Rule of Darkness -Book II Chapter 3 Last Update 19 June 2008- Book I Completed

Prologue


In a world ruled by fiends, knowledge of the past is jealously guarded; hoarded and doled out to the young as a warning, as a weapon to arm them against a hostile world.

Common knowledge: the Duke of Hell, Jelial, ruled above, his demesne the immensity of the world, perhaps even unto some of the worlds that swarmed in the aether above.

Common knowledge: the elves are dead, the halflings farmed like cattle, the dwarves locked within their fortresses of stone, perhaps the last open bastions of defiance to the fiends.

Common knowledge: once race fought race, arbitrary distinctions of philosophy seemed to be of massive import and territorial squabbles over who lived where enough to ignite a war. Now, who cares? Either you serve the fiends and are thus an enemy, or you hide, form part of the vast network of hidden cities, secluded strongholds that harboured all, old feuds forgotten, the strengths of each a supplement to the community.

It all began millennia ago. Jelial was summoned, brought into the world by someone, or something. Sick, twisted, demented and insane, even by fiendish standards a creature best avoided. Jelial may have been Insane, but he was also a genius, a patient genius. He saw the world around him, the strife amongst the inhabitants and the ease with which he could manipulate those that had brought him forth. He saw that this world could be his, made his plans.

His armies rolled over nations, pulled dragons out of the sky, razed cities and then built them anew in the image of hell. Before they could react, before the heroes that always appeared to stop the triumph of evil could rouse themselves, the world was conquered. Some races, those construed to be troublesome, were annihilated - genocide on a grand scale. Other races fortified their homes, closing their massive doors, invoking the aid of their gods and of their greatest magicians. Caverns deep within the world became the last refuge of many.

A seeming peace descended. Above, the devils seemed content to build their cities, establish their order; the time of The Rule had begun. Below the cities started building up, people coming to terms with their loss, generations passing that never saw the light of sun, moon or stars, generations that knew only the comfort of a cavern, its roof protectively above their heads.

Trade sprung up amongst the hidden cities, those brave few that were prepared to venture out between the cities earning immense wealth, but not without risk of capture, and capture by the devils meant death. It was never a quick death, but a slow, an agonisingly slow death, meant to punish as well as entertain. Where there is reward, there are always some willing to take the risk, and around these traders grew the Outwalkers, defenders of the cities, scouts, guardians, guides and specialists in the outdoors- in surviving them, and in helping others to survive.

It took a thousand years before the greater plan of the fiends started to show. It took that long for the first of their taint to be noticed, and felt. Small plants and mammals felt it first, their shapes twisting, their natures changing. Mild animals becoming vicious, carnivorous and the tainted ate the pure. Fruits eaten from tainted plants making people sick, poisoned, producing reactions in some cases akin to madness. People learnt to look out for it, for the veins of red, the bloodshot eyes, the sharp bark that only dripped sap once it tasted blood. People now learnt why the fiends had not destroyed the fey. The tainted fey changed to become as evil as the devils. They became lookouts and spies, ferreting out hidden locations and communities, soon becoming the best source of information the fiends had access to.

Hope began to fade, to die. Then for the first time the words of the prophecy of Gerogh were heard, brought down by a Monk of the Peace into the hidden cities. He wandered the hidden paths and passed by cities and communities, spreading his message of hope. He gave no name, only relating the prophecy of Gerogh. Many wrote it down as he recited it, three thousand verses, seemingly nonsensical, but understandable after the fact. People began to hope, for the end related how the fiends would be destroyed, how it would happen, who would do it brought down in the insane riddling style of the rest. But if the rest were true, why not this?

With hope came defiance, yes the devils were not yet defeated, or even defeatable, but it brought hope for the future... In time various organisations started, one of the better known ones being the House of Souls, dedicated to freeing slaves, to bringing them to safety. Many in the cities know of them, amongst the slaves they are a whisper of hope, always awaited.

So the world exists, so it persists, the prophecy of Gerogh driving towards its completion as the world degenerates into a fiendish heaven on earth.

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Rule of Darkness- Part1: Revelations Chapter 1

Jeria sat in his niche near the roof, looking over the city, watching as the floaters faded into darkness, the streets emptied and the calls of the cave beasts faded into silence. The city glowed in the dark as each house, each building lights from within, as the lights from below reflect from the ceiling above, the hanging guard posts like stars in the sky. Jeria sat thinking, reflecting on his time as a mere guard, a mere soldier. He knew his relief would arrive soon and that his last watch ended as his time with the Outwalkers began. The Outwalkers, the city's elite, the only ones to go beyond the gates on a regular basis. To venture outside and not just deeper under the earth, the ones who patrolled the world under the sky and ensured the city stayed safe, hidden.

He thought of his history lessons, of how it was now. Once, it was said, that half-breeds such as him were rare, that half-fiends were unknown to most; now the world above was filled with them, and many filled roles of authority in the cities of the fiends as they matured into their powers. It had been different for him; in the cities below, half-fiends were viewed with suspicion and many doubted their loyalty. Who could blame them? Cowed, living in hiding, they had been taught by three thousand years of the Rule the value of suspicion. Ah, Jeria thought, if only the legends of Gerogh and his prophecy were true! But he was to be an Outwalker, soon he would show his worth to those who doubted; he would be one of the elite, a guardian and protector of the city.

***

The day was the same as any other. The floaters brightened, the city awakened, and the streets filled with people as they moved to shops, to work, into the darkness of the cavern edges to collect the mushrooms and lichens which supplemented the diet of all. With the rising light Jeria rose with the others in the barracks. The quiet movement of those around him was purposeful, guided, as each dressed in their uniform for the day. Those who shared the barracks were members of the City Guard and donned the blue surcoat and chain hauberk of their uniform. He watched as they left one at a time, and gathered his belongings. He would not be returning here.

His grin, a frightening sight on his red face, which made his fangs clearly visible, grew as he stood and donned the plain leather armour, ring and cloak of the Outwalker. They may have looked benign, but their magical nature made them more powerful, more protective than the heavier chain hauberk that those who looked down on the city, stood at the gates and patrolled the streets, wore. He stood in front of his barracks' mates, as they teased and derided him. His red skin, fangs and heavily muscled torso looked out of place in the light leather armour, far more so than it ever had in the chain hauberk. The teasing was good-natured, There was no resentment amongst these guards, men who had lived in the barracks with him for years. Laughingly he slapped Kyl, once a partner on the watch, on his back, his clawed hand clanging on KYL’S mail. He sauntered out the door, waving farewell to the rest as he left.

"Jeria, apprentice to the Outwalkers, reporting." The half-fiend stood before the diminutive halfling, looking down at the deceptively frail woman. She, too, was wearing the leather and cloak of the Outwalkers, with rapier and dirk at her side, and a bow appropriate to her size on the chair beside her. Jeria knew her name well, as he knew the stories told of her. The halfling Delire was the captain and master of the Outwalkers, a legend in the city; her small size belyied her deadly nature, not hinting at the speed of her swords or the deadliness of her bow. She looked up, the tall half-fiend towering over her, and addressed him, her words coming out in a light, mocking tone.

"You're the new one? Rumour has it your mother lived on the outside, was raped by a fiend and died as you were born. What you got to say about it, any truth in that, new boy? Do I need to worry about you going over to the other side when you're out there?"

