The Shard Fall begins

[Lassandra]

‘When the castaway isle,
rings with growth.
The Ancient site of ones garrote,
two will fall by said device.
Same said being will have wrote,
“Be with me for one fine day!
Chase the Needle in the Hay.”’
~Buppi

[Lassandra]

The Garrote

Parex leaned against the rusting railing overlooking the east Lomatin docks. He watched the dockworkers, furious merchants and other afternoon traffic of the busy port. Though his eyes followed random individuals he really was not paying attention to the hubbub.

The past few weeks had been a confusing blur of events and he was not all too proud of some of what he had done. Though he had to admit to himself it had been exhilarating. The Shard Fall and its players weighed heavily on his mind, where did he fit in? The visions were trying to tell him something but he was having difficulty with them, they brushed against the grain of his very spirit and yet at the same time they excited him.

Parex sighed and pushed off the railing, he brushed bits of rust off his fine clothing. He was about to turn and walk off when he spotted an unusual procession. Three heavily armored men pushed through the crowds at the docks, butting and elbowing commoner and merchant alike. One merchant began a retort lifting a cane to strike the offender but when he saw the colors and armor of the three men. The merchant shrank away in stark terror.

Knights of Evangelous, Chrisin’s foot soilders.

Parex watched the knights walk up the main thoroughfare of the eastern docks and then stop. His curiosity piqued he continued to watch the scene unfold.

“Get lost!” the lead knight said as he kicked on dock worker on the backside.

“Make way worms!” another knight said as he pushed people back.

The crowds threw curses and complaints but did as they were told.

Parex marveled at the carelessness of this, he wondered why Chrisin’s normally secretive knights would do such a thing. Insatiable curiosity took a hold of him and he made his way down the ramps to the main thoroughfare. He put a stupid grin on his face and sauntered up to the knights.

“What the hell do you want?” asked the lead knight.

“What’s all the commotion about?” Parex asked and then put on a mock look of concern.

“Get lost,” another knight said and patted his shoulder, onto which he rested his great-sword.

“Listen. Just get gone,” the lead knight said to Parex and then turn towards the docks as if waiting for something.

“Well if you’re going to be that way, then I really want to know what you three are up to,” Parex said and then grinned happily being a pest.

“d**n nosy people,” one of the knights growled under his breath.

Parex grinned at them and walked around the trio looking them over.

People avoided Parex and the knights, this left a gap in the crowds up the thoroughfare to the docks. Parex’s back was to the ramps and he did not notice a single lightly armored man walking down the ramp casually. This man made his way up the clear thoroughfare and into the crowds.

“Whats so important you want me gone?” Parex taunted them.

“Nuttin now worm,” the lead knight said as he signaled the other two knights.

The three knights took out strange Chrisin style magical devices and activated them, in a blur of blue green and red images they were gone.

Parex frowned. He spun around to see himself in the middle of a shrinking island of space in the crowd. He found himself quickly besieged by busy dockworkers making their way through the free space as he looked around. He cursed under his breath, he’d missed something.

His thin elven form slipped through the dirty crowds and to a free spot on the scaffolding of the docks, south of the main thoroughfare. He climbed up and surveyed the docks. The waning afternoon sun threw off shadows that covered much of inner Lomatin so he focused his keen elvish eyes on the north and south portions of the docks.

He was about to give and climb down. It seemed useless, they were a distraction and he fell for it. He cursed himself the fool and hung onto the side of the scaffolding a minute longer. A dockworker below him began to yell at him to get down and he waved the man off. That’s when he saw something glitter to the south.

The narrow dark corridors of the southern slums were covered in evening shadows but something moved under the waters of the sagging eastern slums piles. The district was largely ignored and the ocean would likely claim the slums someday, but for now Parex’s eyes watched something large slither under the slums eastern piles.

“Oh this ought to be interesting,” Parex murmured to himself as he climbed down.

The dockworker was swinging a broom at Parex who bowed, ducked and deftly avoided the clumsy swings. Parex winked and slipped into the shadows. He quickly slipped through the long evening shadows and to the southeastern slums.

He climbed up into the rotting rooftops of the buildings of the slums and used his bag of holding to fetch more suitable clothing. He quickly changed into a dark set, complete with hood, then stealthily made his way across the slums’ leaning rooftops. He sought any activity below but found none, unsatisfied with his perspective he climbed down and entered the darkened streets.

On the ground level the slums were filthy, damp and unusually quiet. He kept to the shadows and prayed nothing was in them. This part of town was renowned for being extremely dangerous. He made his way to the eastern pile and looked into the water. Nothing lurked in the murky ruin. He turned and surveyed the ruined cobble.

In the distance he saw a glitter of metal, then movement. Utilizing the littered street he crept towards the disturbance. He nearly collided with one of the knights whose dark armor had made him look like a fixture in the street. Parex darted to the opposite side of the street and into the shadows. The knight grunted and adjusted his codpiece; he had been urinating on a wall.

The knight turned around and resumed his watch of the street. Parex slipped around him in the shadows and into the narrow street behind the knight. This part of the slums hardly looked like a slum. The narrow street opened up into a niche, the niche was filled with stacked crates five high and five deep.

“They are late,” a disembodied male voice spoke from behind the crates.

Parex climbed up the nearest stack and flattened himself once on top.

“Yeah well, what do you expect? d**n freaks,” another disembodied male voice spoke.

Parex crawled across the crates, splinters jabbed him here and there.

“Shuddap you two, you’re not paid to talk,” yet another disembodied male voice barked.

Parex made it to the edge and looked over he caught himself from whistling at the sight.

The hidden slum dock of Chrisin’s organization was busy this evening. Dozens of dark garbed workers hauled crates from a portal. There were at least a dozen more knights here all watchful. A long pier extended away and a crane waited on its edge. Men grunted and others barked orders.

The waters by the pier darkened suddenly. An eruption of salty water crashed across the docks and toppled men, shouts and hoots came from many of them. Chrisin’s knights calmly watched the scene and dockworkers scrambled away. A massive black ship rose from the ocean by the dock side, its sails, a webbing of sparkling crystalline strands. The ship was long and ridged as it made from reeds. (Its style and bulk would match an Egyptian sailing vessel.)

The terrified dockworkers disappeared through the portal leaving only Chrisin’s knights. Parex recognized the lead knight from earlier, he strode unafraid towards the black ship. Two humanoid shapes began to form from the deck of the ship.

The entire mass of the ship was made of Black Sand.

A pair of Black Sand Jackal men strode off the ship and across a quickly forming ramp of black sand to the pier.

“You’re late,” the commander said to the Black Sand.

The seven foot talk Black Sand Jackals flanked the ramp they had just stepped off and looked down at the Commander.

“Mistress does not care about your timetable,” the Black Sand Jackal said its voice deep, rumbling and watery.

“You have been less than cooperative,” the other Black Sand Jackal said its voice was also a deep, rumbling and watery sound.

“Chrisin doesn’t like tardiness, “ the Commander spat and waved a knight over.

The knight was carrying a string of wax sealed bags, he quickly boarded and unloaded them into the hold of the black ship. Parex listened on but his eyes were on the man unloading the bags, he counted.

Two hundred bags.

“Etherealium more important than you,” the Black Sand Jackal said and chuckled, it was a horrifying sound.

“Yeah well be on time next time,” the commander waved and walked down the pier.”This operation is getting harder to conceal.”

“Hurry, we leave with Tide,” the Black Sand Jackals said as they boarded the ship.

