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

[Rikandur Azebol]

Crafty Secheriab is so crafty fiend. Mention of celestial aid, wich would be less dangerous to the mortals, didn't even was hinted. It is so cool to watch him wrap the emissaries around his little finger wich such skill.

 

[Ghostknight]

Chapter 15

A week of talks, filled with arguing, fighting and bickering over irrelevant topics, followed. Secheriab varied from genial and benign, to frighteningly irritated and enraged. The four representatives spent their time alternating between trying to court his favour to their viewpoint, to avoiding his gaze and anger. Somehow an agreement was reached. It was a good agreement, everyone felt they could live with it, yet everyone also believed they had been hard done by.

"So it is decided. Finally, we seem to be finished. All we need now is for this to be ratified by your four cities and I will send advisors and representatives to start on our agreed path." Secheriab looked around the table. "Is it also agreed that Sister Egrit and Prince D'Fir will take the agreement back, while Mekior, Gyv and Jeria search out the Fallen?"

D'Fir answered quickly, not looking at the rest when he addressed Secheriab. "We believe that would be for the best. None of us here are beholden to each other and certain differences have manifested amongst us, which mean that, perhaps. this group is not the best one for working together on an extended basis. We were chosen for political, not practical, reasons."

Mekior snorted from his place down the side of the table. "Now there's an understatement! It is a reality that Fort Livian and the Tower have been far more secure than most others; the Tower simply because it is impossible to find and Fort Livian because, though known to Jelial, its defences have proven too strong to justify the cost of an invasion. Both of you have the luxury of philosophies that we do not subscribe to. It is just as well though. The diversity amongst us is an important weapon against the regimentation and constrained thinking of our foe."

Those present were silent, quick glances showed the guilty acknowledgement that Mekior's words carried the truth, that where peace should be between them, should help to glue them together, instead there were idiotic arguments over different philosophies that pushed them apart. The meeting was adjourned, and the participants returned to their own rooms, each preparing themselves for their chosen task.

***

The next morning differed form the previous days, gone was the regimentation of a meal followed by hours of discussion with food and drink ever replenished. Today they stood in the groups which would sally forth; the packs of Gyv, Jeria and Mekior filled with the necessary rations and paraphernalia needed for an extended stay in the wilderness. D'Fir stepped forward and embraced each of the others in turn.

"Go in peace, may the Forge Father keep your souls safe within his anvil and let no harm come to you" D'Fir stepped back, watching as Sister Egrit followed his example.

"May the Void watch over you. May the Void guide your voyage to its end. May the void protect you all and bring you back in peace and health." Her hand stroked Gyv's scarred face, a tender caress. "We go to safety, you to face further dangers, not the least of which is to face a fearsome foe that needs to be turned to an ally. I pray that you do not pay further for your bravery and willingness to do that which so many fear; to approach fiends as friends and not foes. She reached back, pulling out a healing potion and passing it to them. You now have both the potions we had left, try not to all get hurt badly at the same time."

Secheriab watched their parting, his face unreadable. "Well now, if you are all set, you can all be sent to where you need to go. Sister Egrit, Prince D'Fir, the emissary will go with you and provide transportation to an area of safety from whence you can journey with ease to your cities. He will also go with you to represent Me to your rulers; an ambassador to ease the coldness between us. As for you Gyv, Mekior and Jeria, I will open a portal to the outside. It will open in the foothills of the Skyne peaks, over a thousand miles from here. The information I have indicates that the encampment of Aspith is somewhere in that region. I have a minion there who should greet you, though there is doubt as to his loyalty." Secheriab hesitated, his voice indicating his uncertainty as he continued, "This region is most likely unknown to any of you. It is distant, and who travels such distances in these days? I have been able to gather some very sketchy information, my minions are few and their capacity to gather information limited; there may be other cities in that region, both hidden and fiend ruled ones. Take care, not all hidden cities are necessarily allies.

To return without travelling the entire distance through unknown territory, return to the spot at which you arrive at and speak my name five times in succession. I will hear and activate a portal to bring you back."

The three shot questioning looks at him, but Secheriab seemed disinclined to talk further, his back to them as his hands and words moulded space and opened a door shaped portal. On the other side, a sunny day could be seen. The sun stood high in the sky, shining down onto rubble-strewn ground. Massive trees towered into the sky, their tops out of view. The three viewed the scene; taking a moment to examine the area beyond until they were satisfied that it harboured no immediate danger. Mekior saluted the companions they were leaving behind and stepped through, followed by Jeria and then Gyv.

"We're on our own. Do you think the others will find the Fallen and come back?" D'Fir was staring at the space where the portal had stood, now showing just plain rock.
"Have faith, D'Fir. I believe that the Gods themselves must have long since tired of the oppression and rule of the fiends. Perhaps we are the generation which will finally free the world from the fiends, maybe now is the time when success lies within our grasp." Sister Egrit stopped speaking, but seemed to be chanting to a low hum under her breath.

"Tell me, D'Fir, how familiar are you with the prophecy of Gerogh?" At the mention of the prophecy, Sister Egrit noted that Secheriab became much stiller, his head held at an attentive angle.

"Have you ever wondered if it applies to us, particularly to Jeria? Ever since I met him I cannot get the 'Refrain of the Keystone' from my mind"

Her hum got louder, her voice breaking into a chant

The child will come from one abused
Torn from the womb of a mother
Hidden from the father
Her life forfeit from the moment of creation
Not for him the love of the mother
But for him the hate of the other
The bringer of bitterness yet applauded by many
Who shall walk at his side when he dares accost the Fall
The Hidden and Marked true to their Call.
From beyond the Gate he brings our succour
From within his heart our release
His soul the key to our ease​

"Does that not make you think of Jeria? I cannot fathom the line of the Hidden and the Marked. Could the Hidden and Marked be Gyv and Mekior, but which is which? And the last stanza has always been ridiculously unclear, interpreted as everything from the Gods coming themselves to an Angelic army storming the strongholds of Jelial. Of course, most agree that the last stanza means that whoever this is, will die." She sighed, looked at D'Fir and then at the Emissary and Secheriab who were making no secret of their interest. "Prophecies are rarely helpful; always clear after the fact, and never telling you what you really need to know."

"Aside from rumours, we have heard nothing of the prophecy of Gerogh." Secheriab's voice was flat, no emotion coming to the fore, "From what I heard within that segment, it does sound like it could be referring to Jeria, but, as you say, it is generic enough that it is wide open to interpretation. I would suggest you resume your speculation once you are safely ensconced within the bosom of your people."

On cue, the Emissary came forward, reaching out and touching each of the others.

"Close your eyes, both of you. D'Fir, if you would please envision in your mind our destination. I will take us there as soon as I have enough of a feel for the location to do so without getting us stuck in solid rock." The Emissary waited, its own eyes closed, its face wrinkled in effort.

D'Fir did as directed, his eyes closed, his mind wandering to the towers and battlements of the massive fort, its market filled with throngs of people as the smell of incense and unwashed bodies mingled. His mind wandered through the city streets, bringing longing for his home to the fore, for the massive audience hall within the Royal Keep, the gardens tendered and filled with all manner of plants, their like normally not found beneath the Earth. He could feel the vibrations of the Emissary's voice, even though he could not understand the words. The change in temperature and footing underneath caused him to stumble, and, by the way the Emissary held him steady, it at least seemed it had not come as a surprise to him.

"Open your eyes, we are there."

D'Fir and Sister did as directed, and stared at the massive iron gates of Fort Livian before them.

"Sorry I couldn't bring you closer to where you wanted to go, D'Fir. The city is heavily warded against such entry. No doubt to stop my cousins from just ignoring your defences and having their way with your city." The Emissary chuckled. "Now use those princely charms of yours to get us in. I wait in anticipation for a rain of arrows to fall upon my head."

D'Fir gave a dark look in his direction. "The city is warded; you should not have even been able to get us this close. I had expected us to arrive much further out, and to be surrounded by armed guards, and those that stand in their support."

The Emissary gave him a bland look. "Yes, you're right. There was a redirect spell set on the city, which should have done as you said. I do not know who set it up, but it contained a weakness I used to bring us to a less obvious area. Never fear, I shall tell your mages within how to fix this hole in your defence. After all, isn't that what allies are for?"

Somehow, D'Fir did not feel comforted, how many other gaps in their defences had this fiend noted, and did not speak off? He set off around the wall, not waiting for the others but expecting them to follow. It was not a short walk, the city was immense, the walls high and curved outwards, smoothed to make them almost impossible to climb unless the climber could hold on like a spider and cling to smooth rock while upside down. Eventually, they came to a guard trail, which lead them around to the main gate and the soldiers that stood there on watch. D'Fir was known, but he caused consternation with his companions. Sister Egrit was unknown and the Emissary was an obvious, and powerful, fiend. The crowds around the gate towards which they walked scattered, a solid line of guards taking their place.

"Stop! If we go closer, they will shoot first and ask questions of our corpses afterwards. In addition, there are mages hidden behind them, out of our sight but ready. If we wait they will send someone to us who can summon my brother or others to vouch for us." D'Fir sat as he finished, hands open in front of him, his axe sheathed upon his back. Sister Egrit copied him, ready to wait.

"So mote it be." The Emissary sounded bored, resigned to the delay. His large, compound eyes watched the soldiers, taking in details that the two mortals with whom he sat could have no hope of noticing from this distance.

***

Mekior, Gyv and Jeria stared at the forest before them. The trees were unfamiliar to them, though many of the smaller plants were familiar and no different to the ones they were familiar with from experience. The three stared at the area around them; the strange forest in front, the rocky, rubble strewn area leading up to the mountainside behind, and to either side of them.

"Anyone got any ideas as to where we go now?" Mekior turned in circles as he spoke. It had been five years since his first foray into the outdoors, and since then he had remained safe below, the comfort of the enclosing cavern walls of the underground network around him. He felt uncomfortable, not the unreasoning, blind panic, the numbing paralysing fear he had felt the first time, but he still wished that he could be elsewhere. Why me? Who says someone else couldn't end up out here for a change?

Gyv and Jeria, however, were both luxuriating in the fresh air, the aroma of the trees different from the ones with which they were familiar. Jeria walked over to one of them and ran his hand down its smooth side. By jumping, he was just able to reach a low hanging branch and pluck one of its massive, white veined leaves.

"Marvellous, isn't it? I have never seen their like! The size of these trees is unbelievable, and these leaves unlike any I have seen." He turned it over, tearing it in the middle, watching the thick white sap leak out the torn flesh. A sharp smell rose, puckering his nose with its pungent, acidic aroma. He dropped the leaf, coughing from the effects of the smell.

