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It was in darkness where her body remained, crumpled into a corner in a cell forged in stone, iron and force too great for her to break; in that cold desolate place where only the distant dripping of water and fierce whipping of wind, through a slit window carved into the wall, could be heard.

The only indication of the passing of time was the faint light that managed to reach her window in the new day. It had been years surely, centuries possibly or only a few days since she had been sealed away in this place, left to be forgotten, to diminish. To die. But would not come, Katjiya knew this. She would remain and linger on in this prison made for her by her enemy; once a dear friend.

Thoughts of the events that had lead to her imprisonment rolled through her mind and anger towards her captures had consumed her mind it the early days of her imprisonment and Katjiya had taught herself, forced herself really, to quiet her mind and to not remember the feel of sunshine on her face and a warm breeze caressing her skin and dancing through her long raven locks. Those same locks now hung limply over her shoulders they were once glossy with health now matted and gritty from malcontent. It was enough to drive any one to madness. She would have welcomed madness at one time but now she was filled with purpose; purpose given to her by an unlikely visitor to her cell, his voice reaching out from the darkness.

“Katjiya” the voice called out to Katjiya, as if from a dream.

Katjiya remained as she was, flat on her back on the stone floor staring at the ceiling, believing that what she had heard was no more than a trick of the howling wind outside the window.

 “Katjiya” the voice rang out again and as a bright light split the darkness of the room. The light dissipated as quickly as it had appeared but in its briefness Katjiya was able to espy the stone walls of her prison a reminder of the confines she now occupied. The sound of the voice again, firmer this time spoke, “Awaken child” Katjiya registering the reality of the presence within the cell. Slowly she turned her head towards the sound, the bones of her neck cracked as she turned, from disuse.

A figure stood heavily cloaked over her, its face hidden behind folds of white cloth but that couldn’t be right. In the darkness Katjiya should not have been able to recognize the color of the robes. It was when the figure began to move closer to her that she realized that the fabric, so brilliantly white, emitted its own light. Each step of the stranger caused the shadows concealing its face to dance and sway. 

Katjiya’s mind slowly turned, trying to place the voice that seemed so familiar to her. It was if her mind was trying to break through a dense fog, the identity remaining hidden in the distance.

 “Izeha?” Katjiya spoke softly, her voice weak and hoarse.

The figure’s head turned down towards Katjiya’s prone body on the floor. She could feel its gaze moving along her body causing her breath to seize within her lungs, “Yes my child, I have come.” Relief washed over her body, relaxing muscles she had not realized were tense. How long had she waited for this day to come? Katjiya in her excitement sprang onto her knees to reverently kneel; palms laid flat on the ground and head bent almost to floor, before Izeha. 

“My Lord” Katjiya spoke bowing her head lower her hair pooling on the floor around his feet. “Long I have waited for you to come for me, my Lord. I have done what you asked and all that you have said has come to pass.”

“Yes, you have done well my child.” At Izeha’s words of praise Katjiya slowly raised her head to look up at his face a tentative smile stretching her dry lips. “Thank you my lord, your praise is not lightly taken.”

“Nor is it lightly given, my child, you have earned it. This ordeal has been hard on you I know.” Izeha placed his hand softly on Katjiya’s head following the flow of her hair to her cheek, his large palm settled onto the side of her face, Katjiya leaned into its warmth,  “But there is more work to be done.” At his words Katjiya jerked her face away from his touch, a look of anger entering her face, her words spilling from her mouth in a rush of fury, “What of your promise?”

Izeha’s hand quickly made contact with her cheek, the sting of the contact made Katjiya wince. Izeha grasped her chin firmly, Katjiya in defiance tried to turn her face away from his hold but Izeha’s hold remained firm.

Bending at the waist, Izeha leaned into Katjiya’s face; the glow of the fabric covering his head obscured her vision momentarily and revealed the face, wrinkled and scarred from age and abuse, beneath the hood. “You would do best child to remember your place, I will not be questioned.” His voice dripped with malice.

 What could be seen in the face of God? The question rang through Katjiya’s mind, unfitting as it was for the current situation.

Katjiya took the opportunity and looked into Izeha’s face as he continued to lean into her. Never before had she had the chance to look at him, her eyes quickly took in the firm set of his mouth. His eyes revealed from beneath the hood; were hard and cold. A shiver ran down her spine.

Izeha felt the tremor pass through Katjiya’s body, the feeling warming him and a resulting rush of power came over him. Izeha released Katjiya’s face and straightened over her again and watched as she bent her head once again in reverence before him. Katjiya did not dare raise her hand to her stinging cheek, it was never wise to show any sign of weakness before him. Izeha, the master planner and creator of all including the Ancients, fed on weakness and desire.

“I am yours to command, my lord”

“Yes.” Izeha spoke, a smile stretching across his mouth as he reached into his robes “This chamblis will be your call to action, Katjiya.” Katjiya slowly raised her head to peek at his outstretched hand that held, what appeared to be, a pile of tiny mirrors. The light from robes refracted off of the some of the mirrors creating a greater glow in the dark room and caused Izeha’s withered hand below to appear darker in comparison; his long knotted fingers remained wrapped around the chamblis.

Katjiya tentatively reached out her hand towards the chamblis, watching for any reaction from Izeha, her hand unsteady from nerves. The small mirrors were cool to the touch of the soft pad of her fingertips. The pieces rose suddenly from Izeha’s hand and arranged themselves like a chandelier suspended in the air above Katjiya. The chamblis slowly began to revolve.

Katjiya watched as the mirrors in wonder as they turned. Oddly, Katjiya noted, they did not reflect images of the room but as she watched the image of ice blue eyes framed by dark lashes and a face that she thought she would never see again flashed in the tiny mirrors surprising Katjiya. Katjiya tried, in vain, to focus harder on the image but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.  

Izeha’s voice recalled her attention to him, “Katjiya, I know of your desires to be free of this place and of the promise I made to you when this all began but first you must trust in me and wait. Do you still keep it?” Katjiya’s face must have reflected the shock she felt at Izeha’s question for he began to laugh its sound echoed around the room and caused an unpleasant ringing in Katjiya’s ears.

“Are you so surprised child? You have been acting of your own accord Katjiya and I should punish you for it.” Fear stuck Katjiya’s body again and she began to shake with it in earnest.

“Your familiar my prove useful in the future and for that alone I will give it to you as a boon. Though I hold you in high regard child, it would be foolish of you to believe that I will tolerate any further dissention from you, favored or no.”

“You are most gracious my lord, I will await your word.”

“See that you do.”  Izeha his away from Katjiya, kneeling body and walked slowly towards the wall, “Until next we meet” Izeha spoke with a casual wave of his frail hand before he vanished in a flash of light. Katjiya remained as she was kneeling, head hung low in reverence. She waited and listened to the silence too scared to believe that he had actually left.

Izeha had not returned to Katjiya since that day. She could no longer remember how long she had knelt there in her cell too frightened to move in belief that Izeha would return to deal out the punishment she knew would come. Katjiya’s knees ached in remembrance of the unforgiving stone beneath her knees and the strain of her muscles from the weight of her bent head. All the while the chamblis rotated above her head the dripping water and the roaring winds the only sounds to reaching her and marking the passage of time. Katjiya dared not to rest or close her eyes her fear was so great each quiet breath carefully taken and gratefully released until finally her body collapsed from exhaustion.

When at last, Katjiya returned to wakefulness she hoped, and feared, that it all had been a dream. The chamblis’ tiny mirrors were the only confirmation to Izeha’s visit to her prison. 

In the darkness, Katjiya kept her vigil over the chamblis. At times images, clear as day could be seen of the world outside, disjointed images of faces and places unknown to her flickered into view. They never lasted very long or answered any of her questions and with the passing of time she became less aware of them.  The chamblis’ constant spinning a comfort to her raging mind was all that kept her.

 Now that all she had were Izeha’s words to her, trust in me and wait and so she waited for him or for the sign he had promised her would come. 

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The rambling sound of the trucks wheels jerked Kalo awake as they crept over the stone strewn road. It had been difficult for to fall into a restful sleep and the brief glimpse of predawn sky he espied through his thinly cracked lids convinced him that it was far too early to be awake and it would be best to simply fall back asleep. Kalo shifted in the bed of the old truck trying to find a more comfortable position on the rough and creaking wooden boards his eyes caught on the small body snuggled against his side.

It had only been a few months since Kalo caught the young boy trying to pick his pockets in the busy streets of The Citadel. Like so many others the boy had been orphaned by the violence and lawlessness that had spread like a wild fire through out the countryside since the end of the war. The war had been a long and hard with many lives lost in the fighting.

§                      §                      §

 As a young and boy, not much older than the one currently sleeping alongside him, Kalo enlisted with the guard eager for adventure and the opportunity to prove himself fighting for home and country. They had been told that the enemy in the North threatened the safety and happiness of their people and it was up each of them to take up arms and protect their loved ones and way of life.

The lands to the north were harsh and traveling was slow but the troops rallied onwards, lit with the fire of righteousness. What they found there were small shanty towns filled with people who looked just like him and his fellow soldiers. Kalo could still remember the faces of the women and children of those shanty towns as they ran in fear and desperation from a battle they had never had a chance to arm themselves against. As they marched through the lands, they burned all that stood, leaving nothing behind but ash and smoke.

When they believed that the enemy to north had been conquered and the battle won an enemy to the West and then to the East had appeared and for five long years they marched fighting a faceless enemy hidden amongst the faces of farmers, teachers, masons, men and women both young and old. Until all the lands surrounding Myrthza had been conquered and under the name of King Edrick and his queen, Alisa.

The memories of home and the smiling faces left behind had kept the soldiers going on those days; when the glaring sun baked their skins inside of the heavy metal armor and the blistering winds and rains made it hard for them to find their way.

The war had changed many things. Kalo no longer was the wide eyed youth he had been when he left the little village in the valley and it was not until Kalo had on furlough from the Guard, returning home a decorated war hero, that he saw what had been truly lost in his absence.   

Nestled in the lush valley of Igile on the western side of Myrthza known for its grasslands and rolling hills, the little village of Boughton lay. Kalo traveled by railcar from The Citadel into the neighboring town of Gomes with all his worldly possessions his medals proudly pinned to his chest. Gomes had always been a bustling city with the calls of the merchants promoting their wares and the coming and goings of the railcar passengers.

It had been a childhood treat to ride into the city in his father’s tractor to sell vegetables from their farm. Kalo had wondered at the sight and sounds, dreaming of the day when he could be a part of it all, a man of importance and purpose amongst them.

The floorboards of the platform creaked beneath his boots a caked on layer of mud, undisturbed by footprints, from the last rain; the station desolate even at the noon hour. The streets were as to be expected were filled with people though their faces haggard and lean from hunger. Men and women shuffled by quickly heads down never meeting his eye, grabbing children out of the way and seeking shelter in the dark alleyways as he passed.

The shops lining the street, once bright and bustling, spilling with  the scents of roasting meats and baked breads where now dark with abandonment. Kalo made his way through the city slowly taking in the strange sights and movements of the city. What happened here? The thought floated through Kalo’s mind and quickened his footsteps eager to get home. Their hushed whispers followed in his wake. Tired of the frightened expressions and weary glances of the people, Kalo took to the main road at the edge of the city on foot. 

For hours Kalo walked the main road. The summer sun beamed down on him from the sky baking his skin and causing rivulets of sweat to flow down his back as he carried his bag over his shoulder. Kalo strove on only the crunching of his boots on the gravel and the setting sun marked his progress down the desolate road.

Ready to be home Kalo sprinted the last few miles to the village, gladness rallied his spirits and hastened his footsteps around the last bend. He could almost smell the ale from the tavern at the edge of the village and the raucous laughter of the men enjoying a few laughs and a few more drinks after a long day in the fields. It is good to be home, he thought taking in another deep breath, filling his lungs with the clean country air.

Kalo feet came to a sudden stop his limbs frozen from shock, his bag made a thud on the road as it fell of his shoulders. A sudden and chilling wind blew over Kalo ripping across his sun kissed skin his coat billowing. There was nothing; the tavern where the men drank, the school house where the daily lessons were taught, and the stall where Camisa had sold her woven jewelry- gone.

With heavy steps Kalo dragged his bag down the main road of the town looking, searching, for any sign of the life he had left behind.

A glimmer caught of light caught Kalo’s eyes as he walked past the rubble that was once Broughton. Stooping at the pile of rubble where Camisa’s stall had once stood, he kicked away the broken boards and knelt on the sodden ground his hands desperately raked through ash and dirt looking for the item that had drawn him there. His fingers brushed against a smooth stone like item, caked as it was by the grime of its environment. Kalo dug into his rucksack and withdrew his canteen, Kalo had been sipping from his canteen during his walk from Gomes and he hoped that there were a few drops left within. Unscrewing the top Kalo overturned the light canteen willing a few drops to escape it. 

The little water Kalo was able to coax from his canteen dropped onto the object held preciously in his palm. He was able to remove enough of the grime revealing the glittering gem, Kalo’s breath stuck in his throat as recognition settled in.  Camisa.

Kalo remembered the day, so many years ago, when he had given the small gem to Camisa and how her face had lit up in glee as she turned the gem in the sunlight. It had been all that he could afford from the money he saved working as a day laborer at the blacksmith’s shop. The gem, which Camisa had fashioned into a necklace was a pledge to her of his undying love and promise of marriage. A promise he had hoped to fulfill now that he was a man—grown and accomplished; worthy of her love.

The village people of Broughton had not always loved Kalo. As a child they had been weary of his dark coloring, fair skin, chilling blue eyes and his unknown origins. While they had lived the parents who had raised him were kind and good to him. They had loved the young child they had found abandoned wandering the streets of Gomes.

Having been childless for so many years they adopted Kalo and brought him to this village. Their love had not always been enough to deflect the whispers of the village folk and the taunting from the school children, who teased him for his differences.

Kalo had been unusually tall as child making it harder for him to blend into the background and avoid the stares and the fights with the other young boys in the village who saw him as an easy target. It had been after one of those fights when he had met her.

He had seen her about the village with her parents and friends laughing and playing games. Kalo had been instantly drawn to her smiles and golden beauty. Never had he dared to meet her eyes or speak a word to her in fear that she, like everyone else would shun him but he had always watched—from a distance taking note of her movements and listening to the sound of her laughter.

Until that day, after he had taken a particularly spectacular beating from some of the older boys in the village behind the schoolhouse. When he was filled with thoughts of revenge and anger that his golden goddess reached out her hand to him.

“Are you okay?”  Her hand outstretched and her voice like twinkling bells. For the first time the object of his secret desire was close enough that he could smell the floral scent of her skin and see the golden warmth in her eyes. He was so close. Kalo did not dare speak a word. Shrinking further into the wood siding of the building; hoping she would leave, hoping she would stay.

“Your hurt” Camisa reached out to touch the side of his face.

“What do you want? Go away.” Kalo glared at her hoping to scare her away. Camisa gasped.

“What?” He barked jerking away from her. Camisa fell to her knees before a smile beaming on her face.

“Your eyes,” she spoke softly in wonder “they are beautiful- Let’s be friends.” Her stuck out again this time and hovered between them. Kalo stared at her hand confused by the gesture. Camisa waited smiling. Kalo shyly reached out his own hand and clasped hers. He would never forget the feel of her cool palm nor how her smile seemed to grow as they shook hands; his own shy smile struggling to make hers.

Their easy smiles grew to a secret friendship; and from a friendship into a secret love then to a promise of forever. The night before Kalo was set to leave and join the Guards, he had sent word to Camisa to meet him behind the schoolhouse under the old chestnut tree, their special place well away from the disapproving eyes of the villagers and their wagging tongues. That night the air was lightly scented with the last blooms of summer.

Camisa arrived at their placed, moments after Kalo, her long golden hair tossed by the cool breeze the fabric of her long white dress pressed tightly to her slender body. The moonlight shining down on her made the fabric glimmer. She looked like a goddess descended into the world—innocent and unnaturally beautiful.

 Kalo watched her progress across the yard from the shadows of the chestnut tree burning the image of her walking towards him. He didn’t know if he would ever see her again. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe with any certainty that he would return alive from battle and so he had begun to burn every moment he shared with Camisa into his memory, in the event that this was the last time—Kalo pushed the thoughts out of his mind. He would return, if only for her sake.

Kalo stepped out of the shadows a smile pasted on his face, and walked the last few steps meeting Camisa under the glow of the summer moonlight.

“I did not think you would come.”

“Why did you plan to meet with someone else if I had not shown?” Camisa teased.

“You know there is only you.”

“I know no such thing. You are a handsome man Kalo. Do not think I am too blind to see the way women watch after you. You could have any of the women in the village. They are only too eager for you to give them the least bit of attention.”

“If they watch as closely as you say, then they must know that you are the only one I can see. Those women you speak of are nothing compared to you.”  Kalo brushed a strand of hair away from her face. Camisa grasped his hand in one of hers leaning her cheek into his palm, her eyes imploring, “Must you go?” she asked.

“You know I must Camisa”

“You do not Kalo. Stay here with me. I fear that I will never see you again. What if you meet some exotic woman in the north and fall madly in love with her?” Kalo chuckled softly at her worry. Camisa pressed on, “This is not funny Kalo, after seeing the world would you still want me? You will return a man of the world Kalo. Would you still want the little village girl you left behind, who knows nothing of the places you have been?” Kalo felt the gentle tremble of her jaw and saw the pooling of tears in her eyes.

“Do not cry my love, I am weak against your tears. You worry too much. None of those things will come to pass. I will come back and when I do, I will be able to go to your father and ask him for your hand in marriage.”

“Why not ask him now? Then you would not have to go-”

“You know I could not. Come now let us not fight about this again. This will be my last night with you for some time; I must leave before the sun is fully arisen.”

“Just- ” a single tear fell from Camisa’s eye wetting Kalo’s thumb as it rested against her cheek her words purposeful, “promise me you will come back for me.”

Kalo gently held her face in his hands and bent his head down towards her, his breath as he spoke brushing lightly over her trembling lips, “I will always come back for you.” Kalo gently kissed her lips.                  

 Kalo stared down at the glittering gem in his hand, the late sun light catching its angles as his mind raced with the memories of Camisa. He was helpless against the tears that began to race down cheeks his grief bone deep. Never in his life to that point had he felt completely alone and without direction. A sob, deep and agonized, escaped his strained throat his eyes sweeping the area around him looking for anything else that may have survived in the village.

 Kalo scavenged through the ruins of Broughton long into the night with the military grade torch lamp he carried in his rucksack. He had managed to amass a small pile of objects; a thin strap of leather- which he used to fashion an necklace for Camisa’s gem around his neck, a few children’s toys, articles of clothing, and preserves from the demolished store room of the general store.

In the early light of morning Kalo sorted through the pile storing what little he could use, and carry, into his rucksack. For the rest, Kalo dug into the soft ground and buried, in a grave, a memorial to the village and those who lived, and lost their lives there. Placing a bunch of wildflowers he had been able to find in the fields near the village Kalo prayed a solemn prayer over the grave. He vowed, in that moment, to find justice for those slain-- find answers, for himself.

Sometime during the night and the endless searching Kalo convinced himself of the impossibility that an entire village could have been eradicated with survivors. Even in a surprise attack some could have managed to escape the carnage.

Kalo dared to believe that Camisa might have been one of them. With a kernel of hope and a cold trail Kalo set out from the village of Broughton turning his back on everything he had known and all that he loved. A man changed and determined.     

§                      §                      §

            Kalo banished the thoughts from his mind and attempted to allow the gentle swaying of the truck bed and the low rumble of the boy’s breathing to lull him back into sleep. Kalo, in an attempt to find a more comfortable arrangement for his large body, twisted onto his left hip into the warmth of the boy’s body and was gifted with little sharp claws digging into his chest.

            Surprised by the sudden pain Kalo’s eyes sprang open and were met by a pair of fierce amethyst eyes. The eyes belong to another orphan that had taken to following around after him.

            “Evil thing” Kalo grumbled.

            The feline merely blinked its large haughty eyes at Kalo, resettled onto its haunches and began a steady stream of purring. Righteous in the pain it had inflicted and indifferent to Kalo’s own need to find comfort as it settled into sleep.

            The boy, whose sleep had remained undisturbed by Kalo’s rumblings, turned into Kalo and flung his arm over Kalo’s chest holding him tightly as he softly began to mumble of tasty meats.

Kalo resigned himself to being uncomfortable; with the sharply clawed feline on his chest and the boy wrapped around his side like a vine. Kalo closed his eyes and allowed the warmth and mutterings of his companions to ease him into sleep.

The sun was high in the sky when, Kit bounded into the truck bed to shake Kalo from his slumber.

            “Kalo wake up. We are here, we are here” his voice full of the kind of energy that should have been outlawed in the early morning hours.

            “Wake up!”

            “No more your voice would disturb even the dead, I am awake.”

            Kalo opened his eyes slowly as Kit jumped off the back of the truck happy in accomplishing his goal of waking him. The land before him was lush and green the sunlight dimpled through the leaves of the tree under which the truck had been parked.

            “Ah, you are awake young master.” The merchant, who had picked up the small party the night before on the road, spoke happily as he approached the truck his bare arms rippling with muscles formed in hard labor.  

“We have not yet reached Damisk but there is a small river just down the hill from here. I thought it would be good to stop and rest a moment before going into the town. I’m sure you could use the chance to clean your self up a bit before we get in.”  

Kalo could use some time in the river, he was certain he was beginning to smell himself.

“Thank you, sir.”

The merchant smile brightened “Never mind all that get on with you” waving Kalo off. 

He arose from the truck bed his muscles sore from sleep on the wooden slats; he stretched to its full height his arms raised over his head. The merchant looked up at Kalo his eyes full of wonder and his lower jaw slack in shock.

Kalo was unfazed by the merchant’s reaction to him like so many others he was amazed by Kalo’s well above six foot and densely muscled frame. His time with the Guard had taught Kalo how to disguise his unusual height and to blend in if he chose. They had taught him to be a killer both silent and quick. By the time his prey noticed his size and speed it was already too late; the cold rush of steel against warm skin followed by the thump of their body as it hit the ground, was how it normally ended.

It had been three years since he left the Guard and all that it had meant to him. Three years since he turned his back on the desecrated village; combing the valley and surrounding town for any hint or whisper as to what had happened there, for Camisa.   

What he had found during his travels in the beginning had caused his gut to boil. Many of the surrounding areas had been attacked as Broughton had; burned to the ground, the land black from the fires and not a survivor in sight.  It was a massacre.

A new breed of enemy lived in the land of Myrthza. While Kalo and his compatriots fought in the distant lands; forces had been released on their own people and imposed a new order over the lands.

Those who had survived, the rampaging forces, spoke only of deathly shadows with the strength of ten men and fires hotter than the sun that no water could extinguish. Kalo had not been able to fathom why the King would allow this to happen and had journeyed into The Citadel to plea for help and aide. Only to be turned away at the door his concerns one of many among those left without home or hearth littered in the streets of the gleaming city.

It was then that Kalo made the decision to not return the Guard. His mind could not reconcile fighting for the country that would victimize its own people. His defection had not been taking lightly, the commanding officer had looked at his him as if he were less than human; a traitor. His body still bore the scars of the beating that ordered on him and dealt out by his brothers in arms. Kalo left the camp where they stationed with a broken body but a determined mind.