“I-I am almost done,” the knight said, obliviously terrified.

Parex climbed down and slipped into the shadows, he reappeared on the docks and slipped onto the ship with ease. He climbed up the black sand ribs of the ship and hunkered down behind the forward prow.

One of the Black Sand Jackals walked up to the knight and grabbed him by his shin, he picked the man up and pulled the entire string of remaining bags off the man’s belt and bandolier.

“You be done now,” the Black Sand Jackal tossed the man like a rag doll over the side of the ship. He splashed into the water with a shout.

The Black Sand Jackal’s then melted back into the ship and the hold sealed. Parex nearly lost his footing as the ship suddenly dived back into the sea, he scrambled for his grip. He desperately dug into his pack for his helmet of underwater breathing.

“I never thought I’d be thankful for dwarven made items,” Parex said to himself after he had tugged on the helm.

Despite the helmets wondrous ability to keep Parex from drowning it could not relieve him from the frigid cold of the sea. He shivered and desperately tried to keep himself awake. He had no way to tell the passage of time and it seemed like an eternity had past as he hung on. He began to fall asleep only to pinch himself back into wakefulness and he began to wonder if he would survive his curiosity.

As suddenly as the ship had sunk and began its voyage, it rose. A violent storm swirled above; lightening and rain pounded the area around the ship. The ship moved with an unnatural speed through the storm, it smashed through swells of the sea. Teeth chattering, Parex held on. He strained to see into the hurricane force weather. There was some kind of glittering barrier the ship made way for.

The ship hit the barrier at a break neck speed and Parex was torn from his spot on the ship. He tumbled off the side and into still water. The Barrier was close to him and he pulled off his helmet to breath fresh air. Treading water and gasping he looked around.

There was a pristine beach ahead where the black ship sped to. It hit the beach with an explosion of both black and white sand. The ship lost form and slithered up the beach onto the mainland. Parex thanked the gods he was alive and then cursed himself for being in this position. He swam for the beach.

Soaked, cold and tired Parex swam up onto the shallows before the beach where the black ship had landed. The skeletal remains of a derelict ship loomed before him; it seemed the Black Sand had used it like a skeleton. Beyond the derelict ship and further inland was a massive metallic tower. The tower reached into the very heavens itself and Parex could not see its top.

A light rain swept in and Parex pulled on his hood. He was soaked to the skin from the black ship’s underwater ride and though the hood kept the rain off it did little to ward off the chill. He trudged his way through the shallows and up to the beach where strange metal spires with thick cables running from their tops and down the shaft. The ground cables led inland towards the massive metal tower. His blade began to vibrate in its scabbard and he drew the blade. It warped and wobbled before his eyes.

Parex looked from his blade to the strange metal spires, they were pure Etherealium. The Barrier that the black ship had penetrated to enter the eye of the storm extended far into the sky above and formed an artificial ‘eye’ in the center of the hurricane. Despite this fact the spires seemed to attract lightening from the storm, seemingly random strikes streaked to the spires. Parex noted to stay clear of the spires.

He moved inland and away from the beach, the island was littered with broken palms and metal debris. Geysers of sulfur and other noxious fumes punctuated the air with jets of the stuff. He gave these a wide berth and picked his way through the piles of wreckage. The sounds of construction, hammers, saws, and the buzz of metal rung through the air. He found himself entering a wide field around the giant tower, around it ethereal humanoids made their way to and fro.

Parex could not deny the tower any longer, he had seen it in a vision. This vision flooded back into his mind, a blade much like his own hanging in mid air over a battlefield. The massive crystalline needle hovering in the distance, storm clouds gathering around its eye. He shivered, the cold and the vision made it involuntary.

A massive shape moved over him then the spindly legs of a spider like creature landed nearby. He froze as the Bebelith loomed over him, searching for something. Slimy drool plopped on his head and he dared not move a muscle. The Bebelith sprung away and to another pile of rubble, a strangled cry of a man broke the rhythm of light rain and then a wet crunch followed.

Parex stayed there only a moment longer before darting out of his hiding space to a large pile of strange metal plates. He looked back at the rubble piles and watched the Bebelith move off, he suppressed a shudder. Turning round and facing the metal tower he marveled at its construction. It was definitely Ancient technology and the enemy was rebuilding it. A massive machine churned nearby with ethereal figures attending it.

They fed the machine bits of Etherealium and it produced metallic sheets, others would cart them off to the metal tower. The base of the tower was a series of columns much like that of a palace except much more grand. Construction yards just like the one he was crouched at dotted the landscape all around the tower. It was a massive undertaking.

Parex decided to move again and he did so with ease. Using stealth, it took him several hours to walk around the Metal tower. He stopped to rest when he noticed a ring of stones nearby, the formation was notable, it reminded him of the rings on the mainland of Lomatin. He produced wet rations from his pack and ate, he watched the dull ethereal workers move without rest.

Suddenly the center of the ring of stones flared with energy and a portal appeared. Six figures walked through it and onto the wet sands of the island. Parex was fairly close and to remain hidden he adjusted his position accordingly. The figures were draped in dark robes and shuffled past the stacks of metallic sheets he had hidden by. He caught a glimpse of the figures bare hands and feet. The pale skin of which was streaked with black lines. There was a stench of rotting vegetation that followed them, he suppressed a gag.

A howl pierced the air and Parex froze. Suddenly a huge hound with glowing red eyes appeared on top of the stack of metal sheets. It barked at Parex and with a curse he leaped up and ran towards the circle of stones. Two more hounds entered the scene through the portal and Parex changed course, he could feel the first hound was right behind him. He ran towards one of the standing stones, up its side and turned before slipping off the top. He grabbed the top of the standing stone and landed hard as he draped over the edge. The hound followed him up the stone and careened off the edge crashing into its fellows coming through the portal.

Parex quickly dropped to the ground and turned away. He broke into a run and headed away from the circle of stones. He chuckled to himself about his feat but only for a moment. A dark robed man with a sickle appeared out the rubble pile of trees he ran by and swung. Parex elvish reflexes allowed him to slip past the man without being hit but he stumbled and a hound collided into him. Hound and elf tumbled end over end and Parex landed hard on his back. The world spun and he shook his head trying to get a hold of his senses. The man with the sickle was on him in an instant swinging down as Parex rolled to the side. He rolled into the hound who snapped at him, he dodged the toothy maw and collided into the sickle wielding man. They both tumbled over. This time Parex came out of the tumble smiling and saluted the hound and sickle wielding man before breaking into a run.

A leaning brick building came into view its door swinging in the light rain and Parex ducked inside. He turned to shut the door and it collided with a hound, he fell on his back and kicked the door and the hounds head repeatedly. A yelp and a slam of wood later the door shut and Parex lay there catching his breath.

“What in the hells did I get myself into now?” he said as he checked himself for wounds.

Parex quickly surveyed the room he was in, the roof was leaking, ruined wood furniture lay smashed all around him. The building shook as something large hit the wall and the roof shuddered.

“Great,” Parex said as he deftly got to his feet.

The roof crumbled and a hound crashed through it, it landed nearby Parex snapping at him. Parex tumbled away in time for the floor collapsed with the hound snapping. A howl filled the room as the hound fell into darkness followed by a tremendous crash below. The building shuddered and Parex darted up the remains of the roof rafters that had fallen. Once outside the building and on the roof he flattened himself against the roof tiles. This instinctive move saved his life because a second hound hurtled through the air where he had been moments before.