"That's why I hate it out here. Underground it is so much easier to understand everything, and know what is happening." Mekior watched Jeria, wondering if he needed help. The coughing fit passed, Jeria gulping down water from the water skin that Gyv shoved into his mouth.

"It is much better if you stay out of the forest." The voice drifted to them, thin and extraordinarily high pitched. "The trees don't like it when they get hurt. They like to hurt back!"

The three turned, looking in the direction from which the voice had come, but could not see anything beyond the rocks and rubble of the rest of the open, rock strewn, area. Gyv slowly walked forward, placing her feet carefully as stones shifted beneath her and threatened to spill her to the ground.

"Who are you? Show yourself! Are you the guide from Secheriab?" Her voice rang out, echoing off the stone around them.

"Secheriab knows not what beauty Jelial brings to this realm, but you asked to see me. Let me show you." The ground beneath them moved. They struggled to stay on their feet, but only Gyv succeeded. Jeria was rolled near to the forest edge; Mekior landed badly on his arm and could feel it bend beneath him, pain shooting up. Thus, it was only Gyv that was standing, and ready to react, when the creature burst out from beneath the rock, throwing it into the air as it did so, the massive rock narrowly missing her.

She looked at it. The rock had covered the hole in which it had lain in wait, the hole hidden and thus its depth unknowable. The creature's shoulders were double the width of a man's, though it was only marginally taller. Huge rolls of fat defined its body, giving it a comical, almost baby-like look. Gyv did not find it comical at all, she had seen it throw off a rock that would have taken a team of men to move; that fat concealed hidden muscle. Though naked, its sex was impossible to determine, folds of fat hid any hint of genitalia, of masculinity or femininity.

It laughed; its high pitched voice hideous, hurting her ears, making her clap her hands to them to stop that cruel, rending sound. Then, it charged. The ground shook as it approached, running over Jeria, grinding him into the rock as it passed. It swung its massive arm, blindingly fast, so fast that Gyv, struggling to clutch at her ears and stop that mind numbing sound had no chance to avoid it. The fat arm hit her in her midriff, doubling her over before she was lifted and tossed over its shoulder, where she landed hard amongst the rocks, and her head bounced off the ground, making stars dance and the world spin before blackness fell.

Mekior lay in pain. His sword was held high in his good left arm. He looked at the creature, hoping it would give him enough time, hoping it would not come to investigate until he was ready. He concentrated, let the magic within his blood pool where the bone was shattered, poking into his skin. He could feel it knitting, the pain flaring in bursts as the magic pushed away the wound, mending bone, flesh and blood vessels. Finally it was done, but he left the arm dangling limply. He dared a look in the creature's direction, fear clutched at him as he saw the way it dragged Jeria's inert body.

Is he alive? What is that creature planning to do? He watched as the creature started stripping Jeria, removing his armour, and clothing beneath. Then its intent became all too clear as it produced a gutting knife. With an inarticulate cry, Mekior came to his feet, sword at the ready.

"You are still awake human? Never mind. Once I am done with you, you will join your friend in the cooking pot! Secheriab said to lead him, Jelial said to eat him. Guess whom I prefer to listen to!" The reedy voice came to him, trying to distract him, cause him to drop his guard. The tactic, the magic, would have been effective against a human, and for once Mekior was glad he was not.

Pretending confusion he stared at the creature. "Secheriab and Jelial are working together?" He slurred his words, letting his sword drop noticeably, staggering as if the magic to confuse, embedded within the words, had taken hold of his mind.

"Secheriab and Jelial will never kiss and make up, but one is boss and the other pays better!" As it finished speaking, it suddenly jumped to the side, sending a massive, fat leg in his direction, unbelievably aimed high at his head, something that should have been impossible for a creature of its bulk. But Mekior was expecting an attack, and, not as helpless as his opponent thought, ducked beneath the attack, his sword staying high, using both his strength and the momentum of the creatures kick towards him to put power behind the blow. The strength behind the kick ripped the sword from his hand, but the damage had been done. The creature collapsed, blood pouring out from the stump, the remains of the leg hanging on by just a ragged piece of flesh. Ignoring the creature as it bled to death, Mekior walked over to Gyv, and then to Jeria.

Thanks be to the Gods they are alright, battered and unconscious, but alive. Question is, what now? If that was the guide Secheriab intended for us, then where do we search in this godforsaken wilderness? More importantly, how did Jelial know we were coming here and who to pay off?

***

Jelial sat sipping on the wines produced by his prize estate. The vintage was fruitier than most, the aroma strong and the colour a deep, rich red. He contemplated it, enjoying the moment of silence and stillness. It was interrupted by noise coming from entrance to his private lounge.

"Who is there?"

"My Lord, it is Priet. I come with news."

"Very well, speak quickly then; your presence is not wanted." Jelial looked at the tiny imp. The least of devils, it made for an excellent go between. Intelligent enough to do as told, yet so lacking in power as to make it ridiculous for it to even consider usurping the throne or vying for attention of those seeking the throne.

"My Lord, the spy within Secheriab's domain has been silenced. We do not know why."

"Silenced? Secheriab cannot know of our act against those in the Skyne peaks, he would be hampered in his divinations of that area, the same as we are. That accursed son of Gerion carries more magic in his blood than he is aware! Go, your message is delivered."

So Sechariab moves. He found my spy, do does he have any idea of what has passed than I? And what does he search for in the Skyne peaks? That blubbery dolt knew nothing, he was just to show them what was there; he had no idea of their true objective. Maybe he did, after all a traitor to one, can be a traitor to another. Probably best to deal with him; get what I can use from him before discarding the blubber into the melting vats, ff he has survived. I am certain he will very quickly come to rue the day he betrayed his previous master, instead of taking a merciful death at that half-fiend's hands.

A small smile on his lips he leaned back, sipping his wine. Does it matter if Gerion's son is loose in the Skyne peaks, how much harm can one half-fiend do?

 

[Need_A_Life]

Great update!

If only my school hadn't blocked ENworld or I'd be able to have read it elsewhere than Gmail....

 

[Ghostknight]

Chapter 16

A blazing fire awaited them in the throne room. The room echoed as they walked, emptied of all but D'Wiglo, and one who sat seated upon the massive stone throne. The room was well lit, balls of light hung suspended from the roof and illuminated the floor carved with marvellous frescoes of ancient battles, heroes banishing the enemies of the dwarven race. As they came closer, the Emissary and Sister Egrit could see why D'Fir had objected when they had first met with Secheriab. In all ways but height, the chair that had been provided was a mirror image of this one.

The group stopped before the throne, and followed D'Fir's example as he bowed low to the grey bearded figure.

"Greetings, your Majesty. I have returned from the task set for me, and I bring an ambassador from the court of Duke Secheriab, representative of the Lord of the Eighth circle of Hell." D'Fir straightened, gesturing with a wide arm movement for the Emissary to come forward.

"I present myself to his august Majesty, King D'Mier, Lord of the Fortress of Livian. I, Eria the Red, am the ambassador of the Duke Secheriab, the mighty servant of the Lord of the Eighth Circle of Hell, and I humbly request your acceptance of my mission to your court." The Emissary's words were fair, delivered in a soft, diplomatic voice. The two that had travelled with him gave a start when he mentioned his name; at no time in the time since they had first met him had he been called aught else but "Emissary".

The king stood, his back bent but his shoulders still straight and proud. If not for his age he would have stood as tall as his sons, but his eyes were bright, his beard long, and it was still his muscles that defined him, rather than the ravages of age that distorted so many. He spoke, his voice gravely with age but still strong.

"Welcome to Our court, Eria the Red. Long may the alliance between Fort Livian and court of the Eighth be peaceful, and mutually enriching." He gave a quick bow before he sat down once more. From the side of the throne D'Wiglo now stepped forward.

"As seneschal to my father's court, I welcome you to our midst, Ambassador of the Court of the Eighth. Quarters will be arranged, and you need but speak, and name your desire. If we can, legally and morally, deliver it unto you, so we shall."

The laughter of Eria filled the hall. His fangs showed as he smiled when his laughter cut-off. "I am honoured that you felt it necessary to clarify your diplomatic greeting for me. Never fear, I can control myself and assure you that your citizens; children, maidens and all, are all safe from me. Though I fear I may loose my reason and attack your kitchens if I cannot get a meal shortly. Your guards did take an inordinately long time to bring us to you, and left us bereft of food and drink, a subtle torture of sorts, perhaps?"

"We are remiss as host. Food, beverages and chairs for your rest shall be brought forth immediately. We greet also your companions, my son, and you, Sister Egrit, representative of the Tower Arcane. We shall all dine together, and you shall speak to Us of what has happened since you left the conclave of the Priests of the Forge Father."

D'Wiglo bowed to his father and stepped through a door set to the side of the throne. A short while later he returned, followed by servants in the livery of the city. The muted black and grey of their clothing made them shadows against the wall as they deftly laid a table out at the foot of the throne. Around the table, they placed five chairs, high backed and comfortably cushioned in each place, the one at the head of the table differing only in the gold crown etched onto its raised headrest.

The king stood up and walked down the stairs from his throne. He took his place at the table and seated himself. He indicated to Eria to take the place of honour to his right, D'Fir to his left. Sister Egrit’s seat was next to D'Fir, the place next to the fiendish ambassador left for D'Wiglo when his duties as seneschal were completed.

D'Wiglo nodded to the servants who filed out, returning with platters laden with fruits, plentiful examples of both exotic and common varieties were laid before them, followed by trays laden with roasted meat sliced into paper-thin slivers, steaming hot and covered with thick gravy. Further platters were laid down, along with tall, fragile crystal glasses, quickly filled with wine. All set for the meal, D'Wiglo finally took his seat, and watched as the king was served, his choices placed upon his platter. As the king started, servants came forward, placing the food indicated by each diner upon their plates, remaining discreetly nearby in case of need.

Soft music filled the hall as they ate, and the king kept the conversation light, allowing only the stories of the journey that did not require discussion, and some inconsequential chatter. Only when the meal was finished did he steer the conversation to matters of import.

"We have need of information, Ambassador. What forces has your master committed to this battle? Will your forces join ours upon the fields and on our ramparts?" The king's eyes fixed upon Eria, and he watched as Eria spoke, the words from the Ambassador told him as much as the manner in which they were said.