Jeria stood in shock. His mind whirled as he looked at the diminutive woman, her words sharper than her rapier, stinging adding more fuel to the fire created by a life of sideways glances and surreptitious whispers.

"Yes, my father was a fiend. No need to worry about me going over to their side though, I hate them as much as anyone here!"

Delire looked at him, seeing the fury and anger rising. She chuckled as she saw his rising fury, she had expected this reaction; in truth, any other reaction would have worried her.

"Ahh, don't take it so hard, you wouldn't be here if anyone thought you were a security risk. Take me for example Now I'm one of the very few of my race that exist outside of the fiends breeding farms, one of the few that doesn't exist just to be fattened up and used as an hors de oeuvre at some fiendish party. When I first arrived I got asked if I would be willing to watch my cousins being eaten, do nothing while they screamed, just look on, to take no action but to report back on what had happened."

She stopped, sighed, looked at Jeria.

"Gotta do this properly I suppose, it's expected and the powers that be like to know that we are all bound by oaths.” She stood, and even at full height barely came to Jeria's waist.

"You are hereby inducted into the Outwalker's of Weald Hall. From this day forth you are a brother to us all; do not betray that trust or your city, thus say I, Delire, Captain of Weald Hall."

She sat, sank back into her seat, waiting for Jeria to reply.

"I, Jeria, soldier and citizen of Weald Hall, do hereby accept a commission in the Outwalker's of Weald Hall. I swear to be brother to all, to protect the city, to die before revealing the secret of the city to any that would speak before the fiends." He drew a small dagger from his belt, slitting his thumb, spilling a drop of blood into a bottle placed on the desk in front of Delire

Delire smiled, "Welcome, Jeria. Your blood will stand sentry for you here. When you are ever in trouble, we will know. If you are ever caught, if you are ever put in a position in which there is no hope: speak my name, your name, and a word only you will know. Whisper it into the bottle now. When you complete that formulae, the blood within will burn, as will the blood in you granting a quick death rather than the slow, agonising hell the fiends concoct for the combined goals of enjoyment and information extraction."

She leaned back. "Now that the formalities are over, let me let you in on a secret. Jeri, you would not be here if I had not checked you out a long time ago. Now whisper into the bottle and go out back; your travelling partner and mentor is waiting."

Out back was an exercise yard, with the ground cleared except for some targets at the far end and practice dummies in the centre. An ogre stood in the middle, the Outwalker uniform tight across his massive chest. Jeria wondered at him, there were few enough ogres within the city since most were happy servants in the fiendish regime above, but never had he heard of one trusted in such a position. At least that is what he thought until up close, then it was obvious, he just was not large enough for a full ogre. His voice, when he spoke, was deep, gruff, yet surprisingly soft.

"Jeria, right? I'm Gruzz. Delire said to take it easy on you, that people tend to deride you because of your father. Guess what? I have the same problem." His smile came quickly, broadly, sharp fangs visible as he smiled, the massive broad mouth below the broad nose producing a smile that was infectious. "Now come here, let me see that axe you're lugging around." Gruzz beckoned Jeria forward, holding his hand out for the axe that Jeria carried across his back. Taking it, he turned it over carefully, examining the head and the haft.

"Cold iron. Good, with what is out there you're going to need it if we get into trouble. If we do our jobs properly that shouldn't happen."

***

Passageways should define their destination, let the traveller know to where they are going. Not this one. The route to the outside was rock smoothed bare, leaving no place to hide. It was tough going for the half-ogre; the path did not leave much space on either side of his large frame. The door at the end was iron, faint magic sigils visible, glowing gently in the dark. They passed through the door and came to an unexpected corner, after which the path changed. The walls were covered in roots and sand, brackish red water seeping down onto the passage floor. Jeria felt elated, buoyed, every step of the trip a revelation. The air slowly filtering down from above carried scents of an outside world never looked upon, smells that never reached the city hidden below, the two days journey down a rocky path shrouded in darkness. Gruzz turned to look at him when the passage started widening.

"We'll rest here. It's not far to the surface and you need to prepare for it. You've grown up in Weald Hall, in the cavern city. You have never seen the open sky, smelt the open air, felt a true wind or been caught in the rain. Therefore, we will go slowly. Tonight we go out and sit tight; feel the air, look at the sky and if, and that's a big if, you are ok, tomorrow we take a walk."

The final cavern was huge. Stalactites and stalagmites formed a treacherous maze, the entrance into the cavern but a small sliver in the rocks. The half ogre looked back at Jeria.

"I'll go first, you follow after."

Jeria watched as Gruzz disappeared. He could feel the wind blowing through a gap in the rocks, carrying unknown scents from what lay beyond. He moved forward, touching the rocks at the edge, taking deep breathes, his heart pounding, sweat pouring off his brow despite the cool night air. He felt the starting of panic panic within, the thought of the sky, nothing above him, no comforting ceiling overhead, just the sky going on forever. With the moment upon him, he suddenly realised his fear: The loss of the comforting, embracing presence of the cavern, a womb of comfort to those within its halls. He steeled himself, taking one last deep breath before stepping out, before looking up.

The sky. It was a clear night, cloudless. Overhead no moon shone, but the stars spread across the heavens like a blanket of white lace, a canopy of diamonds that glittered in the night. Jeria looked up, marvelling at their beauty- no, they were not comparable to the guard post lights shining down, the stars were so much more. He stood, staring up into the night sky, looking at their beauty and felt the breeze across his lightly scaled skin, and the hot tears that slid down his face as he sank to the ground, his hands reaching up to the unknown, uncaring sky. For an age, he just stared up, until a huge hand landed on his shoulder.

"Yes, it is a wonder. And we must live hidden, never seeing this. Generations live and die never knowing, never feeling the wind or seeing the moon and the stars. None except us, we lucky few, the Outwalkers that guard, protect and keep watch on an enemy that draws ever closer. We are lucky, these sights, this knowledge, more than enough compensation for the danger we must face." He stood over Jeria, giving him more time to absorb, to feel, to taste the air of freedom. Eventually he lifted his hand, "For now we move away from the gate. It is the first rule, never camp by the gate and never leave by the same path. Come on; let us go to where we can await the rising of the sun."

The wonder did not cease for Jeria as he followed behind Gruzz. The massive trees another wonder, their leaves soft beneath them, the grass, brown and dying from the onset of autumn, felt strange beneath him as he sat, the feel of the bark of the tree, upon which he leaned, rough on his skin.

"Careful there. Many of these trees are tainted. Cut yourself on this bark and you run the risk of being poisoned." A pause and Jeria just caught the last part muttered under the ogres breath "or worse."

Jeria settled down under one of the trees, his back touching the arm of Gruzz. Together they sat, waiting for the dawn, for Jeria to see his first rising sun, his first dawn without a sky of stone overhead.

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Rule Of Darkness: Part1, Chapter 2

Chapter 2

In the valley below slaves, bent to their work. Their backs marred by scars, by fresh rivulets of blood inflicted by the whips of their taskmasters, by the sun that shone down onto skin never offered protection against its burning rays. In unison, they bent and rose, depositing handfuls of reeds into the buckets behind them before they bent down again. The sun overhead was not hot today, the heat of summer long gone, the coolness of autumn a relief to those who toiled. Gyv sat staring down, her bow bent, the arrow centred on a fiend that strolled through the field below, and its fearsome visage observing the slaves and taskmasters alike. This fiend stood tall, thick bony ridges running down its back and along its arms, bony ridges that were as sharp as any sword. The fiend's face sported the same bony ridges, hard and angular; none who saw that visage would ever imagine asking it for mercy or compassion.

