.
AWho are you?@ The lad asked in return. He stood up and took a step
toward Mangat. AThis is my home now. Leave!@
AThe young, so arrogant, so shortsighted. If they only listened. Freedom
has made him deaf - instead of opening his eyes.@ A man behind Mangat
lamented.
The young man lifted his hands and the orchard started to burn. The fire
seemed to come from everywhere at once.
AMangat! Mangat! Wake up!@ Wisayael shook him incessantly.
AFire! Everywhere!@ Mangat yelped, springing up and running to the
window. The orchard was the same as it had always been, serene. Mangat
breathed a sigh of relief and his shoulders dropped. AThat dream was one of the
most poignant I=ve had in quite some time!@ He chuckled. His voice splashed
against the walls.
ACome now, some breakfast will calm you.@ Wisayael murmured, rising
from bed. As she drew closer, she let out a small gasp.
AWhat, what is it?@ He asked, startled.
AYour eyes!@
Mangat looked in the mirror: his eyes were red with white at the center.

A few minutes later, both were in the kitchen, trying to recapture their
ordinary morning routine. The sun was shining and streamed through the
windows. The smell of spices, herbs, and coffee seemed to calm their nerves to a
point where they could talk.
AWhat do you think this means?@ Wisayael wondered while preparing her
famous blue omelet.
AI really don=t know. The lad in my dream seemed ordinary enough, except
for his - red and white eyes.@
ADo you think C=Numti is behind this?@ The words timidly crept out from
her mouth. She put her hand on his shoulder and he relaxed somewhat under
her warm and gentle touch.
AIt=s very possible. But why would he want this place? I don=t have
anything of value.@ Mangat=s tone was a jumble of frustration and puzzlement.
AAnd who was the man behind me?@
APerhaps we should find somewhere else to stay. Just for a little while.@
She sat down in front of him and took his hand in hers.


222
APerhaps we should.@ Mangat gently replied. He knew that, after the
encounter with the Leather Guild, Wisayael needed a safe place to stay.

Later that afternoon, Mangat was again in the basement, this time taking an
inventory of things he wanted to take with him. As he was looking in a crate, he
again heard something mumbling in a corner. This time, the voice sounded a
little clearer and nearer. In fact, it sounded like several voices. Mangat even
distinctly heard a few words, such as Adark@, Atreasure@, and Ahunger@. Mangat
stared at the floor, wondering where the voices could be coming from. Then he
found a small onyx figurine lying on its side behind the crate. Mangat suddenly
realized that the objects on the stump were from his own home. He raced up the
stairs to his main library. He then quickly pulled several tomes from the shelves.
He raced around his mansion, pulling books from shelves and items from his
wooden box.
ADearest! Come quick! I=ve solved the puzzle! It was right in front of
me all these years.@ Mangat whispered in awe.
AWhat have you discovered?@ She said, coming into the room and looking
at the open books. Each book was open to a certain page and on each open page,
Mangat had put an object he found from the stump.
AThe placement of the objects on the stump don=t correspond to geography,
they correspond to my books! See, look at this one here, the silver medallion.@
He babbled excitedly as he raced over to the book. This is the page that describes
the medallion. And from the position of the medallion on the stump - and from
the time of year that I found it - I found the following word in the tome - >look=.
The objects on the stump were a code!@ Mangat triumphantly cried out, smiling
like an excited child.
ASo, what does it say? What is the message?@ Wisayael was growing
excited herself.
AI don=t know, not yet. This will take some time to decipher.@

Mangat spent the rest of the day decoding the clues he had gathered from
his books. When night came, he wearily climbed up the stairs to the bedroom.
Soon he was dreaming again.
AHe needs to be convinced by someone - not me.@ The mysterious man
said to Mangat as they stood in the center of the orchard. The man was athletic
and had the bearing not only of a king, but of a great father. The iris of his eyes
were orange, the pupils were a brilliant snow white.
AHow can I convince the lad?@ Mangat asked, looking around him. The
orchard seemed somehow different, but he could not tell how.
AGain his respect.@
AHow?@
AYou will know. You are quite accustomed to leading others and the boy


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wants to be lead. You have to show him that you are strong - he will respect
that.@

The next morning, Mangat continued to decipher the clues left behind on
the stump. By lunch time, he had a full message. It read:


After lunch, Mangat continued his inventory of what things he wanted to
take with him. Wandering around in the basement, he suddenly heard what he
thought was a rhythmic tapping, as if someone was hammering away at stone with
a pick. He followed the source of the sound to a spot just left of the stairs leading
up out of the basement.
As he approached, he heard many voices singing:

The beast in the dark,
Its hunger breaks our hearts!
Its eats our family and our kin,
Its fiery breath scorches our skin.

It claims our treasures as its own,
How will we ever drive it from our home?
Axe and sword leave no mark,
Oh how we now fear the dark!

Mangat quickly got a shovel and started digging. After about an hour, the
hole he had dug gave way to a subterranean passageway. He and Wisayael then
got a ladder and climbed down into this strange new world. The passages were
of varied size - some low, so low that Mangat and Wisayael had to stoop in order
to avoid hitting their heads. Other passages were so big that the walls and ceiling
were lost in the gloom. There were long stone bridges; far below one could see
rivers of molten rock flowing swiftly. As they went along, they noticed strange


224
writing on the ground. It appeared as such:

R
T M
M M J

V

Soon they heard singing:

Mangat, draw near!
Follow the voices you hear!
Soon we will meet,
Face to Face,
Then you will know of this place.

After a moment or two, they came to a great hall, which was ten feet high,
yet seemed to stretch on forever. Suddenly, they heard husky laughter coming
from everywhere. Torches could be seen, bobbing along, coming closer to where
they were. Soon they were surrounded by small men, no taller than three feet.
They had deep crimson skin and large ears. They smiled and winked and
laughed. Then, one of them stepped forward.
AGreetings tall one!@ I am King Roshrun of the Dorthg=em!@ He addressed
them, bowing low. He was wearing what appeared to be a hooded robe, but upon
closer inspection it was a suit of iron that was crafted so expertly that it appeared
to be fine silk.
AGreetings, King Roshrun!@ Mangat answered cordially and bowed low.
He was still trying to overcome his shock at seeing these creatures for the first
time.
AWe are honored at the presence of one so clever and wise. Not many have


225
solved our puzzle. But, we knew you could do it.@
AYou are most gracious.@
AAnd who have we here?@ Roshrun said, taking Wisayael=s hand and
kissing it.
AI am Wisayael, Mighty King. I am pleased to meet you.@ Wisayael
replied, smiling warmly. She thought the little men had a charming quality.
AYour timing couldn=t have been better, wise one. We have need of a
champion such as yourself.@ Roshrun motioned them to follow him.
AIs there a problem?@ Mangat asked, wondering what he was getting
himself and Wisayael into.
AThere is a problem of the most grievous nature. Normally, I would not
press an issue such as this to a new - and honored - visitor, but time is short.@
The king continued, walking along at a brisk pace. It was all Mangat and
Wisayael could do to keep up.
AIf we can lend assistance, we will be most happy to come to your aid.@
Mangat assured him, giving a sidelong glance at Wisayael. She nodded in assent.
After walking for two hours, they came to two very large doors, each about thirty
feet high and forty feet wide. The doors had the same strange characters they
had seen on the floor.
ABehind these doors is a dragon. Nasty, vile, awful thing! He has taken
our gold and treasure - and when he is hungry, he gobbles one of us up. We have
tried to defeat him, but it is of no use. But, you, with your quick wit and sharp
mind - we know that you will best this creature!@ The other Dorthg=em who had
followed them murmured in agreement.

The next morning at breakfast, Mangat and Wisayael pondered their quest.
AThis is quite interesting.@ Wisayael=s feelings billowed up and spread over
the kitchen like the aroma from her coffee.
AQuite. How will we kill a dragon?@ Mangat mused while sipping his tea.
AWe can=t kill him by the blade - so at least we know what won=t work.@
Wisayael sighed while serving herself some blue omelet.
AHe=s probably too smart to eat something poisoned. Thank you my dear.@
Mangat smiled as Wisayael put some eggs onto his plate, but the expression was
forced and weary.
AEven if we could trick him into eating something, it would take months of
trial and error to find out what kind of poison works.@
AAnd how much. By that time, he probably would eat us!@ Mangat
quipped and then took a bite of toast.
AIf only we could just ask him to leave. I don=t suppose he=s the nice kind
of dragon who would just do as we say.@ Wisayael=s thoughts were interrupted by
screeching. Zoshan was flying around the house frantically, trying to find an
open window. She opened the kitchen window and the white owl flew out. It


226
perched in a nearby tree and screeched at Wisayael. AMangat! How many times
have I told you to leave a window open? You know that Zoshan values his
freedom above all else.@
AFreedom....@ Mangat uttered with a faraway look in his eyes as he stared at
the open window. AMy dear, you are a true inspiration!@ His words happily
bounced off his tongue as he smiled and gave her a hug.

Several days later, Mangat stood at the two large doors of the dragon=s new
lair. He could smell the fiery breath of the beast. He felt one of the doors and it
seemed slightly warmer than the surrounding rock.
AThat=s it my fellows! Push! Push!@ Mangat called out. Hundreds of
Dorthg=em were pushing a giant block of stone, twenty feet high, thirty feet wide,
and fifty feet thick, toward the door. With a unanimous shout, they gave one
final push and shoved the stone against the doors.
All the commotion had woken the dragon and a low, loud growl could be
heard. Mangat climbed atop the huge stone and addressed the dragon.
AHello in there! I=m sorry to wake you so early, but then again, it is mid
morning.@ Mangat announced. There was a loud roar and a sudden crash as
the beast tried to break open the doors. They remained tightly shut however.
AThe doors seem to be stuck don=t they?@ He called to the creature; there was an
even louder bang against the doors - they stood firm however. AIf you look above
you, I am certain you will notice that exit is being covered also.@ It was as
Mangat had said: the Dorthg=em had started to push an even bigger rock over the
hole in the ceiling. There was another very loud roar followed by a sudden thud
as the creature slammed into the rock above. He could hear a loud screech
followed by scratching sounds. AMy good fellow, clawing your way out will do no
good - we are very deep in the ground.@ The scratching sounds continued, now
mixed with a pitiful whining. Mangat waited several moments, to let the
creature=s predicament fully envelop him. AYou are very powerful indeed - but
you underestimated the power of the many. If you leave and never return, we
promise to let you go.@ The creature whined pitifully and slowly scratched the
doors.
ACan we trust the beastie?@ King Roshrun asked hesitantly.
AI think you can.@ Mangat confidently answered; all the while the slow
scratching continued.

That night, Mangat dreamed he was in a large castle by the sea. He was in
a large room and the lord of the castle was looking out of a window. Mangat
recognized him as the mysterious man in his dreams.
AFather!@ The young lad exclaimed as he ran up and gave his father a hug.
AAhhh....Xaven - you have returned. Let me look at you.@ The man=s relief
and gratitude poured out as he studied his son=s face. AYes, good. Mangat has


227
taught you to respect others. I think you will learn much from him; he is very
wise.@
AYes father. I think I will also learn much from Wisayael.@
AThank you.@ Rifune quietly uttered, as he turned toward Mangat.

















228
The Spider Spins its Web

Chapter 42 - Puzzle Pieces

After traveling five weeks, Oubulon and Khyphryxia had finally reached
the mysterious country of Symandar. They had started the journey in Axandali -
which was familiar, even mundane to Khyphryxia. They ended up in a land
totally unfamiliar to either of them. Here people lived in stone obelisks, two or
three stories tall. Some of the more well to do people lived in gigantic stone
spheres, which seemed large enough to hold four or five barns. As they traveled
through the tall grass of the dry savannah, Symandarians would ride by on stately
giraffes. They would smile, wave gently and wish the visitors: AJoyous travels!
May sun, winds, and earth greet you with hospitality!@ Everyone wore a white
robe; over this they wore what could only be described as a net made from light
blue rope. Great clouds of whispy white filaments blew in circles and seemed to
glimmer in the sunshine. Large upheavals of orange quartz lay before them.
Every now and then, they would spot herds of zebras. When the grass parted
before the wind, they would also see lions, leopards, and gazelle. They even
caught a glimpse of the famed N=hrin; a huge black rhino with a tall orange-brown
leathery fin along its back. Every few miles, the landscape was punctuated with
large flowers. They were several yards in diameter and had large leaves that
resembled cacti, which surrounded a velvety deep purple button. They gave off
an aroma that could only be described as a combination of vinegar and ripe
bananas.
AIs it much farther Master Oubulon?@ Jhyndisel=s faint voice floated out
among the sunshine. He was Khyphryxia=s younger brother and barely fifteen
years of age. His short black hair seemed out of place with his gentle brown eyes
and soft, pale features. He rode his horse with a great deal of trepidation, not
sure of who was in charge.
AWe still have a ways to travel till we get to Khi-Sphere. Hold on my lad.@
Oubulon cajoled his unwanted charge, steadying the awkward lad who was riding
beside him.
AWe should be there by night fall Jhyndisel. We will stop and camp soon.@
Khyphryxia reassured him; she then reached out and put her hand on the boy=s
shoulder. He looked startled for a moment, not sure if he was deserving of such
attention, then smiled briefly.
After an hour or so, during which Jhyndisel asked Oubulon questions the
later had answered for him yesterday, they stopped for lunch. Even though


229
Oubulon had a map, he looked out over the endless grassy horizon and somehow
felt lost, overwhelmed. However, his curiosity and determination gave him
reasons enough to press on. This was not an auction to be missed: there were
several items up for bid that predated the First Dynasty. As he looked up into the
seemingly unchanging sky, he pondered. Imagine! Items that were thousands
upon thousands of years old. What type of secrets did they hold? What was the
world like when they were created?
A soft wind brought him out of that particular reverie. His attention was
drawn to the branches of a nearby tree, where a spider was busily spinning a web.
The spider was amazingly quick and the web took shape before Oubulon=s eyes.
A passing butterfly was caught in the beast=s trap just as it was finishing its
sinister work. The spider hesitated for a minute or two before advancing upon its
prey. AIs it gloating, or just waiting for its poor victim to give up?@ Oubulon
wondered silently.
AMaster Oubulon, I brought you some soup. Ooops! I=m terribly sorry!@
Jhyndisel=s words seemed to tumble off his tongue as accidentally as the bit of
soup he spilled on Oubulon.
AQuite alright. This is only my traveling robe. It was meant to be soiled.@
Oubulon replied, trying as best as he could to hide his frustration and impatience
with the lad.
AIs everything ok?@ Khyphryxia asked, coming up to the two. She put her
hand on Jhyndisel=s shoulder and drew him to her. She looked at Oubulon with a
worried face. It was her idea and hers alone to bring Jhyndisel with them.
AWhy don=t you see if the coffee is ready?@ She whispered gently to him.
He then scampered off to the fire.
AI still think he would have been better off at home, studying.@ Oubulon
grumbled, wiping the soup from his robe with a handkerchief.
AHe shouldn=t be alone doing menial chores his whole life. He needs to feel
like he is part of something.@
AHe already is part of something, two somethings in fact: he is a member of
the royal family and a student at White Bark Academy. I admit he is not a
shining star in either place, but I suppose he is contributing - in his own way.@
AYou see him where he stands now. I see him where he could be -
someday.@ She said the last word quietly and turned to look at Jhyndisel. He
touched the coffee pot hanging over the fire and pulled his hand quickly away.

As the sun was setting, they arrived at Khi-Sphere; home to Duke
Vandyshus. The sphere was larger than most, it could easily hold seven barns
inside its stony walls. Lights flickered in the octagonal windows and the smell of
butterscotch filled the air. There was a large trench around the sphere and it was
filled with people who were chanting in an unknown tongue. As was the custom
in Symandar, Oubulon, Khyphryxia, and Jhyndisel walked through the entrance


230
backwards.
AAh! Before I forget.@ Khyphryxia said, slipping her pendant under the
collar of her dress. From a fine brass chain a silver ring encompassing an iron
triangle sparkled in the remaining sun. The jade in the center of the triangle
seemed to catch the final rays.
AYou worked so hard for that, why hide it?@ Oubulon challenged her.
AIf Duke Vandyshus knew I was a high ranking member of the Iron Crafter
guild, it would unnecessarily complicate matters.@

Once inside, the three looked around in amazement. The walls were
covered with a honeycomb lattice, like that found in a beehive. Each hexagonal
cell was the size of a small room; some cells actually had fine silk curtains behind
which light could be seen flickering. The rest of the chamber was empty except
for three two story obelisks, arranged in a triangular pattern. Atop each obelisk
was a statue of a griffon. The noble creatures sat defiantly on their perches,
jealously guarding the inner sanctums. Surrounding the obelisks was a trench
filled with a glowing green liquid.

They were escorted to one of the obelisks and shown inside. On the first
floor they found a small reception area with a buffet table. Inlaid into the stone
walls of the room was a lattice work of intricately carved cedar beams. Light blue
porcelain jars, taller than a man, held branches adorned with white blossoms.
On the far wall was an aquarium with fish of all sorts of colors darting to and fro.
At the bottom of the watery display, squid of various sizes and colors sat eating
those who were foolish enough to visit them. Nearby, a small pool set into the
floor was also filled with fish. Upon closer inspection, one could see a tunnel
leading out of the aquarium which presumably led to the pool.
The buffet table was crafted from pine, oak, and onyx. It featured several
different varieties of cheeses and crackers, as well as wine. Also, there were
several different varieties of butterscotch.
AThe White Apple Butterscotch is actually quite good.@ A voice from behind
suddenly sprang upon them. They turned around and saw Duke Vandyshus
standing there with a broad grin on his face. He was a thin gentleman well
advanced in years and clean shaven. He wore a crisp white Phixarian shirt with
gold cufflinks and red corded pants. He supported himself with a cane topped
with an ivory eagle=s head. Oubulon knew then that the Duke, like himself,
loved a good auction.
AYou are most kind Duke Vandyshus.@ Khyphryxia began, stepping forward
and bowing low.
ANonsense. I have heard of your reputation as bidders and I am honored
to have you at such a unique event.@ The Duke replied, shaking each one=s hand in
turn.


231
AYou mentioned that some items were the >first fruits= of an archeological
dig?@ Oubulon did his best to contain his excitement. His voice sounded like a
mandolin.
AYes. Very exciting. The expedition started in a little known area south of
Symandar and continues to this day. The stars only know what else they will pull
out of the earth.@
AOubulon said that there would be >gray robes= here. Where are they
from?@ Jhyndisel blurted out. Oubulon gave him a stern glance.
AI apologize Duke. Young Jhyndisel here is new to the customs and culture
of the auction.@ Oubulon=s tone was a frothy mixture of submission,
embarrassment, and frustration.
AOh he will learn. No harm done. Just be careful my boy, not everyone
attending tonight will be what they seem.@ Vandyshus replied, studying the boy
carefully.

They then went up to the second floor and took their seats. The room was
lit by candles in paper lanterns with wooden frames. Each lantern sat atop a ten
foot high metal pole. Beads of glass hung down from the ceiling and sparkled
like freshly minted stars. White porcelain masks graced the walls of the room;
some were smiling and some were crying. The seats themselves were very
comfortable and upholstered with red felt and gold trim. The air that lazily
circulated through the room smelled as if it had just arrived from the great Frost
Sea. The soft whispering of the gathering auction enthusiasts mingled with the
soft melodies of a violin. The wooden stage before them was decorated with
white stones, each in the shape of a lion=s tooth. The teeth stood at the front of
the stage and threatened to devour anyone who approached. Stretching
gracefully above the stage was a beautiful stone arch, wreathed with white
blossoms. As Oubulon was scanning the room to see who was in attendance,
Jhyndisel accidentally spilled a bit of butterscotch on his sleeve. When everyone
had been seated, a young man walked up onto the stage before the guests.
AThank you everyone for coming. We have several items up for bid that we
know you will appreciate. But first, let us start with something small to whet the
appetite.@ The young man=s charming voice spread out over the intimate hall as a
painting was brought out. Jhyndisel had the feeling he was being watched; when
he turned around however he saw no one but the guests.
ASomeone=s here who isn=t supposed to be!@ Jhyndisel whispered to
Khyphryxia. She turned around but didn=t notice anything out of the ordinary.
AI think it=s just your mind playing tricks on you.@ She whispered back. She
put her hand on his shoulder momentarily to calm him.
ANext item up for bid, an ancient scroll, predating the First Dynasty. It was
discovered in a funeral urn in a recent archeological expedition south of
Symandar. Opening bid is i2 Gold Coins.@ After a moment of silence, a


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bidding flag went up. ANumber 5, i2 Gold, \25 Ivory. Number 8, i2 Gold,
\45 Ivory. Number 2, i3 Gold.@ Oubulon=s heart started to race: was this
something that C=Numti was seeking? He raised his flag. ANumber 10, i3 Gold,
\50 Ivory. Number 1, i4 Gold.@ After a moment of silence, the presenter
announced, ASold to Number 1.@
AThis is maddening. Which item is something the Dark Emperor wants?
And why?@ Oubulon whispered to Khyphryxia in frustration.
ANext item up for bid, another ancient scroll, easily predating the First
Dynasty. Many scholars believe that it was created sometime during the middle
of the Barbaric Age. Opening bid i7 Gold Coins. Number 7, '1 Platinum, i3
Gold. Number 3,'1 Platinum, i5 Gold, 89 \Ivory. Number 6, '1 Platinum, i7
Gold. Number 8, '2 Platinum.@ After a moment of silence, the auctioneer
announced ASold to - wait - number 10 '2 Platinum, i8 Gold.@ Another tense
moment of silence, then the auctioneer announced, ASold to number 10.@
When Oubulon returned to his seat with the scroll in hand, Jhyndisel
tugged on his sleeve impatiently.
AI really think we ought to leave. Something isn=t right.@ He said with a
look of fear in his eyes.
ANonsense. There are guards everywhere. Trust me nothing is going to
happen to us. There are only ten people in the whole world who know this event
is happening; trust me, no one is going to get us, since no one knows we are here.@
Oubulon said, reassuring the boy.
ANext item up for bid, a scroll from the First Dynasty. It is foreign to the
archeological dig site and scholars say it must have been hidden there - by whom
they do not know. Opening bid -A a crossbow bolt shot out and killed a nearby
guard. The other guard rushed toward the source of the attack, but he was shot
from behind and fell down dead. Soon everyone was terrified as crossbow bolts
shot out, one after another and killed the remaining three guards and the
auctioneer. When the attack was over, the First Dynasty scroll and the
mysterious assailant were gone.
As Khyphryxia helped the survivors to their feet and Jhyndisel looked
around, stunned and trembling, Oubulon walked onto the stage. Amidst the
blood and overturned items, he found something most unusual: a feather.

In his throne room, C=Numti paced impatiently. Black tapestries adorned
the walls. In the center of each tapestry was a red circle. These newly hung
decorations distracted him for a moment; their simplicity, order, and absolute
quality pleased the Dark Emperor greatly. The red windows bathed the room in
a eerie, sickening crimson glow. Upon the floor was a map of Evmalriel; in the
center stood a portrait of a dark citadel cloaked in clouds and gloom. The map
itself was encircled by a series of hieroglyphics depicting shadowy figures


233
performing disturbing rituals. A barely perceptible murmuring and giggling
could be heard - it sounded ghoulish and eager. This chilling cacophony mixed
with the sound of great forges in the distance. Every now and then there seemed
to rise up a great agonized chorus of groans and screams, punctuated by the
cracking of a whip, the rattling of a chain, or the clang of metal on stone. The
smell of blood and smoke seeped into the hall from the scarred countryside. He
looked at the tar bubbles rising from the pit next to the throne, wondering if the
foul hole could hold any more victims. Suddenly, there was a presence in the
room, something standing in the shadows.
ANowmanga, you have arrived - finally.@ C=Numti hissed.
AI have arrived when I said I would. This is the way it has always been.
Are you unhappy with my services?@ The voice asked from the gloom.
AYou have served me well in the past; especially with the assassination of
Exthrem=s heirs. However, that does not increase your standing in my eyes - it
only increases my demands of you.@
AI have the scroll you seek.@
AGood. The final piece to this particular puzzle. Soon I will step into
Aost=Nor.@











234
The Spider Spins its Web

Chapter 43 - The Summoning

It was a brisk autumn night, with Nibat following close behind K=Posh like
a dutiful wife. The moons cast a pale light on Mangat=s apple orchard and the
shadows danced as the branches swayed in the night breeze. From the bedroom
window, Mangat smiled as he surveyed his grove. Two new statues stood
proudly at the entrance.
AToo many.@ Wisayael quipped as she stepped up to the window beside him.
She was sipping some cucumber-cinnamon tea from her favorite orange tea cup.
In her hair was a string of amber, turquoise, and ivory beads - a gift from princess
Khyphryxia.
ANonsense. There are only four and they are spaced evenly. I like the way
they look.
AI liked the smaller statues, the ones that looked like horses.@ She purred
as she brushed up against him.
AThose were nice, but these - just look at them! Two majestic griffons to
guard our orchard.@ Mangat put his arm around her.
AJust remember that it is supposed to be an orchard, not a museum. Too
many statues will detract from the natural beauty. When I look out this window,
I see the moonlight playing among the bare branches, the fireflies, the stray leaf
sailing through the night air. It=s wonderful just the way it is - so let=s leave it
that way.@
AFireflies?@ Mangat looked at her with a puzzled look on his face.
AIf you would have a little patience - and a little more scrutiny, you would
see them. There=s one now, see?@ Wisayael pointed to a speck of light far in the
distance.
AIt=s too late in the autumn for fireflies.@ Mangat stepped up to the window
and stared long and hard. Still, after a moment, a few more points of light
appeared. As they watched, more and more lights began to appear in the
distance - and they were getting closer.
ALet=s take a closer look!@ There was a gleam of wonder and adventure in
her eyes. I=ve often seen these lights - but only at a distance. Perhaps we can
see them close up.@
AIndeed. My curiosity is peaked. Lead on.@ Mangat smiled as he
followed Wisayael down the stairs.



235
They stood in the grove, clutching their cloaks to protect themselves from
the chilly air. Mangat, wearing his grey cloak with red trim, looked at Wisayael.
She was wearing a navy blue cloak with black trim; the sleeves were embroidered
with peacocks in yellow thread. They looked around them to see where the lights
would come from, and then Mangat tugged at Wisayael=s sleeve and pointed.
A glowing figure approached - after a while, they could tell it was a woman.
She was wearing a flowing dress and a circlet on her head. She had many
bracelets on each arm and also on her neck. A chain, fastened at her elbow and
ending at her wrist, dangled from her right arm. As this translucent specter
slowly walked toward them, the bare branches of the nearby trees bent down to
caress her. Each branch fortunate enough to touch her instantly sprouted bright
red blossoms.
Finally, she stopped ten feet in front of the astonished pair. She waited a
few moments so her onlookers could adjust to her presence. Then she put her
hand on a tree and motioned them to come closer. Both of them did, slowly and
cautiously. They stood there all three: the apparition smiling, Wisayael and
Mangat unsure of what to do next. The ghostly visitor motioned for them to
touch the tree. When they did, she spoke.
AGreetings, Mangat. Greetings Wisayael.@ They heard in their
minds. Her first and last words seemed to echo slightly. Mangat pulled his
hand away, shocked; Wisayael took his hand and gently put it back on the bark.
AIt=s alright dearest - I think her intentions are good.@ She whispered to him
gently; her voice sounded like a gentle breeze playing in a sunny meadow. The
luminescent figure smiled warmly.
ADid you hear a voice - in your head?@ Mangat asked, not taking his eyes off
their visitor.
AYes. Isn=t it incredible?@
AYes. Absolutely amazing - and unexpected.@
AYou have many questions. Ask.@ The figure gently prodded.
AWho are you?@ Mangat=s question seemed to soar through the air like a
solitary owl.
AI am Ashthranas. I am Auglina.@ A red petal swirled in front of
Ashthranas= face momentarily and then continued on its way.
AAshthranas? Auglina? What name should we call you?@ Wisayael=s
words tumbled out like apples from an overturned basket.
AI am Ashthranas@. She giggled.
AAuglina?@ Mangat asked.
AAuglina.@ Ashthranas replied, gently brushing Wisayael=s long brown
hair. Instantly, Wisayael picked up the scent of roses, orchids, lilies, tulips, and
violets. She also felt a warm breeze upon her face. Wisayael=s eyes widened in


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surprise and she took a step backwards.
AAre you OK?@ Mangat asked her in alarm.
AYes. Its - its unbelievable. I=m alright dear, I=m fine.@ Wisayael smiled.
A few red petals, blown off the nearby branches, landed in her hair. She then
took Mangat=s wrist and guided it towards Ashthranas= outstretched hand. When
Mangat touched her, he picked up the same smells as Wisayael did; he too felt a
warm breeze against his face. They looked at each other and smiled. Without
a moment=s hesitation they put their hands on the tree.
AWe have watched you for a long time. The time has come for
us to speak.@
AWe?@ Mangat could hardly believe there was more than one such incredible
visage.
AWe are many.@ Ashthranas briefly looked to her left and right. There
was something there, just beyond her hosts imagination, but all they saw were
shadows.
AThe other lights.@ Wisayael said.
AMy ladies in waiting. We are many, many more than what
you see tonight.@ At that, more luminous figures came into view. They stayed
in the distance however, awaiting their mistress= summons.
AHow many of your kind are there?@ It seemed to Mangat that his awkward,
simple questions clashed with the spirit=s grace and sophistication. A few more
red petals sailed past them on the night winds.
ALook up into the sky.@ The night sky was filled with thousands of stars.
AWe are more, many more.@
AWhy do you choose to speak now? Why not before?@ Wisayael asked
with a tone of disappointment in her voice. She had seen the lights in years past
and burned with curiosity. She wished this had happened long before now.
AYour world is in danger.@ Ashthranas replied with a look of sadness
on her face.
AWhat kind of danger? Does this have something to do with C=Numti?@
Mangat=s words were laced with foreboding and curiosity.
AAndreaxilous will tell you all you need to know. He is very
wise.@
AAndreaxilous?@ Wisayael said.
AMeet us at Entaw.Sol. I must go now, but I leave you with a
gift.@ Ashthranas took a step back and looked to her left and right. Her ladies


237
in waiting then approached. Each one touched a nearby tree; the air was filled
with petals of all colors, fluttering and swirling in the wind. After a few
moments, the Auglinas disappeared.


















238
The Spider Spins its Web

Chapter 44 - Entaw.Sol
AIt=s not the rain that bothers me, it=s the wind.@ Oubulon complained to
Mangat as he pulled his cloak around him.
AAt least it isn=t snowing - then these mountain passes would be blocked.@
Khyphryxia remarked.
ARain, shine, snow, sleet - does it really matter? We are on our way to
witness something that human eyes have never beheld.@ Mangat=s words slipped
from between his lips almost without his knowing it. He had a faraway look in
his eyes and Oubulon could tell that his mind was racing in anticipation of what
they might find.
AWhy Entaw.Sol? Why did they pick this place to meet us?@ Wisayael
wondered aloud.
AGood question.@ Mangat leaned over and whispered in her ear.
Entaw.Sol was in the heart of the Bronze Gut Mountains. It had been
built by Blonshborg, the famous barbarian king, in the last days of the Barbaric
Age. Although they had all heard tales and read about this place, nothing could
prepare them for what they saw.
They stood at one end of a large stone bridge that spanned a seemingly
bottomless gorge. The bridge itself was fifty yards wide and at least a mile long.
It was shaped like a horde of twisting, writhing serpents. At the other end of the
bridge lay Entaw.Sol, the ancient tower. It was larger than even Blacktooth, an
impressive six miles tall and four miles across. When they had crossed the
bridge, they beheld two stone spheres, each twice as large as a barn. There was
writing on the spheres:











239
.orld a h a ne | ds eml ,
eyp- a . . il | retu r to
uide usl .
e v a
e y.
A
n .
c o h
u_ n e
e n
n
t
s
a e

A huge spider web clung to the underside of the right sphere and a spider
was busily expanding it.
AHmmmm....what do you make of this my friend?@ Mangat said to
Oubulon as they both ran their fingers over the strange writing. The runes were
warm to the touch, despite the cold rain that caressed them.
AI really don=t know.@ Oubulon answered, perplexed.
AIt resembles the ancient language of the early barbarians - except for some
of the runes.@ Khyphryxia explained, stepping up and touching the enigmatic
markings.
They climbed the stairs. Thin strips of copper, brass, iron, and tin,
hanging from wooden poles, danced in the wind. There were bas relief carvings
of a culture and people that none of them recognized. It was only when Wisayael
mentioned Ashtrhanas that they realized that the murals depicted the civilization
of the Auglinous. When they reached the top, they encountered a large dome, as
big as three barns, made of stone. There were weeds, thistles, and briars all
around, but strangely none of the plants were near the ancient temple. It was
surrounded by claw shaped stones, each ten feet tall.
Inside the dome were hundreds of bells, arranged in concentric circles. They
were shaped like hollow tubes with a stone dangling within. The bells on the
outermost rows were the largest, at least twenty feet long. The size of the bells
decreased as they came closer to the center, till at last they were standing in the
middle of the dome, surrounded by bells only three inches long. A fire burned in


240
an iron brazier. Surrounding the brazier was a stone ring. There was an
inscription upon the stone, it read:


I t
o

y put y e- r u ha n_ l
e- n_

p- upon e
r
_
x
.
i a
h_ n_ , e
_
xone`z .

AThere seem to be many people here.@ Khyphryxia noticed, pointing out
emissaries from the kingdoms of Eyruinabatalshukinar, Photthar, Nhroma, and
Symandar.
Aurgushhh! As well as other beings. I am glad to see you my friend.
herephh@ Wuyami said warmly as he shook Mangat=s hand. Wuyami=s blue skin
almost seemed dry, as if he had been away from home longer than he was used to.
AI am glad that your emperor has reconsidered his position on humans.@
Mangat=s tone was brimming with relief and gratitude.
Aurgushhh! He has not. I must somehow prove how serious our
predicament has become. I must also prove that humans can be trusted.
herephh@
ANo easy task - we understand. We will help in any way we can.@
Oubulon promised.
AIt appears that we will also have to deal with humans - and Wustavae.@
King Roshrun spoke up, walking towards the group.
Aurgushhh! I thought the Under-Dwellers had become extinct ages ago.
Fascinating. We have seen so little of the world, a pity, a shame. herephh@
Wuyami lamented, bending down to shake Roshrun=s hand. A urgushhh!
Two....you have two. herephh @ He said in wonder; Wuyami was referring to the
two ear canals in each of Roshrun=s ears.
AIt is an honor to meet one of the Water-Dwellers!@ Roshrun replied


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happily.
AMangat! Mangat! Look!@ Wisayael whispered excitedly while pulling
on his sleeve. She pointed to a man moving warily about in the shadows - he
seemed hesitant to come closer. He had yellow eyes which were twice as big as
an ordinary eye. He also had a few white and brown feathers growing from his
temple.
AThe Owl=at. I never thought I would see one.@ Mangat quietly uttered in
awe.
ASwift Mowl=Tata! It has been far too long my friend, far too long.@
Roshrun called out, addressing the Owl=At. Slowly, cautiously, Mowl=Tata came
forward and bent down. AIt=s ok, my friend, you are among those of good
intentions and pure hearts. Speaking will not bring any ill fortune. How is your
father?@
AWa=Matat is good. He sends his warm greetings - to you all.@ Mowl=Tata
answered, standing up and addressing all present.
Aurgushhh! Just like the boy described. Amazing. herephhA
@Boy?@ Mangat asked.
Aurgushhh! Inwan described the feathered ones to me once. If only Wutete
were here to see this. herephh@ Wuyami sighed.
ASo, what are we waiting for, I wonder?@ Oubulon said, growing slightly
impatient.
AThis place is fantastic!@ Quatzitil blurted out approaching Mangat and
Wisayael. Her orange-white eyes glided over the dome and she seemed lost in
wonderment.
AIt is incredible, isn=t it? I=m glad you have come!@ Wisayael gave her a
warm hug.
AI just wish we were all here to see this.@ Quatzitil brushed away a tear.
AYes, Ricoa would have loved this place.@ Mangat replied somberly.
AInwan too.@ Wisayael mentioned. Quatzitil was relieved that someone
other than herself had brought up his name.

A faint glow appeared directly in front of them. As it drew closer, they
recognized it - it was one of the Auglinous. Soon it was joined by several dozen.
After they had taken their places, they parted and one apparition gracefully
stepped forth. It motioned to everyone present to put their hands upon the stone
ring. As they did, a voice echoed in their minds.
AGreetings mortals. I am Andreaxilous.@ The apparition introduced
itself as it looked about the room. Several people took their hands off the ring in
shock and surprise.
AIt=s alright, everyone. This is how they communicate. No harm will
come to you.@ Mangat said calmly. His voice reminded one of warm ale gurgling


242
out of a barrel on a cold winter afternoon.
ASome of you are uncertain - unsure - unaware.@ Andreaxilous
resumed, continuing to survey his audience. He paused for a moment. AThe
time has come for you to discover what has been hidden from you.@
AMy king=s patience grows short, ghost. Speak!@ The ambassador from
Nhroma demanded. He felt a sharp pain in his head and fell to the ground,
shaking.
AThe High Vizier of Auglia will be addressed in a respectful
manner. Is that understood?@ Hushed whispers and murmurs followed.
Andreaxilous continued: ALong before your time, before the Barbaric
Age, we ruled. We were a wondrous civilization - ruled by justice,
wisdom, and knowledge. However, a great cataclysm washed over
us and banished us into the dark realm of the dead. For many
centuries we stayed there, content with our existence. Then,
during the Barbaric Age, one rose up, the Dark Emperor.@
AC=Numti.@ Wuyami hissed.
AYes. He had found some artifacts from our dead kingdom
and learned how to use them. He learned much - more than a
mortal should.@ Andreaxilous replied, addressing Wuyami directly.
AHow powerful is he?@ Mangat asked.
ABy studying the artifacts, he was able to discover some
elements of Nalgique.@
ANalgique?@ Wisayael=s voice mirrored the ignorance of all assembled.
AIt is hard to describe. Nalgique is a method for controlling -
shaping - sculpting - elemental forces of nature, the body, and the
soul.@ Having said this, Andreaxilous took one of his hands off the stone and
chanted:

_
r&|=
_
-l
Two small tongues of flame leapt up, one forming itself into a dragon, the


243
other into a griffon. They gracefully circled each other, spiraling upward; as they
moved, they changed color from a deep red, to a bright orange, to pure white.
Then they disappeared with a puff of smoke.
AWith his knowledge of Nalgique, C=Numti conquered many
and killed many more. In the end, only Pargaen was able to stop
him.@
APargaen? I have heard of that name before.@ Mangat mused aloud.
AShe was a mighty warrior, who led a vast army. After their
deaths on the battlefield, both were entombed. C=Numti was placed
within Arkplur and Pargaen was placed within Jisi.@
ACould Pargaen defeat C=Numti again?@ Oubulon asked.
AYes, if their souls were to engage in one final, decisive battle.
Both rings must be thrown into the Deep Forge in the roots of the
Iron Blood Mountains.@
AWhere can we find the ring Jisi?@ Khyphryxia spoke up, ready for the
task.
AWe do not know where Jisi is - this you must discover on your
own.@ The spirit answered sadly.
ADo not grieve so, King Andreaxilous, we will find Jisi.@ Mangat declared
resolutely.
AYou must do so quickly, for The Dark Emperor is searching
for Thalgrir, the Great Library. It was the only thing to survive
our demise, much to our regret. If C=Numti finds it, he will learn
secrets that are best left in the hands of the forgotten - he would be
unstoppable.@
AAnd where is Thalgrir?@ Wisayael fought back a sense of hopelessness
and gloom. Her words marched out confidently through the dank air.
AGo to Aost=Nor. There you will learn everything you need to
know.@
AWe thank you for your knowledge, great Andreaxilous.@ Khyphryxia
bowed low as a gesture of respect. She looked up to see what effect this would
have on their ethereal host. The look on his face seemed to transcend mere flesh
and blood customs, so the princess was left wondering what the ghost was
thinking.


244
ANo! You must not do this! Nalgique is forbidden! Do not go to
Thalgrir!@ A voice shouted from the fire. As the onlookers gazed at the flames,
Inwan stepped out.






























245
The Spider Spins its Web

Chapter 45 - Haru=Caban

Inwan stood there, in front of the fire, in the same clothes he had worn
when he disappeared. He seemed somewhat disoriented for a moment and he
looked around him. Steam was slowly rising from his skin, but he appeared to be
unhurt.
AInwan!@ Quatzitil screamed excitedly. She raced up to him and hugged
and kissed him. He was surprised, but he smiled as she pulled back. Everyone
else, including the Auglinous, were too stunned to say a word. For a moment,
everyone was quiet, unsure of what was to come next. Finally, Mangat broke the
silence.
AInwan, is it really you?@ He spoke up as he cautiously stepped forward.
He reached out to touch him, but then hesitated.
A Yes. I=m alright - and I=m Inwan. This is not a trick. I have been sent to
warn you: don=t do this, please. Don=t go to Thalgrir. If you start using
Nalgique, Haru=Caban will be very angry.@ Inwan pleaded with his audience.
AWhat? What do you mean, my boy?@ Mangat asked, still trying to
understand what had just transpired before his eyes.
AEveryone believes Haru=Caban is simply a word for unity, balance, and
harmony. It isn=t a word...how can I say this? Haru=Caban are - spirits. They
are the souls of the fire, water, lightning, air, and earth. If you use Nalgique to
control them, you will be enslaving them. This they cannot bear. Please, don=t
do this.@ Inwan begged.
AWhat kind of dark craft is this?! We will not be denied this power!@ The
emissary from Eyruinabatalshukinar roared. Inwan quickly took the
ambassador=s hand in his own and thrust both into the fire.
AListen to Inwan! We will not be controlled, not
like this! You will not withstand our anger!@ The voice
echoed not only in Inwan=s mind but also in the ambassador=s. A look of sheer
horror came over the ambassador=s face; Inwan then removed their hands from
the fire.
AJust when I thought things couldn=t get more complicated.@ Oubulon
whispered to Khyphryxia.
ASo, the legends are true.@ Andreaxilous said slowly while walking in
a circle around Inwan, carefully examining him from head to foot.


246
ALegends?@ Wisayael asked. She too was staring at Inwan intently. She
was hoping that the sweet, inquisitive boy she knew was still there.
AEons ago, when our civilization was young, wandering
mystics would whisper tales about ones called >K=lat-Nalgique= -
those who talk to the elemental forces that surround us.@
AIt seems you have earned a very special honor, young Master Inwan.@
Mangat tried to sound complimentary and reassuring, but his words came out
unsteady and slightly nervous.
AI didn=t earn it - it just...came to me.@ Inwan answered awkwardly. He
felt frustrated, almost helpless. This all seemed so natural to him, but how
could he explain everything he had felt over the years?
ASuch power....@ The ambassador from Ifishix began.
Aurgushhh! Must be used very carefully. It must be respected. herephh@
ARespect a fire? Respect the water in the lake? Now this is starting to
sound ridiculous.@ The ambassador from Eauphixes complained. AWe have
used such things as we have wanted for centuries, why should things change
now?@
ABecause we have never used the elements - Haru=Caban - like this.@
Khyphryxia spoke up.
AThey are not listening....they will not respect us......we will not help....@
Inwan muttered, repeating what he heard from the fire.
AYou have friends here. We are trustworthy.@ Mangat said somewhat
awkwardly while looking at the fire. Was it really true? Could the fire hear
him?
A One thing is for certain - the Dark Emperor will enslave you.
He will have no mercy, he will bend you to his twisted desires.@
Andreaxilous explained calmly. Out of everyone gathered, he seemed to have
adjusted most quickly to this new facet of existence. Inwan stuck his hand in the
fire.
ANo....We cannot be controlled by anyone! We are strong.@ Inwan
replied, conveying the fire=s message.
AIf the Dark Emperor finds Thalgrir first, he will control the
Haru=Caban.@ Andreaxilous stated somberly, addressing the fire.
ANo! We will not be controlled! We must be
free!@ The voices roared and crackled in Inwan=s soul.
AIf we promise not to enslave you, will you help us?@ Inwan asked the fire.
AMortals cannot be trusted! They have abused us


247
for centuries!@ The voices screamed back.
ADo you trust me?@ Inwan looked at the flames just like a boy would look
at an abused dog.
AYes. You are different. You are kind, you
understand us.@ The voices responded, calming down.
AIf I make sure these mortals treat you kindly, will you help us?@ Inwan
said, slowly, gently.
AThey must be tested first. Then we will trust.@
A shudder ran down Inwan=s spine. For the first time in his life, he was unsure of
Haru=Caban=s intentions.
AThey said that, with my guidance, they will help.@ Inwan announced,
pulling his hand from the fire.
AGood news indeed, Master Inwan..Good news indeed!@ Mangat said,
putting his arm around him.
AI=m afraid it isn=t all good news.@ Inwan replied somberly.
AI am almost reluctant to ask.@ Mangat=s voice seemed to sink into a pit of
despair.
AHaru=Caban will test you first; then they will help you.@
ATest us? How?@ Mangat asked nervously.
AI don=t know.@ Inwan said, shooting a glance at the fire. The flames
seemed to be leaping towards Wuyami, who backed away to avoid them. Then
Inwan instinctively understood.
AMaster Wuyami, do you trust me?@ Inwan=s words were filled with a
newfound confidence and clarity.
Aurgushhh! Do any of us have a choice? herephh.@
AI don=t think so. I promise this won=t hurt.@ Inwan answered as he took
Wuyami=s hand in his. He then put their hands into the fire. Instantly, Wuyami
saw a vision of a woman on a beach, just as daylight was creeping above the
horizon. She was some distance away, partially shrouded in the fog. Something
was wrong, something was out of place.
Aurgushhh! Go away, human! You do not belong here! herephh.@
Wuyami shouted for all his might, yet his voice was drowned out by the soft
lapping of the waves upon the shore. The woman kept advancing.
ARemember . You have forgotten.@ Haru=Caban whispered to
Wuyami.
Aurgushhh! Forgotten? herephh.@ Wuyami asked.
AHe is waiting for you. You must find him.@
Aurgushhh! Who? herephh.@


248
AHe will help you drift backward. Then you
must surge forth against IcPan=Terfror.@
Aurgushhh! IcPan=Tefror? herephh.@
AOur Nemesis- Spirits of the dark, spirits of the dead. @
The voices whispered and crackled in an angry tone.
When Inwan pulled their hands from the fire, the Wustavaen ambassador
had a glassy look in his eyes. He staggered backwards for a moment and was
caught by Mangat.
ATeregon.@ Wuyami=s voice was a whisper sent into a foggy realm that only
he could percieve.
AMaster Wuyami, are you alright?@ Mangat=s voice was infused with
concern and bewilderment.
ATeregon.@
AMaster Wuyami, can you hear us?@ Wisayael was about to put her hand
on him, but as she drew near, she felt the presence of something very foreign - and
very large - watching her. She withdrew her hand. AWhat did you do to him?@
She angrily addressed Inwan.
ANothing. This is the desire of Haru=Caban.@ Inwan defensively replied.
ATeregon.@
AWhat is that?@ Oubulon said in wonderment. Just below his blue skin,
mists appeared to be swirling about, curling around Wuyami=s arm in rhythmic
fashion. They all stared at the incredible phenomenon, transfixed. Suddenly,
a long, silvery fin broke through the mist; it then vanished as abruptly as it had
appeared.
ATeregon.@ Wuyami stumbled forth, as if in a deep sleep.
AThe first test has begun.@ Inwan said.









249
The Spider Spins its Web

Chapter 46 -WormRings

It was a mild sunny day - a wonderful day to go exploring. The sunshine
and fresh breeze made even the Wild Lands bearable. Jhyndisel seemed
unusually calm despite the fact he was riding through an unknown, lawless
terrain. He looked about him for wood suitable for carving. Oubulon and
Khyphryxia rode on ahead, determined to get through this most dangerous part of
their journey.
AHurry up, my lad!@ Oubulon called back to him. AYou wouldn=t want the
Golden Bulls of Raspadex to catch you here, just outside their borders!@ Hearing
this, Jhyndisel rode faster.
AOubulon!@ Khyphryxia scolded him.
AMy dear,@ Oubulon chuckled, Aa little fear is good for the wee lad. See?@
He said as Jhyndisel came up between them, looking about nervously.
ADo you really think they are roaming the Wild Lands?@ Jhyndisel asked
Khyphryxia.
AOh Jhyndisel....I don=t know.@ Khyphryxia answered in an exasperated
tone. How many times had her young brother asked this question? Every time
he did, it made the journey seem longer and longer. She shot Oubulon a
disapproving glare. He for the most part was enjoying the sunshine and
humming a happy melody.
After riding for another hour or so, they came upon a large field with vast
deposits of exposed quartz. There were crystals of all sorts of colors; rose, lemon,
translucent, milky white, and smoky. Oubulon got down off his horse and took
in the scene. The colors and textures of the rocks were endlessly fascinating to
him.
The ground was also covered with thousands upon thousands of Illatepaks.
These were curious little creatures; they were caterpillars four inches in length
and came in a dazzling array of hues. Some were red, others were blue, some
were orange. Others were white or even black. Rising from the center of their
body was a plumage of feathers, similar to what one would see on a peacock. The
feathers themselves were two inches long and varied from brown to purple to
simply black.
While Oubulon and Khyphryxia thought the small creatures disgusting,
Jhyndisel was enamored of them. He smiled and laughed as one crawled along
his arm.


250
However, they had to attend to the task at hand and rode on toward the
east, where the first step in finding Jisi would begin. After a few miles, they
spotted the column of stone with its intricate engravings. Red cloth pinned to
the top of the tower fluttered in the wind. As they drew nearer, the carvings
became clearer: they were scenes of men on horseback amid poetic verse. When
they reached the humble one storey tower, they read some of the script:

Steel shall guide the foolish along the path of destruction

Blood will guide the wise along the path of peace

The flames have no mercy upon one or the other,
they ravage all

My offerings of peace are ignored, twilight has come upon us, all is lost

AScript from Nupetep=s >Day of Fire and Blood=....how fitting.@ Oubulon
observed as he looked at the words.
AThis was her last resting place....it is right that these words should grace
this tower.@ Khyphryxia answered.
AReally? In the West, we believe that this is her birthplace.@ Oubulon
countered, raising an eyebrow.
Below these words, a painting of a large dragon, in red, green, and black ink
curled around the tower.
AHurry up Little Star! Now you shall see something you will remember the
rest of your days.@ Obulon called out, turning around and addressing the young
prince. Jhyndisel was examining a piece of wood intently.
ASoon he will have to put a blade to men instead of wood.@ Oubulon
commented to Khyphryxia as they watched him.
AHe knows. The king has told him that ever since he could walk.@
Khyphryxia replied.
AI=m sorry Master Oubulon, I didn=t mean to keep you from your duty.@
Jhyndisel apologized as he rode up to them.
AThat=s odd...wasn=t there a drawing of a dragon at the base of the tower?@
Khyphryxia said, as they turned toward the tower. She rode up to the stones and


251
then dismounted. She ran her fingers over the bare rock where the painting had
been.
The tower itself sat on the edge of a vast tunnel which burrowed deep into
the ground. The smell of damp earth rose out of the hole, along with the scent of
roasting stew.
Jhyndisel dismounted his steed and walked up to the edge. The tunnel was
at least one mile in diameter and seemed bottomless. Lining the inside of the vast
pit was a series of concentric stone rings. Each ring was actually a series of halls
and rooms. The corridors were dimly lit by phosphorus lamps, which gave the
tunnel an eerie bluish-green glow.
AI hope this works - calligraphy was never my strong suit.@ Oubulon said, as
he knocked upon the red door of the tower.
ANor mine.@ Khyphryxia confessed.
AWelcome.@ A young man said as he opened the door. He was dressed in
leather armor with a red sash crossing his chest. On top of his head was a red
turban. Several red lines were painted on the right side of his face.
AWe are honored and humbled to be here. We offer you gifts to ask
permission to enter your wonderful library.@ Oubulon procured from his pouch
an egg the size of a cantaloupe. It was light blue and had verses painted on it in
red.
The young man took the egg and frowned, turning it round and round. He
held the egg close to his eyes and seemed to be scrutinizing every character. He
put the egg on an iron stand that sat in the corner of the small room. The legs of
the iron stand had been fashioned to resemble thousands of wriggling earthworms.
At the base of the stand, a small fire burned in a copper pot. The carvings on the
pot matched the carvings on the outside of the tower.
AFeel free to roam the grounds outside the tower. You will find many
interesting flowers growing in the untamed fields.@ The young man politely
stated.
APlease accept this offering, good sir.@ Khyphryxia spoke up, taking an egg
from her pouch. It too, was the size of a cantaloupe. Her egg was white with red
calligraphy.
The young man examined her egg, reading and re-reading the script. He
held the egg beside a torch and examined it even more closely.
AAhhhh......it is most lovely of you to mention Bordalislunminithan in your
verses. Too many have lost respect for that ancient realm. Feel free to look
about the room. I=m sure you will find several items you have never seen before.@
The young man uttered cordially. He then put Khyphryxia=s gift on another iron
stand.
AThis is going badly.@ Oubulon whispered to Khyphryxia.
APerhaps something else will work.@ She whispered back as they perused
the objects in the room.


252
AThe acolytes here are extremely fanatic. They will only accept one thing.
I=ve heard of tales of kings who brought vast riches and spent countless days trying
to descend. Without the eggs, they accomplished nothing.@
AAnd you, young one, do you have something to offer?@ The acolyte turned
toward Jhyndisel with a kind expression on his face. A look of utter horror
crossed Oubulon=s face.
ADevoted One, he is but a child, as yet unskilled -A The young man held up
his hand and silenced Khyphryxia. Jhyndisel took his egg out carefully, yet it
rolled off his hands. Only the quick reaction of the young disciple saved it from
certain destruction.
A@Gouwga and Lxlimon in the same verse? This seems most out of place.@
The acolyte frowned, examining the script. AYet, something compelling winds
itself around the words.@ After examining the line once more and whispering the
verse with a slightly faster intonation, the devotee=s eyes lit up. AWhy I never
thought of that! How ingenious.@ He then continued to study the words on
Jhyndisel=s egg. AThe great Asideon mentioned alongside egg crackers and the
Black Star of Ifishix....very creative.@ The acolyte laughed. He went over to a
stove and broke the egg open into a frying pan. The contents immediately began
to sizzle and bubble. AThe knowledge and riches under the earth are yours.
Welcome to WormRings. Please celebrate this wonderful occasion with me by
sharing a meal of eggs.@ The young man guided them to a table in the center of
the room.
As they sat eating the welcoming meal, Jhyndisel=s eyes looked about the
room in wonder. So many things he had never seen before. He never wanted to
go home again.
AYour eyes are very busy, young prince.@ The acolyte commented with a
smile.
AThis place is wonderful. So colorful and wonderful. I especially like the
painting on the ceiling.@ There on the ceiling was the painting of the large
dragon that had greeted Oubulon and Khyphryxia upon their arrival.
AIt can=t be...@ Khyphryxia studied the painting intently.
AI think it is.@ Oubulon replied with a sense of astonishment.
AWhat do you think of our guardian? Most impressive is it not? It was
drawn in tree sap and dragon=s blood. Some even dare to say it was drawn in
Rifune=s own blood.
ARifune?@ Oubulon asked.
AFather of the dragons.@ The acolyte politely answered.
AI saw that very painting on the outside of the tower.@ Khyphryxia stated,
looking at the monk.
AAnd then?@
AIt disappeared.@
AHow can that be? Such things are impossible, are they not?@ The acolyte


253
smiled. Then he looked up at the ceiling. The painting was gone.
AWhere is it?@ Jhyndisel asked in astonishment. Then the painting slid
onto the stone table. It flicked its tongue and then twisted and turned. The
acolyte laughed with warmth and delight.
AIt is said among my people that when the dragon awakens, hope will soon
follow. We have looked forward to your arrival for some time now.@ The devotee
answered with a spark of happiness in his eyes.

The next morning, they descended into the bowels of the library. They were
guided by Aptep, the young devotee who had tested them the previous day.
Oubulon, Khyphryxia, and Jhyndisel were each given a red scarf to tie around their
wrists. The halls were lined with blue and white tiles and phosphorus lamps lit
their way. Every so often, they came upon a curtain of black and red beads. At
the bottom of each string of beads a bell was attached.
AHow many rings are there?@ Jhyndisel asked.
ATwenty. Each one a small village with its own unique flair.@ Aptep gladly
answered.
AWhy did the acolytes of Nupetep found WormRings here? Why not
somewhere else, like to the south and west?@ Khyphryxia asked.
AThe earthworms led Nupetep here. In fact, if you listen on a quiet night,
you can hear them singing.@ Aptep replied, opening a door to a small room.
The room itself was cozy, with exquisitely carved wooden furniture and
finely crafted rugs. The chamber was cloaked in dark cherry panels which were
cut in two by columns of yellow sandstone. On the walls hung paintings depicting
scenes from Nupetep=s many works. Books of all shapes and sizes lay in iron
baskets around the room (as one might have guessed, the iron strands of the
baskets resembled wriggling worms). The acolyte went around the room and lit
several candles so they could see better. Next, he took several glowing spheres
from his pockets and placed them in a glass tube in the center of the room. Then
he left them to their research.

After studying several tomes for two hours, Oubulon came upon an
interesting passage:

The beautiful warrior,
Standing where none could stand,
Opposing the Dark Emperor,
Defying his hand.

Though she forfeit her life,


254
She did not die alone,
In her grave with her hands around the stone,
That emblem pure and white.

ANow we are getting somewhere - and we have somewhere to go!@ Oubulon
declared triumphantly.
AAnd our next destination is?@ Khyphryxia asked.
AJuben=s Shield....the greatest repository of funeral customs known to
mortals.@





















255
The Spider Spins its Web

Chapter 47 - New Friendships and Old
Friendships

Inwan stood before the castle of the Gray Ravens a long time, with the
wind tousling his hair and the rain beating against his face. He was waiting for a
sign, a word, a feeling. With no greeting from either the castle or the elements, he
felt as if he was in between two worlds. Finally, he walked into the castle.
AHey! Look who=s returned!@ Wushzan joyously called out, running up to
his old friend and giving him a big hug. AI thought you would never return!@ His
smile was as infectious as was his warmth.
AIt=s good to be back.@ Inwan tried to sound as sincere as he could, but he
still wasn=t sure where he was supposed to be. The happy cadets around him
dispelled that notion - at least for the moment.
ABrigade Leader Inwan. It is good to have you back home.@ Lepexes=
greeting gently marched into the hall even before the captain set foot into the
room. AYour arrival is most fortuitous. Come, we have much to discuss.@
Lepexes put his arm around the boy escorted him to the dining hall.

The next morning, the castle was busy with preparations for war. Young
knights hurried here and there, getting provisions in place. Others were polishing
their swords and shields. All this commotion caught Inwan off guard.
AGray Ravens! Hear me!@ Lepexes called above the din from the balcony
overlooking the main hall. AIn two days time, we march to war. We have trained
for this moment, we have longed for it, craved it - nay we have demanded it! Soon
we will defend our country and kin - your lives will never be the same again.
History will remember you not as young cadets, but as champions of the realm!@
The cadets shouted. Inwan however stayed quiet, as had Haru=Caban. He
slipped out a back door and into the streets of the city.

He wandered a long time, wondering what to do. He had seen and heard so
much over the past few weeks, why were the elements silent now? Were they
reluctant to get involved in the affairs of men, or was it this war with
Norgrangthar? Did they favor the enemy and if so why? Inwan then stopped in
his tracks and a shiver ran down his spine: Was it him, was Haru=Caban angry with
him? Did they feel abandoned since he rejoined the Gray Ravens? No that


256
couldn=t be it, he knew it.
After thinking about his various roles, he wondered if he was meant to be the
guardian of the elements. That seemed to make sense to him, but how was he to
protect all of them? Just then, he felt a sense of powerlessness and fear - but it
wasn=t coming from him. He looked around and saw a young boy kicking a rock
as he walked along.
AStop! Don=t do that!@ He shouted as he ran toward the child. The child,
startled, ran inside a nearby cobbler=s shop. As Inwan stooped down and picked
up the rock, the child pointed him out to the adults in the shop.
AThank you .@ A small earthen voice echoed in Inwan=s soul. He held
the rock tenderly in his hands and ran his fingers over it.
AI=m sorry. I wish I could have rescued you sooner.@ Inwan whispered to
the rock. The people walking past him looked at him with puzzled expressions on
their faces.
AHow dare you scare that poor child!@ A woman chided him as she came
out of the shop.
AI=m sorry ma=am...it=s just that this rock is very - valuable.@ Inwan timidly
explained.
AIt=s just a rock!@ She said, snatching it from his hands. She looked at it
disdainfully. AValuable indeed! What nonsense!@ She then tossed the rock aside.
ANo don=t! You=ll hurt it!@ Inwan blurted out.
AHave you lost your senses?@ The woman asked. Inwan wasn=t listening,
however. He walked off with the rock in search of more Haru=Caban.