Kalo joined Kit and the feline down on the rocky shore of the river. Bright morning sunlight danced across the surface of the moving water as a cool breeze moved through the trees that lined the bank. Kalo breathed in the morning air as he took in his surroundings always watching for possible dangers lurking in the shadows. He could hear the gentle footsteps of the doe scurrying through the trees just upwind of where they were and the woman on the opposite shore humming as she set about doing her washing. Kalo listened for a moment longer.

 Confident that the there was no immediate danger, Kalo settled beneath one the trees to undress. The feline, who always seemed to be lurking nearby when it was least expected, had found a patch of sun under a nearby tree to stretch out in. Its fur glittering under the rays like the scales of a fish would; gave Kalo pause. Even with his limited experience with felines, as they were rare creatures to encounter, he was certain that this one was odder than the rest. For the most part it was a docile even tempered creature taking in movements around it calmly but stretched as it was now, Kalo could see how very large the animal was. It was more the size of a canine rather than a feline but like Kalo it too was adept at hiding its true capacity.

Feeling his intense scrutiny the feline turned its head towards Kalo. Its amethyst bright and aware stared into Kalo’s gaze. The air separating the two dissolved the moment their eyes connected and image of a dark haired woman with her back to him rushed his mind. The woman was dressed in a heavy breast plate and torn billowing pants. Her long rave locks where bound into a tail behind her head, the figure began to turn towards him. Her moonlight skin and beautiful face marred by scratches, her amethyst eyes fierce. Suddenly the image changed to a dark room too dark for Kalo to see anything but he could hear the dripping of water in the distance, he could feel a presence in the room. Kalo tried to delve further into the image, focusing his mind to reveal what secrets the room held.

I know you.

The husky voice surprised Kalo as it rang through his mind.

Who are you?

A blinding light flashed and a woman’s scream shattered Kalo’s focus on the image.

“Kalo?”

Kalo blinked his eyes hard trying to recall the images and the voice of the woman. His eyes shifted back to the feline laid under the tree, its eyes closed in private glee as it liked its raised leg.

Kit came to a sudden stop in front of Kalo his body dripping and face lit in happiness.

“Kalo, look what I caught?” Kit peered up at Kalo noticing his distraction as he gazed over the young boy’s shoulder towards the feline.

“Kalo, why are you staring at Lycia like that?

“Who?”

“Lycia. That is her name.” Kit said indicating the feline.

“Is that the name you have decided to give her?”

“No silly that is her name. She told me.”

Told you?

            Kalo stored the thought away as his mind struggled to take in all the information. His eyes drifted over the boy and notice the fish Kit held struggling in his hand.

             “That is a fine catch you have there, Kit. It will make a fine meal.”

            “There are tons in the river, Kalo. We should start a fire and roast them! They will be delicious.”

            Kalo reached out and took the fish from the boy.

            “I will start the fire; you go on and see what else you can manage for us.”

            “What a feast for us today.”

  Kit, free of his catch, dashed off into the water excitedly he eyes fixed on the bed of the river seeking out his prey. Kalo on shore rested the fish on a river rock away from the water and begun searching for a place to build to fire. From the corner of his eye he watched the feline now up on its haunches, interested in the prospect of a meal.

It would be best, I think, to keep my eye on that one.

The merchant had dropped the small party off at the entrance into the town and turned off the road as he made his way home.  Damisk was loud and hot. The mid day heat intensified by the mass bodies pressed together on the crowded street. Their progress towards the town center, and subsequently the inn, was slow. Even with Kalo’s advantage of height it was hard to see what was causing the hold up, from what he could tell there seemed be a meeting in the square.

  Kalo managed to squeeze through the crowd to gain a closer look, keeping close to the edges of the crowd, Kalo propped himself up against a nearby building. As he perused the crowd Kalo noticed the armed men across the plaza they stood watching the event as it unfolded. The sight of the men struck him as unusual; certainly they don’t need armed guards for a speaker? The side arms they carried a warning to all those around that they would ensure the peace of the town. For now they too waited to see what would happen.

If nothing else this should prove interesting.

 A single old man stood before the crowd elevated by a small stage dressed in drab grey robes that should there ware and tear in his hand he held a long wooden staff. The old man raised his arms grandly over his head, the murmuring voices silenced by his call for attention.

“I am one of the Brothers Findard, a true disciple of great Izeha. Long have we watched and waited. The signs of the times are before us! Many of you here have seen the effects for yourselves and the truth will no longer be denied. The time has come my friends for the evil presiding over these lands to be eradicated.”

The silence in the square was deafening at the priest’s words and like a slow ripple they begun to speak to their neighbors in shock and alarm.

One voice rang out over the din “Why should believe anything you say priest?”

The priest directed his words towards the man, “You have all heard of the armies marching across our lands, both fierce and quest, destroying all that lay in their path. They speak of magical flames that no water or earth can extinguish. These events have been foretold! Too long have you forgotten the old ways and the greatness of Izeha.”

 A great crack of lightening flash, the sky grew suddenly darker followed by the booming of thunder. Cries raised in fear in the square the priest unfazed by the happenings continued his speech, “Do not look to the look to your false King and his cursed Queen for salvation—“  His words were cut short as the bodies of the guards slammed into him dragging him off from the stage. As he struggled against their combined strength, his final pleas were screamed at the tops of his lungs before being stifled by the guards.

“Beware of the false King and Cursed Queen!... Rise again Katjiya…. Save us all Izeha--”

For an old feeble man the priest put up quite a fight against the armed guards, it took four of them and the advantageous use of what looked an electro-shock gun to subdue him. The fifth guard, the senior of the small troop- distinguished by his more elaborate dress, stood watching from a distance atop the stage as his men dragged the old man down a dark alleyway off of the square.    

The crowd buzzed in horror as they watched the priest being dragged away. The final guard turned towards the crowd slowly, his regard stony his movements crisp and exact. Kalo turned his gaze over the crowd wanting to see what the guard saw from atop the stage. There was an energy different from when he had arrived- a mild curiosity to what would happen, it seemed to pulse through the crowd its vitality raised the small hairs on the back of his neck.  The guard must have felt the same thing as he raised his hand over the back of his own neck his eyes meeting Kalo’s at the edge of the crowd. Kalo held the guard’s unwavering gaze until the guard turned away from him discarding his presence as insignificant. The crowd grew restless; their voices raised in volume and movements more aggressive as they discussed the priest’s words and the actions of the guards.

The suddenly darkened sky begun to lighten, the sound of the thunder receded into the distance as the sun shone down on the town. It was then that Kalo understood the energy they radiated and although the Priest’s message had been cut short something else had been accomplished by his words; doubt and discourse radiated around him. The seeds of chaos had been planted.

“There is nothing more to see here, care not for this mad man’s words for they are false. Your King and Queen appreciates your loyalty. Long live King Edrick and Queen Alisa!”

“Long live King Edrick and Queen Alisa” the crowd responded to the guard’s words.

“Go now in comfort that your monarchy supports your happiness and prosperity, go now and return to your lives.”

Kalo glanced around as the crowd began to turn away from the stage and filter out of the square.

“Why are you just standing there Kalo? I thought we were going to an inn-- did you see the sky just now? I have never seen anything like have you Kalo? I did not understand what that old man was talking about but did see when the guards attacked him? They just swooped in and dropped him onto the ground. A man back there nearly trod on Lycia’s tail so I picked her up and been carrying her since, I think she likes it when you hold her, you can hear her purring. Are we going to the inn Kalo?”

 Kit’s joyful tone and constant stream of conversation pulled Kalo out of his musings on the unexpected event. He looked down on the boy holding the feline in his scrawny arms. Lycia met Kalo’s eyes for a moment as Kit continued to chatter on. The feline’s eyes conveyed a similar assessing gaze on its surroundings. Thoughts of what had happened at the river earlier in the day and here in the town seemed to independently odd to be unconnected, but did they mean? What of this false Queen that the priest referred to? Who was Katjiya and what of the visions?

“Something is brewing.” Kalo murmured aloud his thoughts rolling in his mind as he tried to make connections between everything he knew.

“Brewing? What is brewing?” Kit sniffed the air mistaking Kalo’s meaning.

“I smell meat!” he yelled excitedly running off towards the origin of the smell. Realizing that Kalo had not made a move to follow, kit turned back sharply and called towards Kalo,

 “Come on Kalo, there is meat this way. Hurry!”

Kalo chuckled to himself as he eased his massive body off the wall watching as Kit turned his back and ran off down the street.  Kalo followed at a more leisurely pace one thing was clear to him as he followed Kit; it was time for Kalo to start doing some digging on his own. As buzz of excitement traveled down his spine at the thought the answers he had been searching for would finally be answered but with the recent events there were also a slew of new questions to ask as well.

By the time they had found the stall where the roasting meat was being sold and Kit had eaten enough to satisfy his prodigious appetite, it was already dark outside. The town’s inn, The Feather Grove, would be enough for them to rest for the night or tow at the most.

“Make sure the feline stays out of sight, Kit.”

“Are you going somewhere? Can I go with you?”

“Where I am going is no place for children.”

“I am not a child!” Kit cried out in outrage, his voice cracking in the middle.

“I am going to try and do some investigations of my own you will only get in the way.”

“You know I would never get in the way, I’m small and people don’t pay much mind to me at all. I hear all kind of things.”  A suspicious look settled onto the young boy’s face. Kalo stepped out for the inn after getting Kit and the feline settled into the cozy room for the night.   

“Tell the truth, you just want to drink and flirt with the women.” Kit accused with a suspicious gaze.

“All the more reason why you, Kit, cannot come.” Kalo responded as he made his way out of the door. Kit could hear his deep laughter as he made his way down the empty hallway of the inn. Kit listened to his heavy footsteps on the stairs and watched from the window as he made his way like a shadow down the dark street.

“No fair. Why should we always be left behind?”

Lycia perched next to Kit at the window staring up at the boy and began to purr at his words.

“I couldn’t agree more Lycia. We will just give him a bit of head start, wouldn’t want to get caught before we could even begin.” Kit turned away from the window gathering his coat and shoes, pausing for a moment to don the apparel and to form some of the blankets to resemble a body on the bed. Lycia watched his movements around the room from her spot next to the door were she waited for the boy to finish. With a final extinguishing of the gas lamps in the room Kit was ready to go. He slowly opened the door to peer out before he and Lycia slipped out of the door into the empty corridor.

In the years since he had left the Guards Kalo quickly learned that the best places to find information were in the places one could easily slip into the environment, were people were most relaxed and loose with their secrets where a stranger could easily become a comrade or a woman’s one night love.

The Whistling Pig, was not unlike any other tavern it’s well worn in floors made sticky by ale spills and the occasional dousing of one bodily fluid or another. The low ceiling room was cozy and filled with locals Kalo recognized some of the faces from the square earlier in the day as he slipped into the room unnoticed.

Kalo made his way over to the counter manned by an older gentleman; Kalo noticed his pegged leg as the man limped behind the counter filling drink orders. When the old man noticed Kalo near the end of the bar top a startled look flashed across his face as his gaze ran over his intimidating figure. Kalo settled into a seat at the end of the bar top where he could take in all of the occupants in the tavern.  

“Welcome to the Whistling Pig, young sir. Name is Jeffers, what can I get for you this fine evening?”

“A Pint.” Kalo responded. Jeffers turned quickly and shuffled over to the barrel taps and returned with the drink, its froth dripping over the rim of the glass as he placed it in front of Kalo.

“Here you go, That there be the finest ale this side of the plains.”

Kalo lifted the cool glass to his lips and took a big gulp of the ale before returning the glass to the scarred wooden bar top, as he scanned the crowded tavern. Many of the faces he espied some laughing others watching the crowd as he did.

Jeffers stood before Kalo with an expectant look, seeming to be waiting for his reaction.

“You are right this is the best ale I have had.” Kalo commented.

“Did I not tell you? The customers do not come night after night only for my good looks.” Jeffers smiled broadly, as he spoke, exposing the scattering of teeth remaining in his mouth, stained and misshapen.

Kalo returned his attention to the room, hoping that now the man would be satisfied with Kalo’s response and leave him in peace to formulate a plan to get whatever information he could here.

 A group of rowdy women entered the tavern, their heavy make-up and revealing clothing announcing to all the nature of their business in the tavern. The women made their way deeper into the tavern making faces and throwing their overt lure towards the men at the various tables.

Kalo was overwhelmed by the thick cloud of perfume that followed the women as they passed him at the end of the bar top. The scents seemed to entice the other men as much as it disgusted Kalo; he took another gulp of his ale.    

  Jeffers leaned over the bar top his glance focused over Kalo’s shoulder, “Although the company of a willing woman would be incentive enough for most men.”

Kalo felt an intense regard upon his person. He turned in search of its source and met the cool eyes of one of the heavily perfumed women. She was seated facing Kalo, her gaze was hungry he could feel its progress as it slowly crept up his body. She had a determined look on her face when their gazes finally met and Kalo knew, instinctively, that before too long she would be making her way over to him, staking her claim and letting all others know that she was his. Kalo knew it was only a matter of time and it was not conceit that made him so sure, it was the hunger he had seen in her eyes that was the desperation of the woman of that ilk. Who were looking for a big pay off or a protector and Kalo would play along with the innuendos and flirtation for as long as it took to get the information that he wanted. He was never interested in more than that.     

 His eyes fell onto a table near the door where a few men gathered speaking in hushed tones their heads bent close together as he felt a light tap on his shoulder.

“Looking for some company tonight stranger?”

Her voice was raspy with seduction as she whispered into Kalo’s ear as she trailed her long finger down his shoulder and across to his chest. His eyes followed the pale thin finger’s progress as it traced the lines of his worn-in great coat, before lifting his eyes to the owner’s face.

The woman wore her dark hair piled atop her head, as was the fashion, with a few limp curls caressing her pale cheeks and the nape of her neck beckoning a man’s hand to reach out and touch that same neck. Red swollen lips stretched into a sly smile exposing a gap in her teeth made by a few missing teeth, probably knocked out by a disgruntled customer. What little life there remained in her golden eyes was easily dimmed by the pain and suffering etched into its depths. She couldn’t have been that much older than he was, old enough to be home with a hoard of children under foot but like Kalo, it didn’t seem that her life had turned out any more expected than his had. Kalo continued to watch the woman perched against his shoulder.   

“I was just thinking that very thing. How bout I buy you a drink and you can keep me company tonight?”

“Why’d you think I came over here in the first place?” 

Without even a glance over his shoulder towards the bar his eyes glued to hers, Kalo called out, “Jeffers, another ale for my pretty companion.”

They stood, their eyes held undisturbed until the Jeffers placed the drink on the tabletop.

“Here you go Lily, your regular, nice and cold; just the way that you like it.”

Lily turned away from Kalo’s penetrating gaze to address the bar keep. “Thank ya Jeff, you always know just how I like it.” Her laugh was a raspy jangling of air, all rust and wary from a life hard lived, no twinkling bells for this woman, the struggle of each day apparent in all of her features.

Kalo reached into his pocket and withdrew a few gold coins and tossed them onto the bar top and waited as Jeffers happily swooped up the money and hobbled back along the bar to the others in want of a drink before reaching out his hand to gently caress her bare arm.

Jolted by the touch of his callused hand on her arm, Lily slowly returned her attention to Kalo, with a seductive tilt to her smile now that his interest obvious to her. She took another gulp her drink, downing most of the glass’s contents before returning it to the tabletop.

“I was wondering if you might be able to help me with something Lily.”

The pungent smell of liquor -- Kalo decided; not ale-- laced her breath as she leaned into him. The weight of the hand that she placed on his knee and soft circular motion of her hand and its slow progress up his leg threatened to distract Kalo from his purpose.

“Need my help do you? What is in it for me?” she husked out, as she pressed her ample cleavage into Kalo’s chest and her small hand eagerly grasping him.

Kalo couldn’t help the low chuckle that spilled from him as he looked down at the woman and reached his free arm into his pocket again withdrawing his coin purse to dangle before her downturned face. He held the bag there between their tightly pressed bodies drawing her attention back to his face.

“Don’t you worry, you will be compensated.”

Her voice lacked its flirtatious lilt as she sifted back towards the ledge of the bar and onto her a nearby stool. “What is it that you want to know?”

“The Priest, from the square this morning. Where did they take him?”  

§                      §                      §

Kit hadn’t meant to be so far behind Kalo once he had left the inn. The lower level had been bustling with the guests and maids moving about, and since Lycia wasn’t allowed in the establishment it had taken extra time for the feline to be believably concealed within his clothes. By the time he and the feline had made safely out on to the streets any sign of Kalo’s movements where long gone.

“Where to now to do you think?” Kit asked aloud as he glanced down the street. To the left he knew was where the market lay and beyond that the town square and the road they had used to enter the town that morning. On the right, the streets were narrowed and little light escaped the windows of the few buildings that occupied it. A small shiver ran down Kit’s back as he stood looking down the street a feeling of dread settling upon his young shoulders.

He is more the likely to have gone to the right hadn’t he? Seems the likely option. But that way is just so… to the left it is!

Kit moved to take a step off of the threshold where he had been standing pondering his next move when Lycia let out a low mew and began to wiggle and paw under his shirt.

“Hold on a moment. Let me just- stop scratching me—that hurts!”

Lycia squirmed and scratched her way from under Kit’s clothes; struggling against even Kit’s attempts to free her until she stood before him on the night darkened street. He was winded from the struggle with the feline.

“I suppose you have a few ideas as to what we should do next then?” Kit asked peering down at the feline staring at him from at his feet. With a lift of her long slender tail, and a slight roll of her amethyst eyes Lycia padded off towards the right; her outline vanishing into the shadows of the street as she stalked away from him.

Of course you would want to go to the right, Kit thought to himself taking a deep breath of the cold night air.

Kit peered down the street to the left, wishing beyond all hope that they were walking in the direction of the lights and sounds and sights of both hearth and home. Thoughts of turning back and doubts to the wisdom of his decision to chase after Kalo raced through his mind as he turned to follow the feline, when he noticed the fog settling over the street.

The disembodied cry of the feline jerked Kit’s attention from the eerie street, back to his purpose, and the pair of glowing eyes watching him from in the distance. The eyes watched him enticing him to journey down the street but Kit remained as he was standing before the side entrance of The Whistling Pig, bracing his prepubescent chest against the chill of the night and the damp of the foggy air.

The feline cried out to Kit again.

“Alright, alright I heard you the first time. I’m coming.” Kit grumbled as he walked out of the well-lit shelter of the inn towards were the feline led.

Lycia led Kit down the dark roadways; occasionally she stopped to turn back to the young boy to ensure he followed and that is how they progressed until they reached the small tavern lit up as a beacon of life on the otherwise deserted road.

Kit watched the tavern crouched behind a garbage pile across the street from the building. He retreated further into the shadows as a group of barely dressed and heavily perfumed women stumbled by his hiding place. Their revelry pierced the silent night air. Kit tracked their movements across the narrow road and to the door of the tavern.

 Even from the distance of his hiding place the strong smell of ale and raucous voices spilled out onto the street when the women entered the tavern.

Kalo was there.

Kit had never been more certain of anything in his young life. This had to be the place, it all the makings of the kind of seedy tavern Kalo had always told him about; cheap liquor, lively music and even looser women.

A quick look passed between the feline and the young boy confirmed his suspicions that they had reached their destination. Stealthily, Lycia turned away from the garbage pile and slinked across the road and around the side of the tavern; Kit following closely on her heels.

They finally settled below a small grimy window, at the back of the tavern. Kit’s wiry youthful frame was a perfect fit in the tight crevice in which the window was perched.

Kit peered into the tavern through the grime and dirt of the small window. In the dim light that escaped he barely made out the tables spread across the floor and the men and women drinking and laughing together upon them. From the corner of the windowpane Kit made out Kalo’s dark and intimidating form perched near the bar.

A sudden gust of biting wind raced up the loose hem of his shirt sending shivers through his body. The mist that had been moving into the town when Kit first set out on this adventure from the inn, seeped into Kit’s bones chilling him to his very core.

Kit tucked himself further into the tiny alcove by the tiny window, wrapping his arms around his chest to better brace himself against the late night’s chill. While the feline, in a smooth coordination of muscle, jumped onto the window’s sill. She settled her long body along the wooden edge with her face towards the direction where Kit had spotted Kalo.

They made themselves as comfortable as was possible considering; the harsh elements, the lateness of the hour and the ripe smell of refuse that littered the alley. The scent of it rode on the gusts of wind that whipped outside of their shelter to curl up into their noses. Being a sleuth was never easy, wither for truth seeking or a mere curiosity, they were determined if nothing else.

And so there they were; a feline and a young boy crouched in a small widow in a tight alcove hidden in a foul alley behind a seedy tavern, waiting for their prey to make some move. Their senses focused and hyperaware to the sounds and movements of the alleyway and interior of The Whistling Pig.

As far as information gathering went, the Whistling Pig was a veritable goldmine. A few gold coins were enough to loosen more than a few tongues in the tavern and had been well worth the cost.

Now Kalo had the information he needed to make his next move.

According to the revelers in the tavern, there have been rumors for months that there were brewing in The Citadel, forces that no one could yet name or discern the purpose of. Some spoke of the fires that had descended, as though from heaven, that decimated their homes and villages and of their flights for freedom in the middle of the night.

There were those who had lost more than their homes; families had been torn apart by the night raids. Wither or not their loved ones were still amongst the living; they did not know, like his home, there had been nothing left behind but the ghosts of the life they once lived.

Kalo, during his wanderings, had seen for himself that the land that had once been lush and prosperous had become a collection of nomads. Men, women and children, bound to a life tossed too close together like a petals in the wind; waiting for the next upset to drive them further away from home.

 But none of this came as a surprise to him.

 He had seen it, lived it.

It hadn’t been until Lily introduced him to the table of older men who had occupied the further corner of the bar top. Men, who looked as though they had lived through the ages and seen more than their fair share of wars, religion and regimes come to pass.  At the center of the men was Theodel, the clear leader among them. Kalo could see how they differed to him during the conversation, how they a came to a unified silence when Theodel spoke.

“These events are a part of much greater struggle that we should not concern ourselves with. It will all come to pass one way or another.” He stretched a weathered hand to pass over his hairless pate. “It has for many a year- as it will continue to do for many more an age.”

“What is this struggle you speak of?”

“A struggle for supremacy and the power to rule over all, it is a struggle as old as time.”

“Are we under attack then? Should we take up arms and defend ourselves?”  Kalo asked.

“Defend ourselves? Have you no sense?” The old man sitting beside Theodel threw in quickly. Theodel head snapped towards the man sitting beside him, his sudden movement, and assumedly fierce expression silenced his words and surprised Kalo, who wouldn’t have bet that the old man still had it in him to move that quickly.

Theodel turned away from his meek neighbor and slowly returned his gaze to Kalo.

“Young man, there are no defenses against the powers that fight in these lands.” His cloudy eyes passed slowly over the length of Kalo’s body.  “I can tell that you are a soldier, one of The Guard I would guess. I can see it in the way that you carry yourself. You have seen enough war and bloodshed, do not take on this battle.”