“I can’t even blame Lass for this either,” he said as he rolled away from the hound and down off the edge of the building’s roof.

The hound tried to follow but its weight brought it crashing through the roof and into the building. Parex landed on his feet and tumbled into the sand outside of the building, the circle of standing stones was in sight. He broke into a run and another hound ran at him from his left side, the hound quickly caught up to him and snapped at his legs. He leapt into the air and smashed his shoulder and back into the hounds head, rolling off the other side with a grunt. This unexpected move forced the hound into a roll, its own weight and momentum working against it.

“Good lord where the hells are these all coming from?” he said as he picked himself up and broke into a run again for the circle of stones.

“You are not suppose to be here,” a woman’s voice said, the power of the voice made it sound like it was coming from everywhere.

“Yeah, I am here though,” he replied as he got to the circle of standing stones and the portal.

Parex looked around only a moment and then made a wild dive for the portal, a massive flash of light centered on the stones and fire engulfed the area.

Hounds howled and the light rain continued.

[Lassandra]

Odds

Rays of sun light peeked through holes in the roof of the barn. Motes of dust caught in the light floated around Isis. She folded her legs beneath her and sat down in one smooth motion. She was a strange woman to behold. On her back sat a pair of dark wings and compared to her small form they gave her the look of an angel. Such an name would make her chuckle and this in itself made her an exotic example of planes meeting the mortal realm. She shifted some and made herself comfortable only sparing a moment to look at the crawl space she rested in. This barn on the isle straits of Peridotia made her feel a little safe, it was secluded and the crawl space was hidden.

She placed her hands palm up on her lap, within her palms lay three tarnished non-descript silver rings. Two had clasps as if earrings and one was wide for a finger. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, an involuntary shudder rocked her. Suddenly the barn crumbled away the grass withered and the ground fell away.

Isis’s mind entered the Vast. The nightmare and dreamscape greeted her with wind and water, the great underground ocean was turbulent and the hurricane at its center roared with fury. She looked different now. Her wings were ablaze with an ethereal blue fire and her body was sheathed in a glimmering mail, it defied pattern and shifted with her thoughts. She marveled at it for a moment, hovering above the turbulent waters of the Vast.

She commanded herself to move to a rocky outcropping, its sides were assaulted by the surge of the Sea of the Vast. Once there she landed and she surveyed the surroundings. The Vast was different this time. In her limited experience with the powers Islyen had given her she had never seen the Vast’s calm waters turbulent. The storm had never influenced the waters in this way before. She grew frustrated.

“I just want to understand,” she said out loud to no one in particular and then sighed.

“Understanding is power, and power draws power,” a woman said, her otherworldly voice cut through the wind without loss of pitch or volume.

Isis’s dream form whirled to face the voice in surprise. She found herself looking up at Alissa, who hovered above the Sea of the Vast. Her form was that of a Titan and it dwarfed Isis. A pure and clear bubble of water swirled under her bare feet, all manner of wildlife swam within, from fish to cattle. Four wings stretched from her back. The top two wings were immense, twice the size of Alissa’s body and feathered with pristine white plumes. The bottom two wings were mechanical, filled with sheets of white cloth like material, arranged with gears and cogs that spun in rapid hazard fashion. Despite this, they propelled the wings with a spooky fluidness. She was draped in a glimmering mail, its pattern breathtakingly ornate. Wreaths of gilded golden leaves rested on each shoulder and flowed into the segmented plates of her torso armor that was literally covered in tooled work. People, buildings, monuments and battle scenes all portrayed on them. They marched along her in an animated fashion, life like and done by some masterful hand.

Alissa’s face was like Isis remembered, always smiling and framed by strawberry blond locks. The short hair flowed freely under a diadem which glowed golden, and the streaks of which radiated high above her. Her body gave off a radiance that pressed upon Isis. It was not painful, it was quite beautiful in fact, but Isis began to realize that her eyes might not be meant for this.

Alissa held a rod in her right hand. It was long and slim, it’s tip was a sphere and it burned with an ethereal blue fire. The sphere possessed wings and the beak of an eagle.

Isis sputtered as if her dream form had been holding her breath. Alissa’s radiance and beauty had begun to draw her closer. Her heart fluttered. She thought, Could she die by beholding such a being?

“No, Isis, “Alissa said and she smiled before continuing.”You will live and today you will fight by my side.”

Alissa extended her left hand to Isis, palm up. Isis searched for the strength to move forward and commanded her dream form to float up to Alissa, her own hand extended towards Alissa’s. Isis landed softly on Alissa’s palm and they both looked towards the massive hurricane of the Vast.

“What do we do?” Isis questioned, she dare not look at Alissa’s form again.

“What we always do,” Alissa answered with a smile “Defend what we love by holding the Line.”

A massive bronze cigar-like shape emerged from the storm and angled towards Alissa and Isis. It sported rods and fan like fins. Smaller bronze cigar-like shapes emerged from the storm following the first closely. As they closed on the women the sounds of mechanical engines and the screeches of creatures could be heard.

Isis squinted and tried to see further. She focused her dream powers and her eye sight sharpened to an exhilarating range. The bronze shapes were actually ships, much like the Tinker’s own. They were a combination of lacquered wooden planks, rounded and shaped into bloated zeppelin like vessels. Bronze metal like trimmings finished the ships, they had multiple decks and no sails.

“Remember Isis,” Alissa said and her voice was like trumpets heralding heroes.”Hold the Line.”

Isis took a deep breath and her eyes scanned the bronze ships for weaknesses or anything she could perceive as one. The lead ship, and also the most massive, held a strange crew of dragon-kin. A single human man who was barking orders. The distance to the ships was massive yet Isis’s powers allowed her to see it all with detail. The smaller ships seemed to bristle with rods, they were more agile and looked like some type of support craft.

The massive Storm of the Vast vomited out a titanic form. A long snake like mass of undulating golden scales emerged from the hurricane. The head of which was half the size of Alissa. Set with a maw and two terrible golden eyes which burned with a fire that bespoke volumes of its power. The rest of its body was as massive and trailed behind it like a snakes’. It possessed at least a dozen golden wings, all immense. Power radiated from the creature and it was a thing beauty both terrible and alluringly fine. Its arms were tucked beneath it and sported talons which glowed with a purple power.

The creature undulated through the air, its wings flapped in alternating rows. Despite its titanic size it moved with a startling speed. It slipped ahead of the bronze airships with ease and focused on the women.

“I will hold her here,” Alissa said to Isis.”For your own safety, avoid us.”

“Alissa...?” Isis said nervously as she floated off of Alissa’s massive palm and to the water.

Alissa did not answer instead she raise her rod, its azure flames trailing and focused it on the titanic form of the Will. A massive spark of energy crackled at the tip, and then it launched towards the Will in an array of ribbons. The ribbons of power expanded into an immense blast of power, parts of which skipped off the Vast Sea causing the turbulent waters to hiss. The Will opened her maw and power crackle from inside. She returned her own volley of energy, hissing black strands and purple ribbons of power lashed against Alissa’s own volley.

Isis realized she was witnessing a clash of gods and turned away from the brilliant display. This instinctual reaction saved her eyes, spots danced in her mind’s eye vision and the crackling of unimaginable power echoed in the Vast. Isis commanded her dream form to move away and it did. She raced away from Alissa’s massive form and glanced that the airships approaching.

They were closer now and Isis growled. She had to help somehow and an idea came to mind. She leapt off of the surface of the water and spread her ethereal wings, they blazed with a blue fire and carried her up to the massive airship in the lead. The airship’s rods and fans turned and clanked, suddenly the rods belched smoke and Isis felt the wind of something rushing by her head.

