WiKAWpedia - A Guide to KAW Lore

C
(Part 16)

• A Cast of Falcons - Chapter Seven: The Broken Crown (continued) -
  The large throne room was filled with a wide array of items of all kinds. Weapons, cutlery, works of art, small piles of silver coins, seemingly everything in the castle that wasn't furniture had been brought into the room and left on the floor or leaning against a wall. If there was anything of value present, it was lost in the piles and piles of worthless trinkets.
  
  They opened the door the rest of the way and walked in, trying their best to avoid the random objects strewn across the floor.
  
  "What happened here?" whispered Kish, then gasped. At the far end of the room, seated in the throne, was a figure.
  
  They saw more and more of the figure as they approached. It was an incredibly gaunt man, with long white hair and beard, dressed in purple robes which hung pathetically off his emaciated frame. At his feet lay his crown, broken into pieces.
  
  As they got even closer, they saw, with horror, that he was alive and muttering to himself.
  
  "Your majesty..." whispered Angas, his heart gripped by a claw of cold fear.
  
  King Naron did not seem to notice them. Soon they were close enough to hear his ramblings.
  
  "Enemies...enemies...enemies...spies everywhere...thieves everywhere...weakness everywhere...there must be order...there must be war...a war for order...I ordered them away...I ordered them all away...none have returned...none will return...I cannot trust any of them...dear Tosckar...only dear Tosckar can be trusted...he will protect me...he will return to me and I will be safe..."
  
  Kish stared at the old man in horror. This was what Tosckar had done to the king, over weeks, months, years. He had utterly destroyed his soul.
  
  "Your...m...Majesty..." Angas said again, louder this time.
  
  King Naron's muttering stopped. His wizened face looked up at Angas. Somehow, his eyes focused on him.
  
  "Sir Angas..." he whispered. "You...returned to me..."
  
  **********
  
  "Forgive us," said the seatemplar who had admitted them into the Temple of the Abyssal Eye, "but we are forbidden to show our faces to those from outside the order."
  
  The seatemplar, whose name was Dwin, hurriedly led Valerja and Telthas through the halls of the temple, which was magically sealed against the ingress of water to protect the many invaluable scrolls and manuscripts secreted therein. The inside of the temple was far less sinister than the exterior, although it was still very dark and arcane. Nearly everything Valerja saw was black or deep violet. Glowing runes ran up and down the hallways and the walls. All sound was muffled, even that of their own footfalls.
  
  "This way," said Dwin. "The Pateras Tagma has asked that you be taken directly to the Library of Arcana. He will meet you there as soon as possible."
  
  "It is a rare honor for the uninitiated to be allowed into the Library, Lady Valerja," said Telthas as they sped through the corridors. "I myself have only been allowed in a few times."
  
  "Would that the circumstances were different," said Valerja.
  
  The three of them soon arrived at a large archway. Through it was a giant multi-tiered library filled floor-to-ceiling with shelf upon shelf of tomes, grimoires, scrolls, and every other kind of recorded knowledge. Even Valerja was in awe.
  
  "The Library of Arcana is magnificent," she said appreciatively.
  
  "I thank you," said Dwin, "but this is not the Library. This way, please."
  
  They hurried through the stacks until they came to a secluded section. "We are near. One moment, please..."
  
  He took an odd-looking lantern out of a nearby recess. Then, from a pouch, he produced a giant black pearl the size of a fist.
  
  He placed the pear into a socket in the front of the lantern, then uttered a strange phrase...
  
  "Eye uncloud and ray reveal,
  Door unveil and secrets yield.”
  
  The lantern began to glow with the purplish light of the order's magic. The black pearl swiveled in its socket and became a large eye, from which a cone of violet light shone.
  
  Dwin shined the beam over the wall of books in front of them until he found a section that disappeared when it was struck by the light, revealing a door. He opened it, and beckoned Valerja and Telthas to follow.
  
  "This," said Telthas reverentially, "is the Library of Arcana."
  
  Through the door was another room of books and tables, much smaller than the main library. In this hidden chamber were kept only the most important, rarest, or most powerful spells, prophecies, and written works known to history. Valerja imagined she could feel the sheer power of the secrets locked inside the books and scrolls lining the walls.
  
  In the center of the room stood a tall figure in armor similar to that of Dwin and Telthas, but whose golden mask was mounted with blue gems and runestones. He stood in front of a large table, on which were strewn scrolls and opened tomes.
  
  Telthas and Dwin knelt. "Hail, Pateras!" they said in unison.
  
  "Rise, masks," he said to them. "Lady Valerja, welcome to Kersos. I am the Pateras Tagma of the Order of the Abyssal Eye. Forgive the haste in which you were brought here, but we have much to discuss..."
  
  **********
  
  Tosckar stood in the grand hall in the center of the elven temple, his golden monocle glinting maliciously. In his hand was a strange device. It had the appearance of a spyglass, but it was covered with runes and crystals, and the lens was ruby-colored. It was from this device that he was able to effortlessly summon the beams of unimaginable destruction, seemingly at will, and it was trained at the moment on Illassa, who stood several yards in front of him.
  
  Around them, the bodies of dead elves and mercenaries littered the floor.
  
  "It is not here. They are not here. You are wasting your time," she said.
  
  "Oh, I know it is not here. I can see that for myself," he said. "My monocle is not simply for show, you know. No, I can see it from quite far away and I know it is nowhere nearby. How vexing. So close and yet so far, eh?"
  
  Outside, the sounds of battle continued. The chaos caused by Tosckar's infernal weapon had more than leveled the playing field, and many more elven magic-users had fallen to the Black Cat Riders than would have otherwise. The rime elves were doing their best to regroup, but terror ran through them like a plague.
  
  "How very strange it was," he continued. "I came all this way to find the Star of Damas, having received good information that it was in Galdurheim. We flew over as quickly as we could, and lo! There it was, shining brightly like a star in the sky, except of course we were in the sky and the star was on the ground..."
  
  Illassa stood in dignified silence as Tosckar rambled. He mustn't see your fear, she thought. He will know you are hiding something else...
  
  "...Then, suddenly, poof! The shine vanished! The star had fallen, or perhaps ascended, in this case, just as we neared the temple. Now, how could that have happened? Where could the star have gone?"
  
  As he spoke, the ruby lens of the strange device stayed trained on Illassa, but Illassa's eyes never left Tosckar.
  
  "Do you like my toy?" he asked suddenly, indicating the spyglass. "It's called a 'crystallomantic nullifier.' I'm sure you can see why. They're very handy, you know. One nullifier can wipe out an entire city in a matter of minutes."
  
  He smiled at Illassa. "I wouldn't be much of a merchant if I didn't offer a demonstration..."
  
  Illassa continued to stare levelly at Tosckar, refusing to allow her inner turmoil to surface. Let him burn the temple to the ground, as long as my people escape. She thought. He will never find it...
  
  Suddenly, a Kestralian soldier ran into the room. "Lord Tosckar, we have finished questioning the prisoners. We know where the fugitives have gone."
  
  "Good," said Tosckar, without taking his eyes off of Illassa. "Tell the others to prepare for departure."
  
  "Also, we found this," he said, and brought over a small sack.
  
  Tosckar took the sack and looked into it. His face broke into a slow, menacing grin.
  
  "Well, well," he said. "What an interesting find."
  
  He turned to the soldier. "Gather the Kestralians. We shall leave the cleanup to the Black Cats. I have new instructions. Go."
  
  The soldier left. Tosckar turned his grin onto Illassa.
  
  "Well, well," he said again. "fortune provides..."
  
  **********
  
  "Angas...Angas Crieff," muttered Naron, "You came back to us. How pleased I am to see you. It has been far too long, my boy..."
  
  Angas knelt in front of the king, his head bowed. He had sent Kish to find whatever food or water he could, as well as any people who might still be nearby.
  
  "I am honored that Your Majesty remembers me," said Angas.
  
  "The son of Raghnall? How could I forget?" croaked the king through dry lips. "Such an excellent family. Such a noble family. How fare the Crieffs these days?"

 

C
(Part 17)

• A Cast of Falcons - Chapter Seven: The Broken Crown (continued) -
  Angas did not have the heart to tell the king that he alone remained.
  
  "We have seen...better days, my liege," he said sadly.
  
  "Ah, yes...I remember now. Alas, poor Raghnall...forgive an old fool his failing memory, young Angas," he went on, sadly.
  
  Angas said nothing, but his shoulders were shaking.
  
  "Stand up, my boy. I won't have a Crieff kneeling before me," rasped the king.
  
  Angas stood up, but his head remained bowed.
  
  "I'm afraid I've been...a bit of a fool, Angas," said the king. "I have failed my kingdom."
  
  Angas said nothing, but shook his head.
  
  "It is true," whispered the king. "I opened my ears to lies and I closed my eyes to the truth. I allowed greed and fear to cloud my mind. And many have suffered and died because of it."
  
  "No!" cried Angas, his voice choked with sorrow, "It is I who failed you, Your Majesty!"
  
  "You have not failed, Sir Angas," said the king. "You were the only one to return. You were the only one who fulfilled his duty. And because of you...I will know one final moment of lucidity before I die."
  
  Angas looked up in fear with tears in his eyes. "No, Your Majesty! I have sent for food and water! Please do not despair!"
  
  King Naron held up a hand. "Do not weep, young Angas. For the first time in years, my mind is...clear. Whatever charm or wizardry was at work has at last been dispelled. I see clearly. But my time has come. Weep not! You have made a foolish old man happy one final time."
  
  With that, he closed his eyes and sat back on his throne. So passed Naron IV, king of Kestral.
  
  Angas fell to his knees once again and let out a great howl of anguish.
  
  **********
  
  The Star of Damas sat on the large table in the Library of Arcana, next to an unfurled scroll bearing a drawing of it.
  
  “Osmon...Rai…” said Valerja quietly.
  
  “The sky continent,” said the Pateras. “Hundreds of years ago, a great many countries had been conquered by an empire of militaristic men and women. One day, their rulers heard tell of a hidden continent in the sky, overflowing with riches and new peoples to conquer. From that moment on, every scholar, mage, and general in the empire spent every moment of every day working towards a single goal: the conquest of Osmon Rai.
  
  “It took them many years and generations, but one day, every man, woman, and child left that empire and took to the skies, and they were never seen again. Those people were known as the Zerua.”
  
  “Ah! The ones from the sorceress’ dreams!” exclaimed Telthas.
  
  “But...a continent in the sky? How could such a thing exist?” asked Valerja.
  
  “It is true. It had been hidden from ground-dwellers for millennia,” said the Pateras.”None could reach it or leave it. I do not yet know how or why it was locked away, but it has been recently rediscovered. This is where we come to the Eye of the Maiden, or the Heart of Damas.”
  
  “The Zerua...want the jewel?” asked Valerja.
  
  “I believe so,” said the Pateras. “It is both my belief and that of the sorceress that the jewel can somehow be used to ‘unlock’ Osman Rai, as it were.”
  
  “So it is like a key?” asked Telthas. “But then should it not be destroyed?”
  
  “It is not a key,” said the Pateras. “Rather, it possesses some sort of quality or energy that can be used to destroy the barrier between Osmon Rai and the ground.”
  
  “But it is not from Osmon Rai,” said Valerja. “Why would they even know about it?”
  
  “I do not know,” said the Pateras. “But if the barrier disappears, it will allow the Zerua to invade from the skies.”
  
  “That means that Tosckar must be an agent of the Zerua,” said Valerja.
  
  Suddenly, a thin red beam of light shot through the wooden door, through Valerja’s chest, and out her back, creating a perfectly round hole the size of a fist. She fell backwards and hit the floor with a thud.
  
  Before anyone else could react, the wooden door flew into the room, having been kicked off its hinges, and in walked Tosckar.
  
  “Close,” he said, as Valerja fell to the ground. “I happen to be the king of Zerua, if you want to know.”
  
  He raised the nullifier and pointed it at the Pateras Tagma’s head. Its ruby-colored lens glowed malevolently.
  
  “Do not move,” he growled at the room.
  
  Telthas, the Pateras, and Dwin stood watching helplessly as Tosckar picked up the Star of Damas. Then, backing away, he placed the jewel into a pouch on his belt.
  
  “Thank you for your custom,” he said. There was no longer a hint of Tosckar the merchant in his voice. There was now only Tosckar the king.
  
  “I see now,” said the Pateras. “You have provided the final piece of the puzzle. I promise you that you are making a grave mistake."
  
  As he spoke, Telthas’ own hand reached into a pouch on her belt.
  
  “Be silent,” said Tosckar. “You are in the presence of your future king.”
  
  “AKTINA KAFTEROS!” shouted Telthas suddenly, as she flung a handful of small runed stones at Tosckar. The stones froze in midair around him and suddenly formed a cage of burning rays of light. One of the rays singed Tosckar’s arm, and with a shout of rage he dropped the nullifier onto the stone floor.
  
  He pulled his arm back into the cage of light, and reached into another pouch, pulling out an active travelstone.
  
  “STOP!” shouted Telthas. She lunged desperately across the room at him, but it was too late.
  
  “Summit of Mount Panganod,” said Tosckar, and he and the Star of Damas were gone.
• A Cast of Falcons - Chapter Eight: Interregnum -
  Telthas sat in silent vigil in the recovery room in the infirmary of the Order of the Abyssal Eye. In a bed next to her lay Valerja, her eyes still closed.
  
  The infirmary attendants had been astonished when Telthas had ordered that she be brought there to convalesce, as people with plate-sized holes through their torso normally required burial rather than bedrest. They might have mistaken her command as madness brought on by grief, had the Pateras Tagma not confirmed that Valerja was to be brought to the infirmary to recover.
  
  Over the three days since Tosckar's attack, the healers and attendants had been astonished to watch as, bit by bit, Valerja's body somehow rebuilt itself. The cavity in her chest gradually sealed itself over the first day, then the color began to return to her face as all the blood she had lost on the floor of the Library of Arcana slowly replenished itself. Yet the new heart housed in her magically reconstructed chest still did not beat.
  
  Most of the other beds contained members of the order who were unlucky enough to have been in Tosckar's path when he arrived at the temple, yet had been lucky enough to have survived his fiendish weapon of light.
  
  The weapon seemed to be a great source of consternation for the Pateras Tagma, and not simply because of its destructive power. Once Valerja was safely in an infirmary bed, he had returned to the Library of Arcana to study the nullifier, only leaving it to visit Telthas from time to time to check on Valerja's progress.

 

C
(Part 18)

• A Cast of Falcons - Chapter Eight: Interregnum (continued) -
  It was now the third evening since the attack. Telthas tried to quell the sense of doom that had been slowly welling up inside her. She knew she had to do something, but she knew not what. They had sent word of Tosckar's attack to Galdurheim, but had yet to receive a response. Surely the rime elves couldn’t have fallen to a pack of Black Cat Riders, could they? she thought to herself.
  
  She wondered how long they had left until the prophecy from the scrolls came true...
  
  She was interrupted in her anxious reverie by a kind voice. "Incredible. Her body has completely restored itself. This is magic even beyond that of most Mages."
  
  She looked up to see the Pateras Tagma, who had been standing on the other side of the bed for she knew not how long. "Pateras..." she said. "How fares your study?"
  
  "Well and not well," he responded. "Well, in that I have at last managed to confirm my fears, and not well for the same reason. The old saying is true: if you seek to prevent two prophecies, both shall come to pass."
  
  "Then the threat from the Sorceress' dream and the threat mentioned in the scrolls are not the same," said Telthas.
  
  "Correct. One warns of an impending tragedy in which many lives will be lost. The other warns of annihilation. For all."
  
  Telthas frowned behind her mask. "Does this have to do with Tosckar's strange weapon?" she asked.
  
  "In a way," responded the Pateras Tagma. "And in a way, that weapon is the least of our problems..."
  
  He sat down in the chair on the other side of the bed and lowered his voice so as not to be heard by those around them. "I am now certain that Tosckar has forged an alliance with the Prizmai, a collective of crystalline beings of unknown origin, whose only known goal is to extinguish all life."
  
  "All life?" asked Telthas, "Are they not themselves alive?"
  
  "Their motives are, for the most part, inscrutable. Few have communicated with the Prizmai and lived. All we know is that they are said to have taken on what they call the "spark" of life as a temporary measure, in order to return all things to what they refer to as the "Great Lattice," before returning there themselves. In other words, they seek to end all life and destroy all matter."
  
  "But...that is madness! Why would Tosckar enter into a pact with such devils?"
  
  "It could be that he is, indeed, mad. But the fact that he is planning an invasion leads me to believe that he is ignorant of the designs of the Prizmai. It was likely they who told him of the Heart of Damas and helped him leave Osmon Rai, promising him that if he could but get his hands on the jewel, he could use it to swing open the gates of the sky continent and become emperor of the world. Then they gave him that nullifier weapon and who knows what else besides, and sent him forth. He thinks he is using them, when it is they who are using him."
  
  Telthas thought for a moment. "So...Tosckar wishes to use the jewel to enable the Zeruan army to leave Osmon Rai and conquer the world," she said. "And these 'Prizmai' would be released as well?"
  
  "Possibly," said the Pateras. "I believe that the Prizmai want the jewel for themselves. They are incredibly powerful and seek to end all life, yet they keep to themselves and rarely interact with other beings. Something is holding back their power, and I believe they need the Star to recover it. If that is the case...well, I shudder to think what will happen if Tosckar turns it over to them."
  
  He stood up. "I have already sent word of my latest findings to the Sorceress," he said. "I have yet to receive a response. I fear that Tosckar's attack on Galdurheim may have taken a greater toll than I thought it would. As soon as you are ready, you must return there..."
  