“I think you have me mistaken Theodel. I have no intention to look for a new battle to fight, it is only the curiosity of a visitor to this area-- only conversation I assure you.” Kalo flashed a quick smile at the men. Theodel’s eyes bore into his trying to discern the validity of his words.

Silence stretched between the group.

Kalo had forgotten Lily’s presence at his side, the sudden cushioning of her soft bosom against his elbow as she leaned, using her hold on his elbow as an pivot, into the consort of men.

“But what of the priest in the square today?” Lily’s sudden question broke Theodel’s gaze from Kalo, his eyes lingered on the woman’s bust; enhanced as it was squished up against Kalo’s arm and displayed by her low cut top.

 Seeing his interest diverted, Lily smiled coyly slinked in between the group to Theodel’s side pressing up against him. “You must know why they took the priest, Theodel. Nothing happens in this town without your knowing.” This statement she delivered while her hand danced slowly over his bald head. Kalo watched as an unmistakable deep color flooded the old man’s face and traveled down his neck. Kalo knew that Lily had the older man right where she wanted to him. Theodel had fallen prey to her seduction and his suspicions of Kalo where, at least for the moment, sidelined.

With Lily’s help and some purposefully vague comments from Kalo; Theodel unknowingly, divulged that the soldiers had taken the priest to their stronghold just outside of town. 

Kalo made a note to himself to toss a few more coins the woman’s way, she had earned it. Kalo was not ready to answer the old man’s questions about his curiosity. Kalo didn’t have the answers to explain the niggling at the back of his mind that was driving him deeper into this situation and the amethyst eyes he hadn’t been able to forget.

The night was dark and the cold wind biting. With significantly lighter pockets and a racing mind, Kalo stepped out of The Whistling Pig and onto the deserted street and made his way to the side of the building, not looking forward to running into any other patrons who might be entering the tavern.

Kalo lit a cherillo, bringing it to his lips and took a deep draw it allowing the smoke deep into his lung and releasing it back out of his lips along with the tension he felt in his body. With each pull of the cherillo Kalo’s mind quieted and sorted through all that he had learned from the prostitute and the old men in the bar.

The priest was his next step and his direction. Kalo knew that in order to get the answers he felt; he needed he would have to speak to the priest.

You have come.

The voice rang through his mind startling him out of his cool and cherillo induced calm and once again his mind was inundated with the image of the dark haired woman in the dark room. Kalo’s breath seized in his throat as the eyes pierced through the darkness meeting his, as though she was aware of his presence despite the lack of light in the room. She averted her gaze from Kalo and reached her hand out towards an object hovering above her head that Kalo hadn’t noticed in the prior visions of the woman.

Kalo tried to focus his mind on the object, knowing that the visions would not last long and he felt as though the woman was trying to convey some sort of message to him through these visions. Within the small floating mirrors that made up the object’s floating mass, a pair of pale blue eyes frame by dark brows emerged. The eyes in the mirrors vanished as the floating mirrors turned and where replaced by the image of a wooded area sunshine peeked through the canopy giving the area a golden glow and a small stone cottage built within the base of a grand tree. Suddenly, the mirrors went dark.

The woman in the room vanished.

A different scene of two women; the dark haired one from previously and another with hair as pale as the moon, this one previously unseen, kneeling before a hooded figure appeared. The silver light of the moon filtered over the small party through the space where there had once been a roof and illuminated the bare boned skeleton of the majestic structure that had once stood. No breeze blew through the massive stone columns that lined, the once grand hall, on both sides.

Kalo strained his senses trying to take in what clues he could from the unfamiliar surroundings. There were no sounds coming from the nature that surrounded them.

No animals moving around.

No sounds of human life reached the ruins.

            It was as though the world had taken in a deep breath, as Kalo did to see what was about to take place here.    

 The hooded figure gesticulated widely with its arms, his movements both harsh and exacting, as though admonishing the women kneeling before him. Kalo could not be sure, as the hooded man’s mouth moved soundlessly in the scene that played before him. 

 Suddenly the figure extended his arm towards the women. The women’s eyes fixed on his hand. The fair haired woman’s gaze especially fixed on him. In his outstretched withered hand before the women and within it Kalo could see a small dark stone. A shocking and sudden tingle moved along Kalo’s spine, starting at his lower back before defusing over his scalp, at the sight of the object. But it was the heavy, deep and dark oppression that settled in his chest that stole his very breathe and shrouded his mind once again in darkness.    

It was the heat of the cherillo on his fingertips as it burned out and the sleek body tangling in between his legs that greeted his return the alley beside The Whistling Pig. Throwing aside what was left of his cherillo, Kalo sucked on his burned fingertips and cursed softly.

Maow, the feline’s cry broke out into the quiet alley; diverting Kalo’s focus from his burning fingers to Lycia pacing at his feet.

“I thought I had left you at the inn.” Kalo asked the feline, reaching into his pocket for another cherillo. “Where is the boy?”

Maow. Lycia cried in response turning her head towards the rear of the tavern. Shuffling footsteps making their way towards Kalo and the feline could be heard.

Kit didn’t know when exactly he had fallen asleep in the small alcove behind the tavern, where he and Lycia had been spying on Kalo. It hadn’t been until he had fallen off of the wooden crate, which he had set on end under the sill to perch on when his feet had become sore as he peered into the tavern, and into some suspiciously foul smelling sludge that coated the ground in the alcove.

“Disgusting.” Kit spoke aloud into the alcove as he wiped the grime from the side of his head.

Kit pushed off of the ground, regaining his feet beneath him. Brushing off what he could of the dirt from his clothes, Kit looked up to the window’s sill expecting to see Lycia’s furred body and laughing eyes and was surprised to find it empty.

Where has she gone?

Kit quickly turned about in the alcove searching for the feline and yet unable to spot neither hide nor hair of the animal. He rushed to the window and pressed his face against the pane searching the interior of the tavern for Kalo.

Why isn’t he sitting at the bar? Kit thought to himself staring at the seat Kalo had previously occupied.

 Had he missed the moment they had been waiting for and the feline abandoned her sleeping companion? Kit could not help but believe that he had been left behind.  The young boy tried to stave off the panic he had begun to feel.

 He tried to quiet his mind and slow his breathing.

How long had I been asleep?

Which way could they have gone?

The distant sound of a muttered curse broke into the boy’s thoughts, plunging him back into the desperate moment. Coming to a decision, Kit started, slowly out of the alcove and into the alley that ran along the length of the tavern calling out to Lycia, in low whispers.

They were at an impasse; the feline and Kalo.

There in the deserted alley, with the mist settling around them and the sounds of tavern floating out to them. The feline continued to stare at Kalo, its amethyst eyes unwavering in their gaze and as he had come to expect there were no answers to be found in their depths.

 What Kalo wanted- was answers.

 Answers to what? Why are you inserting himself into the troubles of this town? What did this all matter, wasn’t his purpose to find Camisa?  His doubts whispered to him in the night forestalling him, from what, he wasn’t sure but they did bring up a few good points.

All Kalo knew was that he would find no rest until he was able to quiet the niggling voice-damned curiosity- at the very back of in his mind that told him that he must press forward. That he had to see this through.

But to what end?

Kalo pushed the less than useful questions into the background of his mind and focused instead on the sounds of distress coming from further down the alley.

 The sound of crates crashing to the floor was followed by tangle of skinny pale limbs scrambling through the chaos now strewn across the alley. Kalo knew the owner of the limbs even before hearing the hushed curse slip from the figure. Kalo and Lycia threw an exasperated look at one another before making their way towards the young boy.

“I am sure I told you to remain at the inn.” Kalo called out.

At the sound of Kalo’s voice, Kit quickly regained his footing after being somewhat sprawled on the floor, and threw some of the crates along the wall of the tavern and took refuge behind the quickly erected pile of crates and trash.

“No use in hiding. I already know it is you.” His tone mocking, as he lazily propped his frame along the wall and lit another cherillo. “The feline gave you away first.”

Kit remained, with his breathe held, as he was hoping beyond hope that he could just vanish into the brick and mortar.  

Losing patience with the young boy, Lycia pawed her way over the trash and through the few crates still left strewn in the alley and settled herself at Kit’s feet and meowed.

“This is all, your fault” Kit harshly whispered at the feline. To which the only response he received was a quirky tilt of her head and a slow blink of her large up-tilted eyes.

So much for their secret mission to tail Kalo nighttime adventures Kit thought to himself with a huff of defeat. He so hated proving Kalo right about him being too young to tag along, and so Kit resolved within himself that it would be childish to remain in hiding.

Before Kit could himself move out of his make shift hiding spot, he was hauled up by the scruff of his shirt and plopped back onto his feet on the right side of the crate tower and the mess he had created.

Feeling miffed, and admittedly slightly shocked, by being manhandled Kit shrugged away from the hand holding him.

“Hey! Careful with the clothes!” he spoke straightening out his shirt and brushing the grime further into the fabric. “They were expensive”

“I can see that.” Kalo could barely hide the amusement in his voice as he spoke to the boy and it only increased when Kit threw a scowl his way at the sound of it. Clearing his throat softly Kalo continued, “Why aren’t you at the inn where I left you?”

“You already asked me that.”

“I did. This time I am expecting an answer.”

Kit fixed his gaze on the ground, avoiding Kalo’s gaze, and began to shuffle his feet on the ground.

“I thought I could be useful to you, you know, in case you got into a scrape or something.” He admitted shyly.

Kalo coughed uncomfortably at the boy’s words and tossed the burning end of his cherillo into the trash behind him before speaking.

“Thanks for that, kid. I am sure you would have been a great help. But now it is time for you to go back to the inn, this is no place for a chi—“

“I am not a child!” The words seemed to have burst from the young boy’s chest.

“Maybe you are right, you are not a child but where I need to go, is no place for you.”

Sensing his weakening resolve, Kit perked up at Kalo’s slight admission to his worthiness and chose to ignore his continued refusal of accompaniment and decided to change tactics.

“I understand your caution Kalo. But if I might ask, where is it that you are going now? Did you not find out what you needed in the tavern?” Kit asked brightly. So brightly in fact that Kalo went immediately on guard and eyed Kit wearily before answering.

“Yes, I received answers to my questions but I find that I have ended up with just as many more questions.” Kalo admitted. “I have a new direction to explore and I mean to do so this very night. I will solve this damned puzzle.” Kalo finished fiercely his frustration with the entire situation getting the best of him, surprising his young companion.

“Where to then?”

“The prison. That is where they are keeping the priest.”

“You mean that fortress looking building on that hill just west of here?”

“Yes that one—Oh no you don’t! You can not go there!”

“Whatever do you mean Kalo?” Kit asked, his eyes wide with innocence brimming from within, visible even in the low light of the alley.

“Get back to the inn Kit!”

Kit was not cowed by Kalo’s fierce words and stood before him meeting his fierce gaze. The young boy had already decided that he needed to prove himself to Kalo, and in doing so satisfy his own budding curiosity, and being left behind again was just not acceptable. Kit acknowledged to himself that it would be foolish to push Kalo too far on this issue.

 He owed Kalo his life.

It hadn’t been so long ago when Kit had been living to die. Like so many others in the city the daily struggle; of finding shelter, food and warmth, had been dire. The long shadows cast by The Citadel’s ornate spires had seemed to wait for the moment to swallow his small existence, a mar on the gleaming façade of the city.

 He had just been waiting for the end.

But Kalo had found him, more accurately caught him, and allowed him to attach his life and purpose to him. Kit knew that there would come a day when Kalo had enough of his youthful curiosity and mischievousness. Kalo wouldn’t want the expense or responsibility of looking after him anymore and would just simply disappear one day from Kit’s sight like his parents had before.

Kit was as sure of that day’s eventuality as he was his own name and he dreaded it, knowing it would one day be before him. So he would take all that he could and try to give back and hope to pay against that debt that each day would grow.

Until that day came he would have to prove himself worthy.

To Kalo.

And to himself.

Kit took in a deep breath and savored the cool night air as it filled his lungs and firmed his resolve as he stepped around Kalo and begun to make his way through the alley and back onto the main road.

“Where do you think you are going?” Kalo called out to the young boy’s retreating back, the feline trailing slightly behind him.  

Without breaking his stride Kit responded. “To the prison, to meet the priest.” He had just taken the turn at the end of the alley towards the right Kit stride long and sure with confidence when Kalo’s voice reached out to him from close behind. “Well then it would be best to head in right direction, which is of course, to the left.”

Kit quickly about faced on the worn heel of the boot he wore to find Kalo and Lycia making their way down the street in the opposite direction.

Kalo’s laughter echoed down the street towards Kit as he ran to catch up with the pair.

“Wait for me!” he cried out as he ran to catch up with them.

“Kalo, that thing you did back there?” Kit asked slightly out of breath as he drew even with the pair. “You know when you lifted me by one hand? Could you do it again?” 

“No.”

“Oh come on Kalo, please?”

“Give it a rest.”

“Please.” The young boy begged.

Somehow, to Kalo at least, the night seemed to stretch longer around the small group and his body heavy with age and weariness. Listening to Kit prattle on about one thing or another he secretly hoped that the priest would be able to satisfy this curiosity.

Come to me.

 Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

A gentle breeze blew into the cell. Katjiya took it into her lungs.

She could smell it. A change was in the air. What that change would bring would be made clear in time, as it was with all things.

The smell of the blood and fire had dissipated years ago after the battle that had left her confined in the cell. Years had passed and the sounds of nature; the rustling of the winds through the trees and birds singing for their morning penance had returned—the world renewed itself. There was comfort to be found in it.

 A fire had started in her blood with the passing of time.

Soon it would be time, when the stars and fates where in alignment—freedom and purpose. But for now patience, that is what he had told her.

It is coming.

The prison stood alone in the dark night, a fortress of dark and drab stone against a background a barren plot, lit by the full moon.

From the not too distant tree line that lined the small road leading to the prison, they watched. From what could be seen, as far as security went the place seemed hardly manned, deserted even, from the outside.

The harsh sound of sapping twigs and crushed leaves rushed up behind Kalo in his hiding place at the edge of the clearing, Kit stumbled to a halt and crouched beside Kalo.

“How do you plan to get us in?” Kit asked in a rush of breath.

“Quietly.” He answered with a sneer. Taking a moment to ensure that Kit’s entrance to the scene had not brought any attention to their presence, Kalo slipped silently around the bush, his footsteps somehow silent on the leaf strewn ground and made his way along the tree line, until he could view the far side of the building and the guards that were patrolling the fortress’ perimeter.

 Kalo paused under a large oak tree, the nearest guards were too busy to notice the shadowy movement a long the tree line as they stood at the far corner laughing and smoking. Luck was on their side. Kalo had worried how he was going to get Kit safely into then out of the prison but if this was the level of security they were up against the odds would be better in their favor. The guards’ joyous voices would mask any noise that they made breeching the wall.

Making sure that he was well hidden with in the shadows provided by the great oak, Kalo signaled back to Kit that it was clear for him to follow. Lycia preceded the young boy to the spot where Kalo waited and took only a moment to pause by Kalo’s feet before cutting across the clearing towards the building.

The feline’s sudden dash across the yard surprised Kalo but he forced himself to remain where he was.

“Damned feline.” Kalo spoke as Kit reached him.

“Where is Lycia going?” the young boy asked in a rush of air, he took a deep breath before speaking again. “Aren’t we going to follow? What if she gets hurt?” Kit took a step forward to follow the feline but was stopped by a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t even think about.”

“She might get hurt, Kalo.”

“Damned feline.” He cursed softly under his breath as he took a quick glance around ensuring himself that the guards were still occupied at the far end of the wall. “Wait here.” He grunted to Kit before dashing out from under the shelter of the tree-- in the direction the feline had taken.

 Moonlight spilled over the prison and cast shadows along the northern side of the building, providing Kalo with sufficient coverage from those who might peer out of the few windows that dotted the wall. The shadows also made it hard for Kalo to make out Lycia’s location.

Making it to the prison’s wall he turned back, to the tree line and the place where Kit remained hidden and whistled as a night lark, signaling the young boy it was safe to follow. He waited, listening to the speedy footfalls of the boy’s boots on the parched ground and watched as he made his way over to the wall.

“Did you find her?”

“Not yet. For now, keep to my footsteps, stay alert and be quiet.” The last- he commanded in a harsh whisper to the boy.

“Keep quiet, got it.” He whispered in reply.

Even as he spoke those words, Kalo kept his senses trained and alert on their surroundings. The wind rushed through the leaves of the tress and kicked up dust from the grounds, making it hard for him to see.

 Stealth was necessary.

Kalo questioned again the wisdom in allowing the boy to accompany him here, his gangly and thin body didn’t inspire confidence that he could accomplish the stealth needed to enter the prison undetected. As the thought tried to take root in his mind he quickly dismissed it. There was no time now for doubts or reconsiderations. The boy was with him and he would just have to make sure that they all made it out alive.

 They crept slowly along the wall, of the prison; Kalo with his eyes focused low to ground hoped to make out the feline’s form in the darkness; before someone else found them first.

It was Kit who located the feline first as Lycia off in the distance before them, cried out. Her feline eyes eerie glow in the darkness drew their footsteps to where she waited by a small-barred window well hidden behind weeds and moss that grew out of the building’s foundation. The window didn’t appear large enough for person on Kalo’s breadth to comfortably make his way through but he was familiar with getting into and out of tight spaces and he would just have to make do.

Kalo had to admit he was marginally impressed by the feline’s usefulness. On his own it the window would not have been such a quick find as it was so well obscured from casual view. Feeling as though luck might just be on their side Kalo glanced down at the feline and conveyed what he hoped was a look of approval that he felt safe to show her only in the dim light. The light evidently was not as dim as he had thought. Seeing his approval, Lycia replied with a soft cry and proceeded to rub her lithe body along his legs as she purred.

Kalo cursed softly, just when I begun to think you might not be so bad, he nudged the feline away with his boot-clad foot. The sound of her purring and Kit’s stiffled glee, at the pair’s exchange, permeated the night air.

Ignoring the boy’s laughter, Kalo crouched down before the small window trying to see through the spaces created by the bars, to where the window led.

 Cloaked in shadows the room beyond the window was dark and quiet. Kalo could make out the shape of large stacks along the far wall, towering sheaths of paper uneven and leaning as well as a few equally haphazard shelves. Although they would not the sturdiest place to land, as trespassers they were unlikely to find a more viable entry point. Kalo quickly refocused his efforts to the window’s frame and began testing its hinges.         

 The old hinges squealed their release under the strain of his brute force, swinging out towards him. The opening was barely large for a full-grown man.

“Looks like I will be going in first then.” Kit decided having seen the tiny opening. He moved around Kalo’s crouched form, preparing himself to drop through.

“No, I will go.”

“How could you-“

“Never you mind that- I will manage. Wait here. I give you a signal that it is safe.”

“Kalo, I can do it, you’re too large.”

Kalo nudged the slight boy aside and studied the opening; having taken the mental measurements of the window he braced himself for an attempt. The fit was indeed tight. It had taken no small measure of tugging, shoving, squeezing and a few choice curses to pass through the window.

 Dropping down into the dark room feet first, with some of his usual grace, Kalo quickly took in the room and the shelves that lined the walls. Kalo reached into one of his many pockets and withdrew a match, which he lit on the stone floor beneath his feet.

The brief glow of the match revealed the contents of the shelves that occupied the room; rations of food, bedding and cloth. The supplies were haphazardly laid along the shelves in uneven piles along the stone walls.

Stone walls, Kalo’s mind conjured thoughts of another stone walled room, not occupied as this one was with supplies and perishable wares but of a dark haired woman with purple eyes. Dragging his mind back to the current stone room Kalo turned back to the window and signaled for Kit to follow.

Sticking his head in through the window, the boy took in the room and Kalo standing therein amongst the shelves. The question he had intended to ask, stuck in his throat as he watched Kalo, who seemed lost in his thoughts, a common occurrence these days it seemed.

A spark of devilry caught in Kit, as he adjusted his crouch to better spring into the room and hopefully surprise Kalo. The loose earth stirred and shifted beneath his feet throwing off his balance and making his spring off of the ledge, less than sure. In a fashion true to only himself, Kit tumbled in narrowly missing Lycia who had preceded the boy into the cellar, as he landed on the stone ground on his back.

 After the initial rush of air from his body upon impact, Kit let out a long groan.

“I think I am dead.”

Finding a kerosene lamp that hung from the wall near the door, Kalo struck the wick and a glow filled the room. Kalo moved to stand over the young boy and looked

“Are you sure?” he asked as his voice cracked.

 Lycia, tired of being ignored took that moment to jump onto Kit’s heaving stomach eliciting another groan from the boy, as she walked over his chest to rub her furred face along the side of his. “I don’t feel it.”

 “Take this as lesson then.”

“Aww Kalo, I was only having a bit of fun.” Kit whined as he made his way off of the floor and onto his feet.

Kalo turned back to where the boy stood, from the cellar door where he had been listening to hear any activity that might be occurring outside of the room, before he spoke with a hard voice and stern regard upon his face. “Make no mistake boy. This is no time for fun.”

Without another word, Kalo turned his back on the boy who gaped at him in mild shock and crouched by the door and eased it open. Hearing no movement in the hallway, he ducked out into the hall. The feline moved towards the doorway and threw a look of her own at the boy and to the lit lamp on the wall before following Kalo out of the room.

Kit followed behind more slowly, his back still sore from his fall from the window. He paused only briefly to extinguish the lamp, as he was instructed, before slipping out of the safety of the cellar and with a soft click he closed the door.

 It had been by luck that they had found the hallway outside of the cellar empty and blissfully low lit. The gas lamps that lined the passageway lit their way through the twists and turns of the prison’s lower level. 

Kit was sure that the steady pounding of his heart would alert others to their presence. With every brush of fabric against the walls, and each step they took along the stone floors resounded like cannons in his mind and convinced him of their discovery. This is a fool’s errand, Kit thought to himself, and he had to have been the number one fool for insisting he accompany Kalo here.

Left, then right and another left. One turn after another, they made their way in a series of pauses and rushes down the corridors. For a while, the only sound to be heard was the muted thuds of their footsteps on the stones as they searched for their quarry. As the spaces between the sconces along the wall had grown and the shadows stretched across the floor new sounds; shuffled footsteps and voices, began to reach them and slowed their pace.    

They continued onwards the sounds looming closer and closer until they were right upon it. Discovery was no longer a distant possibility but a moment’s very real threat.

Kalo, with silent gestures signaled to Kit and the feline to take within an alcove, they had passed before, as he stalked silently down the hall. With his lithe body pressed firmly along the wall, Kalo peered around the corner as a door opened across the hall and two men poured out of the light beyond.

“Damn right nasty business this is.” Spoke the first man to enter the hall, diminishing the paltry light in the hall and obscuring his face from Kalo’s sight with his massive muscular frame. The second man, smaller than the first, stepped out of the doorway and moved down the hall, his steps measured, away from the door and into the light before turning back towards the first.

“We have orders. That is all that we need to know.” He responded around a dry hacking cough.

“Ah come on Charlie,” the first man whined. “Don’t pretend this doesn’t seem unusual to you. He’s a priest for goodness sake! It just doesn’t make sense to me, putting him down there.”

“He might not even be a real priest for all you know. It is no business of ours why he is down there.” Charlie said as he turned his back on the man and continued down the hall, away from where Kalo hid, his words echoed down the hall behind him. “Now come along, he won’t be going anywhere for the night and from what I hear he won’t be with much passed the morning.” He said with a light chuckle as he walked.