Not knowing where to go next, he decided to stop for a while at a local inn
and rest his weary feet. He was sitting by the fire and smiling, enjoying the
warmth and companionship, even though no one was around him.
APerhaps one day.@ Inwan said, seemingly talking to an invisible friend.
AReally? I never thought about things that way......Why of course I do!@ The
innkeeper, who had overheard this conversation, finally walked over to him.
AAre you feeling well sir?@ He politely asked.
AI=m fine. Thank you for asking.@ Inwan blushed, suddenly realizing what
he must look like to ordinary folk.
AI could see that you were talking, but I wasn=t sure to whom.@ The
innkeeper=s words came out awkwardly.
AOh...that. I was rehearsing some lines for a play. I=m terribly sorry if my
behavior made anyone uncomfortable.@
Later, as the sun began to set, the innkeeper approached the fire, ready to
douse it with water. As he got closer, Inwan stopped him.
ANo! Don=t! The fire wants to die out naturally. It=s ok...it won=t do any
harm.@ Inwan=s words sprang out like a tiger.


257
AWhat are you talking about? Are you mad?@ The innkeeper replied,
startled. At this, Inwan shrunk away.

That evening, Inwan sat in his room, confused and discouraged. His
ambition of being the champion of the elements seemed to have come and gone
before he could grasp the opportunity. A feline composed entirely out of water
suddenly appeared on his windowsill. It jumped down and rubbed itself against
Inwan=s legs. Inwan smiled and ran one of his fingers over the head and back of
the creature.
AYou know, if you were black and white, you would look just like Caltha.@
Inwan gently spoke to the watery creature. At this the creature looked up at him.
ACaltha was my cat when I was a little, little boy. He was my best friend.@ The
liquid cat then resumed its affectionate rubbing.
AInwan, are you there?@ Wushzan gently knocked on the door.
ACome in.@
AWhere have you - what is that?@ Wushzan said, noticing Inwan=s watery
pet. The creature, not happy with the additional company, leapt up. While it
was still in the air, it changed its shape into that of a hawk and flew out the
window.
AThat was one of my companions.@
AOh.@ After a few moments of awkward silence, Wushzan continued:
AInwan, we were looking for you, we didn=t know where you were.@
AI was out, walking around the city, trying to figure out what to do.@ Inwan
walked over to the window.
AWhat do you mean? We march to Norgrangthar tomorrow.@
AI don=t know if I will be going with you.@
AYou have to! You are the Brigade Leader. What will it look like if we
march off without you?@
AThings aren=t that simple, as you have just seen.@ Inwan=s voice quietly
faded into the mysterious, cloudy evening just outside his window. After a few
more moments of awkward silence, Wushzan left Inwan alone with his doubts and
confusion.

The next morning, the young warriors gathered in front of the castle.
Lepexes was standing to one side, surveying his charges. After the last cadet had
assumed his place in the formation, there was a terrible stillness. Though
everyone wanted to, no one looked back at the open doors. Just before the order
was given to march, Inwan walked out of the castle.
AI=ve always had faith in you, Brigade Leader.@ Lepexes= praise and
encouragement seemed to settle on his pupil like a royal cloak as Inwan strode past
him.
Inwan then took his place at the front of the cadets. ATo glory! To War!@


258
He cried as he raised his sword. The soldiers behind him cheered and shouted.

After marching for one week, they arrived in a particularly desolate spot in
the Wild Lands. Before them, the armies of Eauphixes were camped. They
seemed battle weary and ragged. Several of their standards were either torn or
singed. To their right and left, troops from Kel-Tress were gathering. In the
distance, the armies of Norgrangthar could be seen, massing for one final, decisive
attack.
AAre you prepared for this day, Inwan?@ Lepexes said, coming up from
behind.
AYes.@
AAre you sure? Doubt and indecision are a warriors greatest enemies.@
Lepexes warned sternly as he looked into Inwan=s eyes.
AI will do whatever is necessary to secure our victory.@ Inwan reassured him,
looking at the dark clouds overhead.
Then they marched forth. When they reached the camp of Eauphixes, a
loud cheer went up from the battle hardened veterans. The standards which had
been lying on the ground were once again raised with renewed vigor and hope.
Then the combined armies of Kel-Tress and Eauphixes rushed forth to meet the
enemy.
Kel-Tress, fresh and zealous, led the charge with Eauphixes in the rear.
Inwan=s group, led by Lepexes, was on the right flank, trying to get the better of the
vast enemy that lay before them. At first, the battle went well for them. Inwan,
though unaccustomed to battle, was holding his own. Then a loud, booming roar
came forth from the ranks of Norgrangthar, and they slowly pushed their enemies
back. More and more knights of Kel-Tress fell around Inwan and the Gray
Ravens.
Then a ray of hope came as a loud scream shattered the air. Kelatan rushed
forth in a boiling fury, making a path for her squires. Her brilliant green eyes and
battle-chants were an inspiration to everyone. In her hands, to the disbelief of
all, she gripped Vasha=s Spear. The spear seemed to hum as the brave knight
swung it; was it trying to impart some message in its own magical tongue? Like a
chorus of angry wolves, Kelatan=s voice rang out, loud and clear above the din:

Riding forth in shining mail,
Sons and daughters do not fail!
Gather your courage from within,
Fight for your country and your kin!



259
Long ago, Horordir went forth,
Leading many a brave knight,
The way cold as the north,
Through the coldest, blackest night.

Riding into the heart of treachery,
Demanding nothing less than victory,
Horordir the Brave,
Turning back the cruel knave.

Choosing the way of strife,
Singing hymns of war,
Discarding his own life,
Slaughtering the dark horde.

Abandoned by K=Posh and Nibat,
Singing verses the sages forgot,
No desire for piles of gold,
His treasure found in myths of old.

Justice overtaking deeds of hate,
Eyes that would not turn away,
Gallant ones accepted their fate,
Their voices stilled at the break of day.

Pangean=s child lifting his blade,
One final doomed serenade,
Blood on the golden plain,
The sons of Kel-Tress did not die in vain.


260

Riding forth in shining mail,
Sons and daughters do not fail!
Gather your courage from within,
Fight for your country and your kin!

However, as a tide rises and recedes, the enemy slowly closed in around the
gallant lass and her troop. Then Kelatan=s song stopped abruptly and she fell
amidst the cruel blades and arrows. Inwan, realizing that the hopes of victory
were slipping away, knelt down and closed his eyes, trying to listen for something.
AInwan! Are you crazy?@ Wushzan yelled at him above the crash and clang
of weapons. Inwan still on his knees, furrowed his brow, concentrating, seeking.
APlease....please!@ He begged.
ANo . Now is not the time .@ A chorus of stony voices
rang in his head.
ABut these are my countrymen, my friends....my family.@ Inwan sobbed,
growing desperate.
AThis is not our way .@ The earthen voices replied. Despite
his continued efforts, they would no longer respond. The battle around him grew
more ferocious.
AInwan! Look out!@ Lepexes cried. Inwan rolled aside as a particularly
large warrior slashed at him. With great difficulty, both Inwan and Wushzan
defeated the attacker.
AInwan, I don=t know what you are doing, or trying to do, but it isn=t working.
Are you going to fight for us or not?@ Wushzan=s angry words sank deep into his
friend=s chest.
Suddenly, Inwan sensed something in the skies above him - a restlessness,
an eagerness.
AWill you help me?@ He asked with his gaze fixed on the skies.
AYes .@ Several voices replied. They seemed energized, erratic, and eager.
From the skies above, several bolts of lightning flashed down among the
horde of Norgrangthar, killing many warriors. A loud cheer erupted from the
armies of Kel-Tress and Eauphixes as the enemy was thrown into confusion and
fear crackled through their ranks, like the lightning that had struck them. Then
the tide slowly turned in favor of Inwan and his allies.
However, this was the only help that came from Haru=Caban that day and
the tide slowly turned against Kel-Tress and Eauphixes. By the end of the day,
they were in retreat.


261
APlease, please help us!@ Inwan called to the clouds overhead. The skies
were barren and silent.
AInwan, come quick!@ Wushzan yelled. A large contingent of
Norgrangthar had managed to outflank them and were advancing upon them from
the east.
As the battle raged and they tried to escape, they found themselves fighting
an enemy on three fronts. It seemed that no matter how many they felled, more
kept coming. Then, in the midst of a desperate contest, Inwan looked and saw
something he hoped he never would.
Lepexes was surrounded by four swordsmen, and the fighting was brutal.
The captain of the Gray Ravens killed two of his attackers quite easily. The
remaining two were experts with the blade however, and Lepexes began to suffer at
their hands. Try as he might, Inwan could not get past his foe and help his
mentor. After several frenzied, terrible moments Inwan finally slew his opponent.
At that moment, Lepexes was slain by the two swordsmen.

A week later, Inwan and the remaining troops entered a heavily fortified
Adamnar. Before entering the city itself, they passed spiked barricades and
crossed over moats of flaming oil. Archers could be seen on the walls of the city,
staring out grimly into the morning, awaiting their fate.
When they got into the castle of the Gray Ravens, Inwan went to his room.
He sat down with his head in his hands, tears streaming down his face, for a long
time. Then, as night fell, he started packing his few possessions.
As he walked through the main hall, Wushzan stopped him.
AWhere are you going?@
AI don=t know.@ Inwan coldly replied.
AYou can=t leave.@ Wushzan said, looking into his eyes.
AI can=t fight either. Neither can I help you.@
AInwan, we are at war! Within a day or so, Norgrangthar will be here. You
can=t desert your post!@
AI should never have occupied my post. I was deluding myself - and all of
you since I got here.@ Inwan=s tone seemed dead and hollow as he looked around
at the knights.
AIf you leave, you will be branded a traitor!@ Wushzan replied.
AAnd if I stay, I will be the downfall of the Gray Ravens.@ Inwan replied,
motioning to the torches around them. Several of the fires had left their wicks
and were crawling toward them, like crazed centipedes.
ANo....they are good. They are just angry and frightened.....no you are safe.@
Inwan spoke softly as the fires crawled up his body. They wound themselves
around his arms and neck. As he walked out the door, the knights backed away,
aghast.



262
Several days later, Inwan walked to Sanfir. The villagers had erected a high
stone wall and dug a large trench outside the barricade. Inwan paused in front of
the door, realizing how much had changed since he had last been here. He ran his
hands over the wooden door with its iron grill and wondered if it was strong
enough. He felt the stone walls and wondered how long they would stand.
AIs anyone there? It=s me, Inwan.@ He said, knocking on the door. There
was no reply. In the silence that followed he wondered: Could he really go back to
being a simple villager? Would the others accept him, especially if Haru=Caban
followed him here? As he looked at the stone wall, one of the stones reminded him
of the face of Safael, one of the characters in The Adventures of Ka-Sa-Ikizix.
AHello? Is anyone there?@ Nimit asked as she opened the door of the stone
wall. There was no one to be seen however.

Inwan kept going, all the while looking toward the sky, watching the dragons
and griffons circling in the distance. In the wild lands south west of Oeshaili, there
stood a marble temple. Every day, it grew larger, more distinct, with each step
that he took. When Inwan finally arrived, he gasped in wonder. The temple was
the size of five barns and had intricate decorations of dragons and griffons on its
walls. Behind the temple was a triangle made of ebony which was twice as large
as the temple. Overhead, dragons and griffons soared. Several dragons were in
the field to the east, testing each other=s cunning and strength.
AI didn=t know where else to turn, I=m not sure what to do.@ He stammered.
AWe=ll figure it out....together.@ Quatzitil replied, taking his hand.










263
The Spider Spins its Web

Chapter 48 - Trouble Reaches Deep

K ing Roshrun sat in his hall, flanked on both sides by tall columns of
stone. Every now and then, flames would flare up through one of four large
grates in the floor. The sound of roaring fires and iron smiths hard at work
echoed throughout the room; the smell of molten metal drifted up through the
grates and out of the hall. The fires from below cast a hearty glow upon the stone
walls, revealing faces of all shapes and sizes carved out of the rock.
The throne itself sat in the middle of a river of molten lava that ran through
the middle of the hall. It was an intricately carved chair of the hardest, smoothest
stone; its details baffled the eye, with designs seeming to curl and twine about
each other in an impossible fashion. There sat the Grand Forge Master,
examining an axe composed of pristine metal, the quality of which had never been
seen above the earth. Ocassionally, he would dip the blade into the molten lava
below and then bring it up to his face. Then he would set it upon the anvil in
front of him and happily hammer away, his muscular arms seeming to glory in
every stroke.
ANow, my little pet, let=s see how good your bite is!@ The king smiled as he
held the axe in his hand, turning it round and round. He hurled it across the
room where it sank deep into one of the columns. ANow that=s good metal!@ His
laughter resounded throughout the hall and seemed to march out into the dark
caverns beyond.
AGreat King! I have good news. We have just sealed the doors of the Coal
Gate.@ A young DorthG=em ran in and knelt down upon one knee.
AThen we have left the world above firmly in the hands of men. May they
handle it well.@ The king smiled and jumped off his throne. ACome take a walk
with me, and let us see how the ore melts this fine morning.@
The two walked among the great forges of the Mithril Gate. Each furnace
was as big as house and there were several DorthG=em around each one, shoveling
coal into its blazing mouth. The fire inside greedily accepted the fuel; the
furnaces almost seemed to be inhaling coal and the dank air while exhaling light
and flame. The piles of coal beside the furnaces were as big as hills and were
slowly growing larger, thanks to the chutes above them which deposited fresh fuel
for the fires. The air was full of banging, rattling, and clanking as the molten ore
slowly took the shape of countless metallic masterpieces. As they worked, they
sang a song:


264

To War!
To War!
The Tall Folk will soon be off to War.

Hear their metal,
How it clangs,
How it clatters,
Down here it hardly matters.

Above our heads will be a brutal contest
Of blood and bone,
Down here forge fires light our happy homes.

Beneath their foolish feet,
The veins are so rich and deep.

Above our heads,
Scream and wail,
We=ll pity them over a mug of ale.

For up above they never learn,
Tall folk will die,
Their kingdoms burn.

Roshrun stopped in front of one of the huge furnaces. He picked up a
piece of coal and bit into it.
AYou must have gotten this from Middle Deep!@ He shouted to one of the
workers over the din. His eyes sparkled as they reflected the happy, industrious
flames and those tending to them.
AAye, Great Lord of the Furnace! How did you know?@ The stout fellow


265
called back.
AIt tastes slightly salty!@ He replied. He turned to his young companion.
ASee, there are many tricks a Forge Master has up his sleeve. Some he uses in
good times and some in bad times.@ He winked and then walked on, joining in
the morning=s forge-song.
As they walked on, they eventually left the heat and noise of the furnaces
behind. They soon found themselves in a large open area with a low ceiling filled
with round stone tables. In the dim light, DorthG=em could be seen around the
tables drinking and eating, telling tales, and generally having a good time. In the
distance, large, low brick ovens were busy keeping everyone fed and content.
The king whistled and a waiter with a large platter seemed to appear from
nowhere, as if he had been called forth from the very darkness itself. The platter
he held contained very odd morsels; the looked like rice cakes that were covered
with small roots. After the king and his young companion ate, Roshrun whistled
again and another waiter appeared, just as suddenly as the first. This one was
pushing a large barrel, which he set upright. Taking a drinking stein from a
nearby table, the king filled it with golden ale and walked over to the forge on the
west side of the large room. Besides the forge there was a large pool of molten
metal. The king dipped his finger in and then put it in his mouth. He hemmed
and hawed, not sure of his intentions. Finally, he took a stone ladle, put a small
amount of the liquid metal into his ale, and drank deeply. He belched loudly,
smiled, and then continued on his way.
Eventually, they came to a large tunnel. On each side of the opening sat a
statue of a large oak tree. Among the stony branches and leaves phosphorescent
worms crawled, giving the statues a weird, soft blue glow. Roshrun walked
happily toward the entrance and then stopped. He turned around and noticed
that his companion was not following in his footsteps.
AHave ye never been down to Middle Deep?@ Roshrun was somewhat
surprised at the boy=s reluctance to go on.
AMy cousins say it=s not safe anymore. Forgive me, great one, my
cowardice dishonors you.@ He put on a brave face and resolutely walked forward.
AWhere were your cousins born lad?@
AIn Upper Deep.@
AAhh....I see.@ The king took up a chain. He attached a spherical cage to
the chain and opened the door of the cage. He took some hot coals from a nearby
furnace, put them in the cage, and closed the door with a quick jerk of the chain.
AWhat about your parents?@
AThey also come from Upper Deep.@
AEveryone from Upper Deep, eh?@ The king scrutinized him.
AY-Yes Great Forge Master.@
AIf you have courage enough to admit that lad, you have courage enough to
go down to Middle Deep!@ The kings laughter roared and seemed to multiply till


266
it seemed that there were thousands of under-dwellers laughing with him. As
they walked through the tunnels, the coals emitted a soft glow and the darkness
seemed to close in behind them, like a gloomy curtain being drawn.
Carved out of the walls of the passage were trees with gnarled, twisting
branches. There were even stony vines hanging down from some of the limbs.
As with the trees at the entrance, phosphorescent worms crawled about.
However, as the passage descended, the worms were fewer and fewer in number,
till the only light to be had was from the iron cage.
The atmosphere of Middle Deep was not as boisterous as above. There
were smiles and occasional laughter of course, but the clanging of metal and the
shoveling of coal was taken more seriously down here. Although the furnaces
were just as hot and the fires just as bright, the darkness seemed thicker here.
The king=s manner changed as well.
AGood! That=s it! Put your backs into it! Yes, that=s it!@ Roshrun
urged on the crews and had several firm hand shakes for those who greeted him.
He looked at the young DorthG=em=s hands and smiled. AThese hands will be
forging good metal down here one day.@
AIt=s a dear hope of mine, King Roshrun.@ The lad looked at his hands and
then at all the hard work going on about him. Then he ran to catch up with his
guide.
Soon, they came to another tunnel. This was smaller than the first
tunnel and seemed like nothing more than a crude hole in the wall. The inky
blackness seemed to billow out like an ominous cloud.
ANow where we=re going next, caution is the word. Not a sound, not a
peep - understand?@ Roshrun had a look in his eye that few had ever seen. His
young companion gulped and the hair rose on the back of his neck. ACome on,
let=s go. If you=ve come this far, you should go all the way.@ Then they
descended into Lower Deep.
This passage was not decorated with trees, but with foreboding signs.
Carvings of menacing, grinning faces loomed out of the darkness. Each hideous
countenance was adorned with walrus tusks and a rhino=s horn. Some of the
horns had warnings and curses carved upon them, such as:










267
T
U UU UU U
J
N


K
At the end of the tunnel, there was a large iron door with a circular handle.
The king took the wheel in his hands and slowly turned it clockwise.
Surprisingly, the handle made absolutely no sound as it turned. Then the door
slowly tipped forward, as quiet as a snowflake hitting the ground, and gently sank
into the rocky soil ahead of them.
There were few forge fires in Lower Deep. Those that were ablaze seemed
to provide just enough light to illuminate the faces that were almost in the flames.
The look on these faces was grim to say the least. Reflected in their eyes were
myths of old things that lay sleeping in the dark. Although the hammers swung
with even greater force than in Middle Deep, they seemed to make no more sound
than a handful of nails hitting the stone floor. There were long claw marks on the
ground and upon the walls, as if a terrible battle had been fought here long ago. A
pungent, fetid odor filled the damp air - it was like a combination of sweat and
garbage. Every so often, a huge growling and moaning could be heard under
their feet, followed by a clanking, rattling sound. The Great Forge Master spoke
no words, but simply patted the forgers on the back. The twinkle in his eyes and
the smile on his face had been extinguished by the nightmarish atmosphere.
After making the rounds in Lower Deep, they returned to the kings hall.
Tell my younger brothers that all is well and safe in Coal and Iron
Country. Roshrun said as they walked through the main doors.

The next morning, the news came. The Grand Forge Masters face turned
pale and the smithing hammer fell from his hand. The precious ore in Bronze
Country, Mithril and Tin Country, and Silver and Copper Country was gone. He
was still sitting on his throne when another messenger rushed into the grand hall.
Great King - our ore.....its gone! As these last words were spoken, a
great wail seemed to rise up from below and rush in through the doors.

CNumti made his way down to the deepest part of his dungeon. He
Y

T V


268
walked down the row of dank, dark cells and opened the door. He didnt need a
fire, but out of curiosity he lit a torch anyways.
Come out, I know that youre there. The Dark Emperor said sternly.
A most unusual creature cautiously crept out from a large crack in the
dreary, dank cell. It looked like a man, but had no eyes. It had pale, white skin
yet had no hair. Long, black stiff whiskers stood up from the top of its head and
protruded from its hands and arms as well.
We have tik-tik-tik your ore.
Good. For how can an army fight with no metal?
The tik-tik-tik under dwellers will recover from tik-tik-tik this blow. They
will simply tik-tik-tik dig deeper and find more ore.
Oh I know. A sinister chuckle rose up from within CNumti. I also
know what lies beneath Lower Deep - waiting for the foolish stroke of a pick axe.
The evil laughter bubbled over and spilled throughout the gloomy dungeon.














269
The Spider Spins its Web

Chapter 49 - Statues Everywhere

Good morning, young one. Are you ready for an important journey?
Mangats tone was cordial yet calculating as he approached Xaven. The dragon
was sitting on the lawn in front of Mangats mansion; he looked around,
apparently oblivious to everything but his own enigmatic thoughts. Mangat had
to quickly jump over Xavens tail as it swished by him. I know you havent
grown deaf, young Xaven - bored perhaps, but not deaf. Xaven turned toward
him with an apologetic glint in his eye - or was it mischief? Either way, he let
Mangat climb up into the saddle on his back. The saddle was clad in black
leather and was inlaid with ivory and gold. After Mangat had settled in, he
stroked the dragons back. Now, are we ready?
The dragon shot up into the air so quickly that Mangat nearly fell out of his
saddle. The dragon climbed higher, ever higher into the sky. Then, as they
broke through a towering cloud, the beast descended toward the earth faster than
ever.
Stop you fool! You will get us both killed! Mangat yelled frantically.
The dragon swooped down and came so close to the tops of the trees that some of
the branches hit Mangats feet. Snow from the tops of the branches flew into the
air as they whooshed by - it looked like a plume of white smoke. Then Xaven
darted to the east so fast that Mangats head jerked violently with the change in
course.
If you kill me, you will never eat a sheep again! I promise you that! Only
I know where they are kept! Mangat shouted. Xaven quickly slowed his pace
and the rest of the journey to the remains of Vashas Spear was uneventful.

When they landed at their destination, a few snowflakes were gently
drifting down. Wisayael and Enstu were combing the ruined debris of the once
famous library. Scraps of ancient parchment fluttered in the wind under rubble
and snow. Colored sand scattered here and there gave some of the surrounding
snow drifts a sad hue. The wooden strip that had so eloquently graced the main
hall with its beautifully carved images lay in splintered pieces throughout the
wreckage. In the distance, Wisayaels dragon, Xukulu, was bathing in the waters
of the Great Frost Sea. He was a magnificent white dragon, with blue green eyes
and three crimson horns on his head. He frisked about in the water and the air,
displaying his graceful white leathery wings, which easily spanned forty yards.


270
There were beautiful, intricate red markings on each wing, curling about as if they
had drifted out of an incense burner.

There you are - at last! Enstu reproached Mangat. Enstu was a woman
with scholarly bearing. She had long, flowing white hair and brown eyes. She
was clad in a dark green cloak with blue and black trim.
Im terribly sorry dear cousin; I was delayed as my mount tried to kill me.
Mangat replied, shooting a disapproving glance at Xaven. For his part, Xaven
pretended not to notice. Mangat went over to a nearby stone and brushed the
snow off of it. He then unfastened his saddle with a few quick, rough jerks and
laid it on the stone.
Is he still challenging you dearest? Wisayael asked, while walking up to
Xaven. She petted his upper jaw gently and the dragon purred.
Yes, but he hasnt won yet. He focuses on brawn and leaves out strategy.
Mangat grumbled.
We are almost done here. We have found several important clues as to
the location of AostNor. There is just one more area I would like to have a look
at. Unfortunately, it is beneath a particularly large stone. Enstu frowned and
put her hands on her hips. The stone was five feet high, six feet long, and five feet
wide. It had fallen on top of the stairway leading down to the lower catacombs of
the now ruined library. Xaven quickly raised his head and looked at the stone.
He walked up to it and spread his wings. Then he let out a mighty roar.
Ahhhh......The master thespian has arrived. Mangat commented
sarcastically while rolling his eyes.
But who is his audience? Enstu asked as Xaven let forth another roar.
Who do you think? Mangat said, looking toward the shore. Xukulu had
heard the commotion and came flying over. He landed gently next to Wisayael
and surveyed the scene. He was about to fly off when Xaven took hold of the rock
so tightly that some of his claws sank into the stone. Slowly, he pushed the stone
aside with his front legs. Xukulu emitted a low gurgling sound, cocked his head
to the right, and then flew off. Xaven, not satisfied with his reaction, took off
after him.
Sibling rivalry - it makes the world a more interesting place. Dont you
think? Mangat quipped. In the distance the two dragons wrestled.
Quickly, before the snow starts to fall again. Enstu urged, going down
the stairs.

Some of the masks in the lower library had fallen and shattered during
Naquadras assault. Mangat bent down and picked up some of the pieces, quietly
lamenting the destruction of such rare and exquisite artifacts. The bronze
shelves were cold to the touch, but some of the scrolls were still in tact.
Its a shame, isnt it? Mangats words seemed hollow and desolate, like


271
the abandoned ruins he now found himself in.
What? Wisayael replied in the next aisle over.
The destruction of these beautiful masks. He gently touched one of the
masks that was still hanging from the side of the shelf.
Perhaps.
These artifacts have been here for centuries and then - in an instant -
shattered! Mangat lamented, looking down at some broken masks.
I would almost think you would enjoy the challenge of putting them back
together. She answered while turning the pages of the book she was holding.
True, it would be a most rewarding challenge, like putting the pieces of a
puzzle together. He acknowledged her keen insight while pulling a book down
from an upper shelf.
Unlike this puzzle.
Hmmm?
The location of AostNor. I wish the Auglinous would have just told us the
location. Wisayael replied shoving a book back on the shelves and looking for
another.
I truly believe that they dont know where it is. It is almost like their
existence is a blurry dream - some details are just beyond their grasp. There was
only silence. You must have found something quite fascinating to be so quiet
my dear. Mangat looked in the aisle where Wisayael was. What he saw
horrified him.
Wisayael had turned to stone. Every beautiful, delicate feature preserved
in stone.
Wisayael! Wisayael! By the Dragons Thread, what has happened to
you? Mangat cried out, tears streaming down his cheeks as he gently caressed the
face of the statue. He sunk to the floor and sobbed. After a long while, Mangat
rose, determined to find a cure for Wisayaels malady.
Enstu! Where are you? Something terrible has happened to Wisayael!
Mangat said running through the library looking down the aisles. He found
Enstu, who had also become a statue. Panic started to flood his mind and he
raced up the stairs. Both Xaven and Xukulu were there waiting for him - but they
had been petrified - just as Enstu and Wisayael were.
Alone, doubting his senses, and grief stricken, Mangat ran to his saddle and
looked for something that might help. He cursed himself for his fascination with
trinkets and artifacts as he tossed them aside. Even though he hurried as fast as
he could, he could not empty his saddlebag; there was always something in it.
After what seemed hours, there was a pile of coins, rings, books, jewelry, and
other miscellaneous items next to him. The pile was bigger than a barn.
How, how did it come to this? Mangat said looking at the pile in disgust.
Enough! Mangat shouted at the sky. This is too much! I dont want it
anymore! Get rid of it all!


272
Mangat, dearest, are you alright? Wisayael said, gently shaking Mangat
out of the trance he was in. They were in the lower library. Mangat woke up
and his eyes widened with surprise, relief, and joy. Then he kissed Wisayael
passionately and would not stop for some time.

Inwan was standing at the edge of a grove of fir and beech trees. He knelt
down and brushed away the newly fallen snow, which revealed a quite ordinary
looking rock. Sishkye sniffed it and then looked up at Inwan, puzzled. Inwan
put his hand on the stone and closed his eyes, oblivious to the snow swirling about
him. He smiled.
Inwan? Are you OK? Quatzitil came up behind him and gently put her
hand on his shoulder. Her voice was like the rhythmic music of waves upon a
sandy shore.
Mangat passed his test.














273
The Spider Spins its Web

Chapter 50 - To Catch a Moth

It was so black that it seemed that the shadows themselves were lost to
darkness. The air felt like it was frozen in place. It was neither hot nor cold,
and there was absolutely no sound. Quatzitil could not even hear the beating of
her own heart. She had been in dark places before, such as the catacombs in
Blacktooth, but this was something foreign to her. As she strained to hear, see,
or feel something, panic began to rise in her.
Let go, surrender. Drown in the blackness. A voice echoed faintly from
the inky gloom.
I dont even know where I am. Quatzitil stammered.
Do you want to leave? Xaven tempted her.
No! I will see this to the end. She growled like a angry lioness.
What are you clinging to?
I dont know.
She opened her eyes, startled. It was as if someone had forcefully pulled
her out of her trance. She looked around at the stone walls with the swords,
spears, and shields hanging there. She rose to her feet and walked outside,
where a fragrant blue spice bean plant grew in a beautiful alabaster vase.
Soon, beloved uncle, soon. She softly whispered while kneeling down
and tenderly stroking the petals of the plant. The air was warm and fresh, with
birds singing in the trees. The solitude was a welcome break from her normal
routine.
Inwan noticed her. He took a step forward and then stopped. What
should he say? Something, he must say something. Surely he could find the
words to comfort her. He took a few more steps towards her and then stopped.
Perhaps this was something she needed to do on her own.
Again, she found herself in the darkness. It was as stifling and smothering
as before. As the panic rose in her, she tried to relax; but something was stirring
in a corner of her soul.
Quatzitil?
Yes?
What are you listening to?
A voice.
Whose voice?
My mothers.


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What is she saying?
I dont know.....It sounds like I miss you. Im not sure its so far away.
Whatever you do, dont chase it.
But its my mother!
Relax. Surrender.
Quatzitil opened her eyes. The rain outside pelted the stone and flashes of
lightning lit up the room. She got up and anxiously paced the room, wondering
how she would ever get through this ordeal. She had trouble eating and
sleeping for the next few days and was about to give up. Then, one evening, she
noticed Sishkye sitting in the doorway of her bedchamber.
Shouldnt you be out playing with your friends? She asked him, curious
as to why he was here. The wolf walked over to her and licked her face. I guess
you would rather spend the night with me! Quatzitil laughed. She looked into
Sishkyes eyes and something there gave her an unusual sense of peace and
purpose.
This time when she faced the darkness, she was patient. She surrendered
to the stillness and was comfortable.
Are you comfortable? Xaven asked.
Yes. Quatzitil confidently answered.
Find your prey.
Quatzitil took a step forward and listened. There was no sound, no smell,
no breeze, nothing but blackness. She reached out to see what her hands would
come across, but there was nothing. She cautiously took another two steps
forward and tripped. She fell to the ground with an unflattering thud! She
heard Xaven laughing somewhere amongst the shadows and then she was thrust
into the daylight.
After several days of this, Quatzitil was battered, bruised, and disheartened.
Then she remembered the wolf, the spark in his eyes, and she was determined to
go on.
That night, she received a visit from Zoshan. The bird perched outside her
window, screeched, and then fluttered its wings. It was as if the owl was
beckoning her.
First the wolf and now you? Quatzitil asked, while looking up at him.
Shouldnt you be attending to Mistress Wisayael? The bird flew down to a
lower branch and looked deeply into the young lass eyes. Quatzitil felt
something open up inside of her, but what it was exactly she could not describe.
Again she faced the darkness. This time, she peered through the gloom
and became aware of her surroundings. She couldnt see them, feel them, hear
them, or even smell them; she just somehow sensed what was around her.
Those two meddlers are spoiling my fun! Xaven pouted from deep
within the shadows. Perhaps they are right though. Now find your prey.
Something fluttered in the darkness in front of her. She grew very quiet


275
and patient. The mysterious something hovered in the gloom for a moment and
then seemed to vanish. Quatzitil raced over to where the creature had been a
moment before, not making a sound as she cut through the shadows. A moment
later, the fluttering was on her left side, a moment later it was overhead. As fast
as she was, she was no match for the mysterious little thing that always seemed to
be just out of reach. She was about to reach out and catch her victim, but was
forced into the conscious world once again.
This time was different. The darkness had not changed, Quatzitil had.
She moved about like she was in a sunny meadow at mid-day. She relentlessly
pursued the fluttering little mystery and even felt it brush her skin as she reached
out for it. Finally, she caught something in her hands. She grinned in triumph
as the black moth sat there before her, slowly flapping its wings - almost as if it
were waving a white flag. The darkness seemed to dissipate, just slightly, and she
smiled at the delicate creature in her hands. The moth was black with dark
brown and deep purple splotches on its wings.

A sword pressed against her throat.
To catch a black moth in the darkness is one thing, but to catch your
uncles killer is quite another. Rifune said as he pressed the sword against her
lily white flesh.
Yes my lord. Quatzitil answered, startled and frightened.
Father! Xaven blurted out, surprised. I did not know you were here.
You are dismissed Xaven. I will complete Quatzitils instruction.
Yes father. Xaven responded.











276
The Spider Spins its Web

Chapter 51 - Jubens Shield

Oubulon was perfectly still for a moment as he sat upon his horse. He
pulled his green cloak around him to guard against the chill morning air. He
wore a black shirt and grey fringe pants, which seemed to match his mood and the
beginning of the day. In the valley below stood Jubens Shield - the tower of the
far east. It was a modest size tower, about four stories tall, fashioned out of red
limestone. The tower was surrounded by the shields of fallen warriors. Each
emblem stood upright - as if it were barring the way. The host of shields
formed concentric circles around the modest library. The morning fog seemed to
stubbornly cling to the valley floor.
How many of them are there? Jhyndisel asked as he rode up next to
Oubulon. He almost fell out of his seat as his horse shifted its weight. Oubulon
continued to take in the magnificent scene. How many do you think are down
there? He asked a little louder, not sure if Oubulon heard him - or if he even
wanted to.
Oh! Im sorry Jhyndisel. There seem to be over fifty circles, so I would
say - over thirty thousand shields down there.
It must have been a great battle. I wish I could have been there.
Jhyndisel murmured quietly.
Did you say something?
Only that it must have been a great battle.
Yes, the men who gave their lives were very brave. Well, lets go.
Oubulons voice took on a dark, impatient tone as he turned his horse away from
the cliff and back to the trail.

The ride down to the tower was an intricate one, along winding forest paths.
The moss covered vines hung down so low they almost touched the ground.
Violet pine cones, some as big as a small dog, fell from the towering trees. As
they rode on, Jhyndisel stayed behind, taking in the surroundings. Oubulon and
Khyphrexia didnt seem to notice when he would once in a while stop his horse
and just look up at the sky, wondering how tall the trees actually were.
So the tomes we are looking for are on the top floor. All we have to do is
get in. Khyphryxia explained the situation plainly as if they were simply on a
fishing trip. As they looked over a drawing of the tower, her hand glided faintly
and gracefully over the gray chalk lines as she drew Oubulons attention to this


277
matter and then to another.
Will that be a problem? I thought things were going well between
Axandali and Symandar. Oubulons tone seemed to compliment the stubborn
fog they began to ride through. He realized that this must be seen through to
the end. He resolutely put away the drawing and looked ahead.
Things are going well between myself and the Second Royal Minister. My
fathers influence in this part of the world has diminished over the years. She
replied, brushing away her blond hair from her face. She was wearing a string of
pearls on the right side of her head; on the left side her brunette braid hung down,
a jade stone affixed to the end. Hopefully, we will make some progress in the
diplomatic as well as scholarly realms. Her voice simmered with a faint hope as
she looked back to see if Jhyndisel was keeping up with them.
Are you regretting that he came along? Oubulon spat out his words in a
careless, indifferent manner and did not bother to look back.
Father and the other court attendants have grown increasingly irritated at
his presence. They seemed relieved when he rode out of the city gates with us.
You still have not answered the question. Oubulons voice sounded like a
seductive mandolin serenade.
As long as he can keep busy outside - and not get lost, she sighed,
everything should go well.
You mean like our last trip when the poor lad got lost for several hours?
Oubulon chuckled.

When they exited the forest, Jubens Shield stood there, almost daring them
to enter. The shields that surrounded it were crafted from a deep blue metal;
some had lions engraved in them, others tigers, and still others bears. Scattered
among the shields were stone faces. They silently looked up at the sky as if they
were floating on a calm, serene lake. The looks of pain, anguish, and horror were
startling. Oubulon was particularly unsettled by the stone masks; just looking at
them made his blood run cold. A soft breeze blew from the forest behind them
and carried with it the scent of pine and damp vegetation. The sounds of birds of
all kinds echoed through the trees.
As they rode through the circles of shields, Jhyndisel bent down and
touched one or two, just to see how they felt. They were smooth and cold to the
touch. The last shield that he touched actually came loose and fell over. He
quickly dismounted and put it back.
The main door was carved from pine and set in a marble door frame. A
gargoyle, in the shape of a man riding a horse, was above the door. After some
careful negotiating, they were allowed entry.

Finally! Oubulon said, exasperated.
My only regret is that we wont be able to see all of these shields. We are


278
on a quest for knowledge however, so I suppose that it will have to wait until
another time. Khyphryxia played out her false lament and hoped that it would
trick her younger brother.
Jhyndisel doesnt have to wander around those gloomy, musty rooms with
us does he? A fine young lad like this yearns for adventure! Oubulon beamed
as he put his arm around the boy.
I suppose he could stay outside and explore a little - just dont wander off
too far. Khyphryxia warned him.
I wont. Jhyndisel quietly answered. After they left him outside, he
wished he could have gone in and helped them in their quest.

The rooms of the tower were indeed gloomy and musty. At one point,
Oubulon thought he would never stop sneezing. When he had recovered, they
proceeded to the uppermost room in the tower, called the Eagles Crown.
The first room they passed through was large and dim, lighted only by a few
old, dusty lanterns. The carved images upon the walls were unnerving to the eye:
figures being pulled down into the earth by sinister vines. The looks of horror
and anguish were so vivid that one might think that the artist had seen those poor
souls personally as they met their awful fate. There were several large cracks in
the floor. Foul smelling, dark weeds pushed up through these gaps and
threatened to grab the nearest unfortunate soul and drag them under the cold
earth. The air was absolutely still, as if weighed down by some unnatural force.
Likewise, it was very quiet in the room; any sound that entered it seemed pressed
down and extinguished. The room was strangely bare, as if its emptiness was
intentionally planned. Any specific message the void was meant to convey was
lost in the general uneasiness that followed visitors as they made their way
through the nightmarish atmosphere.
As they progressed through the suites, they passed by many rooms with
replicas of coffins, cairns, and burial sites. In some rooms, mummification
rituals were being perfected. Stone feathers were carved out of the cold and hard
passageways; they adorned the ceiling, floor, and walls.
After traversing many narrow, zig-zagging, twisting halls, they arrived at
their destination. The Eagles Crown was unlike the other rooms in that it had
windows on every side. Sunlight flowed into the room from every direction and
dazzled the eyes. There were several eagles nests outside the room, each
supported by a wooden beam. Small depressions in the floor were spread
before them, each about twenty yards across. Each concavity was ringed by rows
of wooden benches, resembling a small amphitheater. The stone pillars
throughout had engravings of warriors riding among the clouds, armed with
swords or bows. An intricate latticework of stone arched above their heads.
Through the windows of the latticework, bright clouds could be seen slowly sailing
through the sky. The air was fresh and had a rhythm all its own, as if the room


279
was breathing.

Here we are. There are several stories related to Jisi. Oubulons relief
washed over him as he thumbed through a book on one of the lower shelves.
Hmmmmm.....this one is particularly interesting. Listen to this:

To honor the dead,
We bring to them something from our home,
To honor this one slain,
Her body rests surrounded by sacred stones.

Surrounded by sacred stones - unusual. Khyphryxia remarked.
After searching through several more texts, Oubulon ran over to
Khyphryxia.
I have it! I know where the passage is referring to. He burst out
excitedly. See? He said, pointing to a drawing of a stony field. The field of
XiliSaresh. The Grove of Sanctified Rock. This is where we will find our
champion!
Do you think we are too late? Khyphryxia worried as she looked at the
drawing.
Its hard to tell what the Dark Emperor is up to and what he has
accomplished. I hope not. Oubulon replied, looking up at her and putting his
hand on hers.

Outside, Jhyndisel was aimlessly wandering among the shields. His
interest in them was waning, as was his confidence in himself. He was perfectly
aware why he was allowed to explore. He sat down, put his pack on the ground,
and carefully opened it. He took out two beautifully carved wooden clowns that
he had crafted himself. He had even painted their faces and used colored yarn
for their hair. These two were his favorites and they went with him many places.
Zobob, you look bored. He quietly addressed one. What, whats that
Belbin? He said, with the other clown pressed close to his ear. Is that true
Zobob? Are you scared because you are far from home? Oubulon and
Khyphryxia will protect us - well be safe with them. I doesnt hurt to keep an eye
out for danger though. As father says Death comes quickly to those who cannot
see! As he looked about, he realized the embarrassment he would suffer if
someone caught him confiding in his wooden companions; a boy his age, nearing
sixteen years, talking to toys. Yet, whom else did he have to talk to?

Suddenly, he caught a strange scent in the air; it smelled like wild flowers


280
and spice tea. As he followed the scent to the west, he could detect the faint,
delicate taste of oranges on his tongue. His walk turned into a run and the
sensations grew stronger; then suddenly they stopped. He looked around,
bewildered and disappointed. Then he slowly trudged back to the tower. Every
once in a while he looked back to the west, hoping to catch a glimpse of what had
been tantalizing him so.
By this time, Oubulon and Khyphryxia had finished their research and were
standing at main door. They looked somewhat impatient, as if they had been
waiting too long for him.
So did you find anything interesting, young Master Jhyndisel? Oubulon
smiled.
No. Not really. Jhyndisel replied after a thoughtful pause.
Well, Im glad you are safe and sound. We cant afford to have a member
of the royal house missing, can we? Khyphryxia playfully pinched his nose.
So dearest, which way now? Khyphryxia said, turning toward Oubulon
and taking his hand in hers.
West - to the West. Jhyndisel whispered to himself.














281
The Spider Spins its Web

Chapter 52 - Ebrohms Keep

Mangat was sitting on a stone bench in a lovely garden. There were
plants and flowers that even he was not familiar with. The scent of exotic spices
and nectars filled the air. A warm breeze flitted through the garden and the soft
petals trembled with its passing.
Houmophodiles darted about the garden. They were about two to three
inches in length and resembled crocodiles with feathered wings. The colors of
the wings varied; some houmophodiles had bright yellow wings, some had blue
wings, some had crimson wings, and yet others had white wings with flecks of
black and gray. One could only see what their wings looked like when they were
resting however; in flight their wings beat so fast that they were a blur of color.
From time to time they emitted a shrill cry, as if to announce their ownership of a
certain flower.
The three moons, KPosh, Nibat, and Olgolomon where parading through
the sky; Olgolomon was directly overhead. KPosh was just coming up over the
horizon and Nibat was already nearing the end of her journey, on the opposite
side of the sky.
In front of Mangat there was a stone table with a checkered board on it.
Some of the spaces had stacks of tiles on them. There were also colored stones
on the board; some had a black knight engraved into them, some had a white
knight engraved into them.
Ahhh.....this is what I need. Mangat quietly said as he drew a card from a
deck to the right of the board. He leaned back and stretched, then slowly,
casually leaned forward, in no hurry to come to a decision. Every now and then
he would take a deep breath and then exhale through his nose. His breath
seemed like a mist flowing off a great sea; it spread over the board and Xaven
could almost feel it upon his fingertips.
I already have everything I need. Xaven announced confidently. He was
sitting across from Mangat. He was looking at his cards, studying them intently,
trying his best to suppress a triumphant grin. Then he turned his attention to the
board. His breathing was steady and strong, pulsating with hunger. He broke
the tranquility by scraping his nails across the top of the stone table. At other
times he impatiently tapped his fingers. He was leaning forward the whole time
and gave one the impression that he would pounce any moment.
Hmmm...... Mangat mused. He slowly (a casual observer might say


282
reluctantly) turned two cards face up. Both had black roses on them. He then
took two tiles with the same symbols into his hand and stared at the board.
Well? Xaven impatiently prodded.
There. Mangat quickly placed both black rose tiles on a square.
Now.....My turn. Xavens voice seemed to burn with an insatiable hunger
as a wicked smile played across his face. He moved a red stone to the center of
the board. He now had three red stones lined up in a row, with two stacks of tiles
in front of them.
Lets see.....I think that should be sufficient. Mangat countered. He
moved a white stone into the space between the two stacks of tiles. His white
stone stood defiantly in front of Xavens army of red pieces.
You must be distracted old man. That stone may be powerful, but it wont
stand forever against my three red ones.
Hmmmm......how true. Mangat mumbled as they each picked up a die.
After all had been said and done, Mangat lost his white stone and Xaven lost two
of his red ones.
Why you would waste such a powerful piece is simply beyond my
understanding. It certainly has been a long time since your glory as a Vestamar
Master. Xaven smirked, advancing his remaining red piece to the square between
the two stacks of tiles.
Hmmm.....lets see. Good. Mangat turned several more cards face up
and placed a two tile stack on one side of the board and a four tile stack three
spaces to the right of it. He then moved a green stone forward one space.
Wait....that way is blocked! No matter, I will just go around that stack of
tiles. One could hear the frustration beginning to boil in the dragons voice.
Lets see....ahhhh....there! Mangats last word seemed to jump out. The
old man had startled Xaven - just for a moment. He placed another three tile
stack on the board, behind the two he had placed on the previous turn. He
moved two yellow stones forward. Finally, he moved three blue stones one space
to the left.
No! That cant be! You cheated! Xaven yelled. His most powerful
pieces were trapped and outnumbered. The victory was Mangats.
You were focused on your most powerful pieces, not on the entire board.
What you thought was a foolish sacrifice bought me enough time to create the
environment I needed to win. Mangat said quietly.
Next time....old man....Im learning all of your tricks! Xaven hissed, his
red-white eyes meeting Mangats.

Mangat...Sweetie. Its time to get up. Wisayaels sweet breath ushered
in the dawn as she gently shook him awake.
What time is it? Mangat sleepily groaned. He opened his eyes, which
were red-white.


283
I see you have been dreaming of Xaven again. Its seven in the morning -
early for you. She laughed and tossed him a roll. Mangat, half still drowsy,
almost dropped it.
He is a quick learner. He has a hungry mind. Mangats words had a
difficult time getting out between mouthfuls of Wisayaels famous cinnamon and
date rolls.
That is because he feels he has to prove himself. The burden of being
Rifunes first born must be hard to carry at times. Wisayael speculated while
sipping coffee from a tin cup. She then put out the fire in their makeshift
campsite and poured the remaining coffee into another tin cup.
He doesnt have to prove himself. Rifune has acknowledged him as the
first born. Do you think others are jealous of him?
Some simply do not see the usefulness of the title. Does the first born
have abilities that we dont have? they ask. What right does Xaven have to be our
next king simply because he was born first? Is another question I have heard.
When the time comes, will his claim to the throne be challenged?
I dont think so. But if he cannot rule wisely, he will not occupy the
throne for long. Wisayael warned, looking up at Mangat over her coffee. Its
not his brethren Im worried about.
Will the humans accept them? The last time men looked to the sky and
saw Rifunes children was during the Barbaric Age. Only a few tales from that
time have been kept, and not many know of them.
But some do know. She argued.
Then we will have to give them new tales to keep. Mangat quipped,
finishing his roll.

After riding for two hours over the soggy blue grass moors of southern
Photthar, they came to their destination. Ebrohms Keep was a castle about the
size of two barns. Lush vineyards flanked the east side and south side of the
mansion. Stately pine trees lined the one mile path to the front door. Large
rocks formed a circle around the castle. They had been hollowed out and had
faces carved into them, like gigantic stone jack o lanterns. Flames danced within
them and smoke poured through the opening in the tops of the stones.
Tumnat - Uncle! We are here! Mangat called out ringing the bell at the
front gate. He was wearing a light blue Pladexien Shirt and brown trousers.
Are you sure hes at home? Wisayael said, looking at the castle. It was
dark and foreboding.
He said he would be - I have no reason to doubt him. We arent having
bad thoughts about the in-laws already, are we dear? Mangat winked as he
playfully nudged her.
I havent heard anything good about your uncle, especially from you. She
replied. Looking at his shirt, she commented: Are you sure you should be


284
dressed in something worn in Raspladex and Slunarkien?
The formality of the attire is more important to my uncle than where it
comes from. Besides, his views of the East have softened - a little - in the past
few years.
If what you have told me about his tirades about the East are true, I would
wager that his harsh views are quite spectacularly enunciated.
Just an overnight stay dear - then we will continue on toward Aost Nor.
He said as he rang the bell again.
Soon a servant came to the gate and showed them inside. Mangat and
Wisayael were escorted through halls lined with bookcases. Wisayael was
surprised that Mangat didnt stop to look at some of the rare tomes. He had
definitely changed since Vashas Spear.
You are early, nephew. Tumnat began as they were shown into the main
library. His uncle was of average height, with black hair and a neatly trimmed
beard and mustache. His dark brown eyes looked up, just to confirm the
presence of his visitors, then they quickly darted down as he continued to write.
He wore a neatly pressed Phixarian Shirt with well polished brass cufflinks.
What surprised Mangat the most was that his uncle wore a Velikeech. This
curious item was a strip of cloth, suspended from a chain; the chain itself was
worn half way up the face. Few would have recognized this unique covering for
what it was since it was worn by visionaries in Photthars First Dynasty court.
The white cloth hung over Tumnats left cheek, which was an ominous sign. To
cover ones left cheek with a Velikeech was a declaration that ones life would soon
end.
The library was as formal and foreboding as its owner. On the far wall,
over the fireplace, hung a map of The West as it had been during the Seventh
Dynasty. To the right of the fireplace there was a suit of armor under a
semi-transparent muslin veil that ran all the way down to the floor. On the left
wall, in between bookcases, hung a sword. It was wonderfully crafted with
intricate designs and a white silken cord was wound around it. The bookcases
in the room were made from dark wood and then stained, so that they appeared as
if crafted out of charcoal. The shelves were full of tattered, dusty books on
historic battles and royal lineages. The walls of the room were dressed in a
drab, dreary pale green. In the corner, a grandfather clock announced the hour
as three in the afternoon; the sound carried no comfort, in fact it seemed that it
was making a dire prediction. The purple rug on the floor bore the emblem of
Photthar. The only redeeming quality of the room were the two large windows
which admitted ample amounts of light.
Mangats uncle continued his writing, not expecting further conversation.
His pen strokes were at times slow and methodical, then without warning his
hand would scribble something in a harsh, frenzied manner. The desk at which
he sat was crafted to give the impression of a mighty fortress. Each corner was


285
capped by an iron barb, which only strengthened the visitors impression that the
proprietor of this lonely keep did not wish to be disturbed.
We didnt mean to disturb your schedule, uncle dearest. Mangat humbly
apologized.
Nevertheless - you are here. Am I correct that you will only be staying the
night? He asked, not looking up from his task.
Yes uncle.
And you will keep to the guest room and east kitchen?
Yes uncle.
And you will be as quiet as a dead pigeon?
Dead pigeon? Wisayael whispered into Mangats ear.
Yes uncle. He replied as he elbowed her.

After supper that night, Wisayael stood on the balcony of the guest room,
the starry winds playing with her dress. All of a sudden there was a commotion
downstairs. The sounds of battle grew louder and seemed to be coming from all
around her. She sprang into action and grabbed several balls filled with scorpion
powder. She then grabbed her mask and ran down the hall. There were several
men running up the stairs toward her, but she didnt flinch. She threw a ball of
scorpion powder at them and they fell under its destructive grip. As they were
gasping their last breath, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around and
drew her sword. The assailant was strong and swift, but, to her surprise she was
mightier than he. After she defeated him, yet another approached her. She
threw a ball of scorpion powder at him and he fell. As more and more intruders
came at her, it seemed as if the scorpion powder came from her mouth. She
laughed triumphantly as scores of her foes fell beneath her feet. After the last
enemy had fallen, she looked around satisfied. She then began to cough. As the
coughing spasms worsened and continued, she noticed that the scorpion powder
began to spread. She ran to the balcony and looked out over the countryside in
horror. As the sun rose, it revealed dead birds and withered trees spread out
before her as far as she could see. Then the sun disappeared behind a cloud of
her poisonous concoction. The world became enveloped in a dark mist. As she
frantically, blindly felt her way around, something brushed past her.
Mangat?
No....but you do know me. A feminine voice replied. Wisayael
shuddered.
Axora?
Yes. How Ironic to meet you - here.
But youre dead!
And youre happy.....now that you have Mangat all to yourself.
No! I didnt do anything! You know that! Mangat knows that!
Everyone knows that! Wisayael screamed.


286
I know.....I also know that youre happy because Im dead.
Wisayael found herself in a pit of scorpion powder, unable to move, slowly
sinking. There was a hand reaching out of the gloom but it was just out of her
reach.
Please, please help me!
Im so very happy....so very happy that you are here. Axora whispered.
As am I. Another voice said. It was Kaetar. His hand was also
reaching out to her, but again, it was too far away. A pity that we cant help
you....but then this is where you wanted to be - is it not? She was now in up to
her neck.
Mangat! Mangat! Help! Please! Mangat! She screamed as she
woke up from her nightmare.
Wisayael! Its alright, Im here. I wont leave you, I will never leave you.
Mangat murmured as he held her. Tears were streaming down her face.

At the temple of the Sisterhood of the Three Moons, Inwan frowned as he
put his hands on the rock. Wisayael had passed her test, but at what cost?

The next morning, Wisayael had regained her senses and her composure,
but she held Mangats hand while they had breakfast.
Are you sure you are alright? Mangats words mirrored his anxious
heart.
Im fine...something has changed inside of me, but Im fine. In fact, a
sense of peace - safety has come over me and I dont know exactly why. She
smiled. Her voice sounded like a northern wind playing among the pine trees.
Good, you are going to need it. Mangats eyes noticed an army
advancing from the north. As they rose up together and walked toward the
balcony, the thundering sound of horses grew louder, more demanding.
Look! Wisayael pointed to the south. Another army was rushing
forward over the countryside like an angry river.
Mangat! Tumnat yelled as he rushed up the stairs.
Uncle! Whats happening?
Put this on, we dont have much time. He urgently replied. Tumnat had
suit of armor on and a sword by his side. He had a suit of chain mail and a sword
for Mangat.
Uncle, I cant - you know that. Mangats voice took on that slightly
unsteady tone that had plagued him during his youth.
I dont care about your oath! The army of Photthar is on its way here.
You are a citizen of this country! You cannot walk away from this. You have kin
in that army - it is your duty to help them! Tumnats words rattled like an angry
sabre as he tossed the sword on the floor in front of his nephew. Mangat
recognized it as the one from the main library; a shudder ran down his spine.


287
This is madness! I dont even know who we are - I mean they are
fighting. Mangat replied, glancing down at the sword.
Does it matter? They are our enemies! Tumnat roared.
Yes uncle! It does matter! It matters who are enemies are and why we
are riding into battle!
We are being attacked by the knights of Eauphixes. Does that change
anything?
Bejaj! Wisayael blurted out.
What? Tumnat asked, turning his cold gaze toward her.
Bejaj - my sister. Shes a knight of Euphixes. Mangat, we have to do
something! Wisayael ran to the balcony to see if she could somehow find her
sister in all of the impending chaos. Suddenly, a raven landed on the railing of
the balcony. It was twice the size of an ordinary bird and had smoke pouring
from its feathers. It squawked and cawed incessantly. Was it Wisayaels
imagination or was it taunting them?
The only thing we can do is to strike at the heart of this evil! Mangat
took up the sword and ran out to the balcony. He lunged at the bird, but it flew
away.
I will ask you only once more - Mangat, will you help your kin? Tumnut
stepped toward them. By now, several of his personal warriors were in the room.
They blocked the exit; it appeared that Mangat would have no choice but to once
again give in to his uncles demands.
No! Mangat and Wisayael both said at once. Mangat whistled and
Xaven came flying. He landed on the side of the castle and Mangat climbed onto
him. Xukulu was on the other side of the balcony a moment later.

One day, we will have to make a choice about whether or not to get
involved in the wars around us Mangat. Wisayael said as they flew high above
the earth.
Not today, my dear - not today.







288
The Spider Spins its Web

Chapter 53 - Drifting Backward, Surging Forth

Before him lay the Trench of a Thousand Stars. Ironically, it seemed
that the dim light was wary of the twisting crevice. Great schools of fish swam
towards the trench only to turn away abruptly at the last moment. Wuyami had a
queasy feeling running through his veins. As he allowed himself to sink deeper
and deeper into the warm water, his vision began to blur. The familiar
surroundings slowly gave way to an endless, inky gray void. He felt a light breeze
upon his skin which made his spine tingle.
He was on the nameless beach again. Again, the daylight was just creeping
over the horizon. The fog slowly rolled off the great sea, cautiously, as if it were
sneaking onto the land. She was there, walking toward him. The feeling that
something was out of place was stronger than ever.
urgushhh! This place is forbidden! Leave, now! herephh The woman,
unaware of his presence, kept walking along the shore. As Wuyami continued to
stare at her, he realized that this was her home.
An ominous feeling washed over him suddenly. What was it that didnt
belong here? He looked around at the sandy dunes - nothing. He turned
around and looked behind him, but all was still. Then, for reasons he could not
explain, his eyes were drawn to the water. At first, all was calm. The first
inkling of something amidst the fog was a long, silvery fin, just breaking the
surface of the water, slowly gliding along.
Run! You are in danger! Run, run! Wuyami was running as fast as he
could toward the female figure, waving his arms wildly. However, as far as he
could tell, he moved not one inch.
Though the woman was still some distance away, Wuyami saw it happen
quite clearly, as if he was standing next to her. A long, serpentine tongue wound
itself around the ladys waist and curled around her stately neck. It then quickly
yanked her from the sandy shore and into the water.

When his eyes opened violently, he was sprawled out upon the sea floor, at
the edge of the trench. He quickly stood up and took a step back from the
yawning abyss. If he swam as fast as he could, he would be home in less than
four days, with this place far behind him. Something was tugging at his soul,
however. It was a feeling that he, like all of his kin, felt when they opened their
eyes for the first time. He also felt this strange sensation the first time he stepped


289
into the clear air of the world above.
Teregon. He whispered as he swam into the trench.
The water became calmer and colder the deeper he went. Light was but a
distant memory. Yet the blackness somehow brought back comforting memories
which would not take full shape in his conscious mind - memories that took shape
before he left his mothers womb. The chasm seemed bottomless and after
several hours, Wuyami began to lose his sense of direction. His limbs grew
heavy and eventually became still. His eyes gently closed as he continued his
gradual descent.
The beach was different this time, guarded by high rocky cliffs. The waves
pounded upon the shore in the cool night air. A thousand stars twinkled among
the three great moons and their reflections danced happily in the water. Wuyami
looked to the north, where the beach curved around a large outcropping of stone,
and gasped with wonder.
He had heard many tales of them when he was just a little child. The
stories always made him giddy with wonder and joy. They way his uncle wound
the words round the sounds of the sea made them come alive. Their beauty and
gracefulness outshone any pearl in the seas. Now, his eyes were lucky enough to
behold one of them: a Wugu.
She had the form of a beautiful lady with milky white skin, long brown hair,
and sparkling blue eyes. Instead of legs, she had a great white fish tail which
happily splashed about in the water. She was sitting on the edge of the rock
combing her hair, singing a merry tune.
Wuyami was so enthralled that he didnt notice the long, silvery fin glide
past him. When he did, it was too late. His warnings went unnoticed and the
long, serpentine tongue quickly wound itself around the beautiful creature. As it
yanked its prey under the waves, the wugu made a sound that sounded like a yelp
and a screech. Then all was quiet.
He found himself in the utter darkness at the bottom of the trench. How
far he had come, yet how far he had to go. He swam ahead, somehow knowing
that this was the direction that would bring him face to face with his destiny.
As he pressed on, he could feel a certain burden being lifted from his mind,
one he never knew was there. The gloom was slowly giving way to a soft green
light, which seemed to come from everywhere. That ancient birthing emotion was
growing ever stronger.