Above, Gyv pulled back the string of her bow, the yard long arrow sporting a viscously barbed tip. The arrow lay tight against her arm, a piece of loose blonde hair weaving across her face in the gentle breeze. Gyv sighted along the bow for a long moment, making sure of her aim before releasing the shaft, and watched it streak down to pierce the fiend's chest and send a brief fountain of blood into the air, but it was all in vain if killing the fiend had been her desire. A heartbeat, an intake of breath and the arrow fell out, lying on the ground steaming slightly from the heat of the body that rejected it.

"Get up there, you fools Find the one with the temerity to shoot at me!" The voice is deep, rough, and amazingly loud across the fields. The fiend speaks a guttural language, well suited to its voice, a language native to the lower planes of Hell, not to this world, this place. His words create a frenetic bout of activity, men running in the direction from which the arrow came, whips in hand. Some of the better-armed guards waved their swords in the air as they ran, a few guards remained behind to watch over the slaves.

The lack of attention on the slaves satisfied Gyv. From above, she watched how, in the distance, slaves are slipping away, helped out of sight by a group of green clad men. With a few gestures and quiet words, she slipped away into the forest, the plants closing behind her, leaves patterning themselves to hide her tracks from those busy storming up the hill. Today, she could feel content, almost happy. Today some would breathe free, but the happiness of the moment was marred by the frustration that her arrow had been no more than a fleabite to the fiend, the wound already healed and forgotten. Her thoughts wound round her, like a poison on the success of the day. We need to know what will hurt them!

She circled around the fields, making her way to the group that had assembled beyond. Twenty of her men stood there, along with 20 slaves. A simple rule that always observed- no more slaves rescued than rescuers; many times newly freed slaves needed shepherding, and attention divided over too many could lead to mistakes. The group moved out, heading through the forest towards a cleft in the jungle floor, the chasm that led to safety. Behind them, commotion broke out, the chasers had returned empty handed, the slaves had been rounded up and counted and the missing number noted. Gyv turned to her companions.

"Take them to safety. I am going back to make sure our tracks are properly hidden." She did not wait for an answer, but darted backwards, heading back along their trail, carefully erasing any signs that they had inadvertently made.

"I tell you they must have come this way, the other parts of the fields would have been noticed." The voice came from beyond the trees, the edge of the field just out of her sight. She lay against the trunk of the tree, its red tinged bark irritating her hands, making her skin itch. At times like these, she cursed her height, her wide shoulders, and the difficulty of hiding when one stood taller than many of the soldiers who reported to her. Above her, looking down, sat a squirrel, its eyes red flamed, the madness of the fiends within. Chattering, it started down the trunk towards her, soon to be joined by two more. The trio approached her, their red eyes gleaming, their mouths foaming as they looked at her, prepared to jump.

By the Celestial hegemony blast the fiends and their accursed luck, just what I did not need at this moment in time; tainted squirrels to attack me when I want to remain hidden. Carefully she started backing off, her hand reaching out, grasping the hilt of her sword. The squirrels' eyes followed her, their chattering rising, their movement-keeping pace with her own. As they approached, the smell of rotting meat came off them, the bits of dead skin and bits of meat stuck in their fur creating a nauseating miasma of smell around them.

Gyv, concentrating on the squirrels, nevertheless kept her eyes and ears open for movement from those outside the forest, listening to the occasional snippets of conversation that drifted towards her. The guards were not entering, to her relief, but twenty slaves were to be offered as sacrifices for the twenty that had escaped. There were always plenty of slaves, discipline was more important than a few extra field hands. Also, it seemed that some of the guards were to join the slaves, an object lesson to those who remained: NEVER let a slave escape alive!

Damn them. Damn their discipline, their hierarchy. We will defeat them, someday, somehow. Even as her eyes stung knowing the torture, the pain that the twenty slaves would suffer before their deaths, the first of the squirrels jumped at her. She twisted away just before it reached her, her blade slicing across its stomach, creating an eruption of intestines and blood. In the moment she twisted, the other two jumped at her. One latched onto her thigh, digging its teeth into her, its claws trying to rip through her leather clothing, the third met with her boot, its head splintering from the metal capped toes that staved in its skull.

Her side felt like it was on fire, her blood pumping around her body like boiling lead penetrating every segment, every pore. She moved to detach the fiendish creature, only to watch in horror as it fell off, lifeless. The pain in her blood increased, her senses blotted out by a wave of pain. She could not hear herself scream, she could not see where she was going; all she did was flee, heading blindly, panicked into the depths of the forest.

***

Darkness had fallen when she came to her senses. Gyv found herself lying on a bed of leaves under a massive oak tree. She sat up, feeling the burning in her side, the wound not visible in the dark. She felt around the area, noting that it had scabbed over, that the skin felt normal and that nothing was swollen.

Have I been lucky enough to escape the taint? What happened when that fiendish thing bit me? She stood up, her legs sending messages of pain as she placed her weight upon them. Damn, how far have I run? Where am I? She looked around trying for a landmark, for anything that would point out to her a way home. As she looked, she saw she was on the edge of the forest, the mountains rising up nearby.

The forests edge, at least three days travel from where she had been, where she should be. The moon had been a full disk, lighting the sky the last time she had seen it, now it was completely absent. She looked around, noting the details of the landscape, dying inside all the time. Taint. She was tainted, it must have grown within while she had been senseless for so long- for in the starlight she was seeing as well as she could on the brightest of days.

With a deep breathe she pulled out the pin. Made of cold iron to penetrate even the hide of a fiend, it pulsed with the power of the poison within, a poison that would kill any of fiendish blood. She sat beneath the tree, feeling the wind, the cool night breeze. She looked over the canopy of the forest, knowing that within its depths stood the safe house and encampment of the House of Souls she had served so long. She thought of her children that would miss her, her husband that served under another commander, of the friends and the freed slaves that treated her almost like a goddess. For a while she sat, tears coming to her face, evaporating in patches of cold. She took a deep breath, a swift movement and the pin pierced the flesh of her thumb. She waited for the burning, for the fire to consume her blood, boil her skin, pop her eyes as the poison destroyed the taint within, and took her life. Better to die pure than live a slave to the fiends, the last thought as she prepared for the end.

She waited, and the burning came, along with her screams that ascended into the night, carried on the wind to two who sat nearby, awaiting the dawn.

***

"Any idea who she is?" Jeria knelt over the woman who lay unconscious on the ground. She was beautiful, at least in human terms. Tall, with blonde hair that had been cut short, arms which were well muscled and marked with scars from where a bowstring would chafe across them as it sent an arrow on its path. She wore leather armour, coloured green, which hid the shape of her body. Copper bracers covered her wrists and an empty quiver rode on her back.

Gruzz stood a short way off, examining the ground and the area in which she lay.

"She has been convulsing- see how the grass and plants in this area have been crushed and broken. Probably from this," he held up the pin, its dull colour almost lost in the dark but easily seen by ogre eyes that can see in the darkest of caves. "A testing pin, very rare these, the city guild of alchemists can never produce enough. The gate guards go mad whenever a caravan must be admitted and there is no pin."

He walked over to Jeria, looking at the woman.

"Get her armour off. Let's see what is beneath."