“All I know is that this whole thing just doesn’t sit right with me” the burly man replied with his head downcast and his steps slow as he followed Charlie away from the door.     

Their conversation continued as the two men walked down the short hall and turned the corner out of sight, their voices fading as the distance lengthened.  Kalo waited quietly, fearing to move even a single muscle, as listened to their retreating footsteps even into silence.

Waiting only long enough to be sure that the men had not returned to the hall nor any others exit the door. Kalo turned back to the alcove where Kit and Lycia waited and waved them forward. Once they joined him at the corner, Kalo succinctly made them aware of the door and the men’s revelation of the location of the priest.

The strong light of a lamp momentarily blinded Kalo as he stepped onto the small landing beyond the door and caused shadows to dance in his vision as his eyes adjusted from the dimness of the hall.  Kalo felt along the wall to for the lamp’s switch and quickly muted the light, hoping not to alert others of his presence. Kit and the feline stepped onto the landing and firmly closed the door behind them.

“So what is the plan?” Kit asked in a whisper.

“I will go find the priest. You stay here.” Kalo answered distractedly as he looked around the landing and peered over the ledge to the stairs that lead below. “No arguments, Kit.” He continued, seeing Kit warming up for an argument. “Stay here and keep watch.”

Kit grumbled low under his breath and kicked his feet at the ground in response as Kalo quickly turned away and slowly descended the stairs and into the darkness.

Down the slippery spiral, he descended. Keeping to wall, Kalo followed the stone tresses down into the belly of the prison. The dripping of water as it hit the stone surface of the stairs echoed through the dark cavernous space as he made his way deeper.

Darkness enveloped Kalo, the light from the landing where he had left the boy no longer reached to him, so thick that he no longer could distinguish his own hands or what lay before him. With his left hand trailing along the surface of the wall to guide him, he continued. The moist and thick qualities of the air, made it hard for Kalo to draw breathe and weighed down his chest, an oppressive weight.

 Panic, set into Kalo’s mind and quickened his breath. No longer was he on the stairs but back in that dark and cold stone room. Kalo fought to fill his lungs with air as disjointed images of war and disembodied voices screaming out in pain and in anger flitted through his mind.

The hard impact of his head against the wall snapped Kalo’s mind back into the present. For once he was glad for the damp stone rolling his forehead on along its coolness. The rough crevices of the stone pressed into his heated skin, grounding him and settling.

Kalo did not dare to even take the time to consider the reason for the episode. It had been so unlike the others in that instead of seeing the woman, he himself had been in the room. The feeling of desolation and confinement had stolen the very breath from his body. Kalo forced the thoughts to the back of his mind. Now was not the time to fixate on what he was coming to believe more and more with each episode, was madness.

Kalo took in a few deep breaths, before lifting his head away from the wall and on shaking legs, stepped off of the tress and set off once again down the stairs.

 Rounding another bend, his mind half convinced that this was a suicide mission and filled with worry for the young boy on the landing above while other half certain that all of his questions would be answered if he just get going. It was an argument he had with himself before but it was as if there was a force, outside of himself deciding his steps forward towards some unknown end.

So he continued on the downward spiral, Kalo espied a faint glow he had not noticed before grew. The sight of the light quickened his steps, until he stood before a door. At the bottom of the stairs Kalo had expected to find the light source that led him here but he could detect no such source. The darkness of landing was only broken by a few strands of moonlight that fought its way down into the pit from slots cut into the stone walls.

Kalo reached out and tried the handle of the door before him. The touch of the cold metal against his skin was biting, the handle equally unforgiving as he pulled.

A low groan broke out in the silence from behind the door and Kalo froze, his hand gripping the handle, listening.     

The sound came again this time a louder. Kalo quickly inspected the door taking in the intricate lock below the handle. Kneeling before the door, Kalo rummaged in one of the many pockets of his coat; withdrawing a bundle of wire pins. Securing three of the pins between his lips, Kalo returned the others into the pocket.

What little light was available on the landing would make working on the lock difficult but Kalo braced two of the pins in the lock and with the third into the mechanism. With one ear listening for footsteps on the stairs and the other focused on sounds from beyond the door, Kalo worked.

  The cold air was biting, causing Kalo to drop the pins several times and curse under his breath in frustration. Refocusing from the last dropping incident, Kalo blew out a rush of air as he attempted the lock once again. The soft scrape of the pins within the lock’s mechanism was barely noticeable above the dull thudding of Kalo’s heart in his ears.

And then, finally.

Click.

 He heard it.           

 Kalo stifled the exclamation of relief making its way out of his mouth and pulled slightly at the handle. Kalo was assaulted by the foul stench of blood and waste wafted out of the crack in the doorway and was closing the door when a voice reached to him from the dark stink.

“No more” the slurred voice spoke little more than a whisper but in the silence Kalo jerked back the door and peered in. A deep darkness met his gaze and a deafening roar met his ears. Kalo rushed into the dark room stumbling over the debris littering the floor and scrambled his way towards the voice and slammed his hand over the noisemaker’s mouth. The voice escalated at the feel of his hand. Feeling the masculine shape and torn skin of the man’s mouth, Kalo understood the reason for his increase in volume. Are you trying to get us both killed? Kalo made a quick decision and braced his free hand behind the man’s head keeping his other firmly over his mouth and sharply shook the man.

“Priest!” Kalo spoke in a harsh whisper breaking through the muffled moans of the man. “I mean you no harm.” At this the Priest quieted, Kalo quickly continued, “I have to speak with you and that would be better accomplished if you didn’t scream; maybe we could be a help to one another. Nod if you understand me Priest.”

Once Kalo was satisfied that they had reached some sort of agreement marked by the nod of the Priest’s head, he lifted his hands away from the Priest’s head and turned away to search the floors for something to use for light.

“Who are you?” the Priest asked Kalo’s back.

Ignoring the Priest’s question, Kalo continued to rummage along the floor. His efforts were rewarded when his hand brushed against the smooth surface of what he believe was a torch handle, tearing a bit of the fabric hanging off of his body. Kalo wrapped the torn fabric around the handle. With a soft click of his lighter Kalo touched the flame to the cloth, igniting the fabric and basking the cell with the warm glow of the light, before answering the Priest. “Who I am does not matter and yet, I believe you have answers for me.”

Holding the lit torch before him, Kalo turned to face the Priest.  

“It is you.” The Priest whispered after a gasp of air, barely audible in the silence of the cell. “I recognized you at once when I saw you in the square earlier.” He continued sounding oddly smug for an old man in chains.

“So you were expecting me?” Kalo asked.

“No, not expecting but waiting, watching, and praying.”

“They mean to put you to death, Priest.”

A low chuckle escaped the Priest followed by coughing and finished with a sigh, Kalo watched as the light of the flames danced over the old man. “Is your faith so great then, you do not even fear dying?”

“Those who wish for my death believe that by silencing me they can change their future, forestall the inevitable.”

“What is this inevitable?”

“It is the end of the reign of terror that has ruled over Mirthza. Ancient powers have been awoken and retribution will have to be paid.”

“What does any of that mean? There is no time for your riddles and prophetic ramblings—‘

“They are not ramblings, Kalo--”

“I never told you my name.” Kalo interrupted suddenly on alert. The Priest continued his tirade as though he had never spoken.

“The free world is at stake and more than my life will be sacrificed before this fight is over. The reign of the silver queen must come to its end if there is to be any hope for any of us. You my young warrior, have your part to play in this as well.”

“Part? I want no part in this fight that you speak of. Do not mistake my presence here as any more than a mere curiosity. I have my own mission, if you would, and I will not fight against a face-less enemy again.”

“There is no avoiding it, I fear. It was more than curiosity that brought you here and will take more than your brawn to see you through to the end.” The Priest paused for a moment his attention drawn to a faint taping outside of the cell. “Our time it seems has come to an end. Go now.”

Kalo turned towards the door as the sound drew nearer before turning back to the priest. “I still have questions.”

“No time for questions now.” The Priest responded as he reached his hand behind his neck and slipped a leather band with a medallion threaded through over his head and presented it to Kalo. “Take this to the Hermit of Amsley, he will be able to help you on your journey.”

“I want no part in this.”

“You never had a choice. Go now and may the good grace of Izeha guide you.”             

 Kalo quickly took the medallion from the Priest’s outstretched hand and looped it around his neck. The feel of the Priest’s frail hand on his cheek, stopped Kalo’s breath. He turned up his face to look up at the Priest and his searching gaze.

“You have seen her.”

“Who?”

“She has been waiting. You must find her; she is the only one who can save us.”

 A faint meow sounded outside of the door and the distant sound of boots on the stairs could be heard. Time was really up. Kalo quickly snuffed the light of the torch and silently eased out of the door. Through the fading light within the cell the Priest eyes connected with Kalo’s before the door solidly shut between them. A gentle tug at the door’s handle ensured that the lock had re-engaged before Kalo turned his back on the priest for the final time.

He knew, with a certainty, that he would never see the priest again and that he would take the image of the broken man with him for the rest of his life; as he carried the images of his fallen comrades, from the war, and his home burnt to the ground and the ashes that remained of all that he loved.

With one foot on the bottom tread of the stone stairs that had lead him to the cell; Kalo forced the images to the back of his mind along with his conversation with the priest, for safe keeping until he had an opportunity to understand what it all meant.

 All that mattered, now, was getting out of the prison before they were discovered. After that there would be time to consider the rest.

Ants. Nothing but ants, that is what they are, toiling in their daily lives believing that their efforts will make a difference in their fate, underneath the crushing weight of a boot.

 Ants are meant to be ruled by a queen and she was their queen.

Turning away, in a swirl of regal grandeur and flowing fabrics, from her tower view of the milling crowds below, Alysa acknowledged the silent figure standing amongst the shadows of the room.

“You have returned.” Alysa spoke as she made her way over to the vanity and took a seat at the table and considered her reflection in the mirror.

“Yes, my Lady.” The figure spoke separating himself from the shadows. The late evening sun that spilled in through the tower window glistened amongst his fair locks and illuminated his pale skin; his steps across the room where measured and soundless as he took his place behind Alysa before continuing. “I have returned.”

“What news do you bring me, Phalan?”    

Phalan’s silence, in response to her question drew her eyes away from her face in the mirror with a piqued interest. It was unlike him to be hesitant. Alysa could feel the nervous energy that radiated from his body from where he stood behind her, waiting.

 Catching his gaze within the reflection before her, Alysa extended her mind and touched at his thoughts. A sudden smile stretched across her at the flinch he could not suppress at her sudden intrusion. Alysa watched through the mirror, as Phalan took a steadying breath his fists clenching at his sides, and she slipped further into his mind space and combed through his mind, seeking.       

Images shrouded in the darkness; warranted by its secretiveness and urgency, flittered though her vision, of the journey he had taken. Alysa scanned through them with a practiced eye. Her mental probe was flooded with his feelings of frustration, disappointment and ultimately-- fear at his apparent failure which only served to anger her.

Phalan knew that there would be hell to pay from Alysa. It was right there in his mind along with his resolve to bear the punishment. Alysa so hated to disappoint but there were more important things to see to first. As a creature of insurmountable power, she was not used to having her desires unmet. This once, she told herself, she would delay her pleasure.

Bidding him a momentary reprieve, Alysa withdrew from Phalan’s mind space and stood. As she turned towards the young man, Phalan quickly dropped to his knees before her.         

“It would seem that you mean to tell me that my most skilled warriors could not manage to bring me one doddering old man?” The soft rustling of the hem of gown against the cold marble floor marked her movement across the floor as she continued to speak. “Is that what you would have me believe, Phalan?”

“The Hermit must have been warned of our arrival, my lady, we searched the villages but no one has seen him for some time. It is as though he had turned into air.”

“Into air, has he?” Alysa asked, more to herself than to the young man as she made her way across the cavernous room to a gilded cabinet tucked discreetly into the northern most corner.  

Reaching the cabinet, Alysa placed the palm of her slender hand upon the face of the piece and spoke softly in a language long forgotten. A soft click and a release of pressure within the air was all that preceded the opening of the cabinet. Shelves lined with an assortment of glasses and vials was all that Phalan could see of the interior of the cabinet before Alysa stepped closer into the opened closet, blocking his view with her lithe body.

The tinkling of glass and whispered words reached him where he knelt before Alysa’s armoire. Sorcery, Phalan was almost certain of it, although he didn’t dare let the thought cross his mind or worst yet his lips whenever he was in her vicinity. He was not unaware of the whispers that abounded about the strange happenings in the southern tower since he had arrived, a mere boy, in the Citadel.

Those outside of the walls of the Citadel would never know the strange circumstances by which people lived within. The secretive comings and goings of men, women, and children that they never dared speak of. Those who were foolish enough to voice their questions aloud were often never seen again, although screams could frequently be heard from the lower levels in the dark of night. One learned that it would be best to remain unseen and unheard; they toiled day and night under the watchful eye of some unseen power.

 No one had seen her before, the Queen, not even during formal occasions when King addressed the people was she ever seen. Her identity shrouded in mystery. Some believed that the King so weary of lusty eyes falling on his beautiful bride kept her hidden away within the southern tower. Others thought that she had gone mad and in a fit of rage locked herself away denying all admittance and had probably died within the tower sometime ago. But no one dared enter the place.

 It had been his ability to move amongst the shadows that had drawn her attention to him all those years ago; when youthful bravado had led him into the southern tower and to the room at the top of the spiraling stairs. That is where he had first seen her to a young boy born beneath the city in the dark sewers that carried waste and abandoned to eaten by rats. She had been a vision of celestial grace and a heavily veiled timeless beauty; a veritable angel on earth that reached out a hand to him and saved him from a life as a vassal.

Never would he forget that hand that reached out to him and the soft voice that spoke to him. She had promised to make him a king. So he would keep her secrets if only to repay his debt. But he could feel the tension that had been growing with her. It was more than just finding the Hermit for his annual reading, she was searching for something. Some news. Someone.

“The Eastern Woods, Phalan. Send word to Hammel and his horde to search the woods there. I want the Hermit found!” At her sudden vehemence Phalan dared to look up at Alysa, who now stood before him once more having soundlessly approached him during his musings. What she had learned from her toilings at the closet he knew better than to wonder at, the tight set of her jaw was enough to ensure him that it was indeed unpleasant.

“What would you have me do my lady?” he asked meekly bowing lowly hoping she had not noticed his distraction.

“You have other work to do, Phalan.” She spoke menace dripping from her voice as she reached out and lifted his face back to hers with a firm grip on his chin. “Do not fail me again.”

“No, my lady.”

Releasing his chin and returning to her height, Alysa turned away from him to once again fix her gaze on her reflection in the glass.

“Go for now and speak with him. It seems I have another visitor waiting.”

A firm knock sounded at the door into the grand room, Phalan quickly regained his feet and slunk back into the shadows and out of the room as soundlessly as he had entered.

 With the final flutter of the curtain back into stillness Alysa, drew the sheer ceiling to floor veil that separated her inner sanctum from the main receiving room and the door at which the knock sounded, before taking a seat behind the veil and called out regally, “Enter.”

His Royal Highness King Edrick of Myrthza, was not a mere man subject to the whims of others. Lands had been reclaimed through blood, force, and coercion and scheming during his reign. He ruled with an iron fist and the land hand flourished under his watch.

Long live the King and may his reign last forever.

That is what they believed of him, his subjects, that is what he wanted—needed them to believe. Because the alternative would destroy everything he had toiled these long years for.

The truth had always been overrated by the lesser of men, the masses cried out for justice and peace but they were not ready to learn at what cost it would come. If they knew who he was and the events that had brought him, and them, to this point; power, desire, and revenge, there was no accounting for the fall out that it would result in.

It was for those reasons that he climbed the grand spiraled staircase to see her, Alysa. To the world outside of these walls she was his young and beautiful Queen that out of jealousy he had secreted away in this remote tower.

 If only that were the truth.

 If only this need for secrecy could be explained away so easily.

Edrick stood at the uppermost landing of the southern tower, his breathe slightly labored by the journey and gathered his senses about him emptying his mind and stilling his rapid breath. When at last he felt he was ready to face Alysa he lifted his large hand and firmly rapped on the door.    

At her call of admittance, Edrick pushed the massive door forward and stepped into the room. The heavy clunk of his boots on the marble floor reverberated through the cavernous room as he made his further into the interior. The sight of Alysa’s elegantly clad back as she sat at her vanity stopped Edrick’s footsteps before the veil and he sunk into a deep bow before speaking.

“My Lady, I have come.”

“Oh, you are here.” Alysa said nonchalantly over her shoulder.

Edrick stood erect in the middle of the floor his gaze remained lowered to the ornate floor. Ancient runes peppered the circular design marking the four points of the wind.  With the largest of the symbols surrounded by, what he could assume, scripted words that continued to the outer larger rings, under his feet. At the back of his mind, Edrick noted that this was not the only addition to the room; pieces of furniture he had never seen before now littered the front area as well as this veil that had been erected.

Edrick’s eyes surveyed what they could of, the area behind the thin veil skimming over Alysa’s seated figure and taking in the gentle fluttering of a sheer curtain in a more distant window. In the corner beyond the window Edrick espied the cabinet; with its worn wooden doors and etchings that matched those that now decorated the floor beneath his feet, it was a token of his long history with Alysa that he recognized it and the oddities he knew lay within.

It was all very strange, Edrick thought to himself as an overwhelming feeling of an impending shift washed over him. All these, otherwise small and inconsequential changes, did not necessarily mean anything but with her, Edrick had learned never to ignore the smallest of details. It was, that sixth sense he had developed in his dealings with Alysa that took spoke to him that it was as if the room was in preparation for a new mistress but he knew that Alysa would never give up her place and the power it afforded her.

What are you conspiring now?  The question rang through his mind unbidden before he could intercept it. Alysa’s soft chuckle drew his eyes back to her. The slight upward tilt of her pert mouth spoke to her knowledge of the trend of his thoughts. Edrick could not help the straightening of his spine, that was his automatic response, in preparation for the rebuke he was sure she would met out. He hated giving her the pleasure.

“Whatever brings the all mighty King of Myrthza to my humble tower?” she asked her tone more than slightly mocking and gleeful.

“I await your word my lady—on that matter we spoke of before.”

“And what matter would that have been? Hmm?”

“As you have said, the lands to the North and West have all been won through flames and force and they have sent envoys to pledge their arms and allegiance to Myrthza, but as for our neighbors to the East-”

“What of them?”

“They have proven formidable.” Edrick eked out lowly.

“What is this?” Alysa exclaimed loudly in a burst of laughter and disbelief, “Do you mean to tell me that not even King Edrick purveyor of the lands and great conqueror of Myrthza can defeat a mere township of farmers?”

“They are more than mere farmers my lady, it is rumored that they fight to protect their ancient faith and way of life. It makes them more persistent and foolhardy”

“Yes such devoutness in men does often makes them more difficult to squash. What is it that you ask of me Edrick? I find I grow tired of your endless prattiling.”

“I ask only for the needed strength to conquer my enemies, my Lady.”

“You ask only do you?” Alysa spoke again chuckling softly before continuing, “I have heard your request and will grant you as such but will collect a small boon from you in return.”

“My lady?” A sudden chill skirted across his skin raising the hairs along exposed arms and the nape of his neck at her words.

“Would you deny me, Edrick, after everything?”

The air within the chamber became heavy; the weight of it bowed Edrick low before Alysa. His words rushed from his mouth on short pants as he revisited the added pressure. “I would never deny my Lady. You have but only to ask it of me, all that I have is yours.”

“Yes Edrick, it is.”

Jovial voices joined in song, in the small tavern on the glen. Many of the men in the room still bore the ashen faces and bloodied scars of the most recent fight against Myrthza’s forces. It had been a vicious one but they had finally managed to push the king’s men back, it had been valiantly won. Many lives had been lost and so they had come a few by a few to this tavern to rejoice and hope that it would be the last.

One could not help but be caught up in their revelry. They made for interesting entertainment for the quiet pair that sat heads bowed in the corner of the great room.

“The world is changing brother, you can feel it in the very air that rustles in the trees, taste it in the water. You must have sensed it as well.”

“I have. Just look at them they will a splendid party tonight!” he spoke his eyes dancing and tone joyful as he took in the merriment happening beyond their table.

“You must be serious. We must make a plan!” the man spoke running his hands over his sweating pate. The Hermit was sure he would be pulling at his hair, if he had any left to pull.

“Calm yourself, Brother Jedit, added stress will have you picking at your scalp again and as you well know no one will enjoy having to apply hornet’s rum to your scabs. For a man of the cloth you do have the most colorful language when you are in a snit.” He laughed.

“Forgive me Brother, I just cannot understand how you could be so untroubled. All I can do is pray for the better understanding that which you possess.”

“Do not mistake me, I am but an old man who has seen many things, come and go in their own time.” Pausing briefly the Hermit turned fully to the brother with an outstretched hand, “Spare a coin, Jedit.”

“What for?” Jedit asked thrown by the non sequitur.

“Hand one over.” He stubbornly replied.

 Reaching into his garb Jedit searched blindly for his coin pouch at the sudden jingle of the loose metals, he retracted the oil-skinned pouch and withdrew the coin and placed it squarely into the Hermit’s hand. No sooner than the closing of the Hermit’s hand along with a brief nod of thanks, did a young girl, in tattered garb and sotty face, approach their table.

“Spare some change Sir?”

The hermit smiled broadly, the emotion etched deeply into the folds of face. “You my dear are in luck, I just happened to find this very coin on the floor.” He placed the coin into her small dirty hand, “Here you take it and get you and your little brother something to eat.”

Surprise, widen her eyes and lit the young girl’s face as she grasped the coin desperately to her chest.

“Thank you sir, thank you.” She gushed before rushing away from the table and back into the crowd.  

“Yes brother, it is those very things you see that concern me.” Jedit mumbled beneath his breath, casting his eyes on the revelry before them.

“Fear not, Jedit. Now is a happy time.”

“How could I not? Surrounded by death as we are. Just this evening we received word that Camun—,” he paused briefly, “You already know don’t you?”

“That he has passed? Yes, I already knew.” He replied solemnly.

“Passed? No he was executed, they slit his throat at sun rise in full view of the Citadel, a message they had meant for all that would stand against them. Do not think he will be the only one of us to meet that fate!” Jedit snapped angrily as he glared into the Hermit’s face, that now for one of the first times he could remember truly showed the man’s considerable age.

“No he will not. They will come for all of us.” He said gesturing to the crowd in the tavern. “All the more reason to celebrate now; while there is still chance to.”

Jedit rushed to his as he tossed back the last of his drink, “I must go then and warn the Brotherhood, maybe there is still time to make preparations. Where will you go to?”

“For now I will wait. I am expecting a most interesting visitor.”

“No it is not safe! Not even for you Brother!” Jedit implored careful to keep his voice low as to not excite the other occupants of the tavern. “Come with me, the brotherhood will-,” he stopped suddenly at the Hermit’s raised hand.

“Go Jedit, do what you can. There are things that must be done, that only I can do. Farewell my brother in hopes that we will meet again.”