It seemed an inappropriate time for such thoughts to intrude upon this
occasion, but they came anyway. Wuyamis mind wandered back to the events of
the recent months. He suddenly found himself outside the Red Rock Inn,
waiting for his cue to appear, wondering what Master Oubulon would make of
him.
Why yes. The legendary sea demons. Enstu even told me that they


290
might be real - she said that she found some of their artifacts on the shore of
Nazalquatat when she snuck in to that dark place. Oubulon replied wondering
where the conversation was headed. Wuyami was about to reply, but something
caught his eye. Oubulon had beautiful white claws protruding from each knuckle
of his left hand.
urgushhh! Dont be shocked. You have sensed this for some time, we all
have. You however must acknowledge it in your heart. herephh.
Wuyami whirled around, startled. There before him stood Wuxhiphi. His skin
was white, exactly the tone and shade of Wisayaels fair skin. urgushhh! He is
waiting for you. Go now and reclaim our heritage. herephh. The ghostly visage
seemed to dissolve into the surrounding water as its last word gave way to the
stillness of the depths.

The increasing light revealed a ridge ahead of him and he swam toward it
with determination and a sense of hunger. As he passed over the ridge, his eyes
grew wide with wonder and awe. Below him lay a sprawl of coral temples the size
of ten cities. Spires shaped like narwhal tusks towered over the scene and roofs
of great oyster shells glowed in the soft illumination. Lights like a thousand stars
light up the ancient city. In the center of all this a dome shaped sanctuary sat,
covered with octopuses of all sizes and colors. All manner of aquatic life swam
above, but they dared not to descend, as if they knew this special place was not for
them.
The door to the sanctuary was made of ivory and framed by two gigantic
tusks. Carved into the door were strange glyphs, shapes, and markings that
Wuyami had never seen before. Something akin to ink was flowing through the
channels made by the inscriptions. Even the octopuses dared not touch the
arcane door.
A robed figure stood before the entrance. Peeking out from the bottom of
the fabric was the tail of a fish.
Welcome child. The day of calamity must have appeared on the horizon.
Then the words of The Silver Father are true. Her voice had a sweet melodic
quality to it.
urgushhh! I -
I will not be addressed in such a vulgar tone! The guardian roared. Her
voice boomed and echoed and seemed to fill the entire sea. Wuyami put his
hands on his ears and fell to the ground in fear. She removed her robe and lifted
him by the neck. You were but fish eggs when we swam the waters! We had
sung the songs of the waves for thousands of generations before you came from
the womb!
urgushhh-uthum! Forgive me great Wugu! I am but an ignorant child!
Please! Kindness and mercy! herephh-naasar!
Mercy.....kindness. Those things have not crossed the threshold of this


291
mighty temple in eons. Why should they be considered now? Her grip on
Wuyamis neck tightened.
urgushhh-uthum! Because you were not shown any mercy or kindness
when The Silver Father took you to be his children.....and - you are the last of his
children! Please, please, let me pass! herephh-naasar! His voice trailed off into
a pitiful mixture of whining and groaning.
How....how do you know I am the last of my kind? She inquired,
intrigued.
urgushhh-uthum! The Silver Father! He calls to me, he dreams to me.
herephh-naasar!
Lies will seal your doom! The Silver Father is dead! He has been gone
for centuries! Her voice filled the sea with its terrible anger.
urgushhh-uthum! No please, you must believe me. He has always called to
me. I had forgotten but now I remember! herephh-naasar! In response to
Wuyamis desperate plea, the ground beneath them began to shudder. The
wugu, shocked and frightened, let go of her prey and backed away from the great
door.
Go! Quickly! Seek out the Silver Father before his anger consumes us!
She fell to the ground, prostrate before the entrance.

The inside of the temple was a maze of tunnels, which were lined with
phosphorescent crystals. Periodically, the tunnels would open upon vast ornate
cathedrals which were decorated with coral sculptures of wugus, wustavae, and
even men. Finally, after much searching, Wuyami found a large tunnel rimmed
with ivory and turquoise. Here the water spun clockwise around the entrance.
After a moment, the flow reversed; seconds later the water resumed its clockwise
progression around the lip of the tunnel.
The hallway itself was lined with an orange coral, which seemed to fade to
black at regular intervals, forming alternating rings of joyfulness and despair. It
twisted this way and that, then plunged down for thousands upon thousands of
feet.
The tunnel exited upon a circular room which had strange runes upon the
walls. The water only filled the lower half of the room and Wuyami could see a
lonely cavern above, lit by a soft blue light. Across from the exit, there was a
stone staircase, leading up and out of the water.
As he ascended the stone steps, the birthing emotion nearly overwhelmed
him and he had to stop just before his head came out of the water. He gathered
his strength and pressed on. His steps were slow, deliberate, and meditative.
As he ascended to the cool air, he breathed deeply, as if he had never breathed air
before, then peacefully exhaled.
Before him was a small cave in the rocky wall. The dripping sound of
water made an eerie chorus as the soft blue light shimmered upon the slimy


292
stones beneath his feet. The dark hole seemed to breathe in and exhale the damp
air, as if it was the orifice of some ancient leviathan. Wuyami slowly walked up to
the cave, paused a moment, then entered.
He found himself in a small cave illuminated by a soft blue glow. To his
left, there was a statue of a sea serpent with a large fin, its jaws open and tongue
reaching out into the air.
Teregon. Wuyamis whisper seemed like a sacrilegious intrusion into
this most forbidden cave.
There was a pool of water in the center of the cave, which was the source of
the light. Wuyami stepped to the edge of the pool and peered down. The
blackness of the waters below were occasionally disturbed by slow eruptions of
light, which would flare, spread through the water like phosphorescent ink, then
dissolve into the murky shadows.
Suddenly, something very large passed by, down in the deep waters. The
silvery scales were barely visible in the gloom. Shocked, Wuyami stepped away
from the pool and under the statue. The stone jaws began to salivate and
something dripped down upon his right arm. Almost overcome by the searing
pain, Wuyami fell to his knees. He crawled to the edge of the pool and
submerged his arm in the water, in hopes of easing his agony.
Thats when his eyes were opened. He saw legions upon legions of
soldiers, with the standard of the Dark Emperor among them, marching across
the lands. Fire, famine, blood, and pain were left in their wake. He was there,
leading them, cackling with vile glory. When they came to the sea, CNumti
waded in to his knees and raised his hands. He bellowed and howled and
screamed. The sea began to steam, then to boil. With Bright Water and Black
Coral exposed to the air and in flames, the dark horde marched on to the Trench
of a Thousand Stars.
Horrified, Wuyami pulled his arm out of the water. There were strange
yellow markings on his forearm:

_
|
m
`_.|= r ,
,

w
_
|V!

There was one word on Wuyamis palm, written in red:

IcPanTefror




293
The Spider Spins its Web

Chapter 54 - AostNor

Where do you think all the trash comes from? Wisayael looked around
at the debris scattered among the fields. Some piles of garbage were as big as a
small house. This part of the Wild Lands seemed especially cluttered with the
discarded items of forgotten lives.
You would be surprised how many people come to live in the Wild Lands.
The appeal of the open country, free from laws and obligations. What they dont
realize is that they are also leaving behind the safety and comforts of civilization.
Why, I even had a student of mine try to make a go of it out here. I cant
remember what happened to the poor youth; hopefully he made it out of the Wild
Lands alive. Mangats voice reminded her of a river cascading over a cliff.
I remember your teaching days. She laughed.
I would have stayed at Pine Spear longer - if it were not for the odious
regulations governing every aspect of my life there. Mangat grumbled.
Well, changing the subject -
Which would probably be a good idea.
Have you figured out any thing else from all the documents we took from
Vashas Spear?
Actually, I have gotten as far as I can with the scrolls. There are several
puzzling things about them - things that dont make sense to me. I was hoping
that they might make sense to you however. I hope you dont mind doing a little
reading on our picnic Mangat smiled at her.
Not at all - perhaps they will distract me from my surroundings.
Wisayael covered her nose with a handkerchief. In the distance, several piles of
trash had caught fire and the odor was quite unbearable.

Their picnic was held in front of an abandoned house that was missing one
wall. Birds had made nests on what remained of the roof, and they flew back and
forth, twittering and chirping all the while. Wisayael unpacked her saddlebag
and then took her saddle off her mount. Xukulu then sauntered over to clearing
a short distance away and settled down for a nap. After Mangat had removed his
saddle from Xaven, the dragon looked around, a glint of disapproval in his eye.
It is for the greater good. Those who wish to lead must sometimes bear
the brunt of the distasteful. Mangat whispered into his ear as he patted the
dragons snout. Xaven let out a small sigh and then joined Xukulu. He nudged


294
his brother who, after looking lazily up at him for a moment, grudgingly moved
aside to make room. Xaven then plopped down and was soon fast asleep.
Mangat, do you notice that phrase? Wisayael raised an eyebrow as she
pointed to a section of the scroll. She then took a bite of her white berry muffin.
She smiled as she savored its taste - which was like pineapples and mayonnaise.
Yes, is it something of note? His tone hinted at momentary hope, but
ended in caution. He moved beside her and leaned over to get a closer look. He
then took another bite of his beef jerky.
That is a phrase from Gouwgas Bitter Roots of Night. Didnt it strike you
as odd that it should be there?
I thought that Iyu wrote Bitter Roots of Night. However, you are the
expert on literature, so I will not dispute your findings.
Werent you paying attention all those years ago? I remember tutoring
you thoroughly on that play. Wisayael frowned, slightly disappointed that her
efforts were in vain.
I was somewhat distracted at the time. Mangat recalled fondly. As his
mind drifted back all those years, his arm slid around Wisayaels waist.
Back to the matter at hand. She giggled and playfully squirmed out of
his grasp. Now I remember why Master Thune tutored you himself! She
grinned.
I do suppose that saving the world is our first priority for the moment.
He replied with a wink.
For the moment. She smiled back at him. I think that this phrase is a
clue to where and when we can find AostNor.
When? Mangat was now genuinely intrigued.
Youll see when we get there. I think your convoluted mind will really
enjoy this. She nudged him and smiled.

That night the sky was clear and only Nibat could be seen. Still however,
she shone brightly and bathed the landscape in a faint glow. A large field littered
with garbage lay before them. As Mangat surveyed the landscape, Wisayael went
through her saddlebag and took out a mortar and pestle.
See these? She began, picking a pale white flower and showing it to
Mangat.
Quite delicate and beautiful. He softly remarked, gently stroking the
petals.
Mixed with the sap of a beech tree, they can also be quite informative.
I will get the sap.
And I will pick some more flowers. Wisayael replied, bending down and
gathering up more of the white plants.
After an hour, Mangat returned with a small cup of sap. Wisayael was
busy grinding the roots of the flowers. She mixed the ground up roots with the


295
sap - soon they had a cup of milky white paste. As they walked out into the field,
she would tap her staff on the ground from time to time. When the staff hit rock,
she would clear away the brush and paint a little paste on the cool, smooth stone
surface. On certain granite slabs, the paste seemed to glow faint blue, sometimes
twinkling in the moonlight.
There! Wisayael triumphantly proclaimed as she painted the last stone.
The field now had a faint blue shimmer to it, as if the spirits of the dead had risen
from the ground to participate in some grand, ethereal ball.
Wait - Ive seen this before. Squares with lines connecting them.
Mangats words dripped out slowly and deliberately. He brushed away the debris
from the edges of one of the glowing stone markers. There was a groove - a track
it seemed - that the rock could be pushed along.
Mangat started moving the stones in the prescribed order. When the last
stone was in place, there was a low rumbling sound. At first, they thought it was
thunder in the distance. Then, the ground beneath them began to tremble and
sink.
Mangat! Whats happening? Wisayael exclaimed as she looked around
her, frightened.
Whats supposed to happen my dear! Mangat joyfully answered as he
held her close.
They had actually been standing on a enormous stone slab that was buried
several feet below the earth. It was the size of Mangats mansion. As they sank
deeper and deeper into the ground, another giant slab slid into place above them.
Finally, they found themselves in an underground chamber, which was lit by
several phosphorescent columns of rock. The floor, walls, and ceiling all
contained stone tiles, hundreds of them. Each tile had a symbol or letter carved
upon its surface.
After getting over their initial awe, they searched the room for any clues as
to what to do next.
This is most troubling. Mangats voice was dark and sorrowful as he
bent down and picked up a warriors helm.
What did you find? Wisayael walked over to him.
Someone has been here before us. Mangat showed her the helm.
The emblem - The Black Jackal. Wisayaels despair poured out as she
ran her fingers over the mark.
CNumtis army must have been here. Mangat mournfully conceded.
Do you think they discovered the secret of this place?
We must assume they did. We had better discover the secret ourselves -
and soon. Mangats words were filled with urgency and desperation. He
studied his surroundings, trying to make sense of the dizzying array of tiles all
around him.
They spent hours looking for a lever, switch, or some other device. As hard


296
as they looked, they could find nothing but the bare walls.
Did the Auglinous have to be so very thorough at constructing this place?
Mangat complained as he wearily sat down.
Dont worry sweetie, well solve this puzzle, I just know it. Wisayael
assured him as she sat down. After a moment or two, she took his hand and
looked into his eyes.
Useless! Its all useless! Mangat bellowed standing up. Why couldnt
they just have told us everything we need to know? I just wish they cared about
the fate of our world! Mangat angrily kicked one of the tiles on the floor. It
sank into the floor several inches and a nearby tile rose up several inches. As the
stones moved, an odd mechanical sound could be heard; it sounded like a broken
music box struggling to issue forth its melody. Mangats eyes widened in
surprise. Soon they were kicking all sorts of tiles and trying to decipher the
responses.
They spent a week in the chamber, during which time they ate and slept
little. Finally, Mangat and Wisayael looked at each other - there was a spark of
victory in their eyes.
That is the last one. Wisayael pushed a tile in the wall. Two tiles, one in
the ceiling and one in the floor two yards away, protruded from their resting
places.
Excellent. Ready? He beamed as he finished jotting down something in
his notebook.
Yes. She smiled.
Mangat pushed down several tiles and the floor began to shudder. The
tiles turned upside down and revealed a map of the far east. A single green gem
gleamed in the phosphorescent glow several yards away. They scribbled notes,
maps, and drawings as fast as they could. A low rumbling seemed to cascade in
on them as the room quivered. Then, the tiles quickly spun back around with a
click! As they slowly ascended, the ceiling slid back and the foul odors of the
Wild Lands rushed in to greet them. After several moments they were back on
the surface.
Soon we will walk the ancient halls of Thalgrir! Mangats voice was
soaked in joy and relief as they felt the warm sun on their faces.







297
The Spider Spins its Web

Chapter 55 - Whispers

It had been a long day. Jhyndisel was glad when he saw the small town
of Herons Pond come into view. As Oubulon and Khyphryxia talked with the
guards at the towns wooden gate, Jhyndisels eyes started to close. Not even the
damp night air could keep him awake.
Jhyndisel...Jhyndisel. The soft female voice was not one he recognized.
He looked around, but no one was near him. For a moment, he thought he
smelled spice tea.
Are you ok Jhyndisel? Khyphryxia noticed her younger brothers
confusion as she rode up to him.
Yes. He timidly answered.
Lets get going....the night is best spent under a roof. She smiled. As
she turned to leave, she thought she glimpsed someone in the forest, watching
them.

The Tin Weasel Inn was unlike anything they had ever seen before. The
floor was a checkerboard of pine and tin squares. At the main desk, there was a
large cage that seemed to be vacant. As Jhyndisel looked about him, he noticed a
tube made of chicken wire that started at the top of the cage and seemed to wind
itself around the room. A wooden staircase with tin railings led up to the second
floor where the rooms were. There were several seedy characters milling about,
as if waiting for something to happen.
Dont worry my dear, you have me to protect you. Oubulon boldly yet
quietly declared. He looked at several of the rouges and drew her close to him.
Although you really dont need me to protect you, do you? Ive always wondered
why you dont have a sword by your side. You not only excel at crafting weapons,
you are equally skilled in wielding them.
The world wont accept a princess with a sword in her hand, but I am
looking forward to the day when it will. She said with a smile and gleam in her
eye.
Their rooms were small and cozy. Oubulon and Khyphryxia shared one
room and Jhyndisel had his own room across the hall. Instead of the
checkerboard floor that greeted them downstairs, the floors in the rooms were
quite ordinary. However, each wall had a tin disk imbedded in it. Each disk was
engraved with a portrait and a name.


298
After looking around the room, Jhyndisel noticed that the chicken wire tube
ran across the ceiling and down to a cage on the night stand next to his bed. As
he lit his candle, he heard a scrambling, chittering sound. A weasel came
running through the tube overhead and down into the cage.
Hello. Are you friendly? Jhyndisel introduced himself, hesitantly
putting his hand on the cage. The animal stood on its hind quarters, cocked its
head, and then put both front paws on the cage. Jhyndisel smiled and put his
finger into the cage. The weasel licked his finger and then put one of its paws on
it. I appreciate the company. Not everyone is so glad to have me in their
presence.
In the other room, Khyphryxia and Oubulon were examining the maps and
scrolls they had brought with them. Khyphryxia sighed and then walked to the
window. The mist in the forest beyond seemed to undulate, as if it were dancing
in the moonlight.
Is everything alright my dear? Oubulons words dreamily floated across
the dimly lit room as he walked to the window.
I see so much when I look at those maps. Alliances dissolving, realms in
disarray, armies moving about like pieces on a vestamar board.
It is overwhelming at times, isnt it? He confessed, putting his hands on
her shoulders.
Do you really think this Pargaen can help? What if she wont help us?
She said, turning around and looking into his eyes.
Then we will have to convince her that she must. Then they extinguished
the candle and went to sleep.

Jhyndisel also extinguished his candle, but he couldnt sleep. His
newfound friend had left earlier in the evening, and now he was alone with the
moonlight and his thoughts. After tossing and turning for several minutes, he
finally got up and looked out the window. He saw several horses ride up to the
front of the inn. They were soldiers - he could tell from the helmets and armor.
Filled with curiosity, he snuck out of his room and crept to the top of the stairs.
He could hear the soldiers talking with the inn keeper, but he couldnt make out
the details. So, he crept down the first few stairs and then stopped. Thats when
he saw it - the one thing he hoped he would never see. The symbol on the
soliders helmets was that of a black jackal. He slowly backed away and then ran
to Oubulon and Khyphryxias room.
Jhyndisel! What are you doing? Khyphryxias tone was angry and
sharp as he shook her. He put his hand over her mouth.
The black jackals are here! He whispered in a frightened voice. Soon all
three were standing in the room, wondering what to do next.
It looks like the only option we have is to retreat - and quickly! Oubulon
whispered, opening the window. Jhyndisel, you first. Jhyndisel climbed out


299
of the window and grabbed hold of a nearby tree branch. Dont look down.
Just climb quickly. Im sure you have done this type of thing many times before.
Oubulon meant to be calm, but his words came out in a gush of urgency.
Unfortunately, he is afraid of heights. Im surprised that he even went out
of the window. Khyphryxias voice seemed to have a calming effect on both
Jhyndisel and Oubulon.
It seems to me that he is more afraid of the black jackals. Oubulon
commented, watching Jhyndisel crawl along the branch toward the tree trunk.
What they didnt know was that Jhyndisel smelled spice tea and wild
flowers. He looked down and his present height startled him for a moment; he
almost fell but then he tasted oranges on his tongue. He gathered his courage
and then scrambled down the tree. Khyphryxia then followed - within a moment
or two she was standing beside him. As Oubulon was climbing out of the
window, he heard the doorknob turn. He quickly went through the window and
hung on the outside of the building. Two soldiers entered the room, looked
around, and then left. Oubulon quickly climbed down and the three ran to the
stables to get their horses. As they were approaching the town gates, they could
hear a commotion behind them coming from the inn. They rode as fast as they
could until dawn.

They made camp in a dense part of the forest well away from any trails.
The morning sun was trying to penetrate the thick canopy and a warm breeze
rustled the leaves overhead. Between the leaves, a thick, reddish tree sap was
slowly hardening into crystals. The combination of sap and sunlight bathed the
whole forest in a soft red glow. Pine trees with snow white needles were
scattered throughout. Black monkeys with white spots hooted in the trees,
making a raucous morning chorus. Oubulon and Khyphryxia looked around
them and realized that they were lost. As they tried to get their bearings,
Jhyndisel explored his surroundings.
Do you think they are still following us? Khyphryxia asked, looking
around.
I dont think so. I think we lost them sometime in the night.. Where did
you learn to ride like that? Oubulons words seemed to blend in seamlessly with
the cacophony that crashed in on them.
My father was a legendary horseman in his youth and I am an eager
student. Im just glad that the horses were up to the challenge.
How, how did he know? Oubulon wondered aloud, looking up from a
map he was holding.
You mean how did CNumti know that we were looking for Jisi? The
weapon of any great ruler is knowledge. He must have spies - everywhere. A
chill ran down Khyphryxias spine as she realized that one or two new courtiers
had appeared in Axandalis royal halls over the past several months.


300
We had better get going. Where is Jhyndisel? Oubulons voice sounded
like a guitar being frantically played.

As he wandered, Jhyndisel again smelled spice tea and wild flowers. As he
followed the scent, he came upon a small hill. He ran up the hill and looked
around, excited. He ran down the other side of the hill and stopped. The scent
had disappeared - then he suddenly picked it up again and ran off to the east. He
crossed a small stream and pushed his way through a thick clump of bushes.
Jhyndisel....you have found me! The mysterious voice whispered in his
ear. However, the only thing he could see was the forest.
The trio continued westward toward The Grove of Sacred Rock, looking
over their shoulders every now and again. Jhyndisels eyes, however, kept turning
northward. It was as if something hidden deep within shadows was beckoning to
him.














301
The Spider Spins its Web

Chapter 56 - Retracing His Steps

Im exhausted! Im sure my horse will agree. Oubulons words barely
crawled out of his mouth as he slowly climbed down from his steed. They had
ridden for two days without any rest. The peaks of the Iron Blood Mountains
were closing in on them. The trees along the treacherous, twisting mountain
paths seemed to be trying to hold them back. The wind whipped the snow from
nearby crags into a frothy, icy spray that chilled the bones.
Im hungry. Jhyndisel timidly murmured.
I am well aware of that! Oubulon snapped at him.
Oubulon! That is not the proper tone when addressing a member of the
royal family. Khyphryxias voice was assertive yet regal. She stepped forward
and stared into Oubulons eys. Even if it is only Jhyndisel. She thought to
herself.
Im sorry. After we find shelter for the night, perhaps we can go look for
some berries, roots, or - something. Oubulon curtly apologized. Jhyndisel
slunk away like a beaten dog.
They found a cave just as the sun was sinking behind the mountains.
Large eagles flew between the peaks, crying in shrill tones, almost as if they were
trying to warn their new guests. A strange odor of lavender and ammonia
greeted them as they stepped inside. A yellowish liquid ran down one wall and
disappeared into the ground. When they lit some firewood, the walls seemed to
come to life in the dancing light. Primitive paintings told a grim story: a large
figure, which looked like a shadow, appeared to be eating several small figures.
Several smaller shadows seemed to be keeping tongues of flame, water, and wind
at bay.
Were going to search for something to eat. Khyphryxia said, as cheerily
as she could. Care to come along?
No. I am quite tired - I think the time alone will refresh me. Oubulons
voice quietly trailed off into the quivering shadows.
As you wish. Khyphryxia replied coldly.

Oubulon soon discovered that he was too restless to sleep, so he stepped
outside. Something seemed to be pulling him back down the mountain path he
had climbed just hours before.
First item up for bid, a rare 4
th
Dynasty Vase with turquoise glaze and


302
three handles. A voice mysteriously echoed among the trees and rocks.
Whos there ?! Oubulon demanded, startled out of his aimless reverie.
He looked about him and saw nothing - but he did briefly smell smoke. He
continued wandering down the mountain path, admiring the trees. These
would fetch a fair price. A fine walking stick could be made out of this one. He
mused as he put his hand on the branch of an elm tree. Try as he might, he could
not put the strange voice out of his mind. The vase - it was familiar but he didnt
know why.
Before he knew it, he came upon a broad plain. Here and there shields
dotted the landscape. They looked familiar, but seemed out of place. As he ran
his fingers over the shields, the cool metal slowly became hot.
Next Item up for bid, a wonderful quill and ink set, from the beginning of
the 6
th
Dynasty. The inkwell is made from brass with a jade band in the
middle.
Whos there ?! Show yourself! Oubulon shouted. He scanned the
horizon but still saw no one. He walked on, again perplexed by the object
mentioned by the voice. He had seen this; he had seen it many times in fact. It
was part of some familiar setting.
Next, he came upon hundreds of bells, arranged in concentric circles. As
he felt them, they became hot, just as the shields had. Smoke drifted in on some
distant breeze. He looked around and saw a yellow crane above him. A sense of
panic and urgency welled up inside him, but he did not know why.
Next item up for bid. A 7
th
Dynasty tome on the subject of The Barbaric
Ages. Note the good condition of the leather cover and that the gold trim is still
in tact.
Wait, I know that book. Thats my book! Who are you ?! You have no
right to sell my possessions! Oubulon bellowed as he started to run - to where
exactly was still a mystery to him.
All of his running did him very little good. He ended up standing outside a
huge stone sphere; it could easily hold seven barns inside its walls. Lights
flickered in the octagonal windows and the smell of butterscotch filled the air.
Oubulon was not sure if he should go forward at this point. Perhaps it was better
if he turned around. He looked behind him and saw several black canine shapes
moving through the tall grass. As they came closer, they revealed themselves as
black jackals. He decided that it was safer inside the sphere. The walls of this
strange structure were covered with a honeycomb lattice, like that found in a
beehive. Each hexagonal cell was the size of a small room; some cells actually
had fine silk curtains behind which light could be seen flickering.
Next item up for bid, a set of dinner plates. Note that the plates have a
creamy white glaze with blue and green decorative trim.
Those are my plates! Stop! You have no right to do this! Oubulon
protested in vain.


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Number 42 - ]4 Copper. Number 18 - \2 Ivory, ]1 Copper.
Stop this insanity! You are selling things which are not yours!
Oubulon searched the sphere in vain; he could not find the mysterious
voice. He then walked on. From time to time, he looked behind him -
sometimes he caught a glimpse of the black canines, following him at a distance.
When he paused for a moment, he noticed a thread upon the ground. It
had a most unusual hue: it reminded him of a yellow symbol that had plagued his
dreaming hours the past few weeks. However, it also reminded him of blonde
hair, which seemed so close - yet out of reach. He followed this thread for hours,
but only ended up where he started from.
A stone wall appeared before him. He could see smoke rising from behind
it. As he turned around, he saw the black jackals running toward him - there
must have been hundreds. He grabbed the handle of the gate but it was hot. He
wrapped his hand in the folds of his cloak and then opened the door. The garden
on the other side of the wall was beautiful. It was filled not only with trees, but
small fountains, each about a foot high. They came in all sorts of shapes:
horsemen, lions, cobras, musicians, circus performers, and even ones that looked
like king Hynyxoxo himself. The sun was setting as he walked toward the center.
He discovered a little wooden gazebo in the center of the garden; it was painted
red with pine railings which were painted green. In the distance, flames could
be seen.
Next item up for bid - The mysterious voice started.
Stop! I wont permit this!
Your bid?
52 Gold!
Number 3 - 52 Gold. Number 18 - 53 Gold, \14 Ivory. Number 72 -
53 Gold, \16 Ivory, ]43 Copper.
58 Gold! Oubulon shouted.
Number 3 - 58 Gold. Number 18 - 21 Platinum, 53 Gold, \14 Ivory.
Number 72 - 24 Platinum, 53 Gold, \16 Ivory, ]43 Copper. Number 124 - 31
Platinum.
I will give everything I have! Wait, what am I doing? I dont even know
what Im bidding on. Oubulon said, suddenly feeling disoriented. He
stumbled out of the garden, dazed and exhausted.
When he woke up, he was at the Red Rock Inn. He raced downstairs, only
to find the inn empty. Even the food was gone. However, the tables and floor
were littered with Copper, Ivory, Gold, and Platinum coins. Suddenly, he heard
the crackling of fire in the forest outside. He opened the door and saw a yellow
crane flying away. He decided to follow the bird.
He ended up at his house, which was burning vigorously. The flames
slowly licked the home, much as a cat savors a saucer of milk. The crane was


304
sitting on a branch nearby and black jackals sat in a nearby clearing, waiting to see
what would happen.
Oubulon! Help! Please! It was Mangats voice. Was this the voice
that had been tormenting him? No, it sounded more like Master Thune.
Although it also resembled Ricoas voice. Oubulon! Please! Hurry! The
voice interrupted his thoughts.
When he raced inside, he found Khyphryxia behind a wall of flames. He
tried to get around them, but the fire seemed to sense what he was trying to do,
and blocked his every move. It was as if it was toying with him.
Do you trust me? A familiar voice behind him said. Oubulon turned
around and saw Jhyndisel standing there. The boy held out his hand. Do you
trust me? He repeated again. There was something in his eyes - something
that Oubulon had not noticed before. Oubulon took his hand and they passed
through the fire.

Oubulon, wake up! Khyphryxia blurted out as she shook him. Startled,
he looked at her and then at the cave. He realized that it had been a dream.
What happened to your forehead? She scrutinized him while gently touching
his temple. There was a scar, above his right eye, which looked like it had been
made by a branding iron. The scar appeared as follows: .

Inwan pulled his hand from the fire. It crackled happily in the fireplace of
his parents home. Since his parents had died, he had very little reason to return.
He hoped this would be the last time he came back. Weeds had spread
throughout the backyard and a few dandelions poked their tawny heads into the
living room. Cobwebs drifted lazily on the small breezes that eddied in the
neglected corners. His childhood sanctuary now seemed dull and constricting -
just like Sanfir itself. The safe and familiar places he had treasured years ago
now seemed to be suffering under the vicious erosion of time. Yet even in this
tarnished condition, the tiny hamlet offered some comfort.
I almost think you enjoyed that! He disdainfully addressed the flames.
They flickered madly, almost gleefully. To put Master Oubulon through all that.
I thought this was only supposed to be a test. You seem to be making it a sport!
He reached inside the fire and awaited an answer. As usual, the flames did not
hurt him. Suddenly, his hand grew hot and he pulled it out before he got burned.
Master Inwan, have you made your decision? Yugutthef, Hettephs son,
said as he stepped into the room.
Im sorry, I didnt mean to keep everyone waiting. Inwan replied,
turning toward him.
Thats fine. I know it is a very big decision you have to make - so many


305
paths to choose. Yugutthef remarked, stepping closer.
I just wish I knew which way was right. Please, let everyone know that I
am very honored and I am seriously considering their proposal.
We all hope you say yes. I couldnt think of anyone better to be Sanfirs
Elder. Yugutthef smiled, putting his hand on Inwans shoulder.

















306
The Spider Spins its Web

Chapter 57 - Thalgrir

It was a sunny Riphtal day afternoon, with the breeze skimming along the
tops of the snow drifts. In the distance, Mangat and Wisayael heard groaning
and cracking, signs that the OlcDrost Glacier was slowly arousing from its deep
winter slumber. Herds of reindeer could be seen running along the ice.
There! Mangat shouted excitedly. Xaven surged on ahead, eager to
discover what secrets would be revealed. Xukulu followed behind, eager for rest
from the long journey. What lay before them was Koeldris Horn, a lone
mountain that dared rise above the imposing glacier. Even at this distance, they
could see giant towers dotting the mountainside. Each tower was a series of
pyramids one atop the other; ancient banners, weathered and frayed, fluttered
from their icy, battered sides. As they came nearer, Mangat could see birds
circling the top of the mountain. Now, just like we talked about my good
friend. Mangats words were slow and steady as he gently stroked Xavens neck.
His scales felt warm despite the cold - Mangat could tell that the young
sovereigns blood was running hot with excitement. He could even feel Xavens
blood rhythmically surging through his muscular body. Instead of landing in
front of the mountain, as Mangat hoped, Xaven headed for the crest. No,
Xaven, down, just like we talked about, remember? Mangat said, his calm
giving way to increasing anxiety as they drew closer to the eagles circling the
mountain. They were large snowy eagles, each with a wingspan of eight feet.
Xaven would not deviate in his course however and flew straight ahead. One of
the eagles screeched and flew towards them.
You cannot pass! They wont allow it! Land you fool, land! Just as
Mangat was finished saying this, the eagle flew right over his head - Mangat would
have suffered a serious injury if he hadnt ducked. Another eagle came at them
from the left and Xaven shot upward. Just as the bird passed underneath them,
Xaven grabbed it in his claws and crushed it. Another bird came from behind
and tore the edge of Xavens left wing with its talons. Xaven roared in pain and
anger and the battle began in earnest. Although Xaven was scorching his
assailants with his fiery breath and striking them down with his claws and tail, he
was in danger of being overwhelmed. Then Xukulu flew up from below and
joined the battle. Both dragons were eventually able to kill the eagles, but they
did not escape unscathed.
Mangat! Wisayael cried running up to him. His left arm was bleeding


307
and she was about to bandage it when Mangat started walking to where Xaven
was sitting. For his part, Xaven was staring intently at the top of the mountain.
What was that all about?! Mangat angrily demanded. The dragon
looked at him and then at the entrance of the mountain. He stood on his hind
legs and roared loudly, as if declaring victory. Xukulu appeared puzzled and
walked closer to the entrance. He stuck his head in and quickly pulled it out, as if
shocked by what he saw there. He started digging frantically, trying to make the
entrance bigger so he could enter the mountain. No! Stop! You will destroy
the chamber inside! Wisyael, tell him to sit or stay or just behave! What has
gotten into you two?! Mangat burst out, bewildered and exasperated.
When they finally entered the mountain, Mangat and Wisayael walked
down a long stone corridor. There were pictures of serpents and griffons on the
walls, ceiling, and floor of the hall. There were also dragons carved into the
walls, some of which had rubies for eyes. Others had jade stones in their eye
sockets. The statues gave the visitors the unnerving feeling that they were
being watched; their gems glinted coldly in the torchlight and every so often
seemed to sparkle with an ancient, calculating intelligence. The wind was
blowing in from behind them, but it also came from the room at the end of the
hall. The smell of sulfur grew stronger as they walked down the corridor.
The inner chamber itself was about the size of a barn. An eerie fog covered
the floor. Several shafts of light pierced the darkness, like spectral columns.
There were bones scattered everywhere, large bones.
What do you make of this? Mangats voice seemed to vibrate and echo as
it passed through ice and fog. He ran his hand over one particularly large bone.
It felt as smooth as polished glass.
I dont believe it, its incredible! Wisayael whispered excitedly. It must
be a graveyard of some kind.
A dragon graveyard. Mangat murmured, as he ran his hand over a large
skull - it still had its fangs and horns. Thats why Xaven was so angry.
Im getting a little chilled - shouldnt we be about the task at hand?
Of course my dear, Im sorry for dawdling. Mangat searched the walls as
he shivered from the cold. Now, where is it? Ahhh...here! He found a small
stone set in the wall and pushed it in. The wall shuddered and slowly split apart
with a low rumbling sound. Before their eyes was a giant iron wheel with runes
upon it. This is no use! Manats tone was tired and dreary. He stepped back
from the challenge out of breath. Then both he and Wisayael tried to turn the
wheel but it would not budge.
No, we have to do something, weve come too far. Wisayaels voice
sounded like the wind moaning through the mountain. There they stood, staring
defeat in the face, yet somehow defying hopelessness.
Suddenly, small rocks fell all about them and they heard a clawing and
scrabbling sound above them. Xaven was crawling down the largest shaft to


308
meet them. When he arrived, he looked about him. The prince slowly inspected
the bones, stopping to sniff or lick certain ones.
No, not yet dear - let him have this moment. Mangat whispered to
Wisyael.
Then the dragon looked at the iron wheel and grunted; he did not like this
object being placed in a sacred graveyard. However, he understood what was at
stake. He approached it and gripped it with his claws. It took all of his might to
turn the wheel. When nothing happened, he turned around and gave Mangat a
cold glare.
Not here, my student. You will see the results of your effort later, in
another place - I promise.
When they returned to the glacier, Xukulu was gone. Wisayael panicked
but Xaven slowly approached her and bent his head low. He looked into her eyes
and this seemed to reassure her that everything was ok.
That night, Wisayael dreamt that she was in the imposing castle by the sea.
There was a man sitting on a throne, a king - and yet more than a king, a father of
countless generations. A young man quickly walked into the hall. He had
brown skin and three braids of black hair protruded from his bald head. He was
wearing white plate armor.
Father, I bring good news. The young man announced, kneeling before
his king.
Rise Xukulu. What news do you have? Rifune graciously responded.
He got off his throne and stood before his son.
We have found the graveyard of the seventh brood - it is ours again. The
enemy will no longer defile it.
Well done! Well done. Rifunes words rang out like a song of victory.
The glory goes to Xaven father, he recognized the place for what it truly
was.
When Wisayael awoke, her eyes were blue-green, like Xukulus. As the day
progressed, her eyes would fade into their natural color. She looked toward the
sky and smiled - she enjoyed these dreams and felt as if someone were sharing a
secret with her. When Mangat saw her, he pulled back slightly. He had never
quite gotten used to this phenomenon, even when it happened to himself.

Mangat and Wisayael stayed at Koeldris horn for two days, longer than
they would have liked, but they did so out of respect for Xaven. On the dawn of
the third day, Wisayael saw something in the distance flying toward them. After
several minutes, the object became clear: Xukulu was coming towards them,
flying with purpose and intent. Several moments later, four more objects
appeared on the horizon. When Xukulu finally landed in front of her, he was
exhausted - he had flown as fast as he could to return to her. Xaven walked up to
him and licked his middle horn. Then he let Xukulu sleep and turned his


309
attention toward the objects in the distance - they seemed to gleam and shimmer
in the sunlight. Four golden dragons landed in front of Xaven and bowed low.
Xaven bowed in return and touched his horns to the horns of each dragon. Then
the four golden dragons circled the mountain, searching for something. After
several moments, one dived toward the mountain and landed on a great stony
perch, which had been buried under centuries of snow. The other three found
their places and took their rightful positions as the guardians of the graveyard.

Kuts Horn was their next destination. When they arrived, they were
greeted by nothing more than snow, much to every ones relief. The same
pyramidal towers that decorated Koeldris horn were here too; though several had
succumbed to the ravages of time and had tumbled down the mountainside. As
they crossed the entrance to the inner chamber, Mangat noticed a giant slab of
rock which had recently sunk into the ground.
Come, come look! Mangat shouted to Xaven. He came over, examined
the sunken rock, and then purred contentedly. See? I told you that your effort
would not be in vain. Then Mangat and Wisayael went in.
The inner chamber contained a giant brass basin, large enough to
accommodate a small house. It was covered with snow and there were icicles
hanging from its sides. Oddly enough, certain areas of the basin felt warm to
the touch, despite the frigid temperatures in the room. Several smaller brass
basins were scattered throughout the room. After hours of searching, all they
found was an iron hammer.
If I had my xylophone here, I could at least play us a nice dirge. Mangat
commented sarcastically. His voice splashed against the stony walls. By the
way, where is my xylophone? I havent seen it for the better part of a year.
Give me that! Wisayael piped up, playfully snatching the hammer from
his hand. Thats the last thing we need - another morning serenade. She
laughed. Love is the sweetest wine. She gurgled. She imitated Mangats voice
as best she could; she hit the basin in front of her each time she sang out a word:
I wish I could be drunk all the time! The sound of the hammer on the basin
seemed to reverberate among the walls and lingered for an unusual time before it
died down.
Wait! Thats it! Now I know what it means.... He said looking through
the notes he took at AostNor. Do you have your notes with you my dear? He
excitedly asked.
Right here, what are you looking for? She was now genuinely curious;
they looked over the notes, side by side.
A tune. He triumphantly quipped.
After a few moments, Mangat ran around the room, hitting the basins with
the hammer. As he went from one basin to the next, an odd music filled the
room and reverberated among the stone and metal. As the sound grew louder,


310
the north wall began to rumble and split apart, much like the wall at Koeldris
horn. Again, with Xavens help, they were able to turn the huge iron wheel.
After days of traveling, they finally arrived at the place where Thalgrir
should have been. What lay before them was a frozen field with spots of snow
here and there. The landscape was littered with rocks and fallen trees. Several
bare trees had the audacity to remain standing among their dead brethren. It
was cloudy and snowflakes drifted slowly down from the sky. While Mangat and
Wisayael searched for clues, Xaven and Xukulu wrestled.
Hes healed nicely since his battle with the eagles I see. Wisayael
commented.
Indeed. I think the healing goes deeper than the scales, dont you?
Mangat mused, scanning the frozen horizon.
I have noticed - a greater sense of dignity and peace - from both of them.
I wonder if that was the last battle between the two masters of the sky -
Or perhaps the first? Wisayael interjected, finishing his thought.
What is that? Mangat pointed to a clearing. There was a large iron
lever, as tall as a tree. It was standing all alone, almost beckoning to them. On
both sides of the lever, there was a stone slab that had recently rolled back. Now
that the slabs covering the lever had receded, the lever had risen up out of the
ground. One slab was engraved with the word Koeldri and the other was
engraved with the word Kut. It took the combined might of Xaven and
Xukulu to actually move the lever along its thirty yard track. When this was
accomplished, another stone slab receded, revealing a broad staircase leading
downward. The stairs were forty yards wide and inlaid with ivory, turquoise,
brass, and ebony.
Now...the time has come to discover the secrets lost to the ages. Mangat
proclaimed with a air of triumph.
And prevent them from being seen by the wrong eyes. Wisayael sternly
replied. Remember, we must find the Key of Undoing first.
I havent forgotten what Andreaxilous told us. I was just trying not to
dwell on the unpalatable aspects of this momentous occasion. Mangats words
ended in a sigh of resignation.
Though the library will be gone, we still have its architects to rely on. She
reminded him, kissing him on the cheek.
Knowledge - our only hope and yet our greatest enemy. Mangats voice
was dripping in bittersweet irony.
You two had best take to the sky. Wisayael petted Xukulu and Xaven. I
think we shall be here a few days. Being excused from further labor, the dragons
gleefully launched themselves into the sky and flew south.

They walked down the passageway solemnly and in awe; it seemed that the
stairs went on forever. On the walls flanking their grand descent were


311
engravings of the Auglinous once mighty civilization. The further they
descended, the more the pictures evolved - new figures and objects were depicted
that were not seen earlier. After walking more than five miles, they reached their
destination. What came into view was a chamber lit by phosphorescent columns
and rivers of faintly glowing liquid. The ancient library was as big as a city,
perhaps even bigger. It was perched on a series of small hills, with streets
ascending and descending the gentle slopes. There were small stone buildings
scattered throughout the chamber. Some where shaped like pyramids, others
resembled huge stone spheres, some took the shape of cubes, a few buildings
resembled cones, and others looked like cylinders. A large pyramidal tower rose
up out of the center of the city. It was adorned with multi-colored banners and
tapestries, which seemed as if they had been woven just that morning. As they
walked through the streets, the smell of orchids and lilies, as well as violets and
roses, tickled their noses. The rushing of small glacial streams could be heard
throughout the cavern.
Where do we begin? Mangat wondered in awe.
If only we could read the inscriptions on the spheres. Wisayael pondered
aloud. She traced the inscription on a nearby stone sphere with her fingers.
The spheres were as big as a small house. They bore the same kind of markings
that they had seen at Entaw.Sol. However, there was a fine black sand that
lined some of the etchings.
The inscription on this particular sphere read:




















312
e . e
_
xe r S ate `z o . Kno . ledge
P
r e- I a
e- s s
e d |
h r o
m
.
h .
I I
c n
_

h s
a

e O


That key could be anywhere. The irony of it all makes my skin tingle -
finding something that I dont want to see. Yet, the alternative is worse, so the
fate of this incredible sanctuary must be consigned to oblivion. As Mangat
reluctantly let these last words escape from his lips, he ran his hands over one of
the spheres.
Julieen, Talieen, Cuspar, Entho, Wisayael began, pointing to
different buildings as she said the words. Hold the brigand by his toes -
Thats not how it goes. Mangat interrupted with disdain. Its: catch a
king by his nose.
This is the Euaphixian version.
There is no Eauphixian version - Wisayael shot him a cold glare. Then
again, I never traveled far as a child.
Julieen, Talieen, Cuspar, Entho, Wisayael continued, pointing to different
buildings as she said the words. Hold the brigand by his toes. If he cries let me go
-
An crude derivative of the original, but pleasant sounding nonetheless.


313
Mangat quietly said under his breath.
Julieen, Talieen, Cuspar, Entho! Wisayael finished, ignoring him. Her
finger ended up pointing to a pyramid a half mile away.

Once inside the building, they were confronted by a labyrinth of sliding
wood panels with rice paper parchment. The rice paper was remarkably
preserved; every detail painted on them was distinct and bold. The scene in front
of them depicted two white haired youths guarding two marble urns next to
several trees and a river.
Something about this picture seems familiar. Its as if I have seen this one
before, but from a distance while I was drifting helplessly in a long forgotten
dream. Wisayael hazily stated, pointing to the youth on the right. After several
more moments of pondering, they continued their search.
Scattered upon the sandy floor were stone tablets and wooden tablets with
unusual markings and diagrams. The runes upon the tablets flowed out in a
concentric spiral and made one dizzy if they stared at the design long enough.
The larger runes had letters and symbols inscribed inside them. They also found
an abacus there, however instead of having a rectangular frame it was circular in
shape. Mounted perpendicularly on the wooden frame of the abacus were fifteen
poles. Some of the poles had colored wooden squares on them (which could be
removed from the pole), while other poles were bare.
Mangat, do you hear that? Wisayael whispered to him.
No. Then again, my hearing has been assaulted by the ringing of hammer
on anvil for so many years that it is of little use to anyone. He blithely observed.
Shhh! She replied harshly. She quietly crept to the window and saw
something she did not want to see. Soldiers at the edge of the city, the standard
of the Black Jackal being ruffled by the wind rushing in from the cold plain above.
Is there any other way out? She turned to Mangat.
Lets hope so.
They walked quickly down the street, away from the entrance. They
headed towards the dark stone wall that marked the end of the fantastic library.
As they groped along the wall, they searched in vain for an exit. The sound of
footsteps and voices was growing louder. Mangat looked around and grabbed
Wisayael as he ducked into a nearby building.
That entrance is our only way out. He whispered.
And there must be a hundred soldiers out there. We could hide-
But not forever. He argued, looking out a window. The way is clear,
lets go. Mangats icy determination coated him with an unusual aura of
composure. They ran to an alley across from the building. A soldier passed
the alley seconds later. As they looked down the dark passage, Mangat and
Wisayael ducked behind a fallen stone. When the soldier moved on, they
continued down the alley and came out upon a street. As they ran towards the


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entrance, soldiers could be heard one street over. Just before the Black Jackals
came to the street they were on, they hid in another building. After waiting for
the invaders to leave, they ran out of the building and continued to the entrance.
Then they ducked into another alley to avoid being seen. Then, as they turned
the corner of the alley, they came upon several soldiers.
Theyre here! The commander called to the rest of the troops. Mangat
and Wisayael ran as fast as they could, with the soldiers on their heels. They
ducked into a building and headed towards the second floor.
Quick, the doors! Mangat ordered, pushing old furniture against the
doors. Wisayael helped him and soon they were barricaded in. They could hear
the soldiers down below, searching the room. Then they heard footsteps coming
up the stairs. The panels! Mangat whispered. The panels were just long
enough to reach from the window to the building across the street. So, with a
flimsy bridge, they exited that building and entered the next. As they did so,
CNumtis servants were just one storey below them, unaware of what was
happening above.
After they had reached the next building, they attempted another crossing.
However, the wooden panel gave way. Were it not for his quick reflexes, Mangat
would have plummeted three stories to the cold pavement below. As it was, he
was clinging to the edge of the window.
Hold on! Wisayael said as she struggled to pull him in. All the
commotion had drawn the attention of the invaders, who were now running
toward them. Wisayael gave one final, mighty tug. Mangat managed to secure
his grip on the ledge and finally made his way to safety.
As they ran out of the building and up a hill, they passed a sphere. It was
perched precariously, in danger of coming loose.
We need allies. I think I know how we can create an environment that
will be to our advantage. Mangat looked around and found a long iron rod.
With the help of a smaller stone, he and Wisayael used the rod as a lever and
moved the stone sphere from its resting place. It rolled forward slowly at first,
making a rumbling noise. As it rolled down the slope, it picked up speed; the
ground trembled before the massive rock as it made its way down the bumpy
streets. Mangat and Wisayael wasted no time in seeing what would happen next
and they made their way towards the entrance.
The stone sphere bumped into several other spheres as it crashed through
the streets, setting the others in motion. After a few moments, all of the stone
spheres were racing through the city.
Ready? Now! Mangat whispered. He and Wisayael ran across a
street; a stone sphere was just yards away and coming fast. They made it to
building as the rock passed. However, footsteps could be heard above and they
ran out again.
It was a maddening orchestra of Black Jackals and rolling spheres.


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Although several of the dark warriors fell victim to the stones, there were still
many of them.
Just let me catch my breath. I dont see anyone around - we should be
safe for the moment. Mangat sputtered. He was out of breath and his
confidence was waning. An arrow whistled through the air and grazed his side.
Mangat! Wisayael screamed.
Time to fly my dear! Although in pain, Mangat got up and they moved as
fast as they could.
They were about to step out onto the main thoroughfare and make a mad
dash for freedom, but Mangat felt a firm hand on his shoulder.
No. Not yet. Theyll catch us. We cant take the direct route.
Wisayaels wisdom and confidence swept over him like a crashing wave.
Finally, after sneaking into and out of buildings, creeping through alleys,
and crossing from rooftop to rooftop on makeshift bridges, the exit was only a few
hundred yards away. Seconds seemed to be hours as they ran toward the stairs.
Finally, they reached the entrance.

Ah....What a spectacle! I dont think I will see anything like that again for
the rest of my days. A voice came from behind them. It had a certain shadowy,
spider like quality. They turned around in surprise and CNumti stepped forward
from the gloom. Then they were surrounded by guards. You my dear,
CNumti grinned as he approached Wisayael, Will enjoy your new home - I
think. He giggled - it was an awful sound that made them queasy deep inside.
You, however, will not find your new home so pleasant. CNumtis words
pierced the shadows like daggers as he walked over to Mangat. The guards then
pulled them away, each one bound for a different prison.









316
The Spider Spins its Web

Chapter 58 - The Grove of Sacred Rock

So beautiful, one of the great marvels. Jhyndisels soft words perfectly
complimented the serene starry atmosphere. The Dragons Thread was
sparkling in the night sky, with Nibat and KPosh above.
Did you say something, young prince? Oubulons question brought
Jhyndisel out of his reverie. He rode up next to the young man and joined him in
his wistful contemplation.
Ive always been captivated by the Dragons Thread. So beautiful, so
mysterious.
Some say that at one end lies the unhatched eggs of the great serpents and
on the other end, their final resting place. Oubulon quipped.
Yet that is not what you believe.
No, not at all. Oubulon replied, somewhat surprised. Had the young
heir to the crown actually read some of his papers? This intriguing and utterly
unbelievable thought stilled his tongue for the next several miles.
The Wild Lands about them had many small streams. They carried
various multi-hued ores and even some faintly glowing phosphorus dust from the
nearby hills. It was like wading through small rainbows. Giant elms, towering
hundreds of feet into the air, were all around. Owls could be heard, making their
own contribution to the nocturnal choir.
As the sun rose, a path became clear. It was very overgrown with grass,
thistles, and weeds, but it was a trail nonetheless. After pursuing this new course
for several more miles, they camped and had breakfast.
Your silence betrays your feelings. Khyphryxia began, looking into her
husbands eyes. She was sitting across the campfire from him, drinking tea from
a tin cup.
I was just thinking about a conversation Jhyndisel and I had. At times,
there seems to be more to him than meets the eye, but I dont know what.
Now you are beginning to see him as I do. She smiled. Inwardly, she
worried that Jhyndisel would not be able to live up to the high expectations placed
upon him by others or by the grim situation that lay before them.
Still, I dont think his focus is here. He turned around and observed the
prince for a moment, his brow furrowed. Jhyndisel was standing a little ways
from the campfire, looking behind them, to the north and east.
Is that such a grave concern? He really is just tagging along. She looked


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at her younger brother and wondered what his fascination was with whatever lay
behind them. Did he miss home? Did he yearn for his fathers protection?
He will have to learn how to be alert to here and now if he is to survive.
Oubulon argued. Just as he was about to call to him, Jhyndisel walked over. Are
you ready? Oubulons words seemed to douse Jhyndisels spirit.
Yes. Im sorry if my daydreaming kept us here too long. Jhyndisel
replied, slightly embarrassed.
We have a task at hand and we should continue on our journey. Oubulon
said, getting to his feet.

After traveling several more hours, they came to a huge field dotted with
milky white stones. Some were the size of a mans head and others were the size of
a barn. Some were buried deep in the ground, with only the tops peeking above
the grass. Others towered above them. The surface of the rocks alternated
between bands that were smoother than polished glass and rings that felt rougher
than sandpaper. They felt warm, despite the cold rain that pelted them. The
wind rushed through the stones and made an eerie whistling noise. The
whistling combined with the chirping of insects and the calls of birds to make a
very unsettling sound. An overpowering scent of burnt wood filled their nostrils.
After another two miles, several broken pillars came into view. They stood
proudly, defiantly, among broken walls and crumbling fortifications. As they
drew nearer, they rode past rusting armor, broken swords, and bones. Three
symbols kept appearing, over and over:

=

=





Sometimes, they were caved into a pillar, some appeared on an overturned
stone, and others were inscribed upon the rock underneath them. To Oubulon


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and Khyphryxia, there were a mystery. But to Jhyndisel they had some meaning;
it was as if he had seen them long ago in a almost forgotten dream. Try as he
might, however, he could not unlock their secrets.
Jhyndisel, get behind me. Khyphryxia commanded slowly. There was a
cold, determined look in her eyes. Several men in black armor could be seen
moving about in the ruins ahead of them. Their shields bore the insignia of the
Black Jackal. They seemed too busy to notice the trio. Then someone spotted
the newcomers and shouted to the rest of the men.
Soon there was a band of ten armed soldiers rushing at them, swords
drawn. The galloping of their horses was drowned out by the beating of
Jhyndisels heart. He drew his sword, but his hands were shaking. Oubulon
drew his bow and struck down two before they could draw near.
Jhyndisel, follow me! Khyphryxia ordered. She charged on ahead with
Jhyndisel close behind her. Her mind was divided. She not only thought of the
foes ahead, but the young prince behind. Would he remember his training?
Would his courage stand? She would find out soon enough.
Just before they met, Oubulons arrow whistled by, striking down another
Black Jackal. This boosted her confidence; Khyphryxia urged her horse on and
shouted. Her first pass devastated her opponent, now only six remained. As
she turned her horse around, she noticed that Jhyndisel had been knocked off his
horse and was in peril. He held his sword in his hands and was doing all he could
to keep alive. She passed again and struck down another enemy. Soon
thereafter, Oubulon struck down another rider.
After another pass, Khyphryxia knocked one of the warriors off his horse.
She was about to end his life when she heard another combatant charging up
behind her. Cursing, she realized that Jhyndisel would have to deal with him -
alone. She turned her horse around and rushed toward her next victim.
However, this rider was as skilled as she, and as they passed, they each drew
blood. Khyphryxia, somewhat stunned at this slight injury and momentary
setback, took a second or two to recoup. Then she charged at her opponent
again.
All that had remained of the raiding party were two, and Oubulon was
unable to help Jhyndisel with his opponent, for fear of hitting the boy. Jhyndisel,
scared and awkward, circled his opponent, deflecting his blows and making feeble
thrusts and parries. Luck was on his side however; his foe lost his balance and
fell off of the large stone they were on. Jhyndisel took advantage of this
opportunity to strike and killed for the first time.
By this time, Khyphryxia had finished off her opponent and was bleeding
from several cuts. Oubulon rushed to her side and cared for her wounds.
Jhyndisel stood over his slain opponent, horrified at the sight, yet not able to look
away. Then they sat down to rest and recuperate from their battle.
After having a quick meal, they searched the ruins. They were extensive,


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with narrow passages, trenches, and crumbling rooms. Oubulon and Khyphryxia
carefully turned over rocks and searched moldy, burnt tomes. Sometimes they
climbed up onto a nearby stone to get their bearings. Then they studied the
maps and writings they brought with them. This led to gingerly unearthing more
aged, crumbling paper, which was barely legible. Jhyndisel, for his part,
wandered through the ruins like a dog with its tail between its legs.
These stones, the round ones. Somehow they must be part of this puzzle.
Khyphryxia remarked, running her hands over a nearby stone. It was as large as
a small dog and had a bluish color to it.
Hmmmm.......stones. Like these? Oubulon pointed to an illustration he
had brought with him.
Yes, but what do we do with them? She wondered, looking around.
Dearest Bright Star, Im still trying to find the pillar. If we cant do that,
we will have traveled and fought in vain.
Perhaps the two are connected somehow.
Yes, but how? Oubulon replied, looking again at the stones and then at
the picture.
They spent the next several hours combing the area for clues. By the time
night came, they were weary, yet still determined. They lit a fire and ate.
Silence prevailed as hope seemed to dwindle. They slept uneasily, disturbed by
the cold winds and the thought of who might visit them.
The next morning, Oubulon woke to find Jhyndisel holding his illustration,
upside down. He traced his fingers along the lines and turned it this way and
that.
My lad, you are holding the drawing upside down. Oubulon remarked.
However, as he looked at the back of the paper with its unusual orientation, he
saw something he had missed. Thats it! He shouted. No, no. Like this.
He excitedly murmured to Jhyndisel. He took the paper and turned it over and
then turned it upside down, so the young prince could see it too. What was
revealed were faint markings, which spelled out a riddle:

Three down,
Hidden in the ground,
Ascend one,
Rising toward the sun.

Look, scour the ground, the answer lies there! Oubulon happily
encouraged them. After searching for hours, they uncovered four holes near the
center of the ruins. They stood around, looking at the holes.


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Four, not three. Is there any more to the riddle? Khyphryxias tone was
disappointed, yet gentle.
Nothing. To make sure, Oubulon looked again.
What if there is something in the holes? This was the first time Jhyndisel
mustered up the courage to speak since the attack.
How would we find out? The holes are too small for any one of us to fit
in. Oubulon argued, dismissing his idea.
What are you thinking Jhyndisel? Khyphryxia gently and cautiously
articulated her hope as Oubulon wandered off.
Perhaps there is something in there that we need to figure out the puzzle.
He timidly speculated. When he saw that she was still listening, he continued:
I could reach in and see if something is in there.
It would be a dangerous thing to do, who knows what is in those holes?
But if you are willing....
I am. With that, Jhyndisel got down on the ground and stuck his fingers
a few inches into one of the holes. It felt damp and cool. When nothing
happened, he gathered his courage and stuck his hand down further. He could
feel roots and moss covered stones which lined the small tunnel. He put his hand
down further, slowly, inch by inch. Suddenly, something bit his finger. He
pulled his hand out with a yelp. He looked at his finger and noticed a small red
spot.
What happened? Oubulon cried out, as he came running over. He
looked at the boys finger and sighed. At least all of his fingers are still here.
As they looked for herbs to soothe Jhyndisels itching finger, they moved
several of the round blue stones. Khyphryxia could not help but think that they
were somehow connected to the mystery. She pushed one of the stones away and
it rolled toward a hole. It fell in and made a clunk! as it hit the bottom. A faint
sound could be heard; a rumbling followed by the sound of stone on stone. It
seemed to come from right underneath her.
Bright Star, you may have solved our mystery! Oubulon happily
declared. He then rolled a blue stone into two other holes. The same rumbling
sound was heard, followed by the sound of stone knocking against stone. Then
all was still and silent. After much debate and contemplation, they hit upon a
plan. Oubulon put two more stones in one of the holes. The rumbling sound
could be heard again, this time much louder. The stone in the center of the
ruins rose up two feet. They shouted for joy at their triumph. They quickly
filled the other holes.
Before them stood a pillar with a doorway carved into it. Incredibly, a
garland of fresh wild flowers wound itself around the tower, even though there
was no way they could have bloomed so quickly. In the handle of the door were
three tear shaped holes, that must have once held precious jewels of some sort.
Before either Khyphryxia or Oubulon could say anything, Jhyndisel stepped


321
forward and put his hand on the handle. The moment his fingers curled around
the stone, he thought he heard a distant, faint sobbing. As he pushed open the
door, ancient, forgotten air suddenly rushed out, as if waiting all this time to
ambush some unsuspecting victim. Spiral stairs descended into the blackness
below.
They found themselves in a series of narrow passages that seemed to twist
and turn in almost impossible directions. Wet roots crisscrossed the floor and
did their best to trip them up. Pieces of shale jutted out of the muddy earth and
cast thousands of splintering, quivering shadows all about them. The air was
filled with a smell of dead rotting things, but occasionally a refreshing sweet scent
intervened. As they wandered, they kept passing the three same symbols that
decorated the surface of the ruins. Every once in a while, they could hear
something in the darkness skittering just out of the torchlight.
Exhausted, Oubulon rested upon a wall decorated with one of the symbols.
The wall started to move, ever so slightly. With effort, all three pushed the wall
to reveal a passage to the next corridor. There they found another wall adorned
with one of the mysterious symbols. This wall also yielded to their efforts, and
soon they were making a direct path to the center of the labyrinth.
Unfortunately, Khyphryxias torch went out before they had gotten halfway
there. The mysterious beast which had been following them, now emboldened
by the diminished light, came closer.
It was the size of two horses and looked like a giant shrimp with a scorpions
tail. It flung its limbs about wildly, trying to secure its next meal. Although
Oubulon tried to avoid being its next victim, he was snatched up in the monsters
grasp. Jhyndisel flung his torch wildly at the creature, while Khyphryxia tried to
get past its many limbs. Tumbling out of the way and then running forward,
Jhyndisel struck one of its limbs with his torch. Khyphryxia seized upon the
opportunity and cut off several of the creatures legs with one stroke. The
monster shrieked and dropped Oubulon. He recovered quickly, and drawing his
last arrow, took aim at the creature.
Jhyndisel, get down! He yelled. The young prince fell to the floor and a
second later an arrow whistled over him.
It hit the creature right between its eyes and it fell down dead.
I hope that is the last one of its kind. Jhyndisel said, looking at the dead
carcass.
So do I, since I used my last arrow to kill it.