Jeria gave Gruzz a look, one that spoke volumes about what he thought of undressing a strange woman lying unconscious in a forest. Gruzz laughed at him, swatting him on the back, sending him staggering a few paces.

"Don't be foolish, boy. We need to know who she is, what her affiliation is. I suspect I know, but it is from rumour, old tales, half-whispered news told over mugs of ale in the smoky light of a tavern. Now get that armour off her. If she is our friend, she will thank us. If she is an enemy, it will be easier to kill her."

Jeria bent to his task, carefully untying the laces that bound the armour, the overlapping lengths of leather coming away easily. She smelt of sweat and dirt, as if she had not bathed in a long time. Underneath was a plain brown shift, sleeveless and with an open neck. Around her neck, he could now see a medallion. He lifted it, trying to get a better view, his own fiend enhanced vision, not the equal of the ogres but still good enough in the dim starlight.

The medallion shone with the reflected light of just a few stars, the silver in it highlighting the engraving of a man standing with a plate of food outside a house with open doors. He took the medallion of her neck, handing it to Gruzz.

"I thought they were just a story, something to soothe children when you need them to sleep at night."

Gruzz took the medallion, hefting it in his hands, letting it slip through his fingers before catching it again.

"The House of Souls? Nah, they're real enough. The closest bunch we know of is at least a week's journey from here."

Gruzz knelt down, gently turning the woman's face to the light, placing his face close to her mouth.

"I know who she is. Goes by the name of Gyv, a legend in the House. They say she has freed more slaves in the last five years than anyone else did in the fifty years before that." Gruzz saw the look that he was getting from Jeria and laughed.

"I ran into her band escorting some slaves back to safety a couple of years back, when I was till partnered with Mistel, Gods grant his soul peace. Now I want to know what brings her out this way, lying exposed outside the forest with a testing pin nearby." He lifted the body heading back towards the cavern and the city.

"Sorry Jeria, but you're going to have to wait to see your first dawn and go on your first patrol. Something like this right by the city gate has to be reported before anything else."

Jeria watched as Gruzz pushed his way into the cavern, then followed. A last glance, at a sky that seemed to be changing from black to royal blue in the distance, and he dived inside, to safety, to the warmth of the caves embrace.

Please let me know what you think- feedback is valuable! The Rogues Gallery for this story hour is here

Interesting setting, I think we've got a feel for the world!
Off to a good start, keep it coming.

Thanks for the comment- more will be posted soon ( I have this done up until chapter 33, I just need to edit each chapter- so there is at least 10 weeks worth of stuff to come before it dries)

Rule of Dakkness- updated 22 feb 2007

Chapter 3

The journey out had taken two days, the trip back four. Jeria felt the comfort of the walls, roots, dirt and rock of the path comfortingly close after the openness of the outside. For Gruzz, the path was complicated by the tight confines and having to carry the body of the comatose woman. He sweated, ducked beneath entangling roots and took twice the time to move each pace as he had when making for the outside.

"So, Jeria, now you see the glamour of being an Outwalker; a few hours outside, then you get to carry unconscious strangers on your back. A glorious existence indeed, being a pack horse for the city." He grinned, giving a small laugh as he adjusted the body of Gyv on his back.

As they walked, the two Outwalkers listened to the unconscious form of Gyv moaning incomprehensively, her voice alternating between high-pitched screams and guttural mutterings in a voice so deep they could not hear the half of what was said..

The end of the fourth day found them at the turn in the passage, heading along the smoothed rock of the final stretch to the city. Both breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be back home; maybe it was the proximity of the city, maybe the relief of the two that bore her was palpable, but as they neared the city Gyv relaxed, her breathing deepening and her face relaxing.

"You can't escape me that easily." The face was mocking, handsome, the red flesh, green eyes and sharp fangs enhancing it, not detracting from the visages appearance, despite their alien nature. "Come now, Gyv, life is not that bad, you are strong, far stronger than most of your puny race. You could be a ruler, a wielder of power over vast parts of my realm. Think of the good you could do, the changes you could make for the better in the lives of the slaves." Her mind filled with images, of slaves with food, unharmed backs, clothing upon their bodies, and boots on their feet. Her mind kept shouting no, but in her dream she heard herself pledging fealty, promising herself, her fealty in the service to Jelial, Lord of the Dark, master of the Rule. In her mind the mocking face smiled, laughed and disappeared, as in the world outside two strangers carried her into the final corridor, into a city she had never seen, to people unaware of the approaching danger.

***

Gate duty. Mekior chaffed at the imposition on his movement, on his enjoyment of stalking through the corridors that connected the city to others of its kind, hunting down the enemies of the hidden, taking particular enjoyment in finding fiends that were out hunting. Mekior was no ordinary guard, no ordinary soldier, but a Fiend Hunter, a specialist in killing fiends, a master with any blade, his very strike powerful enough to hurt those fiends normally immune to even the mightiest blow of mortals. Today, he stood at the gate, guarding the path from the outside world, the most valued power of the fiend hunter in this position- their instinctive ability to detect a fiend regardless of how it disguised itself. Even magic could not stop their ability.

Mekior saw the two Outwalkers as they entered the well-lit final stretch, easily seen from the guard post that stood slightly elevated above the path. As they came closer, and details resolved themselves, he saw that the half-ogre carried another on his back. Quickly he consulted the log and saw that only two had left a mere six days ago, and those two were not due back for another week.

"Open the gate, it looks like Gruzz found something interesting out there and cut short his apprentice's first patrol." He left the lookout point, going down into the receiving area, wanting to check on the person being carried in. He stood there, just within the open gate, his short, lithe figure clad in plate armour, its tabard decorated with the city crest; the joints articulated and protected by their own under layer of chain mail and leather padding.

Jeria, walking slightly ahead of Gruzz and saw the gates opening first, and a grin broke out on his face. Home, they were home. Gruzz, looked up, saw the fiend hunter standing and waiting for them, and heaved a sigh of relief. In his mind there was the utter certainty that if were not Gyv, not the person he supposed it to be, Mekior would know. He came in through the gate, collapsing onto his knees, and placed her gently on the ground.

"Mekior. Here to check us out? When you're finished, organise some stretcher bearers for us, I can't carry her any further."

Mekior looked at them all. The half-fiends in the city always unsettled him. They always claimed to be loyal. They said and did all the right things, and this one had obviously proved himself or he would not have been allowed into the Outwalkers. Still they felt wrong, suspicious, his senses tingling in their presence. Not so for the half-ogre, or the woman he had placed on the floor, they felt clean, pure. He came forward, giving the massive Outwalker a clap on his back.

"Welcome home." He looked at the half-fiend, and gave him a short nod, before waving forward some of the gate guards to perform stretcher duty.

Mekior moved ahead, accompanying Gruzz and Jeria as they followed the stretcher to the House of Healing.

"What's the story, Gruzz? Who's the woman?"

"It' Gyv, one of the commanders from the House of Souls. I met her a few years back. What I don't get is what she was doing unconscious, on our doorstep, a testing pin nearby. I checked her out on the long journey back- no obvious signs of taint and her only wound a small, already healed, bite." Gruzz looked ahead at the stretcher-bearers and their burden. "I hope she wakes up. I would like some answers to the questions her presence raises.