"We will do what we can, your Majesty. Understand, though, that unless you have the means to open up gates and summon many of our people to your city, we cannot bring large numbers to bear. Though it would appear to be an enticing option, it is not really a viable one. Such action would be all too easy for Jelial, and his minions, to detect and sabotage. My Master has few servants, but he will use those as best he can to find further allies to our cause, and to provide intelligence to guide our actions."

The king looked at Eria, and snorted. "The Lord of the Eighth will not risk too much in this venture will he? If he can use us to gain what he chooses, it will be well for him, but if we fail, it will not hurt his cause overly much back home. As for the allies to whom you guide us, are they all going to be disaffected fiends, more problems for us to deal with once your goal is achieved and Jelial dethroned?"

Eria looked pain, his face reflecting hurt and wounded pride. "You do us an injustice your Majesty. We merely pointed to those groups that we knew of at this time, I am sure that we will, shortly, find other allies!"

The others around the table did not believe the act of the Ambassador, but diplomacy prevailed. Talk moved back to the inconsequential and the extended audience concluded shortly thereafter with the travellers dismissed to rest and find comfort within their own private sanctums.

***

For three days Mekior, Gyv and Jeria scoured the mountainside. If there were any inhabitations close by, they hid themselves too well to be found. Wearily they sat around a campfire and watched the flames throw sparks into the night sky, though they kept the flames low and dampened down as much as they could to avoid attracting unwanted attention.

"So, is it time for us to admit to defeat and call on Secheriab to bring us home?" Mekior placed the question before them, knowing each thought it but none wanted to say it.

"I would prefer to search for longer." Jeria's voice carried over the crackling of the flames in the fire. "Let us take our time and investigate longer; I still say there must be caverns or such in this area and we have yet to find them."

"Jeria, hope is an unfounded emotion in our lives. When has hope ever helped? I hoped to see my family again, and they are dead or enslaved. You hoped to become an Outwalker to serve and protect Weald hall, and Weald Hall lies destroyed, buried under a mountain of rubble. Let us admit that we are on a fool's errand and return home. Maybe we can find some of the renegades that Secheriab spoke off."

What would she say if she knew one was sitting here with her, undetected, making love to her at nights? She speaks from despair, much has happened since I last sat with her so long ago. Mekior looked at the two, knowing he did not want to give in to the despair that radiated from Gyv, despair that grew each time she investigated her ruined face, and looked upon the scars that covered the entirety of her body. Yet he, too, felt that perhaps the optimism of Jeria was misplaced and that it would be better to investigate alternate options.

"Let us search a while longer, no more than a week. If we still do not find anything, we can return. We have plenty of food, and, aside from the calls of birds, we have neither seen nor heard any other wild life in this area. The other two nodded; Jeria because he agreed, Gyv too apathetic in her despair to care.

For three more days, they continued to search. They scoured the mountainside and the nearby forest eaves. They found nothing, and, as is usual in such situations, fate stepped in; pure chance guided them to that for which they searched.

Jeria, frustrated with their lack of progress, climbed the ridge and, he sat astride a rock, peering down into the valleys on either side.

It was near noon, and few shadows could be seen. Thus the darkness, which did not vary and stayed the same, neither shrinking nor contracting, caught his eye. Excited, he climbed down towards the bottom of the cliff that sheltered the darkness. It felt cooler as he approached it. A wind seemed to be coming from behind the rocks. Jeria stopped, innate caution driving him to draw his axe before he stepped forward. He reached out, preparing to run his hands against the stone, to use the rock as shelter as he snuck forward, but instead of rock, his hand fell into nothing...

Illusion! Excitement coursed through his body, the hair along his back rising in anticipation of what may be beyond. His innate caution pulled him back again and sent him in the direction of his companions.

The three gathered, Mekior gazing within the illusionary area.

"Any ideas? Do we just go in or what?" Mekior kept his voice low, loud enough for Gyv and Jeria to hear, but low enough that it would not carry. With the evidence of others within their vicinity, he was taking no chances.

"Walk in and see what's there." Jeria shrugged, "I don't see what else we can do. I will go first as my eyes will let me investigate what lies within without the need for light. You two can follow after, with lit torches to find your way if it looks safe."

Gyv cursed silently under her breathe. The only positive aspect of the taint from which she had suffered was the ability to see in the dark. That, too, had disappeared when Secheriab removed the last remnants of the taint. She watched as Jeria prepared to walk through the illusion, not concentrating fully on what he was doing, too much of her concentration on the lack of feeling on the scarred areas of her body which made her worry that when the time came to fight, her abilities would be hindered, diminished by her lack of feeling.

Mekior, sitting to the side and watching the other two, could see the despair that had begun to afflict Gyv. It came through when they lay in each other's arms, not even his continued closeness and admissions of love seemed to convince her that they could be as they were before. If I were one of the mighty, one of the powerful, perhaps there might be something I could do. The powers from my fiendish blood are weak, all my power concentrated in the illusion of humanity and the masking of my fiendish nature. I wonder how much magic Jeria carries; and does not know how to use. His ability to see in the dark is the least of it...

So the two watched as Jeria disappeared, the illusion covering him as he entered within. The sun shone down, the early afternoon sun sending lengthening shadows from the forest towards the rocks on which they sat. A few birds could be heard singing, the cold breeze coming through the illusion enough to be felt, but no more. They sat in silence, on guard for trouble coming from ether direction, aware that whatever lay within could be as dangerous, if not more so, than what lay hidden within the forest.

***

Jeria stepped through the illusion, a slight tingle and the hair on his arm rising, the only indication that he walked through something other than air. The area beyond was dark, a dim light penetrating through the illusion, illuminating a small area beyond entrance. The rest lay hidden by the shadows and deepening darkness. He stepped forward, and felt the floor crunch beneath him. He knelt down and ran his fingers through the sand, feeling the roughness of the soil, and saw broken bits of bone mixed in.

Something has used this cavern as a lair. Not too large, though. All its prey are small, I see no bones of nothing larger than a squirrel here. He stepped further into the cavern as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, bringing the details beyond the lit area into focus. The cavern walls were plain rock, the ground likewise, but it lay covered in the tiny skeletons, a carpet of bones. Jeria continued in, a faint smell growing as he continued in, further and further. The smell of rotting meat, with the smell of blood underlying, and beyond, so faint he thought he was imagining it, the smell of roses.

He wandered what was going on, and pushed forward, heading towards the back of the cavern, with the roof getting lower as he moved on. In the darkness, he thought he saw a glimmer of light ahead. The faint light ahead enticed him further in, drawing him onwards like a moth to the flame. As he moved into the glow, he felt a breeze from above, pushing past him and out past Gyv and Mekior, carrying with it the smells of the outside. The glow intensified as he moved towards it, along with the stench of blood and rotting meat, the smell of roses more pronounced.

In the glow, Jeria could see the dampness on the cavern walls, a slight red tinge on the rocks, stained from the water dripping in from the cavern roof above. Jeria moved closer, and saw that the glow radiated from the rear wall of the cavern. It sunk down out of sight, and reached up beyond his eyes, a mass of glowing runes and intricately marked patterns. The brightness of it hurt his eyes as he examined it, the runes meaningless, the patterns guiding the eye into a meaningless chaos of whirls and curves. He stood fascinated, and watched as, from the gap in the ceiling above, through which both wind and water entered, a dark furred squirrel came forward, its red eyes gleaming, blackish spittle dotting its lips.

Shocked, Jeria stepped back, careful to make no noise and not wanting to attract the attention of the tainted creature. He stood still and watched as the squirrel moved forward as if entranced; its attention was focussed wholly on the glowing wall. For all the attention it was paying to the cavern and its contents, Jeria could have been dancing and banging on cymbals and it would still have ignored his presence. It crept up to the wall, swaying slightly, its eyes not blinking, the spittle coming out its mouth now a continuous stream. Mesmerised, it stood before the wall, a statue of a squirrel. Jeria watched as it pushed forward the last few steps, shuffling more like an ancient man than the smooth, graceful movements one would expect of the small mammal, tainted or not. It reached forward, sniffing, its nose inching towards the wall. Its nose finally reached the wall, touched it, and the squirrel exploded, as did the sweet smell of roses as if evoked by the meeting of taint and rune.

Jeria stood there, bits of squirrel falling off his body. He was not mesmerised in the manner of the squirrel, but still he just stood there, immobile in his shock. What would have happened if I touched that wall? And why did that squirrel, all these squirrels and other creatures come down here, attracted to the wall? In all the time we have been encamped outside, I have not seen a single tainted creature and then the first one I see crawls up to a glowing wall, touches it, and ends up spread across the cavern!

The questions ran around Jeria's head on his way out. He had not found any hidden fiends and no city lay within. Just that wall, extending unbelievably in all directions, mesmerising and destroying tainted creatures in the area around it. What was that wall; and what secrets lay hidden beyond the protective runes?

 

[Need_A_Life]

Ooooh, a good weekend cliffhanger...

 

[karianna]

Good stuff!

Yay another great story to subscribe to

 

[Ghostknight]

The dwarves of Fort Livian crowded outside of the palace. Traditional dress of large flowing robes, belted at the waist with cords of golden braid, graced many of the bearded men. Just as many of the young, with their faces shaven and sporting tunics and trousers in imitation of human fashion, stood waiting. All awaited the same thing, the glimpse of a fiendish ambassador that had been accepted by their king and was to live amongst them.

A hush fell over the assembled crowd, anticipation mixed with disbelief. They watched as the doors of the keep swung open, and the fiend and the strange women emerged, flanked by a squad of the royal guard. The massed dwarves stared at the fiend, its figure covered by a simple robe, its compound eyes large black orbs that stared out at them, red skin highlighted by the white of its fangs. A murmur began within the mob, the noise swelling as the group advanced down the path, heading towards the gate to the city beyond.

"Do you think they'll riot?" Eria's voice was soft, intended only for the ears of Sister Egrit and the corporal leading the squad. Eria did not look concerned, in truth, he did not feel threatened by the mob, but it would be a major setback for their fledgling alliance if he killed a hostile crowd of dwarves, even in self-defence.

The corporal looked at Eria, then at the crowd, their growing agitation and the rumblings of dissent within. He held up his hand, bringing the guards to a halt. The six members of the squad came forward, their black and grey tunics concealing the mail beneath, but the massive war axes upon their backs, and the smaller hand axes upon their belts clearly visible. They started forward, headed towards the crowd and stopped just before them. The corporal stepped forward, scanning the crowd, catching the eyes of the bearded and clean-shaven both.