They proceeded to the center of the maze unmolested. Before them was a
large room. In the center was a sarcophagus made of the same milky white
stones as they had seen above. The three mysterious characters that adorned the
desolate site were inlaid in gold upon the coffin. The lid had been pried off and
was laying on its side next to the sarcophagus. The final resting place was
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surrounded by a circle of silver. Beyond this, there were four large iron pots with
candles in each pot. There was trash and rubble scattered throughout. The
murals on the walls had been burned and covered with some sort of black dye.
Oh no. No. Oubulon lamented, approaching the coffin. He looked
inside and it was empty. They spent the rest of the day searching the chamber
and the maze; all they found was rubble.
This cant be happening! Oubulon angrily shouted.
It is. Khyphryxia gently countered.
We must find Jisi! We have no other choice. Oubulon sat down, weary
and hopeless.
We have searched everywhere. The ring isnt here. She firmly avowed,
kneeling down and looking into his eyes.
Then we will search again, after we have rested a bit.
The next day, they searched the chamber and the maze even more
thoroughly. The even searched the surface. They repeated this day after day for
two weeks.
We have to face the unthinkable. The ring is lost. Khyphryxias words
hit her beloved with a bluntness that startled him.
We must keep looking. We have no other choice.
Its time to come up with another choice. We should move on now, we
have a lot of work to do. She declared, mounting her horse. Then with
Jhyndisel behind her, she rode away.
Oubulon stood there for a moment, in the center of that desolate, forgotten
place. Then he mounted his horse and followed his wife.









323
The Spider Spins its Web

Chapter 59 - Into the Darkness

A faint smile crossed Oubulons face as he walked through the doors of his
home. Everything was just as he had left it, which was comforting to him.
Perhaps all this madness and sorrow shall pass - simply fade as shadows
before the rising sun. He thought to himself. He heard his hawks crying
outside; he sighed and went out to greet them.
I see that old scoundrel has been fattening you up on toast. Oubulon
complained. He untied the small box which hung around the birds neck. There
was a letter inside. He applied his ashen gray powder to the blank page and
waited with dread as the letters appeared. The note read:

Dear Oubulon,

I hope my encouragement travels as swiftly as your
unfortunate news. It is true that we have not yet found Jisi, but we
have not lost the war. In the absence of our great champion, we will
all have to become the hero that we have so long anticipated.
And the time to assume the mantle of courage is now. While
Wisayael and I have been searching for Thalgrir, the kingdoms
continue to tear at each other like a pack of rabid hyenas. A few
societies have been trying to hold the realms together, but things are
not going as well as we had hoped. What is worse is that instead of
coming together, several of the societies are drifting apart, further
complicating matters. My friend, I know that you are searching
for Jisi with all your heart and soul, but I must ask one more thing of
you. You must unite us; if our kings and parliaments desert us the
societies are our only hope!
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I may not be able to get word to you for some time, but never
forget that I am with you in this horrible tragedy. As soon as we
find Thalgrir, I will return to the lands of the West. Perhaps the
western monarchs will listen to reason and further bloodshed can be
avoided.
I hope you have your needle and thread handy, old friend; we
seem to be coming apart at the seams!

Mangat

Although Khyphryxia and Oubulon were glad to be home, Jhyndisel felt
empty, as if he was missing something. Not even the sunlight streaming into
Crown Hall could lift his spirits. He looked out towards the east - in the distance
the Gray Mountains sat, shrouded in clouds, ash, and smoke. Were they
protecting the valley below from the sunlight, or were they protecting the outside
world from the valley?
Then he looked to the south. The suns rays were shining down upon
Oethalga Square below them. A beautiful mural graced the cobbled stones of the
square: it depicted a white lion defending a nest of cranes eggs from a pack of
hyenas. The dry air rushed through the square and into the forest beyond.
There the wind caressed and teased the grove of immense baobab trees. These
wooden sentinels had reached old age before the first stone of Crown Hall had
been set into place.
No! That is stupidity at its best! King Hynyxoxo roared. Startled,
Jhyndisel turned around. The king was on one side of his table, and one of his
advisors was across from him. The map between them now was a jumble of
colored stones: the yellow stones of Axandali were outnumbered by the blue
stones of Slunarkien. In the north east corner of the map, red stones,
representing Raspladex were gathered in three separate piles. Would you have
foreigners walk upon the bones of our ancestors?!
No, Mighty Hynyxoxo. I was wrong to suggest an alliance with
Symandar. His advisor cowered, eyes cast downward.
Jhyndisel! Come, look. See our glory. Hynyxoxos voice was hypnotic,
infused with madness and serenity.
Yes Father.
What do you see? His fathers words were soft, cunning, and seemed to
slither off his tongue. He put his arm around his son gently, yet to Jhyndisel it
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felt like an iron python.
I see our armies and those of Slunarkien and Raspladex. He replied after
some careful thought. He knew better than to speak his mind - or patronize his
father.
Come, now what do you see? Hynyxoxo prodded, leading his son to a
window. Below, the armies of Axandali were marching out of the gate. Carved
into the stone arch of the gate was an intimidating gargoyle: it was a huge serpent
with a multitude of centipede legs. It seemed to be looking down upon the
passing soldiers with a smile of approval (or was it a wicked grin?). The brave,
ill-fated warriors of Axandali were clad in black chain mail which still smelled of
forge and fire. The iron helmets upon their heads were decorated with lavish
plumes of yellow feathers, which fluttered in the wind. The regal lineage was
chanted as they held their iron shields and spears proudly. The white lions paw
upon each shield promised strength and courage, while the fern leaves tied to the
spear kept them connected to their home. In the far distance, Jhyndisel could
see the smoke rising from the latest battle. In the sky, two large ravens circled
above the palace.
I see our brethren defending our country. He timidly sputtered out.
I see the last days of our glorious kingdom. The king replied calmly, while
studying his sons face. No country stands forever. The tale of what we do now
shall blaze across the sky like a thousand shooting stars. His gentle smile
almost became a maniacal grin as he turned towards the map.
May I go now father?
Yes, but remember to take your sword and shield with you. The king
replied without looking up from the map.

Jhyndisel headed for the royal garden, which was always a refuge from daily
life at the palace. The main gate was unguarded and Jhyndisel felt a sadness, since
he had known the sentry for most of his life. He unlocked the gate with his key
and walked in. The scent of wild flowers, the banana and fig trees and the breeze
that danced between them - it all helped him escape. As the moments turned
into minutes, however, he thought he heard the cries of war in the distance. They
were very faint but he was sure they would get louder in time.
As he walked further into the refuge, he came upon the gloomy corner. It
was a corner of the garden that had fallen into a state of neglect. The walls
around it seemed to shield the overgrown thicket from sunlight. Weeds and
briars twined around the once lovely trees and the grass had become unruly.
However, what unsettled him most was an unnerving new addition to this forlorn
place: a spider had built an enormous web that encompassed several trees. The
web greedily clutched the husks of many, many dead insects - a shiver ran down
Jhyndisels spine just looking at it. Something glinted in the darkness and his
curiosity overcame his trepidation; he walked closer and then noticed a small gold
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coin under a tree.
Dont be afraid of the darkness Jhyndisel. A soft voice whispered to him.
Jhyndisel was so surprised that he almost fell over. He spun around but saw no
one. He looked throughout the whole garden, but he was alone.
By the time he left the garden, the smoke in the distance was closer and the
sounds of war had grown louder. The men leaving the palace were ever younger
and he realized that soon even he would have to face his enemies. He gripped his
sword but felt uneasy. He was useless as a warrior; he lacked the skill and
courage that others seemed to have. He stood on the palace wall for a long time,
looking out over the horizon.

When he returned to Crown Hall, Khyphryxia and Oubulon were there.
Her brilliant blonde hair seemed to be reflecting the final rays of the setting sun.
Oubulon, as was his custom, was looking out the window - the anxiety on his face
could be clearly seen.
Father, this is madness! Khyphryxia shouted, trying to get her fathers
attention.
Do not raise your voice to your king - never address your father in such a
manner. Hynyxoxo replied in a threatening tone. He kept his eyes upon the
map. By now, one pile of red stones was next to the yellow ones of Axandali.
Peace is possible, if you would just ask for it. Please. She pleaded.
Peace is always possible, but it is not always desirable. Peace shouldnt be
purchased at the cost of dignity and freedom. Now leave me.
Isnt there something you can say? Jhyndisel implored Oubulon.
Your father thinks that CNumti and the troubles he brings are myths - why
in fact he still thinks I am a myth. Oubulon answered, trying to use humor to
raise Jhyndisels spirits. Oubulon then looked at Jhyndisels eyes. They had
that same indescribable quality that he first noticed in his dream. I trust you.
Somehow you will know what to do.
Jhyndisel then had an idea. He walked toward the king and was about to
speak, but he was interrupted by Khyphryxia.
Come, this place isnt safe anymore. Khyphryxia ordered, leading him
away.
Jhyndisel - stay. His father growled.
You have no right to sacrifice his life! Khyphryxia angrily burst out.
Guards! Remove the two interlopers. The king barked without looking
up from his map. A man stepped out of the shadows; he was almost seven feet
tall. He had a muscular build and broad shoulders. He was bald except for a
braid of blond and black hair, each color twisting around its opposite.
Khyphryxia shuddered when she saw him.
Dusupa. I thought you had perished in battle. The princess quietly said.
My death was but a myth, one of many fairy tales that have dogged our
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land. He replied. Then, with several armed soldiers by his side, he lead
Oubulon and Khyphryxia out of the royal hall.
Jhyndisel ran to the window and looked as Oubulon and Khyphryxia were
escorted not only out of the palace but out of his sight.
Now, Bright Star, the time has come for you to shine! The king turned
and studied his son from head to foot. He handed Jhyndisel his own sword - it
felt heavy and awkward. Then king Hynyxoxo turned to his left and let the
majesty of the scene fill his eyes. Several white stones, each one resembling a
lions paw print, were set into the floor. These tracks led to a sword hanging on
the wall. It was large and an enormous tooth was inlaid on each side of the
handle. With a crazed smile, the king slowly walked towards the blade. Lions
Vengeance - the sword used by our ancestors. Time and time again it has
defeated enemies - it is time for its last glory! As the sword defiantly swept the
stones off the map, one area caught Jhyndisels attention.
It was known as the Wild Shadows; a valley surrounded on three sides by the
Gray Mountains. It was said that dusk came early to that lonely place and that
the dawns light came late. Not even those who lived in the Wild Lands dared to
venture there.
Jhyndisels daydreaming was interrupted by a fiery arrow that pierced the
window next to him. The king stood still, as if waiting till matters got particularly
dramatic. Jhyndisel ran over and put out the flames. While he was doing so,
another arrow shot through the window and pierced a wax bust of the king - right
in the center of its forehead. The bust seemed to burn slowly, as if somehow the
waxen figure was trying to make sense of all the current madness, but was unable
to. While he put out that fire, he heard the crashing sounds of large boulders
hitting the city below them.
Now, it will end - on my terms! The king triumphantly proclaimed, slowly
walking out of the hall. Jhyndisel followed his father out of the room, for what
choice did he have?
They walked down the stairs to the city below. Hynyxoxo could see the
soldiers of Slunarkien massing outside the city walls. He scanned the fields
outside the city for some sign of Khyphryxia and Oubulon, but they were gone.
Arrows were now starting to rain down with increasing regularity. The monarch
seemed to ignore them, yet he would now and then defiantly bat an arrow out of
the sky before it could reach him or his son. By the time they reached the city,
frightened people were running everywhere. Hynyxoxo ignored them and
headed toward the wall, ready for one last doomed stand. Jhyndisel was
surrounded by pleas for help and protection - he was so overwhelmed that he got
separated from his father. The sound of a battering ram pounding against the
main gates could be heard over the chaos. It sounded like the last heartbeats of
the dying.
Then he saw him. His father was on the wall. He was holding his sword
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high above his head and shouting defiantly. The words that came out of his
mouth were almost more than anyone could bear. Bringing to life the words
from Axandalis Tome of Righteous Lamentation, the king bellowed:

Here I stand forevermore,
In the breech between Fate and Lore,
Head held high,
Sword in hand,
Starry host hear our cry,
Ancestors defend our Land!

In the days to come,
Under the bloody sun,
Invaders trample our bones,
But in the sky we have our homes!

I will not cower,
In this final hour,
I defy death,
And fight till the final breath!

A large boulder crashed into the wall and ended the reign of Hynyxoxo of
Axandali. Surprisingly, there were no collective shouts of joy from outside the
crumbling wall nor wails of grief from within the city. It was as if the chaos of
clashing steel, smoke, fire, and blood had smothered everything. Tears started
to stream down the young kings face, but there was no time to cry. The main
gate had been destroyed and the enemy poured in like water rushing through a
broken dam. In response, arrows came flying from the palace walls. Jhyndisel
seemed stunned and confused, but he was brought back to the present moment
when a soldiers blood spattered across his face. He looked up and saw the
warrior fall from his horse.
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Suddenly, he smelled the familiar scent of wild flowers and spice tea. In a
moment of clarity and courage, he mounted the horse and rode out of the city.
He rode east, to the Wild Shadows, hoping to find the one thing that would save
them all.






































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Part IV

Twilight Comes To The Garden
















331
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 60 - Axandalis Last Hope

As the cries of battle grew fainter and fainter behind them, Khyphryxia
grew more and more fearful. Their entourage headed toward the Gray
Mountains to the East - she shuddered when they reached Helfaths Gorge.
This was the burial ground for those who had betrayed the magnificent
constellations of Axandali. As they came to the edge, the princess could almost
hear the moans and sobs of those poor souls who were thrown to their deaths.
The gloomy canyon stretched on as far as the eye could see and was so deep that
some believed it had no bottom. The air that rushed up out of the chasm smelled
sickly sweet. The long bridge leading across the chasm was made of stone and
wood; four iron gates barred the way across. The first, with its iron bars forged to
resemble spears, always seemed the most difficult to open. As Dusupa struggled
with the gate, she looked around. Oubulon was taking in the whole scene as if
watching a play. The second gate, adorned with statues of baobab trees, seemed
no easier to open than the first. Finally, with great effort, the rusty iron doors
slowly moved back and they rode on. The third gate was made from the shields
and swords of Axandalis first army. The crown jewels of the first king were
imbedded in the center of the gate. She was somewhat surprised when her
chaperone pressed against it without a moments hesitation.
Noble knight! Will you simply press on without honoring our ancestors?
Khyphryxias tongue seemed possessed by the souls of the founding fathers; her
heart swelled with emotion.
The time grows short, Bright Star. Our beloved fallen demand honorable
deeds; they have no use for contemplation and ritual. Dusupa called back.
The fourth gate, called the Tearful Gate, seemed more rust than iron. The
spikes set into it did not intimidate Dusupa and he defiantly kicked the ancient
doors open.
As the Tearful gate receded behind them, Khyphryxia knew that whatever
lay before them, it would require courageous deeds of her own.
There were many streams and babbling brooks that ran through the fragrant
fields of Axandali. They were a source of joy to Kyphryxia in her innocence and
youth, but offered no comfort to her now.
Is your highness comfortable? Dusupa asked, riding up beside her.
I am quite comfortable. The only thing I lack is knowledge of where we
are going. Her words seemed like the iron gates of Helfath - quiet yet strong.
There is a stronghold in the Gray Mountains; we shall be safe from our
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enemies there. There was a beguiling smile upon his face as he sharpened his
enormous crescent sword.
How long shall we stay there? She continued, trying not to look at the
sharp weapon.
Until the time comes to return. That has been left to my judgement as
your guardian.
Yet, not all of us shall return, shall we? Khyphryxia thought to herself.
Ahhh.....The Gray Mountains! Not an ounce of silver in them, or so they
say. Oubulons casual remark seemed so out of place that it puzzled her for a
moment. He started whistling a tune from KPoshs Waltz as he came up
beside her. That particular song, with its light hearted, lilting melody
intertwined around a fast paced, demanding rhythm. It seemed to echo weirdly in
her head.
I fear that things might not go as planned. Khyphryxia warned him.
What plans are you referring to?
I dont know when we will be able to meet your old friends. She said in a
hushed tone.
We will just have to hope for the best, Bright Star. Her husband replied,
trying to reassure her.
The mountains loomed ahead of them, dark and foreboding. The sun was
setting and the wind picked up. An eagle soared above them, circling for a few
moments. Then, without warning, it flew off to the south.
How are you faring, your highness? One of the soldiers asked as they sat
around a campfire that evening.
As well as can be expected. She sighed. She noticed a tattoo of a paw
print, no bigger than a coin, on the mans neck. She was about to comment on it,
but a look from Oubulon (who was behind the warrior) stilled her tongue.

Khyphryxia found herself standing at the broken gates of Crown Hall. For
miles around, dead bodies littered the smoking landscape. She ran through the
battlefield, calling her brothers name. Above her, a huge raven circled; its
cawing almost sounded like a song of victory. A large spidery shadow, hundreds
of feet across, moved along the ground, darting this way and that.
When she turned around, Dusupa was standing there. His enormous
crescent sword seemed to shine against the cloudy backdrop. Behind him was an
ancient fortress; it had many spires and towers. It was also unusual in that it had
many holes in front of it. Each hole had an ivory obelisk, about twenty feet tall,
beside it. There was something so familiar and so very chilling about this place,
but the exact details escaped her. As Dusupa raised his sword, she awoke with a
start.

The light mist caressed her beautiful skin. Oubulon had already arisen and
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was cooking breakfast, talking casually with the soldiers. Could he not feel it,
could he not sense that they were in terrible danger? Perhaps he had spent too
much time in the ancient libraries and not enough time on the battlefield.
As they rode on, an ancient fortress came into view. It looked exactly like
the castle in her dream, right down to the ivory obelisks. As they rode past the
white monuments, she looked at the weathered inscriptions. They bore names
which seemed to be just beyond obscurity. Field mice scurried in and out of the
holes next to the monuments. Then, as they rode past a particularly large
marker, a name on it struck her heart with fear: Vyxitil.
Do you recognize this place? Dusupa challenged, as they came to a stop.
Once I saw the name of our great forefather on the obelisk, I realized where
we were. This is IvorGund, the ancient burial ground of our ancestors.
A fitting place for the current dynasty to come to an end. Dusupa
proclaimed, drawing his weapon. Khyphryxia, without her sword, never felt
more vulnerable in her life.
In the distance, riders could be heard. As they drew nearer, Oubulon
nodded his head. The young warrior with the tattoo drew his bow.
Perhaps it is time to re-evaluate your position and your future. Oubulons
tone was sharp and cold.
This shall only add to the glory of the new kingdom! Dusupa roared, as
he turned around to face the riders. The young warrior with the tattoo was
struck down from behind before he could do anything.
The battle was indeed terrible, with the usurper and his followers facing an
army of fifty men. At first, Khyphryxia could do nothing but watch. Then she
rushed into battle, picking up a sword from one of the fallen. After several brutal
moments, most of the combatants had been killed. Khyphryxia then turned her
horse around and faced Dusupa.
You have no right to be here. She stated coldly.
True, I am among the living. You however, have found your rightful place
- an obscure graveyard. Then they charged each other.
Dusupa drew first blood. Khyphryxia looked at the cut on her arm and then
at her enemy. She shouted and charged again. This time, she knocked Dusupa
off his steed. She then jumped off her horse and the two stood there for a
moment, planning and scheming. Then the battle began in earnest. Dusupa
swung his terrible blade and Khyphryxia dodged his weapon. She began her own
offensive, but was easily blocked by the enormous yet skillful villain. At times, it
seemed that he was waiting, sensing the moment was not yet right. Then
suddenly, he struck and knocked her off her feet. Before she knew it, he was
standing over her, his sword at her throat. Then, she did something quite
unexpected and did it quickly. She put her hands on either side of Dusupas
blade, so that each palm was pressing against the flat side of the metal. Then, as
she moved the blade away, she swung her legs upward, hitting him in the back.
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As the startled Dusupa fell forward, she rolled to one side and sprang to her feet.
Then grabbing a sword, she finished the fight once and for all.
Are you alright? Oubulon frantically asked, rushing over to her. She was
standing over the slain body of the usurper.
Yes. Are you ok?
Im fine. Im sorry for not providing assistance, but I was quite busy at the
time.
I think you provided more than enough assistance. She smiled. Was
that the mark of the Dawn Leopard I saw on that young man?
Yes. We are everywhere.
Thank goodness. She replied as she kissed him.

They rode back to Axandali. They did not sleep, they did not eat; they
relentlessly traveled as fast as their horses could carry them. They rode past
burning villages and dead bodies. They rode past destroyed towns and broken
souls. Cries for help and moans of suffering did not reach the heart of the
princess. Khyphryxia did not look to the left or the right, but kept her eyes
toward Crown Hall.
The outskirts of the capital were still burning and in chaos. Arches,
bridges, and towers had succumbed to the battle, yielding a smoldering maze.
Much to her despair, their path had been set by the carnage. They would have to
pass through Ithalgar Square in order to reach the palace.
Ithalgar Square was reserved for times of deep sorrow and personal loss.
The neatly cut obsidian stones were graced by an ominous mural: a group of
mourners standing beside a river, underneath a large baobab tree. The slow
currents of the river carried several yellow feathers past the weeping crowd.
Weeping maidens, cut from stone, encircled the square. Some of the mournful
faces looked downward, as if transfixed by some horrible discovery. Others
looked upward plaintively, seeking some hope or salvation beyond the smoky
skies. A few hid their faces in their hands, unable to bear the sight of all the
carnage and suffering. It seemed to Khyphryxia that each hoof beat upon that
sad scene reverberated throughout the whole kingdom.
The outer wall of the city proper had been broken in several places. The
statues of lions that had guarded the city for so many centuries now lay strewn
about in pieces amid the rubble. Smoke and flames rose from the once proud
citadel. The slain were everywhere, as far as one could see. Khyphryxia jumped
off her horse and looked around.
Jhyndisel! Where are you? She yelled. Jhyndisel! She then started
running toward the pinnacle of the fortress, all the while shouting her brothers
name. Not finding him there, she returned to the battlefield. She searched
frantically, but her brother was not among the dead.
Then, she stopped. She saw a familiar figure buried under rubble. She
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laboriously removed the stones and turned the corpse over. King Hynyxoxo
stared up blankly at her. She sobbed and fell to her knees.
I hate you! She screamed, suddenly rising to her feet. This calamity is
all your fault! You have ruined us! You have destroyed your kingdom and your
people!
















336
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 61 - The Battle of The Dead

The sky was gray and a light rain was pouring down. CNumti pulled back
the hood of his robe and let the rain drizzle upon his ashen gray-greenish skin.
The gray sky and the brownish tangled weeds of the Wild Lands, which hid the
ruins of past lives, was much to his liking. As his eyes drifted over the landscape
however, he scowled. A small patch of delicate wild flowers caught his attention.
The chaotic arrangement of the colorful plants brought up images long past;
squabbling, bickering, petty kings, each one trying to impose his childish views
upon his neighbors. The sight of his minions in their black robes brought his
mind back into a sate of ease; the sense of simplicity and order their garb evoked
was very comforting to him. As he strolled about, he noticed a skull among the
dank vegetation. He plucked it out of the muddy pool it had been trapped in.
Ahhh.....what do we have here? He said, examining the skull.
Hungry, so hungry. Release me! So
Hungry! A hollow whispy voice echoed in CNumtis head.
Interesting - I was not aware that IcPanTefror was so very strong here.
Things are definitely looking up! He giggled.
CNumti then unpacked some gruesome arcane objects, whose twisted
shapes and sharp barbs made them particularly hard to grasp. Each one barely
resembled a human being; the limbs were either stretched out, twisted, flattened,
or even missing. The heads of the objects were grotesquely misshapen. They
were painted in dull, dark, dreary colors and had a sickening stench. He gave
each piece to his servants. They buried the gruesome fetishes in the field below
him.
Hurry! The armies will be here soon! He barked.
After they had returned, Cnumti went to his horse and dipped his hand in
his saddlebag. He smiled as he pulled out a rat; the animal tried in vain to
squirm out of his grasp. The rodent had unusual markings upon it:

`_.
m

_
| _ `_.
_
|V

He then called one of his servants to his side and had him sit on the ground
in front of him. Then the dark emperor started walking around him with a very
strange one-step, shuffle, hop, three-step, slide dance. While he was doing
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this, he was coughing, as if something was caught in his throat. When the ritual
was over, the servant and the rodent were both dead.

Hejeowoulg rode in front of his comrades towards the wall of Axandali.
The Wild Lands always unsettled him, seeming a foreign place littered with
despair and failure. He put that out of his mind as he knew that his sovereign,
Kyvyn the IX of Raspladex, would tolerate nothing less than total victory over
Axandali and Slunarkien. He shouted and rode faster; his warriors returned his
battle cry and eagerly followed. The hooves of their horses thundered across the
desolate plain.
When they arrived at the wall which separated Axandali from the rest of the
world, they stopped. As he directed his men to begin assembling the catapults
and battering rams, a light rain began to fall from the sky. As they labored on,
the rain grew steadier and eventually men began succumbing to the slippery mud,
much to their comrades amusement.
The slippery sod seems fun now lads, but it will be a bitter enemy this day.
He who slips may fall to the enemys steel. Hejeowoulg commented grimly.
Just then, a white owl swooped down from the sky and perched on a branch of a
nearby tree.
Come to see us suffer this dreary day, my friend? Hejeowoulg addressed
the owl. The bird screeched and flapped its wings, as if warning them.
A low rumble was heard in the distance. Hejeowoulg grabbed his spyglass
and scanned the horizon. After several moments, which seemed like an eternity,
the standards of the White Wolverine appeared, bobbing up and down, swept
along by the army of Borkulete.
What?! Where is Slunarkien? Did they already get to our prize before us?
To arms! Ready your steel my comrades! Before we can have the prize beyond
that wall, we must first fight for it! The impetuous commander roared as he
mounted his horse. He then rode toward the advancing army and his men
eagerly followed.
As they rode to meet each other, the Borkulete soldiers split into two
columns and diverged, forming a V. Hejeowoulg cursed the toll the war had
already taken, realizing that he could not outflank this new enemy. He closed his
eyes as his horse sped onward and whispered a silent wish. The sky grew darker
and the thunder began an ominous duet with the pounding hooves of the war
horses.
Shields up! Spears forward! We will hit them straight on, like an
avenging arrow! He yelled above the growing storm. Lightning started to flash
in the sky. They indeed pierced the advancing army, their spears cutting down
the rear guards. As they passed each other, and their steel cut into flesh, blood
spattered on their arms and faces. The warriors so marked had a light-headed,
almost disembodied feeling slowly wash over them. As the world around them
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lost its color, becoming a pale white with shades of gray and black, their skin
turned an ashen gray. The soldiers gasped, wheezed and coughed; eventually,
they leaned forward and fell from their steeds. They staggered about aimlessly,
trying to peer out of pale white eyes. Then, the ground beneath them grew very
muddy and they slowly sank until nothing more could be seen of them.
This continued for the rest of the afternoon; the fallen pierced by sword and
spear, or crushed by hammer and mace. The victors who were unlucky enough
to be cursed by the defeated blood succumbed to the pale, muddy nightmare.
The clanging of steel, the cries of suffering and death, the thunder and lightning
all combined into a chorus of hideous madness. The night passed with frenzy
blocking all other emotions, even the horror of the curse.
The morning sun greeted Kubjon. He admired the gleam of Borkuletes
standard as he picked it up. He then looked around and breathed deep. He
shouted as he waved the banner and walked through the battlefield. It was
littered with the vanquished Raspladex army. The severed heads and limbs of
comrade and foe alike did not dampen his enthusiasm. The remnants of his
army circled around him and they began to dance, banging their swords on their
shields and thrusting them into the ground.
We have lost many, many men - who knew the Golden Bulls could fight so
well? Kubjon bellowed heartily. His men laughed. Now that we have
honored our dead and theirs, we take the gem we have come for - Axandali! His
men shouted in response and clanged their swords against the sides of their
helms.
They claimed the battering rams that Raspladex had built and rolled them
along towards their destiny. As they pounded against the thick stone walls, the
returning storm responded to their zeal with peals of thunder. The white owl,
who had sat in the tree all through the previous night, flew off.
Keep working, brothers, keep working! Tis far easier to make a hole and
sneak in unnoticed than to follow in the footsteps of Slunarkien! By the time we
arrive, both armies will have decimated each other and we will simply dispose of
the survivors. Time is our ally! In response to this, the men pounded the walls
harder. The smoke rising from the burning cities of Axandali could be seen in the
distance.
As the day wore on, a new thundering sounded in the distance. Having lost
his spyglass in the battle, Kubjon sent a scout to investigate. After several
moments, horse and rider returned. As he came closer, the thunder grew and
lightning flashed. Riders could be seen on the horizon, approaching fast; they
appeared ragged, confused, and tired. Finally, the scout dismounted and kneeled
before the commander.
What have you found? Kubjon demanded.
Victory! The scout replied.
Victory! Surely you must mean ours. As I look over the plain, I see an
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army propped up by its arrogance and nothing more. The scout then removed
his cloak - upon his right arm was the symbol of the Golden Ram. The emissary
from Nhroma struck down five of Borkuletes finest before being killed. The
banners of Nhroma appeared in the distance, and shouting and taunting could be
heard across the field. The horsemen who appeared so weak and in such
disarray now proudly stood before the banners. Kubjon and his followers
mounted their steeds and met the enemy head on.
Despite the fury of the Borkuletes, they fared poorly. The Nhromans vastly
outnumbered them; they made up for this disadvantage with a strike and retreat
stratagem. The first day this worked well. Several columns of Nhromans were
surprised and soundly defeated by Kubjon and a contingent of his finest warriors.
Borkulete had hidden in the tall grass and pounced quickly. The next two days
seemed to be a stalemate, each side adapting to the others tactics. However,
after several days the last of the Borkulete soldiers fell beneath the skilled blade of
Nhroma. The ashen curse of blood and mud took its toll upon the conquerors
however; many of their men were swallowed up in the ghoulish earthen
nightmare.
The victors rode on toward the gap in the wall that had been made several
days earlier by Slunarkien. The stopped for the night a few hundred yards from
the wall. An eerie wail could be heard riding the wind. For the first time, some
of the men suspected that something unnatural might be afoot.
The morning was dreary; the rain clouds seemed to form an alliance with the
smoke rising from the ruins of once noble Axandali. A wave of doubt and fear
was beginning to slink through the invading army. Then suddenly, the ravens
appeared; those harbingers of IcPanTefror goaded the Nhormans into a battle
frenzy that had never known before. The leapt on their horses, their cries
mingling with the thunder. They rushed toward the wall.
The remaining army of Slunarkien rushed out to meet them. The
thundering of the war horses was only bested by the thundering of the skies.
Time seemed to slow as the two armies neared each other. Swords were drawn
and spears pointed forward.
Then, in one terrifying instant, the armies clashed. Metal banged upon
metal, cries of battle lust filled the air, blood spurted like water from a fountain.
Attack followed counterattack as each side tried to out flank the other. First one
side surged forward and seemed to have the upper hand, then it would shrink
bank under the vicious onslaught of its foe. After several hours, a tiny remnant
of the Nhroman army stood victorious on the battlefield. The sword had claimed
its victims, as well as the blood soaked nightmare.
As the night deepened, the ravens flew away; their cawing growing fainter
and fainter in the darkness. The eerie moaning returned. Frightened eyes
scanned the gloom for a new, mysterious enemy. Those who could sleep clutched
their weapons tightly.
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The rain returned as the sun rose. At first, it was a drizzle, but it grew
steadier as the minutes passed. The soldiers tried to steady their nerves by eating
breakfast and stripping their foes of iron and steel. Then some one screamed and
came running to the commander.
Theyre in the water! Theyre in the water! The man babbled, terrified.
Who? The commander asked. Before the soldier could answer, another
cry of horror rang out. He looked and saw the panic spreading through his
troops. He then looked at the puddle of water at his feet. In the depths of that
small shallow pool, a face appeared, ghastly and gaunt. It was as if the poor soul
was many fathoms under, even though the puddle was only an inch deep. Then
an arm appeared, reaching out towards the surface. The commander mounted
his horse and rode as fast as he could from that cursed place.

Later that day, CNumti returned to the spot where he had worked his dark
craft. He again let the rain run over his bald head, enjoying the coolness on his
pointed ears. He unpacked gruesome, twisted, spiny objects from his bag.
These statues were even more frightening than the first set he had brought days
earlier. However, this time, he had his servants place the objects in the center of
the battlefield. He performed the same unusual dance that had been the demise
of the rat and his servant, but this time, he went backwards instead of forwards.
The earth he danced around turned an oily black and gave forth a horrid smell. It
also undulated slightly.
Arise, my children, arise! CNumtis voice boomed. It had a very deep,
unnatural tone to it. For miles around, the ground seemed to ripple and boil as
hands came through the earth. Figures shambled forth in the downpour, skin
ashen gray, eyes white. The curse had given up its dead.

Nearby, Andreaxilous watched the ominous events unfold with a surprising
calm. He waved his finger in the air as if he was inscribing something in the
damp, chill ether.
He has put his ill-gained knowledge to use. Ashthranas hissed, as
a scowl crossed her face.
Yes. He has indeed gained much power. Andreaxilous replied, still
tracing invisible characters in the air.
Shouldnt we act? There was a growing sense of frustration in her
voice, which she kept reigned in while standing next to the sovereign.
Ahhh.....that is the question. The answer depends upon the
living. Andreaxilous then finished his imaginary writing and rubbed his chin
thoughtfully. Each one bound, never to be found, circling round
forevermore!
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Did you say something my lord?
Just pondering ancient verse. Andreaxilous reassured her.
Something as powerful as this would certainly be unnatural - but
it would end this conflict once and for all. He mused to himself.















342
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 62 - The Prophet

Wuyami emerged from the water and stood still for a moment. Bright
Water looked as it always had. He prepared himself for the difficulties ahead by
glancing at the yellow markings on his arm. He then slowly walked up to the
Gate of Wuhesephae and examined it. It appeared as sturdy as ever, but he knew
that gates were a problem, not a solution.
Turn back, stranger. The guard at the gate ordered briskly.
urgushhh! I have something to share with One-Who-Sits-In-The-Shell. I
must pass through this gate. herephh.
Outsiders are not allowed. You will not be told again.
urgushhh! I do not need to be told again, friend. herephh. Wuyamis words
sauntered out as he put his tattooed hand on the guards shoulder. The guard
cocked his head to the side, as if some unseen person was whispering into his ear.
Then his eyes grew wide with awe and terror. He broke free from Wuyami and
backed away from him. There was a red tear shaped mark where Wuyami had
touched him.
urgushhh-uthum. You are a Dark Tide Rider! Why have you come? Can
you save us? herephh-naasar.
urgushhh! You know why I have come. As to your other question, my only
reply is a word: trust. herephh.
As he swam to the Emperors inner court, he noticed others giving him
suspicious looks and swimming away. Never had his sense of isolation from his
own people felt stronger than it did now. The thought of turning back flitted
briefly in the depths of his soul; then he remembered Wux hiphi and Wucustre
and his determination grew.
Wuyami ascended the stone column that supported the Shell of Favor with a
confidence that he had never known before. He had been inspired by a mission
too large to be contained by the grand hall he was in. The bones of fallen
Wustavae were floating in the water, some had been painted various colors.
How dare you enter our sacred hall. You should never have set foot in this
place! The emperor hissed, just noticing Wuyami.
urgushhh-usum. I have come with a warning. herephh-naasav.
None is needed - we are quite aware of our current situation. Your friends,
the humans, have attacked several of our beach encampments along the shores of
the Frost Sea. They have sent great ships into the Nazal, armed with barbed wire
nets, in hopes of ensnaring us.
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urgushhh-usum. This is only the surface of the problem. There is
something much darker -
Darker than Wutetes blood, which stained the white sands of Ohor?! Do
your own people mean nothing to you? The emperors words cut deep into
Wuyamis heart as he leaned forward in his throne. It was almost as if he were
trying to see into Wuyamis soul to discover what drove his actions and words.
My people - the humans...do you not see? Why cant you remember? If
you listen, you too will hear him. Wuyami wanted so much to put these
thoughts and feelings into words, but now was not the time for such things.
urgushhh-usum. I do not hold the humans fully accountable for her death.
Ignorance, fear, and madness - these malevolent currents of the soul swept the air
breathers helplessly along. herephh-naasav.
urgushhh! Guards! Remove the traitor! herephh. Wuyami stood silently
as the guards ascended the column of stone. When they reached the Shell of
Favor, he touched one of them who, like the guard at the gate, recoiled in horror.
urgushhh-uthum. Dark Tide Rider! When will the blackness come?
herephh-naasar.
urgushhh! Soon. We must prepare. Share what you have seen and heard.
herephh.
The other guard was unsure of what to do and paused for a moment.
Wuyami held out his hand and the guard slowly reached out and touched his red
mark.
urgushhh! Remove him! Do not be fooled by his tricks! herephh. The
emperor yelled.
urgushhh-uthum. Then there is hope. herephh-naasar. The guards quiet
optimism seeped out after several long moments. He slowly pulled his hand
away and bowed respectfully.
urgushhh! Yes - if we act soon. Prepare your brethren. herephh.
Dark Tide Rider! Is that what you think youve become? The emperor
scowled.
urgushhh-usum. I simply have a message to share. Titles or honor do not
interest me. herephh-naasav.
You are a fool! You will never leave here alive.
urgushhh-usum. The desire of the Silver Father cannot be turned back.
herephh-naasav. With that, Wuyami left.

He swam to the northeast, and arrived at Black Coral in two days. The
familiar sights comforted Wuyami, such as the pink sand dunes which dotted the
floor and the white kelp forests. Schools of red, silver, and blue squid did an
intricate dance above, and they seemed like a giant cloud of ever changing hue.
Green and yellow crabs marched up and down the massive towers of black coral.
However, he could not deny that it had changed slightly since he had last
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been there. Armed soldiers were now swimming between the reefs. Warriors
could be seen mounting starfish, some as big as a house. Several soldiers spotted
him and moved to intercept him.
Traitors are not welcome at Black Coral! One of the soldiers addressed
him angrily.
urgushhh! I have a vision to share with you and your kin. herephh. Soon
all of the soldiers bore the red tear shaped mark. They followed Wuyami into the
heart of the underwater settlement.
Later that evening, Wuyami stood before Wutetes grave. It was a large
hollow white shell with spines protruding from it on all sides. Many spines had
necklaces hanging on them. Wuyami removed his and hung it on the memorial.
urgushhh! Beloved sister, how I have failed you. My dreams took me far
from this place and I should have taken you with me. herephh.
urgushhh-uthum. Dark Tide Wuyami. I am sorry to interrupt such a private
moment. herephh-naasar. A young warrior began, coming up behind him.
urgushhh! I should hate them, you realize. I should hate them all - but I
have seen too much to give in to such all encompassing anger. herephh.
urgushhh-uthum. Is it true that the humans fight one another?
herephh-naasar.
urgushhh! A fate that could very well befall us, young Wunala. herephh.
urgushhh-uthum. I dont understand. herephh-naasar.
urgushhh! A message this powerful divides. There are only two choices:
acceptance or denial. herephh.
urgushhh-uthum. I hope it does not come to that. herephh-naasar.
urgushhh! That is what we all hope for. How many are we now? herephh.
urgushhh-uthum. Three hundred and forty. How big will our army have to
be? herephh-naasar.
urgushhh! Large enough to defeat an ancient evil. Wuyami answered.
He noticed the young warriors discomfort at such a vague answer. My answer
does not sit well in your gills, eh? Do not worry, things will become clearer with
every step. Now, summon our kin, we have something to discuss. herephh.
Soon all the warriors were assembled; there were now three hundred and
fifty. They stood in a circle around Wuyami who, for his part, looked upward.
Then he lowered his head and addressed his disciples:
urgushhh! We have a vision of what the future could be before us. How can
we prevent such an atrocity from happening? To combat such an enemy as this,
we must do things we would never do. We must travel to places that we have
never seen, embrace customs that we have never heard of, and befriend those that
we do not know. Some of you have never left Black Coral. Some of you have
never even left water, so you are wondering, is this possible? Oh yes! I have
walked upon the ground of the world above. I have battled some of the air
breathers and befriended others. I have not only survived, I have become
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stronger! We will not leave our strength behind when we leave the shore, we will
carry it with us! Once we conquer our fear of the shore, we will conquer our
enemies! herephh.
Beyond the shore! Beyond the shore! The warriors chanted.


















346
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 63 - The Pylamar Games

Lokon walked briskly down the country lane that led from his small
hamlet, Briar Hills. It was a fine morning, with birds singing in the trees and the
dew sparkling in the sunlight. He was a sturdy lad with brown curly hair and a
fair complexion. Although the walk to Hatralgazul was long, he was not daunted
in the least. He looked down at the bag which he carried and thought of how his
mother had baked bread all day yesterday for his journey. She also picked
berries from the garden so he could have something sweet as he walked. After
walking for an hour or so, he was joined by his friend, Emben. His companion
was a tall youth with dark hair and a narrow face.
Getting an early start I see. Emben wore a wry smile that seemed to
compliment his cheery disposition.
As are you my friend. Wont it be glorious? To think, participating in the
games of a forgottenf age. Lokon had a far away tone in his voice. The youth
spoke with an Azartharqua accent. The f following the n was very softly
breathed out. The peculiarity of the tongue was a tribute to the nomadic
Azartharqual tribes. At the end of the Barbaric Age, they had settled in two
areas. The first was between southeastern Eauphixes and northeast Nazalquatat.
The second area chosen by the tribes was between what was now eastern
Norgrangthar and southwest Nazalquatat.
I heard that they will last three days! To be immersed in the heroic
competitionf of ages past. I think its a great idea, we need something to get our
minds off the wars around us. Embens voice was upbeat and his words happily
bounced on the morning breeze. He picked up a stone and threw it as far as he
could.
And yet, the games will also make us stronger, more cunning. Lokon
replied, picking up a stone and throwing it. He smiled as it sailed into the air for
it seemed that it would fly farther than Embens.
As they walked past the small village of Cold Thicket, they noticed soldiers
beating a young, emaciated farmer outside his home. From the looks of the
residents, it was apparent that the crops had not done well for some time and that
hunger stalked the tiny enclave. Tiring of the nuisance before them, one of the
soldiers drew his axe and beheaded the farmer.
I wonder why they killed him? Emben asked nonchalantly.
Well, he looked too scrawny for the army, so I dont think he was a deserter.
He probably didnt pay his tribute to the emperor.
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Do you think they might need help killing others? I hear that is a sure way
to a high rank in the army. Embens tone tingled with excitement and
enthusiasm.
There are plenty of lazy farmers - dont worry - we will get our opportunity
to impress the Imperial Jackals. But the Pylamar Games only come once a year.
If we dont hurry, we might be late. Cmonf, lets go! Lokon playfully ran ahead
of his friend.

An hour or so later, they arrived in Hatralgazul. It was teeming with youths
and young men eager to test their mettle. As they walked down the street, they
were stopped by a robed figure.
Excuse me, I am looking for my pet magpie; his name is Jackie. As the
mysterious figure was explaining his plight, they could see a copper bracelet on
his wrist.
Havent seenf him. Lokon curtly replied.
Thank you.
Sure. Emben answered.
The robed figure then moved on through the crowd. He was approached by
an old leather worker with a haggard face and sunken eyes.
I overheard you looking for your bird, good friend. His voice was quiet,
cautious, and calculating.
Have you seen him?
I heard that he was flying north, but would not go past the Bronze Gut
Mountains. The man replied, handing him a blank parchment.
Thank you kind sir.
Now I was wondering if you could help me. I am looking for eggs, pink
salmon, and spinach.
There is a market one street over. The robed figure nodded.
Thank you and good day. The leather worker smiled as he disappeared
into the crowd.
Later, in a small room above one of the many taverns in the city, the
mysterious figure sat by a oaken table lit by a small brass lamp. On the table
were three small wooden boxes. One contained a white powder, the second a
pink powder, and the third a green powder. He took out his small copper brush
and dipped it into the white powder. He then brushed the blank page and a
magpie appeared in fresh black ink. He dipped the brush in a bowl of water on
the table. Then he dipped the brush in the pink powder and coated the
parchment; below the bird a throne appeared in dark brown ink. Finally, he
coated the parchment in the green powder; red smoke could be seen curling up
from the sides of the throne.


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While the mysterious traveler was busy decoding the message, the two boys
walked to the Imperial Palace. There was a long line of people waiting to get past
the gate. Looking in through the iron bars, they could see freshly painted murals
that revealed the glory of games won and lost long ago. Scattered among these
images were hieroglyphs that they had never seen before, but somehow seemed
familiar. The strange drawings seemed to awaken long repressed memories of a
time before civilization began. As they walked into the courtyard, strange
symbols were painted on their foreheads, arms, and legs. Some started anxiously
looking around, as if searching for an exit. However, they were abruptly ushered
into the nearby arena. Lokon pointed out these unfortunates to his friend.
What do you think they want with such cowards? I wish they would just
get rid of them - they will be a disgrace to the games! He disdainfully grumbled.
Everyone has a purpose at the games. They will probably be fed to the
lions and tigers. A youth behind them interjected.
I thought they wanted the lions and tigers to be hungry. It makes for a
better contest. Emben argued.
But if they are weak from hunger, what challenge would that be? The
youth replied.
I am impressed! They really have thought of everything. Embens words
seemed wrapped up in a sense of awe and contentment.
I hear that they even drain the blood of those cowards and let the winners
drink it at the end of the games. The youth stated calmly.
What an honor! Lokon said, imagining himself sipping blood in front of
the emperor.
When his turn came to be painted, Lokon confidently walked up to the altar.
He could smell things burning and decaying. The attendant muttered in low
tones, almost as if he were talking in his sleep. In fact, Lokon could not tell if he
was awake or if he indeed was asleep. The symbols painted on him were as
follows:

_`_.
_
|`_.

The paint itched slightly at first, then it burned. Before his astonished eyes,
it seemed to sink below his skin, then it bobbed to the surface again, like a cork.
Then he took his place in the circle of young contestants and smiled - soon glory
would be his. On the balcony of the nearby iron tower, a robed figure appeared -
CNumti.

Today, we begin a new era. These games will bring the heroic deeds of the
past into our hearts and souls. For the first time since the end of the Dynasties,
competitions of strength, speed, cunning, and endurance will be held. Your
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limits will be challenged as never before and you will gain new insights into
yourself and the world around you. Wether victorious or defeated, the Pylamar
Games will forever change you! CNumti declared with flourish. The youths
shouted for joy.
Emperor, the courtyard cannot hold any more youths, what shall we do? A
knight said, walking up to The Dark Lord.
The dungeons have been expanded, they will be able to hold everyone till
the time comes. Then he turned toward the crowd. Let the games begin!

On the first day, Lokon did well. He won a race and came in second place in
the spear throwing contest. He wanted to compete in the stone hurling, but there
were too many already signed up for that contest. He was amazed that so many
came; it seemed that there were more people here than in all the world. During
lunch, he searched the crowd and found Emben.
How did you do? Lokon addressed his friend as he sat down next to him.
Not very well. Emben quietly confessed, eyes downcast.
Cheer up, there are two more days of competitionf. What did you do
today? There was a light tone in his voice that drifted on the wind like a strand
from a spiders web.
The gladiator duels.
Well, at least you didnt get killed - you fared much better thanf that lazy
farmer we saw on the way here.
Thats just it; my opponent wanted to kill me - I wanted to die rather thanf
live with the shame of defeat, but they wouldnt let him finish me off. Embens
mournful words seemed to be just barely crawling out of his mouth.
Why? Lokon wondered, puzzled.
I think they want me to live with the shame.
Nonsense. They must have givenf you some reasonf.
I was told that if I didnt do better that I would be standing in the stony
field. I think thats where they take the losers for the public humiliationf.
Emben said, wiping a tear from his face.

The next day was a better one for Emben; he won the stone hurling
competition and a swimming race. For his part, Lokon came in second place in a
hunting game. At the late evening meal, the two again compared their progress.
Today was a good day. I just might make it to the mountainf. Emben
smiled faintly, trying not to sound too hopeful.
It certainly is getting harder though - new contestants are showing up at the
gate all the time. Here I thought there was a deadline for registering.
You worry too much about being late. Emben replied, eating a pretzel.
After a thoughtful pause he continued: I think some of the later registrants will
do better tomorrow, not having competed the past two days.
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They might, but they havent competed as much as we have; were sure to
make it to the mountainf. You never know, we might even reach the summit!
Lokon replied, looking toward the south. An imposing crag, Granite Thorn,
towered over the surrounding plains. The top of the mountain seemed to gleam
in the moonlight, as if it had been meticulously polished.
By the end of the third day, Emben surprised himself. He had done well
enough to be taken to Granite Thorns summit, where only the elite were allowed
entry. For his efforts, Lokon would be taken halfway up the mountain.
As they neared the stony field at the base of the mountain, they noticed three
large contingents of the Black Jackals joining them. They were dressed in their
black plate mail and were carrying swords, spears, and axes made of the finest
metals. The lads who had done the worst were ordered to stay behind while the
rest moved up the mountain.
Well my friend, this is where we part ways. Congratulations! Your
enduring spirit has brought you great honor. Lokons tone was drenched in
admiration as he shook his comrades hand.
Thank you. Ill see you at the new moonf party later onf, right?
Of course! You know me, I love the night! Lokon replied with a smile.

They were ushered to the summit of the mountain, where CNumti was
waiting for them. He seemed impatient. There was a large stone pillar in the
center of the clearing. Weird glyphs and grotesque images were painted upon it
- the paint itself was sticky and gave off a sickening sweet smell. The boys could
sense something in the dark forest beyond - watching, waiting, salivating. When
everyone was in place, The Dark Emperor looked up into the night sky and began
an incantation in high, shrill tones. Several tendrils of mist came slithering out
of the darkness and hovered around his feet.
Go, choose your victims! He barked. The mists slithered among the
terrified youth, brushing past their faces. Within the terrifying fog, wild, crazed
eyes and hungry fangs seemed to take shape. Claws could be seen in the mist,
reaching out and grasping at thin air. Several youth were engulfed in a tendril
of the sinister cloud, which sunk into their skin. The affected boys looked around
wildly, as if they were hearing voices. They looked at their bodies, but to their
surprise, found nothing wrong. Those who had initially been spared this horror
tried to run, but the Black Jackals blocked their escape. After several agonizing
moments, all of the youth had been claimed by the macabre ceremony. Take
them to the lowest dungeons. CNumti ordered the guards. He then repeated
this dark ritual halfway down the mountain with the other children.

When Lokon woke up, he was in a dark cell, his arms and legs secured by
heavy chains. The flickering torchlight outside the door illuminated a tin plate
with a soupy gruel. He hadnt eaten in days so he picked up the tin and ate. As
351
he did so, he felt a pain on either side of his head. The pain became so severe that
he dropped to his knees and groaned. When he recovered, he finished his meal
and then looked around him. The damp, cold stones around him seemed to
spirit the warmth of his body far away into the inky darkness. A dank, rotten,
and pungent odor filled his nostrils. Although he expected this awful place to be
crawling with rats and bugs of all types, he was the only thing in the tiny prison.
It was as if the other creepy crawlies were afraid of what might happen in there.
Hello? Is anyone there? There was no answer. He heard others in
nearby cells, groaning and sobbing. He pulled at his chains, but it was no use.
He could only sit there in the feeble light and wonder what would happen next.
Emben was faring no better. He had been awake for some time now, a
searing pain coming from his upper jaw. His arms, legs, and waist were chained
to the slimy, dank, cold wall. As he was thinking of his parents, he felt something
stir inside of him, something foreign, bestial. He became increasingly frightened
and desperately tried to slip out of his chains. After hours of contortions, he
succumbed to sleep.
The next day, the pain on the sides of Lokons head had disappeared, only to
be replaced by two bumps. As he felt them, he rose to his feet. Had his cell
grown smaller somehow? Or was he bigger? The feeling that his body was not
his own was growing stronger. Suddenly, thoughts and emotions that were not
his flooded his brain. He felt as if his soul was being pushed toward the back of
his skull.
No! That is not me! I am Lokonf! I come from Briar Hills! He
shouted, arguing with an invisible enemy. After repeating this for several
minutes, the alien consciousness receded.
Embens situation was far worse. He seemed to have two things in him,
fighting for dominance. The pain in his upper jaw had subsided somewhat, but
his skin was itching and strangely discolored. When the guard came and pushed
the tin plate of gruel through the slot in the door, Emben jumped up.
Whats happening to me? He growled.
You are being transformed. The guard replied and walked away.
Transformed into what ?! Come back! Answer me!
The next morning, Lokon and Emben were gone. In their place stood
monstrosities. CNumti walked up to Lokons cell and tapped on the door. A
grunt emanated from within. When the door was opened, a large creature stood
before them. It was shaped like a man but it was much bigger, well over nine feet
tall. It had a dark, blackish blue skin and there were two large bulls horns on its
head.
You were once man-child. Now you are Ulub. Do you understand?
CNumtis words were calm, yet carried an overwhelming power. The creature
whined pitifully, as a dog does when it misses its master.
When he reached Embens cell, there was a wild roaring and grunting
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echoing throughout the lower dungeon. The creature that stood in Embens
place was seven feet tall with orange and black fur covering its man-shaped body.
From its upper jaw, two tusks protruded downward. When it saw the Dark
Emperor, it fell to its knees and bowed its head.
You are WaCatalru. No longer human. Turning to one of his advisors,
he said: Spread the news throughout the kingdom - there will be a special
festival to be held in Hatralgazul, everyone is welcome to attend.















353
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 64 - The Talking Stone

Nothing looked familiar. That was what frightened Mangat the most.
The landscape was a vast stretch of brown and sickly green, with a few old stumps
here and there. The splashing of the horses hooves in the watery muck hidden
underneath the mists was the only sound. The cold air sank into the very marrow
of his bones. He could feel his hands going numb from the tight grip of the ropes
that bound them.
They had been traveling this way for days. He was so far from the familiar
that at times it seemed he had somehow slipped into another world. His captors
spoke not a word, they simply stared into the foggy landscape ahead as if they
were searching for something.
Finally, one afternoon, after traversing a particularly foul smelling part of
the dreary mire, something came into view. It was a disgusting hole in a small
dry patch of the swamp, no bigger than a house. They dismounted and made
their way toward it (dragging Mangat behind them). One of the men stopped
and plucked a leech from his leg.
The hole itself breathed forth an unbearable, sickening stench. Its rim was
cloaked with various mold and fungi which made an unearthly squish and oozed
a syrupy white liquid when stepped upon. The pit seemed to be lined with a
brownish, gooey soil which barely covered the remains of the poor souls who had
perished here ages ago.
Mangat was thrown into this horrible opening in the lonely bog. He
tumbled down through rocky, slippery tunnels till he came to a dark room. There
were only two torches, one at each end, and even they seemed reluctant to provide
light. As his eyes adjusted to this nightmarish scene, he noticed three holes in
the ground, each one covered in dark, cruel stains. Before he could do anything
else, he was grabbed so suddenly it seemed that the hand around his neck had
formed itself out of the very shadows. The hand was attached to an orab, scarred
by battle and foul smelling for a lack of baths. The creature grunted and brought
Mangat closer. He could feel the monsters hot, disgusting breath on his face as
one its tusks brushed his cheek. Then the beast stepped forward and stretched
out its arm. Mangat dangled over the middle hole for a moment, its absolute
blackness eager to swallow him alive. Then the orab issued something that
sounded like a grunt, roar, and squeal mixed together and let go; Mangat fell
down into the bowels of the repugnant pit. He lost consciousness before his
descent ended.
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When he woke up, he could feel the blood trickling down his back from the
scars the whips had left behind. That was a good sign - it meant that the agony
had subsided. As he tried to lift himself up in the darkness, a sharp pain shot
through his left leg. It was so bad that he thought he would lose consciousness
again and he sat down in despair. After sitting for a few moments, he started to
methodically grope in the darkness, searching for some hope of escape. His
hopes were always kept in check by the cold, damp, iron chains around his hands
and legs. Even these must have some weaknesses he mused; he carefully ran his
hands over them. Finally, he just leaned back against the wall - realizing that the
cell, the chains, the gloom - it was all as it was yesterday, and the day before, and
the day before that. He then felt along the wall for the stones that he had put
there - one for each time he had awoken. Seven; seven times he had woken up.
Did that mean he had been there seven days, or did he fall asleep more than once
in a day? It was useless to try to count exact days - at least he had some sense of
how long he had been there.
But where was he? He felt for sure that he was under ground, but how deep
in the earth was he buried? The darkness about him was so absolute that it was
disorienting and made him feel dizzy at times. It was impossible to even guess
how far away the opposite wall was. The uncertainty was frightening; it felt like
he was on the edge of some black abyss. He put his hands out, so he could at
least gain some familiarity with his immediate surroundings. His hands passed
over rocks and garbage. Something wet and clammy slowly crawled out from
under his grasp.
As he sat there, a horrible, putrid odor wriggled itself into his nose. It was
very pungent and overpowering. It grew more and more pervasive until it
seemed as if the foul smell had displaced all the fresh air in his cell. Mangats
eyes began to water and he struggled for breath.
He thought of Wisayael - where was she? How far away was she? Had she
been lucky enough to escape? Was she alright? What did the dark lord want with
her? His thoughts were interrupted by the turning of a key in a lock.
I hope you are not too uncomfortable Master Mangat. A cold insect voice
floated out of the gloom. CNumti stood in the doorway for a moment and then
walked over to where Mangat was. He knelt down beside him and whispered in
his ear: We both have questions, many, many questions. I only hope we can
find the right answers. Mangat was too weak to even make a reply. CNumti
noticed the stones against the wall and stared at them for a moment or two.
Then he very quietly added two more stones. Make sure that he is fed properly,
CNumti told someone outside the cell, we want our guest to be treated -
humanely. For now. CNumti grinned, revealing sharp teeth.
As the heavy metal door closed with a resounding bang, echoing throughout
the prison, Mangats hopes began to fade. Had he gotten himself in over his
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head? Was anyone searching for him? Even if someone was, how could they
find him? As Mangat brooded over his situation, a faint Drip! Drip! Drip!
entered his mind. It stirred something deep in his soul and he shuddered. He
decided to fight - so he started to recite the lineage of the kings of Photthar. He
smiled as he did so, for now at least his mind was off his current situation.
Hours passed with only his knowledge as his companion. He had
progressed from the history of Photthar to the history of Ifishix. His knowledge
of Ifishix was not that good however, and his mind drew a blank. The throbbing
pain started to come back into his awareness and then he had to concentrate even
harder in order to keep his thoughts focused. His concentration was broken by a
distant screaming. It was followed by a moaning, which grew and grew until it
was the only thing that filled Mangats mind.
When Mangat woke up, the pain had definitely subsided. He felt around
and found another stone and put it beside the others. Ten stones - he had been
in that cell ten stones too long. He felt strong enough to stand up. He started to
touch the stones at the top of the small, grimy cell. The door opened. Someone
grabbed him by the neck and dragged him out and down the hall. There were
small specks of light ahead of him, which told him that the hall must stretch on for
many miles. The cold, rough, uneven stones seemed to tear at his body as he was
dragged along.
The stench of death greeted him as he was thrown into a cold room with
metal walls. There were dark red stains covering the walls and the floor; they
made the room look harsh, blotched, and hostile. The only light came from a
small torch near the doorway; was it his imagination, or did the light itself want to
escape from this dismal place?
How many? A voice from the shadows demanded.
What? Mangat wearily spat out. A big man with long brown hair
stepped into view. He abruptly shoved Mangat onto the floor. He then put his
foot on Mangats hand. Mangat yelled in pain.
How many belong to the Jade River ?!
Many, I do not know exactly.
Tell me! The man roared as he pulled out a whip.
Hundreds, many! Mangat yelled back. The guard gave him ten lashes
with the whip and then threw him across the room. Mangat hit the wall so hard
he thought every bone in his body would break. The guard grabbed Mangat by
his left foot and dragged him back to his cell, where he was tossed inside like a
limp, soiled rag.
Inside the cell, Mangat tore off part of his robe and bandaged his hand as
best he could. While he was doing so, the Drip! Drip! Drip! again sounded in
the darkness around him. As Mangat wearily closed his eyes and listened to the
noise, his mind wandered to a place he vowed to leave behind forever.
He had been eight at the time. What was supposed to be a day of fun and
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exploration turned out to be horrific. Mangat had wandered too far into a mine
and fallen down a shaft. The trickling water and wind whistling through the
tunnels played with his perceptions. He felt things scampering across his feet,
crawling down his back, and wriggling over his fingers in the gloom.
Father! Father! Im down here! Please! Please dont leave me!
Mangat yelled. He then woke up and looked around him, terrified of who his
companions might be. He found a stone and put it next to the others - five. Five
days he had been in this forsaken place.
Mangat. Are you alright? It was CNumti. He was sitting beside him,
for how long though, Mangat could not tell.
Yes. Mangat defiantly whispered.
I am sorry that your stay here has been so harsh. Unfortunately, I wont be
able to visit as often to check on you. I have heard that the guards here love to
punish and torture people. Up till now, I have been able to keep them in check -
but with my prolonged absence.... CNumti rose and then turned toward the
guard at the door. Has he been cooperative?
No. The guard growled.
Do you think he would survive Gur Tongal? CNumti asked, looking back
at the helpless prisoner.
No.
Then make sure Gur gets as much information as possible before the
prisoner dies. CNumtis tone was dark and wicked as he walked down the hall.