The rods were some kind of weapon and she dodged them as best as she could. One of the pellets struck her square in the chest and her mail erupted in blue fire and blood. She spun to her left and the wind was knocked from her lungs. She collided with the one of the multi-fins of the airship and rolled onto the deck.

Isis coughed up blood, she was hurt but not mortally, her dream-mail absorbed much of the damage. She shook her head and heard boots and the hiss of swords being drawn. She looked up in time to see a massive net flying towards her, it entangled her quickly.

Scaled humanoids with large featherless wings and long snouts leapt onto Isis. They held her down and secured the net. The dragon-kin were all golden colored, they hissed and grunted but said nothing comprehensible.

“Well, well. We’ve caught ourselves a little bird!”a human male said and grinned. “I wonder if she can sing?”

“I’ll show you a song, “Isis said with a growl and spat blood.

One of the dragon-kin poked at her and Isis tried to bite the offending finger.

“Oh! Look she bites!” the dragon-kin said as he recoiled from Isis.

The human man crouched down out of reach of Isis, as he did the cannons on the ship fired again. Distant thumps and whumps could be heard. He smiled at her, he was a handsome man, built light and wore a brown over coat. A weapon of an odd design was tucked into his belt and another strapped to his leg. An unsheathed rapier was in his belt.

“I’m Quaist, song bird,” the human man introduced himself.”I understand that you’re my opposing piece.”

Quaist chuckled and when he did the dragon-kin holding Isis down did as well.

“Shuddap!” Quaist said and glared at the dragon-kin, they quieted.

“Let me up and I’ll carve my name into your hide,” Isis said and sneered.

The ship rocked and the sounds of a massive barrage of energy could be heard somewhere in the distance. The airship seemed to answer with a cannon barrage of its own.

“No, I think I like you tied up for my pleasure,” Quasit said followed by a grin.

The airship rocked again and a dozen large fish spilled onto the deck from the air above. The fish flopped around on deck while dragon-kin chased after them. Suddenly the fish expanded in size and turned into Kua-toa like creatures. The Kua-toa engaged the dragon-kin immediately and Isis felt the net slacken.

Isis commanded her dream powers and the net animated, it lurched off her and onto the nearest dragon-kin. Entangled in the animated net and assaulted by Kua-toa the Dragon-kin toppled over hissing and snorting. Isis stood up and inspected herself, the wound on her chest was painful but manageable.

“Forget about the Line’s fish people, and get the girl!” Quaist barked at the Dragon-kin.

Isis broke into a run across the deck, she leapt over a Dragon-kin feeding on a dead Kua-toa and turned around to survey the deck. The deck she was on was wide and long. It had a central hold hatch, an aft doorway below the wheel and a forward castle. Two other decks, one on either side of the one she was on, displayed long rods; Weapons.

Isis tried the latch to the aft doorway and it opened, she ducked inside and closed the door. She could hear boots thumping towards her on the deck and she barred the doorway with a nearby mop handle.

“Wonderful, Air pirates,” Isis muttered and surveyed her surroundings.

The inside of the airship was paneled in a lacquered wooden material. A narrow stair led below. The place was lit by half spheres of continual light set into the ceiling. She cursed herself for not flinging herself off the side, she could fly.

“Blah, Idiot,” she said and she climbed down the steps.

She found herself in a corridor that headed left and right, the steps mounted into its wall. She turned right and heard hissing and grunts, so she turned left and ran down the corridor. She stopped at a few doors, all of them had no discernable door handles. The corridor turned sharply to the right and ended at a door.

Isis touched the door and sighed. She wondered what she was suppose to do. The door popped open then. She blinked at it and pushed it open. Inside were four ethereal figured seated in a square, each person in a corner. In the center lay a large crystal orb, within a storm raged.
A Dragon-kin turned to face Isis by the door in surprise.

“Whoops!” Isis said and she tried to close the door.

The Dragon-kin raised a hand and a bolt of lightning arced out at Isis. She dodged it by entering the room and hugging the left wall. The Dragon-kin closed the distance between them and reached out to grab Isis, who rolled away and into one of the ethereal figures.

She stood up and pointed a finger at the Dragon-kin. She imagined the volley that Alissa had made and her dream powers focused. A multicolored bolt of energy leapt from her fingertips and struck the Dragon-kin in the head. It crumpled and then vanished into a dark blue rift of energy.

Isis blinked and looked at her own hand. She shrugged and grinned. As she did the ethereal figures stood up and the two closest to her turned to her. She held both hands up like weapons and pointed it at them.

“We are not enemies,” one of the ethereal figures said. She looked like a woman but the flickering visage was hard to discern.

“You are a Psion and yet you roam freely here?” the other ethereal figure said.

“Stay back,” Isis growled with her hands trained on the ethereal figures.

The other two ethereal figures closest to the doorway closed the door and secured it. They then turned to face Isis. Shouts and hoots could be heard outside and above.

“We do not have much time,” another of the ethereal figures spoke.”We are Psions as well and we are slaves.”

“You can do nothing for us but we can do something for you,” the first ethereal figure spoke.

“You are free so you can train your powers on this control orb and destroy it,” another ethereal figure said.

“Why would I want to do that?” Isis said warily.

“Because that will expel this ship and its fleet from the Vast,” the first ethereal figure said.

Isis regarded the four ethereal figures carefully. Slaves? To the Will? They were Psions? What the hells? So many questions raced through her head. Alissa’s titanic visage appeared in her mind, fighting that terrible golden dragon. She shuddered.

“Okay. I’ll do this but what about you four?” Isis said and she lowered her hands.

“Do not worry about us,” one ethereal figure said.

“Impeding the Wills machinations is sufficient for us,” another ethereal figure said.

The door shuddered. Then hissing and guttural shouts came from the other side. Isis wasted no time, striding past the ethereal figures and to the orb. She touched the crystal sphere and her mind was filled with a storm. She struggled to maintain focus and pushed through it. Within was a small plain girl dressed in a white drape, she turned to Isis’s dream form with surprise.

“You came!” the girl said with enthusiasm.

“Yes,” Isis said realizing it was all she could manage. The drain on her was startling.

The girl reached out to Isis and Isis took her hand. The girl vanished and Isis was thrust back on board of the airship.

“Thank you Psion,” they all said in unison and vanished.

Isis staggered back. What the hells did I just do? She had little time to wonder as the ship shuddered violently. The door flew open and Quaist was there, rapier drawn.


“Ah! Little song bird,” Quaist said with a grin.”There you are.”

Isis flattened herself against the back wall as Quasit approached, the ship shuddered again. Quaist looked around and sighed.

“My feisty morsel,” Quaist said.”Look what you have done?”

Isis said nothing she instead looked for a way out. There was none.

“Now I’ll have to wait to see you again,” Quaist said and stopped his advance.

The ship shuddered again and the walls became transparent. Quaist bowed and faded away and then the entire airship vanished, leaving Isis hovering in mid-air. The rest of the massive fleet was gone.

Alissa moved to Isis’s side and picked her up with one hand, she cradled Isis to her bosom.

“You did well despite the lack of training, Psion,” Alissa said with a smile.

Isis collapsed in Alissa’s hand. She trembled.

“I have so many questions...” Isis said, that being all she could manage.

“We have won this day,” Alissa said with a smile.”Go and rest Isis.”