"Are we going to have trouble? I call on you to welcome guests to our city. Sister Egrit, representative of the Tower Arcane, and Eria, Ambassador from the court of the Lord of the Eighth Circle in Hell." He stepped back and indicated to the squad to form into two lines, an honour guard for the visitors. They did so, and the crowd that had fallen silent shuffled, they, too, forming a set of parallel lines. The corporal came to Sister Egrit and Eria, nodded and moved forward. The two followed him, through the squad and the now silent crowd. As they moved through, the crowd closed behind them, a silent hoard that followed behind, all the way to the two-storey house in which they were to live.

The inside of the house was richly decorated. Thick white plush carpets covered the lower level with massive crystal chandeliers, hundreds of candles within, lit the entrance hall and massive lounge and dining room that led off from it. A staircase, the stairs of marble with balustrades that were made of fantastically moulded brass and pewter, led up to where they assumed the bedrooms would be. Three dwarves, two men and a woman, stood at attention within, all wearing the same black and grey uniform with a sash of blue and silver.

One of the dwarves stepped forward. He sported an impressive beard of silver hair, neatly braided into seven strands, each tied back with its own ribbon of black silk. He bowed low, mainly to Sister Egrit, but also to Eria.

"Greetings and welcome to the Embassy of the Arcane Tower, Honoured Magister. It is not often we have the honour of the presence of one such as yourself. Our welcome to you, too, Lord Eria. It is our understanding that you shall reside with us whenever you find yourself within our fair city, at least until such time as your Master establishes an embassy of his own. I am Rumal, the major domo and butler here. These other two are Gire, the stable master, carpenter and assistant to Kithrin, cook and mistress of all those who serve within. Please feel free to let us know what are your desires and we shall endeavour to provide you with whatever we can."

Rumal finished speaking, and Gire and Kitrine bowed to the two.

"If you would grace me with your presence Magister, your lordship, I shall show you to your rooms now." Gires voice was clear, but sounded like he was ill, speaking through his nose, and uncomfortabye. He came forward, leading them up the stairs, panting and wheezing as he did so, occasionally stopping to cough.

"My apologies, I can't seem to shake this fiendish illness. With apologies for my turn of phrase, your Grace." Gire arrived at the first set of double doors and stepped forward, throwing them open to reveal a private sitting room with two doors that led off further into the suite. Aside from the doors, the room had three massive couches arranged around a fireplace, a centre table piled with books and a small silver bell in the centre. Pictures of mages and magisters of the past lined the walls, along with shelves of books.

"Through the door on the right is a water closet, complete with bath and automatic chamber pot." He glanced at Eria. "You do know how the automatic chamber pot works, don't you, your Grace? Far better than needing buckets cleaned out, but not many have seen one before."

Eria laughed. "I do indeed, and I am sure that my colleague does too. I assume the bedroom lies through the other door?"

"Indeed it does, your Grace. I did not believe that you required its amenities though."

"Require? Indeed I do not, though at times it is refreshing to allow oneself the oblivion of sleep."

Irritated with what she saw, Sister Egrit spoke up. "And for me? Or are you expecting me to share a bed with the fiend?"

A look of shock passed over Gire's face. "Indeed not, Magister. We have a room reserved for visiting Magisters. Please, follow me and I will show you to it. Your Grace, if you require anything, just ring the bell on the side table and a servant will be sent up to you."

Sister Egrit followed Gire out and down the corridor to a massive set of double doors. The suite within was far more lavish than the one in which the ambassador was housed. In addition to the couches and table, it sported roof high bookshelves, and lecterns with massive, illuminated volumes proudly displayed. Sister Egrit wandered in, idly reading the titles of the books from their embossed spines, startled at the rarity of some of the tomes.

"As a visiting Magister, we would be honoured if you made use of these books. You will also find a wide range of alchemical ingredients in the cupboard in the bedroom." Gire bowed. "It is too seldom that we have any of power within these walls. We truly are honoured to have you amongst us, and to have the chance to serve. I repeat, anything I may do for you, just let me know.

***

Dinner that night was sumptuous. Pate's and various spreads started off the banquet, followed by soups, salads, roast cave beast, vegetables, duck, and then desserts which featured everything from chocolates, to fruit, to puddings made of every conceivable fruit and an astounding variety of confectionaries. They did not dine alone; D'Fir and D'Wiglo came to join them.

"I apologise for not sharing lodgings with you. Now that I am back home I have to resume my royal duties, and those include leading the city militia and much of our standing army." D'Fir spoke between mouthfuls, enjoying the banquet and the fine drinks set before them.

Eria leaned forward to pour himself wine, but found the bottle empty. Smiling, he picked up the small bell and rung it, expecting one of the servants to enter form the kitchen beyond the dining hall. The tinkling of the bell died down, and the silence that followed felt uncanny, uncomfortable. The four looked at each other, D'Fir and D'Wiglo moved in concert to retrieve their axes, and to stand to cover the entrances, at an angle to each other, prepared to both attack and defend. All four participants at the meal were on their feet, Sister Egrit and Eria moved to put their backs to the wall, the better to be able to defend themselves.

Sister Egrit's traced a finger through her scars and a snake-like creature, made of glowing green light formed in the air. Silently she sent it out, watching as it moved around, investigating every nook and cranny of the room. It moved silently, crawling over all the surfaces, including the feet of the dwarves, but avoided the presence of Eria. The eyes of Sister Egrit followed it, but the rest, battle hardened and disciplined, watched for other movement, other signs of trouble that may appear before them.

The snake returned to Sister Egrit, falling dormant as it returned to her arm. The silence from within the house continued. D'Wiglo took a step forward, breaking contact with his brother as he tried to see into the entrance hall. As he did so there was a slight movement of air, and then a fiend appeared behind him, its sharp claw punching out, through armour, skin and bone, coming through the other side, spraying the area with his blood, pushing his bones through the front of his armour. It tried to withdraw its hand as the body slumped, but even in his shock at his brother's death. D'fir was too fast, his body spinning, the axe in his hand, the cold iron within its head, with the silver runes lighting and glowing blue as they swung at the fiend, their magic coming alive. The axe bit into the fiends arm, severing it at the elbow, leaving its hand embedded within the chest of D'Wiglo.

Sister Egrit reacted almost as quickly, her chanted words sending an arc of green out, engulfing the body of D'Wiglo. As fast as she had been to send the healing energy of the void out, it was too late. No life was left within the body for it to work upon. Eria merely looked at the fiend, whose eyes widened when it saw him; fear entered its face, as it watched two beams of pure blackness shoot out from Eria's eyes. The beams came close to D'Fir, who felt their icy coldness as they went past, but their effect on the fiend was dramatic. They hit it solidly in the chest, tendrils of the black energy crawled over its body, constricting the skin and bone beneath from its icy numbness, rivulets of blood and gore leaking out as unaffected areas remained and the affected areas rotted away, falling off. In seconds the devils body was riddled with streams of the energy, searing it away, large sections of it dropping off, rotten and exuding the foul odour of the charnel pit.

The three stood in shock for a moment, before D'Fir dropped to his knees by his brother's side. Gently he pulled the devil's claw from within his chest, pulling a cushion from a nearby chair on which to lay his head. His eyes were bleak when he looked up, tears streaming down, into his beard, onto the face of his brother.

"I shed tears for the brave. I shed tears for the strong. Let the warriors grieve today as one of their own is called home to the Forge Father. May D'Wiglo stand at the side of the mighty for eternity, until the Forge Father tempers his soul to be returned to stand by our side." He stood, making no attempt to wipe his tears away, to hide his sorrow. Such would demean the death of the warrior!

"I go to my father, to tell him of what has happened. We must find out how that devil gained entrance and made its way into this chamber. I beg of you two to search this residence and find what has happened to those who served loyally." He did not wait of an answer, leaving his axe lying on the ground, but taking the severed hand. His walk was unsteady as he left, his shoulders bent and his head bowed.

Sister Egrit did not wait for action from Eria, she moved quickly through to the kitchens where the servants had been. The kitchen was the scene of a massacre. Three of the bodies within belonged to Gire, Rumal and Kithrin. On the ground next to Gire lay a shattered bottle of wine, evidently one he had been bringing through in anticipation of the one in the banquet running dry. Other servants lay dead as well; the kitchen boy lay gutted and hung over the cave beast that he had been turning slowly on the spit. Nearby, two of the cook's assistants lay headless, a large cleaver with their blood upon it nearby. The last body was that of a serving girl, her livery soaked with her blood. Quietly she started gathering the bodies, laying them out, carefully bathing them to show respect. Tears were within her eyes, but she worked steadily, conscientiously. These people had died because they served her, she felt the guilt of allowing so many to serve her, to die, while she sat and ate, feasting and drinking fine wines.

Eria stood at the entrance to the kitchen and watched. He made no move to help, his eyes searched for clues and the manner in which the assassin had worked.

"This was no ordinary devil. There are too many unanswered questions here; aside from the obvious one of how he entered the city. I find myself wondering, how did it perform this massacre so silently? This tableau has been staged; it has been carefully laid out to hide a message within. Jelial wants us to panic, to strike in a rage of vengeance. We must be cautious, make sure that whatever happens we take counsel and heed the message of this assassin: Nowhere is safe."

***

Jeria, Gyv and Mekior stood before the glowing wall. Even though he had seen it before, its glow fascinated Jeria, both Gyv and Mekior stared at it in awe. Jeria could feel it call out to him, the fiendish blood within his veins answering its summons. Maybe the human side protected him, dulled it, but he was able to control the compulsion to reach out and touch it. To his right, Mekior was sweating, a strange sight for Gyv and Jeria since they could both feel a slight chill in the air, especially since they had the cool breeze from above blowing past. But then, neither of them knew the battle of will power that Mekior fought.

It calls to me. Such a sweet summons, what delicious rewards it promises. It offers so much, the bliss and eternal peace, the freedom from strife, from the tribulations of life! Mekior fought the call of the wall. He knew it would be death if he touched it, yet it required his full concentration to stop his hand reaching out, to stop himself from stepping forward to embrace the promises the wall proffered. He stumbled backwards, turning away from it, hiding from its gaze, its call diminishing as he did so.

Mekior felt Gyv's hand on his shoulder; he saw her step around to him, her concerned look as she faced him.

"Are you ok, lover? What is the matter? You are looking sick, weak." She knelt down as Mekior sank to the ground, his knees too weak to keep him upright.