  He stopped suddenly, and Telthas realized that Valerja's eyes were open.
  
  "I remember now..." she said quietly.
  
  **********
  
  Angas stood atop one of the tall towers of the royal palace in Gen Gurum, staring northward over the city towards the highlands beyond. A strong northerly wind whipped his red hair about, giving him the appearance of a stern-faced torch.
  
  His alert expression belied his weariness. Since the king’s passing, he had been working day and night with little rest. Messengers came and went at all hours while he labored to restore the palace and its operations, sent word to the kingdom’s generals and nobles, and learned as much as he could about the state of Kestral and its subjects.
  
  As unwilling as he was to admit it out loud, Kish had become slightly less irritating to Angas over the preceding few days. Kish had a talent for gathering information from the streets, which he passed on to Angas to help him keep abreast of goings-on in the city. Angas continued to keep a wary eye on him, but he seemed to be genuinely interested in helping him.
  
  Soon after the king died, nobles had begun trickling back into the capital to discuss the question of succession. King Naron was unmarried and had left no heir, yet there were none stepping forward to lay claim to the throne. Tosckar's reign had left the kingdom in disarray. Many citizens had been robbed of their chattels, their money, their lands, and the lives of their loved ones by Tosckar in the name of the king. Angas knew it would be decades before each of their petitions for justice was heard. Whoever became king had their work cut out for them.
  
  He wondered what would become of the Falcons, now that the king was gone. The official word from the palace was that the king had died of "illness," but there were rumblings among the common folk that he had been assassinated by the rebels. He wondered if the truth would ever get out, and if anyone would believe it if it did.
  
  He thought about Galdurheim and the Black Cat Riders. They must have been mad for attacking the rime elves in their own citadel, or at least very well paid. Surely the elves will have routed them, he thought. Yet there had not yet been any word from the temple, and Angas could not help but worry that Tosckar must have been present at the attack, and had had some sort of trick up his sleeve.
  
  A noise behind him snapped him out of his reverie. He turned to see Kish climbing out of the trapdoor leading to the stairs inside the tower.
  
  "Thought that was you I saw brooding up here," he said as he walked up to stand beside him. "The nobles are gathering in the great hall. I think they’re going to choose someone to be leader while the scholars work out who’s the new king."
  
  Angas nodded.
  
  "I was wondering about that," said Kish. "Who do you think they'll go for? Could it be you, maybe?"
  
  "Don’t be daft,” snapped Angas. “It’ll be Anfangstadt. He's the highest ranking noble, and he's a relative of...what's your problem?”
  
  "Nothing...it's nothing. Do go on," said Kish as calmly as he could, his face betraying his disgust.
  
  "Ah, right," said Angas. "he's the one you stole the jewel from."
  
  "It's partly that, yes..." muttered Kish through gritted teeth.
  
  "Well, I'm not too happy about it myself," said Angas. "He's not a military man, and I don't think he's worked a day in his life. There's also talk that he might be planning a mass arrest of suspected members of the Falcons."
  
  "Hmm..." was all Kish said. He suddenly became lost in his own thoughts.
  
  They stood side-by-side for a few moments.
  
  “Well, at any rate, you’ll probably find out for yourself,” said Kish. “They’ve sent for you.”
  
  Angas turned to glare at Kish. "Why didn't you say so earlier, you fool thief?" he said. He opened the trapdoor and disappeared into it.
  
  Kish took over staring northward on Angas' behalf, until about thirty seconds had passed, then turned and followed him down the trapdoor.
  
  High above the palace, a falcon screeched.
  
  **********
  
  The Kestralian flotilla, or most of it, was on its way home to Gen Gurum at speed.
  
  The more eagle-eyed among the earthbound viewing its passage overhead would have noticed a few changes among its airships. For instance, the crews manning the airships were now elven, the original Kestralian crews having been imprisoned in the flotilla’s various brigs, and each ship now flew the flag of Galdurheim.
  
  Illassa stood in the captain’s cabin on the foremost airship, watching the clouds rush past the porthole, and silently willing them to rush faster. On the desk next to her were four large iridescent blue-green feathers and the letter from the Pateras Tagma.
  
  The remainder of the battle in Galdurheim had been less of a fight and more of a clean-up. The Black Cat Riders, incensed at having been abandoned by the greasy southerner and his weapon of light, turned tail and fled with their mercenary gold rather than face the wrath of the elves.
  
  Illassa spent two days after the attack coordinating the temple’s reconstruction and care of casualties while trying to wait calmly for word from the Abyss. Then, on the third day, the letter arrived, together with word that the Order of the Abyss had been attacked.
  
  The tidings in the letter were dire indeed, and now what hope there was to repel the coming invasion dwindled with each passing second. She had never before heard of the “Prizmai” of which he wrote, but what she read made her blood run cold.
  
  Let us deal with one worldwide existential threat at a time, she thought to herself.
  
  She thanked whatever gods had been watching that Tosckar had at least not discovered her prototype of the Thaumic Engine. She had been working on it in secret together with the Pateras Tagma for many months now, and it was now the best chance they had at repelling the Zerua. And now, thanks to new information in the Pateras’ letter, as well as a promised gift of Izulite crystal rods, her work was nearly complete.

 

C
(Part 19)

• A Cast of Falcons - Chapter Eight: Interregnum (continued) -
  All she had to do now, she thought wryly to herself, was convince Kestral to join its enemies to prepare for an invasion from the skies.
  
  She thought of Angas. She had faith that he will have fulfilled the role in which she had cast him. Valerja, Telthas, and Kish, too, had roles to play in the coming hours.
  
  All she could do was set the stage as quickly and skillfully as she could.
  
  **********
  
  Telthas and Valerja sped through the Abyss in a strange underwater carriage drawn by two red seaserpents, with Dwin as their driver.
  
  The carriage was a large rune-covered sphere used for transporting cargo from the Abyss to the surface lands. Aside from Valerja and Telthas, it contained various crates of mysterious supplies that the Pateras Tagma had ordered be sent to Galdurheim.
  
  The two women sat on the floor of the undersea vehicle as it sped through the ocean waters. Valerja had spoken very little since waking.
  
  “Are you certain you are fully recovered, Valerja?” asked Telthas anxiously.
  
  “My health is sufficient for this journey. I will complete my recovery along the way,” said Valerja. “We are headed to the Abyssal Portal, correct?”
  
  “Yes. The Pateras Tagma informs me that a Kestralian airship awaits us on the other side. We are to load this cargo onto it and return to Galdurheim with all speed. He will join us there as soon as he has mustered the Seatemplars.”
  
  Valerja nodded. “And Illassa?”
  
  “She has gone to Gen Gurum, presumably so that she can convince the king of the impending threat...but that still leaves us with the threat of the Prizmai.”
  
  “The Prizmai…” muttered Valerja. “I do not know the meaning of that word, yet it fills my heart with fear. A remnant of my past life, perhaps.”
  
  “Is there much you still do not remember?” asked Telthas.
  
  “There must be. But while I slept, many voices spoke to me, and I saw things that I had not seen in many years. And I remembered.”
  
  She fixed her eyes onto Telthas, her sapphires alight with resolve.
  
  “Mark me, Telthas. I will go to the sky lands, even if I must climb a tower of bones. I will hunt down Tosckar like a jackrabbit. I will retrieve the Star of Damas, and bring it to my lady in the desert. I will fulfil my duty and I will not fail.”
  
  There was steel in Valerja’s voice such that Telthas had never heard before.
  
  “I have no doubt that you shall,” she said to Valerja. “And we will do all in our power to aid you!”
  
  Valerja smiled at Telthas, and nodded, as the vessel raced through the waters.
  
  **********
  
  The throne room had been restored following the death of the king, barring two noticeable changes.
  
  The first was that on the throne there now sat a famous golden urn known as “Royal Tribute,” a treasure that had been in the royal family for generations, and which now housed the late king’s ashes.
  
  The second was that a large desk, somehow more ornate and splendid than the throne itself, had been placed at the foot of the dais. Behind this desk now sat the Duke Casnir of Anfangstadt, a tall, slender, and finely dressed man with salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly trimmed beard black.
  
  “First of all,” he said to Angas, who was standing at attention before the desk, “we want you to know that we are aware of what you did for the king, and that you comforted His Majesty in his final moments.”
  
  “Thank you, Your Grace,” said Angas.
  
  “However,” continued the duke, glancing at some papers, “it has been reported that you left your post and have been missing for some time. There have even been allegations that you were spotted among rebel groups, attacking royal soldiers. Now, let me say right away that we do not believe for a moment that a knight of the realm and a son of Raghnall would be capable of such scurrilous acts, so you need only to…”
  
  “It is true,” interrupted Angas. “I’ll not deny it. I left my post and sought out the Falcons.”
  
  The duke stopped and leaned back in his finely upholstered chair. “Ah,” he said after a moment. “That complicates matters somewhat.”
  
  Angas stood in silence. He felt he had little else to say.
  
  “Surely, Sir Angas, you must know that the penalty for leaving one’s post is death, even before adding the charge of treason.”
  
  “I know this, Your Grace,” said Angas.
  
  The duke kept staring at the knight’s face as if trying to find hidden meaning in his simple words.
  
  “I’m afraid this…” he began.
  
  Suddenly, the great throne room doors flew open and Kish burst in.
  
  “Death!?” he spat, furious. “You’re a bloody fool, you are! He’s the only one out of all you bloody toffs who came back in the end, isn’t he. And the people love him! They’ll tear you to pieces if you so much as lay a finger on him!”
  
  Angas wheeled around, his eyes alight with rage at Kish’s impertinence, but the duke merely stood up and leaned forward with his fingertips on his desk.
  
  “Your point is taken, young man,” he said in his aristocratic baritone, “but the law is the law.”
  
  He turned back to Angas. “We will see what we can do for you, Sir Angas, but it does not bode well for you. I am loath to allow the Crieff line to die in such an ignominious fashion…”
  
  They were interrupted once again, this time by a palace guard.
  
  “Your grace!” he exclaimed, out of breath, “The flotilla has returned! But it flies the flag of Galdurheim!”
  
  **********
  
  Far above the country of Kestral, far above the highest treetops of Darden Forest, far above the tallest peaks of the Dileas Mountains, far above the clouds themselves, a great golden pyramid floated through the sky on the back of a giant winged serpent.
  
  Inside the uppermost chamber of the pyramid stood an old woman in colorful robes and wearing a large headdress of scintillating blue-green feathers. She was staring into a square-shaped hearth in the center of the floor, in which a pure white fire blazed and crackled.
  
  Behind her, a young man came running up the steps of yellow stone. “Great Mother!” he cried. “He has returned! The Zeruan king has returned to Osmon Rai!”
  
  The old woman looked up from the flame.
  
  “It has come to pass,” she muttered to herself. “The time of the fifth feather is upon us.”
• A Cast of Falcons - Chapter Nine: The Time of the Fifth Feather -
  Four airships from the Kestralian flotilla were bound once again for Galdurheim.
  
  Kish stood on the deck of the foremost ship, staring thoughtfully into the horizon. Any joy he might have experienced at being on an airship for the first time was marred by the thought that at any moment the sky before him might split open and rain death upon them.
  
  In the corner of his eye, he saw the sun dipping towards the horizon. Ahead of him, an innocent cloudless sky topping the Dileas Mountains in the distance. The view was extraordinary, but he couldn’t help but stifle a yawn. It had been a busy few days with little sleep.
  
  His mind wandered back to the council of the sorceress of Galdurheim and Duke Casnir. The sorceress had managed, somehow, to impress upon the duke not only that an invasion from Osmon Rai was imminent, but that he needed to beg the assistance of Gao Tesi and Elheim to have a hope of surviving it.
  
  The duke’s haughty manner seemed to wilt in the face of Illassa’s elegance and regality, and not even the majestic plural he had adopted seemed to survive it. Or had there been something else, he thought to himself. Most of their actual deliberation had gone over Kish’s head, yet he had the vague impression that some sort of cryptic message had passed from the sorceress to the duke at one point, after which he seemed suddenly far more cooperative.
  
  The next thing Kish knew, the duke had promised not only to petition Gao Tesi and Elheim for aid, but to release from service all Kestralians who had been forcefully conscripted during Naron’s reign of madness, as well as to declare a blanket amnesty for all Falcons and others suspected of “traitorous activity.”
  
  Then as suddenly as she had arrived, she left again, taking Kish with her. Angas stayed behind at the sorceress’ behest to advise the duke.
  
  She told Kish she had a task that called for a Falcon “skilled in specific areas.”
  
  One last job, he thought. He stared at the distant mountains ahead, wondering what it would be...
  
  **********
  
  Elsewhere on the ship, Illassa lay on a cot in her cabin. Her eyes were shut, but in concentration rather than sleep.
  
  She reached her mind outwards and upwards...
  
  Suddenly, she was standing under a sky of such brilliant aquamarine it looked like a facet of a giant jewel. Directly above her was a strange white sun that flickered like a flame. Below her, a white cloudlike plane extending into the horizon on every side.

 

C
(Part 20)

• A Cast of Falcons - Chapter Nine: The Time of the Fifth Feather (continued) - Standing before her was a crone in robes of red, green, blue, and yellow, wearing a large headdress of familiar blue-green feathers. Illassa had never seen the woman before, but knew immediately who she was.
  
  “I am called Tonalnan, seeress and great mother of the Mixtli people,” said the old woman in a strong, clear voice that belied her years.
  
  “Greetings, Great Mother,” said Illassa, bowing. “I am Illassa, sorceress of Galdurheim. At last, we meet face-to-face, as it were.”
  
  “My greetings to you, O Sorceress. I had hoped, now that the skies begin to open, to be able to meet with you at last on the mind-plane. I am glad you had the same thought.”
  
  “Indeed,” said Illassa. “We owe you a debt of gratitude, Great Mother. Without your efforts, we would already have been annihilated. Yet I am afraid I must ask another favor of you.”
  
  “I know what you will ask, queen of the rime elves,” said Tonalnan. “You will be sending me two of your number. Fear not! I have foreseen the place of meeting, and even now members of my tribe fly to meet with them and guide them safely to their destination.”
  
  “You see clearly, O Great Mother. My thanks to you,” said Illassa with relief.
  
  “I have one final vision to impart before our time here is at an end,” said Tonalnan. She raised her arms and the white flame above them expanded until it filled the sky.
  
  A moment later, the white flare had dissipated, revealing an upside-down landscape as viewed from many miles in the air.
  
  “The Zerua have the key to opening the skies, but they can only do so here, where the barrier is at its weakest…” she said, pointing to a craggy area below them. “It will take them time to create an opening big enough to admit their armies. Your army must go there with all haste, and engage with them before the gate swings fully open.”
  
  Illassa stared upwards at the bird’s-eye view. “The Highlands... I see. I will send word at once. Great Mother Tonalnan, you have aided us more than I dared hope.”
  
  Tonalnan nodded solemnly. “I must withdraw for now,” said the old woman. “Have your emissaries bring the feathers I sent you. We will hold the Zerua off on our side of the divide as long as we can. May we one day fight side-by-side. Farewell!”
  
  Illassa’s eyes widened in surprise. She had had no idea the Mixtli were battling the Zerua as well, but both the vision of the old woman and the cloudy plain on which they stood had already faded from her inner eye.
  
  “Farewell, Great Mother,” said Illassa to herself.
  
  The sorceress opened her eyes to see that her cabin was awash in a green light. She sat up on her cot and turned just in time to see the fifth blue-green feather appear in mid-air and float down to join the other four.
  
  “Mornfrid!” she called to her aide, leaping to her feet...
  
  A few minutes later, one of the four airships turned around and headed back to Gen Gurum.
  
  **********
  
  Thirty minutes later, a rime elf named Adorel stood in the Kestral Royal Castle throne room.
  
  “Wolfridge…” said Angas.
  
  “Yes, my lords,” said Adorel, “Five furlongs southeast of the foot of Talley Hills. ‘Tis there that the Zeruan gate will appear, small at first but gradually growing. We must labor to reach the gate as quickly as possible, before it grows large enough to allow a proper invasion, so says the sorceress.”
  
  “Was there anything else?” said Angas.
  
  “Only that Galdurheim pledges its aid, and will be on the march within the next few hours,” said Adorel.
  
  “Then you are dismissed,” said Duke Casnir. Adorel bowed and left.
  
  “Well, then. They will be far away from the capital,” said the duke. “That is some relief, at least.”
  
  Angas pretended he hadn’t heard. “The army is not yet fully mustered. We have only a thousand men on foot and two hundred on horseback as it stands. We also have ten airships, which are being loaded with supplies and fuel as we speak.”
  
  “It will have to suffice,” said the duke. “I have authorized you to take command of this campaign. How long will it take you to reach the invasion site?”
  
  “The airships, an hour. The horsemen, six hours. The soldiers, a day and a half, two days if slowed by war machines.”
  
  The duke frowned. “Very well. Send the horsemen and eight hundred of the soldiers on their way, then go directly there with the airships and scout the area. Before you depart, send word to all units on their way to muster that they are to proceed directly to Wolfridge.”
  
  “Yes, your Grace...and Gao Tesi and Elheim?”
  
  “With all respect to the sorceress,” said the duke, “we have been at war with Gao Tesi and Elheim for over five years now. Surely neither nation would accept so sudden a truce.”
  
  “I understand your apprehension, your Grace,” said Angas, wondering at the sudden change of heart, “but we did give the sorceress our word. If they are to assist us, they will require this new information.”
  
  The duke shook his head in disbelief. “These are the nations that robbed you of your family, Sir Angas. Surely you cannot be so eager to trust them?”
  
  Angas looked the duke directly in the eye. His pale face did not betray his anger at the duke’s callous words, but for a moment, his eyes flashed brighter even than his flame-red hair.
  