The Hermit’s eyes swam with unshed tears although his smile was as gentle and cheery as usual. Jedit could not help but wonder if the sadness he saw was for him or the Hermit hisself. What more has he seen? He wondered silently to himself, for he knew the old man would never tell if he asked.

With a final bow of his head, Jedit turned from the table and strode purposefully through the crowd and out of the tavern.

The din continued within the tavern; Jedit’s exit having gone unnoticed by the partiers. Only the Hermit felt his loss and he was sure he would carry this one to as he did the others til the end of his days, his burden to bear for all that he had gained.

Drawing deeper into the darkness surrounding him, the Hermit breathed in the scent of stale ale and the plethora of unwashed bodies too closely crammed together within the tavern, settling his mind. Losing himself in the moment and allowing his mind to drift into the nothing, where space and time did not seem to exist.

It was there in that nothing that he felt her presence the most; when he let go he could almost touch her mind. For the ages that they had been separated, he had done all he could to establish another bond with her but they had all been gifted with different abilities and as much as he could feel her presence without a physical re-connection, she would only ever be smoke in the wind; unobtainable and within an instant undetectable.

For long has he had searched for her, he had also served her enemy. But that was the choice he had made on that faithful day. He had tried comforting himself that for these many years he had simply been bidding his time watching for signs that the final hour had reached. It had been the only choice but that did not make it any easier to live with. His purpose was clear and his part in this macabre comedy was not yet complete.

Pushing the thoughts of regret and resolution aside, the Hermit relaxed his suddenly tensed body and focused his sight on a more pressing existence. It was there as he knew it would be, a pulsing flame that constantly flickered in and out each time growing larger and more unyielding, exuding a steely focus in search of its query.  The feeling sent a chill down his spine. The instability of such a force meant nothing good for any who found itself within its vicinity when it imploded.

Her greed and desire was growing.

It was why he stayed away, but he knew Alysa would not let him escape her grasp for much longer.  She would not be denied for much longer, he knew that.

But did they? Did these people, in earnest, know what they were fighting against? He could only bury the thoughts that only served to darken his heart.

The Hermit looked once again over the crowd of men and women in the throes of liquored gaiety. He noted their leathered faces, twinkling eyes and various ages committing each and every one of them to memory. Their voices raised in song and laughter. Some were covered in ash and blood, bandages ignored for a moment as they celebrated their victory against the forces of Myrthza who had come to conquer them.

Jedit’s words came back to him as he studied the crowd, maybe there is still time to prepare, he had said. May it be that there was, still time.  But for now while there is still reason, let them celebrate, for today is a good day.

Kalo had been in a quiet mood since they had left the prison compound. Kit didn’t know what he had found down that staircase but since he had emerged from its depths, he seemed to be troubled as though too many different thoughts scrabbled about in his mind. With the slightest of grunts to acknowledge his presence, Kalo signaled for him to follow and they slipped through the winding passageways and left the compound as unnoticed as they had entered.

They then made their way back to the room at the Feather Grove Inn as the last hours of night stretched into dawn. Kit had been all too ready to return to the inn and promptly flung his wiry body onto the thinning down mattress and fell immediately to sleep.  

Hours later, when the protest his stomach was throwing had awoken him, Kit found Kalo much as he had been the night before, lost in thought. Not even when Kit had tripped over his feet on the way to the chamber pot had Kalo even budged. Later, when his stomach refused to be denied any longer lest it begin to consume itself, Kit and Lycia paired up together in a contest of wills to see who would be able to break his concentration. What seemed like hours and a few bruised limbs and prides later, Lycia caught herself a mouse and Kit begun to contemplate the merit of stewed leather.

 Kalo, through it all, remained as he was. 

Kit could not understand what sort of thoughts could make a man forget the importance of regular meals and began to wonder if the priest had cast some sort be devilry over Kalo. Until that was, with the setting of the sun that Kalo had sprung from his seat and hastily packed their meager possessions into rucksacks and made for the door, then he was sure of it.

In the sudden frenzy of movement, Kit and Lycia only had a moment to look questionably at one another before they too sprung into action. By the time Kit had managed to find and don his errant shoe, Kalo had already moved quickly down the stairs of the inn pausing only just long enough to toss a few coins, in payment, at the proprietress before quickly eating up the short distance to the door and out onto the crowded street.    

It was by no small feat that Kit managed those same stairs without breaking his neck. He was so flustered and dashed out the door as it made to slam shut behind Kalo. The packed streets only proved a hindrance to Kit’s slight frame as Kalo’s larger one plowed through the crowd as though they were air and Lycia being altogether more agile and limber raced across the awnings of the shops that lined the street.

Pressing through the compact streets Kit finally caught up to Kalo at the edge of the town as he made his way like a man possessed down the very lane they had walked to enter the town the day prior.

Kit raced to catch up with Kalo jogging to keep pace with the longer limbed man, huffing away as he asked, “So we are headed back East?”

Kalo stopped suddenly and turned to Kit grasping his shoulders as he stumbled into him. “Hmm” he grunted in reply before just as suddenly resuming his pace down the road.

Kit could only look after him in mild shock as Lycia brushed her softly furred body against his sore legs. Kit looked down at his companion and stated briefly with a shrug, “I guess we are headed East.”

Lycia, maowed her agreement to Kit’s words and as one they turned and toddled after Kalo along the road, away from the setting sun.

That was four days ago. Since leaving Damisk, they journeyed further and further into the wilderness of the Eastern lands. By day they walked openly on the roads blending in amongst the merchants traveling with their wares to local markets taking only short breaks when they came across a stream to refresh themselves or a particularly shady grove for shelter from the hot sun.

At night the small group fared little better, instead of walking along the roads, Kalo led them into the thick brush; where little of the moon’s light made it through the towering trees and only the sound of leaves and twigs crunching below their feet as they, Kit, stumbled and slurred their way over the uneven floor of the wood.

Tirelessly Kalo led them on, night and day, headed to a destination unknown taking what little rest he afforded them. His pace relentless.

It was on such a night, camped in the woods for their evening repast of roasted meat, of which Kit did not inquire as to its source but instead consumed greedily, that he heard them.

 Soft distant sounds of growling raised the hairs at the back of Kit’s nape and froze the hand that held up a piece of the roasted meat before his opened mouth. A quick glance at Kalo, showed him reaching for one the many weapons hidden within his great coat. The flame of the fire glinted against the polished edge of the blade he withdrew as he stared off in the direction from which the sounds came.

Lycia stood before the young boy her heckles raised as she hissed into the darkness.

The sounds grew louder as more voices joined the first. Kit turned slowly towards Kalo, his voice a breathy whisper as he called out, “Kalo?”

“Shh” Kalo snapped out.

 Air caught in his throat at Kalo’s admonition, forcefully stemming his need to ask more as they listened to the stillness of the forest. They dared not even breathe, as they awaited indication of their unexpected company’s intention.

Abruptly, a beastly cry rendered the air, shocking them out of their frozen states. The rustling of leaves and the sounds of snapping bones and tearing flesh freed the air within Kit’s chest his face ashen and eyes large as he turned to Kalo who was gathering his things before the fire.

“I do not know what that thing was but it sounds big.” He said.

“All more reason for us to get going.” Kalo spoke as he kicked dirt over the fire extinguishing it.

“Right.” Kit replied popping the last of the meat into his mouth as he to gather his meager possessions. Turning briefly he saw that Lycia had not moved from her position the called quietly to the feline and followed in Kalo’s wake.

Drawing even with him Kit noticed that Kalo still, he was happy to see, held the blade in his hand.

“Do you think there are more of those out there?”

Howls echoed through the wooded area around them and sent chills down Kit’s spine as their footsteps quickened, carrying them closer to the edge of the brush.

“If there are I intend to be ready.”

“Good idea.” Kit whispered unable to stop himself from looking behind him to see a pair of glowing eyes fade into the darkness.

Night had fallen by the time the Hermit finally made his way out of the crowded tavern, the brisk air refreshing after hours spent coped up with the drunken revelers. Filling his lungs with the air he turned his head to the darkened sky exalting in the stars above him as he released the breath.

The soft fluttering of wings preceded the gentle, yet familiar, weight that settled upon his shoulder. Badbah adjusted herself upon the perch, her sharp talons cutting into the material of the Hermit’s robes.   

“You have come have you?” The Hermit spoke glancing at the crow upon his shoulder.

With a sharp cry the bird lifted from his shoulder in a rush of black wings and appeared as haggardly woman before him.

“You almost sound glad to see me Mordan.” The old woman chuckled dryly.

“I will work harder next time.” He answered.

“Come now you cannot still be upset with me? I told you it was only a bit of fun.” She spoke reaching one of her gnarled hands to his face.

Sidestepping her touch the Hermit continued as though she had never spoke. “What brings you here Badbah? It bodes ill with me to see you again.”

“I bring you good news, old friend.”

“How can I trust what you say?”

“Faith, I believe you are familiar with it.” Badbah said her eyes glowing up at the Hermit a knowing smile stretching her thin lips.

“You do not inspire such faith Badbah, even at the best of times.”

“Which these are not, you mean to say? I will admit I find it rather stimulating.”

“I do not doubt that you do, feeding off of discourse as you do.” The Hermit spoke with disdain dripping from each word.

“We are due for some excitement. It has been far too quiet these last few centuries.” Glancing up into the Hermit’s face, Badbah pressed her suit her voice rasing in ire, “You know as well as I, it could not last and only a matter of time,” her words suddenly stopped as though reconsidered before continuing in a more self assured manner, “You should know I have seen him. Izeha, that is.”

“So he has returned?” the Hermit spoke, more to himself than to the hag.

“Had he ever really left? I would not be so quick to believe that if I was you.”

“It is not what I believe, I was there I know what I saw!”

“I for one know that you saw what you were meant to see. So believe that, if that gives you comfort.” She laughed dryly at her words. Foul woman the Hermit thought to himself. What if her words were true? He shuddered to think what his reappearance would mean for all of them. 

A sudden rush of wind blew in from the west; chilling to the bone and unusual for the time of the year. Its icy fingers dancing along his skin, he could not help the shiver as it made its way down his back. The hag fared little better as the wind tossed her gnarled tresses into her face and lifted her crusted skirts.

Belatedly, the Hermit turned away from the sight of the tussled hag to peer over his shoulder back towards the tavern and ensure that no one played witness to their exchange. The warm glow of lights and voices raised in song was all that reached the pair where they stood. Thankfully, they were the only ones who lingered outside of the structure in the pale moonlight.

Mordan’s, the Hermit, patience had run out, there was much that Badbah’s words brought to his attention and he was ready to get this encounter finished. He turned back to Badbah and took a deep fortifying breath; he knew that she would drag on once she realized how much she was affecting him.

“What news have you come to tell me, Badbah?” he slowly spoke forcing the steel out of voice.

“Only that Izeha is not the only one I have seen, Alysa has made it most obvious that she desire’s your return to the Citadel, by any means necessary, I think is how she put it.” She paused briefly for effect. “It is such a shame that this should all coincide with the boy making his way to this very place to see you as well.”

“How long?”

“No more than half a day I would imagine. What will you do now Mordan? I do not think she will be very pleased to know that you are cavorting with her enemy.”

His arm suddenly shot out in front of him. His hand enclosed around her bird-like throat as he lifted her off the ground bringing her up to his eye level. Her feet kicked uselessly in the air.

“I will make this clear, hag. You have no idea what you are talking about and you will do well to stay out of any of this business.”

At his words Badbah, in a great show of strength broke his hold on her throat and returned firmly to the ground. Her eyes danced with glee as she returned her gaze to his face.

“It must be true then. The key lives. Oh, you have been bad Mordan. ” she said mockingly as she backed slowly away from his looming figure.

“You have been warned, Badbah!” he yelled stopping her retreat. “Stay out of this.”

“How sweet, you almost sound concerned. Do not worry Mordan, you have your part to play in this, as do I.”

With sweep of her arms and a sharp cry, the hag before him vanished as a large black crow ascended into the night air leaving only a single plum in its wake.

Picking up the long feather Mordan tucked it safely into his robes as he continued to watch the sky.

Badbah’s appearance although sudden was not surprising, her words stirred in his mind. Knowing that Izeha was involving himself, changed everything and yet nothing at all. He knew there was nothing to be done but he grieved none the less. The dye has been cast, sides have been chosen, and loyalties tested. Everything was falling into place.

The world was changing, beyond what even his sight could tell. He had no clear picture of where or what they would be when this was all over. The breeze played softly through his cropped hair as he stood along the road beyond the tavern.

They are coming, he could feel it.

The Great Hall of Karn, nestled deep within the heart of the Citadel, glistened in the sunlight that poured through the massive glass panes and bustled with the coming and goings of servants and court sycophants, seeking favor with the king, during the day. By evening’s light, thousands of candles cast their flames upon the marble floors that merely exaggerated the shadows of the columns that they sought to illuminate. It was the realm of Kings, betrayers and murders alike.

It was in those very shadows that Edrick feared what awaited him. In the stillness of the night with no musicians playing and without the small army of servants awaiting his next word that he begun to feel his glass like existance creep upon him. The truth could not be avoided despite his faithful manservant reassurances, The Great Conqueror, was only flesh and bone a mere man who was becoming too old, his usefulness and dominance over the vast lands fading with the passing years. Rumors had already begun to spread amongst the people that the peaceful times had begun to soften the once victorious warrior into an ever-expanding courtier. There was no solace to be found even for the King. Already, his most powerful support, Alissa was beginning to stir. The changes he had seen in his chambers continued to weigh heavily on his mind.

For four decades she had remained quiet in her tower, lending him the power he needed to conquer Myrthza’s enemies and unite a nation under his rule. He had become a living God among men and they bowed willingly to his will.

Shuffling footsteps echoed through the hall, halting Edrick’s thoughts and returning him to the hall where he sat upon his gilded throne amongst the night shadows, as he watched the man approach him.

“My Lord, I have not been able to locate the Prince.”  The servant spoke, executing a neat bow before the dais.

“Where has he gone?” Edrick spoke, his words slow and deliberate.

“Forgive me, my Lord.” He rushed out hearing the ire dripping from Edrick’s voice as he fell into a deeper bow before his sovereign.

“I do not wish to forgive your failure. You were to bring Phalan to me!” he sneered.

“My Lord, the Prince has not been seen these last two days, not since he visited the Southern Tower.” 

“Why was I not told before?”

“My Lord, I had not discovered it until this very day.”

The reports of frequent and strange movements within, the Southern Tower, had reached Edrick long before he had gone to see her and now Phalan’s sudden disappearance after seeing the witch did nothing to settle his mind. What has she bid you do, Phalan? What exactly was Alysa planning? There were still too many unanswered questions to make any certain moves, for now he needed information.

“What of his personal guards, where are they?”

“They could not be found either, my Lord. It seems they have all gone with him.”

“Make ready my horse man. I will ride to meet the troops.”  Edrick spoke, dismissing the man with a wave his mind turning with implications.

“Yes, my Lord” the man spoke quietly retreating the way he had entered, his steps echoing throughout the cavernous room and silenced with the final thud of the door.

Edrick sat in the silence that remained.

Badbah watched from her shadowed perch high amongst the rafters, as the servant scuttled out of the room. Amusement that she found at the human King’s ponderings riffled beneath her sleek black feathers and excited her blood into action. It was time to execute the next stage of her plans. Angling her pointy head towards the seated King, Badbah stretched her wings and glided soundlessly to perch upon his shoulder.

Edrick jumped in his seat suddenly full aware of his surroundings at the sharp prick of the large bird’s talon into his shoulder.

“Get away with you fowl beast” Edrick commanded trying to brush the creature away only for the bird to take flight once again with a piercing caw that echoed throughout the room before landing once more before his feet taking the appearance of a haggard old woman cloaked in garb as dark as night.

Edrick tried to hide, unsuccessfully, his shock at the bird’s transformation. Even after the many years he had spent in the company of Alyssa, and her mystical requirements and dealings had not made him comfortable to such things. At heart, he was a man of the earth only believing and trusting in the things that he could physically touch, see and taste, much as he had been as a young vagabond roaming the countryside where only his wits and nerves had saved him from the executioner’s blade. He silently vowed to become better accustomed to the inexplicable happening or at least make a better show of his unaffectedness. He was a King and would not allow himself to be cowed before these unnatural creatures and then he would admit if only to his  self, that they still managed to surprise him. Another thing that he had learned was that it was best to always maintain the upper hand.

“What manner of creature might you be?” Edrick commanded, trying to convey a strength and indifference he did not feel into his voice as he looked upon the old woman as her eyes glittered gaily in the low light. “Insolent creature, do you not bow before the King?”

“I could, if that is what you should wish of me,” She spoke softly executing a small bow of her head, “I am called Badbah and I would wish to speak to you, my Lord.”

“Badbah?” Edrick thought aloud, “The crow? I have heard of you. I thought you nothing but a myth but a fool I was to imagine you could not exist. Your treacherous nature precedes you crow, and I have no wish to hear your callous droppings.” He said with finality rising from his seat to quit the room and the woman’s presence.

“Yes, some might call you fool for thinking that I was not of this world but more than you would be a fool for not hearing what I have come to say, my lord. I believe you will wish to hear this,” Badbah spoke, her voice clear and fierce stopping Edrick where he stood.

A great and heavy silence fell between the pair as their gazes held in a battle of wills and supremacy.

Curiosity, not defeat, settled Edrick back into his seat. With a lazy wave of his hand Edrick signaled for the bedraggled woman to continue in her purpose. The slight uplifting of the woman’s mouth did nothing to improve upon her appearance in the dim light but let Edrick know that she recognized the true nature of his gesture.  

“You a mere mortal may not be truly aware of this but there is a war going on, my Lord. One that will affect all of us both mortal and supposed myths together and the time has come for you too must choose whom you will side with.” Badbah paused allowing her words to seep in, “What I have come to give you is non other than that very choice and if you should choose correctly you might be able to get all that you so desperately desire.”

“And what is it that you know of my desires?” Edrick asked his temper flaring at the crow’s presumptuousness.

“You are not so mysterious, my Lord. Men want nothing if not power even to the end of their very existence.”

“And what would you have from me in exchange, crow?”

“You have nothing that I seek to claim, I am but a servant and merely wish to help, in any way that I can.” Badbah replied sweetly bowing her cloaked body reverently. 

“A servant, are you? But whom do you call master?” Edrick’s question was met with another of the old woman’s enigmatic smiles that led to nothing but a crawling feeling along the King’s backbone and more questions in his mind. Coming to some conclusion to learn all that he could from the notorious trickster Edrick continued, “You are most gracious Badbah in your offer of assistance. What if I should choose wrongly?”

“Then you will fall all with the rest.” Badbah spoke with certainty.

“What would you have of me?” Edrick asked his interest peeked by her words.

“First, I would tell you a tale.”

“A tale? For one who has disturbed my solitude, you already begin to try my patience old woman.”

“We must first begin with the tale, I trust at the end of it you will know what must be done. It is the tale about the beginning of all things.”

Drip, drip, drip.

In the darkness, she waited. There were not numbers enough to enumerate how many had fallen since her captivity had begun and along the line she had stopped hearing them as they fell. She knew it continued but her mind now only registered it as ambient noise, as some might the beating of their heart through the course of their lifetime.

Drip, drip, drip.

What holds a life bound to the earth? There must be something that connects soul to body. Some trigger, hook or lock to break and release. No matter how she had searched for it, it could not be found and she had given up on that as well.

Katjiya did not even allow herself to be tempted by what little breeze made its way through the cracks in the wall; she knew that to be enticed by the scents of life outside that it carried would lead nowhere. It was better not to dwell, she told herself. Nothing was accomplished by it; it only delayed the inevitable slip into obscurity that she so desperately craved.

The purpose that had once burned within her to seek revenge on her enemies and fulfill her duty to Izeha, had like everything diminished with time, until it too felt like a distant memory of a time long past that only she could remember.

Have all forgotten?  Have the sins committed against law and nature somehow been forgiven and discarded in light of more important desires? But what of her anger? What of the resentment and betrayal that her transgressors had yet to satisfy? 

This could not be all that there was. She had been promised more than the years spent rotting away in this cell. Katjiya’s eyes zeroed in on the door to her prison, a feeling of frustration filled her. The door could only be opened by one, that she knew but she couldn’t stop herself from launching at them and pounding away with all of her meager strength infusing the blows with what power she had managed to keep stored within during her imprisonment.

The effort of her short-lived rage, left Katjiya weak, raw knuckled and the doorway as it was before. The pain, she could ignore as she sunk to the cold stone floor limp but the sight of the unmarred doorway taunted her and her agitation remained peaked. Words, that she had believed forgotten and was by many in the outside world, spilled from her mouth on every harsh release of breath from her heaving bosom. With heavy eyes Katjiya lifted her gaze to the slit within the exterior wall willing her message to escape her cell on the unnatural wind that had begun to circle around her.

As the final syllable left her lips, taking with it what little strength that remained in her. Katjiya closed her eyes and fell into the darkness that had been trying to claim her for these many years.

Kalo’s sense of dread had been growing ever since his conversation with the Priest. The visions and the dying man’s words looped in his mind on an endless rotation until, he figured no peace would be had until he had solved this most disturbing mystery. So he had set out on this journey, the young boy following on his heels along with his feline unaware of the danger that pressed against their heels as they made their way into the lush lands of the Eastern Kingdom. 

It was only a few more hours until dawn and they had managed to escape with their lives from the forest where wild beasts roamed. Kalo was no fool, he had heard the rumors of the massive canines that had made the woods their domain but he had been surprised that they managed to encounter them as close to the road as they had made their camp that night. It was most unusual but little had been usual since he had started this accursed journey. That is when he had heard that voice, singing words he had never heard before. Enchanting him and enthralling his very being. Then the feline collapsed.

“Kalo, something is wrong with Lycia!” Kit shouted as he rushed to the feline’s crumpled body where it lay on the road. Noticing that Kalo remained where he stood with his eyes affixed into the dark distance, Kit yelled out to him again, “Kalo!”

“What is it?” he responded distractedly.

“Come quick, something has happened to Lycia!”

Kalo hastened his footsteps over and crouched down beside Kit over the feline’s body.

“What happened?” Kalo asked peering around them along the road ensuring that no one had stumbled across them.

“How would I know? We were all just walking and then suddenly you and Lycia stopped and stared off into the distance for a while,” Kit spoke in a rush of words as emotion overwhelmed him, “It was as though the two of you had fallen into some enchantment. I was calling out to you and that is when Lycia just collapsed to the ground.”

“Lycia and I, you say? What about you? Did you not hear it?”

“Hear what?” Kit asked innocently as he stroked the feline’s fur and she moaned softly.

“Never mind that for now.” Kalo said with a dismissive wave his eyes moving along the road before standing over the young boy readjusting his satchel on his shoulder, “You will have to carry her for now, we must keep moving.”

Kit gently scooped, the unconscious feline, folding her body into his arms as he raced to catch up with Kalo’s much longer stride. Kit couldn’t imagine what could have caused Lycia’s sudden illness but he was sure that it was somehow connected to Kalo’s urgency to reach this secret destination. With a new found determination, Kit adjusted the feline’s body into a more secure position within his arms and prayed his own legs did not give out on him before they reached.