Mekior's face scrunched up, brow furrowed in intense concentration as he wandered over to the woman, and held his hands just above her body, chanting a mantra beneath his breathe. He extended his senses to their full, straining to detect any echo of taint, any remnant of a fiend within. He felt swept up in a maelstrom of sensation, he saw the minute variations in the pigment of her skin, the smell of crushed leaves, of old and stale sweat. In all his inspection nothing screamed at him, nothing hinted at the taint within; so he turned to Gruzz, his face relaxed, at peace.

"There is no taint within her, she is pure, clean. There is taint in this corridor, and it walks amongst us." His barbed comment was underscored by a pointed look at Jeria, the disdain he felt towards the half-fiend obvious. Jeria just accepted the barbs, absorbing just one more taunt, the likes of which had peppered his life. Why worry about it- he was an apprentice in the Outwalkers, trusted to leave the city and enter the territory of the devils. So he just walked, his head held high, ignoring the Fiend Hunter.

Gruzz, walking between the two, frowned. It was bad enough they had enemies on the outside; there was no need to fight amongst themselves. He said nothing, at this moment peace seemed to reign, the Fiend Hunter content to deliver barbs within words, nothing more, and Jeria blithely ignoring the taunts. He resolved that the matter must be discussed with Delire; Fiend Hunter and Outwalker often worked together, and any trouble must be resolved before it erupted in some unknown, and potentially hazardous, form.

***

Delire was sitting, piles of paper spread unevenly across her desk and with no order observable within the chaotic mess. She looked up when Gruzz arrived, trailing Jeria behind.

"Heard your patrol was cut short, that you brought an unconscious stranger back with you?"

Gruzz grinned, seating himself carefully in one of the flimsy wooden chairs before her desk. He looked back at Jeria, indicating he should do likewise.

"You asking a question or telling me, Captain? I am not so foolish as to think you haven't already got a full description of the person and the fact that Mekior has given her a clean bill of health." He leaned back, carefully; he could feel the chair creaking beneath him, struggling with his weight.

"Dunno if you've heard, but its Gyv. You've also probably heard of her; from the House of Souls." He watched Delire, hoping to catch a look of surprise on the face of the canny halfling, but he had no such luck.

"Gyv, huh? I'm not foolish enough to doubt your information gathering Gruzz, just as you know about mine within the city. Still, it would be a long way out of her home territory. I thought her and her band never worked more than five days from their base. Any idea what happened to her?"

Gruzz closed his eyes, massaging his temple with a free hand. "I reckon she was testing someone with the pin we found nearby; someone who objected to it and then used poison or something else on her. Whoever did so obviously thought that she would remain unconscious and get eaten, or found by the fiends. It fits the facts we have. Mekior says she is free of taint, she has no obvious wounds, and would have been dead if we had not found her." He sighed, bringing both hands in front of him, inspecting his fingers as he continued.
"We have a different problem though, and it's a biggie. Mekior. He and his fellow Fiend Hunters are going to have a hard time with Jeria. They are all bloody obsessed with killing fiends, and they don't seem to want to be too discriminating when it comes to half-fiends. It's going to be a problem in the future when they need to trust him."

Delire leaned back, looking at Jeria, rather than Gruzz, when she replied.

"You know Mekior's story Gruzz? Let me refresh your memory." She fiddled with a sharp dagger on her desk, one she had been using to open letters. "He grew up in the slums here. Ran with a few of the local gangs and got chased by the guards. Nothing remarkable, nothing beyond the norm for that part of town, nothing that ranked above mere mischief and no one bothered him or the myriad others, clones in the desperation of the starving classes.

Anyways, his parents decided they had had enough of poverty. Somehow, his father got hold of a shipment of iron weapons, real cold iron weapons. Instead of earning a few coins by turning them over to us, as is the law, he decided to peddle them elsewhere, try for the big bucks. He left the city with a cart full of weapons, and his wife and son riding alongside.

The inevitable happened; he took a path that no one had checked in an age, heading deep into the darkness between here and Fort Livian. In the darkness, they were found. By fiends." She paused, letting the facts sink in, captured by fiends smuggling weapons designed to hurt them. "Mekior saw his parents punished. His father faced torture over the period of a week before he died. His mother, abused and used, by the fiends during that week, then suffered her own fate at the hands of the torturers, but did not last as long as his father. The brutal treatment of the fiends in the week before had weakened her. It was Mekior's turn next. He has never spoken about how long he survived or what was done to him, in either the period before his torture, or during his torture, but when we rescued him he was close to death. The sadistic nature of the fiends meant that in order to increase his suffering, the length of the torture, they had not inflicted any gross injuries upon him, rather using their knowledge of pain to cause him to scream for days, never allowing unconsciousness, or the accumulations of wounds to prevent them from enjoying a long session with their victim.

I was the leader of the group that found them. I saw his face as we released him, the pure hatred that drove him to beat on the corpses of his captor, the drive that led him to dig graves for his parents, bury them gently, and all the while swearing vengeance."

She turned to Jeria, addressing him now directly. "He looks at you and he sees that fiend torturing his father, raping his mother, doing whatever was done to him. What happened to him out there in the darkness is locked inside, never spoken of, never told. He will learn to trust you, but only after you have proven yourself to him. It will come in time, I am sure of that. Meanwhile, I will see what I can do to defuse the growing tension. Now both of you go, get some rest. Be back here in two days time." She looked down, ignoring the two, waiting for them to leave.

Gruzz stood, giving her a sloppy salute before walking out her office. Jeria sat, unsure of what to do, until he realised that she really was ignoring him. He, too, left; his salute sharp and perfect. Outside the office Gruzz stood, waiting for him.

"Enjoy the time off, kid. Not too often you get two days furlough after a mere six days out. Now get out there and enjoy yourself. Just remember, keep your mouth shut and don't correct the rumours, or tell anyone any details. This stays with us until we are told otherwise." He put his hand on Jeria's shoulder. "I'm off to see my mother, I'd advise you do the same. Go off, see your family, say hi to your friends, and show off your new threads. He smiled, "it's the first time you get to wear that uniform as a member!"

With a smile and a wave, the half-ogre left, leaving Jeria watching after him. Family, yeah, I'll go visit my dad in some fiend hall, or my mom in the Halls of the Dead. He wandered through the city, watching the people at work, and smiled as the children in the marketplace followed behind pointing at his uniform. It felt good, but the loneliness of his life followed even closer than the children.

***

In the Halls of Healing, Kiarta leaned over the outsider. Her hands glowed from her healing charms as the energy flowed and removed the last remnants of the bite. She looked down at the sleeping woman and smoothed her hair before placed her hand upon her brow. The healing energy filled Gyv again, flowing through her, touching her in her sleep. She smiled and opened her eyes, and grinned, silently, as she saw a human, not the face of her dreams, looking down at her.

Her mouth felt dry, thick, her tongue a plank of wood not wanting to move, yet she managed to croak out, "Where am I? What is this place?"

Kiarta's smile was broad; her voice echoed the pleasure in her smile. "You are in the House of Healing in Weald Hall. I am Kiarta, one of the healers here. Rest you are safe here,"

Safe, the thought rushed into her head. As she felt herself drifting back into her sleep, she thought she could hear mocking laughter in the background.

PLEASE Comment

I would like to get a feel for what people think of the story - please comment, make suggestions etc.

Thanks

Rule of Darkness- Updated 26 February 2007

The four sat in silence; Gruzz, Jeria, Gyv and Mekior looked at each other with no one willing to break the silence. The creaking of the door as it opened caused all heads to turn in its direction; four pairs of eyes followed the halfling that entered the room. Instantly recognisable to them all as Delire, her small steps carried her across the room rapidly.