  “Your Grace,” he said evenly, “I trust in the counsel of the elven sorceress, and necessity forces our hand.”
  
  The duke met Angas’ gaze evenly, but if he noticed his anger he did not show it.
  
  “Very well,” he said after a moment. “I will write to the leaders of both nations myself. I leave the rest to you, Sir Angas.”
  
  Ten minutes and numerous messengers later, Angas stood in the courtyard near the entrance to the shipwards, waiting for the airships to be loaded. The sun had nearly set, but the sky was clear.
  
  Holy Farmer, he thought to himself, you’ve taken my family. You’ll not take my home as well.
  
  He stared grimly at the evening sky and muttered a vow to himself that while he drew breath no Zeruan would ever touch down on the soil of his homeland.
  
  And as he frowned into the sky, he suddenly heard a piercing note on the wind. A distant, but familiar cry.
  
  No, he thought to himself as his heart suddenly stopped, it cannot be.
  
  For a few moments, he did not dare even to breathe. Then, slowly, he brought his fingers to his lips, and whistled...
  
  **********
  
  One hour later, Illassa had gathered her top Spectral Generals in the grand hall of the elven temple at Galdurheim, along with Telthas, Valerja, and Kish, and was conveying Tonalnan’s message to them.
  
  The room had already been restored to the state it was in before the invasion, but there remained a perfectly circular hole in the stone ceiling that had not yet been repaired. In the distance, the faint sounds of temple reconstruction could be heard.
  
  “The Zerua are not yet able to draw out the full power of the jewel,” she continued, “but it is only a matter of time before the sky is fully open and they are able to freely invade. We must be in position before that happens. General Lloris, have the thaumic engines been assembled and installed in all the airships?”
  
  “Yes, Sorceress,” replied one of the Generals, “One on every airship, including the Kestralian ships. Each ship has at least five conjurers skilled in their use on board.”
  
  “Good. Any sign of the Pateras Tagma and the Abyssal Masks?”
  
  “None yet, Sorceress,” said another of the generals.
  
  “Unfortunate. Let us pray for their haste. General Theodemar, I leave the temple in your hands. See that the Pateras Tagma and his troops head for the landing site as soon as they arrive. The rest of you shall depart at once for Wolfridge. Dame Telthas, Valerja, and Master Elliel, remain with me a moment.”
  
  Kish looked around as the other generals left the room. He expected that this concerned the “task” the sorceress had said she had for him, but she still didn’t know what it would involve.
  
  Once the generals had left, Valerja turned to Illassa. “Am I not to fight alongside your generals?” she asked.
  
  “I have a far more important task for you, Valerja. General Melara awaits you now on her airship. She will escort you to Mt. Panganod, where you will meet with members of the Mixtli tribe,” said Illassa.
  
  Valerja’s eyes lit up. “Do you mean...!?” she exclaimed.
  
  “Yes,” said Illassa. “They will take you to Tosckar, wherever he is. You will kill him and take back the Star.” The last was uttered not as an order, but as a simple prediction.
  
  Valerja’s face broke into a grin, and in that grin was bloodlust.
  
  “Dame Telthas,” continued Illassa, “I ask that you accompany Valerja through the gates of Panganod and protect her until the arrival of the Mixtli, then fly with Melara to Wolfridge.”
  
  “Yes, Sorceress,” said Telthas.
  
  “And you, Master Elliel...” said Illassa, turning to Kish.
  
  Here we go, thought Kish. Stay in the temple and don’t get in anyone’s way, I should imagine.
  
  “Your last duty as a Falcon will be to accompany Valerja into Osmon Rai and help her recover the Star of Damas,” Illassa went on.
  
  Kish’s jaw dropped. “I...?” was all he could manage.
  
  “Once again, we find ourselves in need of your skills, Master Elliel,” said Illassa, placing a hand on Kish’s shoulder. “I have no doubt that they will prove useful to us all, as they have in the past. Together with Valerja, you can end this war at a stroke.”
  
  Kish simply nodded.
  
  “Before you leave,” said Illassa, turning and beckoning to one of her attendants, “do not forget this.”

 

C
(Part 21)

• A Cast of Falcons - Chapter Nine: The Time of the Fifth Feather (continued) - The attendant walked over to them, holding Kish’s backpack. “Ah! M-my thanks,” said Kish.
  
  “Inside, you’ll find the feathers that were sent to me by the Mixtli seeress. They will be requested as proof that I sent you, so keep them safe.”
  
  “Yes, Sorceress...oh!” he said, noticing they had included the sapphire statuette of the falcon. “You needn’t have returned this to me. Please keep it. It’s the least I can do for the hospitality you have shown me,” he said.
  
  “I thank you for your kind gesture,” said Illassa, “but I would prefer that you keep it. Once this mission has concluded, the Falcons will be no more. Let this be a memento of your time with us, and of your heroism.”
  
  Blushing furiously, Kish bowed and returned the statuette to his backpack.
  
  “One last thing, Master Elliel,” said Illassa, “I had noticed that you had in your backpack when you arrived a bundle of papers. May I ask where you came across them?”
  
  “Oh yes, those,” said Kish, noticing they were no longer in his pack. “I found them when I found the jewel, in the safe in the duke’s palace. Do you have them? You’re welcome to keep them, if you think they’re of any use. They’re of none to me, certainly. Can’t read for toffee, me.”
  
  Illassa smiled wryly. “They have already proven quite useful, Master Elliel. Perhaps when this is over, we will sit together at feast in the grand hall, and I will tell you all about it.”
  
  Kish smiled, despite feeling that he had missed something interesting.
  
  “I promise to keep your lunesilver safe for you until you return from Osmon Rai,” she said, stepping back and addressing the three of them. “As the rime elves say, ‘May the gods grant you wings!’”
  
  “Are you ready, Telthas? Kish?” said Valerja.
  
  “Let us go,” said Telthas.
  
  
  The Kestralian airship vanguard had arrived in the Highlands of Wolfridge.
  
  The fleet landed, and soldiers immediately began to unload and assemble machines of war in preparation for the invasion. Once the ground equipment was fully unloaded, the airships took to the skies again.
  
  Upwards they rose, the keenest-eyed among them scanning the skies for any sign of a rift. The search was made more difficult by the design of the Kestralian airships, whose large balloons meant that it was impossible to see above the ship.
  
  There had been no time to fit the airships with their own armor or weapons other than a few cannons. Kestralian airships were meant for transportation and nothing else. Any skyborne enemy with a piercing missile would be able to down one with ease.
  
  The wary vigil continued for about an hour, until a signal rose from one of the ships; an anomaly had been spotted in the night sky. A tiny glow, about three furlongs above the ground, had been seen by one of the soldiers.
  
  Immediately, the order was given for all ships to land and prepare for battle. All the airships dropped out of the sky, save for one that remained to keep watch.
  
  On the deck of that ship stood a tall, pale man whose long red hair whipped behind him in the altitudinal winds. In place of the serious expression he normally wore, however, was a grin.
  
  “Come on, you cloud-folk!” shouted Angas with glee, “My friend is hungry!”
  
  From his perch on Angas’ outstretched left arm, Torcadall screeched a challenge into the night.
• A Cast of Falcons - Chapter Ten: The Final Unity - Angas’ airship hovered warily near the floating anomaly in the sky. Above them, a full moon shone fiercely over the proceedings, as if boasting of its excellent seat to the panoply of stars behind it.
  
  Angas looked as far up as the balloon of the airship would allow him to see. All he could see was stars, glittering their envy at the moon like a host of diamonds spilled onto black velvet. He tried to imagine what would happen once the barrier sealing off Osmon Rai disappeared. Would it reveal a different sky? Was the sky upon which he now gazed an illusion?
  
  He returned his vigil to the shimmering point of light, frustrated that he couldn’t see through it. He made his way to the bow and found the captain.
  
  “Can we not move any closer to the gate?” shouted Angas over the strong winds of the heights. On his outstretched left arm, Torcadall stretched his wings and shuddered.
  
  “We’re too close as it is, Commander,” shouted the captain. “The instant something with talons comes flying out of that hole, we must get out of range. One claw or arrow in this balloon and everyone on this ship is dead!
  
  
  “We must fly by it, then,” shouted Angas, “near enough to glimpse the other side! Have archers at the ready in case something should come through the gate and give chase!”
  
  There was only the slightest hesitation before the captain nodded and gave out the pertinent orders. A minute later, the airship turned and began to fly towards the hole in the sky. Archers scrambled out of the forecastle and lined up along the port side of the ship.
  
  Angas shook Torcadall off his arm, and the saker falcon transferred himself to the rail of the airship. He then took out his own bow and joined the other archers.
  
  The airship sailed closer and closer to the light until they were within a ship’s length from it. As the ship passed, Angas saw for the first time that the point of light was indeed a small hole in the sky, only a couple of yards in diameter, a strange ring of writhing light that looked like a fire that was slowly burning outwards as if the sky were made of parchment.
  
  Angas had been unable to get a glimpse inside the strange portal before the airship swept past and headed back towards its vantage point. Yet somehow, over the sound of the rushing winds and the creaking of the vessel, he had managed to hear a sound during the moment they passed.
  
  The sound was immediately recognizable to him, and yet confounded him.
  
  It was the sound of battle.
  
  
  Far away from the Highlands, and increasingly further with each passing moment, an elven airship sliced through the air towards the center of the Baadal Cordillera with tremendous speed.
  
  Standing on the bow of the slender ship were Valerja, Telthas, and a rime elven spectral general, Melara. Behind them, clutching onto a railing on the outside of the cabin for dear life, was Kish.
  
  Kish’s initial wonder at flying had long since evaporated, and it felt as if he hadn’t been on solid ground for ages. He had already committed the cardinal error of taking a casual glance over the gunwale to see how far up they were. The full moon that brightly illuminated the upside of the clouds they flew over while leaving the ground dimly glowing seemed to heighten the sense of vastness and distance to Kish. Combined with the whipping winds and the speed at which they traveled, Kish thought he would be swept away at any moment, and spend the rest of his life falling.
  
  He watched as around him crewmembers moved swiftly to and fro, oblivious to the altitudinal winds, upright and sure-footed as if they walked on solid ground and not a mad elven contraption hurtling through the welkin as if hurled by an angry god. He wanted to ask one of the elves how long it would be until they arrived, but was afraid of what would happen if he tried to speak.
  
  He tried to focus his gaze on what was ahead of the ship to take his mind off of how little was beneath it, and that was when he got his first glimpse of Mount Panganod.
  
  The massive peak dominated all other mountains around it, implausibly blotting out the horizon like a vertical country. Kish watched the peak approach with dismay as he realized that as high up as they were, they still had higher to go. Soon, they were close enough to clearly see Panganod’s moonlit peak and the incongruous temple that sat on its summit. Through wind-stung eyes, Kish saw Valerja approach him.
  
  “We near the summit, Kish. Are you ready?” she asked. Kish cleared his throat and stood up as straight as he could, still keeping one hand on the rail, and nodded.
  
  A minute later, the airship slowed down and stopped. Telthas ran up to Kish. “My friend, we must part ways for now,” she said, seemingly oblivious to Kish’s discomfort. “Let us meet again when our missions are completed.”
  
  “We must be on our guard,” said Valerja. “We do not know which faction holds the other side of the gate.”
  
  “Lady Valerja, are you absolutely certain you do not wish for me to accompany you?” said Telthas. “I am certain I could be of use to you!”
  
  “I have no doubt that you could, Telthas, but your abilities are needed on the battlefront. Worry not! We will be in good hands,” said Valerja.
  
  Telthas sighed behind her mask. “Very well. May you find the jewel and your blade find Tosckar’s throat! We will meet again after the battle!”
  
  “Fight well, Telthas!” said Valerja, and they briefly clasped hands.
  
  “The rope ladder had been deployed. Gods grant you wings, Falcons!” called General Melara from the bow.
  A few minutes later, Valerja and Kish had lowered themselves onto the yellow stone of the temple. The airship hovered nearby, waiting for Valerja’s signal that they could depart.
  To Kish it was one of the strangest sensations of his life to be standing on solid earth, after having risen for so long. He relished the feel of the solid stone under his feet.
  
  “I believe we are to climb these steps,” said Valerja, indicating the stairway that ran along the center of the pyramid-shaped temple. Kish looked up at the steps. Amazing, he thought, we actually weren’t high enough before.

 

C
(Part 22)

• A Cast of Falcons - Chapter Ten: The Final Unity (continued) - They ran up the stone steps until they arrived at the platform at the top, upon which stood a glowing stone archway.
  
  “Wait here a moment,” Valerja said to Kish, and walked through the archway. Kish panicked momentarily as he saw Valerja vanish from sight, only to reappear a few seconds later.
  
  Valerja looked up at that airship and signaled to General Melara that they could depart. A few moments later, the ship turned in place, then took off back to Kestral.
  
  Valerja looked at Kish. “Before we enter, I must thank you, Kish,” she said to him. “I am honored that one as brave as you has chosen to accompany me on this dangerous mission.”
  
  Kish was taken aback at this sudden compliment. “I...er...well I wouldn’t say ‘brave’ exactly…” He remembered his behavior on the elven airship, and blushed.
  
  Valerja fixed Kish with her sapphire-hued eyes. “Yet, here you are,” she said simply, and flashed a rare smile. Kish’s blush intensified.
  
  Valerja turned and stepped through the stone arch, and Kish followed.
  
  
  The first rays of the rising sun had begun to creep over the horizon when Angas’ airship touched down amid the Kestralian encampments.
  
  “No sign of yet Galdurheim or Kersos. Any word from Elheim or Gao Tesi?” he asked the messenger who met him as he disembarked.
  
  “None, my lord,” he responded.
  
  “Pass it on to the others,” said Angas, and the messenger ran off to inform the knight captains.
  
  He walked around the perimeter of the ship, pondering their current situation. Whatever happened, they had to hold out until the elves and the seatemplars arrived...but how? They had virtually no air power. If the gate suddenly opened, there would be very little the Kestralians could do to stop the Zeruan army from entering.
  
  If they met them in the sky on their airships, they would be, ironically, sitting ducks, completely vulnerable to the arrows and flying beasts of the Zerua. If they stayed on the ground, however, the Zerua would be free to bombard them with whatever they had, or even ignore them completely and invade the rest of the country at their leisure.
  
  Yet it was already dawn, and the gate had barely grown. Were they awaiting reinforcements on the other side? Or was something preventing the gate from opening fully? And what was the meaning of the battle he heard on the other side of the portal?
  
  He looked up at Torcadall, who perched preening on the gunwale of the airship. Could it be the people in the sorceress’ dream, battling the Zerua from the other side?
  
  He walked back around to the boarding steps of the airship. “Are we ready to depart?” he asked a passing soldier.
  
  “Yes, my lord,” she said. “The ship has been refuelled and fresh supplies have been loaded.”
  
  He nodded and she ran off. “Captain!” he called to the airship captain, “Let us fly!”
  
  A minute later, the ship had taken to the skies again. “Shall we stay in the same position as before, Commander?”
  
  “No. Let us take position above the breach. We may monitor it more easily from there, and our arrows may find their eyes before their eyes find our ship,” said Angas.
  
  The captain turned to give the order, when suddenly the sky behind him lit up. The tiny ring of white flame tore open to many times its original size, and had become large enough for an airship to pass through.
  
  A moment later, a group of ten winged and armored lions mounted by heavily armored knights bearing lances spun backwards out of the gate, as if thrown back by someone or something on the other side. The lancers immediately righted themselves and launched themselves back through the gate. The Kestralians watched, stunned at the spectacle.
  
  Suddenly, Angas had an inkling. “Draw back your bows!” he shouted to the archers, “But hold your fire until my command!”
  
  The archers swiftly nocked their arrows and Angas followed suit. As they did so, a few more lancers mounted on winged lions were pushed back through the gate again, followed by a flurry of large, vicious-looking arrows.
  
  More and more lancers were forced back out of the gate until there were about fifty all told. This time, rather than flying back through the gate, they all turned to face it and began hovering in place, lances pointed at the gate.
  
  Then one more arrived; this time, it was not a winged lion but a winged bear, with crimson and white fur and two sets of red-and-white wings. The bear was heavily armored and roaring. On its back was a warrior in golden armor, wearing a winged barbute and bearing an imposing lance of gold and silver.
  
  This warrior passed through the other lancers and began shouting orders at them, in response to which the lion riders formed a large, vertical array facing the gate and began to hover in formation. The bear rider then shouted some more orders, and the lion riders began charging into the portal one row at a time, before returning to their formation.
  
  Angas watched, amazed. They were definitely Zerua, as per the sorceress’ descriptions. Yet they were defending the gate.
  
  The archers continued to stare in astonishment at the display of aerial warfare. Perched on the rail around the cabin behind Angas, Torcadall screeched anxiously.
  
  Suddenly, the bear lancer turned from the formation and began to fly straight towards them. “Hold your fire!” shouted Angas.
  
  The archers scrambled aside as the great beast flew over them and landed on the deck, causing the airship to droop from the sudden added weight.
  
  Angas and the soldiers ran over to the lancer, who had dismounted the beast.
  
  “By Ellahur!” she shouted, removing her helmet, “This cannot be all you brought!”
  
  
  On the other side of the stone archway atop Mount Panganod was a sight that Kish believed would stay with his for the rest of his life.
  
  What looked to Kish at first to be an endless white ocean turned out to be a roiling sea of cloud beneath a giant sky of pre-dawn navy blue. There were no clouds above them, however. Instead, the sky was sparsely dotted with giant chunks of different types of rock that floated gently in the air like hovering islands.
  