Back in his cottage nestled amongst the easternmost wood, Mordan sat before his hearth searching the nothing vast space that made up the world for some trace of her but, as usual, there was none to be found. He had heard her words, as he traipsed the final mile to his door, riding the wind to him.

He had beenThe Hermit was thrilled to finally have made some contact with her but as the melody grew more hauntingly familiar, the Hermit recognized it for what it truly was and the ill it bode for the journey that was to come; for him and his unwitting companions.

Katjiya’s song was not one that Mordan had not heard for many an age, it had passed into myth by those who studied the dawn of filled with sorrow and rage a song that spoke of an oncoming battle that one would fortify themselves against facing with the coming of the new day. A call to arms as it were. There should have been more time, it was all happening too quickly, and there was not a moment to lose. A hell on earth would be unleashed, if any they should stray from the course. Mordan did not know how he would accomplish the task laid before him but it was now all the more imperative, that he see it through. There was no other alternative.

The sharp cry of a raven broke into the night air and jarred the Hermit from his dreary contemplations and a dreary heaviness settled over his mind. It wouldn’t be long now, he thought to himself, feeling all the forces of the world moving around him and with it a most urgent presence looming in the darkness that surrounded the Hermit’s humble cottage in the woods, waiting and watching.

Time, that fickle friend it seemed was no longer on their side.

The journey through the nights had been long and never ending; with each rustle of the wind through the trees and howl of the beasts that lurked in the shadows, the party's footsteps quickened. Danger pressed in along their backs along with the glowing eyes that could be seen off in the distance marking their hurried steps. The hills and valley's had stretched far beyond the cloaking darkness would allow their eyes to see and so they continued to press on with their senses heightened for sound of others along the road and their eyes glued to the horizon.  

With the third day's break long awaited arrival, the long shadows receded to shrubbery and gentle oaks lining the cart road they traveled. Kit had managed well even under the strain that burned Kalo's thigh muscles that, he thought, had been developed during the long marches with The Guard. The serene riverbank that they stumbled upon was a welcomed reprieve from their toil.

"This is only a short break, Kit." Kalo called out to the young boy that was currently unburdening his arms of the feline's weight that he had carried the night, onto one of the large boulder's that dotted the river's bank.

"At least we have a chance to get clean before the next town." Kit replied, dusting off his well-worn layers as he turns about inspecting the crystal clear water of the river as it flowed idly before them.   

Kalo snorted with laughter at the boy's words before replying, "Since when have you been concerned with cleanliness?" with a laugh Kalo watched as Kit began to shed some of layers.

The idea of washing away the dust from their long trek, was what made decide that this was brief break at the river was a good idea, he had expected a fight on his hands with the boy. The idea of washing had never gone over well with the young boy before, the mere suggestion of a bath had always been followed by an epic fight that left Kalo more in need of a bath himself and few cuts and bruises to be treated between the both of them.

Kalo could not help but chuckle to himself remembering those battles between him and the boy. Watching Kit as he struggled to remove his boots, Kalo could see the drawn up hem of the boy's trousers. Had it only been two seasons ago that they had flooded his feet causing him to stumble? Now they barely reached his ankle. They would need to get him something else to wear, a growing boy's self value was fragile enough without looking as though he had raided a nursery's wardrobe, Kalo noted to himself, it would a good as any chance to find out what ever additional information the locals had to offer.

The heavy thud of his great coat and the clanging of metal as it fell to the ground drew Kit's attention to the massive tree set away from the water's edge where Kalo was disrobing. Leaving the feline resting on the boulder Kit strode towards the growing pile of cloth and gear at Kalo's feet.

"What, is this?" Kit asked with curiosity and awe laced in his voice, carefully picking up an evil looking twist of polished metal between his thumb and forefinger.

"That, is not for playing with" Kalo said sternly plucking the weapon from the boy's grasp. With a slice of the blade through the air and a refraction of the sunlight that nearly blinded Kit, Kalo returned the weapon to its sheath where it was joined by the harness that was strapped around his leg onto the pile.        

"When do I get to have one of these?" Kit asked scavenging through the discarded items.

"Not until you are full grown."

"I am full grown." Kit grumbled in reply which caused Kalo to laugh in turn.

"I am a man of my own right" Kit yelled standing from his perusal of the weaponry to confront Kalo, as he began to tug his own tunic over his head exposing his own muscular and scarred torso, "I may not be a big lug like you are Kalo but I am a man as well."

The young boy and full grown man stood watching one another, neither one willing to concede to the other, as the cool water of the river flowed along its path, the sun peeked through the fluffy white clouds that dotted the endless blue sky of the morning and a cool breeze rustled through the leaves over head. It was with a quirk of Kalo's brow, that the silence was broken by Kit's exclaim, "Never mind you then!" and with a dismissive wave of his arm Kit turned back to the river, giving Kalo his profile as his chest heaved with quiet disdain.   

Kalo stifled his own overt reaction to the boy's indignation. He too, could remember what it was like at that age. Too old to claim youthful indifference to the world around you, that had made you orphan and left one responsible for their up keep while still not quite old enough to fully deal with the consequences meted out to you by the actions of others. For Kalo, even before the untimely deaths of those that had raised him, he had been different. With skin whiter than the snow from the north and almond shaped eyes as dark as coal, he was too easily spotted, an anomaly amongst the sun baked hues of the farming village he grew up in.

That he had grown from a scraggly and pale young boy with limbs too long to manage into a strapping young man with muscles and height to spare made even more so, other. The older boys who had used him for target practice as a relief from their mid afternoon boredom now only approached him in large groups.

He had earned a reputation for fighting so they were wise enough not to approach him alone, which oddly enough did nothing but increase his popularity with the women of the village that caused him to only have more fights with the other men. Kalo did not mind the reputation he had gained in his later years for sin and violence. It had given him hours of amusement, if only they knew, what their young pristine daughters where willing to do with the village outcast in the dark of night, under a draping moss tree or behind the local watering hall.

None of them had mattered. For him there had only been Camisa, the only person who had seen a filthy beaten young boy in the darkness and stretched out a hand in friendship. Friendship had turned to love and sweet kisses. Camisa was- is his heart, his everything. The world could be consumed in pyres and burn to ashes, as far as he was concerned all he needed was Camisa.

"My Lord, the scouts bring news," said the officer leaning in close to Prince Phalan's ear in order to not excite the others who occupied the Great hall. With a purposefully casual wave of his hand to his Captain, Phalan pushed back from the large head table and followed his man. More than one pair of eyes tracked his removal from the Great hall with interest.

It sickened him, pandering to sycophants, conspirers and whores all clamoring for favor from the King, who sat on the dais, a few spaces from the seat that Phalan himself had just vacated, gloating and reveling in the spoils of war. Phalan in his youth living in the Citadel, learned that those smiling faces before the King often hid the devious and secretive intentions of the power hungry and vengeful. Edrick's advisors had spoken against welcoming the conquered region's elite into his hall, believing this would leave him open to assignation but by some providence, he remained amongst the living. With each failed attempt on his life he became more brazen and his enemies with the smiling faces and sweeping bows, more determined. It matter none to Phalan, he knew they would all get what was coming to them in the end.

Reaching the corridor outside of the hall, Phalan followed the Captain to the small group of his men who stood away from the hall's entrance. Noticing his presence behind their Captain the men turned and bowed at the waist before him.

"What have you learned?" Phalan said, cutting straight to the heart of the matter impatiently.

"Prince, he has been seen," the young office reported quickly sensing Phalan's urgency.

"Where?"

"To the East, my Lord witnesses tell of him journeying towards Okeanida."

"Yes, he is rumored to spend a great deal amongst the thick woods there, where else could he be so well hidden?" The Captain added solemnly.

"Ready the horses, we leave immediately" Phalan commanded turning away from the men towards his chambers to ready for the journey, pausing briefly he added, "Send the water engine vessel as well, we would not want him escaping across the river." Phalan tossed over his shoulder before continuing down the corridor the staircase beyond, leaving the men to go about carrying out his orders.

As they made their way out of the doorway leading to the plaza outside, another figure slipped out from behind a suit of armor. Checking that the corridor remained empty the shadowed figured headed in the opposite direction of the men, with quick but light steps. Leaving the corridor with out a trace of it every being there.

Okeanida, was a bustling township more so than the one they had fled only a few nights ago. The now derelict wall surrounding the town was well established in great slabs of stone, marking itself as a defensible port of old surrounded by thick forest on three sides while the other butted against a vast body of water, where many a foolish marauder had sunk their invading hoards amongst the jagged rocks that dotted the coastline. Smugglers and fisherman kept the secrets of navigating the dangerous waters. They had kept the town safe, a solitary defense unto itself for many years until Edrick's campaign against the township in a bid to control commerce in the region, they trampled over the less sophisticated weapons of the merchants and fisherman with rifles.

 They had not stood a chance against the invasion and subsequent conquering of the Citadel's forces, now they existed, a mere shadow of its previous greatness much like the rest, living under the rule of the Great Conqueror and his Golden Queen.    

Approaching the main gates Kalo could see where times of peace had left the westward defense neglected and in need of care. Citadel banners rippled in the wind from the guard posts on every visible corner, claiming the once great port.  

Pulling his heavy cloak closer about himself, Kalo glanced briefly over his shoulder to ensure that Kit was still behind him as he slipped quietly behind a merchant cart as it passed through the guard posting at the entrance of the town avoiding their inspection and quickly immersed him and the boy into the crowd making its way into the market square.

During his nomadic wonderings after leaving the guard, Kalo had heard the tales of beastly creatures savagely attacking travelers on the road and those who had managed to survive the beasts where then picked of by thugs who had mange to settle the area. He didn't worry so much for himself but he knew traveling with the young boy, allowances must be made. The northern road they had taken into Okeanida had been the safest and quickest choice to reach the denser wood that lay on its southern border, where the visions were leading him.

Merchants crowded the square with stalls over flowing with a variety of wares catering to the everyday man as well as visitors with a few extra coins to spend; weavers cloths from the south and grains and spuds from the west.

 It was quite a sight to be seen. As was evidence by Kit's slacked jawed amazement as he took in the mass of people. Although he had spent time in the Citadel trying to make a life out in the streets, Okeanida was place all too different from the capital city.

 May be the sun shone brighter here or it could have been the air that was free of danger from the ever-lurking Guard who patrolled the streets for miscreants and ill doers.  Children weaved through the crowds with shrieks and great peals of laughter as they made their way to the furthest corner of the market but they were not the only ones, Kalo could see over the heads of the crowd that many where making their way over.

Hearing the merriment, Kit craned his neck, jumping and dodging about trying to see what all of the fuss was about.

"Kalo, can you see what is going?" the boy asked eagerly, as he tried to peer around the large slow moving man in front of him.

"There seems to be some sort of unique attraction over in the far corner." He replied matter-of-factly as they drew nearer to the crowd.

"I am going to see what it is" Kit said too anxious to wait, before he crouched low to the ground, the feline still in his arms, slipped behind a nearby stall and darted along the back wall of the market towards the attraction.

Laughing to himself, as much as Kit longed to be a man he was still very much a boy, as he turned in the direction of a stall that sold cloths hoping to find something appropriate for the boy to wear.

Kalo had not been at the stall long before Kit found him again, his constant movement and gleam in his eye evidence of his overflowing excitement.

"You have to come and see!"

"What is it then? Some new potion that will turn stones into gems?" He sarcastically replied.

"No, he is a magic maker! He can make objects move on their own-"

"I am sure there are strings," Kalo interrupted.

"And he just knew things about people," Kit continued excitedly as though Kalo had never said a word, "You have to come and see it!" he finished tugging on Kalo's arm trying to pull him away from the stall.

The merchant whose stall Kalo had been perusing, chuckled at the young boy's antics before speaking to Kalo, "If you don't mind my sayin' he is worth taking a moment to see. They call him The Hermit, he is a wonderous man indeed."

A wonderous man, the merchant had called him. From what little Kalo could see from the fringes of the crowd amassed to listen and watch there was not much to recommend him. These dire times had driven many to less than honest ways to eke out a paltry living, Kalo had seen many of them during his travels vagabonds hoping to astound people out of their coin. This one was no different and he was sure that under closer inspection he would be no more than a quick-hand dealing in shadows and confusion.  Other than his penchant for fire displays and vanishing objects but other than those few tricks, Kalo remained unimpressed.

Too busy wondering at the interest everyone could possible have in the man Kalo didn’t notice that the crowd had become eerily quiet. It was Kit’s hard tug to his sleeve that snapped his attention back to his surroundings, only to find that the entire group turned towards him. To say that he was discomforted by the attention would have made too light of his feelings at that particular moment. Used to fading into the background and being almost forgettable to those he had encounters with, Kalo was rightly unnerved by having such interest shown in his person, Kit’s lazy shuffle behind Kalo’s massive body was proof that he was not the only one discomforted. 

“Thank you for volunteering, young man” rang out a voice from the front if the crowd. The people around him all nodded their heads in agreement a few even smiled at him excited to see what would happening next. Kalo around and into the mass of people searching for the speaker of those outrageous words, his search with met with a pair of dark aged eyes.

“You are mistaken old man.” Kalo responded, his voice carrying over the silent the spectators.    

Mordan could hardly contain his glee. Finally, after days of watching and waiting for sign of the man, he was finally here!

As each day had passed, amongst the masses of Okeanida’s market, he had entertained and regaled those that had gathered about him with magic and tales long forgotten. Not a bad way to will the hours away but what was at first a gentle hum along his back, was now a violent tension filled his body, it was time. His arrival could not have happened any later; just this morning word had reached the Hermit of a party of riders were headed this way and as extensive as his network was, the news of their arrival was only half a days ride ahead of them.

Mordan stretched out his weathered hand towards the disgruntled young man in patient indulgence while disguising his mirth in the face of the other’s obvious displeasure at being made the center of intention.

“You mistake my purpose in being here. I mean only to take in your wondrous workings not take part in the show.” Kalo responded his voice hardening in warning.

At that, Mordan could not help but chuckle, “Life, young master is not for the viewing but for taking part in,” he replied good-naturedly, “Come now you seem a stout sort.”

Small hands pushed at Kalo’s back catching him unawares as he was so focused on the crowd and old con man before him, causing him to stumble into the path cleared for him. He snapped around quickly to see who had shoved him, Kit suspiciously enough appeared to be quite taken with a smudge on the toe of his boot, Kalo sighed in his frustration seeing the smile that Kit could not quite hide.

“Ah, I see you have a young friend with you he is welcome to join us as well.” The Hermit called out cheerfully.

Kit’s head popped up at The Hermit’s words, all amusement suddenly gone from his face as he looked pleadingly at Kalo. Serves you right, Kalo thought to himself as he pulled Kit along behind him as he made his way to the front of the crowd.             

Mordan stood from the footstool, he had occupied during his days in the market, as the two reluctant males made their way before him. With his thin but strong arms Mordan embraced the small party, a small mewl and wriggling limp turning his attention to the young boy.

Feeling Lycia’s movements against his chest, Kit tightened his arms below the sling he had fashioned to carry her and murmured to softly trying to settle the creature once again. Mordan, his curiosity piqued by what the boy could possibly be carrying about his person, reached out his hand and slowly pulled back the sling’s fabric from Kit’s chest and peered down at the creature before turning his searching gaze on Kit.  

“What do they call you boy?”

“Kit” he answered quietly.

“Yes, you must come along, we must be sure to keep her safe.” The Hermit whispered to Kit patting the feline softly and gazing knowingly into the boy’s eyes.

Turning back towards the crowd that watched the exchange in quiet interest. Mordan arranged Kit and Kalo along his flanks and gestured out grandly outwards, “Alas, our time together had quickly drawn to a close. The hour has arrived for my companions and I to depart,” Mordan called out to the crowd. Kalo, having had enough of this spectacle threw off the arm the old man had slung over his massive shoulder and turned away from the group. The Hermit, showing more strength than his advanced against suggested, quickly snagged Kalo’s arm as he turned away and pulled him snuggly into his side embrace, his speech uninterrupted by the movement. “In these days of ill fortune, strength can be found within even the smallest child and the rising of a new day’s sun.” The old man bowed lowly before the crowd before continuing, “I bid you all a most prosperous journey until next we meet.”  

A commotion of horses and people in the direction of the market’s entrance broke the moment turning their audience’s attention away from The Hermit and his companions towards the entrance. Mordan, cursed quietly under his breath realizing that this disturbance meant there time had been lesser than he had anticipated and glad that he had prepared for this possibility, quickly turned to his companions “Come my friends let us depart from this place.” Grabbing their arms; one thin with childhood, the other firm with defined muscles of manhood and pulled them towards the rear wall of the market. Kalo, prepared for the old man’s surprising strength jerked his arm from The Hermit’s grasp, refusing to budge.

“Go where old man? I have no time for your tricks.”

“This no time for a fit of temper, young master. No good will come from staying here.”  Mordan replied stepping behind the younger man as he began to push him forwards.

“Stop shoving me old man, I said no.” Kalo yelled in response his arms flailing in frustration as he was inched closer to the back wall. “There is a wall, Hermit. I can’t go through a wall.” Kalo continued to yell at the man behind him as he faced a sure reality of being pushed into the tapestry-covered wall that surrounded the market. Ignoring Kalo’s words Mordan continued to press him onwards all the while dragging the young boy closely behind him. It wouldn’t serve to lose either of them in the scuffle that was sure to ensue with this latest arrival to the square and so with one last shove, Kalo’s large frame pushed through the large tapestry that draped the wall to the narrow alleyway it concealed.

For days the small party had travelled following what whisper or hint they picked up along the trail. It was not until the fore-rider returned to the party with word of The Hermit having been sighted in the trading market of Okeanida, that Phalan believed that there was an end to this hunt. With renewed vigor Phalan commanded his party faster and harder towards the city, chasing the rising sun and the scent of the sea.

“My Lord, he is in the market.” The scout shouted to Phalan, as his horse raced towards them and came to a sudden stop. Phalan looked suddenly up towards him as he jumped off of his horse and stood before him.

“He is there now?” Phalan asked urgently as he began making his way towards his own horse leaving the men who he had been consulting with scrambling in his wake decamping from the area and making to their own horses.

“Even as we speak my Lord, The Hermit is holding court in the market.” The scout responded, breathless from his race back to camp.

“We could be there in but a few hours, my Lord.” Spoke the company’s Captain as he drew along side Phalan astride a great black beast, he continued to speak as Phalan threw a leg over the back of his own snorting beast, “Sooner if we ride hard.”

“The road into Okeanida is crowded with wagons and carts from merchants and their wares. I alone barely made it through them.” The scout replied cautiously noticing the determined set of Phalan’s shoulder’s as he turned towards the road that would take them to Okeanida.

Turning to look at the men scrambling to mount their horses, Phalan responded to the Scout’s concern with fierce words, “I dare any of them to stand in my way.” Leaving them with that Phalan nudged his beast forward and raced onwards a trail of dust marking his progress.

Phalan allowed his magnificent steed, Oden, its own head on the open road and the distance was quickly eaten up by the beast’s lengthy strides. All too soon the rest of the party caught up to him, their horses not nearly as powerful as Oden, chased his heels and with single-minded focus they pressed on.

As Phalan had presumed, no one dared to stand in the way as the fierce horde of riders bared down upon them. Men, women and children a like scurried to the edges of the road lest they be crushed under hooves. It wasn’t until mere meters away where the crowds where at the heaviest did their progress slow to an agitated stop and Oden’s impatience with the new pace managed to startle a merchant’s old mule into tipping it’s burden over into the wagon beside it and shouts and cries broke out into the once peaceful gate.

“My fabrics! Oh my precious silks, ruined!” yelled the man whose cart had been toppled over by the awry donkey cart. “You will have to pay for this.” He continued, grabbing the first man as he tried to calm his beast.

“Do not look to me for payment, it is of no fault of mine, my mule was frightened!” the old man yelled back as the first man continued to hold him by the gripped neck of his tunic.

Phalan watched the scene before him from astride his mount as the merchant’s yelling quickly turned into a chorus of upraised and angered voices, his already meager patience with this situation quickly waning. The guards too, were useless, they were intended to have manned the city’s gates and maintain order inside the city but as they jumped into the fray, they managed only in adding to the chaos.

Phalan’s disgust at the display before him must have been made plain by the look on his face for it took only a brief glance from his glance to his Captain before he and the rest of his men were dismounting and wading into the crowd until they were able to separate the worst of the rebel-rousers apart, creating a path for Phalan to then navigate to the city’s entrance. Just before crossing through the gateway Phala stopped his beast before a young child who stood there watching the melee in big eyed amazement.

“I hear The Hermit is in the market today have you seen him?” Phalan spoke down to the young child.

“At the far side, my lord.” The young girl replied shyly her gaze fixed on his boots she bowed quickly and scampered off before he could ask anymore questions just as his men returned to his side on their horses once more.

“He is supposedly over on the far side of the market.”

Then let us keep the horses back and go on foot we wouldn’t want him to be aware of presence before we are close enough to catch him.”

“Do you think it is possible he might have missed our arrival?”  Phalan responded sharply. “I do not care what you have to do just find him and bring him back to me.”

“Yes, My Lord.” The Captain replied before signaling to his men, while a few did dismount from their beasts three of the remainder kept their seat as they spread forward into the crowd, their eyes scanning the faces they passed and alert for suspicious movements about them.

Phalan made his way into the market space trailing behind his men at slower pace. The crowds parted to make way for him as he searched for the old man, his sharp gaze carefully taking note of the faces of those crowding the square. Many of them watched he and his men in quiet curiosity until they passed their inspections and broke into whispers, wondering at the men’s presence in the market.

Ignoring the hushed conversations that followed him, Phalan strode on past stalls selling cloth, wares and spices that lent a faint perfume to the air, a glint of sunlight that peeked through the canopy, briefly blinded him near the stall selling brass platters and servers. Relief, from the brilliant light, came as the dark and gentle wingspan of a night raven flew overhead it’s sharp cry piercing through the normal din of the market as it landed on the upper reaches of a distant stall. Phalan, entranced by the appearance of the scavenger in the market made his way towards the bird as it danced and prattled to him from its perch. He stood there wondering for a moment at the odd bird above him as it continued to shift from one talon’d foot to another the bird’s head swaying side to side with it’s constant movement. As if it realized that its audience attention had been fully secured, the bird stopped and Phalan found himself under the piercing glare of the raven’s dark eye, a single moment could have been all that passed between or an age but there they stood a Prince with eyes turned upwards above the crowded market and a raven frozen in profile as the bustle of those around them continued on. The synchronized rhythm of their breaths tied both man and beast, both watchful- waiting.

With it’s sharp cry the raven, the moment was broken and with the raven’s flight from off its perch Phalan turned his attention to the far corner of the market where a large group was gathered, their attention drawn to the far wall of the market away from him missing the flight of the raven above their heads.

“My Lord” Phalan’s Captain addressed him as he came to a stop.

“Did you find the old man?”

“He is just before this crowd my Lord, what would you have us do? We were told to take him quietly.”

“There is no need to remind me of our task, Fankil.” Phalan barked back to the Captain.

“Forgive me, my Lord.” He stumbled to quickly reply, hoping to escape the flame of his temper.

“Enough with that.” Phalan irately replied with a flick of his hand, turning his attention again to the gathered group, “We can not lose him Fankil.”

“We have prepared my Lord the old man will not escape us.”