Delire took a seat opposite them, looking at them one by one before talking.

"Thanks, all of you. By now the three of you have heard Gyv's story, how she was bitten by a tainted squirrel, found herself outside the forest, and tried to commit suicide by using the testing pin."

"It would seem that the pin did not kill her, but did destroy the taint. Mekior, you inspected her, tested her, would you agree?"

From where he sat, Mekior leaned forward, a large smile on his face. "Oh, yes. I can happily confirm that I detect no trace or taint of the fiends about her."

At his side, Gyv cringed inwardly, but remained outwardly calm. She saw all the faces around her; Delire who had come to interrogate her and find out her story; the two Outwalkers that had found her and brought her into the city; and the Fiend Hunter that had inspected her and declared her free of taint. If I'm so pure, what is the laughter I hear every night? Why can I not speak of that face, that voice, the laughter that resounds within?

Gyv came to, noticing that the conversation had stopped, that everyone was looking at her. "Sorry, I, uh, just lost track of what was being said."

"It's ok Gyv, you're still recovering. I was just asking if you wished to return home or remain within the city?" Delire got up, stepped forward to pat her hand, her child size hands rough against Gyv's skin, the calluses from training with the sword spoiling any illusion of childlike innocence. "You are welcome to stay here as long as you need. Knowledge of your work has come to us, and we are honoured by your presence." Delire backed off, sitting back down on her chair, her short legs swinging above the floor.

Gyv bowed her head, thinking. Could she go home when she was unsure of herself, when she did not trust herself or her dreams? She was better off here, in a city with all the protections that her simple home in the House of Souls lacked. She looked up, opening her mouth to tell them her decision, and then unbelieving, listened to what her own mouth was saying. "Thank you; I miss my home, my husband and children. I do not know where I am, though. Your city is but a rumour where I live, and I do not know where I left the forest, how I got within, or how I will get back."

"That is why we are gathered here. Gruzz volunteered to escort you. He offered his skills in your service; my guess is that he just wants to get out of the city. Jeria is apprenticed to Gruzz and will go where he goes." She turned to Mekior, looking him in the eyes, "I need to know if you will accompany them. Gruzz is knowledgeable on the outside, as is Gyv, but if there is trouble an extra sword may be needed. I want you to go with. Provide your skills with sword, and, more importantly, your ability to detect the fiends before they can be seen."

Mekior looked at Delire, and than at Gruzz. He knew them both by reputation and trusted their instincts. The woman and half-fiend were unknown quantities. He trusted the woman's reputation, but he doubted the half-fiend and feared facing the unknown with one such as him at his side. Then there was the outside. The tunnels were comfortable enough: known, sheltered, part of home and the environment he knew. The outside was, well, the outside. Unknown, dangerous, fiend ridden, the last decided him.

"I'm in. Lets hope we do run into some fiends, I have some scores to settle." He settled back, letting the others talk, plan the trip. He would go along with them; his bow at the ready, his sword there to cut through fiendish skin should any show themselves. The conversation washed around him as he dreamed of fiendish blood pooling on the ground below.

***

The gap to the outside stood before them. Gruzz had gone first to check on the area outside, to ensure its safety. The rest stood and watched Mekior as he stood before the gap. Sweat came down his face, his hands gripping either side of the gap, knuckles white. He looked back at them, his eyes showing panic. He backed off from the gap, shaking his head.

"I can't do it. Outside. It's too big, too much."

He collapsed, head held between his hands, tears of frustration falling from his face. "I can't do it. Forgive me."

Gyv stood, looking at him, frustrated. Jeria pushed forward, moving Gyv out the way, knelt beside him.

"I went out for the first time a mere six days before I met you. I stood at this gap, felt the air from the outside and wondered how I could exist without the comfort of the cavern, the soothing presence of rock around me." He stopped talking as he saw Mekior turn to him, look at him. He started again, aware that the Fiend Hunter was fixated on his words. "I don't know how I did it, I took that one last deep breathe and forced myself out, breaching the gap, entering the world outside the way a babe must leave its mother womb. Once out, it was a revelation. The air is different, sweeter. And the trees, they are wondrous, not the small little things that you find within; out there they are amazing, huge, beyond your imagination. Just stand, walk to the gap, breathe in and walk out." Jeria stopped, hoping that his speech had been effective.

They waited, watching as Mekior stood slowly, gathered himself, breathed in deeply and virtually dived out the gap. Jeria followed quickly, knowing he was breaking the exit order they had agreed on, but deciding he needed to be there to see how Mekior handled the outside. He found him hugging the ground, rigid in terror; eyes wide open at the empty sky overhead. Behind him, he heard Gyv coming out, stepping up beside him.

"Just chuck him inside and let us get moving. He's going to be useless to us."

Jeria looked at her, saw Gruzz come up to the couple standing over the rigid Mekior.

"Jeria, take his arms, lift him up. Get him under cover; we’ll give him until morning to get out of this. If he's still like this in the morning we'll send him home." Gruzz watched as Jeria lifted the close to catatonic Mekior to his feet, half dragging him to the cover of the trees. Gyv followed, automatically erasing the tracks they left. She felt cleaner, safer under the trees, once more on her way to her home; but she feared the voice that had spoken for her, that had changed her choice to stay away from those she would not endanger.

***

The morning light arrived. Jeria had climbed into the upper branches of a tree, from whence he watched as the golden orb lifted above the canopy of the forest, as the sky went from black, to turquoise to alive with golden fire. He watched, elated, loving the way the sun reflected off the clouds, the way the trees changed colour in the light. He watched for as long as he could and then, with a sigh, descended to the ground, to where Gruzz stood with Mekior and Gyv.

With the light, and the canopy of the forest overhead, Mekior had recovered. He looked at the rest of the group, his face a mask of misery knowing how these people had all seen him in his moment of weakness. Worse, the half-fiend had been the one to push him, to move him, to get his courage up. Mekior felt shamed, a failure, one of his enemy better than he. He walked behind Gruzz, his mind working on the problem, worrying that if they should leave the canopy of the forest he would be paralysed by the sight of the open sky yet again.

The group stepped quietly through the shadows, the occasional beams of light that shone through the leaves overhead illuminating the forest floor in patches, giving it an eerie quality. They travelled mostly in silence, their thoughts company to their silent march. Mekior worried at his weakness, fearing his fear of the open might betray him, Gruzz worried about the path, unknown, moving into territory he did not know intimately. For Jeria it was fear of the fiends, never met but always lurking on the edge of perception. And Gyv? She feared the voice she heard every night, the laughter that haunted her sleep and stole her will. She looked back over her shoulder, at the mountain peak that was fading behind her. If you asked her why, she would not have been able to tell you, it just felt right, a compulsive action that helped her to orient herself as they moved deeper into the trees that soon hid the sight of the mountain behind them.

***

Two days travel passed uneventfully beneath the green canopy, ears strained for the sounds of movement, for a glimpse of anything that may prove threatening. They saw nothing and the silence was only occasionally broken as Gruzz took time to point something out to Jeria, to teach him some of the vast lore and knowledge of the outside world he had accumulated over years of travel. Gyv fell into the same pattern, pulling Jeria aside, pointing out plants, small insects and creatures, and telling him of their properties; which were useful and which to be avoided. Even Mekior occasionally dropped his hostility towards the half-fiend to point out the minute details that provided clues as to what was, and was not, tainted. The other three often thought him crazy, not seeing what he said was obvious, but never doubted his word.