The next morning, Mangat felt the stones along the wall. Twelve. Had he
been there that long? His courage rose somewhat. If he could endure twelve
days, he could endure one more. He reached for a stone - his hand touched a
nearby rock and all of a sudden he heard something in his mind.
Mangat! Startled, he pulled his hand away and looked around him. Was
he awake or was he dreaming? The pain was still throbbing in all parts of his
body so he realized that he was awake. Before he could find the stone again, the
door opened and a particularly cruel Ulub stood in the entrance. His horns were
adorned with a necklace made of small human bones. A repulsive stench of
rotting trash and sewage floated off his blotched, mottled skin.
Get Up! Gur Tongal demanded. The bones in his necklace rattled when
he shouted. Mangat was then dragged off into the darkness, perhaps for the last
time. His captors skin felt abrasive and hot and his fingernails dug into his flesh.
In the far distance, he could hear the sound of something very hard striking
something soft. He could also hear a faint groaning. The sounds gently faded
away and it seemed that the silence had swallowed up everything that surrounded
him. With the absence of sound and light, it was difficult to tell what direction
he was facing and whether he was moving forward or backward. Mangat never
felt more alone or helpless in his life.
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This time he was thrown into a different room. This one seemed darker
and gloomier than all the rest. The macbre surroundings stole what little hope of
survival he had from his heart. The floor was cold, grimy, and sticky. There
was a trickling sound, as if a small stream was running just under the stones.
There were two iron chains there and Mangats feet were securely bound. Then
he was hung upside down and left dangling over a bottomless pit.
Who is your master?! Gur shouted. When Mangat made no answer, he
was whipped and beaten severely. Every blow, it seemed, threatened to pull the
chains from the ceiling and send him to the darkness below. This went on for
hours and then Mangat was dragged back to his cell. No refuge! Not even this
cell! Gur Tongal roared. He tossed Mangat into his cell, the floor of which was
now covered with broken glass.
The pain and the nightmares continued for days on end. One morning, as
Mangat reached for a stone, he felt something cold and hard and again heard a
voice.
Mangat! Dont drop the stone! Mangat was startled and
dropped the stone, but he quickly groped around in the shadows and found it.
Who are you? Mangat asked in awe as he looked at the stone. He was
wondering if he had finally lost his sanity.
Shhh! Its me - Inwan. No time for talking! Just
listen! Mangat listened as Inwan whispered in his head. After several
moments, the door opened and there stood Gur.
Get up! Gur bellowed, grabbing Mangat by the throat. He lifted him up
and slammed him against the ceiling. In his agony, Mangat dropped the stone.
No questions today. Only pain - and screams. Then he was dragged away to
be tortured.
When Mangat was thrown back into his cell hours later, he searched through
the broken glass to find the stone. After groping for long, agonizing minutes, he
found it.
Are you there my boy? Mangat sputtered as blood ran down his face.
Mangat! Hold on! Just a little more. Then
Mangat listened to the whisperings till he fell asleep.

Get Up! Gur demanded as he lifted Mangat off the floor. You sleep too
good - too much food and not enough glass. He said as he surveyed the cell.
Today questions for you and your little rock!
After he had been tossed into the metal room and whipped several times,
Gur looked at him with an evil grin.
Who should I ask first - you or rock?
You must be extraordinarily stupid my friend - rocks dont talk. Mangat
sputtered, wincing in pain.
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Jade River - how many? Gur asked, picking Mangat up off the floor.
How many?! His grip around Mangats throat tightened. Hmmmm.....no
use. Maybe rock knows. He smiled, tossing Mangat over his shoulder like a
piece of trash.
How many? Gur growled, picking up the rock. He then shook it and
demanded again. Well ?! Talk rock! How many in Jade River ?!! Gur took
a huge iron hammer and smashed the rock.
No! Mangat shouted.
Now Gur Tongal your only friend. Friends right? Better than enemies.
Gur said, as he stepped on Mangats throat. Who is your master?
CNumti. Mangat pitifully squeaked with tears of despair trickling down
his cheeks.
Who?! Gur asked again, pressing his foot down on Mangats throat.
Gur Tongal. Mangat hoarsely whispered, barely able to breathe.
Mangat was then thrown back into his cell, which had even more broken
glass in it than before. He knew he was alone now, defeated. He cried bitter
tears as he lay on his side. As his hand brushed a small puddle, he thought he
heard a voice. He put his fingers in the water.
No! They havent won yet! Tomorrow will be
different - I promise!

Get Up! Gur Tongal yelled in Mangats ear. Mangat, who had been
sleeping, jumped and rolled over on some broken glass. Time to play. Tur
whispered in a low tone of voice. He then dragged Mangat out of his cell by his
hair.
In the metal room, things looked and sounded different to Mangat. It
seemed that the stones in the floor were whispering to him. They quivered, ever
so slightly, as if they were fish splashing about in a shallow river.
How many? Tur asked, grinning.
Dont you get tired of the same questions? I told you I dont know how
many are in the Jade River. Mangat groaned, leaned back against the wall, and
ran his hands over the rocks. It almost seemed as if they were obedient pets,
awaiting his command.
No - how many ribs you want to keep. Gurs words were like salivating
jackals waiting to pounce. After a moment, he took a step toward his helpless
victim.
All of them. Now - my question: How many? Mangat asked.
Huh? How many what? Tur replied, puzzled.
How many friends do I have? Mangat repeated with a little more
confidence. He then started to mutter in a long forgotten dialect.
Hah! None! Tur laughed, taking another step forward.
Look again. By this time, three humanoid shapes, each about nine feet
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tall, had risen up behind Tur. They were made entirely out of rock. One of them
put its hand on Turs shoulder.
Whos that ?! Tur asked surprised. He spun around and looked at the
stony figures. Then all three put their cold, hard hands upon Tur and quickly
dealt with him. The door to the metal room flew off its hinges. Mangat walked
down the hall, accompanied by his new creations. Now his only enemies were
the endless passages and the oppressive darkness.















360
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 65- Unexpected Friends

Keep up! If you dont keep up, well drag you by your pretty hair! The
guard shouted at Wisayael as he picked up the pace, dragging her behind him. It
had seemed as if they had traveled for hundreds of miles - she lost count after the
first three days. March, march, march - fourteen hours a day. No matter how
cold, how stormy, how dark the days seemed, onward they marched. Her legs
ached so bad she thought they would collapse beneath her, but her fear kept her
going.
They stopped at nightfall outside a large forest. The trees wound their
branches around one another, as if they were making a defiant, last stand. The
smell of cooking food mixed with an unusual aroma drifting on the breeze - was
it coming from the forest? The guards only noticed the food, which they ate
greedily. After the food was gone, one of them turned his eye toward her.
You are a pretty one, arent you? His tone was menacing and feral. He
stood up and stepped toward her. He ran his hand through her hair and she
pulled back. Im not so bad - you just see - well be good friends! He laughed
as he put his hand on her knee. Wisayael was paralyzed with fright for she knew
she was helpless.
CNumti wants her undamaged! The captain of the guard growled,
pulling the soldier away from her.
I wasnt going to damage her, just touch her a bit, maybe even a kiss - thats
all boss. I promise. The guard whined apologetically.
Get some sleep all of you. Ill take the first watch. The captains tone
was cold, mistrustful. He looked at Wisayael with a harsh, unnatural stare -
daring her to meet his gaze. When he turned away, Wisayael took some of the
Smoke Weed pollen that she had secretly picked along the journey and started
rubbing it on her clothes. The pollen felt cool and tingly on her delicate hands,
but it soon made her feel slightly warm. After she was done, she looked to the
west and saw something in the distance. It was almost like a sea, sparkling in the
moonlight. She shielded her eyes from the firelight and tried to make out what it
could be. Whatever it was, it was coming closer. After a few minutes, she could
hear a rhythmic pounding and chanting, which grew louder and more distinct.
The ground trembled slightly in time to the gruesome sounds. She then
shuddered as the sparkling sea revealed itself as spears, thousands of them. A
chant could be heard coming from the advancing army:

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Crush! Crush!
Kill! Kill!
It is precious blood we seek to spill!
Split the skull,
Crack the bones!
Kill them all and burn their homes!

Then the abominations came clearly into view. Orab, clad in plate mail,
were marching toward them four abreast. They were carrying spears with iron
handles. Near the heads of the spears were what looked like thorns, shaped from
the very metal of the handle. Grotesque ornaments hung from their tusks; they
looked like bones, but she couldnt be sure. Then, a column of GUlb - those
merciless beasts - appeared marching two abreast, beside the Orab. They were
also clad in plate mail; they carried swords almost as long as a man. Their horns
were painted with curious runes, in deep purple hues. The footfalls and clanging
metal of this parade of horrors were as loud as thunder. Several of the monsters
turned to look at her; their gaze was soaked in lust, rage, and a terrible hunger.
She felt paralyzed with terror in those few brief moments when their eyes met.
Hours later, when the sun rose and Wisayael and her captors made ready to leave,
the monsters were still marching past the camp site.
Get up! A guard yelled at her as he yanked on her chain and pulled her to
her feet. Then they took off at a run. Blood started to trickle down her wrists
where the chains had cut into her flesh.
When they entered the forest, they had to slow down to avoid tripping over
tree roots. They also had to cut through the thick brush that sometimes obscured
the path. However, no matter how agile they were, some guards did trip over
roots, which slowed them down even more. The smell she had noticed the night
before was strong, but she still didnt know what it was. She realized that she was
in a forest she had never been in before.
The guard who was holding her chains tripped on a root. He was busy
cursing when Wisayael was grabbed from behind. She looked down and to her
astonishment, a tree branch had wound itself around her waist. Before she could
scream however, another branch wound itself around her mouth. In the blink
of an eye, she was pulled high among the branches.
Shhhhh.....dont be afraid. A voice in her head whispered. It
sounded female, enormous, and very, very ancient. The words had a peculiar
ring to them, as if they were coming out of a wooden flute. The branch around
her mouth retreated and several branches broke the chain binding her wrists.
Below her, the guards were cursing, yelling, threatening, and searching for her.
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Who are you? Wisayael whispered quietly.
Telmreet. Dont worry, my children will deal with
your oppressors.

True to her word, the guards fell victim to smaller trees as they wandered in
the forest, looking for their escaped prisoner. From time to time, Wisayael could
hear a yelp or a scream. Finally, all was silent.
Thank you. Wisayaels words quivered with awe and wonder as Telmreet
lowered her to the ground. The branch retreated but then lingered as it touched
her hand. She realized that she now felt more comfortable with being rescued
than she would have in the past. Her independent spirit seemed more flexible,
like the branches of a willow tree.
You have always been good to my kindred.
I was glad to be able to return the favor.
As Wisayael wandered through the forest, certain trees bowed before her.
She would caress their limbs and they would gently wrap their branches around
her arms. She got to know them all, at least somewhat. There was BihCret the
Learned, Takroee the Strong, Illot-Weer the Sad, and Paltrepe the Generous. Each
told a little of themselves as well as their relatives and the forest. As she
listened, she could almost discern eyes, noses, and mouths amidst the leaves and
knots in the bark. Their voices seemed to blend in with the sound of the wind
rushing through their branches. For Wisayael, it changed her view of nature
completely: it was as if a veil had been lifted from her eyes.
When you leave our home, be sure to
come back soon. It is not often we get a
being with a tender, green heart like yours.
Paltrepe urged as Wisayael eagerly ate the apples from his branches.
Do you get many visitors? Wisayael asked while searching the branches
for another apple. It had been days since she had eaten.
An odd fellow passed through here two
days ago. I was very wary of him, He had
a cold stony heart.
Cold, stony heart? Wisayael said, tilting her head in puzzlement.
Yes. By his manner and bearing I could tell that
he loved stone and metal - clearly an artificer. Not our
type at all.
Which way did he go? Wisayael asked, her voice gaining a hint of
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excitement and expectation.
That way, to the North. If you meet him, tell
him to be more gentle when he plucks my fruit!
I will. Thank you Paltrepe! Thank you very much! Wisayaels gratitude
joyfully bubbled up as she hurried off.
While she was walking through the forest, she pondered her new friends. A
flush of embarrassment painted her face - did the trees at home also have a soul?
What about the plants, the grass? Everything was happening so quickly, it was
hard to keep up. Yet, she felt more comfortable in that forest than with her
dearest loved ones.
In the distance, a mournful dirge interrupted her reverie:

The Ore that we adore,
Someone has stolen our beloved treasure,
Our hearts are sad beyond measure!

The Ore,
The Ore that we adore!
We will keep searching in the forest,
Over the hills, and beyond the moor,
Till our knees ache,
And our feet are sore,
To reclaim our beloved Ore!

Wisayael diverted her course in hopes of finding the singers, but it was no
use. The bleak melody seemed to be coming from the west and then from the
east. It reverberated and echoed among the trees and seemed to seep up from the
very earth itself.
After traveling for two hours, Wisayael came out of the forest. A vast plain
lay before her. She looked but saw no one. Her heart sank and she scanned the
horizon, wondering which way to go. As she took a few steps forward, her foot hit
a rock.
Hey! Watch where youre goin! A voice piped up. It had a deep, earthen,
plodding quality to it. She looked around, bewildered, but still she saw nothing
but tall grass and cloudy skies.
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Oh! Milday! Its you. I have a message for you. Wisayael looked down at
the rock. A face surfaced, as if someone was rising up from a still pond. The face
looked like that of an old man, with bushy eyebrows, beard, and a long crooked
nose.
Oh my! Wisayael stepped back. Who are you?
Nitgar. Although my friend likes to call me Stone Beard. The rock replied and
winked at her.
Who is your friend? She could hardly contain her hope and excitement.
Funny. He never told me his name. He told me all about you though. Poured his
heart out, he did. Will he be happy to see you!
Where did this friend of yours go?
He told me he was going to Photthar.
Then I shall have to go there as well. Thank you Nitgar! Wisayael smiled
as she hurried off.
















365
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 66 - The Wild Shadows

Despite the persistent aroma of wild flowers and spice tea, Jhyndisels
confidence was beginning to falter. Every day he came closer to the ashen clouds
lingering above the Gray Mountains. This was a quest for a true knight of
Axandali, not a mere boy. It seemed as though the world had abandoned him -
even the horse that carried him out of the royal gates that fateful day had left him
in the middle of the night. He had spent long weeks trudging ever onward
through brambles, thickets, and gnarled forests, finding nothing but failure.
What would he be able to do if he came across bandits - or worse yet, monsters?
He tried to put his doubts out of his mind by focusing on his immediate
surroundings. The remains of houses, some reduced to nothing more than a
crumbling wall with wooden beams leaning against them, did little to cheer him.
There was a relentless faint smell of charred, burnt wood, even when he could see
neither smoke nor fire. Also, when he stood still he could feel a slight trembling in
the ground. The soil seemed to pulsate with its own queer, spasmodic rhythm.
One thing that caught his eye among the piles of debris was a half burnt
painting. He cautiously worked his way around the surrounding rubble and took
a closer look, just to satisfy his curiosity. Deep down he knew he was also stalling,
somehow hoping that the problems of the world would somehow solve themselves
without action on his part. The painting depicted several slumbering ladies in a
royal bedchamber. One damsel in particular caught his attention: she had
flowing black hair, as dark as a moonless night, and fair white skin. She was
wearing a red nightgown and seemed to be laying in front of the door to the
chamber (it was at this point that the painting gave way to charred paper, which
occasionally fluttered away when the wind blew). Would he ever win the hand of
a fair maiden such as this? The thought of turning back crept into his mind, as it
had many times before in the past several days.
His reverie was disturbed by his growling stomach. As he was looking
around for something to eat, a gust of wind suddenly yanked the painting out of his
hand; it landed in a foul smelling pool with an unceremonious Splush!. His
heart sank as he raced toward the pool and saw the painting floating toward the
center, its colors slowly dissolving in the fetid waters. He turned and looked back
at the trail he had traveled so far. Go back or go forward? He decided to eat first
and then settle the question later.
After searching for several minutes he found a pear tree. It seemed old,
withered, and tired. Its branches leaned over to one side and they seemed to
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groan ever so slightly in the wind. Jhyndisel took a pear and ate heartily. After
that, he took one more and ate that one too. He was about to take a third pear
when he heard singing in the distance. He quickly looked about him and crawled
into a thicket. As he lay in the tangle of bushes, tall grass, and tree branches, he
realized that his question would have to wait.
He saw figures moving in the distance they were coming his way. They
were marching quickly, confidently, as if they were heading to their destiny. After
a while, they came into clear view and Jhyndisels blood ran cold. A column of
orab and gulb shook the ground with their tramping and stomping. They were
wearing black plate mail and helmets; the swords they carried looked as if they
were made from human bones. Some carried long poles which were adorned with
skulls. Even at this distance, their stench was vile; it resembled moldy cheese and
rotten eggs. As they drew nearer, he could hear their terrible song, to which the
skulls were rattled:

Bones, Bones,
Burn their cities,
Crush their homes!

Hear them weep,
Hear them cry,
Throw em in the fire,
Watch em fry!

Small little things,
Soft and weak,
Squeeze them tight,
Hear them squeak!

Pound, slash, and crush,
Till theyre dead,
Gobble em up,
Till were well fed!

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Jhyndisel lay flat on the ground as they passed by, hoping that they wouldnt
notice him. He was afraid that even the sound of his own breath might betray
him. He noticed a fox only a few feet away, calmly accepting the horrors that were
parading right in front of them.
If that fox can do this, so can I. Jhyndisel thought to himself. It took an
hour for that terrible company to pass them by. After they were out of sight,
Jhyndisel decided that he would be safer here than back home - for the time being
at least.

With a slightly renewed sense of purpose, he traveled on. After two days, he
spotted a very unusual sight. Hundreds of towering stone pillars, some as high
as six or seven stories, rose up before him. Each column was capped by a stone
arch, one side firmly attached to the supporting rock. On the other side of the
arch hung a huge iron chain (at least as thick as a large tree trunk). Attached to
the other end of the chain was a stone block. As he drew closer, he could see oval
and octagonal holes cut into the blocks, which revealed themselves to be rooms of
some sort. Some of these stone houses had crashed to the ground, lying in a pile
of rubble that reminded one of a broken egg. Some of the towers had succumbed
to the ravages of time and lay on their side in several broken fragments.
As he passed through a collapsed wall, he came upon a broken statue of a
very odd creature. All that remained was the upper torso and the left arm, but
what was left fascinated Jhyndisel. A man, whose head was shaped like that of a
baboon, was smiling at him. However, the only hair on his head was two wisps on
each side of his jaw. Other than that, his face was as hairless as the boys. The
expression on the face seemed truly joyful and welcoming.
How could anyone be happy in such a horrible, desolate place such as this?
Jhyndisel wondered aloud.
Traveling on, he passed the ruins of a stone room. He meant to continue,
but the image of the statue kept creeping into his mind. Stumbling over debris, he
approached the fallen walls, which were scattered about like pieces of broken
pottery. Hieroglyphics on the stone revealed a man with a baboon shaped head
like the statue, but this being had a long, monkey tail. He was holding something
in his hands that appeared to be burning, but the picture ended abruptly at the
point where the stone had sunk into the ground. Jhyndisel grabbed a nearby
stick and started digging, each stroke revealing more and fueling his fascination.
After several moments, the picture became clearer; the mysterious figure was
holding a flaming bird.
As he walked through the ancient city, his eyes eagerly searched for more
clues as to who these strange people were. Why hadnt he heard about these
creatures before? Was he the first to discover them? Were they still here, hiding
perhaps? How long had they been here? These and a thousand other questions
flitted through his mind.
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Then he spied a heap of broken stones out of the corner of his eye. He raced
over to the rubble. More images, more of the story. One of the monkey people
as Jhyndisel called them, was standing in between a man and an owl. Beneath
that, blurry images of the man and owl seemed to almost overlap. At the bottom
the monkey man stood next to a person with large owl like eyes and feathers
growing from his temple. Jhyndisel stared, awe struck and silent: did this explain
where the Owlat came from?
He spent the rest of the day searching through rubble, staring at collapsed
walls, and sifting through broken pottery. The images he found changed his
perspective on the world and his place in it. There were images of monkey people
culling spirits from animals and then cloaking men with a primitive, vaporous
essence. Hideous monsters stepped forth from a fog, adorned with tusks and
horns. He also found an image of a monkey person with hands outstretched,
seemingly bare, as if what he was holding was now gone. In the background, a
figure dressed in a flowing robe and wearing what looked like a box on his head
could be seen running away with a flaming bird in his hands.
As Jhyndisel fell asleep that night under the stars and moons, his mind was
swimming with the images he had seen. The city seemed to come alive in his
dreams, bustling with curious creatures, jumping here and there. The faint
tremors he noticed upon setting foot in the Wild Shadows seemed to translate into
a melody of some sort. It seemed familiar to him, as if he had known certain
passages instinctively since the time he first opened his eyes. There was a
chattering which resembled a language of some sort droning on in the background.
Paper scrolls with strange writing upon them hung from the stone pillars and
flapped vigorously in the wind. Even in his dreams, the faint odor of wild flowers
tickled his nose. He smiled in his sleep as the taste of oranges played upon his
tongue.
The next morning, he felt compelled to travel to the east end of the city,
where a large stone slab was covered by branches and vines. It was as if
something was pulling him there, something he dreamt of last night. As he
cleared away the vegetation, he suddenly stopped, perplexed by an unnerving idea.
Did he dream of this, or did someone slip into his soul unawares and plant this
idea into his head? As he stood there, wondering whether or not to continue, he
smelled the wild flowers and tasted the oranges on his tongue. However, it didnt
comfort him as usual. He was very wary of these sensations - for the first time.
Then they gradually faded, leaving him alone with his questions and doubts. He
felt a warm presence on his left shoulder, as if a tender, warm hand had
momentarily come to rest there. For some inexplicable reason, this reassured
him that whatever was guiding him was to be trusted.
The stone slab, now cleared of debris, showed a great exodus of monkey
people. They marched in a long, solemn parade to a distant enigmatic destination
that purposely seemed fuzzy and lacking in detail. Some of the figures had tears in
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their eyes as they walked under a setting sun. Three moons rose overhead and
seemed to be spectators to the tragedy.
I suppose I had better be moving on too. He thought to himself.
He journeyed deeper into the Wild Shadows and didnt stop till nightfall.
When he made camp, he was tired - too tired to worry about what might happen.
His bleary eyes looked around for some kindling for a fire. He chose several
branches and some old books. Then he picked some fruit from a nearby tree. As
he lay down in front of the fire, eating his fruit, he looked at the valley which was
before him. The Wild Shadows, where no one ventured, not even the bandits.
The faint glow of lava that spewed forth from several distant volcanoes cast an
orange tint upon the thick clouds that hung low over the mountains. He thought
he smelled sulfur wafting in on the warm breeze coming from the valley. How
would he know where Jisi was hidden? It could take him years to find it.
Hopefully the voice would return and guide him - hopefully.
When he woke up that morning, it was eerily quiet. The fruit that he had
gathered the night before was now missing. In fact, the fruit tree that he had
gotten it from had now been picked bare. All he found were paw prints in the
soft mud.
I cant even hold onto a piece of fruit! The young prince scolded himself.
How will I ever find the ring and save my people?
Jhyndisel, run! The voice was back. Jhyndisel looked up, startled. He
saw something moving in the brush to his right. Quickly, run! The voice
demanded as the figure took a step out of the brush. It was an orab, wearing
armor and carrying a large axe. It sniffed the air, as if looking for something. It
sighted Jhyndisel and started grunting. Jhyndisel ran faster than he ever did in
his life and the orab ran after him. After a while though, he began to tire and
ducked behind a large rock. The orab ran right by him and continued on for
several moments, before it realized what had happened. The creature began
sniffing and poking the brush, hoping to find its prey. Jhyndisel, however, was
very experienced in running away and by creeping very quietly, was able to put
some distance between himself and the monster. Or so he thought. As he was
crouching down behind a tree, he felt a hand grab him by the back of the neck;
soon he was being lifted off of his feet. The smell of moldy cheese and rotten eggs
almost made him gag.
Gotcha! The orab happily declared.
Please, please dont hurt me! Jhyndisel squealed.
The beast tied him up and dragged him along the ground, over the broken
pottery and glass, through the vines and thorny bushes, for several miles. Then
the creature rested in a burnt out house. He tossed Jhyndisel against one of the
remaining walls like a dirty rag. His captor then went off to forage for something
to eat. Jhyndisel looked around and saw several berry bushes; the purple berries
with their white flecks were not at all appetizing. They were Skunk Berries: very
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sweet to the tongue but hazardous to the belly. When the orab came back, he was
gnawing on something that looked like a rabbit.
You know, some berries would taste very good with that rabbit. Jhyndisel
timidly offered. While he was saying this, he was cutting the ropes around his
wrists with a shard of glass he had found.
Berries? Hmmm..... The abomination mused, looking around and
spotting the berry bush. Soon, the orab was eating the berries by the handful,
greedily tearing whole branches off and gobbling up the fruit. By the time the sun
had set, the monster was groaning in agony, aware of nothing else but his troubled
stomach.
It was then that Jhyndisel took his chance. He had cut through the ropes on
his wrists and began to untie his ankles. Once or twice, the orab looked over at
him and he had to quickly resume his former captive position. After a while
though, the creature stumbled outside, where he groaned and heaved. When
Jhyndisel had freed himself, he ran to a nearby grove of elm trees. He then
climbed up a tree and rested a while.
In time however, the bushes below stirred. He saw several orab tramping
about. They were led by a strange creature he had never seen before: it resembled
a large man, but it had walrus tusks and it was covered in leopard fur.
Wanpala, what now? One of the orab addressed the strange monster.
What now? The odd thing rhetorically replied, eyeing his underling with a
harsh stare.
Jisi not here, not there, not anywhere! Boy disappear too! The creature
answered, warily backing away.
Keep searching. Wanpala growled.








371
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 67 - The Time Has Come

Mangat walked through the long hall with determination - no one would
stop him. He was dressed in a white Phixarian Shirt with three bronze cufflinks
on each sleeve; each cufflink resembled a coin from the Phottharian Empire of the
Sixth Dynasty. He also wore a beautiful Ollarsunder; the clasp was silver and
shaped like a cat. The black cloth strips had alternating stripes of red and gold
thread. He wore dark brown pants.
The royal guards of Photthar, standing on both sides of the royal causeway,
lifted their swords as he approached. The grand hall was lined with Guierypas;
long, intricately carved metal poles with a swinging arm on top. Hanging from
the arm was a slender thread. Attached to the thread were colorful paper boxes,
each containing rice from the last royal funeral. They swayed gently in the light,
fragrant breeze which cascaded down from the Bronze Gut Mountains to the north.
Mangat stopped several feet from the royal throne, which itself was a very
curious seat. At its base, there was a brass chamber, in which incense was
burning. The reddish smoke languidly curled upward through vents in the chair
itself. A stone ring, supported by four columns of marble, sat ten feet above the
throne. Thousands of threaded beads made a curtain which completely
surrounded the queen.
Your Majesty, I have been forced to intrude upon you, pushed forward by a
wave of disturbing circumstances. Mangat began, bowing low. His voice
splashed against the cold stone walls of the palace.
Now we shall hear the other side of the story. Queen Exin replied with a
slow, calculating tone. A look of puzzlement wrote itself upon Mangats face.
Then his uncle Tumnat stepped forward from the shadows. He was wearing a
white shirt and corded pants; the pants themselves were brown and the two cords
were silver in color.
Dont be surprised nephew - you knew this is where I would come.
Tumnat harshly stared at his nephew now turned coward.
Tumnat said you have no taste for war. The queens words seemed to
slowly roll forth like the crimson smoke that obscured her face. She looked at
Mangat through the haze and bejeweled curtain. She was gaging his reaction,
taking a certain delight in the debate that was coming.
Your Majesty, it is not a matter of taste. What I have seen must be shared,
first with you and then all the kingdoms. Mangat carefully crafted his words and
kept his anger under control.
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Beautiful Exin, we have no time for my nephews fears about evil spirits.
Our most pressing matter is Eauphixes. Tumnat urged, taking a step between
Mangat and the throne.
Queen Exin, please - listen to me. That is what CNumti wants you to
believe, that Eauphixes is your enemy. Its not true -
I believe that CNumti has been very convincing. All one needs to do is to
look at our kinsmen, lying dead on the burning fields! Look beyond and you will
see the standards of Eauphixes marching through our country! Tumnat shouted
at him.
Your Majesty, who started this war? Mangat continued, not budging.
Im - Im not sure. The queen faltered.
What matters is who wins. Victory will not be ours whilst we waste our
time with such ignorant talk.
Wonderful Exin, when did this war begin? Mangat stepped to one side so
he could look the queen in the eyes.
It seems that we have been fighting....fighting for quite some time. The
queen replied, as if slightly dazed.
We do not need a history lesson today! Look Mangat! Look outside!
Tumnat angrily waved his arm toward the window. As he did so, Mangat saw
symbols on his uncles arm that made his blood run cold:


_
|
m
`_.|= r

Under the symbols, one word appeared:

IcPanTefror

His uncle took a step backward, closer to the throne and addressed the
queen. Your Majesty, it has been your sacred duty to guard the kingdom from all
enemies, no matter where they come from or why they oppose us. Is this true?
Yes. The queen said coldly.
Your Majesty, it is your sacred duty to crush the enemies of the realm and
leave the debate to the scholars. Is this true?
Yes.
Your Majesty, A new yet familiar voice rang through the halls, If a
sovereign cannot remember why her kingdom is fighting, how will she know when
to call for peace? It was Wisayael; she was escorting King Lyoustarg of
Eauphixes to the throne. When she reached Mangat, he quietly took her hand.
How dare you bring this monster before me? The queens anger billowed
out like thunderheads. By now, Tumnat was a step closer to her.
Ahhh....now his true colors show - and they are not those of Photthar. I
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thought you were a coward, nephew, but this truly disgusts me. His uncles tone
was menacing and low. After a moment, he quietly put his hand on the hilt of his
sword.
Mangat is not a traitor to your kingdom, queen Exin. He did not even know
I was coming, in fact he may not have even known I was alive. Wisayaels voice
was gentle, yet firm and regal as she stepped forward.
The time has come then, Mangat. Time to choose between your lady love
and your country. Tumnat challenged.
Im sorry uncle, but I cant let this continue. Please forgive me. Mangat
softly responded. He then uttered some words in a ancient tongue and his uncle
turned to stone. The queen was quite shocked and disturbed by the sight, as was
king Lyoustarg.
By the heavens! What happened to him? The queen gasped. She
stepped down from her throne and ran her fingers over the statue.
Please, Sovereigns, we do not have much time. Wisayael interjected,
interrupting their awe. I have grave news to share.
I certainly hope it is not worse than mine. Mangat said as his eyes met
Wisayaels.

The next morning, Mangat looked out over the still smoldering plains of
Photthar. He was in the relative comfort of one of the most richly decorated
suites in the royal palace. The walls were covered with pale green and dark blue
tiles. An intricate mosaic depicting the zenith of Photthars history adorned the
ceiling. However, the unfolding drama outside captivated his attention. The
tattered standards of Photthar waved nervously in the air. Soon, the standards of
Eauphixes appeared on the horizon. They marched slowly, one might say almost
hesitantly, toward the Phottharian army. They stopped about one hundred yards
from their new allies. Mangat took a sip of honey tea to bolster his courage.
Are you ready? Wisayaels tone was full of expectation and hope. She
stepped beside him and gently put her hand on his shoulder.
Are you ready? Are we ready? Are they ready? I wish I had the answers
to all those questions. Mangat sighed.
Well have to find the answers on the way, for if we wait for them to come to
us, it will be too late. I do know that they need you - I need you She replied,
looking into his eyes. This admission surprised Mangat.
She has indeed changed. He mused to himself while hugging her warmly.
Suddenly, there were interrupted by a young woman, who ran into their
room. She was barely a teenager, petit and graceful. She had short black hair
and grey eyes. She wore a pale green cloak over her white dress. She had a
copper bracelet on her right arm and a tattoo of a black vine was running up her
left arm. The sight cheered Wisayael; it had been far too long since she had seen
anyone from the clan of the Midnight Vine. This clan, one of the oldest in the
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Society of the Wild Rose, had inspired her to leave home and expand her horizons.
Most Honored Mother, the young lass began, kneeling down in front of
Wisayael, I bring word from Norgrangthar and Ohor. They will not listen to us.
Then war is coming. We will have to meet it head on. Rise, young one.
The dawn is fading and we all have duties before us. Wisayael replied.
Mangat and Wisayael then went to the top of the palace. Here Xaven and
Xukulu were sleeping, their scales shining in the dawns first light. Was it
Mangats imagination or was Xaven a few feet longer?
Up! Time to get up your highness! Mangat said, patting Xaven on the
nose. The red dragon slowly opened his eyes and glared at him. Then he rolled
over. Ah....I see your brother is already awake and ready to inspire the troops on
the battlefield. Perhaps you can sleep in after all, your majesty. Xukulu was
indeed up, stretching like a cat and extending his wings. Upon hearing that,
Xaven got up and stretched. He then looked over at Xukulu, who was enjoying
the attention Wisayael was providing. He stood up on his hind legs and let out a
mighty roar. The troops on the ground were startled and looked up at them.
The master thespian has awoken? Wisayael laughed.
No...not quite. Mangat answered thoughtfully. The prince is ready for
battle.

Mangat and Wisayael flew down to where the two armies were gathered.
While Xukulu landed as softly as a feather, Xaven landed like a rock, shaking the
ground. Some of the men, remembering the ancient tales of the winged serpents,
backed away in fear. Xaven, noticing this, grudgingly took a step back and bowed
his head submissively.
Brothers, listen to me! Mangat called out while still sitting on Xaven.
Many in the crowd had a perplexed look on their faces. Dont be taken aback by
my greeting. The mythology of your ancestors testifies to the bond between
Phottharanthian, the founder of Photthar and Eauphixititilair, the founder of
Eauphixes. They were indeed brothers, who went their separate ways, but vowed
to reunite one day. Today is that day! You have been fighting without purpose,
without hope. Today that will change! An ancient evil is coming, like a rising
tide - closer to your homes every day. We cannot wait until the tide reaches us, we
must go forth and turn it back! Today we ride to victory! Mangat shouted. His
voice sounded like a mighty waterfall. The soldiers gave a loud shout in response
and the banners of Photthar and Eauphixes drew closer.




375
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 68 - Pangeans Temple

Jhyndisel had been running most of the night, and when the morning came,
he was exhausted. His body plopped down like a sack of potatoes behind a clump
of thorn berry bushes. Not even the singing of the birds in the tree next to him
cheered his spirits. As his mind drifted off to sleep, he wondered if he had evaded
his pursuers.
After only a few hours, he woke with a start. Cold rain was hitting his face.
He got up and picked some thorn berries, all the while nervously looking about.
The berries were cold, soggy and slimy, but they were edible. The slightest noise in
the forest made him jump. He decided that he had eaten enough berries and
walked on. This was the routine he had repeated over and over for the past
several days.
He reached a clearing with several tall pine trees on either side. All of a
sudden, he saw a mountain range in the distance; it was almost as if it had been
shrouded by the gloom, ash, and thick clouds. It stretched across the valley floor
and split the Wild Shadows in half. As he walked toward it, he smelled wild
flowers and spice tea. He knew that he had to cross those mountains. His
confidence grew with each step, despite the rain, which was now coming down in
torrents.
After walking all day, he finally rested at the base of the imposing peaks.
He made camp in a small clearing surrounded by stately elms and oaks. There
was a small stream nearby which made a soft, pleasant gurgling sound.
Although he was weary, he felt happy because he still detected the scent of wild
flowers and spice tea. He even felt the slight hint of oranges on his tongue.
If only Khyphryxia and Oubulon could see me now. He thought to
himself. Wouldnt they be surprised! He realized that he had surprised even
himself. The young king then went to sleep.
The child is here, I can smell him! A gruff voice announced, waking
Jhyndisel up with a start. It came from about one hundred yards down the small,
overgrown forest path. Jhyndisel quickly gathered his things and hid behind
some bushes. He didnt have to wait long; soon Wanpala arrived with several
orab. He looked around, sniffing the air. He then bent low to the ground,
scratching and sniffing. The orab were looking intently at him, as if he were a
grand prophet or a king.
The boy - here? One asked him.
The boy have Jisi - is it true? Another piped up.
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Enough! I cant concentrate with all your mindless
babble-chatter-squawk! Wanpala barked, grabbing the two orab, one in each
hand, and throwing them aside. He then began to walk in ever widening circles,
sniffing the air; at times he stopped, bent down, and sniffed the ground. At one
point he even started licking the damp mud. As he got closer, Jhyndisel took a
tentative step backward. Gotcha! Wanpala said, looking directly at him. He
then slowly stepped forward to claim his prize.
Suddenly, a loud crashing noise came from behind Jhyndisel. He turned
around and saw a bizarre animal charging through the forest. It was an elephant
with three trunks and skin as black as midnight; it was actually twice as large as an
ordinary elephant. He quickly scampered out of the way and Wanpala and his
men likewise scattered. The beast stopped in the clearing and started chasing the
orab. It actually picked up two, one in each trunk, and shook them like rag dolls.
Then it flung them aside and turned its attention to Wanpala. As the beast began
a new charge, Wanpala started running towards Jhyndisel. For his part,
Jhyndisel took off so fast that he surprised himself again. For a short time,
Jhyndisel kept ahead of Wanpala and the creature. After a little while, however,
Wanpala was running beside him, but he was too scared to even notice the boy.
When they came to a steep cliff, Wanpala was able to jump on a tree branch that
was twenty feet overhead. Jhyndisel tripped on a root and fell to the ground.
I will come back for you....not that it matters! Wanpala chuckled. He
grabbed a vine and swung across the wide, deep ravine.
Before Jhyndisel could despair, the creature was almost upon him. He
rolled out of the way to avoid one of the animals huge tusks. He had to dodge
and duck to escape the long grasping trunks. They carried on this way, circling
each other, for what seemed an eternity. Then, when he was close enough,
Jhyndisel quickly climbed up a tree. As he was climbing, one of the trunks
grabbed hold of his leg and started to squeeze and pull him down. The creature
started to sneeze when it smelled the thorn berries in his pocket. The beast, now
almost delirious with rage, rammed the tree. Each blow knocked the tree closer to
the yawning ravine, until it was clinging to the ground by only two roots.
Undecided as to whether he should stay or jump and run, Jhyndisel looked the
monster in the eye. It charged and out of fear, Jhyndisel backed further up the
tree. This was enough to snap the two final roots and the tree plunged into the
gorge below.

Fortunately, the gorge narrowed as the tree fell and the walls stopped its fall
with an abrupt jerk. Jhyndisel fell off the branch he was clinging to and
desperately tried to grab another. Finally, after two attempts, he grabbed a
branch and dangled above the seemingly bottomless blackness beneath him. He
was safe; all he had to do was climb out of the gorge.
This was no easy task. The walls of the ravine were, for the most part,
377
smooth and slippery. The vines that dangled around him came in various lengths
and textures, from rough to as smooth as glass. It was almost impossible, at best,
to determine which vine could be trusted. To make things worse, the rain had
returned, along with a strong wind.
After several hours, Jhyndisel reached the top of the cliff, exhausted. He
was bruised and cut, but in one piece. As a gesture of defiance, he wearily trudged
back to his campsite. This time, he was too tired to be happy. He looked at the
mountainside and wondered how he would ever make it over. Not even the scent
of wild flowers and spice tea could boost his spirits. He looked back over his
shoulder and wondered if he should go home.
After sleeping for most of the night and a good part of the following morning,
Jhyndisel awoke, hungry. He made up his mind that he would have some
breakfast first and then decide whether or not to continue his journey. He started
up the gradual slope of the mountainside, looking for something, anything, he
could eat. At last, he came upon a Turtledove bush, with its bright blue-green
tulip like flowers. He remembered his father saying that the roots of the bush are
edible. He dug up a root and brushed off the dirt. He chewed on it for a while; at
first it tasted like grass, but that soon gave way to a taste that can only be described
as a goose marinaded in butter and spices. He dug up the rest of the roots and
cleaned them off.
Well, if I am headed back, I shouldnt do so on an empty stomach.
Jhyndisel reasoned to himself. He continued up the mountain in search of more
things to eat. He found some things here and there, mostly roots and berries.
Looking around, he caught sight of some wild peanuts farther up the slope. His
mood brightened as he ran up to collect his favorite snack.
When he had picked all the peanuts, he looked around. He realized that he
was at the top of the mountain. He took in his suroundings, sniffed the air (which
still smelled like sulfur from time to time), and then walked on.
After several minutes, he arrived at the shore of a wide, gently flowing river.
The water seemed almost to hesitate at times, as if it wanted to stay in one place,
then it reluctantly trudged on. As it seemed to have no beginning and no end, it
would have to be crossed. An old, moss covered log seemed the only way forward.
Jhyndisel gathered his courage and stepped onto the makeshift bridge. Halfway
across, something popped out of the water. It looked like a giant yellow fish, but it
had a brightly colored beak, like a toucan. It made a strange cooing sound and
then slipped back into the water. Startled, but not daunted, he continued. The
strange fish returned a moment later - this time it was snapping its beak. It
lunged and Jhyndisel jumped forward; he did not land very gracefully and slipped
off the log. Fortunately, he was able to cling to a soggy branch. The creature was
now upon him, trying to snap him up in its murderous beak. As Jhyndisel was
trying to keep his legs out of the beasts maw, he felt a large, oddly shaped stone
underneath the water. He then came up with a plan. He clung to the branch
378
tightly and grabbed the rock with his legs. As the creature opened its jaws he
shoved the rock down its gullet. That was the end of that.
After several more minutes of traveling, he came upon a large, dark forest.
A small sense of relief crept over him, as he intuitively realized that his journey was
almost over. As he walked through the forest, he noticed mushrooms peeking out
between the ferns and bushes. They were strange - they looked like someone had
dumped several different colors of paint over them, one color subtly bled into
another without hesitation. As he continued, he started feeling light headed and
giddy.
Come, come play with us. A nymph like voice to whispered to him; it
seemed far in the distance and as if it was crouching on his shoulder at the same
time. Jhyndisel raced to find the source of this invitation.
It started to rain. Among the raindrops, tiny blobs of color splashed against
his skin. Upon contact, they erupted into a faint jangling and moaning, like a
broken chamber organ gasping its last breath.
No, silly, over here! Another voice called out to him. Jhyndisel then took
off in another direction. More blobs of color drenched him in a multi-hued
cacophony of clanging, moaning, groaning noise. Soon he was running here and
there trying to catch the phantom voices that teased him. Finally, the world
seemed to blur and spin.
When Jhyndisel woke up several hours later, his head hurt. He stumbled to
his feet and tried to find the path through this dark place. After walking several
minutes, the pain subsided but he started to feel giddy again. This time he
resisted.
Where are you going? The words seemed to bounce off the trees and come
up from the ground at the same time.
Who are you? Show yourself! Jhyndisel demanded.
Dont you have time to play? The mysterious voice teased. The brightly
colored mushrooms seemed to nod in agreement with the winds.
I wont let you stop me!
Stop, go - arrive, leave. Its all the same to us. The words seemed to be
coming from someone right behind him, yet it also seemed that his persecutor was
high above the tree tops.
Stop! Stop this! Jhyndisel started to cry. The world began to get fuzzy
and he staggered forth like a drunken man.
Again, Jhyndisel spent several hours unconscious. When he woke up, he
leapt to his feet, angry and frustrated. He soon found the forest path and started
to run. He ignored the voices that taunted and teased him, but his pace slowed
and he eventually fell to the ground as if struck dead.
This time, he had slept for a whole day. When he woke up, he was face to
face with a mushroom. He could see something like a very fine, red-gold dust
wafting from it.
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Cover your face Jhyndisel. A voice instructed him.
No! I wont let you stop me! Jhyndisel yelled. Then he detected the
taste of oranges on his tongue. His eyes grew wide with surprise. He tore off
part of his sleeve and tied it around his nose and mouth. He then ran through the
forest as fast as he could.
At last he came to a field filled with flowers. There were several pine trees
here and there, as well as oaks, elms, and willow trees. In the center of the field
stood a stone building that looked like an upside down pyramid; it had a small base
and spread out as it reached upward. Each corner of the building was supported
by a stone column. Jhyndisel laughed and shouted for joy - he had made it.

The inside of the building was filled with purple tapestries which hung from
the ceiling and walls. They were embroidered with white lions and golden
peacocks. Armor and swords gleamed in the flickering glow of his torch.
The wall opposite him depicted a scene of a young woman being washed.
The ground around her was soaked in blood and there were several dead rodents
lying about. Beneath her feet was a chickens foot.
On the wall to the left was another scene: the same young woman was
searching for something. In the lower left portion of the mural a robed figure
could be seen carrying a white stone.
Jars of sand were scattered throughout the chamber. In the center of the
temple was a large granite block, which was as big as a house. On the stone one
word was inscribed: Jisi.
After searching for hours, nothing resembling a hiding place or box could be
found. When he sat down to rest, Jhyndisel noticed that there was a slit between
the rock and the floor. Did the rock move somehow? Jhyndisel pushed the rock,
but it didnt budge. He searched the rock and the surrounding chamber, but
found no lever to pull or button to push. As he was walking around, wondering
what to do, he noticed a small brass basin on the ground.
Whats this doing here? He thought to himself as he tried to pick it up.
However, the basin wouldnt budge. When he tugged on it, he heard a clanking
sound, as if it were connected to something. Fine hero I am. I cant move this
rock and I cant even pick up a small dish! He then turned and started to walk
out of the temple.
Jhyndisel. Dont give up. Please. I trust you. I need you. The sweet,
familiar voice in his head implored.
I cant do this. Im - Im sorry I failed you. Im glad that I cant see you
because I wouldnt have the courage to look you in the eyes. Jhyndisels regret
seemed to ooze out of him like a slimy goo. He turned as he spoke, to see if he
could in fact catch a glimpse of Pangean. As he did so, he noticed a painting on
one of the walls. It was of a youth pouring sand into a basin. Jhyndisel stared at
the picture, then he understood.
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Soon he was kneeling in front of the basin with a jar of sand by his side. He
eagerly put sand into the basin and waited. The low groaning and clanking of
pulleys, cogs, and gears awakening after centuries of dormancy could be heard
underneath him. The rock sank into the ground; but it stopped halfway.
Jhyndisel tried to climb up the side of the rock but there was nothing to grab hold
of. He tried jumping, but the top of the rock was out of his reach. He then put
more sand into the basin and the stone continued its descent. However, it sank
thirty feet into the ground. A small silver and jade box could be seen in the center
of the pit. Jhyndisel was about to jump down and claim his prize, but then he
realized that he wouldnt be able to get out. He removed some of the sand and the
stone block rose up above the floor fifteen feet. It seemed it was a matter of
balance.
After carefully adding sand, the stone sank down to the point where the top was
now even with the floor. Jhyndisel stepped forward and opened the box. Inside
was a gold ring with three ivory stones, shaped like tears. There were strange
markings on the inside of the ring. As Jhyndisel put the ring on, he thought he
felt a warm summer breeze brush by his face. The scent of wild flowers and spice
tea was stronger than ever.
Jhyndisel, you found me! The sweet, mysterious voice happily exclaimed.











381
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 69 - Kill Your Feelings

Yet another city. She looked down from the slope on the flickering lights
and wondered if tonight would be the end. She could hear Rifunes words: To kill
the assassin, you must first kill your feelings. After several moments, she
descended the hill.
The fog covered the city streets like a blanket. As Quatzitil moved, the mist
lay undisturbed, as if she was not there at all. Quite suddenly, and for no outward
reason, she stopped. The orange tint in the iris of her eyes slowly grew, like an
exploding star, until her eyes were overcome with the brilliant hue. Then after a
few moments, the orange color faded until her eyes were pure white. A tiny spark
of orange appeared soon thereafter. As this transformation repeated itself, she
heard a mouse running through an alley several blocks away. The smell of
cabbage soaking in vinegar in a home on the other side of the city filled her
nostrils. She saw a moth fluttering among the night lilies in a field several miles
to the north of the city. She felt the feathers of a great owl-hawk as it circled
above a forest many miles to the west. Then she cocked her head, as if something
in particular had caught her interest. This was the place, he was near. Her eyes
resumed their normal appearance of orange and white. She continued the hunt.
She made no sound as she followed her quarry. The sounds, sights, smells, and
feel of the city had no effect upon her at all. Tonight, she had no memories in her
soul and no awareness of her future. If a sense of eagerness to reach her goal rose
in her heart, she let it drift away, to be replaced by an empty, hollow sense of
nothingness. This is how she kept her pace steady yet determined.
Nowmanga walked through the streets, absorbing all the sights, smells, and
sounds around him. He greeted passers by politely. To the casual observer, he
was just another soul seeking refuge on a chilly, damp night. Then he
disappeared; he simply melted into the fog.
Quatzitil was prepared. She calmly walked to the last place she had seen the
assassin and stood still. With her hands on her swords, she surrendered her
senses and soul to the moment. A crossbow bolt zipped out of the gloom and she
stepped aside, much as one would step aside to let another pass. The projectile
grazed her ear. She then continued on.
She came to an alley that was an entrance to a labyrinth of narrow back
streets and crevices between old, dilapidated buildings. The sound of footsteps
mingled with dripping water and an occasional bang! as a stray animal tipped
over a trash can. The sounds formed a maddening chorus as they bounced off the
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wet, grimy stone walls. Before entering, Quatzitil examined the scene; one of her
swords flashed as she swung it before her. A small thread snapped and a
crossbow bolt flew across the alley, just inches in front of her nose. She then
entered and walked confidently towards her target. After turning a corner, she
jumped forward quickly. Several small, spiny metal balls fell behind her and
clinked quietly as they hit the ground. She felt she was getting closer, she felt
excited. Then she decided to feel nothing.
As she went deeper into the maze of back alleys, her eye caught something.
It was hanging on a doorknob, almost out of reach of the dim light which
illuminated the dark shadows. It was Ricoas fob. A lump rose in Quatzitils
throat and she brushed away a tear. She stood still and surrendered. She then
calmly and confidently continued on her quest.
Up ahead of her, she saw the shadow of the villain walk away. She followed
with a quickening pace, but he always seemed one step ahead of her. Sometimes
the shadow would go left, then right; sometimes it was just ahead of her.
Sometimes she noticed it out of the corner of her eye when she turned around.
She once again stood still and let her surroundings wash over her. When the
nothingness returned to her heart, she picked up the trail of her prey and
continued on.
She was gaining on him when she noticed something hanging from a low
gutter to her left. It seemed so familiar, she couldnt ignore it. She walked over
and examined it. It was Ricoas bean pouch. There appeared to be a stain on it -
it was his blood. She could no longer feel nothing.
The cold steel of a sword gently caressed her arm. She spun around, with
her two swords drawn. Her left sword missed Nowmangas throat by an inch.
So, the old serpent has taught you some tricks. Has he taught you this
one? In a blink of an eye, Nowmanga disarmed Quatzitil and would have cut off
her left arm if she hadnt dodged him at the last second. She leapt over him and
recovered one of her swords. Their blades flashed like lightning and for a while, it
seemed a stalemate. Then, for a moment, Quatzitil gained the advantage; she
tumbled past her foe and recovered her other sword. Then the contest began in
earnest and lasted well into the night.
My uncle shall be avenged! Quatzitil shouted.
Shall he? That is yet to be seen. Nowmanga grinned. With a single
thrust and twist of his body, he disarmed her and had her on the ground. Blood
was trickling down her right side.
Let us see how many tricks you know villain! Quatzitil pulled a small dagger
from her breastplate and it sunk deep into the assassins right thigh. Her other
dagger flew through the night like an angry eagle and sank into his left arm.
Well played, very well played! The assassin replied, grimacing with pain.
The final chapter will have to be written another time. I will see you again - on
the day of fire and blood! He then staggered off into the darkness, leaving
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Quatzitil with nothing but a feather.






















384
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 70 - The Battle of the Four Armies

Mangat and Wisayael were leading the armies of Photthar and Eauphixes
on horseback. Xaven had grown tired of being submissive, so Mangat had set him
free. He also suspected that the prince wanted to return to his father, for what
purpose he was not exactly sure. Although Xukulu generally ignored his older
brother, he too was eager to see their father.
What do you think they are discussing? Mangat asked his beautiful wife.
It could be anything. Though I suppose the current state of affairs will be
an issue that will be thoroughly discussed. Wisayaels voice resembled a wind
rushing through a pine forest on a cold winter day. In the distance, a large stone
tower rose up. It was made of red sandstone and was surrounded by a iron fence.
The top third of the tower had fallen over, revealing several objects that glinted in
the sun.
Why look, treasure in the wild lands. Wisayael remarked as they drew
closer.
My treasure is right here. Mangat reached out and took her hand.
Wisayael blushed. There was no doubt now - something in Mangats heart had
definitely changed.
They rode on, heading south, then stopped for the night to rest. Mangat and
Wisayael pitched their small tent under a large oak tree. The Dragons Thread
sparkled between its bare branches. Wisayael caressed the bark, but it was silent.
Suddenly, Zoshan flew into the tree, screeching madly.
Zoshan! There you are. Wisyaels breath rushed out of her like a flock of
startled birds. The owls unexpected arrival had caught her off guard and
seemed a grim omen. I thought you had tired of me old friend. The bird
fluttered its wings and flew from branch to branch, wary of sitting still for too long.
What is it dearest? What troubles you so? Come, come to me. Wisayael
gently whispered.
What is all that noise? Mangat grumpily demanded, stepping outside.
Ahhh....the prodigal fowl has returned.
Mangat, Im worried - something has really spooked him. Her tone was
hushed and somber. The bird finally perched on her arm. She talked in low, soft
tones and caressed the creature. Mangat headed back to the tent, but before he
went in, he looked out over the horizon and wondered what was waiting for them.
When the sun crept over the trees, they set out and rode all morning.
Mangat and Wisayael said very little, each preoccupied with their own dark
385
thoughts. They looked to the sky now and again, hoping to see Xaven and
Xukulu, but they were met with disappointment each time. Wisayael found
herself also looking at trees, wondering. Mangat did this too as they passed large
rocks.
Before long, the standards of Norgranthar, the Green Tiger, came into view.
Undisturbed by the wars around it, the army was vast. Several large ravens, the
harbingers of IcPanTefror, circled in the air. Before she despaired at the
realization that they were outnumbered, Wisayaels eyes darted to the forest to
their left.
Warriors! Follow me! She shouted and made a run for the trees.
I hope you know what you are doing. Mangats voice simmered with dread
as he rode up beside her.
Trust me sweetie. She replied as her eyes met his.
They had barely entered the forest when several arrows felled the rear guard.
Wisayael sensed allies here, ancient and powerful.
The battle was fierce. The soldiers of Norgranthar were determined, and not
even the branches of oak, elm, and maple deterred them. At least not at first. As
they day wore on, the battle slowly turned in favor of Eauphixes and Photthar.
Metal clanged, war cries rang out, and the creaking of large trees suddenly
springing into action created a din that drowned out all thought.
As the sun was setting, Wisayael smelled smoke. It was faint at first, but it
grew stronger.
The trees, we have to protect the trees! She yelled. She rushed on, her
tired steed galloping as fast as it could. Soon she found several enemies carrying
torches, setting fire to the trees that were attacking them. Stop them! Save the
trees! She commanded the warriors who were with her. Though the fighting
was desperate, that particular battle was won, but at a bitter price.
You ..... are safe ...... for now. A deep, slow, vast voice echoed
in her head. She gingerly touched a tree which had been consumed by the flames.
Then the voice was no more. Tears were streaming down Wisayaels cheeks.
Around her, fires were still burning furiously.
Her grief blinded her to the danger. It was approaching from behind,
carried by swift hooves. Just before the spear could plunge into Wisayaels soft
form, it was knocked aside by a scarred and dented shield. She jumped at the
sudden sound and turned to see who it was who had postponed her death.
A lone figure was before her, clad in chain mail, blade ready and shield
raised. Though the armor was battered and the once proud sword now tarnished,
they were carried with an air of defiance and confidence. As Wisayael watched, a
white rose petal dropped to the ground in front her champion. The warrior stood
still as the horseman charged again, this time with sword drawn. The very air
seemed to pause to see who would win the contest. For reasons she could not
explain, Wisayael rose to her feet and stood beside the soldier as the horseman
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bore down on them. Then, in a terrible instant, it was over. The warriors
blade had found its mark and the horseman lay dying amidst the flames. As he
lay gasping and sputtering away his final moments, the victor gently bent down
and whispered something that was drowned out by the roaring fires. The
champion raised the sword which had struck such a cruel blow and mercifully
ended the dying mans suffering.
Then the warrior removed the chained cowl and a plume of beautiful
chestnut brown hair tumbled forth. She turned to Wisayael and smiled.
Bejaj! The joyful greeting leapt from Wisayaels tongue as she hugged her
sister.
By the Dragons Thread! Its been too long - its been much too long.
Bejaj tearfully answered, holding her older sister tight.
Youre still wearing it.
Yes. Bejaj replied, tenderly stroking the white rose threaded through her
metal links.
Then they fled the forest, riding out on the plains. The trees had killed
enough of the enemy to give hope. They battled all through the night, and by
daybreak, Photthar and Eauphixes had triumphed.
The cost had been high, however. Only one third of the force that had rode
from Photthar saw the sun that day. The great army of Eauphixes was reduced
to a handful of limping soldiers. The once proud warriors of Photthar were
injured, disillusioned - and few in number. Dead bodies lay everywhere and their
stench mixed with the noxious odor that was indigenous to the wild lands. Blood
still trickled over the rocks that littered the field.
Now what? Wisayael asked, looking about her.
We dont have enough to withstand another assault; we have to retreat and
hope that our allies will meet us. Mangat sighed.
Allies ?! Look around Mangat! There is nobody around to help us! We
havent heard from Wuyami, or the DorthGem. The rest of the kingdoms are at
each others throats! Who knows where the OwlAt or the Auglinous are! She
broke down and wept.
I know, I know. Things appear very grim. But we still have one ally that
will always be by our side. She looked up at him as he said this. Hope.
Moments later, the thundering of hooves could be heard in the distance.
Mangat took out his spyglass and scanned the horizon. He could see the banners
of the Red Dolphin of Ohor come into view. Like Norgranthar, Ohor had been
undisturbed by the wars around her - until now. Today, they rode forth like rabid
dogs bent on destroying everything in their way.
We have two choices. The commander of the Phottharian army announced.
He walked up to Mangat and Wisayael. Die on the run or die in battle.
Your choice today will determine your choices tomorrow. Mangat grimly
answered.
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We choose to die facing our enemies. The commanders words were
abrupt, cold, and harsh.
Wisayael shot a look at her sister - as ever, defiance and confidence were
written on Bejajs face. She was about to say something to comfort her sibling and
perhaps receive some comfort in return.
Dearest, do we have any allies left in the forest? Mangat gently put his
arms around Wisayael.
Im not sure. She replied, wiping the tears from her eyes and regaining her
composure. Ill be off then. She tried to smile, but worry overcame her. She
kissed Mangat for a long time and then mounted her steed. As she looked back,
she noticed a look of dread coming over Mangat, despite his best efforts to keep his
composure. The sound of the advancing army drew nearer.
Go then! Ride forth and meet the enemy. You must hold them back as
long as you can. I will see what help I can find here. Mangat commanded. A
look of puzzlement came over the commanders face and he wondered if Mangat
had lost his mind. Go! I am a poor warrior and I would only get in your way.
Perhaps I will find something that can help by digging around here. Mangat
shooed him away.
As the tattered remains of the Phottharian and Eauphixian armies rode forth,
Mangat wondered if this would be his last day. He then regained his composure,
sat down, and dug his fingers into the soil. He heard voices, many stony voices
chattering all about him. A sense of peace and confidence welled up in him. No -
today would not be his last day.
The fighting grew nearer to him. The Phottharian and Eauphixian armies
slowly melted away under the brutal assault of the Ohorians. Mangat, however,
remained still. He was chanting in a long forgotten language. The battle was
now only a half mile away and drawing ever closer. Suddenly, a figure made of
stone crawled out of the earth. It looked about and then noticed Mangat. It
stepped forth slowly and touched him, fascinated by this warm, soft being. Soon
other rocky figures crawled out of the ground, each one taking its turn to touch the
one who had summoned it. By now, the battle was almost upon them, mere yards
away. An arrow grazed Mangats cheek, but he sat there, chanting. After a few
more moments, there were thousands of stony creatures of all sizes. They were
oblivious to the battle around them, but some of the warriors had begun to notice
them.
Mangat then rose up. The rocky creatures turned to him, wondering what
he would say. He pointed to the warriors with the Red Dolphin crest on their
armor.
Destroy them.
The vast legion of stone slowly, methodically, attacked the Ohorian army.
Without remorse or enthusiasm, they crushed their enemies. By the time the sun
set, the Ohorians were no more.
388

That night, with both moons shining, CNumti strolled the battlefield. He
looked at the corpses; he felt some, and tasted others.
My, my. You look like you died a most horrible death. Take him, his
bones will be useful. And look, a severed head - most delightful. There is much I
can use here. CNumti smiled.