“Speak with me in the vault when you recover,” Alissa said and she kisses Isis on the forehead.

Isis nodded. She withdrew from the Vast. The warren of nightmares and dreamscapes was covered up by the Barn attic, the smell of hay and dust filled her nostrils. Isis felt so tired, she laid back and threw her arms and legs back falling into her wings. She was fast asleep.

~~

Quaist watched Isis vanish. He smirked. What a beautiful opposing piece. He then sighed and examined the empty focus chamber.

“Mother is going to have a fit,” Quaist said and giggled.

He made his way up to the main deck where Dragon-kin were picking themselves up and those that could, saluted him.

“Admiral Quaist,” one of the Dragon-kin said.”The vanguard is all accounted for.”

“Ah? Very good. Moor here for repairs,” Quaist said as he strode past the Dragon-kin and onto the forward castle of the airship.

A thin vertical line peeled through the air and golden eyes burning with a fierce light stepped through the rift. Bare feet padded on the deck towards Quaist. A woman draped in fine green silk, embroidered with gold thread fashioned of oriental style dragons. Quaist turned to meet her and she slapped him across the face, he staggered back and fell on to his backside.

“You disappoint me child,” the Will said and her eyes blazed.

“Mother, I can explain...” Quaist began and the Will merely glared at him.

“I put the Psion in your hands,” the Will said and her voice was overwhelming. ”and you let her go.”

“You will have but one more chance to capture her,” the Will pointed a finger at Quaist and he writhed.”Do not fail me again.”

“Mother! please...” Quaist barely managed as he writhed in pain.

The Will backed into the rift and vanished. Quaist stopped writhing and caught his breath, he stood up and looked over the deck. The Dragon-kin all stared at him.

“I want the entire fleet ready now!” Quaist shouted at the Dragon-kin. “We go to see my sister!”

The Dragon-kin returned to their duties with renewed haste. Quaist turned and faced forward, looking out over the airship railing.

~~

The scene pulls up and away from Quaist, who is leaning on the railing and surveying his fleet. As he and his ship become smaller, thousands of airships of equal size come into view. The hum of engines and the whirr of their blades is a cacophony.

“I won’t fail next time Mother,” Quaists tiny voice is barely audible over the massive fleet’s engines.

[Lassandra]

Water Dragon Seer Marlindria scanned her latest painting with milky eyes. Obviously Yuan-Ti, her scaly face is smudged with paint of various colors. In her right hand against thumb and forefinger lay a brush. Her left hand was turned palm down and is covered in a collection of dabs of different color paints.


‘Aly’ae and Naniel – The Mind Soothers, the Drum and Flute of Battle


The canvas is large and it consists of a scene painted by a master. The eye is drawn to the right side of the canvas first. Two women stride gleefully forward and towards the right their feet hardly touching the ground. They are the famous bards, Aly’ae and Naniel. One with flute and the other with drum. They both wear an expression of pure joy, reveling in their art. The Song of the World wraps them in a coil of musical symbols, each symbol wavers with power.

On the left side of the painting is a great army, countless soldiers with banners and all manner of weaponry. The army is following Aly’ae and Naniel and they are shrouded music. Black Sand tendrils coil up and around the music, unable to get at the soldiers.

The masterwork is detailed, Aly’ae and Naniel’s fine elven features, hair, dress and even the sparkle in their eyes.’


‘Aethil – The Tear Bearer, the Chosen of Xyra’Ustan , the Guardian


The canvas is large and it consists of a scene painted by a master. The eye is drawn to the right side of the canvas first. A knight, mounted on his rearing warhorse is posed. The knight’s shield is a glowing ring of divine symbols of faith. His weapon, resting between thumb and palm is a crystal Tear. He holds it aloft like a divine symbol. The knight’s face is visible, it is Aethil and his gaze is facing upwards. The look of grim determination plainly set in his face.

Black sand tendrils coil around his warhorses’ hooves and legs. The warhorse is Aether and its proud features are that of a well bred and trained equine. Aethil is surrounded by an aura that seems to be centered on the Tear.

On the left side of the painting is a great golden Orb, trestles of some kind hold it aloft and a woman stands in front of it. This is Elvawen and her body is poised in such a way as to give the impression of her pushing against the Orb. Her hands firmly planted against it, her face turned away from its radiance.’



‘Zyl, Parex and Mynsyn – The Mage Lord, the Will Breaker and the Harbinger


The canvas is large and it consists of a scene painted by a master. The eye is drawn to the left side of the canvas first. A towering platform of obsidian is depicted and upon it are three figures. One is Zyl and he holds Mynsyn’s lifeless body in his arms a single tear rolls down his right cheek. He wears the mixed expression of an angry man whose tears of sadness stream without his permission. His armor is tattered and burned, eldritch energies swirl around him speaking volumes of his current battlestate.

Mynsyn’s armor is untouched save for where the copious amounts of blood have poured from her chest wound. She is unmoving and is obviously dead. A single glowing blade protrudes from Mynsyn’s chest, the weapon of her demise.

Parex is hanging off of the right side of the platform, struggling to climb back up. His sword scabbard is empty and his armor is tattered and burned. He is looking up at Zyl and Mynsyn the expression on his face is a mixture of sadness and resolve.

The background is a blue swirl of sky mixed with a reddish hue as if the sun were setting. There are tendrils of black sand creeping up towards Parex’s feet and Zyl’s face is looking at something in the distance.’


‘Isis – The Psion

The canvas is large and it consists of a scene painted by a master. The eye is drawn to the left side of the canvas first. A massive wall of glowing ethereal bodies ungulate in a tidal wave of mammoth proportions is held back by a single winged figure. Isis, her wings set afire in a blue blaze, her eyes alight in smoky blue energy the tendrils of which expand from their sockets.

Her hands are held out in front and above her and power flows in from the palms. Her face is turned, expression set in determination, her body facing the tidal wave. She seems to be holding back the tide of glowing ethereal bodies with position of her hands. A wall of invisible force generated around her.

Her body is sheathed in a glimmering mail that defies pattern and she wears no weapon at her hip or shoulder. Her hair whips around her, the impression of a tremendous amount of force upon her.’


‘Elvawen – The Descendant ,the Blood


The canvas is large and it consists of a scene painted by a master. The eye is drawn to the left side of the canvas first. A single woman stands before a massive glowing wall, it towers over her. Massive stone hands hold the wall’s edges and smaller hands, fists and broken stone litter the surroundings.

Bodies of the fallen lay strewn all around, detailed enough to tell they are humanoid but vague enough to not be able to determine who they might be. The bodies are all partially covered in a grey mist.

The single woman is highly detailed. It is Elvawen and she is dressed in a strange armor, thin plates and light accessories. She holds a strange weapon; it looks very much like a crossbow.
Her head is turned as if looking back at the observer of the panting, a look of shock on her face. There is a broken ceramic vase on the floor nearby her feet. White sand still pours from its shattered container.’


‘Lassandra and Victor – The Immortal and the Hellfire


The canvas is large and it consists of a scene painted by a master. The eye is drawn to the left side of the canvas first. The Tinker, holding one of her kicking monodrones, stand precariously on the shoulders of Lassandra. Victor stands back to back with Lassandra and on his shoulders is a man in Jade Green Armor.

Lassandra and Victor are both slowly sinking into black quicksand. Tendrils of the stuff creep up their bodies. They both wear expressions of grim determination, while the Tinker looks frightened and the Jade Armor wearing man is swinging a thin looking long blade.’