  But the best part of his attention was occupied with the gigantic rainbow-colored feathered serpent that bobbed gently in front of them.
  The monster was like nothing Kish had ever seen or heard of. Its iridescent plumage glittered in the sunlight, shifting between blue and green and red and gold with each passing moment. It had a gigantic mouth full of tree-height fangs, between which darted a giant forked tongue. The most impressive feature of this creature, however, was its back, on which rested a great temple of yellow stone, similar to the one atop Panganod.
  
  Flying around the serpent were men and women on much smaller feathered serpents of various hues. One of them spotted Kish and Valerja on the platform carrying the stone arch and shouted at the others, who broke their orbits and headed for them.
  
  “Kish! The feathers!” said Valerja. Kish snapped out of his daze and quickly took the feathers given to him by the sorceress out of his backpack, and held them up over his head. One of the serpent fliers saw this and shouted something at the others.
  
  Most of the serpent riders then returned to flying around the temple, except for one the one who shouted, who continued towards Kish and Valerja, landing on the large dock-like platform in front of them.
  
  “Hail, travelers!” he called out to them as he dismounted his green serpent. The man was the tallest man Kish had ever seen, at least a head taller than Angas. Apart from short leather trousers and various golden ornaments around his wrists and ankles, he also wore an impressive headdress fashioned in the shape of a serpent’s head surrounded by a brilliant corona of green feathers.
  
  “My name is Tenoch,” he said. “The great mother has been expecting you. Please come with me.”
  
  Kish looked at Valerja, but she was already following the man to his serpent, whose two heads were resting placidly on the platform.
  
  “I am Valerja,” she said as she climbed onto the serpent’s back, “and this is Kish.”
  
  But Kish remained standing where he was, staring at the two headed flying serpent. One of the heads’ forked tongues darted out between its lips and Kish leapt back.
  
  Tenoch laughed. “Fear not, land-dweller! It is a quetzalcoatl. It will not harm you unless I command it to do so. Come!”
  
  Kish, slightly annoyed at being the source of this strange man’s amusement, walked quickly past the quetzalcoatl’s two heads, which disconcertingly followed his movements, and climbed onto its back behind Valerja.
  
  Suddenly, he realized he was about to fly again. He leaned down and threw his arms around the quetzalcoatl.
  
  “Up, Temara!” shouted Tenoch, and the quetzalcoatl’s heads shot up. It slid forward, flapping its wings, and slithered up into the sky.
  
  Tenoch looked back at Kish and laughed again. “Do not worry, Kish!” he said. “A coatl will never let its rider fall! Temara will take good care of you!”
  
  “Can you vouch for the other head as well?” said Kish, and Tenoch laughed again.
  
  Kish looked up tentatively. Instead of the wild zigzagging he had expected of a flying serpent, Temara was gliding gently through the air. He looked downward at the sea of cloud below. This must be the barrier, he thought. I wonder what would happen to anything that fell in...
  
  “You are the Mixtli?” asked Valerja.
  
  “Yes. Many centuries have we dwelt here, separated from the hardlands below. We have not seen land-dwellers in the flesh for time out of mind!” said Tenoch.
  
  “The barrier impedes you?” said Valerja.
  
  “The barrier?” said Tenoch. “We are the builders of the barrier, and it is our sworn duty to maintain it. We do not go down below And now, it has been breached.”
  
  Kish was astonished.

 

C
(Part 23)

• A Cast of Falcons - Chapter Ten: The Final Unity (continued) - “You...created the barrier? How? Why?”
  
  “All your questions will be answered by Great Mother Tonalnan. You will meet with her shortly,” said Tenoch.
  
  They glided smoothly into the courtyard of the temple on the back of the giant quetzalcoatl. Kish and Valerja slid off the beast’s back.
  
  “I must go now and give the order for us to depart. Please go to the top chamber of the temple. Mother Tonalnan awaits you there,” said Tenoch.
  
  “My thanks, Tenoch,” said Valerja, and Temara took off once again.
  
  Kish looked up at the tall stone pyramidal temple. There were staircases and entrances here and there, and other Mixtli moved about or stood guard. A large staircase ran up the temple to its top.
  
  He could have at least dropped us off at the chamber, grumbled Kish mentally as the two of them ran up the steps. As they ran, he suddenly felt a slight shudder under his feet as the massive serpent on which they rode began to move.
  
  Soon, they had reached the chamber at the top of the temple, a plain stone room with a hearth at the center. As they stood catching their breath, a diminutive old woman wearing a magnificent quetzalcoatl feather headdress approached them.
  
  “Welcome, my children,” said Tonalnan. “Rest now. You have come a long way.”
  
  **********
  
  “Who are you?” Angas asked the Zeruan. He gestured for the other archers to stay behind him and lower their bows.
  
  “Speirrender Ezalye, commander of the fourth brigade,” the raven-haired woman replied, “And we are outnumbered. We will not be able to defend the gate for much longer, and if the barrier falls completely…”
  
  “We have reinforcements on their way,” replied Angas, “but I know not when they will arrive. I estimate the soonest to be between one and two hours.”
  
  “Madness!” she shouted, stepping forward angrily. “We cannot hold out that long!”
  
  Angas could see the exhaustion on Ezalye’s face and hear the despair in her voice. “You are Zeruan, are you not? Why are you helping us? Is this a rebellion?”
  
  Ezalye stuck her lance into the deck and leaned on it. “It is,” she said. “We are fighting to stop the lowering of the barrier...but our numbers are few.”
  
  Angas nodded. “I understand. We can talk later. For now, we will do what we can. If your lancers can defend our airships we will help you fight until reinforcements arrive.”
  
  “Very well,” said Ezalye, “I will not distress you with details of what is happening on the other side of that gate, but our chances are slim.”
  
  She remounted her winged bear. “Steel yourself for death!” she cried, as her bear leapt off the deck and back into the air towards the fray.
  
  “Send down the flares!” shouted Angas, turning to his soldiers. “Launch all ships! Signallers, tell the other ships they’re not to harm the guardians at the portal. Everyone else, line the port side! Captain, let us take the high ground!”
  
  The archers scrambled to the port side as the captain shouted orders to the navigator. A few moments later, three red flares shot out downwards from the aft of the ship as it manoevered closer to the gate and took up position behind and above the vertical phalanx of Zeruan lancers.
  
  “Keep watch on the portal, and do not fire on anything that comes out of it unless I give the signal!” Angas commanded.
  
  Suddenly, there was a flare of white light, and the flaming outline of the breach in the sky barrier lurched outwards in every direction, now spanning about four times its previous size.
  
  Blast it, thought Angas as the captain of the airship ordered it taken further back and above the opening. Below them, Ezalye flew back and forth giving orders. Several of the lion riders broke formation and flew back to be closer to the airship.
  
  The light of dawn enabled Angas to see through the strange door to Osmon Rai for the first time, its cloudless sky darkened by swarms of flying beasts, whose lanced riders tilted at each other from every angle. He had no idea how to tell friend from foe.
  
  He turned back and saw Torcadall perched on the railing behind him, chittering quietly. He began to stroke the back of his neck to soothe it.
  
  “Torcadall,” he said quietly, “you must go again. It’s not safe for you here, my lad. But this time it’s not forever. This time I promise I’ll come back for you.” As if he understood his master’s words, Torcadall suddenly leaped into the air and took off, away from the battle.
  
  “Commander! Enemies!” came a shout from the archers. Angas turned to see his first glimpse of the true Zeruan enemy.
  
  Scores of winged beasts began to fly through the barrier’s breach, gryphons, boars, and pegasi, as well as more lions and bears, each one heavily armored and with a similarly armored warrior on its back. Most of the enemy bore pole weapons, such as spears, lances, or halberds. Most were, fortunately, engaged in their own battles with rebels, and were too busy to make a play for the airship. Occasionally, a warrior would be thrown from its mount and fall to certain death on the distant ground.
  
  Angas desperately scanned the battle for any signs of the archers whose arrows he had seen previously, but could not see them. “Fire upon any who break the line, and shoot any enemy archers on sight!” shouted Angas, desperately searching for an opening for his own arrows.
  
  He looked downward and saw the remaining Kestralian airships rising upwards towards the battle. “Signalers! Pass your messages!” he shouted.
  
  The Kestralian airships spread out as far apart from each other as they could while remaining the same approximate distance from the opening, forming their own array.
  
  With each passing minute, the rebel Zerua were pushed further and further back towards the Kestralians. Arrows began to fly from the airships towards the enemy, and there was even the occasional sound of cannonfire.
  
  More and more enemy Zerua began to fly through the gate. This is not enough, thought Angas as he opened fire. Still at least half an hour until we can hope to see aid from Galdurheim. If we could but hold out that long…
  
  Suddenly, Angas heard a distant sound of war trumpets, followed by the cry of one of the Kestralian scouts:
  
  “It is Elheim and Gao Tesi! Their airships have arrived! Our ships are doubled!”
  Angas ran to the aft and looked into the distance. Ten ships were headed in their direction, six in the colors of Gao Tesi and four in Elheim. Signallers at the fore of each one were frantically waving colored flags.
  
  “They signal that they are here to aid us, my lord,” said one of the Kestralian signallers.
  
  “Convey our current status as best you can,” said Angas, and returned to the port side of the ship.
  
  At the port side, he waited until one of the lion riders guarding the airship flew near, then called out to him.
  
  “Zeruan!” he cried. “I have an urgent message for Lady Ezalye!”
  
  **********
  
  The temple continued its flight through the sky as the morning sun filled the small stone room.
  
  Kish, Valerja, and Tonalnan were seated on the floor of the chamber. Kish sat with his back resting against the wall, while Valerja and Tonalnan sat in the center, talking. While they spoke, Tonalnan worked with her hands. She had taken the feathers Kish had brought and added them to a number of her own, as well as some large colorful serpent scales and other materials, and was busily crafting something.
  
  “It is true, my children,” she said gravely. “Tosckar did indeed pass through the Panganod gate, and we failed to stop him, just as we failed all those years ago when he went down to the world below.”
  
  “What happened then?” asked Valerja.
  
  “In those days, the gate was dormant. We kept only half an eye on it. Only the elders of the Mixtli knew the secret to its awakening. But somehow, he found a way to go through. Only now do we understand how; he had the power of the Prizmai behind him. It was ”
  
  “What can you tell me about these Prizmai, Great Mother?”
  
  Tonalnan’s old hands stopped working for a moment. “We know very little about them. Despite their great power, they seem to fear us. But they are the reason our ancestors raised the barrier. It weakens them greatly.”
  
  “So as the barrier wanes, the power of the Prizmai waxes. And the Zerua were caught up here as well.”
  
  Tonalnan nodded, and resumed her crafting. “Somehow, this jewel, this ‘Star of Damas’ has the power to counter our ancient magics. Now we race to recover it to prevent two disastrous prophecies from being fulfilled...one of Zeruan conquest, and one of complete annihilation.”
  
  Kish listened, trying his best to understand the old woman’s explanations. “Excuse me,” he said, “not to be disrespectful, but, erm…”
  
  Tonalnan finished for him: “You would like to know why we send you and do not merely destroy Tosckar ourselves, correct?”
  
  “It did cross my mind, to be honest,” said Kish.
  
  Tonalnan turned to him. “Because justice must be served,” she said, “and the final stroke must be delivered by she who has been the most wronged.”
  
  Kish looked at Valerja, who smiled.
  
  “There are other reasons as well, which you will soon see for yourself,” she went on.
  
  She picked up her finished handiwork, a large circular fan made out of quetzalcoatl feathers and scales, and handed it to Kish. “There you are!” she said, “a gift from Osmon Rai. I believe it will come in handy, my child.”
  
  “My...thanks,” said Kish. The fan was half as long as he was tall. He wondered about the wisdom of handing out souvenirs at such a time.
  
  “Great Mother!” came a voice from below, “We are nearing the enemy!”
  
  The three of them stood up. Valerja walked to the entrance and looked outside.
  
  Many other temples on quetzalcoatls dotted the sky. Mixtli stood outside of each of them, chanting.

 

C
(Part 24)

• A Cast of Falcons - Chapter Ten: The Final Unity (continued) - “They fight to counteract the power of the jewel,” said Tonalnan from behind her, “but they cannot last much longer. Go now! A coatlwalker awaits you below! Go with the blessing of the sun!”
  
  **********
  
  An hour had passed, and there was still no sign of reinforcements.
  
  The Zerua were a fearsome enemy. Every Zeruan soldier handled its flying beast as if it was an extension of his or her own body, hurtling through the sky heedless of up or down. Each of them was well-armed and armored, yet swift, flying at their target spear-first again and again, like giant hornets.
  
  Thanks to the improvements made to his bow by the rime elf Filarion, Angas’ arrows flew much further than those of his fellow archers. Yet despite most of his shots finding their targets, it took numerous arrows to fell a Zeruan. There were lancers flying about with three, four, or even five of his arrows stuck in them, but who showed no sign of slowing.
  
  Angas hoped his message to Ezalye had gotten through. The Zeruan rebel who departed to deliver the message never returned. He shook his head and focused his aim on a new target.
  
  Of the original twenty airships, only seven of the original ten Kestralian ships remained, together with four of the ships from Gao Tesi and three from Elheim. Angas shut his eyes for a moment and tried to drive the memory of the victims’ screams as their ships went down out of his head. Again, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand, but concentration became difficult when standing on a vessel that could be sent plummeting to the ground at any moment.
  
  Arrow after arrow after arrow rocketed from his bow, most of them striking their target, but few of them unseating an enemy rider. Truly, we were not prepared, he thought to himself. There will need to be some improvements made to the royal army if we ever get through this.
  
  He was beginning to recognize members of the rebellious fourth brigade as those wearing blue sashes. More and more blue sashes were appearing on Angas’ side of the portal, which was a good sign. It meant that there’s a chance Ezalye had received his message.
  
  A nearby explosion shook their ship. “Another Kestralian airship down!” shouted a crewmember, and Angas swore loudly.
  
  Suddenly, amid all the noise, cannonfire, and chaos, he heard a distant sound, then again a moment later. The sound grew nearer and clear enough to be recognized as the sound of war trumpets. Galdurheim had arrived at last.
  
  Angas ran to starboard to see a fleet of nearly twenty elven airships closing in on their location. He thought he’d never see such a beautiful sight again.
  
  “Fire the first flare!” he shouted. “Signallers! Take your position and begin signalling!”
  
  A few seconds later, a crimson flare went up over the battlefield. That’s your warning, thought Angas. May you heed it.
  
  Angas returned to the port side as the slender elven airships took up position amongst the others. He looked downwards to see the lead elven airship and Illassa on its deck.
  
  “Hail, Sorceress!” he shouted. “Did you receive our message?”
  
  “Hail, Sir Angas!” she called back. “We did. Are your troops prepared?”
  
  “Prepared!” shouted Angas, praying internally to the Holy Farmer that it was true.
  
  The sorceress turned to her crew. “All ships!” she cried, “Activate heavencasters!”
  
  All around the battlefield, giant blue vertical circles of magic began popping into existence in front of the elven airships. Looking around at all of them, Angas spotted Telthas on another elven ship, with numerous other similarly masked knights.
  
  Angas turned to his own crew. “Prepare the second flare!” he shouted. He turned back to the sorceress.
  
  The sorceress lifted her hand into the air…
  
  “Fire flare!” shouted Angas. A second flare shot into the air over the battlefield. Immediately, dozens of blue-sashed Zerua disengaged from their aerial battles and plummeted downwards, leaving their erstwhile foes where they hovered.
  
  The sorceress’ voice rang out over the battlefield:
  
  “CAST!”
  
  Rime elf conjurers on each elven airship began to cast spells into each ship’s heavencaster, which came out of the magic circles magnified a thousandfold. Twenty beams of intense magical energies, each one more powerful than anything Angas had ever before witnessed, blasted through the aerial battleground and into the portal to Osmon Rai.
  
  A moment later, the onslaught of light subsided. Suddenly, where there had been an area of sky filled with combattants, there was nothing.
  
  Illassa shouted another command, and the magic circles swung around to face the airships, then spells of protection passed through the heavencasters and out of the circles, engulfing each airship’s balloon in the blue light of magical defense.
  
  More enemy Zerua attempted to fly into the Highlands, but the magic circles swiveled about, tracking them. The conjurers cast their spells again, and the sky was filled with a criss-cross of deadly magic.
  
  Illassa turned up to face Angas. “Are you ready, commander?” she called.
  
  This is it, thought Angas headily, this is our chance!
  
  “ALL SHIPS!!” he shouted, “ADVANCE!”
  **********
  
  By now, the sun had fully risen, and its rays had turned the sky of Osmon Rai a brilliant blue.
  
  This time, it was a smaller bronze-colored quetzalcoatl that bore Kish and Valerja through the skies, weaving in and out of Mixtliacalli, which is how the coatlwalker referred to the temples on the backs of the great winged serpents.
  
  As they wound on, there were more and more Mixtliacalli, each one bearing numerous Mixtli men and women chanting in fervent prayer.
  
  Then suddenly, all Mixtliacalli were gone, as if there was a point past which they would not go. That was when Kish saw their destination for the first time.
  
  A giant slab of rock, around the same size as one of the giant quetzalcoatls, floated in the air. Surrounding the slab were five giant crystals of different colors, from which some kind of magical dome was being projected. The slab was covered in for numerous tree-sized clusters of crystals which jutted out of its surface at odd angles, except for a large circular clearing in its center.
  
  In the middle of this clearing was a figure blurred by the magical dome, arms raised as if in prayer and glowing with an uncanny energy. Kish knew it must be Tosckar.
  
  “Prepare yourselves,” said the coatlwalker. “I can only lower the shield for a moment or two. After that you will be trapped in there with him.”
  
