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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Ghostknight" data-source="post: 3389391" data-attributes="member: 15338">Part Ii- Chapter 10Five years later…Jeria ran his fingers through the loose earth.  The sand was dry, fine particles and bits of leaves and mulch could be felt, moisture still evident within.  He looked back at the squad lined up behind him, the trader looking nervous despite his guards, and the squad that the leaders from Harmony Lake had sent with him.  Jeria stood, loosening his axe that hung down his back."We have visitors from the surface somewhere ahead, probably two or three days ahead of us."  Jeria looked directly at the merchant who sat fidgeting, panic on his face.  "I advise you to still your fear, Radogoff.  We will move ahead slowly, carefully.  Hopefully we will avoid whoever has preceded us within this passage."  He waved the group forward, waiting till the sergeant in charge of the squad drew level and he could talk to him quietly.  "Keep the men alert, whoever made these tracks tried to hide them, and I don't like them, they feel wrong..."  The sergeant clapped him on his back, nodded, and moved forward to his team.  The soldiers all seem to sit tighter and surreptitiously checked their weapons.  The traders bodyguards, not told directly, were professional enough to notice the increased tension and they, too, noticeably upped their level alertness.It took another three hours before Jeria called another halt, unhappy with the path and the markings he was picking up as they travelled.  Simple hand movements communicated enough that the soldiers contracted, forming a tight defensive perimeter, the bodyguards forming a solid wall of flesh between their client and any hostile creatures nearby.  Silence fell across the group, the heavy breathing and a sudden snort from the cave beasts pulling the carts the only sounds.  Jeria pulled his axe loose, hefting it in his hand, feeling its strength, its cold solidity a comfort.  The tunnel ahead was dark, their lanterns and torches lighting it only slightly.  The deep darkness swallowed the light and the dull rock walls, devoid of any moisture or vegetation, seemed to absorb the light that fell upon them.  He crept forward, his footfalls measured, their placement exact.  Jeria moved beyond the radius of the light and allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness and let his fiendish ancestry resolve the darkness.  Ahead the passage narrowed and a deeper darkness lay ahead; darkness so deep even his magically enhanced vision was unable to penetrate.  As carefully as he had moved forward, he moved back, knowing the danger that lay ahead.He moved back to the group, all the time keeping his eyes on the darkness, fearing what might appear from within."Start moving back, there's an ambush ahead."  Jeria took a deep breath and looked at the whole group.  "Whoever the group is that awaits us, at least one is either a mage or a fiend."  Silently they retreated, struggling to get the carts to move, the beasts to remain silent while being manhandled.  The face of the trader was white, even whiter than it normally was considering he had never seen the sun.  Jeria, at the rear with his squad of six, watching out for any pursuit, began to feel they had avoided the trap when a laugh broke out.  From within the darkness, the voice carried no mirth, the very sound of it chilling to the humans that heard it."Going somewhere?  I have been waiting for you and you go off and try to avoid me.  If I had any feelings, they would be hurt.  Just as well I don't have any!"  As it spoke, the voice came nearer, the owner of it eventually entering the light.  One look at it and Jeria knew they were in trouble.  The owner of the voice was a fiend, as he had suspected from the darkness and the speech, but it was one of the major fiends, high up in the hierarchy and far more powerful than he, even with the combined might of the squad and the trader's bodyguard.  The fiend was not that large, the height of an average man with skin the colour of burnished copper and compound eyes that reflected the light in every direction.  Sharp, serrated fangs lined its mouth; its chest and four arms were corded with massive muscles.  Jeria had heard of this kind of fiend, knew that they were strong, capable with the twin scimitars that were sheathed and hanging from its waist; but he also knew that its sword were not its primary threat, rather they were renowned for their arcane might.    "Ahh, what a group you all make; led by one that is a distant cousin, the rest wielding weapons that would harm my weaker brethren.  Question is, what are we going to do now?  We could all try to kill each other, or maybe we should have a nice conversation."  The fiend smiled, no more good will within its smile than within its laughter, yet Jeria felt relieved that it had not simply blasted them."We simply wish to pass.  We do not seek confrontation, we do not seek to fight or cause upset."  Jeria watched the fiend, wondering when it would tire of this game, when it would strike out, probably in a way against which they would be defenceless."Why, Jeria, how impolite, trying to leave so quickly when all I want is to talk."Jeria stood there, shocked. How does it know me, is it Gerion?  Is my father still after me?  The silence extended, the group behind him slowly moving off.  The fiend seemed not to care about them, their movements and whether they left or remained.  The two stood in silence and, finally, stood there alone.  