‘Alissa and Cyan – The Line and the Will

The canvas is large and it consists of a scene painted by a master. The eye is drawn to the left side of the canvas first. Alissa hovers in mid-air over a cityscape. Her feet are ensconced in a bright white glow and her hands are folded as if in prayer. Her body is sheathed in a blue armor, its light thin plates and strange accessories mark it as Ancient Armor. She wears the no-nonsense look of combat engaged and her hair whips wildly around her. A bolt of pure white energy is forming at her folded hands its trail aimed at the right side of the portrait.

Cyan hovers on the right side she is draped in fine green silk embroidered with golden dragons. Her bare feet, toes pointed down, seem to be poised as if walking. Her left arm is behind her, right high above her and the fingers of both are spread wide. Tiny strands of black trail from her fingers and are surrounded by a purple nimbus of power. She wears an expression of satisfaction, a smile accompanied with a frighteningly joyful look of madness in her eyes.

The entire background is a city in flames. The building style and placement could be central Lomatin.’


Rorik – The Bishop, Nature Unleashed

The canvas is large and it consists of a scene painted by a master. The eye is drawn to the left side of the canvas first. A behemoth of a dragon is depicted here, multicolored scales rippling across its body. Its mane is a forest, its tail is tendrils of living water, its claws diamonds and its maw is a yawning cave. Fire and lightning billow out of its maw and upon the tiered steps of some strange cityscape.

This is Rorik, the Bishop and the wielder of Natural Selection. The background is bathed in the radiance of the Bishop and the shadow flees his terrible power.’



“I use dreams like a painter uses painting to speak. A painter uses many colors, shadows and styles upon a canvas in the same manner in I entice you to explore dreams. The rules of this game are such that I may paint a picture for you to view. A picture in which my skill in conveying the message is tested by your ability to interpret the information formed with the artful strokes of my brush.”
~Estewitachy

[Lassandra]

The Line


Aethil quietly slipped into bed next to Elvawen. She was fast asleep and he did not wish to disturb her. He lay next to her and closed his eyes.


~~~~~


The sparkling surface of the pond was disrupted by the thrashing of a fish. It struggled desperately. Its mouth agape, body flexed and eyes wide as it thrashed about sending ripples across the body of water. It dived into the water and attempted to get away but it was hooked. The line from its mouth to the shore clear now as it vibrated in water and air.

“I caught one!” the girl said as she scrambled to keep hold of the fishing rod.

“This might be the one, Elvawen,” a strawberry blonde woman said and then smiled.
“Chomper!” Elvawen said excited and continued.”Mom will be proud of us Alissa!”
Alissa helped the young girl, Elvawen, steady the fishing rod. Slowly they worked the line in towards the shore.The tension on the line crested with an audible pop and the pair fell back onto the shore laughing.
A black cat cried in protest of being wet.
“Oh no!” Elvawen said as she looked at the broken end of the line.
“Drat!” Alissa said and she kissed Elvawen on the forehead. “He got away.”
“I want to catch’em , Auntie Alissa,” Elvawen said with a pout.
The black cat strutted over to Alissa’s and meowed.
“We’ll be back again and then you can catch Chomper,” Alissa said and she picked up the black cat.
“Really?” Elvawen said.
“Really.”
“Then I’ll catch Chomper?”
“Just ask Mimi.”
The black cat meowed in answer and jumped out of Alissa’s arms.
“Sorry Mimi no fish dinner tonight!” Elvawen hugged Alissa and scratched Mimi’s ears.
The pair packed up their fishing gear and made their way down the forested path that lead away from the pond. The forest gave way to fields and then to farmsteads.
A young boy was busy feeding livestock when he saw Elvawen pass. He jumped up shouting her name and ran towards the pair.
“Hi Aethil,” Elvawen said shyly.
“Hi Elvawen,” Aethil replied with a foolish grin.
Alissa smiled at the pair and the trio continued down the path towards the center of town.
As they approached the center of town they noticed many of the villagers milling about the town well and a horse thethered nearby.
“Git yerself outta ‘ere!” shouted one villager.
“Nae we need none of that!” shouted another villager.
There was a man in gleaming plate armor standing by the well. He held his helm in one hand, a large sack in the other and stood in the center of an irate group of villagers.
“You two stay here understand?” Alissa said to Aethil and Elvawen.
“Yes ma’am,” they both said.
Alissa walked towards the knight and they could hear her inquiring into the Knight’s business.
Aethil’s eyes were transfixed on the knight. He looked over his arms and armor in awe. Elvawen watched Alissa and her graceful movements. She strained to hear the conversation but did not move closer.
“Why is he here, Aethil?” Elvawen asked.
“I don’t know,” Aethil responded.
“Well if he starts trouble I’ll bet Alissa will punch’em in the nose!”
The knight, obviously irritated by something, walked up to his horse and drew his claymore from its saddle scabbard. Villagers scattered and Alissa stood there alone with the knight. She smiled. The knight brandished six feet of polished steel and sunlight reflected off of the blade.
The reflected light hit Aethil and Elvawen in the eyes.
Blinded they turned from the scene with hands over their eyes.