389
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 71 - The Hidden Kingdom of Thieves

This is no use! The words rolled out of Jhyndisels mouth like a load of
wooden barrels angrily crashing into one another. He hacked at the thick
underbrush, rich in briars and nettles, and then sat down. Ill never get out of
here. Everything will be ruined - because of me. His despair trailed off into the
surrounding wasteland.
Jhyndisel, this is the path you must travel. I know you can do this.
Pangaens voice sounded like a sweet melody in his soul.
How do you know?
I remember things you have forgotten. Her unexpected remark settled
upon the young prince like the warm rays of the sun. Do you remember when
you were just a very little child? You once walked all the way from Crown Hall to
Haleths Cairn.
My father was furious with me. It was the first time I felt his whip.
Jhyndisel winced as he recalled the long night in the tower that stood just outside
Axandali. He ran his hand along his lower back in hopes that the scar had
somehow disappeared - it was still there.
You had to crawl over rocks, under fallen trees, and through bushes. It was
a very difficult journey for such a young one to undertake, but you did. You are
older now, stronger. You can do this, I know it.

Jhyndisel pushed on several more miles and then made camp for the night.
The large, creaking trees seemed to close in around him. He felt that they would
snatch him up in their gnarled, mossy branches at any moment. Just beyond the
firelight, things scurried amongst the ruins and long grass. The sky was covered
by a dreary blanket of clouds that seemed to thicken with every passing moment.
As he looked at the ground, he noticed fresh footprints, large footprints. His
breathing was all he could hear as he stood perfectly still, remembering the horror
of the past several weeks. In the distance, he heard several large things grunting
and growling. The noise was interspersed between the crackling and popping
sounds the twigs made in the fire. Soon he heard something coming through the
brush.
Tired. Sleep now? An orab mumbled, as it wearily trudged into the
camp.
Keep going! No more chatter-squabble-squeal-babble! The creature felt
Wampalas hand sharply strike the back of its head. Hmmm.....smoke. Someone
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was here recently. You, he gestured to four orab, search over there. You, he
gestured to four other orab, search over there. The rest of you lazy luggins, come
with me. A wicked grin broke out across his face as he and three other orab
stalked off into the deep bush.
All he could see was their feet, with the claws sinking into the damp earth.
The fallen stone wall above him felt cold and oppressive, and the muddy earth
underneath him was damp and seemed to stick to his very bones. Then two pair
of feet walked directly toward him. Jhyndisels heart raced as he anticipated
being discovered any second. However, the feet soon disappeared.
Want to sleep. A voice directly above him bemoaned. The stone above
Jhyndisel sank deeper into the ground. Whereas before, he had a few inches of
room above him, now the stone was a mere inch from his head. Another pair of
feet came toward him and disappeared. He could hear a second orab yawning as
the rock sank lower into the ground. The damp stone was now touching his back.
Get up lazy-luggin-stupid-dopes! Wampala shouted as he trudged back
into camp empty handed. He walked over to where the two were resting. The
rock began pushing Jhyndisel into the soupy earth. As the mud rose above his
chin and up to his lips, he thought about all those things he would never do. He
held his breath and closed his eyes as the mud went past his nose.
The ground underneath him turned out to be a mass of tangled, dead roots.
As the rock above kept pushing him down, he started to push and pull the ancient
gnarled roots below him. The more he struggled, the more his arms and legs got
caught in the roots. Suddenly, they gave way and he plunged into a pitch black
watery cavern.
As he bobbed to the surface and gasped for air, he felt grateful to be alive.
He was carried along swiftly by the current of the turbulent underground river,
bobbing this way and that as it curved and snaked its way through the gloom. The
perilous journey seemed to go on forever. As he rushed along, he could feel roots
and what felt like seaweed along the riverbed. Then in the distance, he heard a
mighty thundering as the water plunged off a cliff and into the depths below. In
desperation, he started to grab the roots and seaweed, but they slipped through his
hands. The sound of the steep waterfall was getting ever nearer. Then, as luck
would have it, he finally managed to get a firm grasp on a clump of seaweed. As
he pulled himself toward the shore, the seaweed began to come loose.
Just a few more feet - please. He begged the vegetation. It did not care
about his fate however and abruptly snapped. As he rushed toward the
precipice, he tried to get closer to the shore; all the while the sound of the waterfall
grew closer.
Just then, as he was trying to reach the shore, he was swept off to the right.
The water seemed a bit slower here and he eventually found himself in a large lake.
The young prince looked about him and saw nothing but shadow. Then, as he
adjusted to his surroundings (as best he could), he felt a slight breeze coming
391
through the darkness directly ahead. The scent of cooking meat danced past his
nostrils.
As he swam across the black lake, the air seemed to get fresher, carrying with
it not only the scent of a good meal, but all the odors he had come to associate with
this dreaded place. Finally, he crawled upon the stony shore; the small, smooth
round pebbles beneath his fingers were a welcome feeling. Behind him, he heard
something slowly dip under the water. Startled, Jhyndisel looked back then
quickly followed the whisper of air as it slowly made its way into and out of the
cave.
After several long hours, that seemed more like days, Jhyndisel squeezed out
of a narrow cleft of rock. Exhausted, he fell down and slept as the sun rose. Not
even the scent of wild flowers and the taste of orange on his tongue could wake
him.
When he did awake, the sun was setting. The last rays receded over a large
gloomy swamp. The bog was crowned by dark trees which moaned in the wind.
The many foul pools were girded with long grass and large grimy weeds. A chorus
of moon frogs issued forth an eerie and ghastly serenade which was answered by
the hoots of lonely owls. The scent of the Wild Lands was different here; it
couldnt be adequately described but reminded one of decay and illness.
Jhyndisel followed the twisting waterways which seemed to curl in on
themselves. The tall grass had edges as sharp as a finely crafted rapier and cut
him if he was too careless. Every so often, he would have to stop and peel a slimy,
mucky leach from his ankles. He tried to get closer to the lights in the distance,
but they remained ever out of reach. Suddenly, he heard the water behind him
splash. He wheeled around, terrified, but saw nothing. He continued on - weary,
lost, and wondering where he would end up. In the distance, storm clouds
gathered.
It felt like a vine at first, but something tightened around his leg and sharply
yanked him off his feet. Screaming with terror, Jhyndisel was quickly being
dragged to the waters edge. Just as his body was going under the soupy grime,
something grabbed his hand.
Not tonight! Get your meal another day! A harsh, raspy voice cut across
the shadows like an old saw biting into timber. After several moments of a life
and death tug of war, Jhyndisel ended up on the deck of a small boat. It was a
fearsome craft with two large harpoon guns on each side. It was well worn and
well traveled, with chipped paint and rusty handrails. Flashes of lightning
revealed cracked glass which rattled in their weathered window panes.
Thank you sir. I owe you my life. Jhyndisel sputtered. A small white
monkey with dark gray splotches timidly approached. It hopped on the handrail,
the bell around its neck tinkling amidst the peals of thunder. It sported a small,
worn top hat that was almost stolen by the feisty gales.
I havent seen you before - and if I didnt come along right now - I might
392
have never seen you in the first place! An old man laughed. He had a frenzied
mane of white hair that seemed to create a halo of wildness around his hardened,
wrinkled face.
I am Jhyndisel. The young prince struggled to get to his feet.
Man-Lam-Samgams my name. How did you get here? I havent seen a
new face in ages. The old man shook the princes hand heartily and firmly.
Its a long tale, sir. Where am I?
Youre in a bad spot - a really bad spot. The Hidden Kingdom of Thieves.
Mans voice pumped out solemnly. He took a pole and pushed the boat towards a
light in the distance.
Unbeknownst to them, something followed, slithering silently through the
water.

Man-Lam-Samgams home was a rickety hut which rested on wooden poles.
It sat stubbornly in the middle of the swamp. A musty lantern outside the
ramshackle dwelling provided a cheery welcome as it swayed in the wind.
Inside, the hut was filled with various trinkets and fishing gear. Old fishing
knives (no more than jagged blades with some teeth missing) hung from the
ceiling. Some of the floorboards seemed almost ready to surrender to rot.
Lichen could be seen clinging to some of the window sills. Throughout the hut,
holes appeared in the floor, as if intentionally cut out. Along the back wall, two
long iron spears were carefully laid against the wood. What surprised him,
however, were the soggy books between the old barrels; one was titled The
Adventures of Ka-Sa-Ikzix another was Nupeteps Day of Fire and Blood.
They settled down for the night. The old lantern between them threw
curious shadows about. Man took up a beaten old accordion and started to gently
play a cheerful little ditty. It seemed to huff and puff; at intervals a quiet wheeze
could be heard between notes. As the evening wore on and the music floated off
into the swamp, Jhyndisel noticed a slight buttery odor coming from the barrels.
A shiver ran down his spine as he recalled the midnight tales his mother spun
about the dark arts.
How come Ive never heard of this place before? Jhyndisel looked at the
old man, wondering how he could survive out here all alone.
You see lad, youve got history and then youve got rouges history. To learn
the former, you go to school, to learn the latter, you risk your life. The old man
looked up from his instrument and winked.
Does anyone else live here?
Oh sure, there are plenty of people here. Nope, a man wont get lonely
here, not at all.
But theyre all thieves and bandits - is that where the name comes from?
Jhyndisel looked at the gruel he had been offered and dipped his finger in.
Something brown and lumpy popped up quite unexpectedly and, having lost his
393
appetite, he set the bowl aside. He then noticed something (partially obscured by
moss) scratched into the plank in front of him:



,
,
,
,
=

m
`_.

Quite naturally. If youre not a thief when you get here, you become one
real quick. A real excitin life - most people dont want to return. Some - There
was a very small shudder that ran through the hut. Grab a pole boy! Grab a
pole! The old rogue yelled as he reached for a spear.
Two large black tentacles crashed through the floorboards, waving wildly,
threatening to send the tiny hovel crashing into the swamp. As Jhyndisel and
Man-Lam-Samgam desperately battled them with the iron spears, a third tentacle
crashed through the window. It wrapped itself around the white haired thief and
tried to pull him through the window.
The floor boy! Through the floor! Man screeched at the top of his lungs.
While avoiding capture, Jhyndisel shoved the iron spear through the holes in
the floor. After several attempts, he struck something heavy and rubbery below.
There was a loud bellow and the hut shook even more violently than before,
throwing Jhyndisel off his feet.
Keep going! Keep going! Hes a tough old natcher! He wont give up
that easily! The old man yelled.
Just as Jhyndisel was about to reach for the spear, it rolled away from him
and out the door, making a despairing splash as it vanished into the gloom. He
reached for the spear underneath Man-Lam-Samgams dangling feet and grabbed
it - just as something grabbed him from behind.
The tentacle around Jhyndisels left leg tightened and dragged him out the
door. When it got him outside, the monster flung him this way and that, like an
angry child punishing a rag doll. Unable to hold onto the spear any longer in the
current circumstances, it flew out of the princes hand and splashed into the water
beyond. As the hideous appendage brought him down to the turbulent waves
below, Jhyndisel was fortunate enough to come very close to the front of the hut.
He grabbed a plank and held on for dear life. There was another loud bellow that
crashed through the darkness and then the creature pulled even harder.
394
Finally, the beast won. The plank had splintered and Jhyndisel was fast
approaching the jaws of the massive abomination. Out of sheer horror, he clung
to the broken plank that remained in his hands.
In a split second, a thought came into his mind. It was not his idea at all,
and it seemed like an intruder. However, he had little time to consider such
things. As the creature brought him closer to its gaping maw, filled with rows of
large, sharp teeth and a purplish thorny tongue, Jhyndisel pointed the sharp end of
the wood downward. In its fury and greed the monster yanked Jhyndisel toward
itself and he sunk the wood into the tough blubber between its eyes.

Later that evening, still somewhat shaken, the pair lay down to sleep.
Rest, rest now lad. Youve had quite a night. Wherever youre going, it
would be best to travel under the sun.
Sounds like a wise idea. Thank you for your hospitality and courage. I
wont forget it. Jhyndisel said, closing his eyes.

In the morning, the old thief was gone. Jhyndisel went to the door and
looked about. There was no sign of the boat. He looked down at the water
nervously, wondering what other horrors it contained. As he ran his fingers
through his hair, a sense of shock and fear washed over him. He looked at his
hand - Jisi was missing.














395
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 72 - The Messenger

Inwan knelt down upon the ground and hesitantly put his hand in the
stream. The sun had just risen and the dawns rays were just beginning to filter
through the trees. His heart was racing. He winced as his hand slipped into the
water, as if he was preparing for a sharp blow. Most people would have taken
great comfort being in the shadow of the Temple of the Sisterhood of the Three
Moons. Inwan was unlike most people however.
It is only a matter time. They think we
are their pets.
No! Thats not true! Inwan retorted.
They do not like us! A stony voice echoed from under the
earth that he knelt upon.
Please, give them one more chance.
Why? Why should we help them? The wind whispered
softly in his ears.
They will abuse the power we have given them.
That is their way. The water said while gently flowing across the rocks
in the shallow stream.
They are all evil! The stony voice shouted before Inwan could
speak. Soon more voices joined in the noisy debate. There were so many that
his head began to hurt. He put his hands over his ears and fell to the ground,
curled up like a babe. Tears of anguish and fear ran down his face.
You cannot betray us . We are one . Murmured a
chorus of voices from his own tears. He felt as if the world he had known for so
long was slipping away, leaving him in an imaginary realm of maddening,
disorienting cacophony. The very reality before his eyes seemed to be changing
hue, as if colored cellophane was covering his face. No matter how much he
wanted to close his eyes, he couldnt. As the sun was setting, he staggered back to
the temple like a drunkard.
Before he could reach sanctuary though, he was intercepted by a badly
frightened MisinJuwayl . She looked worse than he; it was apparent from her
disheveled appearance that she hadnt slept for days.
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They are going to open the gates! We have to stop them! Please, help! If
they open the gates, Drelamand will fall. She babbled on.
Im - Im sorry I cant help you....Its just the pain...it hurts so much.
Inwan squeaked feebly.
Please, please help. She started sobbing uncontrollably, tears running
down her face. Andreaxilous must not open the gates!
Inside the Temple of The Sisterhood of The Three Moons, the young women
were enjoying a quiet evening. Several of them were playing musical instruments
- they played them quite well in fact. As the sounds of the harp, flute, and
mandolin drifted through the stone halls, others were attending to their
companions.
Several dragons of various colors were reclining throughout the large room.
Their scales gleamed in the firelight as they enjoyed an evening meal. From time
to time, one or two smaller dragons would hiss at each other, but they were soon
silenced by a terrible growl that threatened swift action. The keeper of the peace
was Xurkan, a large black dragon. He was longer than six horses and as tall as
three. He had two yellowish rams horns and amber streaks on his immense black
wings. The pupils of his eyes were like the sun, which were set against a deep
crimson background. Several griffons, perched on ledges high above the floor,
were also present. However, they had no need for a peace keeper; each had a keen
awareness of his or her own rank and knew in their heart that it could never be
bettered.
The light and warmth were provided by fires which were burning in small
channels that twisted this way and that. All the trenches originated from a deep
well of flame in the center of the room and proceeded outwards. Great iron
chains with feathers attached to them hung from the walls.

Inwan stumbled into the hall as quietly as he could, so as not to attract
attention. Quatzitil, who was talking to several of her closest sisters, noticed him
out of the corner of her eye.
Are you OK? A sense of fear swept through her voice as she caught Inwan.
Yes. He protested, gently declining her help.
Why is this happening?
I dont know. Inwan turned away shamefully.
I didnt mean any offense. I just dont understand whats happening to
HaruCaban - or you. She softly replied. Her voice reminded him of waves
gently breaking on a warm sandy beach.
I wish I had the answers, but it.... Inwan stopped, mid-sentence, and put
his hands over his ears. Ah! My head! Stop! Stop it! Inwan yelled at the
fire flickering in the torch beside him. Quatzitil gently led him to an inner
chamber where he could lie down and sleep - hopefully.
She played her flute for him, a sweet melody they both knew from their
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childhood. It always comforted him when he felt troubled, but now the beautiful
cadence almost seemed to taunt him. She took the instrument from her lips
before she finished the song and simply sat with her love, unsure of what to do or
what to expect.

The next morning, Inwan was kneeling by the stream again. This time there
were no voices. He put one hand on a nearby rock in hopes that he would hear
something, anything.
They are content today. They have nothing to
say. The wind whispered in his soul.
Yesterday they were in rebellion and today they are at peace?! Inwan
angrily addressed the wind. He could hear faint whisperings in his mind, but he
couldnt make out what they were saying. For the first time, he feared
HaruCaban. It seemed to him that the spirits were like wild animals; untamable
and unpredictable.
Traitor! A voice harshly yelled from the ground below.
Tell them that we want to help. The water gently
sounded between his ears. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Each drop of rain
that fell down had its own opinion, some of which varied wildly from the earthen
voices below and the wind that caressed Inwans face. Lightning began flashing
all around him and the voices were roaring louder than the storm. A bolt of
lightning alighted on Inwans right arm, and then another on his left; both bolts
standing still as if they were birds of prey landing on a falconers glove. Inwan
broke free of the spirits grasp and staggered back to the temple.
No! We will not! Cant resist - he is
growing too strong too powerful! The earth beneath Inwans
unsteady feet moaned. Suddenly, a claw of stone shot up from the ground below
and lunged at Inwan, barely missing him.
Ive got you, youre OK. Quatzitil whispered as she caught him. Outside,
the storm raged so fiercely that it threatened to tear down the temple.
There are just too many....I dont know what they want from one day to the
next. Theyre not themselves. Something is wrong - very, very wrong. Why is
it so dark in here? Inwan mumbled, slowly coming out of his daze.
We couldnt light a fire, no matter what we did. Its almost as if its
rebelling against us. Isnt there anything you can do to stop this? Quatzitils
frustration was rising with each passing minute of darkness.
Im not their master, only their messenger.
There must be something you can do, think Inwan!
I cant! I have no power over them!
Im sorry, Im just so frustrated and....
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Scared?
Yes. She replied, looking deep into his eyes.
Me too.
Q! We just lit a fire! I think everything is going to be alright! Xinkshi
called out joyously from the main hall.
Come on, lets go warm ourselves while we can. Quatzitil smiled faintly
then gave Inwan a long hug.
The fire was indeed warm - and very talkative. At first, Inwan thought it was
just inane babbling. But, as the sisters one by one began to retire for the night,
the ensuing quiet revealed something.
We are your masters. A chorus of hollow, sinister voices sounded in
Inwans head.
Never! We will prevail! The fire roared.
Dont deceive yourselves. We are your destiny.
The voice made Inwans blood run cold. It had a different quality, as if it was
made up of - darkness.
The mortals will help us! They will help us
kill you! The fire roared.
They cannot be trusted! The wind outside screamed.

Mortals. Another voice softly laughed from the shadows; this one
sounded very ancient and extremely cunning. Inwan thought he felt something
brush past his right leg. How fragile they are. Within the shadows
that surrounded Quatzitil, a tendril, slightly darker than the surrounding gloom,
seemed to wrap itself around her waist.
Get away from her! Inwan yelled as he grabbed Quatzitil and yanked her
out of the shadows. She turned to him with a startled look on her face. Then the
voices increased in number and intensity. Inwan put his hands to his ears and fell
down to the ground. Quatzitil, still stunned, wasnt sure what to do.
Sishkye appeared in the doorway. He looked at Inwan for a moment and
then quietly approached. He whined so quietly that Quatzitil almost didnt notice.
The wolf picked up his head, as if he had suddenly heard something. He stared at
the fire, which was caught in its endless debate with the gloom and the storm
outside, and growled. He then started licking Inwans face. When Inwan opened
his eyes and saw his trusted friend, he sat up. He looked at his hands and noticed
that they had blood on them. He wiped blood from his nose. The wolf nuzzled
him and was hugged in return.
The voices, theyre gone! Thank you Sishkye! You saved my soul.
Inwans gratitude quietly escaped his lips while he gently petted his companion.
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The next morning, Inwan and Quatzitil started their breakfast in silence.
They were unsure of what they should, or even could, say to each other. Sishkye
had elected to depart in the night.
I have to go Inwan.
What? Startled out of his thoughts, he lifted his eyes from the cooking
fire.
I have to go. Rifune has summoned us - all of us. Why, Im not sure.
Ill be fine. Im sure Sishkye will be around.
What did he do? Her eyes drifted to the nearby window. She wondered
where the wolf was at this moment.
I dont know, but I hope he can do it again.
Do you find it frustrating?
What do you mean? Inwan said with a puzzled look on his face.
Not having any power over them, only being their messenger. As she said
this, Inwan recalled all that had happened to him over the years. Suddenly, a
spark of determination flashed in his eyes.
The message is my power. He realized, slowly rising to his feet.
I dont understand.
I dont have any power over HaruCaban, true enough. But I might have
some influence over mortals. He gathered his things.
Where are you going?
To spread the message! He called back to her as he ran out the door.









400
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 73 - The Lion & The Frog

Tears streamed down Jhyndisels face as he contemplated his latest failure.
The finger where Jisi had been seemed so bare, so cold - so vulnerable. He paced
about the small, rickety cabin, his mind dashing between desperate hope and a
lifetime of failures. He looked down at the murky water below and wondered
what might be swimming in there.
You might as well jump in and at least provide a good meal for some awful
creature! Jhyndisel muttered to himself, the tears beginning anew. The wind
blew in robustly from the west and seemed intent on brushing away his tears.
Just then, a large log slowly drifted by. On top of the log, barely discernable,
was a large frog, happily croaking. The little creature kept on croaking louder
and louder it seemed, as if it were taunting its enemies, or perhaps even singing a
song of victory. A melody from happier days crept into the young princes soul.
He could hear his mother singing the refrain as if she were right beside him:

The Lion and The Frog,
Went Down to The Bog,
Frog used his tricks,
Floated on sticks,
Lion used his pride,
And soaked his hide!

No! There has to be a way out of this! Jhyndisel said to himself. He
looked around and found some old rope. What could he do with that? An old
fishing knife, that was no good.
Floated away on a pile of sticks. His eyes lit up and he started sawing
through some of the boards. How hard could it be to make a little raft?
After a few minutes, he heard a screeching sound. It was most odd and
tempted him toward the door. He rose up and looked out. In the distance, he
could see a boat with several large birds on the top. The vessel was coming in his
direction.
Panicked at the thought of having to face another brigand, without Pangean
or a sword, Jhyndisel looked around the small cabin for a place to hide. As the
screeching sound grew nearer, Jhyndisel grew more and more frightened as he
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realized that he had no way to escape. He looked at the rope and the jagged old
knife. Then a thought came to his mind. Jhyndisel worked furiously in the few
moments that he had left.
Samgam! Get up you rotten old natcher! A loud, strong voice called up
from below. A few minutes later, a strong, broad shouldered man appeared in the
doorway. He had long, greasy brown hair, a mustache, and beard (there were bits
of his morning meal still hiding in his matted whiskers). He was wearing worn
clothes over his chain mail, which clinked as he moved. What have we here?
The visitor croaked as he took a step toward Jhyndisel, who was bound hand and
foot with the old rope.
Please sir! You must help me! I was kidnaped by Mr. Samgam. He plans
to sell me as a slave!
Slave eh? Fair skin and thin bones. You wouldnt make a meal for the
fishes! But you could do some work, at least for a few months before someone
had to toss you out, I suppose. He took another step forward. From under his
heel, there came a creaking, followed by a sudden snap! He fell through the
floor and landed with a loud sploosh! into the waters below.
You little rat! Ill crack your head open like a ripe melon! Just wait- The
threats abruptly stopped. There was a splashing sound, followed by a gasping and
sputtering.
Jhyndisel sprang out of the loosely tied ropes and bounded out the door. As
he got into the brigands boat, he turned back and saw a slight disturbance in the
water. A moment later, a leather boot bobbed up to the surface.

The vessel he had under him was nothing more than a raft with a small hut.
The birds perched atop the cabin seemed not to care that the boat had a new
skipper. The green and yellow paint that must have once decorated the craft so
beautifully was peeling. Several old cans and bottles were rolling around inside
the captains quarters. The water lapped over the weathered logs and threatened
to separate them. Tied to the front of the boat was a small carving of a griffon. It
was standing on its hind legs. Its front talons clawed the humid air, as if
demanding that the captain charge forth into uncertainty.
Now where to? He wondered to himself. The swamp seemed endless: it
branched off in a thousand different directions, each twisting waterway girded in
tall, tangled grass and gnarled trees. A subtle rustling sound brought him out of
his reverie. As he looked more closely at the back of the boat, he noticed a furled
sail. He untied the worn, dirty cloth and raised it to its full height. It revealed
itself to be a patchwork of old flags. What a sight! The standards of Axandali,
Oeshaili, Eauphixes, Yebfam, and even Slunarkien stitched together. Then with a
mixture of doubt and fear, he put his journey into the invisible hands of the wind.
After a while, Jhyndisel came upon a great forest of speckled gum trees. The
trunks were a dull yellow with flecks of white running up and down the bark. The
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long, graceful branches curled in upon themselves and dark blue leaves hung from
the sleek limbs.
He remembered even though he didnt want to. That long, long day when
his classmates had tricked him came back to haunt him. The embarrassment was
worse than the pain. How could he have been so foolish? His father had laughed
and laughed for months, even years afterward. His mother, ever his greatest
consolation, had looked at him differently after that fateful day. He never wanted
to see another gum tree again and now he was surrounded by them.
Through the thick grass, he caught sight of something capering about on a
railing. A small top hat peeked in and out between blades of green. As Jhyndisel
let down the sail, he heard the tinkling of a small bell.
So he sat there for a moment, realizing that he had no hope of approaching
Man-Lam-Samgams boat and taking Jisi by force. It was at times like these that
he missed Khyphryxia the most. Even Oubulon would be a welcome sight or
perhaps his father. He sighed as he realized that he was alone. His only allies
were the trees about him whose leaves seemed to mock him as the wind whistled
through them. Then a spark flashed in his eyes and a wicked grin broke out upon
his face.

Man-Lam-Samgam was resting upon the front of his boat with a hat covering
his face and a fishing pole upon the deck. From time to time, his first mate came
up to the pole and wiggled it, in hopes that something might wiggle back. The
water was still. When he tried to advise the captain that it was futile to keep
fishing here, he was brushed away. The captain was intent on sleeping off the
horrors of the past night, and a meal could wait.
Which is why Samgam was so frustrated by the faint song he heard in the
distance:

Gum so sweet,
What a treat!
Tastes sweeter than honey,
Spent all my money,
Im in a daze,
Tasting that sweet glaze!


He pulled his hat down over his eyes, but the melody would not relent.
Finally, he got up and followed the song to its source. What he saw there was an
interesting sight indeed.
Jhyndisel was skinning the trunk of a gum tree with Samgams old knife.
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After he peeled off some of the bark, he pressed his ear to the exposed area.
Is that you my boy? The old thief cautiously called out.
Good morning Mr. Samgam. Jhyndisel cheerily answered.
A fine looking boat you have there. Samgam recognized the boat that was
moored to a nearby tree. He shuddered as he thought of the large gambling debt
he had yet to pay off to its former owner.
Why thank you. Jhyndisel skinned the tree, pressed his ear to the exposed
spot, and frowned. He then moved on to the next tree and began skinning that
one.
Where did you get such a fine vessel? The old man pushed his boat a little
closer to the shore to get a better look at what the young prince was doing.
I bought it.
Really? Samgam raised an eyebrow.
Really. With this. Knocking on the trunk of the gum tree, he continued.
The sap is the best thing you ever tasted. It sells for \2 Ivory per bucket back
home.
Sounds like a man could get rich from this enterprise. Samgam shrewdly
observed.
Very rich - if one can find a tree with fresh sap. Jhyndisel frowned and
moved on to another tree.
How can one tell if the sap is fresh?
It makes a dripping noise inside the tree. Jhyndisel had just skinned a
small section of the tree. He then put his ear to the tree and smiled. Ah!
Fresh! What a good supper I will have tonight!
Samgam pulled his boat ashore and stepped closer to where Jhyndisel was
kneeling. The old mans stomach began to growl as he thought of the delicious
sap on his tongue. The thought of gold in his pocket also tempted him closer.
May I? The ancient brigands tone was polite, but Jhyndisel could see a
spark of mischief in his eyes.
Why of course! Jhyndisel happily offered. As the old man cautiously
placed his head against the exposed part of the gum tree, Jhyndisel whispered into
his ear: One must listen closely, very closely to hear the sap. The young prince
then pressed Man-Lam-Samgams head firmly against the tree trunk. Do you
hear it?
No. I dont hear anything. Samgam answered sourly.
I never did either. A shame.
What? Samgam said, trying to pull away from the tree. His head was stuck
quite firmly and would not budge however. You tricked me! Release me, now!

Im sorry, I cant do that. Jhyndisel grabbed the old mans hand and
slipped Jisi off his gnarled finger. I would need ground up sunflower seeds and I
dont see any sunflowers around here. He slipped the ring onto his finger.
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You will regret this day! I swear it! Samgam roared.
I did regret this day, but I think it has turned out to be one that I shall
remember for a long, long time. Jhyndisel smiled as he boarded Samgams boat
and continued his journey.

















405
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 74 - A Star Falls From The Sky

It was a sunny Ikra -day morning. The morning dew sparkled like jewels
before the rising sun. Oubulon could hear the calls of falcons and parrots in the
surrounding forests. The persistent yet gentle breeze from the north west carried
the scent of the rare oils that bubbled up from the ground. Despite the breeze, the
air still felt warm and humid. Oubulon handed his handkerchief to Khyphryxia,
who wiped her brow.
Are you well, Bright Star? Oubulon looked at her and wondered if the pace
of the journey had been too quick.
Im fine. And you may call me Khyphryxia. The days of me shining in the
heavens are over. She replied, smiling timidly.
Your kingdom may be gone, but you will always be my Bright Star.
Oubulon said as he leaned over and gently kissed her forehead. For a brief
moment, her eyes sparkled. Oubulon smiled for he thought he would never see
that spark of life flicker in her eyes again.
We have one last hope and I mean to recover him.
It will be difficult to persuade the others to free Jhyndisel from Thuritchs
Tower; the societies have never been welcome in Slunarkien.
Then we will march to Thuritchs tower over the ruins of Slunarkien!
Jhyndisel is probably the last living king - we have to rescue him! She hissed
angrily.
I understand - and our hearts are one in this matter. Oubulons voice
reminded her of a guitar gently playing in the night.
Im sorry. Its just that -
There is no need to apologize. He assured her.
Do you really believe that he is being held in that dark, miserable place?
Perhaps going over the plans again would reassure her.
The tower is heavily fortified and the favorite place of the Slunarians for
holding captives. It is said that -, Oubulon suddenly caught himself, it is a very
hard place to escape from. A shudder ran down his spine as he remembered the
long months he spent in that terrible prison. The chains, the fetid floors, vermin,
constant pain, and despair darker than the deepest shadows were things he had
tried so hard to forget.
And we can gather enough warriors to overwhelm that cruel fortress?
If the others will cooperate, yes. It should only take about ten thousand;
the armies of Slunarkien should be quite decimated after all the chaos and war we
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have all had to endure.
If more swords are needed?
Then things will not be so easy. This gathering is for the purpose of uniting
against a common enemy, not to aid a single kingdom.
Easy or impossible, either way we must act soon. Jhyndisel is like my
mother: quiet of spirit, with a wavering will and fragile bones. Father could
almost thrive in such a cruel environment, but Jhyndisel will be quickly
overpowered by the horrors there.
We will free the last king of Axandali. I promise. Oubulon replied,
looking into her eyes. That being said, they stopped for the night.

The next morning was shrouded in mist. Oubulon and Khyphryxia began
the day in silence, each preoccupied with their own thoughts. They sat down on
opposite sides of the breakfast campfire, staring into the flames while sipping tea.
Will it be hard to persuade your allies to aid us in our other quest? She
asked thoughtfully.
I certainly hope not. Without Jisi the societies are our only hope - and even
that may not be enough. Oubulon grimly answered.
It will. If we cannot be inspired by Pangaen herself, we will have to be
inspired by her legends. Then Khyphryxia mounted her horse and looked behind
her to make sure that Oubulon was close behind.
After riding all morning, they saw their one last hope on the horizon:
Dalaghuvs Pit. It was an enormous crater, two miles in diameter and four miles
deep. As they drew closer, he could see the tops of the tallest bamboo peeking out
over the jagged rim. He shuddered as he remembered the account of the last
great meeting. The Sword Thorn wars had begun here and lasted for fifteen years.
Although he had visited this place several times, he had never found his
great-grandfathers remains. His heartbeat quickened slightly when he saw
several others following the treacherous, narrow paths to the bottom of the crater.
When they arrived at the rim, Khyphryxia ran her hands over the rocks guarding
the entrance. Despite their rough, coarse exterior, they felt as smooth as glass.
They dismounted their horses and descended on foot. Bamboo trees
cluttered the narrow trail. The path itslef seemed to cling to the wall as if it were
afraid of plunging to the depths below. As they continued on, a feymonered
jumped onto a branch in front of them and screeched. The creature was a monkey
covered with cream white feathers instead of hair. It raised the brilliant gold
feathered crest on its head as a gesture of defiance.
Hopefully the visitors will be in a better mood than the natives!
Khyphryxia laughed. The monkey soon lost its courage and jumped away as they
drew closer.
The societies never really quite get along. To even be here is a gesture of
desperation. Unfortunately, their disposition will be worse than the natives.
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Oubulon sadly commented, noticing another feymonered studying them intently
from the bamboo pillars. Its pale orange feathers seemed to glow as the suns rays
slipped into the pit. It raised its deep crimson feathered crest and barked out a
warning.
At the bottom, a river cut through the forest floor. It flowed from a hole in
the north side of the crater, then turned east and disappeared into the earth just
before the ground started to slope upwards. A simple stone bridge was the only
evidence that mankind had ever set foot in this deserted place. In the clearing
ahead, several people were already gathered. Oubulon halted for a moment to
assess the situation. He then closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Ebet. It is good to see you again. I am glad that you are here - we will
need your wisdom. Oubulon smiled cordially; his voice sounded like a sweet
sonnet gently played out on a aged, classic mandolin.
It would be better not to be here, but I must be content with the
circumstances. She replied bitterly. She was a short woman with a thin face
which matched her frail body. Her wispy white hair had streaks of pale blue and
smoky gray. Her matriarch ring was fashioned from ebony and had two small
gems set into it; one was of turquoise and the other of quartz.
None of us want to be here. Where else could we go - given our situation?
Oubulon gently yet firmly replied.
None of us should be here. The Society of The Black Spear has given much
and lost much more. Ebet sharply retorted, giving Oubulon a cold glare.
Please, we have all come here to concentrate on what we have, not on what
we lost. Oubulon argued, trying to contain his frustration.
That will be a difficult task indeed, since your presence will remind us of our
greatest loss. Tharldan interjected, stepping up to the conversation.
Tharldan had a long white beard and a mustache. His head however was
completely shaven. His patriarch ring was made of quartz and had three gold
stars set into it. It seemed to perfectly compliment the oaken walking stick he was
clutching.
The loss of Arkplur at Pomkons castle does not need to be our defining
moment. It is here that we can shape our destiny. Oubulon debated with
increasing zeal and conviction.
His words are wise. Goulgern added as he joined the debate. Oubulon
smiled upon seeing his old friend. He was a large, hairy fellow who smelled like
burning wood. His long sandy hair fell over his broad shoulders like water
cascading down a mountain. Goulgerns patriarch ring was crafted from solid
ruby and had a bronze star in the center. Oubluon knew that the Society of The
Bronze Ram could be relied upon, from its Patriarch down to the youngest clan
member.
The Society of The Hidden Eagle has yet to be convinced of the quality of
your words, Oubulon. Speak well tomorrow - we will be listening most intently.
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Tharldans doubt seemed to hit them like a wave of icy water as he walked away.
Where are Mangat and Wisayael, by the way? Goulgern asked, looking
around.
I am sure they will be here soon. They will not let us down. Oubulon
replied. Beneath his confidence a growing doubt gnawed at his heart.

The next morning arrived and there was still no sign of either Mangat or
Wisayael. After delaying as much as possible, Oubulon walked into the center of
the circle formed by the society leaders and their entourages. There were many
grim faces; a sense of distrust and uncertainty fluttered through the air.
We come to forge a new future; one without conflict, tears, or blood. Who
will share my vision? Oubulon began in a loud, commanding voice. Or at least
he hoped it was. Goulgern laid down his weapon and stepped forward. After
several uneasy moments, another society leader laid down her weapon and strode
forward. Then, a young boy, not more than eighteen years of age, laid down his
weapon and took a step forward. Everyone present was slightly shocked. The
ruby ring with three black triangles set into it confirmed that he was Ricoas
rightful heir and the leader of the Society of The Red Hills. Surely you did not
come here today to sit and wail as you recall how your cities and villages have
burned. The time for unity is here. Who will share my vision?
Just then, someone pointed to the western rim; several figures clad in black
appeared. The standard of the Black Jackals came into view. More figures
appeared along eastern rim. Then, they started to descend to the bottom of the
pit. Monstrous figures began pouring over the southern rim. Panic ensued -
people armed themselves hastily and ran off in every direction.
You - you betrayed us! Ebet yelled at Oubulon.
No! I had nothing to do with this! Oubulon protested.
You fool! They followed you here! You have killed us all! Tharldan
roared.
I did not have anything to do with this! I would never betray you!
Oubulon yelled as the enemy drew closer to the forest floor.
Quick! We must flee! Goulgerns words flew like arrows as he grabbed
Oubulon by the arm. Oubulon looked around to see if he could find Khyphryxia in
all of the confusion. He spotted her helping a young girl to her feet.
Come. I will carry the child. Oubulon said, picking the girl up.
Khyphryxia looked up at him with uncertainty swimming in her eyes. Everything
will be fine - I promise.
They followed Goulgern along the river banks until they came to a clump of
particularly large bamboo. As they climbed the trees, they could hear the soldiers
drawing nearer. By the time they had gotten halfway up the trees, the guards
came into view. They clung to the trees, which swayed gently from side to side as
the soldiers passed by. Just as the last soldier left, a small nut dropped from the
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girls pouch. It seemed to be an eternity as it plummeted to the ground, where it
hit with a dull thud. One of the soldiers turned around and came back. After
looking around for a moment or two, he lifted his head and cried out to his troop.
The tree which Goulgern was clinging to was the first to be felled. Then the
little girl was returned harshly to the ground. Then Oubulon and finally,
Khyphryxia. Once they were on the ground, there was no where to run.
Goulgern and the child were killed at once. However, the captain of the guard had
Oubulon and Khyphryxia bound.
These two I recognize. His words marched out in a low, hoarse voice.
However, something seems different about this one. Walking up to Oubulon, he
ran his finger over the scar on his forehead.
What shall we do with them? One of the soldiers asked, running his hand
through Khyphryxias blond mane.
If we had caught them earlier, they could have provided much useful
information. The master had also considered them a threat. Since the kingdoms
- and also the societies - are in such a weakened state, they have little value. The
captain replied. Then he murdered Khyphryxia right before Oubulons eyes.
No! Oubulon shouted. Rage welled up within him and his skin began to
warm. You shall pay for your crime! As his flesh grew hotter, smoke rose from
the ropes that were binding him. The soldiers, standing over Khyphryxias lifeless
body, took no notice of him. The captain bent down and caressed the creamy
white skin of his beloved Bright Star. Dont you dare touch her! A fiery halo
surrounded Oubulons body and he snapped the ropes. The guards had noticed
the smoke by now and turned around. Their eyes grew wide in horror. Oubulon
was upon them in moments, his aura of flame burning those who took his love
away. While his victims suffered, he screamed mindlessly at the top of his lungs.
As he flung his attackers away, their limp, burning bodies knocked down the
surrounding bamboo. All of this commotion attracted the Orab and GUlb who
had been sent to kill him and his allies. When they came upon the scene, Oubulon
was surrounded in a cloak of flame which had a radius of several feet. He took
advantage of the monsters momentary confusion; he picked up two GUlb, one in
each hand, as easily as a child would pick up a leaf. He stared at the horrified
creatures as they burned - screaming and crying all the while. He then effortlessly
tossed the two beasts over his shoulder. The creatures that did not escape were
incinerated within moments. Oubulons anger would not abate and the fire
burned hotter.
By the time the sun had started to sink below the western rim, the forest floor
was littered with burnt corpses. The carnage mattered not to Oubulon, who
strode back to the place where he had lost his true love. He sank down in front of
Khyphryxia and mourned. As his sobs and moans echoed off the craters walls,
tears of fire ran down his face.

410
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 75 - The Dreaded Path

Jhndisel had been traveling as fast as his legs could carry him throughout
the night. As dawn approached, he sat down to rest, for just a short while.
One more step. A gentle voice echoed in his head. It was sweet yet had
an authoritative quality underneath.
I cant....I am just too tired. Jhyndisel wearily mumbled.
One more step - just one step forward.
OK. Jhyndisel sighed.
There! We have just left the Wild Shadows. Although the voice did not
have a face associated with it, intuition told him that Pangaen was smiling.
Really? He looked around, his sagging spirits boosted somewhat.
Yes. You travel quicker than many I have known.
Thank you. Jhyndisel shyly replied. He wasnt sure whether or not to
believe her since it took several long weeks to get even this far.
As he sat down and looked through his pockets, he sighed. He had forgotten
to pick enough berries and nuts and now he had nothing to eat. His fatigue
outweighed his hunger however and he lay down to sleep. He crawled into a
large wooden barrel and hoped that he had picked a safe place to rest. After all,
what would history say about him if he fell victim to common ruffians? He
wondered how his father or Khyphryxia would have fared with this task. Then he
fingered the locket which hung around his neck. It was gold with silver
engravings of roses and vines. Inside the pendant was a lock of his mothers
beautiful chestnut brown hair. His heart ached as the years vanished: for a
moment it seemed like only yesterday when he was sitting under his favorite tree
listening to his mother telling him the history of their people. Who would now
keep the lore of their graceful, ancient kingdom? Although his mind was crowded
with doubt and uncertainty, he eventually drifted off to sleep. He did not sleep
fitfully though, as every creak of the wooden barrel startled him.
When he finally crawled out of his makeshift shelter in the mid-afternoon,
the sun was shining brightly and his stomach was growling loudly. He looked
around and all he saw were weeds, trash, and scrawny trees. As he looked toward
the west, he realized how far he had yet to travel. He plopped down on the ground
next to the barrel.
I just dont see how I am going to do this. I wish my father was here. He
could finish this quest, but not I. Im just not strong enough - not old enough.
He mourned, leaning back and staring into the sky. The great blue expanse
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overhead seemed to overwhelm him.
Jhyndisel, you can do this. Focus on what needs to be done next.
Pangeans words were slow, firm, and almost as good as honey.
How can I focus on what needs to be done next when Im starving?
Jhyndisel blurted out.
Jhyndisel, who are you?
What do you mean?
Who are you?
This is ridiculous! How will riddles help? Jhyndisel was tempted to take
the ring off, but he had grown quite fond of the soft voice in his head.
Jhyndisel, tell me who you are. The voice patiently echoed in his head.
I am the prince of Axandali! And a miserable one at that! He cried. He
hoped that this confession would somehow bring forgiveness, but deep down
inside he knew it wouldnt.
Tell me more, Jhyndisel, tell me more.
What do you mean more? Is it not enough to know that I am curse upon
the royal house? Jhyndisel groaned, tears trickling down his face.
Keep going Jhyndisel, you are more than you realize.
I am Jhyndisel. He sighed, resigned to seeing this through. I am the
prince of Axandali. I am the younger brother of the beautiful, wonderful, brave
Princess Khyphryxia. I am a student at the Golden Feathers Academy. This last
admission brought back bittersweet memories, as Jhyndisel did poorly in most
classes - except fauna and flora studies. In fact, he knew more about that subject
than most of his classmates. His eyes lit up as he realized that some of the plants
in the distance might have edible roots.
Several moments later, Jhyndisels pockets were full of turtle dove roots. He
even found some black stone yams - his personal favorite. The yam was black
and, true to its name, hard as a rock. It took several good blows with a stone to
crack it open. He savored the mushy, orange contents, which tasted like bananas
and chili peppers. Perhaps today wouldnt be so bad after all. He then stood up
and continued on.
After several more miles, he came upon what looked like a ruined temple. A
large stone arch stood before him. Hanging from the arch was a series of brass
rings, each one nestled inside its slightly larger brethren. At the foot of the arch
was a rusted helmet and a beautiful sword. Although the helm had succumbed to
the passage of time, the blade looked as if it had been forged that morning.
Reflected in the metal were subtle tints of red, orange, green, yellow, and blue.
What a magnificent weapon! Jhyndisel whispered to himself. He bent
down to pick it up, but at the last moment he stopped.
A rainbow blade. Used by the old knights to drive back injustice and
cruelty. Pangean wistfully recalled.
I wish I could have a sword like that.
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There it is. Her voice was like a sweet melody that mortal men had
forgotten, yet Jhyndisel somehow knew.
My father says that a warriors blade is his forever. It cannot belong to
another. Jhyndisel was going to adhere to the traditions of his ancestors, even if
it meant being unarmed for the rest of the journey.
Take up his blade Jhyndisel. Take up his cause. The words were lilting
and gentle, yet carried so much authority and wisdom that the young prince
grasped the sword in his hands.
As he approached a dank, overgrown forest, his heartbeat started to race.
He had often heard his father talk about raiders who hid within dark places such as
these. He looked around and decided that he would either go forward or live the
rest of his life in this ruined place. As the smell from the rotting garbage hit his
face, he continued his determined trek. That didnt mean that his steps were
confident though. With every rustle of a leaf or snap of a twig, Jhyndisel spun
around, ready to flee from whatever menace he might have stumbled upon.
When he rounded a sharp bend in the overgrown trail, however, he came
upon a band of thieves sitting and dividing their loot. They were four in all, but
well armed. Their leader was large, with long, greasy black hair and plate armor.
He smelled of cheap liquor and old cheese. As he doled out the spoils, the others
were gnawing on something that looked and sounded both leathery and crunchy.
One of them noticed Jhyndisel and laughed.
Hey boys! Look here. A travelern. His unshaven, oily face broke out
into a menacing grin. He spoke with the typical Bordalislun accent: the n that
followed the r was very soft and accompanied by a gentle downward slope of the
voice. Although the ancient kingdom of Bordalislunminithan perished in the
middle of the Third Dynasty, its unique accent lived on in a region encompassing
southern Axandali, western Borkulete, and southwestern Slunarkien.
Well met my good man! The leader spoke up, staring deep into
Jhyndisels young eyes. I am Kenebejugarn. How shall we call you? He took
a calculating move forward.
I am Jhyndisel of the Royal House of Axandali! Jhyndisel said, trying to
sound as confident and royal as he could.
A king! I feel underdressed forn the occasion. Kenebejugar replied as his
cohorts rose to their feet. They started to circle around their prey.
Let me pass! Jhyndisel squawked. He clumsily drew his sword and held
it out awkwardly in front of him.
Stay, stay with us forn a while yourn highness. Kenebejugar took another
calculating step forward. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Jhyndisel, do you trust me? Pangaen whispered.
Yes. Jhyndisel blurted out. The robbers seemed somewhat surprised for
a moment, for they didnt know who the young prince was talking to. After a
moment of hesitation, they closed in around him. Kenebejugar grinned and in a
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flash his sword was quickly descending upon Jhyndisel.
Close your eyes and relax. Pangaen whispered to the frightened boy.
Despite his fear, he obeyed.
Jhyndisels sword met Kenebejugars a mere inch from the young princes
head. The robbers were taken aback by the speed of the boys response. They
then fell upon him with savage fury, but every attack was countered. It seemed
that they were fighting several knights, not a child.
Thats it....youre doing fine. Keep your eyes closed - be still and at peace.
Pangaen softly said.
Quicker than a bolt of lightning, Jhyndisel thrust his sword forward and then
to the side, disarming one of the aggressors. Kenebejugar, his astonishment
giving way to humiliation and anger, attacked with increasing vigor and zeal. No
matter how fast he was, Jhyndisel was faster. After several long minutes of what
seemed to be a stalemate, Jhyndisel began wielding his sword in a manner that the
brigands had never seen. The movements of the blade were so intricate, quick,
and precise it seemed that Jhyndisel was somehow swinging three swords instead
of one. Within a few short moments Jhyndisel devastated his attackers.
When Jhyndisel opened his eyes and saw the slain raiders, he stepped back.
He looked at the scene, awash in wonder. He then looked at Jisi, which seemed to
warmly hug his finger. He gently ran his finger over the three ivory stones and
smiled.
With you, even a failure like me has a chance of being a hero!









414
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 76 - The Message

Why does the current run so cold here Wuyami? Young Wutete asked.
Everything is cold here Oyster - enough talking! I cannot listen to you and
the sea at the same time. A youthful Wuyami sharply retorted. He looked
around and tried to make sense of the many great sheets of ice that floated all
around them.
Stop calling me Oyster! Wutete protested, trying to wrest her hand from
her brothers firm grasp. Wuyami took no notice of her; the perils of the shifting
ice demanded his full attention.

urgushhh-uthum. Dark Tide Wuyami. Are you troubled? herephh-naasar.
urgushhh! The ice.....it seems to reflect memories as well as light.
herephh.
urgushhh-uthum. Our scouts inform us that they will arrive in one day.
herephh-naasar.
urgushhh! Then, like the foolish-octopus-who-always-slept, we have only
one day. herephh.
urgushhh-uthum. Dark Tide Rider, in our haste to flee, we have not had time
to gather weapons. herephh-naasar.
urgushhh! We are well armed for this battle. herephh. Wuyami confidently
said, putting his palms against the palms of his disciple. The young acolyte was
unsure of what to say or how to respond, so he respectfully bowed and swam off.
Wuyami then turned and headed towards the great shifting walls of ice.

That night, as Wuyami and his charges relaxed amongst the coral and sand,
the currents seemed alive with anticipation. The sunlight above them had been
extinguished. The phosphorescent algae floating around them cast an eerie glow
upon their surroundings, especially the ice overhead. Wuyami sat in the center of
the aquatic brood, eating shellfish. After he had consumed them, he sharpened
his knuckle-claws on the shells.
urgushhh-uthum. Dark Tide Rider, how long will the horror sights last?
herephh-naasar. One of his disciples asked him.
urgushhh! Are you implying that such terrible things can be forgotten?
herephh. Wuyami answered while sharpening his claws.
urgushhh-uthum. Can they be banished from ones soul? herephh-naasar.
urgushhh! How long would it take someone to remove all the sea horses from
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Black Coral? herephh.
urgushhh-uthum. It would take a lifetime! One would have to pursue this
task and do nothing else. It would consume him. herephh-naasar. Wuyami
looked deep into the young disciples eyes and nodded.
There was no more discussion that night. Whales sang in the depths and the
Wustavae joined in the mournful chorus, their voices perfectly complementing
those of the leviathans. Wuyami opened his mouth to sing and a small shrimp
darted in. The prophet sputtered, choked and coughed for what seemed an
eternity, but finally the small creature was ejected.
Whos the Oyster now? A laughing voice echoed from the watery gloom.
Wuyami looked around, startled, but saw only his army.

The next day, Wuyami rose late, since he had trouble falling asleep the night
before. The sunlight had returned, but as always, it seemed far away and
reluctant to dive into the ocean depths. The currents had seemed to slow, as if
they were lethargic. To invigorate himself, he swam up to a wall of ice and let the
current hold him there for several moments. As he looked down, he could see the
others swimming in a circle. They spiraled upwards and then dove down into the
whirlpool they had created. He raced down to interrupt them.
urgushhh! No! Your lives will not be forfeit today! No! No! No! Stop this!
herephh. Wuyamis words darted out like fish as he swam amongst them. They
stopped and broke out into an uneven, confused cluster.
urgushhh-uthum. Dark Tide Wuyami. The ice, the flow of the currents, the
moon at night. We all thought it pointed towards a certain destiny.
herephh-naasar. One of them confessed.
urgushhh! Today we will all live - as one kingdom. Martyrdom is best left
with our ancestors - that is not our way now. urgushhh!
urgushhh-uthum. Shadow Current Rider. We have no weapons, we have no
power, we have no strength. What other choice do we have? herephh-naasar.
urgushhh! Our message is our strength, our power. Today, we will kneel
before the message and we will all rise as one people. herephh.

At first, all was as the day before. Then, the songs of the dolphins changed;
they became more excited, more uncertain. By mid morning, great numbers of
fish were swimming past the encampment. Faint songs drifted in on the current,
songs that spoke of treachery and deceit. As the songs grew louder, what
appeared to be white fish could be seen emerging from the murky depths.
urgushhh! Spears! Spears! The enemy is coming! herephh. Several
cried out. The spear tips advanced upon them like a great school of sharks,
thousands upon thousands. Then the warriors slowly took shape. As they
drew closer, Wuyamis men circled around him, determined that he should be the
last to fall.
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urgushhh! Spread out! Form a line! herephh. Wuyami commanded.
His orders were followed without hesitation. The Emperors soldiers were now
only a few hundred yards away. urgushhh! Join hands! herephh. The spear tips
were now less than a hundred yards away and coming fast. urgushhh! Kneel!
Bow your heads and let the vision consume you! herephh. The spears were now
only thirty yards away.
The vision of horror, which had run rampant through their souls, now played
itself out upon the sheets of ice. Scenes of death and destruction flickered across
the great, shifting walls for all to see. Screams echoed off the ice and seemed to be
coming from everywhere. The warriors stopped, transfixed by the ghastly sights
and sounds.
The strain of the ritual began to show on Wuyami and his disciples. Several
began to twitch and shudder. However, before they were enveloped by madness,
the water stirred behind them. It was as if something unseen swam past their
trembling bodies. Then, they relaxed and their resolve strengthened.
urgushhh-oov. Relax dear brother. herephh-nada. A familiar voice
whispered behind him. For a brief moment, Wuyami felt a comforting hand on
his shoulder.
When he looked up, the water around the Emperors warriors seemed to be
swirling. One by one, the soldiers bowed their heads, sank to the ocean floor, and
knelt down. After all were kneeling, there was a long, awkward silence that lasted
the rest of the day and into the night. When the sunlight again appeared
overhead, a low harmony rose from those who were upon their knees. It grew in
intensity, rising and falling like waves upon the rocks. All of the Wustavae rose up
in unison and formed a great circle around The Dark Tide Rider and
One-Who-Sits-In-The-Shell.
urgushhh! We are healed. We are one. We are ready. herephh. The
Emperor declared.







417
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 77 - The Warning

The stool beneath Mangat tilted with the slightest movement of his body.
At times he gripped the bar with both hands for fear that he would crash to the
sticky, pungent floor below. If he did that, who knew what might happen? In a
place as dilapidated and rickety as the Drunken Fish, a fall might injure the
establishment as well as the customer. He wore a simple dark green shirt and
black fringe pants (which he had not done since his days as a student). This
seemed to lessen the glances and glares from the patrons. At one end of the bar, a
fish in a bowl of pale yellowish liquid swam aimlessly; it seemed that the animal
was either half-asleep or in some kind of stupor - perhaps both. The fish began to
swim slower and slower, gradually sinking to the bottom.
Excuse me, sir. Mangat addressed the bartender. I think your fish is in
peril.
Well, he doesnt seem himself today, thats for sure. The bartender mused
as he walked over to the bowl. He dipped his finger into the bowl, put it into his
mouth and frowned. Elroyiem! How many times do I have to tell you not to put
Finnels in eastern ale! You know he cant take that! No eastern ale! Whitebark
Beer or Black Rock Lager - fine. You can even put him in Elm Liquor once in a
while! But no eastern ale! Got it?
Sorry Opugash. I just reached for the first thing I can find. Elroyiem
sheepishly responded.
Cant get no decent help nowadays. Opugash muttered to himself. He
plucked the fish out of the bowl and plopped him down on the bar. The fish
looked half-grateful and half-dazed. The bartender looked around for several
moments and mentally reviewed who was drinking what. Sir, could you help
Finnels out - just for a moment. The bartenders icy breath galloped out.
He dropped the fish into Mangats dented tin cup. The fish swam slowly at first,
but it began to recover. It even stuck its head out of the ale and looked up at
Mangat. Dont you worry Finnels, Ill stock your bowl with fresh Black Rock!
Your favorite, right? Then he left to find the lager. Mangat would have protested,
but it was rumored that if Finnels was in your tankard, he would bring you luck -
and luck was in short supply.
The door to the tavern swung open and hit the wall with a sharp bang! -
Inwan stepped into the bar. His steps were awkward and exaggerated, as if he
was on a ship that was being violently tossed by a storm. His hair was disheveled
and there were circles under his eyes. His clothes were muddy, wrinkled, and
418
unkempt. As he looked around, he had a dazed air about him, as if he was trying
to listen to too many voices at one time. He then covered his ears and groaned in
pain.
Stop! Be quiet! He yelled. Everyone in the bar turned and stared at this
man who had dared interrupt their liquid revelry. Inwan did not notice them but
headed straight for Mangat. He sat down next to his mentor. He warily eyed the
fire dancing atop the candle that was between them.
I am going to eat you alive! You
will taste sweet. The fire whispered seductively.
It is I who shall consume you - you
are just a momentary creature. I will last
forever. The shadow hissed back.
Oh please stop. Inwan whispered as he held his head.
Inwan, are you feeling well? Mangat gently inquired. His voice sounded
like a gentle brook on a warm summer day.
Well...well enough to do what I must. Thank you Master Mangat for being
so kind as to talk with me. Inwan shook his head, as if he were clearing some
daydream - or nightmare - from his consciousness.
Your letter sounded urgent. I want to help in any way that I can.
I certainly hope so. You are the only one I could....think.....think of who can
save us.
Nonsense. Mangat replied humbly. Every day new allies appear in our
fight against CNumti. One day, he will be vanquished. There was a tone of
forced optimism in his voice.
Thats not the danger I was referring to. There is someone who could
destroy my - our very souls. And he will....start by opening gates. At the
mention of the word gates, Inwan closed his eyes and his face contorted in pain.
No! You cannot! You dont belong in Drelamand! Youll destroy it! Inwan
shouted. The fire shot up in defiance and the shadows slithered over Inwans
arms. Water in a pitcher nearby started dancing wildly as a breeze flitted through
the room, threatening to knock down the walls.
Gates? Drelamand? Inwan - I dont understand. Mangats words
tumbled out awkwardly as he tried to remain calm. After several moments, the
shadows, fire, water, and air settled down.
Drelamand is in peril. Andreaxilous wants to - open its gates. Inwans
tone was slow and stiff. Mangat could see that he was trying to focus all his efforts
on putting together a coherent sentence.
Andreaxilous has much knowledge and power - not to mention wisdom. I
trust that he has good reason for wanting to open the gates of Dreamland.
Mangat responded slowly and cautiously, not wanting to upset his former pupil.
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No, no, no! Drelamand! Not Dreamland. What Andreaxilous
wants.....to do has never been done - its never even been thought of! Inwan
replied, frustration brimming in his eyes.
So why is Andreaxilous plan worrying you so?
I dont know why - exactly. Its just that lately, Ha- HaruCaban and
IcPanTefror have been so - so loud and violent. Its as if they have wanted to tear
each other apart for eons and now they.......will get their chance.
Yes! Exactly! The final battle! Open
the gates! Open the gates! The fire shouted.
Stop! Be quiet! I cant hear myself think! Inwan yelled.
And you think that Andreaxilous plan has something to do with the way the
spirits have been acting? Mangat motioned for the bartender to bring them
some water. When he arrived with two glasses, Mangat subtly slipped a small,
yellow triangular pill into Inwans glass. It dissolved rapidly.
Yes. Thats all I can tell you - the rest is......vague, like jumbled p- pieces of
a dream. Inwan seemed to relax somewhat, as his hope increased.
Dreams can be quite real, cant they? Mangat softly offered.
What - what do you mean? Inwans voice became stiff and defensive.
I can remember, as a young man, I had a dream while traveling from
Dalaghuvs Pit. It was quite vivid and took me some time to sift reality from
fantasy.
Mangat, what I...am saying is true. This is....not a dream. Inwan
growled.
Oh! No, dont misunderstand. Im sure parts of what you are saying are
true -
Its all true! I didnt dream......this up! I am n not... some babbling m-
m- madman! Inwan cried. Tears started to roll down his cheeks.
Come with us - stay with us . We can be happy . A
voice from his own tears whispered to the troubled youth.
I would never say that.....Im sorry but I just dont know exactly what to say.
Gates, Drelamand, Andreaxilous - this is the first time I have heard all of this.
Im just trying to understand what is happening. Mangat replied gently, putting
his hand on Inwans shoulder. For a moment, Inwan remained tense and then
relaxed somewhat. Here, why dont you take a sip of water. Well figure out what
to do. OK?
Inwan hesitantly reached for the glass and looked into Mangats eyes. When
he saw the love and concern shining there, he slowly sipped the water. His eyelids
became heavy and his head started to nod. Soon he fell forward into Mangats
waiting arms.
Sleep - sweet dreams young Master Inwan. Wisayael and I will see to it that
when you wake your soul shall be at peace. Mangat gently whispered into his
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ear.





