Jeria looked at the fiend and spoke, finally breaking the silence. "Who are you?  How do you know of me and what do you want from me?"  "I am the Emissary.  I represent a group that could be very useful to you and your city.  We heard of you from our spies within Gerion's camp.  He seeks you. He is furious at his loss of you five years ago.  Our thinking was very simple, if he seeks you for his own reasons, you could be very useful to us, and in return, us to you.  I hope we are right, it has taken us a long time to track you down!"  The emissary stopped talking, waiting for a reaction, waiting to see what would Jeria would do next."An Emissary?  From whom and how do I know you can be trusted, that this is not just a trick to capture, get me off guard?"The fiend laughed, and then, before Jeria could react, pointed at him sending out a green beam that soaked into him, froze his blood, pinned him to the ground.  The fiend came up to him, breathing into his paralysed face, filling his nose with the stink of decay and fetid, rotted meat.  Another laugh, a quick clap of its hand, and the fiend turned away as, released from the paralysis Jeria crumpled to the ground."If I wanted you dead or captured, Jeria, you would be dead or in chains already.  Now, I am here to invite you to a meeting, nothing more. Are you going to come?  I cleared the path ahead so you can be sure that your companions behind you can go about their journey in peace."Jeria lay gasping for air, the period of paralysis a period of breathlessness and fear.  Gradually he sat up, looked at the Emissary and sighed, "I may as well, seems like you're just being polite in asking me."  Slowly he came to his feet and placed his axe back into the loops on his back.  The Emissary just smiled, took his elbow and, with a couple of words, the world around them changed, a curtain of blackness fading into a room, with red flames providing a dim flickering light.  As he looked around, the flames died down and torches flooded the room with bright light.***Mekior paced slowly through the city.  His mind wandered, dwelling on Gyv, her disappointment that they had had no children and then her leaving to go to another city to start anew. How do I explain it to her?  Can I reveal myself to her; let her know who I really am?   He walked on automatic, senses seeking out the wrong, the tainted.  In five years, the city of Harmony Lake had grown.  The refugees quickly established themselves, gratefully accepting the assistance and ruler ship of the Dark Paeons.  They trusted in Delire, who now sat on the ruling council, an advisor to the Master Harpist.  His circuit took him through the great market; crowds thronged its narrow paths, a multitude of scents rising from those who sold food to those who peddled spices brought in by merchants foolish enough to travel just to earn a quick coin.  With all the strangers, the market was always an area of concern, an area that could all too easily hide a spy or an informer.  Mekior moved through, and would have exited in peace if he had not been knocked to his feet by a child darting between his legs, pursued by a man dressed simply in a leather tunic with pants of similar make.  As the man passed, Mekior, even caught up in his reverie, felt a wave of nausea and he turned, sprinting after the man and boy."Give it back, boy."  The man stood over the prostate form of the child, arms reaching out for him, the threat evident in his movements and his tone of voice."What has the boy taken from you, friend?"  Mekior's voice penetrated the tableau, the man's head jerked around to look at the newcomer, while the boy using the distraction to scramble away, edge around the two men and run down the alleyway, leaving the two alone."What do you want from me?  I know you, you don't rule here and I take my orders from another!"  The man’s voice was kept soft, he did not want attention now, "That boy stole my seal; if it falls into the wrong hands my cover is blown!"Mekior laughed at the man, coming forward so he stood before him, but a few feet separating the two."I am the wrong hands!  I will find the boy after this, but first I will deal with you!"  He hefted his sword, stabbing forward suddenly, aiming for the man's stomach.Deftly, swiftly, the man twisted, the blade passing harmlessly by.  He struck back, claws growing from his hands, his whole body shifting, changing, features mutating into those of a nightmare monster."Renegade!  I will destroy you.  Your type fetches a good reward!"  Its claws shout out, striking at the sword, driving it to the ground even as it leaped into the air, legs flashing around to try to rip him with their talons.Now it was Mekior's turn to duck, twist, shift his form into a scaled creature, his arms elongating with razor sharp fins, claws with metallic tips.  He moved faster than the eye could follow, his hands shooting out, punching through the fiends chest, ripping out its heart, then its stomach.  He stood over the stunned fiend and shifted back to his human form.  Mekior knelt down, leaning close to the fiend who, while mortally wounded, remained alive, sustained by another heart that continued to pump within its body."Yes, I am a renegade, one of the native born, and I own allegiance to none!  I am a creature of this world now; I have lived within these caverns, amongst these humans and their allies for my entire life.  You have but seconds to live before I destroy you.  You will not live to betray this city or myself."  Mekior stood, grabbed his fallen sword, and hacked at the fallen fiend, mutilating it so badly that no evidence remained of the wounds that had led to its death.  