~~~~~


Elvawen shielded her eyes and turned from the blinding light source. Once she was clear of it she attempted to open her eyes. A dimly lit chamber, stained glass windows filled with light and the muted scent of old insence filled her senses. She was seated on a slate floor, its cool touch might have been soothing were it not for the disorientation she felt.
Nearby the tall columns of the cathedral’s ceiling were adorned in silver murals of men fighting hordes of creatures. Rows of pews filled most of the chamber and above them were the cast iron lighting fixtures mounted into the columns.
A man lay next to her on the slate floor. His clothing was torn and bloodied and his armor lay nearby in a pile. His blonde hair was matted, eyes closed, and she moved closer to him to check his breathing. It was steady and slow. His hand rose up and grasped her arm which startled her.
“Elvawen?” Aethil said.
Elvawen scooped Aethil up and hugged him and he returned the gesture.
She helped him sit up and they both sat on the slate floor looking about.
“Are you alright?” she asked.
“I think so,” he responded after a moment.
“Where are we?” she asked as she began to look around.”I don’t recognize this place.”
“I have no idea,” Aethil said.
Aethil noticed a robed man approaching them from the other side of the Cathedral and nodded toward him for Elvawen’s benefit. The man’s shaven head gleamed in the morning light shining through the stained glass windows. His hands hidden within the roomy sleeves of the robe, he hurried toward them when they both looked at him.
“Knight Captain and m’lady,” the robed man said with a deep bow.”I am glad to see you’re awake.”
“Who are you?” Aethil asked immediately.
“Ah forgive me, I am Disciple Tennan,” Tennan said and then bowed.
Elvawen and Aethil exchanged glances and then looked at Tennan.
“Where are we?” they both asked in unison.
Tennan looked at them both and then towards the door of the cathedral.
“Tennan,” Aethil began. “What is going on?”
“Please keep your voices down,” Tennan said and continued. “I will explain.”
Elvawen and Aethil fell silent and looked at Tennan expectantly.
“We found you both and brought you to the Cathedral of Saint Dahlren. You were both greviously wounded and as servants of the Saint we thought it best to shelter you so you could help retake the city.”
Elvawen and Aethil looked at each other.
“What?” Aethil said incredulously.
“You do not recall the battle?” Tennan questioned.
“No.”
“Oh my, are you both feeling well?”
“Tennan, what in the hells is going on?” Elvawen said impatiently.
“The city fell last night. You were in the battle to defend it,” Tennan said in answer.
“What the hells?!” Elvawen said in disbelief.
“We weren’t in any battle that I can recall Tennan,” Aethil said.
Tennan was about to speak again when a young boy in brown robes burst through the cathedral doors and began shouting for Tennan’s attention. The Cathedral bell began to toll and the young boy in brown robes ran up the middle aisle waving his arms madly. Tennan straightened up from his bow and turned towards the boy. He walked around the pews to meet the boy and when they met they exchanged a few words. A moment passed before Tennan turned towards Aethil and Elvawen.
“The Harbinger is outside the gates of the Cathedral,” Tennan said as he walked towards Aethil and Elvawen his arms out. “We must hide you. Come with me please.”
“The Harbinger,” Aethil said a little more than irritated.
”I wanted to bring your companions but they had led the Harbinger on a chase through the city.” Tennan explained as he walked into the doorway behind them.
“Wait, “Elvawen said as she looked into Aethil’s face, he returned her look and then set his eyes on Tennan. “Our companions?”
“Where are our companions now, Tennan?” Aethil asked, concern replacing irritation.
“I am sorry Knight Captain but we must hurry,” Tennan replied from the doorway.
Aethil and Elvawen gathered what little they had and followed Tennan.
“Why are you addressing me Knight Captain?” Aethil questioned.
“Forgive me Knight Captain, but you are the servant of the Queen,” Tennan replied matter-of-factly.
“The Queen?” Elvawen asked obviously angry now.”What in the hells is going on here?”
Tennan lead them into the garden within the adjoining cloister. It was meticiously kept, flowering plants of varying colors and pleasant fragrances adorned the small area. The sky, as seen through the small space above the cloister, was bright and blue. It was marred by two black columns of smoke that seemed close enough to hallmark trouble but not close enough to panic.
“Aethil we need to get out of here and find the others,” Elvawen said as she touched Aethil’s shoulder.
“If they are out there, if this isn’t some kind of vision or nightmare,” Aethil growled he was plainly angry now.
“It is not safe out there,” Tennan said.”The Harbinger is searching the city as we speak.”
“She did not check the Cathedral first?” Aethil asked curious.
“She avoided the Cathedral,” Tennan said quickly.”I thought we were fortunate that she had not come here since you nor the lady had awoken yet.”
“Where is our gear, Tennan,” Aethil asked and his voice had edge.
“I left it behind I am sorry,” Tennan said and a nervous accent cut in.
Tennan lead them into a doorway beyond the cloister’s pillars. Set in the wall was a stair well. He descended into a shallow candle lit chamber and they followed. Upon reaching the bottom he turned around to be sure they were still with him and then turned back towards the wall. The wall was pot marked with head shaped niches where crystal candle holders rested. He picked one and pushed on it. A section of wall slid in and then to the side.
“In here, quickly please,” Tennan kept his ear turned to the stairwell.
“We must speak as soon as possible,” Aethil said to Tennan as he led Elvawen through the secret door.
“If it is possible we shall,” Tennan said and then nodded.
Aethil and Elvawen entered a candle lit corridor lined with long niches; within lay the human remains of various monks. The secret door silently slid closed behind them and they made their way down the corridor.
~~
The courtyard of the Cathedral of Saint Dahlren was large. Originally it had been constructed as a fort and the forty foot high walls stood testament to this. The gate house was built like the barbican of a castle, its double doors massive and heavy. They lay open now and six heavy mounts with riders sheathed in gleaming plate mail rode through.
The lead rider wore no helm. She wore a smile and her long blonde hair was wound up into a spiral that crested her head like a crown. A long sword sheathed in its scabbard secure on her hip and a shield was slung over her back. Her plate mail was polished to a gleam, its various plates and chain links well maintained. The five other riders surrounded the monks while the woman rider dismounted and patted her mount on the side.
A smile on her lips as she dismounted in front of the line of monks. They immediately bowed at the waist and remained in this position. She silently watched them for a moment before speaking.
“I would speak with the one who speaks for you all,” She said and her tone was mocking.
“I am the grounds keeper for the Cathedral of Dahlren,” A monk said. He was on the right edge of the line.
She looked down at them with a smile. Each of the men wore a brown robe, their heads were shaven and they wore simple sandals. The men avoided eye contact with the woman and remained bowed at the waist. All of them trembled. She knew this to be mock fear and recognizing this was an act, she snorted in disgust. The smell of fear was not in the air here. The faint odor of righteousness assaulted her senses. Her smile vanished.
She circled the monks and as she did her boots clicked on the cobble of the courtyard. She squared off to him and tilted her head. The monk straightened, looked her in the eyes and smiled She responded with a smile of her own that vanished quickly as she removed her heavy gauntlets.
“You do lovely work,” she said and her eyes moved from the monk to the gardens on the sides of the cathedral behind the monk. “A testament to the fleeting lives of the cut stem.”
The monk did not follow her eyes and instead regarded the woman carefully.
“The way of the flower is neglected many,” she said and she returned her eyes to the monk. “would you not agree?”
“It is not a path many care to indulge in,” the monk replied.
The other monks had stopped their façade of trembling and they now listened.
“Harbinger, we welcome you to the Cathedral of Dahlren,” the monk said. “I am Tennan of the order.”
“I am not here for a tour, Tennan,” she said flatly.
Tennan half turned to the mounted knights surrounding them.
“I am looking for two fugitives, “the Harbinger said. “I will ask once.”
Tennan nodded.
“Where are the Knight-Captain and his companion?” the Harbinger asked with her head tilted.
“I must apologize to you, Harbinger. I do not know of the…” Tennan was interrupted by the hissing sound of drawing steel.
The five mounted knights all had their long swords drawn.
“Please continue with your apologies,” the Harbinger smiled at Tennan.
The monks all straightened at these words and looked at the knights.
“They are gone, Harbinger,” Tennan said. His grey eyes hard and cold, set on the Harbinger.
“Was that so hard?” the Harbinger said. “To tell the truth, even if it would vex me.”
The Harbinger smiled and she dusted Tennan’s shoulders with her bare hands. Tennan merely stared ahead silently.
“Now comes the easy part,” the Harbinger said and she clasped her hands on Tennan’s shoulders.
“Tell me which way they went,” the Harbinger said.
Tennan was silent. The other monks stared at the knights individually.
“So predictable,” the Harbinger said and she stepped away from the monks.
“So are you, Harbinger,” Tennan said softly.