  Valerja nodded, but this was news to Kish. What was he meant to do in there? How would they get back out?
  
  What was he doing there?
  
  He suddenly thought about his life and all the choices he made that somehow led to him ending up in fine elven clothing on the back of a flying snake behind an immortal warrior woman in a country higher than the sky itself, about to stop a villain with…what? His superior pickpocketing skills, perhaps?
  
  He was so struck by the absurdity of it all that his shoulders began to shake with suppressed laughter. He could not decide if it was poor decisions or good ones that brought him to this place.
  
  A strange melody brought him out of his philosophizing. The coatlwalker had produced a wooden pipe, and had begun to play a low, pleasant melody.
  
  Almost immediately, the sky began to darken. Out of nowhere, wisps of black cloud began to coalesce over the stone slab, forming a vortex that grew larger and larger with each note of the pipe. Strange blue lightning flashed on its surface.
  
  The coatlwalker kept playing his pipe as the quetzalcoatl flew closer to the dome over the rock slab. The closer they got, the more the coatl distressed the coatl became. Soon it began to shudder slightly and hiss loudly, but they maintained their course.
  
  Suddenly, when nearly all light had been blotted out by the vortex of cloud overhead, the magic dome flickered and disappeared. The coatlwalker, still playing his tune, turned the coatl and began to speed it toward the surface of the slab.
  
  A moment later, they were flying a mere foot or two over the rock, but the coatlwalker did not stop the coatl or his piping. Before Kish could ask Valerja what they should do, she slid sideways off the serpent, tucking herself into a tight ball before landing rolling on the hard stone.
  
  He looked frontward again and saw the edge of the stone island approaching.
  
  Ah well, he thought, time for another of my good decisions.
  
  He slid off the coatl, trying to grab hold of one of the large crystals as he passed it. Although it slowed his forward momentum, it nearly tore his arm off, and he ended up rolling painfully on the stone before sliding to a halt in a heap of his own limbs.
  
  He lay winded and dizzy on the stone for a few moments before he could move again. He looked up to see the coatl fly past the stone island and shoot away back into the distant wall of Mixtliacalli. A few seconds later, the magical clouds swirled away into oblivion, and sunlight returned to the area.
  
  The magical dome over the slab blinked back into existence. No going back now, thought Kish to himself. Time to get to work.
  
  He picked himself up off the flat stone and dusted himself off, then began to look around. He had been deposited next to a cluster of giant red crystals. From where he was standing he couldn’t see Valerja or Tosckar.
  
  He started picking his way through the multicolored clusters that dotted the floating island, his feet barely making a sound on the flat stone ground. He hoped he would find Valerja before he found Tosckar.
  
  He listened carefully for any sounds, but didn’t hear any. Surely Tosckar had noticed the giant serpent swooping down on his island, he thought. Perhaps he is hiding…

​

 

C
(Part 25)

• A Cast of Falcons - Chapter Ten: The Final Unity (continued) - Then he noticed that some of the crystals were brighter than the other, as if light from an unseen source was passing through them. He went in the direction of the light, carefully moving from cluster to cluster.
  
  The crystals became brighter and brighter, until Kish peered around an emerald-green cluster and at last found the source of the light.
  
  Standing in the large clearing free of crystal clusters was Tosckar, glowing with an unearthly amber light and, Kish noticed gleefully, only a few steps away with his back turned.
  
  Sweet fates, this is it! thought Kish. What a glorious chance!
  
  He crept soundlessly towards Tosckar, who still hadn’t moved since they first spotted him from the quetzalcoatl. He was still dressed in the same finery he wore on that fateful day he spotted him through the duke’s window. An elegant suit of green with gold embroidery, fine leather boots with golden buckles, rings bulging with jewels.
  
  Yet though Kish scanned him for likely hiding places for the Star of Damas, he could not find any. Tosckar’s hands were open and empty, and he wasn’t wearing any pouches of any size to speak of, certainly none large enough to hold the large, spiked Star.
  
  Beads of sweat began to form on Kish’s forehead. He was nearly within reach of Tosckar, yet he had no idea where to start. A horrible thought formed in his mind; what if he had already destroyed it or used it up somehow?
  
  Kish stood, quiet as a shadow, behind Tosckar, bathed in the yellow light. Well, he thought, mustn’t leave empty-handed...
  
  With the speed of a cobra, Tosckar reached back with his right hand and grabbed Kish by his shirt. He then flung him into the clearing with such force that Kish felt like a cushion being thrown by a trebuchet. Once again, Kish rolled across the flat stone until he ground to a halt, coughing and groaning.
  
  “I know you!” Tosckar called out to Kish. “You’re that thief from the palace! Did you follow me all the way here just to rob me again?”
  
  Kish knew he had to move, he had to get up and run, but his body would not answer him. Bloody bleeding hells, he thought, nobody’s that strong.
  
  “You caused me quite a lot of trouble, you know,” he went on, “but you have saved me the trouble of having to hunt you down, for which I thank you.”
  
  Kish struggled to move, but could not. This is it, he thought. I’ve finally been caught.
  
  Suddenly, he saw a pair of boots next to him.
  
  “CORBINIAN TOSCKAR!” shouted Valerja. “GIVE ME THE JEWEL!” Both her curved short swords were drawn, and one of them was pointed at Tosckar’s neck.
  
  “I’m afraid the jewel is no longer within your reach, my dear,” he said, “Really, you must let it go, it really is getting quite tedious having to kill you all the time...”
  
  “Hold your tongue, scoundrel!” said Valerja. “If you will not hand it over, then I will take it from you by force!”
  
  “It seems you do not believe me, but it is true. You have wasted your time…”
  
  “Enough of your prattling, Tosckar!” shouted Valerja, running at him. “Prepare yourself!”
  
  But Tosckar had already drawn his white rapier and charged at her, running her through with inhuman speed.
  
  “Wench!” he snarled at her. “You will address me as ‘Your Majesty!’”
  
  He pulled his rapier out of her solar plexus and sneered as he watched her tumble to the ground. “That should silence your insolent tongue, for a while at least.”
  
  He stepped over her as she lay bleeding and walked up to Kish, who had by now pulled himself up to a seated position with his back against a crystal, and brought the point of his rapier up to his throat.
  
  “Your last words, you pathetic excuse for a cutpurse,” he said, his lip curled with contempt.
  
  Kish kept his gaze locked with Tosckar’s but said nothing. He slowly raised his right hand, in which he held Tosckar’s monocle, and placed it on his right eye.
  
  Tosckar’s eyes ignited with rage. “You verminous little…!” he snarled, reaching his rapier back to deal the final thrust.
  
  However, something grabbed his arm as he reached it back. He turned back in time to see Valerja punch him in the face, her short sword still held in her hand.
  
  Tosckar let out a scream of rage. “You...how did you…?”
  
  She pulled him away from Kish and pushed him towards the center of the clearing. “I remembered who I am, Tosckar. That has made me strong. That will always bring me strength. Never again shall I forget who I am.”
  
  She began to advance on Tosckar, her short swords dancing before her in a complex, whirling storm, which Tosckar was able to somehow parry with his white rapier. Yet she had begun to push him back. Their blurring blows began to sound like the workings of a complex metal mechanism.
  Kish had recovered by now and was on his feet, but he didn’t dare interfere. He had never seen swords move as quickly as theirs now moved. Tosckar was glowing with some sort of magical strength, and yet Valerja had him on the back foot.
  
  Then suddenly, Tosckar feinted, and once again, his rapier hand thrust faster than the human eye could see. The point of the blade pierced her ribcage and came out her back.
  
  “Valerja!” shouted Kish. The short sword in her left hand dropped to the ground.
  
  Tosckar’s mouth opened to utter a comment, but suddenly he froze. Valerja’s left hand was clutching the round blade of the rapier, preventing him from pulling it out. In her right hand was her other sword, its point under Tosckar’s chin.
  
  “Where...is...the...jewel…” she rasped at Tosckar, who stood wide-eyed and quivering with rage.
  
  Kish watched in shock. How is she healing so quickly, he thought. It would normally take her hours to recover from injuries like those.
  
  “Give...it...to...me!” she growled again. The wound around the sword point protruding from her back was not even bleeding.
  
  Tosckar began to sweat profusely, and he began to gnash his teeth. Kish noticed something strange; the amber aura around Tosckar was subsiding with each passing second.
  
  “Release my rapier!” wheezed Tosckar.
  
  “You are stealing the jewel’s power,” Valerja rasped. “You have drawn it out somehow and now you are stealing it. You are using it to break the barrier and to empower yourself. But it is the power of the life inside the jewel that preserves me, heals me. As long as I am injured, the jewel’s power will flow to me and not you. Now reveal the whereabouts of the Star before I will strike you down.”
  
  Kish’s mind swam with the revelation. But Tosckar merely smiled.
  
  “The whereabouts of the Star? It’s in the sky with all the others, you fool!” he spat.
  
  Valerja screamed with rage. She sliced at Tosckar’s right arm, and he roared in pain, releasing the rapier. Valerja pulled it out of her body and tossed it away as far as she could. The hole in her chest healed instantly.
  
  “There is life in that jewel,” she said. “That life is a source of incredible power. I am connected to it, wherever I am. Until I fulfil my duty to that life I will rise again and again, no matter how many times you strike me down.
  
  She lifted her sword and pointed it at Tosckar again, “Yield,” she said.
  
  A sudden twinkle in the sky drew Kish’s attention. He looked up and saw that one of the crystals that was projecting the magical field had moved itself so that it was directly overhead.
  
  “I think not,” said Tosckar.
  
  Then, raising his arms to the sky, he shouted:
  
  “PRIZMAI! TO ME!”
  
  A beam of light from the red crystal overhead shot down and flooded the area with a flash of light. When Kish’s eyes readjusted, he saw a terrible sight.
  
  Tosckar now stood before them in armor of blue and violet crystal. He bore a crystal hammer whose head was half Kish’s height. One side of the head was a large spike, and on the the other numerous vicious-looking smaller crystals. Either side looked like one blow could pulverize a human being. A large shield of green crystal floated in the air before him.
  
  Even Tosckar seemed surprised at the armor, looking at his crystal-clad body with unrestrained glee. “HA! Fit for a king!” he gloated.
  
  Kish stared in horror at the transformed king of the Zerua. Aside from his exposed face, Tosckar seemed to have become some kind of giant carved from crystal. His hammer looked as if it could crush a mountain in a single blow, and Tosckar now wielded it as if it weighed nothing. Power seemed to emanate from his body like heat from a volcano.
  
  But Valerja stood her ground, staring at Tosckar with unconcealed contempt. “How little you must value your own soul, Tosckar,” she said, “that you would discard it for a few glittering trinkets.”
  
  “SILENCE!” he bellowed. He swung the hammer down towards Valerja, who leaped backwards out of the way. It struck the ground where she stood with terrifying force, creating a crater and causing chunks of rock to fly off in every direction. Cracks in the stone radiated from the blow. For a moment, Kish wondered if the entire island would split in two.
  
  He began to advance on Valerja, swinging the dread hammer before him. “Discard my soul!?” he shouted. “Speak to me not of souls, you tiresome drab! We are the Zerua! It is our destiny to rule this world! And once I have destroyed this detestable barrier, there will be nothing left to stop us!”
  
  “And what of your friends, the Prizmai? What will stop them?” shouted Valerja back.
  
  “Stop them? Why would I stop them? It was they who told me of the jewel! It was they who sent me down to the ground and gave me the tools to seek it! For twenty years I hunted that jewel in order to destroy this accursed barrier!!”
  
  Tosckar turned and swung the hammer into a nearby pillar of crystal, which shattered noisily.
  
  “This blasted barrier!! This accursed barrier!! Which weakens the Prizmai and blocks the Zerua from our destiny!"

 

C
(Part 26)

• A Cast of Falcons - Chapter Ten: The Final Unity (continued) - “We have been trapped here among the clouds and the snake-riders for centuries! We, who by rights should by now have been the rulers of the world! What care I for the aims of the Prizmai, so long as they hand the world to me!?”
  
  Kish watched in dismay. There was no way Valerja’s blades could pierce the strange Prizmai crystal, and she could not run forever. He thought of the wall of quetzalcoatls lined up, watching the island but doing little else. Surely they could have lent a hand?
  
  “I see now,” said Valerja, still just out of reach of the hammer, “The barrier keeps the Prizmai in check. Do you not fear what will happen should they regain their power?”
  
  WIthout warning, Tosckar stormed forward and grabbed the exhausted Valerja by the throat. He lifted her up with one hand until she was a foot off the ground.
  
  “I...care...not…” he snarled at her face. He began to choke her, as she struggled to pry his fingers apart.
  
  The rest of the world seemed to rush far away from Kish, until all he could see was Tosckar and Valerja, and all he could hear was his blood thundering in his ears. A distant part of his mind noticed that he had begun to move forward, and someone, possibly he himself, was screaming incoherently.
  
  Time seemed to slow to a trickle. His hands drew his daggers and threw them. He then reached back and grabbed the first thing he touched in his backpack…
  
  There was a flash of light, coupled with an impossibly loud crack...
  
  A moment later, Kish was on the ground again, dazed. When he could move again a second later, he looked up to see what had happened.
  
  Valerja had been released, and was struggling to stand up while catching her breath. Tosckar, however, had somehow been thrown across the clearing and had landed in a crystal cluster. Most of his armor had deep cracks in it, except for his helmet, which had shattered completely.
  
  Kish got to his feet and wound his way to Valerja as quickly as his disorientation would allow.
  
  “What...happened?” he panted, helping her to her feet.
  
  “You hit him...with that…” she said, pointing to what he held in his right hand.
  
  He looked down and saw that he was holding the handle of the Quetzalcoatl fan Tonalnan had made for him. The fan part was almost completely destroyed, only a few bits of charred coatl feather and scale remained.
  
  “Quickly,” she said, sheathing her remaining sword, “we must search the island. The jewel must be here somewhere…”
  
  She trailed off, staring with rage at something over Kish’s shoulder. Kish turned around just in time to see the light shining down from the crystal in the sky on to Tosckar, who had pulled himself out of the cluster. Immediately, his suit of armor was whole again.
  
  He picked up his hammer and began to walk slowly towards Kish and Valerja.
  
  Kish turned to face him. “I don’t know...what else to do…” he muttered to Valerja as Tosckar took step after step.
  
  “You must run,” she said to him, “I will make him chase after me. You must run and hide and hold out as long as you can…”
  
  “No,” was all Kish said. He didn’t know why.
  
  Tosckar raised his hammer…
  
  Suddenly, a vertical ring of blue light appeared in midair in front of Tosckar. Hundreds of arcane runes and symbols appeared inside the ring as if written by a hundred invisible hands, turning it into a magic circle.
  
  A second later, there was a flare of light blue magical energy that burst out of the circle like fire from the mouth of a furious dragon. The beam was nearly as tall as Tosckar, and it sent him flying backwards once again. His hammer flew out of his grip and went spinning off to the side, embedding itself in the ground with a crash. The magic circle then disappeared into the ether.
  
  “Illassa!” cried Valerja joyfully, looking upwards.
  
  Kish looked up. The magical dome and the strange crystal were still overhead, but he could make out shapes floating just beyond the energy field.
  
  Suddenly, the dome flickered and disappeared, revealing one Kestralian airship and one Galdurheimer. Hovering alongside them were what looked to Kish like knights on large winged beasts.
  Then he saw that the flying red crystal that had been floating above the island was now dropping out of the sky. A few seconds later, it landed on the other side of the clearing with a crash. It had been entangled in a strange net of multicolored chains anchored by runed stones, which seemed to have rendered the crystal dormant.
  
  Two of the flying beasts swooped down from the sky and landed near Kish and Valerja. One was a giant winged bear piloted by a raven-haired woman in splendid knight’s armor, behind whom sat Angas. The other was a winged lion piloted by Telthas, behind whom sat Illassa carrying a device that looked like a large metal wheel with a crystal in its center.
  
  The four dismounted and ran to Kish and Valerja. “Are you hurt?” asked Telthas.
  
  “I am sound, my friend,” said Valerja. Kish simply nodded, relief pouring into him like wine into a glass.
  
  The raven-haired woman walked past them and stood facing Tosckar, who had by now gotten to his feet.
  
  “Ezalye. Why are you here?” he said menacingly.
  
  “Your Majesty,” she said. “The battle is over. The Zerua have lost. It is time to return home.”
  
  “What!?” he spat.
  
  “The Speirrender Council have already tendered their surrender. The rebels have won. We are one people again.”
  
  “...Rebels? What rebels?”
  
  “Those who rebelled against your plan to destroy the barrier. Those who refused to blindly follow you into ruin. They...we are the faction who heeded the words of our Wise Ones, that destroying the barrier would spell doom, that an alliance with the Prizmai is madness.”
  
  “MADNESS!?” Tosckar roared, “HOW DARE YOU UTTER SUCH TREACHERY BEFORE YOUR LIEGE! YOU AND ALL OF YOUR ILK SHALL PAY WITH YOUR LIVES!!”
  
  His fist lashed out at a nearby crystal, pulverizing it.
  
  “For TWENTY YEARS I crawled about on the earth below like a worm, seeking the item that would restore the dignity stolen from us by the wretched snake-riders and their blasted barrier! TWENTY YEARS crawling about among insects who were unfit even to be ruled by us! Plotting, planning, working! Everything I did was for the Zerua! To return us to the path of glory!”
  
  “We will return to the path of glory. But it cannot be like this...it cannot be through forging pacts with demons. It will be as the heroes of the Ascension! Through strength and honor! Through our own greatness!”
  
  She took a step towards him.
  