421
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 78 - More Precious Than Jewels

King Roshrun! Droshum shouted, running up to him. We have found
traces of silver ore! We are getting closer!
Soon we will meet these burglars face to face. Then....ah yes... Roshrun
muttered while polishing his axe. There was a gleam of vengeance in his eye. He
looked up at his nephew. Let us march on then - If I have my way, we will be
sleeping on raw metal tonight! With that he sprang to his feet as thunder
growled in the far distance.
They marched on for hours, like a determined river of molten magma. The
rain grew more insistent and the winds roared louder through the trees. At times
they sang songs, or beat their weapons upon their chests - at times they were as
silent as the deep earth. When they came to a village, they went around, through,
or over houses. If people could not get out of their way in time, they went under,
around, or over them as well. Even the towering crags of the Gray Mountains
could not deter them. They tunneled through them quicker than a man could run
across a field.
Finally, they came to a high plateau sparsely populated by pine trees. Water
ran through the center of the plain in a small, shallow channel. The riverbed was
covered by thousands of small round stones. Each stone was an emerald green
with veins of copper or iron. As they stopped to rest, Roshrun looked to the sky.
I wonder what those beasties are up to. He pondered aloud.
Do you think it is the dragons who have stolen our ore? Goshrund,
another royal nephew, asked.
No, no, no. The king answered with a frown. They are too busy with other
matters - like the troubles of men. I have also seen great flocks of eagles attacking
dragons of late. We and our metal are of little importance to them. We are
nothing more than a good meal in their eyes.
The men? Did they steal our ore? Bloundrun, a royal cousin, interruped.
Men? Hah! Roshrun spat out with a contemptuous laugh. If it were
not for the bad ore we leave behind, they would have no metal at all. No, they
could never find our precious rocks - even if they were under their feet! At this a
hearty laugh broke out among the company. No, my fellows....the thieves are
cunning - and they are well acquainted with the deep shadows of under-earth.
The king explained in a hushed, ominous tone.
He took up his hammer, a splendid work of rare metals and stone. Scenes
from the dark places under the deepest roots of the ancient trees were carved into
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the head of the weapon. Roshrun found a large rock half buried in the grainy soil.
He hefted his hammer and as the metal hit the stone, a sort of song began to ring
out. The notes seemed to come from deep within the stone and hovered in the air
about them before dissipating into the quiet of the day. After several moments,
the grand forge master lowered his hammer and pressed his ear to the rock.
At first there was nothing, just the occasional dull sounds of the distant
woods. Then, a series of metallic rhythms began to rise up out of the earth. They
congregated and swelled like a great storm, each metallic bang frolicking among
countless others. Moments later, the noises sank back into the deep unknown.
Nothing, nothing but shadows and rock under the earth. The king sighed.
Harsh tidings from the hammers of Nurdrin and his troupe.
But they will find something, wont they? Ardrin, a young cousin of the
king, blurted out.
Oh, theyll find something alright. There are more things in the dark earth
than whiskers in your beard. Its not a matter of if they find anything - its what
they will find. Some things are better left lost forever. Roshrun was not only a
master of forging metal and stone, he was also a skilled craftsman of words. His
reply coated the moment in a glaze of mystery that sent a chill down their spines
and made their ears warm.
That being said, they got up and marched on. Presently, they came to a
place where there were no trees, only pebbles and small rocks. Far to the south,
the Iron Blood Mountains rose like jagged teeth. Ahead, the terrible, lonely
desolation of the Wild Lands beckoned. It was here that they sat down to feast
upon the roots and herbs that they had brought with them. As one of them was
picking through the stones, he fell back, dumbfounded. Part of a large granite
ring lay exposed to the damp air. They all looked at it in wonder for a few
moments, each one not sure of what to say or do next. Roshrun then began
excavating the ring. Slowly, everyone else followed his example. They trembled
all the while, for they knew that this was something that was lost to them long ago.
When they were finished, a series of concentric stone rings lay before them.
Each of the rings had shallow depressions on the top, into which a small object
could be placed. With great effort, the rings could also be rotated and even raised.
Tyorund, the lore-keeper, walked to the center of the rings and put a copper coin in
the middle. He then searched for several white stones and put them in the outer
ring. When that ring had been raised a few inches, he put several blue stones in
one of the inner rings. As he surveyed his work, he smiled. He then addressed
the company.
Today is a day we will remember, for while searching for mere rocks we have
found our souls. The Rings of Proverbs, once thought to have been destroyed,
have been found! At this all kneeled. Look! White stones protecting blue
ones: Protect your wisdom, then you shall not lose your fortune! He replaced
several white and blue stones with red ones. Then he added green stones to the
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innermost circle. Honor not the gift, but the giver! He proclaimed. When the
inner circle with the red and blue stones had been raised several feet, he shouted:
To create is more important than to have!
Proverbs were proclaimed for the next five days - during that time no one ate
or slept. Everyone was given a turn to test the wisdom of the rings. While
waiting, each one would finger their dear one - their most beloved artifact or
trinket. For some, it was a mere stone with sentimental value; for others it may
have been a coin, gem, small statue, pipe, ring, necklace, or hammer.
As for The Grand Forge Master, he took out a small triangle carved out of
ebony. One point was adorned with a pale yellow stone, the next point was
adorned with a slightly larger deep crimson stone, and the final point was adorned
with a large pale green stone. He turned the stone over and over in his fingers, its
cool, slick, shiny surface a comforting reminder.
You have been a faithful companion to the kings of under-the-roots for
many millennia - but where shall be your final resting place? Roshrun said
quietly as he looked at the rings.
He then got up and walked over to the holy site. He put his ebony triangle in
the center of the rings. He then saw several white stones with flecks of red and
put those in the outer rings. Finally, he took off his royal silver rings and put
those in the innermost ring. He was about to raise the center platform, but
something told him that this was how it should be. He studied the arrangement
for several moments and then lowered the center platform so that it was hidden
from sight.
As one destiny ends, many destinies will arise, each hidden from the other.
The king whispered to himself. He was somewhat saddened that things should be
that way, but he knew the proverb would prove itself true - one day.
On the fifth day, a young devotee stumbled while walking to the outer ring.
His head hit the sharp edge of the granite and drops of blood dripped down the
side. Everyones heart seemed to stop - the final proverb had been revealed.
What good are riches when war appears on the horizon? The king recalled
grimly. They got up and set out for Mangats mansion.












424
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 79- His Rightful Place

He could see cold steel glinting in the summer moonlight. They had come.
Mangat sighed with relief and his worried brow relaxed. He then went down to
meet his guests.
The leaves on his apple trees rustled angrily in the cool night breeze.
Mangat pulled his cloak around him and looked up at the heavens, wondering
whose side they would choose when the final conflict began. Overhead, Xaven
and Xukulu wrestled and sparred with several other dragons and griffons amongst
the starry sky. The quarrels between the brothers and their cousins were nothing
new to him, but tonight the conflict had a different nature. It was as if they were
honing their skills. In the distance, he heard a song:

No ore need we,
Riches are useless,
If we cant live free!
In war,
Gold is as good as mud,
We will be paid with tyrants blood!

All the while, he could hear the rhythmic clanging of metal upon metal. It
grew so loud it shook the very ground. He then saw the DorthGem, led by King
Roshrun, marching into the orchard. A broad smile came upon his face as the
king walked up to him.
Greetings King Roshrun! Mangats tone was cordial and formal, yet had a
thread of warmth to it that one would only expect between old friends.
Greetings to you. May the earth beneath you always be a blessing. The
king replied, returning his bow. He had brought several hundred of his closest
kin, who were smiling and at ease. They bore axes, hammers, and maces which
were most interesting. They were made of stone and metal; the stone seemed to
blend into the steel and the steel blended back into the stone. Their armor was
similarly fashioned.
My soul is comforted knowing that you will stand with us. As you know,
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the circumstances are dire.
This will help ease your troubles! Roshrun winked as a sword was passed
through the crowd. He then solemnly laid it on the stump and smiled. It was a
magnificent weapon to behold. A four foot blade of flawless steel shone in the
moonlight; it was adorned with intricate scenes of battle, and ended in an ebony
hilt. The hilt of the sword was encircled by three bands of silver; the top band had
Mangats name, the middle band bore Wisayaels name, and the last bore Inwans
name. When Mangat picked up the sword, it felt as if it weighed no more than a
sheet of paper. As he swung it through the air it glowed, as if it was being heated
to the point of melting. It also made a strange sound as it cut through the air; it
sounded like a chorus of voices murmuring.
This is more than I deserve you highness! It is more than any man
deserves. Mangats gratitude awkwardly tumbled out as he bowed low.
It is not only what you deserve, it is what you have earned! Roshrun
happily replied. It is also what you will need.
Mangat was practicing with his new weapon, which was a wise idea since he
had not wielded a sword since his youth. As he swung the sword, he not only cut
through one of his trees, but also the statue beside it. Both obstacles remained
motionless for a moment, then split in two. Startled, Mangat jumped back as the
top of the horse statue fell forward, almost crushing his toes.
You will need more practice Master Mangat before you ride into battle.
Otherwise, you will kill more of us than the enemy! Roshrun laughed. His
amusement was echoed by his kinsmen.
urgushhh! The king speaks well. We can teach Master Mangat all he needs
to know about drawing blood. herephh. One-Who-Sits-In-The-Shell replied,
stepping out of the darkness. His weapons were carved from whale bone. His
armor was an ingenious and artful combination of whale bone, cartilage, and
shells. From behind him, the Wustavae appeared without a sound. Mangat
noticed a robed figure among them; the stranger pulled back his hood and smiled.
It was a relief to see Wuyami standing with his people.
This is the hope my heart has so long ached for. Mangat clasped the
emperors hand as his relief poured out of him.
urgushhh! It is a dream we all share, a hope that runs in all our veins.
herephh. Wuyami answered, stepping forward and hugging his old friend.
urgushhh! How strong are we? herephh. The emperor inquired.
We have a chance at victory now that your two great kingdoms have joined
our cause, but my peoples hearts are still troubled by darkness. The kingdoms
have suffered greatly from their wars and their kings are dead. Dread and chaos
are spreading throughout the mortal realms and it seems that CNumti is growing
stronger because of it.
urgushhh! What of your own brethren in the society? Will they not help?
herephh. The emperor pressed on, looking into Mangats eyes.
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They are afflicted by the same dark nightmares as everyone else. Mangat
reluctantly conceded.
Surely someone can unite the tall folk. Roshruns words were upbeat yet
determined.
I can. Jhyndisel announced, stepping forward.
Excuse me sir, do I know you? Mangat said, obviously annoyed at the
intrusion into his home and this moment.
You know this. Jhyndisels tone had a certain regal manner and wisdom
that took Mangat by surprise. He showed Mangat Jisi, which snugly encircled his
finger. The long months of traveling and hardship had increased his stature and
bearing. His face had lost a little of the childish softness; the innocense that had
flickered in his eyes was beginning to fade. These youthful features had been
replaced by a ruggedness and a sense of purpose. Jhyndisel was growing up faster
than anyone had expected.
No....this is impossible! No one has ever been able to find the ring. Who
are you, and what do you stand to gain by this deception? Mangat growled,
stepping back and drawing his sword. The others clenched their weapons tightly,
ready to strike the interloper down.
It was never about finding me. I have chosen Jhyndisel. Pangaen
whispered in the back of their minds. The air was filled with the scent of wild
flowers and spice tea. Mangat detected a hint of oranges on his tongue.
The time has come for us to uproot this dark weed from our garden. The
king of Axandali declared.
Let us begin the preparations, my lord. Mangat humbly answered, bowing
before the boy.

Standing on a nearby cloud, Andreaxilous grinned in amusement as he
looked down upon the apple orchard.
Mortals - such bravado and dramatics. If only they could
glimpse the whole truth. He chuckled.
Will we not tell them what is going to happen, Grand Vizier?
Ashthranas asked, concerned that their ignorance might bring them to great peril.
They are mere infants; they would not understand. They
have their preparations to make and we have ours.



427
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 80 - The Castle By The Sea

The bed looked so inviting, yet she hesitated. She walked around it,
running her fingertips over the ebony spheres atop the posts of the bed. The red
satin curtain surrounding her made her feel trapped. Despite this, Quatzitil lay
down and slept. As she closed her eyes, she could smell the sea water and hear the
plaintive cries of the gulls.
When she opened her eyes, she was on the shore of the great sea. The waves
were pounding the shore mercilessly, being driven by a fierce gale. Dark storm
clouds could be seen gathering over the turbulent waters. Sea birds circled and
soared beneath the clouds. As they dived into the water, they seemed to change
shape, becoming nothing more than streaks of light plunging beneath the waves.
Thousands of green crabs crawled along the sands, marching toward the castle
behind her. As they drew closer to its walls, they too assumed a new form; the
final leg of the journey was made on silky white butterfly wings.
Youre late! Xaven shouted above the rumbling storm. Father cannot
wait any longer! He grabbed her hand and impatiently pulled her along. Gone
was the mischievous lad; he had been replaced by a determined prince. He was
clad in a brilliant white robe with intricate red and black designs that resembled
vines. Firmly attached to the shoulders of the robe were hollow bones inlaid with
jade and turquoise hieroglyphics. The bones had several holes and slits and made
an eerie sound as the wind passed through them.
Inside the royal hall, Rifune looked over the map before him. He wore a
green robe with white flowers. On each shoulder sat two large fangs; each one
inlaid with rings of ruby and ebony. On his head he wore a crown of bronze.
Five claws protruded from the crown, each bony appendage inlaid with rings of
jade and silver.
Naquadra was sitting by the far window, her beautiful black hair occasionally
ruffled by the breeze. She was telling stories to the children in a hushed tone.
She was wearing a beautiful blue robe with silver and gold runes. On her brow
was a silver diadem with a blood red jewel in the center. The jewel itself almost
resembled an eye, with a deep murky redness in its depths that spoke of timeless
mysteries.
The butterflies had settled into silver lanterns which were scattered
throughout the hall; once inside they emitted a soft glow and a lilting melody. In
the flickering light, plumes of eagle feathers on iron poles could be seen lining the
walls. The feathers looked as if they had been recently plucked. Inserted into the
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base of each pole were great black talons. On the floor were hieroglyphics
depicting the history of the long and terrible conflict between Rifunes clan and
their ancient avian rivals. The distant thunder was amplified as it echoed
throughout the stone fortress. Occasional flashes of lightning lit up the room and
momentarily startled the delicate butterflies.
The king made several annotations to the paper spread out before him and
then stood back. The ink on the map shifted in response to his writing.
Whenever he wrote something, the other characters and lines would swarm
around it, like a flock of wild birds, and then settle down in a new place on the
parchment.
Ahhhh......what a pleasure it is to see my daughter. Rifune looked up,
smiling. He walked toward her and Quatzitil got down on one knee.
Im sorry I arrived so late father. Her apology timidly slunk out of her.
Who said you were late?
Xaven.
Xaven. Rifune quietly laughed. He does not fully understand what is
happening. He also has a propensity for the dramatic. Rise.
What would you have me do?
Ready for duty are we? Your eagerness to serve has always been our
blessing.
It is an honor to serve a family so powerful - so wise. Quatzitils voice
ended in a whisper because the last part of her statement was a new revelation to
her.
I summoned you to open your eyes, not to press you into service. Rifune
gently explained, leading her toward a nearby balcony. As they stepped out into
the gusty cold air, Rifune closed his eyes and stretched out his hands, as if drinking
in the atmosphere. Look out across the waves, what do you see?
Nothing. Quatzitil answered, staring at the waves.
Rifune walked over to her and whispered into her ear: What do you see?
To Quatzitil, it sounded as if the great serpent and she were singing a duet, their
voices gently circling round, echoing, and amplifying each other. Her skin felt
clammy but her eyes felt strangely warm. Then, slowly, they appeared; images in
the waves, just below the surface. Some seemed to lazily float along, being
content to be carried by the currents, others seemed to be swimming to and fro.
What - what are they? She asked, startled.
Dreams-Yet-To-Be. Rifunes tone was ethereal and ambiguous. Come,
there is something else you deserve to see.
They walked through the castle to the garden. At the far end of the garden
there was a small iron gate with silver markings. As Rifune unlocked it, the door
made a noise that sounded like a small music box. On the other side of the gate, a
vast forest lay before them. There were lights in the forest, seemingly suspended
by delicate filaments. They swayed uneasily in the shifting winds.
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What do you hear? Rifune asked, gazing at the lights.
Nothing.
He put his hands over her eyes. At first, a flash of heat ran through her
body. Then her eyes felt as if an icy breeze was caressing them. Her ears tingled
and grew hot. Suddenly, she heard the sound of breathing; slow, steady, relaxed.
At points, she could hear a quiet murmuring. When Rifune removed his hands,
the sound continued, but grew louder.
Before you are the slumbering souls of the mortal world. Rifune
explained, still looking into the forest.
Its beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Quatzitil whispered.

When they returned to the grand hall, Xieri was waiting there for them.
She was a tall, graceful woman with long black hair. She had creamy white skin and
a soft, delicate smile. She was wearing a white robe with strange crimson
markings.
Father, Misinjuwayal is not sleeping very well. Should we wake her? Her
question marched out in a stiff yet nervous manner. When she saw Quatzitil
behind the sovereign, her face brightened.
Not yet. Soon she will wake and when she does, show her the map.
Yes Father.
Misinjuwayal is here? Quatzitil asked.
Does that surprise you? Rifune quipped, looking into her eyes.
I have never seen her in the castle before.
She has a place of honor in Drelamand, for she has a very special role to
play.
Is that the name for this place?
Yes. Drelamand - the fortress between Dreams-Yet-To-Be and the
Slumbering-Souls-Of-Mortals.
Father, Misinjuwayal is awake. Xieri suddenly interrupted the two. She
had a look of urgency in her eyes.
Good. Bring her to me.
When Misinjuwayal entered the room, she was chanting, mumbling, and
whispering. What came forth from her seemed to be gibberish, but if one listened
closely enough, it had a certain rhythm and cadence. She walked stiffly and
awkwardly, as if she were dazed or still dreaming. When she came to the map, she
slapped it blindly. The ink on the map hissed and jumped out of the way. At one
point, it even lunged forth and drew blood from her palm. The ink and blood
slowly circled each other, like two warriors about to strike. Then they rushed
towards each other and mingled. When this happened, the paper shuddered;
hissing and a small screech could be heard. Moments later, Rifune walked over
and examined the map.
It is worse than I thought. He could actually succeed! Rifunes
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astonishment mingled with his despair.
What is happening? Quatzitils tone mirrored the anxiety that was swelling
in the grand hall.
Someone - or something - is trying to open the gates of Drelamand. If we
dont act quickly, things will take a turn for the worse. Rifune grimly answered.
I will defend Drelamand with my last breath. Quatzitil declared
resolutely. She sounded like a lioness defending her home and young.
There is nothing you can do, young one. Only the queen and I can
undertake such a challenge. As the First Sword of the temple, you will have
enough challenges ahead of you. Focus on your duties and the world around
you.
My sword shall honor your clan, your majesty.
As it always has. As I know it always will. Rifune looked at her and cocked
his head to one side. Yet you are still troubled.
Why would someone want to destroy this wondrous place? Quatzitils
words tumbled out. A shudder ran down her spine as she envisioned the castle in
ruins.
The intentions of the invaders are not clear to me. However, we may be
able to learn more if we listen.
Final battle! Final.....last conflict......shoudnt happen......always at
war.....final battle.....fire and shadow......hatred......eternal enemies.....no more
fighting......dark rotting things - nasty things! We will kill them.....kill them
all.....final battleground....who will be victorious.....water and wind....death and
dying....final...no more....last conflict......Drelamand is the key. Misinjuwayal
babbled as she sat in a corner.
It doesnt make sense! Quatzitil complained, her frustration and
helplessness bubbling over.
It will. In time. Rifune slowly responded, putting his hands on her
shoulders and looking deep into her eyes. He then turned and walked out of the
hall.

You have no time for me? Naquadra spoke up as Quatzitil was about to
leave.
Im sorry your majesty, but I didnt want to interrupt you. Quatzitil
replied, bowing low.
To the winds, young ones! Mistress Quatzitil and I have things to discuss.
The queen commanded, gently shooing the children away. They ran toward
Xaven, who was staring intently at the map. When he noticed them, he engaged
them in a mock battle. Quatzitil smiled to see that the impish lad had not been
permanently banished by the young prince. He has a great destiny ahead of him
- if he makes the right choices.
He has grown not only in power, but in wisdom, mighty one. Quatzitil
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replied, still looking at Xaven playing with the children.
You have choices ahead of you as well.
What do you mean?
You will soon have to choose between yesterday, today, and tomorrow -
choose wisely. Naquadras tone was soft, yet compelling.

When Quatzitil opened her eyes, she was in the bed.
Quatzitil. Rifunes voice echoed in her head.
Yes?
The time has come.
What do you mean? I dont understand.
The time to say goodbye.
Slowly, sadly, she lit the torches in the room. Then the iron doors opened
and Rifune appeared. He lowered his head and Quatzitil leaned against him,
tears rolling down her cheeks.













432
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 81 - Dark Clouds on the Eastern Horizon

It was a bitterly cold Qanqan-day morning, with snow swirling about the
balcony of Bright Spire. Down below, the snowflakes seemed to be chasing each
other as they rushed over the fields and valleys of Kel-Tress. The icy breath of the
Frost Sea had made its annual pilgrimage south, pushing all warmth and
tenderness out of its way. It steadfastly held the land in its arctic grip, knowing
that it would have to retreat before nightfall. Once the frosty blast was gone, the
fields would once again be enveloped by the hot, steamy night. Foxes could be
seen scurrying back to their hiding places after their nocturnal raids. Hawks
circled the tower, looking for movement under the freshly fallen snow. Every now
and then, the sun peeked through the clouds, hitting the many prisms embedded
in the tower. When this happened, the morning light bathed the spire in a warm,
multi-hued glow of red, orange, blue, purple, and green.
The spectacle was just enough to distract Jhyndisel from his thoughts. He
smiled a sweet innocent smile as he looked down upon the colorful rays. He
could think of no better beginning to the day on which he turned seventeen years
of age.
He then looked at the piece of wood that he had brought with him. As he
began to carve a companion for Zobob and Belbin, he stopped. Noticing the sharp
edge of the knife glittering in the daylight, toy crafting seemed at odds with his life.
When he caught a glimpse of the royal ring on his finger, the doubts began to
deepen.
Where is Khyphryxia? She should be the one to lead us, not I. He quietly
muttered to himself.
Did I ever tell you the story of the two kings? Pangaen softly whispered in
his ear.
I certainly hope they were better kings than I.
The first king lead his people here and there. He was always in the front of
the army, the first to draw blood. He was very courageous. One day this young
king led his army out to battle and never came back, for he rode his horse right into
a deep pit and fell to his death.
The second king did things differently. He listened often to others. He
listened so much that some of his advisors wondered if he could even speak. When
he was not listening he was asking questions. He asked so many questions that
his subjects believed he had asked every question that mortal man could think of.
This king lived a long and happy life, as did those under his protection.
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Jhyndisel looked at Jisi, tenderly curled around his finger, and smiled. The
young king lifted his eyes and looked toward the east, where the clouds seemed
darkest. He shuddered and wondered what was happening there.
Your majesty, our scouts have returned from the Wild Lands south of
AostNor. Mangat interrupted his thoughts, approaching him from behind.
For a moment, Jhyndisel blushed, embarrassed by all the official pomp and
ceremony intertwined with his title. He then shook off that notion as he gazed
upon the storm clouds to the south, which seemed to be growing darker.
Let us be off then. I am most eager to hear what they have to say. The
kings words had a regal serenity to them that surprised Mangat.

The two scouts were waiting for them in the grand hall of Breaphons Keep, a
large castle in the center of Adamnar. The castle itself was adorned with many
large copper basins, each of which held a roaring fire. It was said that if one
touched the stones of the outer walls, one would cook like an egg in a frying pan.
The inside was cool, dry, and dark. Tall, hollow wooden tubes lined the
passages. Each tube had a glass window so that one could see the contents
therein: dried petals from many different trees, vines, and flowers. There was a
rhythmic clicking noise which seemed to come from inside the walls. Other than
that, there was not a sound to be heard; even ones footsteps were muffled by the
scarlet and gold rugs that blanketed the corridors.
They met the visitors in one of the elegant rooms of the castle. The floor
itself was shaped like a bowl and gently rose up from the center. The three doors
to the room were cut right out of the very slopes and were framed in smoky quartz.
In the center, there was a comfortable mat upon which was placed two daggers
entwined with garlands of rowan leaves. Light was provided by three massive
stone columns bedecked with hundreds of small candles.
Gentleman, Lady. It is good to see you; we have waited many days for your
safe return. Jhyndisels voice echoed ever so slightly as he addressed the two
visitors. Both had white cotton shirts and black pants. Each scout was wearing a
yellow sash around their chest. Woven into the sash were three strips of leather,
with turquoise and pearls on each strip.
We are glad to be home, my lord. We faced many dangers and our return
was in doubt many a time. The young man answered. He was tall with long
blond hair. His face was painted white. He had a yellow triangle painted on the
left side of his face. The triangle pointed upward and extended from an inch
above his eyebrow down to his upper lip.
We have overcome our foes and now stand ready to share with the king what
we have seen. The young woman added. She had flowing red hair and was also
very tall. Her face was painted a deep green. She had a yellow triangle painted
on the right side of her face. The triangle pointed downward and extended from
two inches above her eyebrow down to her jaw line.
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Jhyndisel. Pangaen softly whispered.
Yes? He responded, even more softly.
Close your eyes for a moment and open your mind. As he did this, a
momentary look of puzzlement came over the scouts. They were unsure what
would happen next.
Only what you have seen? Jhyndisel motioned his guests to sit upon the
mat. Share with me what you have seen, heard, tasted, smelled, and felt.
Over the next two hours, Jhyndisel sat quietly with the scouts, listening to
their every word. He also asked questions about everything. He even asked
questions about his questions.
A grim picture indeed. Jhyndisel confided to Mangat, who had been
sitting by his side all the while.
It is. He agreed quietly. Mangat was thinking about how his fellows in
the Jade River, as well as the other societies, would fare in the coming days.
We only know half the story however. This throng of brutes in the south
cannot be the only adversaries that will come against us. Still, they alone would
be more than enough to crush three kingdoms. Is there still no answer on what
is happening in the lands east of Eauphixes?
Not yet, honorable Jhyndisel. Soon, very soon. Mangats voice
sounded like warm ale poured out on a chilly evening.

A day later, Mangat was back at his mansion, perhaps for the last time. It
certainly felt that way to him. As he walked slowly through the rooms, running
his fingers over the wood paneling or a favorite statue, he remembered when he
first saw this magnificent house. He paused as he came to a painting of the sun
setting on a magnificent garden. At the center of the garden, a young man slept,
while something ominous (yet not wholly defined) lurked in the lengthening
shadows - waiting. This particular painting unsettled his nerves, but since it was
a gift from Oubulon, it had a prominent position in his home. As his eyes roamed
the room, they fell upon Wisayaels three corn husk dolls. It seemed to him that
the child-doll was too far away from the other two. He gently picked it up and
placed it in between the man-doll and lady-doll.
Worth ten kingdoms, but only costs as much as two barns! Wisayael
lauged, coming up from the cellar, noticing her husband lost in his daydreams.
Ah yes....they joy of repairing a venerable old place with a distinguished
past. He laughed in return.
Did you ever discover the identity of that poor fellow we found behind the
old wall to the east? Wisayael continued, brushing some cobwebs off her dress.
Mangat noticed this and realized that his homestead was beginning to suffer from
neglect.
After some years, I learned that he was a shady character of some sort. I
learned also that this distinguished home of mine used to be a hide out for an
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infamous gang of bandits.
Was that before or after the tenure of the infamous Headless Baron?
Im not sure. I never really did pursue the history of this place, for fear that
I wouldnt sleep well at night. He replied, ushering her into the kitchen for a
quick lunch.
Did you hear something? Wisayael tilted her head to the side.
It was probably just a squirrel rummaging around in some dark space
between the walls. Mangat nonchalantly answered while stirring turnips, eggs,
and rice in a large iron skillet. From time to time, he poured a little vinegar on the
concoction.
Did you look in on him?
The boy is fine, hes resting comfortably. Besides that, his condition hasnt
changed.
Did you make sure the incense burners werent empty?
I put a little more in them this morning; and I have plenty in the cupboard
over there, Mangat said, pointing to the cupboard behind her with a fork, so that
Nimit will not run out while she is looking after the boy.
Ill go check on him. Wisayaels words anxiously spilled out as she got up.
Your lunch will be waiting for you when you return. Mangat kissed her
lightly.
After Mangat had made a wonderful lunch of breaded turnip omelets, cheese,
and fried oysters, he went upstairs. He quietly opened the door to the guest
bedroom, half hoping to see Inwan awake and happy. Instead, the boy lay in
troubled slumber, muttering quietly.
You seem to be feeling a little better today, young Master Inwan. Mangat
quietly whispered to the boy as he sat down on the side of his bed. I think we have
finally come upon a cure for your malady. The confidence in his voice wavered
somewhat. We will have to leave soon, but do not worry, you will be in good
hands, Mangat continued, brushing the hair from Inwans eyes, and Wisayael and
I will be back in the twinkling of an eye. A lump rose in Mangats throat and he
quietly retreated from the room.
Then he went to see Dithplae. He noticed that there was still some seed left at
the bottom of her cage.
Not hungry? Hmmmm.....what is troubling you so? Mangat wondered,
petting the bird while untying the vial around her neck. She seemed slightly
listless, as if some of her spirit had leaked out of her. Mangat also noticed that
some of her feathers had turned black. You have been through something terrible
my precious little one! Mangat despaired as he took out a piece of garlic bread
and fed it to her. Her spirits recovered somewhat after eating the special treat.
Mangat then turned his full attention to the message Dithplae had brought.


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Most Honored Patriarch,

We are running out of hope as the horror continues to
grow around us. There are no kingdoms in the East, just
Wild Lands. For the few of us who have survived, we scurry
around like mice among vicious birds of prey, trying to find
food to eat and a safe place to spend the night. For those of
us who have been slain, even death is no comfort, as they have
been cursed to rise from the cold earth as children of the Dark
Emperor.
The abominations and beasts are so many, they cannot be
counted. One can feel the ground shake as they approach.
If you would be so brave as to hold your ground and look
toward the advancing horde, it would almost seem like the very
plains themselves had turned black. Sometimes they march in
columns so great that it takes three whole days for all of them to
pass by a lonely tree. Most of the time however, we keep well
away from them, as they devour the innocent for sport.
In the past few days, their chaotic rambling has
coalesced into a single minded drive: they are marching west.

Nouthphir





437
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 82 - The Day of Fire and Blood

Jhyndisel rode confidently on his steed, charging towards the south.
Behind him, the remnants of the four surviving western kingdoms thundered over
the countryside like an angry flood. Ahead of him, columns of smoke could be
seen curling in the morning sky. Khyphryxias face flashed in his mind and he
rode faster, like an arrow seeking justice.
Above him, Mangat and Wisayael were watching the scene. Xaven and
Xukulu were underneath them, eager to arrive at their destination. The dragons
scales glinted in the morning sun.
His confidence grows by the day. Wisayael remarked.
As is fitting for a king. He is also graced with a wise companion, who
brings out the best in him - as am I. Mangat responded, winking at his beloved.
Xaven started flying even faster and his brother was straining to keep up with
him.
The prince is eager for battle I see! Wisayael called out to Mangat, who
was slowly pulling away.
Indeed he is! We will meet you at Blacktooth! Mangat called back,
waving goodbye. The truth of the matter was that Xaven, with his keen senses
and intuition, knew that time was of the essence if victory was to be had.

Later that day, Mangat and Wisayael stood on the top balcony of Blacktooth,
looking out over the horizon. The columns of smoke were much closer now and
in the distance noises came on the soft breeze; they were mix of grunting,
growling, and shouting.
The day of fire and blood has arrived. Thune observed quietly. Both
Mangat and Wisayael turned around, surprised. They didnt know that he had
been standing there. Suddenly, a huge black dragon descended from the sky and
landed with an imposing thud! Xurkan had arrived. Before he could let forth a
roar to proclaim his strength, he was silenced by a cold glare from Xaven. Sitting
atop the massive beast was Xinkshi.
Greetings, Faithful Sword. Thunes tone was respectful, yet strangely
weary. He managed a faint smile as he stepped toward her. To what do we owe
this honor?
I bring grave news, honored patriarchs - and matriarch. There is a large
army marching from the far east. They will pass between the Iron Blood
Mountains and the Gray Mountains within two days - perhaps within a day and a
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night. She replied quickly.
They will be here before our allies from the east. Mangat looked out over
the horizon as his words reluctantly came out.
We must hold Blacktooth, it is our best defense and our only hope to
survive the next two days. Thune reminded him.
Can you offer any aide? Mangat asked, turning toward Xinkshi.
My sisters are still preparing for the coming troubles. I can only offer a
warning, nothing more.
Mangat, now would be a most appropriate time for a brilliant idea.
Wisayael cajoled him.
If we could just alter the conditions, ever so slightly, we could have more
time to create the environment we need to win. Mangats voice seethed with
frustration and desparation.
You sound as if this was just another game of Vestamar. Wisayael
frowned.
My dear, I am aware of the gravity of the situation, I am sorry if - Above
them, clinging to the tower, Xaven cocked his head. He had been listening all
along, and now everything seemed to come together for him. Without hesitation,
he sprang into the air and raced off towards the Iron Blood Mountains.
Where is he going? Wisayael said, startled.
To the narrow pass between the mountains. He must be trying to buy us
some time. Xaven come back! Mangat yelled with all his might. Come back!
He watched Xaven rapidly growing smaller as the prince sped on his way.
Xaven, you fool! Mangat cursed as tears ran down his face.

Some distance away, at the base of the Bronze Gut Mountains, others were
also preparing for this day. The stout DorthGem were gathered around a large
rock, upon which King Roshrun stood. They seemed more numerous than the
leaves on the many trees that surrounded the open glade. They banged their
axes, hammers, and maces against their shields incessantly. The king waved and
they quieted.
Theres a lot of nasty beasties and monsters heading our way. They will
destroy everything that stands before them. They are big, foul, and murderous.
You may even need two strokes of an axe to kill them! The king laughed. The
sound of banging metal grew. He then waved his hands. The one who has
sent these awful things on their way is the same one who stole our ore! Wont he
be surprised when we come eye to eye and ask for what is rightfully ours! The
DorthGem shouted and waved their weapons in the air. As far as the humans
are concerned, it is a grim day, for they dont know if they will survive to see the
next sunrise. So, its up to us to go out, crush some heads, and show our friends
what fun really is! At this, his men laughed heartily.
Then the king jumped off the rock and the DorthGem marched south,
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towards Blacktooth.

At the Temple of The Sisterhood of The Three Moons, Quatzitil stood
watching her sisters prepare for the coming conflict. They were sharpening their
swords and spears, each one glinting in the morning sunlight. They worked
quietly, saying nothing. Snow blew across the bare plains, tugging at the
shriveled stalks of grain. One more day - just one - and their training would be
complete. Then they would be ready for whatever they met in battle. The wind
shifted to the east and brought sweet memories with it. Was he well? Was he
dreaming? Was he dreaming of her? Could Wisayael and Mangat actually cure
him of his malady? She cursed the spirits that had so tormented Inwan over the
past few months.
As the wind shifted back to the south, she thought she caught a faint odor of
smoke, or was it blood? Her eyes narrowed at the thought of the coming evil. She
fingered the assassins feather which hung around her neck.
Xieri landed beside her and nuzzled her. Quatzitil put her arms around the
griffons neck and whispered softly to her. As their eyes met, Naquadras words
echoed in her mind: You have choices ahead of you as well.

As he stepped onto the beach, the warm sands of the Sea of Nazal offered
Wuyami little comfort. The end had begun. The vision had started. He looked
up towards the rocky slope and the large wall that crowned it. His comrades
slowly stepped ashore, their weapons dripping with salt water, their white and
blue armor still wet. Wuyami shuddered as he remembered the dark, cruel days
in the dungeons of Nazalquatat.
By this time, One-Who-Sits-In-The-Shell was standing beside him. The
Wustavae stood on the shore. Wuyami raised his staff; they knelt and joined
hands. Then, after a moment of silence, Wuyami heard a familiar voice.
urgushhh-oov. Open your eyes, dear brother. herephh-nada.
The Dark Tide Rider looked up and saw a robed figure sitting on a rock that was
jutting out into the pounding sea. He could see her fish tail flapping slowly
amidst the frothing waters.
urgushhh! We have the blessing of the Silver Father! Victory awaits us!
herephh. The Wustavae shouted and rushed forth like a great tidal wave.





440
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 83 - The Last Hope of The Souls of
Mortal Men

The wind off the sea sent a chill down his spine, though it was not unusually
cold. It brought with it all the smells he had been accustomed to, along with the
familiar sounds of seabirds and waves upon the shore. It was a particularly clear
morning. In a rare act of submission, the Misty Veil (which usually shrouded the
horizon) had lifted. Far in the distance, the Sparkling Trail could be seen in all
of its glittering, multi-hued glory. It stretched out into the infinite mystery
beyond the limits of his vision. With hopeful eyes, Rifune looked to the eastern
sky; there a great flock of blackbirds flew in a triangular pattern, over and over
again. Every so often, the birds would scatter, as if startled by something only
they could see. Then, after a few moments, they would resume their odd path.
Then, he looked to the western sky, where blackbirds were circling around a
mysterious point in the heavens. They too would occasionally be startled by
some unseen disturbance. Like their counterparts to the east, after a few
moments they would gather up their determination and resume their post.
Far out among the waves, the black ship with the silver sails slowly drifted
across the horizon. Rifune stared at it for a long time before turning his attention
back to the skies.
Will the gates hold, dearest sovereign? Naquadra asked, coming up behind
him.
They must. This fortress is the last hope of the souls of mortal men.
They looked at the eggs that were scattered along the shore; there were
thousands of them. They were ten times the size of a watermelon; the shells were
decorated with blue and black veins crisscrossing in a dizzying array of patterns.
As they made their way along the beach, they would stop and lovingly caress the
eggs. Each egg felt smooth to the touch, like highly polished glass. The surface
felt warm and a tiny rhythm gave the faint hope of life.
As Rifune was kneeling down before an egg, a bird dropped from the sky.
He tenderly picked it up and examined it. Its beautiful feathers were now white,
as if its life had been eroded by some unnatural force.
The siege has begun in earnest. Come, time is not our ally in this matter.
His tone was cruel and determined.

Once inside the castle, Rifune went to his personal library. It was the size of
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a small barn and contained many tomes, as well as unusual artifacts. Hanging
from the ceiling were skulls of the First Brood, his beloved children that he would
never forget. Sticking up out of the floor were the horns of the Second Brood.
In the center of the room, a band of ivory and a band of ebony were set into the
floor, twisting around each other. Ten iron lamps surrounded this intricate
pattern; each lamp was three feet high and shaped like a globe. Atop each lamp,
a small iron claw, inlaid with ruby, pointed inward towards the center of the
circle. Rifune lit the lamps and the room was enveloped in a eerie, flickering
light. He then took two scrolls from a nearby desk and sat down with them in the
middle of the circle.
The first scroll depicted a large shadow. It had menacing claws and
soul-piercing eyes. It was surrounded by smaller shadows.
The second scroll was covered with figures made up of fire, earth, water,
wood, and air. They were dancing madly, as if they had broken free after a long
imprisonment.
Rifune placed the two scrolls side by side on the floor. He then took a
pouch from his pocket and sprinkled a silvery powder on the parchments. The
powder never hit the paper; it hovered a few inches above the ancient pictures.
Then, as he watched, the paper itself sunk into the stone and disappeared, leaving
only the ink. The powder above formed two shapes: a circle and a triangle.
Then the images depicting the elements rose above the silvery patterns, so that
the circle and triangle formed a barrier between the shadow and the forces of
nature.
Something seemed to be pounding against the floating powder; it would
occasionally tremble as if struck by some great invisible blow. After several
minutes, the barrier collapsed entirely and the drawings rushed toward each
other. Just before they collided, the scrolls resurfaced and the drawings were in
their proper places - as if nothing had happened.
Rifune repeated this ritual several times, using different powders. Some
concoctions seemed more effective than others, but nothing satisfied him.
Finally, he hit upon a combination that gave him great hope.
Suddenly, he felt a presence in the room. In the shadows, a man could be
seen sitting at one of the desks in the corner. His sad eyes looked out from under
a straw hat.
You can stop this before it even starts. Rifunes voice took on a dark air,
meeting the gaze of the man in the shadows.
No - No I cant. HaruCaban and IcPanTefror have gone their own way.
They will listen to you. You must stop this! Rifune continued, rising to his
feet.
No, they wont listen. They stopped listening to me long ago. Eofer sadly
replied.

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The next morning, Rifune stepped out onto the balcony of the castle. Below
him on the beach, he could see a few dead birds among the eggs of his latest
brood. He had in his hand a horn inlaid with bands of ruby. Beside him was a
large basin filled with a reddish brown powder. Small flecks of silver could be
seen peeking out from the dark mixture. It smelled like peat moss and lavender.
Rifune raised the horn to his lips and gave a mighty blast. The birds flocked
to the castle and perched along the walls and parapets. Working quickly yet
gently, Rifune, Naquadra, and their children coated every last bird. As the sun
set, the birds resumed their patterns in the sky.
The gates will hold - for now. If we are fortunate, we will end this assault
and they will hold forever. Rifunes words seemed devoid of hope, despite his
best efforts to lift his queens spirits.
He then returned to his private library. He went to a corner surrounded by
dust and cobwebs and opened an oaken box. Inside lay two white candles with
golden wicks. Strange gold runes lined the sides of the two ancient artifacts.
Also in the box were three small bronze coins. Each coin was decorated with a
series of runes arranged in concentric circles.
Rifune sat in the center of the room and lit the candles. The smoke, instead
of rising, lazily drifted down the sides and covered the floor like a dense fog.
Then he spun each of the coins and waited.
The smoke was caught up in the motion of the coins and as it was drawn in,
the coins seemed to spin even faster. A portion of the smoke started to rise from
the nebulous haze, taking the shape of a large tower. There were two spheres in
front of the building. The tower was capped by a large dome; the dome itself was
surrounded by large, claw like stones.
Why here? Rifune muttered. The tower began to sink down into the
smoke. Then the smoke took the form of a circular abacus, with beads moving to
and fro. I dont understand. A breeze began to fill the room. The breeze grew
so strong that the smoky visage began to waver. Another form began to rise from
the smoke, but it was very vague and Rifune could barely tell that it was human.
Who? Who is laying siege to Drelamand? Rifune demanded. Before his
questions could be answered, a strong gust of wind blew out the candles.

When he returned to the beach the next morning, there were several dead
birds laying on the sand. Rifune walked among them and picked them up, gently
caressing their white feathers.
I have tried everything possible, yet to no avail. By my very soul, this will
not come to pass! Rifune angrily shouted. As he said this, he could hear a
cracking noise from behind him. As the sovereign looked upon the hatching egg,
a new hope came to him. However, this new hope also sent a chill through his
blood.

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No. This cannot be done. Naquadra coldly contested.
It is the only way. Rifune replied.
Murderer! Foul fiend! She slapped him.
Every battle involves sacrifice. It is better that they die by our hand than
by the enemys.
Those are my children on that beach! They are the treasure of my womb!
The queen shouted.
We must pay a high price if we are to save Drelamand. Xukulu come! We
have much work to do. With that, Rifune and the young prince walked down to
the beach. They began breaking open the eggs and killing the young, in the
desperate hope that their blood would prevent the gates from falling.














444
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 84 - Exodus

In the quiet bedroom on the second floor of Mangats mansion, Inwan
tossed and turned uneasily in the soft bed, as if wrestling with some unseen
tormentor. His brow was furrowed and at times it appeared that he was trying to
wriggle out of something. While this was happening, the hair on his head started
to lose its color, starting from his scalp, slowly inching along, like frost covering a
window on a wintry day. Then his whole body relaxed, as if his nightmare
suddenly vanished. He opened his eyes, sat up in bed, and looked around him in
wonder. It was as if he was seeing things with a different pair of eyes. The
bedspread underneath him was an intricate patchwork of orange, white, and
brown squares and smelled of lavender. The posts of the bed were fashioned
from cherry. They were inlaid with jade and silver which wound themselves
upward around the wooden columns like serpents. On top of each post was a
wooden sculpture of a pear. The room itself he knew, but he was surprised to
find his copy of The Adventures of Ka-Sa-Ikizix sitting on the nearby night
stand. Beautiful flowers in an exquisite porcelain vase sat on a polished oaken
table near the open window. They danced with the gentle breeze in the sunlight.
Their fragrance was familiar to him, yet now there seemed something more to it.
In the distance, he heard a howling. As he looked out the window, the
sunshine seemed to go right through him. At the far end of the green pasture, he
saw a familiar white form waiting for him. He merrily walked out of the mansion
to meet his old friend. Everything around him, the carpet, the wood paneling,
the very air itself was slightly different. It was almost as if the world had taken on
a slightly different hue, one that he had not noticed before. As he went down the
stairs, they felt rubbery, spongy. Every time his foot hit a carpeted stair, the rug
and wood seemed to ripple ever so slightly. Inwan laughed with delight.
When he stepped out into the morning air, the wind felt fresh and brought
scents that he hadnt noticed before. In the distance, Sishkye barked and paced
impatiently. Inwan smiled and walked across the field. His steps seemed
quicker than they ever had been before. The ground beneath his bare feet
seemed grainy - almost as if it were pure sand.
Halfway across, Inwan noticed something colorful lying on the ground. He
went over and picked it up. It was a red paper mache mask with very, very thin
yellow wax paper covering the eye holes. There was no sign of the masks owner.
Inwan held onto it for a moment, then tossed it up into the air. The swirling
winds carried it far away and he watched it vanish from sight.
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When he crossed the field, the white wolf started down a path that led
through the adjoining forest. As he trotted along, he occasionally looked back to
see if Inwan was following him. As they continued, Inwan could see a
shimmering, like one sees in the distance on a very, very hot day. However, the
air around him was so cold, he could see his breath. Sishkye turned around and
barked impatiently.
Im coming, Im coming! Inwan laughed joyously.
Deeper into the forest they went. The light caught something hidden
among the leaves on the ground; it looked like he was wading through a sea of
jewels. Every now and then he would hear a muffled sound - it reminded him of
voices speaking softly on the other side of a heavy wooden door. The sound
didnt seem native to his surroundings at all; he felt that it had somehow seeped
between the invisible cracks in the very air around him.
When they finally reached the edge of the forest, a beautiful meadow greeted
them. Unfamiliar flowers nodded in the sunshine. Their golden and creamy
white petals practically glowed in the gentle light. Here and there, a majestic oak
spread out its stately branches over the plain. In the distance mountains rose up,
their crowns of snow sparkling in the sun. It was very quiet and peaceful here; it
took Inwan a moment or two to realize that the HaruCaban were not present.
I dont think I have ever seen those mountains before. Where am I? Inwan
asked, looking at Sishkye.
The wolf barked happily and went over to a nearby tree. Behind the tree, a
patch of large rose bushes flourished and stretched toward the sun. A white
silken cord hung from the lowest branch of the tree, fluttering gently in the wind.
Inwan took one end of the cord in his hands and softly ran his fingers over the
delicate material.
Why is this here?
He then heard a noise behind him. He turned around and Quatzitil stepped
toward him. She was wearing a simple yet elegant white dress. A diamond
hung down upon her chest, suspended by a brilliant platinum chain, which was as
thick as a thread. Two dazzling rubies hung from her ears. Xieri stood behind
her, looking at them both with expectant eyes. If one looked closely enough,
Quatzitils flute could be seen protruding from the griffons saddle pouch. Inwan
stood there, speechless, for several moments.
Your hair. The words quietly slipped from between her delicate lips.
My hair, my sight - the world. Everything is different.
She searched his eyes, those eyes that had locked with hers during
swordplay and adventure. They were much darker now; they seemed like
ominous thunder clouds. There was also something there amidst the dark
bluish gray - something that she had never seen before. It looked like tiny
snowflakes drifting on a soft breeze.
Taking the silken cord, he wrapped it around his right arm, saying I bind
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thee to me, for all of eternity.
She took the other end of the cord, wrapped it around her right arm, and
repeated the vow: I bind thee to me, for all of eternity.
They joined hands and gazed lovingly at each other. They said, in unison:
Under the stars, under the sun, two who have been separate have now become
one. They sealed their vows with a kiss. From one of the lower branches of the
tree, something white quickly flew past them and into the forest beyond.















447
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 85 - The Blessing and Curse of
Unexpected Guests

The ground started to tremble as the advancing army drew near. The
chants, yells, and shouts were as loud as thunder. They were like a black,
turbulent ocean steadily surging forth, knocking down trees as they went. The
smell of smoke and blood grew stronger. Although there was not a cloud above,
the sky itself had a dark, misty tone, as if the sun was reluctant to make an
appearance at this grim hour.
Steady lads. Not yet. Wushzan ordered. He paced back and forth
behind his charges. They had their bows drawn and were waiting. They were as
still as statues as they welcomed their fate atop the walls of Blacktooth. Wushzan
was confident that today would be the day the Gray Ravens restored their honor.
As the army came nearer, the horrors contained within could be seen; the
Black Jackals led the way, their banners waving ominously in the wind. Behind
them, GUlb, Orab, and WaCatalru marched among the throngs of the cursed
dead. Behind those monsters were giants as tall as a barn; they had walrus tusks
coming out of their upper jaw and a rhinos horn protruding from their forehead.
Some of them were still wearing the shackles that had bound them for centuries
beneath Lower Deep.
Remember, we cannot fail. Wushzan told his soldiers. The fate of our
country and our kin is in our hands.
As the invaders drew nearer, Wushzan put an arrow to his bow. He focused
on a soldier carrying one of the standards of the Black Jackal.
Now! He shouted. The arrows flew at once and found their victims.
One of the flags of Nazalquatat shuddered then fell to the ground. The army kept
advancing, trampling their own fallen comrades. The groans of the dying and
squeals of the pierced began to mingle with the shouting and chanting.
A lone figure clad in a black robe could be seen behind the army. As he
advanced, they parted. He looked at the scene for a moment, then smiled. He
waved his arm and stairs emerged from the walls of Blacktooth. The army
shouted victoriously and surged forward and upward.
The Gray Ravens kept on delivering arrows into the enemy horde until they
were only feet away. Then, they drew their swords. The conflict on top of the
wall was ferocious and blood soon made the stone beneath them slick. No matter
how many they killed, more monsters appeared. Wushzan found himself
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surrounded by three Orab and one particularly large GUlub. He struck and
parried their blows, while trying to maneuver out of the perilous situation that
had suddenly come upon him. Finally, he managed to break free of the fearsome
quartet; however, he was precariously close to the edge of the wall. A blow from
one of the Orab sent him over.
Before he hit the ground, however, he felt something grab him by the
shoulders. Its powerful talons gripped him tight.
Whoever you are, you have my deepest gratitude! You are an excellent
flyer! Wushzan called to his mysterious savior.
If I can catch a black moth in the shadows, I can certainly catch the likes of
you! She laughed. It was Xinkshi.
Wushzan looked about him and the sky was filled with dragons and griffons,
each one adorned with a brave warrior. The bronze circlets on their heads and
their crimson armor lent an air of majesty to this wonderful brigade. The sheer
diversity of creatures left him spellbound. Some griffins were lions or tigers with
the head of an eagle; some creatures had the body of a lion or tiger and the head of
a serpent; still others had the body of a horse and the head of a wolf. As they
climbed higher, he saw yet more astounding creatures; there were griffons with
body of a horse and the head of a snake; some griffons were simply large snakes
with the head of a wolf. The dragons flying amongst them came in all colors;
red, green, black, gold, and blue. Some dragons had intricate multi-hued designs
gracing their wings; others had great horns protruding from their heads; a lucky
few had both features. Suddenly, Xukulu came from behind them and assumed
his rightful place, leading the charge. Below them, the defenders of Blacktooth
cheered, their spirits lifted by the magnificent sight.
Xinkshi reached down her hand and he climbed up onto the saddle.
Xurkans powerful muscles surged rhythmically underneath them. They both
looked around; the scene was one they could never have imagined.
I cannot stay. He looked into her eyes for a moment, but then his gaze
darted downward to his students.
I know. May the setting sun see you standing over your enemies. Then
she returned him to his comrades on the roof. As she flew away, she gave one
backward glance and saw Wushzan felling monstrosities left and right. Then,
with renewed determination, she flew upwards to join her sisters.

Mangat, the situation is getting worse. Those stairs will be our undoing.
The fear in Wisayaels voice was more than she could conceal.
Mangat stood next to the window and started to sway, almost as if he was
losing his balance. Sweat poured down from his brow and from time to time, his
body twitched in pain, as if someone had poked him with a sharp stick.
He is too strong for me! I feel like he is about to crush my soul. Wait!
Fiansh? Is that you? Yes, yes you can! Just a little push, thats all I need!
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He muttered.
Suddenly, from the east, a streak of fire crossed the battlefield. It left a
smouldering trail of vegetation and bodies. The head of this small, blazing comet
stopped for a moment, then darted to the north. It stopped again and spread out
like a fiery flower in full bloom. Oubulon had arrived.
All this new commotion and destruction caused a stampede; the invaders
made a mad dash for the stairs, pushing and shoving each other out of the way.
The knights at the top of the wall began to retreat under the new surge of
frightened creatures.
This accomplished nothing; in three leaps Oubulon was atop the wall.
There he burned attacker and defender alike. He grinned, cackled, and laughed
as the armor of those nearby melted under his insane fury. Burning, broken
bodies were flung into the air like toys thrown by an petulant child. Under his
breath he muttered: Three down, hidden in the ground. Ascend one, rising
toward the sun.
Faced with this new danger, Mangat and Wisayael raced to the scene.
Oubulon! Stop! Please. Mangat pleaded. He and Oubulon faced each
other amid the destruction, sorrow crossing Mangats face and a cruel grin playing
upon Oubulons lips.
Why? Everything will end up burning sooner or later.
It doesnt have to be this way. Wisayaels words were soft and inviting.
As Oubulon turned to her, Mangat started to subtly circle around him.
Whats wrong with this way? You may think this is something to be feared,
but to one such as I, this is a grand celebration! He cackled and threw his head
back.
Your revelry may very well kill your dearest friends. Wisayael implored.
Mangat was almost behind him now.
Friends! What friends do I have? Where were you when the Bright Star
fell from the heavens? A circle of flame surrounded him. Have long did you
spend searching for me, my friend? Oubulons voice crackled like an angry fire
as he addressed Mangat.
Im sorry dear friend, I failed you. Mangat replied.
Indeed you did!
Please, stop this cruelty; the Oubulon I knew would not do this. Wisayael
beseeched, taking a step toward him.
Cruelty, too much cruelty. Oubulon said, his tone softening. The flames
around him died down somewhat.
Give us an opportunity to make amends old friend. Mangat implored.
What makes you think you can set things right?
We will do everything in our power. Wisayael reassured him, taking
another step forward.
Power, you have no power! Oubulon screamed. Fire surrounded him
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and he leapt off the wall and onto the battlefield.
Amidst the fighting, Mangat and Wisayael watched helplessly as Oubulon
continued his trail of destruction, sometimes outside the walls of Blacktooth,
sometimes inside the fortress itself. As night fell, Oubulon grew weary and
finally staggered into the halls to find a quiet place to sleep. Faint embers still
glowed within his hair. From atop the wall, they watched him disappear inside.
Mangat, no - dont do this! How can you even think of it? Wisayael took
him by the arm.
Do you think me some black hearted villain? Look! He shouted,
grabbing her and leading her to the edge of the wall. There were acres upon acres
of smoldering bodies and vegetation. Look here! His handiwork is here also!
He continued, turning her around to see the victims that Oubulon had left behind.
Oubulon is already dead! He died with Khyphryxia. This madman is too
dangerous. Mangats words had a harshness that she had never heard before.
He followed Oubulon into the halls. Wisayael could do nothing, for at the
moment, all the carnage of the day had left her numb.
Later that night, Mangat came back with a hardened look upon his face.
Oubulon lay in one of the guest rooms, in a posture of sweet slumber, his body
petrified.

As the dawn approached, it brought no comfort or reassurance with it. The
landscape lay barren and desolate as each side had retreated during the night to
regroup. Now the combatants slowly gathered again, like a rising tide.
Suddenly, a creaking was heard; something very large was approaching. It was
being pulled by thirty giants and dwarfed the trees it passed by.
Iron-Jaw-The-Gate-Eater was hungry and would soon feast upon the doors of
Blacktooth.