The Harbinger waved off the knights, who in turn sheathed their weapons and wheeled their mounts towards the gates. They rode by the Harbinger and out of the gates without a second glance.
“Shame,” the Harbinger said as she raised her arms towards the sky. “I might have liked this place.”
A brilliant flash of light consumed the entire area and then a massive fire roared into the air. The courtyard, buildings and gardens were covered in a rolling wave of fire that radiated from the Harbinger. The monks and plant life were instantly turned to ash. Cobblestone popped, hissed and turned white with heat. The cathedral collapsed into itself and the other buildings simply ceased to exist.
~~~
Aethil pulled Elvawen under the protective cover of his body when the tunnel began to shake violently. Dust and bits of stone dislodged from the ceiling rained down on Aethil’s head and shoulders. There was a tremendous rumbling sound from above. Torches set into the walls at intervals of ten feet sputtered and some went out due to the rain of debris.
The rumbling continued and the tunnel threatened to collapse. Aethil and Elvawen hurried up the tunnel to a doorway arch in an intersection of catacomb tunnels. Here they huddled under the protective canopy of the doorway’s arch.
“This is a nightmare!” Elvawen screamed as she huddled against Aethil.
Aethil’s only response was to hold Elvawen even closer.
The rumbling began to subside and the torches that remained lit began to grow dim. A single black cat scampered down the tunnel from the way they had come. It rubbed up against Aethil and meowed at them both.
Mimi, the black cat, then darted down the tunnel to the left. Once she had made it ten feet she turned around and meowed at Aethil and Elvawen. She sat, lifted a paw and licked it.
“There is always a plan of action…” Aethil said the portion of Alissa’s Dogma out loud without even realizing his volume.
“What plan?” Elvawen inquired.
“Let’s follow Mimi,” Aethil said as he got up with Elvawen.
Elvawen looked at the cat.
“This all means something and I want to find out what,” Aethil said and then he set off after the cat. Elvawen sighed and followed.
Mimi darted ahead and down the tunnel. She led them through the maze of the cathedral’s catacomb and finally to a dead end covered in a strange mural.
The mural was tiled in metallic colors, many of which were gold and silver and it depicted a scene of a knight. The knight was brandishing a greatsword at a woman. The knight was on the right and the woman on the left. It was relatively unimpressive. Mimi sat in front of the mural and meowed at the pair.
“This seems like a repeating scene,” Aethil said and growled.
“I’ve seen this before,” Elvawen said.
“Yes in the painting of me done by the Seer,” Aethil said and sighed. He leaned against the crumbling wall of the tunnel.
“No. I’ve seen this somewhere before that painting,” Elvawen said and she looked at Aethil. He looked doubtful.
“Love, just trust me I have,” Elvawen said and she turned to the mural chewing her lip.
Elvawen traced the mural’s tiles with her fingertips, searching for something. She wanted to find anything that would allow her to remember where she had seen this scene before. It then struck her, a flash of memory, the spark of recollection, a dimed view of the world through another’s eyes.
Elvawen’s mind soared away from the tunnel and through the flashes of the descendant memories stored within her mind.
In a whirlwind of memories and emotion she landed on hard pavement. It took a moment for her to come to her senses and when she did. She stood before the grand castle in Snow city, its memorial pillars flanking the massive double doors of the castle proper. The twin pillars were topped with a figure, sword drawn and pointing away in defiance. The memorial plaques in front of the pillars were engraved with the simple sentence: ‘Dedicated to those who held the Line.’
Elvawen dropped to her knees. An overwhelming feeling of pride, duty and then loss surged into her. Tears flowed from her eyes and she could hear the wail of those who lost loved ones in the battle that these memorials represented. The pride of knowing that their sacrifice had meant something and the terrible price paid for such pride. So profound was the feeling that she trembled, laid down on the snow dusted street.
“The Line is so much more than words alone,” Alissa said as she scooped up Elvawen from the floor and held her close to her bosom like a babe.
Elvawen sputtered and shook.
“My beloved Elvawen,” Alissa said and held her close. “It is too harsh a price we pay for meaning.”
“Meaning…?” Elvawen managed to say.
“The Line is one way of experiencing it,” Alissa explained.”One profound way of knowing you give everything for what you love and believe in.”
“Too final of an act,” Alissa spoke softly.
Elvawen looked up at Alissa’s face, tears ran down her cheeks.
“Consumed with the idea of dying and not of living,” Alissa said and kissed Elvawen on the forehead.
“In love with the final act that gives an illusory meaning to the phrase,” Alissa said and took a breath before continuing.
”Hold the Line.” Alissa said with a voice of power. It reverberated through Elvawen’s very being.
Suddenly Elvawen found herself in Aethil’s arms back in the tunnel. Tears filled his eyes as he held her. He combed her hair with his fingers and rocked her in his arms. She felt cold and she sputtered when she tried to speak. Aethil’s face was a mask of concern for her and she rested in his arms a moment. The feeling resounding within her was so profound she could not help but take more time to recover.
Slowly and steadily, recover she did. The burning memory of those monuments lingered in her mind like the after image of a lightning strike. She opened her mouth as if to speak but instead she felt a new surge of strength and something more.
“Your glorious constructs and ideas will always out live the flesh from which they were born. That is not an excuse to stray from their spirit.” Elvawen recited a piece of the dogma of Alissa.
Aethil just stared at her. She lay against him, a blank look on her face for a moment. Then, with a resolute sigh, she silently stood up. Aethil’s arms reluctantly let her go and he watched her with concern. She walked up to the mural and placed both hands on the tiles. They felt cool to her touch and fragile. It felt to her like a symbol of the fragile nature of her life, the lives of humanity and its mortality.
She growled at the thought and pushed against the mural. She gritted her teeth at the thought of how people assign meaning to death and celebrate it. How human it was to live dead and be buried alive with the accolades of pride and honor. She began to scream incoherently at the mural and she pushed. Aethil was at her side and he found himself pushed away from the furious Elvawen.
The mural moved.
Elvawen looked up at the ceiling and then at the mural. She was furious and it felt wonderful. Her doubts and fears burned away in the fury. She moved with the mural forward and down the tunnel until it toppled and crashed against the floor of a chamber beyond.
Panting she stood amid the rubble of the shattered mural, her hands bleeding from the tile. Several people with weapons drawn and pointed at her stood in the large chamber. They seemed fearful of the furious Elvawen. Her visage was that of a woman in pain and anger. Her fury rolled off her in tangible waves.
Aethil came up behind her and gently touched her shoulder.
“Love?” Aethil said softly, ignoring the weapon wielding people.
Elvawen whirled around on Aethil. She was seeing red. She was seeing the fury of her own spirit. The human spirit and it raged against the machine of the universe, futile as it may be, yet it was so.
She collapsed into Aethil’s arms. The fury within her spent, it fled her body and left her exhausted. Aethil scooped her up and held her close, only sparing a glance at the people around him. Mimi trotted up to Aethil and the unconscious Elvawen and sat on the ground before him.
The weapon wielding people vanished, the walls of the catacomb crumbled away and all that was left was Mimi, Aethil and the unconscious Elvawen. They were in a pure white room, their clothing was pure white and even Mimi’s fur was pure white.
“Elvawen’s bloodline is very strong,” Mimi said. It was a strange thing to know it was the cat speaking. “as is yours.”
Aethil merely watched Mimi.
“Know that your story and hers can continue after you draw the Line.”
“When you draw the Line, Aethil,” Mimi spoke and this time it sounded like it was coming from everywhere.
“Choose life.” Mimi said and the tiny voice echoed in his mind. Aethil began to open his mouth to speak when the pure white room crumbled away into darkness.
Aethil sat upright in his bed. Elvawen lay next to him sound asleep. He looked around and noted the country home that Elvawen was so proud of. His breathing came ragged to him as if he had just run a marathon. He pulled the covers off of himself and climbed out of bed.
The house was quiet and dark, a hooded lamp burned in the corner casting rays of light here and there. He made out the sleeping form of Mimi at the foot of the bed. He approached the sleeping animal and when he got close to her, she rolled on her back and opened her eyes. She looked right at Aethil and started purring.
He sighed heavily.
“I really hate this entire mind invasion…” Aethil began and stopped mid sentence.
Lying on the floor by Elvawen’s side of the bed, just beyond Mimi, was a single chunk of mortar. The flickering light of the lantern was enough that he could make out the imbedded tiles in the mortar.
It depicted the naked blade of the knight.
Strangely enough, it looked like a Line.
Aethil picked up Mimi and petted her. He stared at the mural for the rest of the night.