It was then that he noticed the boy.  He must have sneaked back, watched the fight and seen the transformations of both fiends.  Mekior walked up to him, hand open and held out."Give me what you took from him, boy."  He looked down at the boy; saw a scruffy street urchin wearing torn and ragged clothes, a distended stomach visible through a ragged and torn shirt, feet bare on the cold cavern floor."Sir, I know you.  You are Mekior, the famed fiend hunter!  That was amazing!  I couldn't believe the fiend's illusion, its ruse to try and make you look like a fiend yourself!  I mean if you weren't Mekior, the Fiend Hunter, I would have thought that you might also be a fiend."  Awestruck the boy walked forward, and gazed at Mekior.  "Here, I stole his purse.  I know I shouldn't but I'm very hungry!"Mekior took the purse from the boy's outstretched hand and smiled. Thank the Gods that this one thinks he only saw an illusion.  I have become careless, and I have my answer, I cannot reveal myself to Gyv. "Thank you, boy.  Come with me, you will be well rewarded for this.  Your actions revealed a traitor and a spy to us!"  Mekior opened the purse, the belt pouch heavy in his hands.  Inside were two handfuls of gold coins, enough to feed this boy for the next ten years, and a lead seal.  Grimly he took the seal and gave the bag to the boy."Did you look within this pouch, boy?"  Mekior looked at the boy, trying to judge the truthfulness of his response."No, Sir.  I know it must have lots of coins inside, it is heavy!  I think at least ten copper must lie within!"Mekior's smile broadened.  A simple solution then, this boy will not want to explain to the guard how he got the pouch.   "Here, take the purse and its contents as a reward.  Come, boy, take your reward and then let us go to the guard.  They will want to know everything you saw and heard from this man."The boy took the purse and his eyes widened as he looked inside and saw the glint of gold.  He set off with Mekior, keeping a short distance from him until they entered the marketplace.  As they did so, the boy darted off, losing himself in the crowds.  Mekior smiled, his secret would remain in place for a while yet.  No overly inquisitive guard captain would have a chance to question the boy too closely over what he had seen.***Jeria looked around the room.  A blazing fire warmed it from a massive hearth, large enough to hold the two carcasses of cave beasts slowly roasting over the flames that filled the room with the aroma of cooking meat.  Jeria looked around, but saw no one nearby, the torches that lit as he arrived evidently reacting to his presence.  He saw two comfortable, high-backed chairs set in front of the fire and tall glasses with some clear liquid and ice floating within.  Little rivulets of moisture slowly ebbed down their sides, the whole scene comfortable and inviting."Take a seat, make yourself comfortable."  The voice was urbane, cultured, as the speaker stepped into the room from a door concealed behind a hanging tapestry.  The speaker was short, looked human, and was wearing an outfit that would the envy of a merchant prince.  Jeria did not trust appearances; the power of the fiend responsible for bringing him was beyond question.  This person was at the top of the food chain, a food chain in which personal power meant as much as power mustered from supporters and factions courted.  Jeria walked to one of the seats and sat down, the plush padding melding to his body, gently massaging him.  The man sat down next to him, luxuriating in the heat radiating from the fire, sipping from the glass next to his chair.  Jeria followed suite, sipping the liquid and finding it to be sweet, pure, cool spring water.  They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the ambience and the healthy smell of the roasting meat. "You must be wondering who I am, what I want with you?  The first question is simple; I am Secheriab, fiend of the first tier and aide to the ruler of the eighth circle.  My master has sent me here for a very simple reason- to get rid of Jelial and stop the conversion of this plane into a mirror of hell."  He stopped, aware of the effect of his words on Jeria who sat stunned."I am sure you wonder why the Lord of the Eighth would want to stop this invasion.  Simple really, Jelial was one of his Dukes.  The power Jelial has accumulated, the powerful fiends he has suborned into his service has caused my master great distress and concern.  He does not like this expansion of realms; it brings an imbalance to a system that has been in balance for longer than the human race has existed."  He swivelled his chair, looked at Jeria, and continued.  "Your role is simple, put us in contact with the resisting cities.  They would never accept our overtures openly and you are probably the sole half-fiend trusted enough to even get an audience with the cities' rulers."Jeria sat still and let the information be absorbed, filter through his preconceptions and ideas about reality.  He thought about how easy it would be for the fiends to have killed him and destroyed the group with whom he had been travelling.  This room, the power of the fiends within, his hosts comfort with dealing with him while he was still armed, and with no fear for any action he might take, were all indicative of a casual power that the wielder took for granted.  He felt drowned, out of his depth, this situation needed those used to dealing with power to deal with it.  He looked at Secheriab."What do you need me to do?"</blockquote>

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