“You would do best to not mistake him for just an old man Frankil. You and your men go into the crowd and make sure he does not make his escape through the crowd.”

“Yes my Lord.” Fankil replied with a brief nod of his head he turned back to his men that had gathered behind him awaiting their orders. His words to the men were obscured by the din of market masses, the need for secrecy unnecessary even in bright light of the day. They turned as a group and individually became lost in the crowd before them. Taking one last scan of the market area Phalan walked into the crowd.

With another shove at his back, Kalo boldly through the tapestry and instead of ramming head first into a solid brick wall an empty narrow alleyway open before him. Kalo only had moment to take in his new surroundings before the press of Kit and the old man’s bodies forced him away from the raised voices and ramblings, still audible behind the large tapestry.

“Where are we going?” Kalo asked in frustration, turning to the old man sharply.

“Now is not the time to ponder on questions young master.” Mordan replied hurriedly in an attempt to get the party moving again but Kalo stubbornly refused. A loud crash sounded from just beyond the mouth of the alley behind them.

“Answers are forth coming, but first we must depart from this place.” Mordan continued the urgency of the situation moving him to resume his place at Kalo’s muscular back in order to move them onwards.

 It had not been his plan; this pressing need to flee the market but the arrival of the guards had necessitated a more speedy exit and one had to be amendable to changes.

What they needed now was time and as adaptable as Mordan was going to have to be to safely get them out of the reach of the guards drawing closer to their temporary hideaway some things just could not be rushed and by the increased volume of shouts pressing closer to them, he wished things were different.

The ear-splitting caw of a bird drew the party’s attention to the window ledge filled with potted plants above their heads where a raven sat, it’s sleek beak glistening in the sunlight. Mordan cursed softly under his breath as he looked at the bird.

“Why would there be a raven out during the day?” Kit asked worriedly.

“That, my boy, is no ordinary raven.” Mordan replied his eyes never leaving the ledge.

“Kit, it is just a crazed bird.” Kalo answered as though The Hermit hadn’t spoken.

“You would be a fool to believe that, we are being watched.” The Hermit whispered.

“Watched? By whom?”

“What should we do?” Kit asked. The sound of Kalo’s scoff- spying birds eloquently enough for all to understand his true thoughts about the situation.

  “It would be best, now, to start running.” The Hermit replied, grasping the young boy’s thin arm and Kalo’s great coat as he quickly made his was down the alleyway, dragging them stumbling behind him.

Kalo struggled to dislodge the old man’s hold on his coat but his grip proved to strong for even Kalo to remove. Kalo was so confounded by it that he didn’t notice the pile of refuse that littered the ground along the wall that he was being currently being dragged along. A soft squelch underneath his military grade boot and the release of its pungent aroma into the air where the only indicators he received of its existence before another caw of the watchful raven preceded the new arrivals to the alley.

Phalan drew in another deep breath as he shoved an elderly woman from his path. The group had broken into chaos after as the old hermit had made his exit from the foreground. All apart of the man’s plan he was sure. Phalan gritted his teeth in frustration as he looked around the crowd spying his men dealing with their own cases of confusion and melee.

Anger and frustration began to swell within him as looked over the scene before him. I will not lose him, Phalan thought to himself continuing to breathe deeply in order to steam the tide rising within him. With each breath the he drew slowly time and space around him began to slow, the once bright colors of the tapestries and the market wares grew dim and the sounds of the people scurrying about him quieted. Confused as to the phenomenon occurring before his very eyes- a muted world, Phalan turned about quickly to see if there were any others experiencing it as well. The crowd parted revealing a darkly cloaked figure stood amongst the shadows. Phalan watched as it separated itself from the cloying darkness moving slowly but purposefully towards him.

“What is this, sorcery?” He shouted across to the figure.

“A mere parlour trick, Prince Phalan, nothing to fear.” The figure responded sounding not altogether human as it spoke in a voice of three that echoed and faded around him.

“Who are you?”

“A friend.” It replied simply.

“You are no friend to me.”

“For now.”

“What is it that you want?”

“I want for nothing.”

“Then stop this madness and release me from this enchantment.” Phalan yelled back keeping his gaze focused on the mysterious stranger.

  Instead of responding as he had hoped, the figure merely lifted an arm to shoulder level a single extended dark finger peeked out from beneath its robe towards the tapestry-covered wall behind the crowd. The soft flutter of wings overhead broke the moment as the raven winged to a stop and perch gracefully onto Phalan’s shoulder. After only a brief moment the bird launched of into the air shrieking loudly flying over the top of the tapestry and beyond.

After watching the path the bird took, Phalan turned back to look at the figure its finger still extended towards the wall. Phalan open his mouth to further question the figure when the world, in between a single blink of his hazel eyes, returned to full speed, the mysterious figure no where to be seen.     

“My Lord.” Fankil called out to Phalan as he rushed to stand before Phalan who eyes were still turned towards where the stranger had stood.

Quickly shoving the mystical moment to back of his mind for further consideration later, Phalan turned to see Fankil and his men standing before him, their looks of concern and frustration were apparent on their faces.

“Have you found him?” Phalan stonily asked his men.

“We lost him in the fray, my Lord. There is no way that he could have escaped us otherwise.”

“Did you check the walls for hidden exits?”

“There is no where to go beyond these walls, my Lord.” Another solider bravely spoke up as Phalan shouldered past them towards the far wall and the tapestry that hung on it. Phalan inspected the fabric carefully when he noticed the slightest sway along the embroidered hem that dragged along the dusty ground. Lifting the fabric up, Phalan turned back to his men, “It would appear that there are other ways to leave the market.”

Fankil quickly took up lifting the tapestry revealing a narrow alleyway beyond. Stepping into the revealed space he made eye contact with the fleeing old man who had thrown a quick glance over his shoulder as his companions struggled to keep up.

“Stop there.” Fankil shouted down the alley. It took but a moment for him to signal his men over his shoulder before he sprinted off down the alley in pursuit.

Kit heard the man’s call for them to stop instead the old man’s sped up even more. He understood the signs and bundled the sleeping feline closer to his chest and hastened his footsteps as well.

Reaching the end of the alley the small party quickly darted to left hoping to lose the pursuing party in the crowd they could see forming ahead. The heavy steps of the men grew louder and followed closely behind them, tireless and determined.

 The chase was on.

The speed at which escape would prove successful broke the hold Mordan had on Kalo and Kit allowing them to navigate through person and item. The mid day sun burned brightly overhead as they took another corner to the left and ran on.

The Hermit led the way through a seemingly endless maze of streets and alleys. After a particularly close call with a butcher and his blade, when thankfully Kalo was quick enough to reach Kit before the man was able to take out his anger on the poor boy, The Hermit allowed them a brief rest, hoping the din caused by there barreling through the shop would cause the pursuing men to miss their hiding place.

Kalo, through a slot I the wooden shed that they had stolen away into just a few meters away, watched as the men came to a quick stop. For the first time he was able to get a good look at just who was after them.

Four men in royal guard uniform came to a stop, they wore dark colored slim-lined armor of leather with a chest plate embroidered with white and dark green filigree twinning together in the shape of mated serpents with a golden blazing sun above them and the same military boots that he himself wore. Although, the boots worn by these men extended past their shins topping off at just above the knee, Kalo knew that they more than likely disguised the additional blades and plated-metal armor the soldiers would have secreted beneath the leather. Kalo recognized the gear as members of the elite squadron charged with the protected the Royal family, they were known for being a deadly force. The swords and pyre guns that hung from the belts slung around their waists did not bode well.

“What do you see Kalo?” Kit asked in a whisper as he was shoved over in the corner of the shed.

Turning away from the slat quickly Kalo shushed the boy with a hard glance. The old man, who was squished between Kalo and the young boy, nudged him soundly in the side. Kit swallowed a groan from his sharp elbow that dug into his soft flesh.

Stilling his own breath, Kalo looked back out to the activities of the small square.

Another man had joined the group outside searching for them, this one on riding a great beast garbed in ornate plates of armor. The man himself was dressed in richly colored fabrics and heavy boots. What have we here? Kalo thought to himself as he looked upon the man that was so obviously out of sort for the market. As the man had his back to the shed they hid in, Kalo watched closely hoping that the horse, while they stood around in discussion, would turn and he would be able to get a good look at the man’s face.

The discussions must not have been going well as the faces that Kalo could see were marred by frustration. The men gestured wildly in each and every direction trying to track the direction they had taken. Kalo thought, the most logical outcome would be to split the group in each direction. If it came to a fight, he was confident that an elite soldiers or not he could take on two- if he fought a little, a lot, dirty- one of them definitely, the whole group would be a suicide mission with only a boy and old man for reinforcements.    

Maybe they realized it as well, Kalo reasoned watching as their pursers made for the alley to the left of the one they had taken to their hiding spot. Just as Kalo huffed out the breath that he had not realized he held. A piercing a cry of a bird ripped through the air stopping the man on the horse as he began to search the skies, the others had not paid the noisy bird any mind at all, they were so focused on their quarry.

The fluttering of wings nearby drew Kalo’s attention away from the men to a much nearer concern as he watched the bird land on the very shed in which they had taken refuge. Another caw from the sounded from it before it began pecking away at the wooden structure with its massive black beak. Tap-taptap-taptaptap-tap, the sound reverberated around them and through their bodies. The Hermit cursed lowly on a great exhale of breath.

“We have to get out.” Mordan spoke resignedly

“Right, and how do you figure we will manage that?” Kalo harshly replied to the old man still trying in to loud a voice to really be considered a whisper, which the racket currently being carried on by the massive bird did not allow. Kalo had to swallow his frustration before turning continuing, “Those men are still out there, if we just burst out of here we will be caught for sure.”

“It is a chance we will just have to take.” Mordan replied quietly.

“Yourself, not we. I am done. I am done this and I am most certainly done with you old man, if you think-“ A hard shove to the back cut of Kalo’s words as he tumbled from the shed and onto the dusty street floor. The bird that had been banging away squawked in surprise taking to the air briefly as Kit and the old man joined Kalo before the open doors of the shed.

Kalo looked up from the ground in mild shock as The Hermit quickly made a grab for the bird and wrapped a dark weathered hand around it’s beak temporarily silencing it as it had been sounding the alarm after recovering from the shock of their sudden appearance.

“That is enough out of you I believe” The Hermit spoke aloud then a rush of words mumbled too lowly to hear passed through his mouth. Kalo watched as the old man’s body seemed to take on the bright glow of the afternoon sun. The sudden light that appeared to have filled his body from head to toe passed from his hands into the bird. Filling with this mysterious glow the bird quieted in its struggles against his hold and went completely limp atop the shed. Kalo was sure that the bird was alive from his vantage point on the ground he could still see its body expand and detract with life, what he could not be sure about was what had occurred before him, chalking it up to a mere illusion of light and slight of hand on the old man’s part.

Turning away from the bird’s body where it rested, as the light haloing his body for a moment before it began to slowly fade, Mordan caught Kalo’s eyes and could see as the younger man shoved away his confusion and shock firmly away. His eyes turned firm towards him, resolved in a way that they hadn’t been only moments before.

The hand that Mordan stretched out towards him was completely devoid of any unnatural glow his hesitation to grasp it was natural and instinctual. Seeing his reluctance, Mordan opened his mouth to reassure him movement behind Kalo off in the distance stilled his words.

“We had best take our leave.” Mordan spoke slowly his eyes still fixed behind Kalo. 

 “That was amazing, how did you manage it?” Kit exclaimed his eyes jumping around. “Is it dead?” he continued moving closer to where the bird lay silently.

“Leave that for now.” Mordan quickly replied with a snap without looking at the boy. Kit retracted his hand solemnly his disappointment evident on his face, feeling the chastisement in the old man’s words.

“Take my hand.” Mordan spoke directing his words this time to Kalo.

The booming clop of hooves and heavy boots upon the ground grew closer in Kalo’s ears; the men must have not been as committed to there chosen direction as he had foolishly hoped. The noisy bird must have drawn their attention back to them in the shed.

Kalo firmly grasped The Hermit’s outstretched hand, bracing his feet firmly on the ground he was pulled up with a great heave onto his feet.

“Stop there!” one of the men’s voices rang out behind them.

The Hermit turned sharply away from the oncoming men, grabbing Kit by his scruff once again and took off down the road. Kalo took a moment to chance a look behind him at the men as they still struggled to divest themselves from the scramble of the crowd that stood between them.

For a brief moment, as the group made their way through the crowd, Kalo finally got his first look at the man who rode atop the horse. He could see the hard lines and fierce determination on his face as he canted forward. Kalo knew it would be foolish to linger for long but something about the man’s face stirred a trace of a memory in him. Their eyes met over the distance and stirring his mind further before fading away just out of his grasp.

The dull thud of an arrow sinking into the wood piling beside him broke their eye contact, turning to in the direction from which it flew. Atop the neighboring short storied building Kalo espied one of the men, the archer, poised and ready. Stringing his bow the archer let loose another arrow sharply it pierced the air and Kalo easily dodged its path by taking several steps in retreat. Deftly slipping his hand into the holster strapped to his chest Kalo withdrew a small dagger and hurled it at the archer. Not looking to see where the dagger landed, Kalo quickly turned tail and raced down the street.

The thoughts of strange occurrences and familiar faces pushed out of his mind for the moment. Kalo realized that this could not just be a simple capture mission the arrows flying past his head meant serious consequences if they were ever to allow themselves a moment’s reprieve.

They raced down the street with Phalan leading the way on his beast; he glanced up at the roofline tracking behind the forward scout who was tracking them from behind. His vantage point from the roofs allowed the archer unfettered few of the old man’s path through the city and became a beacon for Phalan and his men to follow from the ground. The sound of Oden’s hooves reverberated down the street as they raced after the old man and his companions funneling their location to the party ahead, increasing their speed and diminishing what foolish thoughts that remained that they would be able to escape.

The archer signaled down to them that they party took the narrow alley to the right, too narrow for Phalan and his horse to transverse, he turned to his men.

“Fankil,” the man rushed to Phalan’s side, “Take you men through the alley and I will go around and try to cut them off.” He commanded as Oden pranced around in impatience.

“I want him found, Fankil, it will be your heads if you let him get away.”

“What about his companions my Lord?”

“If they decide to stand in our way, dispose of them. Our only concern is The Hermit.” Steering his horse away from the group, Phalan called over his shoulder. “Do not fail me Fankil.” With those parting words Phalan kicked Oden into a full gallop and raced down the perpendicular street looking for a street large enough to cut off the old man and his friends.

Not wasting a moment Fankil raced down the narrow street his men trailing behind him. Danud signaled that their quarry had taken another turn to the left, from the roof up ahead. Fankil led his men onwards to take the left turn, glancing upwards to see where Danud had gotten to he saw the man leap from one roof to another, once he reached to next ledge he peered over the eaves to the street below and sought out the small party.

Waiting below with their eyes turned upward for Danud’s signal. Fankil took brief moment taking a closer look at the view before him. Further away from the city center and its major hubs of commerce and high styled living, the old man was leading them further and further into the more decrepit areas. The air around them was thick with the smell of waste and decay. Where are you going? Fankil wondered to himself.

“Captain” Danud called as he landed softly on the street. Never turning away from the sights and sounds of the streets, a short glimpse over Fankil’s shoulder acknowledged his sudden appearance amongst the group.

“What are you doing down here?”

“They seem to be taking refuge under the canopy just ahead, Captain.”

“Could they have possibly gone in a different direction?”

“I ran down the other streets they couldn’t have gone there.”

“You know it is all our lives if you are wrong about this?”

“There is no other place they could be so easily hidden.”

Fankil turned to Danud, his eyes seeking assurance in the archer’s eyes. Their eyes held steady with one another in silence until satisfied with what he saw Fankil broke their eye lock and let his gaze fall taking in the quickly bandaged wound on Danud’s leg. Looking further he could see that there was a slow drip of his blood from the wound onto his boot.

“I was careless.” Danud answered lowly shifted his leg further away from Fankil’s scrutiny.

“It seems that we also shouldn’t underestimate the old man’s companions.” The Captain commented before once again turning his back on his men and making his way up the narrow road underneath the canopy.

Kit’s harsh breaths sounded loud in Kalo’s ears and he looked over at the heaving boy as he leaned against the wall bent at the waist and holding his chest.

“I can go no further!” Kit exclaimed in between great gulping breaths. Taking a chance to look at his companions Kit peered up at them to see both the old magician and Kalo both calmly looking down at him. Both were dressed in heavy layers, The Hermit carried supplies strapped across his shoulders and Kit knew that within the folds of Kalo’s coat there was an arsenal of weaponry stored within it. There they stood with not even the slightest dew to their skin after the strenuous run under the scorching sun, while he on the other hand was drenched in waters with a feline strapped to his chest. It was enough to hate the other men and he told them just that.

“I think I can grow to hate you two.” Bewildered Mordan turned back to look at Kalo who had also propped himself along the wall. Kalo gave a shrug in response to the old man and turned back to the Kit a knowing smirk stretched one side of his mouth. Before turning to the old man.

“We can not stay here long. The canopy will only stall them for so long, we should make for the city’s wall maybe there we could find a way out.”

“You want us to climb over it?” Kit shrieked.

“There will be no need to climb.”

“How then would you get us out of here old man?” Kalo demanded.

“We just have to be patient for the right timing.”

“We have no time for your riddles old man, those men are coming for us.”

 “Yes they are and we just need to bide our time,” Mordan looked up into the sky watching for the position of the sun before continuing, “For just a few moments longer.”

“What are you looking for?”

“With the sun in the west our way out will be made clear for us.”

Kit threw his glance to the sky. “That is not too far away.”

“Exactly, now let us be off we will need to be there as it is ready.” Mordan smiled brightly at his companions and lead the way down a stairway tucked in between two of the houses lining a side street they had ducked into.

Dragging Kit behind him, who continued to carry on a fuss about having to journey further in his exhausted stated and who now cursed lowly under his breath, Kalo followed the old man as they descended down the stone steps.

Where their chance of escape, from the city and the dogged steps of their pursuers, was Kalo was unsure but he knew that the sooner they were out of Okeanida the better. A man of action, Kalo was not used to being kept in the dark when each and every choice could end in capture; it was a chance and gamble they were taking with their lives, unsettling to say the least. He whispered a silent prayer to whatever Gods where willing to listen for safe passage, Gods willing.

“There are rumors of up-risers to East a contingent of rubble rousers that must be squashed. They speak against our King and his fair Queen calling for a revolution. Neighbors and friends let us band together and protect our borders from those who would Myrthza squandered. ” A young lord called out to his fellow statesmen as whispers and nods of agreement spread amongst them.

“Aye, a rash of vandalism and crime has rampaged us to the West as well,” an older man finely garbed and portly called from the other side of the room, “You pansies to the East care for nothing but your trade and finery while we to the West we are fighting for our lives!” The old man finished with a roar turning his pudgy face red with the passion of his message.

“Yes we must care for the trade of finery, my Lord how else would we clothe your massive back!” the younger man quipped, men launched to their feet to shout their defense at one another and chaos ensued amongst the peers. The din created by their voices filled the cavernous hall.

The pain in Edrick’s head that had started that morning as a dull throb that morning grew to a sharp pain between his eyes, reaching to the small table situated beside his seat Edrick picked up the goblet that was rested there and upended it at his mouth. A single drop of the wine, he required for these meetings, fell to his lips. Scuttling feet rushed up beside him and the servant quickly filled his goblet with the amber liquid from his pitcher and feeling less than gracious Edrick threw an angry glare at the servant as he slunk back towards his post holding up the wall as he quickly gobbled down his wine.

Goblet empty and head pain momentarily quelled, Edrick sunk back into his seat and watched the foolery occurring before him for a moment longer. 

“My Lords,” Edrick called out as he got to his feet his hands outstretched, having heard enough of the arguments, making sure he had everyone’s attention before he continued, “We have been to the North, East and West of great city and all now fly under the colors of Myrthza what do we have to fear of these miscreants? ” Edrick cried out, the loud roar that responded to his call reverberated through the hall. Taking in the view of the room and the members of the high court that filled it as they sprawled out before him from his seat at the head of the hall.

He had accomplished what he had set out to do more than forty years ago as an ambitious young man stepping up to the throne. He had no inclinations of playing the master politician that the advisors left over from the previous King’s reign, the old fools Edrick had staked his life on greatness and he would settle for nothing less than he had bartered for but they knew nothing of his assurances and they had doubted him then. His plan had been meet with resistance it was radical they said; waging war on the nations that surrounding them during the hundreds years’ peace but what did they know, true peace would only come through blood and fire only when weak learn to submit to those with power.

It was his desire for that power that brought him to here to this point, the ruler of the greatest nation in the land. Unmitigated pride followed through his body as he reclaimed his seat thinking over all that he had accomplished all that he stood to gain even now with all the land as far as his eye could see under his control, desire kept pushing him for more and he knew just where to look for his more.

Soft footsteps stopped along the side his royal seat the intruder to his thoughts cleared his throat before leaning in to speak near Edrick’s ear.

 “Your majesty,” his manservant spoke.

“What is it Valcant?” Edrick asked half-heartedly his eyes still on the crowd and his mind on thoughts of more fulfilling possibilities.

“You wanted to be informed of the young master’s movements.”

“Yes,” Edrick turned earnestly at the man’s words, “What do you know?”

“It as reached me that the young prince and a few of the elite guard have left the city.”

“Left the city has he? What of his whereabouts before?”

“Prince Phalan spent a great deal of time with your Queen, majesty before leaving with his men.”

“She must have sent him on some sort of hunt then.” Edrick spoke more to himself than to the servant.

“The same conclusion I have drawn as well, my Lord.”

“Do not dare be presumptuous Valcant, I am sure you did not come to the very same conclusion as I.” Edrick haughtily snapped.

“Forgive me, your Highness.” Valcant solemnly replied, performing a small bow in repentance. Edrick looked on as he completed his bow with a smug grin.

“When did the party leave?”

“My Lord,” Valcant hesitated, he knew that up to this point the conversation had gone well and was reluctant to share this particular tidbit. Shoring up his courage Valcant continued, “Phalan and his men have been gone for four full days this evening, my Lord.”

“What?” Edrick shouted fully turning his burning gaze unto the cowering man. Valcant stood frozen under his scrutiny before allowing his eyes to rove the rest of the room where he saw that they had drawn a great deal of attention from the rest of the room. The room was suddenly silent with Edrick’s loud outburst, the occupants eyes trained on them. Valcant cleared his throat again loudly and darting his eyes from Edrick to the room at large in attempt to signal to the reagent that they were being watched.

Edrick noted the strange dance of Valcant’s eyes and followed his gaze towards the others.

The room was at a complete stand still, once a bustling crowd now all were turned towards the King and servant their curiosity peeked. Edrick turned back in his chair to face the crowd staring out into the room willing its occupants to look away and resume their musings. It took a few moments but eventually they did and their chatter once again filled the room, although a few watchful eyes remained glued in his direction but safe enough by his estimation to continue the conversation.

“Why am I only hearing about this now?” Edrick spat speaking out if the side of his mouth.

“You did not wish to be disturbed whilst you were—entertaining, my Lord.”

Yes, those few nights locked away with the gypsy women had been very entertaining indeed. A man needed his outlets especially a man in his position. A slight smile graced his faced before he quickly pushed his lustful memories aside and addressed the servant once again.