"It calls to me, Gyv. Maybe I have seen too many fiends, been near too many of them. It calls to me; it calls me to my destruction." Mekior sat, head bowed, the wall behind him, singing to him, enticing him.

Jeria looked at Mekior, concerned with his state. He did not understand why a human, fiend hunter or not, should be affected so much worse than he, but the evidence lay before his eyes. Carefully he walked along the wall, looking for breaks in its perfect symmetry. And, eventually, he found it; an obvious crack in the ground; the result of some upheaval after the wall had been built, shifting one side slightly higher than the other, breaking some of the runes, marring the area's perfection and leaving an unprotected gap through which they could enter. A thin stream of the brackish, reddish water flowed through as well, leaving its red stain upon the grain.

Jeria returned to the other two, and, with Gyv's help, manoeuvred Mekior through the gap. Beyond, the pull of the wall disappeared. This side was plain, undressed stone. Chisels and picks had left clear marks where they had been used to dig the rock from the ground. The floor was smooth, stone blocks had been symmetrically cut and lead into the darkness, a floor of even, geometrical conciseness that spoke of architectural brilliance. In the distance, a low glow could be seen. There was no way see how far away it was, the distance impossible to measure in the dark. Even with his ability to see in the dark, Jeria could make out no details, but for a bridge, narrow and made of stone, that disappeared into the depths of the cavern.

 

[Ghostknight]

Chapter 18

The funeral procession wound through the streets of Fort Livian. The king led it, on foot, followed by the funeral cart pulled by D'Fir and other members of the royal family. The cart groaned beneath the load of the eight stone caskets, each of those who had died in service to the prince, accorded the same honour as the prince for whom they died. The route to the mausoleum was lined by thousands of dwarves, all dressed in the traditional red and yellows of mourning, the colour of the fire that creates and destroys; the tool of the holy Forge Father. Each held a lit torch, the fire a reflection of the Forge Father's holy flame, the soul of fire embedded in all.

Following behind the procession was a range of dignitaries, Sister Egrit and Eria amongst them. The onlookers fell into place behind the procession, a massive column of people bearing lit torches to give honour to the dead. The procession wound through the city, the last mile lined by soldiers, their mail gleaming and axes held to attention in front of them. The gates of the mausoleum loomed up ahead; massive, made of lead with scenes from the writings of the Forge Father embedded upon them in obsidian and marble. Kier stood and awaited the arrival of the procession at the entrance, mail of silver-steel shining, reflecting the light of the burning torches.

The dwarf shows off that coat of pretty mail as a bauble dangled in front of the masses to impress. Showmanship! That can be the only meaning of such display. The secret of its making would be welcomed by my Master, but the dwarves guard the secret of it too closely! Eria looked at the High Priest of the Forge Father, watching the mail coat reflecting the light as no ordinary steel could. The soldiers lining the streets were similarly attired, making him question his assumption that it was worn to impress. More likely, it looked as if the priests of the Forge Father wore the silver-steel so as not to appear beneath the status of the soldiers!

The king arrived at the gate, his head bowed, his feet bruised on the soles from leading the way through the city barefooted. As the King arrived at the Mausoleum, Kier stepped forward and emptied a small cup of ash over his head, allowing it to fall upon his face, his beard, to dirty his clothes. Slowly each of the closest to the dead came forward in turn, to have the ashes of the Forge Father poured upon them. When done, they moved forward to the funeral cart where many of them struggled to remove the bodies from within their caskets. They refused all help, the final task to tend to their dead an honour they willingly accepted.

The crowd watched as they entered the mausoleum; ash covered, bare feet leaving a trail of dust and ash as they disappeared from view. The mourners stood in silence, watching the mausoleum; for when those who did honour to the dead would emerge, their torches burning and illuminating the massive open area before the burial place of the Royal Family.

"Why do we await the enemy? Why do we not go to war?" The words came to each ear, a whisper carried on the wind, an intimate communication to every living soul present. "The fiends of Jelial take from us our young, our future. They come within our city, strike at us from within. It should be no more!"

Those standing in the mass shifted restlessly and looked at their neighbours. Each wondered from where the intimate communication had originated, what the source of the whispers on the wind was. It sounded too soft, too low for it to have come from a distance. Clothes rustled as necks craned and heads turned, everyone searching for the source of the whisper. They did not need to wait for long, for the source had no intention of remaining anonymous. He wanted to ensure that people looked at him and paid attention to what was said. From within the group of dignitaries that had followed behind the wagon the figure of Eria was rising, slowly floating into the air, clear to everyone no matter where in the crowd they stood.

The rising figure seemed to swallow the light, the flames following him, highlighting his figure. As they watched, the illusion which cloaked his figure dissolved and dissipated into nothingness. A collective gasp could be felt from the crowd; they could do nothing but stare at the massive figure revealed to them. Eria was at least sixteen feet tall, massive bat like wings jutted from his back, four horns arranged on his head, seated well above his compound eyes which were the only feature on an otherwise blank face. He wore nothing but a loincloth of black material, from which hung twin scimitars of iron and gold, and bracers of gold with silver and gems forming runes upon their surface. In his near naked state his torso reflected the light, gleaming in the torch light, looking like it was on fire, his muscles dancing upon him making it seem that flames danced upon him. Each arm and leg was massive, a tree trunk in girth, the muscles corded and well defined.

"I am the Ambassador Eria. I drop illusion for truth, diplomacy for plain speech. The time is now. Let us strike at Jelial, together. Let our combined might be as one to give our enemy pause." He stopped, peering down at the crowd, at Sister Egrit. "I call on all to join me in this, to make this alliance real."

The crowd roared as a single beast, not a roar of horror, but a roar of defiance, of approbation. Sensing the mood of the crowd Sister Egrit smiled, raising her arms above her head, floating into the air until she was at the same height as Eria. She, too, discarded illusion, her head changing to that of a hawk, her height at least fifteen feet, her body covered in mail of some light, white metal that none could identify, save perhaps the priests of the Forge Father. From her back sprung wings adorned with silver feathers, blue tips shining in the light of the torches. Unlike the form of Eria, which seemed to drink the light, steal it, hers shone like a beacon, its warmth and softness bathing the crowd, bringing tears of joy and happiness to all it touched. She opened her mouth, loosing the screech of a hunting eagle, the noise echoing from the walls, seemingly going on forever.

"To war! The celestial spheres have longed for this moment to come, but the gates to our spheres are closed and our power is weak. The time is at hand, we shall wait no longer! TO WAR!"

The crowd heard the cry, slowly the noise swelled, a chant rising, crashing against the cavern roof, beating against the celestial and the fiend that floated before them. "TO WAR"

The chant continued a wave of noise that battered the gates. From within the mausoleum, the king emerged, followed by the others who had carried their loved ones within. No longer clad in his ash-covered clothes, he wore shining armour, the symbol of Fort Livian embossed upon it, his helm covering his face, his eyes and beard hidden in its depths. Those who come forth with him were similarly attired, commoner and noble alike. He stepped forward, axe in hand, punching his arm in unison with the crowd, his voice inaudible as the chant reached a crescendo at his appearance, slowly fading as he descended into the crowd, followed by his fellow mourners, a path opening up to let him through.

In the centre of the mass he stopped, silence reigned once again, the two beings, angel and devil alike, once more shrunken into anonymity. His voice was low, but amplified by the magic of Kier, the priest of the Forge Father, his brother, standing at his side.

"War it is! For thirty days we shall mourn, but then we go forth to hunt the forces of Jelial!"

If the chant of the crowd had been loud before, the level it reached now made the noise level before seem a mere whisper. Midst the ear splitting noise of the crowd around them, the king left, the procession of the mourners, nobles and dignitaries following close behind, only dispersing once the monarch disappeared behind the doors of his keep.

***

In the darkness beyond the gap Gyv, Mekior and Jeria moved towards the bridge. Once near, they could see its superb workmanship. Scenes from the celestial spheres were engraved into the floor, angels dancing to hidden music, their forms providing purchase to tired feet, sluicing any water that fell upon the bridge into the darkness below. The balustrade wall was decorated with carvings of trees and flowers, magnificent colours flowing off it when the light of Gyv's torch touched them.

Awed, the three began crossing the gap, the sound of roaring water below, the occasional splash of water from below striking them and bringing with it the taste of cool, fresh mountain springs. The journey across the bridge was comfortable, the stone beneath with its carvings holding them steady, the balustrade guiding them, providing purchase whenever they felt the stone below too slick. It took them a long while to cross, the day waning outside, according to the devices they carried with them to tell day from night beneath the surface of the world.

The far end of the bridge was much like the side from which they had entered, but the source of the glow they had seen obvious. A door opening stood in the wall before them, the light of it blinding, far too bright for them to look into and see beyond. They had to shield their eyes and stumble forward. They could only hope that beyond the doorway they would not be beset by hidden enemies and struck down while they were bereft of vision.

A vain hope, they knew. All three were experienced enough to know that this was an ideal way to see those who approached and render them ineffective, while those on guard could plan ahead and react appropriately. Thus it came as a surprise to them all when they went through the doorway, and into a much larger room only to find it empty, though at some point in time it must have served the purpose they had surmised for it. Mirrors on the walls focussed the light into the doorway, making the entrance into the room a blinding one, but leaving the room comfortable for those within.

The three looked around the room. Plain, stark, walls of pure white marble to better reflect the light, with the massive mirrors all around set into the roof, floors and walls, set to focus the light from hundreds of floating balls of light into the single entrance. They wandered through the room, finding many little indications that once this room had been heavily used. Discarded detritus such as that left behind by guards who sat for long hours. A cube for a game of chance, scratch marks against a wall where once weapons had lain in wait, placed by guards weary of carrying their load. All they found was ancient, the weight of years reducing much of it to rust and chips, leaving nothing of value to be found. Whenever this room had last seen use, it must have been an age ago which led to the question of how the room had remained so clean and dust free despite its apparent desolation.

"Why? This room is the perfect entrance, the perfect defensive pattern. Why is it so abandoned?" Mekior's voice came from behind a mirror, a hidden window that must have allowed the guards to watch the approaches to the room. Similar recesses dotted the room, one leading to an ingeniously designed water closet and another to a closed door, which they had yet to investigate.

""Maybe it was no longer needed?" Jeria's voice carried a questioning tone, his look and tone thoughtful. "Think on it like this. They used this room while their outer defences were being prepared. Once that wall on the outside was up, no enemy could get in. They cut themselves off and retreated beyond this room, relying on their runes to protect them."