Jeria absorbed it all, his thirst for knowledge of the outside world insatiable. He found himself lying awake at nights, peering through gaps in the trees trying to catch a glimpse of the stars above. The world was a revelation to him, so much more than the stone halls of his world before; so much more alive, more bewildering. His ancestry meant that he did not need the same amount of rest as his compatriots; he used this unnatural stamina to stay awake for long hours, conversing with Gyv and Gruzz as they sat on guard duty. He used the time of Mekior's watch to get the sleep he needed, knowing that this, too, marked him as different to the Fiend Hunter, and added to the sense of otherness that the Fiend Hunter hated within him.

It was just after midday on the third day when it happened. Gruzz led them through a thicket of thorn bushes. The group was careful to make sure no one was scratched; Gruzz had noted the reddish sap clinging to the points of some thorns as they approached, and Mekior had agreed with his assessment that the bushes were tainted. None noticed that Gyv, as she went through last behind the rest, carefully placed a thorn just under her nail, her eyes gleaming slightly in the dim light as she did so. Gyv herself did not notice, forgetting a scant few seconds later that she had done so.

Beyond the thorn bushes was a small clearing, all entrances similarly covered by the tainted plants. Within the centre of the clearing was a small altar, the sides stained with blood, the ground around it reddened from a recent sacrifice. The smell of dried and rotting blood reached their nose, and they instinctively stepped back, looking about the clearing for whoever tended to the site.

Gruzz knelt down, scanning the area, carefully noting the placement of every strand of grass, every root that he could see. The silence remained unbroken save for the sounds of small insects rasping and the occasional bird calling out its territory. Everything seemed in place, peaceful; only the altar and its bloody remnants any indication that this was different to the myriad other clearings they had marched by, and through. Eventually he stood, moving forward slowly, the group following behind as he skirted along the edges of the clearing, keeping his distance from the bloodied altar.

Half way round the circle, with the altar to his right, the air shimmered, and the temperature in the air rising as if a curtain had been lifted into Hell itself. Standing on the altar, with a smile upon its face, stood a fiend. Easily nine feet tall it had massive, heavily muscled arms, thick gold and platinum bracers upon its wrists, and an armoured skirt around its waist. Faint flames danced around him, dying away as he jumped down, landing with catlike grace on the grass.

"What, passing by without saying hello? How rude!" The fiend's voice was melodic, cultured. It looked at the group, its face betraying no warmth, though it stood with a smile upon its face. Then his lips moved, to reveal rows of sharp fangs, his hands came up in front, claws rhythmically clacking against each other, making an odd noise. The stand off did not last long.

From where he stood Mekior saw the fiend, saw the hated enemy standing there, a cold smile upon its face. His war cry was inarticulate, but his actions more than eloquent enough! In one smooth motion, he jumped forward, closing the gap to the enemy, his sword being drawn in mid-air, striking down at the fiend as he landed, the momentum of his movement providing devastating power to his blow.

And from behind he heard laughter, the image in front of him flickering, dying away. He moved just in time, he ducked and rolled away, nimble despite the confines of his armour; his sword spinning round with the rest of him, blocking the claw that had appeared from behind, that had been swung with enough force to decapitate him with a single strike. The claw clanged off his sword as he twisted his body around, and brought his sword back to a ready position before him. Mekior saw Jeria charging forward, his axe at the ready with Gruzz close behind and Gyv drawing her bow.

The fiend moved, it flipped itself over, striking with its feet at Mekior while, somehow, managing to twist itself so that Jeria’s axe passed harmlessly by. Once again, Mekior found himself forced onto the defensive, his sword sweeping up to block the taloned feet, keeping the wickedly sharp edges from his face. Gruzz’s axe crashed into his sword, sending vibrations up his arm. With a look of despair, Gruzz caught Mekior’s eye; the devil had manoeuvred the two to perfection; Gruzz blocked the line of sight from Gyv, stopping her from releasing her arrow for fear of hitting the massive half-ogre, Mekior's blade had done double duty as shield for the fiend.

Frustrated, Gruzz reversed his swing, sending his axe low, while Jeria cut high, Mekior's sword slashing through the centre. All hit nothing, stumbling off balance as the fiend disappeared, laughing as it reappeared atop the altar.

"Ah, all the poor little heroes can't hit one little devil?" It spread its arms wide, releasing darts of flame that shot out at the three. They dodged aside, scattering in all directions, Gruzz cried out in pain, engulfed in fire as three of the darts shot into him. Mekior ducked beneath the darts that shot towards him, rolling beneath them and feeling their heat as they passed above him, setting alight some of the dry thorn bushes behind to send billowing sheets of foul smelling smoke into the air. He came up with his sword and stabbed into the gut of the devil, spilling its entrails to the ground, leaving the altar slick with its blood. Jeria, in turn spun out, allowing the flaming missiles to pass him by. They singed his hair, leaving red, inflamed skin in their wake. He swung out with his axe, the momentum from how he had dodged the missiles imparted to the axe, the blade a blur as it chopped into the fiend and sent its arm, trailing a stream of blood, into the night.

Gyv, her bow lowered to the ground, watched as the fiend collapsed and felt a clutch of horror. She was sure it had looked at her, had winked as it went down. She felt cold, fearful and still could not tell the others her fears, how the face laughed mockingly at her in the night. She looked at them, hoping that they would see the despair, the inability to communicate, upon her face. Neither of the two said anything, engrossed with the damage done to Gruzz; they moved across to where Gruzz’s body lay and they looked at the body burnt and blackened, unrecognisable if they had not already known who it was.

The three stood there, Gruzz’s burnt body at the feet of Mekior and Jeria, the gutted, dismembered corpse of the fiend just a short way off. They moved off into the forest, stripping the devil of its items, taking the corpse of Gruzz to bury nearby. The night was cold, the stars uncaring as the three sat, contemplating their loss; and the altar in the forest that seemed to have no reason for existence.

Well,

I'm hooked. I can't wait for the next installment. Too bad about Gruzz, looks like Jeria and Mekior will have to get along now more than ever before.

Nice job here GhostKnight.

Thanks for the feedback. As for Jeria and Mekior- well, the future has lots in store for them! And now for the next chapter!

Chapter 5
As had become usual, dawn found Jeria up a tree, his face turned to watch as the sun appeared over the horizon, lighting the forest, reflecting off the sea of green made by the forest canopy. He watched the sunrise and imagined he could see the soul of Gruzz rise; the song of the birds, the lonely cry of a hunting eagle in the distance, the light pouring down from above, his accompaniment to the afterlife. He thought he caught the moment Gruzz' soul entered the realm of the Earth Mother, to hunt and wander for eternity amongst the plants and animals he had loved, as a flock of birds headed up, disappearing into the sunrise. He sat awhile, in silence, his thoughts on what Gruzz had spoken of and taught him. Back on the ground he moved to where Gyv tended a small, smokeless fire and Mekior sat wrapped in his thoughts.

Mekior looked up, giving him a wary gaze. "Spoken to your family from up there?" The Fiend Hunter's voice was low, anger and sorrow evident within. "Did you let them know where to find us next? Where they should send their minions to intercept us?" Mekior stood; belligerent, provocative; pushing his face into the face of the half-fiend, his shorter height no hindrance to him in his attempt to intimidate Jeria.