  “Long have we awaited Your Majesty’s homecoming, that we could show you how we have worked and trained in your absence. How we struggled to be worthy of your approval upon your triumphant return. Let us show you! Let your people show you...”
  
  She held out her hand.
  
  “Please. Come home with me, Father.”
  
  For a while, there was no sound on the island save for the soft chuffing of the airships above. Ezalye stood with her hand extended, staring at Tosckar, while he stared at her outstretched hand.
  
  Suddenly, the coruscating aura of amber that had been surrounding Tosckar faded out and vanished.
  
  Kish stared in amazement. Questions tried to push their way out of his mouth, but he did not dare to utter a syllable.
  
  A few more seconds passed, yet Tosckar still did not move. A strange feeling like the beginnings of dread began to form in the pit of Kish’s stomach.
  
  Tosckar’s eyes rolled back in their sockets and a horrible groaning sound came from his mouth. His crystal helmet closed over his face and his body began to shake.
  
  Ezalye took a step back. “...Father?” she said.
  
  The suit of armor containing Tosckar suddenly began to float in midair, its limbs twisting and shifting and folding into itself, until it was an octahedral crystal the size of an egg.
  
  The octahedron then began to grow, changing colors as it grew, an iridescent rainbow of hues, until it was twice the height of a man. Then four wing-like crystals grew out of its sides, which separated and began to float near the octahedral core.
  
  Finally, a sphere formed out of the top of the core like a drop of mercury, and floated above the scintillating abomination. It had a black slit in front, which it aimed down at Ezalye like the pupil of an alien eye.
  
  Angas and Valerja ran to Ezalye’s side, while Telthas and Illassa laid the object Illassa had brought on the ground.
  
  Kish merely stood and stared. The aura that the crystalline being radiated was so alien that his skin started to crawl. “What is that?” he whispered out loud.
  
  “That is a Prizmai crystallich, I believe,” said Telthas next to him as she worked to set up the device.
  
  “What...what have you done with him?” whispered Ezalye in horror.
  
  The crystallich responded with a high pitched noise emanating from its core that somehow became speech in the ears of those assembled.
  
  “OUR CONDUIT HAS FAILED IN ITS PURPOSE. IT HAS BEEN PURGED OF ITS SPARK AND SHATTERED INTO ITS COMPONENT MOTES, THUS RESTORING IT TO THE GREAT LATTICE,” was the thing’s otherworldly reply.
  
  “You...YOU DEVIL!” screamed Ezalye. She drew the lance that was strapped to her back, while Angas drew his longsword and Valerja drew her remaining short sword.
  
  “Stay your hands!” shouted Illassa. “You must not touch it!”
  
  “YOU TOO SHALL NOW BE REJOINED TO THE LATTICE. ALL SHALL IN TIME BE REJOINED TO THE LATTICE,” said the voice of the Prizmai.
  
  It began to glide forward towards the warriors. Its wing-like protrusions began to oscillate menacingly.
  
  Suddenly, Ezalye gave a war cry and lunged forward, thrusting her lance at the creature’s core. The point glanced harmlessly off as it if were harder than diamond. She swung the lance around just in time to deflect one of the roving wings.

 

C
(Part 27)

• A Cast of Falcons - Chapter Ten: The Final Unity (continued) - At the same time, Valerja had run to the left, swinging at the crystallich’s appendages with all her might, which resulted in nothing but deep notches on her short sword. Angas meanwhile had run to the right and had drawn his bow. He fired an arrow directly at the thing’s sphere, which bounced off its surface, spinning away uselessly.
  
  Telthas then ran past Kish towards the fray. Throwing a handful of runestones at the crystallich’s sphere, she shouted:
  
  “VATHY SKOTADI!”
  
  ...before drawing the blue trident from her back and launching herself at the core. The runestones froze in mid-air around the sphere for a moment, before suddenly bursting into a pillar of magical darkness. The crystallich stopped advancing for a moment, as if dazed.
  
  “The heavencaster is prepared!” shouted Illassa again, before turning to the device. She began to whisper an incantation into it. A moment later, two blue circles of magic like the one that had saved them earlier appeared, one small one above the crystal on the device, and a large vertical one in front of the crystallich.
  
  “Everyone! Withdraw!” shouted Telthas. The four of them ran back and rejoined the others.
  
  Illassa began to chant in an ancient tongue of magic. Her entire body began to glow with blue energy so fierce that Kish had trouble looking directly at her.
  
  Then she finished her spell.
  
  A beam of pure magical destruction shot from her hands into the circle atop the heavencaster. It came out the other circle a thousand times its original power.
  
  The beam was taller and wider than the crystallich, which disappeared completely in its light.
  
  A second later, the beam dissipated, leaving a groove in the stone that ran all the way to the end of the island. Everything in its path had simply disintegrated.
  
  ...All except for the crystallich, which floated where it was, undamaged.
  
  “WE CANNOT BE HARMED. WE CANNOT BE KILLED. WE WILL FULFILL OUR PURPOSE AND REJOIN THE LATTICE,” the creature shrieked. “IT IS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME. WE WILL BRING ABOUT THE FINAL UNITY, AND EXTINGUISH THE HATED SPARK OF CHAOS! ALL SHALL BE JOINED TO THE LATTICE ONCE AGAIN!”
  
  Suddenly, a thought struck Kish. “N-no...no! It’s not true! They CAN be harmed!” he said. “We saw it! The quetzalcoatl fan! One touch and the thing shattered to pieces!”
  
  The sphere atop the creature began to glow. Illassa began to cast.
  
  “‘Tis true that they hate the snake-riders, and will not go near them,” said Ezalye, “and the snakes become upset in their presence as well.”
  
  “I can see the serpents hating the presence of the Prizmai, but why would the Prizmai fear the serpents?” asked Angas.
  A violet ray shot at them from the sphere. Illassa cast her spell into the heavencaster, and a blue shield emerged from the magical circle, deflecting the beam.
  
  “I know little about the snake-riders and their snakes,” said Ezalye, “barring that they’re meant to be a gift from their god, representing life.”
  
  “That’s it!” shouted Telthas, “That’s what they fear! It is as the Pateras Tagma spoke. The ‘spark of chaos’ is what they call the energy of life! It’s their mission to purge the world of it! They consider it a contamination.”
  
  “That is why they could not use the jewel,” said Illassa. “That is why they had to trick Tosckar into using its power. They could not do it themselves. Ah!”
  
  Illassa and Valerja turned to each other suddenly, the same realization dawning on both of them.
  
  “We must give it life, then! So that we can take it away,” Valerja said.
  
  Illassa nodded. Valerja moved to the heavencaster and held her hands up to the circle of magic, and Illassa began to cast a spell.
  
  Valerja shut her eyes. “Kish...I am sorry for what I must now ask you to do.”
  
  Kish hesitated for a moment, then realized what she meant. He drew his dagger.
  
  “I’m sorry about this!” he said through gritted teeth, then to the shock of Angas, Telthas, and Ezalye, he stabbed her in the shoulder.
  
  “Have you gone mad!?” shouted Angas.
  
  “Stay back! It is all right!” cried Valerja, “He is doing what he must!”
  
  Slowly, the gentle amber light that once surrounded Tosckar now began to flow from an unseen source into the wound created by Kish’s dagger.
  
  Illassa’s hands began to glow as she cast her spell of channeling. The flow of amber light began to trickle from the wound into the magic circle.
  
  The other magic circle facing the crystallich began to glow with a golden light. Then a slender ray shot out of it. It was a ray of pure gold that bathed all those present in a gentle and strangely familiar light.
  
  The ray struck the center of the Prizmai crystallich, which began to shake violently. Its core began to vibrate, and it began to emit a hideous screeching sound. It began to move forward once again, its wing-limbs waving wildly.
  
  “It...is...not...enough. Kish!!” shouted Valerja.
  
  Kish swore loudly. He drew his other dagger.
  
  Screaming, he plunged it into Valerja’s abdomen.
  
  The amber flow of life began to rush like a river into Valerja’s body. Illassa, still chanting, directed the flow towards the heavencaster.
  
  The slender golden ray that came out the other circle became a giant, glittering beam. The light of the beam of light struck the crystallich and was refracted by it, shining out of its every facet as its shriek reached a painful crescendo.
  Kish turned to the others with tears in his eyes. “Strike it now!” he shouted.
  
  Angas, Ezalye, and Telthas charged the writhing creature. They struck its core at the same time, with sword, lance, and trident.
  
  There was a flash. The hideous screeching stopped. Then a sound like the shattering of a thousand mirrors.
  
  Kish yanked his daggers out of Valerja and threw them onto the ground. “Valerja!” he shouted, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands.
  
  Illassa stopped chanting and the golden beam vanished. The amber light around Valerja swirled into her wounds, healing them instantly, then faded. She turned to Kish and smiled.
  
  Angas, Ezalye, and Telthas stood staring at the place where the crystallich was a moment earlier. All that remained was a slowly descending cloud of powder, twinkling like stars, before turning black, then fading out of existence.
  Kish picked up his daggers and sheathed them. Suddenly, he felt a strange sensation.
  
  “Can anyone else feel that?” he asked.
  
  They could hear a distant rumble, that grew louder and louder. The gigantic stone slab on which they all stood began to shake, and slowly, to sink.
  
  “What is happening?” shouted Angas.
  
  “This island must have been created by the Prizmai as a lens to focus the life energy contained in the Star of Damas,” said Illassa. “Now that its creator has been destroyed, the island is falling apart.”
  
  “No!” shouted Valerja, “I have not yet found the jewel! I cannot leave yet!”
  
  “We must go!” said Illassa. “You must not fall into the barrier! There is no telling what will happen to you!”
  
  “I cannot! I cannot!” cried Valerja, but Kish took her hand.
  
  “Please,” he said. “We’ll find it. Please come back with us!”
  
  Valerja stood for a moment, looking upwards, as if trying to find the jewel somewhere in the sky. A tear of frustration ran down her cheek.
  
  “Let us go,” she said.
  
  A minute later, the winged beasts had ferried them all onto Illassa’s airship, which had lowered itself as near to the island as it could safely go.
  
  They all leaned over the gunwale, scanning the slowly crumbling island for any sign of the Star of Damas, but they could find none.
  
  “Jewel, jewel, come on, where did they hide you?” muttered Kish. He shuddered to think what would happen if it fell into the barrier.
  
  “If only Tosckar was here,” said Illassa. “He was able to find the jewel from miles away using the tools given to him by the Prizmai.”
  
  Kish wheeled around. “Tools!?” he said. He almost didn’t dare to entertain the ember of hope that threatened to set fire to his brain.
  
  He turned back around, pulled Tosckar’s monocle out of his pocket, and put it to his eye.
  
  Suddenly, he was able to see the entire island with astounding clarity, as if he was looking closely at every square inch of it. He could see the cracks forming in its surface and below, and he saw the distant crumbling edge of the island now as if it was within reach.
  
  Then, like a clear and shining star in an empty sky, he saw it, clear as day.
  
  ‘In the sky with all the others,’ he thought. That sly fox.
  
  “There it is!” he said, his voice vibrating with urgency. “It’s embedded inside that red crystal, the one the Zerua brought down with their chains!” He pointed to the great red crystal, about a quarter of a mile from where they flew.
  
  Angas took out his Falconsight bow, drew an arrow, and fired, while Illassa called for a change in the ship’s course.
  There was a distant shattering as Angas’ arrow flew right into the heart of the great crystal, shattering it into pieces.
  
  Kish gasped at the shot. “That thing was five hundred yards away if it was an inch, and it survived a fall from the sky. How did you do that?”
  
  “It’s...a very good bow,” said Angas. For the second time that day, Angas swore that he would find Filarion again and thank him properly.
  
  Suddenly, the whole island shuddered. Great sounds like cannon fire shot through the air as cracks appeared on its surface, and the giant stone slab broke into a dozen huge fragments.
  
  Whatever remaining force that had continued to hold the island in the air disappeared, and it began to fall away from the airship. Fragments of stone flew everywhere, and the ship was forced to rise away from the debris.
  
  They all watched in dismay as the fragments of the island dropped away from them into the distant white barrier, eventually disappearing from sight.

 

C
(Part 28)

• A Cast of Falcons - Chapter Ten: The Final Unity (continued) - For a while, all were silent, at first out of shock, then out of sorrow.
  
  The first to speak again was Ezalye. “I am sorry,” she said. “I might have been able to rescue it, if I but had more time.”
  
  Kish turned to Valerja, who was staring into the horizon. Her eyes spoke of her weariness at her centuries of wandering, and her sadness at having been unable to fulfill her duty. His heart was gripped by pity at the expression on her face.
  
  Then, suddenly, Illassa began to laugh. It was like a firework in an empty sky.
  
  They all turned to her. “Sorceress?” said Kish incredulously.
  
  Illassa laughed again. It was a laugh of joy and of relief. It was the laughter at the end of suffering, and at the dawn of hope. It was the laughter of life.
  
  “Can you not hear him?” she asked, as the last vestiges of the island vanished into nothingness below them. “How proud he is to have found a gift worthy of his beloved master!”
  
  
  They stared, bemused, until Kish heard it too.
  
  The cry of a falcon.
  
  A moment later, Torcadall flew up over the edge of the ship. He deposited the Star of Damas, which he carried in his claws, at Angas’ feet, then landed on his falconer’s glove, and began to preen.
  
  **********
  
  The allied fleet against the Zerua was mustered near the breach of the barrier between the ground and sky lands.
  
  Speirrender Ezalye and Great Mother Tonalnan stood facing each other. Standing in between them was Sorceress Illassa. Surrounding them were several Zeruan dignitaries and Mixtli generals.
  
  “Let it be known to all present,” said Illassa, holding up a scroll, “that the representatives of the Mixtli and Zerua peoples have agreed to a total cessation of hostilities for three years, to go into effect immediately.”
  
  The Mixtli and Zerua bowed to one another, while Tonalnan and Ezalye continued to stand, their gazes locked.
  
  “Three years for you and your people to rebuild, child,” said Tonalnan gravely.
  
  “Three years for you and yours to try and catch up, old woman,” retorted Ezalye haughtily, but a wry smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She then turned and walked away, followed closely by the Zeruan delegation.
  
  “She will be a formidable leader, that one,” said Tonalnan to Illassa. “Different than the others. She seems to understand what her ancestors knew, that glory comes from valor and not the other way around.”
  
  Illassa smiled warmly at her. “I am honored to have been present at this momentous occasion, Great Mother. May this peace extend as far as the Raian horizon.”
  
  “Great Mother,” said a Mixtli warrior flying up to them on a quetzalcoatl, “the last of the Mixtliacalli are in position and are ready to perform the ritual to seal the barrier.”
  
  “Very good,” she said. The warrior flew away as she turned back to Illassa.
  
  “Thank you for all you have done, O Sorceress,” she said, returning Illassa’s smile. “Let us meet again someday atop Mount Panganod. I would have you as a guest in my Mixtliacalli.”
  
  “It is you who we should thank, Great Mother,” said Illassa, “for without your work we would all have perished. Someday, let us dine together at Galdurheim.”
  
  They bowed deeply to each other, and Tonalnan and her retinue returned to their quetzalcoatls.
  
  At the other end of the airship, Angas stood with Torcadall on his left arm, stroking the back of the bird’s neck.
  
  “Sir Angas,” said Ezalye approaching him, “I have yet to thank you for your assistance. I know not what would have become of the rebellion had you and your army not aided us.”
  
  “It was to our mutual benefit to fight together,” said Angas. “If your rebels hadn’t reached the breach before the Zeruan army, we would have been lost.”
  “Then let us thank the caprices of whatever gods were watching last night,” said Ezalye, a note of sorrow entering her voice. “And let us thank them again that the Zerua are no longer a divided people. To be forced to take arms against one’s own countrymen is to know despair.”
  
  “Yes,” said Angas quietly, “I know this despair well, for I too was compelled to turn my back on my own people for the sake of what was just. But I discovered that no matter how great the wrong, one can always find a group of people looking to right it.”
  
  Ezalye smiled. “I must depart,” she said, “but I hope we may battle side-by-side again someday.”
  
  “It would be an honor, Lady Ezalye,” he said. “Farewell.”
  
  She turned and whistled, and her winged bear descended from where it had been orbiting the vessel. She climbed on its back and flew away. The other members of her entourage followed suit, and Angas was alone, or so he thought.
  
  “She fancies you, methinks,” said a voice behind him. He turned to see Kish, with his signature grin, together with Valerja and Telthas.
  
  Valerja smiled at Kish’s teasing of Angas, and Angas’ heart grew lighter at the sight.
  
  “And what would you know about it, thief?” he said. His habitual frown was absent, and while what replaced it wasn’t exactly a smile, there was a certain twinkle in his eye that Kish had never seen before.
  
  “The fleet is assembled, Sir Angas,” said Telthas. “Shall we be off, then?”
  
  A few minutes later, the orders had been given, and the allied fleet set sail. The last ship passed through the hole in the barrier just as the sun began to set that evening.
  
  “Where do you want to be taken, then?” Angas said to Kish. “Our lot’s bound for Gen Gurum, but the elves and the seatemplars are headed for Galdurheim.”
  
  “Er, actually, I’ll be accompanying Valerja,” said Kish. “The sorceress has given her an airship!”
  
  “Oh? Is that right?” said Telthas.
  
  “Yes,” said Valerja. “It is time for me to take the jewel...and those inside the jewel...home.”
  
  Angas nodded. He understood the significance of the pronouncement.
  
  “Farewell, Valerja,” he said. “Never have I met a warrior as valorous as you. I am honored to have fought alongside you. May you find peace at last.”
  