"And an earthquake has destroyed some the runes and left them vulnerable without them knowing." Gyv's voice carried a sense of wonder, her eyes opening in appreciation of what these people had wrought. "There were rumours in the past of cities that had disappeared totally; cities that faced no attack, cities that remained free of fiendish molestation, but cities that disapeared, as if they had never existed. I wonder if those runes are as much a protection against magical spying as they are destructive to those they touch, and our being here a testament to their failure."

Gyv's eyes widened in shock, her voice taking on a new desperation and the depression she had started to express in the last few days. "If we have found them, and they were so unprepared for our coming, who else may have found this city? What has become of its people? We must go forward, warn them of the danger they face!"

Mekior stepped forward, wrapping his arm around her, pulling her close and kissing her on the lips in an attempt to calm her.

"We will go forward, but slowly, carefully. Who knows how long it has been since last they saw anyone from the outside. Let us not rush into danger. The enemy of my enemy may be my enemy as well."

The three regrouped, Jeria going forward to the unlocked door. His hand crept forward, moving to lift the latch and open the way to whatever lay beyond. He did not know what stopped him, it was as if some unseen force seemed to grip his hand and prevent it from touching that plain copper piece of metal. Jeria pulled his hand back, bewildered. He reached for it again, but found it impossible to move his hand close enough to open it.

Gyve looked at him and then pushed him back with her elbow. Carefully she extended her bow scraping the wood of its tip against the door until she reached the latch. Slowly she pushed the lath up, and they were all startled when with a "click" a small needle shot through, embedding itself within the wood of the bow. Some thick black sludge coated it, giving off a foul odour. Gyv looked at Jeria smugly and then smiled.

"I don't know what stopped you, but whatever it was, just saved your life. Want to take odds that this stuff on the needle is poison?" With her hand wrapped in a spare shirt, Gyv carefully plied the needle from her bow, making sure that all the residue of whatever the black substance was, got cleared off.

Jeria grinned at her. "I don't know either, but I am glad for it!"

Having learnt caution from his near close encounter with the needle, he used his axe to lever the door open and exposed a ramp leading down into darkness; even his fiendish vision showing him only that it soon took a right turn, and that platforms on which archers could have stood overlooked the ramp. With a nod to the others, he began his descent, followed carefully by Gyv and Mekior. Behind him, Gyv carried the sole torch to light her, and Mekior's, way.

They followed the ramp down, frequent corners and curves making it easy to defend. As with the room above, it was deserted. Unlike the room, it was filled with dust, which provoked coughing fits in Gyv.

"How do you breathe this stuff without it choking you?" Gyv had just finished coughing, again, and tried to filter the air through a handkerchief tied across her mouth and face. Her question was directed to Mekior, her mind just writing Jeria's immunity off to his fiendish blood.

"It's not that different to dust we used to find in many caverns around Weald Hall. Guess I learnt to endure it there." Plus there is the fact that I am able to breathe through this as easily as any fiend! His thoughts remained unspoken, but the words he pronounced enough to cure the suspicion of Gyv. Mekior looked at her and worried that perhaps she had begun to show too much suspicion and the long trips and time together were giving enough clues that she had realise his secret eventually.

He watched her as she moved ahead behind Jeria. They finally reached level ground, and found a small guardroom, devoid of all decoration, but for an old decayed table. The three moved forward, heading towards the metal door that lay encrusted with rust and festooned with chains held in place with old, rusted locks. Jeria rattled them with his axe, and when confident that they concealed no traps, reached out and grabbed hold of a chain. The iron flaked off in massive swathes, a pile of rusty dust rising where he gripped and leaving the link so brittle that with a simple flick of his wrist it snapped. In a similar manner, he dealt with the rest of the chains, and the door stood before them unchained and ready to be opened.

"Anyone wonder how they got out of this room?" Jeria looked at the door, at the chains and locks they had removed. "If it was chained from this side, and it is the only entrance, how did whomever chained this door, get inside? I don't trust it, this door is for fools!"

Gyv and Mekior exchanged a glance, the truth of Jeria's statement obvious once they thought about it. Silently they started searching the room, eventually finding another entrance; this one blocked by a massive slab of stone that had been dropped from above.
"No ways we can lift this." Mekior slapped the massive stone, "See how it goes through that gap into the ceiling. No bet that they filled in the gap beyond that so it cannot be lifted from this side! Question is, how do we get beyond it?"

"We don't." Gyv's voice was soft, her gaze locked on the stone. "We break it." Quietly she went up to the stone, tracing her fingers across it, along the floor.

"The earthquake affected this room. Look, the floor is cracked and the stone has shifted and crumbled in places. A few strikes with the axe should suffice. We should be able to bring it down and open the way forward."

Jeria looked sceptically at where she pointed, but moved forward, swinging the blunt side of his axe head against the rock. A massive chunk broke off, much to his surprise and exposed a hole in the wall beyond. Two more strikes and much of the middle of the stone was gone.

"If I do more the whole top part is going to come down, and such a rock fall may well kill us all! We're going to have to squeeze our way through." Jeria removed his axe and pack before stepping through, careful not to touch the now crumbling sides. Once through the others handed him their packs and paraphernalia before they, too, stepped through into the passage that led off.

The passage started heading upwards, and as they progressed, they could see light filtering from before them, along with the noise of a large market place. The passage made one last turn, and they found themselves on the edge of a massive amphitheatre, the area filled with the cloth coverings over the stalls of merchants, a seething, endless crowd moving between the rows, haggling and shouting, while guards in purple and white tabards wandered between them, keeping the peace. The appearance of the three went unnoticed at first, but slowly those below took note of their presence and all eyes turned towards them, particularly to Jeria. The noise slowly dwindled as the gazes from below focussed on them; and those below wondered where the rest of the fiendish invasion might be.

 

[Ghostknight]

Part 3 Confrontations. Chapter 19

In the palace, the king and his family mourned. They sat in silence, eating only bread and drinking only water. For thirty days they sat on the floor and slept on beds of iron, symbolic of the anvil on which the Forge Father created the souls of his children. The city outside moved to the sound of the forges working continuously, the din of metal taking shape, a background noise that never faded no matter if it was night or day. The city prepared for war.

Within the embassy of the Tower Arcane, Angel and Devil lived in an uneasy truce. New servants had come to serve within, but the stories of what had happened at the funeral had spread far. Those who came were wary of Eria, far more so than before the masses had seen his real form. In comparison, as much as the fear of Eria had grown, Sister Egrit had grown into a figure of awe. She found herself unable to leave the house due to the crowds she drew whenever she walked the streets. The first time she did, it almost started a riot as hordes of people tried to get close and bask in the presence of one of the fabled celestials. Her mere presence , the physical presence of a celestial amongst them, a beacon of hope unheard of in the last three thousand years.

"Eria, we need to do something. I grow tired of waiting. After so long and so much hiding, I long for action. It is time!"

Eria laughed. "Impatient? You? I find it interesting that my kind always carries the blame for the inciting of impatience and the desire for war. Do you find it as ironic as I that we find ourselves with you urging haste to action, to war while I wait patiently, mindful of those who mourn the death of a hero?"

The face of Sister Egrit went red, its colour approaching that of Eria's skin.

"How dare you! I have sat in hiding for centuries. I came here as a new born babe, the only way to pierce the Veil set up Jeria to block the descent of any carrying the power of the Celestial spheres, being to send us through stripped of all power and our connection to the spheres severed to avoid detection. It took centuries of hiding, slowly growing to regain my power. Even now I do not posses the full extent of my abilities, I ." She stopped and her eyes were those of the hunting hawk of her natural form. The thin, narrow, yellow pupils regarded him. "Do you have any idea how many of us were killed? How many were tortured and subjected to the diabolical whims of your friends before we discovered the Veil? That diabolical trap that detected all attempts by those of the Celestial Spheres to come through, stripped them of their power, and dropped them, literally, into Jelial's lap?"

Eria watched her with interest. Her anger was blatant and beautiful to his fiendish eyes. He could see her emotion, the way it boiled and seethed, making her breathless as she vented her frustration and anger at him.

"No. We don't know." Eria spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, "In fact we did not know of the Veil until recently. The discovery of it was the trigger for our involvement. We never understood why those of the Celestial Spheres stood idle and allowed Jelial his victory, and the corruption of this world. We had intended to remain aloof, let the Celestial Spheres expend themselves and their resources to save the world. We were bemused, and bewildered, at the seeming indifference to the pain and misery that seemed to be the attitude of those that always stood proclaimed as the paragons of virtue and goodness. The discovery of the Veil gave us an answer, but at the same time showed us how badly we had miscalculated and misunderstood the level of Jelial's power, and his cunning!"

Eria started pacing the room, stopping occasionally to crush a petal of a flower from the vase in the room. This mindless act of destruction seemed to be something he was not even aware of, a calming action for him. He stopped, twisting around on his heels, his face against that of Sister Egrit.

"You know what is really painful for us?" His voice was low, pain evident within. "We get summoned by some puny, mortal mage and forced to serve his twisted, demented little desires. No thought or imagination to them, they are always so petty and, often, vindictive. No grandiose vision drives them, merely the same little desires and twisted dreams that you see repeated so often across the millennia. A slave to his magic, you serve, and die, at the hands of some despicable little mortal, only to be reborn, in pain, in Hell."

Sister Egrit looked at him, her eyes clouded and giving away nothing of what she was feeling. "Oh, you are so misunderstood, aren't you? Poor little devils, abused by the mortals that you corrupt. Do you really think that I would fall for such a story, Eria? I may have been forced to shed my power and come through to this existence as a babe, but I am as old as you."

Eria laughed, his eyes twinkling as he looked at her.

"You can't blame a devil for trying. It really would be something if I could return to Hell with you as my consort. Are you sure you do not want to let yourself be seduced? We devils are very inventive you know."

Sister Egrit's snort of disgust was all the answer she gave. He did take my mind off the wait for the king and his family to emerge from mourning. Wonder if that was his intention, if his confession of pain was just a ruse or not or if his latest offer is genuine? I hate devils and their subterfuge, their inability to communicate plainly! Sister Egrit watched Eria, but could determine nothing more, the devil's emotions and expression as enigmatic as always.

***

Within the palace, the king sat on a low, hard, stone bench. At his side was his wife of many years, her eyes swollen and red from crying. Others filled the room, the families of all that had died that day brought together to mourn within the king's home, a place to honour the fallen dead of that day. D'Fir sat cross-legged before the king and queen. In honour of his brother, he had shaven his head and sworn that the braids he wore from that day forth would be in remembrance of his brother. At his side sat his younger siblings, the three boys and four girls all too young to assume the mantle of adulthood and shave their heads in mourning.