“Is there anything else to report?”

“No my Lord, there is nothing else.”

Edrick stood suddenly and once again the room became silent, they too took to their feet in his honor. Turning briefly to the servant again as he descended from the platform on which his seat was stationed.

“The Queen?” he asked taking each step in a regal manner.

“As always she keeps to the southern tower.” Valcant spoke walking along side Edrick as they quitted the room into the corridor beyond.

“Good.”

“Do you mean to ask her, my Lord?” Valcant asked his bewilderment at the thought of Queen Alyssa answering any questions that the King put forth to her apparent in his tone. Edrick turned back to the servant.  

“I find I have great number if things to take up with the Queen.” With those few words took his leave of Valcant and strode out into the bright light of the plaza. Valcant stood in silence watching as Edrick made his way through the plaza and out of his sight.

In the highest room of the tallest tower at the southernmost point of the palace Edrick came to the massive oak and iron door that proceeded Alyssa’s chambers. It was covered with swirls and abstract shapes in an intricate design that from a distance resembled the starry sky and all it’s celestial beings. Up close, the mural revealed something much more cryptic, symbols and figures that he in his youth had attempted to decipher forged underneath and there were times, in just the right light, he could have sworn the images were alive and moving. He had convinced himself that it was just that, a trick of the light, but the he had never truly been able to quell that fear—that unknown.

 Sentries stood to the sides of the door guarding their mistress’s domicile, neither man attempted made eye contact with him so unmoved they were by his presence. Silence stretched between the trio. Irritation welled within Edrick deferment, as the King, was his right and he had learned to expect it wherever he ventured but here in this place staring at the closed door he was only what he had been born as.

“I have come to see your mistress.” Edrick spoke steadily watching the guards as they spared one another a quick glance and then moved as one towards the seam that ran the length of the massive entryway catching some hidden mechanism within the ornate surface releasing the doors. The heavy doors swept out towards Edrick and shiver ran along his spine as reached its fully opened position the sentries positioned to quickly close them once he crossed the threshold.

Shoring up his nerve Edrick stepped through the doorway and down the corridor that led beyond it. His fine leather boots sounded dull on the marble floors, his breath harsh to his own ears as torch light flickered around him.

Finally reaching the end of the corridor where it took a bend to the left, straight to Alyssa’s private quarters, Edrick drew himself up to his full height with his head thrown back and his heart racing he forcefully push the last door that stood between him and Alyssa and came just as quickly to a complete and sudden stop.

It was not that he had never seen her in this state of undress before, Alyssa was a beautiful woman and she knew it and often used her countenance as a useful tool and a deadly weapon to those who were unsuspecting of what lay beneath the fine figure and gorgeous face. What stopped him was the jagged scar that started from between her shoulders and journeyed across to her femininely curved hips, that she exposed as she stepped out of her bath. Edrick had never seen it before even with his familiarity with her body but the faded edges and the overall dull color of the scar, as so far as he could see from the doorway, suggested it was a wound from long ago—so long ago that it had become part of the very fabric of her skin. But that too was impossible, it had only been a few days before that she had taunted him with her body.

Edrick’s mind began to race with the implications of this new finding along with the information his late night visitor had provided and stored that too away at the back of his mind for further scrutiny and focused again on Alyssa as she drew up a coverlet over her slim shoulders and turned towards him with an innocent smile upon her face and her robe closed loosely about her.

“So you have come.” She spoke.

Edrick sank to his knees reverently and bowed before Alyssa his head nearly touching the marbled floor and before sinking onto his haunches his eyes turned upward towards her face. “Yes, my Lady I have come.”

They made for a small gap in the cities wall; created in essence as a way to provide a source of irrigation for the city from the tributary, that feed the thick lush forest to the south, when it’s walls were first erected. With the advent of man’s desire to exceed the limits of the world they knew as nature had intended it, they had cut the stream’s path into the city and with the forty year ravage of the Citadel’s forces on the surrounding land the dislodging the boulders that had once stemmed the water’s flow not only into the city but from the very arm the fed the bordering woods. Many had expected the forestry to recede from the city’s line but to all’s amazement the trees grew on now taking on a darker and more sinister aura. The once lush with green canopies, skittering creatures and an inviting shelter for those traveling the long and often scorching routes of trade to Okeanida now their great branches overstretched the bounds of the road ensuring those who passed to closely their reach.

If they feared even walking the periphery of the forest’s edge the local peoples dared not venture into the woods hoping to avoid whatever enchantment or toxic misfortune caused this occurrence, fearing for their sanity as well as their lives. Now it provided a most convenient escape route.

Down winding shallow stone steps they descended reaching the basin only as the armed men pressed in around them from every direction. Mordan had hoped that they sudden detour down the steps would have been well disguised as the stairwell was well hidden amongst the alleys and derelict structures. Alas, it seems that he too was guilty of underestimating their pursuers, who nearly managed to thwart their decampment.

The Celestial Lady had been on their side and his timing impeccable. For when they were feet from the crumbled archway on the other side of the wall and their instinct leaned towards flight into the woods a short distance they found themselves surrounded. With sword and arrow pointed at them from all conceivable angle, Mordan fixed his eyes heavenward and waited for a –miracle.

At the appointed time when both sun and celestial beings occupied the sky and the light became a hued with their mixed magnificence. A swarm of winged insects took flight and forming a sphere around them. There number was so great that it was like a thick velveteen curtain had been drawn around them isolating them from outside eyes. The insects created a loud buzz around them with the beating of their wings and chatter.

The swarm was concentrated around the armed men, the insects constant buzzing and erratic flight paths causing the men to jostle about and lower their weapons. Seeing their distraction and a chance for flight, Mordan glanced over to Kalo searched also for a chance to flee, their eyes caught in the distance and a silent message was conveyed between the two men Mordan’s eyes only lingered long enough to see Kalo reach out and grasp Kit by the scruff of his neck in preparation. Turning to the space between the two men created by their fight with the insects, Mordan dashed forward towards the insects that cleared a path for their exit as though a curtain in truth parting --drawing open, allowing the lingering light of the day to guide them out of the swarm. As soon as their small party was through the gap closed soundly behind them.

Kit, once again being dragged away from all of the action, watched as the insects collapsed upon the men and created a dark cloud around them before he was quickly submerged in the dense foliage of the forest.

The Hermit’s cottage appeared quiet and welcoming in the last of the day’s light that dappled through the canopy they traveled under, deep within the forest in a small clearing of trees surrounded by thick shrubbery smoke billowed softly from the single stack on the thatched roof. Kalo froze briefly as the scene came into full sight, the picture it presented as they walked up to it familiar to him as he had seen in his mind all those days ago. Somehow through all the unexpected detours, confusion and fleeing he had arrived at the very place he had been searching for, where the vision had led him.

“Ah, I see everything has been prepared for our arrival.” The Hermit exclaimed gleefully, making his way to the cottage’s door and into the space beyond it.

Kit stepped forward to follow in the old man’s footsteps, noticing that Kalo made no move to follow, he turned back to ask, “You not coming Kalo?”

Unfortunately Kalo’s mind was occupied with other thoughts and he did not hear the boy’s question. Stopped as he was, just staring at the cottage, his mind reeled with snippets of all the things that he had seen in the daydreams— no, not mere thoughts of fancy but actual visions if what he could see before him was to be believed, that had so plagued him for the last few months.

  Kalo pushed the thoughts aside for the moment realizing that answers would only come if he followed where the visions had led him, or at the very least so he hoped. It was high time that the old man started talking he decided, there were too many unanswered questions for his peace of mind and he would be put off no longer.

 Having made that decision Kalo strode off in the direction that the old man had taken coming to the cottage’s entrance he braced his hand against the scarred wooden door and stepped into the cottage.  The sight that greeted his was one of clutter and disarray with piles of paper, vials of questionable substances and tinkering instruments crowded every available surface and towered to the ceiling. Kit sat before the hearth, the feline strewn over his lap as he petted her fur. The old man leaning over the boy and feline that was stretched over the boy’s lap he stretched out his hand running it along the feline’s body.

The boy suddenly shrieked, pointing up at the old man’s shoulder, causing even Kalo to jump where stood in the doorway.

“It is one of those insects.” The boy cried. “There on your shoulder, kill it!” Kit didn’t bother hiding his horror at its presence swiftly scooping the feline into his arms and scurrying away from the old man. Mordan calmly glanced at his shoulder and the insect that perched there. Without even brushing he creature from his person, he turned a smiling face towards Kit.

“This is no simple insect.” Taking up the insect with the hand on his other arm, Mordan lowered it before Kit in his palm, “Allow me introduce you to one of my oldest friends and dearest companion, Mita.” The insect, which under closer scrutiny resembled a large beetle clicked pincers and beat its shiny black wings with glee and performed the simplest of bows much to Kit’s delight and as he responded with a respectful bow of is own head in return wonder at the creature lit up his face.

“And you dear Mita, may I congratulate you on a job well done this afternoon.” Mordan addressed to the beetle who continued to click in response. “Nice touch bringing in the Pompilidae group over, added just the right touch of drama I think.” Mita clicked on gaily at the old man’s words of praised before scuttling from his palm under the sleeve of his robe and out of sight.  

Turning back to the feline in Kit’s lap Mordan once again stroked over her body this time whispering lowly to her. Kit could not recognize the words the old man used but Lycia, hearing his voice, lifted her head and mewed quietly to Mordan. A concerned look marred his face as he stood and turned away from the feline and began rummaging around the room.

Moving with new purpose, the old man scurrying about picking up vials and quickly discarding most of them a few, Kalo saw, he poured at varying amounts into the pestle that he totted along as he wandered about muttering to himself as he made his concoction.

Kalo watched in silence, the picture of domestic happiness before as though they hadn’t only been running for their lives.

“Shut the damn door!” Mordan snapped at Kalo looking up from where he stood pouring the mixture into a kettle that hung over the hearth’s fire. Kalo snapped to closing the door soundly behind him and making his way further into the cabin slowly navigating the overcrowded space. Leaping over a particularly precarious tower of dishware littering the floor, Kalo’s eye was caught by a bowl containing a selection of both large and small beveled glass shards.

Curiosity niggled Kalo. He picked up the bowl carefully, closer inspection revealed that they were not clear glass that could be seen through instead it seemed that they were shards from a looking glass that only reflected whatever was presented before it. Reaching into the bowl, Kalo picked up one of the shards and suddenly his vision was filled with Amethyst eyes and raven black hair and suddenly Camisa filled his vision her dark brown skin marred with grime her locks matted together, the look of pain in her eyes pierced his heart and a shrill scream filled his ears. Startled by his vision, the shard dropped lifelessly from his hand back into the bowl, the sharp clang as the shard landed atop the others rang in his ears as he stared blindly into space wishing the vision to linger.

The Hermit wrestling the bowl from Kalo’s hands snapped his attention back to the cottage and with it his hopes of more. His hands now empty, Kalo dropped them uselessly to his sides and met the curious eyes of the old man who stood before him. Kalo wondered at the look in his eyes unsure if it was only curiosity that he saw in its dark depths. They watched one another for a long moment before Mordan turned slowly away and replaced the bowl to its original place. Kalo watched as he turned back to him there eyes meeting once again before he spoke, “You should not touch.”

“What is it?”

“An ancient and powerful device meant for watching.”

“Watching?”

“It can show you the past, present, future, enemies and your allies.” Mordan replied quietly.

“Those shards of looking glass?” Kalo asked unbelieving.

“You touched it and saw something did you not?”

Kalo thought of the eyes both golden and amethyst and the scream that he had experienced in his vision but left Mordan’s question unanswered not prepared yet to share what he had seen there. Kalo turned sharply away from the old man as he felt the walls closing in around him. His breaths came and left him quickly he chest heaving with the effort. He tried to control his still his breath and calm his racing heart looking around for a path to the door. Finding a route Kalo swiftly made for the door paying no mind to the items that succumbed to gravity in his wake.

Grasping the handle, Kalo ignored the cries of both Kit and The Hermit and stormed out into the night that had fallen around them leaving the door to shut soundly behind him with a dull thud.

The night was obscure and quiet in the forest surrounding The Hermit’s cottage. With no destination in mind and he let his feet lead him as they may, he wasn’t sure of the time passing or the direction he was taking and it was not until he reached the rocky shore of a brook that he stopped.

The moon shined brightly above him as he stood at the water’s edge the trees not as thick along its shore line allowing him to gaze at the silver orb fully hung in the night sky. Distance from the boy and the old man and his cluttered cottage helped quiet Kalo’s mind and in its silence, he was no closer to finding the answers to his questions. The vision he had back at the cottage still haunted him.

 Camisa. The thought of her in danger; hurting and longing for him threatened to set his heart racing again. He had promised that he would always come back for her and so he had no doubt that she was waiting for him, wherever she was. Hopelessness sunk into his body and the weight of it dropped him to his knees until he was seated at the shore with nothing but the moon and the babbling brook to accompany him. 

Camisa’s fate haunted him for hours passed or it was only a few moments while Kalo sat there made despondent by the impossibility of it all. He still remembered her as child with flowers in her flowing hair as she raced along side him through the fields that surrounded their village. Her skin the color of sable a complete contrast to his own pale complexion glowed under the light of the sun, eyes of tarnished gold.

 From a playful child filled with wonder she had grown into a temptress—his temptress. If he thought long and hard enough, he could almost smell the perfume of her skin; clean woman, sunshine and a touch of natural spice that even in all his travels he had never again encountered. Kalo’s body stirred in memory of the feel of her skin and the light in her eyes when she saw him. She was so full of hope and love—a brighter future where they would not only be lovers in the dark of night.

If what he had seen was indeed, as the old man had told him, what the future held for his love then she too would be marred by the years that separated them. Kalo knew that the years had changed him to, what he had seen, done and not done for the sake of a common cause had taken a provincial boy barely in the shadow of manhood and turned him into a killer who no longer knew the gentle touch of innocent love. The thought of her bright light, her spirit no longer present in his or this world—no Kalo shook his head angrily at the thought.

Camisa was his lodestar. His guiding light in the darkness that been his life while he marched with the Guard. She was—is, for had to still be living no other option could be possible if Camisa no longer walked amongst the living Kalo would see to the end of all those who had taken part in it. 

Phalan too, dreamed of dusky skin and amber eyes. The captive girl who had brought to the Citadel from some distant area who had in a single glance captured his heart. A heart that he had long thought turned to stone beat once again. They had never exchange even a single word but Phalan found himself often thinking of the woman, journeying down to the cells in which she and other woman were kept locked away were no one could see them. He was determined to have her for his own and come death or madness, he would. 

She could still hear the hard tread of Edrick’s steps even after the heavy doors leading to her rooms had been closed behind him. The calm countenance that she had perfected for the rare moments that she was in the presence of other, quickly melted away leaving the rage she felt obvious on her beautiful face as she turned away from the exit in a swoosh of the gauzy fabric that she had donned and her golden tresses. Her chest heaved with suppressed emotion.  He had dared to enter her chambers seeking answers and explanations from her?  Alyssa questioned herself in mild disbelief as she made her way over to her vanity the table crowded with vials and brushes. Seeing her flushed skin as she peered into its mirror she willed her body to calm and took a seat at the cushioned ottoman before it.

A cool sensational grazed her bare ankle and drew her attention away her reflection in the mirror. Turning to the floor beside her seat, Alyssa reached down and picked up the snake that slithered there. Its green body entwined with gold and white markings, coiled around her slender arm to hang around her graceful neck.

“There you are Abiti, where did you run off to?” she cooed to the reptile, its forked tongue danced delicately at her ear as she listened to it.

“Yes Abiti, you are as always right it is fine time that we rid ourselves of Edrick. I begin to tire of him and Phalan is more than eager to take his place.” She spoke softly in return a coy grin stretching her rose colored lips.

Breaking their tranquil and private reverie Abiti suddenly turned towards the nearby window and released an angry hiss. Alyssa turned to see what had disturbed them, only to see a large black raven perched upon the sill. Quickly dismissing the bird presence Alyssa turned back to peer into the mirror as her other hand idly soothed the reptile with a casual stroke along its body.

“We meet again, Badbah.” Alyssa spoke after a moment spent between them in silence. She was in no hurry to acknowledge the scheming shrew. “I would not like to think that this is becoming a habit.”

The raven shuffled quietly on the ledge from leg to leg and gave a muted caw it’s wings ruffled by a sudden gale of wind that blew through the open window behind it. With a snap of the air, a shadowed figure stood in the raven’s place before the sill.

“I would not dare to dream of making my presence as frequent as to make it a habit, my Lady.” Badbah spoke as she bowed slightly.

“There are a great many things you dream of, Badbah.” Replied Alyssa dryly as she studied her hands. “I have not forgotten in all these millennia the part you had to play in this current situation.”

“That is why I now wish to be of some service to you now my Lady.”

“So you say, what then brings you here.”

“As you know my information gathering is far reached,” Badbah started slowly, “My attention was drawn to the East by the sightings of a group of elite guards racing towards Okeanida.”

“You are not telling me anything that I am not already aware of and my patience is running thin.” Badbah looked towards the beautiful Alyssa as she sat before the gilded mirror feigning disinterest. She knew it was only an act and could see the strain evident at the sides of her mouth. Badbah chuckled to herself silently taking some little pleasure getting under her skin it almost made up for the constant degradation each visit was riddled with.  

“They did not succeed.”  Badbah spoke, deciding to curtail her enjoyment, for the moment there would be other opportunities to lord over the self-important witch. “ Phalan and his men did not capture Mordan, he got away.”

“What would I care for Mordan? He has long too been out of my favor” Alyssa asked.

“You know as well as I, that you seek Mordan for he is the only way to find the key.” Alyssa scoffed loudly. “You need that key, without it you would never find her, you will never truly be a power.”

Alyssa’s head snapped quickly towards Badbah a burning rage filled her eyes.

“I am a power,” She rose from her seat and plowed across to where Badbah stood so quickly that Badbah only knew Alyssa had moved as she felt her wrapping around her neck. Alyssa glared down into Badbah’s onyx colored eyes and gloried in the spark of fear that lingered within them her grip around the other woman’s neck tightening. “Do you think I do not realize what you are doing? Did you and Izeha believe that I would fall for your baiting?” Alyssa looked over the other woman, at her wrinkled and paper-thin opaque skin and the white hair that flowed past her shoulders and underneath the robe she wore. “Your very existence, I could snuff out it in a moment.” She spoke slowly pondering on the moment. Alyssa’s body began to take on a greenish glow and an invisible wind lifted her golden locks exposing the serpent that coiled around her neck ad shoulders baring it’s sharp fangs, “Is it not a most wondrous thing?” she continued her smile spreading across her face, “You think that I, Alyssa Queen of all that lays before you, am not a power?”

Alyssa released her hold on the woman before turning away from her hunched over body. Badbah’s coughs echoed throughout the cavernous room as air filled her chest once again.

“No power that you have now will matter when faced with Katjiya, you know that as well as I. You need Mordan and you need the key in order to defeat her!” Badbah shouted her words gaining strength in between heaving breaths.

“I know as I must,” Alyssa snapped in reply, “ I do not need some magpie servant that Izeha found in the pits of hell reminding me of what is mine!” Badbah felt the blood in her body freeze at Alyssa’s words. “Yes, I know your secrets as well Badbah, I know why you still do as Izeha bids,” her lowered to a whisper “I know what it is you seek to gain in your servitude. Go and tell your master that I would not be provoked today, I will have the end that I seek all in do time. Tell him to watch, I will give him a show that he will enjoy.” With those final words turned away from Badbah and quit the room through a small door off to the far side.

The quiet slam of the door rang in Badbah’s ears.

Turning to the window, Badbah quickly extended the energy that was more natural to her than the very skin she wore and took flight into the star studded sky. Skimming the currents, she coasted over the masses of the city as she journeyed west towards the Navik Mountains, the last stronghold of shadow and the night. The beating of her magnificent wings quickly ate up the distance and the sun was only just beginning to peek above the horizon as she made her final descent in the enlarged turret nestled within the stone the mountain. Flying into a room through the arching window, one of many that dotted the building and changing into her skin once again Badbah turned her gaze out into the clinging darkness of the night. Her thoughts clouded with her anger as she pondered over what had transpired. Hostility was to be expected, old wounds irritated by her reappearance in this quest but to be humiliated—Alyssa would pay, Badbah would make sure of it.

The shiver up her spine told her that he had entered the room and the invisible weight; heavy on her shoulder turned her towards the hooded figure that had appeared in the room. Badbah quickly bowed her head and drew on her hood covering her silver white hair as she waited for him to speak.

“You have done well, Badbah.” He spoke grandly.

“Thank you my Lord you play me the greatest of compliments.” Badbah replied graciously allowing her eyes to locate Izeha’s location within the room. He stood in the distance ensconced in a large stone terrine on a circular pedestal as though his presence in her rooms where within his right. Badbah was familiar with Izeha’s penchant for believing that nothing was beyond his influence—beyond his domain.

“Tell me.” He spoke again without turning, “How did you find her?”

“She was as you said, anxious to ferret Mordan out hiding.”

“Good.”

“Alyssa seems reluctant to admit her vulnerability in what is to come.”

Izeha scoffed, “Did you expect she would be glad?” he continued finally turning away from the table towards Badbah. Her eyes quickly found a point beyond his shoulder along the wall, not daring direct contact with the ancient’s eyes but still close enough to be sure that she had his full attention.

“Alyssa knows that this is the year of new rising and that only by finding the key and exact location to Katjiya’s prison will she be able to seal her away indefinitely. Katjiya is the only perceivable threat to her power.” Badbah paused in her speech and risked the briefest glance at Izeha, the killing glare he directed at her made her realize her error and a profusion of apologetic words stumbled out of her mouth. “ Forgive me my Lord, I did not mean to say—I did not mean to disregard your--”

“You would take my regard for you too far one day Badbah. Although you seem to forget who I am, I assure you that Alyssa is not that foolish.”

“Forgive me my Lord.” She spoke earnestly and let silence fall between them but curiosity continued to bite at her heels and it was that regard that said he had for her that granted her the courage to continue in the same vein.

“You do not mean, my Lord, that she would gain enough, in killing Katjiya to rival you?” Badbah asked in confusion as pieces of the puzzle scattered to the air in her mind.

“Alyssa has strayed too far, crossed the lines in her desperate search for power that should never have been crossed. There was no power gained or that can be taken that would quell the grudge she wishes to bear on all. She would rein her fury on man and ancient alike. She has forgotten that with everything there is a natural order and balance that must be maintained and all that was meant to come to its end will do so.”

“Can she be stopped?”

“You must see that she is. If you should fail in this Badbah, the end that you too desire will never be.”

Samsel

Izeha lingered for a moment and watched as the meaning of his words sink in to Badbah the brief alarm that flittered through her dark eyes convincing him that her fervor had been renewed in seeing the tasks he had laid out for her to accomplished would be so. Satisfied with that, Izeha vanished from the room.

 Badbah was left standing in the bluish glow of the sun as it neared her mountain dwelling. Her mind, a riot of thought with no real clear answers, she did not wish to involve herself in this fight but she knew there was no escaping it if they meant to threaten the one thing she loved—it was time that she began to make her own preparations.