  Valerja bowed. There was no regret, fear, or sorrow in her face. Only the gladness of a soldier whose war was won, and who was on her way home at last.
  
  Soon, the fleet separated, and each nation’s ships departed for their homes - Elheim, Gao Tesi, Kestral, and Galdurheim.
  
  The only exception was a solitary rime elven airship bound for a distant desert land. It stayed relatively low to the ground and did not hurry, much to the relief of Kish, who stood grinning on the forecastle deck.
  
  In his hands, he held the sapphire kestrel he had stolen from the palace of the duke. The statuette sparkled pleasingly in the light of the setting sun. Kish gazed at it fondly for a moment before placing it back into his backpack.
  
  Next to him stood Valerja, cradling the Star of Damas in her hands, which shone with its own inner light.
  
  “Just a little further, Princess Arkosa,” she whispered to it, “and we will be home again at last.”

 

C
(Part 29)

• The Champions of Khal'Khor - At last, you have reached the Temple of Viskard, home to powerful magics that can bind the evil god Khal'Khor and save the Mage's soul. But Khal'Khor's servant, Leidamea, is ready for you...and she is not alone.
  
  Five of the land's mightiest kingdoms have chosen to stand with Leidamea in exchange for a dark reward: the chance to win some of Khal'Khor's power. Prepare yourself for a fierce fight...only one side will be victorious!

• A Change in the Ranks - After a long journey to Escaria, you have at last returned safely to your kingdom. But things do not stay settled there for long.
  
  Something is different about Holm. Your Field Marshal has been behaving strangely of late, raising suspicions that he might have fallen under a sinister spell...But who could be responsible?

• Chrono Chaos - A city in peril! Arriving at a massive cogwork city populated by a mysterious capybara race, the expedition springs into action as mechanized monsters assault the gates! A brutal war of attrition is about to commence as Gwyn and Brannyn charge into battle.
  
  Can you save the capybara city from being ransacked?

• Clash of the Elements - Reports abound from all over the kingdom of mysterious portals opening from other worlds. Creatures of air, earth, fire, and water are invading, leaving devastation in their wake.
  
  Villages with thatched roofs being blown away, bottomless chasms opening up in the countryside, fields being burnt to ashes, and floodplains transforming into massive rivers.
  
  Can you stop this elemental incursion of rampaging elements, seal the portals, and create a lasting peace before it's too late?

• Claws of the Shasa - You have managed to break out of Sunseye Fort, but your escape is far from over. The Shasa who imprisoned you are giving chase, and the desert around the prison is both vast and filled with traps...
  
  Luckily, help is on the horizon in the form of an old ally. Seize this opportunity and make your escape while you still have the chance!

• The Clockwork Cabal - It came from the crypt! The evil chrono wardens that attacked the cogbara city were created by a mysterious cabal intent on disrupting the flow of time! The only way to stop them is by delving deep into their spirit-filled crypt.
  
  Can you brave the haunted halls and save the Time Tangle?

• The Cornered King - Thanks to your Spymaster's machinations, your enemies have retreated from the walls of Barrenhigh fortress!
  
  Your spies and soldiers have reunited inside Barrenhigh for a final push against King Renaullus. But as the king's desperation grows, so does his reliance on the ancient demonic powers that now threaten to consume you all...

• A Cosmic Pact - The kingdom is beyond reach! Despite repairing the portals between realms, the path back home remains sealed! A mysterious figure is beckoning our heroes to their opulent domain, possibly with sinister intentions.
  
  Can you weave through the threads of mistrust and find a way back home?

• Courting Danger - At last, you have discovered the reason for Holm's strange behavior: the person in your Field Marshal's guise was not Holm at all, but a changeling from the realm of the faeries.
  
  But why have the faeries taken Holm? And what is this debt that they claim you owe them?

• The Covenant of the Harvest - Every year, when harvest season begins, you go down to the city and visit your subjects one house at a time.
  
  Each household vows to work hard for you for another year, and in return, you swear to protect them...
  
  It is an old custom whose origins are shrouded by the ages, and none can remember quite what it was you were meant to be protecting them from...
  
  This year...your kingdom will remember...

• A Covert Crossing - In order to survive the machinations of the Vigonian Empire, you must rally the kingdoms that lie across the vast Dabroa Ma'ar Desert.
  
  You move to enlist the aid of the desert kingdom of Ridalah to help you cross the desert without attracting the attention of the Vigonians.
  
  Can you and your small group of soldiers cross the desert in time, in secret, and alive?

• Crestplates as Rewards - It is well-known that there are no greater engineers, harder workers, or faster builders in all the lands than dwarves.
  
  It is also well-known that they almost never offer their services to denizens of the surface kingdoms. For millennia, the wealthiest monarchs have petitioned the kings and queens of the dwarven nations to offer their services, laying untold riches at their feet, only to be turned down.
  
  Now, however, thanks to a new covenant between your kingdom and the dwarven nations, you are at last able to procure the services of the finest builders in all the realms!
  
  The dwarven leaders of the various continents will now trade with you in Dwarven Crestplates. These are large dwarfcrafted golden slabs, each of which can be redeemed in exchange for the labor of dwarves in the region.
  
  Use Crestplates to build buildings and expand your empire faster than ever before!

• Crisis in the Cosmos - Borders between realms have shattered! The Clockwork Cabal's ritual has made traversing the realms all but impossible! The only hope for countless kingdoms is to piece both space and time back together again.
  
  Can you repair this cosmic crisis before it's too late?

• The Crux Crusades: In Cold Blood - Lured by the promise of fame and riches, warriors from far and wide gather in a vast desert. Yet amid the boisterous crowd of rogues and desert dogs, there stands a lone silent figure.
  
  After a time, the crowd takes notice of its one quiet member. It slowly parts to reveal an old wizened crone.
  
  Bent and shambling, the crone ascends the tallest sand dune. She holds out her gnarled hand to reveal a small bauble.
  
  Once again, the crone sets the Top of Fate spinning…

• The Cull - The Cult of the Lycoan has returned!
  
  Under cover of the endless night, cultist werewolves are killing innocent townsfolk and plundering fragments of their souls in order summon the Lycoan, their dread god!
  
  Meanwhile, the Oracle has been inflicted with lycanthropy, and will be possessed by the Lycoan once she succumbs to the curse!
  
  You must slay the werewolves invading your kingdom and find a way to bring back the dawn, while searching for a cure to the Oracle's affliction!

• The Curse of An00bis - TREMBLE MORTALS!
  
  An00bis RISES!!1!!one
  
  His terrible curse rampages through the world! His cult grows! He'll... be gone in about a day!
  
  UNTIL HE LEAVES HOWEVER...
  
  There are prizes!
  
  An00bis' curse will wreak havoc! Those in his cult have but one goal, to induct those not yet loyal to An00bis' into his gray flock. Those cultists most loyal will find themselves richly(?) rewarded!

• Curse of the Jolly Raptor - Set sail on a daring quest within the Grand Coral Reef to find the fabled shipwreck, The Jolly Raptor, once helmed by the legendary Captain Rosalind Bladeheart. But be warned! Amidst the captivating beauty of the reef lie the perils of the open ocean.
  
  Will you unravel the reef's mysteries and secure the legacy of Rosalind Bladeheart before it's lost to the depths forever?

• Cycle of Flame - Zelgarad the Accursed - Suddenly, on an uninhabited patch of land in your kingdom, an entire fortress town has materialized out of the ether. The wailing of thousands of souls emanates from the town into the bleak night, for the fortress is aflame. The source of the conflagration, a giant demon, stands in the center of the burning town, crowned in smoke and girt with flame. Immediately, you recognize the town from the legends. Brandmere, sealed from the flow of time, cursed to languish in the evil demon's flames until he is vanquished. And perhaps, the stories say, not even then ...

 

D

• The Dark Caravan - The Cycle of Flame grinds on. Once again, Brandmere has materialized, its unrelenting fires burning brightly on your horizon.
  
  This time however, the cursed city's return is accompanied by the arrival in your lands of a strange caravan… Rumors swirl concerning the true nature of the caravan. Some say black market wares may be purchased from among its shadowy wagons. Others whisper of a cabal of assassins who travel the land under the guise of a dark cortege of merchants.
  
  But those with long memories speak of the legend of the final days of Brandmere, and of the fate that befell those who had a hand in its downfall. Cursed as the city they brought to ruin, and doomed to travel forever down the road between this world and the next...

• The Dawn of the Blodfolc - A horrifying battle is unfolding before your eyes! An army of vampires marches under the sun to claim the crown for themselves...
  
  You find yourself flung 2000 years into the past, before the Blodfolc of old were cursed with their weakness to the sun. You know only what the tales say of this legendary battle...but all is not as it should be. Someone has attempted to alter the past and hand victory to the Blodfolc!
  
  You must race to restore the course of history before the vampires claim victory and erase your kingdom's future from existence!

• The Day of the Eggs - "Your Grace, we've started to hear....peculiar yet worrying reports coming from the town…"
  
  Guards have reported that an unrecognized traveling merchant appeared in the town square and attracted an audience. He proclaimed that he could crack eggs that grant riches using his "magical" technique. They said he chanted an incantation while holding the egg to flame and when he finally broke open the egg, gold coins started pouring out!
  
  The crowds swarmed to obtain the secrets behind turning eggs into gold and then frantically started their hunt for as many eggs as they could get their hands on. The marketplace sold out quickly and when villagers started hunting for sources of eggs, the farmers locked up their hens for safety as chaos started to spread. The townsfolk now have greed in their eyes and speak nonsense about eggs!
  
  Calming down the townsfolk has proven futile as no one has ever experienced anything like this. We've sent messengers out to see if other kingdoms have experienced this egg madness and we must prepare soldiers to venture into the wilds to see if any eggs can be found to test this ourselves and figure out how to bring order back to the kingdom.

• Death by Avalanche - Your kingdom is under siege by a ruthless band of mountain giants! Their frost magics are dangerous, but you have a powerful trick up your sleeve...
  
  The army of enchanted snow creatures you have built is impervious to the invaders' icy attacks. Join forces with your faerie visitors and send your snowlems forth to protect your kingdom!

• The Demon Behind the Mask - Your spies have reason to believe that the demon Acrimanus has corrupted Carina Teviorna, the beloved princess of the Seriformi royal family, but you do not have irrefutable proof...and as outsiders to the Kingdom of Seriforma, you have little reason to be trusted among the members of its court.
  
  You must bring Carina's demonic machinations to light before tragedy strikes again!

• The Demon in the Mirror - It has been some time since you shattered the cursed objects of Acrimanus and ended the ancient demon's influence on your world. And yet the Oracle senses that your old foe has found a new way to assert his power...in a dimension that lies parallel to yours.
  
  Whispers of a new would-be god in Pallumen seem to confirm your suspicions. You must return to the mirrored realm and search for signs of Acrimanus before the demon can find a way to take his revenge!

• The Demon Zharat - Face the fury of The Collector! The tyrant queen, Arkosa, clashes with the demon Zharat in a deadly struggle for the legendary sword, Estoc.
  
  Will you endure the chaos of this epic battle, or be consumed by its destruction?

• Demonic Inferno! - We have found the archdemon leading the slaughter of our people as demons continue to wreak havoc on our realm. Surrounded by minions deep beneath our castle, he sits on his seat of infermal power.
  
  Can you stop the archdemon and save our lands from a fiery end?

• A Den of Thieves - Since your escape from the Fatesands, your young Shasa recruit, Maaku, has been training hard to prove himself worthy of your kingdom's spy network, Crownseye.
  
  Now Thanna and Maaku have traveled to Grimsbridge, a crime-ridden city on the outskirts of the Lowlands, where Maaku will face his final test...

• Desperate Duty - After escaping hordes of undead, the Oracle and Aethel reunite and share their encounters. With the information they have gathered, they are ready to confront the person responsible for trapping so many souls.
  
  The Oracle and Aethel must defeat the necromancer and put the tormented souls to rest before the gods take matters into their own hands...

• Dig up the Deepmine - In your desperate search for more treasure, you've accidentally dug up something that was never supposed to see the light of day. The time has come to explore the Deepmine!

• The Dimnes Vampire - The thralls in the cave have unearthed a section of Deepmine that had been sealed off for centuries...
  
  Meanwhile, a vampire is likely behind the events plaguing the people of the Dimnes Moors. You must hunt down and capture it before it can create any more thralls!

• The Doors of Blodcyth - As the Blodfolc march on a bygone kingdom, you race into the past to stop their advance!
  
  With Sister Aethel taking her fated stand, you must drive the Blodfolc back to the underground city from where they came. It will take everything you have to ensure this plan succeeds...
  
  Only your forces can stop Nraizu and the Blodfolc from spreading their dark influence and erasing your kingdom from history!

• The Drifting Ones - Your efforts have succeeded. Against all odds, you find yourself reflected by magic into the distant Plane of the Mirrored Ones... Before you lies the land called Pallumen: a sky of whirling light and shadow, with countless drifting crystals caught in unseen currents. And somewhere above it all, the powerful mirrored gods who you have sworn to defeat...

​

 

E

• Emissaries of the Otherworlds (Season 6 Wars) - The war between Hastireth, Demon of the Nether Shadows, and Shagor-Ulna, Creature from the Beyond, had raged for eons. So destructive was their conflict that the rest of the gods intervened, sealing both the Demon and the Beast in their own planes.
  
  But now, both the Demon of Malice and the Creature of Madness have managed to make contact with denizens of the Homeplane. By granting these power-mad men fragments of their unholy power, the two gods are able to resume their cataclysmic conflict, using our world as a battlefield.
  
  Rancor the Razer and his army pulse with dark energy gifted to them by Hastireth, while the Red War Paladin Captain and his troops overflow with power bestowed upon them by Shagor-Ulna. Each side battles ferociously to present more offerings to their patron deities in the form of slaughtered enemies.
  
  However, unbeknownst to both the Razer and the Paladin Captain is that the more extraplanar power they greedily accept, the greater the influence the dread deities can exercise over their emissaries...and over the Homeplane.
  
  As more and more warriors are caught up in the bloody conflict, which evil force from beyond will gain the most influence, and which army will prove the victor?

• The Emissary of Decay - While you are in Escaria, an unknown adversary sends a demon to attack your kingdom!
  
  A gigantic vulture-monster casts its foul shadow over your lands as it wings toward your castle...
  
  ...And there is only one person who can stop it...
  
  Meet your new Ally, who will undoubtedly assist you in completing your Legend and prove to be one of your most powerful assistants!

• The End of a Thief - Together, Thanna and Maaku have managed to capture the leader of the Underbridge Thieves' Guild. And with his confession in hand, the real target comes into view...
  
  There is a plot underway in Grimsbridge that threatens the stability of the city... and, with it, your entire kingdom. The time has come to find the root of this corruption and end it for good.

• The Endecennial Feast - The Endecennial Feast is upon your kingdom! This is a time of revelry that comes every eleven years to honour the eleven gods of the Endecatheon. Join in the feasting and bask in the favor of the gods!

• The Ends of the Underworld - Your journeys through the Underworld have brought you to its deepest layer: the Wrathful Pit, a boiling hellscape that serves as a prison for the most bitter and angry of souls...including Lord Kothmel, an ancient ruler with an ages-old grudge against the world.
  
  Kothmel has found a way to sow chaos across the Underworld while planning an assault on the surface...and you are all that stands in his way!

• Estoc Trials - The first Estoc Trials were held in the desert city of Damas, to honor the great king, Darius. Darius was a benevolent king, and his reign over Damas was long and peaceful…until the birth of his daughter Arkosa.
  
  Arkosa was as fierce and unyielding as a sandstorm. She would disappear into the desert for days at a time, returning wind-blown and spent, her long hair tangled and full of sand. Arkosa never spoke of her time in the desert, but when questioned, her eyes would flare with an ancient hunger.
  
  Soon the Damascene people came to see Arkosa as a harbinger of some great, inexplicable power. Even Darius ceased to view his daughter as a flesh and blood being—her vitality was too great.
  
  When Arkosa returned from the desert for a final time, the sun had left its mark—her hair was bleached white and her skin burnt red, and in her hands rested a sleek longsword of blue, translucent glass. The Damascenes knew at once: it was the Estoc.
  
  Until that day, Darius had relegated the Estoc to myth, a mere story kept alive by the elders. But now, seeing the fabled sword in his daughter’s hands, Darius believed. The Estoc was real. A great change was at hand.
  
  Darius rushed to embrace Arkosa. It was only after the Estoc pierced his chest that the king registered the lifeless look in his daughter’s eyes. Arkosa was no longer his daughter: she was of the desert now.
  
  After the slaying of her father, Arkosa took the throne. Her first act as queen was initiating the Estoc Trials. From that day forward, the innocent blood of the Damascene people would stain the memory of the king forever...
  
  The Legend of the Vanished Paladins
  
  Long before the Mage uttered her fateful curse, an unusual incident befell the Red War Paladins…
  It happened on a still, moonless night, when the faint rustle of the desert wind was the only sound to be heard. No shrieks pierced the noiseless night, yet in the morning, the captain awoke to discover five of his bravest soldiers gone—vanished without a trace.
  
  The captain claimed the men fled of their own volition, they were cravens not worthy of the Paladin name. Yet inwardly, the captain knew this was a lie…
  For the vanished knights were of the bravest stock—they had not fled, they had been taken.

• The Eternal Mire - You have traveled down the River Aeternox and now find yourself in the first layer of the Underworld: the Despairing Swamp, where hopeless souls are doomed to wallow for eternity.
  
  However, a strange power from deep in the Underworld threatens an uprising among the imprisoned souls...