Jeria looked at the Fiend Hunter and saw the haunted look in his eyes. "It was not my doing. No more than it was of your or Gyv's doing. I grieve for Gruzz; he taught me much in the short time we were together." He stepped back from the tension created by being in close proximity to the hostile Fiend Hunter.

"I grieve, Mekior; it was not my fault, nor the fault of any other that stands here. Gruzz himself warned against the unknown, the seemingly random actions that the devils perform; their plans and strategies beyond those of us mere mortals."

Gyv quailed inside, her face hidden as she leaned over the pot of boiling water oats would soon be added to. Am I blameless? Did I somehow lead the enemy to us? She gazed into the water, into the rising bubbles, wishing that, like the bubbles, her memories would float to the top of the surface of her mind. What happened to me out there? It takes a week to get to where I was, so where was I the other seven days? I have to know! Where was I? Am I blameless? She peered into the bubbles, wishing she could speak of her fears. And as she looked, the face appeared in the water, laughing, winking at her as it disappeared in a rain of oats.

***

The companions journeyed onwards. Gyv moved to the lead, as the one most familiar with the outdoors and the only one of the three that knew how to survive away from the rock and stone of the great cavern. They travelled in silence, the desultory conversation that rose to the surface on occasion always bitter. Mekior blamed Jeria for Gruzz' demise and Gyv, too absorbed in her own fears, her own world, failed to try and defuse the growing tension.

They walked for three days. Clouds gathered, growing laden and heavy with grey, growing darker each day as winter approached and the snow gathered overhead. At each dawn and dusk, Gyv looked at the clouds and saw how they gathered, the red tinge they cast when the sun passed through them. On midday of the third day, she looked up, looked at the clouds, and drew in her breath.

"Mekior, look at those clouds, tell me what you think?" Her voice carried an urgency that grabbed both men's attention, sending their gazes into the sky. Mekior frowned, not understanding what he was feeling, what it meant. Jeria looked at the clouds and felt comforted, as if the clouds called to him, to his blood, summoned him home.

Mekior's voice was soft, barely audible. "I feel it. They are wrong. But how can anything so huge be in the sky? Whatever those clouds are hiding takes up the whole sky. What is that large?"

"Nothing. Its not that something is hiding within the clouds, it is the clouds themselves. I have heard of this, but never seen it near here. Travellers from the south, bringing tales of warmer lands, have told us of rains; rains that fall and burn. We must find shelter. If the rain is as lethal as the stories have described, we must not get caught in the downpour." Gyv started searching, desperate to find somewhere safe, somewhere they could secure themselves against the coming storm.

It was Jeria who found them shelter, following the hard to see markers that Gruzz had shown him, at the time nothing more than an interesting bit of outside lore. The signs of an underground tunnel of a man-ant colony, the entrance through a dried out, dead tree; subtle but easily found by those with the knowledge to do so. They worried they might come across the strange, hybrid creatures but the tunnels were dry and completely devoid of any signs of habitation or use. Throughout the tunnels the smell of old, dried sand mixed with some strange, bitter smell,

They moved deeper within, turning corners, relying on the navigational sense of the two cavern dwellers to lead them back later. They descended a short ramp, and wandered through corridors that wound round in wide spiral, eventually coming to an area of rooms. Here they found signs of devastation; doors ripped from their hinges, holes gouged into walls, areas of sand that cracked underfoot, fused and melted from some intense heat. They wandered through the rooms, finding nothing more than the signs of some great conflict, the war that had destroyed this nest.

They continued down the spirals; the scorched areas increasing in frequency, with more and more of the sand-fused-into-glass areas occurring. Eventually, they reached the bottom of the spiral. The chamber was huge; the centre taken up by an elevated dais, pillars reaching high, their tops lost in the darkness above. They wandered through the room, finding the scratches and chips made from weapons crashing into the walls around.

"This was recent." In the silence of the hall, Mekior's voice seemed loud. "There is no dust as yet, but the rooms here have earthen walls." He walked round the room, trailing his finger along the walls, scuffling at the dirt by his feet. "The walls are well made, sealed; probably with the saliva they use for building. I would still expect some dust if this was long abandoned." He stopped suddenly, bending down.

The others watched as he felt around the floor, evidently trying to find something. With a look of disgust, he gave up, turning to Jeria. "Come here half-fiend, make those devilish claws of yours useful. There's a crack in the floor here, get your claws in there and heave."

Jeria came over, sticking his claws into crack, feeling a switch towards the back. A bit more effort, and some skin scraped off his finger, and there was a distinct *click*. By the dais, they saw a trapdoor fall away, leaving stairs going down. Gyv immediately raised her bow, making sure that the area would be covered if anything approached. Mekior, too, had turned to face the dais as the stairs were revealed. Only Jeria, raising himself from the floor, thought he saw flames dance within Gyv's eyes. He shook his head, convinced that he must have imagined it, after all, Mekior had said she was free of taint.

Time passed, and, convinced that nothing was going to suddenly jump out at them, the three moved forward, looking down the stairs into the depths below. From below came the stench of burnt, rotting flesh, something bittersweet mixed in with it. The eyes of Jeria and Gyv penetrated the darkness, but Mekior had to accept their description of stairs going down, until they met a corner. Mekior took the lead; he descended, headed into the darkness, his sword at the ready, trying not to breathe too deeply as the stench assailed his nose. So it was that he was first to see it, the first to face the horror that the hive had become.

The pile of bodies was immense. What had once been a room filled with warmth, a womb within which eggs grew to maturity and hatched their contents under the watchful eye of nursemaids and breeders, was a vast charnel pit. Every egg was broken up, the contents spilt and left rotting on the floor. In some, they were too new, too young and there was nothing more than the liquid of the egg; in others, they were almost fully formed babies, their antlike hindquarters still soft, their babyish, human faces sublimely peaceful in death. Over all this, the bodies of the adults had been thrown, a pile of those who sought to protect the heart of their people. The bodies had been burnt, dismembered or simply cut down, they ranged from those of healthy warriors who had stood up to the invaders; to the old, the babies and small children, amongst them a little boy clutching a toy sword he had thought to use against the fiendish soldiers. On top, lay the mother of them all, her massive body carved up, dismembered, cruelly placed over a pile of dead babies. The queen of the hive was disfigured, defaced and mocked in her death, a message to all that came this way, a demonstration of the cruelty of the fiends above.

Mekior saw the carnage and charged back up the steps, heaving along the way, not wanting to defile the chamber with his weakness. Tears streamed down Jeria’s face as he gazed on the scene. He followed Mekior up the stairs, rage building within, and his hatred against those who could perpetuate such carnage fuelling his desire to strike back. Gyv stood, looking at the carnage. She wanted to feel the sickness of Mekior, the sadness and hatred of Jeria, but instead she heard the laughter, the face leering at her, challenging her. She ran, past the two men who were ascending the stairs, into the hall above, sinking to her knees, waiting for something, but not knowing what.

They sat out the storm in silence, occasionally one of them going high enough to look out, to see if the storm had abated, and passed them by. Jeria sat staring out for a long time and watched as the red tinted water fell from the sky, and saw how those plants free of taint smoked, their leaves browning and shrivelling under the deluge. He watched, and his thoughts on the bodies within, the fiends without, and the hopelessness of fighting when the world itself turned against life.