451
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 86 - The Spider and The King

The stones under Mangat and Wisayael began to tremble as the huge
battering ram began its assault on the doors. Mangat gripped his sword and
pulled his wife closer to him. They watched as the new combatants gathered
around the battering ram, cheering it on. The air was filled with grunting,
growling, and moaning, all twisting around each other to make a terrifying
cacophony. The spears and axes of the monsters below glinted in the early
morning light. Every now and then, wood splinters flew out over the battlefield,
like heralds of doom. There was a wild celebration in anticipation of the victory
that the abominations knew would be theirs. They had lit several large bonfires
and were dancing around them in a maniacal fashion.
Mangat, give me your spyglass. Wisayael focused on some of the newly
arrived soldiers and then pulled away from the eye piece with a start. She looked
again and then slowly, numbly put the instrument on the parapet in front of her.
Mangat took the spyglass and focused it on the objects of her attention. He saw
that some of the men were wearing a dragons tooth around their necks.
Thrice cursed souls! Mangat hissed. He clenched his fists and up from
the stones beneath them rose a stallion, beautiful and fierce, yet composed
entirely of rock. Three other horses soon rose up; those three bore a silent stony
rider. The grim visages turned to Mangat, who immediately jumped upon the
first horse. Without hesitation, he spurred his steed onward and rode down the
wall, foregoing the nearby stairs. The three followed him immediately.
Meanwhile, the appearance of the battering ram had boosted the morale of
the aggressors and they charged up the stairs with renewed vigor. It was all the
defenders on top of the wall could do to hold them at bay, and they were slowly
losing ground to the vicious onslaught.
Iron-Jaw continued to relentlessly pound the gates of Blacktooth. Finally,
the great doors shuddered and groaned as the hinges started to come loose. With
one final, mighty shove, the doors gave way, slowly toppling over with a
tremendous crash. The wild celebrations outside the stone walls grew silent, and
it seemed that all eyes were upon the broken gates. The giants were the first ones
to step through, their heavy footfalls shaking the ground. They looked around
with a triumphant air. The men gathered on the other side of the fallen doors
stepped back hesitantly, not sure of what would come next. As more
monstrosities filled the courtyard, both sides looked at each other. Then the
giants and their fellow creatures rushed towards the frightened men.
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Crush them! For the Dark Overlord! Lokon roared. The great GUlb,
eager for battle, stepped forward.
Frightened men-children. Emben, the fearsome WaCatalru, grinned.
His words were frothing with cruelty and hunger.
However, one lone knight stood up. He defiantly raised the standard of the
Iron Bears. He let out a loud cry which carried itself over the din of combat.
Iron Bears! To glory! Victory is ours this day! Buthur yelled as he led
his cadets onward. As he and his knights charged forth, the defenders cheered.
However, charging forth and winning the battle are two very different
things. Despite their skill and courage, Buthur and his knights quickly found
themselves in trouble. They were dodging more than they were striking. Then,
quite unexpectedly, Buthur found himself in the grasp of one of the giants. The
creature cocked its head one way, then another. It shook its prey and the
helpless knight rattled like a toy in its grasp. Then, the giant licked its lips and
started to drool. Suddenly, arrows pierced the behemoths neck. At first it took
no notice, but then it started scratching its neck. Soon the giant was gasping for
air and it crashed to the ground. Buthur looked around him and saw Wushzan
with three of his knights on the wall.
Thank you brother! You have earned my gratitude and respect this day!
Buthur called up to him.
And you have earned mine! The sons of The West will shine brightly this
day! Wushzan replied. As he caught the lingering scent of scorpion powder on
his bowstring, he thought: Even if we must rely on the dark craft.
Despite this courageous act, the skirmish was going badly for the defenders
of Blacktooth, with their hopes quickly sinking. Suddenly, the sounds of
chanting and metal banging upon metal could be heard in the distance. It
quickly grew louder and nearer. Then the combatants heard a chorus of hearty
voices singing:

We have come!
We have come!
The Tyrants day is done!

We are here!
We are here!
Armed with axe, hammer, and spear!

Weve come to repay the thief,
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With our sharp edged grief!

Soon there was chaos among the enemy ranks as the DorthGem swarmed
over the battlefield like an angry flood. The men took advantage of the
confusion; a great battle cry issued forth and they charged the villainous horde.
For the time being, it seemed that victory was possible. Despite their ferocity,
Lokon and Emben were the first ones to fall to the DorthGem blade.
As the hours passed, however, more horrors appeared on the horizon. The
battle seemed to be a stalemate, with both sides suffering tremendous losses.

Mangat was in the thick of it all, exacting vengeance upon Xavens
murderers. Although more of a scholar than a warrior, he swung his sword with
all the zeal of a madman. Despite his efforts and his creations, the scars of battle
were starting to appear on him. Several times he was saved from a gruesome
death by sheer luck instead of his battle prowess.

CNumti watched all of this with detachment. Then a wicked smile played
upon his lips. He took out some vials of bluish liquid from his pockets. He dug
four holes in the ground and poured the concoction in each one. He then thrust
his hands deep into the earth and muttered (and sometimes screeched) in a long
forgotten tongue. The soil in front of him began to heave and shake. A giant
scorpion, as large as two barns, crawled out of the earth. It was soon followed by
three others.
These abominations caused terrible suffering, not only among the men and
the DorthGem, but among the Sisters of the Three Moons as well. They crushed
metal, bones, and stone as easily as straw. Their venomous tails flicked about the
battlefield quicker than lightning.

While this carnage was taking place, something strange was happening.
The nearby trees were sinking into the ground, like an otter quickly diving under
the water. Quite a few trees disappeared in this way. Suddenly, a large branch,
as thick as ten trees, and as long as a small village, shot up underneath one of the
scorpions. The leafy creature looked like a giant wooden serpent. It quickly
wrapped itself around the monster and crushed it.
This giant branch quickly took care of the other two monsters, diving under
the ground and then surfacing. The last scorpion had its sights set on Mangat,
who in his zeal did not realize the peril he was in. The monsters claw was
descending upon him, when, about three feet from his neck, it stopped abruptly.
The creature disappeared under the earth, taken by the huge arboreal avenger.
Wisayael was standing there, behind him. The giant branch turned toward
her and tenderly wrapped a few of its smaller limbs around her arms.
It is good to see you again. We have missed
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you. A chorus of voices echoed in her head. It was Telmreet and her children.
Thank you. She whispered to the leaves. Then she turned to Mangat.
Dearest, the next time you involve me in your crazy schemes I would like to be
told ahead of time.

No sooner had she said this, a beautiful woman walked past her. She was
tall, stately, and delicate. Her brown tresses fell down to her waist. She was
clad in a simple white gown and had a crown of pale flowers upon her head. She
was holding a bouquet of white lilies in her snow white hands. From time to
time, she would take a single flower and hold it out, yet no one noticed her. All
the while, she made no sound. She simply glided from one place to another
amongst the violence like a feather falling to the earth on a calm day.
Nupetep? Wisayael whispered to herself.

For a short time, the battle returned to a stalemate. As more Orab, GUlb,
and WaCatalru arrived, however, the defenders began to slowly retreat towards
the stronghold. Some tripped over dead bodies or slipped in pools of blood as
they went. The blows they suffered were incredibly brutal and fiendish. It
appeared as if only a handful of survivors would actually make it to the safety of
the walls.
All of a sudden, shark-toothed swords appeared on the horizon, shining
brightly in the sun. The Wustavae had arrived and they would fulfill their
terrible prophecy. Their attack was truly vicious and devastating.
Mangat looked and saw Wuyami, who raised his staff in greeting.

All the bloodshed and pain was like a beautiful symphony to Nowmanga - at
least when he arrived. As the day waned, he grew frustrated and impatient for he
could not find his quarry. Although killing unsuspecting victims in different
grisly ways was entertaining at first, he eventually grew bored.
Where are you, my little bird? He whispered in a cruel tone as he scanned
the battlefield.
Suddenly, he was yanked from the earth. A long serpentine tail wound
itself around his neck. The tail gracefully arched forward and he was face to face
with Xinkshi, Faithful Sword of The Sisterhood of The Three Moons.
I wont beg for my life. He calmly told her.
I know. She responded. She then took Quatzitils sword and plunged it
into the assassins chest. She then watched as his lifeless body plummeted to the
ground.

The fighting ebbed as the sun went down, but it continued. The night was
lit up by dragon fire as it rained down upon the earth. Groaning, shrieking, and
metal clashing with metal could be heard. Under the two moons, Mangat
455
covered his ears in hopes of blocking out the awful noise.
Here, let me - Wisayael said, approaching him with a healing salve.
No. Im hurt, but Ill heal. There are others for whom that might mean
the difference between life and death. He interrupted her. Go, go! Ill be
fine. He gently motioned her out the door. She then left to tend to the
wounded and grieving.

The sun shone brightly in the sky the next morning, with just a few puffy
clouds lazily drifting along. CNumti looked out over the charred earth and
smiled. He then lit four small fires and put a bronze bowl over each. He put a
black powder in each bowl. Despite being ground to a fine dust, the powder had
a filmy, soapy feel to it. It also smelled like rotten eggs. As the powder burned,
smoke seemed to dance upward in an almost hypnotic rhythm. CNumti then
began to chant and spit into the bowls.
The small clouds grew dark and started to swell. After a few minutes, they
covered the sky. Flames impatiently danced within the clouds, like caged
animals. Then CNumti raised his hands and the fire rained down, burning
aggressor and defender alike.

Wushzan and his five remaining cadets were caught in the fire storm. Like
everyone else, they were bruised, battered, and bleeding. He gathered them
close.
We may die this day, but the Gray Ravens will live on! Our deeds today
will not be forgotten! He shouted among the din.
Just then, a GUlb and three Orab caught sight of them and charged.
Wushzan and his cadets fought valiantly, but were gradually succumbing to the
savagery of the monsters. Then, Wushzan stumbled and fell backward. The
GUlb raised his axe and was about to kill him, when suddenly he jerked forward;
the axe dropped out of his hand. Then the creature toppled forward and
crashed to the ground. The other monsters fell seconds later. Each creature
had an arrow in the back of its head. As Wushzan examined the arrow stuck in
the GUlb, he noticed a piece of green wax paper wrapped around it.
Thank you, my friend! You have saved my life yet again! He happily
shouted.

Xurkan circled the skies, surveying the ground beneath him. He spied four
particularly large giants walking from the east. He let out a sound which was a
mixture of a growl and laughter.
Wait...what are you doing? Xinkshi asked, surprised. The large dragon
dived to the ground as fast as he could.
When he hit the ground, it trembled. The giants stopped in their tracks,
startled by the appearance of the winged adversary.
456
Quickly, take flight! Xinkshi shouted. Xurkan looked over the four
behemoths, salivating smoke and fire. He flexed his muscles and burst out of the
saddle. His rider fell to the ground and he brushed her out of the way with his
tail. The giants stepped closer.
No! This is madness, we cannot defeat them! Xinkshi screamed.
Xurkan looked over his shoulder and glared at her. Frightened for the first time,
she hesitantly backed away.
Turning now to his prey, Xurkan let forth a loud roar and a firestorm.
Though one of the giants was badly burned, two more were approaching from
behind.
One of the giants lunged and Xurkan took to the air as quickly as a
dragonfly. As he rose up, his tail curled around the monsters neck and held him
tight. He stayed there, hovering above the ground, strangling the life out of his
victim. He let the dead body fall and then slowly sank down to the ground.
Just then, a spear pierced his left wing. The dragon turned around and
lunged at his assailant, clamping his powerful jaws around the giants neck. By
this time, two other giants had their hands upon him. One of them grabbed him
from behind, but quickly found himself in the vice-like grip of the dragons tail.
Xurkan lifted him up and slammed him into one of the other giants. He kept
thrusting the giant into the ground over and over again. With his two forelegs, he
grabbed hold of a third victim and sank his claws deep into the creatures flesh.
So the battle went. Xurkan fought with no fear, no remorse, no restraint.
After suffering many blows and killing many giants, he finally fell.

Jhyndisel knelt before the petrified figure of Oubulon, gently brushing away
a tear. He ran his fingers over the face and remembered the words spoken by
that mouth, now silent forever.
You gave up hope too soon. I have been chosen. He gently whispered.
She is with me - she is with us. He rose to his feet. Sons and their sons shall
remember your name. Your courage and wisdom shall flow through the
bloodlines of men as long as men walk the earth.
Your Majesty. A warrior approached Jhyndisel.
Yes? The king turned to the young man. His gaze seemed to pierce the
boys flesh.
We found this outside the ruins of Crown Hall. The young man put a box
before him and backed away. It was made out of cherry wood and inlaid with
silver and obsidian bands. After a moments hesitation, Jhyndisel opened the
box. Resting peacefully on the navy blue felt, the imperial sword reflected the
firelight, beckoning to him. He tenderly ran his hands over it and then picked it
up.
No one thought we would ever see the avenger again. It was found by a
young maiden. It is said that the footprints of a lion led her to the very spot
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where the sword was buried.
Lions Vengeance - the sword used by our ancestors. Time and time again
it has defeated enemies - it is time for its last glory! Jhyndisel declared with a
defiant sweep of the blade.
We also found this. The young man added, holding forth a smaller
wooden box. Jhyndisel opened it and his eyes grew wide in astonishment. One
of Khyphrxias jade stones glinted in the firelight. Jhyndisel tenderly affixed it to
the end of his blood red braid.
The last remaining king then rode out of the castle like an arrow seeking its
destiny. His long black hair and red braid were streaming behind him as he
spurred his horse on. When he arrived in the middle of the battlefield, CNumti
was there, waiting for him.
Greetings, young prince. The dark emperor began slyly. When he
caught sight of Jisi, a sensation of disbelief washed over him. Then a scowl came
across his face. She cannot help you! I killed her, as I will kill you!
Jhyndisel. Pangaens voice softly echoed in the kings head.
Yes?
You must make a decision today. Who will you listen to?
Ahhh.....Pangaen, your beautiful face and gleaming armor stained with
rodents blood. The foot of a black chicken upon your sweet forehead. A pity to
be buried in such a way. CNumti grinned.
Your thrice cursed acolytes defiled her body, but her soul is pure.
Jhyndisel replied.
They began to circle each other, thrusting and swinging their swords, testing
each other. Then the battle began in earnest, their swords flashing and singing
with an intensity that could not be matched by mortals.
Do you like stories my child? CNumti asked him. Before he knew it, the
Dark Emperor had leapt over him and landed behind him. He pressed his sword
against the kings throat. A long time ago, there was a young and virtuous maid.
She was very pretty and very curious. One day she came to the king to learn the
art of war. As he said this, he slid his blade across Jhyndisels flesh; a small
amount of blood trickled over the sword. However, she was too timid to learn
everything he wanted to teach her. So, one day - He was abruptly interrupted
as Jhyndisel thrust himself backwards. They both fell to the ground; Jhyndisel
used the momentary distraction to free himself. She fled. CNumti continued,
rising to his feet. She spurned the wisdom - and the love of the king. What do
you think the penalty is for such behavior? Death! CNumti rushed forward
and attacked Jhyndisel with such fury that it was like the young king was beset by
an army of villains instead of one.
This savage pace started taking its toll. Jhyndisel endured many cuts and
bruises. Several times, he narrowly escaped a fatal blow. Then, a spark
appeared in his eyes.
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It is unfortunate that his lordship doesnt know the whole story.
Jhyndisel countered, as he started to block CNumtis attacks. For then he
would know that, several centuries later, the young maid sought another mentor -
The-Father-Of-Dragons! Jhyndisels blade was moving faster and more
intricately. He started to surprise CNumti more often.
Then, as Jhyndisel was swinging his blade with one hand, he threw a
crescent shaped dagger with his other. The dagger found its mark; CNumtis
head fell to the ground. The sword dropped from the dark emperors hand; his
lifeless body fell forward and landed before Jhyndisel with a thud!


Two luminous figures watched the performance from a distance.
So it begins. So it ends. Andreaxilous noted calmly.
The young king has done well. Ashthranas observed as a smile
crossed her face.
Indeed he has. Yet more he has to do. We have done
everything we can, the rest is up to him. Andreaxilous explained, as he
led her away.










459
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 87 - The Temptation of Jhyndisel

Jhyndisel took the gold ring in his hand. It felt unusually cold and heavy.
He examined the characters on the inside of the ring; it was as if he almost knew
what they meant, if he could just remember.
Jhyndisel, it is time. A soft voice whispered in his head.
I suppose it is. With that, he mounted his horse and rode off towards the
east.
As he rode, he checked his pocket from time to time. A funny feeling would
come over him - without warning- that he might have dropped Arkplur. He
would reach in and feel the ring, which although still cold, was gradually
becoming warmer.
Twilight is overtaking the garden. Soon one era will end and a new one
will begin. All the old tales will be lost. Pangaen told him.
That would be a tragedy. Can nothing be done?
The only thing that can be done is to listen. With that, she regaled him
with the stories of the ancient realms that flourished during the Barbaric Age.
She described them so vividly that Jhyndisel felt as if he was riding back in time.
Fantastic. I did not know so much happened during the Barbaric Age. It
feels comforting to finally know the truth. The last word of his sentence
seemed to echo; for a moment he thought he heard a low, sinister laugh. Whos
there? The king demanded, turning his horse around. There was no one in
sight.
By this time, the sun was setting, so he made camp. He felt for Arkplur, to
make sure it was there, and then put some more branches on the fire. As the fire
danced before him, he had a flash of inspiration. He took out the ring, and once
again examined the characters on the inside. He felt sure that he knew what the
first character meant. He looked at the characters closely, turned the ring over,
and examined them again. He thrust the ring into his pocket, frustrated by the
puzzle.
When you throw the rings into Deep Forge, Pangaen explained,
interrupting his reverie, my spirit will be released, as well as CNumtis. We will
do battle in the heavens, amongst the clouds, bathed in the moonlight. It will be
a glorious sight! When I finally defeat my ancient enemy, men will be rid of his
curse forever.
Jhyndisel then lay down to sleep. Just as his eyes were closing, he thought
he saw someone standing amongst the trees, partially hidden in the branches and
460
shadow. The figure seemed to be staring at him. By the time Jhyndisel realized
that he wasnt dreaming, it stepped back and was enveloped by the gloom. He
went to the spot where he thought the mysterious figure had been standing, but
could not find any evidence that anyone had been there.
The next day, he seemed reluctant to continue the journey, but he wasnt
sure why. As he rode, his pace was a bit slower than it was the previous day.
He came across a white sac, with black speckles. It had burst open days ago
and Jhyndisel could see a few multi-colored dragonflies on the ground beneath it.
He gingerly picked up one of the dying creatures and wondered. How long had
it lived? Was it happy during its lifetime?
Jhyndisel, time is growing short. Pangaen urged.
Indeed it is. Another voice whispered in his head. It was hollow and
sounded as if it had been spoken from a far distance. Jhyndisel, startled, looked
around him, but saw no one.
So he rode on, occasionally checking to see if he still had possession of
Arkplur. The image of the dying dragonflies was running through his mind the
whole time.
If things had been different - The king began.
But they are not. Pangaens words were bathed in a certain fatalistic
simplicity.
If they had been. If Arkplur had been destroyed, and if I didnt have to
destroy Jisi, would the ring allow me to live longer?
It is very difficult to describe what might be. It is better to focus on what
is. This answer did not please Jhyndisel at all. He then realized that this was
the first time he had been angry with Pangaen.
The next time he reached into his pocket, Arkplur seemed very warm, as if it
had been sitting out on a sunny windowsill all afternoon. Jhyndisel found
himself reluctant to let go of the ring.
Do you know what Arkplurs characters mean?
Jhyndisel, do you think it is wise to ask such questions? She responded.
You are the one who told me of the king who sought knowledge. As the
last remaining king, shouldnt I be fully aware of what I am carrying in my
pocket? Jhyndisel argued, frustration rising in his voice.
By now, you should already know enough to realize that some things are
better left mysteries.
I can show you. The hollow voice seductively glided through his soul.
This time, Jhyndisel was not startled, nor did he look about him. He reached
into his pocket and ran his fingers over the golden ring.

=

461
He suddenly found himself sitting on the throne in Crown Hall. It was a
warm afternoon and sunlight was streaming into the chamber. Before him, a
map of the East sat on a table. Several advisors looked at the colored stones and
rubbed their chins deep in thought. Jhyndisel suddenly rose from the royal seat
and confidently walked over to the map. The yellow stones of Axandali were
facing a greater force of red stones, representing the army of Raspladex. Blue
stones, representing Slunarkien, lay to the north. White stones, representing the
army of Borkulete, lay to the south east. Jhyndisel quickly arranged the yellow
stones into five separate columns.
Your highness has a most interesting strategy, however -
A strategy that has worked in the past. Let me explain why it will work
now. Jhyndisel then poured forth an explanation so detailed and precise that all
his councilors were astounded by his knowledge.
Brilliant, astoundingly brilliant.... Khyphryxia praised him as she
examined the map. When will this come to pass?
This very day! This very hour. Jhyndisel donned his armor. He then
walked out to the courtyard below and mounted his horse without a moments
hesitation. To arms! Victory is ours this day! This is the promise of the king:
each of you shall ride to glory this day! The land of the East will be ours at last!
Then Jhyndisel rode out of the courtyard and his knights followed him, caught up
in the whirlwind of his confidence. Confidence. Jhyndisel definitely would have
benefitted from this growing up - how different his life would have been!

=

Jhyndisel! Look! We are almost there. Pangaens words happily
bounced in his head. Before him, the Iron Blood Mountains rose up.
As he rode on, he kept on reaching into his pocket more often. Jhyndisel
was excited; one character down, two more to go. Conversely, he responded to
Pangaen less often.
What would happen if the rings were not destroyed? He thought to
himself. Could the power of both artifacts be harnessed - for the good of
mankind? If so, how long would it take to get Arkplur under control? What
should be done with the ring until then? It would have to be hidden away, so it
wouldnt fall into the wrong hands. Only a king deserved to have such power.

U

462

Now Jhyndisel found himself on the battlefield, hopelessly outnumbered.
What few knights remained had been cut off from him by the forces of Slunarkien
and Borkulete. The fighting was fierce and the sound of sword upon shield was
deafening.
Your majesty! We must retreat, the battle is beyond hope! One of his
warriors shouted to him amidst the confusion.
I have had enough of this. Jhyndisel growled. He thrust his hand up to
the sky and storm clouds started to gather. As they grew darker and darker, the
enemy horde seemed to panic and falter. Then, as the king clenched his raised
hand into a fist, bolts of lightning and tongues of flame struck down his foes.
With such power within ones grasp, nothing is beyond hope. Jhyndisel
smiled.

U


The next morning, Jhyndisel got up and had breakfast. For the first time
since he left Blacktooth, he looked behind him. Should he really go on? Was
there another way?
Jhyndisel. Please, listen to me! Pangaen begged. You must go on, the
consequences would be terrible if you didnt.
He was about to challenge her statement, but something inside held him
back. After all, she had been his companion and guide for so long - she was to be
trusted. He put out the camp fire and rode off along the twisting mountain trails.
Despite his confidence in her, Jhyndisel couldnt help thinking of what the
last character might be. He played with the ring, turning it round and round
between his fingers. The ring should be destroyed, but it also should be
understood before it vanishes forever. Who knows what secrets lie within it?
Such knowledge could benefit men in hundreds - or perhaps even thousands - of
different ways.
Two flames guarded the cave which lead to Deep Forge. One, on the left,
was white. It gave a soft glow as dusk spread out its shadowy fingers. The other,
on the right, was a deep bluish black. This fire seemed to steal the surrounding
light. The ground was littered with bones.
As Jhyndisel picked up a skull and wondered how long it had been there, his
eye caught something swimming in the gathering darkness. It seemed ageless, as
if it had never been born and would never grow old.
Jhyndisel, please hurry! You are almost out of time! Pangaen urged.
463
He put his hand in his pocket, just once more to make sure that Arkplur was still
there.
Jhyndisel! Pangaen startled him out of his daydreaming. The king
hesitantly approached the cave, then decisively strode in.
Deep Forge was a huge pit encircled with intricately carved stone. Set into
the top of the stone were two bands, one of ivory, the other of ebony. The bands
twisted round each other, as if they were grappling with one another. At the
bottom of the deep pit, lava could be seen, surging and bubbling, eager to swallow
its victims.
When Jhyndisel took Arkplur out of his pocket and examined it one last
time, it came to him.

=


He was sitting on the throne in Crown Hall, gazing at the countryside. It
was dotted with bustling hamlets and laced with well kept roads. Small gardens
peppered the landscape and children could be seen playing happily in the fields.
Suddenly, an old man came in and stood beside him.
It is beautiful, is it not? The king quietly mused.
Yes, your majesty, it is. The ancient one replied.
Your majesty? We have never stood on formality here.
Great-grandfather seems like such an inappropriate term, given that you
are the great-great grandfather of my grandfather.
Actually, I am the great-great grandfather of your great-great grandfather.
Jhyndisel smiled as he turned to him and put his hands on the old ones
shoulders. Now, how can I help?
I just wanted to spend a little time in the presence of the ever-youthful Star
of Axandali.
Ever-youthful; forever. Jhyndisel gripped the ring in triumph.


=


464
Is that what you have been keeping from me? Jhyndisel accused
Pangaen.
No....This is....wh-what....I...have been....keeping..fr-from....you! She
sounded as if she was trying to open a very heavy door while suffering
excruciating pain.
The ring became cold in the kings hand. It was so cold in fact that it
seemed frozen to his palm. When he looked at it, the characters on the inside
had changed.


_

:|



Jhyndisel suddenly found himself standing by the throne in Crown Hall. It
was a warm afternoon and sunlight was streaming into the chamber. Sitting on
the throne was someone who looked exactly like him; however, there appeared to
be a shadow behind the figure. It was very dim and could barely be seen, but the
visage terrified him. It had long, clawlike fingers and pointed ears. Sharp fangs
could be seen in the menacing grin. Before him, a map of the East sat on a table.
Several advisors looked at the colored stones and rubbed their chins deep in
thought. The false king suddenly rose from the royal seat and confidently walked
over to the map. The yellow stones of Axandali were facing a greater force of red
stones, representing the army of Raspladex. Blue stones, representing
Slunarkien, lay to the north. White stones, representing the army of Borkulete,
lay to the south east. The doppleganger quickly arranged the yellow stones into
five separate columns.
Your highness has a most interesting strategy, however -
A strategy that has worked in the past. Let me explain why it will work
now. Jhyndisel then poured forth an explanation so detailed and precise that all
his councilors were astounded by his knowledge - all but one.
Brilliant, astoundingly brilliant....however there are several things you are
not considering. Khyphryxia said as she examined the map.
I have considered everything that needs to be considered! Who rescued
our great realm from defeat, you or I? The dark king stared at his once beloved
sister.
Jhyndisel - She was stopped mid-sentence by a cold, unyielding glare.
Mighty One, this plan will place all the lands of the East at your feet, if -
I have no time for such foolishness. At that point, Dusupa stepped
forward and led Khyphryxia away.
When will your glorious plan begin, Bright Star? A councilor asked with
insincere enthusiasm. He felt pity for the princess; why had she not learned that
the king stopped listening years ago?
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This very day! This very hour. Jhyndisel declared, as he donned his
armor. He then walked out to the courtyard below and mounted his horse
without a moments hesitation. To arms! Victory is ours this day! This is the
promise of the king: each of you shall ride to glory this day! The land of the East
will be ours at last! Then Jhyndisel rode out of the courtyard and his knights
followed him, caught up in the whirlwind of his confidence. As the false king
carried the last remnant of Axandali to their doom, Jhyndisel screamed and
shouted with all his might, pounding against the window. No one heard him.

_

:|







Jhyndisel was standing on a battlefield, alone, except for the evil creature
who had taken his place. They were in the center of a charred field with burnt
bodies as far as the eye could see. The false king sat silently as tears rolled down
his cheeks.
Who shall bear my cup? Who will prepare my feasts? A kingdom cannot
stand without slaves! He moaned. Then he saw a rat scurrying along the
ground and he had a flash of inspiration. Why these fallen warriors shall serve
me yet! The evil king muttered in an ancient, obscure dialect while dancing in
an odd motion along the ground. Suddenly, thousands of rats descended upon
the battlefield and crawled over the dead. As they swarmed over the bodies, the
vermin seemed to wither and die. Arise my children! The evil creature shouted;
his voice boomed and echoed. The dead then arose; each corpse had a long rats
tail.
Jhyndisel was standing in Crown Hall once more, looking at the false king as
the doppleganger looked out his window. His cursed vermin abominations
shambled here and there without a sound. The colored stones on the map had
disappeared. It was now crawling with cockroaches.
Why stop now? The lands of the West and Far East are beautiful. They
would be an excellent addition to my kingdom. He mused to himself.
Your Majesty. Please, stop this. A low voice pitifully moaned. A
twisted woman painfully crept out of the shadows. She had a rams horn
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protruding from the center of her head. Her arms were twice as long as they
should have been and her feet were three times as wide as a normal foot. She
only had a few wisps of hair on her bald head and several teeth had fallen out.
She wore a soiled, torn dress. Despite the horrible disfiguration, Jhyndisel
recognized the creature: it was Khyphryxia.
Ahhhh.....my beloved experiment - I mean sister. You shall be the first to
witness my new conquests. As he announced his intentions, dark clouds
gathered on the distant horizon.








=


When Jhyndisel opened his eyes, the world had gone pitch black. The
stench of this place was overpowering and there was absolutely no sound. After
wandering around blindly, he saw a dim light ahead and ran toward it. While
doing so, he stepped on something sharp; the pain was so intense that he fell to
his hands and knees. Despite his suffering, he crawled toward the light. As he
got closer, it looked like a window with dark, smoky glass. He tried to rub the
glass to get a clearer view of what was happening outside this putrid abyss, but to
no avail. Everything that he saw was filtered through a dark, grimy, sticky
window pane. What he saw was Crown Hall. There was an old man standing
nearby. The conversation that he overheard was muffled and barely audible.
Great-Grandfather seems like such an inappropriate term, given that you
are the great-great grandfather of my grandfather. A voice said.
Actually, I am the great-great grandfather of your great-great grandfather.
Another voice answered. Now, how can I help?
I just wanted to spend a little time in the presence of the ever-youthful Star
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of Axandali. The first voice replied.
Ever-youthful. Trapped. In this horrifying, disgusting prison. Forever.*

=


Before nausea could overcome him, Jhyndisel threw Arkplur into the pit.
It took him a few minutes to recover. When he was able to stand on his two
feet again, he felt refreshed and lighthearted. A heavy burden he didnt even
know he had been carrying had been lifted from him.
Now comes the most difficult part. Pangaen sadly said.
How much more difficult can things get?
You must let go of me Jhyndisel.
I know.
Take the ring off your finger.
He slowly took the ring off his finger and stared at it. A tear rolled down his
cheek.
Jhyndisel. Pangaens voice seemed to be coming from behind him,
instead of within him. He turned around and saw a luminous visage. A
beautiful young woman with black hair and gentle blue eyes stood before him.
She was clad in white chain mail; a sword was in her left hand, a shield was in her
right. There were three characters on the shield; he recognized them instantly:

Faith, Courage, and Love.
I will always be with you. She brushed away his tear.
Goodbye. He whispered. Then, slowly, he turned and stepped onto the
stone rim. He held Jisi between his thumb and finger for a moment, then let go,
watching as the ring plummeted toward the glowing lava.





468
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 88 - Storm and Shadow

Pangaen opened her eyes and was bewildered. She was not expecting to
be on a beach with the ocean lapping at her feet. The water sparkled in the
sunlight, so at least she knew it was daytime. The beach was littered with
thousands of dead birds, their feathers bleached white. There were also broken
egg shells among the sandy dunes. She looked overhead and saw not only the
sun, but two other objects, which looked like suns caught in a total eclipse. The
two discs had a rainbow-like aura that flickered and splashed outwards. There
was a steady breeze which gusted about and tousled her beautiful black hair.
There seemed to be a second gust of wind from the black holes above her. This
other zephyr brought a distinctive smell with it: an odd concoction of sulphur,
ammonia, smoke, and pine needles. A menacing rumbling in the distance caught
her attention; it was so powerful that it shook the ground beneath her. She
looked out and saw thunder clouds over the waves, with lightning flashing down
to the water. There seemed to be something huge floating within the clouds,
bulging out at certain points - it resembled stone. Was it her imagination, or was
there also fire dancing within the clouds? She looked around to try to get her
bearings. When she saw the castle by the sea, she knew something was terribly
wrong.
She saw a figure watching from the balcony of the fortress. All the
memories came flooding back; the pain, the duels, the groping in the dark, and the
puzzles. She realized that all of the struggle had been for this very moment, but
what was at stake?
The figure then noticed someone farther down the beach, so Pangaen
followed his gaze. CNumti was standing there, with thousands of shadows
behind him, like a pack of ravenous wolves. He slowly walked towards her, the
shadows following at his heels. She put the past behind her and walked toward
him.
So, this is Drelamand. It is much bigger than I imagined. CNumtis
words were casual but still cold and calculating.
I care not about the place, only about the battle. As she said this, the
storm slowly began to move behind her.
Come then, and taste death a second time. The dark emperors voice was
as empty as a long forgotten grave; a cruel smile played across his lips.
She charged him, sword drawn. He stepped aside and deftly swung his
blade, but she blocked him. He whirled around, swinging and thrusting, but she
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rolled toward him and countered his onslaught with her shield. As CNumti
pressed his attack, he moved like a sinister, hungry spider. Pangaen, on the
other hand, seemed like a graceful eagle.
Meanwhile, the elemental forces that were present moved closer to their
chosen champions. Lightning and tongues of flame descended from the cloud
and shadows danced at CNumtis heels and elbows. It was almost as if they were
watching and waiting. The very air about them seemed frozen and time itself left
that place.

From the balcony, Rifune watched the contest with a fatal resignation. He
was dressed in a crimson suit of armor. He looked up at the black discs in the
sky, with their flickering auras. The castle was quiet now, for he had sent all
away, except for his queen. He looked at his sword; the flame and lightning was
reflected in the highly polished blade. Occasionally, parts of the castle seemed to
fade, drained of all color and substance - but this would last only a moment.
He unrolled a scroll that he was holding in his other hand. It was a
primitive picture, drawn at the dawn of the Forgotten Age. The parchment
depicted a large shadow flanked by smaller ones. It was being opposed by a
storm of fire and lightning. Wind, rocks, and trees were also trying to beat back
the black tide. Under this epic battle was a drawing of a face with its eyes closed.
Rain began to pelt the picture, distorting the images. Rifune let go of the scroll
and watched the wind carry it off.
Do not be troubled on this last day. We may yet prevail. Naquadra
encouraged, from behind. She also had a sword; its steel had a faint rainbow hue
which could still be seen in the diminishing light. Like her husband, she wore a
crimson suit of armor.
He turned and took her hands in his. Then they watched the conflict as it
threatened to burst Drelamand at the seams.
The flying scroll was somehow demanding Rifunes attention. There was
something unusual about the water, paper, and ink. He watched as the wind and
rain slowly tore it apart.
You may be correct my queen - victory may yet be within our grasp.

On the beach, the battle intensified. Pangaen and CNumti exchanged
blows faster than the eye could follow. They would then back off, circle each
other, and inspect their handiwork.
This is futile - you cannot win. Not even with Rifunes help! CNumti
roared. He then delivered a blow that knocked Pangaen off her feet. He let her
rise, hoping to prolong the battle and therefore his revenge.
I will not yield. She replied calmly. She charged him and they again
exchanged blows. At the height of this fury, while she was swinging her sword,
she unleashed a crescent dagger. This time, CNumti blocked it and the weapon
470
landed in the sand. Pangaen tried to circle around to retrieve the dagger, but
CNumti intercepted her every move.
Those who are fascinated by toys will always perish at the end of the
masters blade. He taunted.
Those who do not know the difference between a childs toy and an
instrument of war can never be a master. You always had your own
interpretations of Nupeteps Song of the Blade. A pity you could not handle the
truth contained therein. She replied, blocking one of his thrusts.
CNumti appeared to tire, yet suddenly his blade flashed forth so quickly that
it caught Pangaen by surprise. Blood trickled down her right cheek.
Truth? He laughed. The truth is but clay and the Emperor is the
sculptor. Pangaen attempted CNumtis strategy, but it failed. I am learning
- quite quickly. He smiled as his blade flashed forth once again. The result was
a cut under Pangaens left eye.
The storm seemed to draw closer to her. Lightning caressed her left arm
and a tongue of flame descended upon her right shoulder. This augmented her
strength and speed to the point where she almost cut her adversary in two.
Now we will see who is the strongest! She roared, picking him up with
one hand. As she held him, the shadows seeped into his skin, turning it from
ashen gray to darker than the blackest midnight.
Ahh.....a new twist to the game! CNumti laughed with delight. He
broke Pangaens grip and floated several inches above the ground. Pangaen tried
to reach him, but he simply darted away, laughing all the while.
This will end, here and now! She yelled. With this, fire and lightning
covered her body. Her hair was replaced by a tangled mass of vines.
Perhaps this will never end. CNumti taunted. It was now hard to
distinguish him from the shadows that swarmed over him.
It will, vile one. It will. As Pangaen spoke, water spurted from her
mouth.
Then they were swallowed up; Pangaen was consumed by HaruCaban and
CNumti was devoured by IcPanTerfror. The storm and shadow hovered in
place for a moment, digesting their pawns. Then they slowly reached out
towards each other. The places where they made contact emitted a rainbow hue
and then drained of all color.

This was the moment they had waited for. Rifune jumped off the balcony
and flew through the air, sword drawn. Naquadra remained on the balcony -
kneeling, head bowed, and eyes closed. A shimmering rainbow connected them
and grew brighter with each passing moment.
When Rifune reached the combatants, he paused, hovering in mid air. The
two elemental forces ignored him, choosing to end their eternal struggle instead.
Whenever they made contact, the very air glowed in all of its wonderful hues; it
471
was at these points that Rifune attempted his attacks. However, each time he
was swept away like a butterfly before a hurricane-force gale. He was finally
knocked to the ground.
Rifune! Naquadra screamed, her eyes opening instantly. She raced to the
edge of the balcony and scanned the beach. For several agonizing moments, she
saw only the two magical behemoths. Then, slowly, something crawled from a
hole in the sand. Rifune staggered to his feet; he was knocked back by a pillar of
stone as it swung forward. He rolled to one side to avoid being struck by
lightning. He jumped to his feet and ran to the castle as quickly as he could.
Behind him, the storm started to penetrate the shadows, transforming the
blackness into a translucent cloud.
By the time Rifune had reached the balcony, the conflict was almost over.
Tongues of flame, bolts of lightning, and jets of water shot into the black cloud.
Large leafy tentacles surrounded the shadowy mass; IcPanTerfror was now
alternating between translucence and a gray mist. Then, with a sudden surge
forward, HaruCaban consumed its eternal enemy with a loud hissing noise.























472
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 89 - The Cloud-Thing

The storm cloud had not moved - it still hovered over the waters. The sea
below it bubbled and churned violently, as if protesting the presence of the entity.
Large vines had begun to snake outwards, cautiously exploring below and above.
Lightning and fire danced within the cloud, occasionally leaping outward.
Rifune stared at this new invader for a long time. He held up the key that
hung around his neck; it was silver with red and gold inscriptions upon it. He
was about to turn and go into the castle, but instead he went down to the beach.
On his way there, he came upon two trees. One was a large elm, the other a
willow. Both trees had white leaves, which were fluttering against the prevailing
wind. The leaves almost seemed to be singing, but what song they meant to put
forth, Rifune did not know.
Where did you come from? Rifune mused. He gently fingered the
trembling leaves of the willow. The song, it seemed so familiar, yet the exact
words and melody escaped him.
He then strode to the beach and looked up at the bizarre thing before him.
A new feeling washed over him; was it fear? No, he had never known fear. It
seemed to be a sense of being overwhelmed, a sense of helplessness. That was
worse than fear.
Cloud-Thing! Why are you still here? You have conquered your enemy.
Leave us in peace! Rifune demanded.
No. The word came forth as if a multitude of voices were speaking; some
whispered, some shouted, and yet others sang. The winds grew stronger, as if a
warning were being issued.
This is not your home. You do not belong here. Rifune continued.
We belong - here. The creature answered.
No. You were taken from your home by a bad man. Rifune shouted over
the howling winds.
Taken? Bad man. Bad. Man.
Yes. A bad man did this to you. I will help you find him, but he is not
here. As he said this, Rifune realized he had no idea of who was responsible for
the current state of affairs.
No.
I can help you. I promise that I will find the bad man for you. Then you
473
can punish him and go home.
This.....This is our home.
This is Drelamand. This is not your home.
This.....This is our home. We were - born here. The winds
grew so strong that they threatened to knock Rifune off his feet. He had no
choice but to retreat to the safety of his stronghold.

Born here. What exactly is out there? Rifune wondered while looking
out the window. The three moons were peeking out from spaces among the
dark clouds, as if playing hide and seek. Where the storm ended, the Dragons
Thread glittered among the starry sky.
Rifunes last resort was the spring. He went to the royal garden and
opened the gate. There, in the center, was a pool of water fed on three sides by
flowing waterfalls. Upon the surface of each waterfall, different places flashed,
like movies projected upon a wall. From the catacombs of Blacktooth, to
Vashas Spear, to Thalgrir, to the ancient libraries of the Auglinous, the king
desperately searched for answers.
He came away with more questions than clues. He wandered the castle
deep in thought, fingering the key around his neck. A wisp of hair fell across his
face. He looked at it, startled. For the first time, there were streaks of grey
present.
My lord, Naquadra interrupted his thoughts, come look out the window.
Her voice had an astonished tone to it.
Rifune quickly walked to the window. A large number of stars were missing
from the sky. The storm seemed larger, thicker, and more energetic.
What have you done? Rifune shouted from the balcony.
Hungry. Small shiny things - good to eat. The entity
replied.
No! You must not do this! Rifune commanded.
Why?
If you continue, your home will be gone. Do you understand?
We....understand. Not......hungry....now.
Do not do this again.
Yes...Father. Will not....Will not.
Father? Naquadra interjected with a confused air.
I was the first one to talk to it. Now I must be the one to tame it. He
coldly replied.
And if the Cloud-Thing cannot be tamed? She turned toward him.
Rifune did not answer her, but pulled her close.
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The entity was sluggish the next day; its stony fingers and leafy tentacles
moved slowly along the ground. There was no fire or lightning to be seen. The
waters below still churned and bubbled madly. Every once in a while, the earth
shuddered.
When night came, the creature seemed to awaken. Lighting and fire
flashed from within its vaporous hide and water spouted from the top in great jets.
Great branches and tendrils of stone waved wildly in the night air. On the
horizon of the behemoth, only KPosh and Olgolomon appeared; Nibat was
curiously absent.
Where is Nibat?! Rifune demanded anxiously. His long hair (which now
had more gray streaks) shone in the moonlight.
Pretty, pretty yellow thing - good to eat.
I forbade you to do that! Rifune shouted.
No! Hungry....will eat! The entity yelled. The sound was louder
than a thousand thunderclaps.
It is time. Rifune announced to Naquadra. He then proceeded to the
catacombs of the ancient fortress.
In the center of the dark tunnels, a large door lay in the floor, composed of
pure mother-of-pearl. Rifune put the silver key in the center of the door, which
then seemed to evaporate. A deep (perhaps even endless) well appeared.
Staring into it, Rifune sang a song in a long forgotten tongue. It had a bizarre
tone and a weird changing melody.
From the depths of the blackness, a tiny spark appeared and slowly floated
upward, growing larger as it did so. Soon the aura took on a human shape.
Why have I been called forth? Andreaxilous asked.
Dire circumstances have called you forth, not I. Rifune answered coldly.
What would you have me do? The high vizier replied diplomatically.

When Andreaxilous looked upon the cloud thing, he did his best to hide his
shock. He studied it and even attempted to talk to the entity. However, it
remained silent.
This creature cannot be contained, nor can it be tamed. Rifune explained,
carefully studying his guest. It must be set free or killed.
Yes. I quite agree. There seemed to be a hint of anxiety in the ghosts
voice and perhaps - guilt?
If Drelamand falls, the consequences for mortal men will be dire indeed.
Rifunes fatalism slowly spread throughout the room like a lengthening shadow.
Very true. We must act at once.
However, since I do not know anything about the beasts origins I am at a
loss. That is why I summoned you here. A cold, calculating tone twined itself
475
around Rifunes speech.
You have acted wisely. I must depart now, to ponder what I have
seen. Andreaxilous excused himself, regaining his composure.

The next night, the High Vizier of The Auglinous returned with his army.
They were more numerous than the grains of sand on the sea shore and the castle
was lit up as if it were noon day. In the sky, most of the stars had fallen victim to
the Cloud-Things hunger. KPosh patrolled the sky - alone.
Your verdict? Rifunes question was seething with mistrust.
The creature must be killed. Andreaxilous answered.
As I thought. This isnt what you expected to happen, is it? Rifune said,
glaring at the spirit. A look of puzzlement came over the Auglini. I suspected
that unnatural nalgique was at work when I saw the black discs in the sky. The
only question was who. Who would be powerful enough - mad enough to
attempt such a thing? Then, the other night, when I saw you looking upon your
handiwork, I knew. Before Andreaxilous knew it, Rifunes sword was pressed
against his throat. When I first saw you romping through the forests, naked and
ignorant, I wanted to kill you. He continued. It was only the begging of my
queen that spared your kind and allowed your civilization to flourish. He hissed
in the high viziers ear. Now go! Rifune angrily shouted, shoving
Andreaxilous to the floor. See to your monstrous abomination!

The spectral warriors silently filed down to the beach; they were clad in
armor and wore helmets. The armor had curved spines which pointed upward.
The helms had spines which curved downward over the face. They bore long
swords with blades that ended in three prongs. Once upon the beach, they
gathered in a circle. The stood there for what seemed an eternity. They started
to take on different hues; golden, then deep red, pale blue, then white, green, and
then golden once more. As they did this, a humming sound could be heard, like
the droning of a multitude of bees. Melodic groaning and singing, like that of a
humpback whale, swam through the droning sound. As this curious song
continued, a clicking sound could be heard distinctively at several points. A
smell of burnt wood filled the air. Soon one could detect highlights of an
occasional sharp tang of ammonia and even lavender. Then slowly they rose and
hovered there for a moment, a luminous swarm almost as big as the
cloud-monster that was before them. They flew towards their foe, like a stream
of avenging fireflies. The cloud-thing recoiled as they struck, much as an animal
might if it were stung by a bee. Its many tendrils lashed out at the invaders, in
much the same way a cat would bat a toy. Parts of the cloud would quickly pull
back at certain points, while other parts billowed forth. Fallen warriors
plummeted through the heavens like shooting stars. With one last desperate cry,
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the Auglinous rallied and charged forth, glowing so bright that Rifune and
Naquadra had to shield their eyes. The entity sensed the gravity of the situation
and puffed outward; it covered the sky in all directions as far as one could see.
The battle was so fierce that it shook Drelamand to its very roots. After several
hours, the dark entity still stood, badly wounded, but victorious.
Bad men! Bad men! You brought the bad men
here! You.....betrayed me! The entity roared.
Im sorry, but I cannot allow you to destroy this place. Rifune replied,
rising into the air. Naquadra was beside him.
Although much weakened, the cloud-thing put up a tremendous fight. As
the battle wore on, the color faded from Drelamand. The various shades and
hues seemed to melt away leaving only a deathly white. Rifune and Naquadra
were themselves beginning to tire and found it more and more difficult to keep up
appearances. They reverted to their true forms, which momentarily startled the
vaporous monstrosity, for it had never seen a serpent or a griffon in its young life.
Seizing the momentary lapse in brutality, Rifune charged forth, in hopes of
catching the creature with its guard down. However, it was more than ready and
repelled the king easily.
In the final moments of the battle, all the illusions of Drelamand gave way;
its true nature stood revealed in all its stark beauty. It was a watery realm; where
the sea had once been a distant galaxy shimmered. Instead of a castle, an
organic membrane stretched out infinitely. Behind the membrane, millions
upon millions of fibers floated in the primordial soup. The fibers had branches
on each end; sparks flitted up and down each strand.
Then, with all its might, the cloud-thing struck. Fire and lightning leapt out
as Naquadra struggled to free herself from its stony grip. When she succumbed,
Rifune roared and made one last charge. In the end, the king was killed by the
gaseous abomination. Rifune and Naquadras lifeless bodies slowly drifted
towards the distant stars.
The entity was so enraged that it slammed into the membrane. It did so
over and over again until the wall began to tear in several spots. Driven on by a
combination of fury and hunger, the cloud-thing started to squeeze into the open
crevices, slowly working its way deeper and deeper. Then, with a mighty heave,
it surged forward and burst the membrane altogether. It floated there, in front of
the vast collection of twinkling fibers, like a child fascinated by a candy counter.
Then it rushed forth into the tangle of organic stalks.




477
Twilight Comes To The Garden

Chapter 90 - There Are No Winners

Mangat hurried to the stump in the center of his orchard - just as he did a
few days before. He had no reason to hope, yet he did. When he got to the
stump, his heart sank. The items that he had put there months ago were still in
their same place. He sighed and looked around. Everything was quiet, almost
too quiet; it was the type of stillness that can drive one to distraction. He bent
over to collect the trinkets and then hesitated. He surveyed the orchard and took
in the scene: the warm summer breeze (which would soon turn into a cool autumn
chill), the sunlight dancing on the ground, the smell of apples, and the call of blue
jays and other birds all wove a simple enchantment over him.
Perhaps tomorrow. He thought to himself. Then he walked back to the
mansion.
Oubulon slept next to the entrance to the orchard, earthen and silent. He
was surrounded by beautiful rows of white and purple lilies. Mangat put his
hands on the stony figure and closed his eyes, focusing, concentrating. Nothing
happened.
One day my friend - one day. Mangat whispered as he wiped away a tear.

Inside, Wisayael was busy cutting vegetables for the celebration. The
mansion was decorated with braided bands of crimson, orange, and gray silk.
She wearily put the chopped celery and carrots into a large iron bowl. When
Mangat walked in, she gently smiled at him.
A very happy Pangaen-Citorvy to you! He blurted out as cheerily as he
could. The enthusiasm sounded forced and strained.
Happy Pangaen-Citorvy to you my love. She kissed him lightly on the
cheek.
Have the dreams returned?
They are so vivid. The castle by the sea, a young maid in armor, the storm,
the king, the Dark Emperor, the serpent. What does it mean? She threw her
hands up in exasperation. She took a deep breath. Ill be OK. Perhaps a quick
nap before the guests arrive. She reasoned, putting some white walnut oil in the
bowl.
Well then - its off to bed with you. Mangat ushered her out of the kitchen
as the sunlight danced through the windows.
But the goose and the salad -
Right here my dear. I took detailed notes. Mangats cheerful words
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brimmed with an unusual amount of confidence. He showed her the notes he
took the previous night.
And the strawberries and cream, not to mention the dough -
The notes - and footnotes are...lets see....right here! Mangat
triumphantly announced, discovering more notes that he had taken. If I can
discover ancient libraries and the arcane secrets of long forgotten artifacts, I can
most certainly handle brunch.
Yes, you did accomplish much - as long as I accompanied you! She teased
him playfully.
Yes, without you I would have perished long ago. He conceded, giving
her a tender kiss. And you will be with me during this most perilous ordeal too.
He held up the notes and flashed a grin worthy of Lxlimon The Trickster. With
that, Wisayael went off to get some much needed rest.
Mangat continued the preparations and hummed a song. It took him a
moment to realize that it was the same song the DorthGem sang on that fateful
day one year ago.
Taking a break from his kitchen duties, Mangat went to his pigeon pens to
see what news his messengers had brought. He looked at his pigeons; they were
all busy cooing or sleeping. When Mangat came upon them, they looked at him
as if to say Yes, why are you here? Did you really expect some great news?
Mangat was about to turn away when he noticed that his favorite pigeon,
Altraphe, had indeed returned with a letter.
Ahhhh.....Altraphe, my sweet little girl. Look what father has brought for
you, Beshthem seeds! The seeds looked like shards of a translucent blue gem.
Dont tell the lady of the house, she doesnt like you eating these - it will be our
little secret. Mangat whispered to the bird, who eagerly ate up the rare seeds.
After the messenger had finished, Mangat took the vial and read the letter:

Most Honored Patriarch,

We have been watching, as you asked,
and have seen the bizarre horror with our own
eyes. I would not have believed such things
possible if it had not happened to my own son.
I had lain him in his bed one night and
sang him to sleep. He seemed so innocent and
yet so strong! In him lay all my hopes of a
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better world. I then went to bed - not knowing
what weird terror would creep into our home in
the dark of night.
When I awoke the next morning, I knew
something was wrong, for my child always
awakens before I do. When I looked in on
him, I screamed and screamed, till my throat
was hoarse. Instead of my lovely babe in his
little bed, I found a tangle of bark, branches,
roots, and vines shaped like the young child I
had kissed goodnight only yesterday.
Mangat, you are our only hope.
Please - please send back some encouraging
news.

In your service,

Silai Ve Netelum

Mangat sighed. He was about to crumple the note up in a fit of dismay and
utter frustration, but he regained his composure, neatly folded the note, and
put it into his pocket. When he got inside, he put the note in a box filled with
dozens of such letters.
Useless, utterly useless! Mangat said angrily, looking around his library
at the hundreds of tomes that lined the walls.
Mangat then changed his attire to fit the occasion. He dressed himself in
black pants and a crimson Eyryuin Shirt. The shirt had ivory buttons and
Mangat wore an ivory sea shell pin on the right side of his collar.

There was a knock at the door. By this time, Wisayael had risen from bed
and so she greeted the visitor. She was wearing a blue Eyryuin Shirt (for
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women, the buttons ran down the right side of the front of the shirt and the
collar was octagonal). She wore a silver rose pin on the left side of her collar.
To finish her outfit, she wore white pants.
It is very, very good to see you Eslair! Wisayael smiled, giving the young
man a warm hug. Her voice sounded like a gentle breeze on a warm autumn
day. The mans ruby ring, with its three black triangles glinted in the sunlight.
Mangat, the Patriarch of the Red Hills has arrived! She called to her
husband.
Good, very good. I have his place at the table prepared just the way he
likes it. In front of Eslairs seat was a small bowl with hazel berry pepper and
a plate of egg crackers.
Thank you for your kindness and hospitality. Eslairs tone was awkward
and almost apologetic. He was still not used to his title or position.

After he had been made comfortable, there was another knock on the door.
Another young lad, not more than twenty years of age, stood before them.
Itranskom, welcome, welcome to our home! Mangat heartily shook his
hand. His voice sounded like a gentle waterfall in a quiet forest. Wisayael,
the Patriarch of the Dawn Leopard is here! Mangat called out.
Is everyone here? Itranskom excitedly asked. I have waited a long time
to meet the king.
Unfortunately, the king cannot be here with us today. He has his own
banquet to oversee. Mangat replied.
Not to mention a grand puppet show. Wisayael added.
Perhaps you should have spent Pangaen-Citorvy at Axandali; King
Jhyndisels marionette operas are quite good - better than most plays. Mangat
noted.
Over the next hour, other visitors trickled in, until the house was full; a buzz
of conversation and laughter mingled with the sounds of frying pans grating
against the stove top.

Then they sat down to a sumptuous meal. The table was draped with a
crimson tablecloth; white spice candles gave a warm, inviting glow as clouds
spread across the sky. Silver forks, spoons, and knives sat upon the table; each
utensil had engravings of roses upon it. The meal was served upon fine china,
which was black with silver leaves around the edges. Mangats best wine was
poured into exquisite crystal glasses; each glass had a brief passage from
Nupeteps Song of The Blade etched into it. The aroma of the main course
was intoxicating; it mixed with the scent of the spice candles and the fragrance
of apple and peach blossoms. Half the time, Mangat and Wisayael served as
well as ate.
It is good that we are here to celebrate a most important victory. Eslair
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began.
Aye, I like being the victor, instead of the vanquished. Itranskom quipped.
There are no winners in war, life only changes. Wushzans melancholy
voice seemed to momentarily dampen the festive atmosphere.
Very true and very wise, Master Wushzan. Mangat commented.
It is not my wisdom; I heard Master Lepexes say it many a time.
Still very true. Much has changed in the past year. Wisayael added.
I wish the changes were for the better. Enstus icy breath threatened to
extinguish the candle in front of her.
I agree; there should be more faces around this table. Eslair replied, the
last words drifting off.
Some were lost, some went their own way, and some simply vanished.
Wisayael said. She thought of Inwan and Quatzitil. Where were they?
Were they alive? Were they in good health? She looked at Zoshan, who was
sitting on a branch outside the kitchen window. You know something about
that mystery, dont you, pretty bird? She thought to herself.
A rare few even sacrificed themselves to assure victory. Mangat spoke up.
Then he rose to his feet and raised his glass. I propose a toast. To Xaven. A
fine young prince who would have made a great king - someday. Mangat
brushed away a tear as a lump rose in his throat.
To Xaven! All gathered replied in unison.
The cruelest part is that, despite the evil we destroyed, our suffering
continues. Eslairs voice reluctantly rose up, after several moments of silence.
Two months ago, my aunt lay down to sleep; the next morning a pile of ashes
had taken her place.
I have heard such tales before. Itranskom answered, looking into Eslairs
eyes. Several of our society have never awakened from their slumber. Where
sleepers once lay, now statues litter the ground; every detail of those stone
monuments a mockery to the innocent victims!
Several of my cadets have also mysteriously vanished under the moons.
When dawn comes, there is nothing but a pool of water where they once rested.
On one particularly cold night, we actually found a sculpture of ice, in every
detail like the very countenance of my brigade leader - Arvashi. Wushzan
announced, his voice resigning to a sad whisper. Xinkshi (who was siting
beside him) gave him a quick hug and whispered something into his ear.
Those who survive the night have their souls scarred by the dream. The
castle by the sea, The Dark Emperor, a storm, a huge white griffon, living
shadows. Enstus icy words sliced the air about her.
You have had them too? Wisayael asked, hoping for some solution to her
malady.
Yes, and I know of many more who share this curse. Enstu replied
grimly.
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If only Inwan were here. I have a feeling that he could explain the mystery
and end the misery. Mangat said. If only I had listened to you. If only I
could have cured you of your malady - the world might be a happier place. He
thought to himself.
I also have a feeling that HaruCaban still haunts us. The question is,
what do we do now? Xinkshi spoke up. Mangat could feel everyones eyes
upon him. He had no answer for his guests.
One thing is for certain. Years from now, when our children ask us what
HaruCaban is, it is our duty to tell them our story. Wisayaels oath broke the
awkward silence.

Later that afternoon, when the mansion was again quiet, Mangat and
Wisayael cleared the table and cleaned the dishes. They did so in silence,
moving slowly, awkwardly, caught up in their own thoughts.
They asked a lot of tough questions. She murmured, looking out the
window.
And my answers were even tougher. Im sorry - I could not offer them any
comfort. He replied, standing beside her, staring out at the clouds.
It just seems as if we keep losing more and more. Wisayael started to cry.
We still have three things however, and they will serve us well: hope,
courage - and each other. As he said these last words, Mangat took Wisayaels
hands in his.













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Epilogue - Grandfathers House

And that, my grandchildren, is the story of HaruCaban. Grandfather
concluded gracefully as he closed the book. The book itself had been read
many times and the gold engraved lettering on the cover was starting to fade.
The old man let silence fall upon the small apartment, with its accompanying
gloom (which seemed to mirror the dreary, damp day outside). The unique
way in which grandfather told stories, plus the ambiance of his dimly lit home
made his tales a special treat to be savored long after the last words were
spoken. The hustle and bustle of the city below was doing its best to invade
the ancient ones realm, but it had great difficulty doing so. If one did actually
indulge the outside world, the sounds of horse drawn carts on cobbled stone
could be heard, mingled with street venders selling their wares. Every so
often one could also hear the sound of street lamps being checked and filled
with oil if necessary.
Some people say that HaruCaban isnt real. Drenfels timid words crept
out like a frightened cat.
Not real? Why little one, where do you think we come from?
Shhhhh! Young Oulethethe commanded, glaring at a dark corner.
Whenever she did this, the old man was tempted to stare at whatever she was
fixated upon. He knew that doing this would only fuel her silly fantasies; so
he only allowed himself to peek at the shadows out of the corner of his eye.
Sometimes, when he did look, he thought he saw something move; then he
would berate himself for being as silly as his granddaughter.
I dont know. All I know is what is written in the epic tale. Some of the
other children say that there is more to the story, some say there is less, some
even say that the story isnt real. Drenfel apologized, trying to get out of a
sticky situation.
So, how do they explain where we came from? How do they explain how
things were named? Do they know another reason why Dark Grin got its
name? Or how about Vashas Victory? Or Jubens Lament? I would like to
see those young friends of yours walk into the Belching Squid and spout their
theories! Grandfather chided him.
Grandfather, Oulethethe began, Do you think we will ever find our way
back to DLorowd Het?
Why would anyone want to go back to the old world? Shidarnise is our
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home, this world is where we belong. Some people have tried to go back, the
white haired bard conceded, but they have never found a way to return.
They wasted their whole lives upon their discontent.

On a hill overlooking the city, two white haired youths stood, clad in
garments of thick smoke and mist. The wind blew their hair and it flowed like
white flame, yet the smoke and mist seemed undisturbed by the gusty breeze.
They stared at the city intently, watching and listening.
I never get tired of the story. The way the old man tells it - is so -
unique. Zoshan uttered, with a far away look in his eyes.
He has a certain uncanny eloquence at times. Sishkye casually
concurred, looking at the passing clouds.
Do you think - maybe someday - they will know the whole story?
Oh Zoshan, you are so naive. The words in that tattered old book are all
they need.

The

End