• The Eye of the Aetherlux - Though you have now gained welcome allies in the Ioradix of Pallumen, there is no time to celebrate: your presence in this realm has caught the attention of the Luminous One, the vain and wrathful god of the Aetherlux. Radiant magics rain down from above as your forces rush to defend themselves. You must find a way to vanquish your foe before you are erased from this realm!

 

F
(Part 1)

• The Faeries' Game - You have finally arrived in the faerie realm, where you are welcomed by the Monarch of Follyvine...and the captured Holm. But the Monarch shows no interest in returning your Field Marshal.
  
  You stand accused of expanding your kingdom over fae lands, with Holm representing fair payment. You must find some way to sway the faeries and win Holm back!

• The False Oracle - An enigmatic foe springs her mortal trap, devastating the allied army and covering the land in darkness. You must discover her secret and put a stop to her ambitions before the darkness spreads over the entire world.
  
  Meanwhile, Holm and Thanna must protect the Oracle as the journeys to the temple at Eqnos to recover her Oracular Sight.

• A Family Matter - Learning of the competition for her hand, Gwyn is furious at her family and more determined than ever for her sister Seri take on the mantle of the Fridmara heir. But Seri has been experiencing some unexpected changes that have her less confident than Gwyn hopes.
  
  Can Gwyn discover her sister's secret and help her gain enough confidence to manage the Highlands? Or will Gwyn leave our ranks for the good of her family?

 

F
(Part 2)

• The Farmer's Journey, Part 1: Testament of the First Harvest - PROLOGUE:
  On a hillside in the foothills leading to a low and arid mountain range, two figures stood amid the brush in the light of the evening sun.
  
  One of the figures, scanned the dry and sparsely wooded plains stretching out below them, turning to desert as they reached the horizon. After a few moments, The Mage pointed into the distance at a seemingly unremarkable acre of tall grasses.
  
  “There,” he muttered to his companion, a young woman dressed in acolyte’s robes, “north of the path, where the heather grows thick. There is a lone oak tree. It marks the south-east corner of the homestead.”
  
  The acolyte stared down onto the heath, eyes shining with reverence. “The Hallowed Farmer’s birthplace,” she whispered, “the actual birthplace…”
  
  She had spent many years studying the sacred texts documenting the life of the Farmer. The Mage regularly underwent the pilgrimage retracing the Farmer’s journey, and had allowed her to accompany him as part of her induction into the Order. This was their first stop.
  
  “Yes,” said the Mage. “where He was born and so much more. It was there He underwent His first trial, the first of many. It was there He was first betrayed, and there He reaped His first vengeance.”
  
  The acolyte, nearly overcome by the weight of history, clasped a small medallion hanging from a chain around her neck. It bore the symbol of a golden sickle. In her other hand was a book from the scriptures, the First Book of Holy Canon.
  
  The Mage turned to the acolyte. “Let us begin the ceremony of remembrance,” he said.
  
  He then raised his hand into the air and began to intone words of power. A dazzling light began to shine from it, and around their feet green shoots sprang up into stalks of golden wheat before the acolyte’s eyes.
  
  After a few moments, the Mage fell silent again and the light faded. The sense of wild growth, however, remained in the air. "The acolyte opened her book, and began to read aloud...
  
  CHAPTER:
  (2 Tes. 5:12-25 First Canon) And so did the Boy run through the dark of the night, His father’s urgent words echoing in His ears:
  
  “Run! You must warn the baron! The bandits of the mountains are nearly here! Run and do not look back!”
  
  In His left hand He held His trusted sickle. In His right, a small pouch containing the remainder of His family’s meagre coin. His father had pressed it into His hand as he sent Him for help.
  
  And so did the Boy run with all speed from the farmhouse, in the weak light of a crescent moon. Over famished lands and fields, untended by man or nature. So He ran on, heedless to all, to the lodge of the baron.
  
  The light of many torches met Him first as He neared the baron’s stately dwelling. Second was the sound of many voices raised in revelry, as if in celebration of a victory. No further greeting would He receive.
  
  And so the Boy ran unnoticed into the bright lodge and into the great hall in which the baron, his knights, and his guests of high birth were feasting.
  
  And the Boy ran past the entourage and threw Himself on the floor of the hall before the baron’s splendid oaken throne, and the gathering at once fell silent, and all that could be heard were the Boy’s frenzied pleas for help.
  
  He warned that the bandits of the mountains had gathered in the foothills and had begun raiding the farmsteads in the fields belonging to the baron. He begged the baron to send aid and save his family. And the Boy finished His plea, but no one else spoke in the hall for some time.
  
  And after a time, the baron stood up from his seat and approached the Boy. He picked up the pouch of coins the Boy had brought, and after weighing it in his hand, he declared to the rest of the room that it wasn’t enough to pay off the taxes owed to him by his brother. His words pleased the gathered company greatly, and a roar of mocking laughter rose from the party.
  
  And the baron then took a great steel sword, nearly as tall and as heavy as the Boy Himself, from one of his knights, and flung the giant blade at the Boy’s feet, and told Him to accept it as a gift from His uncle, and that he could go rescue His family Himself. This further amused the company, and their laughter grew more raucous and mocking.
  
  But an uncanny light of anger had entered the Boy’s eyes. He took up the heavy sword in His right hand and threw it in one motion, as if it weighed no more than a grain of wheat, at the oaken throne, which was split in two by the blow.
  
  And the baron, stunned at what he witnessed, fell silent once again with the rest of those in the great hall, as the Boy hurled Himself from the room in demonic haste.
  
  And so did the Boy run frenziedly back over blighted pastures, whose scant offerings of seedlings were crushed under His pounding feet. In His left hand He still held His keen sickle, but His right hand was empty.
  
  And so was the Boy greeted once again by firelight as He neared His home, but this time it was not the light of the torch, but the light of His home, ablaze. And as He fell to His knees before the fire, He was also greeted once again by the sound of cruel laughter.
  
  And there by the burning homestead was a band of brigands, two dozen strong, who had come down out of the mountains to raid at their pleasure, for the baron had long since withdrawn his protection, and the bandits knew this.
  
  And the leader of the bandits grinned with amusement as the Boy stood up and approached him, for he did not recognize the light of death in the Boy’s eyes, and the rest of the band laughed at the Boy’s impudence.
  
  And when the Boy asked if they had killed the family that lived in the house, the leader of the bandits, to the great delight of his men, answered with one word only:
  
  “Eventually.” **********
  
  (2 Tes. 5:28-30 First Canon) And so the sun rose at last upon the Boy, who sat among the scant brown grasses of what was once His family’s wheat field, where he had buried the remains of His father, His mother, and His sister.
  
  And the rays of the sun fell upon the ashen remnants of His home, which had burned through the night, having been fed the corpses of the bandit invaders.
  
  And the rays of the sun shone upon His gleaming sickle, which He had now cleansed of blood and polished to a mirror sheen after a full night’s harvesting.
  
  And the rays fell upon the Boy, whose lust for vengeance had at last subsided enough for Him to lay His family to rest. The burning wrath in His eyes was now a cold resolve.
  
  And with His sickle in His left hand, and a sack of bandit’s heads slung over His right shoulder, the Boy set off to see the king.
  **********
  
  Her recitation finished, the acolyte closed the book. The two had wandered back to their horses at the bottom of the hill.
  
  “So concludes the ceremony,” said the Mage. “The hour grows late, let us be on our way.”
  
  The acolyte took one last look at the Holy site, then the two mounted their steeds and began to walk east out of the valley.
  
  “I have often wondered,” said the acolyte as they rode, “about the chapter’s ending. What was the significance of the sack of bandit’s heads He carried?”
  
  “Yes, the sack of bandit’s heads, known in some translations as the ‘bag of skulls.’ It is said that He intended to lay them out before the king as proof of the baron’s treachery and abandonment of his serfs. Some historians even say that the eyepatches worn by the bandits bore a sigil signifying they were secretly in the baron’s employ. Others simply point to it as proof of the Farmer’s incredible strength and martial prowess even from a young age.
  
  “In any case, you will recall that by the time the Farmer begins His time in the desert, He is no longer in possession of it, having buried them at the behest of the Aradmeli Rab…”
  
  They continued, now in conversation, now in thought, as they made their way to the next stage of the pilgrimage, toward distant deserts coronated by the setting sun."

 

F
(Part 3)

• The Farmer's Journey, Part 2: The Book of Aradmel - PROLOGUE: The acolyte sat on a stone outcrop in the middle of the desert in the gathering dusk. The sun had nearly sunk behind the dunes and a crescent moon was beginning to reveal itself as the obscuring glare of day began to soften.
  
  She had been following the road through the desert with the Mage for two full days now, and by this time all that was visible from horizon to horizon was sand. From what he had told her, it would be at least two more nights before the road would bring them out of the desert to the next leg of their pilgrimage.
  
  Although they were adequately provisioned for the desert crossing, the acolyte ate and drank as sparingly as she could, in case they needed their supplies to last. Moreover, she had wanted a glimpse into tribulations experienced by the Farmer during his years crisscrossing the desert with the Aradmel tribe.
  
  However, she was unused to such deprivations, and her thirst had already carved lines into her dry lips. She knew their horses would be comfortable and well-fed, the Mage’s magic saw to that. As for the Mage himself, she had yet to see him eat or drink.
  
  Next to the acolyte, the small twig fire she had built was softly crackling. The mounts were tied to a tenacious zaera bush that was clinging on to the edge of the outcrop.
  
  In the near distance was the desert road, where the Mage was in conversation with a mounted man in fawn-colored robes, out of earshot of the acolyte, who was looking on with curiosity. After a time, the rider loosened a large cloth-covered package that had been fastened to his horse behind him and handed it to the Mage, who in turn handed the man a handful of gold.
  
  After this transaction, the rider nodded to the Mage and rode away at a canter. The Mage then returned to their encampment with his new parcel.
  
  He sat down opposite the Acolyte in front of the little fire and carefully placed the mysterious package down onto the stone floor next to him without a word.
  
  The acolyte, who had completely forgotten her hunger and thirst in her curiosity, was about to ask about the Mage’s purchase, when suddenly he spoke:
  
  “Do you recall,” he said, “our conversation from this morning regarding the Book of Aradmel?”
  
  “Y-yes…” replied the acolyte, caught off-balance by the sudden questioning.
  
  “You mentioned that you were frustrated by the lack of writings chronicling the Farmer’s years in the desert,” said the Mage, turning to the cloth-bound package and reaching a hand inside.
  
  “Yes, and you mentioned that new scrolls from that era had been found and were being transcribed by…” she cut herself off with a shocked gasp that startled the horses as the Mage drew a new-looking scroll out of the package. “Is THAT…?” she asked breathlessly.
  
  “Mm,” replied the Mage. “My merchant friend back there brought me one of the first copies of the new readings. The translation is still a bit spotty in places, and much has been left out while scholars verify the authenticity of the statements, but I believe you will learn much.”
  
  He handed the scroll around the fire to the acolyte, who was trembling with excitement. “The scrolls are mainly the writings of an unnamed Aradmeli chronicler during the time of the Farmer. Perhaps you could read some of it to me now…”

 

F
(Part 4)

• The Farmer's Journey, Part 2: The Book of Aradmel - CHAPTER:
  9 First Moon, 3833
  This morning marked the passing of Sapra’Arpoa, 42nd chronicler to the Aradmel. May the Celestials guide his soul.
  
  It is with a mournful heart that I, Deyn’Aetkat, assume his duty as 43rd scribe and chronicler of the tribe of the Aradmel, greatest of the three tribes cursed to forever wander the Dabroa (Translator’s Note: refers to the desert, but can also refer to the name of the territory, lit. “great sand”).
  
  All praise to our leader, the most wise Dhakiym, fountain of the dunes, warden of the star chart, 28th rab (T/N: chief, lit.“shepherd”) of the Aradmeli people.
  
  12 First Moon, 3833
  The duties of a chronicler are simple. I observe and record any extraordinary events, that future generations may learn from them. Since very little changes for us, there is not much to record.
  
  We do what we must to survive in this harsh land, criss-crossing the Dabroa, endlessly traveling from one b’ganteh (T/N: these were areas where small growths of zaera flowers were known to be, lit. “blossom garden”) to another.
  
  Our lives are strictly governed by our precious star charts and the blooming schedule of the zaera. Sometimes, we will encounter one of the other tribes, and blood will be shed, but always we must keep moving. To tarry for too long is death.
  
  13 First Moon, 3833
  Already, a curious event to record! Today, a few hours before encampment, the elder L’fiq spotted a prone figure among the dunes. It turned out to be a young man, unconscious but still alive!
  
  According to our laws, we are forbidden to give aid to outsiders, but the kindly old L’fiq petitioned the rab to make an exception. Our wise and generous rab agreed, and immediately called for the healers.
  
  A tent was put up, and the healers carried in the boy. They gave him water and applied balms to his grievous sunburns.
  
  Even more curious, however, was that the boy was clutching a large sack, which he would not release even though he was unconscious. I do not know what was in that sack, but it stank, and was surrounded by biting flies. I shudder to think what it might contain...
  
  14 First Moon, 3833
  A few hours after moonrise, the young man awoke! The healers tried to question the boy, but he did not understand our tongue. Indeed, when I looked upon him again I saw that his clothing was not of any of the Dabroan tribes.
  
  The healers rejoiced to see the boy awaken, but the rab seemed to be concerned about something. And then I realized what was troubling him so.
  
  Our tribe’s laws forbid the giving of aid to any outsiders, due to the scarceness of our resources. By saving the boy’s life therefore, he was inducting him into the Aradmel.
  
  As a member of the tribe, he is now cursed as we are never to leave the Dabroa. By rescuing the boy, he has condemned him to share in our fate.
  
  Then there is the other question that bites at the back of our minds like the flies surrounding the mysterious sack:
  
  What in the world could have driven this young man from the green nations all the way into the middle of the Dabroa all alone?
  
  19 First Moon, 3833
  We have arrived at Rakshoa B’ganteh (T/N: the various b’ganteh were named after the constellations on the tribal star charts used to locate them, in this case “horse garden”) on schedule, despite delays.
  
  The mysterious young man is adjusting quite well to Aradmeli daily life. Our rab has adopted him, and has taken to calling him D’alyan (T/N: affectionate term for a son or a young male relative, lit. “boy”).
  
  He has been showing D’alyan our ways, how to gather food, how to navigate by the stars, how to wield a scimitar on horseback and so on. The elder L’fiq has been teaching him the proper use of a magalteh (T/N: a small sickle-like gardening tool) to collect precious zaera to feed our mayoa m’abea (T/N: magical urns used by desert tribes to create water, lit. “water fountain”).
  
  D’alyan is not only gifted in the use of the magalteh, he is an exceedingly hard worker, and is always the last to lay down his burden. L’fiq believes he might have been one of the lak’roa (T/N: farmers, lit. “grain-men”) from the outside countries.
  
  And what of the mysterious sack of horror the boy held on to so tenaciously?
  
  The morning after D’alyan awoke for the first time, the rab went to see him.
  
  “My son,” he said to him, “I don’t know what has driven you here, but I know d’atreg’ah (T/N: a force or madness that drives a person to extreme lengths for revenge, lit. “vengeance-lust”) when I see it.”
  
  He carefully placed a hand around the neck of the sack.
  
  “Let us bury your burden, before the flies pick your bones clean. I will show you how to get your revenge. I swear it!”
  
  The rab then took a magalteh from his belt and made a stabbing motion in the air with it. He then opened D’alyan’s free hand and placed the magalteh in it.
  
  D’alyan said nothing, but he seemed to understand, and he allowed the sack to be taken away. We buried it as deeply as we could, and moved on.
  
  ********
  “But how could he make such a vow,” asked the acolyte, lowering the scroll, “if they are cursed never to be able to leave the desert?”
  
  “An interesting conundrum,” replied the Mage. “let us move forward a few years.”
  
  ********
  21 Third Moon, 3835
  D’alyan has returned from his scouting mission to the Serpent B’ganteh. He reports that the zaera and besmoa blossoms are abundant, and there is no sign of the Mayadh tribe.
  
  All are pleased at D’alyan’s return, for he is well-liked among all in the tribe. None are more pleased than our great rab Dhakiym and his family, however, particularly his third daughter B’Lil’Zaera, who among the rab’s daughters seems to show him the most affection.
  
  There has been talk that that the rab may choose D’alyan as his successor, for he has mastered our language and our ways, and has shown himself to be both a fearless warrior and a skillful harvester.
  
  Thanks to his skills as a lak’roa, he has even managed to coax more growth out of each b’ganteh we visit. Over the past few years, they have grown comparatively lush with zaera. Not only has this made our lives easier, it has almost completely eliminated the need to battle with the other tribes, and skirmishes have become rare.
  
  Some even gossip that D’alyan may be the one spoken of in the prophecy, who will bring us victory against our brother tribes and someday lead us out of the Dabroa.
  
  Our rab will not reveal his own thoughts on the matter. However, today he declared that “D’alyan” is not a name worthy for a man, and has given him the name Tabat’Sheb.
  
  *********
  “Tabat’Sheb, ‘the blade of vengeance,’” said the acolyte.
  
  “Correct. They still use that name when writing about The Farmer in the desert nations, I am led to understand. It shows that Dhakiym had not forgotten his promise to Him. Apt.” said the Mage, “You recall, by the way, the prophecy of the Aradmeli seers?”
  
  “It said...that only one tribe may leave the desert, and that he who leads that tribe will break the curse at the cost of his life, or a fate worse than death, depending on the translation,” recalled the acolyte.
  
  The Mage nodded, staring into the now-starlit horizon.
  
  “I think,” he said after a few moments, “that I should like you to jump to the end.”
  
  The acolyte rolled through the scroll until she reached a point a few entries from the end.