The light of a scant few candles lit the room. The mourners sat in the shadows, comforting the souls of the dead as they moved through the shadows to their ultimate destination within the Forge Father's halls. Time passed in silent contemplation of the deeds of the dead. No words left their lips, except for those in remembrance of the departed. D'Fir felt his mind drifting as fatigue overcame him. He shook his head to wake himself; to sleep now would be dishonourable. He looked around, and noted that everyone seemed to be drifting off, that slumber seemed to be overcoming them all.

Perplexed he looked around, and noted, with alarm, that even the guards were sleeping. D'Fir jumped to his feet.

"Wake one, wake all! We are under attack!" His voice boomed out, those in the room raising groggy heads to look at the prince as if he were mad. Not for long did they doubt him though, for a low growl came from the roof, followed by the sound of scampering feet. As the noise faded, the lethargy that had afflicted them passed; carried away by whatever had come to attack, foiled by the prince who had not succumbed.

An alert, awake king stood up. His eyes held barely contained fury as his hands opened and closed rhythmically as if they grasped for an axe, which was not present.

"We seem to have no time for mourning! Very well, let the scum that would deny me even the time to mourn my son in a proper fashion learn what it means to incur the wrath of the family of Wevern; to rouse the anger of Fort Livian!"

With his right hand, he reached out, and gripped D'Fir's shoulder.

"You shall be the War Marshal, my strong right hand to lead our forces to glorious victory! Go, now, and prepare the troops. I shall discuss with those who know best where we should strike first!"

D'Fir sank, his head rested on his knee briefly, before standing and exiting the room. Behind him came Kutil, Captain of the guard and a life long friend. The two strode through the corridors of the keep, heading towards the high tower that marked its centre. Up the winding staircase they went, climbing, rising above the tallest of the buildings in the city below. At the top, D'Fir stood before a massive horn. Each end had a brass ring to which chains of silver-steel, from which the horn hung, were attached. Kutil bowed his head as D'Fir stepped forward and blew.

The note was long and, as it continued, the activity in the city below ceased. In homes, in the marketplace, amongst warehouses and business that made up the life of the city by day, people came to a standstill. Heads turned towards the tower, listening as the single, long note continued. Tools were set down and haggling ceased as many turned towards home. Weapons would be claimed and armour donned. The muster had begun.

Within the Embassy of the Tower Arcane Eria and Sister Egrit heard the horn. Both understood its significance. Eria looked at Sister Egrit.

"It has begun, but early. Let us hope haste does not lead to our undoing."

***

Gyv, Jeria and Mekior sat in the cell, deep within the bowels of the dungeon. It was quite comfortable, as far as dungeons went; the walls were dry and the floor was covered with some sort of aromatic plant stalks to mask the smell of excrement and unwashed bodies. Torches dotted the walls, illuminating it well enough that all could see without too much trouble. No matter how comfortable, though, it was still a dungeon cell.

"You think they'll talk to us before they kill us?" Mekior tried to make his banter sound light, but the others could hear the tension, the stress of their situation getting to him.

"I'm pretty sure they will. I expect they will test us somehow and, once satisfied we are not fiends, will talk to us." Gyv glanced over to Jeria, "Of course if they use the kind of testing pin we do, it is going to kill you!"

And me, though she does not know it! Mekior looked at his companions, wondering how they would avoid being tested. Mekior knew that if both Jeria and he were exposed as carrying the blood of fiends, Gyv would die, regardless of any protestations of innocence. He moved to the door and looked through the bars to the two guards who sat well back from them, alert and attentive every time someone spoke or moved within their cell.

"Is there any chance of us speaking to someone?" The request was met with the same indifference all their utterances had received since the guards had escorted them from the ridge overlooking the market place. It had all been quite cordial so far. The guards had arrived and fallen in around them, making it clear where they should go; they had descended the ridge and edged along the outskirts of the market until the guards had led them to the stairs that took them down into the earth, and this dungeon.

So the three sat, waiting for something to happen, with all their equipment and weapons in the cell with them, which kept them wondering what the guards were waiting for. A day passed, then another two days. The three fed themselves off the food in their backpacks, idly watched by the guards that changed at regular intervals.

The light had begun to dim outside, and the noises from the nearby marketplace diminishing as traders closed their stalls and headed home, when someone finally arrived. He was tall and completely bald, not even his eyebrows remained; a large nose was the most remarkable feature of his face, the small mouth almost lost beneath its girth. His clothing was made of some shimmering material that reflected the light as he moved.

"I am Vinian, Master of the Market. I am sorry it has taken so long for me to come to you, but I have been trying to find out which faction sent you. We had no notification of your embassy. If you could please enlighten me as to your faction and whom you represent within it, we can start discussing the terms of our trade within more congenial environments." Vinian smiled, but his smile was disconcerting, revealing a mouth filled with teeth, row after row of small, sharp incisors visible, extending even into his throat.

"Master Vinian, I am Mekior of Harmony Lake. My two companions are Jeria, also of Harmony Lake, and Gyv, from Gunder's Hall. We are travellers that arrived here unexpectedly. We do not know of your factions, we represent the hidden cities of Gunder's Hall and Lake Harmony. We came here seeking allies, but trade would be welcomed."

The Master opened the door to the dungeon, coming to inspect each one in turn. He reached out, touching the blade of Jeria, tracings its runes and cold iron inlay.

"You come well armed and prepared; your packs are enchanted to hold more than they should and your weaponry is worth a king's ransom." From within the folds of his robe he removed a small box of powder.

He looked over Jeria, "It is obvious that you have fiendish blood, but what of your companions, are they what they seem?" He flung the powder into the air, chanting as he did so.

The powder fell on all three of the travellers. For Gyv and Jeria it felt as if nothing more than dust had been thrown onto them, but for Mekior the effect was dramatic. He felt as if a thousand needles were piercing his flesh; he screamed, rolling on the floor, leaving a trail of blood from pores that oozed with red. Jeria and Gyv watched in horror as his form bubbled, as the straps that held his armour in place stretched and then snapped, his true form emerging.

As Gyv and Jeria watched, entranced and horrified at this transformation, Vinian watched them, chanting under his breath, eyes glowing as he regarded them.

"It would seem that you two are as appalled as I am. Your companion is obviously something other than what he seemed. Come, you two shall be my guests while we discuss what brings you to my halls. Others shall undertake the odious task of questioning this fiend."

He smiled at the two, "We are used to half-fiends, and the fiend-blooded, within these halls. I bear such myself. But that is no half-fiend or one afflicted by their evils!"

Vinian bowed, sweeping his arm to Gyv and Jeria to precede him out the door. The two guards outside the cell stood at attention and saluted them as they left. As they ascended the stairs, they saw the two guards enter the cell and pick up Mekior, his blood staining the floor below. Held firmly between them they could see him being taken further into the dungeon complex and out of their sight.

"We will learn who he is, and what he does, why he has deceived you. Never fear, my inquisitors are very good at their jobs!"

Their hearts heavy, their emotions shattered at the revelation of Mekior's true form, Gyv and Jeria followed the Master up the stairs and into the city that now welcomed them into its midst.

 

[Ghostknight]

Chapter 20

D'Fir sat in the war council and listened as the King's advisors discussed the planned attack.

General D'Haan was the focus of attention around the table. "The defences around Crossroad are minimal; the slave pens are an easy staging ground into the city itself."

D'Fir looked at the ancient general; one who had proven himself in battle many a time, but also one that had never faced an enemy from the outside. His battles had always been against those from beneath the earth.

"With all due respect I question your intelligence on this, General D'Haan. The town you speak of is a major staging ground for the devils. The town is known as a crossroads; the defences are there, just not visible. Speak to our allies, particularly those from Harmony Lake whose Outwalkers make our scouts look like children playing in the park. You do not even know the town's true name, referring to it by the name that slaves are forced to use for it, Crossroad. You know the real name for it? K'op D'Regh. You speak infernal, the Devil's tongue? Well, in case you don't it means 'The Gate of Red'"

D'Fir leaned forward, "You know why it is called that? It refers to the amount of blood they spill to open a gate between Crossroad and their cities across the entire continent. Attack Crossroad and you have every major city on the continent funnelling their armies against you!"

General D'Haan smiled.

"I may be old, but I am not stupid. I speak infernal almost as well as my native tongue. I know of Crossroad, and its other name. I still say we attack it." He leaned back, an enigmatic smile on his face.

Ok, what has the old soldier got in mind? "Care to enlighten me as to why we should attack a city that can bring more troops to bear than we have people living in the entire city?" D'Fir looked at the old General, awaiting an answer from the experienced officer.

"A diversion. We attack there, but keep another force ready to attack elsewhere. The most likely place for them to bring troops from is Whale Bay, a naval town with a massive garrison that they use to keep the coastal communities in line. Most of the time they sit around idle, garrison troops with nothing to do. Ill disciplined they will be the first to be brought in, the first troops to bolster the defence. For our purposes, Whale Bay is too far away. There is no way for us to get enough troops there to threaten it. The next most likely garrison they are likely to strip is the Fort of Peaks. A city within a military installation; few enter it that are not fiends, half-fiends or their descendants. The ones that live there are arrogant; secure within their walls, secure in the mistaken belief that none would dare attack." The General stood up, walking around the table, placing his hand on D'Fir's shoulder.

"The main problem we face is; how can we keep the forces at Crossroad tied up long enough to get them to siphon forces off from not only Whale Bay but from the Fort of Peaks as well? The secondary problem is not that much easier to solve, how do we get our forces in place to attack?"

D'Fir looked at the old General in awe. And I thought to lecture him! Time to show him the deference he deserves, it's obvious he has something in mind...

D'Fir looked over his shoulder, placing his hand on top of the General's hand that lay upon his shoulder.

"Ok General, what's the plan? I can see that you are just dying to tell me."

The General laughed and moved back to his place at the table. He looked around the table, his gaze locked with that of the King and then D'Fir.

"I am hoping our friends here can help us." The General turned to Eria and Sister Egrit. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Eria, but you are capable of teleporting a group of people." He turned and looked at Sister Egrit, "As can your kind, I believe, and many of the mages from the Tower Arcane. Between all of your resources, how many soldiers would you be able to transport?"

Eria looked at the General incredulously. "You want me to transport your troops? What makes you think I will do this, place myself at risk?"

Sister Egrit gave Eria a dirty look, before looking at the General, "I can bring about ten; the other mages from the Tower Arcane should be able to bring another five hundred, but few of the mages will stay to fight. They are academics, not warriors."

D'Fir turned to Eria. "Come now, Ambassador. Your Master promised us assistance. Surely helping us to move troops is an action he can take?"

Eria looked at the people gathered around the table. "I will consult with him, and hear his answer." He stood up, moving the chair out of his way. "I will need to change to my natural form. I hope no one will be too offended," his sardonic glance around the table, following his last statement, a challenge to all present to voice their dissent. His figure blurred and expanded outwards, his figure growing, forcing him to bend over as he was too tall to stand within the room. He sat down cross-legged, with his massive head bowed, the horned crest above furrowing into the stone roof. He closed his eyes, hands clasped in front of him.

He opened his eyes and a stream of blue energy shot from each one, intersecting in a ball of eye burning brightness just above his hands. Slowly the brightness passed, and the head of Secheriab appeared in its place.

"You disturb my recreation. This best be of import; my concubines await my return, and a most delectable morsel is screaming in the dungeons below." The head rotated, taking in the room behind Eria.

"Ahh, you are not alone then, my Ambassador. Greetings to you King D'Miniel, Prince D'Fir; and is that General D'Haan sitting in council? A true honour General, your reputation is well known to many."

The General looked taken aback, his eyes narrowed as he regarded the conjured image.

"How do you know of me, fiend? I have had no truck with any of your kin!" The General's voice was harsh, the tone demanding.

"Come now, General. Do you think Jelial is the only one who can infiltrate spies into your city? We have watched the goings on within your city for over a decade. The cities of the Dark Paeons and many others have been under observation at the same time. The only places we have not been able to infiltrate have been the Tower Arcane and the cities of the Arleogh. The first due to the presence of the few celestials amongst them, as well as the Tower's arcane protections, the latter due to their mental prowess and the impossibility of our spies to hide amongst them." Secheriab paused, his face smoothing out as all watched, his eyes changed to hollow orbs before returning to their previous appearance.

"Someone seeks us! They are trying to trace me through this arcane connection. Speak quickly; tell me what you contacted me for, why you risk bringing Jelial down on me."

"The natives seek our assistance. They wish us to help transport their troops to battle." Eria spoke quickly, his voice gruff. "I seek your guidance, do I assist them, place myself on the battlefield; perhaps even use some of the lesser fiends to assist?"

Secheriab looked thoughtful, his eyes once again disappearing. "Help them Eria, but do not risk yourself unnecessarily. I will also send a group of the Gir'Thia to assist."

The image disappeared suddenly, far quicker than Eria had expected and the backlash of arcane energy from its disappearance a blazing lance that caused him to clutch his head and bellow in pain. He recovered quickly, his form blurring as he changed back to his alternate shape. He turned to look at the King and his advisors.

"It seems that you are getting what you wanted and more! For those of you that do not know, the Gir'Thia are an elite group of warriors, all with some measure of arcane power. A full squad of them can transport your entire army, and siege weaponry, if you so desire. General, however many of your troops you need transported, we can move them."

The General smiled, "We have what we need then. The Fort of Peaks isn't going to know what has hit them!"

***

Vinian sat in a deep, plush, blue velvet covered chair. He sipped from a long crystal flute, the sparkling wine within reflecting the light from the torches set along the walls of the office.

"So you are looking for allies to fight against the devils, to stand up to the scourge that was able to wipe out the entirety of our worlds armies and heroes without any measurable slowing in their conquests. Now, from hiding, with all of us living in terror and our armies but fractions of their size that they once were, you want to try and defeat them?"

Vinian swirled the wine in its glass, watching the bubbles rise. Jeria started to speak, only to stop as Vinian raised his hand.

"I put it in the harshest possible terms so you can understand the difficulty I will have taking this proposal to the ruling council. We have a major issue that is not going to go away; one that is going to make many people very uncomfortable. How did you all get in? How did you even find the hidden gate?"

Vinian stood, leaving his glass on the desk behind which he had been sitting. He walked around, sitting on the desk's edge, facing the two travellers.

"Our last major defence is gone. For over two thousand years, it kept us safe and hidden. With it in place, no magic could find us and no devil could infiltrate us. We have grown complacent, the entrance ways left unguarded. Our hidden kingdom covers six cities, our water is pure and clean, never from the outside in case of contamination. You are the first outsiders to enter our kingdom in all this time. "

He shook his head, tears visible within his eyes. "We are vulnerable, who knows if the devils know where we are, if they are right now standing out there with an army, descending the ramps. No one living today understands the runes or knows the meaning behind them. We cannot repair the wall; our defences are weak, even if they are still partially effective. There is no way for us to retain our current life, our complacency."

"Will you help us?" Jeria spoke softly. He had been surprised at the large number of fiend-blooded individuals in the city. Most of the population showed some hint of fiend blood within them. In the week since they had been let out of the dungeon, he had wandered through the city when he had not been involved in talks with Vinian. He had been astounded that Gyv, her features scarred but obviously free of any fiendish blood or taint had attracted more stares than his blatantly fiendish features had. It had been hard for her to accept the stares and comments as she passed the people in the streets. With her former beauty hidden by the disfigurement, the emotional impact of the stares and comments had driven her into herself, an introspective despair discolouring her life. The result was the complete opposite of what experience had taught him was reality, he did the negotiating, better able to communicate and identify with the Master of the Market than the pureblooded human could.

As he waited for an answer, Vinian returned to his seat, slowly sipping at his wine. He remained quiet, disturbingly quiet.

What is he waiting for? He seems to be wasting time, waiting for something to happen. The door to the office opened and two guards came in, dragging a comatose being between them. They dropped the person at the feet of the chairs of Gyv and Jeria, and the face of Mekior, battered, bruised and disfigured stared up at them. A pale faced, emaciated woman entered the room. She wore a black leather apron over dark linen clothes. Suspicious stains covered her hair, dried blood stuck beneath her fingernails. Her dark eyes resembled those of a cat, her mouth a sharp line across her face.

Vinian's query broke the silence, "Ahh, finally. Please, tell us, Frizes, what did our unconscious friend on the floor there have to tell you?"

The woman's voice was high pitched and grated on their ears; a piercing whistle accompanied each word as air whistled between needle shaped teeth.

"Nothing interesting about the fiends, but interesting in other ways I suppose. He is a traitor to his own kind. He took on the shape of a boy that had been captured, and killed by fiends, watching as his fiendish companions faced, and were killed, by the forces of the city. He moved into the human city and lived with them, became one of them as far as he could. HE altered his native magic to hide him, prevent detction, making him far less powerful than many of his own kind. He became an expert at finding and killing his own kind to protect the humans. Even more surprising is that he actually loves the woman here, but was too scared of rejection to tell her the truth." She laughed. "Yes, a fiend that has fallen in love with humanity, and with a human. I, for one, would vouch for him. As a fiend he is not powerful, but as an ally he would be most useful!"

Gyv looked down at the unconscious Mekior.

"He truly loves me? It was not just the act of a fiend trying to deceive us all?" Tears started pouring down her ruined face as she knelt by his side, her hands stroking his face. He has loved me and sat by me while I felt sorry for myself. He has looked past my face, my betrayals, my past to love me, can I do any less?

Jeria watched her and then looked at Vinian. "So, what now? Is he free, are you going to assist us?"

"I will take your request to the ruling council, the representatives of all six cities as well as to our militia and what religious authorities have survived. They will need to take decisions on how to defend us now that our main protection is breached. I will also ask them what to do about your request. In the meantime, enjoy our city; you are free to go where you would, as is your companion. When he awakens, apologise for his discomfort," Vinian looked at Frizes before continuing, "I'm afraid that some extremely painful means were used to extract information and to make sure he was telling the truth. He has been healed, though the memories of what was done may take a while to lose their sting."

He stood up, bowed to the three, and left the room, trailed by Frizes and the guards. It was clear to the three travellers that negotiations were complete.

***

"What have you learnt, Gerion?" Jelial's voice was dangerously calm. Gerion had known him long enough to read the danger signs and knew that the recent developments were worrying Jelial.

"We know that Secheriab has been sent by the Lord of the Eighth to head his forces on this world. We also know that Eria has been sent as his second in command." Gerion paced in front of Jelial's throne. "We also think the Lord of the Eighth has sent some of his elite forces with them. Not many, but it may be enough to cause us some problems."

Jelial squinted at Gerion. "How did you find this out, and what elite forces are you talking about? How much of a problem are we talking about?"

"We learnt this when Secheriab talked to Eria using an arcane connection. Khiss was able to intercept part of the communication, but not all of it. We don't know what is planned but we do know that Eria is to help the natives, as are the Gir'Thia." Gerion hesitated, seeing the look of horror coming onto Jelial's face.

"We doubt that Secheriab will let them be put directly in harms way. The most likely scenario is that he will send one or two of them to provide token support to whatever plan the dwarves and their allies are concocting."

Jelial looked at Gerion incredulously. "You think the Gir'Thia will accept such a passive role? They are a bunch of bloodthirsty warriors who specialise in hunting down their own kind and administering punishments on behalf of the Lords of Hell. I should know; I was once one of them before I grew into my full power. I was mistaken; I thought this was the initial foray, that the Lords would test me before committing great force to this conflict."

He is scared! He talks of the Gir'Thia as if I have never encountered them. He forgets, I have faced and defeated them in the past and shall do so again. I can make this work for me, use his fear against him and usurp his power and throne. "My Lord, what.."

"Quiet, Gerion. You will use whatever means you can to find out what is planned by the vermin that infest my world." Jelial watched as Gerion left, his thoughts whirling as watched Gerion’s form disappearing from his hall. He grows restless; I wonder how much he can still be trusted. He also abuses Khiss. Those kobolds are essential, they are few and we cannot afford the loss of one as powerful as Khiss. Perhaps the time has come for Gerion to be lost in battle.

"Priet." Jelial's summons was soft, but the attentive attendant arrived to genuflect before Jelial in mere seconds.

"M'lord, you called?" Priet stood before Jeliel awaiting his orders,

"Priet, get hold of Redili, he will be needed soon."

"M'lord, as you wish," Priet left the throne room, hastening to fulfil his orders. What does he want with the Master Assassin, especially straight after a meeting with Gerion? I wonder what this would be worth to Gerion if I were to dangle this piece of information before him?